#and when people tell me they’re like a foot taller than me

[thatanonymouschocolate]

Nicknames for mw2 fellas

I have so many ideas for mw2 dudes but idk how to write them out but this one seems to plague my brain the most. But this is something i would see the reader or my oc calling them platonically or romantically. (sorry for any misspellings I'm just rambling as I go)

Ghost 

would definitely get called Boo because ya know most ghosts say boo and sneak up on you. Could also be used in a flirty way, to annoy him, etc. I feel like he’d either be dumbfounded trying to process the whole nickname (could also be blushing under that mask too tbh). The guys would definitely tease him for it but would be met with a glare in exchange.

Soap

his nickname would be bubbles because most soaps/body washes create suds/bubbles. He reminds me of bubbles from the power puff girls lol, so happy, sweet and goofy. He lights up any room he’s in. His nickname can also be used in a flirty or teasing way especially if he makes you laugh or if you make him laugh. His joy and laughter is intoxicating. When you first use the nickname on him at first he blinks a couple of times before giving that boyish grin and a cute chuckle. He would also get teased for it but he’d just tell the other they’re jealous of his nickname and bond with you. 

König

ima be real here these are probably more on the romantic side. Most people see him as someone who is easily flustered and some people see him as not. But the nicknames are your majesty, my liege, your highness (this one mostly bc he’s so tall). All can be playful as well but the image of using them to kinda praise him/flirt with him and even throw in a kiss on his hand won’t leave my mind. Another nickname is skyscraper bc my god this man is tall a whole foot taller than me and I’m 5′10. I can see him just walking down the hall maybe on his way to breakfast and then the reader/your oc trying to catch up like “wait for me your highness! I have little legs!” causing him to smile under his sniper veil (whatever its called lol)

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x black reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #könig x reader #black reader insert #x black reader #mw2 x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader

[henqtic]

back problems . xavier thorpe x black!reader . wc: 482.

·:*₊‧ masterlist . taglist form . request works . ·:*₊‧✩

— Xavier Thorpe has back problems. Being not only 6’2, but an artist comes with a price — and that’s needing a fucking chiropractor.

— And when you tell him that, he gives you just the same response.

— “Why would I need a chiro when i have you?”

— He has a grudge against them. After seeing all of those chiropractor videos, and listening to the sounds of peoples literal neck bones popping in half — he couldn’t risk it.

— But they don’t make stuff for people his height around Nevermore.

— Constantly throughout the day he’s putting one hand over the opposite sides shoulder.

— Bending back in his seat in class so that he could crack his back just the smallest amount, a perk being able to smile ( upside ) down at you. 

— “Do you need something Xavier?”

— “A kiss?”

— He wouldn’t get back up until the fifth peck on his forehead — a disgusting sight to everyone else trying to focus on the lesson, including the teacher who had given up on the idea of actually stopping you both.

— He’d come up behind you randomly between classes, wrapping his arm around your torso and tucking your head underneath his chin.

— Using your body as some kind of stand even though he was about a foot and probably some inches taller than you.

— “We’re gonna fall frontwards, get off,” you’d laugh and attempt to swat him away. 

— “We can’t fall if you just embrace it.”

— Even the stools in his own art shed don’t help him.

— Sometimes you just stand behind him while he works to straighten him out.

— This boy is suffering.

— It hurts even when he’s relaxing. And it’s worse in a way, like he’s so close to relief but sooo far.

— So he digs his phone out of his pocket, and texts you.

December 14 — 11:15 pm  ˳·˖✶

Xavier 👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼: I’m in pain.

Come over 

Doors unlocked 

You: Pain ???

What kind of pain ??

Helooooooo

Antibiotic or Wednesday Addams got mad ??????

Xavier 👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼: my back 🙁

— You get there to see him lying face down on his bed motionless.

— Every single pillow, blanket, duvet, and plush thrown to the floor.

— “Sure you don’t have a fever, baby?” You asked as you reached underneath his shirt and rubbed his back, it was particularly warm.

— “It just hurts,” he groaned through the mattress.

— “Wouldn’t some cushioning make it better?”

— “I tried that. I buried myself in every blanket, got overheated and threw all of ’em off.”

— “Yeah I can see that, even the squishmellow,” you frowned as you picked it up from off of the floor, drawing a little tear coming down from its face.

— “I’m sorry, give him to me, I’ll use him as a head rest,” he offered, picking his head up and smiling as you swiftly hid the stuffed animal behind your back.

— “Uhn uhn, what’s something else that you want from me to make you feel better that isn’t suffocating our squishmellow?”

— “A slab of fucking concrete,” he huffed as he put his face back into the mattress.

— “What about a massage instead?”

— “Please.”

— You straddled his back, working all parts of your hands in the tense muscles of his back as he told you exactly where to go.

— “More pressure.”

— “Up.”

— “To the right”

— “No go down.”

— “No, no, no, that was good. Go back.”

— And once you scooted up by just the smallest amount, giving your own back a rest and no longer holding all of your body weight — a particularly mewling groan came from him.

— . . .

— “Are you okay? Did I pop something?”

— “I need you to do that again.”

— “Do what?”

— “What you just did,” he answered, “Put all of your weight on my back. The message was okay but that was amazing.”

— You’re a little offended, but you entertain the idea.

— “I will literally break your back.”

— “That’s the point.”

— “People can get paralyzed that way you know, maybe? I’m not sure. But I’d rather not risk it, get the fucking chiropractor Xavier, they’re certified.”

— “Most of them aren’t and you know that. They go around half killing people for fun, you want me to put my life in their hands or yours?”

— So you do it, max fifteen minutes everyday.

— Sitting on his back and massaging all of the kinks out. Sometimes you’d just sit there while you caught up on the day, or talked about how ridiculous all of the homework was the teachers were giving out.

— It became a normality quickly, and you even turned you lying on his back like a sloth sleeping on a branch, a new cuddling position.

— It all made for very odd conversation by the time his new roommate moved in.

thank you for reading, every like and reblog is appreciated  🌷 !

#— xavier thorpe. #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe oneshot

[bathomet-writes]

stayin’ alive

summary: During the Kraang invasion, you try your best to help the turtles save the city. Agent Bishop and the Earth Protection Force seem to have everything under control, or so they say.

relationship: Donnie x GN!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, slight angst/comfort, near-death experience, CPR, kissing, angst with a happy ending

word count: 4,604

author's note: here's the request for @/sweetchildcloud!! thank u!

“Does anybody read me?”

You spoke harshly into your earpiece. While the turtles, April, and the others were out fighting the Kraang, you tasked yourself with trying to, in some way, help out down on the ground. You were down in the bowels of the city, being herded like cattle into rescue buses carting people out of the burrow. 

You weren’t exactly a ninja, or had any special skills to speak of, but you couldn’t let yourself get taken away so easily. Not when there was something you could do. Not when your friends were still out there fighting for their lives. 

Thankfully, April wasn’t too busy to pick up her comm. 

“We’re– we’re fine. But Leo…”

Your heart sinks. Looking up into the sky, you finally notice that the Technodrome was forced back into the prison dimension. At least half of it anyway. The portal-chopped remains crashed down into the buildings below, sending a wave of dust and debris to come sailing through the streets. You cough and shield your eyes, before peeling off from the crowd. 

You didn’t want to believe it, but you knew. Leo still wasn’t back yet. 

“Goddamn him and his hero complex,” you frown. 

But there was no time to mourn. You didn’t even want to call it ‘mourning.’ In your frustration, you turn off your earpiece. 

“Come on, think.”

All of the sudden you felt restless. There must be something you could do, something to help–

“Get these people out of here. We have readings that the aliens planted some kind of bomb.”

Your ears perk up, and you turn to look behind you. There were a couple of suits; real Men in Black-looking types, talking amongst themselves. One stood out as their leader, directing the others toward the caravan of trucks pulling in. Without thinking, you run over to talk with him. 

“These–” He stutters, too swamped to even come up with a nickname. “Whatever they’re called– don’t respond to any conventional human weapons.”

“The Kraang,” you gasp, catching your breath. 

The tall man searches around for a moment before landing on you. You cough a bit and stand up to meet his perplexed gaze. It takes a while, considering he was much taller than you. 

“What did you say?”

Wait…did he really not know their names? Quickly, you collect yourself. 

“The Kraang. But why would they bomb us?”

You thought the Kraang wanted to enslave humanity. Infect our brains and rule over as a hive mind. Why would they use a weapon like that, especially when they weren’t even here anymore? Your mind buzzed with a million questions. It made no sense. 

The man straightens, dusting himself off. Maybe you weren’t just a normal civilian after all, he thought to himself. 

“Special Agent Bishop, Earth Protection Force.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for you to introduce yourself. Quietly, he leads you over to the other side of the armored truck you were standing behind. You eagerly oblige, following him until he stops at the edge of the street. 

Straining your eyes, you see the abandoned docks the Foot Clan used as their temporary hideout. You recognized those shipping containers, littered with graffiti. 

“Tell me, what do you see down there?” He nods over to the docks. 

“I see…”

Leaning over the cement barrier, you manage to see a couple of people still lingering about down there. They were Foot soldiers, still infected with Kraang residue. They shuffled along like mindless zombies, and it made your stomach churn. 

“And do you see that?”

You follow Bishop’s hand as he points over to a device sitting on the top of one of the shipping containers. You see a blinking red light, pulsating. Instantly, you grab at his sleeve and urge Bishop back to the truck.

“We have to do something! Don’t you guys have a way to defuse it?”

Calmly, he tears his arm away from you. He adjusts his suit with a detached huff. 

“We have no resources and no knowledge about…the Kraang? Is that what you called them? What else do you know?”

You scoff, looking back at the bomb. “Listen, I can tell you anything you want. Just do something about the bomb!”

If the Kraang really did put that there, who knows how many more bombs were planted around the city. You watch as Bishop regards you coldly. He pushes his sunglasses higher up on the bridge of his nose before walking away. 

“I’d suggest you clear the area. When that bomb goes off, it’s going to blow those poor souls down there to kingdom come.”

He clicks his tongue, and you shudder with fear. 

“Pity.”

What the actual fuck was this guy’s deal? Internally, you debate with yourself. Sure, they were villains, but that didn’t mean they deserved to be blown up. And you knew April said something earlier about the Kraang reacting to the glowing, blue vials. The ones she swiped from the lab at Eastlaird. There was a way to cure them. To cure everyone that was infected.

“Pesticides! The Kraang’s weakness is pesticides, you piece of shit! Now you and your government goons can go grab some and–”

“Pest, that’s an apt description.” He spits, twisting around to face you. “You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, I’d suggest you tell your friends to come back down here and help clean up the mess they made.”

You slowly back away, putting your hands out behind you. Blindly, you feel around for the concrete slab. The way Bishop was looking at you made you nervous. There was a distinct sense of dread that flooded your mind. You knew he wasn’t here to help you, he was here to gather intel. And it looked like he knew quite a bit more about your friends than you thought. 

With a final look back at the docks, you steel yourself. If the so-called ‘Earth Protection Force’ wasn’t going to do anything, it might as well be you. 

“Well,” you smirk, flipping him the bird. “I guess today’s a good day to die!”

You throw your legs over the divider and run down to the docks. Bishop moves a bit, reaching out to stop you.

“You idiot! You’re going to…” 

Then, he sighs. Speaking into his own earpiece, he makes an announcement.

“Get me Eastlaird University.”

–

You run at full speed, dodging and dipping past the infected Foot soldiers. Like zombies, they didn’t hesitate to claw and bite. You barely miss one that gnashes its mangled teeth at your skull. 

“Jesus–!” 

You drop to the ground and slide a bit, your knees digging against the pavement. It's only a couple of yards to the shipping container, and only a few feet up to reach the bomb. You really didn’t expect today to end with you defusing an alien weapon, but here you are. 

Reaching up, you activate your comms again. You hope you didn’t accidentally miss any important events while you went silent. 

“Please tell me something good.”

To your surprise, you hear a chorus of cheers blaring from the speaker. You can make out nearly everyone’s voices, even Leo’s. As you awkwardly shimmy up to the first container, you feel your heart begin to fill back up with life. 

“Y/N! We did it!” Mikey screams, jumping up and down. 

Your voice warbles with emotion. “Is Leo…?”

“Back and better than ever. Didya miss me?” Leo smiles, cutting in. 

“I can’t believe it, he’s really gone.” You sniffle, wiping away a fake tear. “I knew I would still hear your sweet, annoying voice speak to me beyond the grave.”

He playfully scoffs. “It’s fine, I totally didn’t just save your life or anything.”

Kicking off another Foot zombie, you manage to get to the top of the shipping containers. You stand there, suddenly frozen. 

“Oh yeah, speaking of saving– I’m kind of standing next to a Kraang bomb right now. Where are you guys, not too far I hope?”

“We’re on Staten Island, so we’re probably pretty far from– Wait…A BOMB?” Raph’s voice goes from calm to panicked in mere seconds. 

Donnie overrides all the communicators, speaking directly and only to you. 

“What do you mean ‘a Kraang bomb’? They never deployed any bombs!”

He paces around, working on his wrist gauntlet and locking onto your exact coordinates. To his despair, you were miles away from them. 

“Well, I’m standing here looking at a big box, with a blinking red light on it. It’s probably not a Kraang gift basket. ‘Sorry for almost taking over the planet, here’s some assorted cheeses.’” 

You cautiously approach and crawl onto your knees. You didn’t want to accidentally set this thing off, but you have utterly no idea what to do about it. There wasn’t a handy timer to show you a countdown, and there wasn’t a panel of wires you could cut. 

If only Donnie were here. 

He was still miles away, but Donnie was already flying to your location. As he glides past the spires of buildings and various police helicopters, his brow was furrowed in sharp concentration. 

“Listen to me, don’t touch it. Get as far away from it as you can!”

You gulp. Hearing Donnie sound so stern was a bit jarring. 

“But I can’t just do nothing! These government guys, they were just going to let it go off and–”

Again, your body moves without thinking. Your hands lightly move around the box, hoping to find some kind of button. Surely most bombs are built with convenient off-switches, right? You grumble to yourself. 

“Wait,” You gasp. 

“What did I just say?” Donnie growls, his voice low and gravely.

Wordlessly, you spin the box around to get a better look at the other side. There was a faded, scratched-up logo. It was hard to make out, but you could swear you’ve seen it somewhere before. 

There was an American eagle, its claws holding onto a sigil of the planet. Above its head, those words you hoped you didn’t have to read were inscribed. The color drains from your face. 

‘Earth Protection Force.’ 

Your voice is quiet, weak. You felt so defeated. 

“Donnie, this isn’t the Kraang.”

You hear him sigh with relief. Donnie couldn’t really handle any more life-or-death situations today. 

“Fuck, thank goodness. I’m almost there.”

He speaks words of encouragement to you, but you don’t hear them. His familiar voice becomes more and more distant. You stare at the box, the blinking red light a grim reminder that at any moment, you would most certainly die. Did Bishop plan this whole thing from the start?

Maybe they would just write it off as more collateral damage from the Kraang. It would be easy to sweep under the rug. The only people who would perish were a bunch of nameless Foot thugs, and you. 

You thought you could help, you thought you could make a difference. So much for that. 

Chuckling dryly, you stand up. 

The docks were right next to the ocean, maybe you could just jump and spare yourself the trouble. A watery end wasn’t that much better than getting blown up, but you guess you at least had the choice. You wish you had the foresight to talk with Donnie one last time. Instead, you use all the strength you have to lift the box up and toss it into the harbor. 

The bomb tumbles down, causing an enormous splash. 

But, it doesn’t go off. 

“Huh,” you sigh. “That was weird.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of Donnie’s drone wings close in. You didn’t realize he could move that fast. In slow motion, you feel yourself turn. 

There was Donnie, his face etched with worry. 

“What are you still doing here?” He shouts. 

You hear his voice call out to you in the distance, having already pulled out your ear piece. As you turn to fully face him, you fail to notice the bubbling from the water below. You were far too busy staring like an idiot at the purple-clad turtle.

“Dee?” You whisper, your hand weakly reaching up. 

You watch as his eyebrows raise, his eyes widen. What was he looking at, you wonder. 

Then, it happens. 

KA-BOOM–!

The piercing sound of an explosion rocks you to your core. The shipping container instantly gets knocked about by the tidal wave that cascades from below. The bomb finally went off, but thankfully it was deep in the bottom of the harbor. That’s all you can think about as you fall off, your feet slipping off the edge of the metal. 

Thank goodness it went off before Donnie got here. Please, let him be safe. 

Those were your last thoughts. 

Your body smacks against the surface of the water like you fell onto straight concrete. The blow knocks you unconscious, and your lungs slowly begin to fill up. The water tasted bitter, almost sour. 

Finally, you plunge into the darkness. 

–

“No! No, no, no, no!”

Donnie screams, shielding himself from the explosion. The bomb goes off and sends a great deal of water up into the sky. The shipping container you were standing on breaks from the impact, and he watches as you fall into the harbor. 

He seethes, gritting his teeth. You were an idiot. A stupid, impulsive idiot. Why were you still here? Next to a fucking bomb?

Donnie flies over to the water and immediately dives in. He would have risked everything to get you to safety. He guessed having to expose his tech to water would be an acceptable sacrifice.

With little effort, he manages to swim in and find you. You drifted along, your body limp and lifeless. His tech goggles covered his eyes and allowed him to see within the clouded water. 

He got enough self-sacrificing from Leo today, why did you have to go and do something so brave.

“I hate you,” he spits, lifting you up into the air. “How dare you make me carry you.”

He couldn’t go back to the docks. It was still crawling with Foot zombies. The dirty beach would just have to do. The sand buckles and shifts below Donnie’s feet as he slung your dead weight over his shoulder. 

“Please. Please don’t be dead.”

He sets you down against the course sand, careful not to jostle you too much. He quickly assesses your wounds. Your body was relatively unscathed, but you were still unconscious.

Gulping, he angles your neck up. Feels at your pulse.

Thank God, you still had one. It was weak, but it was there. Donnie takes you by the shoulders and shakes you about.

“Wake up. C’mon, don’t make me have to—“

His eyes desperately rake over you, looking for any sort of response. You didn’t stir, your body still slack. 

Donnie sucked in a bit of air through his nostrils. You definitely were water-logged, and you were unresponsive. He hated to admit it, but there was no other way.

“Alright! Here goes nothing…!”

Donnie places his hands in the center of your chest and gives you a set of quick compressions. He hadn’t had to administer life-saving protocols before, but he prided himself on being fully prepared for any scenario. 

He just didn't think he’d have to do them on you.

After about 30 compressions, he stops. 

“Wake up,” he urges. “Wake up already.”

Your eyes remained shut. Looking down, Donnie’s heart seizes. Your mouth was slack, slightly open and with no breath escaping.

No, please. Anything but that.

Before he could spiral down into his own self-pity, Donnie grabs at your head. Pinching your nostrils closed, he leans down to linger upon your lips. 

It was only two breaths, two measly breaths. He had to shift into a medical mindset. This was for your own good.

“You better not be faking it.”

With one last sharp inhale, Donnie smashes his lips into yours. One breath, two breaths. He felt your chest rise with the second breath. 

Lifting himself off of you, he gazes upon you with quiet reverence. You looked like you always did, only a little drenched. And cold. Donnie’s hands wander down to your arms, squeezing you tightly. 

You simply couldn’t be dead. It was a scientific impossibility. Sure, you were as mortal as he was, and we all have to bite it someday. But he wouldn’t let that happen today. He would rewrite the laws of the universe if he had to. 

“Fuck…” 

He felt the tears that he fought so hard to keep in start to run down his cheeks. 

“You’re stronger than this. You can’t just—“

His eyes bore into your closed eyelids, willing them to finally open. Any second now. Donnie resumed the chest compressions with a little more desperation. He didn’t even care that he might be bruising your ribcage at this point.

“Don’t you know that there are people who still need you? We still have to finish the Jupiter Jim marathon! You’ve only seen the first 7!”

Donnie’s voice started with a quiet, commanding tone before lilting into a shout. There was so much left for you to do here, you just couldn’t leave now. What would his brothers say? Or April? Your parents?

After the last couple of compressions, Donnie stilled. That was it.

“You’re…” He whispers, tears streaming down his face. 

He needed to call Leo, or send a distress signal. He needed to do anything except sit there and stare at you. He felt despair begin to creep in, slowly consuming his every thought. Immediately, Donnie pushes it away with a slam of his fists on the sand beside your head. 

Anger. No, rage. White-hot rage. 

“I told you to leave. And like always, you didn’t listen.”

Donnie glowered at you, his eyes going dark. But for some reason, all his fury disappeared once he got a good look at your face. He’s been angry with you plenty of times before. You were kind of an annoying person. He lets out a light chuckle before scooping you up into his arms. Carefully, slowly. 

He’d never really hugged you before though. It was nice, feeling your body lean up against his, but…

“I wish this were under different circumstances.” Donnie smiles, feeling a new bittersweet emotion bubble up in his chest.

“Usually you have something funny to say back. Or something stupid. Remember when I caught you reading my book of life-saving procedures?”

It was still a work in progress, but he was on a mission to draft a follow-up to his New York Times worst-selling hit, Donnie’s Big Book of Bad Guy Codes.

He didn’t realize until just now, but you were the only one who read either of his books.

“You were at the CPR chapter, practicing on Sheldon. You two were singing that song to keep the correct pace…”

Donnie sniffled and brought you in closer to his chest. Even though you were soaking wet and covered in sand, he needed to bury his face in your hair. 

What was that stupid song anyway? It was probably for the best that he couldn’t remember, he wouldn’t be able to listen to it again. It would remind Donnie too much of you.

“It’s alright.” A small voice spoke.

“No, it’s not alright.”

He didn’t know who exactly was speaking to him right now. Donnie squeezes you even tighter, all of the sudden hearing someone wheeze.

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” 

You finally stir, petting Donnie’s battle shell. You tried to be as soothing and calm as possible, but you knew there wouldn’t be much time left before you puke up a bunch of water. 

“Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother, you’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive. Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’ and you’re stayin’—AUGGH!”

Finally, you cough and sputter, water shamelessly spilling from your mouth. You really didn’t want to have to do this while Donnie was holding you so sweetly. 

Donnie’s sad expression falls away. “What the—?”

He pulls you away and searches your face. Your eyes were screwed shut as you continued to get out all the water that was in your stomach and lungs. Mindlessly, Donnie slams his arms against your back to help you.

Then, the realization hits him. You were alive! And not only that, you were your same annoying self! 

“Donnie! I— augh, God. I need to tell you about Bishop. There’s this—“

Donnie shuts you up, pulling you back in for a spine-breaking hug. Or at least, a rib-breaking one. You recoil a bit and cry out in pain, feeling a weird ache in your chest.

“OW!” You shudder.

“You’re an idiot. A dumb, stupid, reckless, insubordinate idiot. Please don’t ever leave!” He cries, nuzzling his head against yours. 

Somehow, you ignore Donnie’s unusual show of affection. There was still Bishop and the E.P.F., and the Foot Zombies clambering above you both. This was not the time or place to be canoodling.

“We have to go! Where are the guys? I think there’s a secret Black Ops that knows about you? And they—“

Once again, you’re cut off by Donnie. Another sting of pain runs throughout your body, and you push yourself off. 

“Jesus! And I thought drowning in the Hudson was suffocating.” 

You smirk at Donnie, wiping off the last bit of water from your chin. He was still caught up in…emotions? Is that what he was experiencing right now? You lean forward, leveling him with a teasing grin.

“Ha-ha, you saved me.” You chuckle.

But looking at Donnie’s face…his dumb, happy, handsome face. It made you nearly tear up yourself. You suddenly remember the events that led up to this moment. The bomb, the falling, the almost dying. 

Your smile curls into a frown, complete with a quivering lip. “You…you saved me.”

“Well, duh. I only did what Donnie’s Big Book of Life-Saving Procedures taught me.”

Donnie finally lets his familiar snark return. With a flippant smirk, he reaches into his battle shell and pulls out a spare handkerchief. He always kept one or two on his person, just in case. 

He supposes he could have used his robotic arms to hand it to you, and to pat you down with it too. He could have used them to resuscitate you as well, now that he thought about it. But he didn’t. 

With a light touch, he places the rag against your cheek and your hair. It didn’t really do that much, considering you were both soaking wet. It didn’t matter. 

Your eyes meet, and you both finally smile at one another. A genuine, thankful smile. They said all they needed to say without any words. 

Still, you felt a little bad for making Donnie have to do CPR on you. You’re sure it wasn’t a pleasant experience for him, what with all the…physical contact involved.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. And for all this.” You gesture vaguely to your chest. “I guess I thought I could be a hero like you guys…”

“We’re no heroes. Just a couple of highly-trained, highly volatile young adults with advanced weaponry and mystic powers. What’s so heroic about that?”

Up above on the docks, you hear a suspicious sound. More so the lack of sound, since the Foot zombies were somehow no longer growling up above. 

“Wait—“ You stand up, your legs a little wobbly.

“Woah, slow down there cowboy.” 

Donnie quickly catches you before you fall, putting a solid arm around your midsection. You blush, feeling his hand grab you so firmly.

“You do know that in the last couple of minutes, we’ve had more physical contact than we ever had since…ever?”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs.

You chance a sheepish look to him as he leads you over to the other end of the beach. Getting a clearer view of the docks, you both see a couple of government workers in hazmat suits spraying people down. The Kraang infections begin to slowly fade away, and you grab ahold of Donnie’s arm.

“Wait, how did they…?”

“The pesticides. I guess someone managed to tell them that the Kraang had a weakness. And to think they were just going to leave them, or worse.”

Donnie smirks down at you, giving you a gentle but reassuring pat on the back.

“Whoever did that sure is a real hero.”

You tear your eyes away from the docks to look back at Donnie. Your stomach fills with butterflies at his tender gaze. He’s never really looked at you like that before. Tonight was a night of many firsts. 

You shrug, feeling embarrassed. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right. Why does it take the world to nearly end for people to understand that?”

Chuckling, you stand up a little straighter. You definitely needed to rest, your body would be a mess tomorrow. Donnie’s hand shifts a bit to lay on your hip, and you find yourself leaning into his hold. 

“So, we saved the day? Do you think that means you guys will be given some kind of award? Key to the city?”

Donnie scoffs, helping you walk up back to the street. “I’m sure our valiant efforts will go relatively unnoticed. Not that we need to be congratulated, but…it doesn’t really matter.”

“Sure it does. I’m not an official or anything, but I think you all deserve some kind of honor. A plaque at least.”

You manage to climb back up to the pavement with Donnie’s help. Once you dust yourself off a bit, you wring out your damp hair. 

“Oh yeah, they’ll be putting up statues of us in no time. Sing our praises in the streets. Ugh, and then there are the public appearances. I would hate to have to kiss a baby.”

As you two walked back toward the rest of the gang (you both agreed that flying was a little out of the question for your slightly broken body), you moved to be a little closer to Donnie. 

“Nah, kissing’s gross. I only do it in emergency medical situations.” You tease, knocking against Donnie’s shoulder with your own.

Donnie suddenly stops, a deep blush filling his cheeks. 

“I— It was protocol! It’s two breaths, with minimal skin-on-skin contact. If I was going to kiss you, I wouldn’t be so cold and clinical about it.”

You feel yourself begin to laugh before you clutch at your tender muscles. Ah, there’s the pain again. Why was Donnie so cute and funny, he was going to be the death of you.

“Whatever you say.”

With a little hop and a skip, you manage to plant a small kiss on Donnie’s cheek. You know it’s not nearly enough of the thanks he deserves, but you hope it makes him feel a little more…heroic. 

“Thanks for helping me stay alive.” You smile.

In a charged couple of seconds, Donnie peeks down at you. You’re almost afraid that you’ve overstepped your boundaries when he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, his lips tug into a small smirk. 

Quietly, he begins to sing. His voice is comically flat. 

“Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.”

You give him an even bigger, goofier smile. After he loops back around to the chorus, you happily join him, with a little more enthusiasm in your delivery.

You hook your arm around his, singing and laughing all the way. You would deal with the fallout and boring stuff later. Right now, you were just glad to be with Donnie. You should be glad you aren’t dead too, but that was secondary. 

taglist: @saspas-corner

#rottmnt x reader #donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello x reader #tmnt x reader #sfw #requests #idk why i decided to include bishop in this lol #i guess to add more plot?? #some fun government corruption preamble

[peetapiepita]

My Issue with the Concept of Casting Actors Who Look Like the Book Characters & Why Peeta Doesn’t Have to be Blonde and Blue-eyed to Do It for Me

I’ve never understood why it’s so important to some fans that the actors have the exact same hair color and eye color as the book characters.

I thought this issue was long solved in the THG fandom because Suzanne Collins herself was so against this idea she responded to the controversy surrounding Peeta’s casting by saying, “If Josh had been bright purple and had six foot wings and gave that audition, I’d have been like ‘Cast him!’ ‘We can word around the wings!’ He was that good.” Does it sound like she cares about an actor’s eye color, hair color, height, or even skin color?

I’m very much against adapting the original trilogy again so soon after the movies, but if it happens, I wouldn’t even mind if they cast a good Black or Asian actor as Peeta. As long as he can act and embody Peeta, he will be good for the role and I’ll support him.

Peeta’s essence as a character is not in his hair color or height. He’s Peeta because he’s genuinely kind, gentle, and canny when he needs to be. I don’t think he needs to be blonde and blue-eyed and taller than Katniss to be all of those things. Do you?

My two favorite literary characters ever are Peeta and Will Parry from His Dark Materials. It just happens that both were played by brilliant actors who got so much shit for not looking like how the fans pictured the characters to be. I’m so fed up. His Dark Materials fandom is generally not that racist compared to some huge fandoms (which isn’t to say a lot), yet some people still acted insane when they cast Amir Wilson as Will just because they always pictured Will as White, even when it was never actually specified in the books. Will has straight black eyebrows and fierce-looking eyes. That’s the extent of his physical description in the books. And people had the nerve to act offended when they cast an actor that fits that description word-for-word, just because he’s Black.

And it pissed me off so much that there are still people asking for Alex Pettyfer and Alexander Ludwig as Peeta because they’re both blonde and tall.

First of all, Peeta was never tall. He’s medium height and stocky. Those two guys don’t fit Peeta’s description as well as some people seem to think. I wonder if some of them are just projecting the traditional standards for male attractiveness on Peeta, which is ironic because Peeta is the opposite of those things, that’s part of the beauty of his character.

Second of all, casting for movies is not like picking cosplay models. Maybe consider the possibility that acting skills are more important than hair color??? I’m not going to rant about this again because Suzanne already did it. I’ll just say Alex Pettyfer or Alexander Ludwig would never give a performance as brilliant as Josh Hutcherson did in any of the movies. I know some people have a hard time telling bad acting from good acting, but I don’t, I can totally tell when an actor is good or bad, or mid. And Josh was brilliant as Peeta. I seriously don’t think there could’ve been another actor out-acting him in this role to this day, but I look forward to being surprised if they ever do another adaptation.

#hunger games #the hunger games #thg #peeta mellark #josh hutcherson #his dark materials #hdm #will parry #amir wilson #suzanne collins

[aonungslvr]

trick or what?

pairing ; neteyam te suli tsyeyk’itan x gn!navi!reader

taggings ; 🪽

summary ; neteyam’s mate spends maybe a little too much time around spider during october

1.9k words

right before eclipse hit, you were wandering throughout the forest, making your way to the human outpost. you were told humans were bad, but you were unable to understand how something so small could do so much harm, not to mention your olo’keytan was once human.

your favorite human was spider, if he could even be called that. he was a year older than you, though still quite small. the boy would often brag that he’s quite big for his species. he had spent his childhood among you and your navi friends. leading him to become familiar with your customs and culture, and was basically navi.

spider had been keeping track of time like they did on earth, months - weeks - days. he had been hyping up the month “october” because of its history. back on earth, on october 31st, humans would dress in costumes and go door to door asking for candy on a holiday they called halloween. before the 31st, the humans would lightly celebrate in anticipation.

whenever you would visit spider, or vise versa, he would talk about this event, which in turn, got you pretty excited.

you arrived at the lab shortly, and let yourself in, having to bend over so your large frame could fit through the human length doors. you grabbed a mask that would fuel you with pandoras air and hung it over your neck.

some of the newer scientists were shocked, seeing a native teenager walk into their space, and the others had grown used to you visiting.

“norm! is spider here?” you greeted and followed up with a question. you and norm had always been quite close, he’d be your second favorite human.

“evening kid, he just returned from the forest, should be relaxing in his room.” norm spoke calmly, much better then how he used to speak when around navi.

you thanked him and approached spiders room. due to all of his navi friends, his door frame was made taller in order to fit the 10 foot blue species. you were able to simply walk in and greet your friend.

“(y/n)! bro, what’re you doin’ here?” he stood up and lightly punched your hip in a way of endearment.

“spider! i want you to tell me more about halloween! please?” you answered excitedly, silently praying to eywa he would humor you.

“well yeah, guess i could. not sure what i haven’t told you yet..” he pondered the question until his eyes lit up. “pumpkins, oh yeah!”

“pumkinds?” you questioned the new word and pronounced it wrong. “what are those?”

he enunciated the word in its proper pronunciation and explained further, “they’re these huge fruits that grow back on earth. the books say people would cut all of the insides out, and carve a face into it. then they put a candle in it and light it up!”

your smile lit up at the thought of more earth things around, and at the sound of carving. you grabbed spiders smaller hands and looked at him, “spider you HAVE to have one for me. or two? or three? please?!”

spider stared at you like you were crazy for a little while until he thought. “y’know i’m sure norm or the other lab coats have one of them around here.”

you took a breath from your mask as you lit up again. a smile quickly forming on your face.

other navi weren’t so sure why you had a sudden interest in animals on earth or human mythology. you had gained an extreme interest in bats, ghosts, vampires, and now, pumpkins, which you shared with those around you.

“neteyam!” you shouted once you saw your lover near his kelku.

you ran over, holding something in your hands he couldn’t make out. as you approached him it became clearer what you were holding, an orange sphere with a stem. neteyam had no clue what it was.

“look! spider and the lab coats gave me a pumpkin! we can carve it together, yeah?” you were clearly very excited over what you were holding.

“forgive me yawne but, what exactly is that?” he asked referencing the word ‘pumpkin.’

you quickly remembered you were the only navi who held interest in these human traditions and did your best to explain,

“it’s a pumpkin! a fruit on earth, you carve out what’s inside and then you can cut a face on it!! and we can put fire inside so it glows, isn’t that exciting?”

neteyam had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, but you seemed happy so he tried to entertain you.

“yeah? how about when i finish training with lo’ak and dad we can carve this together, that sound good?” he explained it all with a soft smile.

“yeah yeah! sounds great. you know where i am so why don’t you just come fetch me when your done, okay?” you replied.

once you had both agreed to meet at a later time, you returned to your kelku, proudly carrying your pumpkin with you.

as you worked on a weaving project on your floor, neteyam lightly knocked on your family’s home. with your father hunting and your mother working aside the tsahìk, you were the only one home.

“you in there (y/n)?” your significant other called for you.

you rose from your former place and moved the leaves that blocked the entrance, welcoming your mate in.

“ma neteyam!” you embraced him as he guided you both further inside your kelku.

“so you still interested in that pumpkin carving?” he asked in a teasing manner.

you picked up your pumpkin in one arm and grabbed neteyam with the other as you began to drag him towards an open area in the forest. you sat down and motioned for him to do the same as you sat the pumpkin in the middle of the two of you. you finally unsheathed your hunting knife that you kept on your loincloth and looked at your lover.

“ready?” you spoke with a smile and knife in your 3 fingered hand.

neteyam let out a chuckle as he looked at you, “yawne you look like your about to kill somebody.”

you plunged your knife into the top of the pumpkin, a few centimeters away from the stem, as you giggled.

“you want some help with that?” neteyam added with a smile, taking out his own knife that rested on his chest.

he pushed his own knife opposite to yours, and you both cut as your knifes met each other.

once the top of the pumpkin was cut off, you picked it up and instantly filled up with excitement looking at the seeds and insides of the pumpkin that followed.

“look! you see?” you shoved the top into neteyams face as he pushed it away.

“quit that!” he laughed, scooping some seeds into his hand and throwing it at you.

“neteyam!” you yelled and tried to win the new fight of seed-throwing.

this went on for a bit as the forest filled with laughter before neteyam held your hands back and talked again,

“ok, ok! aren’t we supposed to carve this thing?”

you snapped out of your frenzy and looked back at your pumpkin, “right!”

you finished clearing the insides out of the pumpkin, not protesting when some pandorain creatures came by and took bites.

you picked up your knife again and stared at your pumpkin, deciding on which face to cut out. you thought back to spider showing you all the different sorts and picked one.

neteyam had decided to move closer towards you, opting to sit next to you instead of across. he held the pumpkin steady to make it easier for you.

“so look, right now i’m cutting out an eye right? so i’ll cut this one out and then i’ll do another, then i’ll add a mouth!” you talked him through the steps you were following.

the navi male had moved his eyes from your pumpkin onto your face, admiring how happy you looked as you rambled about whether or not you should add a nose. he brushed your braids behind your long ears and smiled.

you turned to face him, confused at the gesture. nevertheless, you returned the smile and added in a kiss to his cheek. you looked back towards the pumpkin and continued carving.

“come on guys! keep up!” you were jogging towards the human outpost once again, this time followed by neteyam, lo’ak, kiri, and tuk.

“bro it’s not my fault! i have to drag tuk along!” lo’ak yelled clearly irritated at his little sister.

“(y/nnnn)!” the young girl said as she dragged your name on, “don’t let him bully me!”

kiri groaned at the arguing before kneeling down and picking up tuk, carrying her as she followed the group of navi.

tuk laughed and she hug onto her big sisters neck, happy that she wouldn’t have to be on her feet anymore.

“we’ve arrived!” you spoke at the sight of the human made building, and ran towards it.

as everyone entered, you all masked up, neteyam helping tuk with hers.

most of the scientists looked in surprise, some scared, at the 5 natives who had just barged in.

“bro! you guys are all here!” the human teen, none other then socorro, exclaimed seeing his friends.

“spider!” lo’ak and kiri both said at the same time, causing them to stare at each other in sibling digust.

“how’s it going cuz?” lo’ak asked as he gave the much smaller teen a fist bump.

“eywa you guys are weird. where did you even get ‘bro’ and ‘cuz’ from?” neteyam vocalized, sick of their odd words.

“chill out bro, dad says it was totally cool on earth!” the shorter navi male declared.

you wandered off from the argument unfolding between the blue boys and searched for norm.

“uncle norm!” you rushed up to him, “got what i asked for?”

he smirked and led you to a different room, pulling out 2 different boxes. you opened them excitedly and observed the clothes that sat inside.

“oh these are perfect norm! thank you so much!” you enveloped the human man, almost crushing him due to your forgotten strength.

once he was free and done gasping for air, he patted your back and went on his way.

you carried the boxes back to the group you left, easily holding them all with your bigger arms. you sat them down infront of the teens yelling at each other, something about tending the ikrans now?

tuk was the first to notice the boxes, and with her childish curiosity had tons of questions.

“what are these (y/n)? are they for us? what’s inside!”

“woah back off tuk! i want to see it first!” lo’ak exclaimed.

“you are acting like a child, brother. leave tuk alone.” kiri said, standing up for tuktirey.

neteyam came from behind you with a hug, questioning the boxes like the others were.

“what’s in those baby?” using the human pet name he had picked up from his father.

you open one of the boxes and looked back up at everyone, “our costumes! for trick or treating!” you said as you smiled.

“trick or what?”

#neteyam sully x reader #neteyam #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam suli #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam te suli tsyeyk’itan x reader #spider #avatar the way of water #avatar #spider socorro #avatar fanfiction #co writes !!

[flyingraijin]

sweetener. - Ch 6

R.E.M.

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x fem!reader

Word Count: 7140

Warnings: Swearing, let's not even talk about Suna at this point, high schoolers being high schoolers, all characters are 18+

Note: Actually on time this week yay!

Series masterlist + ao3

When you eventually arrive at the gym with Hinami, it barely takes one quick glance around to notice that there are a lot of people here to spectate the practice match. Far more than you’d ever expect for a game that isn’t an official one. 

You’re well aware of your school’s tactics of using the cheer squad to ramp up official games, however you hoped that wouldn’t be the case for a practice match. Simply because, well, it’s just a practice match. And thankfully, you don’t see any trumpets or drums or cheer pompoms around. But there are already people beginning to fill up the small set of stands in the gym. 

It’s with this in mind that you send Hinami on ahead of you; handing her the bag with your camera inside it and telling her to save you a spot. Then you dive around the inside of the gym wall, slipping through the crowd until you’re able to reach the door to the locker rooms. 

You pause before you enter it, suddenly feeling awkward about the whole thing. After all, this is were the boys get changed, and there’s a possibility you could walk in on any of them in a state of undress. Then again, this is also where Atsumu had instructed you to find him before the game.

You stand silent for a moment, and say a prayer to the gods that you won’t see any of the volleyball players’ junk. And then you slowly push open the door and step inside, all the while making sure to keep your eyes narrow enough that you can squeeze them tight shut at the first sign of trouble. 

What you do walk in on, however, is arguably far worse than seeing any of the volleyball team members naked. 

The entire volleyball team is grouped in the open centre of the room. There are clothes and bags strewn all over the floor, water bottles settled on benches, shoes waiting neatly at the foots of lockers. Everything looks as one might expect for a locker room for athletes right before a game. However, it's the athletes themselves that are the problem. 

While several of the younger students are standing in a wonky circle around the outside of the space, the third and second year boys are closer towards the middle. Ginjima’s face is strained, his mouth open like he's trying to get a word in edgeways, and Riseki looks like he’s actually about to puke. Between all of them, stand four people; Osamu, who’s grabbing tightly onto the back of Atsumu’s shirt, as well as one of his arms, and Kosaku, who's got his hands planted firmly on Suna’s shoulders. And Suna and Atsumu… well, they look like they’re about to kill each other. 

Your mouth drops open as you take a slow step closer, staring as the view in front of you unfolds. Atsumu is struggling violently against Osamu’s grip, his amber eyes flaming and his teeth gritted. On the opposite end, Suna is standing his ground against the blond setter, his own face hardened into a blank, icy mask. Ginjima is trying to get between the pair of them, reaching out his arms in an attempt to get a hand on each of their chests so he can physically push them apart. However, Atsumu keeps shaking off his captain’s grip, still glaring daggers at Suna. 

“You bastard!" he growls out,  eyes fixed on his slightly taller teammate. “Yer a fucking coward!” 

“Me?” Suna spits back, yanking one of his shoulders out of Kosaku’s grasp as he takes a step closer to Atsumu. “You have no goddamn place to talk, Miya, not after all the shit you’ve pulled!” 

“You know that I’d never-!” Atsumu starts to respond but it's now that you make yourself known, stepping out of the shadows of the doorway and right into the midst of the group. Immediately, both Suna and Atsumu freeze up, their wide gazes going right to you. Around them, too, their teammates tense as the atmosphere in the room seems to thicken even more. 

You look at Suna first. His eyes are just as cold as when you’d fought with him earlier, but the raw fury on his face is much more obvious. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this mad and it makes something in your chest drop. Quickly, you turn your gaze to Atsumu. 

He looks just as angry but it’s not abrasive in the way Suna’s expression is. When his eyes meet yours, you see some plea deep within them, a beg for you to understand. And you do; his anger isn’t for you. 

Still, the entire thing has you bristling and you can feel your own expression darkening as you continue to look round at the rest of the team. Then you speak. 

“What the hell is going on here? You idiots do realise you’ve got a game in a few minutes, right?”

They’re all silent, staring back at you almost sheepishly, and you suddenly feel like you're scolding a bunch of toddlers. Your mood worsens. “You guys are supposed to be a fucking team,” you hiss at all of them, “so what the hell are you fighting about?’”

Ginjima opens his mouth, looking like he wants to answer you. But Suna beats him to it. Turning his icy gaze on you, he fixes you with what seems like all the hatred he can muster up. “It doesn’t concern you,” he spits, his gaze darkening. “So you should back-”

He doesn’t get to finish though, because, with an angry growl, Atsumu wrenches himself right out of his twin brother’s hold and grabs Suna right by the collar. “Doesn't concern her?” he spits right in the taller boy's face, his expression positively murderous. His grip on Suna’s collar is so tight that it has Atsumu's knuckles going a bloodless white. “How about you repeat what ya just said to her face, huh?” 

Suna’s face contorts into an ugly expression and he grabs at Atsumu's own shirt before shoving him away. “Fuck off, Miya,” he snaps in anger. His shove is enough to send Atsumu reeling, stumbling back slightly. Osamu grabs onto him immediately to prevent him from leaping at Suna again. But it seems that Suna's answers has dulled Atsumu a little bit. Now he only looks up at the taller boy with distain on his face, as well as pure undiluted disgust. 

“Coward,” is all he says. 

Suna’s eyes widen for a second, his jaw dropping just slightly. He looks like he’s been physically struck by Atsumu; even you feel the sting of it, despite not having the full context of whatever has just happened. Suna takes another step forward then, actually looking like he's about to tackle Atsumu, however both Kosaku and Gingima dive in his way to hold him back. He struggles for a few seconds, glaring daggers at Atsumu the entire time. And then, finally, he seems to give up. 

“Screw this,” he mumbles before yanking himself out of the grasp of his captain and teammate, and stepping back. Everyone in the room watches him for a second, and he looks back, his eyes seeming to linger on you the longest. Something flashes in his gaze for the briefest of moments and then it's gone. And he turns on his heel and brushes right past you, not making an effort to avoid knocking a little painfully into your shoulder as he storms towards the locker room door. 

Everyone is silent was the door slams shut behind Suna, probably more out of shock than anything else. Then Ginjima coughs awkwardly. 

“Alright everyone,” he starts, standing up a little straighter and running his hands down the front of his shirt to straighten out the creases. “We, uh, should probably get to the court. We do have a game to play.” 

“Yes, sir,” all of the team but Atsumu respond, though it far less hearty than usual. You receive several sheepish glances, and even a soft pat on the shoulder from Riseki as the team begin to trail out of the locker room, picking up their shoes and water bottles as they go. You should probably head after them, you figure, since now really sin’t the time to go cheering Atsumu on. But your feet stay glued to the floor, your eyes still fixed on your (fake) boyfriend until almost everyone but the two of you remain. 

Osamu is the last to leave and he stops at your shoulder before he goes. “Don’t worry,” he tells you very quietly, probably quiet enough that even Atsumu can’t hear it. “He’ll listen to you. Just talk to him.” And then he’s gone too, stepping away with his shoes in hand. The locker room door closes quietly behind him. 

You stand for a long moment, just staring at Atsumu. He’s stock still, still in the same place, and his head is down. You can’t see his expression with the fluffy blonde hair that's hanging over his face, but you can see the way his hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides. His shoulders are shaking too. 

“Atsumu-?” you ask slowly, raising one foot to take a step forward. However, you're stopped dead in your tracks when suddenly Atsumu’s head flies up and you're faced with his full expression. Something deep in your chest cracks. 

“I -” he starts, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry.” 

“Atsumu…” you mumble out as there's another crack in your chest. And then you realise that it’s your heart that's breaking. 

Because Atsumu… his eyes are shining with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “Ya shouldnt’a had to see that. I just… got mad. I’m-”

But before he can apologise again, you make the few short steps between the pair of you and throw your arms around him. 

”Don’t,” you mumble into the muscle of his shoulder as your arms snake around his back and pull his body close to yours. “Please don’t apologise.” 

You feel the shudder that runs up the length of Atsumu’s spine, a shudder that is probably a held back sob. And then his head drops forward and you feel his breath on your neck as he buries his face in your shoulder, just as you're doing to his. His arms come up, caging around your lower back and then he’s hugging you with so much strength you half expect him to lift you completely off your own feet. 

“Just…” you start out, stuttering a little as you rub a hand up and down his back. “What… Are… Are you okay?” 

You almost cringe as the sentence leaves your mouth because what a fucking dumb question! But it's the only thing you can come up with right now as your entire body aches with concern for the boy your'e really not supposed to be feeling much for. 

You hear Atsumu inhale a sharp breath against you, his fingers digging into the fabric of his own jacket that you’ve still got on. And then, very slowly, he answers. 

“Probably not,” he whispers, his words so close to your ear that you have to suppress a shiver. “But I will be.” 

“O-okay,” you stammer back. 

“Just,” Atsumu murmurs, head still buried in your neck. “Please don’t let go. Not yet.” 

“Of course not,” you say back to him, your voice steady this time. Your hold on him tightens somewhat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And it surprises even yourself because you’re really not. Not for a long time. 

You're not sure how long you end up standing there. It can’t be more than a couple of minutes, considering the fact that Atsumu still has a game to get to. But for you, it feels like forever, as you stand, breathing in Atsumu’s now familiar smell and feeling the complete strength of him, even at his most emotionally vulnerable moment. 

Eventually, Atsumu does pull away. And when he immediately flashes you that familiar teasing smirk, you realise he’s completely back to being himself once again. It bugs you a little bit, as you let him go, because you're pretty sure he’s just hiding everything he’s really feeling behind that usual cocky attitude of his. But you don’t press the matter because you know he doesn’t really have the time to get into all of the details right now - you’ll just have to pry it out of him some other time. 

Still, you set your hands on your hips as he steps backwards, and fix him with a very pointed look. 

“So, are you going to explain what just happened?” 

Atsumu cocks his head to the side. Then he smiles sweetly. “Nah.” 

Your jaw drops. “Hey!” 

“I’ve got a match to get to!’ Atsumu says quickly, holing up his hands defensively. Then he sighs. “But I promise I’ll tell ya after. Okay?”

Realistically, you can't argue. But you still take a moment to frown at him. “You’d better,” you threaten. “Otherwise I’ll ask Osamu.” 

“I promise I will!” Atsumu reassures you. “Anyway, ‘Samu is too much of an airhead to have noticed everythin', he can’t give ya a proper story.” His smile drops a little and you see that same flash of plea in his eyes. “Just… later, okay.” 

“Okay,” you agree finally. Then you uncross your arms and make to take a step back. “I should probably go anyway. I need to find Hinami.” 

For a good few tenths of a second, you think he’s going to let you leave. However, once your back is turned, you feel him grab at your wrist, catching your arm and holding you back. “Wait.”

You turn back around to raise an eyebrow at him. “What now?” 

Atsumu pouts. “I never got my good luck kiss.” 

“That’s what you're worried about” You stare at him, eyes wide. “You almost killed your teammate and you have to get to a match in about thirty seconds, but that is what you're thinking about right now?!”

Atsumu's pout deepens. “Hey, I need my good luck kiss,” he whines at you, looking sulky. “Don't be mean.” 

You just roll your eyes at him. “You’ve done just fine without it up until now.”

“Well, from now on I need it,” he shoots back, eyebrows furrowed. Your shoulders sag a little. 

“But there's no one else around. What would be the point anyway?” 

Atsumu doesn't take very long to answer back, and in the back of your mind something tells you he's been planning this for a while. “I’ll cash in one of my free kisses!” he tells you smugly. “Ya can't say no to that.” 

You scowl immediately. “You're abusing your privileges.” 

Atsumu's pout returns. “Hey, ya promiseddddd,” he grumbles, giving you puppy eyes. “You agreeeeeed.”

“God, fine,” you spit out then, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “But this absolutely counts as a free kiss, and you’ve only got one left after this! Okay?” 

“Okay,” Atsumu replies, smiling brightly at you. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, tugs you in closer and before you know it, you're pressed right back up against his chest. Only now, he’s looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. Your heart seems to do a backflip. 

“By the way,” Atsumu mumbles down to you, as he dips his head closer. “You look very cute in my jacket.” 

You want to reply but he kisses you before you can. And for some reason, you don't object. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve kissed Atsumu. This isn't even the first time you've kissed Atsumu this way; pressed up against him, with his arms around you and your own hands settled comfortably on the front of his chest. And yet, it feels different. He feels different. 

It's odd but you can’t help but chase it, allowing for the kiss to continue as you seek this feeling. It's something that twists in the very bottom of you stomach and has almost all your nerves tingling like your entire body is suddenly filled with static electricity. It makes you grab onto Atsumu a little tighter, your fingers digging into the fabric of his practice shirt. And it stops you from objecting when you feel his lips probe a little further, gliding against yours in a movement that makes your head spin. 

Really, you can’t help but feel like… this kiss means more than anything you’ve ever shared with Atsumu. And… you really like it. A lot. 

Too bad it's cut off by the faint blow of a whistle from back at the gym, the signal of the five minute call for all the players to be on the court. It startles you enough that you jump backwards, away from Atsumu, your cheeks suddenly feeling hot and your heart thumping hard in your chest. For a second the pair of you just stare at each other in complete silence, and you can't help but feel a sense of awe of the guy in front of you. But then your senses return to you and you drop his gaze immediately, going to stare at the floor. 

“There, you got your good luck kiss,” you mumble out, forcing yourself not to stutter over your words. “Now you’d better win or else I’ll kick your ass.” 

You hear Atsumu let out a snort of self-confident laughter. “Of course we’ll win, who do ya think I am, princess?” And then he's breezing past you, just like the rest of his team had minutes earlier, heading for the door of the locker room. His shoulder brushes yours as he moves past and you think he pauses very briefly in his steps, letting his head drop a little to he can whisper in your ear. 

“And thanks. Was a nice kiss.” 

And just like that, he’s gone, off to go do his thing on the court, and leaving you so flustered you almost forget how to breath. 

Damn him, you think angrily to yourself as you continue to stare down at the floor. Damn you, Miya Atsumu . 

There's no real malice in it though. None at all

The game, despite everything, goes amazingly well. With Atsumu obviously so off before stepping out onto the court, as well as the tension between the entire rest of the time, you'd been worried their ability to play volleyball would be compromised. The entire sport is so team based to the point that conflict between teammates has the potential to seriously mess up the rhythm of the teams play style. But Suna and Atsumu, while not interacting any more than is absolutely necessary, are able to play together enough that the Inarizaki team takes the first set by five points. 

You sit with Hinami through it all, cheering the boys on and snapping photos with your camera throughout. The stands in the Inarizaki gym aren't huge by any means, and space is hard to come by, but Hinami has managed to get the pair of you good seats closer to the back, so your ariel view of the court is amazing. You focus your camera whenever Atsumu goes to serve and try to get a few shots of the twins' combos too; particularly their erratic quick attack that they'd stolen off the Karasuno team during last year's Spring Nationals. You try not to focus too much on trying to deduce the situation between Atsumu and Suna and do your best to switch your attention from being a "volleyball girlfriend" to being a photographer of the match. Ans=d thank goodness Atsumu is so photogenic when he's playing because some of the shots you do grab are absolutely stunning. 

The college team manages to snag the second set just barely after a few flubbed serves by the Inarizaki boys. Your eyes immediately jump to Suna when the whistle blows, instinct taking over your body. But then you force yourself to look away, to look at Atsumu instead. He's in the midst of jogging over towards his twin, his cheeks flushed and hair damp with sweat from the speed of the game. He doesn't notice you looking and you do eventually drop yours eyes from him too, when he hitches up the bottom of his shirt to use it to wipe the sweat from his face. 

The third set comes along quickly and seems to be over in a flash. The Inarizaki players seem to be filled with more vigour after losing the second set, and they smash through their opponents once again to take the set by three points. Around you, the small crowd breaks out into cheers of joy and you can't help but snap a photograph of the happy faces around you (not for the school newspaper but just for yourself). Then you hand your camera back to Hinami and get to your feet a little earlier than usual so you can go to down to the court to congratulate the team. 

Your steps are steady as you descend the stands, however your heart is pounding. You’re nervous - for what, you're not entirely sure. You're still not entirely sure what the incident between Atsumu and Suna earlier was about, however with the atmosphere between the teammates back in the locker room, your instincts are telling you that you probably had a lot to do with it. You know that Atsumu was never Suna’s closest friend; that spot has always been reserved for Osamu. But it’s not like they disliked each other before now, so… 

Well, the fact that you feel guilty now about possibly causing conflict between the team is only part of the reason you're so tense. You also don’t really know where you stand with Suna anymore - if he’s fighting with Atsumu about you (which you're still not sure is actually the case but you're just assuming) then he must care at least a little, right? If he truly didn’t give a damn, you know he wouldn’t be as upset by your “relationship” with Atsumu as he is. And while you don’t like the idea of either of them fighting, you can’t help but think… what you're doing with Atsumu is working. 

The team is celebrating by the time you finally land on the court, all exchanging smiles and excited high fives. While it’s not an official match that they’ve just won, the victorious feeling is still there, and you know as a team they’re very proud of the fact that they’re able to beat a local collage team - especially so, now that their old upperclassman, Kita-san, Ojiro-san, Omimi-san and Akagi-san, who they all admired a lot, have now left. You can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips as you approach, their infectious enthusiasm fizzing through your system, and when Kosaku eventually catches sight of you and waves excitedly, you return it with just as much energy. 

“Hey hey!” Riseki says happily when he too turns to see you. He jumps over, waving his arms wildly in excitement. “Did you see my serve? Did you? It was so good! I totally nailed that serve toss and then just slammed it like whoosh!” 

You laugh at his enthusiasm, nodding along encouragingly as he continues to describe his service ace in detail. You’ve always felt a certain warmth towards Riseki, ever since you first met him last year; probably because he’s your kohai and has looked up to you in a way not many people have throughout your time in high school. You make sure to slap his palm hard when he raises his hand for a high five and then reach up to ruffle at his hair. “Yeah, your serve was great! I got some really good photos of it!”

Riseki’s eyes light up immediately and he seems to glow with excitement. “Oh, you did? Ooh ooh please can I see ‘em! Please please please?!”

You open your mouth to assure him that you will definitely let him see the photos, however he’s shooed away then by another, taller figure who moves up from behind him. 

“Alright, buzz off,” says a familiar voice. “Yer hoggin' my girlfriend.” 

“Oh-” Riseki steps back immediately, looking embarrassed. “Right. Sorry.”

Atsumu snorts and just elbows him away before turn to look down at you. He’s covered in sweat, you notice immediately, but theres an undeniable spark of fire in his eyes. You recognise it from his practices; he gets that look whenever he plays volleyball and enjoys it, and you can’t help but reciprocate the rush of happiness that he’s just oozing at the moment. 

“Hi-” you start, feeling a little awkward at first considered everything from before the match. However, you don't get the chance to continue because Atsumu sweeps you into his arms, lifting you right off your feet in a tight hug that has you squealing in surprise. 

“Ohmigod, Atsumu!” you shriek, arms automatically slipping around his neck as you try to steady yourself. “Put me down-!” He silences you by pressing his lips to yours. 

It's a very short kiss, and very performative. You can feel eyes on you from all around, especially those of his teammates, and you don’t feel that same… spark that you'd felt when you’d kissed him earlier. But you’re happy enough now that this feels nice regardless and you can't help but let out a giggle against his lips when someone from the college team whistles. 

Atsumu pulls back at that, his dark amber eyes searching yours for a moment. And you smile back at him happily before pinching his cheek between your fingers. 

“You were so good!” you tell him earnestly as he lets you slip back down so your feet are touching the floor once again. “It was amazing!”

Atsumu chuckles and reaches up to brush his own sweat-slicked hair back. His eyes glint. “Aw, thanks, princess,” he chirps. “But I knew I was gonna be amazin' already! I’ve got my good luck charm with me.” 

You raise one eyebrow at him and he replies with a quick kiss to your cheek before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I’m gonna have to bring ya to all of my matches from now on.” 

You flick his shoulder, your cheeks burning. “Why are you so cheesy?”

“I’m charming ,” Atsumu corrects you brightly before leaning in again. For a second, you think he’ll kiss you for a third time today and your heart does a very embarrassing, and very unnecessary backflip. But he just pulls you into another hug instead, fitting your face into the crook of his shoulder. Then you feel his low voice in your ear. 

“Put on a show, princess, that whole team’s watchin’.” 

You glance over his shoulder and realise he’s right. The whole team, the opponents, the entire room is watching you. And that includes Suna, who's standings little further away behind Osamu with an expression you can’t quite read on his face. 

Right now is the perfect opportunity to prove yourself to everyone. And yet… 

There’s something very deep down in your gut that twists uncomfortable with the reminder that this is all for show. It’s all for the eyes of everyone around you, and for them only. 

It's with this in mind that you turn your head a little so you can properly bury your face in Atsumu’s chest. You close your eyes and feel him against you. And for the briefest flash of a second that's over before it’s really started, you pretend there’s no one else around. 

Atsumu and Osamu walk you home that evening. It's a surprise for you because up until now, it’s only been Atsumu who’s been making the journey too and from school with you. But when you ask them about it, as the three of you step out of the school gates and begin the familiar treck home, Osamu informs you that he has been very strictly not allowed to accompany you and his brother on your walks to and from school. 

“Yer boyfriend is a sap,” is what he says to clarify when you give him a confused look. “He doesn’t want any of his precious time with ya wasted with me bein’ here.”

You round on Atsumu immediately, giving him a suspicious look through narrowed eyes. “You told me that Osamu didn’t want to walk with us!” you confront him. “Did you lie to me, Atsumu?”

Atsumu looks exaggeratedly shocked. “I would never lie to ya!” he says very firmly. “Relationships are built on trust!” 

“He definitely lied,” Osamu tellss you bluntly from where he’s walking on your other side. “Tsumu is a huge liar.”

“'Samu!”

“What!” Osamu cuts back at Atsumu, looking around you to glare at him. “You are!”

“I am not!”

“You ate my last coffee jelly and then tried to tell me ya didn't even though you were still holdin' the cup!”  

Atsumu has the grace to look a little guilty at that, and it tugs a short laugh from you as you watch him begin to blush. 

“Okay, maybe I did,” he concedes. But then he reaches out to grab your wrist and pulls you more towards him and further away from Osamu. “But I would never lie to her !”

“You did though,” you point out to him, trying not to laugh when he looks down at you with an absolutely mortified expression. “You said that Osamu didn’t want to walk with us when actually-” 

Atsumu slaps his palm over your mouth, cutting you off abruptly. He deliberately avoids eye contact with you, looking sulky. “Okay, maybe I did,” he says again. “But that was only cuz I wanted to spend more time with ya without shitty ‘Samu around.” He glares over the top of your head at his brother again, who just rolls his eyes in return. You push his hand away from your mouth so you can answer him, shaking your head. 

“You could’ve just said so,” you tell him, still fighting a smile at the sight of the blush that's sitting prettily across Atsumu’s cheekbones. “I wouldn't have minded.” For extra effect, you lean up to press a quick kiss to the line of his jaw. Atsumu’s face immediately begins to burn an even brighter red. 

“Although,” you continue, pulling away from Atsumu’s grip so you can move back towards Osamu’s direction. You stop when you’re evenly between the pair of twins, and flash Osamu a warm smile. “Now that Osamu’s here, I actually like having him around. Will you walk with us more often, Osamu?” 

Osamu looks at you, then at his brother, then back to you. Then he shrugs his shoulders briefly, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “Yeah, sure.” 

Atsumu splutters. “Hey! Yer supposed to say ‘no’ and leave me and my girlfriend alone!” 

Osamu just rolls his eyes. “S’not my problem yer girlfriend is better company than you are,” he shoots back calmly. Atsumu chokes. 

“Aww, thanks ‘Samu,” you say to him very sweetly, giving him your nicest smile. “Maybe I did pick the wrong Miya - oof!”

All the air seems to leave your lugs entirely as you’re grabbed from behind and then hoisted up and over one broad shoulder. You let out a shriek of surprise at the feeling as your eyes bulge and your world spins. And then all of a sudden you're looking down the maroon jacket-clad back of your fake boyfriend. You blink at it in surprise, watching as the fabric moves with each of his steps. It's the same as the one I've got on, you realise when you notice the lettering that runs across it. 

Miya. A . Just like what you’ve got written across you own shoulder blades . 

You're snapped from the thought very quickly though, when you suddenly realise Atsumu is holding you over his shoulder by a grip he has on the back of your thighs. Your face begins to burn. 

“Oh my god, you twat, put me down!” you screech, immediately trying your best to wriggle way from him while also keeping yoru school skirt in an appropriate position. “I swear, Atsumu-!”

“No,” is all he tells you in reply, sounding very indignant. “Not if yer gonna flirt with my brother right in front of me.” 

“I wasn’t flirting!” you shriek, your entire body growing hot with embarrassment. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it was just Atsumu, but you can see Osamu watching the pair of you with an amused expression and it’s flustering you beyond belief. “I promise! Just put me down, you oaf!” 

Atsumu lets out a “humph” noise. He shifts his grip on you a little and you think he might actually be letting you go. But he only seems to adjust his hold before going back to carrying you just as before. You whine in frustration and slap at his back. “Atsumu!”

“I’ll let ya go,” he starts, and even though you can’t see his face you know he’s pouting. “If ya say that I am the better lookin' twin, and  that my hair is cooler than ‘Samu’s”

“Sweet lord-” you mumble to yourself, rolling your eyes so hard you almost give yourself a migraine. “What are you, five???”

“Otherwise I can just carry ya the whole way,” is all Atsumu has to say in response. You want to protest that it's still a good fifteen minutes walk to your house and he won’t be able to carry you for that long. But then you realise that he’s practically a professional volleyball player at this point and he could absolutely carry you all the way home, probably without breaking a sweat. Your body sags with defeat. 

“Fine,” you grumble out. “But I’m just saying those two things and then you will put me down.” 

“Of course!” Atsumu tells you sweetly. You don’t believe his sweetness for one second. 

“You are the better looking Miya twin,” you grit out through your teeth, “And your hair is cooler than Osamu’s.” 

Despite the fact that you're supposedly dating the guy, that sentence is very hard to say out loud. 

Atsumu chuckles heartily and reaches up to pat your back. “See, that wasn’t so hard,” he tells you happily. You can only glare at his shoulder muscles. 

“There, I said it, so put me down.” 

“Anythin’ for you, princess.” 

You let out a squeak of surprise when just as suddenly as you were grabbed, you're now dropped. Thankfully, Atsumu doesn’t just let you hit the ground; his grip remains on you long enough for his hands to grab your waist and then he lowers you very gently for the last couple of centimetres until your shoes are safely on the pavement once again. 

Immediately, you slap his chest. “You're a dick,” you tell him firmly before turning around and starting to walk once again. Osamu is still there, keeping pace with the both of you the whole time, and so you turn to him, your expression sour. “Does he behave like this all the time?” 

Osamu snorts. “Well, he doesn’t throw me over his shoulder and walk 'round the house,” he tells you casually. “He’s way too weak for that. But he is still a dick.” 

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Oi,” Atsumu's voice cuts in and then he grabs your wrist once again, and pulls you around to his other side. “That’s it, you two can’t talk anymore.” 

“Jus’ because yer fat ass is in the way doesn’t mean I can’t talk 'round ya,” Osamu tells him. Atsumu promptly aims a kick at the back of his brother’s knee. 

“Screw off, old man, stop tryna steal my girl.” 

“Old man?! Yer the older twin, dumbass!” 

“Yeah, but you have grey hair. So yer old.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

You can’t help but burst out laughing, watching as they start swinging and dodging away from each other. These are the Miya twins you're used to, the ones you’d see in the background when you hung around with Suna and the ones he’d send you videos of at random hours of the day. This feels familiar, despite the fact that you’ve never been so involved before. And as the two brothers eventually notice the way you're giggling and turn to you, each with a similar warmth and spark of fun in their eyes, you feel something swell in your chest. 

Maybe it’s a good thing that everything turned out the way it did, something inside you says quietly. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten to experience this . 

When you finally arrive at your house, Atsumu walks you right up to the the front door in an effort to “prove” that he's a good boyfriend. He also instructs Osamu to “stay the hell back” so he can give you a proper goodbye. Osamu says he’s glad to stay behind because he doen’t want to see that shit, and with that you and Atsumu step right up to the front porch of your house. When you reach the front door, you turn to look at him. 

“Thanks for walking me home,” you say quietly. “I appreciate it.”

Atsumu gives you a smile and a shrug in response. “”Course I’d walk ya,” he says. “Can’t let my girlfriend walk by herself in the dark, right?”

You roll your eyes and flick him in the centre of the forehead, holding back a smile. “You’ve really dedicated yourself to the part, huh.”

“Obviously,’ Atsumu grins. “When I do somethin’, I’m the best at it. So I gotta be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“You're the first fake boyfriend I’ve ever had,” you say to him firmly. “And the only one. This isn’t gonna be a recurring thing.” 

“Aw, that makes me feel special,” Atsumu says and then ducks away when you go to flick him again. A genuinely warm smile tugs at his lips. 

“It’s nice hangin' out with ya though, so don’t think I’m forcin' myself into this.” 

You give him a smile in return. “That's good to know.”

“And, uh,” Atsumu starts, scratching at the back of his neck. “Thanks for… well, earlier. In the locker room. Sorry if I scared ya.” 

You blink, a little surprised at the fact that he even brought it up. You're used to most of the emotional moments between you and your “boyfriends” being dismissed immediately, so having Atsumu acknowledge the fact that he’d cracked a little in front of you - it’s new for you. But for some reason, you like it. 

“Of course, I don’t mind,” you tell him, your voice a little softer. “I’m happy I could… help. But…” you nibble at the inside of your lip. “Are you gonna tell me what that was about?”

Atsumu lets out a soft sigh, his shoulders sagging a bit. You can see it in his eyes, he doesn’t want to. But there’s also determination written across his face which you don’t entirely understand. 

“We can talk about it,” he says eventually. “Just not now.” 

“So on Monday?” you ask, thinking that since it's the weekend now, you won't see him until then. Atsumu purses his lips. 

“I’ll text ya about it,” he says eventually. You face falls a little when you realise how serious the expression on his face has become. If you can’t speak about it at school, then it's probably something bad. And that makes what feels like an ice cubs slide down your throat. 

Atsumu seems to notice your discomfort and without really seeming to think, he reaches for your hand. You inhale when you feel the warmth of his palm close around yours, your eyes widening just a little. Then he squeezes your fingers slowly, comfortingly, and you relax again. 

“I don’t want ya to worry about it too much, okay?” Atsumu tells you softly. His eyes are sincere. “Don't… don’t overthink it.” 

You let out a short breath as you stare up at him, wondering briefly how he's gotten to know you so well over the very short amount of time you've had together. Then you nod slowly. “Okay. I won’t.” 

“I’ll text ya,” Atsumu assures you softly, squeezing your hand again. “I promise.” 

“Okay,” you says again, a little softer this time. Only somehow it seems more certain. 

Theres a moment of silence as you both just look at each other. Then, very slowly, Atsumu leans in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “G’night, princess,” he says quietly to you, his words brushing over your skin and sending shivers own your spine. “Thanks for comin' to watch today.” 

“O-of course,” you mumble back, stuttering a little as your heart jumps. “Good night, Atsumu.” 

He steps back then and goes to leave, turning his back on you so he can descend the steps of the porch and head back to the road when Osamu is waiting. However, at the very last minute, your mind jumps with realisation and you reach out to grab his wrist. “Atsumu-”

Atsumu looks back over his shoulder, eyes questioning. “Yeah?

“Your jacket,” you say. You're still wearing it, you’ve just realised, as heat blooms in your cheeks. He’ll probably want it back and since you have no reason to keep it any longer, you might as well just do it now. However, when you go to unzip the thing, Atsumu shakes his head. 

"Keep it,” he tells you gently, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a smile. “It's too small f’me anyway. And it suits ya.” 

You can't formulate any words in reply and simply nod in understanding as he sends you a cocky smirk. “You’ve still gotta wear it to my other games too!” And then he turns back around and continues on his way, back towards Osamu. Your hand falls back to your side from where your grip on his wrist has fallen away and you can't help but stand and watch until Atsumu and his brother are both walking off, waving back at you in farewell. 

When you step back inside your house, your mother is the first to greet you. 

“Hello,” she says brightly, peeking her head out from the kitchen as you kick off your shoes at the doorway. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah,” you mumble back. Your voice is weak. 

“How’d the volleyball match go?” 

“Our team won,” you tell her simply again. When you stand up straight and walk further into the house, you head straight for the stairs to go up to your bedroom. As you take the first step, you hear your mom call out to you again. 

“Who’s jacket it that? It's not yours, is it?"

“No,” you shake your head in reply. “I wore it to show support for the volleyball game.” 

“So who’s is it?”

You answer without even thinking. “My boyfriend’s.” For the briefest of seconds, the word ‘fake’ doesn’t even cross your mind.

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu!! #sweetener. #💙 blue's fics

[snugglebeans3000]

Welcome to my ted talk— today we are going to go on sleep deprived rant about how tall Tetsuya is because I’m slowly going insane.

The reason why any of this sprouted at all was because i was drawing a picture of Reiji and Testuya, and of course, I made testuya smaller than Reiji (Because I mean the snake man is canonically this gangle boy that’s all height and no muscle so obviously) aND then I started wondering to myself: How tall is Reiji compared to tetsuya? So I hopped onto my compute and googled it. Apparently snake boy is like 6 foot 2 inches, or around 189 cm rounded upwards. Not shocking, I knew he was tall so seeing that he was this 6 foot 2 gangle monster didn’t really phase me. This is where we get onto Tetsuya. Now— Beleive me when I say i could not find ANYTHING— NOT A SCRAP— of info that pertained to this man’s height. I looked in the wiki, I looked fan blogs where they calculate the person’s height which kinda surprised me because I didn’t think we had one for Beyblade, and STILL. NOTHING. So I do what any reasonable person does and I looked up to see if there was a side by side comparison of the characters from the show. Sadly, I wasn’t able to find one that was as technical as I wanted it to be, but I did find something that would help me on my quest— AND IT WAS THIS

It’s not the best quality but I had characters to work with. So, with that, I started googling. I tried looking up how tall Benkei was since he was the closet one to Testuya and they were almost similiar in height, but there was literally nothing. I don’t know how that, given that he’s probably one of the biggest and tallest people in the series— but YA KNOW— Then I had to search for an option I knew the height would show up on, so I searched for Gingka’s height. Sure enough, I was able to find it and the man is 5 ft 4 inches. (That. That killed me right there. The man is two inches taller than me. Guys, he’s such a short king—) So given that I was able to assume that Benkei at least has over a foot and less than a half of height on him, making him around 6 foot to 6 foot 6 inches. Now the reason why I make this assumption is mostly based off the Warrior Monk Saito Musashibo Benkei who Benkei himself is based after, who was rumored to be around 6 foot 6 inches. So let’s say he’s around that height. Now looking at it, it seems like Testuya is tall, but he’s not 6 foot 6 tall— which I can agree with. So WHY you may ask am I so riled up about this seemingly meaningless matter???? WELL I”LL TELL YOU. Tetsuya is slouching. SLOUCHING. I know that isn’t much but if this man where to stand STRAIGHT UP when he is side by side to Benkei THEY WOULD A FEW INCHES SHY OF BEING THE SAME HIEGHT. THE IDEA THAT THIS PISSY LITTLE CRAB MAN IS AROUND THE SAME HEIGHT AS BENKEI ASTOUNDS ME SIMPLY BECAUSE IT JUST SEEMS CURSED TO THINK ABOUT. And then of course that led me down the rabbit hole of why I’m making this post— THAT TESTUYA IS JUST AS TALL—IF NOT MORE SO TALL— THAN REIJI.

AND OKAY WHAT YOU”RE THINKING— but snuggles they’re both horrible and greasy characters who literally committed multiple crimes against children— TO THAT I SAY: Y E S. They have committed crimes, bUT IN MY AU THEY GO TO THERAPY AND BOTH LEARN REMORSE AND TRY AND LEARN TO BE BETTER AND MORE CARING HUMANS TO THEMSELVES AND OTHERS AND ALONG THE WAY THEY BECOME FRIENDS WHO TRY AND BETTER THEMSELVES. BUT JUST THINK SBOUT IT THOUGH— Reiji is so tall. He’s constantly having to have people look up, like ACTUALLY L O O K UP to him and being intimidated by his height. He would probably really insecure about how much he stands out. aND THEN ALONG COMES THIS CRAB MAN WHO IS TALLER THAN AND TALKS SO GOOFILY TO HIM AND REIJI JUST DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. That coupled with the fact that canonically how Tetsuya talks is literally like someone talking to a child (OKAY YOU MAY NOT BELIEVE ME BUT WATCH SOME OF HIS CLIPS BACK WHEN HE IS TALKING AND YOU”LL HERE IT I PROMISE) and that idea of him talking to Reiji, and Reiji being handled in a caring way he lacked when he was a kid is jUST— *BANGS MY FIST AGAINST THE TABLE* ITS— IT”S SO CUTE TO THINK ABOUT GUYS.

Well. That’s all for this rant. I am in a cold sweat from my pent up excitement and I am just about to head out to my work in Pulmonary. I really hope none of the patients have a medical emergency again. (Seriously, we had three medical emergencies yesterday bruh. They’re all okay but Jesus Christ the stress) UNTIL THE NEXT RANT MY FRIENDS.

#Beyblade #mfb #metal fight beyblade #ah #tetsuya watarigani #crab man #reiji mizuchi #snake baby #hieght shit #what the fuck is going on #Tetsuya being taller than Reiji my beloved #hcs #hflahigaoisghoiasgh

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Every time I see the word “petite” used in anything x reader or just anything in general, it sparks a rage (or pain, depending on my mood) inside of me.

It feels like, especially in the cod fandoms, petite is the beauty standard. If I’m not 4’11 then I don’t exist, apparently.

Sure, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but I hate when the word petite is used because an author assumes that because whatever character is over 6 foot that everyone will seem “petite” in comparison.

Tw for my dumb ass ranting beyond the cut ig

Maybe I should specify that I see petite more as a term to describe hight than weight. You could be any size and imo, the word petite can still apply if you’re short.

It’s especially bad with König. Like, I get it- we all love imagining him as some 6’10 giant, but just because he’s tall doesn’t mean you should put describe a reader insert as short in comparison unless you’ve warned that your reader is short coded.

It’s like going into a fic and seeing “his hand wraps easily around your forearm” because the writer forgot that not everyone is skinny.

And I completely understand, writers write for themselves, I write for myself- but if you’re posting it somewhere public and other people are reading it, you need to warn them if it’s anything but height/size/gender neutral.

These are wonderful things! Fem!reader is an amazing tag! It helps people find what they want to read and avoid what they don’t, I wish it was more normal to put things like “short-coded!reader”

Because like, Bestie, that’s all we need. If you tell me that whatever reader insert you have is probably coded to be short, then I can just write off all mentions of the word “petite” and ignore them.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame any writer for not. I’m not saying every needs to start tagging their fics like that or anything, it’s just wishful thinking and a rant/vent born from my own insecurities regarding my height.

But when it’s treated like normal to be small, it can hurt, because it feels like the standard. Like I should be smaller than these men.

And fuck, I’m not even that tall. I’m 5’8 and a half, that’s really not that tall- and one of my best friends is like 6ft. I hate how, as someone who is, again, not even that tall, I feel like this. Because how do the rest of y’all feel? I know there are girls shorter than me that probably feel too tall too, and I sincerely hope that girls taller than me don’t feel worse than I do, because no, they’re fucking beautiful.

My 6ft friend? She’s fucking gorgeous (she’s not on tumblr so I can say that safely). Tall women in general are fucking gorgeous, and of course I don’t blame short girls for writing fan fiction that appeals to them. They’re writing it, of course it’s going to appeal to them. If you’re not writing for yourself, who’re you writing for?? If anything, I blame the world for making it the standard that the girl is smaller than the boy.

Short men exist, tall women exist. And I know that short men will be insecure about their hight, so clearly this isn’t just me being (completely) psycho. Somewhere, it was instilled in us that a man should be taller.

And while on some level, I fully admit that I am yes, very jealous of short girls. I fully acknowledge this. I also find short girls hot (tall girls too, let me be clear. As I mentioned, 6ft friend is fucking gorgeous).

Ah fuck women are hot. Shit, this turned me to a “women being hot” rant again. This always happens, what the hell.

#I wrote the first half of this post crying #the second half of it I wrote thinking about how hot women are #This turned hinged but I genuinely do not care.

[the-void-writes]

15 Questions

Thank you @bloodlessheirbyjacques for the tag! You gave me some wonderful ideas for the wonderful pirate wife, Pedra Castillo.

———————

1. Are you named after anyone?

Not at all, I just named myself something simple. But when Josie says it, I can’t help but feel like some kind of deity.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Sometimes, I have dreams about my old family, and nightmares of that horrid woman, Alma, and of losing my little girl again. They make me cry more than anything.

3. Do you have kids?

Yes, indeed! Sweet, darling Sophie, mi angelita perfecto. She’s got my fire and Josie’s creativity, and her father’s strength and compassion. No one could ask for a better child.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

When the mood calls for it, particularly if Mister Briggs is around. It’s sweet that Will loves him, but Briggs is just too… snarky. We had names for people like him in my old town, but I don’t want Sophie repeating them.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their voices. My mother could yell louder than any goat or hen, and my father never spoke above a mumble. But Josie, she has the voice of an angel, and she never yells unless someone needs a good slap in the back of the head.

6. What's your eye color?

Deep brown, last I checked. The only part of my body I’ve liked since the beginning. Josie likes it too, thank goodness.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I’m always weak for happy endings, but Molly introduced us to “drive-in monster movies,” and they’re too fun to pass up.

8. Any special talents?

Sword-fighting seems too obvious… I’d tell you my best talent, but Josie would probably pinch my arm.

9. Where were you born?

There was a small town wedged between Maros and the trading capitals, more of a rest stop than anything else. That was where my family first set up, I think.

10. What are your hobbies?

Sailing, fencing, dancing with my family— Josie teaching me and Sophie how to play piano. If we work together, we might make an actual song.

11. Do you have any pets?

Not in our house, but Sophie is very attached to Will’s dog, the supposed Celestial Spirit of Paradise’s jungle. If you ask me, I think someone’s pet landed in Paradise and read a book. We had a burro in Maros who could read, and he made more money than I ever did on that damn fishing boat.

12. What sports do you play/ have played?

Besides fencing, I’ve been learning from Ruhi to box. She’s one of the toughest ladies I’ve ever met in my life. I still remember how far that sandbag flew, and I wish to replicate that for a live audience.

13. How tall are you?

Five-foot-seven, a few inches taller than Frank. It’s funny, really, having to look down at our new king.

14. Favorite subject in school?

I had a fondness for writing. As a kid, I would buy pens and paper from the market and pretend to be some lonely princess, writing letters of love and peace to other kingdoms.

15. Dream Job?

I would give all the money imaginable to do what Rio’s friends do. Senora Keyes, she made a fire-resistant dress! And her wife made the gun that set it on fire! Where were these ladies when I needed a crew?

———————

Tagging: @circa-specturgia @tryingtimi @sergeantnarwhalwrites @muddshadow @magefaery @italiangothicwriteblr and anyone reading who wants to answer!

#writeblr #tag games #wip: for all eternity

[hazbincalifornia]

New Face

Chapter 62: Blitzo meets the new hand at the ranch before the start of the Games.

Ao3 link

Blitzo flicked at the suspenders tugged above his shirt, feeling them quiver in the process- it was, frankly, a miracle that they hadn’t snapped when forced to stretch across all of the baby belly. To be fair, he had gotten ones that had extra give in them, so they at least didn’t feel like they would die a horrible death on him. He’d dolled himself up as much as his body would currently allow before Stolas insisted on opening a portal a little closer to the ranch, albeit next to the barn. (Not that Blitzo was about to complain, considering he’d probably be standing up for a larger portion of today than he had been recently.)

“Blitz!” Millie waved over to him, and he cracked his back before walking over, feeling his belly sway a little with every step. Fuck, he’d be glad when he could carry the kid in his arms, that seemed like it would be better for balance. Still, he could feel a faint buzz through his veins and his mouth still had an aura of lingering sweet iron as she tilted his head. “How are ya?”

“Never better, Mills.” He cracked a grin. “So, I heard there were some kind of games here- why didn’t you tell me? I should take that off your next paycheck, you know daddy loves that kinda shit.”

“The Pain Games?” The voice was somewhat rough, and Blitz spun to see a cowboy imp turn away from an absolutely gorgeous fire-stallion that immediately had his heart do triple-time. Was he related to Millie, and, follow-up question, would he be allowed to pet him?

“Yeah, those.” Blitzo nodded as the stranger closed some of the distance between them even though he stayed a few steps away, eyes darting up and down Blitzo’s body with a twitch of his lips. Right now, he was just an obstacle to horse-time, though. “So, can I-”

“Bombproof doesn’t like anybody touching him but me, ain’t that right, boy?” He gave the horse a pat and he nickered, nuzzling his muzzle into his side. Blitzo slumped a little at that, but the cowboy clicked his tongue.

“She said that the boss was stayin’ somewhere else for the night... you must be it then, huh?”

“Yep! Mill’s one of our best.” The fact that there were only four of them and three on active duty didn’t necessarily need to be shared, after all. “You one of her brothers?”

“He’s the new hand,” Millie said with a little nod. “Striker, was it?”

“Sure enough, little lady.” he said, nodding back with a little wink at her. “She’s been telling us about how business is going well- being able to wrangle that all up is real impressive, especially with you... full like that.” His tail flicked with a rattling noise as he folded his arms, and Blitzo beamed with pride.

“Once we got the groove, there’s a never-ending supply of sinners who’ve got beef with people they left behind, so hey, it’s just a matter of getting them into the office, y’know?”

“Right, of course. Does that ditzy royal you got up through know you’re...” Striker grimaced a little for half a second before he swallowed it back and waved at his middle, and Blitzo froze for a moment before waving a hand in response.

“It’s- y’know- it was a one night thing, I’ve got a weakness for bad boys so I let ‘em go in raw, and I’m already a dad so what’s one more, right? She’s gonna be a strong little bitch, though! Still need to pick a name, but maybe I’ll get struck by lightning on that soon.” Something else, think of something else- “So! Games! You already knew about ‘em, so you gonna join in?”

Striker took to the sudden switch with ease, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll do one better- I’m going to win.”

“Bold claim, big boy.”

He grinned with one eye narrowed, gold tooth glinting in the daylight. “Trust me, sir, you’ll see.”

“And they’re starting soon!” A new voice called out from near the front of the house, and Blitzo turned to see a taller imp that he knew he’d seen a picture of before. This one he was pretty sure was Millie’s sister. Mallie? S something? Stellie? Sally- Sallie May, that was it. She turned to him, unable to help a little snicker. “You joining in, daddy boy?”

“Hey, are you insinuating I can’t, sweet-cheeks?”

“I’m saying you could drop into the pig pen and I might not notice at first.” Still, there was a mischievous twinkle to her eyes that he liked immediately.

“Depending on what chow you toss in there, maybe I wouldn’t even complain, this not-so-little bitch has me starving all the time.” Blitzo tapped his belly, and she laughed before walking out to join them.

“I’ll see whoever’s not a pussy at the starting line.”

“Hey, hey, that better not be aimed at me!” Millie protested, and Blitzo’s head swiveled.

“Wait, what?”

“Long story, but I’m not allowed to join in anymore,” she muttered as Striker headed down the road with Sallie May. “I’ll be cheerin’ on Sallie, at least, she’s gotta hold up the family name since they made a stupid ‘too many deaths in one round’ rule.”

“That sounds like they just couldn’t handle you.” He ruffled Millie’s hair, and she nudged at his side.

“See, you get it.”

“So, is Moxx coming?”

“Yeah, he was just finishing up in his room, he’ll be down any-”

“Good, sir, you’re here!” Moxxie stuck his head out the front door before jogging over. “Someone locked me in on accident!”

“That was probably one’a the little ones, they’re rascals." Millie said. "Did you pick the lock?”

“Luckily it was an easy one.”

“I see my lessons paid off!” Blitzo repeated the hair-ruffling on Moxxie, who waved him off.

“Anyway, I heard one of them say something about some games before the festival?”

“That’s where we’re heading now. Anything that puts ‘pain’ and ‘games’ together is either gonna be fantastic or awful, so we’ll see when we get there,” Blitzo said as they started walking. “So, Mills, as the local expert, care to spill the details?”

“Sure! Well, first they usually start with the climbing and tying...”

_______________

Blitzo was delighted to discover that walking was far less of a problem than it had been recently- if anything, the weight around his middle was only a balance issue, and once he figured out how to sway his hips properly, she wasn’t as much of a problem as she’d been the past few weeks. Walking was just walking, which probably meant that Stolas's royal heart-snack had given a jolt to his system. Score one for cannibalism.

He scanned over the crowd milling around at the starting line- there was a healthy mix of all genders and body types, although there did seem to be a lower age limit since he didn’t see anyone who looked to be younger than fifteen or sixteen. Then, he glanced over the course, tapping his chin.

There was the protection spell...

“Hmm.”

Moxxie noticed him noticing the layout and grimaced.

“Sir. No.”

“Come on, I could whip the asses of any fucker here, even like this!” He waved a hand over at another clearly-pregnant imp, a short one with pink eyes that looked like he might be part shark that was stretching at the starting line. “That guy’s doing it!”

“That guy also looks like he’s about two months behind you,” Moxxie noted wryly. “What if your water breaks?”

“That’ll give me a couple extra seconds while somebody else slips in it!” Blitzo protested as Moxxie dragged a hand down his face, and Striker chuckled, leaning against the fence.

“Tell you what- I like your guts. We wouldn’t want you fucking both’a you up, so how about you and me just have a friendly little wager? There’ll be plenty of time afterward, so how about we take the mud wrestling pit together and see who ends up on top? Winner buys the loser dessert.”

Blitzo felt a kick, and raised a hand to his stomach to soothe away the baby’s irritation as a grin spread across his face. “Deal.”

#shadow writes stuff #one time #daddy blitzo #helluva mpreg

[new-royston-cursebreakers]

(I am Hopping in your Asks for the character pen pal game! This letter is from Tooth to Cricket)



Dear Cricket,

Hello, my name is Tooth! In case you wanted to know, I picked out that name myself! I’m 11 years old and I’m 5 feet and 2 inches. I heard you’re 1 foot tall, but I’m finding that really hard to beleive. But I guess I don’t really have room to say that cause I can speak to ghosts. 👻

My school is making us write letters to pen pals and I thought your name sounded interesting because I love bugs! My friends are named Spider, Beetle, and Bee. You could fit right in! My favorite bugs are 🪲 stag beetles, rolly-pollies, and cicadas (I like to scare my brother Morgana with their skins). Here’s a fun fact: some cicadas spend 17 years underground for a huge chunk of their life, which is longer than I’ve been alive! What are your favorite bugs/bug facts? 👀

Do you want to hear about the gang me and my friends made? Too bad! >:p We play with ghosts and sometimes even help them pass on if they’re nice enough to tell us stories. Places like shut down parks, 🏫 schools, or wearhouses are the best place to find ghosts! Personally, if I was a ghost, I wouldn’t want to die somewhere I knew would become empty and boring. Maybe at a 7 11 where everyone goes so that it won’t be hard to find me.

Anyway, I hope you see this letter and I hope I labeled it correctly!

From,

Tooth 🦷

Hi Tooth!

Glad to report that you labeled that letter correctly! Now let’s hope that I did, too. I like your name, too. I didn't get to pick mine, it was just a nickname from my parents that stuck, but I wouldn't pick anything else. I got it because I can imitate a cricket chirp perfectly! Anyway, I’m glad to hear from you! I was afraid I’d get a letter in the program from someone boring who only wants to know why I’m so small and nothing else.

To get that out of the way: yes, I am small! I’m 14 years old and a bit taller than 11 inches. It’s funny what people will believe when it comes to magic and the supernatural. My friend, Auster, runs an apothecary with his family, and they’ll get people calling them snake oil salesmen and calling his magic a hoax—in the cursed town! But I guess it’s different when it’s right in front of you. In fact, I was a bit skeptical when you mentioned ghosts, but then I took a step back and figured that maybe New Royston just doesn’t have a lot of ghosts. Though there have been some spooky things going on, so maybe I just can’t see or hear them. Got any tips?

Anyway! Yes, I love bugs, and I’m so glad to have a pen pal who also likes bugs! I’ve never met a stag beetle, but my friend Monty’s family’s farm raises rolly-pollies! Among other bugs: crickets, dragonflies, and a couple others. I’ve never met a cicada either since the last time our brood emerged was in 1996, so I’ll have to wait a few years yet. I do wish you wouldn’t scare your brother with their skins, since so many people just crush bugs when they see them because they’re scared and so many people think I’m crazy for liking bugs or make faces at me when I try to talk about bugs, but I can understand the temptation. Monty and I scared some people in our elementary school with dragonfly nymphs when we were little. My favorite bug fact is that some ants are farmers. They’ll grow crops of fungus and keep cattle in the form of aphids since they secrete sugar.

I can understand wanting to die somewhere where there’d be a lot of activity. I get pretty lonely with my parents not home a lot, and I wouldn’t want to feel that kind of loneliness forever. Maybe, if I could choose where to die, I’d die at the school, so I could always listen in as generations of students pass through. This school’s been here for hundreds of years, and it’s the only high school in town, so I doubt it’d be abandoned anytime soon. But at the same time, I catch glimpses of those ghost shows with those people walking around screaming “Hello?! Is anyone there?! Show yourself! AAHH DID YOU HEAR THAT?!?!?” and I just feel bad for the ghost. I wouldn’t wanna be annoyed like that all the time. I guess ghosts have it rough no matter which way you spin it!

It’s really nice that you help them pass on. Like I wrote, I don’t think New Royston has a lot of ghosts, but just in case, how do you go about contacting and helping ghosts? Doesn’t it ever get dangerous, like if they’re mad? Also you said you play with ghosts, so what kinds of games can ghosts play? I imagine they’d be way too overpowered in a game like hide and seek. They could just go between two walls and they’d never get found!

Anyway, thanks for writing to me. Hope to read more from you soon!

Cricket

#character pen pals #held in darkness 🦗 #ty for the letter! I was gonna write from eneas to tooth before i decided that caelan to frasier might be a better fit #so i'm glad i still got to meet this fella :)

[wrencatte]

behind the scenes ask meme! ✍️🖋️❤️

ngl, i have no memory of reblogging this meme, but that doesn't matter! Answers!!!

thanks for asking! <3

✍️ I have a concrete date for my first posted fanfic :D 2007. I remember writing "serious" stories in 2006. I was more of a doodler before that, thinking I would be a visual media artist. Then writing grabbed me by the throat and never let go

️🖋️oh gosh. i get inspiration from a lot of places. quotes. pictures. other people's writing. prompts. if you give me a specific fic I could probably tell you what inspired me

️❤️uhhhh my favorite scenes. there's so many. I *Really* like this scene from my tanager WIP (under read more cos it's longer)

He leans back as the rest of the group is taken down swiftly and brutally. His attention follows the figure that’s doing the beatdown. They move like a Bat but a little choppier. They have the initiates on the ground, groaning, before Tim can fully finish his next thought. They’re fast like a Bat too.

Interesting.

The guy doesn’t leave after, just stands there sizing Tim up in return. He’s taller than Tim by half a foot at least, shoulders broader but not by much. His outfit is homemade – a black cloth mask that takes up the bottom half of his face, a thick red hoodie is pulled low over his face, a black canvas jacket with various patches and pins. His jeans are dark blue and worn. He wears biker boots and fingerless leather gloves. There’s no visible weapons except the studs on his knuckles and the four-way lug wrench that’s spun deftly in one hand then stopped smoothly to tap against his thigh –

Like a threat.

His head tilts. Tim can feel the intense gaze staring at him from under that hood and he stands firm under it even though his skin crawls. There’s something off about this guy.

Tim stiffens when the lug wrench is lifted and tucked under Tim’s own hood. It’s cold against his skin. His gaze flickers from the weapon – confirmed now. There’s blood on two ends. Dried so not from the grounding bodies around them – then back up. The guy is so disconcertingly quiet.

The lug wrench lifts then pushes the hood off Tim’s head. It stops when the wrench taps the brick tall, fabric pinned, metal pressed against his ear.

It stop. And it doesn’t move away.

They stared at each other for a long, long moment. Tim’s curiosity has a too tight of a grip on him to even think about fighting back.

“…long way from home,” a low, hoarse voice rasps out.

#asked and answered #my writing #about me

[flatlinedgamer]

First Impressions: Korbin

First of my two OCs. Some things are bound to be messed up because Grammarly seems to have shit the bed.

Relevant Info:

Name: Gunnery Sergeant Korbin ‘Zombie’ Montgomery

Age: 32

Hair: Brown, dyed bright red

Eyes: Dark Blue

Occupation: USMC Scout Sniper

-------

When General Kirrahe volunteered me for Task Force 141 my only thought was ‘What the fuck do they need me for?’ One-Four-One already employed several Marines. I’m a Gunnery Sergeant in the U.S. Marine Corps. My specialty is unit training and I’m well on my way to First Sergeant but I’m assuming that’s not what they’re after.

No, they probably want me because I’m the Scout Sniper that dies and walks it off. They call me Zombie. I’ve been clinically dead twice, technically died on the operating table twice, and nearly bled out enough that I stopped counting. My name is well deserved.

One-Four-One had already been operating for a few months when Kirrahe called me in to talk to him. The man wasn’t unknown to me. I’d known him personally since I was a kid and he was a factor behind my joining the USMC. Not because I thought I’d have an easy time serving under a family friend. That wasn’t what Kirrahe was about. He expected more from me than he did most people.

I joined the Marines because I wanted to do something that mattered. It didn’t matter if I was protecting a group of refugees or putting a bullet in a terrorist cell leader’s skull. I wanted to be the good I sought in the world. Too bad I turned out to be such a shit person. There’s a point where you stop being bothered by death. Where taking a person’s life doesn’t make you shake, puke, or feel guilty. I’d reached that point years ago and there was no turning back.

That’s not to say I don’t still have nightmares and other… issues. But good, sane people don’t smile when they have a target in their rifle sights and pull the trigger. I’m not a good person. General Kirrahe knew that about me when he sent me to One-Four-One. What I am, though, is loyal. To my fellow troops out in the field with me and to Kirrahe.

The base I arrived at really wasn’t anything to write home about. I’m sure my cousin in the Army had seen pretty much the same thing in his own posts. It didn’t matter. I was on loan and likely would only be around long enough to take out whatever target they needed a bit of extra help with. Then I’d be on my way home to Fort Moore in Georgia until I went on leave.

Captain Price was an interesting man but he had a lot on his plate. He had just enough time to tell me to hunt down Captain John MacTavish. One captain is as good as the next, I guess. Price told me to ‘look for the muppet with the mohawk’. Whatever the hell that means. It didn’t take me long to find him.

“Captain MacTavish,” I called as I neared where he stood with several other men.

MacTavish turned around with a confused expression before finally looking down. He was least a foot taller than my five two frame. He stared down at me. “Can I help you, lass?” He finally asked.

“I’m Gunnery Sergeant Korbin Montgomery,” I said without missing a beat and holding my hand out to shake his. “They call me Zombie. Captain Price told me to come find you.”

“Aye,” MacTavish said, shaking my hand. “Call me Soap. Though, you’re not quite what we were expecting.”

I sighed. “You were expecting a man closer in height to yourself. Not a tiny Southern woman.”

Soap nodded.

“It’s fine,” I said with a grin. “I wouldn’t expect me, either.”

Another man in group spoke up. This one wearing a balaclava with a scull on it and sun glasses over his eyes. He’s just a tad bit taller than Soap. If I had my S.A.S. insignias correct he was a Lieutenant. “Why do they call you Zombie?”

“I’ve died or nearly died more times than I care to count,” I answered honestly. “Zombie is shorter than ‘that one sniper that dies and walks it off’. Besides, I hate being called Gunny.”

“Sounds like you’re just bad at your job,” he scoffed.

“Ghost,” Soap warned.

“Ghost?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow and a slightly feral smile. “So you died once and never came back from it? I at least keep coming back to piss people off.”

He stood there, silent, before he finally spoke. “Fair enough. I’ll give you that one.”

“Look,” I said slowly, spreading my hands out in front of me in a placating manner. “I’m not here to make enemies. I’m just on loan. I’ll do what I need to do and then I’ll fuck off back to Fort Moore. I’m generally pretty easy to get along with. I realize I’m not for everyone. Not everyone needs an angry hamster as a friend.”

Ghost snorted and shook his head. “You’re alright, yank. I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

I had a feeling I was going to like it that shitty base.

#cod mw #call of duty modern warfare 2 #task force 141 #call of duty #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #soap mactavish #captain price #ocs #female oc #ghost x oc #ghost x korbin

[jerek]

you'd tell me i'll be just fine

The canoe lands, with a peacefully sleeping Black Prince and champion aboard.

The edges of Wrathion’s dream were starting to dull. Whatever it had been, now it was a haze of half-wakefulness, and he fumbled through the memories of the night before.

It wasn’t the incident with the cloak– that was years ago. Despite the sun glaring red through his eyelids, he wasn’t in Pandaria. The mountains weren’t the right shape.

His sense of the land was… off, in this place. Like a compass at the northernmost point of the world. He realized that he was in the Dragon Isles, then that his spine and his head were up against something hard.

Wrathion opened his eyes, and was instantly made to squint against the morning sun. He– no, they were beneath the Ruby Lifeshrine, their vessel having wedged itself in a shallow spot between the cliffs. Had he slept through so much of the morning?

Had his champion slept so long as well? He might have been horrified, if either of them were on a particularly strict schedule. As he recalled, though, this was one of their usual lulls.

Midha looked exactly as she had when taking her cat-naps at Ravenholdt. They were both taller than they had been, and yet she was still the shorter of them. Likely why she was comfortable, bundled atop his chest, and he was pinned between her and the hull.

He stared up at the Lifeshrine. Whelplings were taking turns darting over the edge and fluttering back to safety. He shifted and drummed his fingers on Midha’s shoulder, whispering, “Champion.”

She stirred, but didn’t wake. One of the whelplings hovered a moment too long before rejoining their friends. “Champion, it’s almost noon,” he warned.

Midha’s eyes cracked open, and she took a deep breath as if returning to life. For a few heartbeats, she seemed disoriented… then she propped herself up, hands on the sides of the canoe,and followed his gaze upward.

Something sat on her back. She flinched– but her attacker only squeaked in Draconic, confirming Wrathion’s fears.

“Why’re you still slee—” The whelpling, a little red smudge in Midha’s periphery, caught sight of her round pupils. He flinched worse than she had, and only kept his footing by virtue of sinking in his claws and flapping furiously like a caught bird.

“Why aren’t you a dragon?!” the whelpling demanded.

Midha blinked, unsure how rude it’d be to burst into laughter.

“Now, now.” Wrathion set to work carefully plucking their new friend’s claws out of Midha’s cloak. “You can’t just ask people why they’re mortal.”

“Well…” The whelpling blinked his huge, yellow-green eyes. “Well, why are you in a boat?”

Wrathion lifted the whelpling over Midha’s head and sat him down on a crosspiece, before sitting up. His champion sat back on the other crosspiece. “That is a better question. My champion and I simply saw fit to take an excursion…”

He glanced over to Midha. “And then, if I recall correctly, you were the first to doze off?”

“...Probably,” she muttered.

“Just so I know you’ve done the utmost in defending dragonkind.”

Their friend, as it seemed, wasn’t done yet. “Mister Sabellian asked where you were. I can go tell him if you want!”

“Sabellian?” Wrathion’s eyes widened. “No, that’s quite alright.”

“Are you sure? Because he said if you were off doing nothing–”

“Nothing?” Wrathion laughed, so harsh and sudden it was a wonder no flame escaped with his breath. “Sabellian has done nothing for longer than any of us have lived!”

He had anticipated flame, this little whelpling, and poked his red head out from behind his wings. “I can tell him that, too.”

Wrathion stared again– and then shook his head. “If you must tell him anything, tell him I will return to Neltharus at the earliest opportunity. I’m sure if he has the time to go asking after me in the Ruby Lifeshrine, it can’t be that urgent.”

“Just that?”

“Nothing more, and nothing less.” He grinned at the whelp, who nodded and took the hand Midha offered as a launchpad to flap his way back up.

For a long while, the two of them simply watched– not just the whelp, but the wilds of the Waking Shores around them.

But, eventually, the silence had to end. “If you were wondering,” Wrathion said, “it’s usually only whelplings that have to huddle for warmth.”

“Have to?” Midha asked.

“The whelps at the Life Pools are made to, until they naturally tire of it. You and I, however…”

She understood. “That’s why.” When Wrathion tilted his head, she went on: “Why I came to find you. I wanted that for someone, and if it couldn’t be me, then it’d be you. If it isn’t you… it may as well be them.”

It took a moment, but he smiled at her. “I remember. Your eyes were as red as my own.”

#midfic #wrathion #the rare double moses #swear to god only wrote this 2 parter cause the wrathion shrine in my head started talking back #dragonflight spoilers

[unknownjpegs]

could be

Another late shift. This time, no tell-tale shake of the handle or tinkling metal in the lock. It makes her suspicious. Makes her scared — usually, he announces himself. But this isn't usual: the whole shift passes. Without company.

Her stomach sours a bit about that. Melodramatic, of course. She's being silly, maybe the tiniest bit borderline. 

Oh, you don’t like me anymore? You just disappear without warning, don’t let me know what’s going on? Because we’re done, or something? Because it was just…

Matilda does not think about his fluffy hair beneath her fingers or pressing her mouth to the dimple in his cheek or anything else, for that matter, as she packs up her belongings at the end of the shift. Tucks the headphone splitter into a pocket that she rarely uses. Hopes she forgets about it, loses it within her bag's mess. Next time he decides to show up and wants to listen to some music together, she’ll only offer a pout. Say oh no, sorry, she lost it. 

That’ll show him. Disappearing. Fucking ghosting. Her eyes sting. She begins to toss everything into her bag faster, a bit more haphazard, more than a touch angry. Working herself up for — 

There’s a cough from the hallway, and her head snaps up. 

*

It’s not him. It’s the tall blond that acts as his shadow, though, so her wash of panic is lessened somewhat when they’re face to face. That's confusing. The fear ebbs away like the tide; recedes back into the dark depths of itself, leaves her confused and strangely secure on the edge of the water. 

He knows Lark. Lark knows you work this shift. Now he knows you work this shift. Lark told him. Lark talked about you?

“Hi.”

She watches him shift from foot to foot, scrub a hand through his hair, pluck at a cigarette behind his ear. His hair curls at the ends a little, but the 

“Hi.” She says slowly. “I scream really loud, by the way.” 

His nose wrinkles, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling and then away. “God. L-Last time I do a fucking favor.” Long fingered hands shake from his black jacket’s pockets, wiggle in front of her like he’s about to do a magic trick. “No need. That w-would be so much paperwork. Cannot be fucked to do paperwork.”

There’s a flash of a memory, of bobbing golden curls. It pings around in the back of her skull so quick and brutally it aches.

 “You remind me of my brother,” Matilda offers. The confession startles her but she tries not to let that show, tucking the folder and her laptop closer to her chest. He doesn’t have a whole lot of height on her, but she still has to tilt her chin slightly to look him in the eye.

She…looks him in the eye. Hm. 

He doesn’t though. At least, not for too long. In fact, it seems like it’s making him nervous. He’s a nervous sort of guy to begin with; she’s seen him around. With his slouch like Wolffe’s, with a similarly unhinged smirk, with a disconcerting laugh... Matilda’s heard the stories. Heard them from Lark, so they’re all horribly firsthand. Wild stories that she’s not sure if he realizes are as incredibly frightening as they are. 

 She wonders if he’s heard any of her. If Lark talks about her — and then she cuts that line of thinking off with a quickness. It’s a few fucks. It’s not talking to your friends. Except she’s told Nomi the basics, so…

“Uh,” he says, casting glances over each shoulder. Like he’s looking for backup? “Uh. Okay.” 

Matilda allows the door close behind her. It knocks into the heel of her boot. Borrowed, bartered for, from another girl. Another tech. Made her a little taller, a little more do not fuck with me and a little less please do not fuck with me oh God. 

He stares at her. Spooky eyes, really light, the sort of blue that some people find charming. 

“He killed himself when I was ten.” Matilda offers, tucking the bag over her shoulder tighter. She stares back at him, watches the way those eyes widen slightly. “She tells everyone it was an accident when it wasn't. My mom thinks I don’t know that, but I do. I know a lot of things people don’t expect me to know.”

“Okay.” Benny says again, but now there’s no hesitation in it, no awkwardness of a fresh connection. It’s just understanding. Okay, heard.

 “Where’s Lark?” Matilda pushes away from her lean against the door and begins moving down the hallway. 

“Job,” Benny says from their distance. When she turns to look, he’s still standing there. Has shoved his hands back in his pockets. “He’ll be gone a week.”

Matilda pauses too. They’re maybe twenty feet from each other in this empty hallway, at two in the morning, at the end of her shift in her locked room because she’s terrified of the people on this base. The soldiers. Soldiers like him. 

“Aren’t you in that unit?” 

“Yeah.” He holds up a wrist, bandage peeking from beneath his sleeve. “M-Medical.” 

Hm. The seconds drag on as the two of them assess one another. It’s silent except for when the base’s air kicks on. She’s stood under a vent, so Matilda takes several steps back. Then she jerks her chin over her shoulder. 

“Walk me to residential.” 

He doesn’t respond, but he does move. Gives her a jerky, strange bob of his head that she thinks means to be a nod. He has to jog to catch up; Matilda never slows her pace unless it’s Nomi beside her.

They walk in silence. It’s nice. It feels…not safe, but maybe like it wants to be. Like it could be.

#writing #ua #mmr #jlb #core au