#arab reader

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Cheese of the Stringable Variety

damian wayne x reader

(A/N): I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while now and it is by far the most niche thing I have ever written. I intended this to be around 1k, looked at the word count before I’d even gotten to the section I wanted to write this for, and then checked again at the end and viola 3k. I am of Arab-American heritage myself and slowly learning Arabic and connecting to my culture, but this type of string cheese has always been a part of my life and my role in my extended family. I also hope that those who don’t share these experiences can still enjoy this fic, if only for the amount of storybuilding that wormed it's way in. (Also worth mentioning that the having separate bedrooms has no cultural relevance whatsoever; I just like the concept.)

Note: reader is implied heavily to be of Middle Eastern heritage, though there are no features described. The region is also unspecified but the Arabic dialect is Levantine because that’s where my family is from. 

warnings: a lot of food mentions; a mild curse word in Arabic; use of a knife for food related things; discussions of extended family 

wc: ~ 3100

~~

On your way out the door in the morning, you took the braided cheese out of the fridge and left it on the counter, a post-it note on top of it. Leave out of the fridge! was scribbled hastily in your handwriting as you rushed to work. In the apartment behind you, you could hear the sink running. After a long night of patrol, Damian was fortunate his meeting started at eleven am and not eight am. 

Every time your phone screen lit up as you headed home in the evening, it taunted you with the time. You didn’t mean to be back so late; it would take hours to string the four braids of cheese you’d picked up from your جد, your grandfather, the day before. At this point in the evening, you’d probably have to get up earlier in the morning and finish it then. At least an early tomorrow would mean “no sleeping in” rather than “running on five hours of sleep” before a family function. You’d done it before. It sucked. 

You pulled your laptop and a couple other items from your bag before heading to take a shower and change into comfortable clothes. A sweatshirt of Damian’s caught your eye after you’d gotten changed, tossed haphazardly over the edge of your bed. You hung your damp towel in the bathroom before heading back into the kitchen. Halfway there, you turned and grabbed the sweatshirt, pulling it over your clothes. 

“مرحبا حبيبي,” you greeted Damian as he shut the front door behind him. Hello, my love. “How'd the meeting go?" 

“مرحبا أملي,” he replied, dropping a quick kiss on your cheek as he passed through the kitchen on his way to the bedroom.

Damian’s Arabic was better than yours. Every time he said something to you that you understood, a satisfied trill shot through your chest. Ameli, he called you this time. My hope. Damian had a handful of various pet names for you that he cycled through, many of them in Arabic. 

“The shelter proposal’s been fully approved,” he informed you, “so I’m expecting the distribution of funds to begin in the next few weeks.”

“Oh that’s great!” Setting up properly funded, city-wide animal care facilities was one of the first things Damian ever brought up to the WE board. “You've been working at that for years.” The microwave beeped and you silenced it quickly, pulling out the container of leftovers you’d been heating up. You opened the second container and covered it with the same paper towel before placing it in the microwave.  The timer was set once more for 90 seconds. Before the food was done heating up, Damian returned to the kitchen, work clothes traded for a compression shirt and shorts. He owned half a dozen of the exact same black compression shirts. They functioned most often as his first underlayer on patrol. 

“Here, Dames.” You held the first container out to him, a vegan pasta dish he made earlier in the week. It was still steaming.  

“Thank you, beloved.” Damian took the container and sat down at the table, eyes scanning something on his laptop. If you had to guess, it was probably the drugs case the entire family had been working on recently. The two of you had hosted Dick the other day, up from Blüdhaven following the same case. He’d stayed in Damian’s room while the two of you crashed in yours. Dick was at the manor now, but he’d promised to stop by before he went back home. Some part of you figured it was at least partially motivated by the fact that you were inevitably going to be taking home leftovers tomorrow. Dick had tried some before and loved it. He probably wanted some. You didn’t blame him; you already planned to be hoarding your favorites for yourself. (And Damian. But mostly for you. Your family wasn’t vegetarian.)

The microwave beeped again. You pulled the second container out before grabbing forks and making your way over to the table. Your dinner was mostly the same as Damian’s, but with chicken added into the dish. The two of you didn’t always store leftovers that way, but sometimes it was easier to create two separate servings if you expected to be eating at different times. Damian scribbled a note down on the pad of paper next to him and closed the laptop. 

“We’re finally raiding the first warehouse tonight,” he offered, accepting the fork you held out to him. The paper and pen were pushed to the side before Damian started eating. 

“Oh yeah?” You asked around a bite of food. “So that stakeout paid off then?” 

“It did. But Dick and Timothy are following other leads tonight so this won’t be the end. But it should be a good start.” 

“Good,” you agreed. “I’ll be glad when the operation’s dismantled. You wake me up if you need me when you get home, okay?” 

Damian nodded. 

You weren’t sure you actually believed he would wake you, but you knew Babs would even if he tried to convince her not to. Sometimes you thought being friends with Oracle was the only way you stayed somewhat sane while dating a bat. She sent you injury reports. Alfred’s injury reports, not the lame ones Damian, his father, and his siblings wrote in an effort to not get yelled at by their friends or S/Os. 

Dinner didn’t take long. You loaded the dishes into the dishwasher as Damian collected his duffel bag for patrol. 

“Love you.” Damian pressed a quick kiss to your lips and another to your temple before ducking out the window. 

“I love you too. See you tomorrow.” 

There wasn’t secret bunker in your apartment. There was a significant amount of both weaponry and uniform equipment and outside direct access to transportation to one. You watched Damian’s bike disappear behind a false wall before turning back inside. It may not be Gotham-saving, but you, too, had stuff to do. 

The microwave clock declared it just after ten pm by the time you’d completed the handful of household chores you wanted done—the ones you expected to have time for until you got home late. You deliberated for a moment before grabbing two braids of cheese and a bowl that your dad had given you for that express purpose. You’d leave the other two out and string them in the morning. Leaving the cheese out all day had done its job. When cold, it would snap too easily when you tried to string it, and take much longer to do. 

The speaker that lived in the kitchen turned on with a swooshing noise and an acknowledgement that it was connected to your phone via bluetooth. It was a little late for anything too upbeat, but you found a good playlist after only a minute or so of looking through them. You tied back any loose hair, washed your hands, and grabbed a small paring knife from a drawer before sitting down at the table. The knife, sharp as it was, cut through the plastic packaging with ease. 

You moved the empty plastic off to the side and unraveled a twist, cutting each end so that you had two thick pieces a little under a foot long. The second braid was left whole for now. Once you got started, it would be harder to find pieces yet to be strung under the stringy parts already finished. So you’d break apart the larger pieces as you finished the ones before. 

Your music kept you company over the next hour and a half. The huge pieces were pulled apart into larger pieces then into medium pieces then into smaller pieces before finally being teased apart into the stringy texture that gave the cheese its colloquial name. It was just before midnight when you graded your efforts adequate. You poked one final time through the two braids worth of cheese and pulled apart any of the pieces you thought were just a little too big before calling it a day. 

The bowl was full, and you covered it in plastic wrap before putting it in the fridge. In the morning, when you did the remaining two, you’d have to start a new bowl. There was no sense in leaving already strung cheese out on the counter. You washed the knife and tossed the plastic wrappers in the trash before sending a goodnight text off to Damian. 

Goodnight, حبيبي, it read. Then, Be safe. There was no response. You didn’t expect there to be; he’d see it when he could, and you’d see him in the morning. 

Your bed was occupied by just you when you woke up which meant one of three things. Either Damian had gotten back too late that he would have woken you up by joining you, he’d gotten injured and knew he’d fail to hide it, or he needed a little bit of solitude. There was no injury report from Barbara when you checked your phone, but the little marker under your text to Damian from last night said that he hadn’t seen it until after three am, which meant it was probably four at the earliest by the time Damian had gotten to bed. You missed the warmth of waking up to him with you even as you appreciated his decision. It was only eight am now. You would have no doubt woken him up with your alarm. He desperately needed sleep, even if only a couple hours more. 

The remaining braids of cheese were in the same spot you left them on the counter last night. You moved them and a second bowl to the table, then grabbed yourself a bagel for breakfast. Your friends from New York disagreed, but you’d tried both and New Jersey bagels were far superior. 

It was half past nine by the time you finished scraping the hummus from your blender into various containers. One larger container would go with you and Damian to your grandfather’s house. The other one was staying in your fridge. Between the two of you, it wouldn’t last very long. You didn’t make hummus very often despite the fact that you both enjoyed it. What you could boast, though, is that you’d converted Damian to your family’s way of making it. Critiquing supermarket-available hummus became a shared habit. 

The completed bowl of string cheese fit perfectly in the fridge on top of the larger container of hummus. Most of the blender parts went in the dishwasher, and you set the cycle to rinse so that the hummus wouldn’t dry and congeal onto the plastic. The blender blade stayed on the side of the sink, already rinsed off. You’d wash it later. First, you had to finish the cheese. You opened your playlist from last night and hit play, bluetooth off this time. If it was loud, it would wake Damian. 

Damian’s bedroom door opened near silently when you were nearly done with the third braid. You took a momentary break to nudge the tea kettle on by pressing the button with your elbow before returning to your seat at the kitchen table. The bathroom door shut then opened again a few minutes later. His footsteps, quiet even in his home, meant that you didn’t notice him heading into the kitchen until he was already there. After months of living together and months before that where you might as well have been, your partner appearing silently beside you didn’t startle you anymore. 

You never got tired of seeing Damian without his guard up. It was an image only you and his family got to see: a Damian squinting in the morning light, hair a mess of waves that dried pressed against a pillow. The sight of him dressed in nightwing pajama pants and an old college t-shirt was yours, now. 

“Morning, my dear,” you greeted him. Small strands of stiff cheese stuck to your fingers. You picked them off and dropped them in the bowl before getting up to give your partner a hug, wrists bent awkwardly so that you wouldn’t touch his shirt with your hands. 

“صباح النور” Damian murmured, his arms heavy around your shoulders. Good morning. “What are you doing?” He asked as you let go. 

“Remember how I had to pick up cheese from my grandfather’s house the other day?” Damian nodded. “I’m stringing that. I wanted to get it done last night but I got home a little late. So I’m finishing it now.” 

You retreated back to your spot at the table, finishing the last of the third braid. Black caraway seeds were scattered around the table and you brushed them into your hand before returning them to the bowl. “The kettle should be done pretty soon. And your mug is on the counter.” 

Damian didn’t say anything until he sat down beside you, cup of tea in hand. 

“You’re stringing the cheese?”

“Yeah, it’s the thing I’ve been assigned to bring to the family events. I’ve been doing the stringing part since I was a kid but since I started living on my own I’d string it at home and bring it with me. And this year I’ve been upgraded to making hummus, too. I made a double batch so there’s a separate container for just us in the fridge.” 

“You went to a family birthday party months ago and didn’t bring it then,” Damian pointed out. 

“Yeah, if my aunts and uncles host the event,” you explained, “their family is technically supposed to string it. I mean, a lot of the time I’ll get there and they’ll ask me to do it anyway, but it’s not officially my job. And I don’t have to pick it up if it’s not my job. This is the first full family event that we’ve lived together for, I think.” You thought for a moment. “Wait, no, there was thanksgiving. But you were at the manor then.” 

Damian watched as you opened the fourth braid. The plastic wrapping joined the one from earlier. 

“I’ve just got this one left.” You cut both ends and pulled one of them apart. “Do you want to help? You’ve just got to wash your hands first.” 

Damian detoured to the sink before sitting in the chair beside yours.

“How does it work?” 

“You just kinda pull it apart and then keep stringing until it gets to be really thin.” You demonstrated quickly, stringing a small section of the larger piece you were holding until it resembled a pile of embroidery floss. 

“Like this, just for the whole thing. But it will snap if you try to brute force pull it instead of string it.” You handed him one of the larger pieces. “Here, you try this one.” 

Damian’s face of concentration sent a burst of warmth through your chest. He was following your instructions to perfection, entirely focused. It took effort not to burst into a full grin. You watched him for a moment before continuing on. Two songs went by on your playlist before Damian said anything. 

“This takes ages.”

You laughed. 

“Yeah, it does. Which is why I spent nearly two hours at it last night and we’re still doing it now. I’ve gotten so much faster at it, though. I can do two braids in less than an hour and a half. It used to take me an hour each. But it’s faster only if it’s warm. If I have to string it right out of the fridge, it’s harder to do.” You smirked. “And it tastes worse.”

Damian quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. 

“I doubt that.”

“It’s true. Ask my family members when you meet them later.” 

“I will not.”

A laugh burst out involuntarily. 

“Yeah, maybe having a debate with my family about food isn’t a great idea. They’d scare you off.”

“No they wouldn’t,” Damian argued, eyes lowered. “I have fought the League and the worst of Gotham—“

“And it’s still okay to be nervous meeting my family. But you know I don’t actually care what they think right?”

“Tt.” Damian stopped stringing to look at you. “They’re your family.” 

“Yeah, and so are you.” Your shoulder nudged his, hands still hovering over the half-finished bowl of cheese. “And I know for a fact that you know me better than most of them.” Damian scoffed a laugh. 

“I know more about you than your estranged cousins? What a great achievement,” he deadpanned. You rolled your eyes at him, returning to the piece you’d neglected. 

“You’re the first significant other in a long time,” you revealed after a moment. “My family is big, in a different way than yours, and they scare people off. So if a cousin brings someone to a holiday celebration, it means we’re serious about the person we’re bringing. All of my cousins-in-law are the people my cousins brought to gatherings like this.” In your peripheral vision, Damian stiffened. You kept stringing, anxiety twisting in your chest. 

“I should have told you that earlier, I’m sorry, I don’t even know if you’re fine with that implica-” 

Damian’s hand reached out to still yours. 

“حياتي,” he said, head dipping down to meet your eyes. “That’s okay with me.” 

“High-ah-tee,” you sounded out, repeating it back to him. “What’s that one?” 

Damian pressed a kiss to your lips. On instinct, your hands moved to cup his chin. Drying strands of the string cheese in between your fingers had you pulling back. 

“العمى,” now I have to wash my hands again. And you should wash your face, Dames.” 

“Be right back,” he said, moving quickly to the bathroom. You watched him go before turning to wash your hands. Damian hadn’t returned by the time you’d finished, so you moved back to the table, resuming working on the strand you’d left behind.

“You didn’t tell me what it means,” you reminded him as he sat back down next to you. “Hayati, that is.” 

“حياتي,” he said slowly, “means ‘my life.’” 

A smile split your face. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hey,” you began. Damian turned to you, mid stringing his own piece of cheese. “I love you.” 

Your partner’s lips quirked up into a grin. He pressed his forehead to yours for just a moment before turning back to the cheese. “I love you too.” 

“Now,” you mock-admonished, “if we don’t get this done in the next 45 minutes, we will be leaving late.  And my grandfather hates it when the cheese is late.” 

Damian huffed a laugh, following your lead as you returned the majority of your attention to the bowl in front of you. 

“Maybe we’ll beat your father there.” 

You barked out a laugh. 

“Oh, my grandfather would find that hilarious.” 

Damian’s smirk was visible even as you reached for another piece of string cheese. 

“A first impression that will be remembered, then.” 

“If we’re on time with the cheese and hummus? And your stringing skills are already pretty good? I think my grandfather will just never let you go.” 

“Lucky for him,” Damian said, grabbing the other half of the piece you’d just begun, “I don’t plan on that being a problem.”

#the intimacy of sharing something important to you with someone important to you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne fanfiction #damian al ghul #damian wayne #arab reader #arab-american reader #middle eastern reader #string cheese

[gaysindistress]

Since you did latina can you do arab that would be so cute plsss i love your fics its my favourite fics i have ever read

AHAH IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS!!! *crackles knuckles and rolls neck* it’s my time to shine.

This list has a special place in my heart since I’m Arab. Idk why I didn’t do this sooner but….

here is a list of things I think would happen if Bucky dated an Arab!reader

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

1. He would absolutely terrified of your mom and aunts.

You would warn him about them before you brought him home for the first time but nothing could prepare him for awaited him. The moment you stepped foot inside, your mom and aunt were upon him, touching, poking, grabbing, everything. They were all over him as he looked at you with wide eyes that begged to help him. You tried but your mom hit your hand with a sharp “khalas” as she leads him into the kitchen. Your dad is useless and backs away with his hands up when you look to him for help.

“Mami, bi sharafak. Give him some breathing room,” you gently demand as to not turn her attention to you.

Bucky’s gentle smile and even kinder eyes warrant even more commotion from the herd of women around him. They finally let him go after thoroughly interrogating him about everything under the sun and he instantly finds you. Wrapping his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your hair, he whispers to you that you’re not allowed to ever leave him alone with them again. When you ask him why, all he mumbles is something along the lines of “some many questions and the touching.”

“Food?” You ask as a peace offering and he happily accepts it.

2. Whenever he’s around you, he literally doesn’t stop complimenting you.

Maybe it’s your perfume, maybe it’s the way you style your hair, or maybe it’s your outfit that day. No matter what, he is ALWAYS complimenting you.

You have about 40 bottles of perfume but there are few that he loves more and will ask if you can wear them more often. At first, he would just casually mention that he liked how you smelled that day but the longer you’re together, the more obvious he is about it. He goes from asking if you can wear the gold one to straight up picking your perfume out for the day. It’s become a little routine at this point; when you’re getting dressed, he’ll pick something out and help you put it on. You’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself but it’s an excuse to have him close and to feel his hands on you. His favorite and the one he picks the most is the one that your mom got you as a graduation gift. You asked him one day why he liked it so much and he told you that it was what you wore the day you two met. That and it smells like “oranges and summer.”

Bucky is OBSESSED with your hair, maybe more than your perfume collection. It’s usually blown out and styled so he can’t touch it but it’s all over when you leave it natural. Of course he’s a gentleman and will ask if it’s okay to play with it before fully twisting his hand into your curls. They’re almost like a fidget toy for him; he’ll toy with a curl when you’re cuddling on the couch. If you’re in public, he’s gently massaging the base of your neck and playing with the little ringlets that live there. If you need to wash it, he’s right there with all of your products in hand. If you need to put it up, he’s already behind you and gathering your hair for you.

3. If you’re Muslim, he would try so hard to understand your religion.

I genuinely don’t believe that Bucky knows anything about Islam prior to meeting you. It’s possible he met a few Muslims in the 30s and 40s since he lived in Brooklyn but he knows nothing about Islam.

To put it mildly, America is a very interesting place when it comes to the Middle East and Islam and a lot of the information he gets at first is contradictory. When he learns that you’re Arab and also Muslim, he tries to do as much research as he can but ends up getting pissed off and stops. He’s not frustrated due to a lack of understanding, he’s livid that new sources are allowed to say whatever they want and no one stops it.

The following convo is just one example of when this happens:

Aside from wanting to never use the internet again, he’d take the time to sit down and talk to you about your different holidays so when they come around so that he understands what’s going on. He’d buy an English translation of the Qur'an so he can read with you. You’ve offered to read yours in English but he’s adamant that he wants his own. It’s adorable really.

I think he would try really hard to learn Arabic so that he can understand Islam better but it’s a very diffcult language to master. What’s even cuter though is watching him study a word and you can see those big beautiful blue eyes scan it over and over again as he thinks about how to say it. You don’t even try to help him as you sit back and shamelessly watch him. Your Arabic lessons usually end with him whispering “تقبرني” (taqburni) against your lips.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #Arab reader #Arab reader x Bucky #Arab!reader x Bucky #request #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel

[thatoneintpkid]

I never see someone do anime x arab reader that much .. considering that i am arab, here’s bakugou x fem arab reader headcanons.

-when he like first met you he was like yeah your arab ok idc really

- but he was actually really intrigued and interested

-when you guys start like dating he starts learning Arabic a bit so he can impress you or something

- when your relationship stars to get more serious and you guys are more comfortable and close to each other he stars calling you “habibiti” or “hobi” and sometimes he calls you “himara” as a joke😭💀

-this boyyy

-he’s always amazed by your unique looks and attractive eyes😭.

-he tries cooking you arabic dishes but ends up cooking indian food instead (it still tastes good)

-he once went with you to an Arabic wedding and his ears bled ..

-he once wore a shimag (شماغ- a scarf for men i think) he looked 🥵🥵.

-he tries to keep up and deal with your bossy attitude but it ends with you both arguing

-he loves listening to fairouz with you early in the morning while drinking shai

-would blow someone if they made fun of you or your culture

#mha x reader #arab reader #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shoto fanart #deku #headcanon #fluff

[boiohboii]

Logan: the true American

(Logan Sargeant x rich!arab!reader)

Fans have spotted Logan with someone new in Abu Dhabi, then again around his hometown and then once more in England, and while they mourn the lose of their favorite American, they also get impressed by his choices.

or

in which Logan should leave his career in Formula 1 and switch over to the white House.

WARNINGS: not proof read, obviously not realistic, very very very short, stereotyping america, ps: i know nothing about politics, i barely know shit about my major.....could've been better if I just slept on it but I unfortunately don't have the time, just something that came to mind at midnight and had to do itt..... HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!

Facecalim: yara mustafa

masterlist

Logan Sargeant added new stories

caption: my passenger princess

#logan sargeant #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #logan sargeant smau #logan sargeant x yn #logan sargeant social media au #logan sargeant x arab reader #f1 x arab reader

[l0vergirls]

What pet names do you think the batboys would have for their s/o?

i think dick would have the most petnames in his vocabulary, only using the cheesiest ones just to tease you in public, like cupcake or honey bunny. but he definitely uses babe, baby, sunshine; he sticks to the classics. though don't be surprised if he calls you his sugar bear in front of everyone.

jason, i cannot see using anything more than babe or doll (ive seen this one around a lot and i cant say it didnt grow on me; i quite like it now), usually at least. perhaps a darling or beautiful, if he's feeling particularly romantic. maybe a nickname derived from your name too.

tim, i also cannot see going further than babe, or a nickname.

damian, by default, gets the best ones! things are just more meaningful in arabic. definitely a classic حبيبي or حبيبتي in there, it means my love iirc; حياتي is one of my favourites, it means my life; and probably قلبي too, which is my heart. and of course, beloved. safe to say he would probably say the arabic ones in english as well.

ty anon 4 this adorable ask <3 putting my very minimal knowledge of arabic to use!!! that said, i had to type all those out so if there's any typos im sorry orz

#when i first started learning arabic manyyy years ago #i got confused between qalbi and kalbi 😭😭😭😭 #caught myself before anything happened thank god #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #batfam x reader #dc x reader #— yan writes. #— dc. #— mail.

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Nah, because everyone says that Damian speaks Arabic. LIKE, OF COURSE, BUT WHICH DIALECT THOUGH? Lebanese? Palestinian? Yemeni? Saudi? Or perhaps the league has its own accent and dialect? Does he understand the different North African dialects???

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #the batman #batman #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne x reader #dc movies #the batman 2022 #thomas wayne #martha wayne #damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian wayne imagine #jason todd #jason todd imagine #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #tim drake #tim wayne #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth #arabic

[cutielando]

always and forever ~ charles leclerc

Summary: You and Charles have always been there for each other, and you will continue to do so always and forever.

Words: 1.7k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

It had always been the two of you.

You had known each other since you were kids, starting as best friends and then evolving into a beautiful couple that stuck with each other through everything.

You were always there to cheer him up and make him feel better after bad races, he was always there when the hate from the fans was too much for you. You were a rock to each other.

Charles has had a bad year. Ferrari was doing worse than ever, he couldn't win races because of the car, people were putting pressure on him to perform and he just felt like he couldn't do it anymore without breaking down.

He's had his fair load of bad strategies, long pit stops, feeling like the team didn't support him and prioritized Carlos instead of him, overall just doing him dirty all year long.

It was now time for the last race of the season, Abu Dhabi. 

Like always, you were right next to your boyfriend, having taken time off work to make sure you could be there with him for the entire weekend.

You were currently in your hotel room, getting ready to go with Charles to the paddock ahead of qualifying that afternoon.

"I don't want to go" Charles said while he watched you do your hair, his heart swelling when he saw you wearing a Ferrari shirt with his name and number on the back.

"Why not? You love Abu Dhabi" you frowned in confusion, just now seeing how truly miserable he looked.

"I know how things will play out, so I don't even see the point of racing when I just now I'll disappoint everyone yet again" he shrugged, looking at his feet and playing with his fingers.

You put down the hair straightener that you were holding and stepped closer to him, taking his face in your hands and making him have no choice but to look at you.

"Mon amour, I know you've had a tough year, and nobody is blaming you for your results. Everyone sees that Ferrari is letting you down and they know you are doing the best you can with what you have. Stop worrying about what people are going to say and just go out there and do what you love the most. Race, have fun. Screw the results, I'm going to be proud of you no matter what place you end up on. But just go and have fun one last time this year and we'll come back stronger next year" by the time you finished speaking, Charles was biting his lip and a tear was threatening to spill from his eye.

"I love you so much, you know that?" he whispered and chuckled, his voice cracking at the end.

"I love you too, and I'm so proud of you, baby" you whispered before leaning in and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

Charles wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling your body flush against his, wanting to be as close to you as humanly possible.

You were holding him just as tightly, your arms securely wrapped around his neck while one hand played with the small hairs at the back of his neck.

"Ready?" you asked once you pulled away, outstretching your hand towards him with an encouraging smile.

He nodded and took your hand, placing a kiss on the back of it.

"Let's go"

♡♡♡♡♡

The Ferrari garage was buzzing.

Engineers were running around, Charles and Carlos were deep into a conversation, Frederic was trying to keep everyone under control and you were just hanging around with Arthur, Charles' brother, shaking your head at the chaos that was the red Italian team.

"It's amazing hos disorganized they've been the entire year" Arthur quietly said into your ear, making sure nobody from the team could hear him.

"I know, it took a huge toll on Charles. He didn't even want to come today, it took me half an hour to persuade him to just go race and have some fun" you said, your eyes finding Charles every now and then.

He seemed a little calmer than he was back at your hotel while talking to Carlos, knowing that he enjoyed the Spaniard's company and honestly valued their friendship outside the track.

"I wonder if he'll stay at Ferrari next year" Arthur wondered, now also looking at his brother.

"You know he's still under contract, he wouldn't just leave them like that after 5 years" you explained, but on the inside you wished he would do just that.

Charles was one of the best drivers on the grid, everyone knew that. A lot of teams would love to have him in their line-up, including Red Bull and McLaren. You've spoken to Charles about potential offers and what he thought his future looked like, but you knew he would say loyal to Ferrari until the end of his contract.

"I know, but maybe he'll change his mind once the next season is done if Ferrari don't get a grip and improve, you know" Arthur explained, and you nodded.

"I hope so. We've talked about it, but he said he didn't want to think about that just yet" you said, dropping the subject once you saw your boyfriend making his way over to the two of you.

"What are you two plotting?" he teased, hugging Arthur before wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your cheek.

"Nothing you should know" Arthur said, winking at the both of you before leaving to give you a moment before the start of the race.

You turned to Charles, studying his face.

"How are you feeling?" you asked quietly, taking a hold of his hands.

"I'm fine. I'm just going to go out there and drive the best I can, like I always do. Have some fun, just like you said. Have to listen to the wifey, right?" he smiled teasingly, the nickname making you blush heavily.

Charles had recently started calling you his "wifey" after having been together for 3 years. You often talked about the future and knew that you both wanted to spend the rest of your lives together and would take the next step when you both felt ready.

But what you didn't know was that the day might come sooner than you thought.

♡♡♡♡♡

Contrary to what everyone was expecting, Charles had managed to win the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. He drove so well, like his life depended on it and you couldn't have been more proud of him.

When it was time for the podium celebrations, you couldn't take your eyes off him as he received his much-wanted trophy, holding it up in the air and blowing you a kiss once he found you in the huge crowd.

Before the champagne shower could start, however, Charles asked for a microphone, putting his trophy down and looking nervously at Max and Lando, the teammates he shared the podium with.

"Wow. I can't believe we did it. We had a tough year at Ferrari this season, not being quite where we wanted, but we ended the season on a high note and I want to thank every single member of the team that made this all possible" he said, putting the mic down to give a round of applause for everyone.

You followed suit, your eyes never leaving him.

"Secondly, I want to thank a special person, but I need her up here with me. Y/N, will you come up here, please?" he asked, the lights suddenly finding you in the crowd.

Your eyes widened, a heavy blush coating your cheeks. Charles' PR manager found you in the crowd and helped lead you upstairs towards the podium, giving you a silent encouragement before she let you step out.

The crowd was cheering when they say you standing next to your boyfriend, prompting you to give them a small wave before turning to Charles.

"Y/N, there aren't enough that can express how much I love you and how deeply grateful I am to have you in my life. You've been with me throughout this entire journey, 4 years now already you've put up with me. You know me better than I know myself, you always know what to say and how to make me feel better after a bad race, you're always there for me, cheering me on and supporting me through everything and I can't thank you enough for it all" he spoke, putting his hand in his pocket and taking out a small, velvet box.

Your eyes instantly widened and filled with tears, knowing what was about to happen. Your hands went up to your mouth, not believing it was finally happening.

"I never want to know what my life would look like without you in it because I plan on spending every second left of it cherishing you and being by your side. So, Y/N Y/L/N, will you make me the happiest man on Earth and marry me?" opening the box, you saw the most beautiful diamond ring you had ever laid your eyes on, making your tears freely swim down your cheeks.

You didn't trust your voice, so you nodded your head feverishly, falling to your knees in front of him and collapsing into his arms, holding on for dear life.

You cried into his shoulder, holding onto each other tightly. The crowd erupted into loud cheers, Max and Lando opening the champagnes and spraying everyone around them, congratulating the two of you.

You pulled away from the hug and kissed Charles, pouring every single emotion you felt in that moment into the kiss. 

"Do you want the ring?" his tone was teasing once you pulled away and he still held the ring in his hand.

You laughed, nodding and extending your hand towards him.

He took out the ring and gently pushed it onto your ring finger, it fitting like it was made just for you.

"I love you so much, amour. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my days with you" you whispered, bringing him in for another hug.

"I promised you always and forever, I intend to keep that promise"

And as you stood kneeling in the middle of the podium, celebrations taking place all around you, the only thing you focused on was each other, nothing able to burst your little bubble of bliss.

Your always and forever love.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

JOIN MY TAG LIST HERE

REQUEST HERE

♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list: @outerudeth @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @dardouni @saturnssunflower @moony-artemis @blissfulsunsetstuff @samantha-chicago @nikfigueiredo @therealcap @iloveyou3000morgan @daemyratwst @rqlstefanny @bwormie @hangmandruigandmav @kagome45 @enidsinclairaddamsthesecond @tallrock35 @sesamepancakes @boywondrgrayson @evlkking @evie-119 @ijustwanttoreadlols @cixrosie @poppyflower-22 @hiireadstuff @ellouisa17 @paintedbypoetry @hellowgoodbye @lpab @xlinxdax0704 @decafmickey @teti-menchon0604 @ctrlyomomma @sya-skies @likedbygaslyy @booksandflowrs @acidburnsthings @dhanihamidi @mynameisangeloflife @5starl1ght @teamnovalak @ferrarisfailedstrats @basicuniter @jxnellat

#imagines #oneshots #fanfiction #one shot #formula 1 #formula one #formula racing #sprint #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz #fred vasseur #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #monaco #f1 drivers #ferrari #leclerc #podium #charles lecrelc #abu dhabi #united arab emirates #grand prix

[glittering-moonlillie]

My Beloved (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Word Count: 2740

Warnings: None

Summary: Not knowing how to express his feelings any other way, Damian resorts to calling you pet names in his mother's tongue in order to air out his pent up affection.

“Habibti, can you hand me the yellow frosting?” Damian was in deep trouble - absolutely terrible, hideous trouble. 

“Of course!” You reached over to your left and handed him the buttercream, the arabic pet name flying over your head. 

In his language, Habibti was a sign of endearment given to your lover, usually meaning something along the lines of My Love or Darling - but to you, he was utterly convinced that you believed it was a form of belittlement similar to Idiot.

Of course, Damian was too afraid to correct you and he was not sure if you would believe him if he tried. He would rather keep it a sweet secret to himself, even if his fragile heart was practically leaping its way out of his rib cage to expose itself to you. 

“You know, if you want to call me something mean at least make it so I can understand you.” You laughed, a noise that would certainly haunt him late at night when he was alone and longed for your presence. 

“But it’s much more fun seeing you like this.” You scruched your nose, your forehead creasing with the movement. Your lips were parted but no words came out. It was an adorable look he had grown to love despite how dorky you appeared. 

You retaliated with a poorly placed handful of orange frosting along his cheek, your lips twisting into a pout that only served to make the fantasies of kissing you worsen. 

Orange was an obnoxiously disgusting color but he would bathe in a lazarus pit full of orange frosting if you wished it. 

He ran his thumb along his cheek and licked away whatever frosting was there. Alfred’s special buttercream frosting really was to die for. Damian enjoyed the way your eyes slightly widened, relishing in the fact that it wouldn’t have been noticeable to anyone else. He liked to think that the scarlet decorating your face was because of him being undoubtedly sexy, and not the fact that it was because it was a hot summer’s day. 

“You’re staring, ya amar.” He smirked. “And I believe that cookie has way too much frosting, it looks like Picaso threw up all over it.”

Ya Amar had to be Damian’s second favorite pet name for you, translating to my moon. He often recalled the way his mother praised the moon for its beauty, treating it similar to a guiding life force. More than anything, Damian wanted to be the sun that illuminated your countenance - to be the man who kept you steady and loved you even if you just saw yourself as a clumpy rock. The name suited you perfectly. You were his beautiful, crated moon with star imbued eyes and a body that reflected the power of an inescapable black hole. 

“Hey, are those cookies almost finished? B wants them set out within the hour-” Tim walked in, his under eye bags accentuated further with the distasteful dark blue sweater he threw on. 

His brother paused, rolling his eyes at the state of the dining table. Damian hoped that the kitchen disaster was enough of a distraction for him not to notice the lovey-dovey eyes he assuredly was giving his best friend. 

“We’ll clean it up, Tim. Sorry about that.” You replied quickly. “But most of the cookies are done, Damian still has a few to finish though.”

You nudged him with your elbow, grinning wildly like the Cheshire cat. 

“Just don’t get distracted flirting with each other, I don’t want to deal with an irritated Bruce.”

“Shut up, Timothy. At least we aren’t aggressively making out like how you and Conner were at the last gala.” Damian shot back. 

Tim frowned. “I’m too tired to deal with this. Try not to explode anything, okay?”

Damian waved off his brother and went back to decorating one of the cookies for the large event at Wayne Manor tonight. It was a charity event to raise awareness of the increase in homeless population on the streets of Gotham, and alongside the event, his family was hosting a soup kitchen for any struggling person on the streets. Along with a hearty, full course meal, they would be served one of the cookies being decorated by the two of you. 

Although Damian’s father normally did not allow any friend’s to charity events, you were always an exception due to the fact that if you weren’t there, Damian would blow a gasket and murder someone if he was in a suit for too long. Your presence beside Damian was often looked over when you were both younger, but now that a few years had gone by plenty of journalists speculated the possibility of “a secret blooming relationship.” 

The common theory circulating around Gotham was the idea that his father was disapproving of them being together since you were a “commoner,” therefore excusing the lack of concrete evidence of the relationship existing. Damian had found the notion completely ridiculous; even if his father disapproved of you in that context, that would not stop him from loving you the way he always dreamed, consequences be damned. 

You treated the whole situation with carefree ease, giggling at the awful pictures and wack job theories concocted by 40 year old men looking to sell half-baked news. On one hand, Damian was pleased that the unwanted attention did not bother you, but deep down he also felt a pang of poison seep its way into his bloodstream. Was the idea of being his lover that much of a joke? 

The clicking of a phone keyboard brought him back to reality. Damian peered over your shoulder and saw Safari pulled up.

 “What ever are you doing, habibti?” 

“I’m trying to decipher what you are calling me.” You said. “Can you repeat that last word for me, please?”

The youngest Wayne felt every single pour in his body drip in sweat, excess saliva pooling in his mouth. Perhaps if his blood was functioning properly, then he would have found a better response other than a simple no. 

It was very rare for Damian to be properly caught off guard. He should have thought that you would have looked up the words he was repeating, should have come up with a game plan instead of looking like a strangled goose. 

His first instinct was to snatch the phone away and cut it up with the plastic, buttercream decorated knife. Damian could pretend to be possessed by a ghost and buy you a better phone with specially installed programs that inhibited your ability to look up any Arabic term. Yes, that was a wonderful idea-

“How are there zero search results?!!” You exclaimed, turning to him. “Did you make up a language or something? Why are there absolutely zero results??”

Damian looked at your phone again. You certainly took some liberties with the spelling of the pet name, letting him relax into his seat. It was nowhere close to how the word was spelled. He couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Why are there two y’s in the word?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Well maybe if you told me the other 20 languages you spoke I’d get somewhere.”

For the next 15 minutes, you angrily punched in 17 different ways to spell Habibti, all massively incorrect and leading to nowhere. You eventually threw your phone on the ground with a huff while he cackled. 

“This is so unfair. I demand restitution for the amount of time I have lost thanks to you.” Damian hummed.

“I can’t give you back those missing minutes, but I can pay you back with your favorite meal and my full attention tonight.” 

You pretended to ponder over the offer, but Damian knew you could not say no to Alfred’s cooking. “Okay, fine. But only because I love Alfred’s food and nothing else.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moon peered over the horizon, the stars twinkling like falling fairy dust on a navy blue canvas. Hundreds of Gotham’s richest filled Wayne Manor, most of which were dressed with gaudy colors and bedazzlements, with feathers and overpriced jewels. 

Damian was dressed in a dark green suit, one that Alfred had picked a little while ago. He was fully aware of the lustful stares he was given by the woman (and some of the men) there but he could care less. There was only one person he cared about impressing and that said person was “discreetly” stuffing themselves with a plate full of food in the corner. 

As an attendant of the Gala, you were in a stunning dress that fit every single curve of your body marvelously, all courtesy to Stephanie who helped you pick out the dress to begin with. Heat rose to his cheeks and he began fumbling with his tie. 

Damian was not the only one there to notice your beauty either. As you were trying to polish off your plate of food, several men had made attempts to woo you onto the dancefloor. Thankfully you declined all of their advances - Damian was not sure what he would have felt if you did. If it weren’t for the hundreds of other people present, he would have unquestionably sliced off the suitors hands if they tried to touch you again. 

“Ya Helo, you look…” His throat clogged as you stared up at him. “You look stunning…”

Damian was convinced that your smile was the brightest thing in the universe; he was also sure that it could cure any bout of irritation or sadness possible. 

“About time you showed up! Are you done flirting with the 70 year old women yet or does your dad want you back in there?” You poked his chest, the touch feeling like an electrical transfer. 

“You know that I would never flirt with those women back there, Habibti. My dad just wanted me to manipulate them into giving more of their money to charity.”

Before you could pull your hand away, he clasped it and brought it closer to his heartbeat. Your hands were a pebble compared to his own and yet they still managed to fit perfectly together like Incan architecture.

“I-I…” You looked away with a crooked smile. “I know that, obviously. I just wanted to tease you a bit!”

When you turned towards him once more, he noticed the way your eyes trailed down his visage, strawberry lips parting ever so slightly. Your laughter died in your throat. The scene felt like the ridiculous romcoms he analyzed from time to time while you were over. All he had to do was lean in a little bit closer and his dreams would be fulfilled-

The tight grip of someone’s hand seized his arm, effectively pulling him away from his darling. The movement caught Damian off guard (the second time that day). There was only a select handful of people who were able to sneak up on him like that…

“Mother.” Damian seethed, turning to gaze upon the woman with a cold glare. “What are you doing here?”

Fitted for the occasion in a sleek black dress, Talia crossed her arms and matched her son’s glare. “Is a mother not allowed to visit her son, especially when he has not messaged her in months?”

Damian stood in front of you, his hands slightly raised in case Talia decided to activate her mother bear mode. Talia’s eyes furrowed, her lip pursing. 

“How about you and your little friend follow me upstairs. You can tell me all about how you two met.” She suggested but her voice made it sound more like a threat. 

Damian hated how your smile disappeared and was replaced with an apprehensive grimace. He reached for your hand and squeezed. 

“Dami…” 

“It’ll be alright habib albi…” He whispered, squeezing your hand once again. As the three of them climbed up the stairs, the soft tune of the violin faded into nothing, not even background noise. 

“Mother, I find this hardly necessary. Could you have interfered in my life some other day?” Damian groaned. 

“Of course not, my son.” Talia shut the door of the room they entered. “If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to meet the girl who stole my beloved’s heart.”

Damian’s heart dropped. “I- what?”

“Y-you must be mistaken. Damian and I…Damian doesn’t like me like that!” You stuttered out with nervous laughter. 

Talia raised a single eyebrow. “I find that extremely hard to believe considering what I heard him call you.”

Fuck. Damian mentally slapped himself. He should have known that his mother would have heard him call you that. The pet name was just so natural to him, slipping off his tongue like sweet honey, he forgot that his mother would have been able to understand. 

You tilted your head towards Damian then back to Talia, reflexively playing with your hair. “I…maybe you misheard? He calls me these made up names, they really have no meaning.”

“Wait, so he has not told you what they meant?”

“No, he refused to tell me and when I looked it up, there were no search results.” You said. 

“Mother, please-” 

Talia raised her hand to silence him. “I can’t believe you have been lying to her, Damian! I have raised you better than that. She deserves to know that you are calling her Love of my heart and Darling in Arabic!”

You snapped your head towards Damian, who was internally screaming a colorful variety of cuss words towards his mother. He expected you to look horrified and slap him away, to run for the hills and never speak to him again. 

Instead you had this beautiful awestruck look in your galaxy-filled eyes. Your face was a deep crimson.

“Dami…” You hesitated. “Is this true?” 

The hopeful tone in your voice was as intoxicating as a few shots of bourbon.  

Damian imagined that the day he confessed to you would be atop a starry hill with perfectly blooming jasmines and evening primroses. He would pull you into his arms and whisper his love for you when the moon was at its peak, ending it with a kiss if you let him. It would have been perfect, if fate allowed it to be.

However, there were no starry hilltops or sweetly smelling fragrances - no moon that would peer over them and give its blessing. But you were there with him, an arm's reach away. As long as you were there, wasn't that all that mattered?

Damian glared at his mother, who was in the background with a smug smile, pretending to not overhear the conversation. When she didn’t get the message, he cleared his throat as loud as he could. 

“Fine. I suppose I’ll leave you to it - but I expect you to message me afterward since I did the hard work for you.” Talia sauntered her way out of the room, leaving you and Damian alone.

“You didn’t answer my question, Dami…” You glanced up at him with a shy smile. “Were you really secretly giving me pet names in Arabic?”

Reaching for your hands, Damian pulled you close to create a few inch gap. “Yeah…I wanted a way to show you how much I…how much I loved you without you figuring out.”

You giggled, the vibrations of it causing his heart to flutter. “You’re a dork, you know that? I would have reciprocated your feelings no matter what, but it would have been nice if you had told me sooner.” 

Your finger trailed down his neck to his collarbone, leaving a trail of lightning in its wake. “I demand more restitution for the time lost.”

Damian hummed, pretending to think of the perfect solution despite him already having one. You edged closer to him. 

“How about,” he began, “I kiss you until your lips are as blue as this night sky?”

But before you could respond, Damian already brought his lips to yours.  The dreams and fantasies he had did not live up to the actual softness of your lips - the subtle taste of raspberries filling his senses. 

Your hands tangled into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. “Shouldn’t we go back to the Gala?”

Damian looked back at the door, contemplating how mad his father would be if he ditched the rest of the party. It was waning closer to midnight anyway and he could just say you were tired. 

He turned back to you, his smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “He’ll be fine. Besides, I would rather be with you than flirt with 70 year old women.”

Your attempted giggle was covered with the rougher press of his lips against yours, causing you to fall backwards onto the guest bed. After years of calling you Habibti, now he could finally say it without you thinking it was an insult.

Damian is a simp with huge dimples. Fight me.

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Al Ghul #Damian Al Ghul x Reader #Damian Wayne x Y/n #Romance #Damian has dimples!! #DC #Batfam #Fluff #Damian speaking Arabic #Arabic pet names #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Alfred Pennyworth #Tim Drake makes an appearance out of his tomb #Comics

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper x reader #woop it sure has been quite the burst of creative energy lately #especially since this has apparently been sitting in my drafts since last august #but now you have it #I certainly can’t promise to keep up with this rate of writing (in fact I can promise I won't) but hey let's enjoy it while it lasts #and yes I’m hopping on the “jamil using arabic terms of endearment” train #I’ve read so many fics doing that that at this point it feels more natural than english ngl #even if english would probably be more canonical #also is it a *good* way to go about it to just pretty much just force someone to rest like this? probably not #is it sometimes the only way to get stubborn people to stop for a bit? perhaps #and is it something I might do? #...possibly #also oh boy can you tell that I'm avoiding jamil's dialogue like the plague lately? #I really need to reread so much of his stuff to get a hang of his voice again #(also if you notice typos pls tell me because they always bug me) #(or other wonkiness because I'm not a native speaker and sometimes things just go silly) #anyways hope y'all enjoy!

[glorified-red]

Auburn Traditions (Damian Wayne x Reader)

summary: After your wedding, Damian spends the night finding his name in your bridal henna. In the safety of your presence, he can share his true feelings to you. word count: 1,550~ warnings: none Special thanks to @quillsareswords for bouncing ideas around until this fic was born. I am soft for this man. This is the mushiest thing I've written in so long. Literally kicking my feet writing this.

It came as no surprise when Damian popped the question. 

You two flourished beside each other, growing individually in the comfort of each other’s embrace. For years you stood beside Damian. Through high school you helped him study every exam season, said quick greetings in the halls, and even helped him find all his classes his first year. In college you motivated him through finals, went to every pesky orientation, and cheered the loudest when he walked across the stage one final time. 

Almost in tandem, Damian returned the favor. He asked you to Prom your senior year, holding up a shy bouquet of flowers and a corsage. He attended every performance of yours, big or small, because the mere presence of him was more support than you could ever wish for. Damian dragged you to bed on long nights and held you through so many tough ones, never letting go through it all. 

You moved out together years later after you found the perfect forever home and finally made it yours. The walls were painted deep into the night, muted tones swiped onto his nose only for him to fling it back at you. Together, Christmas lights were hung across the house year after year as you danced to the upbeat tunes in your own living room while the fireplace warms you up after a long day in the snow. 

So when Damian kneeled before you, his heart pouring out of his chest as he spoke words of reflection and his own green eyes shining with affection, you had to say yes. A year of bliss with Damian Wayne, your fiancé, soon to be husband. You carved out a section of this chaotic world and made it your own, a section full of adoration and unwavering love. 

The wedding night was one to remember. It was an extravagant night filled with family, music, and laughter. Damian couldn’t keep his eyes off his bride for very long, far too many of the wedding photos showed Damian’s soft gaze towards you. 

Your vows were heartfelt and private, opting to say your true feelings in the comfort of each other and no one more. Damian Wayne, the man of very few words, had the most poetic words fall from his lips that day. Damian Wayne, the man with ironclad emotions, cried in front of you when the vows continued forward—not that he’d ever admit that, but you knew. 

So here you were, the wedding night bliss still radiating off of you as you sat in front of Damian—your husband—on your shared bed. Your outfits were hung up ages ago, torn off the second you could and changed into something more cozy with softer fabrics and looser seams. Bobby pins were scattered across the bathroom sink as you let your hair rest. Damian’s own hair was ruffled, the gel long since worn off. 

Neither of you minded, no amount of makeup or luxurious outfits could make Damian fall for you any harder than he already has. 

“You’re really intent on finding it,” you commented playfully, your voice dipped into softer volume. Your hands rested in his, decorated in vibrant amber. Delicate florals weaved their way across your fingertips and palms, vines twirled across the negative space until their leaves grew on your hands. Mother Earth herself had kissed your hands and let her beauty flow across your skin—her own blessing to the marriage. 

Henna: a tradition that was nothing short of mesmerizing. You remembered the day Damian asked for this, a small portion of his heritage incorporated into the best night of his life. And of course, you said yes, accepting every part of him happily. 

His hands traced along the arabic style that seeped into your skin, spaced out leaves and florals that left a gorgeous amount of free space to show off your own beautiful skin. It wasn’t nearly as intricate as Mehndi, for this style of henna focused on the palms to bring in love and cherish memories. But every dot on your skin was as fascinating as the one before it, carefully placed into a beautiful design. 

“Of course,” Damian responded, his gaze incredibly focused on the detailed pattern on your hands. He flipped over your hands to look at the top. “The fate of the marriage rests on this moment.” 

You snorted, “You just don’t want to admit that I’m the dominant one in the relationship.” 

Damian tsked, “You wish.” 

“Well,” you looked over at the clock, “you have five minutes before that superstition comes true. Better hurry up, bird boy.” 

“There’s no need to rush me, I will find it before the night is over.” 

You hummed in disbelief, a playful tone falling from your lips. The room fell to comfortable silence once more, the only sound was the soft breathing that landed onto the tips of your fingers. 

His hands were so gentle as they touched yours, a faint warmth emitting from his own hands and transferring to yours. Even as he turned your hands this way and that, his fingertips traced along the design. The touch was feather-light, almost tickling the surface of your hand. 

He never touched with much pressure. Even though the dye was a deep rich color, beautifully stained on your hands and wrists, he didn’t dare to wear it thin. Talia herself told you every tradition as she crafted the henna on your hand, happy to play such a significant role in her son's marriage—and welcoming you to the family? She was overjoyed to receive that call. 

So when your henna turned into a darker tone overnight, you immediately knew the deep connection between you and Damian was gorgeously on display. The color signified more than just love and an unwavering bond, but it also represented your place beside your new family, and the love you will surely receive from them. 

“You look beautiful with this on, Zawjati,” he spoke just barely above a whisper, as if the amber design had Damian mesmerized. The words fell from his lips absent-mindedly, a new term of endearment taking flight in an instant. The gesture meant more to him than he could ever explain, from the reconnection to understanding, all the way to acceptance, his heart was unbelievably full. 

You glanced up at him, your eyes met the softened gaze of a man so deeply in love, the rest of the word slipped away. That gaze conveyed more to you than any poetic vow. 

Your heart was equally as full. His simple wedding band was smooth against your fingers, the new shimmer of metal was vibrant against the tan of his skin. Your own traditions having melted into the wedding with the rings, a permanent symbol of the promise Damian made to you each and every day: to love and cherish you.

“That’s a new one,” you said, pushing past the breathless feeling in your lungs. 

He rolled your fingers in his and sparks flew up your chest just like the first day you met him, even after all these years. He hummed in question, his eyes scanning the patterns with deep concentration. 

“Zawjati,” you continued. “What does that one mean?”

Damian shifted slightly, not uncomfortably so, but as if his brain was mulling words around behind his eyes so his body swayed on instinct. “My wife.” 

The smile that broke across your face happened in an instant, a full gleam of happiness filled your body that you couldn’t possibly contain. “Oh?” you teased, as if the words didn’t burrow themselves in your chest to create blossoming trees, “I’ve upgraded now.”

The corner of his lip ticked upwards so slightly you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t staring. There was a tint of your lipstick stained on his lips that you didn’t notice before. His fingers toyed with yours, they slipped in between yours with a ticklish touch. 

“I’ve been wanting to call you that for years,” he said it so simply, like that profession didn’t take the air out of your lungs and make your heart flutter alongside it. 

“Years?” you breathed out, stunned by his words. You knew his love for you was profound, but to be looking forward to spending the rest of his life with you for years? Your head whirled from the whiplash. 

“Yes.” Just as simply as the words that came before. “My heart knew who it belonged to the second you entered my life. You were the only one who ever saw me for who I really was, not who I could become. You were the only one who made me look forward to living, not for the sake of saving lives to simply do it again the next day, but to keep coming home to you.”

“You make the future seem possible. You,” he breathed, “you make me want to be better, not because I have to, but because I truly want to. That is why I’ve always been more partial to the other translation of Zawjati.” 

The word rolled off his tongue and your heart danced. “And what’s that?”

His thumb swiped across your pulse point where his name was imprinted on your skin in subtle cursive, easily blending into a vine. He gently brought the point to his lips. 

“My better half.”

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@cherry-dropp

@missredrobin

#Damian Wayne x reader #Damian Wayne x you #Damian Wayne x y/n #robin #Damian wayne #robin x reader #robin x you #robin x y/n #Arab Damian wayne #bridal henna #fluff #batfam #batfamily #batboys #dc #dc comics #batman

[loelysian]

marmoris

(n.) the shining surface of the ocean

pairing: namor × reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: what happens when nakia takes a straggling passenger from talokan on her mission to retrieve shuri and riri to bring them back to wakanda—that passenger being the queen of talokan.

note: since this one shot was written by me, a jewish arab person, it is hinted that y/n is also from those cultures but if you are not, that is fine. it is never explicitly stated and i don't plan on doing so in future chapters. feel free to apply your own experiences to the scenarios i've written about. please keep in mind that i am not fluent in yucatec so i've used a translator for any scenes in talokan. if you find i've upset you or there is an error in regard to lore (i tried my best to recreate certain scenes from the movie but i've only seen it once). please comment and let me know so i can fix it and apologize. i do not mean to offend anybody. i would also like to mention that this was posted yesterday but because i accidentally deleted my main blog, this is a repost—not stolen. i hope you enjoy.

warnings: some discussions of colonization—i brought my own struggles with displacement into y/n's relation to namor's history. there are some depictions of violence as well.

Namor had prisoners, that much you knew. He hadn’t been keen on telling you why, insisting he had it under control and that absolutely no harm would come to you or the people of Talokan. He’d given you his word as the King and as your husband. Namor the loveless child. That was what he’d dotted himself as but then he’d met you. You’d been given the opportunity of a lifetime to study sea life in San Diego, California and your apartment, which had been paid for by the school, overlooked the ocean. Even as a child, you’d always been drawn to the ocean. Despite living hours away, whenever your parents took you to the beach, it was like the waves had been calling you, a primitive urge to get closer, to let the water engulf you. Your parents had always joked about it, calling you a mermaid or siren and were convinced that one day you’d have fins instead of feet. They weren’t exactly far off.

The very first time you saw him, he had been undercover trying to collect information about a new oil-infused tank that was set to drop in the middle of the ocean, potentially displacing thousands of already endangered species’, the array of coral reefs that resided in the area and polluting the waters. You’d been at the meeting to argue against its installation and provide evidence you and your team had collected that supported your claim. He’d been there, standing in the corner of the room with his hands behind his back eyeing you curiously. You’d assumed he was some sort of marine biologist, the long, white lab coat he’d worn over his shoulders as good a sign as any but once you got a closer look, he was anything but. You could tell it was hard for him to mask the disgust he’d had for everyone that stood on the opposing side and found yourself silently sharing the same sentiment. It seemed as though they were only thinking of money and not the catastrophic side effects.

“All you care about is how much you’ll have in your pockets if this deal goes through,” you argued, slamming your hands on the table in front of you. You’d tried to maintain composure throughout the debate but the businessmen weren’t letting up and you couldn’t allow them to go through with this. Not when there was something you could do about it. Not when you were this close.

One of the men stood up and met your eyes, wearing a smirk that only seemed to anger you more.

“Finally, y/n speaks some sense!” he clasps his hands together as the men sitting behind him laugh into their hands. Your eyebrows furrow.

“I don’t care what it takes to put an end to this endangerment. Arrest me for all I care.” you barely registered the fact that your hands were shaking, the first sign of you losing your composure.

“That can be arranged.” the man in the middle said, both of his goons laughing impossibly harder.

Finally, the mysterious man who stood in the corner stepped toward the table with a neutral expression. You could tell he was hiding something right away. You’d always been good at reading people. You felt the urge to step back and let him handle this, but this was also something you were incredibly passionate about. This was why you were here. Straightening your shoulders, you stood up and eyed the men in front of you dangerously.

“If you go through with this, there is absolutely nothing stopping the stream of bad luck that will likely find its way to the three of you if this tank is to be installed. I may be forgiving, but the ocean is not.”

You had never seen businessmen keen on making money pack their things faster. It was almost as if they were in a trance. All you could do was watch on in awe as they quickly left, ushering their apologies to the mysterious man from the corner which was what you’d taken to calling him in your head.

Once the men were gone, you quietly let your peers know you wanted to speak to the man alone and they each nodded in understanding, slinging their backpacks over their shoulders as they exited the room as well. The man eyed you curiously, and suddenly, the fire you’d ignited during the argument had been extinguished leaving nothing but a shy college student who loved nothing more than the ocean.

“Thank you for taking care of that mysterious corner man.” you said. To your surprise, the man laughed. The sound was loud and sweet and your stomach felt funny, an unfamiliar sensation you’d only felt once before when you’d been at the beach and finally caught your first wave on the surfboard you’d crafted yourself.

“Namor.” was all he said, the smile never leaving his face.

“Huh?” it had taken you by surprise.

“Namor. My name. It is Namor.” he said once more. Somehow, the two of you had gotten closer to one another.

“Mine is y/n.” your eyes met his dark brown and he seemed to be captivated. Unable to look away from you.

“Your name .. it is lovely,” you barely registered the fact that your hands were still shaking at your sides from the debate, but he did. In fact, he silently searched your eyes for permission as he took one of them into his own big and strong and pressed your knuckles to his lips. You eyed him confusedly. Was this allowed?

He seemed to pick up on this.

“I wanted to thank you.” was all he said, hoping you’d get it.

“Whatever for?” was what came out instead. You weren’t sure what he was getting at.

“For defending the ocean. There are not many who do what you do anymore. They couldn’t be bothered.” Namor seemed hurt by this but there was a hint of fondness in his voice, probably hinted toward you.

“I’m just doing what any good person would.” and that was the truth. You couldn’t understand why the profession you’d wanted to be a part of was so small in size—why so many people lacked any sense of care or self awareness about the problems out in the ocean. At least Namor seemed to understand. It felt good knowing someone was on your side.

“You’d be surprised.” and wasn’t it funny that he hadn’t let go of your hand yet? It barely seemed to register to you as you were far too engulfed in the way he’d been staring at you. Like you meant something. Like your voice was heard.

After you’d both parted ways, you’d been left with nothing but his first name and the yearning sensation that you wanted more. It couldn’t have ended there yet you had been certain you’d never see Namor again. It caught you by surprise when you’d seen him at the beach during an afternoon stroll. He’d been standing by the shore, letting the surge of cold yet clear saltwater rush past his feet. He had his hands behind his back as he watched the sun set below the horizon. For a moment, all you could do was watch. Could it really be him? The same man who’d so bravely defended you and your cause? You were keen on finding out.

As you walked closer and closer, he finally spoke without turning around.

“Y/n. Our paths cross once again.” you silently wondered how he’d known you were there. To your knowledge, he hadn’t turned around.

“Namor,” you joined him at his side and instead of meeting his eyes, you kept your focus on the ocean, watching the mixture of oranges and pinks that reflected off the sea from the setting sun.

You weren’t sure what to say. Surely mentioning the fact that you’d been thinking about him since you’d last parted was weird. He spoke first, though.

“What is it you do for a living? Your passions and hobbies?” so he wanted to know more about you. You felt the same.

“I’ve always had a fascination with sea life which is why I’m here studying to become a marine biologist. I guess you could say I surf in my free time, but since school is so demanding, I spend most days learning more and bettering my arguments so I can stop crooks like the men you met from ruining our oceans and provide better ways for energy infrastructure instead of relying on oil.” you’d been rambling and suddenly felt embarrassed, searching Namor’s eyes for any hint of annoyance or confusion but all that was there was the same look of fondness he’d had back when you’d very first met.

Clearing your throat, you finally spoke after the moment of silence.

“Sorry for oversharing.” you spoke quietly. If he hadn’t been so close, you were certain the waves rushing in would drown out your voice.

“Do not apologize, y/n. It is something I also find fascinating—you could say I study it too.” he was wearing a smile.

“You’re not a marine biologist?” you asked confusedly. For whatever reason, you’d assumed he was some sort of scientist. Why else would he be at the meeting?

“Not quite. You see, I study the ocean from a different angle. Not from the surface.” you furrowed your brows in concentration, trying to piece together what he meant. Maybe he voyaged in submarines, studying deep sea life?

“So you’re a scuba diver.” at his sudden laughter, you placed your hands on your hips. “Are you mocking me?” you inquired, feigning offense, though it wasn’t masked very well as a smile had broken out on your face as well.

“No, no, not at all.” Namor regained his composure, looking at you with a seriousness you hadn’t seen from him yet. “Have you ever heard of the K’uk’ulkan?” he asked. You nodded. Of course you had.

“Yes. He’s regarded as a serpent-like deity in Mesoamerican mythology. They say he had feathered feet.” you wondered why he was bringing this up, but it interested you.

He was quiet for a while until the last of the sun's orange disappeared beneath the horizon. You two were the only ones on the beach for miles.

“Namor, are you alright?” you wondered aloud, turning toward him.

“There is something you must know. Something you must promise not to share—to anyone. Am I able to trust you?” without another word, you nodded. You weren’t sure why, but you trusted him too—more than you’d trusted anyone before.

Silently, he reached for your hand and led you toward the dry sand, offering you a spot beside him on a broken log that the tide must have brought in. Hesitantly, you sat down.

“I cannot deny the feelings I harbor for you—the things I think of, the things I wish to say and want to do to and with you, but I always promised myself if this were to happen, I’d tell them of the greatest secret I’ve ever kept.” conflicting thoughts rushed through your head. For one, you were grateful he shared the same lust for you as you did for him but on the other hand, you had absolutely no idea what he wished to tell you.

“Namor I-” but your sentence fell short as he revealed the feathered feet he had and just how pointed his ears were, which had been concealed by hats both times you’d seen him. Suddenly, everything made sense. Everything he’d been alluding to was true.

“The K’uk’ulkan? That’s you?” your voice was barely above a whisper yet you couldn’t conceal the awe you felt. The curiosity. As a scientist, you had many questions, but you wanted to remain as respectful as possible.

“I’m sure you have many questions,” was the first thing he said, laughing as you nodded.

“How were you able to conceal your identity for so long? From what I’ve read about the K’uk’ulkan, the first historical texts date all the way back to the 16th century. Have you been alive that long?” you asked, hoping you weren’t prodding too much.

“It is a long, long story. I hope you have time.” he teased, knowing you would.

Namor explained that while he wasn’t actually the great deity the Mayans described, he was a mutant. You were unfamiliar with the term, but because of the Avengers and the fact that so much in the Universe was left unanswered, you believed him. He spoke of a liquid he and his people were instructed to drink because of the colonization-inflicted diseases that were wiping the entirety of Mesoamerica out left and right. At first, his mother hadn’t wanted to drink the vibranium-infused liquid as she had been pregnant with Namor at the time, but was eventually told he too would be sick and that the liquid would cure him. In many ways, you understood his pain. Colonization had also affected your relationship with your culture and at times, you were also incredibly angry at how your people were still suffering years and years later.

Because of the liquid, Namor was born with feathered feet and his people worshiped him. He described his people with such fondness in his eyes. They called him K’uk’ulkan and he was the ruler of an underwater civilization called Talokan. Because of the liquid his people drank, they were able to breathe underwater which is how they were able to survive. Everything sounded so beautiful to you.

“Your home sounds lovely. If there was a way, I’d love to see it one day.” you said with a smile.

“There is a way.”

That had been a year ago. Since the talk you’d shared with him on the beach, you two had only grown closer. After meetings on the very same sands every now and then, he’d asked if you’d wanted to see Talokan. You’d said yes, happy that he’d trusted you as much as he did. You had to admit it was absolutely amazing. You’d never seen anything quite like it before and his people grew very fond of you as well. They enjoyed your company whenever Namor allowed you to visit and you were beginning to wish you’d never have to leave, though you were conflicted. Everything you’d wanted to become was on the surface, and Namor had only spoken to you once before about what would have to happen in order for you to stay with him and his people in Talokan permanently.

While you were putting your suit on, you’d decided to talk to him about everything you’d been thinking about.

Namor was watching you with the same fondness in his eyes he’d had the very first day he’d met you. It was something you’d gotten used to.

“Sometimes I wish I could stay here with you forever,” you’d whispered though the cave was empty. It was just you and him.

He rose a brow.

“In yakunaj (my love),” he whispered back. “There are ways that can be arranged, but I cannot ask that of you. That is a decision you’ll have to make yourself.” he stated solemnly. You knew what he wanted—what he desired—and you knew how dangerous that was. If he asked you to stay with him, you knew you’d say yes. Namor knew that too. That was why the decision was ultimately left to you.

“I think I love you.” is what you began with. You’d, of course, told him this numerous times before, but right now, it felt like it mattered the most that he knew this decision was coming from your heart.

“I love you too, y/n.” Namor looked like he wanted to reach out and hold your hands so you let him. They were grounding, helping you focus on what you’d wanted to say.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” and that was the truth—you did. “There is more you can teach me about the ocean than any land-dwelling professor. I want to wake up and see your face in the morning. I want you to teach me more about your culture—anything you think I might need to know. I’m all ears. I can’t fathom leaving you.” you whispered. The two of you were impossibly close. When he exhaled, you could feel it on your face. Searching his eyes, you anxiously awaited his response.

“I can teach you things no college professor of yours even has the knowledge to grasp, throw big, grand celebrations for you. You will be their Reina.” at your confused head tilt, he clarified.

“Their queen, y/n. You will be the Queen of Talokan. My queen.”

The ceremony had been one of the most extravagant things you’d ever been a part of. Before any of that though, you’d been given the mysterious liquid to drink which was going to give you similar abilities that the Talokan’s had. You still couldn’t believe you’d be able to breathe underwater—that you’d be living underwater. Namor had promised he’d be by your side as you drank from the flower and assured you that everything would be okay.

After you drank it, it was like a sedative. You were passed out in moments and once you awoke, you found yourself gasping for air. It seemed as though your lungs could no longer intake oxygen. As promised, Namor rushed you to the body of water that led to Talokan in the cave so you could get your bearings. He seemed to be memorized by you and your bravery. Once you caught your breath and gazed around the cave, the world felt different. You felt different, which was to be expected. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around Namor who held you close and you shut your eyes. The weight of what you’d just done finally settled in and while you were excited for the new opportunities and the fact that you’d been welcomed into his home, you were going to miss the surface-world.

“Is everything okay, in yakunaj?” he asked, his voice full of worry and concern.

It took you a moment, but after you collected yourself, you nodded, smiled and let him lead the way as you swam down, down, down.

Sometimes curiosity got the best of you. Like you’d said, one of the guards had informed you Namor was holding two prisoners in the caves and since you’d always been an explorer, you asked one of your guards, Muyal, to take you to them. Namor rarely held people in the caves as no land-dwellers knew anything about Talokan so when she begrudgingly said yes, you smiled and let her lead the way.

Since you’d become Reina, the Talokan people had treated you very differently to the visiting land-dweller you had been before you’d drank the vibranium-infused liquid. As a means to honor the K’uk’ulkan and your husband, you were gifted pointed, jeweled ear pieces you wore along with his mother’s bracelet he’d given you on the night of your wedding. You hadn’t taken it off since and every time he noticed you wearing it, Namor couldn’t help but smile. To honor your own culture, most days you wore golden hand pieces that reminded you of a home you were never able to know but hoped that you could visit one day, even if you were only able to travel its oceans. Namor respected the fact that you honored both yourself and his people and during language lessons, sometimes he asked you to teach him about your native tongue as well. You were happy to do so.

It took a while to swim upward toward the caves, but once you arrived, Muyal handed you a water-mask you needed to wear in order to breathe on land.

The first thing you registered was the fact that there were two women sitting there, one of which was wearing royal clothing that Namor had designed specifically for princesses or princes—in this case you recognized her as princess Shuri of Wakanda. The other woman—someone you did not recognize—was sitting on the ground and she noticed you first. Her face morphed into something akin to fear—worry—which confused you. You were not there to harm them. You just wanted answers.

“Shuri,” the woman sitting on the ground whispered, unable to look away from you as she tapped on the other. Princess Shuri looked at you yet you couldn’t quite register what she was thinking. Her facial expression was unreadable.

“Hello,” you stated, waving hesitantly at the two. The one on the floor waved back albeit nervously. “I’m not here to hurt you,” you said. “I just want answers.” Shuri and the woman sitting on the floor looked at each other with unreadable expressions before turning toward you.

“Did Namor not tell you?” Shuri asked confusedly. You shook your head. No, he had not.

“No, he didn’t. That’s why I came here. Things like this don’t happen often.” is what you replied with, hoping that would ease the tense atmosphere. The woman on the floor seemed happy with your answer and smiled.

“I’m Riri Williams. I’m sort of the reason we’re in this mess,” she nudged Shuri’s shoulder and the two of them laughed, though you weren’t privy to what caused everything. Riri eventually continued. “I’m a scientist,” that caused a smile to break out on your face.

“Me too,” you shared with her, urging her to continue her story.

“I made a vibranium detector that my professor sold to the government without my permission and now Namor wants to kill me,” it was word vomit but your blood ran cold. Namor wanted to kill her?

In a way, you supposed you understood. If the world were to gain access to vibranium detectors, Talokan would be discovered, compromising Namor and his people. But on the other hand, you could tell none of this was her fault.

“Maybe if I talk to him,” you mumbled under your breath but Shuri must have heard you.

“I have already tried. I could not convince him,” you felt immensely bad for both Shuri and Riri and an overwhelming urge to help them.

“How can I-” in the corner of the room where one of your guards stood, there was a sudden commotion that had the three of you turning toward the sound. Shuri stood protectively in front of Riri while you allowed Muyal to position herself into an attacking position in front of you.

“Nakia?” Shuri whisper-shouted. Muyal took the moment of distraction as her chance to strike. A shout left your lips but because of the adrenaline, she didn’t stand down like you’d demanded. Nakia threw her arms over her face defensively and once she regained her composure to fight back, she fired a warning shot that hit the wall of the cave. Because of the loud noise, none of you had noticed the fact that one of the guards had Shuri in a chokehold. Before you could do anything though, Nakia positioned her gun and got ready to fire.

“P'at a biin le princesa (let go of the princess)!” Nakia demanded, fluently speaking Yucatec.

The guard shook her head. You glanced over at Riri who had her hands over her mouth.

“Ma'atech (never)!” the guard shouted.

Nakia sighed in frustration, knowing how much time she was losing.

“Shuri, move your arm to the right.” as soon as she complied, Nakia shot the guard's arm, emitting a scream from your lips as you rushed toward her, hoping there was something you could do to help her feel better. The blast from Nakia had singed her arm pretty good.

You watched as Shuri collapsed beside you, shouting something about war and everything was just so, so overwhelming.

“I can fix this!” Shuri shouted, her voice full of anguish as Nakia demanded she follow her.

“Shuri, we don’t have time!” she shouted back, grabbing her by the arm. Nakia glanced at you.

“You,” she pointed at you. Your eyes widened. “You’re coming with us.” everyone was shouting in confusion—including you.

“What!? Why!?” you demanded. You hadn’t done anything wrong as far as you knew.

“There cannot be any witnesses.” Nakia muttered as she led the four of you to the ship-like tube she’d taken to Talokan. Hesitantly, you boarded, watching as Talokan got smaller and smaller and smaller.

Solemnly, you wondered where Namor was.

chapter 2

#namor x reader #namor x y/n #namor x you #namor fanfic #jewish reader #arab reader #black panther

[scarthefangirl]

Luscious locks

Pravitr Prabhakar x G/N!reader

Description: Pravitr is the new spiderman, and he wears a suit to hide his identity. But the suit isn't enough to throw you off and you see right through it.

Warnings: Not revised, getting dragged into an alley by a guy (not much description),

Story type: Drabble

A/N: Literally just whipped this up to hold everyone over while I work on part 2 of admit it

Masterlist | REQUESTS OPEN (and appreciated)

"Pavitr, is that you?" You asked the masked vigilante, your head titled to the side. You knew there was a new hero around Mumbattan but you'd never really seen any pictures if him, let alone up close and in person.

"I don't know any Pavitr." Spiderman tried to deepen his tone so you won't be suspicious, but failed.

"Pavitr, I know its you." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms across your chest. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he takes his mask off.

~ earlier that night ~

"Help! Help me! Someone help me!!" You screamed as a thug dragged you into an alley. You tried to fight the man off, but to no avail. You struggled in the mans arms but he was far stronger than you. "Help! Help-" Your screams were muffled by his hand clamping over your mouth.

"Stop fighting me." He growled and forced you to turn your body facing him, and you try to bite his hand. You kick and struggle but he holds you tightly. He slaps you, hard. "Shut up." You wince but continue screaming into his hand and fighting against him.

Before he could do anything worse to you, a web pulled him away from you. You stumbled back and watched as spiderman quickly defeated the creep who'd dragged you to the alley. You were just walking home from work when that perp grabbed you. But now you stood in shock as spiderman beat up the man. You noticed the details of spiderman, his beautiful long brown hair and body structure- you knew them. You'd know them anywhere.

Suddenly you were snapped out of your thoughts as spiderman rushed to you, putting his arms around your waist (sending butterflies fluttering around in your stomach) and told you to jump, and when you did he wrapped you around his torso. You knew him! He was Pavitr, your long time friend and crush. And he was spiderman, who had just saved you and now was swinging you to your apartment building. It wasn't hard to ignore the sickening feeling of being swung through the sky as you leaned onto him, his arms holding you firmly.

He arrived at the roof of your building, setting you down and putting his hands on your upper arms. You could practically feel the concern radiating from him as his big white eyes stared at you widely. He watched every detail of your shocked face, studying you. He noticed the way you were staring at him, studying him as well. He felt like you could see right through his mask and he tentatively stepped away from you.

~

"What the heck?!" You slapped your hand over your mouth in surprise as Pavitr removed his mask in shame. His stomach was twisted in knots, unsure of how you were going to react. He stumbled back in surprise when you rushed him into a hug. "You're a hero!" You whispered in awe.

"I guess I am," He smiled gently, hugging you back. You stepped away and looked him up and down in pride. Despite the night sky, his face still glowed and you could clearly make out his colorful suit. He watched you back, wishing he could kiss your stupid grin right off your face. He didn't have to though because it quickly turned to a scowl.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You scolded and he rubbed the back if his neck sheepishly.

"Its not safe for you to know." He frowns and you shrug,

"I don't care!" You smiled again, teasingly this time. You can still see the concern in his eyes so you add, "I promise I won't let anyone know I know. And I'll take self defense classes in case some jerk tries to hurt me or whatever!"

"How did you know it was me?" He asked after a moment, causing you to scoff.

"I'm offended you thought I wouldn't!" You hold your hand in mock offense and then answer more seriously, "I would know you any where Pav, no matter what silly get up you're in."

"It's not silly! And I seriously don't know how you knew."

"You have very recognizable, pretty hair. And I know the way you're built," You replied nonchalantly, then realized it was a little strange and felt your cheeks heat up.

"I didn't realize you paid so much attention." He smirked and you groaned, shaking your head. He did know you paid so much attention, and he paid attention too.

"Whatever."

"What was it you said about my very recognizable hair? It was.. Pretty?" His smirk widened and he stepped closer to you, sending tightness through your chest and stomach.

"It's very.... Luscious, what can I say?" You grin and he took his turn to blush. He laughed which made you feel embarrassed, "What? It is pretty, you say so yourself all the time!" There is a long silence of Pavitr smiling at you before he takes another step closer.

"You're pretty." He said softly and your eyes widened as you stood stiffly.

"Oh, um... Thank you." You said awkwardly. "You too." You cringe at your own words, mentally smacking your forehead.

"I'm sorry for any trouble knowing I'm spiderman is going to cause you." He mumbles sadly. You notice the proximity between you two, only a few inches of distance. It was dark out but you could see him clear as day, his hair blown slightly from the cool breeze. It really was pretty.

"I don't care if it gets me into trouble. I don't care if it gets me killed. I'd do anything for you." You admitted, gazing into his eyes. He practically melted at your words.

"I'll protect you." He smiled slightly, holding the eye contact.

"You're gorgeous," You said quietly, as if in a trance as you stared at him. It was like you weren't even hearing yourself.

"You're beautiful," He replied, in the same trance as he stared at you in awe. You both could hear each other but it was like it was said by someone outside of the two of you and you guys were just gazing at each other, all starry eyed.

"You're perfect," You continued.

"I really like you." He broke the trance and you both expressed surprise. You didn't even blink, frozen. "Sorry, I, sorry.." He rambled, face as red as yours.

"I- uhhh, Ilikeyoutoo." You blurted then clenched your eyes shut for a moment in embarrassment. Why were you so darn awkward?! But it didn't matter to Pavitr, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your lips. Was this real? He pulled away and then hugged you tightly.

"You're adorable." He smiled into the hug and you reciprocated his touch.

"You're not so bad yourself spidey." You smiled as well, feeling yourself getting a little more comfortable. "You could never cover your identity from me Pav."

"I would never want to." He sighed dreamily, happy to finally know you felt the same as him and he didn't have to hide things from you.

~

Tags: // @liliummz // @themarvelprince // @misselsbells06 // @american-sataness // @cr0ssoverf4n4tic // @depressednoob // @cerene-ciderr // @leighanne03 // @inluvwithfictionalwomen // @singhfae // @mythixmagic // @itsyourboymicheal // @ravensinthedaylightt // @dai-tsukki-desu // @url0calw3irdo // @daisydark // @snzzysstuff // // @0-n-1-x // @darkdakota8998 // @narcissticassidy // @abbiejoker10 // @bellabnuuy // @alex—awesome—22 // @edgyficuselastica // @zombieblogx // @lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache // @koalaray // @justareader18 // @hobiespick // @sukisprettyface // @furblrwurblr // @grellshottieboyfriend // @i-love-ptv // @inspace1 //

Join my taglist!!

#pavitr prabhakar #pavitr prabhakar x reader #marvel #Arab #spiderman atsv #spider man atsv #atsv #atsv pavitr #atsv x you #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #pravitr prabhakar imagine #pavitr x reader #pavitr x you #pavitr fluff #pavitr x y/n #pavitr fanart #pavitr spiderverse #pavitr atsv

[gaysindistress]

Okay hello, I tried to send this for a couple of minutes now but my internet connection is bad so if you already receive it then ignore my ask! But if you don’t then i hope you read it!!

I would like to request a headcanon for bucky x arab!reader specifically from one of the gulf countries?..

Or you could write one where arab!reader tries to teach her kids Arabic but they seem uninterested and the complain a lot abt how “unnecessary” it is. So bucky comes to the rescue and comfort the reader who.

I had so many other requests but I don’t want to bother you with them😅not right now anyway 🤣

Feel free to ignore if you don’t like it!

You can flood my inbox all you like babes. I don’t mind one bit.

I went with the second prompt but let me know if you want me to do the first one too!

“Mommmmmmmmmm.”

My eye twitches from the drawn out syllables of my name but I smile nonetheless and ask my child what’s wrong in the most neutral voice I can manage. For the last 15 minutes, I’ve been trying to get Yasmin to at least try to learn Arabic with me. Every time I start, she immediately pretends that she needs to use the bathroom, is hungry, or otherwise refuses to start.

“This is stupid, no one even speaks Muslim,” she says while slumping back into her chair.

“Well first off, it’s Arabic. A muslim is a person who practices Islam,” i try not to grit out but I know it fails, “second, it’s the fifth most spoken language in the world and it’s what your jaddati and jaddi speak. It’s important that you’re able to understand them and hopefully talk to them too.”

She rolls her eyes at me and crosses her arms over her chest while mumbling, “Or they could learn to speak English.”

As if he knew that he was needed, Bucky walks in and freezes when the tension between us hits him.

“Is everything alright?” He asks cautiously as he sets his stuff on the counter and drops kisses to the both of our heads.

“Mom’s trying to torture me,” Yasmin groans and pretends to slide out of her chair, falling to the ground in a heap of limbs. Bucky glances to me, probably trying to see if he should laugh or not. He chooses wisely and only chuckles before kneeling next to our daughter.

I can’t hear everything that he’s whispering but whatever it is brings a wide smile to Yasmin’s face and she’s up within a second, running as fast as she can to her room. Defeated, I too slump in my chair and Bucky comes to sit on the edge of the table in front of me.

“I take it that was another failed attempt at teaching her Arabic.”

I nod with tears brimming my eyes and my ever so wonderful husband pulls me up and into a hug. Those tears start to fall as he rubs my back and whispers every kind word he can think of into my ear.

“It’s just…it’s just that,” I start and he shushes me.

“It’s okay, doll. We’ll figure something out. Maybe Yasmin and I learn together, yeah? You can be our teacher,” he mumbles as he pulls away, “I might need extra help, Mrs.Barnes.”

I giggle at the poor joke and let him kiss me.

“Please do not call me that,” I tell him, “I sound like I’m your mother.”

“Well the mother of my child.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #arab reader #arab reader x Bucky #request

[sorcerous-caress]

#♡minthara #minthara bg3 #minthara x reader #minthara baenre #memes #bg3 #♡memes #jaluk means male in drow language btw #add “uk” at the end of a noun to make it masc and “il” to make it fem #so female would be Jalil #which is lowkey poetic bc “jalil” can mean “here comes the night” in arabic #drow women are so <3

[pageswithoutaplot]

I cannot stress this enough,

Layla El Faouly is everything beyond what I imagined. She's the first live action Arab superhero. I cried my eyes out when she saved that girl, because I never got that growing up. As a little Arab girl, all I wanted was someone like me, who speaks my language and looks like my family and friends, and now there is and I truly hope beyond everything that she stays in the MCU.

Her potentional is indescribable and we deserve to see more of her.

#marc spector x reader #marvel #moon knight spoilers #moon knight #moon knight reaction #moon knight episode six #layla el faouly #scarlet scarab #arab #arabic #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #tawaret #ammit #khonshu #moon knight finale

[yourself-fact-game-professor]

https://ruth-231.mxtkh.fun/y/cTfglFk

#arabic #chevrolet #sexy asian women #shawn mendes #Gen Z #facts #corpse party #kanye west #game of thrones #hawks x reader #akatsuki #neuroscience #hunter parrish #sehun