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#man que vibes
91vhs · 8 months
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Julian te amo demasiado
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napo-con-fritas · 4 months
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the absolute irony of my brother being a flight attendant when planes are my biggest fear in this world
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so i’ve discovered that walking downtown at night is a drug that makes me act like a complete fool
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kombuuuu · 10 months
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hii i really enjoyed ur miles 42 fic, was wondering if u could write something about reader and miles meeting for the first time? who was interested first🤭?
For the Soul (and the Heart)
Miles!42 x Fem!Reader
“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, i’d say”. “Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”
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AHHH meet cute x simpy miles we LOVE
Miles getting comfy w reader and reader getting progressively more combative the more time they spend together bc they luvvvvvvv each other? perfection
please don’t read if you get uncomfy with suggestive content, nothing too bad but still suggestive!
The morning was still. An odd occurrence for a Saturday. The winter chill had settled the night prior and seeped into ever cracked windowsill.
Streets coating in a thin layer of snow and trees dusted with the same. And acknowledging this freezing weather, obviously you decided to go for a walk. Snow crunched under your feet as you followed street signs, the only thing telling you where you were going was which street looked prettier.
Eventually you stopped, hugging your scarf closer to your nose and looking for a stall or shop that caught your eye.
Eventually it did, a quaint cafe stationed between two clothing stores, relatively small and pretty empty. The outside was decorated with white Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers, flower beds filled with the pretty things. Contrasting to the deep Mahogany of the wooden shop. Which looking into the wide window, seemed relatively the same. Deep furniture with white accents and a soft yellow light dancing along shiny hardwood floors.
Swirling cursive words cut into the wooden headboard swinging from a chain outside the door. “Morales Coffee.”
There looked to be seven or eight people in there currently, for how inconspicuous it tried to look, the amount of patrons at such an odd time (10:42 AM, not morning but not afternoon either.), You’d assume that coffee has to be amazing.
The door bell chimed sweetly at your entry, Barista turning to greet you.
The sweet woman gleamed over at you for a moment, turning back to her current customer while he pulled out his wallet. You lined up, looking at the pastries lining the glass displays. The ones catching your eye a Raspberry Danish and a cute baby blue Lunch-Box cake.
The man had moved away, leaving it your turn to order. The woman smiled at you and for once, approaching someone in costumer service didn’t feel as scary as it should’ve.
“Hi, What can I get for you today?” The curly haired woman had a twang of an accent curving her words. And a motherly vibe about her.
“Hey,” You smiled back at her “,Could I get a regular Mocha—.” You paused to let her punch it in. “.—A raspberry Danish and your blue cake.”
You pointed vaguely towards where the blue cake would be to her side of the display. “Yes, of course! That’ll be $18.40, thank you.”
Whilst you pulled out your purse to pay and she began to retrieve the items. She spoke up again. “Someone’s birthday?”
You laughed, not expecting her to speak so suddenly.
“Oh, no!” A chuckle left your lungs “Just want some cake recently. Saw your shop and its cakes. Thought may as well get it while i’m here.”
She laughed along with you, snorting a little as she boxed the small cake in the cardboard lunchbox. “Seems reasonable.”
“Thank you.”
She grabbed your danish and placed it on the counter, putting the cake in a bag and handing it to you.
“Thank you, again.”
“No worries, your mocha will be out shortly!” The bouncy lady turned around, going close to the back of the counter and opened a door you hadn’t realised was there, talking into it.
“Bebé, hay una chica linda ahí afuera que quiere un Mocha. Ve a hacerlo para ella. Y no la riegues.”
"Baby, there's a cute girl out there who wants a Mocha. Go do it for her. And don't mess it up."
Miles glanced up in confusion.
“¿Pero porqué me dices a mi?”
“Why me?”
“Pues es linda, y parece de tu edad.”
“She’s pretty, and around your age.”
“Ma, porfavor.”
“Ma, please.”
“Go.”
“Fine, fine.” He raised his hands in defeat and Rio kissed his cheek on the way out.
You found a seat with a cute view of the street outside and waited patiently for your coffee, people watching to pass time.
There was always a fear of crime in your neighbourhood. The lack of supposed ‘good guys’ coupled with the city being run down by anyone who wanted to escape trouble. Once news broke out of the first robbery in Brooklyn, where no one was caught. It was immediately put on the radar for any criminal looking to live somewhere safe.
The Prowler had been changing that. Little by little the Panther-esc.. Anti-Villain was scraping through the streets of Brooklyn and letting his blood stained claws drag over those in his way.
People feared him, the violence he brought with him.
You thought he was the closest thing to a hero you were getting, so who’s got room to complain?
If he’s not going to do the dirty work, who will?
The chatter of other people in the cafe had gotten slightly louder, four more people walking in while you sat.
“Miles, la chica linda de ahí.”
“Miles, That sweet girl over there.”
“Sí mamá, ya sé.”
“Yeah mama, I know.”
The smooth baritones accent of a boy around your age caught your attention. The way his letters curled giving you a rush of something down your spine. You looked up when you heard feet approaching, seeing probably the most ridiculously handsome man you have ever met bring you your coffee.
The way his jawline sharpened at a point, braids lying on his shoulders just below it. His lips that seemed awfully soft for someone who probably doesn’t even know what chapstick is. Lashes fluttering prettily over his high genes cheekbones, accenting his golden eyes. Jesus christ he’s pretty. His lips curled into a smirk at your face, your doe’d eyes gleaming up at him. He had some sharp canines.
“‘S one’s yours, Miss.” He placed the steaming mug on your table and you smiled. “Thank you!”
“No worries, Hermosa.” He looked at you a moment longer before the sweet lady called him back to make another order.
“Coming, Momma.” He called back to her, turning back to you for a second time and adding.
“I’m Miles, by the way.”
“Miles.. that’s a cute name.”
His lips upturned again at the compliment.
You gave him your name, which he hummed at, repeating it and rolling it around his tongue. His accent was gorgeous.
“Hope to see you ‘round, [Name].”
You choked out a pathetic affirmation, “Mhmma.— Yeah, yep.”
He laughed lightly and dragged his fingers along the table as he left.
Like claws.
Two days later you were back. It was some of the best coffee you’d ever had. And the desserts were the same, most of the cake still sitting boxed in the fridge.
Also there was an added bonus, being the coffee house owner, and her son.
The boy was interesting enough to keep your attention, sweet to you but held a sort of curiosity about him. Like he was hiding something but felt no shame in doing it, that it was righteously excused.
And to be real, you were dying to hear his voice again. Two days and all that had been playing in your head was the way he’d said your name, let the word travel down to his lungs and breathed life into it. A longing into it.
Miles was about the same, probably worse.
You saying his name was cute was probably his new lifeline. The way you had said it so innocently, sweetly to the likes of him. A twisted, wretched man. You had him swooning faster than he deemed safe, his body was going into overdrive. He had watched you while in their cafe, having never met someone so.. untainted by the world. Someone so sweet who carried nothing but a childlike innocence in their curios nature. Nothing done out of bad faith or in vain. You were nothing like him, he adored that.
So when you came wandering back into his Mommas cafe, he hoped to every universe it would be something you didn’t stop doing.
“Ah! Miss, You’re back!” His Ma greeted her, watching as the girl told Rio her name, and his Mom in return.
You guys chatted idly for a moment, your expressions clear as day. He could read you like a grown man could read a picture book, so easy it would be insulting to present him with it, if the content wasn’t you. The brightness and easy nature of you was something refreshing, he would say his Momma was easy-going, but times had been hard lately and his family needed a cheering up. You seemed like the perfect candidate.
Sweet, bubbly and looking at him right now- Oh. He waved at you, shivering at the eye contact and watching as you smiled at him and waved back, hands shaking. He likes how nervous he makes you.
You sniffled a little from the cold, dripping your hand as his Mom room your attention again. She handed you a cinnamon scroll and you paid quickly, dropping twenty bucks in the tip jar and quickly finding your way back to your seat.
“Miles! Un Mocha regular porfavor.”“Miles, regular Mocha please.”
He nodded to his mom, like he hadn’t remembered from last time. Like he hasn’t watched as you enjoyed something he made you.
“Bienvenida de nuevo, Chiquita.”“Welcome back, Chiquita.”
Sitting in the same spot as last time, staring at the idling passer-by’s, the light of a Winter morning danced off the snowy ground and highlighted your face, leaving a soft glow in your eyes.
You turned to him, paying him your whole mind.
“Thank you, Miles.” He placed your coffee in front of you, slightly leaning over you. He raised his eyebrows and hummed. You inhaled quickly, breath caught in your throat. Now realising the proximity between the two of you. Not only that, but there was a sweet smell that followed him around, coffee and cinnamon. How fitting.
His voice had gone deeper, smoother.
“I’m glad to see you back here—,” He leaned back again, hand dragging the same way it had two days prior. Your slow blink and parted lips made a deep rooted part of him begin to blossom once more.
He wanted to protect you the way he knew no one else could, wanted to lay his Soul down for you. Let you trace the veins imbedded in his skin with your teeth and take as much from him as you could. Run him dry, let him owe you his life so he can die protecting yours.
The speed his infatuation was growing probably wasn’t healthy.
“Really?” Your sweet, breathless inquiry silenced that though.
“Of course, Mami.”
“I—,” You paused, picking at you fingernails for a moment “,—I like it here, a lot.”
You leaned a little forward in your seat. Pressing your forearms against the wooden tabletop and leaning on them. He watched your back drop into a small arch, and for his own health, decided to ignore it. “‘S very cozy.” You glanced towards the window again. Watching another lad and her dog pass. He watched you.
“Mm, it is.”
“And you’re here.”
He sucked in a breath, fingers twitching.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Your gaze flickered to him once more and he held it.
He let his hand drift to your shoulder, rubbing it slowly while he peeled himself away from the table.
“I gotta go, Mami, but enjoy your time.”
“You too, Miles.”
“I’ll be working,” He smiled at you, a small thing.
“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, I’d say.”
He hummed.
“Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”
It had been around four Months since Miles had met you. And he was in over his damn head, not that he wasn’t at your first meeting. But progressively, over time, he’d fallen deeper and deeper for you.
Everything you did had him in a chokehold. The way you were so sweet with his Mom, or how even uncle Aaron liked you when he’d stopped by the cafe.
How you offered to help around with no pay, generosity basically leaking from your heart. When you would come over just to see him because you “missed his voice”.
Or would sit in his room and wait for him. If he ever came home late, injured from things you had no business knowing, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You stayed quiet, and patched him up. Let him rest his head on your collarbone while you softly rubbed his shoulders. Trying to lighten the weight of the world off of them.
Every little thing.
He was done pretending like it didn’t affect him. He could barely go a single day without you on his mind constantly, as if.
He knew you felt the same.
Still just as readable as your first meeting. He knew the frequent outings between the two of you were more than just friendly meet-ups to you. To him.
And when your gazes would catch one another, he’d try and tell you. Express without so much as a word how you were the only person he could do this with. The only one he felt comfortable to walk down the street with, and let you chat his ear off about any new movies you’d seen, books you’d have read.
He would let you sleep in his bed, bring little things into his room and give the bland walls life.
You had made a home in him. Cracked chips in his walls on by one until you’d found a single loose stone and happily let everything he’d built up fall just for you.
Miles had texted you around mid-day that he’d wanted to see you, in which you’d giggled at your phone dreamily.
Laying on your bed with your stomach down, kicking your legs like a girl gone stupid.
It hadn’t even been much to fret over, just a simple:
Can you come over later?
He had phrased it rather questioningly, but for no good reason. He’d known full well the moment he even insinuated you being with him, you’d jump at the chance.
And you did, swiftly replying;
okayyyy !!
I’ll pick you up at 7.
six…?
7, [Name].
>:(
Don’t be childish.
i’m nvr childish, see u at 6 C:
You got up, threw your phone somewhere on the bed and checked your, admittedly already-packed, overnight bag. Making sure nothing was missing before putting it at your door.
Your phone pinged again.
See you at six.
You smiled.
You spent the rest of that afternoon anxiously waiting for him to pick you up.
He showed up at your door five minutes late, greeting you at the door with a soft apology about the tardiness.
“Sorry, Mami. Took a wrong turn.”
“Don’t apologise, Miles.”
You smiled at him, stars in your eyes. He looked away for a second, a bit guilty for lying to you, but he feels it’s worth it.
“Grab your bag, ma. Let’s go.”
You hummed an affirmation, rushing to your room to grab the pink duffel bag.
You grabbed your phone off your night stand and did a double check for everything.
You walked out again, closing the door behind you. Miles was leant up against your doorframe. Forearm pressed on the wood and his torso stretched. A small sliver of his skin had peeked from under the fabric, you thanked the warming weather. Quickly averting your gaze, you noticed him watching your stare in intent, a curious smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“You good, Chiquita?”
“Uhuh—, yep. Fine.”
“Mmhm.”
You huffed out, pouting and pressing your palm to his chest, his very toned chest, and pushed back lightly.
“Get outta my way, lame-o, I gotta lock the door.”
He resisted for a moment longer, gazing down at you in humour. He trailed his hand up your arm slyly and pried your hand off his chest by sliding his thumb up from under your wrist onto your palm. Slowly pulling you off him.
“Maybe ask politely.”
You gave him an unimpressed stare and flipped him off.
“Miles.”
“[Name].”
“Oh my god.”
“It’s just a ‘please’.”
“..-Please, get the fuck outta my way.”
“Of course, Hermosa.” He snorted as he did.
You turned around, Miles still close to you in the cramped hallway, and locked your door.
You turned around, noticing his eyes glance up from where they were before and shot him a questioning look. He turned around and led you through you hallway, dismissing the look.
He opened the steel door to the cafe. The scenery of a rooftop garden with the same Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers up here as there were out front of the store.
Shrubbery lined the rooftop edge and the string lights hung from the veranda created an atmosphere that seemed almost cinematic.
“Jesus, Miles. This is beautiful.”
“Mm, thought you’d like it.”
“I do, so much.”
You stated in awe at the mural painted on a buildings wall behind the door. A man who stroke a resemblance to Miles painted surrounded by colours of any.
The moonlight basked against the neon colours, accenting the man’s features.
“My dad.”
Your gaze snapped up to him beside you, brows furrowing in a frown.
“I’m sorry.”
“‘S cool. Nothin’ you coulda known, Ma.”
He sighed at the image of his father, wishing him well rest.
Turning to you, he wasn’t surprised to see the greif in your eyes. He was, though, surprised at the lack of pity.
He was so used to having his far family whisper behind his back at how his soul had died with his fathers. How the light in his eyes had gone missing the day his hand had been forced, unable to get to his dad in time.
There was no escaping his death.
So to feel the understanding coming from you—. The confidence in your sorry but knowledge that pity would do no one any good, it was refreshing. Everything about you was.
He turned away from your watchful eyes, the intensity being unusual for him.
“Come sit, vida mía.”
You followed him dutifully, loyally. Like you had since the last Winter. Like you would continue for the next to come.
A set of pillows had been placed in the middle of the veranda. White wood covered in lively vines and the aforementioned string lights.
There was a layout of his pastries (which you had learned he was the baker of) laid out on a cotton blanket.
You sat on one of the pillows, legs crossed. Miles following short after.
“Oooh,” You begun to tease him “,This a romantic dinner date?” The tone of your voice was in jest, but when he had failed to answer— Your heart rate sped up and your face went hot to the touch.
“Miles? Y’know I— I was just jokin’—“ “If you want it to be.”
You stood stupidly for a moment, not quite reeling in his words like any other person would.
“Wh—.”
It was his turn for unsurity now, eyes dancing nervously between you and the skyline.
“No pressure, though. Just think it’d be nice.”
“It would.”
He refocused on you again, finding you already watching him owlishly. “Yeah?”
“Mm, we could—,”
He anxiously started picking at the blanket. Who knew someone usually so calm could be this nervous asking out the most harmless girl he knew.
“Try. We could try that, together.” You mumbled a bit, seemingly playing it off. “If you want, or something..”
“I do.” He gained some leg to stand on, finding it easier and easier as you spoke, your nerves somehow calming his own.
“I’ve wanted that for a while.”
“Oh good, cause—“ You placed your hand in your lap, cracking your knuckles. “—Me too, so. That’s good.”
He grinned at your awkwardness, knowing your lack of experience in the relationship aspect of life, this mutual agreement, instead of one asking the other out, probably hasn’t been an experience of yours yet. He liked he was the first.
“Don’t get all shy on me now.”
You puffed at him, punching his arm lightly.
“I’m never shy, that’s for dumb stupid lame people. And I am none of those.” “Oh, sure.”
“Wh— Sure?! Which one are you ‘sure’-ing? Dumb, stupid or lame?!”
“Uhuh.”
“Miles!”
“Keep saying my name like that, mami.”
“Oh my goodness!”
And when you both finally got into his bed, you’d slept tangled together like you had dozens of times before. But this time, Miles would grab your waist and pull you closer. Settle his face in your neck and trace his nose down the length of your shoulder, peppering a kiss on every inch of skin he could find, and you’d both finally felt sure.
Maybe people were right, maybe Miles’s soul had died with his father.
But meeting you, something new, something rejuvenating—.
It left him with a light he could search for, a new soul. A whisp of a being you’d taken from your own heart and placed in his. It left him breathless with life.
YIPEEE!!!!! another one 🗣️‼️
thank you to my translation helpers (bbgs) @kissmxcheek and @millyswife
(oh, wrong Miles! oops! 🤗⬇️)
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serpenttines · 2 months
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moneytalks!
masterlist | request | misc.
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𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sugar daddy!fernando alonso x sugar baby!reader 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞: smau 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in love with the finer things in life 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: xs ● rina sawayama
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liked by bellahadid, fernandoalo, and 1,213,823 others
trulyyn face card 💳
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user839 the only thing carrying you through life
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ user2 its working 🤷🏻‍♀️
fernandoalo pretty girl
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn 🥰
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ user4 girl is def the right word for sure
user32 gold digger
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn uh yeah 🥰
user732 fernando bought her a car?
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ user10 like three months ago
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fernandoalo we'll never be as comfortable as her
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user82 valtteri ❤❤
user3 take your kid to work day i presume
user90 underrated duo
user7 favs
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ user7 she’s there too i guess
user651 begging for one post without the child
user11 this age gap is still weird
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ user0 they're both adults
trulyyn god i look good
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ fernandoalo you always do
lance_stoll yns back yay 🙁
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn i know you miss me bestie 😚
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ user82 even lance doesn't like her 😭
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ user111 i'm pretty sure he's joking
user3 i too would be comfortable if i had no responsibilities
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trulyyn if i spoke my truth God himself would strike me down i fear
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fernandoalo cariño?
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn 🧍🏾‍♀️
user742 great minds think a like
↳ user3 choo-choo 🚂🚂🚂
↳ trulyyn you know the vibes
user82 let her cook
user91 this isn't...
lewishamilton what happened to decorum?
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn you and me both know i never had it
user9 speak your truth
lance_stroll i just threw up
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ landonorris for real 🤢
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ turlyyn lando i still have those dms
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ georgerussell63 send them to me 👀
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ alexalbon me too
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ fernandoalo what dms
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ landonorris she's lying, i've never even seen this woman in my life
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn 🥱
user718 what’s your obsession with men twice your age 😭
trulyyn posted a story ● 2hr
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trulyyn whatta day (and night) 🛍🍴
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user39 there ain't no way
lance_stroll i wanted to go shopping too
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn you said you didn't want to go
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ lane_stroll that was dinner, this is different
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn okay me you and nando's black card tomorrow
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ lance_stroll 😁
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ fernandoalo i didn't agree to this
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn but you will
user05 tutorial
user93 oh the rumors might be true
user53 gorgeous ❤️❤️
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trulyyn afternoon tea fernandoalo
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user92 living vicrously through you
user638 babe i love you, but leave that old man at home
user7 you're so pretty
fernandoalo you look gorgeous
user93 the baby goat 😭
carlossainz55 ¿has vuelto a madrid? Mi hermana quiere verte
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn Sí la llamaré.
user89 just fell to my knees
user23 when are you going to stop using fernando for his money
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn when i’m tried of the finer things in life
fernandoalo posted a story ● 4hrs ago
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fernandoalo lo que la princesa quiera (whatever the princess wants)
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user621 yeah yeah old man we get it she’s hot
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ fernandoalo 🤨
lance_stroll you’ve never brought me breakfast in bed
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ fernandoalo and i never will
user12 breakfast & yacht ride okokok
user29 don’t know how many “god when”s i have left
georgerussell63 someone has favorites i see
user43 old men >>>>
user382 his sons are jealous
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trulyyn he's the best photographer on the grid
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danielricciardo you are, as the kids say, delulu
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ landonorris yeah it me
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ danielricciardo 🤥
user1 i like them together idk idk
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ user72 he’s old enough to be her father
lance_stroll who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn leave my old man alone
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ fernandoalo thank you?
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn you’re welcome 😇
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ user618 omg 😭😭
user02 nando content
user193 ahhh 😍
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trulyyn i’m just a girl who likes nice things
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user62 how does it feel to be living it dream
user12 nice things and old men
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn is that a crime
user179 for free?!?
fernandoalo this is a “thirst trap” correct
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ trulyyn did it work?
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ fernandoalo sí
user18 adding this your page to my vision board
user913 adding flirt with my local rich old guy to my todo list
user01 it girl
user121 can fernando fight
 ‎ ‎ ‎↳ user03 i think psychological warfare is more his speed
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girldad! [part II]
loved working on this, keep the request coming honestly. here's what my February should look like
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crackedpumpkin · 10 months
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|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴛᴡᴏ ||
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[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]
The sun is annoying, and the world can survive without vegetables.
This is the conclusion you’ve drawn after waking up to warm, yellow rays that shine directly onto your closed eyes. You blink groggily, rubbing your tired eyes with a free hand while the other brushes your teeth. 
“Honey, you’re gonna be late!” 
You mumble out an incoherent reply to your mom from the bathroom, quickly tossing on a thin cardigan after rinsing your mouth to rid the intense menthol sting that lingers on your lips. Entering the kitchen once done, however, provides you with a delicious reminder of how amazing of a cook your mom is. 
You grab a fork, devouring the scrambled eggs on toast. Sriracha stains the plate as a result of your messy eating habits, placing the now-empty plate in the basin with a satisfied hum. “Thanks, Mama!” You grab your school bag and rush to the door. You pause at the small alcove before the door, stepping down and slipping on your shoes. 
“Bye, Mama! See you later!” You call out before shutting the door behind you. The walk to school is as usual, with loud car horns being beeped as people rush to work while you stroll past graffiti-filled walls on the side of buildings. The street outside your school is already crowded with various cliques chatting away, and you enthusiastically greet some of them with nods and half-smiles as you enter through the main gate.
You polish off your taco, throwing away your napkin after using it to wipe your lips of any grease stuck on them. You look up at the sound of your name being called, grinning once you see a short brunette walking down the hallway. “Morning,” You greet Nicole cheerfully, opening your locker and pulling out the textbooks and notebooks you need for the day.
“What’s with you today?” 
You hum at her question, glancing at her with a quick shrug as she scrolls through Instagram. Nicole’s the first friend you made here in Brooklyn High School after transferring here four months ago. She had been the first to approach you, asking to borrow a pencil after she forgot to bring hers to class. 
Like any other teenager being forced to move cities to somewhere completely new, you stick to her like glue after that, eventually infiltrating your way into her friend group. 
“You know me, studious and independent’s the vibe I got goin’ on,” You grin at Nicole, draping an arm around her shoulder and giving her an affectionate squeeze. She looks up from her phone with a frown, using her finger to push up her glasses which had slid down slightly from their usual perch on her nose.
“Don’t be so uptight,” You chuckle, nudging her side. She sighs, rolling her eyes in amusement instead. You’re interrupted from your conversation on where to hang out this weekend at your name being yelled out from a distance away. 
“Eyyyy, que pasa!” You laugh at Michael’s greeting as he comes up to you with an outstretched fist, bumping it gently after removing your arm from where it was resting around Nicole’s shoulders. “Have you studied for the quiz today?” He asks, slinging a casual arm around your shoulders while you walk down the hall with Nicole beside you. 
You hum with a quick shrug. “Think so?”
“Man, you gotta get your head down from the clouds, bro.” He chuckles, trying to move sneakily to stand beside Nicole, who simply holds up her hand, stopping him from coming any closer with a glare. He retracts the arm he’s about to sling around her shoulders with a sheepish grin, holding it up in surrender.
“Anyway,” He brushes off her clear rejection, focusing back on you, “I’m planning a hangout with a few friends to celebrate the end of exam season. You in?” You immediately nod with a wide grin, already excited at the thought of goofing around with your friends. 
“Of course, you’re invited too. Maybe we can have our own little hangout-” 
“I’d rather stab my right arm.” Nicole cuts him off with an angelic smile, though her venom-filled words elicit an amused laugh from Michael. “Ah, how I love that icy nature of yours,” He sighs with a shake of his head.
“Who’s coming?’ You ask absentmindedly, adjusting the two notebooks in your arms. 
“Jeremy, Ally, Geoff, Tiff, Miles…”
“Miles? As in, Miles Morales?” Nicole finally speaks, eyes wide in surprise.
“Who’s that?” You don’t recognise the name. The rest you’re familiar with, though. They’re all in Brooklyn High, just in different classes. You’d seen them in passing around the school, and they recognised you in turn as one of Michael’s friends. 
“Right, you don’t know him. He transferred a while before you joined. He’s in Brooklyn Visions now. Here,” Nicole holds up her phone to your face, and you squint at the picture on her screen. Huh. He’s kinda cute, you suppose.
“Cool. Guess we’ll meet during the hangout then.” You sit down at your desk, Michael sitting at the desk beside you while she takes her seat in front of you.
“Wait, how do you know Miles?” Nicole rolls her eyes as she turns around in her chair, placing her elbow on your desk as she leans on her palm. 
“He helped me out a couple of times.” She answers simply. Michael frowns slightly. “Were you two….?”
“Why? Are you going to be devastated if I say yes?” Nicole smirks. “Unfortunately, it’s actually because our moms knew each other.” She sighs, holding up her free hand to observe her nails.
Before Michael can respond, the bell rings to signal the start of classes. They pass by in a flash, and all too soon, you’re outside the door to the art classroom. You’re hesitant to enter, eyeing the doorknob as if it’d burn you as soon as you touch it. 
“Well? Will you stay outside collecting dust, or will you enter?” You flinch at the sudden voice, looking up to see Miss Dawson looking at you with an expectant gaze. Her arms are crossed, waiting for you to go inside. 
“Y-yeah, I was just about to, but then I realised I forgot my…. brushes?” 
“You stored them in my desk drawer last week because they were too heavy to carry home with you.” 
Damn it. You purse your lips, huffing at your forgetfulness. “Fine,” You mutter, grabbing the doorknob and turning it, walking to your usual corner of the room. You pull out your sketchbook and pencil case, leaning back in your chair and waiting for Miss Dawson to start her lesson.
“Today, I’ll be assigning you a task for your end-of-year exams. I know some of you are interested in building up your portfolio to apply for the Brooklyn Academy of Fine Arts or maybe even to other schools in different states.” You perk up slightly at the mention of art school, placing your hands on your sketchbook. Miss Dawson speaks slowly yet surely, looking at each student with pure conviction. When her gaze lands on you, you’re a hundred percent sure she can see every thought that crosses your mind, each doubt that lingers in your heart. 
“Your topic is, Your Favourite Scenery.”
Murmurs spread through the class, everyone looking at each other with worry. You bite your bottom lip, chewing on it in thought as you furrow your brows. Sure, the topic might seem simple enough on the surface, but the fact that it’s so broad is exactly what unnerves you.
Having a chosen topic is good as a guideline, even more so when you know precisely what your favourite scenery is. With the addition of inspiration and motivation, it’d be a breeze to complete.
The problem is, you have none of the above.
You’re not sure what scenery you enjoy, much less have a favourite. Sure, sunsets are pretty, and skyscrapers are cool, but not much really struck you as deeply. You’re made aware of Miss Dawson gesturing for you to come over to her desk, hesitantly standing up and walking there while everyone else is discussing among themselves about the topic given.
You part your lips to greet her, only to be cut off when she holds out her hand expectantly. You huff, handing her your sketchbook. She flips through the pages, frowning slightly when she sees the random doodles and mindless sketches until she stops on a specific one.
She hums, taking in whatever’s on the page. You can’t remember what you’ve drawn, but you’re more than reluctant to admit how much of a slump you’ve been in lately. It’s not like you can come into class, declaring your lack of talent whilst waving your hands in the air.
You focus on Miss Dawson's makeshift jar of pencils on her desk, recalling someone else gifting it to her for Teacher’s Day. The blunt nibs are a testament to how much she uses them, a bedazzled one drawing your attention. You pick it up, observing the tiny sequins firmly glued to the wood with a fascinated gaze. 
You flinch when Miss Dawson suddenly clears her throat, automatically moving your hands behind your back and focusing your attention back on her. “So, I assume you had an encounter with our city’s local hero?”
“How’d you know?” You ask, eyes wide in surprise. 
She simply turns the sketchbook around to face you, the sketch you’d made last night of Spiderman clear as day. Your cheeks warm, the drawing having slipped your mind. “Looking through your sketchbook, it’s obvious that you’ve been in a slump, honey. But this sketch…This is really good, maybe even one of the better ones you’ve done.”
“Thank you?” You’re not sure if she just complimented or insulted you. 
“Seeing him must have helped your inspiration somewhat, didn’t it?”
“I guess so. I dunno, it’s not like a switch I can turn on and off anytime I want.”
“Well, you’ll have to learn how to keep it on. And for this assignment in particular, I want you to focus not just on your favourite scenery. I want you to focus on what exactly makes it your favourite.” Miss Dawson hands the sketchbook back to you with a knowing smile, and you take it from her unsurely.
“Right…” You return to your desk with one dismissive wave from her hand, sitting back down with a defeated groan. You prop your chin onto your hand, staring at the sketch blankly.
An art slump is the worst. Besides, it’s just a drawing of Spiderman; although it is admittedly some of your best work, it’s not like you can just channel that again at the snap of your fingers.
You need inspiration. You need motivation. You need….a muse, which can only mean one thing.
You’re gonna attempt to find Spiderman.
Attempt #1: Have a friendly run-in!
“This is such a bad idea; why am I even trying to find a superhero? I’m literally just going to ask him to be my muse and he’s gonna say no, which is gonna be so embarrassing and I’ll never be able to show my face around here again and what if next time I’m being robbed he turns away because it’s me??”
“Okay, calm down. He’s not going to turn away because he rejected you, or he wouldn’t be a superhero. Also, you’re literally being paranoid because I’m not there with you.” 
You frown, pulling your phone away from your ear to check if it really is Nicole you’re calling. “That’s not true.”
“I know when you’re lying.”
“Okay, maybe I’m being slightly paranoid, but for good reason! Why can’t you just come with me? You’re good at getting people to do what you want.” 
Nicole’s soft chuckle somewhat relieves you, knowing she took it as a compliment. “I’d come over, but I have to help plan the outing with the group, remember? And I’m not the one with a ride to an Art Academy on the line - you are.”
“Wait, outing?”
“Yeah, remember this morning? You’ll meet Miles then; I think you’d get along. Anyway, you’ll do fine. Michael told me Spidey swings by the hotdog cart every Tuesday, so I guess it’s reliable information.” Nicole reassures you, though her last few emotions are filled with a tinge of doubt. She pulls the phone away to mumble something to someone, and you’re sure it’s an insult based on the irritated bite in her voice when she returns to the phone.
“Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow then…” You say reluctantly, unwilling to hang up the phone.
“Yeah, bye.”
The monotonous dial tone greets your ears after Nicole’s curt goodbye. You shut off your phone, flipping your sketchbook to an empty page with a sigh. You rifle through your pencil case, picking up the sequined pencil you’d accidentally taken from Miss Dawson and tapping it against the blank paper.
Draw your favourite scenery.
You look around, taking in the vibrant green trees and serene lake, the joyful laughter of children and parents filling the air. It’s peaceful. Dogs wander around, some leashed and some set loose. One approaches you, but you wave it away, flinching when it gets too close for comfort. It’s no longer peaceful.
“You can go away now…” You mumble, poking its side to hopefully urge it to move away from you. Your legs automatically move up to the bench, drawing your knees close to your chest. “Shoo, bad dog! Where’s your owner?” You glance up to check if their owner is nearby, only for your bedazzled pencil to be snatched out of your hands.
“Hey!” You exclaim angrily, reaching out to grab it from the dog’s mouth. You hesitate when you see the dog drool dripping onto the end of the pencil, eyeing it with a shudder. You take a moment to steel yourself, grabbing the slimy end with as much force as possible, trying to yank it free from its mouth. 
“Let go of my stuff! That’s not yours! I have to return it to Miss Dawson, you stupid dog!” Your grip slips, and you land on the ground with a yelp, wincing when your knee gets scraped by the coarse dirt through your ripped jeans. 
“Give it back!” You demand, lurching yourself forward and grabbing the pencil again. However, the dog growls playfully, thinking of it as nothing more than a game for entertainment. “This is why,” You grunt between shallow breaths, “I prefer cats!”
Your sketchbook had fallen beside you, the beautiful cover now stained with dirt. You narrow your eyes into a glare, scowling at the dog. “Let go!” 
It finally does, maybe because it sensed that you wouldn’t be playing with it. You fall back once more, your back hitting the ground harshly. The breath is instantly knocked out of your chest, and you inhale deeply, trying to force more air back into your lungs with a choked gasp. 
You sit back up, holding the pencil up victoriously until you remember that there’s dog drool all over your hand. You groan in disgust, searching for a tissue to wipe it off. Wait. Your sketchbook is missing. 
You look around frantically, only to see the exact same dog from earlier now burying a half-open sketchbook into the dirt. Your sketchbook. A strangled yell rips itself from your throat, practically throwing yourself at it with a glare that could rival even Karen herself. You push the dog away, scrabbling at the dirt to uncover your almost completely buried sketchbook. 
“Bye, Spiderman!” Your head instantly turns at the sentence, spotting the familiar black silhouette nodding his thanks to the hotdog cart owner, his hotdog securely held in his hand. He flicks his free hand and shoots a web onto the side of a building, beginning to leave.
“Wait! I have a ques-” 
He swings off into the distance, already blocks away in the span of a few seconds without hearing your cry. Your arm falls to your side, collapsing back onto the ground to catch your breath while your sketchbook lies buried in the dirt. 
Damn it.
Attempt #2: Get Mugged!
“God, I hope this works,” You mumble. The streets around you are dimly lit, and you’re armed with nothing more than your bulky pencil case and a whistle, both stored in the deep pockets of your hoodie. The handbag containing your wallet and phone bumps against your waist, the strap loosely slung across your shoulder.
You’re the perfect walking target to be mugged.
Granted, this is probably one of the worst ideas you’ve had in the history of bad ideas. The chilly Brooklyn night breeze tickles your ears with an icy breath, and your body gives an involuntary shiver. You scan the empty streets hopefully. When was Spiderman – or better yet, a robber, going to show up?
Whether it was desperation or pure adrenaline driving you forward at this point, you couldn’t tell.
But you’re here, and you’re determined to see things through.
Minutes pass of you wandering the dark streets like a fool, and you’re just about to head back home when you sense that something’s off. Your steps slow, and you hear someone else’s shoes scuffle a short distance behind you. 
You start to speed up, fingers gripping the heavy pencil case in your pocket. You’d been hit by it before by accident and did not get away unscathed by any means. Your heartbeat quicks its pace in your chest, sensing them get closer with each step. 
There he is.
You finally spot Spiderman chilling on the roof of a nearby apartment building, breaking into a run. The mugger behind you grunts in surprise, and you hear him start to run as well. Your breaths are short and ragged, and you finally reach just below the building. 
“Stop right there, missy!” Looking up from where you’ve bent over to catch your breath, you see the sharp knife blade held up at you. The robber is slouching, just as out of breath as you are. However, he straightens his back and flashes you a yellow-toothed smirk from under his cap, and you shudder at the bits of dirt clearly seen in his beard. 
You hold your arms up in surrender, risking a quick glance up, only for Spiderman to jump down and land smoothly right in front of you. “Hey man, didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play around with sharp objects?” He tuts, shaking his head as he uses his web shooter to tug the knife away from the robber.
The knife lands in his hands with ease, the robber immediately turning to flee. “I don’t like doing this bit, but you leave me no choice!” Spiderman does a quick frontflip and lands before the robber, grabbing his shoulder and tilting his head. “You should’ve known better,” You hear him scold, and spot a light blue electric current flowing from his fingers to the robber, knocking him unconscious. 
Spiderman lets go, taking a surprised step back as the robber falls to the floor, unconscious. He winces, dusting off his hands and walking toward you. “You shouldn’t come out here during the night,” He chides playfully, grabbing the knife that had fallen to the floor when he caught the mugger. “You’d be in a lot of trouble if I wasn’t here.”
“Yeah, thank you. Actually, I wanted to ask-”
“Whoop.” He cuts you off, glancing at his watch, “I’d love to stay and chat, but duty calls! You’re gonna want to take a right down here, another left, and then one more right and you’ll be at the main street. Stay safe!” He gestures down to a more brightly lit street, patting your back before shooting his web shooter at a nearby building.
“Wait- Ugh,” You groan in defeat, watching him swing off again without hearing your question. Your arm is outstretched, fingers barely brushing against his arm before he leaves. 
DAMN IT.
Attempt #3: If he doesn’t stop and listen to the goddamn question, you’re going to lose it.
“Calm down, pinto.”
“I spilt pinto beans on myself, one time, people. One. Time.” You frown, crossing your arms. Nicole smirks, shrugging nonchalantly in response. 
“Yeah, yeah. Michael told me that he saw your Spidey boy swing around the taco truck down the street a couple times every Thursday, so we should keep a lookout. Don’t want your sketchbook taken away from you again, do we?” 
“How does Michael even know all this?” You mumble. 
“Look, we don’t ask him questions, and he doesn’t ask us any. It’s a two-way street, pinto. Use those brains of yours.” You shove Nicole lightly with a roll of your eyes. Falling back, she leans against a wall, immediately pulling out her phone and scrolling through it. 
God, she has a serious internet addiction. You choose to scan the crowd instead, your gaze sweeping over the kids from the Brooklyn Visions Academy filling the street, having just gotten out of their clubs. You look somewhat out of place with your own uniform, shuffling your feet slightly when they glance over with confused gazes. 
You raise your brows in response to a few of them, and they leave with a haughty scoff. You roll your eyes. Stuck up snobs, the lot of them. Hopefully, the information Michael provided is accurate, though you’re sure you’ll never know where he gets it from. 
“Hey, is the bowling alley chill with you for the hangout? Miles sucks at bowling, so we can team up to obliterate the boys.” 
“Sure,” You reply absentmindedly, only to pause and turn to face her. “Is he not free to meet up before, though? I’d like to get to know him first, so it won’t be as awkward.” 
“Nah,” Nicole frowns at her screen, “He’s busy on all the days I suggested. Something about homework and stuff. Maybe he’s turned into one of the snobs.” She puts her phone away with a snort. “Also, there’s your Spidey-guy.”
“What?” True enough, he’s at the taco truck right now, ordering a taco and waiting patiently. Spiderman has to have lunch breaks too, you suppose. You watch him tap his fingers against the metal table, bobbing his head along to a beat playing in his mind.
You grit your teeth, grab your bag and keep your now clean sketchbook, having wiped off all the dirt with a cloth and the best surface cleaner you own back home. Your eyes shine with a determined glint, practically marching through the crowd to him.
“Hey!” You stumble back, looking down at the bright yellow mustard on your pristine white shirt. “Are you kidding me?” You growl in frustration, looking up to see a girl dressed in the Brooklyn Visions uniform holding up her ruined basket of fries, the small toppled tub now on its side and most of the sauce on you.
“Watch where you’re going!” She huffs, looking at you with pure disdain. 
“Watch where I’m going? Watch where you’re going!” 
Oh God, please let him still be there-
Spiderman is holding his taco now, trying to slip away through the crowd. Your eyes narrow into a glare, pushing past the girl with a muttered apology, running as fast as possible to catch up to the superhero.
You spot him jogging into an alleyway, following suit. You stop, however, when you see that it’s empty. “What?” You mumble, looking around frantically for him. You hear a loud coo, looking up to see the very hero you’re looking for crawling along the wall of the Academy dorms. 
“Wha-?” Now you’re baffled. You watch him reach a specific window, using an arm to open it and enter before sliding it shut behind him. Three floors up and the last one down the hall. Got it. You run to the entrance, only to be stopped by a security guard.
“Woah, woah, woah. Only students of Brooklyn Visions Academy are allowed inside.” He chuckles, holding a hand in front of you to stop you from entering. 
“No, you don’t understand! I need to talk to someone inside.” You try to plead, but he merely raises his brows. 
“Okay, what’s their name?”
“W-well. You see, here’s the thing.” You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. 
“Mmhm. Come back when you have their name, and I’ll call them down for you, okay?” He dismisses you, using his hands to turn your shoulders around. He pats your back slightly, sending you on your way.
You frown, brows furrowing in thought for a way to get in. Maybe Nicole would have an idea. She’s eerily good at stuff like this. Your feet pound against the pavement in a steady rhythm as you run back to where you had left her waiting.
“Nic!” You call out, panting heavily once you reach the girl who’s still in the same position as when you left. “I need help; I gotta sneak into the dorms of the snob school.” You say through your gulps for air, your lungs screaming for more oxygen.
“You need to sneak in?” She asks, looking up from her phone with raised brows.
“Yeah. I can’t explain right now, but I really need your help.” You confirm breathlessly.
She mulls over your plea for a moment before shrugging, moving away from the wall and pocketing her phone. She stretches her arm above her head momentarily. “Stay here.” She orders before stepping out of the alleyway and out of your sight. 
You wait, albeit impatiently, tapping your foot as urgency consumes you. Nicole soon returns with the Academy’s blazer in her hands, tossing it at you with a grin. “Got it for free; you can keep it. I gotta go for a study session. Will you be okay on your own?”
“Yeah, thanks, Nic.” She never fails to impress you every time. You thank her quickly before returning to the dorm entrance, wearing the blazer on the way. You halt once you reach it, keeping your head down and fastening the buttons securely, hiding the bright yellow stain on your shirt. 
God, it’s probably going to get onto the blazer too, you wince. Spotting a group of girls walking into the entrance, you jog over and stick close to them, walking past the security guard from earlier. 
Once you’re inside, your tense shoulders sag with relief, a massive weight being lifted off your chest. The atrium is pretty cool, but you don’t have time to admire any architecture right now. You glance at the two winding staircases, signs directing the students to the boys' or girls' side.
You recall the window being on the right side of the building, walking up the respective staircase. Luckily, not many students are around. Most of them have gone out. 
Third floor, last room down the hall.
You take the lift up, exchanging an awkward smile with another girl who’s clearly sneaking in as well. She gets off at the second floor, and you spam the button to close the lift doors. As soon as they close, you practically collapse against the wall with a long, drawn-out sigh of relief.
The lift doors open to the third floor. You peek your head out, looking around. Good, there’s no one.
Stepping out of the lift, you pause. Do you go right, left, or straight? From what you recall of the exterior structure, you’re pretty sure it’s the hall on your left. Steeling your resolve, you walk down the carpeted floor, your footsteps muffled. 
There it is, the room at the end of the hallway. You raise your hand, knocking on the hard wood once, twice, three times.
Silence is all that greets you.
“Is anyone there?” You call out softly. When no one responds, you grip the doorknob just to check. To your surprise, however, the door swings open with a single push, revealing the room inside. 
It wasn’t locked.
“Pardon my intrusion….” 
You step over a pile of clothes on the floor, your nose scrunching at the smell. Deodorant and musk fill the air. A picture frame sits on a desk to your left, with a photo of a short boy.
That can’t be him; his stature is too different.
Another picture sits on a small nightstand, and you pick it up to see a familiar face. The boy in the picture with his family is tall, with chocolate brown eyes and raven-black hair. You frown, tilting your head. Where had you seen him before…?
A soft thud draws your attention. Something had fallen to the floor from where it was squashed between the bedframe of the bunk bed and another piece of furniture. You bend down, picking it up. 
Spiderman’s mask hangs loosely in your grasp.
You look multiple times from the mask and the poorly-hidden suit to the picture, finally connecting the dots. You pull out your phone, hurriedly texting the one person who could confirm your surefire theory.
yo, Nic. send me the picture of the guy - Miles, i think? - Read, 2pm
Sure ig. dont go stalking him tho - Nicole, 2pm.
The strong vibration of your phone alerts you to a new text. You look down, thankful for Nicole’s fast reply. Opening the text, an image of the ever-so-elusive Miles Morales fills your screen. 
Oh my god.
Your eyes widen, your suspicions confirmed.
It can't be.
But it's the only explanation that makes sense. 
Miles Morales is Spiderman. Spiderman is Miles Morales.
You hide the mask back where it's dropped out of its hiding place, swallowing thickly when you hear the lift ding, making your swift exit.
Rushing down the hall, the last thing you expect is to bump against the very boy you’ve been looking for. You don’t dare risk a glance, recognising him just by his shoes alone. Ignoring his apology, you run off, making your exit.
Once you exit the dorm entrance, most of the tension leaves your body. Making your way back home, your mind reels from the discovery.
Miles Morales is Spiderman.
While you slip away from his notice, Miles spots something in his peripheral vision. His suit had fallen slightly out of his hiding place. Thinking nothing of it, he goes to stuff it back in when he sees a small spot of yellow on the side of his mask.
Yellow?
He brings the mask up to his nose and takes a sniff. His brows furrow at the familiar scent.
...Mustard?
He wipes it off with a shrug.
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im sorry babes but im begging you. Can we have a pedro pascal x reader fic where she's like a vlogger/lawyer and its like a fanmade video of them on yt of them being crackheads and being all lovey-dovey. like libra x aries vibes they balance each other out sm. you don't have to really but i genuinely feel like you're the only person who can pull this off.
Talk To My Lawyer
Every time Pedro gets asked something he can't answer, he always says the same thing.
Pedro Pascal x Lawyer!Reader | 600< | cw: gender neutral!reader, fluff, crack, rpf, typos, etc.
A/N: i didnt use and pronouns for yn besides you so anyone can read! ALSO this took forever, but im glad I finally did it. I hope you enjoy this nonnie! it's not exactly like the request but its pretty funny lmao
Tagging: @sloanexx @amis-love-bugs @top1bbgloak @sunfairyy @djarinsstuff @mooniesyubi @pedropascalgirly @mmmmandoz @multifandom-fangirl4
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X - (Formerly Twitter) - verse
@hotnewsoutlet: Pedro Pascal announces marriage to Civil Rights Lawyer with heartfelt Instagram post. @gigigogold1: PEDRO IS MARRIED? @linmanuzel: PEDRO IS MARRIED? (2) @HOTdigitidawg: PEDRO IS MARRIED? (3) @103840582duh: ??????????????????????????????????? QUE @pedropascaldad: TO A MOTHER FUCKING LAWYER 💀💀💀✋✋✋ @pedropascaldad: OF COURSE THE LAWYER LOOKS LIKE A SUPERMODEL TOO HAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA *jumps off a plane*
@papipascalyuh: ok but if pedro was gonna get married ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ hell yeah itd be someone who looks like THAT holy fuck
@80pascal: ?????????????????????????????????????? UR TELLING ME THIS LAYWER IS NOT ONLY HOT BUT SMART AND FUNNY TOO????? [article link attached] @biwohla: 💀💀💀💀💀 NO CUZ THE LEVEL OF UNHINGED??? FROM A LAWYER???? INFUCKINGSANE @marvelwhorebb: "... I made sure to wear the Pedro Pascal T-shirt I made when we first announced our relationship. Gotta let the people know I'm one of them and simply got lucky." @atrediessucker: T-SHIRT *I MADE* SCREAMING WHATTTTTT
@djinssdjarrinn: OK IT HURTS BUT FUCK HES SO WHIPPED [video attached]
"How are you today?" asks the interviewer.
Pedro smiles and nods, "good, how are you?"
"I'm great, now that I got to see you," she says, making the man curl his head into his shoulder and grin.
Pedro waves a hand, "oh stapit"
She grins back, "I was excited when I saw you arrive with the internet's favorite lawyer."
His expression shifts, he brightens up. He places a hand on his chest, "me too! I'm so happy to have a date today. I always end up beggin' for some time, and now I got it-" fist pump "-y'know, not that I'm complainin'."
"Yeah, I was gonna sa-"
"I like begging." *Pedro smile.*
The interviewer doesn't quite catch it, "-y, the both of you are always booked and busy. How do you find time for each other?"
Pedro thinks, but is distracted when you walk up from behind him. He looks back when you place a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, he's forgotten all about the question and dotes on you. He brushes a hand on your cheek, asking you if you're okay. You whisper something but then catch the camera. You give a bashful smile, "oh, sorry to interrupt."
The interviewer immediately waves a hand, "oh, don't worry about it."
Pedro mutters something and kisses your hand. He holds it as he looks back to the interviewer. He opens his mouth then shakes his head, "sorry, what was the question?" Pedro laughs.
The woman chuckles then moves closer to you, "you know what, I'm sure people are dying to know, what's something you newlyweds like to do together?"
Pedro instantly turns to you.
You purse your lips in thought.
"I-"
"Watching movies," you say.
"I-" Pedro starts again, looking back to the interviewer, "I don't think we can say what we like to do."
*crickets*
Pedro looks at you, expression mischievous.
You stare back at him, eyes like daggers.
He holds back a laugh and leans into the mic, turning to the camera, "I can't say it. Talk to my lawyer."
The interviewer laughs and so do you, begrudingly.
"Talk to my lawyer," Pedro repeats proudly, breaking into a wide mouthed smile.
"Ok," you mutter, "pack it up, Pascal."
@alexielover: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP BASHING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL WHAT THE FUCK @600MILK: MF SAID TALK TO MY LAWYER 🙄✋ SOBBING @oscarisaaacsz: watch him use that for everythingggggg 😭 @pedrogrill: LORD I HAVE SEEN WHAT YOU HAVE DONE FOR OTHERS @starwazfr: *sips clorox cutely* @emeryslala: and im supposed to sha la la baby after this? FOUL @pascpedro: respectfully, id pay to be their third @probelmaskt: PACK IT UP PASCAL???????????????????
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fruitsoxs · 2 months
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New Year's Kiss
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pairing(s); Gale x (GN)reader summary; You somehow end up kissing your rival at midnight OR you seriously misinterpret the vibes Gale is giving off (modern au) warning(s); reader is a dumbass, they are so bad at understanding social ques, Gale can't flirt, this is mostly fluff wordcount; 1.8k notes; this was beta read by both @linklebard and my partner! i couldn't have done it with out them &lt;;33
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You never really liked parties. They were often too loud and too crowded. You hate being forced to socialize with other people. You’re definitely an introvert, and when given the choice would rather stay at home. You especially hate work parties though. Not only do you have to talk to people, but these people are your peers. Your educated, rude peers that have an “I’m better than you” outlook on life. The hardest part about work parties? You can’t escape them. Unless you are on your deathbed, you HAVE to attend. It’s an anxiety fueled nightmare
That is exactly how you ended up at your university’s New Year’s party. 
You grip the champagne glass with so much vigor that it may just explode in your hands. People around you are talking, creating a sea of noise which threatens to drown you. Face a little pale, you slowly raise the drink up to your lips and sip. The liquid does little to help you unwind, but it serves as your life vest on this treacherous adventure. Without it in your hands you’d just be standing there awkwardly amongst your peers. 
The party is being held in the Performing Arts center, in a large room adorned with gold  decorations and giant pillars. In the center there is a live band playing. A jazz band whose music should be relaxing, but in this environment it only adds to the stress. Many people are dressed in their finest clothing, showing off their expensive brands. You opted for something a little more simple, but elegant nonetheless. You’ve done your best to look presentable, but you can’t deny the fact you struggled to force yourself off your computer for this event. Despite it being winter break, you’re working relentlessly to put together a research paper that will HAVE to pull in grants.
You’d much rather be putting all of your energy into that than standing here awkwardly at the party. You need to work hard in order to draw in the attention of benefactors, especially with that certain someone who always seems to be fighting with you for the same grants. It wouldn't be such an issue if the man didn’t beat you almost every time. It was only recently that you lost against him after presenting what you thought was your best work. It didn’t even seem to be a fight in the end, his project was chosen without a second thought. You worked your ass off day and night to perfect every inch of that proposal, and in the end you were left with nothing. 
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” A voice rings out beside you, pulling you from your solitude. When you look over you are met with the big brown eyes of the coworker you were just thinking about. Gale Dekarios, the most annoyingly smart person you know. The one who you are constantly butting heads with, and the person you can safely say you hate the most. The worst part about him? He always seems to be correct in a way you can’t refute. He’s wickedly smart, with looks that match. You don’t think there’s a single soul who would describe him as anything but handsome.  It’s utterly unfair. Despite your harsh feelings for the man, he always seems to worm his way into your thoughts
“I think you may have misread the email then, Professor Dekarios. The word required was used more than a couple of times.” You answer, crossing your free arm over the one holding your drink. You would know, you were the one in charge of sending out that email. He lets out a soft chuckle and nods. “I happen to thoroughly read every email I get, especially the ones I get from you. I just figured you’d skip out on the festivities seeing as the word “required” doesn’t always guarantee your attendance, Professor.” He points out, taking a sip of his own drink.  
While he’s not wrong, you don’t appreciate the way he says it. Everything sounds so sassy coming from his mouth. It feels like a slight on your attendance to these ordeals, or like he’s comparing himself to you. There’s no doubt in your mind that he shows up to every single one of these events. They seem like something he would enjoy. You, on the other hand, do like to skip out on parties, even when they are technically required to go to. The reason behind you playing hooky though, is the man in front of you. He’s always somehow one upping you, making it so you have to work extra hard to earn any amount of attention. And while you could earn that attention by attending these parties, and schmoozing up to the department leaders, you’d much rather gain attention by doing good work. Besides, you’ve never been all that great at networking. 
“I do value my job, you know.” you snap, clearly angered by what he said. It is all his fault after all. If he wasn’t so goddamn competent at his job, you might be able to relax every once in a while. 
He doesn’t seem phased by your anger, simply nods along. “Ah yes, and how lucky are we to have you here. One of the finest Historians I know.” 
‘But never the best’ You think bitterly, sipping your champagne again. You find yourself thinking back to those late nights, scrolling through Rate My Professor to compare your scores. Despite your best effort, he always seems to have the most positive reviews. The students love him, the faculty love him. It seems he will always be better than you, no matter what he is doing.
You intend to end the conversation there, but it seems Gale has other plans. Always the sociable one, he opens his mouth again. “It does seem like you’ve been much more engrossed in your work lately. Planning anything big?” he asks, genuinely curious about your work. However, you have never been good at social cues. Thinking he’s making fun of you, you narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Professor” you snap.
He always seems to be trying to gawk at your work. For what? You aren’t sure. Every chance he gets he’s asking what your most recent project is. Sometimes he even asks to view your lesson plans for classes, which always pisses you off. What right does he have inserting himself into your work? Not only that, but what intentions does he have? There’s no way he’s trying to help you, right?
He holds his hands up in feign surrender. “Alright, No need to get snappy. I'm just curious. Who would I be if I was not interested in my colleague’s work?” he asks, offering you a smile. 
You really have no idea what to make of this guy. You’ve always hated conversing with him, because it genuinely feels like he has some secret motive behind his kind words and smiles. He has to be making fun of you for something. There is no other explanation. At least not in your mind. Still, maybe you are being too harsh. You let your glare fall, and give him a small nod. You shift your eye over to the clock. Only five minutes to midnight, which means it’s almost time for you to go home. 
Your eyes go back to Gale, who is still by your side sipping his drink happily. Why is he still next to you? Doesn’t he have some other poor soul to chat to? You open your mouth to voice this, but he cuts you off by clearing his throat. 
“The music is rather lovely today, is it not?” he asks you, avoiding eye contact as if he’s nervous. 
What? Why is he talking to you about the music? You seriously don’t understand this man’s intentions with you at all. Is he trying to get you to lower your guard so he can learn all your secrets? No…he’s much too smart to need to do that. He goes above and beyond, relying purely on his brain alone. He would never commit messy tricks to get what he wants. You arch an eyebrow at him, and look over at the band. They’re playing a pleasant tune.
“I guess.” you mumble.
“And the decorations are nice!”
“It’s a little cheesy.” 
“Perhaps, but cheesy isn’t always bad.” 
You take another sip of your drink, realizing it’s growing quite empty. Well, It’s only three minutes until midnight, You can survive with what you have.  You start to get comfortable with the silence, before Gale starts to speak again. “You know we are probably the smartest people in our department. How would you-” You cut him off this time, utterly confused as to why he’s STILL talking to you. “Don’t you have someone else you’d like to talk to?” you ask with complete sincerity. He seems a little taken aback by your question, his smile disappearing for a small second. Within a few moments it’s back on his face though. “No. I actually quite enjoy talking to you.”
Two minutes until midnight.
You’re stunned. What does he mean? You feel your cheeks heat up despite yourself. You clutch onto your drink a little more intensely. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I enjoy talking to you. You are great company and I-” he cuts himself off.
One minute.
“You?”
He clears his throat, his face turning a bit pink. He then turns to you, taking a deep breath. You expect him to say something, but this time he’s quiet. He just waits for a moment. Once the clock strikes midnight, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer to him. He does it slowly, giving you time to move away if you want. You find yourself wanting whatever he is doing though, a flame lighting up inside you. Carefully his lips meet yours, and the room disappears.
The kiss only lasts for a moment, but you can feel the fireworks light up inside you.
“I quite like you.” he admits after pulling away, his face inches from yours. Unsure how to respond, you reach up and kiss him again. This time the kiss lasts a few seconds longer. His lips are warm, a little dry, but so pleasant against yours. When you pull away, he’s smiling again. “I’ll take it, you feel the same?” he asks.
You nod shyly. 
“Good. Now, might I propose something that I meant to ask earlier? Would you be willing to do a joint proposal with me?”
How could you possibly say anything but yes?
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nekomancee · 6 days
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★ CAPAS SUGERIDAS VIA ASK/TL
+ eu A-M-E-I! fazer essas sugestões! as duas primeiras são referentes a chainsaw man. o mangá em si me passa muito a vibe de loucura, cores fortes, uma bagunça gigantesca e cores diversas, não necessariamente combinando; eu tentei ao máximo deixar algo nesse tipo e ficou do meu agrado. a terceira capa refere-se a ergo proxy, no qual eu sou apaixonada pela vibe sombria e melancólica que ele passa; foi o que eu também tentei usufruir aqui (fiz até a maquiagenzinha que eu amo) e espero ter dado certo! as últimas três são de músicas que me sugeriram via tml! foi muito legal se aventurar por aí e é isso! estou sempre aceitando sugestões para me motivar!
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latinotiktok · 6 months
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Propaganda:
Marceline
-me entere que faltan mujeres;; nomino a Marceline de hora de aventura, por tener cuadros catolico goticos en su casa, ser bi y chevere, ah y daddy issues
-Marcelina Abadeer, la vampira de Hora de Aventura. Porque es súper genial y bisexual, qué otra cosa se necesita.
-Marceline de hora de aventura me da vibes de latina tóxica a ustedes no?
#A SERVIR CONCHA MI REINA#ella hubiera sido rolinga y ricotera don't @ me
#marceline afro latina#no pueden hacerme cambiar de opinionnn
Naruto
-Naruto Uzumaki mi compadre, ese man y toda Konoha se ven latinos para mi, viven en latam y si me permiten decirlo en mi corazon ese maje es de el salvador alla por soyapango. Esque lo veo clarito siendo el bicho revoltoso de la colonia que le dejo debiendo 50 dolares a la señora de la tienda de la esquina y cuando lo invitan a jugar fubol siempre manda a volar la pelota al patio de la vieja amargada porque el se la queria llevar de vergon dandole muy duro y terminan puteandolo por eso. Esque no se man, toda la vibe de ese maje me dice que es latino y centroamericano (PARA MI no me monten verga todavia) Tqm Naruto sos mi hermano que nunca tube <3
-Naruto 100% latino só por vibes.
-Mi querido compadre Naruto porque su vida amorosa homosexual parece telenovela colombiana, y se puede contar en canciones de Ana Gabriel
-Naruto, no tiene papás y se volvió presidente a puro nepotismo disfrazado de hard work LITERALMENTE EL HIJO DEL EX PRESIDENTE ALÓ
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rius-cave · 4 days
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Hear me out! Just 5 seconds of your time! So I don’t think Adam can be a Sinner but can still get stuck in hell.
The First Man never ate the Apple of Wisdom = no free will = no applicable sin. However, he is technically made of clay that imitates flesh and where does he die? In the dirt. SO he revives due to a passive skill using Hell’s hard clay. Now, The entire realm (the dirt, animals, weather, everything) recognizes him as part of itself and it won’t let him go back to Heaven! QUE PLANT!ADAM BEING HELL’S DISNEY PRINCESS- sorry Charlie. All layers of Hell basically lean into his hand like a lazy cat but now that he’s in a better environment Adam just vibes and pets things!?
Adam out in his flower patch with a giga murder bee he picked up from the Gluttony Ring since he’s not restricted, much to everyone’s horror.
Also, totally not Yandere!Lucifer vibrating like a cockatiel with a solo cup because he basically gets to do Eden all over again but this time he’ll succeed! Plus plants have both bits. Charlie could use a sibling right? :D
Bonus: did you know that if anyone eats both the Apple of Wisdom and the Apple of Life they will be in sin in perpetuity? Lucifer = Wisdom. Adam = Life (he constantly talks about dezz nuts all the time so I mean…)
- Anon 🔴☘️ (I hope this wasn’t to long I don’t really use Tumblr)
Hmm... Anon I have to say I feel like I'm missing something here. I don't think I'm quite understanding the mechanics of this situation. Adam dies but he isn't reborn...? He revives using a passive skill, and this means...? Does he still have his physical body? Are you implying his spirit lives in everyone in Hell like Eren from Attack on Titan? sdkjsfsd
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THIS IS NOT A GENUINE HEADCANON OF MINE BUT IM CACKLING OVER THE IDEA I GOT INSPIRATION FROM MY LIFE AND A TIKTOK VIDEO
So like
So
Everyone lives up north in the US like Ohio or some shit bc it's weird and that's a Remus vibe
Oh boy it's highschool ‼️ and this new kid moves to town and joins their school blah blah Virgil does NOT talk. Bro does not say one word to anyone. He sits there and does his work with headphones in and has not spoken all year. and Remus (much to everyone else's annoyance) has the fattest hallway crush on him. Everyone is annoyed by it. Like Remus you haven't even heard the man speak yet. Maybe he's a dickhead. But eventually. EVENTUALLY.
There is a class presentation. Virgil has to present.
He comes to the front of the class, panicking so hard he's Calm™, opens his mouth, and has the THICKEST SOUTHERN ACCENT—
Virgil is y'allternative. Someone asks a dumb question and he stares before saying no hesitation point blank "That 'bout the dumbest question I 'ad ever hear. You got rocks in your brain?" (Quoted from my Nana ty Nana)
Que Remus' crush getting so much bigger because HELLO?
That's my silly goofy funny low-key inspired by various points in my life idea that has had me in tears for about five minutes laughing at the surprise factor of everyone finding out and Remus falling worse head over heels
— 👑
Okay but I'm fucking cackling at this entire concept holy shit it's beautiful XD Ree makes it known loud and clear how Gay he is for an Emo he knows literally nothing about and the moment he hears the Southern Accent he's A W O O G A ing so hard to the point where he gets himself a Detention Speedrun XD
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spidergrotto · 4 months
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I need more fics where ben works for hammer industries and as a result peter ends up working on projects with him.
he’s talented, and of course people notice, so it wasn’t a shock when peter caught the attention of justin hammer himself OR when he becomes his personal intern.
post bite and ben dying, he still works as hammers intern and as a result is forced to attend what feels like thousands of events; he’s fitted for a new suit everytime and hammer makes sure people know how charitable he’s being, dragging peter across the floor to brag.
christmas rolls around and it’s the same pattern, stark industries hosts a holiday event— justin hammer is invited— peter is dragged down for a fitting— justin drags peter around bragging—peter is left alone in a corner alone for the rest of the night.
but this time, tony stark wasn’t able to avoid pepper’s wrath and was practically forced into attending the event.
tony watching as a very obviously bored teenager work on …something? while munching on ginger bread cookies. walking up to him because who was he if not nosey?
que peter parker loosing his actual mind because tony stark randomly complimented his work after appearing out of thin air.
and i don’t know man just holiday vibes and shenanigans, tony wanting to piss off justin by stealing his intern turning into accidental adoption, gingerbread cookies ☹️ DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE POTENTIAL FLASH AND PETER FRIENDSHIP!
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mayajadewrites · 4 months
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Stained Red
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Chapter One: Routine
Hell's Kitchen. Your home since you were born, the place where you've lived, loved, and will stay for the rest of your days.
New York born and raised is a saying that should be tattooed on your forehead. Your daily routine consists of stopping at your favorite bodega before work, grabbing an iced coffee from your favorite small cafe, going to work, then to the gym. That routine repeats every day without fail - and you like it that way.
"Good morning mija," Pedro, the bodega owner said behind the counter. "Que tu quieres?"
"Hm, I think I'll just get a bagel with veggie cream cheese today. Thanks Pedro." You pulled your beanie down your head and started mindlessly scrolling through your phone.
It's Autumn in New York, your favorite season. While shows like Gossip Girl make the city look picturesque, it's not always what it seems.
You grab your wallet out of your trench coat, handing Pedro a $5.
"Thank you, have a great day at work!" Pedro's smile always brightened your day, he never seemed to have anything else on his face.
Meanwhile, your face was usually a stern RBF (resting bitch face) and people were more likely not to utter a word to you.
Your favorite coffee shop is two blocks down from the bodega. You check your watch for the time - 7:15AM. Right on time, just how you like it.
Routines are very important to you. Without routines, your world would be turned upside down.
Little did you know a man with red glasses was about to turn your world upside down, backwards, and everything in between.
After you grabbed your usual iced coffee, you headed to work. You're a writer, a pretty well established one at that. You're not as big as Colleen Hoover, but you have readers which is all you care about.
You rent out a small office space above a law office, Nelson and Murdock. This is new for you, but you couldn't stand working from home anymore. You've set up your office over the past few days and it's finally the way you wanted it, for now at least.
It's a cozy, bohemian vibe in your office, perfect for you. It's a large room, with plants at every corner and your desk in the middle.
It's around 8AM by the time you get to your office. You look down to take your keys out of your pocket, when you walk right into a stern shoulder that smells like musk and vanilla.
"My bad," You looked up finally, seeing a man with red glasses and a cane. "Fuck, I'm so sorry." You put your palm to your head.
"No need to apologize. Are you the new renter that moved in upstairs?"
"I am. I just finished moving my stuff in over the weekend." You ended with your name, holding out your hand.
"I'm the Murdock half of Nelson and Murdock. Matt." He grabbed your hand and shook it. His hands were soft, yet callused in some areas. "It's nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too, can I buy you a coffee? I've made a terrible first impression, and I bet you'll love my favorite coffee shop."
"Rain check on that. I'm holding you to it too." Matt raised his eyebrows, smirking. "Have a good day." The way he said your name was like he has known you for 1,000 years.
During the walk up to your office, you thought about Matt's face. His eyes behind the red glasses, his nose, and my god - his lips. You shook your head to get rid of these thoughts because... well, you just met him.
Entering your office felt so... good. You set your tote bag down on your chair and slid your laptop out of your bag.
You decided to put off continuing your novel for a bit and did some Googling of your new neighbors.
Nelson and Murdock weren't terribly well known, but they take on cases that truly mean a lot to the community. They don't take cases for fame or money, they do it to help the people of Hell's Kitchen. Very admirable.
Your latest novel, a romance with a hint of darkness, has been a pretty big hit, online at least. Thank god for BookTok, or else your bills might not get paid.
As you're typing away, you hear footsteps close to the door and you see familiar red glasses through the glass of the door.
Matt knocked softly, making sure he didn't startle you. "I'm cashing in on your coffee. The one Karen brought me today was disgusting."
"I'm sorry, who's Karen?" You asked, almost with a little too much attitude. There's no way you felt jealous over a man you met 2 seconds ago.
"Ah, sorry, she's technically our admin, but she does so much more. She's been working in our office for awhile. Anyways, she went on a coffee run and it tasted like shit."
"Sure, let me grab my bag. Come in." You say, motioning with your hand for him to open the door.
"This is... cute."
"How would you know?" You half laugh. Luckily, Matt laughs with you.
"I can sense the positioning of the furniture and I smell the plants. And I know you've cleaned because I'm not sneezing from the dust." He paused, looking down. "But I can also sense that this isn't the biggest spot, but it feels cozy."
"Exactly what I was going for." You smile, pushing a curl behind your ear. "Let me put my jacket on and we can go." You grab your long tan trench coat, looking in the mirror as you do so. Your outfit consisted of an oversized sweater, leggings, combat boots, a beige beanie and your coat.
For whatever reason, you wanted to make sure you looked okay for this little coffee... outing? Date? It's been awhile since a man shared his time with you. You're last relationship was toxic to say the least, so you've been staying clear of the male species for awhile.
That is, until today.
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mikeila-iriell · 4 months
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More Graves headcanons (sorry I love this man)
-He is approximately 40 years old
-He give me that vibes like he was born at lates 70's or earlys 80's
-The scar on his face looks like a bullet (or maybe a knife) but because of the depth I think whatever it was was a hand-to-hand combat or at very close range
-He is not married, and no, I am not just saying this because he doesn't have a ring but because think about it, he lives in the combat field and enjoys the adrenaline. Knowing that it is a full-time job, could I really have time for a marriage? I don't believe it. He is a workaholic who has had sporadic relationships but nothing more, he is not looking for a serious commitment.
-I feel that being from Texas (BTW I'm not from Texas but from a city and province in Argentina that is quite similar) he could have an apartment in the city but also a country house/farm where he would actually spend more time
-He enjoys country music a lot but more rock. And he loves band's or music from 80s (queen, guns and roses, kiss, that type you know what I mean)
-He drinks but he doesn't smoke (or don't do it at long time ago)
-Likes to ride a motorcycle, car or horse
-Knows how to cook although he doesn't consider himself a chef
-He has his own collection of guns but he doesn't use them to hunt or kill but rather they are "in case" of emergency"
-Beyond his character and arrogance, he is actually someone who is quite calm, although he always makes jokes or comments that are funny (or that he thinks are funny)
-He likes to read, the type that when he is calm before going to sleep he has a book in his table next to the bed. Night reading you now.
-He likes to exercise of all kinds but most of all he goes to the gym, weights and goes running for many kilometers and for hours (daily and strict exercise routine) (Me parece que esto es bastante real por como se le marcan las venas en los brazos ufff🔥🔥)
-He is a dog man (big dogs like German Shepherds, Golden Retrievers, Dobermans, Rottweilers, those types of dogs) but he doesn't dislike cats. In general he likes most animals.
-After the missions he makes sure to ask all his men how they are back at the base AND ASKS THEM ONE BY ONE TO EACH SHADOW
-He is a very available person, whenever a shadow has a problem or something urgent he will make sure to address the matter as soon as possible.
-Takes good care of and trains the younger shadows, whether for the reasons they have decided to join, he will make sure that they know what they are doing and he will keep a little more eye on them or put someone he trusts in to keep an extra eye on them you know if they are young or more inexperienced
-It is not about having long-term relationships, it is more about casual relationships if there is time left after a mission
-THIS MAN definitely LIKES WOMEN MUCH YOUNGER THAN HIM
-I would be more like a sugar daddy
-He's not much of a social media person, he tries to understand it and trends or those things, but sometimes he doesn't understand the most modern jokes. But if you explain it to him he'll do his best to understand the joke (and he'll laugh if that makes you feel better)
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insecateur · 6 months
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I'll be standing tall (La Maison-Dieu)
A 10 songs bilingual Sycamore/Lysandre playlist (in honor of Pokémon X&Y's 10th anniversary)
(Unfortunately, I don't use Spotify, so you'll have to make do with this YouTube playlist or look for the songs yourself. But do look under the read more for Lyrics Excerpts and all of that.)
Why a bilingual playlist? Well because I'm a bilingual guy, for a start, and because my experience with Pokémon X&Y in general and this ship in particular has always been bilingual as well (even trilingual, arguably.) I wanted to put together some of my favorite songs in English for them and introduce English-speaking fans to some of my favorite French songs for them, too. A lot of those songs are songs I've quoted, mentioned, or even used as inspiration for art and fic.
(Why is Augustine on the English side and Lysandre on the French side? Because I thought Lysandre would be offended at the idea of being on the English side while Augustine wouldn't care about it as much.)
SIDE A: ENGLISH
Sunburn by Muse
He burns like the sun And I can't look away And he'll burn our horizons Make no mistakes
This is the classic, quintessential PRFR song for me. Its only crime is that it's het, sung from the point of a view of a man singing about a woman. That pesky little detail cannot stop me, however.
Without You I'm Nothing by Placebo (feat David Bowie)
I'm unclean, a libertine And every time you vent your spleen I seem to lose the power of speech You're slipping slowly from my reach You grow me like an evergreen You've never seen the lonely me at all
Do I even need to say anything about this? I listen to this song when I need to make myself Suffer thinking about them. Oh to be unable to bring yourself to say something about your beloved friend's downward spiral...
Hardest of Hearts by Florence + the Machine
Darling heart, I loved you from the start But you'll never know what a fool I've been Darling heart, I loved you from the start But that's no excuse for the state I'm in
My friend sent me this song saying it was about them and they were RIGHT. Shout-out to my friend for that. I like how it can be alternating POV, too.
Changes by The Happy Fits
I try to run away but I find myself, again Stuck in the same place Who will I be today? I can't control the world or change it
This one was suggested by @jonphaedrus and I'm really happy I could have its contribution in here as well. This is very meaningful to me.
Celebrate by Metric
Even the darkest hour soon will be over My friend, it will be over
I couldn't not put a Metric song in there! It was tough finding the right one... But I thought putting a more optimistic spin would be nice, too. I actually associate this song with SLaWCS specifically as well, which is a nice touch.
SIDE B: FRENCH
Pâle Septembre by Camille
Mâle si tendre Au début de novembre Devint sourd aux avances de l'amour Mais quel mal me prit De m'éprendre de lui ?
Did you know? This song is the reason why I associate Lysandre with the Tower arcana. Or at least, it's what put the idea into my brain first. This one is also a quintessential PRFR song for me.
7 Vies by Kyo
La vue est magnifique Contemple-la tant que tu peux La lumière alcaline Le bien, l'ennemi du mieux Tant que le temps défile Tout doit se vivre à deux Je pratique le langage des signes Et celui du feu
I think I should be allowed to include some more vibes songs in there, although I'd argue this one fits them well. It's a bit abstract, but it fits.
Tout donner by Maître Gims
Tu es ma maladie Ma guérison quand tu l'décides Mes nuits s'illuminent J'en confonds le jour et la nuit
A desperate, self-destructive pining song... What else could a man want in this world. It's very tasty. I think about those lines way too often.
Aimer à mort by Louane
L'espoir qui joue, le feu, le froid Un souffle au cou, baiser de roi Pour nous reprendre, pour nous défendre Pour se comprendre chaque fois
Another intense but more optimistic one. I want to believe... I want them to believe as well...
Rouge Ardent by Axelle Red
As-tu trouvé, dans les feux, dans les flammes Ton idéal rouge ardent As-tu froid As-tu peur de l'aurore Tu disais "tout s'évapore" Tu as eu tort
It's a song about being in love with a failed idealist. And also the color red is there. What more can I say. (Also, this time it's originally a het song from the POV of a woman singing about a man, which ties it all neatly together, I think.)
Happy 10th anniversary to all my fellow shippers, young and old, new and ancient, whether you were in the trenches with me back in October 2013 on this webbed site or you joined us in 2021 with the Pokémon Masters revival, thank you for loving them always. Here's to loving them more and more in the future, and here's to the Pokémon X&Y remakes as they become clearer and clearer on the horizon. (And maybe we'll get a Legends game, too? Wouldn't that be something...)
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