Rules: tag 10 people you would like to get to know better.
I was tagged by @wondrgirl , thank you~❤ (by the way if you’re wondering, I’m using your headcanon for a surprise and that’s why it’s taking so long, I’m sorry) I’ve never done this before so I hope I don’t mess up
Name/Nickname: Gary/Gar/G doesn’t matter to me (ha I rhymed)
Relationship status: Single Pringle unless you count my enormous crushes on Yurio and Nico di Angelo they’re cuties
Favorite color: Grey and purple
Pets: A bunny rabbit named Angel!
Last song I listened to: Yuri!!! on Ice - Yuri on Ice
Favorite TV show: Young Justice or Magi: Kingdom or Labyrinth of Magic they are both amazing but at the moment I am absolutely obsessed with Yuri!!! On Ice.
First fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan! I still love these books to this day <3
Hobbies: Drawing, procrastinating, listening to music, and fandoms
Currently reading: Rereading the Kane Chronicles by Rick Riordan
Favourite Book: Any book by Rick Riordan (if you can’t tell I love him as an author) Diversity is very important and I love how he includes it into his books
Author’s Note :Michael is not a boxer in this, it’s just part of his “new workout” for the sake of this storyline. This is based off the creepy ass picture taken of Michael boxing last week! For Michelle - I promised you’d die, and I hope you do (In the nicest way. Maybe.)
“Come on, Michael,” You say exasperatedly. “You’re hitting like you’re scared of me or something.”
Michael scowls. “Not of you, of hurting you.”
You stop and drop the mitts you’re holding. “Seriously, Mikey?” You roll your eyes. “So you’d rather let me beat the shit out of you than defend yourself and hit me back?”
You put on actual boxing gloves instead.
Something like I don’t hit girls is mumbled.
You snort. “Michael,” You say, cuffing him with your glove, “hit me.”
Michael glares. “No.”
“Then what’s the point of doing this if you’re not going to train properly?” You demand, cuffing him again.
“I just don’t want to hurt you.”
You scoff. “Please, babe. I’m a certified boxing trainer. You’re not going to hurt me.”
Michael’s eyes narrow at this. “Are you saying I’m shit at boxing and I’m not good enough to hurt you?”
You’re about to deny meaning that when an idea pops into your head. You try to hide the smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth.
Maybe he jusr needs a little bit of…encouragement.
You shrug and adjust your gloves nonchalantly. “I mean even Luke got a few punches in. Wasn’t even afraid to try,” You say casually, as if talking about the weather.
You can sense Michael getting more irritated and riled up by the second. You decide to go for a few more subtle jabs.
“Luke actually hit you?” He asks, eyebrows raised.
“Not actually hit me, close, though. The guy is fast,” You reply, shrugging. “Admittedly, faster than you.”
Michael’s eyes narrow, and he scowls, putting his gloves up in front of his face.
“But I guess we don’t have to do this if you’re not going to do this for real - ”
You’re cut off by your instincts to duck - which you do, quite quickly, as he aims a punch at your nose.
You reciprocate with a jab towards his jaw. Michael dodges and aims a punch towards your nose, which causes you to instinctively hop backwards.
“Come on babe,” You say, a taunting smirk on your lips. “I know you can do better than that.” Michael grunts, flicking his hair out of his eyes. He aims a jab at you, but you duck easily.
The fire in his eyes grows as he becomes more focused and determined.
You snicker. “Luke could hit faster than that,” you murmur, eyebrows raised.
You know that saying these things is probably making Michael mad, but he needs it if he’s going to train seriously like he said he was going to.
You quickly cuff him in the jaw and begin jumping up and down down, side to side as he continues aiming for anywhere he can - but you avoid the hits of course. You smirk as you hit him in the shoulder and dodge another aim at the nose. “You’re not going to let little Lukey beat you, are you?”
This time Michael’s eyes narrow and he aims a jab at your face so quickly you can barely put your gloves up in time to shield yourself. This leaves your stomach unprotected and Michael jabs you there, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to cause you to gasp in surpise.
Immediately, the fire in Michael’s eyes extinguishes and is replaced with worry.
“Shit, babe, did that hurt? I’m so sor -”
You laugh delightedly and cuff him in the ear. “Keep going, slowpoke, one hit isn’t going to get me down on the mat and tapping out.”
Michael stares at you in disbelief, gloves up, albeit halfheartedly, as you continue bouncing from side to side, eyeing him expectantly. “We’re on blacktop…” He says slowly, eyebrows raising, “you’ll break your face if I knock you to the ground.”
“Michael, you nerd, let’s go!” You say, your voice echoing through the empty courtyard. “If I have to, I’ll break your face.”
The light breeze in the air makes your voice carry slightly, and it makes the nets of the basketball hoops sway slightly.
“Hey, you can’t just break my face I’m a celebrity, which means half my worth is my face - ”
You roll your eyes and go for a light jab in the jaw. “There are things about you more more important than your face, Clifford.” You shake your head when he looks offended and jab him in the shoulder. “But I can knock down your ego a few notches instead. That might help.”
Michael narrows his eyes as he aims for the center of your chest.
You’re knocked backwards slightly, and your eyebrows furrow as you narrow your eyes, putting up your gloves and staring at him over the tops.
Michael smirks. “Weren’t expecting that, were you, princess?” He taunts, punching the air and looking completely ridiculous. “Gotta keep your guard up, baby girl, or someone’s gonna get hur -”
He grunts when you jab him short and fast in the stomach. Then again in the side.
“Don’t get too cocky, Clifford,” You say softly, faking him left and hitting his right side. He pouts. “Getting cocky lets your guard down,” you continue, “and someone,” you jab his shoulder, “is going to get - ” his chin, “hurt.”
Michaeo glares. “Come on babe, this isn’t fair,” he whines, letting his shoulders sag and his mitt-covered fists hang at his sides. You scoff.
“Nothing in life is every fair, Mikey,” you snort. “For example, why are you so much prettier than me?” You jokingly bitterly.
He grins and opens his mouth to speak just as you go in for a hit that you meant he a light jab but it ends up being an actual, full-powered punch in the jaw.
“Oh my god,” you say, eyes wide, fists limp as you realize what you just did. You swallow and take a deep breath. “Did I just - ?”
“Punch me in the fucking jaw?” He finishes for you, eyes clenched shut momentarily as he clutches his jaw. His eyes open and his eyes are watering and you feel this ridiculous, horribly evil urge to giggle. “Yes, you did!” He wails, voice cracking.
This breaks you and you’re clutching your knees, giggling uncontrollably as he glares reproachfully at you.
“I’m sorry!” You gasp, yanking your gloves off. “I’m sorry baby, oh my god!”
These words would sound so much more sincere if you weren’t laughing so hard.
Michael pouts. “I hate you.”
You’re still fighting the giggles as you sit in his lap with legs on either side of his, holding an ice pack to his jaw.
“I’m sorry, babe,” you say, and he rolls his eyes.
“I still hate you.”
You grimace. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to actually punch you, I just aimed and I hit harder than I meant to - I swear.”
Michael grins, eyes sparkling - then grimaces from the pain.
“Can I get a kiss?”
You roll your eyes. “You’re such a fucking dork.”
“My loser of a dork,” you scoff.
“I’m still yours.”
“I mean, I guess.”
“Hey!” Michael pouts.
Two pending requests! SoccerDad! Calum, and 4/4 Ticklish preference. I’m assuming that since 4/4 was requested, that it’ll be short blurbs for each? Let me know if I’m wrong, because I’ve never been asked to do a 4/4 - If no one confirms or whatever they’ll just be short blurbs for each boy. Sorry this a/n is so long haha.
Feel free to send in your requests here! And my master list is here.