#and why the fuck would they need to anyway

[helen-with-an-a]

I am an adult part 5

Hiya, so this is the penultimate part of this series. It's a little angstier than what I had originally planned and I'm not entirely sure it'll get much better ahahaha. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. And shout out to @lyak12 for helping me out with the plot a little ahahah

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6

Word Count: 5.3k

TW: A bit of bad mental health; R is a little shitty

It wasn’t until the Pokal Final that you actually got to see Lena again. It hadn’t really been a planned visit, but you had to get away. You had to see her, feel her again. You needed her to keep the darkness at bay. It was a random Monday morning when you received a phone call from your agent.

“Hey, pet, are you free to chat?” Paul said, his Geordie accent sounding slightly thicker than usual. “Yeh, yeh. I’ve just got home – what’s up?” You asked happily, not knowing the devastation that was about to come your way. “Um, look … there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna come right out and say it …” he paused, clearly psyching himself up for whatever he was about to say. You sat up from where you were slouched over the kitchen counter. This sounded important. Really important. And that scared you. “You know Barça have been having …” He searched for the right word. “Financial issues,” he settled on, hoping to give you an indication of where this conversation might be going. You did know the financial issues the club was having – it had been plastered all over various social media. You had tried not to let it worry you, but there had been a little niggle in the back of your head. “I’m so sorry, pet. They aren’t offering an extension. I’ve just received the information; they cannot afford to keep you on next season. You’re being let go. Your last match as a Barcelona Femeni player will be the 16th of June.”

Your world broke. What did they mean they could not afford to keep you? Were you not worth it to them? Of course, you weren’t worth the money. You were just a kid in their eyes. Why would they keep you instead of Alexia? A lifelong player that bled Barcelona and had multiple Ballon d'Ors to her name. Or Lucy? A multiple-time Champion League winner in her own right, with numerous individual accolades too. You were expendable. You were lucky they had even taken you on all those years ago. How naïve had you become to allow yourself to get comfortable? Was it because of the issues with the government last year? You knew you had seriously fucked up then, but everything seemed to be behind you. Nothing more had been said about the incident.

You cleared your throat, a futile attempt to dislodge the heavy lump that had formed. “Right … um …” You managed to croak out, your voice sounding foreign and weak to your own ears. “Pet, I know this is not what you wanted to hear. And I’m so, so sorry.” “It’s fine.” It was very much not fine. But you were too numb to do anything, really. The thoughts swirling dangerously across your mind were not something you wanted to process right now. “No, it’s not.” Paul's replied solemnly, his voice heavy. “I’ve tried to negotiate; I’ve just come back from a meeting with them, actually. I had hoped to have some kind of agreement made but they aren’t budging.” He paused, the silence echoing the futility of his efforts. “But you’ve got offers,” he reassured you, his words a feeble attempt to lighten the heavy disappointment. “Name the continent and you’ve got an offer. Portland, Houston, Gotham, Kansas, Tigres, Bayern, Wolfsburg, Lyon, PSG, Melbourne, Sydney, Chelsea, Man City,-”

It was too much. Information overload.

“C-can we not do this right now? I … I just need a minute.” Your voice was thick with suppressed tears. “Absolutely, of course. How about I get all the offers and whatnot up and into a document for you and I’ll email it over to you. You read over it, and I’ll schedule a meeting for, let’s say, next Monday? We can talk it all through then, yeah?” “Yeah,” you agreed absently. You didn’t want to look over offers. You wanted to stay in Barcelona. You were happy here; you had friends, and people you considered family were here. But they didn’t want you. They were more than happy to throw you to the wind without a second doubt. The phone call ended and that was that. Barça didn’t want you. You weren’t worth it.

Conflicting emotions raging a war in your mind; pain, hurt, anger, sadness, defeat, fear, anxiety, dread, disappointment, helplessness, embarrassment, shame. The first hour after the phone call you had stayed by the counter, watching each message from all of your teammates and Lena buzz. You prayed one of them would be Paul, telling you that Barça had reconsidered, that they had miraculously found the money and would offer you an extension. He never did. You knew the adult thing would be to let yourself feel … something … anything. But you didn’t want to be an adult right now. Adult, you would be sad; look over the document Paul sent over and view this as an opportunity. Adult you would phone up Ona and Alexia and ask them to come round and help you through this. Adult you would call Lena. But you weren’t an adult right now. Right now, you were scared and ashamed, and angry and in so much pain. You didn’t want to do what adults should do. You didn’t know what you wanted … but you knew being an adult was not one of them.

Eventually, you moved to the couch. The couch that you had forced Ona, Patri and Pina to help you pick out. The couch that had witnessed so many memories – you had cried on this couch, you had laughed on this couch, you had fucked on this couch, you had loved on this couch. And now you had to find a new couch. You had to leave this couch behind. Slowly, the darkness crept in. With every passing hour a new part of your house was in shadow, another memory gone. The suncatcher in the window, the candles on the coffee table, the pictures on the wall … all disappearing in the blackness and soon to be forgotten. That is what would happen to you; you were sure of it. Alexia would move on and find a new Pequeña. Ona would move in with Lucy. Patri and Pina would have dinner-and-movie dates together without you. Marta, Sandra and Irene would go back to their own lives and stop worrying about you.

What were you going to tell Lena? Sorry, Liebe, your girlfriend’s unemployed. Sorry, Liebe, your long-distance girlfriend is potentially moving further away, and you’ll never play against her again. Barcelona had witnessed so much of your first steps to a tentative relationship. Barcelona had seen your first meetings, your first date, your butterflies, your excitement when you returned home, your confusion as unknown feelings of love swirled around in your chest.

Your phone buzzed. Speak of the devil. You didn’t want to speak to her right now. You knew that talking to her would make you cry. And you were trying really hard not to cry. But all you wanted to hear was her voice, her laughter, her reassurances. Your body moved before you had even noticed. “Hey, Schatz.” “H-,” you cleared your throat. “Hey, Liebe.” “Was ist los mit dir?” You could hear the panic in her voice, the shuffling of fabric as she sat up, attentive to what was happening. Your phone beeped again.

L 💚 is requesting a switch to video call

You clicked yes without thinking about it. Her face filled your screen; even in pixels, she looked beautiful. You, on the other hand, looked like a mess. Had you been crying? You didn’t think so, but you must have been, as another tear rolled silently down your cheek. Your eyes were red, your skin splotchy, and your face swollen and puffy. “Oh, Schatz,” Lena cooed. “What’s wrong?” Her soft voice was filled with earnest. You could feel her willing you to speak to her. You shook your head as the lump grew in your throat. “Schatz … bitte.” You made eye contact through the phone. “Barça … Barça aren’t offering a new contract. I have to leave at the end of the season.” Silence. A heartbeat of pure torture. Lena didn’t know what to say. She was angry for you – how could they not want you? Talent aside, you were the most incredible human in the world. Why would they not want you? But one look at you told her you didn’t need her anger; you needed her comfort. “Oh, Schatz,” she cooed. You shook your head, trying to fight back the overwhelming force of tears. “It’s ok to cry,” she reminded you. Her permission was all you needed. Hot, wet tears streamed down your face; the sobs hurt your chest. How? How could they do this? It took a while, filled with Lena’s comforting words and gentle reassurance, for you to calm down. When you were coherent enough to see the screen properly, you could tell Lena had been crying, too. Great, now you had made your girlfriend cry. “Ha-have you spoken to your agent?” She asked quietly, humming when you nodded. There was another pause, this time not as painful but still hard to get through. “Schatz, I want to come see you. Or you to see me. Please…” she pleaded. “No, Liebe, you’re busy. You’ve,” you sniffed, wiping your nosy unattractively on your sleeve. God, you’d be lucky if she still wanted to be with you after this. “You’ve got the Pokal final in like 3 days.” You so desperately wanted to see her, though. “Then you come to me,” she implored. “I’ve got matches, too,” you whimpered. The last thing you wanted to do was play for a club that didn’t want you. “Schatz, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but fuck them.” That made you laugh … well, not laugh per se, more like a weird huff or snort. But Lena could tell it was a gesture of humour nonetheless, she couldn’t help but respond with a similar smile. “I’m being honest. You’ve basically won the league; you can skip one game. You need a break and time to get your head around everything. Tell them it’s for mental health or whatever. Just … please, Schatz. I need to see you. I need to know you’re ok,” she said more seriously. “If you don’t come to Germany, I’m coming to you.”

You mulled it over, and Lena could tell you were thinking properly. You stared off out of the camera, your teeth sinking into your lip. You had your thinking face on. You really didn’t want to see anyone at Barça for the next few days. You needed to step back and have time to process, but you couldn’t do that with training and having to face the girls again. And it was true that you had already won the league; you didn’t need to play this particular match. And a break might do you some good. With the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League finals coming up, seeing Lena again was something that would definitely help you relax a little. But you had the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League finals coming up. You couldn’t miss valuable days of training. Barça were on for the quadruple. Should you do it? “The matches …” you finally said. “Mean nothing if it’s at the expense of your mental well-being,” Lena said emphatically. That was true. Winning the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League would mean the world to you, only … you wouldn’t, couldn’t, be able to truly enjoy the experience. Not with this sword dangling over your head.

Less than 6 hours later, you found yourself on a plane. You had booked the first available flight out of Barcelona, hastily stuffing random hoodies and comfy joggers into a bag and snatching your passport. A curt text to Jona was all it took. You had made your decision, and a sense of relief washed over you. Lena would help you make sense of everything. You would take some time, give yourself a few days away from it all and then return with a plan. At least, that's what you told yourself.

Y/F/N Y/S/N: Hi. Unfortunately, I won’t be at training this week due to personal reasons. I would also appreciate if my name taken off the match list this weekend. Thanks Y/N.

Jonatan Giráldez: Hola, Y/N. I’m so sorry to hear that. Of course, take as much time as you need and yes, your name is off the squad list. If there is anything the club can do to help, please let me know. I hope you feel better soon, J.

If there’s anything the club can do to help? After they threw you away like you were nothing? After they brought you here as a child and then washed their hands of you? Not even having the decency to tell you with more than a month until your contract expired. Why would you go to the club? And surely Jonatan would know about your agent's conversations with the club? The staff always had a say in who was staying and who wasn’t; he must have known that the meeting was happening. That you were being told that you were no longer considered a valuable squad member – or at least one that warranted the cost to keep on … right?

One thing you hadn’t really considered, or maybe you had subconsciously but didn’t care, was the rest of the team. In their eyes, you had finished the recovery session on the Sunday as happy as Larry, and then you had dropped off the face of the earth. No one had heard from you, and then suddenly, at training, Jona said that you were taking some time off due to personal reasons. And no, he genuinely didn’t know what the personal reasons were. He even went so far as to show the Captains your text message. Short and to the point, no elaboration. Patri could feel the iciness through the words. Something was wrong.

Alexia’s phone call went straight to voicemail, as did Patri’s … Sandra’s, Irene’s, and Marta’s. They had Ona try, Pina, Cata, and Lucy. Every member of the team tried phoning you, and they all received the same response: straight to voicemail. So, you had turned your phone off. “Is she at her house?” Keira asked, watching as Ona pulled up your location. Ingrid stood off to the side, watching with worry as the girls descended into chaos over your unknown whereabouts. “Ok, everyone, enough,” she shouted, drawing all attention to her. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Ona, Ale and I will go to Y/N’s and check if she’s there. If she is, we'll stay and help her out with whatever she needs. If she isn’t, we’ll come back to mine, and we think of what to do next, ok? Everyone else, you are more than welcome to come to go home with María and wait, or you can do whatever you want. I don’t really care. We’ll keep you all updated on what’s happening, yeh?”

The plan was simple, really. Everyone knew what they had to do. The anxiety in the car was high, but calm and sensible Ingrid helped break the tension. “Her cars here,” Ona pointed out, nodding her head towards your designated space. “That’s good,” Ale smiled, squeezing Ona’s shoulder, but shared a look with Ingrid. They knew that that meant little in the grand scheme of things, you often ordered an Uber to take you places instead of driving. The hallway was unusually dark as they approached your apartment door. It was shut and locked, ruling out a break-in at least. Letting themselves in, it was starkly evident that you had left in a hurry – wherever you had gone. A blanket was carelessly left on the couch, a half-drunk cold cup of tea on the counter, your wardrobe door open and hangers on the bed. You were conspicuously absent. Ona was deeply unsettled; this was not like you at all. You never left without a word. Even if you were just going to the shops, you always texted her or sent her a silly selfie – it was a habit she cherished about you. Something was seriously, truly amiss.

Seeing Lena, the stone pressing on your chest felt lifted slightly. You walked straight into her arms as you hurried through the exit. Her soft skin, cinnamon smell, warm arms, and strong heartbeat soothed the storm. “Schatz,” she cooed, not mentioning the tears she felt dropping onto her shoulder. Come on, we’ll get a taxi back to my hotel, ja?” She ushered you towards the taxi rank. It was a little awkward for you both as she kept her arm tightly around you, silently thanking the heavens that you had brought only a carry-on backpack and not an actual suitcase.

After speaking to Tommy and signing a totally unnecessary NDA, you were allowed to sit in on the Wolfsburg training. You were reluctant to leave Lena; she wanted you as close as possible. It was obvious to everyone that you were not ok as you kept your eyes trailing to the floor and a firm grip on Lena. You were always seen with your arm around her waist, her hand in yours or your head resting on her shoulder. To those who didn’t know you, it would just look like long-distance lovers finally reunited; to everyone else, though, you were clearly going through something. Jule hadn’t even said anything before pulling you into a hug, squeezing nice and tightly before passing you to Sveindís. She had just pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing the conversation as if it was normal for you to be there. Alex and Svenja had pulled you aside as you walked into breakfast the first morning you were there. When they heard from Lena that you were watching the final, they thought it would be perfect timing for the talk. They prepared a speech and everything, promising painful retribution if you stepped a foot out of line. An hour watching you and Lena interact silently, automatically knowing what the other needed without ever speaking, made them throw their plan straight out the window.

“Hey, Y/N. Can we talk for a minute?” Alex asked, putting a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up wildly at Lena, relaxing slightly as she smiled and kissed your cheek, moving away to give you privacy. “Whose behinds do we need to kick?” Svenja jumped straight to it. “Huh?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “We’ve seen the way you interact on the pitch. We’ve been in the room when you call Lena. You clearly are not yourself, so I’ll ask again. Whose needs a good kick up the bum?” It was something about the pair of them. You knew they were the motherly figures of the team, especially for Lena. She always sang their praises whenever she had the chance. You took a deep breath. “The whole of Barça?” You don’t know why you said it as a question. “Barça as in the city of Barcelona? Or just the team?” Alex quizzed “Um … well, they aren’t renewing my contract in the summer. They said they can’t afford it. But the first time either me or my agent heard about it was when they formally told us. I guess it just … knocked me a little.” You confessed. It was the first time you had explained what had happened since you first told Lena. Your heart clenched as you said the words, every syllable making it more and more real. “Oh, mausi. It’s ok.” Alex pulled you into a hug, gently squeezing you. “Take as much time as you need, ja? And talk to Obi, lean on her, let her be there for you.” Svenja added, rubbing your back comfortingly. You nodded, smiling gratefully at the two women.

You tried to keep a low profile, you successfully stayed out of the camera as you sat in the stands during Wolfsburg’s practices. You had spent most of the training looking over the documents your manager had sent over. A lot of the offers seemed really good. A very nice salary from most of them, some offered flats and houses, others offered cars and expenses. But there was one that stood out for you. It was no different than any of the other offers. But it lingered in your mind; it danced across your thoughts as you tried to fall asleep in Lena’s arms; it flicked as you ate breakfast; it appeared randomly as you waited for Lena to return from the showers. Should you? Logically, you knew you had to go somewhere. And you would have to move out of Barcelona and probably out of Spain too. There was one thing that this offer had that the others didn’t. Well, not a thing, but a person.

Inevitably, for all your efforts to hide yourself away, you were caught at the match. You had a black hoodie of Lena’s on and sunglasses, hoping it was enough to keep you from being recognised, but the fans were too good. You were picked up by hundreds of phones, all snapping photos of you. You knew it was kind of stupid to go to Lena’s match after withdrawing from your own, but you wanted to watch a football that didn’t impact you in any way beyond that of a fan. You were desperate to watch the game you loved as a fan again, to rediscover your love for the sport you dedicated your whole life to.

Ona was absolutely beside herself with worry. She was convinced you were dead. Or seriously injured, at the very least. “Si us plau, si us plau, Lucia. Por favor. Please,” she begged Lucy. For what, Lucy was unsure. “I don’t know what to do.” “I know, my love. I know.” Lucy ran her hands through Ona’s loose hair, twisting the strands around her fingers in a way she knew should bring her comfort. “What if she’s dead? I can’t lose her, not like this. Not without saying goodbye,” Ona sobbed. “She’s not, I promise you. She isn’t dead.” Despite her attempts, she didn’t know that. Not definitely. You could be lying in a ditch somewhere or in a hospital bed, unable to wake up and tell someone your name. Of course, she was worried for you, but she was more concerned for Ona. She was inconsolable. You had disappeared from her life without a trace.

Next to Lucy, her phone buzzed. She was going to ignore it; her girlfriend needed her more than whoever was messaging her. But when Ona’s tinged and then both started to ring, she sat up slightly. “Sí?” “She’s alive.” Ingrid breathed, sighing out in relief. That made Lucy sit up. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker, I’m with Oni.” “She’s alive. She’s in Germany. It’s on Instagram and Twitter. She’s at the Pokal final.” Mapí said, her tone a mix of relief and anger. “Què?” Ona sniffled, sitting up and leaning into Lucy more. “Some accounts have photos of her, it's all over social media. Ingrid’s trying to reach anyone from Wolfsburg. So’s Frido.” Mapí explained. “Lena,” Ona said, realisation dawning on her. If you were at a game in Germany, you would be watching Lena play.

Rumour: Y/F/N Y/S/N to transfer to Wolfsburg or Bayern Munich.

After being spotted at the DFB-Pokal Frauen 2024 Final, F.C. Barcelona midfielder Y/F/N Y/S/N is rumoured to make the intercontinental move next season. To which club is yet to be confirmed, but all signs point to the young player leaving Barcelona in the summer. With her presence at the Pokal Final, can we assume that she will be going to either Wolfsburg or Bayern?

Keep reading to find out more …..

Ona stared at her phone in shock. There was no way, no way in hell you were leaving Barça, especially not without telling her. You were happy here; you loved it here. Why would you go? You had friends here; you had your best friend here; you had your family here. She couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes. You weren’t leaving her, were you? It would explain why you were MIA for the past three days. Whilst she was at home, worried sick that you were lying dead in a ditch or in some ICU in a coma, your name unknown, you were off in Germany, living life and meeting your new teammates. And you had abandoned training and asked to be taken off the match squad. This couldn’t be the personal reasons you had mentioned in your text. There had to be more to it. There had to be a simple explanation. And yet, none was forthcoming. You had hopped on a plane and flew to Germany. No message, no phone call, no email. Just upped and left the country. So you could meet with your new team.

How could you do this to Ona? After all that you two had been through, after all that you had shared with each other. You were the first person she told about Lucy. You were the first person outside the Spanish national players she confessed to about what truly happened behind closed doors. You were there for her in ways no one else was or could be. And yet, you were leaving her without saying goodbye.

Leaving Lena was hard; you didn't really want to go back to Barcelona and face what was awaiting you. When you finally switched your phone back on, you were met with thousands of messages and missed calls. They started off concerned, then really worried and then they turned angry. You couldn't fault them; your behaviour was shitty. You would be just as angry if one of them had done that to you. But you needed a few days without anyone related to Barcelona. You needed the distance to clear your head and gather a game plan to present to your agent when you next spoke. You didn't even know about the article that was making its way around the internet. You weren't too big on social media unless it was to make your monthly Instagram posts. You followed the necessary people and uploaded the right things, but you didn't scroll for hours. You had been there before, been down that path and knew that only badness lay ahead. You had read the comments, seen the nastiness, heard the bitterness. So, you stayed clear, away from the world of social media trolls and online negativity. You didn't know of the absolute hell that was awaiting you.

Maybe going straight from the airport to training was a bad idea. Perhaps you should have taken the time to phone someone and let them know you were returning. Possibly, you should have spoken to Alexia and Ona first so you could explain yourself properly. Potentially you should have checked social media. But you didn’t. You didn’t do any of that.

You arrived at the training ground with your headphones in and hood up. You hurried passed reception, ignoring the glares from the receptionist and physios. You had hoped to catch Ona or Alexia before training, to pull them aside and explain everything to them (hopefully without crying).

“So, you’re transferring then?” Lucy called, her face stern and eyes blazing in anger. You hummed, confused and slightly shocked at her tone, but opted to walk straight to your cubby. “Oh, no, you don’t. Turn around.” Your headphones were still blasting music, so you never heard her. Lucy grabbed your shoulder roughly, swinging you back around to face. “What the fuck,” you flinched, pulling your headphones out and taking a step back. “You don’t get to do this. Not after I watched Ona cry herself to sleep ‘cos you were missing.” You felt your heart sink. Had she really done that? “I-” You felt guilty. You really, really felt horrible about what you had done to your … friends … ex-friends … teammates … ex-teammates. Ona especially. She was your best friend, and to see her puffy eyes and solemn expression from across the room made you feel even worse. And it bubbled up into anger. Mainly at yourself, but you couldn’t help but explode when Lucy started shouting. “Got nothing to say, have you?” She took a step closer. “We’re not good enough for you, now? You’ve found yourself a little girlfriend, and suddenly, your friends aren’t enough.” You squared up to her. “Leave Lena out of this,” you said menacingly, matching her energy. If she wanted a fight, she'd get one. “Please, you’re a fucking joke. You don’t get to waltz back in here like nothing happened. You were missing for 4 days. Not a single text to us to tell us what was going on.” “I don’t have to tell you everything.” She was right, though, and you knew it. A simple message to someone, anyone, to let them know would have solved a lot of issues. “What about Ona? Is she no longer your best friend? Or Ale, the woman who took you in when you first arrived?” She pressed. You were basically nose-to-nose at this point. “Why did you even bother coming back?” You recoiled as if she had just slapped you. It stung like she had. Why had you bothered coming back? Barça didn’t want you. And now the team didn’t want you either. “Fuck you, Bronze.” Your voice cracked slightly, your jaw clenched, and your mouth set in a harsh line. You were trying really hard not to cry. “Are you trying to burn all your bridges before you abandon us? If you are, it’s working.” She looked you up and down, the disdain in her eyes obvious. “You don’t deserve to be here anymore, let alone have us as friends.” You knew Lucy got angry when she was hurt, but hearing those words confirmed everything you already thought about yourself and this situation. Lena had spent days trying to glue your fragile mind back together, and with a single sentence, you had shattered into a thousand pieces again.

You hadn’t noticed the crowd gathering around you, the semi-circle blocking your exit and forcing you to keep up your façade. To most of the others, Lucy just echoed their hurt feelings, saying precisely what they were thinking. But Alexia and Ona could see the pain swirling behind your eyes before Lucy started the argument. The pair of them could also see your heartbreak as the words echoed around the silent changing rooms despite the mask you had on. You took a moment to gather yourself. Taking a breath, you said lowly. “You know what? If this is how you treat everyone that’s leaving, I’m glad Barça aren’t renewing my contract. I don’t want to be on a pitch with someone that thinks so little of me.”

I hope you enjoyed <3<3<3<3<3

[soup-mother]

especially on my post about trans women wanting kids but just on a lot of trans topics in general a lot of people really fucking put way too much emphasis on the fact that they "personally would never ever want that and it's terrifying and they can't understand it but like you should be nice to ppl who do". and It's just like idk...maybe I'm being bitchy but u can like....not do that?

like you don't need to go on about how you can't possibly understand why someone would want to be a woman and then add "but it's important to support them anyway" or something like it's just a lil bit insulting isn't it?

or like I'm glad ur supportive of guys who want bottom surgery but maybe you didn't need ¾ of your message to be in depth discussion of your brutal fear of it and how disgusting it seems to you? maybe? do you think that might actually be more discouraging than simply saying "yea i agree" perhaps? idk it just pisses me off and seems way too like....the classic thing of completely centering yourself while giving lip service to actually supporting the thing being talked about.

[indulgentdaydream]

How do you think Jason Todd sleeps, like sleeping positions

I'm so glad you asked

also i'm treating this as x reader hope you don't mind

actually i'm going to go off on a tangent first

jason is trained to be as silent as possible. not to draw attention to himself when he doesn't need to. he may be built like a fucking unit/ a militarized fridge, but he knows how to be quiet

that's why i don't think that when he has nightmares that he's waking up screaming/flailing around/punching air. Sure, he's panicking, but he's so used to keeping that under wraps that the most he'll wake up with in a small gasp. maybe a jolt.

after he's awake, of course, is when the panicking starts, the heavy breathing, the sitting up, the pacing, the crying, what not.

(i'm speaking from my own experience. I have consistent nightmares. I've been raised to never make a sound as to not bother others. At most I wake up with a deep breath and pushing myself up onto my elbows.)

now that we have THAT out of the way.

jason, by himself, DEFINITELY spreads out wide on whatever surface he's sleeping on

that man is only sleeping when he's on the verge of passing out.

most times, before dating you, he would get back from patrol, shuck his helmet and armour off, then just belly flop onto the nearest, softest surface and be OUT for a minimum of six hours

sometimes it was the floor. safehouses aren't always furnished

poor guy would usually forget to brush his teeth, too

he meets you and within the next few days goes to the dentist for the first time in a while because he wants to look and be good so you'll like him back

baby had 16 cavities :(

ANYWAYS

with you? good luck moving

he's gotta be touching you in some way. whether he's fully wrapped around you, spooning you, head tucked into your hair/the back of your neck when it's cold, trying to both keep you warm and steal some of your warmth

or a simple hand on your stomach/back/arm/thigh when it's too hot to be fully cuddling

he just needs to know you're still there and that you didn't leave him in the middle of the night

he's insecure :( leave him alone

actually do the opposite marry that man and never let him go

occasionally will let you spoon him, but he doesn't necessarily like it because he feels like he's very closed to being suffocated

loves when you lay on his chest though! he can easily push you off if it gets too much, but for some reason it feels more weighted blanket than suffocation by pillow to the face.

let him lay on your chest as well.

maybe not all the way. he'll keep only half of his weight on you when doing so.

he's SUCH a stomach sleeper. only sleeps on his back when in unfamiliar places. easier to get up that way.

y'all have any kind of animal? you're coming home to find him napping with them wherever. bed? check. floor? more than once. if it's a dog, dog bed? you're chiding him because you now how filthy that thing can become.

he's a sleeperrrrr

let him sleep

help him get rid of his eyebags by giving him some warm milk and tucking him in

100% played with your hair one night while falling asleep and now needs to do it every night otherwise he has a hard time

[luuuuucyscorner]

𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮- 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧

Info: Tashi takes it too far with art and her protege

Tags: Angst I think? , Kissing, Tashi being a bitch, sort of reader x Tashi

Word count: 1,530

A/n: I'm rusty sorry if this is trash

Art and Tashi are greedy, and they know it. How else had their marriage come about, after all? If not greed, for one another—for different parts, different pieces, different people. And then, you had come along.

You'd practically dropped into their laps. Since Art had retired, Tashi had been itching for someone to sink her claws in, to sharpen raw talent into excellence. You—a pretty young thing, short-skirted and starry-eyed as you wielded your racket like a weapon in the Juniors Australian Open, to France to Wimbledon and all the way to a Grand Slam.

Tashi wanted you. Had to have you—and what Tashi wanted, Art wanted.

You melted like putty in their hands. Art's Career Grand slam was still fresh, and even if it weren't—you've known their names for as long as you've been able to hit a ball with a racket.

Its been a year since then, and under their tutelage; the world has become your oyster—the tennis world, anyways (which is the only world that matters). It's why, currently, you're sandwiched in-between Art and Tashi on the couch of a five-star hotel; TV replaying your game footage as Tashi gives commentary—harsh, but in-fucking-valuable.

Tashi's midway through an extensive analysis of your backhand, when her leg shifts and you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way her thigh presses into yours. Her words bleed away in the rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Art also seems more pre-occupied with kneading his hand in slow, tender circles down your back. It feels nice. Familiar. It doesn't help the way your thoughts are drifting, as if the two people crammed beside you are not literally married, and why would it matter that they're still leaning into your sides even though there's so much space on either side of the couch—

"Hey." Tashi's hand squeezes your knee, nails digging into your skin. "You want to be good or not?" She's sharp, scalding—but a smirk plays at her lips. Your cheeks burn. Art exhales, a low, breathy chuckle. Wife, husband and protégé.

"of course i do" you tell her nervously

'So easy', Art can't help but muse to himself, and his own eyes are drawn to the faintest pink flush of your cheeks. Tashi's face remains neutral. Her eyes fix on the screen. No expression, no expression. The only tells are in the slight, nearly imperceptible stiffening of her shoulders.

“So.” Tashi cocks her head, her dark brown eyes flicking to yours for a moment. “You’re not hitting as hard as you could be from your left side.”

"You know I've had an injury recently" you mutter.

“It’s been months.” There’s a tinge of impatience in Tashi’s voice now. “Do you want to keep making excuses, or do you actually want to fix the problem. Your game today was sloppy—your forehand needs work, L/n.”

your mouth presses into a thin line and you look away from her reservedly.

“C’mon, love.” Art tries to offer some semblance of assurance. His thumb strokes across the line of your shoulder blades, a touch that’s soothing and tender—but also possessive. Greedy.

Tashi’s nails dig just a little harder into your knee. “We’re only trying to help you out,” she adds. There’s a beat of silence. Then— “Do you think we like watching you lose, L/n?”

"I won today Tashi. I was good"

She scoffs sharply. “You were good? Don’t make me laugh. You know, I’ve seen your junior games. I’ve seen your first few grand slams since you started going big. This year? You’ve been—,” Tashi gives a short, dry laugh, shaking her head.

“You can’t even finish a game with less than five unforced errors. Your game today was so full of mistakes… it’s a wonder you even won the second set.”

She's still touching you. both of them are still touching you. tears begin to well in your eyes "I understand".

Tashi sees those unfallen tears, that first hint of fragility, and her expression hardens. “No, no, you don’t understand. You need to be hard—you need to be better. You’ve let too much get to you, L/n, and it shows in your game.”

"fine" you raise from the couch, their hands falling off of you, and walk to the door of the hotel, sitting in the hall outside.

They watch you walk out, and when Art makes to follow you, Tashi’s hand snaps out, latching onto his wrist. “Wait.”

Art raises a brow. The look in her dark eyes is hard and implacable as iron, with a hint of something dangerous flickering within. Tashi leans in, murmuring quietly so they can’t be overheard.

“It’s getting to her. You know it is. She’s too sensitive for her own good—not mentally tough enough.”

Then Tashi raises her eyes to Art's "she's like you"

At this, Art stills. The breath in his lungs hitches, his pulse stuttering in a flicker of panic. A million different insecurities and fears flash through his mind.

He manages a laugh—low, nervous—but Tashi’s expression remains implacable. It doesn’t even waver.

“She’s—she’s not like me,” he insists. "I made it to a Career Grand-slam"

Tashi scoffs again. “Yeah, on your second try. And Y/n’s on the fast track to the same. She’s good Art—great, even. But you know she’s not tough. You know she’s soft—she’s gonna break if we’re not careful.”

"if you're not careful" he says carelessly.

That makes Tashi give him a look, and it’s suddenly sharp, a little dangerous. The grip on his wrists tightens. “Art. Listen. You need to get tougher. Not just with her—you’ve gotten too soft, too. And that’s how you lose—that’s how you lose everything."

There’s something almost pleading under her words. Like she’s saying something more.

"cant you just let me be retired?" he begs, voice almost a whisper.

“No!” The word is sharp as a whip, and Art’s eyes widen in surprise as it rings out. Tashi stands, the line of her body stiff. Anger flickers in her gaze. “You don’t get to do that, Art. You’ve been retired less than a year, and you’re already slacking. Letting yourself go soft—slacking off on training, and working, and…”

She huffs out a sharp breath and turns away, clenching her fists. “I hate it when you do that.”

She turns away dismissively and Art walks over to the door and sits down next to you on the hallway carpet.

You're a pitiful sight. Curled up in the hallway of a five-star hotel, face buried against your knees, shoulders shaking in nearly silent sobs—and as Art settles beside you, the shuddering of your shoulders grows stronger, and your tears run more freely.

Wordlessly, he draws you into his embrace, wrapping you up in his broad, warm arms and pulling you against his chest.

Art lets you cry. Lets his hold tighten a little as you lean into him.

"I-I'm try-ing" you sob.

“I know. I know…shh…” Words soothe you gently, hands rubbing against your back and soothing the shivers in your spine in slow, tender circles.

Art's face is pressed into the top of your head, breath hot against your hair as you're half-curled into his lap. He's so careful around you, always, so gentle—because you're too easy to crack, too fragile, too inexperienced to know any better.

"We have to go back in" he mumbles into your hair, "We can't let anyone see you like this"

He doesn’t have to say the reasoning—it’s obvious.

If the press got a sniff of this? Of a junior player crying in the hallway? You’d be mocked to hell and back again.

Tashi would never let you live it down.

“Hey…shh, come on… it’s alright.” Art’s voice is soft and soothing. His breath is warm against your hair, every bit of him warm and gentle and caring.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, a gesture you could almost mistake for affectionate—if he weren’t married, and you weren’t his protégé.

You begin to calm down and allow Art to pull you gently onto your feet.

Once you’re standing, Art’s hands are careful, guiding you back into the room and onto the couch.

Tashi glances at you for a brief moment; there’s no trace of pity in her gaze or emotion. It’s cold, analytical—but you notice the way she takes in the way you’re tucked under the protective shadow of Art’s broad figure. There’s something like jealousy in her eyes for a moment.

"Tashi, I'm sorry." you mumble tiredly "If it's alright with you, I'd like to go to sleep now, I promise to get back on track"

Tashi’s eyes are still fixed on you for a moment before she gives a soft exhale, nodding. “Go.”

Art offers no opposition, and a moment after she’s finished speaking, he guides you out. His palm rests on the small of your back, a hand far too large to be that delicate but still moving with a gentleness that’s almost reverent.

He sends an appreciative nod to his wife as he leads your tired body into the bedroom and helps you position yourself under the sheets. He runs his fingers soothingly through your hair until you begin to drift off, sighing heavily.

[caramelberzatto]

coffee, croissants, carm. // c. berzatto

hi guysssss <3 trying something a little different with a social media au (smau.) just some brief context i guess, lol. you're syd's best friend and have been away for a year, studying abroad, then you meet carmy through her. and it just progresses over a few months. ANYWAY, i hope you guys like this. (no pictures are my own, all from pinterest, credit to the original owners.)

yourusername made a post

liked by sydddadamu, yourcousin, and 43 others

yourusername: london was lovely, but it's good to be home! syd coming through with a home-cooked meal >:) tagged: @/sydddadamu

friend1: miss you already!! come back soon <3 -> yourusername: you know i will!! when i'm not broke lol, gotta job hunt now :/

sydddadamu: damn who is that very professional chef in the second slide? -> yourusername: idk but the meal was 1000/10. get this woman a michelin star NEOOWW

yourcousin: so, i should be expecting you this weekend for the debrief, yes? i need to know all the details about those london boys ;) -> sydddadamu: BOYS? am i missing something?? -> yourusername: NO LMAO if there was something to tell, you would already know

~~~~~

yourusername made a post

liked by user1, sydddadamu, youraunt, and 38 others

yourusername: sweet home chicago <3 tagged: @/sydddadamu

youraunt: lovely ladies!!! that tree outside your window is beautiful! -> yourusername: it's my favourite view <3

sydddadamu: couldn't have chosen a better photo?! -> yourusername: shut up, ur hot -> sydddadamu: your hand in marriage, then?

~~~~~

yourusername made a post

liked by sydddadamu, thebeef_chicago, and 46 others

yourusername: MY GIRL A CHEFFFFFFFFFFFFFF (gotta drive her to work tho) i hope they don't remember us here, because the study sessions we used to have were loud. tagged: @/sydddadamu, @/thebeef_chicago

sydddadamu: didn't have to expose teenage me like that -> yourusername: teenage you was incredible. she just frowned a lot.

~~~~~

yourusername made a post

liked by friend1, sydddadamu, cberzatto, and 52 others

yourusername: in my 'spending all my money on coffee and books' era. (i've been like this my whole life.)

friend2: iconnnnnnnn

sydddadamu: yo the last slide??

friend1: who is that? -> yourusername: that's my wife obvs -> friend1: you know that's not who i meant -> friend2: oof no further comment? it's a boyfriend for sure.

~~~~~

yourusername made a post

liked by cberzatto, sydddadamu, and 68 others

yourusername: coffee, croissants, carm.

friend3: ???soft launch??? -> yourusername: perhaps.

youraunt: which cafe is that? we need to catch up :) -> yourusername: i'm free this weekend!! i'd love to see you and uncle dave!!

sydddadamu: this is your version of live, love, laugh. -> yourusername: you get me <3

~~~~~

yourusername made a post

liked by cberzatto, sydddadamu, friend3, and 72 others

yourusername: all in the details. tagged: @/cberzatto

cberzatto: <3 -> yourusername: <3 -> richierichjerimovich: fucking hell, he does know how to use his phone. doesn't pick it up, tho.

sydddadamu: how did richie get here before i did?

friend1: glad to see you're making some new friends! bring them to london next time around <3 friday karaoke isn't the same without you!

~~~~~

yourusername made a post

liked by cberzatto, sydddadamu, marcus.brooks, and 77 others

yourusername: he's so pretty when he... you guys know the song. tagged: @/cberzatto

friend2: the hardest of hard launches!! so happy for you!!

friend1: NOW i know why you've been kicking your feet and giggling whenever we factime!!!!

sydddadamu: the caption is insane on this one. -> yourusername: pretend you don't see it.

marcus.brooks: bringing the energy to the beef! -> richierichjerimovich: we've always had energy? -> marcus.brooks: not the good kind. -> sydddadamu: there's definitely less yelling now, thank god

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

OKAY hi <3 thanks for reading this :) this is a bit all over the place because i didn't have any kind of plot in mind when putting this together, but i have a few other ideas that i'll be able to articulate better. this was just a bit of fun hehehe love y'all. let me know if this is something you'd like to see more of!!!

tagging some cuties: @martiansodas-blog @foreveraimingtowardsthesky @laiiaaa @thecapricunt1616 @nolita-fairytale @carmenberzattosgf

[dolldefiler]

["Oh, bird boy, you silly goose. Stop giving us cuck stuff. That's not what we're here for." Fine, fine, I hear you, I hear you. Have something else, you cute little buttons.]

C/W: Gaslighting, slapping

Slap

“Ouch…”

“Why did you slap yourself, my love?”

“B-because you told me to, Sir.”

“And? Why did you listen to me?”

“Because… you’re my master, Sir!”

“And that means you want to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir. Following your orders gives me purpose.”

“But you touched yourself without permission, didn’t you?”

“I did…”

“And you knew I’d punish you for not asking.”

“Yes, Sir…”

“So why did you touch yourself?”

“B-because it felt good, I’m so sorry Sir. Please don’t make me slap myself again.”

“Are you making demands of me? Slap yourself again.”

“Please no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I—”

“Do it. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Slap

“Fuck, it hurts…”

“Why did you slap yourself, my love?”

“Because I was telling you what to do, Sir…”

“You already knew what the punishment was for that, didn’t you? You already knew what the punishment for touching yourself without permission was.”

“I do… I did… Sir…”

“But you did it anyway. Do you know why, my love?”

“W-why, Sir?”

“Because you like hurting yourself for me.”

“I don’t! I don’t like the pai—.”

“Slap yourself.”

Slap

“Do you know why you slapped yourself?”

“Because… I disagreed with you—.”

“Try again. Tell me the truth or I’ll make you slap yourself until you can get it right.”

“Fuck… I slapped myself because I like hurting myself for you.”

“Good girl. In that case, slap yourself. Not for me but for yourself.”

“But Sir—!”

“What? Surely you’d want to slap yourself if you like hurting yourself for me so much. Unless… you were lying to me?”

“No, Sir, I would never lie to you. Please, believe me Sir, I could never do that to you.”

“Then slap yourself.”

“Y-yes sir…”

Slap

“And why did you slap yourself?”

“Because… I love hurting myself for you.”

“Good girl. Now finger fuck yourself and try to make yourself cum.”

“Fuck, thank you, SIr, thank you so much!”

…

“Sir, fuck, fuck, fuck I need to cum, please let me cum. Please, SIR!”

“If you want to cum that bad, you’ll need some help, won’t you? If you want to cum, slap yourself until you’re finished cumming. Scream and tell me how much you love hurting yourself while you cum.”

“Thank you, Sir, fuck…”

Slap

“I love hurting myself.”

“Louder.”

Slap

“I love hurting myself!”

“Again.”

Slap

“I love hurting myself! Fuck, I’m cumming. I’m cumming, I love hurting myself so much for Sir. FUCK—!”

“Beg me to let you slap yourself.”

“Sir, please let me slap myself. PLEASE LET ME HURT MYSELF, FUCK I’M CUMMING.”

“Remember to hurt yourself while you cum. You wanted it after all.”

Slap, slap, slap, slap

“THANK YOU, thank you, Sir. Thank you for letting me hurt myself. Thank you for letting my hurt myself while I’m cumming, oh fuckk.”

“Good girl. You came so hard, didn’t you?”

“I did, Sir… thank you…”

“Thank you for what, my love?”

“Thank you for… letting me hurt myself while I came, Sir.”

[munsonsmixtapes]

Drive Me Crazy

mechanic!Eddie x fem!reader

summary: Eddie hot wires your car with the intention to take it for a joy ride but you catch him before he can

You never liked getting gas late at night. Between the creepy lighting and the weirdos who roamed around the area, you never felt safe. But your car was very low on gas and wasn’t going to make it home so you could get gas in the morning. So, you took a chance and pulled it after work. Once you got your gas, you took a chance and went inside to get a snack for your ride home.

Eddie wouldn’t have considered himself a criminal, he just liked to hot wire cars for the adrenaline. He never stole them, he would just take them for a ride and then return them like nothing happened. It was just for fun, the thrill.

He was at the gas station for some coffee to keep him awake and had no intention of taking a joy ride, but then he saw your pretty cherry red car pull into the parking lot and he knew he had to take it for a spin.

He leaned against his bike as he watched you exit the vehicle, he almost felt bad thinking about how he really did want to take your car. You were pretty even with the angry look on your face. He honestly thought it was hot, actually.

Once you were inside, Eddie snuck over to your car and was delighted to see that you had left your window down, but had locked it which seemed silly to him, but now he didn’t have to use the coat hanger he kept around. He unlocked the door and crouched down to begin his work while keeping an eye on the door for you.

He snipped two of the wires and was so focused on getting the car to start up that he hadn’t even see you come back to your car. You stood behind him, waiting for him to notice you, but he didn’t look back until you spoke up.

“Having fun there?” You asked, tilting your head to the side while taking a sip from your slurpee. Eddie whipped around and put on his best smile, hoping that he could charm his way out of the situation, but judging by the unimpressed look on your face, you weren’t buying it.

“Is this your car?” He tried his best to put on an innocent look, but you weren’t buying that either.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Sorry, I thought it was a buddy of mines. He has the exact same car.” Did he really think you were going to believe that? Maybe it worked on other people, but definitely not you.

“Oh, so you think I’m an idiot, right?” Eddie actually thought you were pretty smart even after knowing you for a few minutes.

“Not an idiot, no.” There were a lot of people who Eddie would categorize as an idiot, but you were definitely not one of them.

“Then what? Stupid?” He just chuckled at that.

“Those are synonyms.”

“Whatever. Do you mind moving away from my car? What were you going to do? Steal it?” You put your free hand on your hip and he didn’t like that he was finding your anger hot.

“No, I was just going to take it for a joyride.” A joyride? Why would he just steal a random car to do that? You had seen him on his bike and that seemed like the ultimate joyride vehicle.

“Look, I have pepper spray so if you don’t get the fuck out of here, I will use it.” You really didn’t, you were just hoping that would scare him off. And it did. He stood up and you reached for your purse as he backed away.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” He put his hands up in defense as he continued to back up to his bike. “Just so you know, I work at the shop downtown, so if this ever breaks down or if you need me in anyway, feel free to come on down,” he said with a wink and you just scoffed.

“No thanks. I can fix it myself.” With that, you got into your car and he got onto his bike, making sure to give you a wink before he put on his helmet and drove off.

You got into your car and slammed the door before hitting your head against the steering wheel repeatedly. Why was he flirting with you after he tried to take your car and why did you like it? Why did you find him attractive? God, this was getting way more complicated for your liking and you were so close to driving your car over there just to see him. Maybe if you got the guts, you would.

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Will is good at making decisions.

It’s one of the only things he’s good at, actually. He can’t fight. He can’t control water or lightning or plants. He’s not as smart as the Athena’s kids or as charming as the Aphrodite’s. He is clumsy and soft-hearted and stubborn. But he is observant, he always has been, and he prides himself in his ability to think ahead. He keeps his infirmary stocked and his siblings on schedule. He reigns in head counsellor meetings and draws up binders and binders of files and projects — he is organised. He watches, he notices, he reflects, he prepares. He’s as impulsive as the rest of them, sure, but he has enough contingencies in place that he’s solid. A solid head on his shoulders, and he knows it — the head medic must.

So when he watches himself, horrified, diverge from his very detailed twenty-nine step process entitled The di Angelo Dilemma: Approaching Friendship like a Normal Person and ask Nico to come over, he considers the possibility that he has been possessed. Maybe the eidolons that fucked everything up the first time around have been crouching in dark corners, patiently awaiting the perfect time to strike and ruin Will’s life.

“See you then,” says Nico, rushing out the door, and Will smiles at him easily, watching him dash across the common, and then he sets aside the folder he’s updating, walks calmly out of the empty infirmary, nodding to Mr. D. as he passes, turns a corner in the hallway, slips into his favourite supply closet, sticks a chair under the door handle, clears his throat, and screams.

It’s one of those good screams, by design; he takes a good deep breath beforehand and lets the sound billow out of him, lets it scrape the sides of his throat raw and reverberate somewhere in the base of his skull. Were he not home in a camp that regularly makes use of lethal weaponry and deadly rivalry, entire armies would come running to his defense. As it is, he is left to fall to his knees and scream until he is hoarse, or until he hears a faint will you shut the fuck up! echo from around the vegetable gardens.

“Why me,” he croaks, giving in and collapsing to the floor.

It’s a nice floor, really. In between breakdowns he returns and decorates the place, sweeping up the dust and covering floors and surfaces with rugs and throw pillows. A guitar leans in the far corner for when his mother is thousands of miles away and he’s feeling sorry for himself. A photo album lives half-shoved under a shelf for when he is in need of punishing. His sketchbook remains in a constant state of almost-full under the one dusty window. (That one carries slightly less general despair.)

He is, upon reflection, somewhat of a disastrous person.

How fitting.

“Ugh,” he says out loud, to himself, and reaches for his guitar.

He has no intention of playing anything worthwhile. In fact he doesn’t even bother tuning it, not that he can very well anyway, and just strums random chords and riffs and yells over a string of flat discortants, at one point, filling the tiny room with noise ontop of noise ontop of noise until everything is gleefully stifling, like a mass of birds clouding the sun, like the thirteenth year of swarming cicadas, like the twentieth layer of July Texan heat. Until the mess is transferred from inside of his head to outside of it. Until he has committed so many musical sins that his father retreats from the sky a full forty minutes early.

“I feel you are at fault,” says Kayla, when he finally returns to their cabin. “For.” She gestures vaguely at The Outdoors.

“Hnnngh,” responds Will, taking three steps and tipping, gracelessly, onto Austin’s bunk, nearly bouncing right off of it. He catches himself, barely, and presses hard into the pillow, curling when his brother makes space for him, when his sister sighs, deliberately loud, and presses her knee into his thigh as she climbs up, too.

“This is your own fault,” Kayla grumbles. Her bony shoulders settle along the dips of his ribs, next to Austin’s thin ankles. “You could talk about things before they blow up in your face, but nooooooo. You run around doing everything yourself. Moron.”

Will swipes the heel of his hand under his eyes, throat garbling a weird snort-laugh-sniffle. Those bony shoulders tip to the side, slowly, until she curls under his chin, dragging Austin down with her. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Sh-h,” Austin says, patting blindly until his palm finds Will’s face, then patting deliberately. His knees press against Will’s, now, forehead inches away, barely clinging onto the too-narrow mattress. “Quiet town now. Reflect in your foolishness.”

“So mean.”

Years ago, exactly how many Will refuses to count, this exact scenario would be met by lots and lots of teasing, by pinched cheeks and cuffed shoulders and a forehead kissed several times over. There would be at least six instruments played at once, a camera flash the second he walked in the door pouting, and more lights on that would ever be necessary. An oft-repeated and never-resolved debate, probably; you coddle him, Cass; oh, shut up, Michael, he’s little. The scent of woodgrain and antiseptic and vanilla. A thousand other details he never thought to memorize.

Now there is quiet, or at least more of it.

Kayla hums, notes muffled as she gnaws on her lip, and Austin’s socked feet tap against the blankets, mapping out the tune playing out in his far-away eyes. The last final glow of the horizon turns red, then orange, then violet, sinking into dark navy blue, and their aunt blinks her way into focus, stretching widely across the thin wisping clouds. The fairy lights wrapped around the pillars and ceiling beams blink alongside the stars, chatting away to each other, and the breeze from the window is soft and warm and almost as sweet as southern jasmine. There is a pit in the dead centre of Will’s chest, and he is afraid Kayla will fall into it, and then Austin; afraid they will succumb to his gaping maw.

“What if I ruin absolutely everything,” he says. He swallows, and then again, and again, because his throat is dry, escape for the burning trails mapping the his face from corner of his eye to mouth. “What if I — scare. Am. What if I’m the reason, again.”

Diana snorts. You are such a drama queen.

And that’s coming from this theatre, Lee adds, gesturing grandly to the gold pillars of the cabin. You’ll be fine, kid.

A chorus of agreements from the rest of the occupied bunks; Kate’s encouraging grin, Leanna’s fond hair ruffle as she dances past, Amir’s wink. Will smiles and blinks back and he is gone, and Michael’s scowl disappears, and Kate and Phoebe’s laughter fades from the background. The cabin is quiet, shadowy; Austin and Kayla breathe quietly, swallow silently.

“I don’t know,” Kayla admits. “You — could be. Again.”

Will squeezes his eyes shut. He begs for Lee to go back to his sleep for the night. He inhales around the shake and inhales and inhales and inhales and feels the vacuum dead centre in his body, like from navel to spin, twisting, tubing, sucking; take, take, take, take. Can I, can I, can I. I want. Please. Let me have.

“I’m not sure it’s better not to try, though.” Austin’s hands curl around Will’s palm. “Right? You always say to — try. Do your best.”

A smile curls up the corner of Will’s mouth.

“I do.”

“And you did try.”

“I did.”

“Did it fail?”

Will flicks down to meet Kayla’s eyes, squinting one and tucking his chin.

“I asked to come over.”

“Oh, well — okay, Marilyn Monroe. Like that’s a new thing.”

“For no reason.”

“…Oh.”

“I could go on the sand rant, Kayla. I’m like a sleeper agent. As soon as he says it, I’ll — you know.”

Austin shifts, frowning thoughtfully. “I mean, he kind of already knows you’re weird.”

“Not this weird!”

“I think everyone knows you’re weird, actually,” Kayla adds. She wiggles, squirming and elbowing until she is half-perched on the fleshy part of Will’s waist, ignoring his wheezing. “Being a nerd dork loser is kind of your whole thing.”

“It is not!”

“You have binders dedicated to people, Will.”

“That’s not bad!”

“Specifically on how to best socialize with them, Will.”

“That’s — thoughtful!”

“…Sometimes being related to you is hard.”

“I am! Collecting data! To better my relationships! What is the issue!”

Austin and Kayla exchange a meaningful look — which does not, Will is relatively certain, usually involve putting your entire palm on your brother’s face and shoving it so it cannot be seen. Kayla.

“You’re doomed to fail,” they decide. And then they kick him off the bed, which is rude, but he is weak to their giggling, and it’s bedtime for them, anyways.

As per his carefully outlined routine they are sent to the showers and sinks, back in half an hour, bickering. As per his less carefully outlined but nonetheless regularly present routine they are separated physically from each other and shoved to seperate bunks. As per his most carefully outlined routine, he follows them each, ignoring their complaints, and presses the back of his hand to each forehead, closing his eyes as he lets his life force bleed into theirs, mixing, checking, making sure.

“We’re fine,” Kayla grumbles.

“Shut up and cough,” Will orders.

Austin gives him less trouble. Will makes a show of thanking him for it. Kayla throws her extra pillow. Will takes it, placing it on his own bed. It is silent after he says goodnight, silent as he clicks off the light, gathers his caddy, pads to the door.

“Goodnight,” whispers a voice, half hidden by the creak of the screen door as he opens it.

“Goodnight,” whispers another, half hidden by the cream of the screen door as he closes it.

“Goodnight,” Will repeats, grinning. “Sleep well, kiddos.”

They grumble, and their bedsprings groan as they turn away, mimicking the grate of the rickety porch steps. That, at least, is familiar; that at least matches the echoes that bounce around the walls of the cabin and the inside of his skull.

———

next

[sarosfilms]

sleepovers

chris sturniolo x fab!reader

summary: you moved in with the sturniolo triplets per their request and of course being their best friend you said yes. but you soon realized you never needed a bedroom as you were always sleeping over in the youngest’s bedroom the most.

word count: 1388

genre: fluff

warnings: curses, suggestive content (i couldn’t help it), bad writing :/ (i'm new to writing for the sturniolo’s leave me alone), slightly proofread

This was the first night you didn’t end up in his bed. You were woken up by Chris and Nick yelling at each other. “You literally just said-,” you overheard as you walked out of your vacant bedroom. The only thing was your bed and your dresser that had a few clothes in it.

“Guys, why are we fighting?” you spoke up, entering the kitchen with the three of them occupying the space. You moved your hand up to groggily rub your eyes. Chris and Matt were eating breakfast while Nick was standing there on the other side of the table. Matt was idle on his phone, silently listening to the bickering between his brothers.

“Nick keeps fucking telling me that I’m yapping but he’s literally yapping telling me this shit,” Chris responded.

“Cause you literally have been yapping all morning,” Nick spoke up, smirking, “did y/n not sleep with you or something?”

Your head turned quickly towards the two, a slight blush appearing on your cheeks. Nick glances at you, already knowing the answer. Chris had finally slept by himself last night. The only reason being he passed out almost immediately after a long night filming their Friday car video. You decided to take advantage of that fact and slept in your own bedroom. Although, it felt extremely odd not having his warm figure beside you. At first Chris would always sleep with his brothers. But one night you had been in his room, hanging out with him and he asked you to sleep with him since you were already in there. You contemplated for a good minute, finally becoming comfortable in your new bedroom. You ended up saying yes after he gave you his increasingly hard to say no puppy eyes.

“Chris went to sleep before me,” you shrugged, grabbing a spoon for your cereal. Chris’ eyes lit up seeing you about to come sit next to him. Of course the seat you claimed as yours was next to his. You walked over and sat next to him, giving him a slight glance before turning to the oldest in front of you.

“Anyways, today is upload day!” Nick giggled. You grinned, excited to see what they talked about. Even though you already knew because you walked in on Nick editing the video last night. You watched as Nick walked away, you assumed to his bedroom. Matt had also rambled on about needing to get dressed for the day and left to his own room. 

“Hi,” Chris spoke up first. His thoughts still linger on the fact that you didn’t sleep with him last night. “Why didn’t you stay with me?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” you admit. “You looked peaceful and you finally were the one to sleep before me.” You expected him to just shrug it off but his gaze on you didn’t change.

“You still could’ve joined me,” he frowned.

“I’ll sleep with you tonight, okay?” You inquire. He nodded, standing up to go down to his room. You sat there silently, already ready for the day.

The four of you ended up going to the mall to do some shopping, mainly for the three triplets, but you did enjoy yourself while with them. You were back at home, sitting on the couch eating dinner and watching a movie before going to bed for the night. The movie this time was Harry Potter, a suggestion from you. It wasn’t a surprise in the middle of the movie Nick and Matt had fallen asleep on the couch, while you and Chris were still up intently watching the movie. “I swear to god if Dobby doesn’t shut the fuck up,” Chris spoke up.

You grinned at him, “No but he’s so cute, I love him so much.”

Chris glanced over at you, immediately noting that your mouth was agape in a yawn. “Baby, wanna go to bed?” he asked. You nodded your head, confused about the nickname, too tired to even react. He walked over to your figure bundled up in one of the blankets and helped you up, grabbing your hand and putting his hand on your waist for a moment before leading you to his bedroom downstairs.

You giggled at the image of an excited boy ready to go to bed with his favorite person. Of course Chris would never tell you that, knowing that his feelings needed to be subsided. But he couldn’t help but feel passion for someone like you. You were always there for him when he needed it. His bed is always occupied by the both of you, laughing your asses off from a random tiktok he scrolled on or sleeping peacefully as the moonlight shines on your soft face.

As he opened the door, he told you he needed to ‘piss really badly he might piss his pants’. Which left you alone in his room, you opened one of his drawers on the bottom and decided to pick out one of his shirts instead of wearing the sleep shirt you were wearing at the moment. Without thinking you took off your shirt the moment the door opened, Chris looking up from his phone and gasping. “Shit, y/n, fuck I didn’t mean to walk out on you.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” you stated nonchalantly. His cheeks turned a bright pink briefly before he cleared his throat, his mind roaming to the previous times you two ended up wrapped in each other's arms naked at night. The burning sensation of needing to be even closer to each other was stronger than before. Besides, he’s walked in on you changing ‘on accident’ maybe a few too many times before you both first experienced each other in a more intimate way.

You scrambled yourself together and walked over to the bed that Chris had already plopped onto. Like literally plopped, he made a funny noise too. He sighed, waiting for you under his covers. You didn’t know what you two were. All you knew was that there was definitely more than just friends. You two don’t normally end up wrapped in each other without clothes, it really is just a rare thing you two do.

Chris patted the spot on his bed you always lay on. You said, “I have to brush my teeth first, I can’t stand stinky breath.” As you were brushing your teeth, you could hear Chris’ phone going off with what you assumed to be tiktok. A few chuckles coming out of his lips before setting his phone down.

“Y/n, if you don’t hurry up and get in here I think I might explode from lack of affection,” he joked, slightly. You huffed, quickly spitting and rinsing before finally leaping on top of him, laying on his whole body. He grunted.

“You wanted me to lay with you, this is how I’m going to lay on you, pretty boy,” you stated. His arms wrap around your waist, moving your bodies to be side to side. “You bitch!” you exclaimed, pouting, “I was comfortable like that.”

His eyes focused on the slight glimpse of light reflected in your eyes. His mind paid no attention to what the source was, only admiring how your eyes squinted creating a small eye smile, as one would put it. He loved how you would smile with your eyes before your lips.

“You know, I really did think about staying with you last night, I just thought maybe it was better for both of us to sleep separately… for one night, baby,” you explained as you watched his lips turn into a frown at your statement. You giggled at the image. His arm was wrapped around your waist, your bodies touching with your head now slightly on his chest. Looking up at him, with your hand combing through his fluffy hair, smiling. “You know you’re really pretty,” you sleepily commented.

His hands rubbed your back, chuckling, his chest moving up and down making your own body follow his movements. “I really lik-” he started before hearing a loud snore erupt in the relatively quiet room. Your peaceful figure laying there in front of him, he moved his arm on your waist to bring you closer to him. He smiled to himself before closing his eyes to fall asleep too.

tags: @recklessmatt @scvrllet (if you would like to be added, feel free to comment or go in my asks!)

[womenloverlmao]

Based on this 😭

Necklace

Spencer Reid X Reader

You were not feeling too great this morning, but you rolled yourself out of bed anyways. You did your normal morning routine: brushed your hair and teeth, washed your face, did your skincare and makeup, and got changed. You eventually decided you wouldn’t make yourself coffee, instead, you would go with tea.

You turned the kettle on, before realizing that you forgot to put your jewelry on. You decided it would be okay to leave it there, it would be impressive if it somehow managed to light itself on fire. You went into the bathroom to put your bracelets on, then put your earrings in, but you always struggled with your necklace. Had you not seen Spencer right there, watching you struggle and laughing to himself quietly, you would’ve given up.

“Need some help, sweet girl?” Your boyfriend asked.

“Fuck you,” you responded. You kept trying but it didn’t work. You sighed. “Yes. I do.”

He smiled, taking the necklace from you gently. He put it on you, before hooking it together in the back. He pressed a kiss to your hair, before letting you go. “You look pretty this morning.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

“No, I have the day off,” he responded.

“Emily…?”

“I don’t exactly know.”

“You should’ve told me, I would’ve taken off-“

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“…”

“…”

“I’m calling in sick.”

“Y/N-“

You did call in sick and got to spend the day with him.

[valerieisunavailable]

Simon uses a vibrating piercing for the first time

CW: nsfw, c*ck piercings, vibrating piercings, overstimulation, mutual overstimulation, d*ck riding, dom to sub Simon.

You were sitting down in bed, watching television. But you were getting worried, as Simon hasn't came back yet. It was getting rather late. Later than usual. You knew that sometimes he had other things he needed to do after completing one of his missions or doing paperwork and reports, or listening through debriefs. Despite all the times he's said not to worry, you couldn't help but let the doubts crawl into your mind.

   But after about two hours later, you heard the door unlock, followed by Simon's muffled cursing to himself about the things that went wrong or could've gone better. It was nights like these when he was stressed like this when you knew that he would fuck the tension out to relieve some stress. Although weirdly enough, he hasn't done that for about two weeks now. You could tell that he was stressed and wanted to fuck the absolute shit out of you on those nights, but didn't. So you knew that something was up. Simon walked into the bedroom, hanging up most of his military gear and uniform stuff up, letting out an exhausted sigh before slumping in the bed on top of you.

   "Another stressful day, huh?" You say jokingly, giving him a small smile.

"You have no idea." He replies. Simon goes on to mumble about how his soldiers didn't do what they were supposed to and how they messed up. As he does so, he's taking off his shirt. After a few moments he stops rambling on, and he looks at you with a lustful gaze.

   "I need to fuck you, love. Need to fuck this absolute beauty." He says. His husky voice makes it sound like it's a command, but the way he's saying it makes it come out as though he's begging.

   You let him anyways, no matter how you feel at the moment. You know that he needs this, and you know that he knows how to pound into you nice and hard when he's this stressed. It feels absolutely amazing when he does it. Simon leans into you, giving you a rough, passionate kiss. Besides, he's probably gone absolutely nuts. He hasn't fucked his stress out on you for two weeks straight, you could tell that he needed this. Part of you wanted to ask him about it, but you decided not to. He sat up on his knees, slowly removing his pants, but stopping at his boxers.

   "I got a surprise for you, love." He says, before pulling his boxers down. There, you saw his erect cock, standing straight up. But it was followed by a row of silver metal piercings going all the way up and down along it. You stared in surprise. He saw your reaction as he smirked.

   "They vibrate, too." He says.

So this is why he hasn't fucked you for two weeks. He had gotten vibrating piercings along his cock. But the only thing you were worried about were how thick the piercings were. There was no way you'd be able to have his cock AND his piercings inside you. He chuckles at your reaction, before quickly stripping you of your clothes and having you sit on his stomach as he laid down. He then positioned you above his cock, pushing slowly into your entrance. You let out a small gasp, feeling the first set of metal piercings along his cock stretching you out.

   "S-Simon, you're too thick…" you stammered. He chuckles at your response.

"Mmm, I know, love. I'm stretching this tight cunt of yours..~ It'll take some time to get used to.." He says, continuing to slowly push himself into your entrance. You gasp and shudder at each feeling of each new set of metal piercings stretching your pussy, hitting along your walls until you gasp from finally hitting the base of his cock. You can already feel a set of his piercings going along your cervix. You let out a small whine in response. Simon sits himself up, leaning over to your ear.

   "But I know that you'll be cumming all over this cock and these new piercings of mine once I'm done with you, love~" He chuckles. Simon firmly holds onto your thighs, before looking back at you.

   "Hope you're ready, love. 'Cause I plan to make up for those two weeks." He winks at you, before raising your thighs up and slamming them back down as he pounds into you at a steady pace. You moan in response. You can feel his metal piercings hitting your cervix.

   "Fuck…" He groans. He pounds into you a few more times before he stops. You moan in his ear, holding tightly onto his shoulders before you glance over at him. Simon takes out a remote.

    "Let's see how good these vibrations are." He says, clicking the button on the remote as the both of you jolt in response to the sudden vibrations.

   "Ohh fuuuckk…." He lets out a loud, guttural moan. His eyes go into his head for a split second, and he slumps back down into the bed, his cock slipping out of you.

"Oh, Simon..~" You moan, your thighs quivering in response from the vibrations, with it brushing your clit as his cock slips out of you. He squeezes your thighs. Simon definitely wasn't expecting for the vibrations to be this strong. His body shook, and his legs quivered. You could hear him beginning to whine and whimper.

   You grin as you watch him weakly reaching for the remote on the bed, before you move his hand away, grabbing his cock and slipping it back into you, once again feeling the piercings stretch your walls, your slick acting as lubricant. Once you reach the base of him, his eyes come back out of his head, looking at you.

   "No, no… Too much.. It's too much, love." He says in between gasps.

   You smirk, looking down at him. "I thought that you needed to fuck the stress out. Besides, you said that you were going to make up for those two weeks." You taunt him.

   Simon whimpers, before his eyes go back into his head again as you start to ride him, moving your hips at a slow pace. Simon lets out a loud moan, his breath hitching as you suddenly feel him coming inside of you. You look at him in surprise, but you could tell that the man was seeing absolute stars right now. You continue your pace, feeling the vibrating piercings repeatedly hitting your cervix. You let out a breathy moan, before letting out a loud moan in surprise from feeling your orgasm reach you.

   "Off.. Turn it off, please…" Simon begs, the feeling of the vibrations and your walls around his cock overstimulating him. As you sat down, rested on the base of his cock, you could also feel yourself getting overstimulated as you let out a few whimpers.

   You reached for the remote, trying to turn it off, although you didn't know how. Pressing a button, the both of you whimpered in response. Simon tightly holds onto your thighs as he instinctively bucked his hips.

   "Ah, Fuck!" He whimpers. Your loud whimpers could also be heard throughout the room. "Oh, fuck.. Sorry…" You apologized, trying to switch through the remote settings. Simon eventually grabbed your hand, hitting and holding onto the button, before the vibrations stopped. He let out a sigh of relief, his eyes rolling back out of his head.

   "It's alright love…" He says, before letting out a small chuckle. He catches his breath, slipping himself out of you as you laid against his chest. He gives you a passionate kiss, embracing you in his arms.

   "That was one hell of a vibrator…" He muttered, as the two of you stared at each other, passionately kissing each other until you both got tired and fell asleep. He might've not fucked the stress out of you like you had originally expected, but this felt just as good, if not better.

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[mariacallous]

I plan on voting for Biden in November.  But it’s terrible.  A vote for him is still a vote that will not significantly improve our deepest and most troubling social problems.  He won’t give us Medicare for All or any other badly needed boosts to social programs.  He will probably continue to support policies that actively oppress BIPOC.  He will not help us.  He’s also a sexual predator.  Truly, I do not want to vote for this man.  This is not the man I wanted to vote for.  I don’t want him in office.  He is simply not good enough.  This man doesn’t represent what I want at all.

But if I don’t vote for Biden in November, I feel like I’m making it that much easier for Trump to win another election.  And I want that even less than I want a Biden presidency.  I don’t want another 4 years of what we have now.  No fucking way.  No.

I’m so conflicted.  I feel like there is blood on my hands.  I feel like I’m casting a vote for death and misery if I’m not voting for a progressive candidate with a progressive platform.  I feel like I’m committing nothing short of an atrocity no matter what I choose to do.  I don’t want to harm people, and yet, won’t I essentially be doing exactly that?  I just want to do the right thing.  I don’t want to bring harm, or perpetuate harm towards anyone.

Trump will probably win anyway.  He’s doing all he can to ensure that, and it will probably work.  The impending climate disaster will kill us all because we will clearly continue to do nothing.  Our bodies will be riddled with micro and nanoplastics.  America will become an even more of an inhospitable police state.

 Nobody will hold Biden accountable for anything if he wins, and he’ll never give us the public policies we desperately need. 

“Is this what hope feels like?  I’d forgotten,” you tweeted recently.  How?  And for what?  I see nothing but bad things to come.  I feel a deep sense of hopelessness and despair.

There are plenty of reasons to feel hopelessness and despair right now, but with regard to Joe Biden, you are wasting a whole bunch of negative emotions on a giant pile of shitty beliefs that just aren’t true.

First, and let me be very clear on this one, Joe Biden is not a sexual predator. He’s just not. Believe me, I would be shouting it from the rooftops if I thought he were. When Tara Reade went public, I took her allegations very seriously. I gave her extra helpings of the benefit of the doubt, but it turned out there was a mountain of evidence suggesting that Reade has always been a lying, manipulative grifter (which I didn’t want to be true), and there was another mountain of evidence suggesting that the predatory behavior alleged by Reade is simply not in Biden’s character (which I was very reluctant to trust). There was a time when I was hopeful that Reade’s accusations might even knock Biden out of the race, but I’m not the kind of person who believes a thing merely because I want it to be true. It’s fine if you want to criticize Biden for what appears to be a history of awkward or retrospectively inappropriate behavior. Hell, you can even buy into all that “Creepy Uncle Joe” bullshit, but you’re just plain wrong if you insist that Joe Biden is a sexual predator. (Obviously, the same cannot be said of Donald Trump, who is a straight-up serial rapist with a list of at least twenty-five women who have publicly and credibly accused him of sexual assault.)

As for your policy concerns, I understand your frustration. I would love to be voting for a far-left ultra-progressive firebrand of a candidate in the upcoming general election. That would feel wonderful, right up until the moment that she loses in a landslide, and I guarantee you, a far-left ultra-progressive candidate would get her ass handed to her by Trump. That’s not an outcome we can afford as a species, much less as a nation. You understand this, which is why you still plan on voting for Biden. Good. I’m really glad you’re not being a purist asshole about this. The evil garbage monsters in the GOP just love a left-wing purist who refuses to vote responsibly. Republicans are desperately praying to their imaginary white Jesus that all the Green Party crunch bars will fuck it up for the rest of us like they did back in 2016. We cannot let that happen again.

Listen, I’m not gonna try and convince you to like Joe Biden. You’re already gonna vote for him, so I’m perfectly fine if you hate his breathing guts. What I do want from you is a little maturity, some vision, and a realistic sense of scale. No one candidate will ever be the solution to our problems — not Bernie, not Liz, and certainly not Joe. At best, a candidate is a vector, a course correction, a desperately needed step in the right direction. That’s all we can expect from Biden, and he is bringing it. He’s bringing it every single day with a list of policy positions that are more progressive than any President’s in the history of the United States, and he most certainly brought it with the selection of Kamala Harris as his running mate.

Biden recognizes his place in history. He knows he is little more than a national stop-gap, a post-Trump tourniquet to stanch the bleeding. His Vice-Presidency and eventual Presidency will be a line of demarcation between two very distinct chapters of American history. This is more than just bridging the Boomer/Millennial generational divide. In the distant future (if we have one), it is my sincerest hope that Biden will be remembered as “The Last of the Old White Men,” a happy warrior who marked the end of a certain kind of Modern America and who helped usher in a new kind of Postmodern America. Those terms are clunky and loaded and absolutely will not stand the test of time, but we’re not the ones who get to name what we’re about to become. We’re the ones who have to keep doing the hard work to finally get us there, and that’s why I really need you to change your whole fucking attitude. 

This shit is going to be grueling. The fight will be brutal if not bloody, and there is absolutely no room for whiners and layabouts. You want to improve our deepest and most troubling social problems? Great. Quit moaning about doing harm with your vote and go do some actual good with your own two fucking hands. Pulling a lever in a voting booth every couple years is the bare minimum. In terms of civic duty, it is the absolute least you can do. Of course Biden won’t give us Medicare for All. Neither would Sanders or Warren. That’s not how any of this works. Presidents don’t give us shit. We do it ourselves. We demand it, loudly and with force, and over long stretches of time, with enough solidarity and sustained action, laws are enacted and policies change. 

I was around when the Clintons tried deadlifting their universal health care plan off the ground back in 1993. Maybe you remember it, maybe you weren’t even born yet, but that’s how long this shit takes. It’ll have been three fucking decades and two fucking generations of Democrats trying desperately to kick that gutbucket up Capitol Hill by the time we finally get around to some semblance of a single payer healthcare system. Thirty fucking years, my friend. That’s the kind of patience and perseverance the American experiment demands of us, so quit your fucking whining. Enough with all the pearl-clutching and hand-wringing. Take all your conflicted navel gazing bullshit and toughen the fuck up, buttercup.

You are on the right side of history. You are with the good guys. Quit your fucking bitching, and get out there and help us win.

[cyberrose2001]

Can we pretty please have some angsty fluff?

Maybe Optimus Prime from TFP returning to Earth because he missed his s/o. (Let's pretend RID never existed. Please.) Maybe he left on a bad note and they told him that they'd never forgive him. And once he's back, she's completely ignoring him and she's trying her best to avoid him at all costs

You can choose what to do in the end. I want to see your mind wander :DD

Unforgiven Goodbyes

TFP Optimus x human! gn! reader

whoops

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injury/blood, mental struggles, just straight-up angst.

Word count: 2,475

You're pissed off. No, you're more than pissed off. A tangle of emotions that would take a lifetime to detangle in your mind. You are pissed off, heartbroken, angry, yet excruciatingly relieved to see him.

But you can't bring yourself to face him again. That beautiful, other-worldly sculpted face seems to torment you whenever you close your eyes. That moment when he looked back at you before he plunged himself into the Well of Allsparks, the look of apologetic heroicness. It burned into your brain and left a nasty scab that you can't help but pick at. But the scar has healed. You've disciplined yourself to stop scratching it, but watching him walk through the hangar doors ripped it open once again.

You've distracted yourself as much as you can. Doing pointless chores around the new base the bots have made themselves at home with, going for long walks outside by yourself, hiding around every corner when you hear that rumbling voice. You tried everything to keep the wound closed, to pretend that he's still dead, to justify all the mourning you've gone through all these years.

Another reason not to face him was how you reacted when he told you his plan. You were the first to know, and you've never felt your heart sink so fast. It was like he had struck a dagger to your stomach and kissed you as you were bleeding out. You had exploded with anger you couldn't control and stormed out before he could do anything about it. You screamed at him as he collapsed onto his knees that you would never forgive him, and so far, you've kept that promise. The next time you saw him was before he made his great sacrifice, and you had nothing else to say to him. You couldn't say anything else.

And you won't for a long time, not when you have headphones on to block out the world. You stand at the sink in the human kitchen. It's semi-exposed to the main base, with a half-wall shielding the stove and sink. You're not sure why it's exposed; it must be concerning the lack of rooms in this old military bunker. You don't care anyway. You only care about scrubbing the dishes beyond clean and slamming them onto the drying rack before you break the delicate ceramic plates from gripping them too hard.

While cleaning the dishes, you don't realise how much of a racket you're making with your music blasting and capture the attention of the one bot you were trying to avoid.

Optimus.

He looks at you curiously, a hint of longing in his optics. Optimus knows you're avoiding him, and it's so blatantly obvious that everyone notices, too, creating tension through the base you could cut with a sharp enough knife. He wants to talk to you. He needs to talk to you. And so far, this is the only opportunity he's stumbled upon that could make it possible. Though, he doesn't want to frighten you and scare you away. He needs to be gentle and cautious in his actions, but it's difficult when you can't hear or see him.

Optimus reaches out, his servo twitching at how gentle he's trying to be. He touches your shoulder with a single digit but retracts his servo quickly when you jump out of your skin and drop a plate on the floor, shattering the ceramic in all different directions.

You scream then seethe, ripping your headphones off to face whoever dares to lay a finger on you, "Why the fuck would you-"

Frozen in your tracks, you stare at Optimus, the longest you've looked at him in a long time. Your heart snaps in two again, and the wound in your mind festers with flashbacks before you try to make a run for it. You don't get far, though, before you step on a piece of broken ceramic and cry out in pain.

"Ah!" You fall back on the ground, clutching your lower leg, "Fuck it-"

"Y/n, I am so sorr-"

"N-No!" You practically spit in his face. You let go of your leg and scramble backwards into a corner. With nowhere else to go, you turn to face him again and watch how his grip tightens on the railing before him. If looks could kill, Optimus would still be dead. Maybe you secretly hoped it was possible, "Get away from me."

"Please, you're hurt," Optimus looks down at your bare foot, now bleeding heavily onto the floor from a deep gash.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, not giving a damn that you're bleeding. You've been through worse, after all, "Oh, so now you care?"

Optimus tilts his helm, "What? I have always cared-"

"Oh really? You're really going to do this, Optimus?" You growl, grabbing the bench above you to pull yourself up, "You didn't seem to care about me when you sacrificed yourself! No, scratch that," You point a bloody finger at him, "When you fucking abandoned me!"

Optimus's shoulders sink, his grip on the railing relaxing as he feels like you've plunged a knife into him, "I did not-" He sighs heavily, like he cannot find the words, "Please... let us get you to Ratchet."

"I don't need his or- or your help," You hobble on one foot, hissing in pain as you make your way to anywhere else on the planet. The blood smears on the floor with every misguided step as you pass by him with a cold shoulder, "I've managed just fine on my own, Prime." You sneer at him.

Optimus watches you hop down the stairs, and he slumps his frame down on the railing. His vocaliser rumbles with regret and pain at how you're treating him. And it's not like he can blame you. Optimus would probably be stricken with the same grief if a lover of his decided to sacrifice themselves; he'd be absolutely distraught. And all that distraught just for them to return like it was a mere week-long vacation? Well, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He thought you would be overjoyed and run up to him with that beautiful smile on your lips, perhaps even beg for one of those joyrides he always loved taking you on through the desert. He thought you would've missed him, the bare minimum for someone who has lost a loved one.

Optimus sighs and lifts his helm from the railing before turning on his pedes to look for something else to distract him from you. He looks down before he takes a step and sees your trail of smeared blood on the concrete. His optic ridges furrow, a look of determination and apprehension as he steps to follow your crimson breadcrumbs out of the hangar doors.

Before he reaches the hangar doors, a soft touch plants itself on his shoulder, and he jolts slightly. Optimus turns his helm down to see a gloomy look on Ratchet's face, his servo squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

"Let them go, Optimus," He speaks softly, "They need some space."

Space is the only thing he's given them so far.

-

"Stupid fucking dishes. Stupid me. Stupid him."

Your fingers tremble as you rip some of your shirt off to wrap around the gash in your foot. The minor hit of adrenaline quickly left you like a hit of nic as soon as you slumped down on the other side of the hangar outside. The dull throbbing turns into sharp pain as you tighten the fabric, causing a small whimper to leave your throat. You relax your head against the concrete wall behind you, wishing you could slam it against it instead. But anger slowly drains from your frame, and you bury your face into your dirty hands, and you sob—a heartbreaking sight to anyone that were to stumble upon you.

But you find that the tears weren't mourning from him, but for yourself.

How selfish are you? Are you so dense in the head that you're blindsighted to how much he loves you? How much Optimus missed you that even after facing the hereafter, he came back for you? How awful must the afterlife be for him to want to come back to you, of all people? These questions come flooding into your mind with every tear-jerking sob that wracks your body. But the one question at the forefront of your mind terrifies you, making you want to slump further into the self-deprecating aura you've swallowed yourself in.

Do you still love him?

You bite your lip hard. Do you still love him? That's a stupid question to ask yourself. Of course you still love him. You wouldn't be the person you are today if you never did.

Then why the fuck do you push him away?

You don't know. Maybe it was how you spoke to him before he took his own spark, being so ashamed of yourself that you could barely look at him. Or perhaps you've become too comfortable in your new adjustment to life without him, and for that to all come crumbling down so suddenly with no warning has shaken you to your core.

That's very selfish of you.

You know that. You've always known that.

Maybe you just weren't ready to let go.

A deep, trembling breath leaves your parted lips.

...

Yeah, you know.

-

Optimus stealthily follows the trail once again after Ratchet leaves. He just can't walk away after that encounter. And as much as it hurts him to see your reaction, he must ensure you're okay despite whatever you spit in his face. Optimus did not beg at the throne of Primus himself for another chance at nothing. He needs to make amends, no matter how much of a fight you put up at your wishes to be left alone.

Soft steps of his pedes lead him on a wild goose chase. It seemed as if you had stumbled around in circles for quite some time, the trail of blood looping around before overlapping itself to follow the edge of the hangar. Optimus become increasingly concerned about your welfare, worried you have lost too much blood. But he knows that you are tough if all these years on your own have anything to show for it.

His pace replaces stealth for hastiness as he continues on the trail, rounding the next corner of the hanger. He stops in his tracks when he sees you, and his eyes soften with pure broken-heartness. His servos clenching in regret.

He carefully approaches your slumped frame and stands before you. He first notices your foot, half bandaged and leaking slightly. You weren't wrong after all. You could take care of yourself. He smiles softly to himself at this.

Optimus carefully kneels in front of you, still a fair distance away. All he wants to do is pick you up and tell you that everything is alright, that he's here and not ready to leave again anytime soon.

He keeps his servos to himself for now.

"Y/n," Optimus begins softly, "I know you are upset," This seems like an all too familiar conversation, "And you have every right to be."

No reaction from you so far, a few sobs and hiccups. His spark clenches.

"I did not get a chance to tell you how truly thankful I am for you," Optimus continues, fidgeting with a digit in his lap, "How I still reminisce on our long-forgotten time together, even whilst I was merged with the All Spark."

Optimus takes a chance. He shuffles closer to you and gently pries your hands from your face like you were a pretty piece of wrapping paper he wanted to keep. His optics drag over your sodden face, how your eyes begin to focus on his. It wasn't the fiery look of anger he had seen just earlier but one that looked of surrender; you had given up a fight he wished he could've helped you with.

Optimus moves one servo from your hands to gently caress your face, a gentle digit brushing over your cheeks, "My, just look at you," He cups your chin softly, tilting your head to look up at him, "You are still as beautiful as ever."

He watches as the tears well in your eyes again, a small glimmer in your eyes that's more familiar to him than the dull. You grip his servo and pull it into a hug, resting your forehead on his wrist, and you cry.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry...I-I'm stupid... I shouldn't have..." You sob, clutching onto him with every fibre of your being, "Oh god..."

Optimus's spark fizzles and cracks at your heart-breaking apology and the tears dripping onto his servo. He gives you a sombre look before carefully pulling you into his servos, picking you up to press you against his chassis to return his long-awaited affections.

"Shh," He hushes your cries, pressing a gentle kiss to your head as he rocks you softly like a slumbering sparkling, "It is alright; nothing you say could ever make me resent you."

You sniffle, burying your head into his chassis. His familiar scent of motor oil and fumes fills your senses and relaxes you deeper into him. You try to speak, to say anything other than hiccuping pathetically.

"I-" You stutter, ripping your face away from his chassis to stare up at him. A shaky hand reaches up to touch him, a tiny 'tink' as your fingernail grazes against his face plate. He's real, he's here, and he's not mad at you. And the best thing is, he forgives you.

And you forgive him.

"I missed you," You take a sharp breath, "I miss you so much."

Optimus' sombre frown turns into a small smile; a weight lifts off his frame at your admission. The worry he put himself through all seems to melt away as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, hoping to melt away your grief with the kiss along with his.

You gasp softly. Far too much time has passed since you've felt those gentle dermas meld into yours, and as much as the past you wanted to forget how his touches felt, you find yourself kissing him back with as much need and passion. A few fleeting moments pass before you're forced to part for a much-needed breath. It feels like life has returned to you, like after all this time without him you were holding your breath in fear of drowning.

Optimus closes his optics, softly pressing his forehead against yours, leaning into the warm touch of your hands that he oh so craved. He knows you still love him, he never once doubted that deep down inside you always did, even after he had regretfully abandoned you.

"I miss you too."

Finally. He felt good to say that.

[noveauskull]

How Male WUWA Characters React To You Touching Their Tacet Marks! (SFW AND NSFW)

-----

JIYAN:

SFW

Would notice how you l've been staring at his back a lot and ask you if you needed something from him or if you wanted to tell him something important

He gets a little surprised by how you immediately just told him that you wanted to touch his tacet mark and would ask you why, but he would let you touch it anyways

Probably the most sensitive one out of every other WUWA man since his is literally on his back

He would blush so hard that his ears would go red if you kept touching his mark for more than 20 seconds

When you first touched his mark he would feel a little uncomfortable and tell you when you need to stop so that he doesn't get too uneasy

But after a few more times he enjoys your touch way too much and often times would ask you for a hug so that he could feel your hands touch his back again

NSFW

When hes pounding himself into you, sometimes you would purposely brush your hand on his back to where his tacet mark is so that he would falter in his movements just for a bit, just so you can catch your breath

Sometimes you forget his tacet mark is on his back, so when your hands are clinging onto him you would accidentally lightly scratch him just a bit to where his tacet mark lines would be, which he surprisely took well

He might be slightly masochistic (at least you awakened that part of him)

Of course doing it too harshly would hurt like shit, but when you brush your nails against it, he gets shivers

In conclusion, this man loves it when you touch his back

MORTEFI:

SFW

Would straight up ask you why you keep staring at his chest

He'd look at you with wide eyes when you tell him that you wanted to feel his tacet mark that was on his right chest, but agree almost too quickly because he believes your reason would be because you wanted to "experiment" something

Most likely you're the first person to ever touch him like that

Gets shivers when your fingers lightly brush against him, then tells you that its alright to just completely put your hand over it

When you do put your hand over his chest though, you can feel his heartbeat pounding real fast

You try to ignore the blush on his face, but it was way too obvious

NSFW

You like to lick his chest, especially his tacet mark just to see the way he reacts

His attempts to hide his tiny grunts is super cute to you

He would say things like "Ok, that's enough" but he wouldn't push you away, leaving room for the idea of teasing him that he enjoys the feeling of your warm mouth against his tacet mark

Likes it when you nibble on it a bit, or use some teeth to lightly scrape his skin

The way your mouth would travel to his neck, collarbones, nipples, abs, literally everywhere but his tacet mark would drive him crazy

You'd make sure to leave a bite mark right over his tacet mark, that way he would have to cover up his chest in a bit more effort to prevent anyone else from seeing it (cause we all know him showing off his chest is a SLUT MOVE)

CALCHARO:

SFW

We all know this tough guy is actually super obedient and literally just a baby

Which explains why he loves forehead kisses A LOT

Literally praise him for doing anything and he'd ask for a forehead kiss on top of your compliments, and you'd happily oblige

You asked him if he ever face palms himself when hes disappointed and he just stares at you with furrowed eyebrows in confusion, wondering why you would ask him that

The first time you touched his tacet mark was when you asked him if you could touch his hair, and he would be fine with it since he was aware of how much you love his hair and how jealous you were by how beautiful it was

NSFW

Because he loves your touch on his tacet mark, he very much prefers to go down on you than fuck your hole all the time

He does this because he likes how your hands scurry around to grab his head and push him away when you were getting overstimulated

Everytime you finish you would pat his head and that would get him riled up

When he does pound you, he would place his forehead against yours and stare deeply into your eyes while youre crying out on how big he is

He also really loved burying his face in between your chest and rubbing his tacet mark on it to feel your heartbeats

Calcharo is basically a big beast that you tamed

AALTO:

SFW

You actually didn't ask him if you could touch his tacet mark, he just so happened to have something on his shoulder that you helped brush off, and your hand accidentally brushed against his tacet mark

He reacted by flinching a little. When you asked if he was alright he just said that he was fine. You couldn't really tell if he was fine or not since he had his glasses on.

But you can see his ears turning red, so you knew you just turned a switch on for him, but you still haven't figured out that it was because you touched his tacet mark

You slowly notice more things on Aalto's shoulder, on the exact same spot. Sometimes you try to ignore it but Aalto would make want to brush it off somehow by asking things like "Is there anything on me?" or "You've been staring at my shoulder for a while, y'know?"

NSFW

Loves it when you give him hickeys, he really enjoys it when you suck on his tacet mark the most, cause that's when his sensitivity heightens up a lot

You know exactly how much pressure to give him when you playfully bite him on his tacet mark, especially if you wanted to get him hard and going

He lowkey wants you to choke him while he fucks you, the pressure of his tacet mark pushing into the nerves of his flesh makes his vision cloudly and his pupils grow

When you're too fucked out to choke him, he would forcefully grab the back of your head and push it against his neck to make you lick and suck it while his cock is molding its shape into you

He does not hold back

YUANWU:

SFW

Yuanwu is a patient man, so you don't hesitate in asking him if you could touch his tacet mark that was right on his neck

Of course, he sees no reason to disagree. But for some reason when you touch him, he freezes and it takes you a minute before he clears his throat and apologizes for suddenly not responding

You weren't dumb enough to realise that touching his tacet mark made him feel something, so sometimes, you would get cozy with him and wrap your arm around his neck

The action would have him tipping his hat to cover his face as he remains silent the entire time you go chattering about how you want to go have some tea with him at his boxing gym

Sure, Yuanwu is a patient man, but his patience does run thin

NSFW

He'd actually keep your hands away from his neck while he's fucking your brains out

This is all cause you knew that touching his tacet mark would get him hard, and you decided to do it on a public area

Since you did it on purpose you have to face the consequences and wait until he's done fucking all your senses out of your body

When you two are finally done, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his tacet mark, since you two were in private he doesn't mind you getting intimate with his mark

You didn't expect this, but sometimes you would be able to pull a noise or two from his mouth

Something you really like doing to him is when his back is on your chest and you're fucking your hand on his cock, then planting kisses on his tacet mark, leaving him groaning your name

-----

That's it folks im out of here, its like 5 am where I live so yeah :> I would add more of what I think everyone would react to when you touch their tacet marks but im pooped for the day

[maraschinotopped]

undertale yellow. clutches head in anguish.