#but i recognize that i escalated something that did not need it and just. yeah

[starlightswait]

okay, i was kind of bitch to my sister today and i can own that our fight today was largely my fault. apologized and helped her get ready before she had to go home (she’s flying out pf the town where the apartment she shares with her fiance is) and i’m gonna be super supportive tomorrow and and through the weekend because it IS her bachelorette trip and her wedding, things should be about her.

at the same time. though i know i should let go of some of my resentments, i do think my GENERAL frustration with her acting … demanding and wanting everyone to do everything her way is valid. and i don’t know how i’m going to deal in the future.

but i recognize that i chose a really dumb thing to get angry about, as it represented a larger issue. i feel sick to my stomach and guilty but also like…. i don’t know how mych longer I can keep doing this with her. maybe neither of us is totally right or totally wrong and we just simply do not have lives or personalities that mesh well

[arieslost]

the other papaya | op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (brief pato o’ward x fem!reader)

summary: something something the first five times you hear the name “oscar piastri” and the one time you say it

wc: 3,165

warnings: mention of covid lockdown, a wee bit o’ angst, drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

The first time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was said in contempt.

You knew your boyfriend didn’t hate him, but you also knew that Pato could practically hear the phone ringing with the offer to drive for McLaren in F1 right up until he found out that the seat was going to someone else. To Oscar Piastri. The “kid,” as he so aptly referred to him.

“He’s only two years younger than you,” you admonished him one night, soon after the announcement was made public.

“Exactly. A kid.”

“I’m two years younger than you.” You said, and that made him wrinkle his nose.

“Point taken.”

You would describe your relationship with Pato O’Ward as puppy love. Things between the two of you escalated a little too quickly, as many things in 2020 did. You went from going on a whopping four dates by the end of 2019 to living together for the foreseeable future when everything went on lockdown. Your mother had voiced her concern about it, but if you didn’t live with him you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, you liked each other so much that it only made sense that you continued to build your relationship in the comfort of his spacious apartment. The two of you settled into a decent rhythm, and you took the time to learn more about motorsport. When he was finally able to hit the track again, you went to every race you could, decked out in papaya, cheering him on no matter what. And you continued to do so even though he lost his chance at driving in F1 to “the kid.”

The second time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it came from the man himself when you ran into him at the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.

It was the first time you felt rather hesitant about going to a race with your boyfriend. Pato was welcomed to the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver, and that was how you found yourself feeling extremely out of place in the McLaren garage. You met Oscar’s girlfriend before you met him, and while she was kind enough to get you a pair of headphones and offer to sit with you during the race, the entire interaction had you feeling like you should’ve just stayed back at the hotel. All the other WAGs were dressed to the nines, looking effortlessly beautiful, and you were wearing ripped jeans and a jersey with Pato’s number on it, like you always did, even though he wasn’t racing. With Pato busy in a debrief, you were busy just trying to stay out of the way and not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me,” someone said, and you assumed you were in the way, so you apologized and started moving when the person grabbed your arm to stop you. “No, sorry, I just– hi. You’re Pato’s girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes widened when you recognized the man talking to you. “Um… yes, I am.”

“I’m Oscar. Piastri,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, accepting his handshake and telling him your name in return. “Are you here to tell me I need to leave?”

“What? No, of course not. Pato told me you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face starting to grow hot, because you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Pato lost a chance at a seat to this guy, and you remembered his disappointment well. But you didn’t expect Oscar to come up to you in a million years.

“That’s really nice of you,” you continued, trying to smile without looking too awkward. “Congrats on getting the seat. You must be pretty talented.”

“Ah, thanks.” He looked at you for a moment, and you looked back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”

You giggled in spite of yourself. “You said that already.”

“Right, yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, hesitantly tacking your name onto the end of his sentence. “Thanks for being here.”

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar. Good luck today.”

Two races later, Pato messaged him to congratulate him on his podium, and you mentioned wanting to thank and congratulate him yourself. You got Oscar’s number, and after his quick response, the conversation died out, just as you expected. You didn’t have anything else to say to him anyway, but soon after, you got a follow request from him on Instagram. You accepted without a second thought– just one papaya supporting another.

The third time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was when a TikTok showed up on your feed talking about the “shocking split” between him and his girlfriend. You were reasonably surprised; his girlfriend was beautiful and kind, and from an outsider’s perspective they seemed quite happy with each other. The video went on to discuss speculation that his girlfriend was the one who had ended the relationship, and there were pictures of him looking visibly upset at the latest race. You closed the app, feeling like you were massively invading his privacy even though the first thing you saw upon opening Instagram was a statement on his story confirming the breakup. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“Ah, so you saw, too,” Pato said, adjusting his workout clothes as he leaned over your shoulder.

“It’s terrible,” you sighed, shutting your phone off. “They seemed so happy together.”

“High school sweethearts, too. That makes it worse.”

You gave him a look. “You can feel bad for him, y’know.”

“I do!” Pato raised his hands with a laugh. “But if he wants to sit out of a race because of this, I won’t be upset.”

“You’re terrible, get out of here.” You shoved him playfully, and he left with a kiss on your forehead.

The last race weekend before summer break brought you a taste of the heartbreak Oscar went through only a couple months prior.

Pato had been in one of the older cars running some tests, and came home a little later than usual. He didn’t even answer your question of how his day was before he was sitting you down on the couch and looking anywhere but at your face.

“Pato, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out,” you laughed nervously.

“I think we should break up.” He said, face stony.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a little while,” he began, “and I think it’s for the best.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” You asked, shifting away from him as you felt your heart begin to pound.

“Ever since I became a reserve driver.” He confessed, and you scoffed.

“Are you serious right now?”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a F1 seat.” He said, like that made breaking up logical.

“Yeah, I know. And you know how I know? Because I’ve been around for years.” You hissed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Pato protested, following close behind. “This is my career. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, moving about the room to collect as much of your stuff as you could with shaking hands.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. You packed up all your things and took the soonest flight to Australia to try and forget about the fact that Pato had just thrown away years of being together for a fleeting chance at driving a stupid race car.

The fourth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s on the other end of the phone.

The two weeks following your breakup are uneventful and entirely consist of you, the warm Australian sun, and the spare bedroom in your aunt and uncle’s house. You haven’t deleted any of your IndyCar posts, nor have you posted any more. In fact, you haven’t posted anything since the last time you were in Australia, only a few months ago. Your Instagram has become stagnant; a reflection of your real life. You haven’t told many people about your breakup, so you’re surprised when your phone rings. Even more so when you see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Oscar. Piastri,” he adds his last name like an afterthought, just like he did when he introduced himself in the garage.

“I know,” you say, pushing yourself into a sitting position on your bed. “Caller ID. Although you’re probably the last person I’d expect a call from.”

“Listen, are you not around anymore?” He asks, evidently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t posted about IndyCar or anything.”

“Ah, um, yeah, no, I’m not.” You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Pato and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. So, no reason for me to be around, I guess.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his loud sigh crackling through the microphone. “I figured something was wrong. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m uh… I’m sorry too. Seemed like you had a good thing going.”

“Thanks. Seemed that way for you, too,” he mumbles. “So… I guess things have really been sucking for both of us lately.”

“Pretty much.” You laugh.

“This is a terrible idea,” he begins after a moment of silence, “but are you in Australia right now?”

You debate lying to him, because it is a terrible idea, and you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say next. You don’t care. “I am.”

“Alright, well, it’s summer break for F1 right now, and to be honest you’re the only person I know that understands what I’ve been going through.”

“Are you asking me to be your wallowing buddy?” You ask.

“Something like that. My plan was pretty much along the lines of drowning our sorrows in alcohol.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason that does you in.

The fifth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s through a cheap karaoke microphone.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve spent with him, and you feel like you’re still a little drunk from the night before when he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

“What is this, a celebration?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs out so you look like a starfish where you lay on the living room floor.

“It’s whatever the fuck we want it to be.” He takes two glasses and pours the champagne out.

You giggle at him while he dramatically sets them both down on the coffee table at your side. “You definitely pregamed before you got here.”

“I did not,” he protests, but you shake your head.

“No, no, you say curse words like that when you’re drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘oh my God, this champagne is so fucking good.’” You mock him after taking a sip, and he starts laughing too.

“Fine, you caught me.” He throws his hands up. “I pregamed. But, I walked here, so who cares?”

You’re glad that your aunt and uncle are out for the night, because a few hours and countless glasses of champagne later find the both of you in the attic, discovering a karaoke microphone without a machine to match.

“Screw the machine, we don’t need the shitty machine,” Oscar rolls his eyes, watching you put batteries into the microphone. “We’ll just find something on YouTube. Does it work?”

You flip the switch and hold it up to your mouth. “HELLO? It works.”

You regret putting fresh batteries into it as soon as Oscar gets up to sing. You think that he might not be half bad if he’s sober, but drunk, his singing is absolutely insufferable. You would care if you weren’t equally as drunk as him. He pulls up a karaoke video of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, only after getting you to swear on the lives of your entire family that you won’t tell anyone what you see or hear. You consider secretly recording him, but the second he starts, you’re practically folded in half from laughing so hard at his antics and the fleeting idea is gone.

He’s so dramatic with every lyric, like he’s trying to act all the words out while he’s singing about a stranger in his bed and pink flamingos in his (nonexistent) pool. When he gets to the part of the chorus talking about taking too many shots, he gestures for you to hand him the champagne bottle. You hand it over immediately and watch as he stops singing entirely to take a long drink straight from the bottle, ignoring how attractive he looks the whole while. You actually think that you’d really like to kiss him. You’re drunk, and you’re heartbroken. You just want to laugh and forget about it all. So when he chokes on the champagne for a moment and flounders to find where he’s supposed to be in the song, you do just that.

The song ends both too soon and not soon enough, and you give him a round of applause, chanting, “Encore!” a few times as he takes a bow.

“I’m Oscar Piastri,” he yells, “and I fucking hate relationships!”

You cheer loudly. “Speak on it!”

“Except I have a problem,” he says, all of a sudden dejected as he flops onto the couch beside you, still speaking into the mic. “I have a biiiig, huuuuge problem.”

“Tell the all-knowing, and she shall answer,” you turn onto your side to face him and reach out to… you don’t remember what you wanted to do. Maybe touch his cheek. Or his nose. Or his lips.

Your hand ends up resting on the top of his head, fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair.

“I think I might really like you,” he whispers, his words muffled by his lips smushing against the top of the mic. “Which is not good. I mean, it’s good, like, I think you’re amazing, but it’s not good, because I broke up and then you broke up, so we both broke up, but not with each other, with other people, and–”

You cut him off by taking the mic from him with your free hand and switching it off.

“Sorry.” He says, blinking at you slowly. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“We do,” you begin, petting his head. “Eventually. But not now. I am way too drunk to talk about this.”

This makes him start giggling, so you start giggling, and then you’re both cackling and clutching your stomachs.

You want to laugh, and forget about it, and you want to do it every single day with Oscar.

The first time you say the name Oscar Piastri, it’s while you’re laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve always been notorious for getting easily bruised, but breaking a bone is a first. Especially when it happens in the public eye.

You were only trying to make a cute, aesthetic TikTok showcasing your first race weekend as Oscar’s official girlfriend when you tripped and fractured your ankle in front of half the McLaren team. Not to mention the throng of fans mere feet away.

The two of you didn’t start dating until half a year after his drunken confession, and when you first started going out you had to be very discreet so fans didn’t expose the both of you before either of you were ready. Most of your dates ended up being at your aunt and uncle’s, which had become your home too once you got a job and started really getting yourself together after your breakup. He flew out to see you all the time, and as soon as he suggested that you come with him to the race of the season, you jumped on the opportunity. You didn’t think you’d ever go to a race again, but here you were. You were both happy, and you were both ready.

And now you’re fuming, mentally cursing yourself as you look down at your boot-covered ankle that has now effectively ruined your entire weekend.

Oscar comes rushing into the room, and you hold up a hand.

“Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me.” You shake your head. “Just tell me if it’s somewhat safe to go online or if I should just throw my phone out.”

“What?”

“I know people are talking about it. Oh, no.” Your eyes widen. “No, no. I’ve become a public embarrassment for you. I knew it. It only took me a few hours.” You cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God… I am so sorry.”

“Again, what?” He asks, prying your hands away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from that,” you gesture to the boot, glaring at it before your eyes shoot back up to him. “Wait a second, how did quali go? Did you do your media stuff already?”

“I’m starting P5. I came here right after, no media.” He rushes out, pulling up a chair so he can sit right next to you and hold your hand. “They’re letting you go, right?”

“Yeah, just have to do some paperwork and get a prescription– why didn’t you go to the media?”

“Because they told me you got hurt? And you needed to be hospitalized?” He says, like it’s obvious.

“Oz, you get fined for that!” You exclaim. “Oh, no, this is so bad! First I embarrass you– no, not just you, probably the entire team, and now you’re here and not there and you’re going to get in trouble… fuck, what if you get fired?!”

“Baby, baby,” Oscar laughs, grabbing both of your hands now. “I’ll get fined, but I’m not gonna get fired just because I skipped media one time. Zak was fine with it, if that makes you feel better.”

You’re still worried, and he can see it in your eyes.

“What’s got you so worked up about this?” He asks softly.

“I just… don’t want to be a risk towards your career.” You say, feeling ashamed that you can still hear Pato’s words from the day he broke up with you. Oscar knows immediately.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, leaning in and kissing you on the lips, and then your nose. “None of this means anything if I don’t have you.”

You’re still taking it slow, but this is the closest either of you have come to saying “I love you” without saying it, so you pull your hands from his and cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss.

“Oscar Piastri, you are my whole world.”

Ten minutes later, Lando comes bursting into the room with such aggression that he almost faceplants, and he makes so much noise that a nurse runs into the room looking highly concerned.

So, you laugh, and you forget about it, and you do it with Oscar at your side, where you know he’ll stay for the rest of your lives.

note: this was a bitch to write. also i was gonna make a layout for this but i really wanted to post it tonight so it is sans layout and was edited like a half hour before it’s scheduled to post. all that being said, i hope u enjoyed!!

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

[rainybubbles]

What hug COD men would give you ?

Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz, Keegan

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)

G H O S T : Comfort hug.

You always used to jokingly ask Simon, "Want a hug?" knowing how much he detested physical contact.

He'd always respond with a firm no.

It became your way of greeting this burly soldier, a ritual of sorts.

So why... why was he now whispering those words to you?

"Need a hug?" His voice was hoarse, raspy, bearing the marks of too many cigarettes and too much silence. Yet there was an unexpected warmth in it, a warmth that could thaw you.

"No." you said.

Cold and trembling, with lips turning blue and tears welling in your eyes, you were at your breaking point.

It started with a soldier's criticism, then your chief's belittling of your work, followed by a letter from your mom, a malfunctioning oven, and a stubborn onion. It all culminated in your retreat to the cold room, seeking solace, seeking release.

But the door was jammed, leaving you alone in your despair. What a pathetic demise for a cook. Yet Ghost, ever watchful, came to your rescue, finding you in your distress. And in that moment, he echoed your jest.

"Need a hug?" he repeated.

You nodded. He knelt beside you, gathering you in his arms, offering not just his warmth but also solace. Your arms instinctively wrapped around him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"It's okay."

"The lock, it—"

"For everything."

"Do I look that awful?"

"Yeah."

"You're supposed to say no."

"Not a liar, darling."

"Not a hugger either, but here you are."

"You're the exception, I suppose."

You were.

What you initially thought were mere circumstances now seemed to hold a deeper truth.

And the next day, when you initiated your ritual greeting with "Need a hug?" Simon's response of "maybe" signaled a shift in your dynamic.

________________________________

SOAP : "I'm home in your arms" hug.

He always gives hugs.

Soap is a very physical person; you knew that even though you were just a friend of a friend. You never dared to speak to him much, too shy. He seemed like a sun.

At gatherings, you were always quiet, so you weren’t sure if he remembered your name.

But he always had his eyes on you, always had his hug for you, and when nobody listened to your ramblings, he was there asking you to continue.

It was a silly crush; his hugs were something you secretly enjoyed. A thing, a treat for your heart, even though you knew it wouldn’t be more.

So when you opened your door, expecting it to be the delivery man from something you ordered online or maybe some important packages to sign, but…

You got bumped into.

You fell with the strength of the stranger’s hug until you recognized the mohawk.

“John?”

“Sorry, I got carried away,” he said, helping you up.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m the one who needed a place. Mancy asked you, right?”

You remembered.

Mancy had asked if her friend could stay at your place for one week.

You didn’t know it would be John.

“Oh, yeah.”

“You don’t seem happy.”

“Well, if you hug me so hard I’ll fall every day, then no.”

He chuckled.

“It’s because I’ve missed you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, after three months without your pretty smile, a man goes insane.”

“My dad lives just fine without it.”

“True, but he’s a moron. I’m not. Now give me a hug.”

“Okay.”

And you did.

Gently, you noticed his hands around your waist, the way he slowly soothed his breath.

You didn’t know, but the only thought Johnny had in mind was, “I’m home.”

____________________________

GAZ : "I'm sorry" hug

The TV droned on in the background, but your gaze couldn't focus on it. Your stomach was tied in knots, and you felt utterly lost. 

The argument had been trivial, blown out of proportion by fatigue and frustration. You and Kyle were both drained, and the clash of tempers only fueled the misunderstanding, escalating it into a full-blown confrontation.

Now, you found yourself at a loss for what to do next. Kyle had stormed off for a walk, his usual retreat during tough times. But this time, his absence felt like an eternity.

You knew you could reach out, ask him where he was, beg him to come back. Yet, your stubborn pride held you back.

Was it pride or fear? Fear that he wouldn't return?

The nagging voice in your head echoed the doubts others had planted—that you weren't good enough for him, not pretty enough, not kind enough. You felt inadequate, unworthy of his love.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, your nose tingling with the threat of more to come. It felt absurd to be sitting here, watching a documentary while your relationship teetered on the brink of collapse.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears as you sat there, watching a documentary you couldn't even comprehend. 

When the door finally creaked open, your heart leaped into your throat, memories of past confrontations resurfacing. But the footsteps that followed were hesitant, tentative.

Turning slowly, you found Kyle standing there, mirroring your own disheveled state. Puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks spoke volumes of his own internal struggle.

Standing up, you met his gaze, unsure of what to say or do.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the silence that enveloped you both.

"Me too," you replied, your own voice catching in your throat. "It was foolish of me to let my anger get the better of me."

"I agree," he murmured, stepping closer. "We need to find a better way to communicate, darling."

"Yeah, and maybe get some sleep," you added, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Definitely," he whispered, extending his hand towards you.

You took it, feeling the warmth of his touch, and allowed him to pull you into an embrace. In that moment, words became superfluous as you both sought solace in each other's arms, tears mingling and laughter bubbling forth.

"I feel ridiculous," you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest.

"Me too," he confessed, his grip tightening around you. "But being with you makes everything better."

"Agreed," you murmured, snuggling closer.

"What if..." he began, his voice trailing off.

"What if what?" you prompted, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

"What if we can't sleep because of the neighbors?" he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, what about them?" you replied, confused.

"Let's move out," he proposed, his eyes earnest.

"Kyle, we live in separate apartments," you reminded him, a hint of skepticism creeping into your tone.

"Then let's get a house," he persisted, his gaze unwavering. "A place where it's just you and me, lost in the forest. Our sanctuary."

"You're just saying that," you countered, though a flicker of hope ignited within you.

"I mean it," he insisted, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I want a life with you, everything included. The silly arguments, the morning wake-ups, all of it. I don't want to wait to see you, but I also don't want you living on base. A house... it's us, it's safety, it's peace, it's..."

"Commitment," you finished for him, the weight of his words settling in your heart.

"Yeah, that too," he admitted, a shy smile gracing his lips.

"Okay," you whispered, a surge of emotion welling up inside you.

"Really?" he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yeah," you confirmed, squeezing his hand.

He enveloped you in a tighter embrace, and in that moment, you knew that perhaps this sorry hug was the beginning of something beautiful.

________________________________

PRICE : last hug

You felt his embrace, and a smile graced your lips.

“I never pegged you as a hugger, Captain,” you remarked.

“Don’t talk, soldier,” he replied, his voice firm yet gentle.

Nevertheless, you found comfort in his arms, basking in the warmth they provided. Your consciousness nudged you to close your eyes and surrender to the moment.

“Cap, can I rest?” you inquired softly.

“Not yet,” he responded tersely.

“But why? Even ghosts nap during brief,” you persisted.

“Don’t make me spell it out,” he said, his voice trembling, tears glistening in his eyes. 

Confusion laced your whisper, “Why are you crying, Cap?”

As you attempted to step back, you felt something damp on his hands. Bringin your own hand up, you saw it- red, your blood.

Blood.

Your blood.

It wasn’t a mere cut; it was a hemorrhage.

“Why…” you began, your voice trailing off.

“Don’t give up,” he interjected, his tone weighted with understanding.

He knew. You knew.

You wouldn’t last, and the medics wouldn’t arrive in time.

“Cap, could you...hold me tighter?” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper.

“Soldier,” he acknowledged.

“Just one last embrace, please,” you implored, a desperate longing for affection evident in your words.

Yearning for one final moment of love.

He acquiesced.

You buried your nose in his aftershave, despite the mingling scent of tobacco. Your arms savored the feel of his gear, your cheek nuzzling against his neck, the roughness of his beard against your skin.

Despite the warmth he provided, a chill crept over you. Your lips grew heavy, your eyelids too burdened to stay open.

“I'm glad it was you, Cap. Your hugs are the best,” you murmured, a serene smile gracing your lips.

With your blood staining his gear and your body cradled in his arms, he granted you your last hug, whispering your name softly.

____________

KEEGAN : "you're alive" hug

His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, his ears filled with screams. His eyes focused on Ghost’s voice, and then he saw you, lying on the ground.

What were you doing on the battlefield? You were a civilian. He sprinted towards you, but your body remained still. He reached out for your hands, but they slipped from his grasp.

Nightmare.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. His back was drenched in sweat, his mind replaying the image of you lifeless. He couldn’t move.

Reaching for his phone, he knew he wouldn’t believe you were alive until he saw it with his own eyes. He made his way to your shared flat, knocking on your door.

As you slowly opened your bedroom door, relief washed over him. "Keegan, what the hell—" He cut you off with a tight embrace, his hands on your neck feeling the rhythm of your heartbeat. "You're alive."

"Yeah, obviously. You saw me just two hours ago, we're roommates, Keegan."

"You're alive," he repeated, his voice trembling with emotion.

Seeing his state, you melted into the hug. "You need to sleep."

"I can't."

"In my bed, you can check if I'm alive like this, okay?"

"I don't want to—"

"Keegan."

"Okay."

Slowly, he settled into your bed, your warmth comforting him. You worked on your laptop, but he didn't mind. His arms wrapped around your body, he could feel the steady beat of your heart. He knew it was his favorite sound because it meant you were alive.

"Sleep well, Keegan."

"Thanks."

And that night, he didn’t have any more nightmares, wrapped in your embrace.

If you want more : my masterlist

[the-entitie]

COD Men x K-9 Unit reader (WIP)

《《 Part 1 | Part 2

Reader works with a K-9 unit, and his partner is called Mutt, who is a mix breed of Alaskan Akita and Doberman(Mutt is also a service dog as reader has paranoia and C-PTSD). Readers call sign is Riot. The 141 boys needed help tracing a terrorist and John called in some favors to bring Riot and Mutt into the field. He helped the Los Vaqueros as well.

After the mission back at base, reader interacts with the men, and they end up interacting with reader.

Reader is referred to as you or Riot.

Mentions of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, C-PTSD, war, and / or war related violence. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, past trauma. Death of a family member. Torture, scars, and flashbacks.

Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra (657 words)

-Growing up alone, with only his mother. He adored the way you worked with Mutt. Sure, seeing the hulking mass of pure muscle and fur that was your partner is its own kind of scar, but he still adores how smooth you two are when out on a mission. -That fear is cemented when you suddenly whistle sharp and turn almost slaminginto him. Only for a hostile to drop under your hound who tackled them. Holding the enemy soldier down with snarls and jaw snapping in an obvious threat. He leans the cues you give that insight a violent recation, just a show or an actaul attack. All so he can predict the behavior. Not liking the scar. -The way you and Mutt act outside of the field had confused him. Why the hound was still so focused on you, why were you so reliant on Mutt. It's only the years he spent in hostile land that gives him a clue. You survived something. Mutt helps deal with the leftover pain it caused. -Rudy only sees that pain later, finding you down on the floor with Mutt desprerate to get you calm. He's seen how Alejandro deals with this kind of thing, but he didn't want to leave you here. Just to wallow in the panic. Making sure you heard him approach, to mutter. "What's, Oh, mierda. Hey. Hey, Riot?" He'll kneel down beside you when he knows you've noticed him. Making sure to keep his voice calm and quiet. "What, come on, que puedo. How can I help you?" "Talk. Please, just. I can't be in my own head right now. Talk to me. háblame. [Talk to me]" "Ok, ok. Did I. Or have you ever heard how Ale and me met?" "No- no. I don't thin-nk?" "Silencio ahora [quiet now], I'll talk. We met..." -You start seeking him out and learns Mutts call for him. He sees how much that takes out of you and when your drousy and half passed out? That's when you start talking to Mutt. Growling, yips, whines, and just going back and forth with each other. -Its the times he growls back at you, that you snap awake. He'll laugh it off, but after he sees how much fun it is for both of you? He'll growl at you just to tease you or walk up behind you just to growl a breath away from you. He loves it, sees you jump only to recognize it as him, them chase him down across the base. Even in the field, you also play along. On the days when it's quiet and you two need to hunker down for a sand storm. It becomes a norm of you scaring him so bad, he'll jump a foot in the air. -Rudy will start ruff housing with you as well. Even helping Mutt shove you around when you both get the free time to be home. It started small, little shoves and shoulder checks escalating to wrestling. He still growls at you. Hell, he even laughs at you and Mutt, yapping at each other when the two of you ruff house. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he enjoys the quiet, too. Not nearly as much as the adrenaline of chasing you or you chasing him down, but it's still comfort. -The darker nights for you, the flashbacks, the way Mutt will help with it, he learns it. He slowly starts to ask, saying. "You can tell me fuck off Roit, but. Quiero saber como ayudar [I want to help you]. I need the story to do that." "Ok, well. It ain't una bonita historia [a pretty story], but you asked so nicely so. Yeah. I'll tell you," -After that, he becomes as much of a guard dog as Mutt is for you. Rudy will become the caregiver his mother raised him to be. What he became for her.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick: (742 words)

-His first impressions of you and Mutt were nothing to write home about. You were sent in to help get him out of the hostile area after he was surrounded on a search and rescue effort. He was warned beforehand sure, but nothing will ever prepare him for when you came bursting in with a bloodied hound and a flustered Soap on your tail. Following you out as Mutt killed as many men as Soap shot. To Say it took him a minute to comprehend the level of 'fuck all of that' would be an under statement. He came around to Mutt, but it took a while. -You took him with you to the training grounds. After how shocked he was to see you and your K-9 partner, you asked if he wanted to learn how you both worked. If that could make him feel safer around Mutt. And yes. Maybe just maybe you showed off more than you explained, but you did explain how most of your commands were mixed words from several languages. "Wait, so they'll just drop?" "It's called recall training, so sort of." "Recall? Like controlling how far they go?" "Yip, watch." The whole having perfect control over Mutt took Gaz a bit to accept but watching the hound bolt down a fucking run way before you whistle sharp and Mutt suddenly skids to a stop, and then continue at that break neck pace only to come right back to you at a single call. -Gaz, seeing both of you still moving so fluidly outside of the field just felt like a side effect of working together so long. He doesn't think about the layers of scar tissue over your throat. He doesn't care that you disappear every now and gain. Why would he? Is what he wanted to think until the late nights spent on quiet runs through old hostile infested land. When you start talking him through the pain, ebbing from the through and through bullet hole. Holding down on the slow pump of blood, asking him stupid dad jokes. Hoping the mere spite of saying what cap. Price would is keeping him awake. "It'll be fine... just" "How does dark Vader like his toast?" "No. Roit. Please stop." Gaz begs with a breathless chuckle. "~on the dark side~" Full on laughing now, he half snorts. "I said stop!" -He almost chalks the echoing howl that bounced back and forth as a hallucination from blood loss, but considering that the team found you both as quickly as they did? It can't be. Gaz corners you when you both have nowhere to be and are off duty. It's almost embarrassing to sit down and explain that yes, you howled to Mutt, and yes, that's how you find you K-9 amist all that open land. Now Gaz will ask what else you can copy because damn was that awesome to hear. -Becoming more and more comfortable around each other, he gets to hear you howl more often. Even being there when Mutt first tackled you only to growl. It turned into ruff housing quick, both you and your hound growling back and forth. So, who cares that he also likes wrestling with you. He doesn't, and he sure as hell doesn't tell you how stupidly cute it is that you growl at him when he even gets the upper hand. Never will he let you know how fucken adorable he finds you and Mutt. -Gaz owes his life to you. If not, when he was shot , then definitely when Mutt would have his back as you had to crack down a lock. He's not at all as scared as before, he adores how the hound you work with. He enjoys the dumb sad jokes you two shoot off back and forth, over global coms just to annoy Price. But he loves, likes the way you sound exactly like Mutt. Yes, he will go 'grr' at you sometimes, but the sounds of you and Mutt trying to locate each other over the dark field will always be his favorite. Means, you're still alive. It means he can still fight to pay you back later. Not right now, but when that day comes, he won't be the one to let you die. And don't you dare force him to be a fucking lier.

Keegan p. Russ: (000 words)

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[valya-kingoftherats]

We're Together

"This is okay?" You fiddle with the cuff of your shirt. Nervous. So unbelievably nervous. And not just because of the button-up dress shirt.

You're going out for dinner. With your partner and your girlfriend. It's the first time all three of you have gone out together.

Anathema squeezes your hand, "Relax, Val. It's just a dinner date. Don't get all stressed out about it."

Easier said than done. While it's been long enough that you're sure the farm isn't looking for you, you're still on edge in public. Especially with two of the Rangers. Especially when ones the Marshal. And on top of that, the last time you were in a fancy place like this was with your Handler. Not something you'd like to revisit.

Too many factors that could make this go horribly.

You just want things to go nicely. Make sure you come off as normal and well adjusted. People know Anathema and Charge, you don't want to negatively affect them somehow.

Julia slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. Pressed right into her side. "It'll be fun! Good food, couple of drinks," she turns and winks, "great company."

That makes your heart skip a beat. If she's anything, it's endlessly charming. And reckless. And an idiot. But charming. And very pretty.

You turn your head away to fight the blush that's taking over your face, but it's out of the pot and into the fire for you. You immediately lock eyes with Themmy, and their smile is enough that you feel like you may combust.

You're done for as soon as Anathema leans over and kisses your cheek. Ready to melt then and there. They're both right. You're overthinking. You've walked up to the restaurant now, all you have to do is go inside and get your table.

You've got this.

You stand up a little straighter, "I'll go check the reservation. See if they're ready for us." You smile and release their hands. Brush down the front of your shirt. "Be right back," and you leave them in the lobby to go check the front desk.

The waiter at the front is dressed nicer than you. Blue dress shirt, black vest, and tie. Immaculate. You immediately feel more out of place than you already did.

And despite being around the same height, he's looking down on you. "Sorry, I'm afraid we aren't taking walk-ins tonight. We are all booked for this evening." He speaks with a clearly fake French accent. This isn't a French restaurant. His shoulders are squared back, and his eyes are narrowed at you.

"I have a reservation, actually." You puff out your chest. You can be big too. "For me and my partners, table for three." You gesture back to where Julia and Anathema are standing for emphasis.

"You," he crosses his arms, "and them?" You don't like that look. Arrogant. Ghostly familiar.

"That's correct." At times like these, your training comes in handy. Small and polite. No need to escalate, even if you desperately want to.

"Not a chance. That's Charge and Anathema, and there is no way someone like you is with them." He flicks his hand as he speaks. Shooing you away. Out.

"Someone like me?" Keep your temper. Remember your training. You can't make a scene or then you will be in trouble.

"Yes, someone like you." The accent is gone. Replaced by something deeper. Snarky. "Dull. Homely. They are heroes of Los Diablos. You are the scruffy barista that makes my coffee on Tuesday mornings." Oh. Fuck, yeah you do recognize the bastard. Comes in like clockwork with a stupid complicated order. And doesn't tip. "There is simply no way you would be accompanying them, much less in any sort of relationship. Now I suggest you leave quietly before I call security on you for stalking and harassment."

"I haven't done anything." You take a deep breath and grit your teeth. Behave yourself. You will not make a scene. That would only make him more right than he already is. Nobody speaks it out loud, but your boost let's you hear them nonetheless. You don't belong with them. Don't fit in. No one assumes you're all dating. Friends at best. Indulging a fan at worst. "I'd like for me and my partners to be taken to our table. Please."

"And I won't ask you again. Do leave before you make an even bigger fool of yourself." The thoughts you pick up from him are enough to make you want to jump the desk at him.

They're also enough to make you take a few steps back before turning around and bolting out the door.

You choose not to hear the shouts from Themmy and Julia. Doesn't matter. This was a stupid idea.

Just who exactly do you think you are? That you could do this? Be one of them? With them?

There's a park a little ways down the street, far enough that you aren't worried about being disturbed. Hopefully, they'll give up and go enjoy dinner themselves.

You've sat yourself down behind the big water fountain in the center of the area. The babbling is relaxing. Unlike the constant ringing of your phone. Hasn't stopped. Messages from one, calls from the other. Nonstop. For fucks sake they need to take the hint. This is NOT helping your headache. You rub your temples, a futile attempt to make it hurt less. It never works.

Nothing does.

You turn and grab your phone from beside you. And pitch it into the pool of the fountain.

Finally. Silence.

"Valya!"

Fuck.

Fuck! Stupid hero instincts are going to be the death of you. No. You wouldn't be that lucky right now.

For a brief moment, you contemplate running again. But you aren't stupid enough to think you could outrun Charge.

And just to further prove that point, Julia is kneeling on the ground in front of you before you know it. Lips pressed against yours. Hasty. Firm. Her hands are on either side of your head, fingers interlocked at the back.

You just sit there like an idiot. Cursing yourself for not being more competent at this.

You're both out of breath when she finally breaks away. Still holdIng your head. Soft brown eyes refusing to look anywhere but at your own.

"I gave that camarero de mierda an earful." Julia huffs as she slides down beside you. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

Before you can answer, Themmy plops down on your other side. They don't say anything. They just take your hand between their own and hold it. Waiting for you to answer, you'd think.

"I got rid of it." A simple admission. Not entirely deceptive. "It was loud. Headache." You pull away from Anathema. Tuck your knees up to your chest and push your face into them until you're seeing stars.

"Where?" Even without looking, you know Julia's trying to puzzle out where the hell you put the infernal device. You felt her braid whip against your head as she swung her head.

Themmy spots it first. "You're supposed to toss change in their you know." You brace yourself as they lean against you. "Though maybe bigger offerings means bigger wishes?"

"I don't...?" Julia must still be looking around. The braid hits the front of you this time. "Oh!" There she goes. "Valya! You threw it in the pond!"

"Technically, it's a pool, not a pond." At least you can laugh about this. Expensive a stress response as it was. It's better than the running away from dinner thing. Maybe they won't bring that one up.

They both laugh at that. "So you tossed your phone in the drink." Themmy snickers. "Any other property destruction you wanna get out of your system before we go eat?"

You release your legs. Sit back up and lean your head back on the edge of the fountain. "I'm sure I can find plenty around here to eradicate while you two are gone."

"While we're gone?" Julia's face pokes into your vision as she leans over you. Not an unwelcome intrusion. Curious. Worried. Pretty.

"No. I'm uh. I'll wait here." You can't do anything about it, but you will the both of them to just get up and leave. "You guys go eat," you force a smile, "bring me some take-out or something."

"Absolutely not." Anathema is up now. Standing in front of you. Standing on your toes to be more accurate. Hands stretched out towards you, hoping to haul you up to join them. "We're all going, and there's no reason otherwise."

"I. Am. Not. Going." You spring up to your feet, sidestepping around Anathema. "I didn't think - I can't. I just. This was a stupid decision." You try to drag a hand through your hair, it's long enough at the top to do that now. But Julia excitedly dragged you along with her today, and the lady put so much gel in it that you may as well be wearing a helmet.

You wish you brought your cigarettes with you. Badly.

"I don't belong in there. Probably never will." It's fine. You are fine. "Go. Have a good time. I'm going to grab a pack of smokes at a gas station or something. I'll see you at home," you nod at Themmy. "And I'll see you tomorrow or something." To Julia this time.

"Valya, wait!" In a flash, Julia's in front of you. You hop up on the edge of the fountain to go around her. You don't feel like doing this right now. "Seriously, are you really just going to let one waiter ruin the whole night?"

You turn on her so fast that she has to take a step back. "It isn't just one waiter! You don't get it! You can't! Neither of you! You don't know what it's like to be. To be -" You gesture to your head. "This. You can't hear them. I can. I don't fit in. Not with you both. Or even one of you."

What are you thinking? Running head first into destroying the best thing ever happened to you.

Just rushing along the inevitable.

No time like the present. All dreams end when you wake up.

"We hold hands, and people think I'm a friend or a relative. We can't be together. Not like that. They think I need to quit before I humiliate myself. Don't shoot my shot. There isn't a chance." Even when looking at the three of you together in public, no one believes it. You get those thoughts and opinions first hand. Regular people don't worry about projecting. "And you're both very public figures. And you're smart, funny, charming, and -" Your head is turned away, but you try to sneak a look at them before smartening up. "Beautiful. I just. I don't want to fuck with your image. Public perception. It can't be good, being seen with someone so...." Final nail in your own coffin. Your chest is clenched so tight you think you may stop breathing. "Homely. I'm just some scruffy barista. I'm out of my league here."

"Are you done?" Anathema's voice breaks though the pounding in your head. You nod.

And then they're both hugging you. Tight. Warm.

"Sorry you have to put up with all that," Anathema speaks quietly, tightening their grip on you. "But you know that doesn't reflect our thoughts, right? C'mon Val, give us some credit here."

Julia nods. Kisses your cheek. "If anyone wants to say anything, you can just send them my way." Another kiss on the corner of your mouth. You can't help but smile. "I'll show them exactly what Charge thinks of their assumptions."

Themmy props themself up on their toes to kiss you this time. "You aren't holding anyone back or bring us down." They drop back down and take a step away, still holding your hand. Big grin plastered on their face. "And you're handsome as fuck, Valya. Give yourself some credit too."

"Thanks." What else can you say? You aren't. Aren't good at this. Learned behaviour you hope. But everything feels warm and safe and much nicer than five minutes prior. You can feel your entire body heating up as you blush.

"So," Julia steps away now, doing a little spin on her heal, showing off the skirt of her dress. "I'm starving, and it would be a shame to waste this," she fingers at the navy blue fabric. "So how about we head back?" Bright smile. No a trace of smugness.

"Sounds like a plan, Valya?" Themmy holds out their free hand to make a sweeping gesture back towards the road. Smiling. All of you. Just like that.

It's easy around them.

"Yeah. Ready." You link your arms with them both. Happy to be here. Nervous. Still unbearably nervous. But it's a work on progress, you suppose.

They make it worth the effort.

[i-heart-yellowstone]

5 - Ain’t Kids Anymore

Part 6

Raised Fair Share Of Hell

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close @kmc1989

“Faith, Faith, Faith!” I hollered from the porch searching for my daughter since I hadn’t seen her up this morning yet. Walking down the steps I went to the barn still calling her name, still not finding her in there. “Faith!”

“Faith, get away from the fence!” Whipping my head around at the different voice I recognized it belonged to Rip Wheeler, John's most loyal ranch hand. He was tugging her backwards away from it when a horse charged at it.

The horse that was in the fenced pen had just thrown John off into the dust. “Are you okay, grandpa?” Faith asked him.

“I'll be okay, Faithy Rae.” John groaned, popping his back when he walked up to the fence looking at Rip. “We need somebody else to break that horse in.”

Rip paused knowing just the one. “Jimmy's new here. He's the youngest and this guys got still got some fighting left in him.”

“Sounds Good “ John agreed.

I finally walked up to the group picking up my daughter in my arms and she laid her head in the crook of my neck. “What are y'all talking about over here?”

“Talking about who can run the shit out of that new horse - oh sorry.” Rip apologized remembering that a kid was in our conversation.

Faith lifted her head up from my chest. “Mommy, have you ever run the spirit out of a horse?”

“I have a couple of times and it’s no fun for your butt.” I told her simply.

John chuckled, bending his head down glancing at me. “Oh I’ve seen the last horse you broke in before you got pregnant and that escalated into something so much worse. I thought your father was gonna have your ass.”

“I remember that incident quite well, sir.” Rip chuckled at me.

Faith tugged on my shirt curious. “What happened, mommy?”

“Oh just some somewhat harmless fun is all. Back when you're mommy was a different person.” I explained to her thinking about the night all of us kids get our asses handed to us by our parents.

It was a clear evening on my parents ranch with Alana and I deciding to invite over the Dutton kids for some fun. Jamie and Beth had already gone off to college for the year so that just left Kayce, Lee, Alana and me. Rip was far too loyal to John Dutton to come participate in our midnight fun. Alana flings open the double barn doors and together we walked up to the newest horse that our father had bought. “This is gonna be so much fun.” She whispered to me, leading the horse out by the reins on its nose until we stood outside the barn doors.

“I can't believe you agreed to let me do this.” I admit to my older sister, sometimes thinking she would rat me out yet she had done nothing of the sort yet.

She blew a raspberry at me teasingly. “Should have more trust in me and besides daddy and mommy will be happy if this horse has been broken in by sunrise.”

“We can only hope. Did you tell Lee and Kayce about this?”

She snorted a laugh. “You think Kayce is gonna back out of anything when you're involved. Plus Lee surprisingly enjoys fun now and then.”

We began walking back towards one of the empty fields since we figured it was best they didn't hear what we were doing at midnight. Alana held onto the horse reins hearing rusdiling coming from the trees. I squinted my eyes trying to see into the darkness until a waving flashlight came into view. “Turn the flashlight off, Lee or we'll get caught for sure.” I heard Kayce say as the two brothers came out of the treeline and climbed over ome of our property fences.

“Sorry you know daddy had some raccoon traps laid out. Don't want to lose a foot in one of those.” Lee admitted to his youngest brother.

I finally chimed in tired of waiting on their chit chat. “Hey ladies, are you done so we can ride a wild horse?”

“Yeah let's go!” Kayce cheers, throwing his fists in the air.

Lee nudged him with his elbow. “Ladies first remember.”

“Okay, how about this. Me and Lee ride separately since we're old enough to. Then Lissa, you and Kayce ride together to make up the weight of being one person. We'll see who can stay on the longest before getting bucked off like if we were ridin’ a bull.” My sister explained and we all nodded our heads in agreement, backing away when she began climbing up on the horses saddle. She tool hold of the reins kicking him in the belly before he started throwing her around but she managed to stay on for about 20 minutes. The horse launched her off and I saw land on her back before Lee ran as fast as he could grabbing the reins so the horse halted.

Lee offered my sister his hand helping her up from the dirt. “Here, take my hand.” She placed her hands in his and he tugged her up to stand and she held the reins so he could climb on the horse.

“I’ll show you how we Dutton’s ride a wild horse.” Lee kicked it in the belly before the animal began kicking its legs back and forth doing everything it could to throw him off. Yet he was determined to stay on longer than my sister. It was a few seconds longer than hers before he managed to let go and jump off landing on his feet. “That’s how Dutton’s ride!”

Kayce looped my arm through his and we smirked at our siblings. I climbed up on the horse first and he got on behind me holding the reins with my hands underneath his own. “Let’s go! - Oh yeah - shit Kace.” Once kicking it in the belly the horse ran around in some circles bouncing me and Kayce up into the air but we didn’t dare let go of the reins.

Shifting my gaze up over the horse's mane I saw that he was charging his way straight for my parents fence. “Jump - you’ve gotta jump!” Lee and my sister hollered at the top of their lungs terrified.

“One, two - three.” Kayce countered down as we got super close to the fence before he wrapped his arms around my waist and he jumped taking me with him. I released my grasp on the reins tumbling around into the dust and once it cleared watched the wild horse burst right through the fence and kept running out onto the Dutton land.

Lee and my sister ran over to check and see if we were hurt. Kayce removed his arms from around my waist, dusting off his already dusty black Cowboy hat he always wore. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen at all.” I huffed, dropping my shoulders trying to catch my breath.

“That was one of the stupidest things I think I’ve ever done.” Lee admitted causing all of us to laugh alongside him.

I scanned the broken fence feeling a nervous pit in the bottom of my stomach. “How much trouble do you think we’ll be in tomorrow morning?” I got up to stand with the other three standing around me seeing the same thing I did.

“Royalty fucked.” Kayce uttered and I wished I could have laughed that off the next morning our parents found out what happened.

After I had put Faith to bed for the night I creeped down the stairs attempting to not wake anyone else up that was sleeping in the main house. Making my way over I laid down on the living room couch, closing my eyes to rest after a long day of work until I heard the front door creak open. “Who the hell is visiting this late at night?”

“Go up to the bedroom at the end of the hall on the left.” I heard Kaycee’s voice enter the large house but I saw Tate come inside before I saw him come in with a small duffel bag that he sat down by the front door, shutting it closed.

I waited until the young kid had made his way upstairs before I said a word to my husband crossing my arms over my chest wondering where he was for most of the day. “What is he doing here, Kayce? Is Monica with him too?”

“Monica’s - um.” He trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

I took a few steps toward the cowboy needing an answer even though I probably wasn’t going to like the answer. “Kayce, why is he here?”

“Monica got injured at the school she works at and she’s in the hospital.” He replied.

Covering my mouth with a hand I gasped feeling sorry for the young kid now. “Oh gosh, is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. She’s got a head injury and I couldn’t leave him in the hospital with her like that even though he didn’t want to leave her.” He shrugged his shoulders, removing his hat from his head.

I closed the gap between us wrapping my arms around his body and he wrapped his arms around me. He buried his face into my shoulder crying for a few minutes while I whispered into his hair. “It’s gonna be okay. She’ll be okay - Tate can stay until she gets better.” He mumbled a thank you and I sighed just holding him until he got better. Even when Monica and I had disagreements with each other I’d look out for her son as if he was my own.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[citrus-lamb]

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, can I request a poly sbg x fem gyaru reader who gets bullied by Barron and his friends? (Angst but a very fluffy ending) :3

a/n : yes ofc! i love the gyaru style and i used to be bullied a lot for what i wear so this was fun to write. it's not my best work but i did try! again, sorry if this is ooc, still trying to figure out the characters! I hope you enjoy!

song : kimagure mercy (hachioji p)

When the initial bullying came about, you toned down your look.

You didn’t remove it fully, as you really like the gyaru style and liked wearing it!

But you were also sick and tired of getting comments on your appearance.

It was making you hate yourself and what you liked.

However, the only comfort you found was this style.

It was an endless cycle.

Logan noticed first.

He had been bullied all his life, of course he noticed when you started looking in the mirror more, and hiding your face when taking photos.

He also noticed you shrunk when Barron came by or started talking.

He knew, and he asked you about it.

You brushed it off as nothing.

Soon after Ashlyn and Ben realized.

And then Taylor.

And then Tyler.

That’s when they confronted you about it.

Barron was pulling his usual shit again. He was making you feel terrible, making fun of your outfit, your makeup, all of it. It was subtle, so much so that the teacher didn’t notice. But you did, and so did the group. “Why are you letting him talk to you like that?” Tyler asked.

“What do you mean? It’s fine. I don’t care that much.” You said, brushing it off again.

This was the third time the group had tried to talk to you about it, but you said the same thing every time. “It’s not fine! It’s disrespectful and he needs to recognize it.”

“No, Tyler, it’s fine.” You said, trying to de-escalate the situation. “…Maybe there is something wrong with my style.”

“What? Don’t say that!” Other replies of disapproval came from the group.

“Yeah, your style is amazing!” Taylor said.

“I don’t know, I just…” You sighed, trying to collect your thoughts that had been running rampant for days now. It was like herding sheep without any proper tools. Eventually you got them all together, and started, “I feel like it doesn’t look good. Like, I love this style, I love wearing it and all that, but I don’t love it when people say that stuff, y’know?”

“But you like it.” Aiden said, very matter-a-fact, “So you should keep wearing it. Plus, it looks great on you!”

A light smile decorated your face. “I guess your right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m always right.” He said proudly, hands on his hips. Ashlyn and Tyler snorted in unison at his comment, “Hey!”

After school you guys went to Ashlyn’s house and cuddled <3

[creedslove]

YOU’RE SO SWEET I SWEAR😭😭 don’t worry if it takes time, take all the time you need ❤️❤️🫶🏻 I was thinking maybe some angsty angst where Javier and reader are married, they got married when they were younger and like reader is pretty much younger than him (don’t worry if you don’t want to add this age gap particular) and they are like on a rough patch right now (if you want reader’s age might be one of the problem, like they’ve fought and he called her immature) and I don’t know this might be a prompt then you can decide if giving them a happy ending where they like work it out or (we want to hurt) giving them a no happy ending where they divorce or something like that. Sorry if it’s maybe too specific feel free to do whatever you want with it and change it however you please and add whatever you like🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 love u love u ❤️❤️

Javier Peña x f!reader

A/N: lovely, my darling 💕

• Marriages are hard; and you learned that the hard way: by being in a constant spiral of fights and arguments with your husband Javier

• if someone had told you you two would be fighting like cats and dogs, you would've laughed at their faces, but now? it was like you didn't even recognized him anymore

• perhaps it was because you two got married too early, or maybe too fast, you didn't know... but at the time it felt so impossible to resist and stay away from each other

• it was like you needed him around and he needed you too, you were inseparable and you couldn't stay away from each other

• so you tied the knot and lived a pretty long and satisfying honeymoon phase until you realized marriages were... hard

• Javier was a prince... whenever he wasn't too caught up at work, because then nothing existed but his duty

• he knew he shouldn't be like that, he knew that work wasn't everything at all, but he was like that, and you knew about it before you got married so he figured you would have to accept it

• but you on the other hand, weren't happy about it at all... all you wanted was more attention from your husband, perhaps he could take you on a date like he did before

• but Javi was exhausted, he was mentally, physically drained and he didn't have energy to engage in things he usually did and that reflected on your marriage

• you began feeling unnerving when you realized Javi didn't even touch you anymore and that had nothing to do with the desire he felt for you, it was just because he was so tired all the time

• but you didn't know that and it made you get insecure about yourself at first and then about your relationship

• it all escalated to one night when you climbed his lap and tried kissing him but he asked you to stop because he wasn't in the mood and suddenly you two were arguing like you'd never done it before

"The problem is that you are fucking too immature!!"

"Yeah? What am I supposed to think? You used to be a manwhore, after prostitutes all the time and now you don't even touch your wife anymore?"

• and after that, judging by the deafening silence spread around the room you knew you had said the wrong thing, but it was too late to take it back

"That's all you think of me, right?"

• and with that Javier left the house, slamming the door behind him, needing to calm down the anger

• and you cried yourself to sleep, not knowing where your marriage was going

____

[crazyintheeast]

As someone who has studied politics on an university level and has a bit more indepth knowledge there is something you need to understand. Israel just like USA, France, Russia, Britain and any other colonial power has always had a foreign policy of pure evil and mass murder. The reason why Israel escalated beyond passive massacres is simple. Trump. Why Trump? Because Trump is the FIRST US PRESIDENT to submit to Israel's demands and recognize Jersalem as Israel's capital. This was something huge, no US president in history has ever been his servile to Israel. It gave them the green flag to do whatever they wanted So why did they start their active genocide under Biden ? Simple. They needed an excuse and that came under the form of October 7. And no it's a conspiracy to acknwoledge that they obviously let it happen. Not when Israel has one of the best intelligence networks in the world and the terrorist act was so wide spread. And yes this is further confirmed by reliable reports even in otherwhise extremly pro Israel media that they knew

So what does this mean? Israel will not end it's genocide until the election because they are deeply invested in getting Trump back to power and undermining Biden. So nothing he will do will make Israel stop. It doesn't matter if he stops the arms shipment Israel will continue. Eve if he tries to put sanctions on them which will never ever happen because it goes against USA's benefits Israel will continue because they hope for Trump and know that even if they lose short term USA will still support them long term. After all don't forget that Israel blew up an USA warship killing hudnreds of US soldiers and it only got a slap on the wrists So what can we expect? Israel HEAVILY relies on emotional liberals who will refuse to vote or throw away their votes on a third party and they will do anything to make this happen. So the closer we are to elections the more massacres they will commit. And the worst will probably come in the week of the elections where they will most likely targets children and women to give you enoug trauma to keep you from voting. Does this mean you shouldn't crticize Biden or push for a pro Palestine policy. No it just means that if you fall for the propaganda and don't vote it will get much much worse Because right now if Trump wins do you know what will happen? With his blessing not only will Israel continue the genocide but they will start MASSIVE colonisation. We are talking hundreds of thousands of settler being sent to steal as much land as possible in the next four years If Kamala wins....well most likely there will be some shadow talks. USA won't go publicly against Israel but in private Kamala will make it clear that this won't go on. What hostages survived Israel's bombimngs will be returned and in turn Israel will declare that they won and retreat. It won't be justice , it won't be nearly enough but at least Israel will be killing dozens of Palestianians per year instead of tens of thousands So yeah I know it's deprssing but tha's how it is. So you have to chose. Will you follow Israel's plan and throw your vote away leading to eve greater suffering udner Trump or wll you vote for Kamala and try to minimise the suffering as much as possible

[calliethetrekkie]

Triumvirate Prompts: Day 6

(Prompts Link)

#6. Favorite romantic duo?

Well, this one's easy.

I was really close to using McKirk for this one since not counting AOS, is so underrated and unrecognized by the fandom, it hurts. But I gotta be honest with myself here... and it's Spones. Mainly TOS Spones, I like AOS Spones too but TOS is the main one for me. When I started TOS back in January 2021, I was almost positive that I was going to get into Sprik just because everyone talked about how they were soulmates and t'hy'la and all that. But then McCoy became my favorite character and I began paying more attention to his relationships and of all of then, Spones was the one that stood out for me.

I sometimes have a very frosty relationship with the 'opposites attract' trope. When it's done wrong, it can be messy, and I just ask myself 'why do these people who clearly argue all the time even want to be together'. But Spones? It gets it right. They bicker. They have different views and beliefs. Neither one will shy away from speaking it either, to the point that I swear they do it just to get a rise out of the other. McCoy can be an asshole to Spock and his Vulcan mindset, while Spock can be a condescending asshole to McCoy and his intellect/occupation. It can be so easy for someone who doesn't know better to look at them and, as the one guy in Bread and Circuses did, wonder if they're enemies more than friends.

But that's the thing. They are so, SO much more than that. Do they argue? Yes. Can it escalate from bickering to more heated? Sure, it's bound to happen every so often. Can they be disrespectful of one another when pushed? Absolutely. But I never felt like one was bullying the other or went over the line. They both push. They both shove. They are both willing to engage in their back and forth, and I think they honestly enjoy it. They like having that opposite yet equal person to debate with. They know of the intelligence and capabilities of the other and do respect and recognize that. It's not always obvious, but it's there.

But most of all, they are friends. If you insult one of them, the other will stand up for them. If you hurt one of them, the other will defend them. If something is wrong with one of them then, even if it's indirectly, the other will go to any length to care for them. They suck at communicating most of the time, but their affection for one another is so clear, especially as you watch the series and the films and see how it evolves.

I was starting to ship them the more I continued the first watch of TOS, but I was kind of afraid to commit to it. Mainly due to some recent experiences with other stuff that made me reluctant to get majorly involved in fandom again. I also knew how some felt about their relationship and that made me worried about shipping, something that may be problematic...

Then All Our Yesterdays happened.

Yes, I know how freakin' weird it is that of all the episodes, this was the one that convinced me to give in to the ship. But... I don't know. After watching all the other episodes, to see Spock refusing to leave McCoy, how that care for him still comes through despite his mental state slowly unraveling, the extent McCoy went and risking his own neck (literally) just to get Spock to listen to reason. And, of course, how the only way for them to be able to go home is if they go together, or not at all. Like... how does it get any heavier than that? Seeing that and the theme of Spock and McCoy needing to be together and add that to when I got to the movies where Spock entrusts McCoy with his freakin' soul and... yeah. There was no turning back after all of that. I searched out just about every bit of Spones content I could find, and thus here we are.

By all accounts, I should have been turned away from this pairing. But I wasn't. I love their bickering. I love their growing friendship. I love the mutual trust that they have. I love their devotion to Jim. I love how for all their complaining, they will always have the other's back. I love how they can push each other in a way that no one else can, yet also pull each other back. They mean so much to each other and whenever I read them getting together in fanworks, them finally allowing themselves to be honest with themselves and finally allow each other in, it's beautiful. Their intimacy with one another is just... gosh it just always makes me smile~

So yeah, what else is there to say? Spones is an amazing ship and I absolutely love it. I'll probably blab more on this blog later, as I have been for the past 2+ years now. And I have no plans of slowing down~!

[knickknacksandallthat]

what did Jeremy say to the foxes and Wymack when he was guilt tripping them about not knowing how bad Kevin was doing? Neil said something about it in the second to last chapter

So my first thought was just to say it was something shamelessly guilt-inducing and brutally honest in the kindest way possible - you know, the Jeremy Knox way. But then I thought, nah. We can do better than that.

So here you go, anon. A little drabble I whipped up to give us that brief glimpse into the wonderful Jeremy Knox's mind.

Spoilers for the Dead of the Night fic under the cut. Read at your own risk!

Jeremy Knox is having a moment. 

It’s a convoluted moment, punctuated by jet lag, confusion, antagonism, and noise, but it’s a moment, nonetheless. 

Because at the core of all this chaos is Kevin. 

Kevin, who’s bruised everywhere Jeremy looks.  Kevin, who is now apparently living alone on an entirely different floor from the Foxes and didn’t tell them.  Kevin, who no one has seen since last Tuesday.

Kevin, whose gaze is far away, his spine curved, and his eyes shadowed.

Kevin, whose proud spirit seems nearly broken.

Guilt, shock, and shame wrap tightly around Jeremy’s throat as he stands in the PSU dorm doorway and sees just how much his friend is hurting.  He’s gutted by the realization that despite all their conversations, despite every single cry for help Kevin gave, none of them saw it.  None of them saw how much he needed it – and that includes Jean and Jeremy. 

The urge to rush forward and soothe, to make this better, to make this right, is nearly overwhelming.  It’s only due to the escalating conversation in the hallway (with the very real threat of violence) that he isn’t in there already. 

Because, unlike Jeremy, Jean holds nothing back.  No, Jeremy watches with unabashed pride and immense satisfaction as Jean reams out the group of Foxes before him.  His own anger is there, of course, simmering beneath the surface, but it doesn’t hold a candle to Jean’s passionate onslaught.

It had taken Jeremy months to get any kind of emotion to appear on the backliner’s face when he arrived at USC.  To see him now in all his righteous glory, spewing vitriol in defense of his friend, is nearly music to his ears. 

But although his boyfriend is 100% vindicated in his criticisms, Jeremy can tell this approach isn’t working.  No, the Foxes rise to the challenge with snarling repartee, too used to having to defend themselves.  Too used to always being the ones given the blame, whether they deserved it or not.  It shifts the focus of the conversation away from Kevin and back to themselves, which isn’t the point.

The point is that Kevin is the one who was hurt.  The point is that no one was able to recognize it.  And while Jeremy will give Jean and himself a small pass for being over 3,000 miles away, his teammates have been here all along.  They’ve seen Kevin every day. 

The point is this never should have happened.

So, he’s almost relieved when Jean goes to Kevin, cutting the conversation off at its knees.  Because it gives Jeremy an opening – and that slight pause is all he needs. 

In the silence that follows the crisp sound of the door slamming shut, Jeremy takes a deep breath and releases it on a sigh. 

Wymack takes the bait.  “Knox?  Got something to say?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m just…”  He deliberately pauses, then continues, “…I guess I’m just disappointed.” 

“Disappointed?” Aaron echoes.  Then he bristles and says, “Like we give a fuck how you feel!”

Jeremy nods.  “Yeah, no, I get it, but…if I’m disappointed, well…” He gives a disheartened shrug.  “…I can only imagine how Kevin must feel right now.”

He’s pleased to see three sets of shoulders immediately rise.

“Um,” Cross, the new freshman goalie, wrings her hands in front of her.

Matt winces.

“What do you mean?” Nicky asks, face dropping. 

“I don’t know,” Jeremy shrugs again, very coolly playing into the act.  “It’s just with everything Kevin has said about you guys I guess I thought you were closer, is all.”

“Closer,” Aaron repeats again, clearly skeptical.  “Meaning what?”

“Well, if you were closer, I would’ve thought you’d at least check in on him.”

This time he knows he hits a nerve.  The glare Neil gives Jeremy could probably melt ice. 

“We did check,” the redhead snaps.  “Andrew and I did.”

“Oh really?” Jeremy asks.  “When?”

The silence he gets in reply speaks volumes.

“Did he – was he like that when you two saw him?” Wymack asks now, doing some of Jeremy’s work for him. 

Neil’s jaw clenches.  “He didn’t let us inside.”

“And you just accepted that?” Nicky accuses.  “Seriously?  Both of you know how to pick locks!”

Andrew surprisingly speaks up.  “He did not want us to come in, so we didn’t.”

“And since when do you do what people want?” Aaron snarls. 

The heavy vibe that follows tells Jeremy that there’s some serious baggage between the twins.  He brushes the weird power dynamics aside, though, getting the focus of the conversation back on Kevin before it can derail.

“But he said he was sick, so…surely, as Captain, you came back, right Neil?  To check on him again? Kevin always says you take such great care of the team.”

Neil’s hand clenches into a fist at his side.  “I told him to text us.”

“Ah,” Jeremy nods.  “So, you probably thought that if not you, then perhaps he reached out to one of your teammates instead then, right?  That makes sense.  One of the Trojans always volunteers to check on any teammates who say they aren’t feeling well, just in case they need something.”  He spins back toward Aaron.  “Oh!  Maybe you brought him something instead?  Kevin said you’re studying to be a doctor.”

Aaron’s face pales before flushing red in anger.  He casts his gaze to the side. 

“No?  What about any of you?  Did anyone else think to see how he was doing?”

The other Foxes remain quiet.

Again, Jeremy heaves out a sigh.  “Look, I was always so impressed with how this team seemed to rally around one another, despite all the hardships and tough backgrounds you came from.  Kevin made it sound like you guys had almost become a family.”  He pauses then continues, “But family doesn’t leave each other on their own when the going gets tough.  Family sticks by each other, no matter how uncomfortable the situation gets.” 

He looks over at Neil.  “Kevin kept your secret and trained you every night, regardless of the fact that you both thought your time on the court was limited.  He wants you to be Court someday and knows you’ll get there.” 

He turns to Andrew.  “He still believes in you, no matter how much you ignore him and purposefully set him off.  He tells us all the time how he knows you’ll be one of the greatest goalies in the history of Exy.” 

He turns back to Aaron.  “Kevin stuck by you throughout the trial and never treated you differently, never shunned you or singled you out.  He even made public declarations of your innocence to the media and how he was just waiting for them to give you an innocent verdict.”

He turns back to the rest of them.  “My point is Kevin gives everything to this team.  Whether you like it or not, you know it’s true.  It’s what he’s been taught – to dedicate himself fully.  It’s the only way he knows how to be.  And however you guys react to that now has solidified the way he thinks he should be treated.  Because now is so much better than how he was treated at the Nest that of course whatever you guys say must be true.  Because he has nothing else to compare it with.”

He looks at the dorm door.  “Kevin gives 1000% to his team because he cares.”  He pauses, then turns back to face them.  “I guess I hope that next time, he finds a team who cares about him just as much.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows.  The Foxes stare back at him with faces that are sober, angry, and haunted.  He can actually see Nicky's eyes watering, though he has yet to shed a tear.

After a few more seconds of this, Aaron huffs and marches away.  Nicky follows him.

Slowly, with hunched shoulders and averted eyes, Matt and Robin follow.

Only Abby, Wymack, Neil, and Andrew remain, the latter two staring at Jeremy with an intensity that would be terrifying if he wasn’t still riding on the high of his anger.

Finally, Abby clears her throat.  “Do you and Jean have somewhere to stay?  You’re welcome to the guest room at my house if you need it.”

Jeremy shakes his head.  “Thank you for the offer, but we booked a hotel room off-campus before we got here.”

“You’ll be staying then?” Wymack asks gruffly.

“We have a bye week.”

Wymack grunts in acknowledgment.  “I’ll talk to Kevin’s professors.  Explain the situation.”

“Thank you,” Jeremy nods.  “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

Wymack makes some kind of noise in the back of his throat that Jeremy assumes to be agreement.

He hesitates, wondering how far he should stick his nose into other people’s business before he thinks fuck it, and says, “And sir, you may be his Coach, but just remember you’re his father too.  I don’t think you realize how much your words affect him.”

Wymack straightens his spine and looks Jeremy in the eye.

Jeremy stares calmly back.

Then Wymack nods.  “Point taken, son.”

Jeremy dips his head in reply.

“But just you know, captain,” the coach continues, “The Foxes do care about Kevin.  Our way of showing it might not be what you’re used to, but we do care.”  He jerks his head toward the door.  “This one’s on us.  We won’t let it happen again.”

“You don’t have to tell me, sir,” Jeremy says solemnly.  “But Kevin deserves to know.”

Wymack nods. 

Jeremy pulls out his phone, but there’s no word from Jean.  It seems like it may be a while still before he gets Kevin calmed down. 

Jeremy bites his lip, then makes a decision.  “I’m going shopping,” he announces.  “To grab some things for Kevin.”

To his surprise, Neil immediately replies, “I’ll come with you.”

Jeremy looks at him.

“You don’t know what brands he’ll eat,” Neil says pointedly, eyes digging into Jeremy before he turns and starts walking down the hall.

Andrew immediately straightens and says, “I’m driving.”  The look he gives Jeremy dares him to argue.

Jeremy bites his lip hard against a smile.  “Sounds good.”

Then he follows the two deadliest Foxes down the hall and tries not to get too excited about going for his first spin in the infamous Maserati.

[connisk]

(Fanfic that I really like by @kitsunefyuu )(strongly recommend)

Something about this mental image of AFO dressing izuku in fancy clothes, like very dear doll, just stuck with me. And I felt like drawing a few of the more feminine outfits since every one of them has some kind of meaning to the story.

The first more feminine outfit was the one izuku chose specifically when he tried to convince his father to let him go to UA.

"Dad, I want to go back to a real school and make actual friends," Izuku spoke bluntly. Trying his damn hardest to keep himself calm as he asks, and had even prepared himself with his dads favorite outfit. It was a traditional green Hanfu dress with flowers. More than aware it is for women, but it isn't as if it matters in a home where the only company he's allowed is his father.

Absolutely creepy, but in sweet way. As he doesn't care about what he supposed to be wearing and enjoys everything, but at the same time trying to persuade his father to what he wants with it.

The second outfit I drew was the black dress he wore when he accidentally met his childhood friend. And it escalated quickly to the worst

Maybe Izuku was desperate for some kind of recognition. To gather a fraction of the past that his father took him away from after all these years. That he dug far back to that nickname he hated even if didn’t want to say that name as Kacchan was about to leave, “How about Deku?”

Now that seemed to trigger something and a curiously amused expression showed on Bakugou’s face. The recognition sparked in his eyes as a loud hum escaped him.

“Oh yeah! Deku must explain why you look like a weird doll,” Katsuki said with amusement.

Izuku felt a stab in his chest at the other words.

This happened right after izuku ran away from his dinner with his father. Naturally he was wearing a dress. I can't find the exact quote but I remember it being described as dress with a ribbon. Maybe it was just my imagination, but izuku wearing a dress and looks like a doll, Plus kachan recognizing him by his old nickname just felt very symbolic. Like Deku will never be more than just a doll for others.

The last image, and the one I liked the most was izuku wearing his school uniform.

"Dad! Can you grab me my uniform!?"

(...)

Izuku doesn't even check what the man brought feeling pretty good right now. Though clearly, he was going to end up late so he just throws it on.

(...)

"Sorry he's just- Well he's excited I have a friend," Izuku noted only to realize Shoto was looking at him up and down. "What? Is something wrong?" Ugh, did he not put on enough makeup? Did he put the uniform on and mess up his hair? Izuku felt nervous at his friend's suddenly very critical gaze wondering if he needs to run back home to fix up-

"You look nice,"

(...)

Though when he arrived at the school Izuku felt like he was getting a LOT more looks than normal. To the point if he was honest he kind of felt almost anxious about it as while attention can be nice it felt more like they were weirded out. Wondering why that is the case, he worked hard on his appearance! Even Shoto said he looked nice, did he miss something? "Hey do I look weird?" Izuku questioned wondering why people were staring knowing his friend would be honest. Shoto glanced around a bit then back at him in confusion before a light bulb seemed to register. Those eyes light up as he finally decides to answer the question.

"Probably because you're wearing the girl uniform?" Shoto questioned. As if he hadn't just revealed the most horrifying thing Izuku could have done. The innocent way his best friend didn't even think to point out the uniform was for a girl.

The betrayal izuku felt. For his father it was simply a joke. For izuku it was world shattering. How he took izuku's trust and played with it.

Shoto, with his pure heart didn't question it.

I reason chose to give izuku white hair even when he supposed to still have his green is because he's under his father's manipulation. From the moment his mother died his father was everything to him and he was everything for hisashi.

And still, he plays with izuku's life like he's some kind of doll. Just because he doesn't see a problem with it. But for izuku it affects everything.

[doiefy]

fuck it, why not, nct 127 as engineering students

it's midterm season and i needed smth fun to do lmao. partially inspired by dumb shit i’ve seen/done

taeil: social butterfly exchange student studying something super obscure like petroleum or mineral engineering. on his first day of school (after getting run over by a roomba), he made up some stupid lie about his home country in an effort to appear more interesting. shit escalated, the lies continued, and now four years later he’s sir moony dal tae-1-methyl-cyclohexane-il from the glorious country of kwangya on planet mars. he’s actually from korea.

johnny: biomedical engineering student who will literally never shut the fuck up about going to med school. drinks redbull for breakfast, lunch and dinner. brushes his teeth with redbull. puts redbull in his diffuser. smokes redbull. did i mention he’s drinking redbull right now so he can stay up studying for the mcat? and that he’s trying to get into med school? in all seriousness he’d be a great doctor. but he’d also prescribe redbull.

taeyong: overworked mom friend studying electrical engineering. in a perpetual state of panic, sleep deprivation and electrocution; but he always has essentials on hand for his kids. be it bandaids, tampons or condoms, all you have to do is ask. oh also he modifies roombas to chase people down hallways while singing the thomas the tank engine theme song. he’s like michael reeves but giggly and with good intentions.

yuta: part time chemical engineering student, full time drug dealer. accepted his offer to the program because he watched one episode of breaking bad while stoned out of his mind, so it's all over for you when he figures out how to cook meth in the lab. the only issue right now? yeah he failed the lab safety training like six times and thought hydrofluoric acid was edible. he's not allowed into any undergraduate lab, much less onto campus at all. yeah he got expelled.

doyoung: obnoxious industrial engineering student. won't shut up about optimization and how his very optimized schedule has allowed him to maintain a 4.20 gpa, do 50+ extracurriculars and get multiple bitches. eventually his extensive spreadsheets creep out every girl he gets with and he has a crisis over his sexuality. gets suspended for public indecency with jaehyun two days before graduation.

jaehyun: goes into civil engineering thinking he can convince everyone he's straight by working with straight members and supports in infrastructure. resident hetero fuck boy up until he learns about bending moments in his second week of school, at which point he comes out. often struggles to finish exams because he's too busy thinking about how the pipe or beam he's analyzing looks too much like a penis.

jungwoo: the nicest mechanical engineering student you'll ever meet. is so sweet and innocent that people are constantly mistaking him for a freshman. mentors younger years, has the most cracked linkedin, brings coffee and donuts to class, generally just a good guy. oh, and the guy who looks exactly like him, who gets fucking hammered at every event and once did a line off a portrait of Isaac Newton? pfft nah that's not jungwoo. no way.

mark: aerospace major and music minor, but he spends so much time in the music faculty that no one believes him when he says he's in engineering. makes a "it's not rocket science" joke at least once in every conversation. probably giggling like a fucking buffoon in the back of a class, so loud that you can hear him in lecture recordings. he also can't go anywhere without recognizing 30 people and fist bumping all of them in turn like "brooooooo."

haechan: stinky computer engineering student who only ever wears the same two hoodies in slightly different shades of grey and considers walking in the rain to be an acceptable substitute for showering. claims he's grinding league and valorant during exam week so people underestimate him. everyone's surprised when they find out he's been on the dean's list since year one AND knows how to do laundry. again his laundry is two hoodies in slightly different shades of grey.

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Cluemaster: Hey, bro, I know I never call...

Kiteman: You did drunk call me that one time.

Cluemaster: I already said I was sorry for spreading around that you were in love with your kite and calling you to brag about it. As you said I was hella drunk and angry your weird ass podcast somehow now has the same level of fans as my old gameshow. Who the fuck cares that much about kites? Or C list vilany?

Kiteman: Did you just call to remind me why I hate you?

Cluemaster: Of course not, Chucky boy, your my favorite lil bro.

Kiteman: Arthur... I'm your only brother.

Cluemaster: Yeah? You're still my favorite.

Kiteman: Okay. Fine. What do you want?

Cluemaster: You're good with kids right?

Kiteman: Oh do you want me to babysit little Steph? I haven't see her since she was a baby! That'll be soo much fun!

Cluemaster: Oh, no, no. She is too old for a babysitter. I kindda called 'cause I need your advice.

Kiteman: Sure. Go on.

Cluemaster: How would you stop a prank war between your teen daugther and your bussiness partner that happens to be living at your house?

Kiteman: Woah. Define prank war?

Cluemaster: Like they just being annoying with each other... like non-stop Shrek music and painting one of her walls green?

Kiteman: Are you working with a child, Artie?

Cluemaster: No. Childrem are not really good at puzzle robberies.

Kiteman: So who the hell is in a prank war with your fourteen year old daugther? Is it that Polka Dot weirdo?

Cluemaster: ... Riddler.

Kiteman: Be honest, Arthur.

Cluemaster: I am!

Kiteman: Why the fuck would he work with you? Didn't he like was brought on to one of your trials and tried to sue you for being a copycat?

Cluemaster: No idea. I don't really remember all my trials.

Kiteman: Fair. Still isn't he like an actual treat? Like Batman actually tries to be always involved in his crimes instead of just sending a Robin or a cop kindda treat? Or hangs out with Cooblepot and Harley Quinn and fucking Catwoman and even Scarecrow and Joker kindda treat?

Cluemaster: Yes, so what?

Kiteman: He is waaay above your league. How the fuck do you got him to work with you?

Cluemaster: He is working for me because he recognizes my genius.

Kiteman: *sarcasm* Yeah, sure. At least it explains why I've been hearing that your plans don't totally suck anymore.

Cluemaster: Will you help me or not?

Kiteman: Anything for little Steph. But seriusly bro, the guy is a mentally instable killer, he is real Arkham loonie, A-lister and all this shit are you sure is safe to have him living with you? Specially if he and Stephanie are fighting!? She is just a kid! What if this prank war thing escalates and next thing she is in saw type death trap or something?

Cluemaster: Well than help me not to! I can't just kick him out, do you know how much I've been proffiting later?

Kiteman: And also he is an instable killer that used to hate you and wouldn't react well to being kicked out?

Cluemaster: Yeah, this too. Look I think you're overestimating the guy. He is smart and all and he can take a punch but I could take him out real easy in a one on one. He screamed like a little girl when he found a roach in the kitchem. I think I'll be fine.

Kiteman: Sure, you do you.... Maybe.... you could just.... help them find something they have in common? A TV show they like or something. It used yo work with us. They will bond over the thing and forget they hate each other for a bit.

Cluemaster: See was it that hard to help me?

*Chuck hangs up*

[Three months later]

Cluemaster: Chuck! I need help!

Kiteman: Can you call in another time? I'm bowlling with the guys, Calendar Man and Condiment King cannot win a second time, one weird rap about their love conquering all was ENOUGHT.

Cluemaster: Is about the whole prank war between Nygma and Stephanie thing.

Kiteman: Oh. So I guess my advice didn't work.

Cluemaster: No, no, it did. It worked way to well actually.

Kiteman: *worried* That sounds bad.

Cluemaster: Yeah... it happened that the thing they had in common was that they really hate me.

[spctrsgf]

evenings

summary: when life winds you up, you can always count on a certain man to bring you back down to the ground.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: language, like one innuendo, santi being snarky and then a lovesick bastard because COME ON that’s him

a/n: this is my first time writing for santi (im hella nervous but oh well) and i'm glad to start it off with pure self indulgent FLUFF

You shuffled into your apartment, tired and about ready to fall face first into your bed. Still, you managed to stumble through your usual routine of locking the door, Santi’s tendencies rubbing off on you. You turned the door lock as well as slid in the chain that was bolted into the wall, heading over to the windows to shut the curtains. Only when you felt you weren’t being watched did you relax, bustling through pulling off your shoes and putting away your stuff with a tired sort of drawl in your step.

You wandered into the kitchen to make your favorite warm beverage, humming softly to a song you’d heard on the way home. The darkness of the apartment was a welcome one as you cupped the warm mug with your cold hands, the couch looking increasingly appealing. You plopped down onto it with a sigh, leaning back into the cushions. As you closed your eyes, an arm wrapped around your shoulders and yanked you towards its owner.

You were on autopilot. You slammed your elbow into their body, eliciting an oof from the person as you scrambled up and to the light switch. The warm white bulbs showered the room in light, and your scowl faded as you recognized his brown curls and wide caramel eyes.

Santi.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding, becoming flustered quickly when you remembered you’d elbowed the man hard in the chest. You rushed over to him, hands flying around him as you were unsure on how to help. “Are you alright?” You questioned, voice timid. “Do I-” he tucked his knees up into his chest. “Do I look okay to you?”

“Shit, Santi,” Your worries escalated exponentially at his slightly snippy tone. “I’m so sorry. I thought no one was home and it’s been a long day– I’m sorry–”

“Relax,” he smiled softly at you, yet it was laced with pain. “I’ll be okay.”

You scoffed, eyebrows knit in guilt.

“In a few seconds.”

Your eyes closed dramatically in shame. “I’m so sor–”

“If you say sorry one more time, I am actually going to hurl something at you.”

“Please don’t.”

Santi grinned, a real one. “Then stop apologizing.”

“But it’s my fault-”

“No. Apologizing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why were you even hiding in the dark anyways? You know I spook easily.”

“Well, hiding is half the fun! Plus, I wanted to surprise you.”

“Yeah, good going on that one.”

“C’mon, it was kind of funny.”

“For you!” You screeched. “Not for me!”

“Jeez, fine! No need to be such a party pooper.”

“Santiago,” You growled. “Do not test my patience right now.”

“Why?” He tilted his head. “Long day?”

Your eyes fell from his and you hid your face behind your mug, suddenly embarrassed at his correct guess.

“Hey,” He got up from the couch, pushing the mug away from your face. “Why are you pretending that you can hide behind that?”

“I’m not.”

“Mhm, okay, very believable. I’ll ask again though. Long day?”

You nodded. “As per usual, sadly, but it was just like the last brick before the stack toppled.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“What do you wanna do?”

You shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Netflix and chill?” His lips curled into a smirk.

You grinned back at him. “Maybe not.”

“Just Netflix then?”

“How about Disney+?” You called behind you as you made your way to the kitchen, Santi hot on your heels.

“We are not watching the Star Wars sequels again.”

You groaned, head still inside the cupboard as you searched further. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t handle you dying every time that pilot dude comes on the screen.”

“Oh, come on,” you shut the cupboard, placing your found item into the microwave. “Poe is amazing. What’s not to love?”

“I can list several things.” He grumbled.

“Please. He’s hot and he reminds me of you.”

“I’m honored, but still,” You jumped slightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Spare me, would ya?”

“You do know that you say that every time and yet we always end up watching Star Wars, right?”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

You turned in his grip, tangling your fingers in his hair. “What do you want to watch?”

He shrugged.

“That’s not an answer, Santi. Either you tell me or we watch Star Wars again.”

“Can we watch the original trilogy, at least?” The said man questioned.

You nodded with a smile. “Sure.”

Before Santi could respond, the microwave rang and you, much to your dismay, had to free yourself from his grip. You nudged his arm, but he didn’t let down nor go with you as you tried to move. You glared at your boyfriend as you grabbed his arms and tried to move again, this time with more force. “Let me go grab the popcorn–” You squealed as Santi lifted you effortlessly onto the countertop, placing a hand on your chest to halt your move to jump off. “Stay here,” he rounded the countertop, eyes still on your form. “I got it.”

“C’mon, that was supposed to be a gift for you.”

“Well, now it’s a gift from me.” He poured the popcorn into a bowl and ventured over to the couch, grabbing you on the way.

You let him pull you with a smile, let him snuggle you into his chest as he reached for the remote. The sigh that left your mouth was a happy one as you let your body relax into Santi’s warm embrace, finally content for the first time in a while. You marveled at the sheer comfort that he could make you feel, how just seeing him made you remember why you were still hanging on. So, as the movie started on the screen, you were able to focus on it instead of what was happening around you.

From above, Santi beamed down at you, placing a kiss onto the top of your head. He could feel it; the relaxation of your tense muscles as he came into view, the way you curled further into him despite all the luscious space on the sofa. He couldn’t have been more proud of himself for how safe you felt around him, the fact that he had managed to find someone who loved him as much as he loved them.

So, he let himself sink into you as well, throwing his arm over your shoulders and pressing your face further into his chest, towards the heart that beat solely for you. “I love you.” He whispered out into the darkness.

You smiled. “I know.”

[quirkthieves]

👫+ monoma & kiri / kaiba & marik / ishizu

this has to be under a cut i got out of hand

ISHIZU & KAIBA

i think the moment she met him she went into older sister mode. not out of like, a need to baby him or whatever its actually the opposite he is so machiavellian and uppity and willing to escalate a situation that she was just like right yeah this is exactly how marik is. hes at that age, where boys like to blow up buildings in death matches.

for the aforementioned reason i think thats also why he gets to see a slightly more impish side to her she doesnt really share often. the banter is dry and fast she has said "skill issue" to him at least once and she absolutely does stunt on him whenever she manages to even slightly best him in anything. shes rambling about predynastic art and taking forever to get to her point on purpose. and when i think he and her are an absolute menace to joey like his va and her va did a duel once in character and she was murdering him verbally. at one point they were talking about the north american tournament and joey was like "yeah they wouldnt let me enter cuz my decks got banned cards in it" and shes like "joey if you entered even with your current deck you wouldnt win" and he was like "what? why do you say that? did your necklace tell you that?" and she said "no, I just used common sense." . i could feel her and kaiba high fiving on that one i saw it so clearly

also i really like how in battle city we see that like, especially after their duel and as the marik v yugi fight looms ever closer that she and kaiba genuinely talk strategy on the side. she and him are standing on opposite sides of the ring than yugis gang, like, given her whole thing you think shed be kicking it with them but now she and kaiba are gossiping and speculating and i think that shows that he genuinely respects her skill as a duelist even if he thought the fate stuff was bullshit. he knows her meta game was crazy real recognizes real.

theyre gonna have a really, really long talk after dsod.

MARIK & KAIBA

as above i think the two of them are very similar and i think that pisses them both off. they absolutely refuse to acknowledge it like if you said that theyd snort with derision and be like im nothing like him [insert snide remark here] but thats exactly what i mean. for that reason you cannot just leave them to their own devices together its going to get ugly, or if they have a mutual enemy, felonious. both of them designed Saw Games for yugi.

that being said i do think they should be on a podcast together to talk about like, duel monsters news and commentate on tournaments and stuff like the one-liners would be VICIOUSSSSSSSS . it would be like a frenemies situation i think.

he still feels. REALLY bad about the whole "maiming if not murdering" some of the medical staff on the battle city blimp and he has like, no idea how to broach that topic like if he should send a gift basket or apology text or what so like, hes pretty awkward around kaiba at least at first and is kinda just waiting for the day he brings it up. u said kaibas keeping that as an iou in his back pocket and i agree.

i think the ishtars sometimes hang out with (babysit) mokuba and whenever ishizu and rishid wont let him do something he goes to marik because marik 100% enables younger brother behavior . hes taken him on motorcycle rides. he probably showed him how to forge papers at some point. its really educational

MONOMA & KIRISHIMA

so like. ok hear me out. im about to grab manga panels you know this shit is about to be so for real serious. so like i talk a lot about the team up mission chapter where class a is nice to monoma and he freaks it but id like to bring up that kirishima is one of the main three actors of this plan, esp during the phase where they're trying to gather info on what monomas "secret message" is. deku asks monoma how hes feeling, and monomas like....im not fucking telling you that. so,

(condensed version for time and space). but the important part here is that while deku and Iida fail to engage Monoma in normal conversation because Monoma doesn't have normal conversations with Class A, when Kirishima is like "dude just fucking punch me" Monoma is vaguely confused but goes all in, despite the fact that fist fighting Kirishima is probably more of an immediate threat to his health and safety than talking about his feelings.

so what I'm getting at here is that like, I think Kirishima is fundamentally more capable of communicating with Monoma than maybe other members of Class A not despite the sourness between them but because of it. While Kirishima is kind enough at his core to do this because they think Monoma's in danger (and because they think figuring it out will make him...stop. the things he does.), he also has picked up on the fact that communication with Monoma, even well-meaning, has to be delivered in an antagonistic manner, because he has already done the back-and-forth bickering with Monoma that makes his world go round, unlike Iida and Midoriya.

So I think even though they dislike each other, ironically, Kirishima's better at getting a read on him than a lot of other people.

um. I'm just gonna keep going till it loosely approximates four ideas im in too deep. anyways. It's also important to remember that the remedial classes in the forest training camp were fucking LONG. They were four hours a night. That is.a LOT of acute Monoma exposure for the Class A flunkies late into the evening and we know from the light novels that during that time, he was getting up to mischief and frequently taking "restroom breaks" in which he went and cheated in games on behalf of his classmates who did not know he was doing this. but again anyway the point is that kirishima was. very early on introduced to and spent extended periods with monoma's particular brand of crazy and this would only be even more relevant if hes friends with tetsutetsu, who monoma is also fairly close with. i think thats kinda why we see a willingness for kirishima to get up in his personal space more:

which like, watch out kirishima you may be roped into the monoma handler crew. but like i think a lot about that and like, how kirishima actually tries to explain it to monoma even though as someone who has acute monoma toxicity poisoning he knows this is a very futile effort because kirishima is someone who, actively, is trying to be the manly guy he idolizes, but god, this motherfucker does make it really hard sometimes. most of the time. every time. he is trying to give him the benefit of the doubt because maybe one day it will be different but he does not have his hopes up and he does not know what is wrong with this dude.

which leads me into the next thing i think, sort of along the same lines as bakugou although not as much, monoma does both envy and admire kirishima for being one of the "strong". naturally he'd rather chew his own hands off than say it, but i also dont think he's picked up on the fact that kirishima is the way he is in a very deliberate manner, like that, he worked to be the person he is today and continues to do so. i think if he did know, monoma would respect him a lot more, because he really admires that kind of self-determination and deeply wishes he, too, could form that strong of a personal identity. again, he probably really wouldnt.... express it that well? like i think maybe monoma admiring your strong traits more is kind of a fast track to him being even more annoying because he is truly instinctively a little hater . but he doesnt actually dislike kirishima for any personal reason, like, he has no qualms with kirishima as a person-- he himself is good friends with tetsutetsu. it's solely the class a thing, and the fact that monoma cant really detangle those feelings of jealousy and admiration. he doesnt really care what kirishima thinks of him, but he does make more of an effort when he engages in his antagonism with kirishima, because hes feeling like "look, i want to stand on ground with you as an equal, i see you as strong enough to be worth putting the energy into this rivalry, youre so cool that i feel like im strong if i can keep up with you" except even he doesnt know this is what hes thinking and nobody really wants this. but i dont think he could even really bring himself to HATE hate kirishima or even match his pure dislike as an individual because monoma has no reason to. hes just an awful little man.

also monoma pesters him a lot because he really really likes his quirk. you should be honored kirishima , really. its really fun to him. naturally he does use it for mischief but even non mischief reasons he just thinks its neattttt hes probably got him some deku-style notes about it. its also probably why monoma would tag along on any training tetsutetsu invites him to do with kirishima around bc otherwise he would be like . why would i want to be sweaty and around those despicable clowns when i dont even have to be. <- knows he has no chance of winning a sparring match and is not even going to try