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ladykailitha · 17 days

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Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 3

Hey, darlings! We are back again!! Next week I'll start uploading this on Mondays instead of Tuesdays so that Hellfire can be posted on Fridays so that it doesn't get swamped by the WIP Wednesday overflow. See here for further explanation.

We introduce the kids and Eddie finds out what happened to Steve.

Pt 1 Pt 2

Steve could feel a migraine coming on the second he saw Tommy Hagan coming toward him purposefully.

Which meant another parent had complained about him. He fought the urge to take off his glasses and rub the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Steve held up his hand when Tommy got to him and went to open his god damned mouth. “I’m going to stop you before you even get started, Tommy. If Joyce doesn’t give a shit, than neither should you!”

“Beijing was two years ago, Steve,” Tommy huffed angrily. “So what, you hit your head. Get. Over. It.”

“Yeah, I hit my head so hard I blacked out,” Steve snapped back.

Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I know I was there.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t even fucking medal, Tommy,” he growled. “I nearly drowned. This wasn’t just some little slip in the shower. I hit my head so hard they weren’t sure my vision would come back, asshole. It was traumatic. I don’t know why you can’t understand that!”

Suddenly Carol and Nicole were pulling at Tommy’s arms, muttering soothing words to get him to back down. Tommy glared at him for a moment before he shook the girls off and walked away even more pissed than when he came over.

“Sorry about him,” Nicole said after Carol hurried after him to try and calm him down. “Not all of us think like that.”

Steve just shrugged. He was used to Tommy’s anger about what happened. It was like salt over a wound every time he started up about it. Because, yeah, before all this Tommy and he were friends. Damn good ones, too.

“I think he’s still messed up about the accident,” Nicole muttered. “He feels guilty that he was forced to compete while you were in the hospital. Which lets be honest is probably why he didn’t do well. So if you lay off the medal thing, I’ll try and convince him to drop the pool thing.”

Steve shoulders sagged in defeat. “Yeah, I guess. He started it though.”

She laughed and then shook her head. “Never change, Steve Harrington, the absolute bitch that you are.”

Steve just grinned at her. She shook her head again and walked away. Just as she was leaving Robin came up and put her hand on his shoulder.

“You might have report him to Joyce,” she muttered. “I know you don’t want to, but it looked like he wanted to hit you.”

He chewed on lip and let out a sigh. “If he hits me, I’ll report him then.”

Robin just sighed, she knew it was fight she wasn’t going to win. Steve still had loyalty to Tommy even though they weren’t friends anymore. Well...to be more accurate, he was loyal to a former teammate from his last Olympics.

Hell, there was only one teammate that Steve didn’t owe loyalty to, and he had made it quite clear no one was allowed to even bring that guy up.

“Come on, dingus,” she said instead. “We have the babes class.”

Steve perked up and grinned. The infant and toddler class was his favorite. He loved the squeals of laughter when they learned to love the water as much as he did. He loved the tears of shock and joy when parents saw their little swimming away in the water for the first time.

Eddie was gearing up to run for Joyce when he saw Hagan get in Steve’s face.

“Hagan at it again?” Murray sneered.

Eddie turned to look at his supervisor. The older man had his hands shoved in his pockets and was watching the scene with the dull fascination of someone who’s seen this shit go down one too many times.

“I have so many questions,” he admitted, “so I’m not sure I can answer that for you.”

Murray turned his dull attention to Eddie and blinked at him a moment. “How do you not know?”

“I heard Beijing and team,” Eddie said with a shrug, “so I assume it has something to do with the 2008 Olympics. But, man. I’m a poor kid from a trailer park. We don’t always have a TV, you know?”

Murray blinked at him a moment. “Huh. So you really don’t know. Interesting. Very interesting.”

“You going to tell me about it?” Eddie asked in a huff, “Or are you just going to stand there and look smug about knowing something I don’t?”

“At least tell me you know that Steve and Tommy were in the Olympics,” Murray said, rolling his eyes.

“Well I do now!” Eddie huffed. He was getting really irritated with Murray and if he didn’t tell him what was going on, he was going to snatch that stupid looking toupee right off his fucking head.

Murray grabbed his wrist and pulled him with him. Eddie let out a squawk, struggling to keep his feet. He was short little bastard, but apparently he was strong. They stopped in front of a display case and it were several photos, trophies, and certificates.

There smiling in the center picture were Tommy and Steve in swim caps that had their names and the American flag against the dark blue. They looked so happy. Steve was holding up a gold medal and Tommy was holding up a silver. Underneath it read the caption: “Two Hometown Heroes Bring Home Medals”.

“That’s cute.” Eddie tilted his head at the picture. “So what happened in 2012?”

“Steve slipped and fell in his first event,” Murray explained, “hitting his head on the side of the pool.”

“Jesus Christ.”

He did vaguely remember there being talk of an Olympian who got hurt badly and couldn’t compete. But he didn’t know it was Steve.

“Is that why he stays to the kiddie pools?” Eddie asked, feeling numb.

Murray rocked back on his heels. “Uh huh.”

Eddie nodded and then excused himself back to work. His dislike for Tommy grew with each step he took away from that display case.

Whatever guilt he did or did not feel, Tommy still had no right to harass Steve about his fears. That was a shit thing to do, especially since they were supposedly friends before all this.

Steve didn’t know why he agreed to this.

He sighed.

Yes he did. It was a favor to Joyce for putting up with all his bullshit. So here he was on a Saturday morning, helping her get ready for her youngest son’s eleventh birthday party. Why they wanted a swim party literally three days before they started the beginners class, he didn’t know. But he was going to try and make the best of it anyway.

He opened up the door that led to the kiddie pool and got out tables to place on the far end of the room away from the water. Joyce came in with balloons and streamers, which Steve helped her put up.

He was helping her carry the last of the food in when he saw it. He stopped dead in his tracks and watched as the new guy, Eddie, doing laps in the pool.

Joyce, who was carrying the cake, stopped next to him. “He’s good, huh?”

Steve shook his head head to clear out the cobwebs. He nodded and followed her back into the kiddie pool room. He mixed the soda and Kool-aid and then went to change. But again he saw Eddie had changed from a regular breaststroke to the butterfly.

His throat dried on the spot, which was a miracle considering that it was fucking humid in the pool area.

God, if he was judging his form, he would have given him an 8.7. It was rough, to be sure, but it was better than Tommy’s and butterfly used to be his specialty. The door to the hallway swung up and Nancy and Jonathan came in with Robin right behind them.

That shook him out of his daze and he trotted to the men’s changing room. He quickly changed and showered before he went back out there. He couldn’t have his heads in the clouds. He was lifeguarding kids today. He needed to focus.

And so he did. It was just like swimming. He cut off the noise in his head. The roar of his thoughts were pushed back, he could deal with them later.

Just then the kids arrived.

Will first, surrounded by his friends, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike, his step-sister Ellie, and her best friend Max.

Six kids in all. Which is why Joyce needed an extra pair of eyes. And three extra arms at this point.

Will stopped in front of the cake in awe. It was shaped like a dolphin, the kid’s favorite animal of the moment. It would probably change next week. But for now, it was perfect.

“Mom!” Will cried. “It’s awesome!”

Joyce gave him a hug. “I’m glad you approve. Now you and your friends go get changed. Robin will be helping the girls and Steve will be watching over the boys. For the duration of this party you will obey them like you obey me, okay? This is really important.”

“Because being around a large body of water is dangerous,” Ellie said solemnly, nodding her head.

Joyce smiled down at her. “That’s right. Now go on. The sooner you get changed, the sooner the party can start!”

The kids turned on their heels and dashed into the changing rooms where Robin and Steve were waiting.

The two girls came out first. Ellie in a purple bathing suit with pink flowers on it and Max in a red and black two piece halter top swim set. Ellie had her hair pulled back in a high pony tail, while Max had braided pigtails.

They each had a cupcake while they waited for the boys.

Soon enough all four boys came barreling out with Steve shouting behind them. “Don’t run or you can’t swim!”

They slowed to a fast walk, so Steve let out a pained sigh as they crowded the food table. Dustin was in a floral Hawaiian print board shorts, Lucas’s were blue with rogange stripes on the side. Mike was wearing red swim trunks, and the birthday boy was was wearing neon green trunks.

They looked new, which meant that Joyce was able to spring for them. Even with two incomes, Joyce and Hopper combined still made less then the assholes they paid to coach their precious darlings. Especially on a cop’s salary.

Eddie came up behind Steve. “What’s going on here?”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jeez!”

Eddie cackled. “Sorry, I thought you saw me.”

“It’s Joyce’s son Will’s birthday party,” Steve said, keeping his eyes on the rowdy kids. “She asked Robin and me to watch them. Well...she is paying us for this. But it’s still a favor.”

“Why not Jonathan or Nancy or any of the lifeguards?” Eddie asked, toweling his hair.

Steve took his eye off them for a second to look at him and nearly swallowed his own tongue. He was only in black board shorts. He had two tattoos on his chest, a spider and some demon head. Water slid down the tattoos, past his navel to pool on the top of the shorts. He gulped.

“Because the party runs until noon,” Steve explained once he got his eyes back in his head. “And as it’s a Saturday in the middle of the hottest part of the summer, it’s all hands on deck. And since we trainers don’t have classes on Saturday for that reason...Plus no eleven year old wants his big brother there with his girlfriend. It’s ‘uncool’.” He used air quotes for the last word.

“So you and Robin get the fun of watching little hellions run around like chickens with there heads cut off.”

Steve nodded and turned back to watching the kids. They were screaming and splashing around.

Eddie patted him on the shoulder. “Better you than me, man.” He looked up at the clock. “And that’s my pool time for the week. See you on Monday, Harrington.”

Steve pursed his lips and nodded. Afraid that he was going to blurt out something about Eddie’s swimming.

Shit.

Steve was just going to have to show up with Robin next week for the staff swim. He closed his eyes and then opened them when there was a large splash.

“Hey, no pushing!” he barked.

Tag List: CLOSED

Part 4 Part 5

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @eriquin @tartarusknight @gloomysoup

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #olympic steddie #olympic swimmer au

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peachesofteal · 1 year

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That Ghost x Soap with their daughter art has me seriously fucked up (thanks @ethereal-night-fairy)

I can't stop thinking about Soap and Ghost trying to raise Bee on their own in the disco baby au after this ask from @mockerycrow.

Those first few nights when they're completely blindsided. Simon in a full blown shut down because he cannot process anything that's happening, emotions running him over at full speed because he's terrified of being a Dad, he's terrified of ruining a child, he's terrified of becoming his own Dad, he's terrified of not being good enough. He's afraid that Bee will grow up with a target on her back, that she will end up in danger or worse because of their profession. And he can't stop thinking about you. He can't stop thinking about how all they were trying to do was protect you when they left, how all they wanted was for you to be okay, to not have to wait, to not have to be emotionally tortured for how ever long they were going to be gone. How they didn't want you to have to bury them. He can't stop thinking about how he failed you. How he promised you he'd always take care of you, that they'd always be here, and when you needed it the most, they made decision to leave you. He cannot forgive himself. The thought that they did it to better your life has long gone out the window. He hires a PI to try to find you, with zero luck.

Johnny is the opposite of a shut down. He's in a free fall. He's feeling everything, all at once. He runs out onto the street after they read the note, sprinting down the block, searching every face for you. He holds Bee for the first time when he comes back, taking her out of the carrier because she's sitting in it, on the kitchen table while Simon stands three feet away, staring at her with his arms crossed. She's fussing, and Simon is frozen, and Johnny doesn't know what do so he just, holds her. He rocks her. He sings to her. It all comes somewhat naturally to him. He fluctuates between heartbreak and anger. He tortures himself by staring at Bee sleeping in her crib at night just so he can see something that somewhat resembles your face. He cries himself to sleep. He dreams about you. Simon overhears him telling Bee stories about you at bedtime, or bath time or meal times. Johnny tells Bee about how beautiful you are, how sweet and kind you are. He tells Bee how much they loved you, how they wished they had been there, how they made a really big mistake. Johnny scoops baby food into Bee's mouth, all while explaining to her that you worked at an art museum, and loved to paint. He describes your paintings to her at bath time, and puts Bee to sleep trying to hum lullabies of your favorite songs.

Time passes. They find Bee's medical records, they get her chart from the day she was born. She was three months old, when you left her at their doorstep. They read the physician's notes, about how Mum was alone, how Mum was given a long list of support resources for PPD. Johnny is distraught. Simon fears the worst.

Simon retires early, so he can be at home full time. There's a ceremony, small. Gaz and Price are there, along with Johnny and Bee, who watches her Dad accept some honor medal that he doesn't care about from a man in a fancy uniform. Simon lets her chew on it the whole way home, which Johnny hems and haws about, but Simon doesn't care. He doesn't need some shiny piece of metal. He has almost everything he wants or needs in life. Almost.

Simon learns how to be a Dad, and he becomes a pretty good one at that. He's the first one to make Bee giggle, one night after a nappy change and getting her into bedtime clothes, when he's letting her lay on the floor for her usual tummy time, and he groans when he gets down on his knees. She thinks it's hilarious, and he spends the next half an hour doing it over and over again, exaggerating the sound of his old knees just to see her face light up.

Johnny is a natural. He just already knows how to do it all. He's not nervous when he holds Bee, he's easy with it. Cradles her every which way, gets her to fall asleep anywhere. He can tell the difference between her hungry cry, her full nappy cry, her "I'm having feelings but I have no words" cry.

Bee gets croup right after she turns six months. Simon has a panic attack over it, and they both lay on the bathroom floor with her while it fills with steam, counting each breath her little lungs take.

Bee turns one. They have a birthday party. It's another small affair, but Price and Gaz come, along with a few others that live relatively close. She spends half the day curled up on Uncle Gaz because she cries ridiculously every time Johnny or Simon try to pull her away. Gaz gloats about it to Price non stop. They sing happy birthday, the guys "help" blow her candles out, and everyone watches Bee smash a vanilla cake overzealously and try to stuff as much of it into her mouth as possible. Price films the entire thing for Laswell.

Simon's phone rings, right after the cake. It's set to vibrate, and it startles him from his back pocket. When he glances at it, it's a number he doesn't recognize, which is even more strange. He moves away to accept the call, and Johnny gives him an odd look, but Simon waves him off. No sense in worrying him.

When he presses it to his ear and says hello, there's a sharp intake of breath... and then your voice. Saying his name.

"Simon?"

#peaches writes #disco baby au #simon riley #johnny soap mactavish #soap x ghost

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bucknastysbabe · 7 months

Note

himbo criston pls i need him

Thinkin’ with my— skills! • C.Cole

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Criston is really fucking stupid but good at stuff and things, the Peloton affirmations, shower sex, pnv!sex, he’s a puppy your honor, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, needy needy bb, malewife tendencies, short n sweet n dirty.

Taglist: @valeskafics @fairysluna @arcielee @sugarpoppss2, @lovelykhaleesiii @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @starogeorgina @bambitas @moncherrii

You were awoken. On a Sunday morning. The morning where you got to sleep in. Sitting up and stretching, you listened to the commotion which awakened you. You flopped back down registering the sounds of the stupid expensive peloton your boyfriend-lover?-malewife Criston had to have.

It was a nice mixture of grunts and affirmations between him mumbling, “Fuck yes. I am good!”

You rolled onto your stomach, no, you weren’t going to go back to sleep. Why the fuck would he even leave the door open? Climbing out of bed you pulled on your sweatpants— it was either naked or underwear considering Criston was a fucking furnace.

Passing him by he waved with a smile, “Morning love!”

You grumbled “Don’t you have work, or headphones?”

Criston’s stupidly happy face fell a bit. He replied, “It’s my off day, and I forgot! Sorry!” You waved him off and went to make some cereal, then maybe watch your idiot man on a bike. He was only clad in some tiny shorts, might as well enjoy the glistening tan view.

Watching his thighs flex and medals clink across his delightfully hairy chest, you no longer held any qualms about dummy waking you up. Criston took note embarrassingly late and grinned, flexing like a goofball.

“Like what you see babe?”

You waved your spoon at him to laugh, “No talking, I’m just observing!” He pouted and returned to the set before he finished, shooting one more pitiful look, dark curls adorably plastered to his forehead. He bowed when you clapped, “Bravo, bravo Sir Criston of the Peloton!” There. Now he was happy.

Then he started coming toward you. All sweaty. Which would be different when he’s balls deep inside of you! You began to scramble away, hollering, “No, no, no you’ll stink!” You were enveloped into a sweaty body, fake retching and heaving. Ah, you were dropped. Ow you were dropped!

Criston looked puzzled as you did not puke. You glared up at him and complained, “I wasn’t actually puking dumbass!” Sometimes you wondered how he was a successful handyman in town who owned an entire business when he did things such as this. One time he bit into a fake apple— that sort of dumb, like he continued chewing before realizing. The brunette frowned, “Oh my bad. Sorry baby.”

Now you were back against sweaty body, heading toward the shower. Criston rumbled, “We both have to take a shower now. I got you good.” You chose to laugh along and not bring up the time you convinced him the Earth was flat. He was good with tools, everyone had their talents!

Regardless of IQ questioning, you were quite excited when he pressed you up against the glass of the shower, blindly reaching inside to turn the water on as he kissed and mouthed at your neck. The sound of the water began and Criston yanked down your panties and sweats, groaning softly.

You pulled off your bra, breathlessly questioning.

“Criston! Y-you just got done working out, ah right there baby, and you wanna fuck?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, big hands on your tits, thumbing at a peaked nipple. His long hair tickled at your shoulder, stubbled chin and soft lips nibbling at your neck. You gasped, reaching back to press him against your ass, groaning at that gorgeous cock hot and flushed.

“Fuck, love when you watch me, turns me on,” he rambled, managing to get a couple sloppy kisses from your mouth, still massaging at your chest. You panted back, “Love watching you handsome, c’mon, let’s get in the shower.”

Brown eyes blinked and he seemed to come out of a haze, dropping his tiny shorts and groaning when it slapped against his taught belly. You rasped, “C’mon stud, in the damn water, wash first.” He seemed to disagree with your plan but was shoved down to the bench anyways.

You weren’t going to ever miss a chance to feel up his godly body. Even if he got a little whiny about it. Whiny Criston was cute, scrunched nose and stupid little questions. Soaping up a rag you kissed his cute nose and began washing his upper body. God- you may have spent too much time on his chest, the man was squirming.

Criston complained, “C’mon baby, c’mooon.” Puppy eyes glanced at you. You shook your head to move down to the lower half— feet up to his most tender areas. You were pretty sure you had a mini-orgasm when you touched his cock and balls— the man gasping out and fucking his hips forward, pleading a bit.

“Just your hair left baby,” you cooed to another annoyed gasp of your name. Criston may fuck the shit out of you, but he always listened to commands. He complained again, “Come onnnnn, m’so hard, you look good.” His hands wrapped around your hips, one moving to paw at the flesh of your ass.

Ignoring him you shampooed dark curls, combing through them as he groped you. You cried out when the man’s lips covered your nipple, needily suckling. “F-fucking hell, I’m almost done!,” came your weak chiding. He merely looked up and smiled around your tit. Ushering the needy thing up you pushed him under the hot stream of water.

“You’re so whiny you know that?”

“You took too long, I wanna fuck my girl, like what if I got backed up?” Criston retorted.

Ugh. He made you throb. Even if he was fucking stupid.

Smoothing back his dark hair, Criston closed into your frame, shoving you back to the bench this time and dropping to his knees. Big hands kept you spread as your boyfriend kissed up trembling thighs. He lapped at your soaked cunt, moaning, then flicking his tongue against your clit.

Criston was good with his mouth. And hands. And cock. He hummed around your clit, fingers pumping you and dragging along the soft spot, gorgeous dark orbs watching your face. You couldn’t stop mewling and whining, legs wrapped around his broad shoulders. You had bitten your lip bloody to keep from wailing.

“Aaaah- oh Criston- fuck! M’close, mmmm!”

He only seemed to move faster, suckling at your clit, driving his fingers deeper, the sensation of stubble driving you wild. His other hand slid up your body, tanned hand encircling your throat and barely squeezing.

“Fucking shit!,” you wheezed before falling into a fit of whines and moans, seizing around his pretty face. Your belly tightened along with your back, riding out the orgasm on the man’s face. Criston had you so fucked out already it wasn’t much a chore to lift you up and onto his cock.

He groaned deeply, pressing your back against the wall, the warm warm cascading over you both. Criston’s thick fucking cock had you split open, the girth never changed. Somehow you were a sloppy mess every time. Didn’t matter. He grinned against your flushed cheek, mumbling, “S’tight baby, god, I love you.”

He held you in place, his flat chest rubbing against your tits, fucking up in powerful motions. You held your head back against the stone tile, panting, eyes locked with his own. “Criston, Criston, Criston,” you chanted softly, writhing. He whined through his nose, taking your lips in a desperate move, smashing his nose against your own.

You took his tongue and cock, rendered a shivering mess. But Criston had a lot of damn stamina, cock full and pulsing. Barreling it’s way through your tight walls, rubbing that spot near your cervix. You’d end up in tears most times when he abused that place, cumming so hard you were all snot and tears.

You kissed him back, gasping into warm lips, your pussy being thoroughly abused with loud smacks. Criston growled, slapping your ass, “Mine yeah? S’all mine. Whose cunt is this?” He smacked your ass again, demanding.

“Yours, all yours baby, Criston fuck!”

“That’s not my whole name.”

Fucking hell you could barely string together a sentence and he wanted his entire name? Criston continued, “There’s other Cristons, whose cunt is this?” Your eyes rolled back as he angled his hips again.

“Criston Cole, my pussy belongs to you!,” you gasped raggedly. He smirked and kissed your cheek, all smiley like he wasn’t rearranging internal organs. “Good girl,” he rasped, “You’re so pretty, love you.” You melted a bit, wrapping your arms tighter around tan neck, too strung out to properly kiss the sweetie.

He grunted, readjusting himself, friction now fiery against your cervix, your g-spot when he drug out. You cried helplessly, heaving and practically screaming in pleasure. Criston looked delighted, rambling, “Fuck baby, you’re, oh, uh, oh my god!” Sweet boy was hit or miss with dirty talk.

“Come on, cum on me baby, come on,” he pled, eyes watery now, hips twitching, showing the first sign he might be close. You nodded, blubbering in response, overbearing heat building upwards from your cunt, into your belly and frayed nerves. Criston took a swipe at your clit, puffy lips against your own, swallowing up your wail as you released onto his cock.

Criston’s hips stuttered at the rush of thickened cum around his cock, whining at you.

“Criston, ba-baaaby, you gonna cum in your pussy? It belongs to you,” you stammered out, overstimulated to the point of some cohesion? He whined again, excitement lacing his tone, “Yeah, yeah, keep talking!” You smirked a bit, mildly entertained regardless of scrambled cunt.

“Pretty booooy, my Criston, wan’ you to fill me up, stuff your pussy up. M’so empty!,” you goaded. His reaction was like a car crashing, hips colliding into you, eyes scrunched as he moaned long and loud, cock pumping load after load into your sore channel. Pretty tears gathered at the corner of dark eyes, him nuzzling into your face like the puppy he was.

He finished up with a soft noise, plopping you both down on the bench, resting his forehead on your shoulder— softening cock still deep inside of you. You were about to slide off before big hands held you in place. Criston stated, “No. If you stay here in the heat, it’s like the sperm’s home, my balls, therefore you’d be easier to knock up.”

“Criston.”

“What?,” he seemed confuddled you weren’t getting it.

“I’m on birth control.”

“Ugh. Right,” he muttered while sliding out. The sight of his cum slipping out of you seemed to please the idiot. You tried to hold back delirious laughter as he would get his ‘widdle feewings’ hurt. Kissing his sloped nose you cooed, “One day babes, don’t worry. Can we go cuddle or sleep or something now?”

He nodded, “Yeah babe, can we watch 300 again?”

Sigh.

“Yes Criston we can watch 300 again.”

#ser criston cole #criston cole #criston cole x reader #Ser criston cole x reader #criston cole imagine #hotd smut #ser criston cole smut #hotd fanfic

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insomniakisses · 23 days

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Can you do Ilona and reader finding out that they are expecting a kid when she gets home from the Olympics

Telling Her Your Pregnant

Character: Ilona Maher (Rugby)

Reader type: Gender Neutral (AFAB)

Warnings / Notes: Ilona has a dick, mentions of pregnancy.

You were so excited for Ilona’s return, not only had you missed her terribly but you had some exciting news to share. Only, you hoped shed be as elated as you were by the news.

The two of you weren’t exactly trying for a baby, but you weren’t exactly being careful either. With you not on birth control and her not always wrapping her dick up, or the amount of condoms she would break. Not to mention the times you’d both be half away and she’d hump into not caring about the possible consequences.

You had found out hours after she had first left for the olympics and it was hell keeping it to yourself while she was away. Of course you wanted to tell her in person, but there was also the fear that you would break the news and her be unhappy and then you would have put her off her game.

So here you are, waiting at the airport for her bouncing from one foot to the other chewing on your lip anxiously as your mind races at all the possible reactions she could have.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts you don’t even realise shes standing in front of you, big smile and her medal hanging around her neck.

“Baby!” She chuckles, gently shaking your shoulder a little. Snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Lona!” You exclaim launching at her, her catching you with ease laughing when u cling onto her refusing to let go.

She nuzzles against your neck breathing you in, a relaxed hum escaping her when she does. You stay like that for a while just silently holding each other close in the middle of the airport. Neither of you caring about the annoyed looks you get for clogging up the walk way.

When she finally releases you she lets out a big sigh. “Come here baby, let me look at you” she grins, taking all of you in.

You start to get a little self conscious under her intense gaze. The feeling, however, is short lived because as soon as you lock eyes all you see is love and devotion. The same thing you see anytime she looks at you.

“God baby,” she leans in cupping your face “your absolutely glowing!”

You scoff in response, your girlfriend forever the flatter-er. But you realise this does give you an opening to tell her. So you take a deep breath and shoot her a weary smile.

“Well you know what they say about pregnancy’s and glowing” and she chuckles nodding in agreement before she actually processes what you said.

Her eyes snap open and she gapes at you. Letting out a soft “What?”

You nod your head smiling nervously muttering a shakey “Y-yeah” and her face morphs into that bright smile you love so much and she grabs you again spinning you around happily yelling “WE’RE HAVING A BABY!!!!”

#ilona maher imagines #ilona imagines #ilona x reader #ilona #ilona maher x reader #ilona maher #womens rugby #rugby #womens rugby imagines #womens rugby x reader #g!p #omegaverse au

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auckie · 6 months

Text

Thank you to everyone who’s ever shown me anything they liked, everyone who’s shared beauty with me, or tried to make a connection. I appreciate you immensely. And will remember you.

*closes my eyes and shuts my laptop, then turns around to a suitcase in front of me. I’m dressed in a suit, with some military medals on a sash I’m wearing, none of which are mine, all of which are stolen valor. I open the case, which now appears to contain what could be a gun. I carefully take out a very long object and then turn around back to my computer, turning on the desktop and opening a streaming website. I take the object and bring it to my mouth, as the recording light for the webcam turns on. I take a huuuuuge bite of a giant foot long hotdog and get mustard alllll over my nice suit and all the medals as the twitch chat starts going wild— some begging me not to do it, other egging me on. I smile and chew like a fat baby as the scary stupid slowed down version of smile or whatever they used for the uhh is it river? No hes the one who died. the joawuin pheonix joker beknfs ro plau and the camera pans out then fades ro jlack, and in bit joker foont it aays HOTDOG FROM BASBEBALL GAMW dude whenever i make a tumblr post the fuckint autocorrwxr atops workint does thay haooen to anupne else??!*

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stevenssacrab · 10 months

Text

Good Neighbor

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Seeing your neighbor constantly ordering takeout inspires you to offer him a home-cooked meal and your company.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1k

a/n: As promised, one that isn't about Mr. Steven Grant. Hope someone out there appreciates the fallout 4 reference in the title lol. There will be a part 2 so look out for that soon! Hope y'all like it!

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Part 2

Bucky sighs as he submits the 4th DoorDash order of the week.

“There’s no way this is good for me,” he groaned loudly, tossing his phone to the side and throwing his head back on the sofa when a heavenly aroma hit his nose.

“Ugh, there goes Y/N cooking again,” he says, slightly annoyed at himself; he quietly steps out into the hallway, seeking more of the godly scent coming from your apartment. Bucky has been entranced by your cooking abilities; somehow, you find the willpower to make a delicious home-cooked meal every day; he doesn’t know how you do it.

You hum softly to yourself as you pull out your chicken pot pie. You loved this recipe, but it, unfortunately, served 8+ people, and you didn’t know that many people, so you just picked at it throughout the week, but this time was different; you noticed that your handsome neighbor Bucky is always ordering take out, you can’t imagine a night he didn’t order something in, so you’ve decided to be a good friendly neighbor and offer him some, it would go to waste anyways so might as well give it away, and if it meant you would get to talk to Bucky, you figured it wouldn’t hurt.

Knock knock, you tap lightly on his door, suddenly having second thoughts, but before you can change your mind, Bucky opens the door.

“Hey, what’s up?” He says, only slightly confused

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you say, holding your hand out. Bucky shakes your hand, and you don’t miss how rough his hand feels against yours, how your hands fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Bucky,” he says, looking at you with a hint of something you can’t quite grasp.

“I made some chicken pot pie, and I have tons left over; I was wondering if you wanted what’s left. I see all the takeout and thought it may have been a while since you had a home-cooked meal.” You say, your eyes widening suddenly. “N-Not that I’m like watching you or something. You laugh awkwardly, eyes shifting everywhere. “I just happened to notice and.”

“Y/N, it's okay. I know what you meant,” he smiles at you.

“Come in, please,” he says, stepping aside to let you in.

“Okay,” you say shyly, slowly crossing the threshold into this home; it was much homier than you imagined. You were not sure what exactly you expected, but it wasn’t this; it was decorated with army medals and pictures of other Avengers enjoying life; it was odd seeing everyone superheroes, in regular clothes, having beers and singing karaoke, everyone being so ordinary. It was refreshing to see; it really humanized them for you. It, of course, never slipped your mind who Bucky was, but to you, he was always your neighbor who ordered too much takeout and had loud get-togethers.

“This smells so good, Y/N,” he beams, practically drooling over the pie.

“I’m glad you think so; it tastes even better,” you wink. Bucky looks away, smiling shyly. He leads you into his kitchen, placing the food at the breakfast bar. He pulls out your chair for you before he seats himself, digging in immediately.

“UGH, this is so fucking good,” he shouts, with a mouth full of food. “Oh, sorry, this is so good.” he laughs, shoving more food into his mouth.

“Mmm, what is this crust made out of?” He asks, chewing slowly, dissecting the flavors, and trying to pinpoint it.

“Cheddar and thyme,” you beam proudly, enjoying his reactions to the meal.

“Ugh, my god, genius.” He says lowly, “So, does your boyfriend love your cooking too?” He asks

“Oh, haha, no boyfriend, it’s just me,” you laugh awkwardly.

“No way, I’d marry you if it meant I got to eat like a king every day,” he says matter-of-factly.

“I might have to take you up on that offer,” you flirted back. Bucky practically licks the plate clean; he pushes the plate away and smacks the table in triumph.

“Amazing,” he chirps happily, gently patting his stomach, absolutely glowing.

“Thank you, you’re too kind.” you blush at his praise and stand up, clearing your throat before speaking.

“I should get going; I’ll see you around, Bucky,” you say, gently squeezing his arm.

“Yeah, hope I can see you again.” He says slowly, hoping you pick up his suggestion; you walk across the hallway, giving one last smile before closing the door.

It’s been a week since you gave him your pot pie. Every meal you’ve made, you wanted to provide some, but you didn’t wanna weird him out

It was raining, too, so you decided it was a good day for some classic French onion soup, only this time, you wouldn’t bring your leftovers; you would have dinner with Bucky. You are dressed in a yellow floral print dress that landed just above the knees. Giving yourself one last look in the mirror before walking across the hall, you gently knock on the door.

“I’m coming!” Bucky shouts, and you faintly hear footsteps coming closer. Bucky quickly swings the door open.

“Oh, Y/N! Hey, whatcha got there?” Bucky asks, looking down at the pot you have in your hands.

“French onion soup,” you say proudly, holding your head high. “With a baguette,” you added happily.

“Hell yeah! Come in, come in,” he says excitedly, stepping aside.

You pour yourself and Bucky, as he waits excitedly, absolutely beaming, gently place the bowl before him and hand him a few slices of baguette.

“I hope you like it,” you smile nervously; you sit next to Bucky, wiping your sweat palms on your dress.

“This looks amazing, Y/N,” he says, smiling down at the food, picking up a spoonful of soup, and blowing on it before eating.

“Oh my god,” he says as soon as it hits the palate, Concern growing deep in your chest. “He hates it, oh my god,” you say to yourself.

“Y-you don’t like it?” You ask timidly, pulling his bowl away from him, shame feeling every part of your body, “this was a stupid idea,” you say under your breath, but loud enough that Bucky hears you; he grabs the hand, pulling away tightly, you gasp; looking up at Bucky nervously

“Don’t say that,” he said firmly, realizing he was still holding your hand; he cleared his throat and let your hand go.

“I just mean it’s good, better than good; it’s incredible,” he admits cautiously, reaching for another spoonful.

“Oh, haha,” you laugh, feeling the tension melt away.

Bucky wastes no time scarfing down the food, and of course, going back for seconds, you smile to yourself, pleased with his reactions.

“Ugh, that was marvelous,” he said, rubbing his belly happily; you both sat on the sofa in comfortable silence. You remember when you first built up the courage to offer him your leftovers; you never imagined it would lead to this: having dinner with your handsome neighbor.

“Do you wanna make dinner at my place next week?” you asked suddenly before you changed your mind.

“I’d love to.” Bucky smiled back at you.

#marvel fluff #marvel x reader #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes au #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x y/n #bucky drabble #bucky barnes blurb #bucky and reader #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes fluff #jennys.work

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kyletogaz · 28 days

Note

What are your favorite attributes about Gaz?

And what are some that may drive you bonkers? (I’m sorry, but I would encourage him to swap out sunflower seeds for the cigarettes lol)

- well for one he’s pretty

- his intelligence and the fact that he knows he’s big brained (it’s how he gets shit done and succeeds, was the only one in his rti class to escape)

- his sense of humor & sarcasm

- the way he questions things before diving in head first

- he knows when a rule needs to broken

- he’s very determined and hardworking (he didn’t receive those medals for being pretty. he’s not the king of evasion for nothing)

- this video (you see the way he struggles with morality)

- his loyalty

also might as well share my fav quotes

“everyone talks about the physical aspect of being in the SAS, but my job is mostly mental. give me a guy who's got his mindset right, over a guy who's twice as fit any day of the week." it’s brain over brawn

“you wanna translate that from bullshit to english?” had me giggling.

and yeah he can get of rid of them cigarettes. chew some gum or something

#i tried to keep it short bc i’ll keep going lmaoo #just kyle things #kyletogaz talks #kyle garrick

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generic-whumperz · 2 months

Text

Wyatt (Character Sheet)

Picrew

Playlist | Masterlist | Character Info |

⚠️Proceed with caution, Wyatt is a Grade-A asshole⚠️

Here's a lengthy list of his TWs in lieu of a character overview. This is everything you need to know; when I use #cw Wyatt, it encases the following:

Murderer and mock executioner

Slaver (although, in his defense, he did not buy one, his mom willed him one)

Torturer

Rapist and sexual sadist with a blood kink (hematolagnia)

Gaslighter™️

Misogynist and egotistical predator who objectifies, demonizes, and degrades those he views as lesser (which is damn-near everyone)

Has anger issues and can’t chooses not to control his temper. Exploiter and raging narcissist (has anti-social personality tendencies + probably some other shit but I’m not a psychologist) who victimizes himself in every scenario despite him being the canonical villain in every sense of the word—he would win a gold medal in mental gymnastics.

Mentally, physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive. Bully and mean-spirited, humiliates people for fun (especially The Aid).

Drug addict and alcoholic, smokes weed (the only chill thing he does) and cigarettes, chews tobacco, consumes copious amounts of cocaine cut with meth and/or who knows what, and has picked up the habit of consuming Mystic blood (no, he's not a vampire, just a hematolagniac) to get out-of-this-world high he now can’t function without. Uppers > Downers.

Dabbles in cannibalism (a few times, but it does happen, so on the TWs it goes because wtf)

Porn addict

Gambling addict

Absent father

Mommy issues, Daddy issues, was abused and neglected as a child but never processed it healthily and sought help, so now he's just a menace to society and repeating fucked up trauma/abuse cycles (hello generational trauma). Has major beef with his older brother, Waylon, and was horrible to his younger sister, Winny, when they were kids.

Drunk driver (shouldn’t be driving because DUIs)

Owns firearms and weapons but definitely shouldn’t (although everyone does in Apocamerica)

Spoiled rich guy with a complex, doesn't accept "no" as an answer

Pretty much the worst person you'd ever have the misfortune of meeting

All-in-all: bastard-ass, creepy, intimate, sadistic Whumper

Full name: Wyatt Wilder Sullivan (Wy)

Role: main antagonist, Whumper

Date of Birth & sign: April 16, 1975 (56-57), Aries (story takes place in the year 2032)

Gender: cis-male

Sexuality: thinks of himself as just hetero, but falls under general sadism and dominance.

Height: 6'10"

Weight/body type/build: approx. 350lbs (I'm bad at guessing weight, take this with a grain of salt). Giant, solid build. Broad-shouldered, burly, and more heavy-set with a semi-prominent beer gut. In his youth was more brawny and muscular, now is a bit more flabby cause the only work out he’s doing is running to the liquor store, but still maintains a bulky physique.

Hometown: San Diego, CA

Family Members: Sullivan family tree. Has a daughter, Haylee, with ex-wife (how the fuck was this man even ever married is beyond me). Lost visitation rights to see his daughter and blames the Aid for it, but has made no effort to be a better person and reach out. Lives with The Aid in Eleanor's old house.

Left/right handed: right

Fav genre of music & anthem: classic rock, Ramblin' Gamblin' Man by Bob Seger

Occupation: trust-fund nepo baby. Used to be head of logistics security for family business. Now claims to be in finance and an investor (really sir, during the apocalypse?), and self-proclaims himself as a professional gambler and "independent media producer" (makes torture porn for fellow pervs on the internet—again, during the apocalypse no less). Barely graduated high school.

Ethnicity (+ American): Italian, French, Greek, North and West European, English

Hair color & length: ashy brown, silver-striped, cut short, combed to the right to hide his cow lick. Uses pomade. Facial hair: grown-out chevron mustache; rest of face clean shaven but gets 4 o'clock shadow soon after. Usually has stubble since he shaves about once a week. Body hair: moderately hairy with chest hair.

Hygiene: leaves much to be desired. Showers when sober enough to do so—or more so is sober enough to care that he reeks of BO, cigs, and beer, or after he's woken up in a pile of his vomit. Poor oral hygiene from chewing tobacco, drug use, smoking, and alcohol; thinks whiskey counts as mouthwash. Teeth yellowed and crooked with irritated, swollen-looking gums (from drugs and lack of daily care). He’s just a hot mess. The Aid has tried to clean this man up, but Wyatt ain’t having it.

Eye color: wide-set icy blue, downturned, deep sunken eyes under protruding brow.

Skin tone: light, apricot-colored skin with warm, reddish undertones. Face usually red and puffy (substance abuse)

Facial features: wide, triangle-shaped head. Thin-lipped downturned mouth. Prominent, hawkish, and rubescent nose. Arched, bushy eyebrows. Bigger ears with droopy lobes. Broad and heavy chin, slight underbite. From age, substance abuse, and lack of skin care (+ living in a dry climate): frown lines, forehead lines, crow's feet, blush-burned and puffy cheeks from constant flushing

Mannerisms: always scowling and glaring. Sniffling and wiping nose. Clearing throat. Hocking loogies and spitting chew in an old beer can. Scrunches nose with curling upper lip. Pinches bridge of nose. Loud, overly dramatic sighing. Tsks a lot. Grinds teeth. Rubs chin with index finger, rubs forehead with back of hand. Loud, heavy steps when walking. Crosses arms. Sucks teeth. Uses height to initiate others and takes up a lot of space. Constantly smokes cigs and probably has a beer in hand. When loaded and buzzing: jittery manic energy, crazy eyes, random face twitches. Bursts of movement in sporadic jolts, such as slapping or pounding fists on a table/nearest object.

Nervous ticks: nervousness presents more as nervous anger or agitation. Throws things. Grunts. Yells. Curses. Kicks, hits, punches whatever is closest to him (or uses his human punching bag, The Aid). Long car rides with blaring music, reckless driving. Tries to self-soothe by doing lines or watching porn.

Posture: carefree but domineering. He acts like he owns the place wherever he's at.

Style: basic T-shirt, collared cotton shirt with jeans and boots, casual leather oxford shoes (Dr. Martens), plain jackets. Very basic, solid-colored clothing, no fancy patterns or fun colors. Will wear a suit on occasion, but isn’t happy about it.

Health: amazingly, he hasn't had a heart attack (yet). Has had a fair share of overdoses. How is his liver still working? He doesn't take care of himself physically or mentally and should be dead, but he has the durability of a cockroach. Please drop dead

Piercings/tattoos: none

Birthmarks/scars: refer to the scar chart below that totally isn't an autopsy template (shout out to my boy for fucking Wyatt up as much as he has, I'm proud of you bby!)

Language(s): English

Personality: domineering, addictive, disagreeable, aggressive & argumentative, selfish, short-tempered, reckless, greedy, narcissistic, possessive, cruel, dishonest, grouchy, moody, violent, vulgar, prideful, dismissive, unpredictable, cold, impulsive, over-indulgent, jealous

Vices: addicted to everything he can get his hands on. Hardcore addict, and latest fixation is Mystic Blood cut with coke. Drinks more alcohol than water. Will fight and fuck his way to get what he wants. Will thrash and destroy everything when pissed off, then makes The Aid clean it up and beat him up if he doesn't do it fast enough; likes to wind down with a foot rub and/or full body massage from The Aid (*gag*).

Voice: gravelly with a tinge of teasing sarcasm, it ranges from monotone to raucous and taut. After a night of bruising and boozing, it can sound more strained and raspy/horse. (In my head he sounds something like Thomas Church?)

Smells like: as described from this scrapped excerpt left on the cutting room floor: "On a good day, Wyatt smelt of generically fragranced clean linen laundry detergent, slightly masked by an ever-present light odor of dewy sweat, salted sunflower seeds, and worn-off Old Spice. On a bad day, he reeked of one part odious stress sweat, three parts foul breath—a coalesced stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and beef jerky."

Face claim(s): John Goodman (I'M SORRY JOHN), but specifically these pictures below. Honorary mention, Douglas M. Griffin.

Character inspiration: Jonathan "Black Jack" Randall (Outlander), Ramsey Bolton (GOT), diabolical combination of Homelander and Billy Butcher (The Boys). Biggest YIKES.

Other: irredeemable POS; please openly hate this man; he's made to be shit on. That being said, as I mentioned many times above, Wyatt struggles with substance abuse, and there are references to drug use in text. But just to be crystal clear, he is not a bad person because he uses substances, and I do not intend to vilify individuals dealing with substance abuse. His purpose aims to illustrate the destructive nature of addiction—the monster it can create—the compounding impact of unaddressed trauma, and the correlation between the two. (I come from a long line of addicts and have lost family members due to overdoses; this is how I’m dealing with it; you don’t need to like how I’m going about it, but I don’t need anyone getting on my ass about it either. I’m working through some shit. To me, Wyatt is the personification of the disease of addiction and how it will drown anyone it comes in contact with.)

While the drugs exacerbate his behavior, it's important to note that he was already struggling with personal issues and has fully embraced his negative traits, and is incredibly self-destructive. Wyatt is a complex character, albeit a deeply flawed one who consistently makes poor choices and is a massive piece of shit. But deep down, he’s a sad, unfulfilled man who got the shit end of the stick and is the byproduct of bad parenting and abuse himself. He is not for the faint of heart; I think his character inspos say all you need to know about the kind of person he is. But still, fuck him.

Cursed mood board

Honorary tag request: @whumped-by-glitter

#no one hates Wyatt more than me I promise you #The Aid #The Aid ocs #my ocs #Wyatt Sullivan #cw Wyatt #sadistic whumper #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #proceed with caution #whump oc #oc info #character info

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fandominstability · 4 months

Text

Athena can just see how much he doesn’t want this medal

Bobby, baby 😭😭😭

Madney and Henren cuteness at the ceremony, bless 😭

Evan you leave Ravi and his food alone

“I assumed he was dead” “only in our hearts” CHIMNEY PLEASE 😂😂😂 (no but I agree, fuck gerrard)

“Whenever I see some filth, I think of you” chimney han, funniest man alive

YES MADDIE AND ATHENA INTERACTION

Fuck off councilwoman

“Sadly her heroics didn’t extend to my son” bitch HE REFUSED CARE stfu

Mara is smiling and having fun and hanging out with her big brother and TALKING, god I love this for her

I’m sorry, your WHAT NOW MR NASH?

Not the point, but Athena’s little finger thing when she held her hand out for Bobby to take? The most adorable thing

Eddie Diaz, you messy, messy bitch, why do you have this bitch out on a boat in the middle of the city in broad daylight

Not Kim being an actress

Not Athena faking an emergency with one of Amir’s patients to get him to come up there 😭 a whole family of messy bitches apparently

“Nash doesn’t seem like the impulsive type” “normally he isn’t” says the woman he impulsively proposed to 😂😂😂 (which I fully supported, this just made me laugh)

This has nothing to do with anything, but Athena’s nails look so good

NOT THE SLOW MO CALL WITH THIS SAD ASS MUSIC, ROBERT WADE NASH I SWEAR TO GOD

MOTHER HEN BOBBY SO HELP ME WE’RE NOT FUCKING DOING THIS

He’s parenting them all one last time, I am chewing glass

TURNING OVER COOKING DUTY TO BUCK SOMEONE SEDATE ME

GIVING EDDIE HIS PRAYERS BOOK HELP

“My work here is done” NO THE FUCK ITS NOT

Oh god Buck is meeting Kim

“She’s not my girlfriend” okay Eddie

Eddie “messy bitch” Diaz

Wilson-Han family night together??? I fucking love this???

Finally someone recognizes something’s going on with Bobby

Fuck you Olivia Ortiz, I know you’re fucking with Henren’s adoption

Oh you finally told her about Shannon, that’s good I think?

I had to pause in the middle of Eddie and Kim’s convo so here’s my “live blog” up to that

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oddmawd · 5 months

Note

I was trying to write before and it’s didn’t turn out good and I just stop writing and it don’t take practice you just have to be good at writing the first time you do it that is my opinion tho

i'm gonna assume you're like...12 years old...because there's no way an adult would be able to type that with a straight face

i'm not about to coddle you and give you a happy little pep-talk about ✨believing in yourself✨ after the way you treated that author...calling them a "bitch" because they don't PANDER TO YOUR SPECIFIC TASTES was a bully tactic and you should be ashamed of yourself

FURTHERMORE using a gendered insult like "bitch" and then demanding they write you a male reader insert story (while insulting female/gender neutral inserts in the same breath) is misogynistic as hell, i don't feel even the littlest bit sorry for you, so save the "woe is me, i can't write" bullshit for someone who gives a damn

but let me give you something to chew on while you throw yourself a pity-party about "not being good at writing" and pretend that gives you the right to bully people who actually TRY to be good writers:

Do Olympic athletes show up winning gold medals without ever setting foot on the practice field?

Do painters show up to their first class knowing how to use oil paints and watercolors and how to hold a brush effectively?

Did Hemingway roll out of the womb and write The Old Man and the Sea without writing a single damn thing beforehand?

no, they didn't...every writer you love wrote some SHITTY first drafts they didn't share with anyone because they sucked first (in private!) and THEN got good (in public)....and they got good by showing up and failing and trying again, and failing again and trying again and FAILING AGAIN (because that's what practicing is!!!!) until they finally started succeeding regularly...

UNLIKE YOUR CLOWN ASS THAT RAN AWAY SCARED WHEN YOUR FIRST STORY DIDN'T TURN OUT PERFECT

i'm not gonna take the easy road here and point out how fucking LAZY you sound when you say you tried once and gave up, because that's a cheap fucking shot and way too easy (you set me up so badly bro, like c'mon)

what i'm gonna do instead is point out that you just admitted that you were too fucking scared to try more than once

"BOO HOO, i wrote something, it was shitty, i was scared of what people might say and then i gave the fuck up" - you, probably

and that's the difference between we "lazy bitch" reader insert writers who actually post our work, and you: we show up and we TRY, every goddamn day, and we put ourselves out there despite the risk of being bullied by people like you who can't be bothered to try more than once

do you know what writing is, at its most fundamental level? it's showing your work to people and saying "please read this and enjoy it, i worked really hard," and PRAYING they don't tear your hard work apart for no reason at all, but that's what YOU did! you saw someone writing something they enjoyed and went "fuck you, i don't care that you labored and practiced for weeks and months, it wasn't to MY TASTES and therefore you're a lazy bitch," and you're apparently so un-selfaware that you don't realize the irony of YOU, a person who can't be bothered to try writing more than once, A) calling someone lazy, and B) demanding they spend their time/expertise to write something just for widdle ol' you, in the same breath

do you not fucking hear yourself????? huh?????

you tried writing ONCE and found out it was too hard for you, so now your answer is to bully writers and make demands of them? when you should know through your ONE attempt how difficult writing must be?

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK BRO?

you should never message a writer again with your demands when you can't even be bothered to live up to your own standards, you entitled tone-deaf hypocrite

writing takes courage, and you have ✨N O N E✨

#i've been writing for 25 years #i think i only got good in the last 5 #don't devalue our time and hard work to get good #demanding ass entitlement from a person who can't even be bothered to TRY #the only reason you don't realize how hard it is is because YOU GAVE UP #but we didn't #we wrote until we got good #now buckle down and TRY or take what we write with a smile

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raquellemonsta · 1 year

Note

SAKUSA KIYOOMI BEING A SINGLE DAD OF A BABY GIRL

PLZPLZPLZ

MY BABY SAKUSA WITH A BABY. he is such a girl dad. i thought of this more as headcanons because i couldn't think of a single specific direction i wanted to go with it, so there's just kind of everything. hope you like!

headcanons of single dad sakusa kiyoomi ft. reader

- we all know that sakusa isn't the biggest fan of germs and bacteria

-and babies are basically breeding grounds for the stuff

-so i feel like at first he would be hesitant to really get involved and have a kid at first

-plus it might be hard for him to find someone he'd like to have a baby with

-imo he seems like the kind who would adopt rather than be left with a kid via hookup or past relationship etc. for that reason

-it just makes sense to me that he would have a kid when he finally wants one and knows he will be able to take care of a child himself

-maybe some of his friends and teammates talk about their kids

-like atsumu brags to him about his girls and it starts to make sakusa really think about a kid

-especially having a baby girl

-he is soooooo girl dad

-does that make sense? like you can tell just from the everything about him

-so he basically started researching the adoption process and scheduled an appointment with a nearby agency to learn more

-plus he obviously has the money for adoption so it's no problem for him

-they matched him with a little baby girl that was left in a baby box and is a few months old

-he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her in person

-even though they aren't genetically related she coincidentally has dark curly hair (though smaller tufts due to how young she is)

-he would definitely have a room already completely ready for her when he gets home

-probably painted it a light purple and would theme it around flowers, even though he's not a big fan of them in real life

-he definitely disinfects everything (though it probably didn't even need to be cleaned in the first place), and babyproofs his house with socket covers and bumpers and things like that -has done a lot of research on parenting strategies -he would read to her as opposed to letting her watch tv or an ipad

-or if he was to have her watch tv it would be those educational baby genius things

-bathtime is his favorite time (and hers too), he has one of the small baby bathtubs and

-he likes doing her hair and is actually very good at it

-big ponytail, pigtails and all that stuff

-when she gets older and does dance classes he goes to every concert and even some practices so he can dance with her

-he doesn't get embarrassed if its for his daughter

-but anyway back to baby

-he also has a very good support system

-he gets busy with practices and games, so he realized he would need someone to take care of her while they happen

-you offer to watch his daughter so that he doesn't need to go through the hassle of finding a babysitter

-not like you mind anyway, she's a total sweetheart

-you also take her on his days 'off' since they are very rare for sakusa, not that he doesn't love spending time with his daughter

-but this poor soul needs a break!

-if you're busy, he usually has one of his old msby teammates watch her

-i'm thinking it's usually hinata, since atsumu is already busy with his own kids and bokuto always has something

-you also bring a new toy for her every time (to her dad's somewhat annoyance)

-sakusa tells you you're going to spoil her but she's so cute you can't resist

-you guys will have 'family' dinners together to show how grateful he is to you

-even though you always joke you do it for her and not him

-you're basically her other parent anyway

-the two of you watch his games

-he gets her a mini version of his jersey

-he's not big on social media but he will post the occasional picture of her, like after his team wins a tournament and she chews his medal

-which also brings me to this \/

-he doesn't care about her germs

-like 10 years ago he probably would have died if a baby slobbered on him

-but when it's her it's okay

-'dada' 'papa' or any version of dad is definitely her first word and he literally cries the first time she says it

-moral of the story: sakusa kiyoomi loves his daughter more than anything

-he is best girl dad

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #sakusa #sakusa x reader #request #hinata #headcanon #atsumu miya #bokuto koutarou

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violetswritingg · 15 days

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Thunderstruck

Tyler Owens x OFC!

Description: When cowgirl meets cowboy after a year of no-contact and chaos ensues during storm season!

Rating: M (Mentions of blood and death in Tornadoes and storms alike, angst and loss of loved ones, car accidents, Tornado aftermath, and injury to characters, slight age gap (5 years))

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"How long has it been since we've been to one of these?" Riley breathed, a small smile on her lips, looking up at the big red sign Historic Stillwater Stampede and Round-up since 1951! "Someone was feeling nostalgic."

Tyler grinned as he just shook his head, letting her pass by him. His hand hovering over her low back as he guided them through the crowd. Once they had found some seats it was just in time for the finals for the barrel racing event, Riley's favorite. The woman glanced up at the blonde man, catching his smirk and dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap.

"Not nostalgic per say, more like trying to conjure old memories of you laughing whenever I fell off the bull." Tyler quipped and Riley chewed her inner cheek to stave off her laugh.

"You falling off a bull, I do seem to remember that happening yes, I also seem to remember it ended with you in the hospital most of the time. Me laughing at you though? No comment." Tyler's laugh ripped her eyes from the medals being given out and they moved on to the next event.

"I remember that too." Tyler nodded, his denim clad thigh pressing against hers as he shifted to let someone by them.

"I remember how scared I was, the last time. Of course, it was the one time your mom couldn't go and that dad and I could." Riley shook her head, watching the rider control over their horses in a sense of awe. Yes she had lived on a farm but she had always been to scared of the large animals as a kid to ever go near them, much to Nathan's pleasure. Not needing his kid to be a daredevil in multiple aspects. "You looked right through me at the hospital, it was terrifying."

"Hey." Tyler took a chance, gently laying his hand over hers on her knee and squeezing before pulling back, "I'm not looking through you now." His eyes bore holes into her until she was forced to meet his gaze, the contact sizzling and Riley had to be the one to break away first, not trusting herself to keep looking into his green-blue eyes.

""You took the saying a little to literally, I said chase it if you feel it, not let it-"

"Run right over you." Tyler finished, "I remember that much at least."

"If you feel it, chase it." Riley grinned to herself, it was easy, easier to talk about her dad when it was Tyler, because it wasn't sharing stories of someone long gone but reminiscing on the good times, the bad times, the downright ugly. But he understood her grief better than anyone else, she knew that deep down beneath her own issues and hurt.

"Have I ever told you about the first ever tornado I saw?" Tyler asked as the bull riding was announced and the stadium started to get prepped.

Riley had to think about it.

"I-I don't think you have. How could that have never come up?" Riley just shook her head, baffled, chancing another glance at the man beside her.

"I was eight. Driving with my aunt, sirens are going and this vortex..." Tyler lifted a hand, the flat fingers and palm gesturing in front of him, his eyes far away in the memory. "Just lowers right down in the center of the road."

"Wow, and here I though I had the title of youngest to storm chase ever." Riley chuckles, her chest light in a way she tried to burn into her brain, "But looks like you got me beat by a couple years."

"I'm pretty sure that title is still yours." Tyle chuckled, bumping his shoulder against hers. Riley looking down at her lap and tucking some curls behind her ear.

"It's yours if you want it." Riley chuckled, but Tyler saw she wasn't kidding, his eyebrows crashing together, mouth opening to say something, what he had no idea. But she was faster, "Knowing you, you were probably absolutely smitten with the natural chaos of it all, the tornado, the storm. Even at eight, I can't imagine a Tyler Owens without his love of the things people are supposed to run from. Bulls, Tornados..."

The implication clear to him and his frown deepened.

"Were you scared?" Riley breathed, eyes darting to his for a moment. Softer than he had seen all week, looking more like his Riles than ever before and it took the breath from his lungs.

"Yeah, yeah I was." Tyler just looked at her the way that made her insides feel like jelly and she cursed in her head for letting him still get to her like this. "Were you, for your first?" Tyler wanted to keep her talking, keep her warm, and soft. To hold onto the woman he had been in love with for most of his adult life

"No." Riley answered, after a moment of deliberation, "No I wasn't. I was excited, nervous, scared in the moment we rolled maybe but...scared of the storm no. Not back then. Not in the Warlock."

Tyler's shoulders tensed at the mention of the armored vehicle that had deserved retirement for more than a while at this point.

"I guess there was this certainty that nothing bad would happen as long as dad was there and as long as we were in the Warlock behind its steel walls and impenetrable shields, it settled the nerves. But uh," Riley cut herself off, realizing a couple words too late she was spilling top secret information that she had meant to keep locked away. "A Tornado Wrangler, afraid of tornados, but not of riding angry bulls. How's that work? Are you just that good of an actor, shitting bricks the entire time and I just never noticed?"

"No, I surround myself with my own steel and impenetrable shields. Settles the nerves." Lightning like energy crackled between them as Tyler used her own words and his eyes dripped in honey. It was so hard to stay mad at him when he looked at her like that. Clearing her throat, she looked back to the arena, Tyler chuckling to himself and doing the same. Shit eating grin spread across his lips as he took her in, sobering a bit and softening. Melting in the way only Riley ever seemed to draw out of him. "Bulls and Tornados are the same really. What matters is the reason you do it. You don't face your fears, you ride them."

The last bull rider jogging along the side of the arena, meeting Tyler and Riley's eyes. Swirling his hand in the air before nodding to Riley. Tyler repeating the signal and grinning at the bull rider. Riley just watched his profile, his words striking multiple chords in her soul and leaving her aching. Her brain screaming at her to move away from the territory of vulnerability.

"Ya know, looking at you, if I didn't know you have an accent, if I didn't know anything about you, I imagine someone would peg you for a California guy, like one of those California cowboys that like to drive around the small city streets with his massive truck he doesn't even use to haul anything. Just bought it for the aesthetic. And like maybe you played lacrosse in high school." Riley chuckled at Tyler's disgusted face, giggle bubbling up uncontrollably.

"How do you even know what Lacrosse is?" Tyler laughed in disbelief.

"I do pay attention to things other than storm chasing!" She chuckled, shaking her head. Curls whipping around her face.

"What? You're a lacrosse fan now?" Tyler pushed, wanting to keep this going, like it used to be, when things were good. He just wished she was better at hiding when she was actively running away from herself. From them.

Focusing back on the event currently happening Riley noticed how the wind kept picking up and the cells she had been tracking floated around in the back of her head. When a burst of leaves fell from the sky she reached out to grab a perfectly healthy, vibrantly green leaf. Thunder and a flash of lightening in the distance. Riley looking up as Tyler did.

"Have you been tracking cells out here?" Tyler asked, his once easy going smile now turned down in worry.

"A couple, but nothing set to hit till late tomorrow." Riley breathed, her skin prickled and she took a breath, "The air feels heavy. This isn't good." More thunder and lightening, the wind picked up again. Riley watching the leaves rush due south and cursing in her head as soon as the warning on everyone's phones started to go off and the sirens started to blare.

The stadium started to evacuate as the winds started to rapidly accelerate around them, Tyler's hand finding her as she got shoved. Pulling her into his side and keeping her on her feet as they made it out to the fairgrounds with all the carnival games and attractions. Riley fighting Tyler to look back, lightening flashing just long enough for her to see a massive wedge funnel on the ground moving fast. Dark, angry, and coming for blood.

"Gotta go! Go, go, go!" Riley grabbed onto Tyler's shirt as he pulled up a woman who had fallen in front of them and put her back on her feet. Lightly pushing him in front of her as they tore off in the opposite direction, Tyler's grip on her hand bruising but she didn't care, if anything it was her only grounding rod in this moment. Outside of the Warlock, about to be forced to suffer through a tornado live and in person. This was her worst nightmare, besides getting picked up in a vehicle again.

Getting to the parking lot Riley could barely keep up with Tyler's longer legs but her fear was driving her to run faster, seeing Kate heading to the office of the motel she had been staying in and apparently Kate too. After almost getting hit by people trying to flee in vehicles, which was the worst idea you could have.

"No! You have to stop!" Riley tried to get to them, as if she could.

"Riley! We can't help them! Come on!" Tyler gripped her around the waist and dragged her back. Riley's eyes locked with his before darting to Kate. Her heart in her throat, knowing those people probably weren't going to make it. As the now three got under the canopy Riley spotted a mom and daughter rushing. The mom got her daughter in the car and Riley screamed.

"Get inside! You won't make it in a car! Come on!" Tyler held open the door, Riley waiting until both Kate and the mother and daughter got inside. Feeling Tyler's hands on her back pushing her across the threshold and keep a tight grip on her waist.

"Is there a storm shelter?" Kate was spitting out at the front desk attendant who looked pissed off, most likely with the couple berating him. But now was not the time.

"Is there like a basement? Or something underground?" Tyler was pressing, pushing Riley with him as he leaned against the counter with urgency. Which the greasy brunet man didn't like one bit and found within himself to try and start a fight with Tyler, which the man ignored. All of a sudden it hit Riley.

"Oh my god Sarah, my team. Fuck, I don't know where they are Tyler-"

"They know what they're doing, we need to focus on us right now. Look we need to get underground right now. We need to get people underground right now." Tyler redirected her, looking back to the clerk, but Riley's breath started to pick up, but she had to trust Sarah and the others got the warning same as she did and would take care of themselves.

"Look, there's no tornado!" The woman who had been sitting uninterested, annoyed even, to the side piped up in the chaos. Riley wanted to slap some sense into her. "Nine times out of ten it's a false alarm."

"Yeah, well this is that one out of ten chance." Riley snapped, eyes vibrating along with her body.

"You hear that?"

"And now the powers out-"

"I can hear that and I can also knock your power out, or we can sit here arguing while a tornado is descending upon us like the fucking grim reaper! Out there is an easy EF4, which will kill us if we don't get underground. Now!" Riley was panicking, she knew it, Tyler knew it, and Kate knew it too. She tried to slow her breathing; the adrenaline surge would kill her by making her stupid before the tornado ever would. What would Dad do? Not panic for one. Fuck.

They wouldn't listen.

"We need to find shelter. Fast" Kate took off through the open office door to the side and Riley darted after her. Tyler calling her name, his teeth gritting together.

The door was ripped from Kate's hands with the slightest of pushes and Riley had to fight not to gasp. Gripping the door frame for dear life as she peaked out like Kate did.

"Do you see anything?!" Riley yelled over the wind, fighting her hair in the wind. Her eyes stinging, skin starting to tinge a pink from wind burn. Desperately looking for somewhere that wouldn't mean guaranteed death. For a state so plagued by storms they have really shit infrastructure for said storms.

"Yeah! Yeah I do!" Kate bolted back into the main office, calling the others to follow them. Tyler ushering everyone as a large piece of metallic debris crashed through the office window. Riley grabbing the woman's arm from Tyler. The blonde man sheltering Riley with his body, the last out of the office, Kate leading the pack with the mom and daughter.

Riley felt the resistance against her and so did Tyler as the annoyed woman was pulled away by her boyfriend to their truck. Riley's eyes went wide as she screamed, "NO!" Tyler's arms went around her waist and put her on her feet again shoving her forward as she fought him, "No Tyler! They're going to get-"

"We have to go Riley!" He snapped pushing her through the gate Kate held open, the empty motel pool their welcome sight. Riley helping the girl down to her mother as she shook, Tyler pushing her down the ladder next. Kate was still up there and looking at something, Riley backed up, eventually seeing what Kate saw and her hands balled up at her sides seeing the blue truck go flying, Tyler stopping Kate from doing what she almost did earlier.

All she could see was her dad's truck, flashes of bright light, the roar of the wind.

"Mommy!"

"Daddy!"

Riley forced down the bile in her throat and scrambled over to the mother and daughter, ushering them to the pipes to the filtration system that's rooted far enough to keep them on the ground. Hopefully.

"You have to stay low! Cover her head and eyes!" Riley instructed, pushing the mom and little girl into the corner. "Hold onto the pipe as tight as you can! Don't let go no matter what! It's gonna be okay!" Riley looked up the sky and saw Kate drop into the pool with Tyler and the desk attendant from the motel. "Tyler!" Riley held out her hand, shaking, lungs refusing to fully expand.

Jolting back when a vending machine crashed down into the pool, right in front of the desk clerk. Tyler so close to her she could touch him. Her fingers digging into his flannel at his shoulder.

"Tyler!" She tried to pull him but he gripped her hand and squeezed it fiercely.

"I'll be right back!"

"NO! Tyler!" Riley tries to dart forward but Kate sees her and grabs her by the belt loops, pulling her back into the woman's chest. "Let me go! Tyler!"

"Stay there!" The man called as he crawled on his stomach towards the lone clerk. Tyler got him out from behind the vending machine, but he wouldn't stay down low. Too much air got under him and slipped through Tyler's fingers. Sliding back to the shallow end of the pool, Tyler having to go that much further away from safety at the pipes to get to the stupid, panicking man. Even though Riley wasn't much better. The man was pulled up with an updraft and his body contorted sickeningly as he was pulled into the vortex. Riley gripping onto Kate's arms with a death grip, her tears mixing with the rain that had started to fall and soak her skin.

The storm was right there. And it was angry. Pissed off to the extreme. Enough to send a truck flying out of the ether and fling it right at Tyler. It was that moment that Riley broke free from Kate's grip and rushed out, holding out her hand to Tyler and staying on her stomach. Screaming his name as the truck was pushed further and further, threatening to fall over on its side and crush the man underneath that Riley cared a great deal about. Riley met him and with a strength she didn't know she possessed pulled Tyler with her to safety as the wind worked against them.

He was slipping though, the closer they got to the pipes. Every second felt like an hour.

"You gotta let go!" Tyler screamed, "It will take both of us!"

"Then it takes both of us! You go I go!" Riley screamed as she pulled one more mighty pull, every muscle in her arms straining as she got Tyler to the pipes. Just as the truck fell over, the edge got caught on the lip of the pool. Tyler jolted forward as metal creaked and wind streaked past them. Wrapping himself around Riley and plastering them both to the pipes. Riley's hand finding Kate's belt loops, as if that would keep her anchored against the mom and daughter.

The older woman telling her daughter over and over that it would be okay, that she had her. It was ticking every blaring red box in Riley's mind and she felt like she couldn't breathe. But Tyler's weight against her back was the only piece of light in her mind. The sound of Kate's cries and grunts as she struggled to hold on.

And then it was over. And once the roar of the wind died down and the roar left her ears it was like Riley could breathe again. Without the wind stealing it from her.

"Tyler? Ty?" Her voice croaked, hands quickly finding his knee and then elbow as his arm fell around her shoulders and across her chest.

"I'm here. I'm here. You're okay. You're okay." Riley let his words wash over her like the tide, unsure if his words were for her or for him. But she couldn't really be bothered to care. He was here. He was okay. Riley's eyes cut over to Kate and the mom and daughter. Eyes swimming with non-storm related water.

"Everyone- Everyone okay?" Riley shakily asked, eyes darting like a addict looking for their next fix, the adrenaline hitting her hard and making her head spin.

"Yeah, yeah." Kate breathed, her nails digging into Riley's hand, when they had clutched tight to the other like that Riley didn't know but was appreciative of one more warm living touch on her drenched skin.

"It's over," The mom cheered quietly, sagging in relief against her small daughter. Pulling the child into her chest more. "It's over."

Riley knew this was just the beginning.

"Oh god. Sarah." Riley breathed, Tyler slowly getting to his feet, setting Riley on hers his hands never leaving her for a second. And she didn't want them to. Needing reassurance that this wasn't some hallucination, and she was crying for a dead body to come back to life again.

"We'll find her." Tyler's rough voice promised, but a lead weight had settled in Riley's chest as they slowly followed Kate, venturing out into the aftermath.

~~*~~

#tyler owens #twisters #twisters movie #twisters fanfic #Tyler x ofc #tyler owens fanfiction #Tyler Owens fanfic #angst #hurt/comfort #cowboy #glen powell #hot brisket summer #aint no love in oklahoma #trauma #trauma recovery #forgiveness #tornadoes #love

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o-wyrmlight · 7 months

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Chapter 8 of A Toast to the Pigs: A fanfic where Harry Du Bois didn't lose his memory in Martinaise and still has to solve the case of the Hanged Man. Today is an autopsy. As always, mind the tags.

You’ve touched the dead man’s hair. Congratulations. You’ve discovered he’s dead but cared about his looks before he croaked. You deserve a medal of honor, bratan. And now look at you—tenderly touching this man’s scalp, fingers running through his hair. The strands stick damply to your latex glove that’s a size too small for you. The fleshy scalp is cold and clammy. There is no life inside that skull.

You while away the time like this. Pet the corpse. There, there, happy-dead man. He is safe now. You will find his killer. You will bite the bit of justice. It is your destiny to do so. His skin is a star chart of bumps and freckles. Your fingers press into the scalp, stroking his hair back like some kind of cat. Your fingers try to put his hair back into place, and you start to wonder where Kim is—what’s taking him so long. The moment you look over your shoulder, your fingers press down. Something— Bump. There is—how odd. Do you have a bump there, Harry? Touch your head and see. No? Then you’re fucking insane. Where is Kim? You need to verify your insanity, but he is absent. Call the child over instead. Let him touch the body. You’re so responsible, so… …What do you mean he feels it, too?

“Is it him?”

Grit, Kim decided. That voice was a tired grit.

Voice curling with smoke, the Communications Officer explained: “Lieutenant Kitsuragi from the 57th Precinct says he's working with your partner on the Martinaise case.”

“The fuck?” The gritty man on the other line scoffed, voice tight. “Why the fuck are you calling in, then? We’ve been trying to reach shitkid since yesterday.”

So this was Harrier’s partner. What was it—Vic Dick? Vic? That must have been a part of the man’s name. Victor, perhaps? Victory—a war name? Or was it a last name?

“Satellite-Officer Vicquemare is asking why you are calling the precinct instead of Officer Du Bois,” the smoky-voiced man sighed.

Vicquemare. So it was a last name. Kim glanced at the Kineema door, imagining the woman on the other side, watching—listening in on this conversation. He chewed carefully on his words, trying to consider how best to filter them, when somebody on the other side slammed his hand on the desk.

“No, wait. Don’t tell me. He’s getting drunk.” He bit the word out with bitterness and loathing, spitting it confidently into the open air. That was resentment. Anger. Kim felt his spine tighten, fingers clenching around the transceiver. “Getting his fucking dick wet in another bottle.”

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #jean vicquemare #hi vic #a toast to the pigs #wyrm writes

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yiiyiiwrites · 5 months

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The Punch [1]

Underground fighter JJ Maybank x Champion boxer Kook turned Pogue | Summary and masterlist | Note: JJ appears a little later in this part. 2368words

Red, it coats your teeth and swims in your mouth. The swollen knuckles and scabs are reopened from your fit of rage. It’s deeply sown into your being, the need to lash out as soon as someone else does the same to you.

The dry grass beneath you couldn’t cushion your fall mere minutes ago. The hard earth that hadn’t seen a spec of rain in the past few weeks of summer. Sweat clung to your body, chest heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath like you hadn’t been knocked down.

Scuffed boots crunch beside you, figure looming over you to shield you from the scorching sun. "Thought you were some big shot boxer." He spat his chewing gum into the tall grass, hand reaching to latch onto your elbow to pull you up.

You steady yourself on your feet, gaze settling on the red knuckles still wrapped around you arm. Squinting up at your assailant, you shrug your shoulders and trace the stinging warmth spreading over your cheekbone. Its hot to touch, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision. "You got me pretty good." Is all you can manage to say.

"Come on kid, tell your old uncle what's on your mind." The moment he calls himself uncle, he's shivering at the odd phrase. You'd only been introduced to your mothers brother two weeks ago and you were both still trying to get used to new dynamic. "Actually just call me, Reg."

Reggie Arnolds, ten years younger than your mother still had that boyish charm. A thin crooked smile and dazzling green eyes, the same you and your mum had too. You don't know why you asked for his help, but you didn't know how else to get back into the ring.

It had been two weeks since you'd left your father in the Figure eight along with all your boxing gear. You hadn't trained since you got to the cut, your mother telling you give your body rest after your silver medal from the last championship. Those medals still hanging in your father's office, they might as well be his.

You felt like you tasted blood every day, the metallic tang the only thing you were used to. That and the aching body you pushed to fight, what you fought for you didn't quite know.

"I'm just a little out of shape," you say bouncing on the balls of your feet. "Gotta get back to it, ya know." Shooting a breath, you practice your punch focusing on your breathing with each movement.

"Shit, you're just a kid not a machine." Reggie chuckled, rough palm clapping your sore shoulder with a bit too much force, that you stumbled back a few steps.

Shaking your head, you reach for sport bottle and take a sip. "Not if I want to get the gold next year." The weight of metal and the colour always hanging over you.

Reggie scratches the stubble on his chin and he dodges the punches coming his way with a smile. He's nimble and quick, with his body and his delivery of words. There's no way he hasn't taken some sort of fighting classes. You've tried to dig into his past, but he's tight lipped about it, even your mother changes the subject.

There's a hatred for your father, that was only one of a fighter. "You know what would piss your dad off?" Reggie doubled over and clutched his side, chuckle escaping him as he straightened up and wagged his finger in admiration to you for getting one in.

You tilt your head and squint back at him, boxing gloved resting on your hip. "Why would I want to do that?"

"He deserves it thats why," Reggie spat. He hooks his arm around your shoulders and leans down. "You wanna train so badly, go to the fight club on the cut." He's nodding his head as if trying to persuade you into doing something illegal.

"There's a fight club? Like the film?"

Reggie cant help put shove you away from him and scoff. "No, kid. It's an old boxing gym. The Maybanks used to own it, well half of it. But the Johnsons own the lot now. Ask for old man Rivers, if he gives you grief say Reggie Arnolds told you to ask for him. He'll let you train there."

"And it's legit? Like I can fight clean and enter the championships?" Your teeth clamp onto the velcro on wrist and you tear the glove from your hand. Throwing the second one to the floor along with the other. Your fingers make quick work of the ribbon of white wrapped over your knuckles, the fabric tinged pink where you'd reopened the wounds. Wincing you stretch and clench your hands, the tight pull of pain dancing up the back of your hand.

"Yeah its legit, come work some days with me on the fishing boat for money and you can pay for your time at the gym." Reggie take's your other clothed hand and untangles the wraps, the pad of his thumb tracing over the cuts and bruises.

"Fishing? Not really my thing."

Reggie tugged you forward, "you either work a couple days with me or ask daddy for money." He waits a beat, already knowing that you'll agree to work with him instead of your dad.

You don't need to answer, he nods his head and retreats to the house. The old rickety door swinging shut behind him. Sucking in a breath, you lean down and collect your boxing gloves and wraps from the ground, pain shooting through your shoulder as you reach out. The pain killers your father gave you nearly all gone, but you'd endure the pain if it meant doing things on your own terms.

As much as you enjoyed the thrill of a fight, the long and exhausting training days did a number on you. In the back of your mind there was always your father's bellowing voice knocking you down a peg or two. It made you train harder, spend twice as long on your morning runs that you felt sick. A habit you couldn't quite kick.

Pushing the back door open you wade through the small kitchen, your mother and grandmother both sitting at the table, smiles stretching their lips as you escaped to your room. It wasn't much but it was yours. Untouched and lacking any ties to your life of luxury before. The scuffed and peeling gloves hanging over your shoulder, hung to a pin on the off white walls. Your clothes still in your duffle bag at the bottom of the built in wardrobe with no doors. There's no way it was bedroom before, you're convince your grandmother used it as a laundry room, but it now has a small bed pressed against the wall and enough room for you to step around it.

Unable to keep your eyes from fluttering shut you let sleep take you, not worrying about the sweat coating your body. The lumpy mattress pulling you in as you sink into the centre.

It's been a few days since you'd agreed to work with your uncle, your convinced you can still smell the fish on your skin. Doesn't matter how much or how hard you scrub, the scent is burning your nose. Hiking the strap of your duffle bag back over your shoulder, you stare up at the sign. A boxing glove dangling from a chain, 'The Punch' spray painted on top. The red glow of the light on the entrance door, maybe should be warning enough that you're out of your depth, but you push the door open. The glass pane boarded up with a cheap sheet of wood.

You wade through the dingy gym and the punching bags. There's only one other person on the floor, his punches echoing through the room. There's a rhythm to his throw, that tells you he's only focused on the bag he's punching, the world around him falling away.

The place looks a little grimy, a far cry from the brightly lit and all white gym you trained at before. It's hard to tell if the maroon mats have been cleaned or just worn out from use. A greying man appears from the far door, binder slapping to the desk. You make your way to him, hoping its the person Reggie told you to speak to.

He doesn't look up at you as you stop in front of his desk, your hand tightening around your bag strap as if willing yourself to speak. "Are you Rivers?" Your voice is low, throat burning in anticipation.

"Marlowes?" He peers over his glasses at you, lip curling for what reason you don't know. "I'm not interested," he says flicking his hand in dismissal. For a second you're unsure how he knows you, but you glance down at your name stitched into the chest of your hoody.

"Wait, wait." You hold your hands out and stop in his tracks before he can escape. "Maria Marlowes, yes. I need a place to train..."

He cuts you off, "Your daddy know you out her?" There's a hostility you're not used to, the way he mentions your dad makes you take a step back.

"I'm not training with him anymore," You say. He goes to open his mouth, but you interrupt him. "Reggie Arnold's, my uncle said I could train here."

The gym becomes silent, the repetitive thump of the punching bag vanished. You catch the blond's eye in the mirror, his eyes squinting and chest heaving as he caught his breath.

"Fucking Reggie." He shakes his head. "Thinks he's still got run of this place, lays someone out one time," he mutters to himself as he walks away.

You follow behind him, "I really need to train."

Old man Rivers is muttering to himself about stuff you have clue about.

"Rivers, just let her fucking train. Cos if I have to hear the two of you go back and forth I'm going to go crazy."

Whipping your head round, you come face to face with the blond, he's a few steps away from you and he's staring at the old man not you. A green bruise stains his chin and lip is split, but he smiles through the pain. "You paying your way right? Can't train for free."

You're nodding your head, eye's widening as the old man glances between you. "I'll pay my way."

"Fine, but you train after hours. Don't want your daddy getting a whiff of this and causing me hell. You got that?" Rivers points a stubby finger to you, brows furrowed.

You weren't ashamed of your spot or where you trained, but you didn't want everyone knowing you were going it alone without a trainer. It'd be tough, but you knew you had to do it. You didn't know anything other than fighting.

Rivers takes you on quick tour, telling you to use the small toilet to change in since they don't get any women training there. You nod knowing you'll just come and go without changing. There's a ring in the centre, you climb through the ropes and bounce on the floor, hands on your hips as you scan the room. Punching bags sway from the ceiling, mats in one corner for warm ups or training exercises. There's a few treadmills and weights to the other side, but your gaze falls on the large bulletin board in the centre.

You duck under rope and down the steps, the low lit bulletin board pulling you in. Coloured leaflets pinned to the cork backing, every Friday evening at eight reserved for sparring sessions and Wednesdays closed for kids classes. You pluck the tab from a flyer, entering the phone number into your contacts and almost drop your phone when a throat clears behind you.

"Wouldn't mind beating a champion in the ring, would look good on my resume." The blond cocks his head, brow rising at you. The baggy tee swamping him and hanging off his shoulders doesn't tell you much, the cuts on his knuckles and face do though.

"You're not even in my league Blondie." You stuff your phone into your hoody pocket and walk away from the smirking teen, you're sure you've seem him around and you could be similar ages, but you don't aim to learn any more.

Your half way across the parking lot when you hear his voice.

"What too rough for a champion?"

The rage that spreads like wildfire flickers inside you, fists clenching at your side. Your downfall of never being able to turn down a challenge, your hatred for male fighters always making you feel weak in comparison to them rearing its ugly head. "You wanna bet?"

"Bet?" He crossed his arms over his chest, smirk pulling the corner of his lips.

"Yeah, I win you leave me alone and tell no one I'm training here." You mirror his stance, arms crossing your chest and duffle bag falling to the crook of your elbow.

He nods his head, "and when I win, you train me."

You gasp at his request, "what?" There's no way you even know enough to train yourself, let alone a guy you've just met.

"Look, your dad's a prick, but he'd good at his job. You train with me and show me the ropes and maybe we can help each other out."

There's no point defending your father at this point, you've been on the receiving end of his rage and know how it feels to be down trodden so you don't even try to. If he treats his daughter like that, she didn't want to know how he treated everyone else.

"Okay, but I'm gonna win." You shake his hand as if the action is cementing the challenge. In your head you're already planning to scope out the gym and his techniques. He shrugs, his hands going to the pockets of his sweat pants. You watch him jog back to the gym, a light drizzle of rain frizzing your hair.

"I didn't catch your name?" You shout after him.

"JJ, JJ Maybank! See Friday Marlowes."

[Part two]

Note: I haven't editted this, so there might be errors. Hope you liked, I will be doing some more parts to this one...Already working on the second part - Yiiyii

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