#hopefully i can put this whole experience behind me now

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Hi can u please write about domestic life with Bills Eric Draven? Can there be fluffy and smutty moments? Tyyyy

Boy can I??? I’d be DELIGHTED. His domesticity is all I think about. He’s the sweetest, kindest and most loving bf and you can’t change my mind. I got a little carried away! Hopefully this is what you were wanting! Enjoy doll!

Bf!Eric x gf!reader. Explicit sexual content under the cut, minors dni, oral (f receiving), p in v. brief mentions of drug use, mostly fluffy relationship stuff

It wasn’t entirely easy. You and Eric. The circumstances under which you met and the nature of the both of you was quite dysfunctional. You were chaos, and he was a mess. But it worked. The two of you. You worked perfectly. You weren’t sure what it was, you had never been able to maintain a healthy relationship with anyone. But it was almost like you were meant to be together. If you didn’t believe in the whole soulmates thing, you started to believe it when you met Eric.

He was so unreal, so out of this world. He was always by your side, fingers laced with yours, arm thrown over your shoulder. He always had to be touching you, whether it was something as little as holding your hand, or going as far as putting you in a matting press when he fucked you, because he hated the idea of not being as close to you as possible. He never meant to, he didn’t even know what it was. He just did it one day. Your knees damn near next to your head, your body nearly folded in half as he draped his body over yours. You didn’t even know your body could bend this way. But god this you like it. How deep he could be this way. And you had him so close you could hear his little sounds, his hard breathing and his soft grunts.

He always felt a little bad, manhandling you around like you were nothing. If he wasn’t bending your body in ways you didn’t think were human, he was putting you in a headlock as he took you from behind, one arm draped around your neck from shoulder to shoulder. He just wanted you close, afraid you’d run away. But he sometimes forgot to take it easy on you. You always assured him you were more than happy with him, that he wouldn’t hurt you. Deep down it made you all kinds of earn to know you could arise such passions from him. For someone so morbidly quiet and nonchalant, Eric was very intense and passionate lover.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you. You’re doing so good.” He would tell you, his voice soft and quiet in your ear, grounding you as his cock fucked you into nothing. “I just want to make you feel good, hm? Just want to make you feel good. That’s what you deserve.”

“I don’t deserve this. You’re too good for me.” He would say, his lips on your cheek as quiet moans spilled from your lips. “You’re just so… I can’t believe you’re all mine.” His name falling from your lips would be the end of him. So soft and desperate for him. He didn’t have much experience before you, but now he just can’t get enough of you. He wanted to be all over you at all times it actually upset him when you had to leave or when he did.9

But he was also oh so kind, so gentle and patient with you. He always followed you around like an oversized puppy, quietly listening to whatever tangent you would go on about. You could be cursing up a storm (albeit not directed at him) and he would take it with a straight face and big eyes. And it was often that nothing more but his presence would calm you down, center you.

“How do you do it?” You asked him one day, hot tears staining your face after a day of one stressor after another. Eric had managed to get you on the couch where he silently sat you down on his lap. You almost immediately curled up into his lap, legs tucked under you and your head on his chest. You felt an almost instant sense of relief and peace fill you, and you were sighing deeply, feeling your heart slow its fast beating.

“Do what?” He asked you softly, his fingers massaging your head calmly. You rested your hand on his chest, eyes closed.

“This. You calm me down. I was crying two minutes ago and now I feel… okay.” You felt him shrug under you and when you looked up he had a smile on his face. That smile could make you forget any grief or sadness you might have, because none of it really mattered.

But it wasn’t just him who could bring you peace, you were his, too. His lows weren’t as intense or visible as yours, but when he was at his low, he was at an all time low. He wouldn’t speak, he wouldn’t eat, he would just go about his day like a corpse, eyes dead and empty and his mind elsewhere. You understood he had his issues too, so you tried to be there for him without pushing him. You were more subtle. You’d make him dinner, you’d invite him to watch a movie with you. And you’d tangle up with him on the couch as you all but forced him to eat, and you’d talk to him about your day. But something so small always meant so much to him. He couldn’t help the way he felt, he couldn’t help his negative thoughts that drove him to do drugs in the first place, but having you around to remind him someone in this world loved and cared for him, it made it all a little bit easier.

Eric started to bring you flowers one day. Every week once a week, he could come home with your favorite flowers. He alternated colors. With a sheepish smile he’d stand in the doorway with his hands behind his back. And the way he would look at you when gushed about how pretty they were was like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world, the only one that mattered. And to him you were. Seeing that smile on your face was the only thing he ever wanted to do.

“You like them?” He would ask as if it wasn’t obvious, but he’d do it just to hear you giggle and watch you all but skip to put them in water. “Yeah? I saw them and thought about you.”

He always thought about you. There wasn’t a single waking second where he didn’t. You were good for him. And he knew that. He didn’t need anything else to fill the emptiness in his chest because he had you. You had filled that hole and he made sure you knew that everyday.

Eric had many ways to show his love and devotion for you. He wrote you poems, he drew for you, you had so many sketches you have started to run out of places to hang them, but this one was by far his favorite. He could spend literal hours between your legs. He absolutely loved it. He was absolutely obsessed with it.

“E-Eric.. Please.” You were shaking, sweating, incoherent as his tongue circled on your clit, his long fingers fucking you through your, fourth, fifth? You stopped keeping count. He had been down there for an eternity. He just kept asking for one more, just one more and he’d leave you alone. But it wasn’t enough. He was quite obsessive with the things he wanted.

But he figured he’d have to give you a break eventually. He was also painfully hard.

“I’m sorry baby.” He muttered softly as he crawled up your body, using the back of his hand to wipe the mess you had made, but his plush lips were still bright red and glistening. “You know I get carried away sometimes… You’re just so..”

He would kiss your face, brush your hair, soothe you back into a functioning human being. It wasn’t often that Eric vocalized his thoughts, but in moments like this when he felt safe and comfortable enough to be vulnerable, he would tell you all about how pretty you were, how talented you were, how much he loved you.

Eric was always full of surprises. He was quiet and nonchalant, but he was impulsive. You learned that very quickly.

“Baby?” You heard Eric call out to you as he came into the loft. You sat on the computer as you listened to one of his recordings. He had asked you to help him out since he really wanted to start pursuing his music and art now that he actually had someone that supported him.

With a smile, you took your headphones off and went to greet him, but you immediately frowned when you saw him hold something wrapped up in his hoodie.

“Hey, whatcha got there?” You stood up, approaching him with narrowed eyes as he broke out a smile.

“I’m sorry. I just found it, I just.. I felt bad.” He pulled down his hoodie to reveal a precious little kitten. A black ball of fur coating its little face. Your heart immediately sank and you wanted to cry.

“Oh my god, Eric.” You took the kitten into your hands and your eyes started watering as you hugged it. Eric wasn’t sure what to make of your reaction. Did you hate it? Were you upset?

“No, baby, I’m sorry. I found it outside, it’s kinda cold and it was drinking from a puddle. I didn’t want a car to hit it. We don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to, we can take it to a shelter or something.” He started to mumble, a hand coming to rub the back of his head and his lips fell open when he saw a tear fall down your cheek. He approached you, reaching to grab your face. “Please don’t cry.”

“No… No Eric I’m not..” You sniffled, laughing softly through your tears as you leaned into Eric’s chest while still hugging the now purring black ball of fur. “I’m not upset at all. It’s just… I’ve never had my own pet before. And it’s so cute, can we keep it, please? It’d be our little child.”

The way you looked at him with big pleading eyes made him feel so warm, he never thought he’d feel something like this. He smiled, nodding as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Of course we can keep it. He’s kinda cute, right?” Eric chuckled as he scratched the little one’s head.

“Or she.”

Your little ball of fur wasn’t the only thing you and Eric shared. You got so many matching tattoos it was concerning. Your friends and family had even told you it was odd to get tattoos with a guy you had been dating for only a few months. But it didn’t matter to you. You didn’t know why, but deep down you knew your connection with Eric was out of this world. So what were a couple tattoos? You loved that you had a physical reminder of your connection with him. The feelings deep within your souls were forever marked on your skin, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Truth was, Eric loved tracing each and every one of your tattoos. He traced his fingers over the fine lines, traced the words, he traced his lips over them too. He particularly loved the ones on your back and on your stomach, the ones no one but him could see. They were his little secret.

You matched each other perfectly, in every way.

[ilynpilled]

hi guys i was in an accident and had to be in the hospital for a while but im home now

[ceesimz]

Wallflower

Autistic Reader x Barça Femení

The main story can be found here, this is just a small one shot I had the idea for :)

Birthdays. What a massive inconvenience.

Actually, scratch that. You enjoyed other people's birthdays, just not your own. In fact, it was your worst nightmare. One of the most dreaded days of the year.

Having all of the attention on you? Having gifts and envelopes and surprises forced your way? People singing to you? God, it made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it.

Not to sound ungrateful, of course. The idea that people liked you enough to make a fuss of you did spark something in your heart, but it was too much. In the nicest way possible, it was utterly overwhelming, and often at some point during the day, there would be tears. Possibly a shutdown too, or  even a meltdown of some kind. 

All in all, it was a terrifying experience no matter how you spent it.

Now double that, triple it again, multiply it by ten, and that's how it felt waking up on your first birthday at Barcelona. 

For the whole month so far, you had near enough begged Ingrid to make sure the team doesn't do anything excessive. You needed the day to be as normal as possible, just so you could get through it. And to be fair to her, with a sad smile, she had promised that your wishes would be met. 

So waking up alone to an empty flat on the dreaded day was both calming and uncomfortable. You'd asked for it, obviously, so had to get over it. You showered, got dressed into your training gear, and sat down on the sofa whilst waiting for Ingrid to arrive. Again, it was just like any other day. If you ignored the way your phone vibrated every few minutes, that is. And the stomach-churning anxiety that only increased as time went on.

There was a knock on the door and, expecting it to be Ingrid, you shouted for her to come in. Except, it wasn't her. Though you couldn't really be too disgruntled by the surprise guest.

“Good morning, cariño. Can I come in?” Alexia peered around the door cautiously, smiling hopefully over at you. 

With a solemn nod, she quickly stepped in and closed the door behind her. In her arms was a bouquet containing some of the flowers you had gawked at way back when on your first date with her. That was a few weeks ago now, and being in the early stages of a relationship did have its difficulties, but only due to the adjustment of it. Everything else was, well, perfect. Alexia was perfect. 

But having her, your girlfriend, show up unannounced on your birthday wasn't the worst thing in the world, you supposed.

“Is it okay that I'm here?” She asked nervously, pausing a few feet away from you.

“It is.” You smiled shyly up at her, standing so you could greet her properly. 

In an instant, there was a cheesy grin on her face, and she placed the flowers down gently on your coffee table before lifting you off the ground into a tight hug.

“Happy birthday, mi amor.” She whispered before scattering light kisses from your neck, up to your cheek, down along your jaw, and reaching her final destination, sealing her greeting with a soft kiss to your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Stressed. Anxious.” You laughed nervously, leaning into her hand when she puts you down and cups your cheek.

“That’s okay. I… I haven’t made you feel worse by showing up, right? I can go if you would prefer.” With a silent shake of your head, you wrapped your arms back around her and buried your face in her shoulder. She smiled and happily complied, keeping you close to her. “Then I will stay.”

“I’m really glad you came.” You stated, slightly muffled by the material of her jumper. “Thank you.”

“No, no need to thank me. It is my girlfriend's birthday, and I will always show up for her if she lets me.” 

She voiced her determination to love you, even though those three words hadn't been said aloud by either of you yet. You were sure of it; the warmth you got in your chest was the first time an all-consuming feeling didn't feel quite so terrifying. It was at first, the initial realisation was something that kept you up at night for a few days, until one morning it clicked and all that was left was serenity and security in your feelings. Telling her such was an entirely different challenge.

After her latest admission, it took everything in you to keep those words inside rather than spilling straight out.

“Will you drive me to training?” You asked, seemingly out of nowhere. But, with so much running through your mind, so much weighing on you today, it was easier to stick to the simpler things rather than focus on all the stuff that’s overwhelming in that moment. The day still felt like a mountainous obstacle to get over, hence your need for simplicity and slight dissociative nature. 

“Of course. Have Mapi and Ingrid been yet?” Alexia said, watching as you pulled away and slumped down onto the sofa again, your legs pressed up against your chest and your arms folding around them. You shook your head no, to which she nodded and collected the flowers again to put them in a vase.

“Thank you for the flowers, Ale.” You mumbled, resting your chin on your knee whilst watching her and fidgeting with the TV remote. She smiled over at you from the kitchen before turning back to the bouquet, spreading some of the flowers out a little and leaving them on the kitchen counter. 

Another thing about your birthday, though it had only developed once you got into your teenage years, was that receiving gifts from people caused a lot of anxiety. When the dust settled, the sentiment behind each gift one was something you treasured. But getting them and opening them was an event you worried about much more than the average person- was your reaction what they wanted? Did you thank them enough? Did you come across as rude and ungrateful? There was just too much to think about.

With Alexia, you didn’t have to stress about any of those things. She was great at reading you by now, she knew what version she would get and when. And yet, her adoration still never faltered. You had come to know her just as well as she knew you, so you were sure she had gotten you other presents than just a bouquet of flowers (though they were more than enough for you) and that she was just waiting for the right time to give you her proper gifts. That, you were grateful for. 

“De nada, amor.” Alexia murmured as she sat down beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Instantly, you curled into her side, smiling when her lips pressed against your temple in a soft kiss. “Training will be okay, you know. I understand it is the unknown that makes you anxious, but once you have a ball at your feet, it will all calm down. Try to remind yourself that, okay?”

“I just hate the anticipation, the waiting. Want to get it over and done with.” You sighed, relishing in the comfort Alexia provides just by being beside you.

“I know. Time isn’t kind.” Alexia whispered, taking one of your hands with her free one and squeezing it. “You wanna skip breakfast at training?”

You raised your head quickly at her question, not even knowing that idea was a possibility.

“People won’t be mad if I do? That I won’t be there?” You checked, because if you could get away with doing such a thing, it’d get rid of a mighty chunk of your worries.

Being seated in the canteen with everyone at Barcelona on the one day dedicated to you was terrifying really. There would be expectations, possible celebrations, and the eyes of everyone would surely be on you. They meant well, you knew that of course, but that unfortunately didn’t make it any less frightening. Breakfast was a social event, for some hell-sent reason, whereas training was a professional setting, it was work. Avoiding it altogether would be a dream, except you know the mass disappointment it’d cause. And everybody knows how that ends.

“No one would be mad, cariño. They would understand.” Alexia physically felt the tension leave you under her hands at that, your body deflating as you let out a breath of relief. You moved to wrap your arms around Alexia’s torso then, and leaned up to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you, Ale. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You said, punctuated with yet more kisses.

All those weeks ago, Alexia had been right. Having someone by your side did make a lot of things so much easier. It was like night and day. You recognised the difference in yourself since you had met her, and you never knew it was possible for you to grow like this. With the move from Germany to Spain, you were well aware that there would be some changes for you, but the unknown came into play again. Would those changes be progression or regression? Evidently, and to your relief, it was progression. Your dream of thriving here was fast on its way to becoming true.

“Feliz cumpleaños, preciosa!” A certain Spaniard bellowed the second she opened your door, giving you and Alexia slight heart attacks.

“Mapi, dios mío! Why!?” Alexia groaned, you giggling beside her as you could hear her heart racing at the jumpscare so kindly given by the shorter woman.

“I warned her, she did not listen.” Ingrid sighed with feigned annoyance, but the second she looked over at you, there was a beaming smile on her face. “Come here, søster!”

Sheepishly, you unwound yourself from Alexia’s hold and walked over to Ingrid, laughing when she squished your cheeks together and kissed your forehead before embracing you tightly.

“Happy birthday!” Ingrid squealed, grunting when her girlfriend’s gangly arms flung around you both. Mapi squeezed you both together before looking over at Alexia who was watching the interaction fondly, still seated on the sofa.

“Ale, come join.” Mapi demanded, only for her to shake her head and wave the defender off. Mapi wasn’t having it though. She left the hug for a moment and grabbed her friend by the wrist to drag her over, before manually moving Alexia’s arms to wrap around the three of you. “Stop being a party pooper, Alexia. Get that grumpy look off your face, we know you are enjoying this.”

“Yeah, Ale.” You looked to your side at her with a teasing smile, the love radiating off of the both of you when your eyes met. Ingrid could feel it, Mapi could feel it. You were possibly the only two in the world opting out of acknowledging it.

After the impromptu group hug, Ingrid went over to the bag she had brought and unpacked a load of your favourite pastries. You knew she was making them for you, but in your anxious daze of the morning so far you’d entirely forgotten about them. The way your face lit up at the sight was enough for Ingrid’s day to be made and for Alexia’s heart to run wild in her chest. All four of you sat down at the dining table to share them since Ingrid had made enough for everybody, and like always you mostly stayed quiet and let the other three carry the conversation. You’d drop in every now and then, but most of the time you just liked to listen. They all knew that by now and were more than happy to keep the chat flowing, until it was time to leave for training.

Having Alexia drive you there had its advantages and disadvantages, and you were well versed with them by now. Being a passenger meant you were free to get caught up in your thoughts, which could either go really well or really bad. Meanwhile, being the driver meant you had to focus on the road, forcing the doubts to be silent. Yet, sometimes not having the chance to mentally work through what was stressing you out only made the situation worse.

In this instance, you had no time for overthinking when Alexia was emphatically singing along to any song that played on the radio, keeping you entertained and distracted for pretty much the whole journey.

It was a completely different story once you arrived though.

Alexia near enough had to lead you through the building and into the locker room, her hand on your back as a comforting reminder. Thankfully you managed to get there without bumping into anyone since the pair of you were some of the first to arrive. The only teammates you had seen so far were Ona, Aitana, and Jana, but they hadn’t seen you. Alexia had laughed when you ducked behind her dramatically, using her as a cover to stay hidden as they walked ahead of you both. They took a left turn to go to the canteen, whilst you headed in the other direction. 

You sat down at your cubby and slumped back against the wall, body sagging with relief. Alexia smiled softly and took her seat a few down the line, and the pair of you both booted up in comfortable silence. 

Being captain of the team, the midfielder obviously had the authority to get her team to listen to her. Without making much of a deal out of it, herself and Ingrid had discreetly gone around the team to ensure there were no surprises or big occasions prepared without your knowledge. Instead, they were taking a much more low-key approach that they hoped would convey just how overjoyed they were to have you on their team.

She sat not too far from you with the knowledge of what the surprise was, and she was probably the most excited out of the lot for you to receive it. It was nothing big, in fact most of the team worried it was too little, but having known you for so long Ingrid had reassured them there wasn’t really anything you would appreciate more than the gesture they had in mind. Some of the members you were slightly closer with had decided on small gifts of their own they would give to you in their own time, but for today, they would stick with their collective plan and hope for the best. 

“You ready for me to beat you at free-kicks?” Alexia grinned once she was ready, standing as she tied her hair back into her usual updo.

“I’ve beat you the last two times we’ve done this, I wouldn’t get too cocky.” You smirked, squirming when she squeezed your sides as you walked past her. “Plus, it’s my birthday.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that card. I’m definitely going to win now.”

For just over half an hour, you got invested in a free-kick contest with none other than La Reina herself. It had become somewhat of a tradition now, to the point where you had even made a points system for it. The further out you went, or the harder the angle, the more points you scored. A few months back, after Alexia had caught you once again avoiding breakfast, she had suggested the pair of you practise free-kicks after she had missed one in the game before that day. It quickly became a thing for you both, getting so competitive with each other and scoring goal after goal in the secluded morning sessions together, that a points system just had to be introduced after two draws in a row. Neither of you had looked back since. Those moments together, with a ball at your feet and the quiet company of the other, had become something you both looked forward to. 

Unfortunately, Alexia beat you this time, by just one point. One. And she was gloating like she’d gotten another Ballon d’Or.

“I told you, cariño. Just because it is your day doesn’t mean I will go easy on you.” She shrugged arrogantly, wandering back over to where you stood with your arms crossed petulantly over your chest. She grinned at the unimpressed look on your face, raising a hand to poke at the corner of your mouth. “Smile, amor!”

With a scoff, you swatted her hand away and turned to walk over to where your drink lay on the sidelines. Not a second later, you heard her jogging after you before two arms wound around your waist and a chin rested on your shoulder.

“You know I should have won that. You put me off.” You grumbled, referring to the moment she had crept up behind you and made a weird noise right by your ear just as you stepped off to take the kick.

“No no no, there was just a bug on your shoulder. I had to protect my girlfriend.” She said, grunting when you lightly jabbed your elbow back into her stomach.

“Protect me from what? A tiny fly? You are the only irritating little bug I need saving from.” You argued. As you picked up your own bottle, you got Alexia’s too, only you dropped it purposely when she went to take it from you. “What comes around, goes around, Alexia.”

Alexia wasn’t quick enough to come up with her own payback before the rest of the team started filing out for the actual training session. First came Esmee on her own, who, at the sight of you, immediately lit up and came over. Quietly, without making too much of a fuss, she wished you a happy birthday before hugging you. She was just as shy as you sometimes, so she left it at that. Ultimately though, being on a team of people that mostly came from affectionate countries, they all couldn’t resist. Funnily enough, you didn’t hate it. The hugs, the well wishes, the toothy grins sent your way, the cheek kisses and pats on the back were welcomed. It wasn’t overbearing, or too much, it made you feel… loved. And appreciated.

For the first time in your career, it didn't feel entirely fake either. Not that your other teams didn’t shower you in their gratitude, but it always felt like there was a barrier between you and them. Like you weren’t fully with them. You knew exactly why it felt like that, but not an ounce of you was prepared to solve it. This time around, that blockade wasn’t there. They knew you, not a facade, and still they willingly conveyed their feelings towards you. Quickly you were learning that this was the right way to live. Not like you had in the past, where you weren’t even half of your true self.

Living unapologetically as yourself was freeing. You couldn’t go back if you tried.

As always, you loved training. It was equal parts light-hearted and competitive, the perfect combination. Everybody was playing well, feeling well, and it was evident on everyone’s face. Not a moment passed without everybody smiling or laughing. Even during the gruelling seven-a-side game at the end. During a brief reprieve from the tight match where you were stood on the sidelines, watching on, it gave a moment of clarity. You did belong here. 

“Has Ale given you your presents yet?” Aitana joined you with a smile on her face, but you looked down at her in confusion. “Ah, I see. She hasn’t. Well, take it from me, they are really cool. You will love them.”

“What are they?” You tried to get it out of her, but obviously she wasn’t letting up that easily.

“You will see! I am not spoiling it.” She laughed. “Tell me when she has, I have to talk about them with you.”

“How do you know what they are?” You wondered, only for her to shrug slyly.

“You just have to find out. Go on! You’re being called back in.” She shooed you away, smiling again when you shake your head at her antics.

The game didn’t go on for much longer before the end of training was called. On the way in, you were watching Pina and Vicky spray each other with the remainders of their drinks, laughing when one of them accidentally sprayed Marta. Before you knew it, all of the ‘class clowns’ were chasing the team around with the ice cold liquids, and you found yourself at the centre of it. Apparently, turning 27 meant getting doused in sports drinks, because by the time you were back in the locker room, your shirt was mostly damp.

Alexia had stuck to the back of the group with Patri who had unusually opted out of joining in, though it wasn’t something you picked up on. The two were talking calmly as if there wasn’t a full blown water fight ahead of them, but Alexia knew Patri was itching to join in. What caused her to stay out of it though was very important to her. 

“Hey.” She came over to you in the locker room with a spare towel for you to somewhat dry yourself off with, another item hidden behind her back. “I have something else for you.”

You could tell everybody in the room was fighting to keep their eyes averted, but their curiosity got the better of them. After all, it was a small token of appreciation from everybody.

“Oh, okay. Sure, what is it?” You forced a smile, but below the surface, Ingrid and Alexia could tell there were alarm bells going off in your mind.

“Well it is your birthday, and though you said you don’t want to make a big deal of it, we couldn’t let it go under the radar. This is just something small from all of us.” Patri revealed an envelope in her hand and held it out for you. Your name was written on the front, as well as a huge smiley face.

“You don’t have to open it now, in front of everyone, don’t worry. Look at it in your own time, that’s more than okay.” The midfielder smiled her bright smile at you, squeezing your shoulder before heading back to her cubby. 

It was then that Alexia came over, standing beside you when you turned back to your space.

“Was that alright?” Alexia murmured quietly. Everybody else was back to doing their own thing now, giving you two the privacy you probably needed.

“Yes, just unexpected.” You said, eyes still staring at the yellow envelope.

“I know. Like Patri said, you don’t have to open it now. You can look at it whenever, it’s fine. Okay?” She checked, smiling in relief when you looked up at her and nodded.

“Did you do this?” You wondered. Instantly, there was a redness to her cheeks that couldn’t be blamed on the weather or the training session beforehand.

“I may have played a part in it. But it was the other guys’ idea. I just approved it.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “You showering?”

“Yep. When I get out, I’ll look at it.”

You liked taking your time in the shower post-workout, whether that be training or a game or even just a 5k jog. By the time you got out, most of the team had left. It was just Alexia sat there on her own, scrolling through her phone whilst she waited for you. One of her legs was bouncing up and down, and you weren’t sure if that was a sign of anything or not.

“Ale?” You got her attention as you dropped your towel and training kit down into your locker, now dressed in comfy sweats and a t-shirt.

“Mhm?”

“I’m going to open the envelope now.” You stated shyly. She tried to disguise the excitement on her face, but she didn’t do a great job. It didn’t really help your nerves, but there were worse audiences to do it in front of.

“Absolutely, go for it.”

Shaking hands tore open the paper, revealing a birthday card. What was in it, though, made it much more than just a card.

On both pages inside were personal messages from every member of the team. From Cata, to Irene, to Salma, and even Alexia. From the first one you read, there were tears in your eyes. Alexia could read you well, but she wasn’t perfect yet.

“Amor? Are you not happy?” She asked nervously, coming over to you. You shook your head, only worrying her further, before burying your face in her chest. “I’m so sorry you don’t like it. I’m so so sorry. I-”

“No, I love it. I really, really love it.” 

Every message was personal, not just a generic one. Whether it contained an inside joke or a compliment, you couldn’t have imagined they thought these things about you. They weren’t saying things for the sake of a congratulatory message, or just to come across as kind, they were deeply meaningful and thought-out. From Mapi’s teasing message that was filled with love, to Frido’s reminder of the car park fiasco and how she signed it as ‘cupid’, to Aitana’s that relayed the memory of your first goal, signifying it wasn’t just a special moment for you but for her too. 

You were left speechless. All you could do was read it again and again and again, something you know you’d be doing for the rest of your life. You’d get it framed if it was socially acceptable. 

The idea, no, the fact that these people, Ballon d’Or winners, World Cup winners, Euros winners, the people you held at such a high regard like this. It was almost unimaginable, if it wasn’t written right in front of your eyes. If the months beforehand hadn’t shown you how important it was to be vulnerable and open and honest, this gesture sealed that decision and was all the proof you needed that everything that had led you to this moment, the good and the awful, was undoubtedly worth it. 

You were part of a record breaking team, sure, but it was the people in it that made your personal dreams come true.

“I wrote my message last so that nobody saw me being soft.” Alexia admitted, making you giggle as you read hers. “So you are okay with it?”

“Okay with it? Alexia, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” You said, placing the card down and embracing her tightly. “Thank you. I need to thank everyone, but thank you.” 

“I’m glad.” She whispered. “There was one issue on my behalf though.” 

“What?” You wondered, leaning back and looking up at her with a frown.

“I was too scared to write how I truly felt.” Well fuck, if that didn’t make your heart drop and your stomach churn.

“Ale, what do you mean?” You said quietly, taking a step back from her. She chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her neck.

“I… wanted to write that I love you in it, but I didn’t want to ruin the card.” 

It took a few moments for your mind to settle at that proclamation, but eventually it did. It left Alexia stood there, looking terrified though.

Your first thought, once the commotion had settled in your mind, was that you were utterly in love with her too. You kind of thought you’d known that the day she took care of you when you collapsed in training. Your second thought was, why would that ruin the card?

“Ale, you’re such a dork.” You laughed. Okay, maybe not the best reaction. “You must know that I love you too, right?”

“You do?” Alexia asked in a childlike wonder, as if all her wildest dreams were coming true. “You sure?”

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that.” You said. Any further doubts that began to creep in were immediately cut off when she cradled your face and kissed you. Just like you did to her during your first kiss.

“I love you, cariño, and I will not have you worrying otherwise. I really love you.” Alexia breathed out, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders.

“I really love you, too.” You stated shyly, gazing up into the eyes you'd come to love, only to see sincerity and mirth swirling in the hazel of her orbs. She wasn't kidding, this wasn't some evil birthday prank, she actually was in love with you.

It certainly wasn't a gift you were expecting, but it topped them all indefinitely. Frankly, it was hard to process. Hard to comprehend. How someone of her stature could love a person like you. But, seemingly so, it would have to be something you came to terms with. Because she was stood before you, professing exactly how she felt, and when she gave such a brave show like that, it'd be cruel to reject her.

Except, there was one question you had.

“Was that the gift that Aitana mentioned?” 

“What? No!” Alexia tutted, rolling her eyes affectionately as you grinned. “Your actual gifts are in the boot of my car, in the cardboard box I told you was full of old Barça kits.”

That wasn't a total lie. In the aforementioned box, there were old kits in there, but they weren't all Barça ones. They were real, match-worn shirts from not only Alexia's collection she'd made over the years, but from Aitana's, and Mapi’s, and a few of Alexia's ex-teammates turned good friends. They ranged from international jerseys, like the USWNT jersey with Christen Press' name and number, as well as one of Christine Sinclair's Canada shirts. Not to mention the array of club kits. There were loads of them, god knows how valuable they all were, but you adored every single one. Your personal favourite was Alexia's old Barça shirt from her first season in 2012, one of your favourite designs from Barcelona as a whole.

The fact that Alexia had listened to your stories of when you were younger where you were crazy for any kind of memorabilia, even going as far as asking her friends for their shirts, was a notion you couldn't begin to understand. To be loved is to be heard, and Alexia had taken that phrase and ran with it. You gazed at each shirt, having laid them out across your bed to send a video to Ingrid (and Aitana, of course), but for a while you just stared at them. 

Alexia stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, a proud smile on her face. She knew she had done a good job, but seeing you geek out like you were over them was so endearing, she couldn't help but fall further in love. It was her mission to show you a life of joy and compassion, and in her professional opinion, she'd made a damn good start.

Her love for you was woven through the fabric of the jerseys she had gifted. Your approval of that fact was shown in the way you barely let her out of your hold for the rest of the evening, even as you slept that night. 

The be all and end all of everything was written into the bonds formed with people in the world, and yours with Alexia was enough reason to wake up everyday with a smile on your face and contentment in your heart. The essence of your existence was not limited to the three words of your medical diagnosis, but rather the three words that were whispered in your ear the moment you opened your eyes in the morning and the moment you closed them at night.

Maybe birthdays didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[turtletaubwrites]

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time. 

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body. 

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard. 

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously. 

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate. 

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone. 

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon. 

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands. 

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room. 

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down. 

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers. 

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you. 

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes. 

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table. 

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking. 

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand. 

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen. 

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately. 

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…” 

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before. 

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.” 

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment. 

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside. 

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to. 

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement. 

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you. 

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders. 

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him. 

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good. 

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises. 

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay. 

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did. 

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit. 

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax. 

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him. 

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face. 

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions. 

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[kteezy997]

I’ve never seen someone do this with Timmy so :

Maybe reader is a masseur and when she massages timothée things get spicy

Oh fuck yes I love this

massage room//t.c.

warnings: workplace smut, handjob, male and female receiving oral sex, doggystyle, cumshot

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when you looked at your schedule for the day. Did you read it right? Your last appointment of the day was Timothee Chalamet. As in uber famous Hollywood actor, Timothee Chalamet? Was this even real?

You peeked out into the lobby of the salon, and there he was. In the flesh. Like a tall drink of curly-headed water.

You couldn't believe it. Whoever took the call to make his appointment just jotted his name down, like it was no big deal? How was no one else among the salon employees aware of who was coming in? For he was the most beautiful and talented movie star since Elizabeth Taylor.

You were just stunned at the whole situation. But you had to get yourself and your massage room together, because his appointment time was inching closer.

You were anxious to meet him, as you had been watching him in movies and crushing on him for years now. But you drank some cold water and tried to calm yourself. You were a professional. He was only a typical client. A very hot and sophisticated client, but it did not matter. He would get the same treatment from you as any other person.

You walked out to greet your client; you saw him relaxing on one of the couches in the lobby sitting area. "Mr. Chalamet?"

He shook his curls out of his face as he looked up, smiling.

"I am ready for you. My name is y/n, you can follow me." you smiled politely back a him, trying to not dwell on his charm.

"Perfect." Timothee said, standing up from the couch.

You turned on your heels, leading the way to the back room.

...........

You entered the room, Timothee right behind you. "Thank you for coming in, Mr. Chalamet. I hope you enjoy your experience today."

"Oh, you can just call me Timmy. And the lady I talked to on the phone highly recommended you, so you must be one of the best here."

"Oh, well, I don't know about that, but I will do my best to make you feel better." you turned to face him, "Are there any problem areas for you that I need to give special attention to?"

"Ugh, yeah my back muscles have been really sore lately."

"Okay, sounds good. I assume you've been working on your feet a lot?"

"Yes," he combed his fingers through his hair, "feels like I've been working nonstop lately. Sorry if I seem tired, it's cause I am." he chuckled.

You giggled, "Hopefully I can get some of that stress out of you and you'll be feeling more comfortable. Now, you're scheduled for a one-hour massage, so I'll be working on your full body. I'll give you a moment in private to undress down to whatever your comfort level is. And I'll have you start out laying on your front."

"Is it okay if...I'm naked during the massage?" he crooked an eyebrow at you.

You nearly blushed at the thought of him naked, then you caught yourself, "That is perfectly acceptable. It is most important that you are comfortable. I'll be back in a couple of minutes, Timmy."

"Sounds great, y/n." he smiled softly, starting to take his jacket off, his eyes wandered down your body.

You almost forgot that you needed to leave the room. "Oh, sorry." you laughed at yourself, leaving the room quickly. You could hear him chuckle lightly at you.

Timothee Chalamet had checked you out. You were certain that's what he was doing. And you were going to put your hands on his body?? NO! You are a trained and certified professional. There was nothing sexual or erotic about what was to happen in that room. This was your job. You were providing an innocent service to this man. Right?

.........

You gave Timmy a short amount of time to get undressed and then get comfortable on the massage table, then knocked on the door.

"I'm ready, you can come in." he called from inside the room.

The sound of the calming spa music and the mist from the humidifier in the room brought you to your senses. This is what you did every day. Timmy was no different than any other client.

You found him lying on his stomach as you had instructed him. His cute little bubble butt exposed. You shook your head, getting rid of your filthy thoughts. You then took the blanket on the table and covered him up to his waist with it.

You didn't speak as you lubed your hands up with lotion. You almost always remained quiet during your massages, so that the client can be at their most relaxed state.

As you pressed your hands into his muscles, you said, "If the pressure is too much, just let me know."

Timmy hummed an, "Okay." underneath you.

You went into your massage routine, finding the hard and tender spots up in his shoulders. As you worked out his knots, you took notice of his smooth, pale skin, and his many sprawling freckles all along his back. He didn't make a sound or move at all as you got the deep kinks out, and you knew that they had to be painful. "Be sure to drink plenty of water this evening, to flush out all of those knots, Timmy." you said.

His body was built thin, but his muscles were firm. He was healthy and strong, you could tell. You moved around toward his feet to massage his legs. His calves were tight, so you gave them a good kneading with your fingers.

Next were his feet which were rather long and bony. But they weren't smelly or hairy, so you were glad. Timmy actually smelled quite nice, like soap and a little bit of musk.

"Okay, Timmy, you may turn over onto your back now. Take it nice and slow." you said, as thirty minutes had gone by, and you had finished his back side.

He did as you instructed, slowly turning over to lay on his back. As he settled comfortably, you tucked the blanket along his waistline again.

Timmy's eyes were closed, so he didn't see you bite your lip as he turned over. His chest and abs were super defined. You imagined your tongue running down the lines and valleys of his body, and flicking over his tiny, cute nipples.

You pumped some more lotion into your hands, warming the cream between your palms before spreading your hands over his chest.

You heard a soft, contented sigh leave his throat. You smiled, please with yourself at making him comfortable. Thus was the goal of the massage therapist: to soothe your clients.

"You're great with your hands, y/n." Timmy said, opening his eyes under hooded lids and looking at you.

"So I've heard." you answered, running your fingertips under his collarbones.

"Is it weird if I watch you work?" he asked.

You swallowed, continuing your hand movements along his chest. "No, this is your appointment, sir, you may do as you wish."

"As I wish?" he repeated. You could practically hear the smirk toying with his lips.

"I just mean you should do what makes you comfortable." you moved up, pushing your fingers into his shoulders. The more he talked to you, the more nervous you felt.

"Are you always so professional sounding, y/n?"

"When I am on the clock, yes, Mr. Chalamet." you answered, rubbing and massaging his upper arms.

"What if I paid you to stay after you got off the clock?"

You blushed, but kept your poise, "Well, if you're paying me, sir, am I not on the clock still?"

"Touche." he said simply, then rested quietly, closing his eyes for several minutes as you massaged his forearms and his hands.

You fought the urge to nibble and suck on his long fingers. As you circled your thumbs into his palm, you stared idly at his hands, wondering how his fingers would feel inside of you. Gently, you set his arm down on the table.

You moved down slightly to work on his abdomen, and then his lower body. You rubbed your fingers in your taught patterns along his abdominal muscles, mentally reminding yourself that you were a professional. Though Timmy's previous offer gave hints to something perhaps not so professional.

"What are you thinking, y/n?" came his soft voice, "And be honest." It was as if he had known you for years and could see right through you.

"Um, nothing, sir, I'm just working." you made a feeble attempt to resist the temptation of this man. He was winning.

"I think you're lying." his tone was slightly harsher now. "Are you thinking about my cock? Don't lie to me." He moved up, propping himself onto his elbows and looking at you.

Okay, it was time to play. "Hmm, maybe I am, Mr. Chalamet." You looked at him.

"Well, you should know that I can't stop thinking about your tits. Not even those scrubs can hide how nice they are."

"Really? You think so?" you teased, placing your hands over your boobs.

"Yeah." he replied, tucking his tongue between his teeth cheekily.

"Well, Mr. Chalamet,"

"Timmy." he corrected you.

"Timmy," pushed your hair back off your shoulder, trying to exude confidence, "you show me yours; I'll show you mine." you grinned.

"Take the blanket off me." he demanded.

"Hm." you hummed, leaning over and pulling the big, white blanket off of his lower body, leaving him totally exposed. His cock was long and half hard already. You were genuinely intrigued by the size of him.

"Now take your clothes off." he ordered, not making a move from the massage table.

"So bossy, Timmy." you teased, but shed your uniform and underwear anyway.

The instant your breasts were free, he groped them, "Fuck, they're so nice." He pinched each of your nipples between his long fingers.

You were turned on the second he touched you, and you started to get wet. "Should I massage your cock for you?"

"Yes, please." he answered, leaning back on the table again.

You got the bottle of lotion, and he watched you pump some straight onto his cock. You then set the bottle back down and wrapped your hands around his length. You worked your hands up and down on him, slowly at first.

You looked at Timmy's face as you stroked his cock. His eyes closed, lips pressed together, he let out a "mmm" sound. He began to move his hips upward to meet the rhythm of your hands.

You rolled your wrists back and forth, creating a tight friction on his smooth cock. The lotion worked wonderfully for a hand job. Timmy's cock got fully hard for you, and you had never seen a cock stand so tall. A tiny bead of precum seeped out of his tip. You felt desperate to taste it.

You leaned forward to put your mouth around the tip of his cock. You put your tongue on the saltiness of his precum, then swirled your tongue around him. You took your mouth off of him to lick a stripe from his base to the tip, then you put him back in your mouth to suck.

You moaned at how good his cock felt sliding in and out of your mouth. Timmy kept a firm grip on your hair. You gently massage his balls with your hands, then used your tongue on them.

"Oh, y/n." Timmy cooed.

You licked you hand and jerked his cock again, looking at his shiny, slick body all lubed up from the massage. You licked the head of his cock, then said, "You know, looking like that could get a man ridden to death."

"Yeah?" Timmy raised his brows, "Well, let's see." he made the "come here" motion with his fingers.

You took the invitation to climb onto him. You straddled his waist, and held his cock as you sunk your pussy onto it. His cock introduced a massive pressure inside of you. "Fuck, Timmy." you sighed.

He put his hands on your hips, digging his fingers into your skin.

You grabbed onto his abs, then softly started moving to and fro, getting a feel for his cock, letting it stretch you. You picked up speed, riding him fast, having an image of riding a bull in your mind. You whimpered at the pleasure his cock gave as it hit your g spot.

"Up and down, please." Timmy huffed out the request.

"Yes sir." you said, grinning as you bounced on his dick. You could hear the slapping of damp skin on skin, your ass hit his thighs over and over. You cursed again, tightening your hold on his body, probably scratching him, but he didn't seem to mind.

You felt Timmy's hand gripping your hips, and he slowly started to shake you back and forth as you were fucking him up and down.

The head of his cock hit your g spot with each thrust. It was immaculate. It was pleasure like you hadn't known before. You cried out, you squeezed your breasts, as you trembled on the brink of orgasm.

You knew you were coming, you stopped your movements, pressing your hands onto his chest so you wouldn't fall. You nearly collapsed onto him, huffing and puffing, trying to catch your breath.

Timmy put his arms around you and gave you a kiss on the side of your head. Without a word, he got out from under you.

You felt an instant sense of cold and emptiness once his skin was no longer on yours and you thought that he was going to leave.

Before you could even process it happening, Timmy grabbed you, pulling you to the edge of the table. You gasped as he brought your ass up.

He spread your pussy lips from behind you, and you felt his warm breath on your clit. He swiped his tongue over your pussy, his hands squeezing your ass as he did so.

Your body shook as you were overwhelmed with pleasure.

Timmy suckled your clit between his lips, then dipped his tongue onto it. He did it over and over again, in a pattern that drove you crazy. You moaned his name like he was God.

His mouth left your pussy, but he quickly replaced the sensation with a swift push of his cock all the way inside you, making your toes curl.

"Oh, my fucking god." you purred, taking a grip onto the blanket beside you.

Timmy held onto your waist firmly as he pumped his cock in and out of you. You could hear him breathing hard and grunting. "Do you fuck all of your clients, y/n?"

"No!" you cried. He thrusted deep into you, making you pause before you could say another word. "I've never done anything like this before."

He grabbed your ass by the handful, ramming you hard and fast now, "I knew you were a good girl, ahh, I could just tell." He leaned onto your body, pushed you down onto your chest, then drilled into you.

You moaned wildly; the legs of the massage table creaked as the table shook. Timmy might break the table, but you didn't care.

"Fuck." he muttered, pulling his cock out of you.

You raised up, looked behind you to see him jerking himself and he came in white streams on your ass cheek.

Timmy groaned in the most feral way. Coming down from his high, he looked at you.

You giggled as your eyes met, you couldn't believe the filth that just transpired in your workplace, and how much you loved it.

"I'll be coming back here for sure." Timmy declared.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @mel-vaz @thatoneweirdgirl17 @iwishchalamet @jindongdongie @elloise0 @rennyd26 @briefkittenearthquake @that-one-fangirl69

If you have been on my taglist before, but I have left you out, please let me know. Or if you would just like to be added, you can also just tell me lol

[mybrainproblems]

can you expand on what you mean about 12x22 and berens? i’ve never really looked at the writer patterns before but i’m intrigued

so jensen did a solo panel at JIB 8 in 2017 and an earlier question prompted him to recount his experience having difficulty connecting with the mary & dean relationship in s12 and the character motivation behind it. (and i think he's correct in saying that fans picked up on him not gelling with it which actually works in some episodes but feels off in others.)

anyway! berens was on-set when they were filming 12x22 "who we are" and jensen told him "oh god i get it now!" with the "i hate you, i forgive you" speech (that dean's character arc was him needing to forgive mary) and berens had no idea what he was talking about.

hopefully this embedded correctly to start at the right time code, but if not, he starts talking about it at 19:45

which yes, there's the possibility that berens was just yanking jensen's chain* about not realizing the "i hate you, i forgive you" was the thesis of mary & dean's relationship arc in s12. but also i really am inclined to believe he didn't realize he'd tied up the whole arc bc berens has been such a chronic dean misunderstander over the years. like folks will talk about dean as the "angry man" in late seasons and... that's mostly berens, baby!**

and i know you didn't ask but this is why the confession falls so flat for me. it rings hollow bc this is the writer who has done more than anyone else in the last few seasons to make dean an un-likeable prick. i do like the confession as a radical act of self-love (that "having" doesn't matter and "being" is more important) but as cas confessing his love to dean? yeah, i just can't buy it given the other stuff berens wrote over the years and the narrative framing is just off. much like the finale, it's tragedy wearing an ill-fitting ballgown and looking in a fun house mirror.

so, in summary (x)

* this is a bit unkind, but jensen is such a consummate pro that i would not be surprised if the "maybe he was yanking my chain" was a way to save face for berens since jensen has disagreed with him on his episodes before.

** i did not jive with 14x20 "moriah" until i re-watched it without the baggage of 14x18 before it (14x19 isn't great but does set up the "logic" of dean's actions in 14x20; never 5get that cas wanted to put jack in the cage... how is that different from a ma'lak box?). i think berens was just not a good fit for spn and especially not the direction they were going in during dabb era. i'm not a big fan of him in carver era either but he fit the vibes and direction way better.

[itsclydebitches]

Any tips for new grad students? I'm about to start in the fall and I'm curious how it'll be different/hopefully better than undergrad!

Congratulations, anon!!!

Let's see... some alphabetical tips based on my own experience:

Ask for help. You'll likely have a million questions and, unfortunately, the designated people who can answer them are often crazy busy and may take a while to get back to you, or forget entirely. So don't be afraid to ask for help from whoever might even feasibly know the answer -- including tumblr blogs! You're off to a great start lol

Be on the lookout for advisors early. Whether you're just in need of a singular advisory for a thesis, or if you'll be putting a whole committee together, approach every new instructor with the question, "Would I want them to mentor me through my research?" in the back of your mind. Pay attention to not just their specialties and teaching methods, but who they are as a person. Do you like them? Are you comfortable with them? Do they treat you respectfully? Do they seem to have everything well in hand? I loved my advisor dearly as a person, but he was often waaaaaay behind on his work. Looking back, I would have at least considered choosing someone with better organization/time management skills.

Get good at writing emails. Can you write a succinct, professional sounding email? Great! Get comfortable doing that throughout the whole day. Feeling a little iffy? Practice over the summer. There are a lot of templates online that can help, but you'll want to ensure you're not going into grad school still writing "k thx" from your iPhone at 3:00am. (For the record, your professors may do this, the students should not lol).

Have designated, scheduled downtime. Literally if you don't plan to take a break... you won't be taking a break. Not until your body decides to take one for you, anyway. Friday nights were always my couch potato time. Absolutely no work allowed and no strenuous activity unless it was something I was legitimately excited about (so no getting pressured into outings I didn't actually want to attend). Friday nights were sacred, a time for takeout and only whatever else I felt like doing, usually TV, video games, and vegging out with my cat.

Imposter Syndrome is a BITCH. Luckily, pretty much everyone's got it to a greater or lesser extent, we all just need to acknowledge it more. You know those boards some schools have celebrating places where students have gotten in and other achievements? Yeah, we put one up for failures in our department. Literally a giant, glittery, "CONGRATS YOU DIDN'T GET IT!" board where we hung proposal rejections, grant rejections, school rejections, scholarship rejections, job rejections, and on one memorable occasion a date rejection. I highly recommend it. Nothing lessens the sting quite as much as seeing that you're a part of a sea of similar disappointments and remembering that you're all in the same, often luck-based boat.

Pick a non-academic hobby. Your mental health will thank you, trust me. Like the designated downtime, you need to be doing something that's not reading/writing/researching 24/7. Pick a hobby that in no way relates to academics or your chosen field, preferably something hands-on and creative. Grad school is when I picked up crocheting alongside knitting.

Prepare to hold down two jobs. This really only applies if you're going to be teaching while you get your degree (or if you have an outside job for the paycheck), but I was pretty blindsided by what it took to be a full-time student and a half-time instructor. I don't really have good advice beyond "Figure out your time management skills now" and "Don't pour all your energy into one or the other because the one you've neglected WILL come back to bite you in the ass," but even just being aware of how difficult it is going to be would have staved off the initial shock.

Read strategically. Perhaps this is different for someone not in the Humanities, but you will be reading a LOT in grad school. Like, an absolutely stupid amount. There simply will not be time to cover everything from title to footnotes (I know, it hurts), so get comfortable with reading abstracts, chapter summaries, skimming, and otherwise summarizing lengthy works to figure out what you should prioritize. Unless a whole article is assigned for class, figure out what you need from any given text -- or what you think you may need -- and hone in on that. You can always return to read more if you have the time.

SAVE EVERYTHING. Do not delete emails. Get copies of everything even remotely official. Print everything out. Buy yourself a couple of cheap file boxes, stick them under your bed, and keep it all just in case. What kind of things have I unexpectedly needed to dredge up weeks, months, or even years later? The printed paper with hand-written comments to justify a grade I gave. An ancient email from a committee member proving that they did in fact sign off on a certain chapter choice. A copy of the publication forms I signed for a book collection after those got lost on their end (somehow). Seriously, save everything. You'll never know when you may need proof of some communication you've had.

Take naps. That's it. That's the advice. Someone gives you shit for being "lazy" or tries to make you feel bad for "wasting" a sunny afternoon? Make them step on a Lego and then both of you take your nap outside. Naps are beautiful and sacred and life-saving. Just set a good alarm for whenever your next class/meeting is.

Work at making friends. Unlike high school or even college where you'll be spending the day with a core group of people, in graduate school (unless your school is really small) the students are a lot more spread out and there aren't as many built-in opportunities to socialize. So plan to put in more effort at connecting with others because you will want that camaraderie, both for practical help and your sanity. I didn't realize how much more I needed to do to get to know my peers until I was nearly finished my Master's. Luckily, my PhD threw me into an office with seven other grads, so I didn't have a choice about getting to know them lol

You're responsible for your own learning. You've gotten a taste of this in college, but grad school cranks it up to 11. You're an adult (not an "adult" adult like a college student) and you've committed to putting forth 2-7 additional years towards your education. The expectation is that you want to be here and will showcase the necessary effort without outside influence (unless you require accommodations, of course). Be prepared for your instructors to treat you like a peer, both when it comes to the fun stuff - intense debates about your field! - and the responsibilities they expect you to follow through on. In some ways grad school is nothing like college because you are now focused on one subject, you are working collaboratively with people who were once solely authority figures, and 95% of the work will occur outside the classroom via self-teaching. You're a professional now. Still being mentored, but well on your way to that equal standing. The sooner you realize that you are responsible for your own education and future career -- not your teachers, your parents, your BFF, your roommate, etc. -- the better.

Most importantly:

[multiplicity-positivity]

Taking a break - in crisis.

Greetings. I don’t normally front and I’m not normally on this blog. I am the gatekeeper of our system.

Recently, a user who members of my system have brought up concerns about in the past, decided to make false claims about certain alters in my system. She mentioned these members by name, and said they have done things like attacking another user and false reporting. She twisted the words of my alters to villainize them, and spoke ill about the labels they use to define themselves.

Our system has been severely traumatized in the past by individuals in online spreading false rumors about us. It is what caused an alter in our system to split, and now this alter is having to deal with people online talking about them behind their back and making hurtful assumptions.

We have been struggling immensely lately, and learning of this user’s vendetta against these alters has put our whole system in an extremely bad place. This ordeal has been the straw that broke the camel’s back, and I am concerned for the safety of the system.

So here is where I put my foot down.

The damage this user has done to my alters goes deeper than she could ever understand. Her actions have reminded our system of past trauma, and her actions came at a time when we were already unstable.

As a result of this, I will be taking my system to a crisis stabilization unit. I am worried these parts will cause the body significant harm.

I am not sure how long my parts will be gone from this blog. It will at least be a few days as we seek treatment, but Kip and Alucard may be gone from this blog indefinitely.

My parts wrote a post detailing some issues with the user who slandered our system. You can add block-evading, making false accusations, and spreading hateful, targeted rumors to the list of horrendous things she’s done.

I will include a link to a post my alters wrote in the past warning people about this user.

And when my parts return, make no mistake

We do not want followers of Sophieinwonderland interacting with us. Again:

WE DO NOT WANT FOLLOWERS OF SOPHIEINWONDERLAND INTERACTING WITH US. Please show us some decency and respect our wishes.

She has traumatized our system without a second glance. She has no issues with lying about other users, block-evading, talking down on people, and spreading legitimately harmful rumors. This is in addition to the problems addressed by my alters in their DNI post.

We will not be available to field questions. We have been to a stabilization unit before, and they will take our mobile device. Upon our return, my parts may be willing to make some clarifications. This will hopefully be the only time I have to show my face online.

This blog’s queue has two posts in it, and will remain unaffected. They’ll post as scheduled. To those of you who stick with us through this trying time, thank you. I do apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. But if I don’t get my system to a safe place soon, we may not be around to post on this blog ever again.

Best,

Kiki. And Parker, who helped me navigate Tumblr in order to create this post.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: trophic level ²

He's a former idol, one of the people sheltered and saved from the inevitable collapse of humanity- probably thinking that his eye was some huge sacrifice he'd made to survive. Well, welcome to reality; where you can count yourself lucky if you only loose your eye, and nothing else.

Tags/Warnings: Zombie apocalypse, Violence, blood and descriptive gore, enemies to lovers, former idol!Jungkook, jungkook is half blind in this, near death experiences

Additional Chapter Warnings: tsundere af reader, jungkook being jungkook, if you use some glasses you can spot some fluff, dirt ew, blood and wounds ew², mild Angst

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You're not feeling too good.

You're not sure if Jungkook has noticed this or not, but right now, you're at least happy he doesn't complain or bug you about it. You don't like staying in one place for too long, so you keep on walking behind him through abandoned cars and buildings around. He's not stupid- he doesn't enter the town itself, keeps himself and you in the background to avoid potential dead people trying to gain some dinner.

It's not long, though, when your dizziness gets the best of you, sending you straight into the bushes below, unable to get up for a good moment. "Wha- fuck!" He curses under his breath, instantly pulling you out the branches and into a sitting position. "What's wrong? What happened?" He wants to know, his brown eye roaming your features for any hint.

"Oh, thought I'd take a quick nap, you know." You tell him, wiping your cheek where there's a little cut now from the sharp branches you'd fallen into. "Give me a second. I'll be up in a few.." you mumble to yourself, while he simply refuses to listen it seems, trying to guess your temperature with the back of his hand.

"You're sweating." He tells mostly himself as his hand dips into your sweater and jacket, making your cheeks burn for a second from the bold action. "You got injured yesterday, right?" He asks, brows furrowed and face serious.

"Just a scrape. But yeah." You say, moving your leg that he instantly inspects by pulling on your pants. "Ow, hey! Thought you idols were such gentlemen." You curse, while he clicks his tongue, tilting his head a bit irritated.

"I'll just ignore that comment." He murmurs, before lifting the pant leg a bit more carefully.

"Well, awesome." You throw your hands up, seeing the angry red and splotchy skin around your cut.

"Its infected. Why didn't you say anything?" He scolds, and for the first time, you actually shrink in on yourself a bit at his harsh tone. Maybe you should put the whole idol-persona you've had in mind for him aside for now.

At least until you make sure he won't have to cut your leg off.

"I didn't want you to stop walking." You say quietly. "We can't stay in one place for long."

"Yeah and you can't walk with just one leg." He sighs. "I'm not a doctor, I've got honestly no idea what to do, other than.. things I've read on Google a few years back."

"Well, then use that world-wide-web knowledge! It's better than nothing?" You encourage, and he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he looks around.

There's not many options, and even less are even slightly safe. He can't stay here with you, not with the potential amount of dead walking around in the more inner parts of the city. He has to move into a different direction for now, find some remote shelter that hopefully has some things left he can use, and then let you rest until you can keep up again.

"Alright." He says, dropping his backpack. "Get on." He tells you.

"And your backpack?" You wonder quietly.

"I'll carry it in my hand. Come on now." He urges. "We don't have time forever."

You quietly crawl onto his back like that, surprised at how easily he seems to lift and carry you, as he begins to walk. "I'm sorry." You mumble.

"For what?" He scoffs.

"Being a burden? This is horribly cliche." You complain. He shrugs as best as he can with you on his back.

"Just don't sacrifice yourself or something. Being lonely sucks." He complains quietly, and you're unsure if he meant that as a joke, or in all seriousness.

Maybe both.

In the small shed you find in the middle of the woods a few minutes away from town, there's no one there- not much supplies either, but enough to at least comfort you both for a day or two. Jungkook carefully places you down next to a cold and dirty stove, before he searches through the cabinets for anything.

"Yes! Fuck, yes, I'm so good, kissed by the gods, I swear!" He calls out but keeps his voice low, fist-bumping the air.

"Did you find alcohol?" You wonder.

"Even better!" He grins, before shaking a plastic bottle. "Penicillin!" He presents as if he's shooting a commercial.

Go figure. Some things never change.

"Alright, I'll clean that and while you're busy being a good girl and not scream at me while I'm doing that-" he looks at you from his halfway-kneeling position, old shirt in hand as well as a water bottle. You're a bit flustered at his choice of words. "-you can chug some of these bad boys so they'll kick in soon." He instructs, while you just nod dumbly.

He's surprisingly effective yet gentpe- though he has to keep a good grip on your ankle because you can't help but pull away every now and then. He's constantly making sure to whisper out praise whenever he can, concentrated on doing a good job wrapping gauze he'd found still packaged around your cut, not too tight and not too loose before he leaves you be.

"Hey I found some-" he calls out after securing some snacks they'd stored- only to find you asleep, halfway leaning against the stove and his backpack.

Quietly, Jungkook just sits down next to you, watching you, listening to any noises that might come from outside. The shed is safe, he'd secured all entrances and windows, but still, he keeps watch over you for as long as he can stay awake.

Because being lonely sucks, yeah-

But he's also really starting to like you.

[kellanved-ammanas]

TF2 Drabbles: RED Engie/BLU Spy - I Want To

Summary: It would be nice for someone on RED to strike up an awkward friendship with the Spy head. Shippy or not, I think it'd be a good(?) time. The man is miserable let him have something.

~

Finding out why the BLU Spy was missing from the battlefield had been an accident. Engie had just happened to wonder in at the right time to catch Medic in a rush to put something back in his fridge that he clearly didn’t want Engie to see. Engie was more than smart enough to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything, coming back later to check.

His first instinct had been to put a stop to the experiment. But getting on Medic’s bad side was unwise. And after how long he’d been missing for he likely was marked as permanently dead or AWOL, either of which might have gotten him removed from BLU Respawn’s data base. Engie couldn’t exactly waltz over there and check or do anything to fix that should it be a thing while the whole rest of the BLU team was present. So he bided his time.

He did what he could to make Spy’s life more bearable; taking him out of the fridge to talk to him and give him cigarettes. It probably didn’t help as much as he would’ve liked given that he could only come in when Medic was away, so mostly at night. But he finally had stopped asking Engie to kill him so perhaps they were getting somewhere… or he had just given up.

Either way Engie was glad not to hear a request for death upon opening the fridge. Instead Spy said a halfhearted, “Howdy,” in imitation of him. He looked about as tired as one would expect. Hopefully soon though that would change.

“Howdy,” Engie returned with as much cheer as he could muster as he reached in to grasp the device at the base of his neck that kept him alive. Pulling him out he placed him on the nearby table. It’d be nice to bring him back to the workshop but he only dared do so when Medic was all the way away from the base which he currently wasn’t.

Engie pulled out his pack of cigarettes. After putting one in Spy’s mouth he lit it before pulling one out for himself. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore, the fancy expensive ones were indeed much better than the kind he used to buy before Spy had started insisting he get better ones.

As they smoked Engie caught him up on the goings on of RED and what he knew of BLU. Such had become their routine and thus there wasn’t much new to report so he added in what he’d read in the Tuefort Times he’d read a couple days ago too. Not that that was very interesting but it certainly had to be better than the inside of Medic’s fridge.

Eventually their cigarettes burnt to nubs. Engie snuffed them out in the ash tray he’d brought. Always he was careful to never leave any trace of himself behind. When he was done he looked back up at Spy. “So, the holidays are coming up soon. Meaning both teams will be getting off soon to head home. Medic say what his plans are for ya?” Another reason Engie couldn’t easily do anything about the situation was because Spy’s device needed to be routinely refilled with whatever liquid ran it or he’d die.

“He’s hooking me up to a new device of his that’s supposed to not need refilling as often. I suspect I’ll die.”

“He’s leaving you here?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” Exactly what Engie had been hoping for.

“Yes, wonderful. I’ll die alone in a fridge when the healing beam inevitably fails or runs out of juice halfway through the holiday season. Perhaps if I’m really lucky, I’ll last until Christmas. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Engie wasn’t always the best at picking up on sarcasm but that certainly had to be what Spy’s tone was dripping with. And who could blame him? Not wanting him to get his hopes up too high if Engie couldn’t deliver anything, he hadn’t told him any of his ideas for solving this dilemma. Now was probably a good time to.

“Nah, if he’s gone and the rest of your team’s gone, I can head over to your base to try to make make sure you’re still registered in Respawn or put you back in if you’ve been booted from it for being gone so long, and that you’ll come back whole if you are. Or if I ensure of that, I’ve been…”

“I never considered I might not Respawn,” Spy interrupted. “I just assumed you weren’t killing me because you didn’t wish to anger Medic.”

“Well that too but mostly the former. I can handle Medic if I gotta. But anyway if I can’t be sure Respawn’ll grab you, I’ve been working on a robot body to attach your head too. I need to be able to bring it in for some tests and I’ll have to figure out what the device keeping you alive runs on and figure out how to replicate it. Which I’ve also already begun work on.”

“Why are you suddenly going to so much trouble for me?”

“‘Cause I want to.” Engie never would’ve thought he’d go through so much trouble for someone technically his enemy either but he wasn’t going to tolerate this. Science was wonderful and he’d go to great lengths for it, including hurting and killing folk, but there came a point where it wasn’t for science anymore but just to be cruel. Medic had crossed that line here and so something needed to be done about it.

And once the possible ideas on what he could do about it had started occurring to Engie, he’d been too enamored with them to let them go. When looking at BLU Respawn he’d get to learn more about it without risking his own death safety net. Figuring out how to build a robot body was just a plain cool. And the healing juice no doubt had some interesting potential as well. Like he could add it to his dispenser so it could heal as well as give ammo.

Thus there was a lot in this for him as well but yes, his primary motivator was Spy. Somehow during these clandestine meetings he’d grown to enjoy his company. Whether that would remain to be the case once Spy had a body back remained to be seen. But right now Engie was determined to get them there, hopefully indeed over the holiday break.

[spinningwebsandtales]

The Shape Of You

Michael Myers X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, mentions of murder, weapons, basically all the good stuff that comes in a Halloween movie.

Word Count: 5.1k

Pt. 2: here Pt. 3 here Pt. 4 here Pt. 5 here Pt. 6 here

(A/N:) I actually wasn’t going to post this as I had wrote it for me and a friend but after having so much fun and it turning out better than I possibly could imagine. I changed my mind. I’ve been a Halloween fan for years now and Michael has been my favorite slasher since I was a kid. I just grew up and found my interests leaning elsewhere. I don’t know. But this is the outcome of that! XD I’m still working on my last four Halloween imagines and hopefully I’ll have them done in time but for now to all you Michael fangirls I hope you enjoy this little piece that I had a blast writing! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Halloween once again had come upon the town of Haddonfield and while other people your age were planning to go out out for partying and drinking, you found yourself wanting to just enjoy time at home, alone. Life had been hectic here lately and while you absolutely loved Halloween, the thought of going out and doing normal things didn’t seem appealing. While typing away at the computer on your desk you planned a whole evening of all the things you wanted to do while staying indoors. Favorite scary movies, popcorn, and that leftover pasta from the famous Italian restaurant down the street you ordered last night. It all sounded like heavenly bliss before your atmosphere was shattered by someone taking a seat on the top of your desk.

“So I was thinking,” your intruder started and you rolled your eyes as you realized just who barged in on your happy thoughts.

“Hi Ian,” you replied. While you tried to get along with everyone in the office Ian was the one person who would never take no for an answer. Pushy and clingy he had tried so many times to get you to go out with him, though you weren’t interested in dating at the moment and told him so.

“Hi (Y/N). How about me and you go out for some drinks and Halloween treats?”

“No thanks,” you grinned warmly but gritted your teeth behind your lips. “I already have plans and I wasn’t wanting to go out tonight.”

“What? Scared of the Boogeyman are we,” he chuckled.

“As a matter of fact,” you paused grin never wavering though your hands were shaking a little over the keys of the computer, “I am. I had bad experiences when I was a child.”

Ian’s flirtatious smile faltered into one of sympathy. Now you were fighting hard to keep from slapping him. ‘Today is not the day to get fired.’ You repeated mentally. ‘Today is not the day to get fired.’

“I’m sure I can help you make better memories to overtake those bad ones,” he reached over to pat your head unknowingly how much danger he was putting his appendage in.

“While I really appreciate you,” your bright eyes could melt steel with the glare you were giving him, “I will just have to pass. This week has really been rough and there’s things around the house I need to take care of. I’m sure Julie would be more than happy to take my place. You two go out and have a good time for me. Have a nice evening Ian.” You didn’t leave any room for arguments as you packed up your belongings, shutting down the computer, and power walked out of the building. Once outside in the crisp autumn air did you finally sigh in relief. Children rushed down the sidewalk in their costumes chasing one another with gleeful screams. You grinned, happy to know that the memory of all those years ago were finally disappearing. While others had called the man that had brought terror on the quiet town a monster, you weren’t so sure. There was always two sides and no one was truly evil without something behind their reasoning.

Dodging kids while making your way to your car in the company parking lot, you felt a chill run down your spine. Not from the wind this time but like you were being watched. Glancing at your surroundings while you fumbled with your car keys and since you weren’t paying attention, the keys tumbled from the your hand hitting the ground. You bent down to pick them back up while cursing up a storm, you contemplated just walking home. It was such a nice day and the autumn breeze was calling your name. But after the feeling of being watched and seeing the person of your ire exit the front door of the office building, you hurriedly grabbed your keys before unlocking the door, buckling quickly, and speeding out of the parking lot. Ian tried chasing you down at the entrance but you just acted like you thought he was waving goodbye to you and left him in a cloud of exhaust.

 It wasn’t until you were in your driveway did you finally breathe a sigh of relief. Years ago when the murders had happened in Haddonfield, it had shaken up the whole town. You included, despite not knowing the teens at that time. You were a little older than them, but it didn’t matter it was scary to think of somebody, anybody really, losing their life in such a way. It had ruined Halloween for you, for a little while but now as the trauma was winding down you were enjoying it more and more. But that didn’t change the fact you didn’t feel like going out and you still wanted to punch Ian in the face for being an insensitive jerk. Groaning you planted your face into the steering wheel trying to calm yourself once more. Maybe tomorrow will be a good day to get fired. Who were you kidding though? You needed the job and you weren’t about to go back living with your parents who hovered over every detail of your life, especially about your dating life, or lack of one. Heaving another groan you grabbed your purse from the passenger seat and shut the car off. 

The sun was beginning to set and when you opened the car door your hair was tussled by a sudden frosty gust. Children giggled and screamed as they went through the neighborhood stopping door to door trick-or-treating. You forgot your fear for one moment and just relished in other’s festivities. Unlocking the front door you kicked off your shoes before dropping the bag right by the door. You would worry about picking up later, right now your leftovers were calling and there was supposed to be a really good movie on TV this evening.

The microwave whirled as you watched the screen from the kitchen not wanting to miss one part. As soon as the microwave beeped the channel started a commercial break, now you could hurry and finish getting your dinner ready before the movie came back on. Grabbing a soda, napkin, and silverware you hurried back to your couch before setting everything down. You ate in silence focusing on what was happening between the characters on screen, but halfway through the movie you were starting to get bored. It also didn’t help that you were getting antsy from sitting at a desk all day. Then you went back to thinking about Ian and how pushy he was today, which caused your blood pressure to begin to rise. Giving up, you grabbed a light jacket and slipped on some shoes, you felt like a walk would be the perfect remedy for your sudden energy spurt. Though as soon as you slipped out of the front door the channel you were watching suddenly interrupted the movie with a breaking news bulletin.

  “Haddonfield PD is urging residences to stay inside this evening as a mental patient has escaped Grove Sanitarium. The escapee is reported to be Michael Myers, the man who was behind the horrific murders that left this peaceful town in tatters at his evil deeds several years ago. Keep all doors and windows locked and for no reason should residents leave their homes. God protect us all. Stay safe and good evening.”

Once the reporter finished the TV stayed on a loop announcing the escape but it was too late you were already on the darkened streets.

You tightened your jacket closer to your body as you treaded across the sidewalk under the streetlights. You were slightly confused on where everyone was at. It wasn’t that late and it had you worried on what could have made everyone go home early. Though Halloween did fall in the middle of the week where children did have school in the morning and parents had to work. So you just chalked everything up to people needing to go home to prepare for their busy lives tomorrow. While you too had work in the morning you couldn’t bring yourself to go home just yet as you were enjoying your Halloween walk looking at all the carved pumpkins and decorations on your neighbor’s porches. You brushed hair from your eyes as you braved another chilling breeze. But the further you got from your house the more your senses were screaming for you to go back. It was just too quiet and everyone’s porch lights were off. Your breathing quickened and your body quivered uncontrollably, it was then you turned quickly and began to sprint back home.

 You weren’t far from your destination when you drove face first into something solid. Hitting the concrete hard and skinning the palm of your hands you rubbed your sore nose before looking up to whatever you ran into. A form stood before you the light causing the front of his body to be covered in slithering shadows.

“E-excuse me,” you stuttered trying to rise from the ground. He stepped closer wordlessly cocking his head to the side in curiousness. Your stomach dropped in terror while your heart leapt into your throat choking you as soon as the face was revealed to you. Where features of a human should be, a mask covered his entire head with pale plastic skin, tangled fake coffee brown hair, and cold blackened depths where eyes should be. He towered over you like a mountain of muscle covered by dark blue coveralls soaked in places with darkened spots of what you were hoping was fake blood, while a kitchen knife sticky with what looked to be blood glittered dangerously in the sickly orange glow of the overhead streetlight.

“M-michael,” you stammered scrambling backwards from the fearsome presence he radiated. Taking another step menacingly while cocking his head once more, you knew for sure you were face to face with the danger you had feared for so many years. You screamed trying to get up, though your fear weakened legs refused to budge any faster than a crawl. He had you in a grip immediately tugging your body towards his. You could feel the wet spots of blood soaking into your clothes before his dirty hand went over your mouth quieting your screams. While his vise like grip refused to budge he didn’t squeeze any tighter leaving you pressed up against him. Boots thudded behind you two as you sobbed quietly into the palm of his calloused hand.

“There he is,” voices shouted and you melted in relief, though despite the terror inside there was a voice deep down inside telling you not to be so frightened. You figured the voice you were hearing was due to others coming to your rescue, but honestly you weren’t so sure at the feeling of Michael’s hands. Michael turned towards the voices still holding you before him. Police officers from different agencies stood before you both ready to take action against the man who had petrified the small town.

  “Let her go Michael,” a officer spoke who you recognized to be the chief of police.

“Michael,” another man stepped forward from the shadows wearing a white coat. “You don’t want to hurt her Michael.”

You sobbed quietly, muffled by Michael’s hand still covering your mouth. Still he refused to release you despite their warnings. The chief was uttering something into the radio on his shoulder which caused your blood to freeze. “Take the shot,” he muttered and you screamed as Michael suddenly whirled around. Gunshots echoed through the pitch black night as your capturer grunted before stumbling. You looked to the officers in disbelief. They had shot at him while he was holding you. If Michael hadn’t turned suddenly, you surely would have been hit. Without a word Michael raced for his escape with you still in tow.

“Put me down,” you pleaded while being jostled around. “Please put me down.” Michael didn’t say a word continuing to run with you tightly in his grip.

He couldn’t explain why he brought you nor could he find any rhyme or reason within himself on why he was bringing you along. He didn’t escape to kidnap anybody, this was his night to take his revenge, against people who didn’t understand him and just labeled him as a horrific monster. He breathed heavily as blood poured from his wounds. Why he turned to keep you safe from the gunshots he couldn’t explain that either. All he knew at this moment he had to find some place to hide to regain his strength and staunch his bleeding. You were still being bounced around like a fruit being blended in a blender and it was beginning to make you a little sick. The feel of warm sticky blood was flowing out of Michael’s wounds into your clothes didn’t help either.

“You are going to bleed out at this rate if you don’t put me down,” you tried to get him to see reason but still he continued on. He made it into the darkened woods where your face was getting scratched up by branches and thorns alike while Michael still carried you like a suitcase, jolting you up and down. The moonlight showed the way to some extent but Michael must have better eyes than you as he navigated through all sorts of heavy brush easily. It wasn’t until a decrepit shed came into view. Wooden roof tiles circled the place, while broken shutters barely hung to shattered window frames, but it did look sturdy enough as Michael made it up to the front door where he finally dropped you and collapsed to the ground. Blood pooled from his wounds surrounding his heaving body. You looked around completely lost with no escape in sight, but as you looked down at the masked figure your heart broke. Something deep inside within him had protected you from shots that surely would have killed you. Your mother always did accuse you of having a bleeding heart no matter the person. You sighed giving into fate before grabbing one of his arms. He swiped with the knife barely missing your cheek causing you to stumble back and fall on your bottom for the second time that night.

“Easy,” you cooed like you were talking to a spooked horse. “I just want to help. I kinda owe you for taking those bullets for me.”

You couldn’t see them but you could feel his eyes piercing through you. You shivered at the weight of his stare before his head thudded back down in defeat. How you were going to get the hulking man through the door was beyond you, but nobody ever accused you of being a quitter. You grabbed his arm again, this time without him trying to cut you to pieces and drug him inside. Inside the dusty tattered furniture was way outdated and the bed was rickety but it would work. Though you knew for sure that you couldn’t get Michael up onto the bed by yourself.

“Think you could help me get you up on the bed where I can clean your wounds and get them wrapped up?”

He just stared at you again and you could of have sworn that you saw his eyebrow raise under the plastic of the mask. He grunted while sitting up, more blood pouring from the holes in his shoulder and side. You grimaced seeing the large stain, but with your help he was up and laid upon the dusty bed. You coughed trying to figure out how you could clean such wounds with a bare falling apart shack. You looked out the grimy windows spotting a hand pump well, you just hope it wasn’t dry. But water wasn’t going to keep infection away if you didn’t have any soap or medicines. Opening the cabinets there was a few rusty cans of food before you found an old box of bar soap. Opening it you found a brand new bar nestled inside though it was old and shriveled it was better than nothing. You grabbed an old chipped porcelain bowl to take to the pump. Before leaving you went back to the sprawled out Michael who’s chest was rising and falling slowly.

“I’m just going out to the well out back to get water, if it’ll work. I’m not running away I promise. I don’t even know where to go if I tried,” you assured before pausing to at least hear a grunt of acknowledgment.

 Michael laid there in silence no movement, nothing. You peered closer to see his eyes closed in the depths hidden by the mask. While he was still alive and breathing he had lost consciousness. You sighed. At least he waited until he was up on the bed, but lifting him up to take the top part of his clothes off was going to be a pain. You blushed slightly wondering on what his figure could possibly look like underneath. Shaking the thought from your head, you couldn’t deny that you were still curious but appalled by your thoughts.

Easing out the back towards the pump you prayed quietly hoping it would work. A few pumps and you could hear the pipes underneath gurgle and groan before muddy water spurted out from the spout. A few more pumps and the water began to run clear. You could have leapt for joy before you remembered the situation you were in. Rinsing the bowl as best as you could you filled it up with cool clear water. Taking a sip from the spout you went back inside. Michael still laid deathly still even when the door got away from you and slammed closed. You jumped sloshing a little water on the floor. You had to take a few moments to calm your heart and breathing before stepping towards the bedside and placing your supplies on the table that stood beside the bed. 

While there wasn’t any electricity you were grateful that whatever moon that shown in through the window was glowing right where you needed to work. But now you needed to find some cloth, one big enough to make cleaning rags and bandages. It was time to explore a little more, you just hoped your patient would hang on to life. Though he did seem really tough, he hauled you through the woods while bleeding profusely. A linen closet was next to the bathroom and fortunately whoever had owned this little shed left some sheets and a couple blankets. Taking one of the sheets in the middle of the stack you shook what little dust and debris stuck to the cloth. Now the hardest part, stripping your patient.

 You thought for a few seconds before deciding to start with the mask, it would be the easiest part. So carefully and gently you peeled the plastic that hid the face of the man who caused so much pain off. You sucked in a breath at the sight before you. Curly cinnamon brown hair framed a sharp chin and chiseled cheek bones. A scar ran across his right eye though you couldn’t tell how deep the damage went as his eyes stayed closed in his state of unconsciousness. Could he see out of it? And how did the scar make him more attractive? You shook your head violently, he was bleeding out and here you were drooling over his face. He’s a killer a murderer. Now that you could see the cuts needing cleaned on his face it was time to see the extent of the damage under the clothes he was wearing.

“Please be wearing underwear,” you moaned. You tried leaning over to tug one side off after you had unbuttoned his coveralls, but he was too heavy and it was hard for you to reach. So the only way you could see of getting the much needed angle to undress him you clamored on top and straddled his waist. You were so thankful he was out cold, cause you were beyond embarrassed anyway without him knowing the predicament you put both of yourselves in. If he knew, you would probably beg to be stabbed to end your misery. While you held his bare chest to your body you stripped him down, thankfully your prayers were once again answered as Michael was wearing underwear. But his body was so beat up and wounded you didn’t know where to even begin. The bullet wounds were definitely needing the most work so you tackled them first. Luckily for him the bullets had gone straight clean through. The officers must have been using round nose bullets and they left little damage compared to other types of bullets. Michael also got away with no broken bones from said bullets. So all they needed was for you to stop the bleeding and clean them profusely. Despite the holes in his shoulder and waist you found no more gunshot wounds. 

After cleaning them well with soap and water you wrapped them tightly in the makeshift bandages before going back outside to pour the dirty water out of the bowl and replace it with fresh. Now with clean water you went back to work cleaning the lesser wounds that marred his chest, abs, arms, nose, and cheek. You stroked his hair once you were done before the adrenaline that had rushed through your veins hours before disappeared and you collapsed on the floor. Without the rush your body was freezing and you didn’t know if you could get back up. So without getting up to grab the extra blankets down the little hallway you fainted from exhaustion.

Night creatures stalked the depths of darkness surrounding the shed, smelling fresh blood on the wind. You were still passed out cold when Michael raised stiffly from the bed he was laid upon. He looked around the room testing sore muscles that he didn’t think could get sore. His gaping wounds tugged causing blood to mar his bandages. He glanced around the small room to find you laying on the cold wooden floor, shivering viciously at the dropping temperatures of October. He looked at you tilting his head like a curious dog. Though something felt off, he felt his face finding his mask gone. A rage gripped him knowing that you had removed his one thing that he needed so critically. But quickly that rage eased as he begin to think of all that you had done to protect and care for him. He slowly got up careful not to wake you as he went to the same linen closet you had found the things to bind his wounds. He grabbed another sheet and one of the blankets. You didn’t even budge as he draped the blankets over you, but your shivering did calm a little. He stared, completely in awe of you and the type of person you could possibly be that would take care of someone like him.

 Minutes passed as he watched you sleep, still enraptured just by you before he went back to lay down. He looked at you once more before going back to scoop you up and place you on the bed that he had been occupying not too long ago. He watched a little longer silently curious before slipping in next to you. The threadbare blankets couldn’t do enough to battle the cool autumn air as he used his remaining body heat to keep you warm.

Morning rays of sunlight slipped through where the moon had been waking you from your slumber. Your eyes creaked open before panic gripped you. The unfamiliar place frightening you before the memories of last night rushed back in causing panic to turn into full fledged fear. You couldn’t see Michael at first before you spotted him sitting close. He was sitting in a chair backwards his coveralls back on and the mask he wore the majority of the time haphazardly placed on the top of his head. Some of his bandages had loosened a little and you sighed.

“Good morning,” you asked more than said. Once more no answer as he tilted his head once more.

You sighed trying to get your stiff body out of the worn out bed, “Can you say anything?”

He just stared harder causing you to a suck in a breath at the sight of his eyes. A deep brown like a pool of warm melted milk chocolate stared deep into yours while a sightless icy blue eye set in his right socket chilled you to the bone. Though while others my find the difference scary you couldn’t help but think how gorgeous the mismatched eyes were. Before you realized you were leaning over into his face to get a better look causing him to lean back as far as he could without falling from the wooden kitchen chair.

“Sorry,” you apologized sheepishly backing up. He sat back upright curiosity blazing in the brown depths of his one good eye.

“You have really pretty eyes,” you complimented. He pulled his mask down but you saw the blush that dusted his cheeks that he was trying to hide. He raised up abruptly causing you to stumble. You just knew you were going to fall again for the third time in so many hours but he moved quicker grasping your arm and righting you back. Before you could enjoy the contact any further he released you before going towards the door.

“Hey! Where are you going,” you asked suddenly panicked at the thought that he would abandon you here alone. Of course once again he didn’t speak vocally. He pointed to the mouth of his mask indicating food and now it was your turn to blush.

“Oh, okay,” you spoke as your stomach grumbled to the thought of food. Michael left leaving you alone in a creepy abandoned shed with nothing to do. So you just sat back down on the chair he had just deserted to count the seconds that went by until he came back. You had just counted to 1,800 seconds when Michael finally returned. He had two rabbits in tow danging from his large hands. You didn’t know how he had caught them and you didn’t really care as your hunger was now ravaging. Without a word between you he dropped a rabbit, still warm, in your hands before removing his mask so he could eat. Without cleaning or cooking his bounty, Michael ripped meat from the carcass, blood spraying his chin and dripping onto his clothes and bandages.

“Hey! Hey! Don’t eat it like that,” you screeched taking the rabbit from him. “You’ll get sick!”

The glare that he pierced you with could have frozen the toughest man on Earth as you took away his meal.

“I’ll cook it and it’ll be much better,” you reasoned backing away out of reach before he decided he rather eat you instead. “I do need you to clean them though while I build a fire and get water to cook them in.” You went to work unable to take being stared at anymore. Michael quietly went to work doing what you said. Though he rather prefer his breakfast raw and bloody, he would take in consideration on what you wanted. With the sun shining down while you built a fire and poured water into the rusty pot you found and cleaned Michael returned with the rabbits, now skinned and gutted.

“Thank you,” you smiled taking them and placing them into the boiling water. Between the fire and the sun you were beginning to warm up from the jeans and jacket you were wearing. Stripping the top layer of your clothes to your tank top underneath you tied them around your waist as you stirred the contents in the pot.

“What I wouldn’t give for some salt,” you sighed while dreaming of spices and vegetables. Lost in thought you jolted from them as a shadow loomed over you.

  “Yes,” you asked Michael as he towered above you. The anger before gone as he looked at your body. Wrapping your arms around yourself you tried to shrink in upon yourself. His hand reached out scratched and stained, making you flinch. Once more his answer was to tilt his head causing you to ease up a little. He reached again his eyes a raging storm within. You looked at your arms and your chest seeing blossoming bruises. Michael’s rough grip from last night came back to mind, no wonder you felt so stiff. Was it possible that the man everyone feared was feeling some sort of guilt for hurting you?

“I’ll be okay,” you said. “It’s just bruises.”

  You turned away unable to take the unyielding depths of his eyes. Before too long your breakfast was done. You spooned hot broth and meat into chipped and cracked bowls. You sat next to Michael on the porch of the shed enjoying the scenery while sipping at the meager stew. While you refused to look you could still feel the stare of Michael on your body. He had never felt this way before about somebody. Sure he had killed, maimed, and ruined lives but your life was something he cared about. He knew it from the moment that he had saw you when you ran into him. He knew it when he saw you dash across the parking lot trying to get away from the coworker you despised. 

He gripped the bowl his food was in tightly causing the glass to groan before shattering in his hand spraying him with hot broth and shards of glass to stick in his palm. You jumped up before setting your food down to inspect the damage. He leaned in close breathing in your scent as you picked at tiny shards embedded in his tough skin. He fought to keep from touching you, but it was beginning to feel like a losing battle. You also were beginning to wonder if you wanted him to touch you or not. You were so confused and so was he.

 Where could this possibly go and what would happen if it became something you never thought it would be? Only time could tell as you spent time with him and to see the man underneath the accusations, the mask he hides behind, and the reasons why he did what he did. Only you could unravel it from him and he was willing to let you try. He just had to do things that he wasn’t used to and you were going to have to open yourself in a way that you never had before. New things were emerging and you both weren’t sure where it was going. But now as Michael reached out wondering what one touch could do, you found yourself leaning in. Was this the start? Would something bloom? Who could really know as he reached closer and closer. Only you and Michael could uncover that in time.

[finelyageddragons]

Currently in love with the relationship between the Grey Wardens and being doomed by the narrative, especially with how the HOF subverts that relationship so here's a 3am rant about it. Enjoy! The wardens are ghosts. They are born by letting go of everything you had before and drinking poison to bind your fate to the darkspawn and promise that your life and perhaps more importantly, your death belongs to them. The whole joining is a terrifying experience, you're drinking the blood of monsters and seeing a corrupt god in your mind and waking up to see those who died around you and being told you'll meet the same fate soon enough you've just been given more time to get there because to sacrifice, to die is a warden's purpose. Even if you survive becoming a warden, your best case scenario is sacrificing yourself to end the blight but it's far more likely you'll die fighting darkspawn or even more likely lose your mind and have to go to the deep roads to be lost and have your death be your last act of defiance in the face of this overwhelming wave of evil waiting to rise again. The best thing that can happen to a warden is to die in a meaningful way because you gave away your life the moment you drank that blood. All you are now is a soldier waiting to die in war and hopefully take the enemy down with you. It is tragic and haunting and noble and so full of grief. Grief for the live you gave behind and for the one you'll never have. Every warden spends every day of their life hoping not for a future or any life for themselves but simply to make their death mean something which is an incredibly interesting mental state and I could go on about how that effects individuals and messes with their values so that corruption is rife but what started this whole thing is Fereldan.

A wonderful post by @sapphim (which I don't know how to cite but I wanna give credit so if there's a way please tell me) discussed how beneficial it was for the wardens that the fifth blight occured in Fereldan and how much they lost by it being solved so soon. To put it simply, they wanted to sacrifice Fereldan as a lost cause and use it as an example of why they wardens shouldn't be neglected. They wanted it to be known of how much of a sacrifice they make an how important their duty by letting the country of Fereldan be an example of what happens when no one is there to do it and that the narrative has doomed everyone, that the world's crimes will be paid for unless someone is willing to be selfless and bear the burden to give the world another chance. Andraste would have been a great warden I'm sure. In the eyes of the warden, Fereldan is tainted just like their blood, it is promised to the darkspawn just like they are, willingly or not it bears the duty that all wardens do and must make the sacrifice they do too. For the greater good. To stop the darkspawn. It's better you having a death that matters than a life that lasts. This is the psychology of the wardens and they are applying those same beliefs to all of Fereldan. Why must they be the only ones doomed by the narrative? There is no surviving this story and there is saving the world there is only killing the darkspawn before it kills you. Thedas is at war with the archdemons and until they're all dead, there is no peace, there is only preparing for the next battle. There is no building a life, no building a country, there is nothing to protect because it is all doomed.

The way duty and sacrifice and the promise of the Grey Wardens must alter their values and perspective on life is fascinating and there is so much to explore here but what's important for this post is that the foundation of their entire order is that they are already dead.

This then brings us to the HOF and cheating death. Duncan is like the grim reaper in Origins the way he comes and snatches your soul at the end of each origin which I honestly love and it ties in so well to the idea that wardens are ghosts given you die in every other version of the story without him but that's the story of all wardens. They all die a symbolic death at the joining so that's okay but then Ostogar happens. Flemeth happens. You should have died. Fereldan should have been lost. Remember, the duty of the wardens is dying not surviving but you did survive, snatched away by a god. Every other warden has died thinking their paying the price for an absent god yet this goddess not only favours you, she changed fate for you. Every other warden throughout history has paid the price but not you. Not Fereldan. You get to cheat the fate while it dooms everyone else. Can you imagine how that must have felt for the other wardens? How much they must hate the hero for stealing the martyr Fereldan was set to be and making all their losses naught but a tragedy when it could have been so much more? Not only did you escape your own death but you stole the value of theirs. You survived which goes against everything the wardens are made for.

Going even further than that, you have the dark ritual where you can actively choose to cheat death again. When every other warden has had to give their life, had to sacrifice and lose and grieve and poison their humanity as they did their bodies, you get to escape it all. Wardens have struggled for decades to have a foothold in Fereldan but you'll go so far as to choose their ruler for them without any consultation. You have been a warden less than a year, ended a battle that they prepared for over hundreds of years and sacrificed more hundreds of years fighting in the past and not only have you defied everything they defined themselves by, you have made them look like fools and decided their fate for them. You have stolen the meaning of the death of every warden, you have stolen their martyrs and the justifications for their actions and by keeping your own life and humanity, by resisting their poison you have made them all look like monsters.

The hero was doomed by the narrative as all wardens are but they rewrote fate, they stole their life back so many times and by surviving, they created a whole new narrative that ruined everything the wardens were built upon. The wardens were made to be ghosts, not heroes. They're meant to die and be remembered nobly so they can be redeemed for they had to do to get there but not you hero. You get to shame us all, don't you?

[the-commonplace-book]

I've been wanting to draw the masquerade scene from chapter 17 of @sasusquatch’s AU scaralumi fic Destined For More since reading it and finally had the time to (hopefully) do it justice.

That moment near the end when all the playful banter slips away and in its place is an apology a warning not to trust him. Right before shit hits the fan. I am in love with this chapter and plot beat. It's such a pivotal point in the story.

Venti was mentioned earlier to be by the refreshments table getting drunk, so by now he's on the refreshments table and sloshed. Extra poofy sleeves for the occasion and, of course, his delightful big ol' mage hat.

Zhongli is always dressed to the nines, so no special outfit for him. For Nahida I wanted to give her a special party dress while still taking inspiration from her normal outfit. The line about them dancing with her feet on his was so cute I couldn't not put in the background.

With Scaramouche, I ended up going with his Wanderer palette both for the color scheme and because he is an anemo mage. (and also because I know how to draw the hat and didn't want to learn how to draw the scaramouche hat haha). It's basically just his normal outfit but a bit more formal. While he wanted to wear his ordinary clothes, it's a royally hosted formal event so I doubt he could get away with it. So instead we have his normal outfit but with a slightly more formal shirt and a fancy belt.

I had the most fun with Lumine's dress, mask, and tiara. The descriptions of it in the previous chapter were so lovely I just had to draw it. She was looking very Abyss Sibling in this chapter and I'm living for it. I might draw Aether with his white, red, and gold getup later because that " brilliant gold cape that trailed behind him" would have some very fun shapes.

For this whole piece I wanted to experiment with doing a style that's just lines and flats, but like.. in an intentional way. Not in the "I did the flats and got lazy" way haha. Trying to stretch myself as an artist.

Anyway enjoy! If you haven't read this fic and you like scaralumi / wanderlumi I highly recommend!

(Also if anyone would like to commission me for art you can find my rates here. I draw illustrations, character designs, profile pictures, ocs, ship art, etc.)

[frogg093]

~ Second meetings and reluctant apologies ~

Synopsis: When your mother told you about Aunty Buer's nephew, who was visiting for the summer, you were expecting a kind, shy boy who loved helping out his aunty and spending time with the lonely elders and cheerful children of the neighborhood. It was quite the surprise when you found out just how mean Kunikuzushi really was. Your first encounter went poorly, and you were absolutely dreading your next meeting. You already hate him. But, a lot can change in one summer... perhaps you'll have different views of each other by the time school starts again, and Kunikuzushi has to return to Inazuma..?

a/n: Hahaha... I took forever to write this part... I'm sorry pookies 🤧🤧🤧

Kunikuzushi x Sumerian!gn!reader / no pronouns used / <3

♡ Part 1

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

Kunikuzushi was a lot of work.

For someone who was constantly being praised by both your mother and his aunty, he was quite difficult to tolerate. As a person who was always quiet and reserved, you hated how obnoxious he acted at times. It’s not like he was loud or boisterous, but he was quite disrespectful, and just an overall jerk.

On your first meeting, you ended up responding to his disgusted gaze and rude remarks with some... not so nice words. You two ended up arguing, and your mother gave you an earful when you got back home. She forced you to go back to Aunty Buer’s house the next day and apologize with some sweets, which was an infuriating experience. 

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

“I hate sweets.” Kunikuzushi said, crossing his arms and looking at you with an indifferent expression. It took everything in you not to glare at him as your grip tightened around the tray you were holding. You put your whole damn soul into this stupid dessert, all while your mother scolded you for arguing with him, even though it was completely his fault, and he doesn’t even like sweets? You almost feel like throwing the whole tray at his stupid face. But you don’t, because that would defeat the whole purpose of coming here today. 

“You can give them to Aunty Buer, then.” You mumble, trying not to sound irritated as you look around before setting the tray down on the table beside you. What now?? You’ve gotten the apology bit out of the way - but he hasn’t said whether he forgives you or not. All he’s done is reject the sweets that took you a painful amount of time to make. You stand there awkwardly, wondering if you should say something about it. 

“...well? What are you still doing here?” He asks. You flinch a little at the judgemental look on his face. How the hell are you supposed to word this? Internally cringing, you decide to just say it.

“Uhh... you didn’t answer my apology. Do you forgive me?” You fidget with your sleeve. You wish you could just turn around and leave, but you know that you’ll be scolded if you go back home without a clear response to your apology.

“Oh. Yeah, whatever. It’s fine.” He looked at the clock on the wall, like he had other things to be doing. You followed his gaze. “Is that it? You can leave now.” He covered a yawn behind his hand, waving you away with the other.

Gladly, You think, as you nod and glance at your shoes.

“Okay. Bye, Kunikuzushi.” You give him an awkward wave and turn around to leave. Was... was that really it? You were expecting him to insult you again, or tell you that he doesn’t forgive you. But oh well. You walk out of the living room and through the kitchen. Buer is sitting at the table with her sewing machine.

Oh, you think. So that’s why the chairs are so tall. You feel a little stupid for not realizing earlier, but you ignore it and walk to the table to say goodbye. 

“I’m going now, Aunty Buer. Thank you for having me.” You hug her, and you feel her little arms wrapping around you in return.

“No problem, [name]! Did you and Kuni make up?” She asked hopefully, taking your hand and smiling kindly at you. Her smile is so cute, you just want to eat her.

“Um, I guess so.” You respond, trying not to stare at her too much.

“Ah, I’m glad.” Her smile grows even bigger. “I know Kuni can be really mean sometimes, but he’s a good kid at heart. He’s just not very good at socializing. So please don’t be too mad at him, okay?” She gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

You almost scoff, but Aunty Buer is just too sweet. It’ll be hard, but for her sake, you’ll try not to be offended by his behavior.

“Okay, Aunty.” You smile and nod at her.

“Thank you, [name]. I’ll talk to him for you, okay?” She pats your cheek and pinches it gently.

You hesitate. You don’t want it to seem like you asked her to talk to him for you, but either way, it’s not like you can convince her not to. You’ve learned not to try and dissuade an aunty once she’s made up her mind.

“Okay. Thank you.” You give her one last hug. “Bye, Aunty. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait, let me open the door for you.”

And with that, your little visit was over. As much as you wanted to forgive him, for Buer’s sake, you were still a little pissed off by the way that he acts. Sure, he might hate socializing, but he could definitely be a little nicer about it! But then again, maybe you’re just being petty. You look up at the sky as you walk down the street. You hold an arm over your head to protect your eyes from being burned off by the sun. Should you just get over it and be nice to him anyways? You’re still a little shocked that he forgave you so easily. Maybe you were overreacting.

You think about what Buer said to you.

“I know Kuni can be really mean sometimes, but he’s a good kid at heart. He’s just not very good at socializing. So please don’t be too mad at him, okay?”

'Kuni' was a cute nickname.

You push that thought aside as you reach your house at the end of the street. Time to relay your experience to your mother and hope that she’s satisfied with your apology. 

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

Taglist: @scarasvision , @kunikuzushisbeloved , @chocolate-koala , @wings101 , @sakeeeee (Please work please work please work please work)

Ik it's short I'm sorry 😔😔😔 Part 3 coming soon (maybe)!!!

[whisplow]

An Overdue Nap

Heisenwinters domestic fluff au, featuring a very sleepy Karl with a power inhibitor and no sense of personal space. Please enjoy!

-

“Mia.”

Ethan’s voice was small, hushed. From the kitchen, Mia could barely hear him, so she stayed put at first, watching her insta-oats slowly rotate in the microwave. It was the late afternoon in the safe house they were relocated to after what happened in the village, but circumstances hopefully meant this was the last one for a long time. Would be nice if Rose got to start school here in a couple years.

“Mia. Mia!”

Now she could hear it, and that somewhat urgent tone, too. Following Ethan’s voice to the living room, she discovered the reason behind him calling for her.

Karl’s adjustment to house arrest was…a very mixed experience, but his options after Miranda’s death were to be locked in a concrete box, alone, and be tested on, or to stay with the Winters’. When factoring in things like being able to see sunlight and keeping his organs untouched, it was an obvious choice.

Unfortunately the obvious choice also meant wearing a tracker and power inhibitor at all times. The whole situation left him angry, pouty, tired—

—And now angry, pouty, tired Karl, always claiming to be touch averse, had passed out hard and had himself draped over Ethan’s form on the couch. Ethan’s eyes were alight, matching the ear-to-ear grin plastered on his face. Mia’s own expression twisted as she tried not to immediately burst out laughing.

“How…how did he even—“

“—Don’t ask how! Just get your phone and take a picture already! I think he’s waking up.”

“Right, right…” Her volume dimmed to match his. She dashed to get her phone from where she left it in Rose’s room while putting her down for her nap. By the time she returned, Ethan was cupping his hand over his mouth. His shoulders twitched with his own efforts not to laugh and wake Karl up.

*Click*

The dimmed lighting automatically put her camera settings to flash mode. Mia and Ethan froze, and Karl began to stir—briefly. He shifted into a slightly different position and dropped back on top of his brand new bed.

“He sleeps harder than Rose,” Ethan whispered with a barely hidden snicker. “God, I think he’s drooling on me.”

“I mean, all those nights he spends moping around. This had to happen eventually, right?” She took a few deep breaths to ease the threat of cracking up. “I guess…I’ll leave you to it? We can show him the picture once he’s—“

SNOOOOORE

Ethan wheezed as he tried to muffle himself with his sleeve, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Mia snorted loudly. Trying to stifle the sound left it sounding like air rushing out of a garbage disposal. She wished she took a video instead of just a picture!

That noise, that snoring only continued. It practically shook the whole couch, which didn’t help Ethan’s case. “I can’t breathe,” he complained with that smile he had no chance of getting rid of. He rubbed up and down Karl’s back, not quite sure what else to do.

With the flash pointedly turned off, Mia made sure to snap a few more pictures. She intended them as blackmail. Maybe threatening to show them to Chris would finally convince him to learn how to do a load of dishes.

“You’re not gonna leave me like this, are you?” Karl was getting especially comfortable. “Mia, I gotta pee…”

“What do you expect me to do? Roll a grown man off of you? It��s Karl, he’s so dense I swear he’s made of rocks. I’m sure you’re learning that very well right now. Besides, you’re the one who wanted a grumpy old dog.” Right then, the microwave blipped from the other room. “And! I gotta take care of that.”

“Oh, I see how it is.”

“I guess you do.”

“Even though I saved you twice—“

“Yup.”

“—and rescued our beautiful daughter—“

“Uh-huh.”

“—and wound up with some pretty terrible scars—“

“I can’t hear you anymore, I’m in the kitchen getting my food.”

Ethan chuckled. He moved his hand from Karl’s back to his head, petting him like the grumpy old dog he definitely was. “You’re both the worst…I really am going to have to kick you off here in a few minutes. Mia’s right. You were overdue for a good rest. Wonder if I can convince you to just. Sleep normally. In a bed.”

If Rose can manage, why can’t he?

“I’m glad you’re warming up to us, though. At least, I hope this is you warming up.”

[rararazaquato]

Tell us more about le cartoon version of Raincode you have please.

Like of other characters appearing and more dynamics, including episodes.

oh BABY you're in for a treat!!!

i have a whole google doc planned out for this thing, despite me having no animation experience gjgkhkh... this is gonna be the Public Lore Dump Post btw, and spoilers for all of rain code will be under the cut.

so the concept for this whole thing came about while watching the animations of youtuber OkayScreamingNow. super cool animation btw, their "psycho teddy" animation moderately blew up but i'm a huge fan of their "everybody likes you" video.

between watching those, a ton of aimkid videos, wince media's meat bun song, and nicktendo's mighty b review, i started feeling really nostalgic for mid-late 2000s animation, the stuff i grew up on. growing up creepie, yin yang yo, kenny the shark, all these were shows i adored as a kid. so, combined with my current rain code fixation, this little au came to be!

the general conceit of this au is that "Master Detective Archives" is a 2008 animated children's program that lasted for 20 episodes and is majority lost media. only a couple episodes exist in the bowels of shitty piracy sites, and even then those sites keep getting taken down. the more screenshots and concept art i make, the more is "revealed" about the show.

one of the things that interests me the most about children's media is how people worked around the censors. a lot of people are familiar with the story of the ren and stimpy adult party cartoon. for those who aren't familiar, when john "god's mistake" kricfalusi created an adult oriented reboot of ren and stimpy, the show was dogshit. with the new ability to rely on the crutch of whatever grossout sexual humor it wanted, it became a massive stain on john k's career (he has had other horrific stains both before and after apc, but i need to stress, no one liked apc).

for a more positive example, i love pretty much all of jhonen vasquez's work, but i find the humor and even some of the horror of invader zim to be more interesting than the same stuff in jthm, because iz was working under far stricter standards and practices.

what i'm trying to get at is that i enjoy the challenge of seeing how i can take concepts and make them more kid-friendly while still keeping the intrigue and interest the concepts originally had. i worked at a summer camp in 2022, and the driving force behind this little project was "keeping rain code camp-appropriate, but also keeping it interesting".

this ethos will hopefully explain some of the Big Changes i made to the story and characters. i do want to stress that i do not think i am improving on the original work. i think rain code is a story that, inherently, works better as an m-rated, gritty, cyberpunk-y murder mystery. i've just always been uniquely fascinated by this particular genre shift.

so, first major change: nocturnal detective agency has turned into nocturnal detective academy. this is a place where young minds, particularly those with supernatural powers, go to hone their craft. or at least... it was. now it's run exclusively by three people: headmaster Zange Eraser, school nurse and therapist Melami Goldmine, and teacher (and everything else) Yakou Furio.

i grew up with a book series called school of fear, which was about a small group of kids with severe phobias being sent to help conquer their fears at a highly rated school. however, it was actually just a kooky old lady and her massive mansion, and while she helped the kids get over their fears, she did it in unorthodox and occasionally darkly humorous ways. i remember a scene in the books where she put the claustrophobe and the kid afraid of death in a coffin for a few hours, and while that is absolutely NOT how exposure therapy works, the idea of a school that's just a few adults running a lowkey scam out of their house has always tickled my funny bone.

so the nda is a school, teaching detective skills and the like. of course, because yakou is my beautiful failwife, he mostly just sends his students out into the city of Kanai Ward to do their own investigative work and report back with what they've learned... as long as they don't get in trouble with Hecksmile or his goons, at least!

yeah, the other big change is that the peacekeepers are more like team rocket than corrupt cops. while i agree that the police suck, and a lot of older cartoons seem to share that sentiment (even some newer ones like gravity falls), having all the villains be evil, corrupt cops seems like a recipe to get s&p on your ass. so now, the cops just don't do anything, and Hecksmile and his goons just wreak havoc whenever they feel like it.

(i've already explained the hecksmile bit in a previous post, but i dont think any of the other names would need changing. maybe if this was the 90s, desuhiko and fubuki would get their names changed to something more eurocentric, but this isn't the 90s and that stuff was cringe even back then.)

there are only seven students at the academy, and i've de-aged these characters to be more relatable to the target audience: our main character yuma, halara, desuhiko, fubuki, vivia, pucci, and aphex. i'll detail them a bit here, because yakou, zange, and melami can all stay pretty similar (actually, melami doesn't randomly feel up strangers to get their clothing measurements anymore, but that's a pretty minor change).

yuma is still our main character, acting as the straight man and audience surrogate. the whole "number one" twist isn't really a thing with how this whole plot is set up, so his awkward and generally "scrunkly" attitude from the game is his natural state here. though none of the ages of the characters are specified, he's often called out as the youngest detective, probably in his preteens or early teenagehood. his coalescence is used for a lot of teamwork-based solutions to problems, but he isn't that great at actual mystery-solving.

this is where shinigami comes in! in the first episode, after some hijinks, yuma accidentally summons a death god. fortunately, he summons a teenage death god. she can only appear in her cool human form in her summoner's dreams, she can't interact with anyone in the physical world except her summoner, and she doesn't even have her reaper's license yet! regardless, she likes having a friend, so she helps yuma see things from different perspectives. i figured death spirits wouldn't be off the table, exactly (i mean, look at billy and mandy), but i think there's a certain humor in a death god not being able to do any soul reaping. i like to think she talks about it like her driver's license. "ugh, i'm not allowed to reap any souls until i'm 16 thousand years old! i'm only 14 thousand!!!" because of her teenagerdom, her human form is going to be far less sexualized. also because i think her canon outfit is a little ugly.

halara doesn't change much from canon. very mysterious and intimidating. no one knows their gender because everyone's too afraid to ask (and to find out, you'd have to pay them about $100 in cash). they still love cats but have an allergy to them, they still don't trust people, etc.

desuhiko changes a lot from canon. he's less actively creepy and more of a wannabe romantic. he has a tendency to fall for grown women, although he has absolutely no chance with any of them. this is played for laughs.

fubuki is another character who doesn't change much from canon. obscenely rich and super out of touch with everything around her. has occasional bursts of intelligence for comedy.

vivia is still everyone's favorite emo sadboy, writing poetry in the fireplace. his passive suicidal ideation, though interesting to explore in media made for adults, is very dangerous to put in a children's show, so we're nixing that. instead, he's just real sleepy and goth. he's also the least interested in doing actual detective work, so when he and yuma are investigating together, it gives yuma a chance to take the lead.

pucci doesn't change much from canon, but admittedly, we don't know too much about her. she's sensitive to noise, very thoughtful and introspective, but very awkward around people being nice to her.

and aphex. what to say about aphex. i don't like aphex for a number of reasons (anyone who played with jpn audio can back me up on this one), but the idea of someone who is initially violent and cruel becoming your (still somewhat violent and cruel) ally is a fun character trope to me. my go-to example is buford from phineas and ferb, and i think that's the role aphex would play. initially a threat, but eventually becomes softer and more well-developed. well, if the show got more seasons.

and that's our main cast! i could talk about kurumi, makoto, and martina, as i have a lot of cool ideas for them, but i have been writing this for like an hour and i think i need to chill ahaha... ty for the ask!!!