#i'll only tag the important ones lol

[saphushia]

|| part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 coming soon... ||

man sabo really thought he'd get away from ace that easy, huh? well tough shit buddy you just got the attention of one of the most stubborn men on the seas. i do wonder how this'll play out now that sabo's cornered... hehe >;3

textless versions below the cut for those who want to look at. pictures <3

(skipped page 5 due to. y'know. it not having any dialogue)

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[sisterdivinium]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: Gen Characters: Sister Lilith (Warrior Nun), Shotgun Mary (Warrior Nun), Mother Superion (Warrior Nun), Ava Silva, Jillian Salvius, Sister Beatrice (Warrior Nun), Father Vincent (Warrior Nun), Cardinal Duretti (Warrior Nun), Adriel (Warrior Nun), Sister Camila (Warrior Nun) Additional Tags: Angst, It's all of their relationships to one another and to the halo, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

A short AU for if Mary hadn't arrived on time and Lilith managed to get the halo in 1x05.

[userlaylivia]

i have a few stydia gifsets in my queue because they are my tw otp and always will be guh!! and rewatching has given me feels and idc what happened in the movie they are still endgame so!! but I also really ship stalia as everyone knows at this point and I'll be adding some of them to my queue soon too lol being a multishipper can have it's advantages like rewatching and enjoying it more shipping both helps a lot lol it can also have disadvantages because then I'm torn constantly even if one is my otp lol but I need to continue my rewatch lol I have s4 from my library I just have a couple of other things I'm watching too lol

[risingsunresistance]

no wait that was a lie there is one more song i don't think i'll ever be able to listen to again

[theyluvkarolina]

𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑ ` ` he saved my goldfish from a burning house. trust. ` ` ⊹ ‧₊˚

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨୧ Sometimes love makes you act stupid. luckily, the f1 community has Logan’s back to help him with his crush.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ୨୧ Logan Sargent x Supermodel!Reader

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌 ୨୧ some photos are of the beautiful madison beer!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ୨୧ none!

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therealyn_ln

therealyn_ln I’m so honored to be a part of Williams this race! Looking forward to more in the future! 🫶🩵

1,234 comments

username1 wtf bro she's stunning 😭

username2 they could have picked someone actually important but noooo they chose some model 🙄

username3 I came be the only one that saw how mesmerized Logan was looking at her...

williamsracing So happy to have you! You're welcoming anytime!

*liked by therealyn_ln!*

logansargeant happy to have you join us! come back anytime, I'll be happy to show you around Miami! 🙂

→ username4 LOGAN SHOOTING HIS SHOT??? → username5 bro sounds too proper 💀 → username6 I know he was shaking while typing that → therealyn_ln is that an offer or a promise? → logansargeant why not both?

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**correction: “IT’S HARD ENOUGH WITH HER BEING SO PRETTY, BUT HER BEING SWEET TOO? I WAS SO NERVOUS

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therealyn_ln has added a new story!

therealyn_ln

📍 miami, florida, usa

therealyn_ln It’s fun having your personal tour guide :)

2,143 comments

username7 WHO IS THAT MAN???

username8 we lost her guys 😔😔

username9 logan and y/n collaboration????

logansargeant should have used sunscreen

→ therealy/n_ln hey, it’s not my fault the nyc weather got to me :((

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therealyn_ln

therealyn_ln back to the paddock! 🏁 as logan promised, I was in fact shown around the miami track! (ps. I took his sunscreen advice!)

tagged ; logansargeant

1,783 comments

username10 they are so sweet :((

username11 pls tell me they will date

logansargeant glad you learned from the original florida man

→ therealyn_ln correction, florida BOY → logansargeant rude 🤕

logansargeant

logansargeant Not the result we wanted.. but we will bounce back! 👊 Thank you to all the fans for the constant support!

tagged ; therealyn_ln

1,694 comments

username12 “fans” it’s just y/n lol

therealyn_ln i thought we talked about using these kinds of photos bestie logan…

→ logansargeant never call me that again… → therealyn_ln can’t make any guarentees 🙃

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therealyn_ln

therealyn_ln pasta night was a flop… so we got chick-fil-a!

tagged ; logansargeant

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landonorris @therealyn_ln logan let Max win the season, trust 🙏🙏

→ logansargeant i did??

username13 @therealyn_ln he saved my goldfish from a burning house. trust. 🙏

username14 @therealyn_ln logan saved my family from an airplane crash, trust me fr 🙏

oscarpiastri @therealyn_ln logan gave america it’s first f1 points in 30 years, he’s that good 🙏

→ logansargeant not you too oscar pastry 😞 → oscarpiastri i take that back, you killed my koala 👎 → username15 HELLO????

therealyn_ln

therealyn_ln guys, logan stole my heart and still hasn’t given it back 😞

tagged ; logansargeant

1,990 comments

username15 OML FINALLY A FIRST DATE

username16 OUR PRAYERS WERE ANSWERED 🙏

oscarpiastri thank god, i had enough of logan’s fan girling every day

AUTHORS NOTE : first post ✔️ thank you sm for reading! Definitely not my best, but not bad for my first post! always hoping to improve :)

also, sorry about all the spelling mistakes! i really need to improve on them 😅

have a wonderful day lovelies 🩶

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

i alone love you i alone tempt you etc.

[etoilesbienne]

out of curiosity, what are the common qEtoiles mischaracterizations, and the accurate characterizations you wished people used more? Sincerely, an English speaking fan who is re-learning French!

honestly i kind of consider it a mischaracterization when people like... make etoiles into this team leader who always knows what to do and move things forward. or like that he has a bad attitude to like... match his fighting skills. or like the dark knight brooding warrior. he says he is these things. these are lies. he lies about himself constantly. i wouldnt trust a good 2/3 of the things he says about himself to be true. you read him clearer through his actions than his statements.

in my opinion etoiles is more like. sturdy second in command. he's not there to lead, he's there to fill in the holes where they pop up. he's there as cover. he's quick witted in shortchange scenarios, but that is so not the same thing as a genuine strategist. in another expression, if someone is a leader, the leader is a doctor, etoiles's role is more like... the EMS team in an ambulance. He's not there to fix your problem, he's there to keep your problem covered until you can get someone else to fully fix it. but that doesn't mean his role is any less important when he's needed.

Etoiles is also, like, so very much a team player if he respects and trusts a person. And it is so easy to have his respect and trust. His trust starts at 100% for everyone. he's also so very very very good at reading people (gesture to the bbh clip where bbh moves his mouse slightly downward and etoiles calls him out on being depressed). He read Mousey as enjoying dungeons and pvp way more and wanting to hang out with her. He's also one of the only people who like continuously runs in the girlies group and makes all of them pvp with him and they all love it so he keeps coming back to pvp with them. Thats how he started his whole thing with Tina and pvping with her constantly. Reading other people also, he loves finding other pvpers so he attacks roier constantly now bc he knows roier can pvp.

What else OH Etoiles loves whining (and this is because Rayou loves whining) that dude will just complain constantly. You haven't seen an etoiles stream if youve never seen him whine. Can't say I'm not kind of endeared by it. With this too he loves over explaining things (RIP armor powerpoint wish you couldve been given...) because he wants to help everyone....

OH and he's very over exaggerated too in replying to people in a complaining way and a self deprecating way and also likes to try to push the envelope with people and he does all of that to try and get a laugh out of others. like he's well aware people find him going "Oh so you don't give a shit about me and want me to die ? you want etoiles to die ?" fucking hilarious and also loves complaining in the first place thats why he does that. if your etoiles isn't complaining and whining then it isn't etoiles. the self deprecating thing is... its interesting bc he does have full faith in his abilities but will never say it out loud unless its trying to reassure someone who is worried. pushing the envelope is so specific he won't do it too much and its like........... from what ive seen (correct me if im wrong) heavily directed at non francophones where if they laugh at something wack he's done he'll try to do it again to make them laugh more. shoutout to the time he made bbh laugh so much when he cursed he didn't get languaged by bbh so he kept cursing to try to make bbh do it again. the dudes a total people pleaser.

smaller thing ive talked about extensively already (u can prob find it in my q!etoiles tag if i remember i'll edit a link to the posts in here soon lol) etoiles hates losing he looooooves winning he's very intense about it lol. its cute!

on a final note even if you don't become deeply unwell about etoiles like i am i think this highlight clip video has like everything he's like condensed into like 11 minutes. You should watch it. It's a good starting point.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

♪ ~ a little rag dolly , wishing your worries away ~ ♪

please read the faq ! ( updated as of 4/9/2024 )

a part ask-blog , part comic where ragatha is infected with a sentient virus that can talk to her - and somehow that's the least concerning part in all of this ?

there's no right or wrong choices here but these all definitely look like wrong ones

[ while this is mostly not intended to be a horror comic , please be warned that this will contain content that can be seen as disturbing such as depictions of mental issues and breakdowns , illness , self-harm , suicidal and intrusive thoughts , scopophobia - and possibly more i haven't listed ! if these things get too distressing it's okay to click away , your mental wellbeing matters more ^^ ]

READ IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER , COOL !!

somehow doesn't work in mobile , please don't ask me i don't know how to fix it , blame tumblr idk lol

phase 1

phase 2

TAGS

[ asks ] / [ ask2 ] - main posts

[ ooc ] - misc. posts

[ INTERMISSION ] - surprise !

[ non-canon ] - non-canon asks

[ ESSAY WARNING ] - mod rambles

[ doodles ] - doodles from yours truly !

[ THE INFLUENCER ] - old t.i tag ! design was by @/raggedabstraction

tadc influence au - green ?????????

[ you just opened : pandora's box ! ] - an achievement i give to a select amount of asks that completely ran the plot into a tree and exploded it <3

[ animations ] - ... animations !

[ office lore ] - backstory that i don't think is pretty important to this story but people are somehow invested in it so here you go

[ more will be added ! ... if i figure it out ... ]

GUIDELINES AND BOUNDARIES

nooo inappropriate asks, please ! i will not hesitate to block you if you send one

my art is free to use ! use it for your icon , an edit , or even repost it ! my only condition really is to credit me (:

the only ship i'll lean towards is jesterdoll (pomni x ragatha) ! even then , it's not the main focus ( i prefer exploring more platonic dynamics honestly ! )

please be patient and do not take it personally if your ask doesn't get in , i am just one artist running this blog , not planning to get another mod , and i get a shitton of asks whenever i open the inbox . there is no 100% guarantee that your ask will get in

please do not dm me . i am not open for small talk . just take any questions or inquiries to the ask box if it's open . sorry but i will be ignoring any messages from this point on . it's nothing personal i am just severely mentally ill

magic anons are fine ! though note i will be very picky towards them and most likely won't accept any that exceeds 10 asks .

you can call me mod bee . for the sake of this blog , i go by she/her ^^ ( please don't bring up my main if you recognize my art style shfgsf )

[ guidelines are subject to change ~ ]

[m00nsbaby]

The invisible barrier.

(Jake Lockley x F!Reader)

Tags - Warnings: Jake doesn’t know about Marc or Steven. Angst, smut, fluff, everything. Most of Jake’s dialogues are in Spanish, most of reader’s are in English except in November - December. Word count: 4,9 k. (Lol, sorry) Summary: A whole year trying to understand Jake Lockley. (Literally)

January.

"¡Hola!" (Hello.) The sudden voice next to you made you jump as you made the most important and complicated decision of the week.

Would you choose pretzels with dark or white chocolate?

Reluctantly, you turned to your side to see a man standing just a few inches away from you. On another occasion, you would have probably jumped back or fled to another aisle in the supermarket, but the apologetic smile on his lips and the puppy-like look in his eyes told you that he didn't want to be in this situation either.

"Perdón, ¿Podrías decirme qué dice aquí?” (Sorry. Could you tell me what it says here?) The words came out quickly from his mouth and you furrowed your brow in confusion. Your fleeting and ridiculous Spanish classes had never been of much use, even less now that you had the opportunity to help an attractive man.

"I don't... Huh." You cleared your throat, searching for a way to say, 'Maybe I can't help you, but I'll move heaven and earth to try.' Dramatic? Yes, of course, but what more could be expected from a hopeless romantic? Many love stories began like this in your mind; this was a scenario you had imagined at least twice before falling asleep. "No hablo español." (I don’t speak Spanish.)

The man blinked a couple of times, as if realizing that he had gathered courage for about 15 minutes only to lose his dignity like this.

"Oh." He cleared his throat, nodding afterward. "Thanks," he said shyly, as if trying to hide his accent.

"No, no, let me help you. What do you need?" You turned the bag of Cheetos he was holding in his hands so you could see the list of ingredients on the back as he was asking. Both of you were guessing what you were saying. Your gaze scanned the list, nodding your head when you detected the problem. Everything was written in English.

Sure, your aisle companion had an extra problem on top of that. The letters were too small for his poor eyesight, and he would rather ask for help from strangers than give up on the idea of using glasses.

"Give me a second." Your fingers quickly handled your phone as you took the bag from his hands.

You took a photo and the app took care of the work for you, translating every word on the red packaging you held. You didn't hesitate to take a step forward and extend your hand far enough for your phone to be at the stranger's ear level, who didn't question your methods for a moment.

He just stood still, listening.

"¿Colorante rojo número 6?” (Red dye number 6?) He questioned when the voice function finished. And you quickly scanned the phone screen, trying to find the part on the list that seemed closest to what he had just said.

Well, seis = 6, that one was easy.

"Yes, 6." You saw him smile and take the bag back from your hands to shake it in a celebratory manner. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why 6?" He guessed based on how you tilted your head to one side what you were asking.

"Soy alérgico al número 4, o al menos eso creo.” (I'm allergic to the number 4. Or at least, I think I am.) He pointed to his throat. "Siento comezón en la garganta cuando como cosas que lo tienen.” (My throat itches when I eat things that have it.")

Did you understand anything he said? No, nothing beyond the number 4. So, you smiled and nodded, eliciting a warm laugh from him.

He was cute.

"Gracias." (Thank you.) It seemed like he understood the basics, just like you. It was better to use his words than to deal with the pronunciation of the "t" and "h" together.

"It's okay." You shrugged while continuing to smile in a friendly manner. It wasn't because the stranger was incredibly attractive; you always behaved this way with people, or at least you tried to. "Enjoy your Cheetos."

Another giggle. "Cheetos," he repeated, imitating the way you pronounced the brand's name.

You rolled your eyes playfully and went back to the pretzels without saying anything else.

Well, there went the potential love of your life. Both of you were too shy to engage in casual conversation. You were aware that pretending to have the confidence to do so would be a lie.

Silently, you paid for your pretzels covered in white chocolate, looking around in case the guy was still nearby. After a few seconds, you gave up. Well, it was nothing out of the ordinary, even with one more chance, you wouldn't have approached him. More than 20 dollars for a bag of chocolate covered pretzels? That must be a crime, the first time you bought one . . .

"Hola de nuevo.” (Hi again.) The leather of his jacket brushed against your skin as you bumped into him. He was in the exact same position as you, one hand holding his Cheetos, the other clutching the receipt he was trying to read with squinted eyes.

You almost had a heart attack.

"Hi." You smiled, your cheeks betraying you as they turned rosy just from being around him like this. You had to take a step back after the clumsy little push you gave him.

"¿Tienes cómo regresar a tu casa?” (Do you have a way to get home?) You frowned at the question. This only confirmed that your crazy fantasy wasn't going to work out; there was a huge barrier between you.

He could see the confusion on your face so he pointed outside. It was raining heavily.

"Oh." You had been so engrossed in your pursuit of him that you hadn't thought about that. It wasn't a terrible problem, though; you could just wait until it calmed down.

You could spend another $20 on an umbrella in the worst case. Or call a car to take you the 10-minute walk to your house.

"I'll just wait." You had to remind yourself not to get too deep into your words.

"Yo te llevo.” (I'll give you a ride.) He quickly said. "A ride." The way the 'r' rolled off his mouth was enough to make you dizzy.

"Are you sure?" This couldn't be happening. This genuinely couldn't be happening.

"Of course, I'm sure," he repeated, smiling. This couldn't be happening.

It couldn't.

That night, you ran together to his car in the rain, laughing. He opened the door for you, even though it meant a few extra minutes of water poured on him.

You gave him directions through your phone, and you learned how to say "cuadras" (blocks) to guide someone next time, and he kept telling you something you didn't understand, but he noticed you were just nodding for him to keep talking.

He said goodbye with a kiss on your cheek. He used a word similar to "custom" to justify it, ‘costumbre’ maybe.

Oh, and you exchanged numbers. It turned out the stranger, Jake Lockley, worked as a taxi driver most nights. You understood that because the words "taxi" and "noche" were in your mental dictionary.

February.

Your first date was a disaster.

You never considered that to spend the day together, you had to exchange more than 5 words, and Jake stained your beautiful pink sundress with an ice cream that didn't even taste that good.

Oh, at some point, you tripped too. You were so focused on trying to understand one of the anecdotes he was telling you that you ended up on the ground with a scraped knee.

That wasn't so bad, though. I mean, you had Jake on one knee, checking yours. He even had you step on his thigh so he could clean you up with his ice cream-covered napkin.

When the day came to an end, he took you home. You noticed he had memorized your address, making it easier for both of you. You hummed a song together to cover the silence of two people who had to resort to other means of communication than talking.

"I had fun." Lie, this hadn't been anything like you imagined a first date, not after reading books or watching movies.

He nodded silently as he got out of the car to open the door for you.

And even though the date was a complete disaster, Jake kissed you.

He kissed you against the closed door of your apartment, holding you by the waist as if you intended to escape from his arms, begging you silently not to separate from him.

"¿Repetimos la próxima semana?” (Second date next week?)

March.

Text messages flowed throughout the weeks. Depending on the day, one or the other used the translator to send messages that the other could understand.

Sometimes they were just silly pictures, mostly of cats. You found a silly liking for sending him videos and photos of different animals in romantic situations, hugging each other and such, with only the description 'us.'

Jake responded ‘nosotros’ with different emojis depending on the day. He liked the white heart.

His car became familiar to you, as well as the late-night drives with music. You wondered if Jake had started neglecting his work to spend more time with you, and although it sounded selfish, you didn't care much.

You enjoyed his company.

April.

Your fingers played with his curls while both of you rested comfortably on your bed, you on the pillows, Jake on your abdomen.

He was surprisingly interested in one of the old books you hadn't touched in a long time.

"Jake?" He immediately put the book down to look at you. "Can you help me with a word?"

"¿Ahora?" (Now?) he asked.

"Right now."

"¿Cuál palabra?" (Which word?) He closed his eyes as your fingers continued to enjoy playing with his hair. It was so soft that the gentle caresses you gave were enough to mess it up.

"Boyfriend."

"Novio." You stretched your free hand with difficulty. He opened his eyes again, looking at you with interest as you struggled in the least attractive way to open one of your drawers with one hand. Something cracked in it.

You put the bag of Cheetos on his chest, clearing your throat afterwards.

"¿Quieres ser mi novio?” (Do you want to be my boyfriend?)

May.

"Jake?"

The car hadn't started yet when he turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows as if to ask what was wrong. You stretched enough to touch his knuckles, which were marked with a purple tone and scraped.

Your gaze went to him. It was as if both of you knew how to communicate through looks.

"No sé qué me pasó. Mi teoría es que golpee algo mientras dormía.” (I don't know what happened. My theory is that I hit something while asleep.) He frowned as he extended his fingers to get a better view of them. It looked like he had beaten up someone, and he couldn't deny that it hurt, especially when he gripped the steering wheel of the car.

"Are you still having those strange dreams?"

"Weird dreams," Jake whispered to himself as a way to remember your words. "Sí, sueños raros.” (Yes, weird dreams.)

You pursed your lips without saying more as you brushed his knuckles with your thumb, as gently as you could.

"Let's go." You finally gave in, returning to your seat with an unconvincing gesture.

June.

"I don't understand football." You said as you walked hand in hand, leaning some of your weight against his body.

Technically, neither of you were drunk; you were just flushed from the heat of the alcohol, giggly and a little tipsy. Jake had mentioned how funny it would be to go to one of those bars where they show football games for fans, even though neither of you were fans. Choosing a team randomly to support, drinking things with strange names, and maybe sharing spicy wings sounded like a good plan.

That was your Friday night.

"Tampoco yo.” (Neither do I.) Jake was doing his best not to laugh. He failed miserably.

When you reached his car, you leaned your body against it, and your hands ended up on your boyfriend's shirt. He immediately knew what you wanted, bringing both hands to your waist and leaning forward, closer.

"Is it hot here, or was it the 4 margaritas we drank?" You whispered while trying to contain your smile.

"Debe ser ese vestido.” (It must be that dress.) His lips brushed against yours. The sudden change in his voice made you shiver, so husky. “O por lo menos es lo que me está poniendo caliente a mi.” (At least I know that's what's making me hot.) It was the last thing he said before kissing you as if his life depended on it.

You moaned into his mouth, pressed between his body and the car. The kiss was wet as his mischievous hands slid under your dress, squeezing your ass firmly enough for it to hurt. Not in a bad way. "Jake." You complained as you looked around to make sure no one was walking by to see you.

"Date la vuelta.” (Turn around.) Apparently, your Spanish only worked in moments of convenience because you obeyed immediately. You turned your body with difficulty, mainly because he refused to let go of you. You felt his erection against you as soon as your cheek collided with the cold metal of the car. He was rubbing against your ass while biting your neck to his liking, sucking and licking your skin until he marked it. "Fuck, Jake." You whispered with your eyes closed. You could have cum right there with just his kisses and soft touches. Fortunately, he was more considerate because one of the hands that rested on your waist little by little went between your legs, your dress was already raised enough to only have to worry about your panties, he brushed his fingers over your abdomen before sliding his middle finger between your lips. First he wetted it well before moving up to your clit. His touch made you tremble and hiss. "¿Un par de besos te tienen así, corazón?” (A couple of kisses have you like this, sweetheart?) You could hear the smirk on his lips as his finger traced circles against your most sensitive area. "Imagínate como será cuando esté dentro de ti.” (Imagine how it will be like when I'm inside you.) A shameless moan escaped from you. "Eso quieres, ¿No?” (You want that, don't you?) He kept talking in your ear while he distributed one or two kisses between your neck and your shoulder. “Sentirme duro. Profundo.” (To feel me hard. Deep.) He simulated thrusts between each word, his hip pushing yours harder against the car and against his hand that kept playing with your pussy to make you whimper. You nodded without opening your eyes. "Con palabras." (Use your words.) He said clicking his tongue.

"Yes please." You begged desperately while trying to get air through your mouth. "Buena niña.” (Good girl.) You swallowed the complaint of feeling him take his hand out of your panties, just because you immediately heard how he started to unbutton his jeans. "Escupe.” (Spit.) You could feel his girth between your legs, letting you know that there were no more clothes involved. You took a few seconds to be able to clean the fingers that were inside you before with your tongue, making Jake groan just by imagining what you would do with your mouth in another situation. When you were satisfied you spat into the palm of his hand as requested. He wrapped his hand around his cock, and covered it with your saliva. He used the same hand to accommodate it between your lips. A sigh of relief left your mouth when you finally felt it inside you. A muffled whimper accompanied the way your muscles suddenly relaxed, as if that was what you needed. "Mierda, amor." (Shit, love.) As Jake's forehead rested against your shoulder, he muttered under his breath. "Voy a terminar rápido si sigues apretándome así.” (I'm going to finish fast if you keep squeezing me like this.) His voice made you dizzy, you mentally thanked all those days you spent understanding each other because his words could have been enough to push you to the limit. It didn't take long for both of you to pick up a delicious rhythm. When he pushed his hip forward, you pushed back to make him go deeper. When he was pulling back, you were pulling forward almost taking his member all the way out to prepare for his next thrust. You were so close you had to bite the hand he put to your mouth to keep from screaming. "¿Vas a terminar para mi, mi vida?” (Are you going to finish for me, my life?) He whimpered. Oh god, he fucking whimpered. He had a desperate tone to his voice, almost like he was comforting you. "Déjame sentirlo, por favor, por favor.” (Let me feel it, please, please.) This time it was he who was begging. Your saliva had started running against Jake's hand. You were seeing stars from squeezing your eyes shut, and how close you were wasn't helping at all. The spasms had started around him, and without warning, the inevitable happened. He finished inside of you. His cum being pushed deeper inside you with each thrust he took to finish his orgasm was enough for you to reach yours. "Amor, carajo.” (Love, damn it.) His voice cracked at the sensitivity combining with your walls squeezing him every few seconds. You were milking him. "Te amo.” (I love you.) He whispered as his breath interrupted each of his words. That was the first time he said it.

July.

The only thing that relaxed you was that this 360° turn apparently had nothing to do with you.

Jake was someone else.

His flirty and playful personality was just a memory to you. Under his eyes, there were huge dark circles since his dreams had become crazier and more frequent.

There were unexplained wounds on his body, according to him. Or sometimes there were none, but he felt the pain throughout his body, as if a truck had run over him, he said.

He became silent, as if he felt he was talking too much when he started to let out words about what was happening. He still hugged and kissed you, still spent afternoons with you and continued to respond “nosotros" to your silly animal photos.

But something wasn't right. There was something so... strange.

You did what you could to work on it, to let it pass.

Even if it cost you the trust in your relationship.

August.

Your hands trembled as you dialed his number for the tenth time that night. Maybe you were being dramatic, but Jake always made sure to let you know when he had returned home.

The sudden change that had occurred in him over the past 3 months didn't help at all. You wouldn't last a lifetime without wondering why his body kept producing wounds he claimed not to remember, or about those days of complete dissociation on his part, when he swore you were playing with him when you told him it was Saturday and not Wednesday.

"I just want to know you're okay." You whispered with a broken voice to the voicemail. "Please, just tell me you're okay."

There was no response that night. You couldn't sleep either.

The next day, when he showed up at your doorstep with the dark circles you had learned to get used to over the days, your body's first reaction was to push him with all your strength. It was only enough to make him stagger.

"You're an idiot." You spat the words, your eyes flooded with tears.

"Me quedé dormido anoche, perdón.” (I fell asleep, I'm sorry.) He didn't even seem to believe the words coming out of his mouth, but how could he explain to you what was happening in his life if he didn't even know what the hell was going on?

"How much longer do you plan on lying to me?" You didn't care that people passing by on the street saw you both as crazy. You in your pajamas, him leaning against the car as a method of protection.

"No te estoy mintiendo." (I’m not lying to you.) He raised his voice a little, letting out a lot of the feelings he had been suppressing for a while.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" The worst part was that you also had things bottled up inside you, the worry for him being the thing that choked you every day, squeezing tighter and tighter.

"Creo que no quieres entenderme.” (I think you don't want to understand me.) He was angry. You had never heard him like this, especially not directed at you. "Creo que ni siquiera estás intentando.” (I think you're not even trying.)

Damn the day you started to understand his words.

"I'm not understanding you, Jake?" You had already broken into tears. Your finger collided against his chest in an accusatory manner while he seemed unaffected, even though inside he was falling apart.

It was too much for him. Everything was too much.

"I've been trying for months to ignore what you're hiding from me." It was so difficult to argue in this way that frustration was suffocating you.

"¡No te estoy ocultando una mierda!” (I'm not hiding shit from you!) You snapped.

With fear.

Mid-sentence, Jake had reached out a hand to push you. Not with much force, just enough to separate you from his chest.

In seconds, he became aware of what he had done. If the car wasn't behind him, he would have moved even further away from you. He was overwhelmed by fear too.

He was losing himself as he had suspected.

"Me tengo que ir.” (I have to go.)

"Jake Lockley, if you leave, I don't want you to come back." Tired of seeing him run away from the problems, you resorted to the last card you would have liked to play.

You were foolish to think he would risk hurting you again. The last thing you heard was the sound of the engine accelerating to get away from you as fast as possible.

September.

The first part of September is blurry. You did your best to survive without him, but the days passed so quickly that you began to question if you were alive or just living in a bad dream that had lasted longer than necessary.

It was as if Jake was dead to you, without any sign, without any notice, nothing.

He simply disappeared.

The clear countdown of the days begins on the 13th, when your phone lit up to notify you that he wasn't doing much better than you.

✉: ¿Podemos hablar? (Can we talk?)

✉: Estoy perdido. (I'm lost.)

It hurt not having him, but it hurt more to see Jake's well-being. Not knowing how he was, where he was, what he was doing after that tragic day tormented you.

You replied, and the most important relationship in your life turned into a series of midnight calls where you tried to understand what your ex-boyfriend was mumbling from the solitude of his car.

You had friendships that had started in stranger ways than this, you could endure this.

Make it work.

October.

"Trick or treat." Mentally, he slapped himself for how ridiculous his way of reappearing was.

A half-smile appeared on your lips as you opened the door and came face to face with an embarrassed Jake, wearing your favorite leather jacket and both hands in his pockets as if he was waiting to be scolded by you.

"I doubt any of these things don't have artificial coloring number 4." That was your only response as you leaned your body against the door frame. With one hand, you held the huge container of candies that came out of hiding every Halloween.

"Estaba por aquí.” (I was around here.) Jake pointed back, the path that led to the supermarket, or at least that's what you assumed. He had a very lame excuse to see you, but that worked for you. The interest was enough. "Y pensé en venir a saludar.” (And I thought of coming. To say hi.)

"I'm watching Friday The 13th." You looked behind him. Children approached with shyness, seeking candy. "Come in, let me finish with the candies."

Your smile was so genuine that Jake's heart skipped a beat. How had he lasted so long without you? Those lost 3 months would always be present in the multiple mistakes he made.

That night, you kissed until it hurt. Until your lips hurt from bites, until the skin of his neck burned from love bites, until his fingers became imprinted on your waist. "I love you." You said between moans as the movie gave you an almost unreal vision of who the love of your life was. Flashes in white, in red, even in black showing you how beautiful he was from any angle or lighting. He made your sofa creak as he raised his hip toward you, thrusting into you even deeper if that was possible. "I love you, Jake." You repeated with a broken voice while your little jumps gained more strength. Your body was already exhausted, your legs were shaking and your hair stuck to your forehead and neck from sweat but emotionally you refused to get away from him. "Te amo. Te amo. Te amo.” (I love you. I love you. I love you.) His whispers mixed with his panting. You both seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Don't go away again." Your fingers tightened on his chest, scratching at his skin as you had done many times before. "Don't ever leave me again, Jake." The way you said his name burned in his heart. He brought a hand to one of yours to squeeze them on his chest, making you feel his agitated heartbeat. There was no need to say more, not while your kisses, movements and moans spoke for themselves. That night, as you rested on his chest after an orgasm that made you both shake from head to toe, he promised you never to leave. "Mi vida.” (My life.) He repeated as his fingers untangled your hair and your weight on him increased as you drifted off to sleep. "Mi cielo. Mi corazón.” (My darling. My heart.) He whispered in your ear. "Mi todo." (My everything.)

November.

Everything with Jake was stupidly easy.

Laughing, singing, existing.

As easy as in the romantic comedies you used to love watching before you met him. And it's not that you had forgotten about those because of him, but now you enjoyed watching action movies, those that allow you to get distracted without losing track of the plot.

You didn't press him to talk about what happened in those months, knowing that there were still a thousand secrets between you because you still saw strange bruises on his body, marks on his knuckles, or felt him getting up in the early hours of the morning when he stayed over with you.

"Leave me alone!" You ran down the hallway, laughing with him trailing behind. Probably restraining himself because it would be impossible for him not to catch you with his eyes closed.

He wrapped an arm around you to press you against his chest and used the other to prevent both of you from crashing into the wall. He was laughing too.

"Do you give up?" He squeezed you tighter with his arm.

"Never! Let me go!"

The laughter almost made it difficult for you to speak.

"Come back to me, and I'll let you go."

The seconds of silence churned his stomach.

"What?"

"I mean..." He cleared his throat. "Officially. Would you be my girlfriend? Please?"

It almost seemed like he was begging you.

You reassured his fears with a kiss.

December.

"I don't understand how you can eat these things." You took a deep breath through your mouth, sticking out your tongue, already reddened by the red dye number 6, to seek some relief from the burning sensation.

Jake was setting down a fifth box from his arms. He sighed, tired.

"No puedo creer que no me estés ayudando.” (I can't believe you're not helping me.) He approached you to steal one of the Cheetos from your bag while you licked your fingers. "Te dije que uses palillos chinos, así evitas el polvo.” (I told you to use chopsticks, that way you avoid getting your fingers dusty.)

"The dust is the best part." You popped your thumb out of your mouth.

"Disgusting." He feigned a look of disgust as he settled between your legs, resting a hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze.

"You didn't say that when..."

"¡Dios mío!" (My God!) He gasped, biting his lower lip to suppress his laughter. He leaned forward, stealing a chaste kiss from you. "Compórtate.” (Behave.)

"Are there many more boxes left? I didn't think you had so much stuff in your apartment." You pushed the box aside as you leaned forward to prolong your kisses.

"This is my apartment." He whispered with a smile against your lips.

"Touché." Your fingers slowly roamed his shirt collar before pulling him closer with a tug on the fabric. "What if you take a break?"

Jake's hands were already on his pants, figuring out how to unbutton his jeans without separating from your body.

"I'm never going to stop unpacking." He complained as his lips began to descend towards your neck.

Ok now that I have written happy endings for the three of them I’m sick of them, lol, I’ll try to get angst-ier with these thingies

[galiccfinds]

SIM DUMP 1 ♡ 600 followers gift

download links & infos under the cut ₊˚⊹♡

hii luvs! so, this is my first sim dump and i didn't really know how to do this, so if i did anything wrong or the download links are not working, please let me know

♡ 6 sims ♡ one everyday outfit ♡ all cc included ♡ download via dropbox ♡ TOU: you can do whatever you want, just do not claim them as your own. and please tag me if you use them, i would love to see it ♡ CREDITS TO ALL CC CREATORS! ♡ LINKS: ꒰ 1 ꒱ ꒰ 2 ꒱ ꒰ 3 ꒱ ꒰ 4 ꒱ ꒰ 5 ꒱ ꒰ 6 ꒱

i just tested everything before posting, but if there's anything - important - missing or not working, please let me know!

enjoy~ ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

• the file size represented on the post's pictures refers to the gallery, not the dropbox files size

• if there's any duplicate sliders i'm sorry, i really need to clean my sliders folder lol. also i (tried to) include only face sliders to the folders

• to the cc creators: if you don't want your cc to be included on this dump, please contact me and i'll remove it from the folder as soon as i can

[holllandtrash]

soft (dog) launch | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x influencer reader (korean reader, sora park face claim)

soft launch of their relationship but it's solely through the instagram account of their dog

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc and 211,875 others 

yourusername good morning

view all 3,161 comments

yourbestfriend it is quite literally 7:30 at night

yourusername not in hawaii

charles_leclerc added to their story

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 477,198 others

tagged: rivayacht

charles_leclerc sea day with the best co-captain

view all 3,224 comments

scuderiaferrari we expect to see your co-captain in the paddock after the break🫡🫡

landonorris no way that dog has its boating license

pierregasly you two look alike

liked by yourusername

sunni_f1fan charles got a puppy?????

starlightpierre that man does not have time to take care of a puppy 💀

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, bellathetravelingpup and 197,559 others 

tagged: bellathetravelingpup

yourusername hawaii dump

view all 3,161 comments

bellathetravelingpup thanks for taking me on this trip mum!!

liked by charles_leclerc

bellathetravelingpup

liked by yourusername, charlesleclerc and 892 others 

bellathetravelingpup i wonder where we're going next

view all 18 comments

yourbestfriend i can't believe you made an insta for your dog

yourusername it wasn't my idea believe it or not

welldonejanessa charles follows a dog finsta im laughing so hard

russell63s AND THE DOG FINSTA FOLLOWS CHARLES LOL

yourusername added to their story

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 392,883 others

tagged: dior

charles_leclerc always a pleasure dior

view all 2,844 comments

f1 😍😍😍😍

lecler1016 i can't be the only one who saw y/n's story post of her dior bag

luvgrussell I SAW THAT!! valtterisuns but is bella in monaco with them? that's the important question

bellathetravelingpup added to their story

bellathetravelingpup

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 773 others 

bellathetravelingpup mum says we can't stay in monaco, where should we go next?

view all 22 comments

charles_leclerc how about london?

bellathetravelingpup what a good idea!!!! spideystroll im screaming and crying

paddockgf oh to be bella in monaco rn

bellathetravelingpup

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,872 others 

bellathetravelingpup dad took me to work with him, he says tyres don't make good beds but i think they're comfy

view all 95 comments

scuderiaferrari she's just warming up the tyres

yourusername if she fits she sits

liked by charles_leclerc

pierregasly i can't believe i'm following an instagram for a dog

bellathetravelingpup i can't believe pierre gasly liked my picture🐶

bellathetravelingpup added to their story

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 335,918 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

scuderiaferrari Bravissimo Charles 👊 P1 for the first race back! Starting the second half of the season off strong💪

view 2886 comments

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

swiftysainz BELLA AND Y/N WHERE THERE TO SEE HIM WIN!!

hamilsuns but she wasn't in the crowd celebrating 😥😥 albonscar on f1tv there was a quick pan to her in the back of the ferrari garage holding bella!! it probably wasn't safe to bring bella out into a crowd like that

bellathetravelingpup

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 1,979 others 

bellathetravelingpup dad won which means he gets extra cuddles

view all 113 comments

yourbestfriend who wrote that caption

yourusername bella did

landos4is we are once again relying on bella's instagram for charles and y/n content

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc and 384,889 others 

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername congrats c❤️ i don't think i'll ever get tired of watching you race (also pictured: me using bella to wipe my tears .5 seconds after you won)

view all 5,868 comments

charles_leclerc my favorite girls❤️🐶

paddockgf FINALLLLYY HARD LAUNCH HARD LAUNCH

yourbestfriend bella looks so confused

yourusername she just wanted to chase the cars landonorris you should have let her, she probably would have lapped albon alex_albon i would have let bella win

requests are open

[batterygarden]

Train on a Train | ft. Aged up! Pro players! Seishiro Nagi, Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira and Hyoma Chigiri

18+ MDNI

cw: fem & afab reader, explicit 5-some/orgy/train running, reader wears a skirt & lace panties & has hair which is gripped once, "princess" and "baby" pet names used, established relationship w Nagi, you and Nagi get sorta slutted out tbh, nagiri featured, bachisagi sorta featured (less seriously), borderline dubcon bc they don't ask reader if she's cool w everything although she is (i'll tag it), "pussy anytime pass" cashed in by Nagi lmao, semi-public sex, peeping toms, cuckolding, penetrative sex, oral (f + m recieving), face fucking, cum eating, some mlm oral/hand job in there, mult. orgasms & creampies, overstimulation, a little pussy inspection, a little dacryphilia, took many liberties w this like don't think about it too hard a/n: This is the most ridiculous fic I've ever written and It's also really special to me, pls enjoy the absurdities! I'd like to clarify that the train car I'm imaging for it is like the one in the header image--this is a huge and magical train they're in, okay. They have lots of space; this train layout does not make sense and I personally have not been on a train w a setup like this but I’ve seen it on tv / in movies so like. lol u just have to roll w it ! pls interact if ur into it and wanna talk ab bllk w me!! sending kissies. Thx for betaing bbg @millionsknife wk: 5.7 k!

“You’re heartless.”

Nagi’s voice is so serious and deadpan that you break focus from your book, and watch as his typical apathetic frown meets his eyes for a moment in a way that could fool any stranger into worrying. 

But not you. He’s being subtle about it but you’re very familiar with Seishiro’s pouting routine—he’s upset you won’t surrender your phone for the last hour and a half of your train ride because somebody came unprepared with a low battery. His games were apparently more important than an ongoing text conversation with your friend!

“Am not, you big baby! Bring a charger next time.” 

You don’t respond when he mumbles something about there not even being outlets under his breath, immediately re-engrossed in your story, ignoring his squirming and sighs. 

You hear it when Nagi finally stills and drops his head against the window next to him, and he doesn’t even look at you when he speaks again.

“Whatever. ‘M using’ it now then.”

“You’re what?” 

“My pass,” he pauses to yawn. “My free pussy pass or whatever.” 

It takes you a second to even process his words. Then you wonder if he’s joking—sometimes with that blank-eyed stare it’s hard to tell. 

“Sei, we’re on a train…?” 

You didn’t think he’d use part of your valentines gift this way…truthfully you thought he’d forgotten about your little half-joke coupons you made him—he only ever cashed in the massage. He's never shown interest in public sex before… this is uncharted territory.

“Don’t care,” he sighs, his mouth twisting a little so his expression flashes mock sympathy.  He pats his upper thigh.

“Hop on soldier.”

You laugh for a second and his lips twitch before he narrows his eyes at your hesitance, pouting openly this time. 

“Come on. Was the pussy pass fake or something?” 

You have to hold back another giggle. “Say pussy pass one more time.” 

Your car’s door gets a lingering glance before you’re abandoning your book and phone, sliding carefully into his lap while he stares at you, looking deep in thought. You seize his pause as an opportunity to peck his lips—giving into him way too easily like always. You’re reminded of all your friends’ claims that you spoil him—suddenly certain they’re true when you feel his hands squeeze their way up your thighs till they’re under your skirt, the cool air hitting your ass in the middle of a public train. 

“Well what else ‘m I supposed to call it?” He leans his head back against the wall, getting comfy in his seat while he kneads your hips atop him, feeling that the fabric of your panties is lacy. 

You break your lips away from his neck where they’d drifted, glancing at the hall again before smiling at him.

“Just teasing. This is new though… will you watch the door? Otherwise I’ll be nervous.”

He nods for you, rubbing his thumbs reassuringly over your sides while his fingertips graze frilly straps.

He’s content just holding you like that a while longer, letting his eyelids droop while you work on his neck, but his fingers dig into your skin when he feels you bite. 

“ow. what’s that for?”

He brings a hand up to clasp over the newly forming bruise on his pulse, eyes a little widened. 

“A reminder to watch the door,” you say while you grind for the first time over his sweatpants, earning a sharp inhale. The real reason you sunk your teeth in is that Nagi’s annoying—about to get his dick ridden after throwing a tantrum over a phone battery. Classic Seishiro—everything comes too easy to him! 

You wanna give him a harder time, you really wanna get bratty, but the feeling of Nagi’s hard dick against your panties has your brain short circuiting—especially when you notice his cute dilated pupils before he grinds up to meet your hips. Somehow those eyes have you programmed to do anything he asks—anything that’d please him would please you just as much. 

So it’s after not long at all that your grinding turns rabid and you can’t wait any longer for him to be inside you. then you break away from his chest where you’d been clinging, hovering above him so you can take his cock out before spitting on it and giving a few impatient pumps. 

Nagi’s a mess by this point, his bedhead even more disheveled than before and his cheeks rosy, his lips and neck looking red and abused. But your hand around his dick obliterates the last of his composure, now he’s squirming and whining and letting his eyes squeeze shut—forgetting to watch the door!! 

You pause your stroking with a click of your tongue, pointing to the hallway when Nagi’s eyes open as a reminder. Then, in one practiced, fluid motion your panties are pulled to the side and Nagi’s stroked along your slit before sliding inside—stretching you open just right before you bottom out. 

You have to still for a moment when you do, feeling Nagi’s fingers claw into your hips while his skull thuds against the wall behind him. 

“Fuck.” 

You adore Seishiro’s pussy drunk voice, how breathy and tired it sounds—how needy he turns. It has you gushing around him, wrapping your arms around his neck and squishing your bodies together till neither of you can move. 

“Feel so good.” He whines, bucking into you on instinct, hitting your sweet spot with precision.

“Y-yeah?”

You love the eager way he nods in response—loving how Nagi seems to save whatever enthusiasm he has the energy to show for your pussy and your pussy only. 

You roll your hips for him, starting a nice and gentle and merciful pace because you wanna give him a false sense of security before you start bouncing the way you like. Which is ruthlessly—Nagi’s sensitive and you enjoy nothing more than the process of absolutely ruining him. 

The time you spend riding him slow and sweet ends sooner rather than later though; teasing Nagi is always a double-edged sword when you end up teasing yourself along with him. So it’s not long at all until the rock of your hips is interrupted and you’re letting your shoes slide to the ground, leaving just your socks while you shift your weight backwards onto your toes so you can use your feet to help you bounce hard the way you like. If Nagi was demanding train pussy, he’d have to take it how you want to give it. 

Nagi realizes your intentions just a moment too late before you’re moving, squeezing him tight and fast and knocking the wind from his lungs. 

He‘s never been great at censoring his moans—Seishiro can be dramatically vocal when he feels good, so you have to quickly silence him with your lips—swallowing every sound while he squirms like mad underneath you.

Every movement feels sweet—honestly, Nagi’s cock is maybe the most reliable thing about him—it never fails to hit exactly where it needs to. But if every movement is sweet for you, each slam of your hips is tooth rotting for seishiro—neither of you even notice the way his eyes are permanently closed in bliss—failing to watch your precious train door like he promised. He’s watching brain cells die behind his eyelids instead, his head turning fuzzy with each squeeze of your pussy—not even your lips can contain the volume of his whining. 

He’s close, you can feel it in the way he’s twitching inside you, and you’re not far behind him. So you keep your hips bouncing in a nice rhythm—clinging onto him while he does the same to you, his fingers clawing your sides before breaking away from your kiss to throw his head back—it knocks against the wall again but he doesn’t complain, only squeezes his eyes shut while he cries out from borderline overstimulation—cumming what feels like endlessly inside you. It’s entirely too much when you clamp down on him, throwing your head back too while you cum with him—leaving him whimpering and teary-eyed. 

“Fuuck s’too much, ba-wait I can’t—“

He’s cut off when you meet his lips again, riding out your high as gently as you can manage while Sei’s breaths slowly even out. Eventually his heavy eyelids peek open to find your head resting on his shoulder, looking up at his face. 

Lovey little smiles are exchanged when your gazes meet—and you feel like your chest might explode from how heartfelt the moment suddenly feels as Nagi holds you close and you hold him closer, shoving unruly white hair from his eyes for him. 

“Did you get good use out of your coupon, Sei?” You wonder with a teasing tone, tracing a finger along his shirt collar while he yawns, nodding. He looks like he’s about to say more, but it’s then that his eyes finally spare a glance for the aforementioned car door…

Where he finds Isagi, Chigiri and Bachira staring wide-eyed. Their expressions are varied from bachira’s amused little smile, playing with a red sucker between his lips, to Isagi’s tongue-in-cheek, brow-raised stare. Then there’s Chigiri—mouth slightly parted, eyes empty and his cheeks flushed. Nagi’s never seen that man blush before. 

Nagi jumps the moment he notices them, before cursing under his breath, digging a knuckle into his eyes while he turns his head away. 

You freeze at his actions—quick to gather that someone must have seen you but instantly too mortified to check the window and see who it was. 

Japan’s team had rented out your section of the train for their next game so best case-scenario it was someone chill that you weren’t close with, maybe Hiori or Kurona, worst case-scenario it was Jinpachi Ego.

You don’t have the chance to speculate for long, because next thing you know, the door is sliding open and there’s more than one set of footsteps marching into your little train car. And you’re still stuffed full of Seishiro’s cock and you wanna cry. 

You’re too frozen in embarrassment to move until you hear Nagi sigh, “This is so annoying—you guys are perverts, you know. Can’t you give a little privacy?” 

He’s talking like it’s his friends standing behind you—the fact has you involuntarily clamping on him while you finally turn to check, clamping down again when Bachira waves at you and Isagi smiles all friendly. Seishiro squeezes your thigh when he feels you, groaning so quiet under his breath that you hope none of them can hear. 

“We’re the perverts? You just got fucked in a public train with your teammates on the other side of the wall. It’s lucky it was us who heard you ‘n not our esteemed coach, don’t you think?” 

It makes your head spin just hearing Isagi’s patronizing tone, but glancing at his expression makes you feel even stickier, his head tilted in faux concern and then his widened grin when you turn to meet his eyes. 

You can’t help but find the look he gives you sort of… hot—you’d be lying if you said this whole situation wasn’t turning you on in some sick and twisted way. And Seishiro’s certainly handling it more calmly than you think most boyfriends would, letting the room fall quiet after Isagi speaks, his cheeks turning the faintest pink when he finally drops his eyes back down to you. 

Another second of quiet and it would have been too uncomfortable to bear, but, unsurprisingly, Bachira breaks the silence. 

He seems even less bothered by the car’s thick atmosphere than Isagi is, as he closes the gap to sit beside nagi, resting an elbow on his shoulder before pulling the sucker from his mouth with a pop. Where it felt like Isagi was only speaking to Nagi, Bachira seems to make you his sole focus when he asks, “think you can cum again, princess? Didn’t get a good view of your face the first time and I bet you’ll look soo pretty.” 

You manage to grow even hotter at those words, you have to drop a cheek against Nagi to cool it, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from Bachira’s expression—it’s teasing and playful in a way that makes your insides fuzzy. 

Before you can reply, you hear Isagi mumble from behind you, “bet you’ll feel so pretty too,” and with that you can’t hold back any longer from grinding down on sei’s quickly-hardened cock—trying to be as subtle as possible but unable to stop yourself—the lack of friction had been turning torturous. 

And of course Nagi moans, all soft and sweet for you, gripping your hips before bucking upwards, his subtlety leaving much to be desired. 

Something in the room shifts then, or maybe the tension breaks—at least for you. You’ve given up hiding how horny you still are.

Witnesses somehow only manage to turn you on more, the extra eyes make you feel desired, especially when you peek to see Bachira’s brows raised—he’s smiling, dimples out and everything, while his gaze falls to the edge of your skirt and your curled legs next to his. It takes minutes for you to be on the brink of cumming again, Isagi and Bachira only spurring you on with filthy words—

“Aww are you gonna get yourself off on Nagi again? Think I could make you feel even better.” 

“Poor Sei’s gonna have an aneurysm, are you sure he can handle your little pussy for another round? Maybe you should give me a turn.” 

Nagi can only pant and whine and take it beneath you—so drunk on your pussy he’s brain dead--the taunting from his teammates hardly even registers. Isagi’s quick to point out how gone he is from his seat across from you and when he does, Bachira’s giggling, brushing the sweaty hair from Nagi’s forehead and murmuring,

“If you don’t open your eyes, you’re gonna miss how cute your girlfriend looks while she fucks you.” 

Isagi adds, “bet she can look even cuter. Megs you wanna take her shirt off? Looks like she isn't even wearing a bra.” 

You’re so caught up in how it feels and how they sound that you don’t even notice till then that their cocks are out, stroked in their hands while you entertain them, leaving them panting softly between words. When you turn and look you notice that even Chigiri, who you’ve barely ever spoken with before, is groaning and palming himself through his shorts next to Isagi. 

You’re on the brink of cumming and you sense Nagi is there with you—so preoccupied with how it feels that you barely notice Bachira tugging your shirt over your head, his sucker forgotten in its wrapper, till the cool air hits your nipples and you feel them hardening.You hear Isagi moan at the sight before you’re toppling over the edge again, spasming on Seishiro, feeling the burning gaze of the three around you while Bachira rubs your back. Nagi can’t help but cream inside you at the same time, twitching and whining—by the time he’s done you're exhausted. 

The absurdity of the situation properly registers then, leaving you warm and embarrassed, but you aren’t done. Somehow you know you aren’t from the way Isagi’s eyes have been scorching your back. He doesn’t give you time to rest before he’s taking your hand in his, guiding you off of Nagi while you’re still pliant and stupid from cumming so hard. 

All eyes are immediately fixed on how he spills out of you, white dripping down your thigh all the way to your knee when you stand. 

“Sheesh Sei, look how messy you made her,” Bachira says, before he’s swiping cum off your leg and sucking it off his fingers. Your head spins. You feel like you must be dreaming. 

“Sweet. You’re sweet, Sei, did y’know that?”

Seishiro’s brain’s still mush, his head resting lifelessly against the wall, but he manages to roll his face toward Bachira to glance at him, humming a no. 

Bachira gets a glint in his eye when he turns to Chigiri, zoned out on Nagi’s face from the corner, and asks him “d’you wanna try, Chigiri? Ever tasted sweet cum before?” 

Chigiri’s instantly pink, shaking his head almost shyly. You don’t expect it when you feel his long fingers glide up your inner thigh, dipping into your pussy before he takes them away to lick clean. 

He speaks for the first time, 

“You are sweet, Nagi.” 

You think you see Nagi make a lazy little smile at that before you’re being molded by Isagi, onto your hands and knees across the leather seats that Chigiri’s sitting on. Your face is met with Chigiri’s massive bulge while Isagi gets positioned behind you, rubbing warm hands under your skirt to push it all the way up to your abdomen, leaving only your little lace panties that are stretched in the crotch and soaked. 

“Gonna take her face, Hyoma?” Isagi asks while his fingers trace the frilly straps, sliding his way under them to rub your bare hips. 

You take the time he spends inching the fabric lower to try and wrap your brain around Yoichi Isagi—the man who’s likely your closest friend on the team aside from Nagi. He’s always kept the atmosphere light and friendly when you’re involved—cracking jokes and relishing in your giggles, he’s always very kind and welcoming. It’s true you’ve always thought he was kinda cute—and it was clear those feelings were returned from the way he flirted with you, but you always assumed he was just laying your special treatment on a extra thick to fuck with Nagi. You didn’t expect he’d ever really be in your panties, that's for sure. But now he’s crossing the point of no return, helping slide them off completely and likely altering your dynamic permanently. Ah well… you don’t feel the motivation to stop him. 

Chigiri breaks you out of your thoughts when he finally answers,

“Bachira can go first, he’s staring like a hungry animal right now.” 

Bachira doesn’t need any further permission than that before he’s swapped spots with Chigiri, kneeling sideways on the seat so his cock is in your face—red and thick and leaking. You almost put him in your mouth immediately on instinct but then you’re glancing at Nagi on the bench across from you, gauging how he feels about this whole thing. He’s never been the jealous type, but talking to other men and sucking their dicks usually warrants different reactions. 

He’s still looking exhausted but you notice right away his dick is somehow still hard- or maybe hard again. The corner of his mouth lifts a little when you meet his eyes, then lifts even more when he glances a few times between your face and Bachira’s cock.

His expression is confirmation enough, and next thing you know you’re licking up the pre that’s dripping down Bachira’s tip, squealing a bit when you feel Isagi run his fingers through your sensitive pussy at the same time, fingering you with his middle and ring finger till he has enough cum on his hand to rub his cock with, getting himself ready for you. The anticipation has you quickly struggling to focus on Bachira, licking him sloppily from base to tip a few times till he’s impatient.

“No, princess, it goes in your mouth.” 

Bachira puts a thumb between your lips and gently pulls them open, guiding himself inside while you look up into his eyes. He looks… mischievous—his expression has your heart thumping unevenly, reminding you of how he looks when he plays soccer. And once his tip’s at the back of your mouth, his condescending smile gets even wider while he lets out a breathy groan, holding your eyes shamelessly while your tongue swirls around him, eventually glancing behind you at Isagi, who’s positioned his tip at your entrance.

You whine on Bachira’s dick when Isagi starts easing his way in, the new angle dragging against new places inside you, and Bachira furrows his brows at the feeling, twitching forward before holding himself back. 

“Mmm I think ‘m gonna have to fuck your face.”

Nagi’s never done that before. 

Your expression must show your hesitance because Bachira’s quickly stroking your head, trying but not quite succeeding in reassuring you all will be well while he looks behind you some more—eyeing Isagi who’s bottomed out inside you. 

“It’ll be okay. Isagi and I’d only take the best care of Nagi’s sweet little girlfriend.” He says in a singsong voice, slowly easing his way deeper in your mouth. 

“Wouldn’t give you anything you couldn’t take. I know you can handle us both, princess,” you hear Isagi add from behind while he rubs your lower back and sides. 

You’re just thinking whatever they’re gonna do to you, they better do it fast because you can’t stand another moment without movement. So you answer them with a whine that’s meant to be encouraging.

From the sidelines of every game—especially as a non-soccer player, Isagi and Bachira’s relationship always appears… complicated. The way Nagi tells it, they used to often work as a unit, as a team even in blue lock, kinda like Nagi used to be with Reo. But… things got competitive. They’re friends, Nagi always says they're friends and they act like it off the field, but their dynamic always feels to you like it has a hidden layer most people are missing—whether it be rivalry or jealousy or maybe even some form of… infatuation. 

And maybe it’s that hidden connection they hold that has them so in sync when suddenly, with no word or trigger you can perceive, Bachira and Isagi thrust out and in, beginning a steady matching pace while they fuck your pussy and throat. You’re left gagging and drooling from the sensation—it’s overwhelming to be so completely full, but somehow you more than bear it—after a few thrusts it’s even satisfying and you’re moaning and taking it and fast approaching another orgasm. If your mind was already hazy from Seishiro, your thoughts are a thick fog by this point, cleared of anything but physical touch—your boyfriend watching you from a foot away getting his cock stroked by Hyoma goes completely unnoticed. 

Something you do come around for, though, is Bachira’s downright erotic panting growing louder by the second, paired with the bruising grip Isagi’s got latched around your waist that tightens with every stroke, eventually one of his hands lifting to link fingers with Megs. Their growing enthusiasm while they fuck you can only be perceived for a moment before you’re coming undone again, wave after wave of intense and all-consuming pleasure washing over you till you can’t keep your eyes open. You can’t hear or see by the peak of it, only feeling as two cocks drill and pound you harder than you’ve possibly ever experienced. You almost choke when suddenly Bachira’s creaming in your mouth towards the end, shooting ropes of hot cum down your throat but refusing to pull out so you have no choice but to swallow. It’s not long after that you feel heat flood your pussy too, filling you like a donut for the third time in the past hour. 

You almost collapse on the seat then, but luckily you’re caught around the middle by Isagi, who lays you down gently while he uses some mysterious cloth to mop up the mess between your legs—likely a shirt from Nagi’s backpack.  

You’re a wreck by this point, but feeling thoroughly satisfied as you lay and let your eyes adjust to the scene around you, one that involves Chigiri kneeling in front of your boyfriend and sucking him completely dry while Seishiro buries his face in the crook of his arms, squirming the way you know he does when he’s about to cum. He moves his arms towards the end to glance at Chigiri, then he’s meeting eyes with you, and his expression morphs into one of his rare, adoring faces.

He moves his mouth like he’s about to say your name but then he’s cumming again, his nose wrinkling all cute while his hands go to Chigiri’s hair, holding it from his face while Chigiri’s head bobs at a steady rhythm. Eventually Nagi’s pulling Chigiri off, using his hair like a handlebar and whining “s’too much Hyoma, s’enough...” 

…

Seishiro… your boyfriend… you just watched him get his dick sucked by his teammate. The scene of it all has you reeling because- how should you feel about that? Not mad—certainly not when you just got fucked by two cocks at once before his eyes and liked it. But is it okay that the image had you feeling… good? That you’re turned on by the thought of Nagi’s teammates taking good care of him—especially the idea that they might when you’re not even there. As a matter of fact you hope Nagi’s friends suck his dick for him when you can’t make it to a faraway game, you’d be more worried if he wasn’t being doted on by someone in your place—that realization has you surprised with yourself. 

When he finally opens his eyes after coming down from his high, you’ve scooted back to his bench next to him, hugging yourself to his side and smoothing the bangs from his forehead before dotting his face in light kisses. 

“Did that feel good?” Your voice sounds like an angel.

He nods, his eyelids even heavier than before, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you against his chest, cheek falling against your head. 

Hyoma, who’d sunk against Nagi’s other side chuckles lightly, mumbling a soft “I’m glad,” while adjusting the front of his shorts. 

Seishiro’s sitting like his body is heavy, his boxers lazily tucked over his dick so even his clothes make him look thoroughly ran through. Still, he finds the energy to lift his head and look pointedly at Chigiri and his apparent boner, pursing his lips like he’s debating something.

Chigiri’s voice is breathy and seductive when he asks “Wanna help me out, Sei?” 

The nickname sounds almost out of place spoken from Hyoma’s lips, you get the feeling he’s only ever referred to Nagi by his surname up until now. It honestly makes your thighs rub together thinking about their newfound closeness. 

You watch as Seishiro nods for him, spitting in his hand once Chigiri finally takes his cock out. 

You have to work to pick your jaw up off the floor when he does—who would have expected that Hyoma Chigiri’s absolutely hung. His cock is blushing and pretty and huge—precum spilling from its tip once Nagi carefully wraps a hand around its base, stroking testingly. 

Chigiri moans the kind of moan you knew he’d make—one that’s pretty like the rest of him, wrapping a hand around Nagi’s to squeeze himself tighter. 

“‘Sagi, you should do that to me,” your eyes follow Bachira’s voice across from you, him and Isagi seem to be fighting over who can manspread the most on the bench space. You notice Isagi’s eyes lingering on you, curled against Nagi with just your sorry excuse for a skirt still on—it’s riding up so high he’d see everything if you just opened your legs. 

“No fucking chance, Megs.” 

“Maybe if I beat you next one on one?” Bachira murmurs, a teasing tone to his words. 

Isagi ignores him, staring you down while he wets his lips, eventually meeting your gaze while a warm smile takes over his face. You notice then that he has another hard-on in his basketball shorts. 

“Hey princess, think you could give me head? We could give Hyoma somethin’ to watch? And I bet Bachira’d eat you out—he loves eating other guys’ cum.” 

Bachira throws a hard shove at Isagi’s shoulder that leaves Isagi wincing, but then he smiles at you all big and feral. 

“I am dying to taste that magic pussy of yours. Seems like it puts everybody in a trance.”

You know the logical answer would be to decline, you know your body is on the brink of collapse, but then Nagi’s looking down on you with his blank eyed stare, and his pupils are huge again. He pecks your forehead before whispering, 

“C’mon baby, give us somethin’ to watch.” 

Due to your Sei-pleasing programming, and the wetness between your legs Isagi’s eyes bring, you can’t say no. 

So you end up back on the Eiffel Tower bench, back on your hands and knees, but this time your skirt’s finally been removed and Isagi’s cock is by your face while Bachira kneels behind you, inspecting your swollen pussy. 

You shiver when you feel his warm fingers spread you apart, tracing your folds while his mouth waters, the atmosphere accentuated by Chigiri’s moans and sighs along with the gentle slaps from Nagi’s hand. 

You’re just placing the first kitten lick on Isagi’s tip when Bachira places both hands on your ass, spreading you open with his thumbs this time before finally licking a long stripe through your center. 

The feeling has your back arching, whining before you take Isagi fully in your mouth, letting him gag you while Bachira flattens his tongue against your clit. The room’s quickly filled with whining and moaning and heavy breathing—thankfully nobody seems to be in the car next door anymore because you’d be heard immediately. 

You should have known from the eccentric way Bachira acts to the fact his tongue’s lolling out of his mouth half that time that he’d be good at giving head—but somehow you didn’t anticipate how electric he’s making you feel, alternating fucking you with his tongue and suctioning under the hood of your clit—his every action feels intense. And he’s vocal too—slurping and groaning on you, his fingers almost certainly leaving bruises on the skin of your ass and upper thighs where he holds you open with an unyielding grip. 

The feeling Bachira’s tongue is giving you only transfers to Isagi’s dick, because you’re moaning on it—frantically taking him as deep as your throat can go as some kind of outlet for the hot pleasure you’re experiencing in your core. 

You’re not sure if somehow all of this fell under Isagi’s master plan, because he is fucking estatic—gripping the wall and your hair, perfectly dominating in his tone while he talks you through the whole thing. Using words like, “there you go, princess,” and “mmh think your mouth was made for my cock,” while moaning all deep and pretty in a way you didn’t expect. 

Every sense you have is sexually charged, and it takes almost no time for you to be coming undone again almost painfully this time. By now you’ve lost count how many orgasms you’ve been given, but this one stands out as the harshest—leaving you choking on Isagi while fat tears stream down your cheeks, your body twitching on Bachira’s unrelenting mouth. He licks up your release like a man starving—lapping deep inside you till your vision is spotty and you worry you’ll never be able to think straight again. 

You can hardly register the feeling of Isagi cumming in your mouth, swallowing everything he gives with empty-headed obedience. Isagi and Bachira catch you when you collapse this time, laying you gently on the bench so your head’s on Isagi’s lap, mumbling how they’re scared they might have put you in a coma when you don’t respond to their comments throughout the process. Your heartbeat’s too loud in your ears at first to register the sound that’s left is Chigiri, his panting and whining growing quick while Nagi jerks him off across from you.

Your hearing is finally clear again when he mumbles a broken, “gonna cum, Sei- fuck- where?” 

You watch Nagi glance around for a second at his backpack and your discarded clothes littering the floor before his stare lands on you, and his eyes soften a bit. 

“My girlfriend.”

“Sei-?”

“Inside her like everyone else.” Nagi’s tone is humorless—maybe a teense fond. 

At this point no action anyone around you takes could surprise you, so you spread your legs a little in your seat, flicking your gaze up at Hyoma’s furrowed expression. 

He hesitates much less than you would have expected, taking over for Nagi with a breathy sigh, his hand gliding up and down his own cock with loud wet slaps. 

Before you know it he’s standing and twisting your body diagonal so you’re leaning against Isagi’s chest, spreading your legs with one hand before kneeling to slide himself inside. You both wince when he enters, you from raw overstimulation and him from the squeeze—it only takes one pump before he’s cumming inside you—painting your insides with what feels like buckets of cum while his breaths come out in shaky moans, leaving you so full you’re leaking before he even pulls out. 

Everything’s sticky and exhausting after that, you feel like you need to sleep for days, but the train just announced it would be pulling into the station in 5 minutes. So, with the help of four sets of hands besides your own, and one of Nagi’s tee shirts that Isagi elected as a temporary cum rag, you redress yourself and are left sitting beside Nagi again, him leaning his head against the wall with frequent yawns and you sending an apologetic text to your friend for your lack of response. Nagi already had practice today but he has a dinner to attend before his big game tomorrow, one you were planning to accompany him to but you’re currently planning to forgo, hoping none of his teammates or coaches miss your absence. 

The early check-in to your hotel goes smoothly. You’re happy to get the chance to break in a fresh bed with a late nap, but once you arrive and go to shower, you finally notice something missing. You didn’t even realize with how sensitive and raw you were feeling between your legs, along with how used to nudity you’d grown accustomed in the past hour and half, but ever since your train ride soirée, it seems your panties have mysteriously vanished… 

[ughgoaway]

my favourite fics and writers

hi, y'all!! so I've decided that this year, I want to be more appreciative of all the amazing content we have on this app, and thank the writers providing it. this was inspired by Lily (lastnightwaskindofablur) who shared how long it took her to write her series, and it made me realise how much time and love are poured into these fics.

so this list is basically everyone im following, and my favourite piece of writing from them! I don't think I've forgotten anyone, but if I have IM SO SORRY!! if I am following you- I'm obsessed with you.

anyway, so sorry for tagging 1000 people but I love and appreciate you all so much!!

(so much rambling below the cut)

@64yrsold; “aches” is amazing and “wintering” is heartbreaking in the best way. Also, all of their one-shots are just amazing, I could read them over and over again!!

@abiiors; is not only one of the nicest people on this app (and maybe the world) but also one of the most talented writers. so so many amazing fics that honestly, don't even get me started on bc I will talk for HOURS. but “haunt//bed” is one fic I can't stop coming back to. And “Three’s a Party” is… mind-numbingly good, it actually made me scream into a pillow when I read it for the first time. Vee also creates all the amazing 75 Tumblr activities so really she is to thank for SO MUCH content on here!! one of the kindest people I know, and I feel so lucky to call her my friend :)))

@yourtouchismidas; “ruins” was one of the first fics that had me checking AO3 every day for updates. truly heartbreaking and all-encompassing. and all the blurbs from it are also amazing. The dad! Matty content mixed with the angst is just so well done.

@shinycollarboneapologist; was the blog where I started rambling and sharing ideas, so she is to thank for all the friends I've made on here!!! The Taylor verse is PHENOMENAL and “illicit affairs” is a fav. but “clandestine” has invaded my brain so much I literally dream about it regularly... so I have to say that's my no.1

@imagine-that-100; I first discovered her series "Drunk” on ao3 and then promptly binged everything on her masterlist (multiple times...) “Chicken Shop Date” is just a masterpiece (she and her co-writer are AMAZING on this and I will ramble about her later), but my personal fav is “truth serum”. I have probably read that fic about 50 times over and I love it just as much every time!!!

@heyidkyay; I first read “Who Can Say No to Bridezilla?” and became obsessed on ao3. but then I found them on Tumblr and was completely sucked into "I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name" which is quite possibly the best George series on here. so much character building and back story, and overall just a phenomenal fic.

@justlikemebutsixfootthree; has some of the best smut on this app,” The Birthday Party” is probably my most re-read because it is just an absolute masterpiece. but “insane” and “direction” are also both amazing.

@imightgetbetter; was one of the first blogs I discovered on here, and I fell in love with the whole “Love It If We Made It” series. such an amazing development of a relationship and their writing is AMAZING. but my absolute favourites have to be “Bets are off” and “I love dilfs.”

@butyou-callmewhenyourebored; has such good Ross content all around, truly providing for the Ross girlies!!! but the Leeds au blurb 1 is my fav from them!

@drivelikeiido; has some beautiful fluff, and I just love the way they write Matty. but (not so) important decisions just make my heart warm like nothing else!!!

@toomuchracket; my beloved mads!! the fun wine aunt of 1975 Tumblr. I mean I could talk for 17 pages about my love for all of her au's... birthday party is the perfect supportive husband, d-word is the best slutty old man content on this app lol and flatmate is the friends-to-lovers content we all yearn for. asking me to choose my favourite Mads fic is like choosing a favourite child, but right now it has to be totally wrecked. I think that has altered my brain chemistry in an indescribable way… (edit; since writing this she has put out possibly my no.1 fic of all time, “and this is how it starts” so I just had to mention how much I fucking adore it)

@lottiecrabie; I mean... what else is there to even say about Lottie other than she is one of the best writers I have ever read. truly the mother of 1975 Tumblr. “rockstar girlfriend” and “pray for my soul” both have such special places in my heart, but anatomy au locked a new section in my brain fr. that little loser lives in my head rent free!!!

@tillthelandslide; is so so kind and has some amazing series I would recommend to EVERYONE. “insufferable asshole” is one of my absolute favourites, I love a grovelling man what can I say!!! but “Same for You” has me flipping sides every chapter, I still can't choose if I'm team Ross or team Matty.

@lastnightwaskindofablur; what more can I sat about the whole ATPOAIM universe other than it is quite literally phenomenal. the amount of time and effort poured into the Brittany Jackson universe is so clear by how amazing each fic and blurb is. my absolute favourite thought is "Christmas isn't cancelled (just you.)" from the 12 days of Christmas. it is easily one of my favourite fics I've read!!! She is also the whole inspiration behind this list and made me realise how important thanking your favourite writers really is.

@cowboylor; ohmyLORD the smut on this blog is just... wowowoowowowow. actually made me nervous to attempt smut because of how good theirs is. "Cabin Fever" is probably my favourite, I love a good threesome fic.

@alovesreading; the other half of the JAW DROPPING series that is “Chicken Shop Date”. the hours that have been put into that fic are so clear in how well thought out it is. every word feels purposefully placed, and every chapter fucking HITS. A also writes amazing fics for Alex Turner and is slowly making me an Alex girlie just by how good her writing is...

@bookish-strawberry; such such good fics in the "You and Me Till the End Universe". Ambrose has just created such loveable characters and you can't help but adore his writing. “alleyway” pt 1 and 2 are my favourites, I do love some fwb content.

@hypersonic04; her teacher Ross universe is just great, every blurb and fic just radiates the love between the characters that she has created!! but my absolute favourite fic of hers has to be "Tis the damn season", it somehow made me love one of my favourite songs even more.

@cows-wearing-my-sweater; has some amazing one-shots, and his work on “Eternal Summer” is absolutely beautiful. she manages to make you feel the warmth of summer through a screen, and it's fucking beautiful. 

@poisonmedaddy13; Ross girlies do I have the blog for YOU. so much good Ross-tent, but my all-time favourite is the “Mirrorball” series. As someone who HEAVILY relates to that song, that fic is just... so so real and amazing. every chapter is just as good as the last, if not better!

@cryley; her “Petichor” series is just fluffy perfection, I have probably read it over 10 times and will 1000% be reading it at least 10 more...

@thefrontofmymind; has so many great matty fics/imagines, “Helping Hand” jumps out easily as my favourite though. Once again, friends with benefits is ALWAYS gonna slap. especially when they confess their feelings at the end!!!! ahhh so good. “Proof Positive” is such a good Ross fic, if you like pregnancy fics I would HIGHLY recommend it.

@uramilf; did the 12 days of Christmas last year, and every day was amazing!!! But £The Record Shop” is my favourite series from her, love and music combined are too perfect for me not to adore.

@3terna15unshin3; Marcey's fic "then because she goes" had me refreshing ao3 DAILY. este is such a well-rounded and beautiful character, her and Matty's love makes me so lovesick it's CRAZY. that whole series is my favourite, and my fav blurb from that universe is Toothbrush. Este and Matty are so beloved by me <333

@because-she-goes; has an amazing universe with Matty and an OC that I adore, Nora is such a lovely character and every fic about them makes me giddy. "black lace" and "Summer Girl" are my favourites of their fics though!

@theseventyfive; has such a way with words, every fic makes me giggle and kick my feet. but if you saw my tags on my reblog of "not so secret Santa" you know how deeply I adore that fic. the writing on it is beautiful and makes you feel warm somehow??? amazing.

@wrongendofurcigarette; George girlies it's your time to shine!!!! "sun-soaked" and "wet" swirl in my mind whenever I see a pic of George looking... particularly good. but recently she has created an actress reader au that I am BUZZING for. that little snippet was... wowowowowowowow

@automaticllamacycle; OLIVE!!!!! once again, such a nice and genuine human being and I am so so lucky to chat with her because she is the best hypeman EVER. and is amazing to bounce ideas off of. just such a kind person and I am blessed to scream to her over DM. her coffee shop AU might be my most-read fic ever. it was my daily routine at one point to wake up, go to AO3 and read that fic. when part 2 came out???? I DIEDDDDDDD. but also all of olives horny thoughts are... MUWAH chefs kiss.

@red---moon; "after party" is another fic I read regularly on ao3, sleepy matty after a party with flirting and then smut??? hellooooo yes please. also, “Souvenir” as a series is just amazing, so so so good.

@maxverstappensflatbrim; “show me yours” is such a beautiful universe, and has SO MANY CHAPTERS for you to become obsessed with. I just love every character in that universe, and Mac’s writing is amazing.

@justanamesstuff; “All I Need” is such an amazing series, and I would recommend it to anyone who loves Dad! Matty content!! But all her blubs are worth reading too!!

@procrastinatinglikeapro; is so so sweet and has some absolutely mind-blowing fics. I must have read her entire masterlist 10 times over at this point. Choosing a favourite is hard, but “Does it matter” as a series has me HOOKED. (but also I love “mango lipgloss” and “wear my name around your neck”… don't make me choose okay)

@mybrokenveins3000; college ross SUPREMACY!!! She is right when she says she is proud of “everyday rockstar” because it's easily my fav!!

@wrestletotheground; has some absolute BANGERS that everyone MUST read. Once again, the ross-tent on this blog is amazing. “Crime and Punishment” is my fav Matty fic from them, and she absolutely killed it with “Settle Down” for Ross!!

@steel-elle; beautiful writing with everything she does, but my favourite has to be “But I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong, or we're making mistakes” (is this also because I love the song New Year's Day?? perhaps…)

@kscheibles; “e la vita” is so stunning I don't even know how to verbalise it. That fic has a portion of my heart FOREVER. But college bf! Matty is truly the man we all deserve, and I am obsessed with him.

@think0fmehigh; molly!!! My love!!! What else is there to say about Molly other than she might be my fav filthy smut writer on this app, and thats a tough competition. Every time I get a snippet in DM’s from her, I feel like one of the luckiest human beings alive. Molly does not have a bad fic (despite her protests im sure) but my top two (because I CANT CHOOSE JUST ONE) have to be “Birthday Girl” and “You Get Me So High.” but honestly if you have the time, bless your life by reading every word she's ever written.

@controlmyfeet; DAD MATTY FIC. thats all I even need to say, it is SO SWEET and it makes me so happy!!!!

@bfiaflbox; sooooo much good content, but my favourites are “Wintering” and “Tonight I Wish I Was Your Girl” !!

@nowshesdoingitallthetime; kirke. This is me BEGGING for more bartender matty!!! “Cocktails, Cowboys and back alleys” is MWUAH MWUAH MWUAH. Bartender Matty is a need, I adored every second of that fic.

@wiintring; I NEED more from Christina!!! Her writing is all wonderful, and “Come here dressed in black now” does live in my mind!!! 

@grocerystorelist; “body of Christ” is made for the religious trauma girlies and the fleabag girls. PREIST MATTY DRIVES ME CRAZYYYYY. Leila is so talented, it's crazy.

@forcryingoutlloud; wowwowwowwow the smutty content on this blog… its sooooooo good. “Beg for it” and “greedy” did melt my brain in the absolute best way, like I was genuinely SWEATING at how hot it was. As is everything on her masterlist!!

@hrryshoney; gyno! Matty unlocked a whole new side to me that I had NO IDEA was there. Like… insane. And the newest photographer reader fic also drove me CRAZY because I do love a cocky fictional man and some semi-public sex…

@the1975attheirverybest; Halla’s blog is a great place for discussion, good writing and crazy intelligent analysis of the band. “Education” and “being funny in a foreign language” are just… art. Truly. The character of Amelia and the characterisation of Matty are some of my favourites on this app. Hot smut, good writing and a lovely human being- what else do you need hellooo?? (also the pegging blurb from ages ago… yeah I think about her A LOT.)

@sugar-coat-it; FILTY, AMAZING SMUT. literally, every piece on Belle’s masterlist is worth reading 100 times over. Her newest thigh-riding blurb has been rotting my brain, I can't stop going back to it and reading it. Also, the Kylo Ren fic… mask kink unlocked fr. and the matty helping you deepthroat fic is also incredible. (can I just name everything she's done orrr???)

@cinomn; Nina has some great content, and I would genuinely recommend anything!! My favourite has to be “Summer Nights”, but it's a TOUGH competition tbh!!

@noacfslut; THE WRITING SPEED ON THIS BLOG?? MIND BOGGILING. And not only is Elle speedy, but every fic all absolutely wonderful. “Jealousy jealousy” and “undo” are my favourites, but that might change when I get the chance to read her mechanic au, because from what I've heard, it's also extraordinary.

[halfmoth-halfman]

vii. wise men say, only fools rush in

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 7.5k Warnings: alcohol, heavy flirting, violence, blood, minor character death Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: this chapter is dedicated to the wonderful @chaoskrakenuwu, who was kind enough to let me name a character after her, and also to tumblr user @deadbranch, who mentioned that tags in taglists might not work if you have your visibility settings set to make their url unsearchable on tumblr!! i tested it out a few times and sometimes it works, sometimes not but if your tag isn't working below maybe double-check your visibility settings and turn them off (if you're comfortable with that) and I'll try updating your tag!! small edit: tumblr cut off part of the middle, so i re-added it in case you saw it when it first posted and it didn't make sense LOL prev | next

In the following weeks, you learn one very important thing: John Price is a relentless flirt.

(After that first conversation, he had disappeared into his office for the remainder of the day not reappearing until you had returned to the club to get ready backstage. You took your time, heart racing as your attention was split between preparing for the show and trying not to imagine Price joining you backstage and making good on his offer to wish you luck.

He never did, but once you took your place on stage, you immediately spotted him sitting at the bar between Ghost and Nik, eyes trained solely on you. He stayed in that spot for the entire show, his gaze never once leaving you, even when others came up to speak to him. He bought you a congratulatory drink afterward, handed to you with a sly smile and gentle squeeze of your hip.)

He hadn’t stayed long after that, whisked away by something important Ghost whispered into his ear, but you find him in that same spot every night after that, watching your performance with a singular intensity that sets your skin on fire.

Farah takes over the two weeks leading up to her and Alex’s departure, giving you a welcomed break and letting you enjoy the club and her flawless performances.

Price maintains his spot at the bar, making eyes at you anytime you pass by as you spend your time between dancing with Kyle and watching Valeria hustle unsuspecting patrons at the pool table. When you occasionally stop at the bar, you make it a point to stand next to him as you wait for your drinks.

Regardless of what he’s doing—whether he’s drinking with his eyes glued to you or talking to someone else, his attention focused entirely away from you—a warm hand always winds its way around your waist, slowly feeling up the fabric of whatever outfit Valeria’s put you in for the night before it settles on your hip. You lean into the touch, lightly skimming your nails across the back of Price’s hand as you wait for your drinks.

Alex serves you with a knowing look—one you make a show of ignoring—and you squeeze Price’s hand. He presses your hip in response, the slow glide of his hand as he pulls back his arm, leaving a blazing trail across your skin that lingers as you take your drinks and return to Kyle or Valeria.

“You know,” Valeria says one night, sharp gaze following you as you return from the bar with a drink for her and lemon water for yourself, “you still owe me a game.”

“Can’t say it’ll be much of a game,” you laugh, sitting beside her. “I’m shit at poker.”

“I wasn’t talking about poker,” Valeria grins, eyes sliding to her right where the pool tables sit.

“Alright, but fair warning, I’m about as good at pool as I am poker.” Valeria pays you no mind, taking her drink and sauntering toward the tables, crimson dress flowing with every step.

The table she approaches is occupied, surrounded by a small group that isn’t so much playing as they are holding cue sticks and talking. Valeria joins them, easing into their conversation with a coy smile and light touch to the nearest man’s arm. You don’t hear the conversation, but Valeria tilts her head and says something, and one of the group hands her his pool cue before leading the rest of his friends to the dancefloor.

“That was nice of them,” you laugh, joining her at the table. She hums a small laugh, handing you your own cue stick.

Valeria starts the game, and it ends almost as quickly as it begins, a look of absolute disbelief plastered on her face.

“I told you I was bad at this,” you tease her.

“I never thought I’d meet a worse player than Alejandro.” Valeria shakes her head, unable to compose herself for the first time since you’ve met her. You’d take some pride in being able to surprise her if it weren’t followed by the pitying gaze of disappointment she turns to you with.

It’s a quick, momentary glance before that tell-tale smirk crawls across her face. She lays her cue on the table, sights set on something behind you. “We’ll fix this, don’t worry.”

Valeria pats you on the arm, disappearing into the crowd of people before you can stop her. You let it go, setting your cue next to hers and taking the time to sip from your water and turn your attention to the stage where Farah gives another flawless performance.

“Enjoying yourself, Птичка?” You turn, finding Nik leaning against the other side of the pool table, dressed in solid black with his sunglasses pushed up into his hair.

“Very much so, actually.”

Nik laughs, tipping his drink to you with an easy smile as Valeria reappears beside him. You don’t get the chance to react as a hand slides across your waist, your body tensing at the sudden touch.

“Glad to hear it.” You relax as the baritone of Price’s voice reaches your ears, and you turn to land a playful slap against his chest.

“Let’s try this again—,” Valeria says, picking up both pool cues and holding one out to you and the other to Price, “—two against two.”

You’re reluctant to take the cue stick from her, but you do, sending Price a sympathetic smile, “Apologies in advance.”

“C’mon now, you can’t be that bad,” he chuckles. Valeria lets out a bark of a laugh as Price takes the other stick from her. She turns away swiftly, trying to bite down on the smirk stretching across her face as Nik re-racks the balls.

Valeria is gracious enough to convince Nik to let you go first, and you do your best on the break. Your best is…not great, laughable even.

And laugh Valeria does. Nik lets out a low whistle, turning away the moment you look at him, his shoulders shaking with unmistakable laughter. You turn to Price, your last saving grace, only to find him staring back with a pitying look that you think you hate more than the laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, get your laughs in,” you pout, setting your cue stick against the table and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Valeria coos, lips pursed tauntingly.

“You weren’t…awful,” Nik adds, though it’s choked out through stifled laughs.

“It’s the way you’re holding it,” Price laughs, making his way toward you. “Here, I’ll show you.”

You expect him to take over your turn, but he holds his cue stick out to you instead. You pout for an extra second before giving an exaggerated sigh and taking the stick from him. He catches your wrist before you can pull away and lightly pulls you toward him, guiding you to stand in front of him.

If you couldn’t play before, you don’t know how anyone expects you to concentrate when the solid warmth of Price’s body presses up against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder so you can feel the soft fanning of his breath against your neck. Gently, he adjusts your elbows, guiding you to hold the cue stick properly. When he’s satisfied, his hands glide down from your elbows, one settling on your hip and the other against your back. He takes his time, feeling the velvet material of the sapphire blue dress Valeria put you in. He hums appreciatively, the vibrations skating down your spine.

“Lean forward,” he murmurs into your ear, the club’s music drowned out by his voice. A small press to your back, and you bend forward, trying not to lose your grip on the cue stick as he purrs, “A little more.”

When he’s satisfied, his hand leaves your back to settle on your shoulder. He turns you slightly to the left, adjusting your angle before he steps back with a soft, “Now try.”

Keeping yourself composed is a struggle, but you do as he says. The cue ball sails, a successful break scattering the rest across the table. The group around you cheers as you stand up straight and instantly reach for your water. You sip the icy water, trying to cool the fire crawling beneath your skin as Valeria takes her turn, but Price stands at your side, leaning down so close you can feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Good girl.”

You swallow hard, nearly choking on your water as he pulls away with a wide smirk, and you realize that he’s here to play an entirely different game.

After five rounds, your team loses 3-2, but Price leads you to the bar for a consolation drink with an arm around your waist, and you feel like the biggest winner in the club.

-

Kyle’s birthday comes mid-summer.

He doesn’t tell you about it, but you get a suspicious text from Soap one night inviting you to a “secret meeting” at the club and telling you to bring cash.

It’s the middle of the night, far too late for you to be safely leaving your motel room, but you get ready anyway.

Curiosity killed the cat, not the canary, after all.

When you get to the club, you text Soap, and he tells you to come through the front, lock the door behind you, and head straight backstage. You follow his instructions, finding backstage empty and vacant save for the soft echo of voices from the dressing room. You follow the voices, knocking twice before opening the door.

As soon as the door opens, the room goes silent. You’ve apparently interrupted a very serious meeting between Soap, Ghost, Roach, and König as their attention snaps to you. The room fills with a tense silence as you stand in the doorway, a stack of cash in hand as they stare you down.

You speak first, eyes bouncing between the four nervously, “You’re not about to kill me, are you?”

That seems to break the tension as Ghost scoffs and the others relax.

“’Course not, Owl,” Soap rolls his eyes, reaching over to take the money from your hand and add it to a small pile sitting on Farah’s vanity. “Assumin’ the worst there, aren’t ya?”

“You send me a cryptic text telling me to meet you in the backrooms with a stack of cash and expect me not to be suspicious? This is how people get killed in horror movies,” you argue, shutting the door behind you.

“You still came, didn’t you?” Ghost counters.

“He has a point,” König shrugs, and Roach nods.

“Why am I here?” you ask flatly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Right, so you know how Gaz’s birthday is comin’ up?” Soap speaks as he counts through the small pile of money.

You blink, asking, “It is?”

He hadn’t said anything to you. Would it be rude to ask him about it?

“Every year, we always try to get him something, y’know, from all of us,” Roach explains.

“But every year, Valeria and Alejandro always get him something extra just from them,” Soap huffs. “So, we started doin’ the same.”

“It’s become a bit of a competition now,” Ghost sighs, obviously not as enthused about this as Roach and Soap.

“Of course,” you hum. A little more relaxed now that you know why you’re here, you lean back against the door and ask, “So, what’re you getting him?”

“Oh,” König starts, “we were thinking of—”

Roach smacks his arm as Soap lets out a sharp whistle, shaking his head furiously when König turns to him.

“Really?” you scoff. “I gave you my money—”

“And we greatly appreciate your donation,” Soap says, turning to you with a sly grin and your cash in his hand. “As will Gaz, I’m sure.”

“What am I supposed to get him, then?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Soap teases, “’m sure you can figure that out on your own.”

“You’re not even gonna give me a hint?” You look to the others, but Ghost and Roach stay silent, König giving you an apologetic shrug. “Fine. Just know I’m not showing up next time you need something from me in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, y’will,” Soap laughs.

He’s right, but he doesn’t need to know that right now.

“Whatever, keep your little secrets. I’m going home.”

“Night, Kiwi!” Soap calls as you leave the dressing room. You let the door swing closed behind you, but the thud of it shutting never happens. You turn back, finding König closing the door softly before he catches up to you.

“I’ll walk you out,” he says softly, glancing back to the dressing room. There’s something slightly off as König trails behind you, constantly looking over his shoulder—not like he’s nervous, but as if he’s about to do something he shouldn’t.

He holds the front door open for you, giving one last look over his shoulder.

You have to ask.

“Are you oka—”

König leans down, almost uncomfortably close, and mumbles, “He likes practical things.”

“What?”

“Mostly clothes, preferably socks. Oh, and food. Especially pastries.” König takes a small step forward, getting close enough that you can see tiny flecks of amber brown in his eyes.

“He has a big sweet tooth,” he whispers conspiratorially, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh,” you say as König steps back, leaning against the door. “Thank you.”

“Viel Glück.” König gives you a short nod, the edges of his mask rising with the apples of his cheeks as he smiles at you.

The drive back to your motel room is spent formulating a plan to figure out the specific day Kyle’s birthday falls on and what to get him. You spend more of the night trying to think than sleeping, doing your best to devise a way to ask him about it without sounding too obvious. It should be easy—getting information out of someone is nothing you haven’t done before—but Kyle’s sharper than he lets on. You’ll have to be a bit more careful this time.

You’re still thinking about it when you get to the club the next morning, so focused on your plan that you nearly run into Ghost as he steps out of Price’s office.

“Watch it,” he grumbles, wrapping a hand around your arm to steady you.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Bit distracted this morning, are we?” You look up as Kyle walks out of the office behind Ghost, amused smile on his face.

“Didn’t get a lot of sleep,” you shrug, sending a quick, pointed look to Ghost, who stares back at you with his usual monotone expression.

“Been there,” Kyle chuckles, pulling his car keys from the pocket of his black jacket and handing them to Ghost.

“Going somewhere?” you ask.

“Doing something for the Boss,” Kyle winks.

“It’s a small business errand, nothing to worry about.” Ghost’s answer leaves no room for more questions, so you nod in acceptance.

“I’ll see you two later, then.” You watch them walk to the front and out of the club, waiting for the doors to click shut before you turn and slip inside the office. Price sits behind his desk, writing something in a small, black journal, and you grin at the sight.

Maybe you don’t have to talk to Kyle at all.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask as you walk up to the desk. Price’s hand stills against the journal as he looks up at you in slight surprise. You’re sure you’re probably not supposed to be in here without being invited in, but you see how his eyes dip down over your form and decide that he probably doesn’t mind.

“Just the one?” he smiles, setting his pen down to give you his full, undivided attention.

“Just the one, I promise,” you laugh, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “When’s Kyle’s birthday?”

The smile stays, but his brows draw together curiously, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Right, and which team are you asking this for?”

Ah, so he knows.

“Neither. I just wanted to get him something nice…and maybe get back at Soap for conning me out of my money.”

Price laughs at that, shaking his head as he leans back in his chair. It creaks softly, and you’re momentarily lost in the thought of how comfortable it looks.

It definitely looks like it could hold two people—

Stop.

Focus.

Kyle’s birthday.

“It’s next Thursday,” he says, breaking you out of your momentary distraction. “The club will be closed that night while we celebrate.”

That gives you eight days. You can work with that. All you have to do now is figure out what to get him.

And you’re sitting across from the one person who would know best.

“Do you have any hints for what I could get him?” you ask, giving your sweetest smile that he definitely sees straight through.

“That’s more than one question,” he chuckles.

“I mean, they both go together. Think of it as two halves to the same question.” You bat your lashes, keeping that tauntingly sweet smile aimed at him.

“So, you get an extra question,” he says, leaning forward and clasping his hands together atop the desk. He tilts his head, staring into your eyes, and purrs, “What do I get in return?”

“The satisfaction of helping out your favorite employee?” you tease, setting your elbows on the desk to lean toward him.

“You’re my favorite, are you?” he laughs softly, inching just a bit closer.

“You just said so yourself,” you grin. He hums, amused and impressed, a fondness in his eyes that sends a slight pang through your chest.

“He likes desserts,” Price tells you.

“Anything specific?” you press, slowly leaning forward until only a few inches are left between you.

“Careful now,” he warns, all silk and want and looking two seconds from jumping over the desk. “That’s a third question.”

You sit there for just a second, letting him watch your eyes fall to his lips as you lean a little closer before—

“You’re right,” you sigh dramatically, pulling back entirely, smug grin across your face. “I’m sure I can figure it out myself.”

“You’re a cruel woman,” he laughs, settling back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. You throw him a wink that earns you a playful roll of his eyes. Your phone chimes from your pocket, and when you check it, you find a message from Farah asking you to meet her backstage.

“Time for me to head out,” you sigh, standing from your chair. You turn to look at Price, giving him an earnest smile, “Thanks for the help. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Dove.”

You head toward the door as Price picks up his pen, ready to return to what he’d been working on before you came in.

“If you can bake,” Price calls out just as you grab the door handle, “try an apple sponge. It’s one of his favorites.”

You turn back to thank him, but he’s already focused on his work. You stash the information away in your mind, heading into the club to meet Farah with a wide grin.

(It takes a lot of trial and error in your motel room’s dingy little kitchen—little more than a hot plate and a mini fridge—but you’re eventually successful with a small apple sponge pudding the night before Kyle’s birthday.

When you present it to him, waiting until the party’s died down and everyone else is focused on something else, his eyes go glassy at the first taste. For a moment, you’re worried you’ve messed up the recipe, but he sets the plate down and wraps you in a tight hug.

“Used to make this with my mum,” he laughs into your shoulder, watery and sad and so, so appreciative. “Haven’t had one in years.”

He pulls away after a soft squeeze, his signature bright smile a little tighter than usual.

“Thank you, really.”

He goes back to the dessert, offering a couple of bites to his date, the woman who had worn the purple and teal dresses and whose name you’ve learned is Tabby.

You glance up from the happy couple, eyes roving over the rest of the party until you catch eyes with Price. He grins, winking at you, before returning to his conversation with Nik and Alex.

You don’t know how you’ll thank him, but you have a few ideas.)

-

“Are you busy tomorrow night?”

You nearly jump out of your skin as Price startles you, not only with his question but also with his sudden appearance at your side.

The club is closed for the week—you’re not told why—but you still come in to clean in the mornings. You’d been enjoying your small break at the bar, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly.

You thought you were alone, but apparently not.

“Not that I know of,” you say, trying to calm the jittering of your nerves. “Why?”

“Would you like to have dinner?”

Your mind blanks.

Your heart skips a beat, stunned at the idea that he might actually be asking you out and even more stunned by the instant yes that sits on the tip of your tongue.

“I—”

“We’re having a small get-together for whoever wants to come.”

There’s a painful squeeze in your chest that you’re forced to ignore, and you do your best to cover the sting with a smile.

“Sure! Sounds fun.”

“Perfect.” He smiles back wide, leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of your head before turning and walking away. “I’ll have Gaz send you the address,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into his office.

You stand there, staring at his office doors, doing everything you can to quell the sudden heat flooding your body.

You add extra ice to your water and bury yourself in your work as a poor distraction.

Kyle texts you the address that night, along with a message telling you not to come into work the next day, and a single sentence after that reads: Wear something blue :).

You sleep in the next morning—the first time in years—taking your time to go through your clothes and get ready. Your wardrobe is limited—all of the outfits Valeria’s had made for you sitting in the dressing room at the club.

Those would probably be too formal anyways.

You decide on your usual jeans and boots, but dig out a lighter shirt—more grey than blue, but passable—to wear under your black sweater. It’ll have to work as you spend the rest of your time fixing your hair, relaxing, and singing along to the music on your phone.

You leave an hour early, still unfamiliar with the city streets outside your commute to and from the club. The directions are simple enough to follow, your phone’s GPS taking you through the city easily, but after almost twenty minutes, you take a turn and realize you’re being led out of the city.

The drive is almost peaceful, the bustle of the city melting away into broad open landscape then into large trees filled with lush greenery. You’re directed to an off-road leading deeper into the thicket, your car protesting as it leaves the pavement and starts down the dirt road.

It takes half an hour of driving through solid forest before the trees around you begin to thin, and the dirt road slowly turns to gravel, then to smooth stone. The road curves and winds through the trees before you take a sharp turn, and you catch sight of the house.

No, house isn’t the right word. Manor would be more accurate.

The car comes to a halt as you hit the brakes, hands tightening around your steering wheel until your nails dig into the heels of your palms.

A sprawling estate surrounded by lush greenery that grows up the front of the house, you’re reminded of your family’s old summer home. That house hadn’t been nearly as big as this, but Price’s manor carries the same quaint feeling you remember having every time your father took you on vacation at the summer home.

The knot that grows in your throat is sudden, the rush of nostalgia slamming into you without warning.

The last time you had been to that old house was for your wedding.

You still remember the smell of lilacs and sweet peas that drifted up from the beautifully decorated courtyard into the bridal suite, the gorgeous bespoke gown that had once been your mother’s—gifted to you by your father as your something borrowed—and the beaming smile you carried for the entire day.

The last good day you remember having in your old life.

That’s over now, you remind yourself. You’re safe here.

You take a deep breath, loosening your grip on the steering wheel and easing off the brake. You drive slowly, taking in the beautifully laid out gardens around the front of the manor, trying to push down the painful fondness that stabs at your heart.

You park behind the various cars at the end of the driveway, locking your car behind you just once before making your way to the front doors.

Just like the club, they’re unlocked.

As soon as you walk in, you’re hit with a delicious smell and the sounds of quiet laughter. You follow the noise, taking in the interior of the house. It’s homey, understated, downright cozy, and somehow fitting for what you’d imagine as Price’s home.

“Look who it is!” Alex cheers as you walk into a sitting room. He sits on one of the couches, an arm draped across the back and around Farah. Across from them is Kyle, spread out on the other couch, busy typing away on his phone, his feet almost in Nik’s lap. You’ve never seen them so dressed down before, all in some type of hoodie, sweater, sweats combination—or pajama pants in Nik’s case.

Farah and Nik give you the same eager greeting, but Kyle continues on his phone, ignoring your presence entirely.

“Don’t mind him,” Farah scoffs. “He’s too busy with his new girlfriend.”

“It’s no problem,” you laugh, looking around the room. Farah watches you, smirk plastered on her face.

“The old man’s in the kitchen,” she says, nodding toward the other side of the room. Alex and Nik bite back their laughs, and you choose to ignore them.

“Thanks, Farah.” She nods, and you head in the direction she gives you. You head in the direction she gives you, passing through the dining room before you’re able to find the kitchen.

It’s not exactly like the one from your old summer home, but it’s damn close—spacious yet comfortable, all earth-toned and welcoming—and it’s a fight to swallow down the knot in your throat.

“You’re here!”

You’re pulled out of your thoughts as Price catches sight of you, setting down the knife in his hand and making his way over to you. You’ve never seen him in a sweater before, but you know how you’d kill to see him in one again. Like the others, he’s dressed down from his usual club attire: a deep maroon sweater with rolled sleeves, jeans, and a black apron with small spots of flour across it.

“Yeah, didn’t want to miss out on seeing my boss in an apron,” you joke as he pulls you into a hug, followed by a kiss on the head. You let yourself melt into him, missing his warmth the minute he pulls away.

“You can have a drink and wait with the others if you want. Grab whatever you want from the fridge,” he says, heading back to his station.

“Actually,” you take a deep breath, setting your hands on the island counter, “I was wondering if there was anything I could help with?”

He seems surprised at the offer, brows raised as he looks up at you. But the surprise is quickly replaced with a fond smile.

“You any good at chopping vegetables?” he asks.

“The best,” you tease, inching your way over to him, giving him time to tell you no.

“You can take over here, then.”

He takes a step back, and you take his place, picking the knife up from the cutting board. You’re about to start when you feel his hands settle on your hips and his lips brushing against the skin of your neck. You tilt your head automatically, pressing back into him as he murmurs a quiet, “Thank you.” He pulls away immediately after, leaving you to your work.

Time flies by, the two of you work almost seamlessly together in the kitchen. You laugh and joke and enjoy as Price takes every opportunity to put his hands on you. Small, teasing touches, but they send your heart racing each and every time, and soon you find yourself returning the favor.

By the time the food’s ready, you’ve shed your sweater, the kitchen heat, and the man next to you far too much for you. You take it in stride, having more fun than you’ve had in a long time and allowing yourself to enjoy this moment.

Dinner passes by equally as fun, feeling like those rare dinners you got to have with your father—just you and him, just family.

The others bid their goodbye, Alex and Farah heading home after dishes are done, Nik heading upstairs to one of the many spare rooms, and Kyle leaving to meet Tabby at her place. You help clean, waiting until everything is spotless to take your leave. Price walks you to the door, hand on the small of your back the entire walk.

“You know,” he says as you reach the front door, “you could stay here for the night.”

“What? You mean you don’t want to come back to mine?” you tease, lightly nudging him with your elbow. When he doesn’t laugh, you still worry creeping up your spine.

Please, don’t ask me to “repay” you for dinner.

Please, don’t ask me to “repay” you for dinner.

Please, don’t ask me to “repay” you for dinner.

“There’s plenty of room here,” he says quietly, pulling his hand from your back so he can turn to face you. “I just—I’d sleep better knowing you were somewhere…safer.”

Oh. Oh.

You don’t know how you can possibly feel more endeared than you do in this moment, the worry so genuine on his face.

“It’s not that bad. I’ve been fine so far,” you offer, voice soft as you set a hand on his arm. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, wrapping his hand around yours, “There’s always room for you here if you ever change your mind.”

“Thank you.”

And even if you don’t take up the offer now, you mean it with all your heart.

-

Summer nears its end when you find a sleek red box sitting atop your vanity that was definitely not there before you went on stage.

A small white card with your name written on the front rests on top of the box, a handwritten note with an address and a date for Saturday afternoon. You don’t recognize the address or the handwriting, so you set the card aside cautiously, sliding your fingers under the box lid.

You lift the lid, curiosity winning out over your caution.

Laying inside, pristinely folded, is a dress. A very beautiful, pale dress covered in pale blue columbine flowers. You run your fingers along the fabric, admiring the softness of the organza against your skin.

What is this for?

You wrack your brain trying to think of any upcoming birthdays or events, but nothing comes to mind. You’re sure you’d know; things like that are usually a big deal for the club.

You’re left wondering as someone knocks on the dressing room door. You quickly put the lid back on the box, tucking the card into the pocket of your jacket draped over the back of your chair.

When you leave for the night, you take the box back to the motel room, setting it on top of the duffle bag that holds your clothes, where it sits untouched for the rest of the week.

When Saturday comes, you wake up an hour before your alarm and head straight for the box. You set it on the bed and spend the morning getting ready with a long, room-temperature shower.

A small voice nags in the back of your mind as you stand in your underwear, staring down at the box on your bed. You’re excited and nervous, eager to try on the dress but unsure of what to expect from all of this.

The last time someone surprised you with a dress…

You shake the thoughts from your head, pulling the lid from the box, lifting the dress out, and finding a pair of nude flats lying at the bottom.

It’s long and light, made of a soft, airy material that falls to the ground with short, sheer puffy sleeves and a slit up to the knee. You have no trouble putting it on, the smooth silk gliding against your skin in a fit so perfect that you immediately think this must be Valeria’s doing.

You twirl, watching the material fan out with a wide smile. You leave the shoes in the box while you fix your hair, putting in the effort to get your hair just right and make yourself look as good as the dress makes you feel.

When you’re done, and looking far more stunning than you anticipated, you slip on the shoes and grab your keys.

You head out to your car in the early afternoon, pulling up the address on your phone. Your destination is just outside the city, opposite from where you are. It doesn’t take long, even in the afternoon traffic, and it ends with you pulling up to a large house with a driveway full of familiar cars.

You park behind Kyle’s car, giving yourself one last look in your slightly crooked rearview mirror.

When you step out of your car, you’re instantly met with music and laughter echoing from the backyard. You follow the path up to the front door, knocking twice as you admire the front garden.

The house is far enough out of the city to not be near anyone else but close enough to not have to drive an hour to get to the club like Price’s. Large, spacious, and a yard covered in different types of flowers.

A sharp whistle startles you as you take in how well taken care of the daisies look.

“Canary!” You step back from the door, looking across the driveway where Kyle stands, waving his hands at you, Roach next to him, holding open a gate that you assume leads to the backyard.

It’s weird to see them out of their standard black, but the bright summer colors fit them just as well. You make your way over, Kyle meeting you halfway to pull you into a hug.

“Glad you made it!”

“Me too!” you laugh, following him to the gate so you can hug Roach. “What’s the occasion?”

“Occasion?” Roach asks, holding the gate open with his foot so he can sign to you.

“It’s just a party,” Kyle says with a curious tilt of his head. “Valeria didn’t tell you?”

“Why would she tell me?”

“Because it’s her house?” Roach blinks.

“No one told me anything. I found a card with a time and place sitting on my vanity. And this—” you gesture to the dress, “—with it.”

“That’s one way to invite you, I guess,” Kyle shrugs, throwing an arm around your shoulders with an easy smile. “Either way, we’re glad you’re here.”

He and Roach lead you into the backyard, equally beautiful as the front, with tall trees providing shade and a large pool in the center. The entire club is here. Alejandro and Alex stand near the grill, laughing and passing jokes while the rest of the club is gathered at the few tables set up in the shade near the back doors to the house.

Valeria spots you instantly, making her way over with a wide grin. Kyle slides his arm from your shoulders as she gets close, and she pulls you into a quick hug.

“You made it!” she cheers, taking a step back and giving you an appreciative once over. “And you look fantastic! I’m proud of you.”

“It wasn’t all me,” you say, a little shy under the praise. “Thank you for the dress, by the way.”

“Hm?” Valeria raises a brow. “Well, it is lovely, and the blue’s a nice touch, but it’s not one of mine.”

“What?”

If it wasn’t her, then…who?

You look around the yard, glancing over the rest of your friends and coworkers. They all seem busy talking, laughing, enjoying themselves.

All except for one, John Price, who’s sitting between Ghost and König, wearing a pale blue shirt to match the color of the flowers on your dress and staring at you with an intensity that sets your skin alight.

“Oh,” Valeria laughs, following your gaze.

“Explains the blue,” Kyle snickers, nudging your arm with his elbow.

You pull your eyes away from Price to smack Kyle in the chest. You’re met with laughter from the three of them, covering your face with your hands in a poor attempt to cool the heat in your cheeks.

“I hate all of you,” you grumble, their laughter growing as you head for the tables. You do your best to smile and not appear as flustered as you are, returning hellos and hugs as everyone notices you. When you reach the back table, Ghost nods in greeting while König stands to hug you. However, when he pulls away from you, he pulls out the chair he’d been sitting in and gestures for you to sit.

“You don’t have to—”

“I have to help Alex soon, anyway,” König shrugs.

“Okay, then,” you smile, taking the seat, turning to add a quick thank you before he leaves for the grill.

“You look lovely,” Price says the moment you turn back to the table. “Blue suits you.”

Ghost doesn’t speak, simply picking up his glass and sitting next to Soap at the table across from yours.

“Like this color, do you?” you ask, setting your elbows on the table to lace your fingers together and set your chin atop them, smiling at him with a raised brow.

“You could say I’m partial to it,” he shrugs casually, eyes trailing down the expanse of your leg exposed through the slit of your dress. “Especially on certain people.”

You can’t help but giggle, shaking your head as you lean back in your chair.

You take a moment to feel the warmth from the sun, cooled by the gentle summer breeze carrying a soft bite of autumn’s inevitable chill.

You don’t remember the last time you could simply enjoy a day outside.

“Thank you, by the way,” you speak up, turning to Price with a soft smile. “You didn’t have to get me a dress, but I appreciate it.”

“Not a fan of gifts?” he asks, an unusual hesitance in his voice.

“I like them. I’m just…not used to them, I guess.”

Or ones that don’t come with ulterior motives, anyway.

He stares at you for a brief second before his hand slides across the table to settle over yours with a light squeeze. “Think you better get used to it then, love. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the smug grin on Price’s face.

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of that, am I?”

“Not at all,” he laughs, and you laugh along, turning your hand over to lace your fingers through his.

You give a soft squeeze of his hand, soaking up the warmth from his hand, “Price, I—”

“Sparrow, get over here! We’re starting karaoke!” You turn as Soap yells from his table.

“In a minute!” you call back.

“Fine, but I’m pickin’ your song!”

Price chuckles next to you, releasing your hand. Disappointment swells in your chest before his hand reaches your bare knee. “Go have fun. We can talk later,” he smiles.

You nod, and he lets his hand linger a second longer before pulling away as you stand up. You adjust your dress before glancing over to Price. As soon as the idea comes to your head, you act. Setting a hand on his shoulder, you lean down to press a kiss to his cheek before whispering into his ear your promise of later.

You step away quickly, making your way over to the rest of your friends, looking back only once to catch Price’s eyes. He sends you a wink, standing from his chair to join Alex, Alejandro, and König.

You don’t know what later entails, but you’re certainly looking forward to it.

-

Everything changes at the beginning of autumn when you return to your motel room exhausted from an incredibly long week.

You don’t take notice of the new car that sits in the usually empty parking lot.

Or how your door doesn’t click when you turn the key.

Or that your duffel bag sits open on top of your bed, instead of under it like you’d left it that morning.

If your father had been here, he would’ve killed you being so careless, for letting your guard down so much.

But the man who’s broken into your room takes up the job for him, waiting until you reach the bathroom door to shove his way out and tackle you to the floor. You don’t get the chance to scream as your head slams into the floor, and your vision goes blurry.

You feel his weight over you as he tries to grab at your arms, words coming out of his mouth that your fuzzy brain can’t process right now. He gets frustrated, hands wrapping around your neck before they squeeze, and your neck burns.

You squirm and push, fighting back with everything you have until you can land a kick to his stomach that sends him stumbling to the side.

You roll onto your stomach, coughing and heaving and stumbling to push yourself up to your feet. You make it to your dresser before a meaty hand wraps around your ankle and yanks.

You're sent back to the ground, scrabbling to grab hold of anything you can on the dresser. Your hand catches something, and you wrap your fist around it on the way down, waiting until the man tries to climb over you again before you swing.

You make contact with him, the object in your hand causing an audible crack against his head. He falls over, and instinct takes over. You swing again, then one more time before you toss the object aside—it's the table lamp that never worked, now that you're given time to look at it—and scoot back until your back is pressed against the foot of your bed.

It takes a minute before your vision can fully focus, and you process the man lying on your floor, blood pooling out from the cracked open dent in his head.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

You don't know what else to do, going straight for your phone. Your eyes glassy, you struggle to find the contact you need and gulp down as much air as you can while it rings.

"Hello?"

I'm sorry to bother you. Please, don't be mad.

"H-Hey. I—I um—"

You can't get words around, lungs constricting too fast to get air in.

"Canary? Are you okay?"

"I don't—I don't know what—what happened. I—"

"Breathe, love. Where are you?"

"He at—he attacked me. I didn't mean to—I didn't—"

You hear conversation in the background, multiple voices.

"Are you at home?"

"I—"

"Yes or no, love."

"Y—yes."

"Stay there, okay?"

"Okay."

You don't mean to hang up, but your hands are too shaky, and you hit the end call button trying to put Price on speaker.

You don't know how long you sit there, hyperventilating as you stare at the man bleeding out on your floor. Minutes? Hours? You have no way to tell; time passes too quickly yet drags second by second.

You don't hear your door open or the soft call of your name, but you do feel the hand on your shoulder.

"No!" You try to pull away, but the person moves in front of you, and you go into full panic mode.

"Stop, it's me. It's me. It's okay. It's me, love."

Two warm hands settle on either side of your face, turning you to look forward, where you find Price on his knees in front of you, concern etched deep into his features.

"I—he tried to—"

His hands fall from your face, instead wrapping around you to pull you into him. You go easily, tucking yourself against him, against the familiar comfort as the knot swells in your throat and the dam finally breaks.

"Shh, it's okay," Price coos into your hair. "I've got you. You're safe."

Despite the circumstances, you believe him.

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[kafus]

how to transfer your old pokemon to pokemon home before it's too late!!!

the wi-fi services for the nintendo 3DS and WiiU are shutting down in early april 2024, and while it specifically lists pokemon bank and poke transporter as being available post-shutdown, there is no guarantee of how long that may be for. there will likely come a time when these services shut down, and it could be in the relatively near future.

it is also pretty much impossible now to transfer pokemon to the switch's Home service with alternative methods such as PKHeX (popular pokemon save editor for the uninformed) due to the implementation of server-side Home IDs tracking pokemon at all times - the details of that aren't super important for this post, but point is, whenever bank shuts down, unless nintendo makes an offline way to transfer to home, it will be impossible to move pokemon from the old gens to the new, even with alternative/hack-y methods.

i write this guide with the intention of making this process easier for people since transferring pokemon has changed so much over the past two decades that it's a bit of a mess, and in a timely manner to give people time to finish the process. i'll be organizing by generation so feel free to skip to any part of the guide you need. (keep in mind that transferring is permanent, your pokemon cannot go back afterwards!!)

(by the way it would mean a lot to me if you weren't overwhelmingly negative of pokemon in the tags/reblogs. i get that pokemon transferring being an online service sucks but reading that stuff in my notifications constantly is really tiring </3 make ur own post to talk about that)

to walk you through, i'll be transferring this random shiny spinda i hatched in emerald version all the way up to pokemon home. her name is Moss :]

below the cut since this is long as fuck sorry LOL

GEN 1/2 -> 3 (aka RBY/GSC -> RSE/FRLG)

this is impossible! as for the Virtual Console releases of the gen 1/2 games on 3DS, more on that later in the gen 5 -> 6/7 section.

GEN 3 -> 4 (aka RSE/FRLG -> DPPT/HGSS)

what you need:

a copy of RSE or FRLG

a copy of DPPT or HGSS in the same language as the RSE/FRLG copy that has beaten the champion and has access to post-game areas, preferably HGSS because it lets you transfer unlimited times as opposed to DPPT's once-per-24-hours limit (unless you happen to have korean DPPT/HGSS, which is not language locked in terms of transferring)

either an original DS or a DS lite, the old ones with the GBA slot at the bottom

the steps:

#1. you can only transfer 6 pokemon at a time, so get whatever 6 pokemon you want to transfer up together in gen 3. if you're intending to transfer less than 6 pokemon, you'll need to catch some extras since you have to transfer the full 6 every time (i usually just catch a bunch of extra mons on the first route, which is what i've done here with the poochyenas/wurmples)

#2. put the gen 3 game into the GBA slot of the DS, and the gen 4 game into the DS slot. both games should appear on the home menu after turning on the DS.

#3. load the DS game and spam A past the title screen. before loading your save, scroll down. you should see a "MIGRATE FROM (GAME NAME HERE)" option. if you don't, either the GBA game isn't reading properly, or you have not visited Pal Park in your gen 4 game of choice. in HGSS, the Pal Park is located in Fuchsia City, and in DPPT, the Pal Park is located at the end of Route 221 below Sandgem Town.

#4. select the aforementioned migration option and pick the pokemon you want to transfer.

#5. navigate to the Pal Park and complete the Catching Show, where you re-catch your transferred pokemon in the wild. this does not overwrite what pokeballs they were originally caught in! you will need to bring a pokemon with Surf if you have any Pokemon that spawn in the water areas. you can check what location the pokemon you transferred will be in on bulbapedia.

#6. say yes to storing the caught pokemon in your PC boxes and they'll be there!

important things to note:

pokemon with HM moves will be blocked from transfer, so make sure to use the Move Deleter to remove HM moves from any pokemon you're transferring in gen 3 before trying to transfer. in RSE, the Move Deleter is in Lilycove City, and in FRLG they are in Fuchsia City.

gen 3 -> 4 is the only step in the transfer process where held items transfer up as well, meaning that if you attach a valuable item such as a rare candy, master ball, or TM to a transferred pokemon, you can take it off that pokemon and put it in your bag in the gen 4 game.

an aside about colosseum/XD gale of darkness on gamecube:

you can transfer pokemon from colo/XD as well! unfortunately you'll need to have beaten colo/XD, and then you will also need to beat the gen 3 game... in FRLG, you even have to complete the postgame ruby/sapphire quest on the sevii islands to unlock trading with the gamecube games. once you do all that though, you can navigate to the pokemon center basement in Phenac City to trade with your gen 3 GBA title. to do this, you'll need a gamecube or wii with gamecube compatibility, a GBA (or GBA SP), and a GCN -> GBA link cable to connect the two consoles.

GEN 4 -> 5 (aka DPPT/HGSS -> BW/BW2)

what you need:

a copy of DPPT/HGSS

a copy of BW or BW2 in the same language as DPPT/HGSS copy that has beaten the champion (or N in the original BW) and has access to post-game areas.

two DS consoles of any kind (3DS is also fine!)

the steps:

#1. get the pokemon you want to transfer together in your gen 4 game's PC boxes. you can only transfer 6 pokemon at a time. if you have less than 6, catch some extra pokemon, since you need to transfer the full 6 every time. save it and turn off the DS with the gen 4 game.

#2. turn on your gen 5 game and navigate to the Poke Transfer Lab. personally i just fly to Black City/White Forest and head west.

#3. talk to the NPC in the lab to start the transfer process. you will be prompted to turn on your other DS again and open DS Download Play with your gen 4 game inserted. do that and download the Poke Transfer app that comes up.

#4. select the 6 Pokemon you want to transfer when prompted.

#5. play the transfer minigame! just drag the... bow? (lol) on the bottom screen to aim your pokeballs. there's technically a time limit, but it's very generous, and your final score doesn't matter.

#6. say yes to transferring the pokemon once you're done and they'll be placed in your PC boxes!

important things to note:

pokemon with HM moves will be blocked from transfer, so make sure to use the Move Deleter to remove HM moves from any pokemon you're transferring in gen 4 before trying to transfer. in DPPT they're in Canalave City, and in HGSS they're in Blackthorn City.

the level the pokemon was obtained at and the date it was obtained is changed upon transfer to gen 5 - it will have the met date of your DS clock and the met level of the level it was at the time of transfer. if you'd like to preserve a pokemon's met date, make sure to change the DS clock to the proper date.

GEN 5 -> 6/7 (aka BW/BW2 -> 3DS TITLES/BANK)

what you need:

a copy of BW/BW2

a copy of any 3DS pokemon game (XY/ORAS/SUMO/USUM)

a 3DS (or 2DS, i'll just be referring to them all as 3DSes here) with the poke transporter and pokemon bank apps installed. these were free apps that were once downloadable from the 3DS eShop, but the 3DS eShop is no longer available, so if you don't already have them installed you will need to explore alternate methods, AKA hacking your 3DS and injecting them in. that's outside the scope of this guide but you can find more information here on 3ds.hacks.guide. (do not attempt to follow any 3DS hacking guide not on this website, they could be outdated and harm your 3DS!)

a nintendo network ID that your 3DS is logged into (also outside the scope of this guide but if you don't already have one, it will prompt you during the process to make one)

internet connection

the steps:

#1. poke transporter defaults to trying to transfer every pokemon located in Box 1 of your PC, so go into your gen 5 game and put every pokemon you want to transfer into Box 1, and take anything you don't want to transfer out. if you want to transfer more pokemon than you can fit in one box, you'll have to transfer multiple times.

#2. open poke transporter with your gen 5 game inserted into the 3DS' cartridge slot. after pressing A through some menus and selecting the gen 5 game when prompted, it should ask if you want to transfer the pokemon in Box 1, with a preview of the pokemon inside. confirm and let it do its thing. after poke transporter is finished, the pokemon you transferred will be in the special Transport Box in bank.

#3. make sure you either have a 3DS pokemon title downloaded onto your 3DS, or swap out your gen 5 cart for one, it doesn't matter which.

#4. close out of poke transporter and navigate to pokemon bank. at the time of writing this guide, bank is still online and is free for everyone without a subscription - the main menu has an infinite "free trial" period number.

#5. select "use pokemon bank" and pick a 3DS game to connect with when prompted. it doesn't matter which one, but if you're looking to see your pokemon in a gen 6/7 game right now, pick the one you want to move it into. viewing a pokemon in a gen 6/7 game isn't required to move to home later, though!

#6. the Transport Box is located one box to the left of Box 1 - navigate to it and drag your pokemon out into a normal bank box. now you can move them to any gen 6/7 pokemon game you want, or home later!

important things to note:

even though bank connects with both gen 6 and gen 7 games, once you place a pokemon into a gen 7 game (SUMO/USUM), you cannot transfer that pokemon back to a gen 6 game (XY/ORAS), so be careful!

an aside about the VC releases of RBY/GSC:

poke transporter can also be used to transfer pokemon out of the VC releases of RBY/GSC. these pokemon are changed pretty heavily, converting all their old gen data into pokemon's modern data structure. you can find more information about all the changes/conversions made on bulbapedia. these pokemon are considered gen 7 pokemon afterwards, and cannot be moved into XY/ORAS. pokemon with held items also cannot be transferred from VC titles and will fail to transfer.

if you want to transfer pokemon from cartridge RBY/GSC and have a save dumping device, it is possible to inject the cartridge's save file into the VC versions with Checkpoint on a hacked 3DS and then transfer that way. for GSC specifically, you'll need to edit your save slightly to make it compatible with VC GSC's save format. i personally made a converter for that here that you're free to use in-browser.

GEN 6/7 -> GEN 8+ (aka BANK -> HOME)

what you need:

a 3DS (or 2DS, i'll just be referring to them all as 3DSes here) with the pokemon bank app installed. this was a free app that was once downloadable from the 3DS eShop, but the 3DS eShop is no longer available, so if you don't already have it installed you will need to explore alternate methods, AKA hacking your 3DS and injecting it in. that's outside the scope of this guide but you can find more information here on 3ds.hacks.guide. (do not attempt to follow any 3DS hacking guide not on this website, they could be outdated and harm your 3DS!)

a nintendo network ID that your 3DS is logged into (also outside the scope of this guide but if you don't already have one, it will prompt you during the process to make one)

a switch with Pokemon Home installed, which can be downloaded for free from the switch's eShop. a nintendo switch online subscription is not required.

unfortunately, you WILL need a subscription to home's premium plan to do bank -> home transfers.

internet connection

the steps:

#1. open pokemon bank and make sure all the pokemon you want to transfer are in their own boxes, and any you don't want to transfer are not in the same boxes as the to-be-transferred pokemon.

#2. go back to the bank home menu and select the "move pokemon to pokemon home" option. when you get the notice about the transfer being one-way, you'll need to scroll down to hit "Begin".

#3. you will be prompted to select what boxes of pokemon you'd like to transfer, so pick all the applicable ones.

#4. you will then be prompted to put in the moving key from home, so turn on your switch, open pokemon home, and select the icon that looks like a 3DS on the main menu. when prompted, choose "Ready!" to get the moving key.

#5. input the moving key on the 3DS, submit it, and wait for both apps to do their thing. once bank goes back to its title screen, you can turn off the 3DS.

#6. home will go back to its title screen as well, and depending on how many pokemon you moved, you may have to wait a few minutes to get back into the app. once it's done, the next time you open home, it'll prompt you to choose how to organize your transferred pokemon into home. pick whatever you see fit.

#7. congratulations, your pokemon are safe in home!!

important things to note:

unlike all pokemon games before the switch, pokemon can actually go backwards in generation on switch, so don't worry about transferring a pokemon into scarlet/violet locking you out of moving it to sword/shield, for example. (the exception to this is LGPE - nothing can be moved into LGPE and once a pokemon is moved out of LGPE, it can't go back.)

pokemon home actually has decent hack checks, so be careful when transferring hacked/glitched/otherwise illegitimate pokemon around.

pokemon from a gen 3/4 game will have their met location set to "Poke Shifter" - this is an alternative translation of the japanese name for the Poke Transporter.

pokemon on switch can only transfer into games that contain that pokemon in its dex, so not everything transferred can go into scarlet/violet, for example.

and that's it!!

there's a lot of other quirks to the pokemon transferring process at pretty much all steps, so if you run into an unusual issue or have specific questions about how pokemon data is changed in minute ways across the franchise, i would encourage you to do your own research, all of this stuff is pretty heavily documented by the fanbase. this is just meant to be a guide for casual users, and a quick reference.

this guide of course does not cover options for transferring in alternative ways, but it's worth mentioning that if you have a hacked 3DS and the ability to back up save files at any point from gens 3 -> 5, you can use PKHeX to transfer pokemon into the 3DS titles, then move them to bank and transfer to home normally from there. that's outside the scope of this guide and i'd also encourage you to do your own research for that.

happy transferring!