#i'm so sorry shit like this happens to you hannah

[papaya-twinks]

Oi, oi Frankie!

I have a big ideia for another Lando short fic and I only trust you to write it 🫶🏻 (Hope you like the idea as much as I do)

The idea is: Lando is very good friend with his strategy engineer, the reader (she has the same role as Hannah Schmitz at Redbull).

They often play flirting with each other but the reader thinks it's just an inside joke and that he doesn't have any romantic feelings for her. Because of this, one day when they were a little drunk, the reader blurts out that of that the few sexual experiences she has had in her life, none of them were really good for her and Lando is incredulous. So, he tells her that in the next race he wins, if she has a direct connection with what happened, he will show her how good these activities can be for her in form of thanks, but she doesn't believe it's a promise because he's drunk and they're just friends.

A few races after the "promise", Lando wins the race precisely because of the strategy made by the reader. Neither of them talk about it and just enjoy their victory until the end of the day. Later that night, the reader is surprised by Lando knocking on her door, she doesn't believe he's there because he had gone out with Verstappen and Sainz to celebrate the victory and it was still too early in the night for him to be back and he says something like 'I couldn't keep my girl waiting. especially when I have a promise to keep' (something like that, I'm freaking out imagining it). After that, you know... The reader has the best night of her life

I'm really sorry that my requests are always THIS big (I can't help but give details 😭😭😭)

Warnings: smut, 18+, teasing

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

“Lando,” you sighed, walking into the garage and seeing the driver perched on one of the ledges, his legs swinging away. “Y/N, strategy meetings suck,” he whined, seeing you walk up to him as you rolled your eyes. “They help you win, Lando,” you raised a brow at him as he huffed. “I won one race,”

“Lando,” it felt like you were talking to a toddler or some disobedient child, “you need to come to the meeting,”. Lando crossed his arms, your eyes narrowing at the almost pouty expression on his face. “Look,” he said, “I won Miami and we didn’t do a strategy meeting coz we were busy playing Mario cart,” he pointed out, making you flush slightly. 

It was true, you had both lost track of time and found yourself playing the game well into the night. “We can have a telepathic thing,” he said, tapping his temples with his finger as you rolled your eyes. “We’ll see about that,” you used, shaking your head at the man in front of you, 

You and Lando had an interesting relationship - you’d both make flirty jokes to each other and think nothing of it. Well, you’d think nothing of it. In your mind, you thought it was just inside jokes and shit, not that Lando actually had feelings for you. That would be dumb…right?

Well, it was safe to say Lando’s telepathic idea had not worked, and he finished the race in second, a good result, yet he was hoping more. “What did I say?” you muses as the man grumbled under his breath, sticky from the champagne as he mumbled something about it being Opposite Day. “Look, why don’t we go out for drinks with Oscar and some others?” you said, seeing he looked genuinely annoyed at the race as he nodded, never one to say no to drinks. 

So you went to the club, you in a pretty black minidress which showed off your gorgeous body, your hair down and makeup done but still slightly natural. You spotted Oscar first, standing by a table as you made your way there, seeing him with his arm lazily round his girlfriend and Lando standing beside them, sipping on his own drinks. “Didn’t even wait for me,” you said in mock offence as Lando spotted you. 

It was almost like you were trying to get him all worked up with your pretty outfit. How he wished you’d just see how much he wanted you. “Nah, I got you one,” Lando grinned, pulling you to sit on the couch beside him and handing you the cup. Oscar smirked or Lily at the interaction but said nothing, choosing to let the situation flow on its own. 

Your conversation started with teasing about the race, Lando’s huffs and protests making you snort with laughter. “Yeah, well you need for fix your telepathy then,” you missed as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, shut it Y/L/N,” he said, giving you a light push. As you took more of your drink, downing glass after glass after glass, Lando couldn’t help but comment. 

“Jesus, someone’s unwinding,” he mused. “Yeah, shush,” you said, voice slurred slightly. “Awww, how you gonna get home, Y/N?” he grinned, “you can’t even drive. Gonna get your little boyfriend to pick to you up?”. Lando would be lying if he said that the mention of you having a boyfriend, if you did, didn’t get on his nerves, even if he was the one who said it. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you scrunched your nose towards the man in front of you. Oscar and Lily were busy dancing somewhere, leaving you and Lando leaning close to hear each other over the sound of the loud music and lights. The proximity did make Lando slightly nervous, but you seemed fine with it, your head on his shoulder, the smell of your pretty perfume filling his nose. 

“Sex is shit,” you muttered, making Lando perk up. “Sex?” he asked, “where did that come from?”. You shrugged, fiddling with the hem of your dress, your drunken state pulling random statements from your mind. “Every guy I’ve slept with was so bad,” you varied in with your rant as Lando watched with a mix of need, shock and surprise. 

“Really?” he asked, his eyes darkening slightly as he thought for a second. “Yeah,” you shrugged, your drunken mind not clocking his dilated pupils. “Never once had good sex?” he asked, clucking his tongue in mock disappointment. “The world is doomed,” you groaned dramatically, “can’t even find good sex nowadays,”. 

Lando snorted at your sudden comment, his eyes rolling. “Yeah yeah,” he huffed, “I’m good at sex,”. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his almost defensive tone, your head cocking. “Yeah, I wouldn’t know,” you giggled, the sound like a melody to Lando. Oh how he’d love to pull out other sounds. Dirtier, filthier noises from your pretty little mouth. 

“D’you think I’m a good strategist?” you asked, your eyes turning to Lando suddenly, his eyebrows shooting up once more. “Bit random,” he mused, tapping his chin in mock thought. “Be honest,” you said, desperate for his honest opinion. He could see you wanted his true opinion so he shrugged and gave it to you. 

“I think you’re amazing,” though Lando could still see the uncertainty in your eyes, the alcohol no doubt doubling the feeling inside of you. “Got an idea, Y/N,” Lando said, leaning forwards, your eyes brightening with curiosity. “If we win the next race,” he spoke slowly, his voice tantalisingly slowly as you leaned forwards too, sitting on the edge of the sofa. 

“And the strategy is coz of you,” his hand ran lazily up your thigh, stopping to fiddle with the hem of your dress as your eyes traced his finger, “I’ll show you all the things you want from sex…and more,”. Your eyes widened at the proposition, thoughts of professionalism and your job not even once entering your mind as you nodded slowly. 

“How does that sound?” Lando asked, looking at your face for any sense or hint of fear or uncertainty. “Deal,” you said firmly, his hand moving off your thigh. “Then we have an arrangement,” he clapped his hands, his tone shifting as Oscar and Lily returned. 

The British Grand Prix, Lando’s home race, where he was desperate to score a win. And so, for the first time in a few races, Lando actually turned up to the strategy meeting and paid attention - well, more attention on the way your skirt rode  up when you walked, his tongue flicking to the corners of his mouth as he usually did. Your eyes darted to him every few seconds, noticing the way he stared. 

God knows if the damn information actually went into his head. “Okay Lando, qualifying,” you clapped your hands, taking control of his radio for this weekend. “Okay Y/N, qualifying,” he mimicked you as you rolled your eyes. “Behave,” you said, well aware the radio could be broadcasted for the world to see. 

Lando had said much worse things, a few of your favourites being: ‘tickle my pickle for a nickel’ or ‘Y/N preferred the hards to the softs, then we had to get the wets’. The second sentence didn’t even sound weird, but the way he’d said it? Jesus, this man was trying to kill. 

“Now, what about you listen to my strategy, yeah?” you asked, listening for his answer. “Sorry mum,” he grumbled, but listened anyways. And, as predicted, he qualified in P2. Not P1, due to a slip up on the final lap, but P2 anyways. “Told ya,” you said, but he waved it off. “Yeah yeah, I said a win,”. 

Your thoughts immediately flicked to the promise he’d made, and some sort of fire seemed to light inside of you, desperate to secure your driver a first place. “Okay, Lando,” you said, “you’re running P2, but George isn’t pitting,”. Lando responded with a quick ‘yep’ as he drove round the bends of Maggots and Becketts. 

“Lando, box, now,” you said, watching him drive down the straight. “Y/N, next lap, we-,” you cut him off. “You said you’d listen, Lando, and I say pit now,”. He grumbled something incoherent but drove into the pit lane anyways, pitting. “What did I say?” you grinned as he came out in first, effectively undercutting George. 

“I hate that you’re a smart ass,” Lando grumbled, though there was a hint of a teasing tone in his voice. You watched as he walked out of the car, jumping into the arms of the team. “I said first, Lando, and that’s what I got you!” you grinned, shouting over the noise of the cheering team. He smiled and hugged you back, but didn’t mention the promise from earlier. 

“Where’s Lando?” you walk into the garage, looking to Oscar. “Gone to party with Max and Carlos,” the Aussie answered and you nodded. You guessed it was true - Lando probably didn’t actually mean his promise, did he? He was just drunk and it slipped out. You ended up going back to your apartment, sending Lando a quick ‘well done x’ text. 

Sure, you were a little upset that he didn’t end up fulfilling his promise but you never truly believed he would. You were sitting on your bed, wearing a thin night gown with your black lace bra and short shorts visible. Just as you were laying on your stomach, scrolling through your social, the sound of your apartment doorbell went off, making you frown. 

Who the hell was at your door at 11pm? You grumbled something under your breath as you walked to the door, peeking round so your body wasn’t on show. “Lando?” you cocked your head, seeing him standing outside in a white button up shirt, open at the top and exposing his tan chest, accented with pretty chains. His curls were slightly ruffled, cheeks flushed red as he gripped a bundle of flowers in his hand. 

“Y/N, thank god,” he said, seeing you there, his flushed cheeks fading slightly. You were still hiding behind the door, only your face on show. “Sorry to keep the pretty girl waiting,” he said voice laced with small hints of shyness. Cute. “Thanks, Lando,” you took the bundle of flowers from him, opening the door to let him in. His jaw visible dropped when his eyes landed on your body. 

You didn’t notice, busying yourself with placing the bouquet into a vase, the pretty dark red roses adding so much colour to your little apartment. “So,” you said, clapping your hands as if to prompt him to continue and say what he needed to. Surprisingly, his promise hadn’t crossed your mind as the reason he could be here. 

“Remember the promise?” he said, his voice laced with slight disappointment that you’d forgotten. “I hadn’t forgot,” you said quietly, “I didn’t think you’d act on it,”. Lando raised a brow at your words as you walked up the stairs, his body quickly behind you. “I’d be a dick if I didn’t,”. You inhaled sharply as you felt him shut the door, before pressing your body to it, your eyes wide. 

“Lando…” you trailed off, eyes wide. “You don’t have to,”. A sort of scoff left his lips as he watched you, his eyes flickering to your lips every few seconds. “Do you not want me to?” he asked, his voice huskier than usual. “I do,” you said. That was all the confirmation he needed as he slipped your night gown off, his eyes roaming over your lacy bra and shorts. “God you’re so pretty,” he groaned. 

A small blush formed on your face at his appraisal, his eyes taking in your natural beauty. You gasped as his hand tangled into your hair, pulling your head to the side softly to press kisses to your neck. A small whimper left your lips as he nipped at your collarbone, his hands me in to grip yours together, holding your wrists above your head. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he whispered, lifting you into his arms. 

You wrapped your arms round his neck as he lifted you, dropping you onto the bed softly. You landed with a gentle ‘thump’ as he moved to remove his own shirt, your eyes trailing over the small beauty marks across his body. “Like what you see?” he asked smugly, as you shook your head,his cockiness being a defining part of him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook your head as he smirked. Your eyes widened as he grabbed your thighs, his nails digging into your plush flesh softly as he pulled your body to him, your legs instinctively wrapping round his waist. “Needy,” he clucked his tongue, his finger pulling your shorts down as his eyes widened, trailing over the wetness between your legs. 

Immediately, you went shy, squeezing your legs together in embarrassment as he frowned. “No, no, don’t,” Lando said, shaking his head as he forced his hand between your legs. “You’re beautiful,” he hummed, moving to kneel between your legs. A small moan left your lips as he licked a long stripe across your core, his fingers dipping into your heat to tease at your entrance. 

Your back arched slightly as he started to flick his tongue against your bundle of nerves, his finger, still adorned with a ring, pressing to your opening. Your hands gripped at his curls, not hard, but enough to channel the pleasure from his licks. A small gasp left your lips as he pushed his finger in, the coldness of his rings contrasting the heat of your body as he pumped slowly, his middle finger coming to tease beside your index. 

“Lando, feels so good,” you mumbled, his lips slickening as he pressed wet kisses to your core. You moaned as Lando added another finger, sliding his digits in and out of you as his tongue moved, skilled and evidently well experienced. A small whine of protest left your lips as he moved his mouth away, his cheek coated in your wetness as he still slid his finger in and out of you, 

Your body arched towards him as he carried on moving, his other hand coming to unbuckle his trousers. A small gasp left your lips as his cock sprung free against his abdomen, your eyes wide. “Fucking hell,” you gasped, eyes wide at his length. Lando seemed to notice your slight hesitation as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I’ll go soft,” he smiled gently, moving his finger out of you as he ran his tip through your folds a few times, pulling whimpers from your lips as he slickened himself. “Lando!” you squeaked, your nails digging into his biceps as he pushed into you a groan leaving his lips. “That’s it,” he mumbled, “you’re taking it so well, love,”.

A soft moan left your lips as he started rocking gently, your eyes rolling gently. “Such a good strategist, aren’t you?” Lando groaned, his thrusts picking up pace. “Even better beneath me,” his voice was airy and breathy as he carried on, your body rocking with each movement, small moans of pleasure leaving your lips. 

“Taking me so well,” he leaned forwards to press wet kisses to your jaw, your hands digging into his back as your legs wrapped round his thigh. “I’m close,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut as you gripped him, desperate to feel your orgasm. A hiss left Lando’s lips as you clenched round him, his hands moving to grip your hair softly. “Thats it,” he panted, his thrusts slamming into your body fast. 

“Should do this before and after every race,” he mumbled, “I’d win every time,”. You gasped as your high washed over you, your hands gripping his arms as he groaned, your movements and the way you clenched round him bringing his own orgasm too. You gasped as you felt his cum shoot in thick hot ropes inside of you as he pulled out slowly. “Let go, baby,” he chuckled, hints of exhaustion in his voice as you clenched round him again. 

Your body calmed from your high as he lifted you to sit on his lap, your eyes wide from rub feeling. “Felt good?” Lando asked, his eyes trained on you as he held you to his chest, grabbing a small towel from the side to wipe your thighs and his own body. “Stay,” you mumbled, gripping his shoulders tightly as he smiled. “I will,” he grinned. 

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss Pt.4

Pairing: Minchan x femReader (mention of Jisung/Felix)

Word Count: 5903

Summary: Chan arrives at the hospital to be there for his family in person. The news they receive about you aren't what they expected and Minho can't help but blame himself. Your husbands try to navigate their life as you recover.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, mention of blood, mention of a panic attack, coma, mention of sleeping pills, mention of throwing up (no further descriptions) min feels guilty, anxious!min, soft!chan

A/N: I sure hope you don't hate me as much as last week...🥺🖤

PART THREE | PART FIVE

Chan's heart drops to his stomach as he sees him. Tears stream down his face, and he looks terrified. Truly terrified. There's blood on his shirt, there's blood on the hand he uses to try and wipe away his tears. “Minho, fuck, where are you?”

“Hospital” is all he gets out. 

“Why, what…Minho, where's Y/N?” he asks, his stomach tightening in fear at the pained sound that leaves Minho when your name is mentioned. “Min?”

Minho's breathing picks up, and he clutches the fabric of his pants tightly, trying to steady himself. “Someone crashed into our car, I-I swear it wasn't my fault. T-The airbag didn't open a-and-,” he breaks off with a sob. “Channie, there was so much blood,” he whimpers. 

“Where's Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible, blank fear taking over him. 

“She's in surgery right now. Channie, they don't know if-” he can't say it, but meeting Chan's terrified eyes, he knows he gets it. “I'm so sorry,” he buries his face in his knees with a heavy sob. 

Tears fill his eyes and he hates himself for not being there and able to hold him tight and not let go. “Minnie, baby, I'm sure it's not your fault,” he says gently and gets up, grabbing his suitcase. “Hannah!” he shouts through the house, not caring that his parents already went to bed. He needs to get back home as soon as possible. 

Hannah is there in a few seconds, a little shocked by her brother's distraught look. “What's wrong?” she asks worriedly. 

“I need to get home right now,” he tells her, and she nods gently. “Min, I'll figure this out, I promise. I'll be there as quickly as I can, okay?” Hannah's worries deepen at the timid answer Minho gives. “I know you have other things to worry about, but please let them check up on you, okay? I wouldn't want you to be hurt and notice too late.”

“Okay, Channie,” he sniffles. “What if she…?”

“Don't think that way,” Chan tells him softly. “Y/nnie’s a fighter, she'll push through. I'll let you know when I'm at the airport.”

Hannah already started packing her brother's suitcase, glancing at him worriedly as he exchanged goodbyes. “You look like shit, what happened?”

“They got into an accident,” he says and already dials another number. “They don't know if Y/N..,” he breaks off, and Hannah pulls him into a tight hug. 

“She'll be okay; she always is,” she promises. “Now go call your fancy staff and get your VIP privileges; I'll pack.”

“Thank you,” he nods. 

-

Minho looks up from his chair as the door to the room opens, and Felix slips inside. “What are you -?”

“Chan called and told me you could use someone,” Felix explains. He takes off his jacket and sits down next to him. He offers his hand, and Minho takes it, squeezing it gently. “Any news?”

“No,” he whispers timidly. “Still nothing,” he says. It's an hour ago that he called Chan. Someone checked up on him after cleaning the blood from his face and hands. “I didn't get hurt,” he says, and his face grows pale. “She was unconscious before I could do a thing, hit her head pretty hard. Felix there was so much blood,” he says mindlessly, as if he's giving him the facts on a new comeback. 

Felix hums gently and rubs his shoulder. “I stopped by your place and got you some clothes. Maybe go and change, hm?” he suggests, spotting the blood on his shirt. 

Minho stands up in a routine move, grabs his clothes, and locks himself in the bathroom. He meets his reflection in the mirror and closes his eyes, shivering softly. Fuck.

Felix glances up as he comes back and nods towards the small sofa in the corner of the room. He sits down there and pulls Minho into a hug. “I'm so sorry, Min.”

“It's not your fault,” Minho says tiredly and relaxes a little in his warm embrace. It's the first time something as shocking as this has happened, and none of his partners are there to hold his hand. 

“I know,” Felix nods gently. “But still. You've already had a rough few months with Chan feeling like shit and then leaving.”

“Life is shit sometimes,” Minho shrugs, and his eyes flutter close when Felix starts running his hand through his hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.”

-

The flight back home has never felt as long as today. Never. About two hours ago he had gotten a message from Minho, short and simple, but it was enough. 

Kitten🖤: She'll make it. 

Chan quickly makes his way out of the airport and stops at home for ten minutes. Felix had told him to get home first, take a quick shower, and change clothes. None of them knew how long they'd be stuck at the hospital. Chan got into his car after and drove to the hospital, rushing up to your floor as soon as he knew where. Opening the door, he sees Felix sitting on the sofa in the back and gives him a quick wave. 

Minho is by your bed, head resting on his arm on the mattress and seems asleep. Dried tear streaks cover his face and Chan's throat tightens at how exhausted he looks even in his sleep. And then there's you, looking as pale as the sheets, your head wrapped up safely. Your hand lies in Minho's, and only your chest moving tells him you're alive. Chan finds himself in Felix's arms before he fully registers the scene and hugs back tightly. 

“Hey, mate,” Felix whispers, not wanting to wake Minho up. “I'll leave you to it, yeah? So that you know Minho does blame himself for what happened. We don't know when she'll wake up, but the doctor said she will.” 

Chan nods gently before flashing him a tired smile. “Thank you for being here.”

“Obviously,” Felix snorts and gently pats his chest. “Welcome home, I guess.”

A little later, they're alone, and Chan timidly steps closer to Minho, sitting down on the chair next to him. His hand finds his lower back almost naturally and he very gently picks him up into his lap. A soft protesting sound leaves Minho's lips but he's too tired actually to question the action. Minho curls up in his arms, the way he always does, as if deep down he knows it's Chan. Chan makes sure he's comfortable and plants a tiny kiss on his hair, soothingly fondling his head. Only then did it hit him how much he had missed you two. 

Minho wakes up later, feeling warm and comfortable. He subconsciously cuddles close before his brain slowly picks up on Chan's so familiar scent and the way his body feels against him, and he sits up straight rapidly. “Channie,” he breathes out, his eyes getting teary. 

“Hi, kitten,” he says softly and presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he confesses quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he asks gently. “Lee Minho, if you blame yourself for what happened now, I will smack your ass. Not in a good way.”

A weak laugh escapes him, and he gently shoves his chest. “Of course I do. I'd rather get hurt than her.”

“She'd say the same if it were you,” he says and gently rubs his shoulder. “Nevertheless, it's not your fault.”

“Channie?” he whispers timidly. “I really don't believe that and…,” he trails off with a sniffle.

“I'm here now, let it out,” he says softly, and Minho's head drops down in his chest with a broken sound. Chan holds him tight, trying to make him feel as safe and comforted as possible. Minho shuffles into his lap, straddling him and pulling him into a tight hug. They hold onto each other firmly and find comfort in their shared pain for a bit. “I'm so sorry I wasn't there.”

“Don't,” Minho stops him, burying his hand in his hair. “You're here now.”

“I didn't mean what I said in that call,” Chan tells him nevertheless. “I was planning to surprise you for your birthday in two weeks after.”

Minho sniffles softly and squeezes him. “Yeah? So you've been getting better?”

“I have,” Chan nods and kisses his cheek. “It's still not completely, but it's so much better.”

“That's good,” he tells him. “I'm proud of you, Channie.”

“I love you,” Chan says gently. “So so much.”

Minho smiles a little at that and takes a deep breath. He is better. “I love you too, Channie.”

-

Minho firmly holds Chan's hand as they lean against the wall opposite your room. About twenty minutes ago, the doctor sent them away as you started to tremble. Since then, no one has talked to them. Another doctor shuffled into the room, and Minho could tell Chan was getting anxious from there on. 

Chan grows awfully quiet next to him, staring at the floor and seeming like he's far away. Minho is shaking a little, tapping his fingers against his thigh anxiously. Chan soothingly rubs his knuckles and squeezes his hand for the tenth time. “They said she'd be okay, right?” he asks. 

Minho glances at him awkwardly. “They said she'd make it…whatever that means for the rest.”

Chan huffs softly and nods, Minho is right. “Am I the only one feeling like throwing up?”

“God no,” Minho laughs weakly. “Have been since the accident.”

Chan glances at him worriedly. “You should've told me.”

He shrugs tiredly and cracks his neck with a soft moan. “I always am when I'm worried. There's nothing you could've done.”

Chan nods and traces his eyes up and down his body. “But you're not dizzy? Are you having a headache? Or anything?”

Minho steps in front of him and takes both of his hands. “I'm okay, physically. They checked everything, I promise,” he tells him softly and Chan pulls him into a hug. He lets him, only then noticing that Chan is shaking himself by now. “Deep breaths, we'll be alright.”

“Okay,” Chan whispers. 

“We'll be okay,” Minho repeats himself as if to convince them both. 

“Okay,” Chan nods, and Minho pulls back from him as the door opens. Their hands don't part as the doctor leads them to an office nearby and asks them to sit down. Chan looks like he's about to throw up now and Minho is dancing at the edge of a lingering panic attack. 

“Mr. Lee, you've asked me to wait for a proper update on your wife's state until your husband arrives,” she starts out, and Chan gently grabs Minho's hand, squeezing it. “I have an update on the condition of your wife and I'm afraid it isn't what you'd like to hear. The impact injured her frontal bone, which punctured her brain. We could fix this with the surgery,” the doctor tells them. 

Both of them are smart enough not to be too relieved already. “And besides that?” Minho asks timidly, not having missed that warning before. 

She gives him a compassionate smile. “Well, for one there'll probably be the usual aftermaths like nightmares or even fear of sitting in a car again. That isn't everything, though.”

“Stop sweet talking and tell us what we're dealing with, please,” Chan says kindly, heart thumping in his throat. 

“Your wife seems to have suffered more trauma than we thought, especially after the surgery. She's in a coma, and we don't know when or if she'll wake-.”

“If?” Minho asks, barely audible, his hand slipping from Chan’s. “But…you said she’d make it.”

She flashes him a compassionate smile. “That’s before her body shut down, she seemed stable before. I’m really sorry.”

“For fucks sake,” he breathes out and slowly pushes himself up from his chair. “You’re saying there’s a chance she’ll never wake up again? What then? You expect me to tell you when to turn it all off?”

“Minho,” Chan speaks up gently and turns in his chair to face him. There’s nothing but blank fear in his eyes, and he looks at the doctor in front of them so desperately it breaks his heart. “It’s not her fault.”

“No shit, Chan!” Minho snaps at him, and Chan’s gaze grows firm.

“Don’t do this. Not here,” he says calmly, and Minho scoffs at him. 

“My image as an idol is the last thing I care about right now, Mr. Golden Boy,” he presses out and shakes his head, leaving the room without another word.

Chan sighs heavily and turns back at the doctor, smiling apologetically. “I apologize, he didn’t mean it.”

“I'll be quick,” she assures him kindly. We don't know how soon she'll wake up again. In case she does, someone has to take care of her. I know you're both very busy. Is there anyone else, just in case?”

“Besides a friend of hers not really, no,” Chan says worriedly. “Her family doesn't live exactly close.”

“If she can go back home soon…Mr. Bahng, there's a high chance this will take months, maybe a year, until she fully regains her abilities. We don't know how bad it'll affect her yet, there's a potential for memory loss. I will inform you about eventual treatments and everything when it's time. I'm really sorry and I wish you and your husband the best of luck and strength with this new situation.”

Chan exchanges another few words before quickly rushing outside and trying the closest bathroom as the hallway is empty. Luckily, Minho seemed to have forgotten to lock the door. Minho's on his knees, retching even though there's nothing left. Chan crouches down behind him, gently rubbing his shoulders. “Hey, baby, deep breaths.”

Minho whimpers and falls back against him, sobbing. “Please, please tell me this isn't true. Not our sweet Y/nnie.”

Chan swallows down tears, trying to stay strong for both of them. Minho has been carrying everyone's shit on his shoulders for too long now. It's time he steps up again. “It'll be okay, we'll be okay,” he promises and rocks him gently as Minho allows himself to break down in his arms. “Shh, it's okay, Minnie baby, it's okay, I got you.”

-

Chan stares at you, deep in thoughts, trying to make sense of the past few hours. The thought of you possibly never waking up again is killing him. He feels guilty for not being there those past months. What if he missed all this time with you? Just because he hadn't been feeling so well? His chest tightens, and he sucks in a sharp breath, subconsciously reaching for Minho next to him. Every word dies in his throat, seeing his husband. Minho stares at the floor, hot tears running down his cheeks and pressing his lips together tightly in an attempt to hold back his sobs. His hair falls into his face, stomach twisting with guilt the longer he thinks about what happened. Chan swallows hard at the sight of his husband, trying not to break down. His shoulders tremble with the impact of his suppressed sobs, and he sniffles softly. Chan gently rubs his back and watches him worriedly as he pushes himself up. He quickly reaches out for him and stares up at him with wide eyes. “Please don't leave,” he whispers, swallowing down his own fear but not fully succeeding. “Please,” he adds, tears brimming his eyes. 

Minho looks at him and shakes his head. “I can't breathe in here,” he confesses through tears and shakily holds Chan's hand. “I just wanna go home, please, I’ve been here for hours,” he whimpers. 

Chan looks at him quietly before nodding. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. They're both exhausted and need some sleep. You wouldn't wake up that soon, and they both could use a break. “Okay, I'll drive us home; my car’s outside.”

“For telling you to get yourself together…more or less,” he says and stops at a redlight. “That wasn’t very supportive of me.”

Minho exhales, relieved, and shakily holds onto his hand as Chan gently says his goodbye to you. They leave the hospital in silence, and Chan drives them back home, soothingly rubbing Minho's knee. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Minho asks tiredly, staring at the many buildings passing by. 

Minho laughs weakly and rolls his eyes at himself. “It’s okay, you were right. There’s nothing she can do about it right now…Also, I’m sorry for calling you a golden boy.”

“Please, as if I’d take that to heart after those past few months,” he snorts, and Minho smiles at him tiredly. 

“I missed you,” he admits and grabs his hand, squeezing it. “It’s good to have you back.”

Chan smiles softly and brings their hands up to his mouth, planting a kiss on his knuckles. “I’m here now, yeah?”

Minho hums quietly in response, and Chan starts driving again.

Back home, Minho stands still for a moment, and Chan watches him worriedly as he starts shaking. Minho sucks in a sharp breath and clutches his chest, bending over with a whimper. “Hey, hey, babe,” he panics a little as Minho sinks to his knees with a groan, curling up and sobbing loudly. “What’s wrong?” he asks, worried that Minho got hurt and just didn’t tell him.

“I'm so sorry,” he whimpers as Chan gets down on the floor next to him. “It's all my fault.”

Chan shakes his head and holds onto him tightly, leaning down. “No, don't say that,” he tells him and helplessly rubs his back. “It's not your fault, baby.” His heart races with how intensely Minho sobs beneath him, and his stomach turns painfully. He has never seen him break down like this in all those many years he has known and then loved him. “Come here, please,” he whispers, tears making their way down his face. Now that they're back home, he can let them flow freely and allow himself to let it out. He heaves him into his lap, and Minho clings onto him firmly, allowing himself a little comfort in his husband's arms. Chan rocks him in his arms, trying to calm his own troubled mind. 

“I’m sorry, Channie,” he whimpers and Chan hugs him even tighter in response.

One week later

“Min, baby?” Chan asks, coming back upstairs. “You're ready yet, we gotta-Minho?” he asks worriedly as he spots his husband lying in bed fully dressed. He bites back a sigh and sits down at the edge of the bed. “Min? What's wrong?”

“I don't want to,” he says quietly, seemingly staring right through him. 

“What do you mean? We made a promise to stop by every day,” he tries gently. 

“I can't go there, okay? Not today,” he shakes his head and subconsciously curls up a little. “I hate hospitals, I hate that she's there, I hate that she's hurt, and there's nothing I can do about it.”

“We should try to be there for her as much as we can, baby,” Chan argues carefully and brushes his hair from his face. 

“It’s not like she notices if I’m not there or not,” Minho says.

“The doctor said there’s a chance she can hear us, kitten, remember?” he asks patiently. 

“I don’t talk anyway,” he argues weakly.

“Min,” he sighs softly.

“I can't go there, Channie. Please don't make me go there,” he shivers, his eyes brimming with tears. “Please,” he whispers shakily. 

Chan crawls into bed and pulls him in close, soothingly running his hand through his hair. “Shh, baby, it's okay.”

“I'm sorry, Channie,” Minho hiccups and buries himself deep into his chest. “I fucked it all up, I'm so sorry.”

“No, Minho, none of that,” he says firmly and shakes his head. “This isn't your fault, none of it.” 

“You weren't even there, you don't know that,” he whimpers. 

Chan pulls back and cups his face, making him look at him. “I might haven't been there, but I'm here now. I know my husband would do anything to keep that girl of ours safe. I know you would've swapped places in an instant, and I know you'd never put her at risk like that.” His thumbs rub along his cheeks soothingly, and he searches his eyes desperately. “Minho, this isn't your fault, and I’m sure she knows that. She loves you so much, and so do I. Don't blame yourself for something you had no control over.”

“Please don't make me go there again,” he sniffles timidly, eyes wide and filled with guilt. 

“I'll go on my own, it's okay, Min,” he assures him and kisses his forehead. “Try and get some rest okay?” 

“I keep dreaming about it,” he shakes his head and rubs his face tiredly. “I keep hearing her scream, and then her head hits…Channie, I'm fucked.”

Chan hums gently and rubs soothing circles on his lower back. “If it doesn't get better, we'll get you some help, yeah?” he suggests, and Minho nods tiredly. “For now, I'll give you one of my pills, and you'll be sleeping like a baby.”

“Okay,” he nods gently. Minho gets into some more comfortable clothes again and takes the pill, curling up in his arms. Chan plays with his hair and hums softly, lulling him in with every passing minute. “Love you, Channie hyung.”

“Love you too, Minho baby,” he says softly and kisses his head. Once Minho's actually asleep, he tucks him in and makes sure he's comfortable before he leaves to go and see you. Chan stays with you for a while, talking to himself, telling you about whatever comes to his mind. If he could, he’d stay here all day, but there’s still loads of work to catch up with, and he doesn’t dare leave Minho on his own for too long. 

At the company, Chan slowly strolls down the hallway to their practice room and hears the music blasting. He opens the door and finds Felix and Jisung practicing their newest dance. He gives them a tired wave, and Jisung quickly turns off the music.

“Didn’t we agree on you staying home for a few days?” Felix asks him and raises his eyebrows at him.

“It’s suffocating,” he shakes his head, and Jisung glances at him worriedly.

“He’s not getting better, huh?” he asks, and Chan shakes his head.

“I can’t blame him. He was the one driving; I’d blame myself, too. It’s just…today, he simply couldn’t get himself to go to the hospital with me,” Chan tells them quietly and stares at the floor. “I can’t fix this, and it’s driving me insane.”

“Hey,” Jisung says gently. “When you were feeling like shit, neither of them tried to fix you. They held your hand when you needed it and let you go as you needed some space. You can’t fix any of this, just be there for him.”

“I’m trying, Ji, I swear,” Chan huffs, frustrated, tears burning in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“And what would have that changed?” Felix asks gently. “The only difference that could’ve been would be you driving. You think Minho would stand here any differently now then?”

“I hurt him,” Chan says and they frown at him softly. “We got into a fight, and Y/nnie took him out for dinner to cheer him up because I’ve been a complete asshole. She texted me, saying how hurt he was and…maybe he would’ve reacted more quickly and-.”

“Chan,” Felix says firmly. “We’ve seen the footage, there was no chance. The other driver was drunk and racing down that street. There’s nothing he could’ve done. If you truly don’t blame him, you can’t blame yourself either. If you’re saying you made him too caught up in his thoughts to prevent the accident, you’re not only blaming yourself here.”

Chan tiredly rubs his face before nodding. “Yeah, okay, sorry.”

“You should get back home and get some rest,” Jisung says softly and pulls him into a tight hug. “There’s no use in staying here and beating yourself up, worrying about Min when you could be with him right now.”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods and squeezes them both tightly. “I’ll just sort a few things out, then I’ll be gone, promise.”

“Alright,” they nod and wave goodbye.

-

So three hours in total later, Chan gets back home and quietly glances into their bedroom. Minho's still deep asleep, and Chan decides to join him while he works. He sits down on the bed next to him and gently runs his hand through his hair, turning on his laptop. He sighs softly, spotting the fading bruises on his arm and the healing cut right below his hairline. Of course, Minho had been hurt by the impact as well, but the shock and gravity of your situation made him downplay his own injuries. Chan only found out accidentally when they took a bath two days ago to relax a little. “Oh, kitten,” he whispers to himself and shakes his head at him. 

Minho wakes up another three hours later, rolling away from him drowsily. His brain feels fuzzy, his vision is foggy, and he needs a moment to comprehend he's awake. He rubs his face with a groan and blinks heavily, trying to stay awake. Turning onto his back, he spots Chan next to him and squints at him. “Why the fuck are they so strong?” he rasps, voice laced heavily with sleep.

“Well, because I need them to sleep,” he chuckles and gently fondles his hair. “You slept alright?”

“Mhm,” he hums sleepily and stretches his body with a low groan. “How's Y/nnie?” he asks timidly. 

“No changes yet,” Chan tells him and thoughtfully stares out of the window. “Min?”

“Hm?” 

“I think you should take a break,” Chan says, not looking at him. 

Minho shoots up and stares at him. “Why?” he asks dangerously low, suddenly fully awake. 

“You're exhausted, baby. You deserve a break,” Chan says, glancing at him. 

“And it's just that?” Minho asks sharply, and Chan frowns at him. “Not because you think I'm losing it?”

“What? No,” he quickly shakes his head. “I swear it's because you're exhausted, you worked double with me gone.”

“More like triple because you do way too much, but yeah,” he snickers before huffing softly. “Yeah, okay, you're probably right. Can you sort that shit out?”

Chan smiles knowingly. “I already did. You're on break for a month besides group interviews that get recorded or those two live performances we have coming up.” 

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing. “That won't stop me from dragging you home from the studio if you stay too long.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promises and squeezes his hand. “You’re okay?”

“I know,” he giggles softly. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“You’re a menace, Chan,” he shakes his head. “If you don’t cut back a little, you’ll end up overwhelmed and overworked again in a month.”

Minho’s eyes flicker away from his, and he nods firmly. “Of course I am.”

“Kitten?” he asks softly. “Can you promise me something?”

“Depends,” he squints at him suspiciously. 

“I need you to be honest with me. If you’re struggling, feeling lost, or overwhelmed, let me know. No matter where I am, no matter how late it is,” Chan says, and Minho stares at him quietly for a minute. “Minho?”

“I can try,” he whispers and searches his eyes. “No, I will try. I promise. Just…don’t expect too much, you know how I am.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chan nods worriedly, and Minho gently kisses his cheek. 

“I’ll be fine, I always am,” he says.

One and a half months later

After skipping that one time, it took him a week to go back to the hospital. After that, he didn’t miss a day, sometimes coming here with Chan and sometimes, when Chan’s schedule didn’t fit, coming on his own. He couldn’t deal with not seeing you and talking to you, even though you never answered. 

Minho greets the nurse with a kind smile and nervously clutches the flowers in his hand. “Any news?”

“Not yet, Mr. Lee,” she says gently. “She’s stable, that’s what counts. It isn’t getting any worse. Don’t give up hope.”

Minho nods gently. “I won’t,” he says before excusing himself and stepping into your room. He closes the door quietly behind himself and sighs softly, seeing you. “Hey, Y/nnie,” he says gently and makes his way around the bed, replacing the old flowers with the ones he brought. “Got you some flowers…you would like those,” he says and sits down on the chair next to your bed. For a while he simply watches you, watches your chest rising and falling, your lashes resting against your cheeks. The bandages around your head are gone by now, and he hesitantly reaches out, caressing your cheek. “God, I miss you,” he sighs softly and braces himself on the mattress, taking your hand between his. “It’s so quiet at the house now when Channie’s working. Sometimes, I’m stupid enough to believe you’ll come around the corner every second and ask for cuddles. Or ask if I can make you dinner, I miss cooking with you so much,” he rambles on mindlessly. “You’d be surprised how much has changed since you’re not home. Chan is home before twelve every night, can you believe that? He’s really taking care of himself now, you’d be so proud. Also, he asked me to teach him some things around the kitchen, I think he did it so I wouldn’t get bored. I’m seeing a therapist now…never thought I’d ever need that. Apparently, there’s more stuff in my life I need to work through besides that stupid accident. She’s nice, you’d like her,” he says and trails off for a while. Your face before his eyes gets blurry as his eyes brim with tears and his throat tightens up. 

It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel like shit about what happened. It’s okay to feel guilty. As long as it doesn’t stop you from moving on with your life and eventually smiling again. He doesn’t know how often he heard those first three sentences in the past few weeks.

Minho inhales shakily and squeezes your hand in his. “I miss you so much, honey. I miss your laugh, I miss acting stupid with you, I miss holding your hand or pulling you close and swaying you through the kitchen. I miss holding you when you’re asleep, and I never thought I’d miss carrying the grocery bags for you this badly. Fuck, I miss your voice and those beautiful eyes looking at me like I deserve all the love you have for me,” he sniffles softly and presses his trembling lips together for a second. “Can you try and wake up soon, Y/nnie honey? I can’t stay strong forever,” he presses out, and his shoulders shake with a suppressed sob. He doesn’t notice the door opening and flinches a little as someone wraps his arms around his waist. Chan’s familiar scent surrounds him, and Minho instinctively leans into his touch. “I’m okay,” he whispers.

“I know,” Chan answers quietly and kisses his cheek. “Some days are just harder than others.”

“Yeah,” Minho sniffles softly and stays in his arms, your hand in his pressed against his face. “You’re early,” he speaks up after a while.

“We finished early,” he nods and mindlessly rubs his side. “Thought I’d stop by and pick you up.”

“Thanks, love,” he says gently. He doesn’t feel safe driving yet, and Chan made sure to pick him up personally whenever he could. Minho pulls back from you with a sniffle, gently resting your hand on the mattress. “No update yet, but they told me it’s a good sign that her state isn’t getting worse.”

“Okay, that’s something,” Chan nods, agreeing, and gets himself a chair, lifting Minho in his lap. “You wanna talk about today?” he asks, gently rubbing his thighs.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he asks, turning in his hold. Chan nods understandingly and squeezes his hand. 

“That’s fine,” he says, resting his head on his shoulder. “You know you don’t have to tell me about therapy, but I’m there if you want to.”

“I know,” Minho smiles thankfully and watches you thoughtfully. “I see her every day, and still, I miss her like crazy.”

“Yeah, me too,” Chan nods. “I’m so glad to have you still…I’d go insane on my own.”

“Oh, me too,” he chuckles softly. “You wanna leave? Or can we stay for another bit?”

“We can stay as long as you want to, kitten,” he promises.

One week later

Minho unlocks the front door to your house and drags himself inside. After a quick visit this morning he had been at the company, practicing for an upcoming performance. It’s been two months since you fell into a coma, and according to the doctor, you’re slowly starting to make progress. She told them there was a high chance it wouldn’t take all too long anymore for you to wake up. Minho didn’t care one bit how long it would still take. The fact that you’d wake up again had been everything he needed.

He frowns softly at how quiet the house is. Shouldn’t Chan already be home? Minho slips out of his shoes and calls out for him, getting no answer. “Channie, love?” he asks again, strolling into the living room area. His eyes widen at the sight in front of him, and he covers his mouth in shock. “What the fuck?”

The living room is dark but illuminated by the many strings of light adorning the walls. A huge bouquet of red roses rests beautifully in a vase on top of the sofa table, and the sweet scent of fresh brownies lingers in the air. Minho turns at the sound of the door opening and sees his husband stepping inside with a bottle of wine. “Channie?” he asks softly.

Chan’s eyes widen, spotting him, and his face falls checking his watch. “Hey! You’re home early,” he protests.

“Obviously,” Minho giggles and frowns at him. “What’s all that about? Did I miss something? It’s not our anniversary, right?” he asks worriedly. 

Chan puts down the bottle of wine and shakes his head. “I just realized it’s been six long months since I did something nice for you with everything going on. I wanted to surprise you and - no, why are you crying?” he asks softly.

“Sorry,” he giggles through tears. “Happy tears, I swear,” he promises and messily wipes his cheeks. 

“Fucker,” he breathes out as his own eyes fill with tears seeing him beaming with joy after all this time.

Minho giggles wetly and closes the distance between them, hugging him so forcefully it makes Chan stumble for a moment. “You’re so sweet.”

Chan smiles brightly and buries his face in his shoulder. “I love you so much, kitten.”

“I love you too,” he whispers and pulls back, beaming at him. They sink into each other’s eyes and Minho can’t help giving in to the invisible string pulling them closer. Their lips meet in a slow, sweet kiss and Minho melts into him, hand buried in his curls. 

“I worried this would be too cheesy,” Chan giggles breathlessly as he pulls back for a moment. 

“Don’t you ever dare stop being cheesy, yeah?” he whispers.

“Never,” he promises, giggling, and seals the deal with another soft kiss.

PART THREE | PART FIVE

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @kailee08 @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @harshaaaaa @lost-in-avoidance

[steddieas-shegoes]

stay for a while

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is being late to work' and for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up event for Valentine's Day

rated e | 815 words | tags: post-sex afterglow, dirty talk, established relationship, domestic fluff

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"You gotta go faster," Steve panted.

"I'm not the one riding me, sweetheart," Eddie replied, equally out of breath.

"Put your back into it."

So Eddie gripped Steve's hips and put his back into it.

When Steve collapsed on top of him, Eddie's cum coating both of their stomachs, they both sighed.

This was the first time they'd managed to have sex in nearly a week. Their schedules were awful lately, and any time they did manage to spend together was usually asleep.

But Steve managed to wake up before his alarm this morning and Eddie was already naked and hard and one thing led to another...

"I'm gonna be late if I don't get up and shower," Steve sighed.

He loved his job as a guidance counselor, but the early mornings sucked. Especially when Eddie didn't have to be at work most days until nine.

Maybe he could call in sick or something today.

"I could join you..." Eddie's teeth nipped his neck teasingly. "Work you up while you wash your hair. Suck you off until you can't feel your legs. Maybe fill you up again and lick you clean."

If Steve's cock wasn't trapped between them, it probably would have given a valiant effort at getting hard again.

"Babyyyyy."

"What?" Eddie kissed his jaw. "I just wanna make up for all the time we've missed this week."

"I know," Steve sat up and looked down at Eddie's sweat-slick chest. "It'll be better next week. I won't be on afternoon pick-up duty and won't have senior meetings to go to."

"And I won't be stuck at the studio with this fuckin' singer who thinks I don't have a life outside of him and his lackluster songwriting skills."

Steve smirked. "Tell me how you really feel."

"I would, but I wouldn't wanna ruin the afterglow, Stevie. You look fuckable."

"I look fucked. There's a difference," Steve leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"Not to me," Eddie pouted. "I could fuck you again. Real quick. Won't even know I'm there."

Steve snorted. "Why are you so horny this morning, Jesus Christ."

"Don't blame him. I just always want you. You're like a potato chip: one is never enough."

"Wow. What a line. I'm melting into a puddle," Steve's monotone voice was interrupted by Eddie's loud laugh. "I'm gonna go shower before you try something."

"But...we still have 30 minutes before you have to go."

Steve glanced at the clock, jumping up and yelping when he realized Eddie hadn't even pulled out all the way yet. "Shit!"

"What?"

"I have a senior meeting this morning! I have less than ten minutes!"

Steve tripped getting out of the bed, his legs still wobbly from riding Eddie for the last 15 minutes.

"Reschedule it!" Eddie yelled after him as Steve ran into the bathroom and started the shower. "Call in sick."

"Not happening! It's Hannah; She's freaking out about college applications as if she won't get in everywhere she applies and if I cancel, she'll spiral," Eddie made his way into the shower as Steve spoke, nodding along to his words, but focused mostly on the way the water was dripping down his body as he rushed to wash his hair. "And then I have a faculty meeting with the rest of the counselors to discuss how we'll implement the new afterschool senior study group because the school board said we can't legally call it a study group unless it's 100% sanctioned by the students, which is just incredibly stupid and also not even remotely important! Like, we're just trying to make sure they can pass their finals, why does it matter what we call it?"

Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's lips softly, just enough of a brush against them to make him pause.

"Sorry," Steve sighed. "Didn't mean to ramble."

"You know I love when you do, Stevie," Eddie smiled at him, grabbing the shampoo bottle from the shelf to get started on his own hair. "I just hate seeing you so stressed. Kinda wanna help relieve that stress some more."

"Baby, I love you, but if you touch my dick right now, I will murder you."

"Ouch," Eddie clutched his hand to his chest. "Straight to murder over a little handjob in the shower?"

"If that's what has to be done for me to get to work on time."

Eddie sighed. "Fine. I won't touch you. But I'm gonna be sad all day about the lost moments we could've shared."

Steve finished rinsing off the soap on his body and turned to give Eddie a quick peck on the lips. "We can share some moments tonight. Promise."

"Okay, okay. Get out before you're late."

Steve was still late for work, but mostly because he still insisted on packing Eddie's lunch while he was in the shower finishing up. No job was more important than that.

[tjodity]

dsmp lesbian analysis post

this was based on a misreading of a different post so now im rating how lesbian dsmp characters are. no real criteria just going off of vibes from a lesbian. based vaguely on how lesbian they are and how much they might identify as lesbian

C!Phil- (4/10)-he has a wife so thats something. he's kinda forgone most identities by this point he just does what he wants

C!Tubbo-(1/10)-im sorry thats just some binary gay transmasc guy. he may have briefly been a lesbian in his early teens so he had an extremely on the spot explanation for schlatt abt dressing masc but he likes men (a lot) so he never really had any attachment to the label

C!Ranboo-(3/10)-they arent really interested in women but he's got a lesbian gender thing goin on. guy with a weird relationship to femininity

C!Dream-(2/10)-she actually is a lesbian but no ones told her that yet and she's probably not gonna figure it out on her own. mamacita was an egg cracking experience

C!George-(0/10)-im sorry i dont see it

C!Niki-(10/10)- trans curious bisexual woman who wears a trench coat and has ratty dyed pink hair and knows how to tie a lot of different kinds of knots and not for boat reasons. she's having a full boar gender and sexuality crisis starting during the election. dyke as a gender identifier probably wouldn't occur to her but she'd like it a lot. she'd also like the old flag with the axe

C!Sam-(2/10)-not really a lesbian at all but if puffy squints hard enough while theyre making out sad style she can act like he's a cute butch

C!Fundy-(3/10)-he doesnt really call himself a lesbian but whenever he has a crush on a woman he in his head says he's being gay for her. accidentally postponed niki's sexuality crisis by transitioning to a guy

C!Punz-(10/10)-look at him. look at him. butch lesbian who kinda acts like a dog for the girl she's obsessed with. religious horror toxic devotion yuri buff lady general tragedy we got it all. also tommyinnit certified look

C!Hbomb-(3/10)-she's mostly straight but a lot of her admiration of other women and learning to do femininity in a way she likes kinda aligns her with lesbians. she believes in their beliefs

C!Sapnap-(??/10)-kinda in a quantum state of lesbianism for me. could go either way honestly. if her fiances want her to be a girl she can be

C!Karl-(9/10)-karl set off everyone's lesbian radar they didn't know they had which was really confusing cause it presented like a gay cis guy for a long while. tubbo just happens to ask her abt gender once on a whim n she's like oh no im a girl thing :3 and everyone else freaks out cause it was just not correcting them. it likes flamboyant masc fashion and being confusing

C!Quackity-(10/10)-watch the quackhalo date stream if you haven't yet i'm begging you. bigender transfem girlguy guygirl who wants to be someone's girlfriend and have a girlfriend or multiple or many. she's running the full gambit of presentation in a bunch of combos

C!Badboyhalo-(5/10)-Quackity brings out the lesbian in her (she's a closeted transfem lady and it makes her very flustered when she realizes q's calling her his girlfriend.) the bigboobies in bigboobyhalo are the result of lots and lots of estrogen

C!Wilbur-(0/10) he doesnt know lesbians are real

C!Puffy-(7/10)-the best way i can describe puffy's gender is that she is earnestly trying to be as confusing contradictory and horny as possible and it's working. she's a lesbian but only when she's a guy or just extremely down bad for some lady and if you called her a dyke she'd moan

C!Slimecicle-(7/10)-lesbian as a gender thing. he doesn't like using typical words to describe his gender but lesbian is the closest to standard it'll go

C!Hannah-(10/10)-she likes women. A LOT. and also worked hard to become one. just a lot about women going on in her life

C!Schlatt-(???/10)-he's got some shit to sort through n maybe that'll be a realization he makes down the road

C!Foolish-(2/10)-if you tried hard enough you could make him one

C!Tina-(10/10)-many of her actions are motivated by the need to kiss a girl with teeth

C!Eret-(8/10)-strong yuriful vibes

C!Tommyinnit-(9/10)-they are fucking ATTACHED to that label you can pry it from their cold dead hands. she also likes boys n is more platoniromantic than anything but. lesbian critter right there it's important to her

C!Aimsey-(-1000/10)-killed your wife idiot

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: Good lord did i have a lot to say in this chapter. I hope my writing is still okay and is cohesive enough... I feel like i am missing small points i made in other chapters, but as Hannah Montana once said, nobody's perfect! I'm doing my best with what has been going on in my life. I recently had to drop one of my college classes because it was getting to the point of me not being able to pass the class. Life tip: don't be a full time college student with 2 part time jobs(technically 3 if my summer job contacts me to come into work on a random weekday) or it'll catch up to you... shit's stressful maine😭 Anyways, like always enjoy the chapter!!! She's a biggen💅🏻

Summary: After being slut shamed for something you and Lucien did in the past, you decide to run straight to his house to let him know of his mate's behavior. Little did you both know that it only would make things worse, but hey, screw it right?! Or so you both thought...

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: profanity, steamy make-out sesh (you're welcome<3), cock-blocked lol, slight violence

Word Count: ≈ 4,556

Chapter 6: "Hold your tits!"

And there you were in his house again but this time looking like you were going to scorch Prythian. You didn’t even have the energy to respond to his witty remarks. “Something really bad must have happened,” he thought. As he looked over you for any signs of injury, he couldn’t help but think about Elain.

Elain had lost control of her emotions and sent them full blaring at him, and yet you’re in his living room looking just as pissed off during the time of Elain’s relay. Then the realization hit him that something must have happened between you two. Would his bond with Elain cause him to take her side or would his close relationship with you rule over all? He was going to have to tread very lightly in the conversation that was about to come to light.  

“You want to know who pissed in my wine? Your mate Lucien, that’s who! And mine, but mainly your mate!” You say with a bitter tone as you cross your arms and legs to lean against the wall. 

“I see, guess I have been too much of a ladies' man if I have both of you this hot headed over me.” He smirked at you still trying to break your anger with humor. It didn’t work, it went right over your head. Lucien frowned.  

“How can she stand there and make all these accusations about me being a slut for fucking you without hearing the explanation of it being before y’alls bond?! SHE IS RIDICULOUS!” you exclaim. 

“She called you what? Are we talking about the same Elain right now?” Lucien stood there in shock. 

“She called me a slut Lucien! Said that me having sex with you is the reason I have no mate, not realizing that she is the reason I don’t have one! She keeps him from me! Hell, I tried so hard to open the bond with Az in our argument, but I am still met with nothing but a big fat wall of nothing!” You slumped down.

“Let me set one thing straight y/n! Whatever she tried to pin against you is not true!” he grabs both of your hands reassuringly. “Azriel will hopefully come around one day, I am sorry it hasn’t happened yet...” he kisses the tops of your hands. However, little does he know that you are slowly losing faith in your bond ever being complete.

Lucien then looks up at you confused. “Wait how did she even find out about our previous sexual relationship?” Lucien asked. 

“I let it slip to Mor at Rita’s and then Mor let it slip to the girls during girls' night, and then everyone asked about the rumor...” you admitted. 

“Huh, I see.” He started rubbing his temples trying to ease his distress. His mate knows about you two, she just doesn’t know it was before they even met. Is this knowledge going to change his chances with Elain? A moment of silence passes between you, before Lucien’s face lights up.  

“And what did you say about the rumor?” he smirked at you mischievously. He knew the rumor, he just wanted to hear you say it. 

“Lucien why does what I said matter?” 

“Because y/n, I want to know if you think I fuck with the fire in my veins?” His hands slowly trace up the sides of your arms. “Did I fuck you good enough for you to confirm that rumor?” He left an open-mouth kiss on your neck. “Or do I need to remind you?” He places another kiss onto your neck only firmer. 

“Lu-” you sighed at the feeling of his lips on your neck, “Lucien what are you doing? You shouldn't be doing this right now....” He wasn’t listening to you as he sucked on the sweet part of your neck as you exposed more of your neck to him.  

“Y/n you are telling me two different things right now. Your mouth says to stop but your body wants me to keep going, so which one is it doll?” He looked at you with hooded eyes, hands resting on your covered thighs after tracing your arms. 

“Why does that information matter right now Lucien? You need to stop this.” You look at him with desire, completely contradicting your statement.   

“Because y/n, they're upset at our previous relations a long time ago. I say fuck it and truly give them something to be upset about now.” 

You both looked at each other. Tension was slowly building up between you two with every second of silence. Tension that has been building since the moment you two saw each other at Rita’s. Tension that has built up from all these years without each other. Tensions that were begging to be cut, begging to be relieved. Both of you were going through all the consequences that this could put you both in, but consequences be damned, this was worth it.  

Neither of you had bothered hiding your growing scents of arousal. Your face was mere inches away from his. You could feel his hot breath against your face, and he stared down at you with desire, hands still resting on your thighs. You looked up at him and thought he was worth the risk. Whatever karma this would cause, bring it on, because his hands against your thighs was clouding all rationality in your head. 

“Ah fuck it!” you say. 

In an instant your lips were on Lucien’s in a searing hot needy kiss. His hands gripping at your thighs as your mouths fought for dominance. Your hands finding a home in Lucien’s hair and started pulling slightly, earning you a low groan. Your thighs clenched together which Lucien felt. He chuckled and decided to focus his heat on his hands, heating them up against your thighs. Your mouth broke away from his from the desirable feeling, “shit-” 

“You like my hot hands all over you, hm?”  

“Gods yes!” as you place your hands on top of his and teasingly guide them up your hips, to your waist, and stopping them just under your chest. His hands growing hotter from his desire on your sudden placement as both of your eyes locked and darkened.

“Such a fucking slut for my heat,” he said as his hands grew a mind of their own and started exploring every inch your breasts. His eyes followed every movement they made. You decided to remove your fingers from his hair and delicately trace them down his clothed back making him tremble slightly. This made you smirk. He is just as much of a slut for your touch as you were for his.  

His lips were back on yours with pure dominance, making your desire grow even more as his hands never left your chest. You moaned into his mouth as you decided to be bold and reach under his shirt to scratch his bare back. His muscles tensed at every touch knowing they would leave marks. His musk grew at the thought.

Your mouths are moving more in sync than you have ever felt before. It was like both of you knew what each other was going to do next, but what you both did not know was the sudden loud knock on his front door. You both groaned in annoyance.  

“Are you fucking kidding me?! This better be good!” Lucien said in frustration as he removed his swollen lips from yours. He looked at you for a second, his gaze softened as he placed a sweet kiss back on your lips saying, “this isn’t over.”  

He smirked and turned towards his door fixing his hair, clothes, and evident boner on the way. You giggled as you hid from the door’s gaze fixing your own appearance. The knock was heard again but this time more boisterous as if whoever was behind it was losing patience.  

“Good lord, get a hold of your tits! I am coming!” As he opened the door you heard Lucien gasp. “Shadowsinger, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He bowed jokingly. 

“Where is she?” Azriel asked in annoyance. 

“Where is who exactly?” Lucien asked dumbfounded as he rose from his bow.  

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me Lucien, you know who I am talking about. Now... Where. Is. She?!” Lucien stiffened; he was asking for you. He was not about to give you away to him after you and Elain’s argument, because he knew Azriel would take you back to the Townhouse. You and Elain needed time to cool off, he was not about to let you get called anymore names tonight.  

“She’s not here.” Lucien said protectively as he slightly closed the door stopping his gaze from searching inside. Azriel picking up on it. 

“That is fucking bullshit! I know she is here. Step aside Lucien or I’ll-” 

“Or you will what Azriel? You and I both know I am not scared of you!” Lucien growled. Azriel chuckled. 

“I knew you would protect your little play th-" Lucien’s nostrils flared as he took in a sharp inhale at Azriel’s intended vocabulary. 

“Careful how you finish that sentence Azriel.” Lucien threatened.  

“What? I smell her all over you! Protecting her is pathetic when you have your mate, Lucien!” Azriel crossed his arms across his chest aloof to the fact Lucien was about to snap.  

In a second Lucien's hand balled into a fist and decked Azriel straight in the nose. You heard the contact from where you were standing in Lucien’s living room.  

“AH! YOU FUCKING DICK!” Azriel screamed as he grabbed his nose to try and ease the pain.  

“Say something like that again Az, I fucking dare you.” Lucien snarled.  

Gods Lucien protecting you was hot, but no matter how hot he might be, your bond was overbearing you. You ran to the door, past Lucien, and straight to Azriel. You looked him over and gods was his nose a mess. Lucien had got him good. You looked back at Lucien who looked like he was about to light on fire. You glared at him for getting physical.  

“He fucking deserved it...” Lucien said as he looked at you shaking his hand off from the impact.  

You were now standing in between the two most loved males in your life right now, unsure on what to do. Do you give into the need to protect your mate, even after everything he has done, or do you give in to the male who has shown you nothing but support even though he has a mate. Not sure what to do, you decide to play both sides and ask a question everyone wanted to know.  

“Azriel why are you even here?” Trying to bury the feeling of wanting to reach out to him to comfort him, you step to stand beside Lucien. Hands slightly brushing against each other, his hands still hot from your previous moment.

“To find you.” He rubbed his nose. “Elain is on a rampage trying to get to you knowing that you had run here to him.” He pointed his head in Lucien’s direction.

So, he came here not for you, but for Elain to try and make her feel better by taking you out of her mate's home.  

“I am not going back there to make that bitch feel better!” You felt Lucien stiffen at your words for Elain.  

“You have to y/n! Look all feelings aside, she won’t calm down. I have tried. Feyre has tried. Nesta has tried, but nothing is working. You need to come back to the townhouse now before shit gets worse!” He looks at you with pleading eyes. Gods he truly cared for Elain, didn’t he? You felt tears prick your eyes. Why couldn’t he care for you this way and not Elain? 

“I am not going back there to get name called again for something that I did before their bond even snapped!” Azriel's gaze softened at your words, not by a lot, but you could see the realization hit him that Elain had gone too far earlier. Lucien finally decided to speak. 

“If y/n returning to the townhouse means Elain calming down, she can go but you must take me with her. I will not stand aside and let y/n bear the burden alone for something we both did.” Wanting his mate to feel better but in a way he knows he can protect you at the same time. Lucien looked towards Az for an answer. 

“I don’t think you coming would be a good idea.” Azriel deadpanned, now seeping back into his usual closed off self.  

“Why? Because you’re scared that maybe the only thing that could potentially help Elain calm down is him? You’re just being jealous that it wasn’t you... set aside your pride for once Azriel and let him come with me,” you said. Azriel thought through your words, and you could tell he wasn’t going to budge. You grabbed Lucien’s hand because what you were about to say was going to hurt you a lot emotionally.  

“Do not think about it for the sake of myself, but for the sake of Elain, Az...” Your tears finally spilled from your eyes as you saw Azriel’s face lighten up at the thought of it potentially helping Elain. Not even sparing a thought that returning there would only make you feel worse. Lucien’s hand tightened around yours as he thought the thought Azriel had failed to see. You smiled up at him as he mouthed, “it will be okay,” as his thumb traced the back of your hand in comfort.  

“Fine. For the sake of Elain, you can both come.” Azriel takes off into the sky as you and Lucien look at each other worried.  

“Y/n, everything will be okay,” he smiled at you. “I won't let anyone else shame you for something we both did in the past. It’s my turn to take on the burden. Don’t let Azriel’s behavior towards Elain stop you from trying to peruse the bond, or you’ll end up like a sorry sucker like me.” He chuckled.  

You laughed at his self-defeating comment as you said, “Thank you, Lu... let’s hope you can calm the raging seer because it was not pretty earlier.” You warned.   

“Yeah, let’s hope for once in her life she actually needs me for something...” He rolled his eyes not believing that this is the moment he is needed for. All this time without her and he's the last option when he should be the first. Gods, Lucien couldn’t help the bubbling anger trying to surface itself that he was her last resort, but his mate needs him! He was not about to ruin this chance for himself, as he grabs your hand and winnows you both to the Townhouse.  

As you reached the front door at the Townhouse you saw Azriel landing beside you and Lucien.  

“Oh, would you look at that,” Lucien looks at his imaginary watch, “just on time shadow singer!” He smirks. 

“I don’t have time for your wit right now Lucien, we have better things to do. Come on.” Azriel said annoyed and walked straight into the house not even bothering to see if you were following him.  

“Guess we need to follow grumpy pants over there,” You teased as Lucien laughed. 

“Y/n I heard that!!” Azriel said over his shoulder only making you and Lucien laugh even louder. You both decided it was best to follow him now that you and Lucien were walking a fine line on Azriel losing his patience.  

You can already hear the arguing as soon as you both catch up to Azriel. Lucien has suddenly gone cold as he hears his mate’s voice for the first time in a while. You heard his heartbeat quicken, from nerves or from longing you couldn’t tell. 

“Lucien if you don’t get ahold of yourself, she is going to walk all over you! Deep breaths, I will be with you the entire time,” you smile at him.  

“What if she sees me and kicks me out? What if my presence makes it worse?” Lucien was starting to panic, all he wanted was to see her and protect you from any more name calling, but this situation was just too stressful for him. Everything was relying on him calming down Elain! How can he do that when he has practically been shunned out of her life. You looked at him, clearly reading his thoughts. 

“Lucien look at me,” his gaze is hazy as he glances towards you, “you are her mate! If anyone can get through to her it’s you! Not Azriel! YOU! Do not doubt your ability as her mate for a second!” You smiled at him, and you squeezed his hand gently.  

“What would a male like me do without you?” He laughed as he squeezed your hand back. 

“I don’t know, probably be a really lonely sorry sucker,” you shrugged your shoulders as you teased him. You have known Lucien for so long that you have picked up the best way to calm him is banter. He chuckled and kept your hand in his as he finished following behind Az.  

Azriel glanced behind him to hear y’all’s exchange after he heard his name. He couldn’t help but see him and Elain in you and Lucien. Did you two like each other? He almost felt jealous, which is weird for him. The last time he felt this way was when you left Rita’s with him. What was going on with him recently?! He was going to have to investigate this for Elain’s sake... or maybe his, so he can stop this unknown and unsettling feeling that has been slowly eating at him.  

“Would you two stop flirting and get a move on? They're in the library which is right around the corner,” Az said annoyed.  

You and Lucien rolled your eyes playfully before you both feared the worst as you reached the entrance to the library. Elain’s rampage is evident as you hear her through the door. 

“Oh, boy here we go again,” you said. 

“Remember what I told you earlier y/n, I won't hesitate to fire back,” Azriel glared. 

Lucien stepped in front of you and threatened, “I won't hesitate to set your balls aflame if you talk to her like that again!” You peered behind Lucien’s back and stuck your middle finger up at Az. He rolled his eyes as he opened the door letting you and Lucien walk in first.  

As you walked in you saw Elain in the center of the room, pacing. Cassian and Nesta took the nearest couch. You saw Feyre and Rhys on the loveseat next to Cassaian and Nesta. Both couples are taking turns trying to ease Elain, but obviously it is not working otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Amren and Mor were sitting by the fireplace drinking from their glasses of wine in annoyance at the situation they had to deal with. Gods, you wish you could join them, they had the right idea... 

“I knew you had run to him! First you fuck him and now you think you can go to him for comfort?! You are not his mate y/n!” Elain’s head snapped in your direction as you both came in. She hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge Lucien. 

“Yeah, I may not be his mate, but you don’t get to call yourself that after all the shit you have been putting him through!” You raised your voice to match hers. “You are nothing but a dead-beat mate who does not deserve someone like Lucien!” 

“Funny, the mother seems to think I do...” Elain snarked back. 

“So then fucking act like it! Stop throwing yourself a pity party and finally realize what the mother gave you!” You point at Lucien. “He. Is. A. Good. Male! What is the issue?” 

“The issue is you have fucked him, touched him, kissed him!” Elain argued back. 

“Mother above Elain, I am not a disease! Grow the fuck up-” you sneered back.  

Everyone in the room could tell this was not going to get any better if they kept letting you two talk. Everyone soon looked towards the two males at the entrance begging for them to do something and step in.

Lucien and Azriel were on top of it as soon as they saw everyone looking at them. Lucien was the one to step in front of you, blocking your view from Elain. His hands gripped your shoulders slightly pushing you back. Azriel was doing the same thing for Elain, only she was more resilient.  

“HOLY SHIT AZ! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?!” Cassian boomed as everyone saw the lingering bruise on Azriel's nose.. 

“You can thank Lucien for that...” Az deadpanned as Lucien smirked. Everyone’s faces almost seemed surprised by the fact that Lucien had gotten physical with Azriel and had no bruise of his own.  

“It wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t insult y/n.” He shrugged.  

“You did that to protect her?!” Elain was screaming in Azriel’s arms. Lucien looked at you with an apologetic look before he turned to face his mate. 

“Elain,” the sound of her name coming from his mouth had her frozen, “talk to me. No more screaming, no more yelling, just tell me your point of view on what’s going on. Okay?” he asked sweetly. Gods the dexterity of this male.  

“She-” Elain had started to cry, “How could you sleep with someone Lucien?! Especially with someone like her when I am your mate?” You tensed, gods she was still on the petty bullshit. 

“Someone like her, is an amazing female, but you wouldn’t know that because you are too blinded by the fact we slept together!” Lucien explained calmly.  

“Is that so wrong of me to think when I come home to the girls wanting to know all the details of the autumn male rumor that she has learned from you?” Her voice was starting to rise as tears flowed down her cheeks. Lucien took a couple steps towards her, but Azriel was still holding her back afraid things would get ugly if he let her go. You were left standing alone.  

“Elain listen to me, I don’t know what you heard but y/n and I’s previous sexual relations were before I even met you...” Lucien said reassuringly. 

“No! You are lying! That can’t be true-” Elain said in disbelief as the wave of guilt hit her as she looked at you for confirmation.  

“You would have known that if you had just let me talk instead of slut shaming me...” you sassed her. Lucien and Azriel glared at you as if saying your sass wasn’t needed right now. You huffed.

Lucien took the last couple of steps towards her and closed the distance between them as he grabbed one of her hands. This was now paining you to watch. Both of the most adored males in your life comforting Elain as you stood by yourself.  

“Elain it is true, y/n and I slept together before our bond was even put in place... If you need, I will put my mental shields down and let Rhys prove it to you!” He rubbed the back of her hand.   

“Hey, don’t drag me into this! I don’t want to see that; I believe him Elain! Please don’t make me do that.” Rhys begged.   

Elain looked at him in sympathy, “I won’t make you do that.”  

“Thank fuck,” Rhys sighed. You giggled at him as you thought to yourself that it would be a good way to show the girls the rumor. As if Rhys heard your thought, he glared at you. His voice was now in your head saying, “Don’t let them know that! I truly don’t want to see that image of you two.” His face grimaced making you giggle again. Feyre glanced at you two and looked at Rhys questioningly. You could tell they were now talking through the bond.  

Elain glanced down at Lucien’s hand caressing hers. “I am sorry to have made you come all this way for something like this... I should have let y/n explain herself. I'm sorry Lucien..” She says embarrassed. Azriel took this as the queue to let her go knowing she was fine now. He was angry that Lucien was able to calm her, part of him wanted him to fail so he could get another chance. He finally stepped away from the two.  

“It is alright Elain; the bond makes us do crazy things sometimes.” He smiled at her, and she actually giggled at him. He wiped away a couple of her tears, and you could see her lean into his touch. Both smiling at each other lovingly.  

Fuck this was too much for you. You saw first-hand how much Lucien cared for Elain and it hurt, maybe he did still have a chance... You and Elain still had to work out the words you two threw at each other in anger, but you couldn’t do that now. Not with the overwhelming feeling of seeing Lucien hopeful again. Maybe you were being dramatic, but you seriously couldn’t look at them anymore. Seeing him hopeful again reminded you that this crush of yours was not right. 

You began to not think straight. Seeking Lucien's attention and teasing him only led him away from wanting to fight for their bond. All for what? Because Az didn’t notice you?! Gods what were you even doing. You were turning into Elain... All of your threats to her were now hypocritical. Just like the wave of guilt hitting Elain earlier, yours had just come crashing down. As you realized you still stood alone, you quietly excused yourself from the room. Everyone looked at each other confused.   

“I should go see what’s wrong with-” Lucien had tried to leave Elain’s grip, but she only squeezed his hand. 

“Don’t go. I need you, Lucien. I finally feel at peace after hours of torment.” Elain pleaded. 

“You do?” Lucien looked down at her, face red as his hair, as she nodded.  

“Please stay with me for a while longer?” she asked nervously. 

“Anything for you,” as he placed a chaste kiss atop her hand.  

However, you were not out of the library yet as you saw their last exchange before you ran down the hall. Tears stained your face as you continued to run to the other side of the house, needing to get as far away as possible. Little did you know someone else needed to escape that situation just as much as you did. He excused himself as he followed you down the hallway, using your urgent departure as an escape for himself to leave the room.  

Lucien couldn’t help but grovel that he had chosen Elain over you as he watched Az chase after you. That should be him doing that but instead he was here with his mate. Maybe this was for the better? Having both of your mates in this situation could be useful he hoped. For now, he was going to try and enjoy all the time Elain was willing to give him before she kicked him back out of her life for Azriel. He will have to apologize for his behavior later, but like he said earlier, the bond can make someone do stupid things. 

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Post author's note: the smut is coming babes! I promise! I'm working on it rn and i'm screaming and kicking my feet at it. Literally foaming at the mouth 😮‍💨🤤

[shadowreader23]

Time travel Barnes? Part 5

So, he'd admit that he was actually content, almost happy while talking to his past self. He hadn't realised just how upbeat and energetic he used to be. With his big gestures and constant talking, about everything and anything. He was somewhat wild and fast with movement and chatter, it was almost like he was talking to a completely different person, though if he thought about it, it was just that. He was talking to a man with his face and was slightly younger. They were their own individuals, but from the same time era where James was just frozen for a majority of the time and coincidentally ended up in the future with another Steve. Though out of the two, Captain Rogers was almost exactly the same as he used to be. Bubbly, easy to embarrass, truthful and chattery, true and strong and nervous and couldn’t talk to women. He was still the man from 1944...

Less than a few months from now, and that scrawny punk from Brooklyn would be the super-soldier that saved multiple platoons and troops from the hands of HYDRA, and saved his ass from being the Winter Soldier a lot sooner.

"Yeah, you should come along," he pulled himself back into reality when Bucky beamed a grin at him, causing him to raise a brow and sit straighter. He'd spaced out enough to actually zone out from the conversation.

"Sorry, what?" he took quick glances between Dugan and the younger version of himself. They seemed amused by this and just chuckled, Bucky slapping the side of his knee with his knuckles.

"Dum-Dum invited you on patrol, and I'm all for the idea," he repeated, still throwing that wide smile his way. James still couldn't imagine himself like that, smiling, talking and seeming so laid back, even in war. He was a complete 180 of this James Barnes, polar opposites. Also, he was pretty sure that they had the assumption that he was a soldier, because asking a civilian to join them would get them in trouble.

"No, I need to check on a few people," he gestured towards the town. He felt like he should after being dragged off by Tim Dugan. James didn't have the chance to check him over to his satisfaction and he wanted to make sure that Hannah and Alaric were okay. He didn't have a chance to ask. He'd just been dragged off. And he'd rather not spend an unnecessary amount of time with Bucky than needed. And it wasn't needed. He was trying to get his mind around what a paradox was and how it hadn't happened yet. He'd seen a few movies in the last couple of months, to waste time, and a few had time travel plots, most having issues with time paradoxes'.

He just assumed it was a person meeting himself in a time travel situation.

“I’ll walk you back,” Bucky mentioned with another smile before standing up, James calmly following the action and standing with him. He gave him an acknowledged nod and took a step away from the truck that they were leaning against, having sat on the front bumper.

“A’right, see ya guys later,” Dugan said as he stepped off to the side and started walking into the crowd of soldiers. It was getting dark now, the sky starting to dim and he was sure it was getting late now. Hopefully the men still in the town were letting people back in their houses for the night. He’d kick off if he returned to see everyone still ordered to stay against the walls.

“So, what’s an American doin’ here? of all places,” he took a quick glance at the younger soldier, seeing the curious gaze held forward, not looking at him, but staring ahead as they made it out of the mass of men in uniform. “And don’t give me that ‘I travel around’ crap, ‘cause if you did, I’m pretty sure you’d avoid all this shit,” he gestured around them, to the war, the gunfire, the explosions. And James didn’t remember being this observant…

He could make a joke out of what actually happened, just say how he ended up there, because he knew that Bucky would just laugh like he thought that James was messing with him. There was no risk with explaining it because it was so unbelievable.

“This guy, Zemo. He threw a magic rock at me and sent me through time. I woke up here in 1943 when I should be in 2016,” he scoffed under his breath, almost taken back when he felt his shoulders loosen up, like a weight was lifted. How the hell was that even a thing? The younger man suddenly barked a loud laugh, getting a few glances and he felt the hand roughly patting his flesh shoulder.

“Good one, and I’m one of Howard Starks’ gogo girls,” he managed to speak through his hysterics. “Seriously, you’d be way over a hundred years old by then! Or what, you my grandson or something?” his younger look alike kept laughing. And it’d be dead on actually, if his math was right. He was born in 1917, he was actually ninety-nine years old, a hundred next year. So Bucky didn’t know how close to the mark he was. But for time's sake, he’d stick with being early thirties, to coincide with Bucky being about twenty-nine at the time. So, say… James would be thirty-two, maybe thirty-three.

His comment on Stark had actually stunned him for a moment. Because he’d killed him and his wife and he’d met his son. Talk about terrible coincidences. And the grandson thing… he could use that as an excuse if they found out that he did, in fact, time travel, but that was an ‘if’ situation.

“I think you’d look good in a skirt,” and James let out a genuine chuckle when his flesh arm was punched, a good, strong hit jolting him an inch or two to the side as they walked down a narrow street towards the couple's house he’d been staying at.

“Queer,” they both let out a chuckle, gradually calming down. It was meant as a joke, no insult intended. And he wasn’t hurt by the word. He was gay, or straight. He’d lost the want or interest years ago, after he was first brainwashed. It was all taken from him. Though, he had a few thoughts from the past, when he was the Sergeant. He remembered that he’d had fleeting thoughts on his sexuality. He’d just never acted.

“I don’t actually see anything wrong with it,” he muttered unintentionally out loud, his mind getting the best of him for a few moments. And he’d only realized he’d said audibly when the extra footsteps alongside him stopped, pausing at his words. James slowed down, his brow raising as he turned to see the open expression he was getting. Curiosity, surprise, caution, thought. Thankfully, he knew that he wouldn’t be judged by himself, considering the thoughts he’d had during this time in the 1940s’.

“The… skirt thing or the queer thing?” he asked quietly, wanting to make sure on what part of this they were actually talking about.

“... Homosexuality,”

“You don’t... are you…” his brows knitted with his words hushed, trailing off on his unfinished question. James took a breath, glancing down the street before turning back to his younger self.

“No, but I’m not straight either,” he answered quietly and honestly. Hopefully that would end this conversation. He’d rather not get any further into his thoughts and a few flashes of memory.

“Does that mean you’ve never had sex or something? No dames?” he raised his own brow at him.

“I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex, I just don’t have a preference,” he shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms in an unintentional defensive position.

“And… does that mean you’ve had both in bed with you?” he seemed all too curious about this and it was gradually getting uncomfortable. Because yes, he’d had it both ways, though with men, James had been in the womans’ perspective. He’d been glad that Rumlow hadn’t been one of those men that would force him any further than just sex. No insults, or blowjobs and dirty ‘slut’ talk. It’d just been ventive sex to relax him under Pierces’ order. And that, he was glad for.

“Like I said, I don’t have a preference,” he shrugged again, turning around to start walking again. He wanted this conversation to stop, so spending less time standing in the middle of a street would be helpful. And he was hopeful that his words would seem more like a conversation stopper with its’ bluntness than a cue to ask more questions. And he was thankful that they were still standing close, they hadn’t had to have the conversation with the usual volume to their questions and answers. They’d hushed each sentence out of caution and fear that they’d be caught speaking about this.

He could hear the silence leaving his past self, his boot steps picking up the pace to catch up with his own and it was odd that he was feeling sort of… fond, at this point. He had this odd fondness when he heard him trying to catch up and keep a steady walk next to him. The younger James Barnes was following him, like Steve used to, an excitement and curious glint in his eyes on what the next adventure might be and he was eager.

James just hid the feeling, dulled it down in his body and tried to ignore that slight fondness he was having for Bucky. It reminded him of a little brother in a way. And that was why he was trying to ignore the feeling. He didn’t want an attachment. He didn’t want to be attached, to anything or anyone.

And he also didn’t like he’d been so open and revealing about himself, to himself. And in general, but it was a little more uncomfortable that he’d said all this to his younger self. He was sure that if it were possible, he’d change time. Telling him this could cause a butterfly effect and that wouldn’t be the best thing to do. One thing he said could start something else and it’d just keep changing and hell, he may accidentally make it so someone wasn’t born, or he made it so someone got hurt or maybe Tony Stark wouldn’t live and...

Stop thinking… he needed to stop thinking about it. He’d just depress himself and that wouldn’t be the best move in this time timeline. He needed sleep and that was exactly what he planned on doing after getting to his rest-zone.

“This is me,” he calmly muttered, breaking the silence as they stepped up to the couple's house, and hearing the noise inside and the door suddenly swinging open actually surprised the both of them, Hannah dashing out and coming closer to him to check over him. She glanced all over, eyeing him with concern. He must’ve grown on her over the very little time he spent there.

“Why did they take you? Are you fine? You’re not hurt?” she rushed out in German, her hands not even hesitating in reaching out and touching a sliver of skin on his face that showed and the rest of her palms held over the fabric of the balaclava.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I was asked to meet the Sergeant,” he pointed out calmly, his gloved hands reaching up with a lot of hesitance and resting over hers, gently moving them from his face and directing a gesture to his look alike next to him. And as soon as she and her husband sent him a look, they paused, both seeming completely stunned by his appearance. “I think we may be related,” he added unnecessarily.

“Why-uh… why are they looking at me like that?” he heard Bucky whisper the question to him, speaking warily and hesitantly as he backed up a step and a moved a little behind him. This was… he’d have to tell him now, he’d have to lie and roll with his original plan. There was no getting out of this at this point, so he may as well go with his plan.

Hopefully, Bucky wouldn’t freak out too much over this. He’d obviously be severely surprised and probably wouldn’t go on patrol. He’d maybe send another man out so he could spend time talking to him and trying to get something out of him as to why they seemed so similar. Thankfully, James had already said that he was formerly from Brooklyn, so he’d stick to his plan. What he was a little concerned about, was if he’d changed anything in the timeline that would have Bucky sent home. He’d rather not have him ask his parents, because that wouldn’t end nicely.

James would now have to tell him that his name was Jamie, though he wasn’t too sure on the last name. He could say that the Orphanage he was left at had known that the Barnes had given him up and that he was Jamie Barnes, born in 1914. That’d make him thirty-two, while Bucky was twenty-nine. Three years between them seemed fair.

After years spent in an orphanage, he’d left after reaching a good age and moved to Queens’, where that Spiderman lived, or that had been what Steve told him on the jet, or left New York completely and travelled around until he landed in Europe years ago and just stayed there and that was where he’d learnt German.

James had almost sighed, now having to tell the man that they were related, and lie about it, no less. This entire experience would be a lie and it’d all be caused by him having been sent there by a man with a stupid shiny rock. If he ever returned he would rip out Zemos’ spine and feed it to him.

Well, now that he had a plan to follow...

“Because…” James paused, unintentionally turning around with too much of a dramatic feel and eyed him confidently. “They’ve seen my face and…” he couldn’t actually say it, too shaken. So instead, he reached up and played with the upper hem of his mask before tugging it down his face and over his jaw to reveal his features.

Bucky’s face just… it turned to pure and utter shock and fear.

[xsweetcatastrophe]

You Broke Me First

Part 29

I keep messing up names but nevertheless we persist even though I am so disgustingly embarrassed and want to never write again lmao xx

Zoe wiped her brow with the back of her hand, sighing as she looked at the mess that was in front of her.

She was at Cillian's new home, surrounded by boxes, packing peanuts, open tool boxes and men putting together furniture. She was aware she had to be here for the deliveries, but she didn't know she had to tell them where to PUT the furniture. She did her best to arrange the couch and coffee table nicely in a way they would compliment the shape of the Great Room, but she was still hesitant in if Cillian would like it. She figured she would facetime him later when he was free and show him, and she can move it herself.

"All set, ma'am," The delivery man said, walking up to her with a clipboard. "Just need your signature here. Here's your receipt, your warranty, and bottom copy is yours for your records."

Zoe took the clipboard, went to sign and hesitated. The line she was supposed to sign on had CILLIAN MURPHY below it.

"Uh.. Should I..?" Zoe started, pointing at the line with her pen. Does she sign her name?

The delivery man looked over and smiled. "You can sign your name on his line, no worries. Happens all the time, we deal with a lot of assistants signing for their bosses."

Zoe signed, and handed the clipboard back before realizing what he said. "Oh, I'm not his assistant, I'm.. I'm his girlfriend," He said, voice drenched in doubt. That's what she was, right?

The delivery man took the clipboard from her and nodded. "My apologies. Let me know if you have any questions, have a good afternoon," He said, before grabbing his toolbox and walking out the door, followed by his 2 helpers.

Zoe followed them and closed the door behind them, locking it. The alarm guy was supposed to come by around 2pm, which left her a couple hours to herself in the house. She went to go get Scout; who was barricaded upstairs so he wouldn't bother the men putting together the furniture. He made a beeline for the living room, sniffing out the new couch. He promptly hopped on it and stretched out, which made Zoe laugh. She took out her phone to snap a pic. She promptly sent it to Cillian:

zoe: someone likes the new couch.

cill: Lucky bastard. Dog has the life. cill: I miss you. I wish you came with me. Zoe: I miss you too. how was your flight? Cill: It was fine. was gonna try and sleep but Hannah was talking my ear off about all the stuff coming up. Heading to hotel now to relax, have a read through later this afternoon, then i'm free. Start shooting tomorrow, i'll order room service and go over the script tonight. Zoe: can you squeeze in a call later on tonight? Cill: my entire night is based on squeezing in a call with you. Let me get settled and I'll touch base with you later. Zoe: :) sounds good. I'll talk to you later. Cill: Hey - Zoe: ? Cill: I love you. Zoe: :) I love you too.

She said it. She said it!

Didn't she? Technically, she did.

She put her phone away and plopped down next to Scout. She looked out over the sea of boxes, plastic, packing paper...just a mess. She looked over at Scout, who was fast asleep, and sighed yet again.

"Might as well be productive," She said to herself as she opened her Spotify and cranked up the volume.

about an hour later, the phone ran and interrupted Zoe's dance session in the kitchen. Her heart skipped a beat, thinking it was Cillian, but it was just her sister.

"Hello?" She said, putting it on speakerphone.

"oh hi, is this my sister? the one who was supposed to call me and her niece last night and the night before???" Jen yelled.

oh shit.

"Crap. i'm sorry Jen, I have so much happening -"

"What is going on with you?" Jen cut her off. "You used to call all the time to talk to Soph. Miss a day here and there, fine. but come on, man, don't tell her you're gonna call and then don't, because I'm the one who has to deal with her crying."

Double shit.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I feel like shit. I'm sorry. Is she around now?"

Jen sighed. "No, she's at ballet practice, I wanted her out of the house so she didn't hear me ripping you a new asshole"

"Give me a break, I have so much shit going on here I'm forgetting everything, it's not just you guys, I'm forgetting deadlines at work, I'm forgetting where I put stuff, it's like I have amnesia." Zoe snapped, wiping down the counter.

"What is going on?"

"I'm helping Cillian move into his new place while he's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"He's filming. He bought a new house, I'm here and arranging the furniture deliveries and unpacking and shit."

"..Zoe.. why?"

"Jen... because I want to?"

"Zoe what's going on between you two? I thought this was a contract and it's done now so you guys are done."

"I know but.. we are still together. I don't want to talk about it." Zoe said, trying to shut it down. She could tell Jen was going in protective sister mode. It wasn't needed.

"Zoe, don't be blinded by anything. Be realistic-"

"Jen you don't get it. You dated the same guy since high school, can you please back off and let me be happy for once?" Zoe snapped.

"Fine. Fine. But just know if he hurts you I'm kicking his ass back to Ireland."

"I'll give you 10 bucks if you can point out Ireland on a map." Zoe laughed.

"I don't care. I'll use google maps."

Cillian put down his glass and looked for the bartender, hoping he would notice him. He desperately wanted to go upstairs, call Zoe, and go to sleep.

His plans were altered by Hannah. She wanted to grab some food at the hotel bar after the script readthrough to go over schedules. Cillian said he didn't understand since he already had the filming schedule, but apparently there was press that had to be done in between.

"I also have a dinner scheduled for you with Lizzie Hughes," Hannah said, downing the rest of her wine as she closed her planner. "It's scheduled for this Friday at 8pm."

Cillian gave her a look. "Sorry, who's that?"

"She's a new model for Versace. We just signed her as well, she's blowing up and she's in talks to be casted in the new Wicked movie."

Cillian was still confused. "Okay.. does she have a role in Peaky this season, or...?"

"No, no role."

Cillian was annoyed. "Okay, so what am I supposed to be doing with her over dinner?"

"I just thought it would be nice! Get you out there-"

"Get me out there? What are you talking about?"

Hannah spoke carefully. "You know, with the breakup, get you out there dating again."

"Hannah." Cillian spoke firmly. "We are not broken up. We are still together. In fact, I was supposed to call her, so if you'll excuse me," He said, getting up from his barstool.

"Cillian, you can't be serious about this girl. She's a nobody. She's not going to help your image -"

"Hannah," Cillian said, now angry, spinning around to face her. "She's not a nobody. She's Zoe. and I love her. I don't give a fuck about my image. If you have a problem with that, I told you -"

"I got it, I got it," Hannah said, internally rolling her eyes. "First call is tomorrow 8am. I'll come get you? I'll grab you some tea," She said, trying to change the subject.

Cillian stared at her, then just turned around and walked away. He was entirely too tired for this, and just wanted to go talk to Zoe. Well, he wanted to go home, but talking to Zoe was the next best thing if he couldn't go home to her.

Hannah watched Cillian get into the elevator with the doors closing behind him. She sighed and put her head in her hand, frustrated.

Hannah's goal was to have the most elite client list in the industry. She had a fantastic portfolio, managing the best of the best and churning out the juciest stories to the tabloids, wether they be fake/PR or not. She did what she had to do to push her clients to be the best they can be. In turn, it was more money in her pocket and more face recognition amongst her peers in the industry, earning her more respect.

Cillian dating a loser journalist was the complete opposite of what she needed him to do. Him dating her wasn't anything scandalous, but it was like an annoying mosquito that wouldn't go away, no matter how many times you swat at it. Hannah hated things getting in her way.

She hated annoyances and pests.

She definitely hated bugs. That's exactly what Zoe was to her, an annoying, pesty bug.

And what do you do with bugs?

You squash them. And that's exactly what Hannah planned to do.

tags: @lau219 @borntodiemp3 @shopgirl6us @cillianmurphyvevo

[doberbutts]

The moment the whole "all trans mascs have male privilege and never experience transmisogyny" argument falls apart to me is realising so many of these people seem to operate under the "we can always tell" idea. Like, how can we laugh and point out terfs gendering people correctly while trying to misgender them, then within the community say "bigots will never mistake you for a trans woman so you're safe"? I'm sorry you have to deal with them deliberately taking you in bad faith in your notes.

Not only that but when I pointed it out it was "well it happens to a lesser extent of course" and it's like okay? But that's not *privilege* and also it does still happen to us so it's not like it doesn't affect us at all. Also it's like. That's normal? Trans guys being mistaken for trans women and getting the living tar beaten out of them (or getting killed...) are experiencing transmisogyny. This happens, as a demographic, less often to us than trans women. That's because the rest of the time we're getting beaten up and killed for being clocked as trans MEN, or as lesbians, or as women who don't know their place.

Similar to how trans women experience transmisogyny but also get gay bashed and fag dragged and mistaken for drag queens and sometimes also mistaken for trans men. Most of human experience is shared and bigots are stupid anyway 🤷‍♂️ as said previously a bigot swings in a wide arc and does not care who they hit in the process. The bigot chasing you down to pummel you while shouting "dyke" or "faggot" isn't going to stop when you say "no no I'm actually a trans wo/man", they're going to go "okay well now I'm beating you up because you're a tranny".

Remember that comedy routine turned bareing of souls from Hannah Gadsby? Nanette I think it was? When she talked about how a homophobe mistook her for a gay man and wanted to beat her up for being a faggot? And she said "no no I'm a woman" and he went "oh okay". And then he went "wait a second you're a lady faggot" and beat the shit out of her? Yeah bigots don't fucking care, they'll find a reason.

[fridgrave2-0]

alright, I watched the holy trinity aka tgwdlm, black friday and npmd. here's my highly subjective opinions about them !!

first of all, I like all of them, but some more, some less. I'm not dissing or hating any of them, and pls be chill if you like it more than I do

the guy who didn't like musicals: plot 6/10. very simple and basic, still nice though. if I had a nickel for every time I saw a plot with alien possession and blue shit, I'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot, but it's weird what it happened twice. paul and emma are cool, little cute couple. songs 5/10. sorry I have to be honest, but it was insanely hard for me to watch tgwdlm and pay attention when they start singing, what is an issue for a musical. sometimes I was even thinking about skipping them (I know it's a crime I'm sorry). most of the songs I forgot right after they ended, but two of them are SUCH bangers what they kinda overcompensated my experience. yeah I'm talking about "join us and die" and "let it out". they fucking killed it.

total: 5/10

black friday: plot 8/10. i enjoyed it so much I can't even describe. most of the characters are charismatic and likable as fuck and I cried like a bitch from tom's song in the beginning. everything about lex, ethan and hannah is a chef's kiss, I was SO invested. and LORE. so much lore I needed that. songs 6/10 HEAR ME OUT! i loved them, I cried at them, I enjoyed them, but personally I don't find them catchy. i don't want to relisten them like actual song in a playlist. would I want to hear them in the musical when I'll rewatch it? absolutely. besides that? not my cup of tea.

total: 7/10

nerdy prudes must die: plot 9/10. unpredictable, crazy, wild, funny. i loved every second of it, every character and every twist, even if I unwillingly spoilered ghost max thingy to myself. maybe it's my hyperfixation talking, but this is the only musical in the trilogy which I want to study with a microscope and rewatch forever. it's the best thing what happened to me in 2024. max is my bbg, pete and steph are fucking cute, grace is a menace and I love it for her, richie is a second bbg, ruth is my queen. minus one point only for max's dad existing, I hate his guts (and maybe for not giving bryce more singtime she's so good omfg. but about it later). SONGS 11/10 HOLY SHIT. the last time I could've relisten all the songs from the musical over and over again was hamilton and npmd just destroyed it like the nuke. the vocals, the music, the lyrics, it just changed my brain chemistry. i was listening to the npmd song for fucking hours in a row while drawing and i wasn't sick of it later. THE SUMMONING god the summoning holy shit!!! highschool is killing me, literal monster, hatchet town, COOL AS I THINK I AM, JUST FOR ONCE-- I just love all of them so much I can't.

total: 10/10

now it's nightmare time 🔥🔥🔥

[arsenal-womens-1]

The footballers diary

19/11/22 

 

Today was like any other match day. I woke up showered, got ready, waited to be picked up from my apartment. Training was normal, so was the bus ride. Everything leading up to that moment was normal. It was extra time. I was near the goal. The only thing I saw was Beth and Hannah Blundell both running towards the ball. Out of nowhere, Beth dropped her knee in her hands. Pain was written across her face. 

 

20/11/22

 

I woke up to the sound of my phone blowing up and picking it up. The first thing I saw was the first text Vivian sent. 

 

Viv: Beth wanted me to tell you all that they did some tests and she has ruptured her acl. 

 

2:23 am 

 

15/12/22

 

Its been exactly 27 days since Beth did her acl todays yet another home game. I didn't start the game a few seconds into extra time from where I was sitting. You couldn't see what happened. Lyon plays run into a group hug and the fans cheer. The match restarts. Viv gets the ball, passes it to lotte, who then passes it forward to Lia. Three Lyon players close on her and get the ball. Viv goes for it and tries to knock the ball a way from the Lyon player. She falls straight to the floor. Lia passes the ball to Katie. She must have seen. She passes the ball back to Frida. The ref blows her whistle. 

 

16/12/22 

 

It was like deja vu. Only this time it's a text from Beth. I opened my phone and clicked on the Arsenal group chat. 

 

Beffy: Viv asked me to text you all she doesn't know how to tell you all. so she asked me to text and tell you all that she tore her ACL last night. 

 

18/4/23

 

Tomorrow is match day, and I'm scared. A lot of the girls are it’s like this team has some sort of bad luck in under 4 months. It's the World Cup, and everyone is scared that they will be next. 

 

19/4/23

 

Match day nerves ran through the team we were playing in a 4-3-3 i have no clue what happened i had just been sent off less than 5 minutes before for a tackle on ella toone  it was a shit tackle i know but she was pissing me off i was in the changing room when i heard the sound of football boots 2 horse after it was confirmed leah had ruptured her acl im scared im going to be next 

 

1/5/23

 

What the actual fuck? It has been 13 days since Leah did her ACL. I just got the text confirming that Laura has ruptured her ACL. What is happening? 

 

5/5/23 

 

I just got the call from Sarina Wigwam asking if I would like to go to the World Cup. Of course, I said yes. 

 

22/7/23

 

We played Haiti, and we won 1-0. Georgia scored the goal. Apart from that, there's nothing much to say today. 

 

28/7/23 

 

We played Denmark today, and we won yet again. 1-0 lj was the one to score. In other news, I saw a kangaroo today. A few of us made some tiktoks and went for a walk. 

 

1/8/23 

 

We won 1-6. I'm tired, so there's not a lot to say. 

 

16/8/23 

 

Forgot about this. Sorry, we won today 1-3, which means we are going to a final. I can't wait. 

 

21/8/23 

 

Well, we lost, Spain won. I dont know what happened. All I can think about is the pop. I knew what it was the second I went down. I have had it described to me a thousand times. Now I am sitting here on the other side of the world in the same place. Four of my team members have been Why did it have to be me?

[worlds-worst-ships]

After somewhat popular demand... here is an absolutely obscene fanfiction I wrote in 2021. This will either go down great, or horribly.

*BEEP**BEEP**BEEP**BEEP*

How exciting. My alarm clock, once again, is going off right next to my head. Using my genius level ingenuity, I put four alarm clocks on my bedside table, all of which have a different unique design to them, forcing me to wake up and sort through each one until I turn the offending alarm clock off. I have my boyfriend set them for me, and this time he seems to have gone with the clock that has Hannah Montana's face plastered all over it. How very empowering. While still dazed, I groggily picked it up and knuckleballed it against the wall, obliterating it into a thousand pieces, as a real man would. 

"I'm sorry Hannah, but as empowering to me as you are, you've got nothing on Bo Peep from Toy Story."

"Babe, I swear to god, if you destroy another alarm clock, my wife's boyfriend is gonna kill me... he only gives me five dollars of allowance a month, I theoretically can't keep replacing your alarm clocks" said a softy, nasally voice from behind me.  

Of course... how could I forget? My boyfriend Ben was asleep right next to me. I felt bad. I knew he was always replacing the countless alarm clocks that I destroyed, but eventually, Chad was going to catch on and send him to his room with no dinner and no Fortnite for a week. Such a cruel man... A cruel, chiseled, strong, gorgeous unit of a man. Chad, Ben's wife's boyfriend... God, I wish I could leave Ben for him, but Chad would absolutely pop my skull like a grape between his mighty pectorals. I am not worthy. Thus, I turned to Ben and asked: 

"Today is the day. Are you ready?"

"Yeah.. yeah, I am" he replied, a confident look sweeping over his face. 

"Whats the name of the place you're getting it done again?" I asked

"Uhhh... Claire's, I think? I mean, I saw on a conservative Facebook page that thats where people usually go to get the surgery. The guy had a MAGA hat and a beer in his profile picture, and he works at a junk yard, so he must know what he's talking about" said Ben, climbing out of bed and putting on his spray-on jeans. "Hurry up and get dressed, we have to leave in an hour."

Yeah... today was the day that Ben would get his top surgery. I was so proud of him for getting one step closer to completing his transition. I know that Chad would just flick him in the chest, break all of his ribs instantly, and tell him to get back to raising his Chad-babies while he ate metal and drank beer, but I was going to support him all the way through. In the least gay way possible... I love him. Chad, not Ben. I actually hate Ben. He's so annoying, never just saying what he thinks, always saying "hypothetically" and dumb shit like that before everything. What an annoying little prick. If I didn't get views from his fans, I'd dump him straight away and stop agreeing with everything he says. 

"Alright, alright" I said, flicking through my side of the closet, looking for the best possible outfit to suit the situation. Hmmm... the closet.... it looks very comfy in there. I'd love to climb in and stay there forever to hide from my support group, but that would be the easy way out. So, after a minute or so, I chose the cutest floral blouse, some jean shorts that really hugged my glutes, some platform boots and a floppy brimmed straw hat adorned with fake flowers. I thought about using real flowers, but thats way too girly, which is offensive to my masculinity. 

After a breakfast of lucky charms, raw eggs and a whole turnip, Ben called us an Uber and we got ready to set off for Claire's. 

"Steven... I'm scared." Said Ben, tightly squeezing my hand. 

"Hey, hey, hey... whats the worst that could happen?" I said, forcing a confident smile. "It'll be fine! I'm here with you!" 

"You just ate a whole raw turnip five minutes ago Steven, I, in theory, highly doubt I can rely on you in the worst case theoretical scenario" said Ben in a snarky tone.

I nearly picked Ben up and Rikishi'd him through the front porch for that little comment, but then I remembered who the top was in this relationship... Chad. I'd be in big, big trouble if Ben came home with a porch wrapped around his neck. Either way, the Uber, who was interestingly named Guiseppe, arrived to pick us up.

"MAMA MIA!!! Look at the glutes on that thing!! My Grandma has made PIZZA DOUGH thats not as thick as that!!!" Guiseppe yelled, slapping his thigh and starting a small fire in the front seat, gesturing to me and saying "Come bay-bee, put it out for me"

I was extremely confused. Guiseppe was an extremely... "forward" man. I certainly didn't want to put a fire out with my dump truck of a batty crease, but at the same time, I desperately wanted to go off on him for harassing me and go on a tangent about how men deserve better than to be treated like this by Italian taxi drivers every day. But then I realised that I'm full of shit, and that I know I'm not actually a victim because this has never actually happened to me, and I climbed in the trunk instead with Ben tightly squeezed under my armpit. Then we felt the car start moving. 

"Steven... Why are we in the trunk?" asked Ben. 

"Well, thats because it's pointless trying to make myself a victim since I'm really not that bothered by it and we're not on camera anyways, and if the fire burns my booty, how will I ever please Chad?" I replied

"How will you... what?" Ben inquired in a serious tone

"Oh, uh, nothing, babe" I said, blushing as the thought of Chad running a rocket on my hips and confining me to a wheelchair forever. 

"Oh, fair enough." said Ben, letting out one of the loudest burps I've ever heard in my life. Then something hit me. 

Do I smell... turnips? Has that little pixie shit been eating my turnips?!

In a rage, I flung open the trunk, grabbed Ben by the head, and yelled an order at Guiseppe. 

"DO SOME DONUTS!! DO SOME DONUTS!!" 

And Guiseppe did so. As we spun around, I shoved Ben's face into the road below, grinding his entire upper body down to nothing. It looked like someone smeared tomato puree all over the concrete. Ben was reduced to an ass and a pair of legs. Sorta like this. 

"Hows that for top surgery, you turnip-stealing fuck?" I yelled at Ben's now burnt behind, spitting into what remained of his spinal cord. 

Then, as if on cue, Ben's remains bubbled and expanded, and he reformed into his original shape, and looked me in the eyes as if he'd just woken up. 

"What happened?" he asked. 

"What the-"

I was amazed. I'd just turned Ben into pizza sauce and he just grew back like a zit during high school. 

"I think my brain got destroyed, so I lost some of my memory. What happened?" He asked, scratching his new head. "Oh I should mention, I have Resident Evil powers, since this is an ideal world, and the creator wanted to add in a hilarious moment where you turned the freeway into a bloody pizza by grinding someone down to nothing. Is that what happened?"

Regaining my senses, I said "No, I just farted and you passed out from it. See? you can smell the turnips."

"Oh, ok, cool." said Ben, nestling back into my armpit. "do you think you have regenerative powers too? You should get top surgery right after me and find out. Although I heard they're a one-time thing, so be careful."

Unwilling to find out, I stayed silent for the remainder of the journey until we felt the car come to a violent halt. Turns out Guiseppe decided to drive his car through the doors to the mall, and park right outside Claire's. 

"Finally!" we both said in unison, stepping out of the trunk. 

"You know, if you want to pay me, you could always let me get a lick of that dough ball behind, big boy" said Guiseppe. 

"No, I think I'm just going to leave and never talk to you again" I said, flipping Guiseppe off like a bad boy. I should really film a 'why do good girls like bad guys' TikTok after that one.

In the chaos of the crash, it would seem that all but one of a group of protestors were reduced to paste under the car. The one remaining, a soccer mom looking woman with a scowl on her face, stood up, dusted herself off, and looked at us in disgust.

"You'd better not be going in there" she hissed, pointing at Claire's. "you know they operate on kids in there, right? You know they mutilate kids? You know they manipulate young girls into getting their bodies ruined forever??" 

I walked over to the door, gestured to a 'no kids allowed' sign and said "Bitch, please. Show me some proof". 

"Whatever. I'm still right. Have a nice day. I'm nice really, even though I'm not. Trust me." she said, rolling her eyes and turning away with no proof to give. "You guys are just... I dunno, sexist or something, I really don't feel like putting actual effort into finding an appropriate buzz word to call you."

Then what she did next will haunt me for the rest of my days. 

She knelt down and... picked up her picket sign. But... how?!

She's a woman... how could she be so strong?? That power... in a woman's body... anything heavier than a cooking pot should be impossible!!!

"Who... who are you?? Who the heck are you???" I yelled

"Arielle. Ally to trans people, and supporter of having their healthcare rights taken, supporter of groups that hate them, and supporter of authors who write uninformed bullshit books on them, as well as long-time transphobe. I love trans people! I just show no respect for them and block people who call me out unless they have followers. I'm so nice! Wanna try my apple crumble? Don't worry, saying I support them immediately erases anything bad I've said or done to them. Jeez, isn't the existence of Bon Ninary people so sexist? I'm only saying that because I feel personally attacked that female-bodied people anywhere are becoming trans rather than dating me, because I'm entitled to that, but yknow. Hmmm, I wonder why so many people hate me... Oh well. I'm a genius. I'm gonna go cry into a frozen microwave meal for one now."

While I wasn't surprised that a woman had just said something stupid and oxymoronic, being as I love looking down on them, I was surprised at her insane power. I... I had to fight her. 

But then I remembered that I'm not on camera, realised I don't actually think like that, and walked into Claire's. Jeez, I really need to grow up. 

The room we were in was... strange. There were way too many cameras. I mean, of course everywhere has cameras, but this many? There were even some on the floor aiming upwards... lucky I didn't wear my favourite skirt! That would be extremely gay and stupid and probably lower my strength stat by a few hundred points. 

We walked past the ear piercing section, and straight through the black curtain at the back to the surgical department. 

Ben's hand clasped mine even tighter, as if to say "daddy, I'm scared". But I know he wouldn't be stupid enough to show me any fear, unless he wants to be evaporated into nothing but an ass and some legs again. Stupid boy. Be a real man. Pathetic. 

Once we entered the lobby, things just got stranger. There were even more cameras, and the windows almost seemed... fake. Nonetheless, we approached the front desk where a rather snooty looking young man was sitting watching a lacrosse game on his phone. I almost wanted to tell him to stop pouting and flexing, but I felt like he was on the cusp of a meltdown if I offered him any sort of criticism. We stood there awkwardly for a moment in the silence of the lobby, where only the three of us and a man hidden behind a newspaper were sat, until Ben broke the silence.

"Um... excuse me?" he stammered

"Holy shit, you're fat and ugly" said the receptionist, looking up from his phone. "Why do you look like your wife has a boyfriend who treats you like a son? You look so stupid. Jeez. Probably a trender."

Blown away from his rudeness, I grabbed him by the collar and stood up, dangling him like a saveloy on a fishing hook. I looked him dead in the eyes, and spoke from the heart. 

"Listen here you antagonistic little cretin, if you ever talk to my boyfriend like that again, I'm going to fold you into a paper cup and drink from you on my podcast where I talk about things I don't understand, got it, you soggy onion boy?"

Seeing that I wasn't a 13 year old non binary kid on TikTok, or someone with half the testosterone he has, he backed down with nothing to say like a rat retreating into a hole. That was... way easier than I thought. Looking at his name tag as I dropped him into the waste paper basket by his desk, I saw his name was Kalvin. 

"So, uh... I have an appointment" said Ben. 

Kalvin pressed three buttons on his keyboard, and then reached under his desk and dumped what looked like a crate of milk bottles in front of us. 

"Um... what?" I said, puzzled. 

"There you go" Kalvin said, his eyes flicking back and forth from the security camera above his desk. 

"Explain, you wet flannel" I demanded 

"Oh, do you want me to actually organise a boxing match with you that I will totally train for and turn up to?" he spat back at me.

"Listen, Mr Inferiority Complex, I'm not a tween non binary TikTok user with no fight experience and less than a third of your testosterone, you're not gonna lay a finger on me you fucking pathetic clown cunt, even if there was someone who would actually take you seriously enough to organise a fight sports event for a sack of shit like you, you wouldn't even train properly for it you baton-wielding prick, so stick to your little games of lacrosse where you get ten times the protective gear you do in boxing anyways and explain why you've just put this in front of me before I fucking wrap the front door around your skull, alright you soft little sugarplum fairy wannabe tough guy dickhead?" I said, while menacingly flexing my muscles under my floral blouse.  

"Its testosterone" said Kalvin, on the verge of tears after being stood up to by someone his own size. 

While I was baffled that anyone actually found a sensitive little softie like me intimidating, now I was even more confused.

"But I didn't come here for testosterone, I came here for top surgery" said Ben. 

Kalvin leaned in, beckoned us closer, and whispered to us:

"Listen... I know this makes no sense. Literally no clinic anywhere gives out cross-sex hormones this fast. But thats not what *they* believe, and if *they* see me making realistic choices when dealing with trans clients, they'll stab me" he whispered in a shaky voice.

"You are beyond useless. Why are you even doing this?" Said Ben.

"Look, I get it, I'm trans too, I know I'm full of shit. But what matters is that *they* think I'm normal." he replied.

"Who's 'they'?" I asked

But before I could press him further, Kalvin backed off and said loudly "Anyways... since you're a girl, we can't give you the surgery. You girl. Stupid, weak, pathetic girl who listens to people on the internet. But we're libtards, so we're gonna give you the surgery anyways, because we like blending children!" he obnoxiously yelled, winking at the nearest camera.  

"Oh, Kalvin..." said a nearby voice in an Italian accent. "You know there are laws preventing people from getting hormones within 24 hours. You know that nobody is stealing your resources. And you know that gender expression and gender identity are different things. I thought law students were supposed to be smart."

We all turned around to see the man with the newspaper stand up, only to realize it was...Guiseppe? 

Mama mia! What a plot twist!

"G-Guiseppe??" Kalvin gasped. "But... I thought you were dead!"

"Oh Kalvin, sending a few angsty teens over to spam in my comments may be enough to defeat a child, but I'm Guiseppe. I'm not even supposed to be here." 

Then he turned around and left, after slapping Kalvin with his newspaper and starting small fires in each and every chair in the room. 

"Arriverderci, bitch" Said Guiseppe, flipping us all off and walking straight through the glass door, leaving a trail of blood down the street as he tossed bricks of cheese at the police officers chasing him. 

After that weird little episode, Kalvin ushered us down a corridor and into another room where a nurse put Ben into a hospital gown, which offended me because I wanted her to touch me instead, and then told us to wait. 

Then the doctor came in. And hooooooly smokes... Chad who??

"Hello there, I'm perfectly normal doctor Blaire and I believe I'm performing a top surgery later today? " She said in a voice that turned my legs to jelly. 

There was something about this woman... something that just made me obsessed with her. Something that just made me want to grab her and stuff her in my tighty-whities. I just couldn't get over how hot I found her. 

"Uh, yes, thats right, on me." Said Ben. 

"Nervous? You fucking should be, you she-girl" responded the doctor

She just misgendered my boyfriend right in front of me, but I didn't care. I was pitching a tent like my shorts were a homeless colony just from looking at her. But... why? She looks like literally every popular girl that struggled to stay popular after graduation. Like, I could scrape a carbon copy of her off the streets of LA. Why do I find her so attractive??

"But yeah, anyways, don't worry, I totally care about you, you're gonna be fine. I'm trans too, so I definitely understand the struggle." she said with a definitely not fake smile. 

Then it hit me. Trans. That was it. Thats why I was feeling such a desperate urge to squeeze one out then and there right in front of her. All over her definitely not disingenuous face. 

She walked out of the room, and I finally took a breath. Then, ten or so minutes later, the nurse came back wheeled Ben into the operating theater. 

The walls were very clearly made of cardboard, and the doctor's desk was shoddily thrown together. Thats when I noticed... there was a picture with her and a man on the desk. 

"Hey, I know him!" I said. "Isn't he a member of the KKK? You seem pretty cosy with him. I mean, nothing he does really effects me, so in order to appeal to people in the same boat, I can't say anything about him, but thats a very nice picture!"

"Oh, yeah, totally" said doctor Blaire, adjusting one of the sixteen security cameras in the room. Seriously, what is with those cameras? 

"Now, Ben..." she said, walking over to Ben, who was looking like a stupid little fucking sardine in his hospital gown. "Do you want the regular top surgery, or the really good conservative top surgery?" 

"Conservative...top...surgery?" said Ben, raising his shitty eyebrows. Bitch needs some work done, fr fr. 

"Oh, yes. Its really really good. I promise. Its just as good as the regular one." 

She seemed to be shaking and stammering, so I spoke up. 

"Okay, this is weird. Like, seriously weird. Why are there so many cameras? Why is your office made of cardboard?" 

"Ah-ah!" She said, moving closer to us. Then from under her doctor coat, she pulled out... a gun?!?

"You want the conservative top surgery, riiiight?" she said, doing that stupid fucking fake smirk she does. But make no mistake, I'm a chaser, I give zero fucks. 

"Y...yes!" squealed Ben. 

"Thats right. At least I can tell who the top is here." she said, gleefully. 

"Its me" said Ben

"Oh, right, yeah, sure" said Blaire. 

Thats when I noticed... the poster on her wall that I previously thought said 'live, laugh, love' actually said 'If he ain't aryan, I ain't marryin''. And in the desk drawer... was that... a confederate flag?? And a badge that says "I'm latina and proud"??? This bitch is CRAAAZY!!

Before I could call her out, she grabbed both me and Ben, pulled us close, and spoke as if she was terrified of something. 

"Listen... I'm here to sell you out. Yeah. I'm trans. But thats some scary shit. I need to get as cosy as possible with the far right so that when they kill trans people, at lease I MIGHT survive. Yeah, I'm a sellout, yeah, I'm a coward, and yeah they will most likely hurt me anyways, but I don't care. I'll be their token invite. I'll lick their boots. They taste great. I love it. The attention feels great. I've lied, cheated and betrayed my people to save myself, but so what? Terfs are very supportive when you're on their good side. So sit there like a good little twink and fucking enjoy the surgery."

Quick as a flash, she glided over to a nearby cupboard and pulled out... a lawnmower?? 

"ALRIGHT! THIS IS A PERFECTLY NORMAL SCHEDULED TOP SURGERY THAT WE DEFINITELY DO TO CHILDREN! LOOK!"

And then the machine descended onto Ben's chest. 

"IN THEORYYYYYYYYYYY-" Ben screamed, as he was blended like a milkshake in a diner. After a few seconds, the surgery was over. all that was left of Ben was a perfectly presented bowl of spaghetti bolognese. 

"Wow, for once in his life, he actually looks kinda delicious..." I muttered

"YOU SEE? THIS IS WHAT THEY DO TO CHILDREN! YOU WERE RIGHT!! LOOK!! I'M NORMAL!!! I'M ON YOUR SIDE!! THE ONLY WAY TO SAVE THESE PEOPLE IS TO TAKE AWAY THEIR HEALTHCARE RIGHTS!!!" screamed Blaire, into one of the cameras. 

Thats when it happened. 

The walls... they collapsed. Revealing a huge audience of thousands and thousands of people. All of them, screaming like animals. MAGA hats, confederate flags, and inbreeding as far as the eye could see. There was so much stupidity in front of me that I forgot my own name. Sven? Sven Coward? Sven Chaser? Ah fuck it, who cares, I'm just a hilarious embodiment of a venomous content genre anyways. My boyfriend is a dinner. I'm surrounded by idiots. Life is good. 

"Do you see? I'm just like you! Please don't hurt me! I'm one of the normal ones! Please, use me as your scapegoat!" the doctor continued to screech. 

But her cries were in vain. The mob of zombies were upon her in seconds, devouring her while ensuring to use proper cutlery, because they might be transphobic, but at least they use a knife and fork. 

And that was it. That was what happened. What the hell was that? 

[mediumsizedwildcat]

i know i'm like 10 years late but i started playing me2 & fandom never truly dies (i hope) i have shepard's sibling/garrus vakarian pre-mass effect thoughts

c-sec garrus, drugs, smoking, shotgunning(?), family drama, spacer shepards, m.i.a. father (shepard), f!commander shepard's brother (john)

they first meet due to john smoking at the one spot on the citadel where it's actually legal which is in view of a c-sec station. every day at the same time he bickers with an older officer who threatens to arrest him if he keeps doing this but until the officer's last day before retirement, nothing ever happens

on the officer's last day, john finishes his smoke and eggs the officer on until he gets arrested and brought into the station. he waves any complains, admitting to his fault in the situation, and the officer tells garrus, the newbie at this station, what the deal is. that human will smoke at the same place at the same time every day and every day people will complain and every day he'll bicker, knowing c-sec can't do shit. it's in garrus' hands now.

john returns the next day to the same place at the same time. he smokes, again. c-sec officer garrus vakarian introduces himself, effectively making a peace offering. john tells him his name -first name only, not many shepards around the citadel & he doesn't want garrus looking into his file

garrus drives him “home,” meaning to john's legal address, that day. john walks to where he actually lives once garrus is off again

they see each other every day for weeks. john begins to look forward to this. eventually, garrus eats his lunch there. he notices that john never lets any smoke get to the other people around the citadel, just as he uses an ashtray every time.

john gets a message from his mother, garrus joins him at the usual spot and mentions how his boss said to be kind to him today. john sighs, says, “it's bad then, huh? haven't gotten a message in years and now even the officers are being told to take it easy on me.”

john elaborates that he thought the message would be about his parents finally finding out that he's left med school. that c-sec knows means worse news. garrus asks if john wants him to stay as he opens the message

“you turians have good reflexes, right? better safe than sorry” john says as he sits on the stone railing; shock or surprise could make him fall. he doesn't intend to. he just likes the wind.

hannah shepard informs john that they know about his dropping out of med school and that his father is missing in action. john doesn't know what to make of it.

“missing in action means they haven't found remains or dog tags yet.” john says, shakes his head. “so human, to assume missing in action. they have hope. but they're both soldiers, odds are he's dead.”

garrus doesn't like leaving him alone, offers to keep him company, and john accepts. after his shift, john's still there, waiting, smiling when he meets garrus' eyes.

they go to a bar john frequents. warned beforehand, garrus agreed but wasn't prepared. john buys a drink for garrus and something to smoke for himself. a all-races-friendly drug.

garrus watches, tells himself it's absolutely legal (unlikely), dances with john. sees john pull on the bud, then share the smoke from his mouth with someone else.

garrus leans over, says he wants to try, too. with a tilt of his head, john smiles, leans closer so garrus can hear him over the music. “are you sure? this is, like, advanced stuff. pretty intimate, too.”

a pang of jealousy at the intimate part, considering the people john already shared with. garrus sees him blow out in another direction, gently grabs his chin and turns his face, a talon pressing against john's cheek. “i'm sure. i wanna try.”

john's eyes narrow, a new interest sparks in them. he pulls on the bud, presses his thumb against garrus' chin, coaxes his mouth open. leans forward, presses his own open mouth against garrus', fills it with the vaporized drug

he pulls away, meets garrus' eyes, waits. garrus relaxes, sneaks his arm around john's waist, pulls him closer. john smirks, traces his jaw, pulls him onto the dance floor.

a bit after garrus asks for seconds. john obliges, gives him the last bit. garrus breathes it in, presses forward, steals a kiss. john giggles, reminds him they haven't even had a date yet.

the night moves on, garrus wakes up in john's bed. john sits at a window, cup of tea in hand, looks over to garrus, smiles. offers him coffee, reassures him nothing happened between them. he just doesn't know where garrus lives.

garrus asks if he's lying, considering where (and how -naked) he woke up. “you were high,” john reminds, “and i only know my limits, not yours. were i in your position, i hope whoever i'd be with would recognize my state of mind and do the same as i did -let me sleep it off. not take advantage.”

they don't date. garrus asks, john says he's not the type of guy one dates. he's a one night stand in the bathroom at the club. he's the one they regret. he's not the guy one dates.

garrus asks again. says he wants to try, that john's worth trying. john's heart is already in. he agrees. just no restaurant and garrus won't pay for him

their first date is grocery shopping (mostly for snacks) and watching movies at garrus' place. john pays for himself, they cook together, they fall asleep cuddling

they're official when john gets another message from his mother. she wants to call, to hear his voice, see him. garrus encourages him. john accepts the voice call.

he's hesitant. says med school wasn't for him, that they can have the money they've been sending back if they want to. she says they found his father, that he's in the hospital. she's not mad. she calls him “sweetheart” and “my baby.” asks to see him. john disagrees, says he's not alone, which is true. once again, garrus encourages him

his father joins the call just when john agrees to let it show him. both parents gasp, his hair too long, is that hair dye? leather clothes, makeup? at least he has some knowledge from med school, no?

his father says “i thought he would've dropped out after half a year” john glares at garrus, wishes he could say “i told you so” and instead tells his parents “that's what happened, glad to disappoint” and hangs up

they have their first fight. john leaves the apartment. when he comes back, they make up with sex. their first time with each other. a drug john took right before kicks in during it. garrus gets worried, then angry. a second fight. john tries to coax him back into bed, but garrus leaves.

they break up, as john had predicted after their first date. “this won't end well,” he had said. a self-fulfilling prophecy.

they meet again. they miss each other. they try again. garrus gets caught up in work, john does, too. they miss each other. they hurt each other. they break up, swear to never talk to the other again.

john gets a call from his mother to inform him of his father's passing. a few months later, a proud message about his sister joining the spectres. a message about his sister's death.

the citadel becomes too much. his sister is everywhere, every corner reminds him of the one relationship he had. john moves to omega, gets hired for the mechs of the mercenary bands.

commander shepard opens the door, aims her weapon at the hooded man. he retaliates by aiming his gun at her. she speaks. he presses her against the wall, checks her wrist for a tattoo they'd gotten as children. shows her that same tattoo in the same spot on his own wrist.

john hacks the mech suit, dons armor of his own, and follows his sister. they meet that brilliant sniper called “archangel” and he takes off his helmet.

“garrus! what are you doing here?” jane says. john turns away and pretends to look at his weapon. he wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to jump into garrus' arms and never let him go.

jane asks john to stay behind and have garrus' back. john nods his agreement, doesn't say a word, watches her leave with his team.

when the door to the battery opens behind garrus, he expects his commander. he turns, says “shepard,” and freezes.

“technically not wrong,” john answers, his throat dry. garrus stares. john clears his throat and looks away, “don't worry, i won't fuck this up. i'm clean and i know how important this is. just... how do you know jane?”

[goose-books]

please check out @yvesdot's remastered debut! trust me, it's worth a read and a reread and a re-revisit. for the blog tour, i give you... another blast from the past, an old-fashioned writeblr-style comic sans powerpoint!

Something’s Not Right, published by tRaum Books, will be released October 10th 2023 and is available to preorder at Amazon, Bookshop.org, and itch.io. It will also be available upon release signed from Bookshop Santa Cruz. yves. will also have a local event at 6:30 PM on October 12th at the Santa Cruz Diversity Center and another on January 4th 2024 (to be announced) at Bookshop Santa Cruz.

(my sixth favorite story is koschei, btw. shoutout to koschei. sorry i left you off the slides)

(slides described under the cut)

all slides are written in white comic sans on a black background.

slide one: text reading "FIVE reasons YOU should read" over a cropped image of the cover for Something's Not Right, featuring the title. smaller comic sans next to the image reads "by yves."

slide two: at the center of the slide, text reads "1. IT'S GAY!" smaller text boxes, scattered around the slide, read:

so many transgender people

you want fluff? we got fluff. you want angst? we got angst. you want high octane drama? we got it

you like metaphors for queerness? we’ve got metaphors for queerness

some characters’ identities are plot relevant! some of them just happen to be trans!

there’s even an m/f couple i actually like!

there’s literally a lesbian robot what else am i supposed to say

first book where i ever saw a they/them lesbian referred to as a woman and they at the same time <3 <3 <3

you want monsterfucking? we got—

between the first and third boxes is this image of feathers. beneath the monsterfucking box is this image of a halo/eclipse. beneath the they/them lesbian box is the anakin image from this post, reading, "dyke business. go back to your drinks"

slide three: the top of the slide reads "2. CLEVER USE OF TROPES AND TALES." the bullet points beneath read:

the author was a lit major & lovingly: it shows

fresh takes on everything from sexy vampires to demigod/human romance

do you like russian folklore? do you wish it was set in your high school

hansel and gretel story followed immediately by wlw fairies

STORY WHERE VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN GOES TO A PARENT TEACHER CONFERENCE

an arrow points from the sexy vampire bullet to an image of edward cullen, captioned "this guy isn't in there." another points from the frankenstein bullet to a picture of the book Frankenstein, captioned "this guy is, tho"

slide four: at the center of the slide, text reads "3. DELIGHTFUL NARRATIVE VOICE." smaller text boxes read "the sheer range of the range of character narrations in this book is impressive and so fun" and "we got teen talk we got litfic prose we got monsters narrating we got ordinary people." there are also three quotes from various stories, set in speech bubbles:

“Everyone’s cousin Tanya says she’s done it with an elf dude. That doesn’t mean shit.”

“And all of these things were true, and simultaneous, and all of them were occurring only a moment before she might be killed, and rise again.”

“At first, the plants seemed quite innocuous, and Ephraim watched them pile up on the windows of the little greenhouse with mild curiosity.”

there is also an edited image of the "she doesn't have the range" meme, reading, "they have the range."

slide five: the top of the slide reads "4. DON’T LIKE ONE-OFFS? NO PROBLEM!" the bullet points beneath read:

do you prefer your short stories unrelated to each other? completely tonally variant?

SNR has got that!

do you prefer your short stories interconnected? do you like recurring characters? do you want to see… characters from OTHER yves. projects?

SNR has got that too!

smaller text boxes read "Red and Eliza from Forest Castles are there!" and "maybe avner too. i'm not allowed to say"

there is also a picture of hannah montana's "best of both worlds" album.

slide six: the top of the slide reads "5. THERE ARE NEW STORIES IN IT!" the bullet points beneath read:

already an SNR fan? already have a copy? you haven’t yet read the new content!

THREE new stories

what if the alien abductee you were interviewing had questions… for you?

what if you had to love-potion your crush… for someone else?

what if you had to come out to your date… AS A MONSTER?

there are clipart images on the side of an alien spaceship, a bubbling potion, and a lit candle.

slide seven: word art with a glowing green shadow reads "max's favorite stories :)". each story blurb goes with a corresponding image:

Six Hours Under: the woman on the L train is crying, dead, and very very pretty. [clipart of a train]

Monsters and The Guy: there’s a guy in Arrivals. he’s being weird about it. [clipart of an airport]

The Hands and The Mouth: the story-speakers speak only in script. there are only a few of them left. [clipart of rolling waves]

Don't Feel Guilty: a teen’s plant collection starts to unnerve their father. [clipart of a leaf]

Blood Orange Tea: getting trapped at work with your crush is awkward even when you’re not a vampire. [clipart of iced tea]

slide eight: large text reads "THANK YOU. GO FORTH AND BUY SNR." in smaller text is the information paragraph from this post.

[vvitchering]

lmao ok last review of the season

That was the most mediocre thing I've ever seen. THAT was their finale?? LAST week's episode felt more like a finale than whatever milk toast this was.

And don't come for me with that "oh Hannah you'd be upset if they actually did something too weh weh" crap. YEAH I PROBABLY WOULD BE. Cause every single episode of this entire season has been one of two models:

Lets do Absolutely Nothing

Lets do The Worst Possible Thing But Make It Stupid, Too

So I guess in the grand scheme of things it's better to have gone the do Absolutely Nothing route for the finale. But also what a disappointing end to the most disappointing and shit season yet.

Aight let's talk specifics.

Why the fuck was that so easy to do. Din didn't even have to be there for any of that. They could have sent him a postcard later on like "ay whats up we retook mandalore" and it would have had the same impact. Nothing anyone did mattered because Axe just ended up dropping an entire ship on top of Gideon, negating any actual struggle.

Oh he broke the darksaber, are we going to explore the ramifications of that? Will this affect Bo-Katan who has done nothing but lust after that stupid sword for two entire seasons? Will we finally get some thought about what leadership means? Absolutely not!!!! It means nothing!! Toss it away and never speak of it again!!!!! SURE OK!!!!! GREAT.

We didn't actually physically see Gideon die and and you know how that goes so maybe he'll be back. Can't say I like that the clones he was making were clones of himself, I still think evil little grogus would have been more disturbing and fun.

oh so Paz dying didn't actually matter either, good to know we did that for shits and giggles Only.

No helmet off scene, either. Bleh. Whatever, I guess.

None of this had any actual teeth. No drama, no emotion, just a bunch of (kinda shitty actually??) CGI explosions and whoop looks like we won yay great

I'm actually very annoyed they they didn't follow up on any of the suspicious shit the armorer has been doing all season. I was SURE she was going to be one of the spies last week's episode referenced. We never did get an explanation about that, did we? lol

Okay let's look at the very limited list of things I actually did like:

Din finally adopts Grogu!!! But nope we're not doing the Mandalorian adoption rites and Din is going to act as unenthusiastic as physically possible about it. Cool cool.

Din Grogu? What. Is that how Mandalorian names work???? You know what would have helped with this? Some actual Mando lore at all at any point in this entire season about Mandalorians. Wow.

This isn't really a list of things I liked huh

sorry lol

Uhhhh IG is back? I think? Maybe? Hard to tell if its actually him or just a reset IG-11 model. So was IG-12 a totally different droid??? (Also if it was literally as easy as stopping by any random bar and finding a head why didn't we do that in the first place. What the fuck.)

uhhhh they have a very tiny little house now? With a froggie pond! That's cute.

Din still refuses to actually call Grogu his child in any capacity, despite just literally adopting him as his own. Din get over your issues, that kid has been yours since the second you made eye contact with him. I wouldn't be as annoyed by this if they'd given me any reason why Din would be so hesitant to call Grogu family.

Everything about this just felt too easy and too neat. It's an entire episode of "blink and you miss it because it took 5 seconds and no work to do" events that have zero emotional payoff because they wasted the entire season on stupid shit that was never followed up on or made any sense.

My only decent takeaway is Din and Grogu both survived, nothing that happened this season apparently matters AT ALL to ANYTHING, so maybe things can get back to normal next season.

I hope we get some kind of official explanation for this at some point. I maintain that something must have happened internally for the writing to suddenly take such a drastic and obvious nosedive. All I can hope is that this was a temporary fluke and I don't have more seasons of this kind of boring nonsensical bullshit to look forward to.

Season overall gets a .5/10. And that's being generous. Disney, you should be ashamed of yourselves. "Best season yet" my entire ass.

I wash my hands of this season.

[highfiveheroes]

PROMPT LIST based on songs from my "on repeat" playlist on spotify

there are several lyrics that have been bumping around in my brain so y'all get them now. enjoy

(could be plot inspos or could be dialogue prompts, some work one way better than the other)

break season // mira housey > "i once called you forever, but forever called my bluff" > "i know you're looking for the answer i don't have" > "i'm sorry that putting me first meant putting you last"

not like i'm in love with you // lauren weintraub > "you're my ride or die, so i'm not jealous right?" > "it's not like i'm losing my head thinking about you in my bed" > "it's not like everybody knows but you" > "shit"

only us // dear evan hansen > "i don't need you to fix what i'd rather forget" > "try to quiet the noises in your yead, we can't compete with all that" > "what if it's you and me and that's all that we need it to be?"

stand tall // julie and the phantoms > "cause everything is rushing in fast, keep going on, never look back" > "right now, i'm loving every minute" > "light a fire in my eyes, i'm going out of my mind" > "whatever happens, even if i'm the last standing imma stand tall"

loser, baby // annapantsu & chloe breez > "you've lost your way, you think your life is wrecked, let me just say you're correct" > "you're a fucked up little whiny bitch" > "letting walls down, it can sometimes set you straight" > "i sold my soul to a psychopathic freak || and you think that makes you unique? get outta here"

love me not // emei > "you know that i'm in it, but did you hit your limit?" > "yesterday was flawless, but now i feel like garbage" > "but i'm falling in love, do you wanna break up?" > "i've been hit by this guy called stupid cupid"

i'm trying (not friends) // maisie peters > "saw you, it was awkward" > "it didn't work like i thought it would" > "i swore that i'd swallow my pride and you swore you would do better this time" > "i might be bitter and twisted and broken and petty and lying, but at least i'm trying" > "so many blank slates i could build a whole fucking house" > "i resent you just a little if i'm honest" > "you're awful and i miss you and i killed you in my dream last night" > "it's a low when even in my dreams you still don't want me there" > "god, you haven't changed at all"

pretty girls // reneé rapp > "tell me if you were gonna, that i would be the one you tried" > "you think i'd be flattered, it's pathetic cause you're right" > "i can predict this shit line by line" > "you'll be his in the morning anyway"

it could've been you // hannah grae > "the color of your shirt made me wanna cry" > "have fun wasting your time" > "it's not love, it's just the comfort of its name" > "the color of my walls made me wanna die" > "you're not the one and it's not something i can change" > "i'd probably hate you" > "at least i'm not 40 and screwing the pool boy" > "if you weren't a liar and i'd have been kinder it could've been you"

nights like these // pigeon pit > "i want to die with all my scars" > "if they don't like the way we are then fuck them" > "fuck, i'm sorry you feel all alone" > "i place my head between my knees and think 'do you ever have nights like these?'"

i may do another round of this later cause i still have more songs LOL

[milkymoon2483]

The Blue Elephant

Push & Pull - Episode 1 Frank Castle X Plus Size Jewish OFC

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Summary: DBF but dad’s dead. Your’e going back to your small town for your father’s funeral and Shiva. You know you’re about to face family drama but what worries you the most is that you’re going to see HIM.

Disclaimers: 

This episode mentions a 14 year old girl having an UNRECIPROCATED crush on a much older man. HE SEES HER AS A CHILD at this point. 

I’m Jewish (and plus size) but I do not live in the US, so there might be some differences in the way certain things are done and some inaccuracies. My apologies. 

Yes this is self indulgent because I’m feral for this man.

I’m secular and will not be discussing Judaism in length. Will explain some basics though that are mentioned in the story.

Rating: E.18+. MINORS DNI.

Warnings: Teenage crush on a much older man, Mentions of alcoholism, divorce, trauma, plus size reader, insecurities, age gap, violence, sex, food, and probably a bunch of other stuff. This is a little dark. WC: ~3300

Thank you my lovelies. @romanarose @hbc8 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @boysddontcry @imaswellkid

The blue elephant.

Your phone rang in an ungodly hour, waking you up from a dream you had forgotten as soon as you opened your eyes.  8:15 AM. Who dares calling you this early on semester break?! 

"Hello, am I speaking to Hannah Friedman?" 

"Hi, yes, who is this?" You answered, barely recognizing your own voice that was hoarse with sleep.  

"Miss Friedman, my name's Michael Katz, I was your father's attorney. I'm very sorry for your loss. I'm calling regarding his will." 

Confusion flooded you, and for a moment you were sure the man calling had the wrong number.

Suddenly your heart dropped, the true meaning of his words not fully sinking into your skull just yet. 

"Miss Friedman….?" His voice tried to break the long pause. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I'm calling regarding your father's will, since he passed away…" 

"Shit. Sorry, I just…I didn't know. Shit. When did it happen?" 

Your father was dead.

Michael Katz, bless his heart, apologized profusely for the terrible way you had to find out. He proceeded to explain everything in great detail, making sure to schedule a meeting with you as soon as you got into town for his funeral. He died in the early hours of the previous evening. Cirrhosis complications after years of excessive drinking, that’s what finally did him in, a part of you was surprised he lasted that long. 54 years old at the time of his death, Saul Friedman was a sick man, and not much of a father to begin with. A recovering alcoholic at the best of times, he rarely called or took much interest in your life, despite living 45 minutes away. 

When you turned twelve things changed for the better, after bumping into you on a trip to a local supermarket with your mom and her new boyfriend, he suddenly felt an urgent need to get sober, and get to know you better. Your mother agreed, she took less convincing than both of you had anticipated. You ended up visiting more, and staying for a few weeks each summer, the community pool around the corner being your main incentive. Your relationship was never able to fully recover, but you both tried your best. You’d often say you loved him but sometimes didn’t really like him. 

Your mother was his second wife, and after three years of marriage and one kid, they divorced, very much non-amicably, leaving a trail of wreckage behind them.  You were thankful that you were just a toddler, too young to truly understand how deeply they've wounded each other clawing their way out of what your mother described to be the ‘worst three years of my goddamn life’.  You'd often wonder, had she not been jewish, would she be saved from the displeasure of ever marrying him in the first place. Your grandparents must have insisted on him having jewish children, and according to Halacha*, their mom had to be one. 

You remembered the last time you visited him, the visit was cut short when you caught him drinking again. “ You don't get to preach me” he lashed out at you,  “You’re a bitch just like your mother”. 

You left abruptly after that, not willing to take more of his crap. At that point you were visiting for him, because you felt obligated to do that. That sense of obligation was gone.

He called to apologize a few weeks later, but the dry conversation left much to be desired. Since then you’ve called and texted occasionally, but you never came to visit again, coming up with various excuses to avoid it. 

Now he was dead.

"At least he knew when to die.." you later told your best friend, Grace. He had the sensibility to pass on right at the beginning of the winter break from college, giving you a good few weeks to deal with it before coming back to school to finish your final year. You could share your appreciation for your fathers morbid timing with Grace, but there was one thing you couldn't. A thought so shameful you smacked it back to where it came from as soon as it surfaced. You refused to acknowledge it, refused to name it, there would be no talking and no thinking of him. Not right now.

It was about as effective as telling yourself not to think about a blue elephant. You kept playing the game of 'whack a mole' with your brain, and kept losing.  Your father was dead, and it took you mere seconds to realize that you’re going to see him.

Summer 2013

You looked at yourself in the water- damaged mirror, it was crooked and filled with specks of rust, large stains of disilvering ate away at your reflection. The one piece purple bathing suit was wet, clinging to your form, accentuating the awkward lumpiness of your chest and belly under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Your mother picked it out with you, from the sale rack in TJmaxx’s women’s department. That miserable shopping trip almost made you cry. Most of them did. Your adolescent body didn't look right, didn't feel right. It was all too much, too round, too full. You’d follow your much smaller mother around the shops, gradually losing hope with every one you passed, settling eventually on another trip to Starbucks. An iced vanilla latte was sure to cheer you up.  You took solace in your sunglasses, rimmed in a bright red thick frame. The ones you nagged your dad into buying you, they made you feel cool. As cool as you could, that is. A piece of 'coolness' that belonged to you. You placed them on your nose with a slight sense of pride, heading out of the bathrooms. 

Your eyes searched for him immediately, finding him lounging on one of the sun-beds. Alone. Walking as inconspicuously as you could, you sat on the bed next to him, pretending not to notice him. You dove head first into your bag, looking for your phone. don’t look at him, don't look at him. Your thoughts raced, desperately hoping that he would be the one to look at you.

You've known Frank for a couple of years, as your dad's friend and neighbor. He would often join you for Shabbat dinner, bringing a bottle of a non- alcoholic beverage or some fruit. He was younger than your dad but you weren't sure by how much.

You’ve always found him hot, it was impossible not to, with his sharp jaw and boyish smile. He was tall and broad and handsome. You nursed your little secret crush on him, getting excited and giddy every time he came to visit, not daring to mention to anyone that you even found this old man so attractive.

This, however, was the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, and your fourteen year-old self could not handle the sight. You gawked at the grown man uncontrollably, your gaze hidden only by your ‘cool’ sunglasses.  The biceps, the pecs, the broadness of his shoulders and the way his torso tapered into his waist. The dip of his spine, the muscles of his back, the way the droplets of water clung to his skin and made it glisten…it all made your brain short- circuit, melt under the fog of hormones.

“Hey kiddo, I like the sunglasses” He suddenly said, in a tone more cheerful than you’d expected.

“Thanks” you muttered. It took your poor brain a few attempts to signal your mouth to smile. You hated it when he called you ‘kiddo’. You wished it would be ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling' or ‘doll’.

“Can I try them on?” he smirked.

You handed them to him without a word, scrunching your face at the sun. Youv'e learned that it is often better to say nothing rather than risk embarrassing yourself. 

Frank put them on, they looked ridiculous of course, the bright red cat-eye was in sharp juxtaposition to his purely masculine features. He chuckled and pulled on the temple tips behind his ear- bouncing them on his large nose, causing you to giggle. 

"There she is! Don't be so serious all the time, kiddo. Have some fun" he smiled and handed them back to you, the tip of his finger brushing against yours. Never washing my hands again. You decided, as he got up and headed towards the pool. Your eyes followed him as usual, admiring the broadness of him. 

The water was buzzing with activity, and all you could think about is how much you'd love it to be empty. It was far too crowded to swim, but it did allow you to keep staring uninterrupted. 

The friendly game of 'throw the ball as hard as you can and cause the biggest splash' was on. Your dad had your cousin  Jacob on his shoulders, the scrawny nine year old was doing quite a bit of damage, landing a throw so accurate it splashed violently all across Frank's face. 

Frank shook the water off, spotting you in the corner of the pool, and swam right towards you. "Come on Hannah banana, I need your help, let's get em' " he smiled widely, and before you had a chance to respond he dove underneath you. 

The gravity beneath you shifted as he began lifting you up from the water. You yelped loudly and grabbed tightly at the head that popped up between your legs, trying to steady yourself. 

You haven't done this since you were seven, when you were light enough to be held on anyone's shoulders, but Frank lifted you up effortlessly, like you weighed nothing, like it was no trouble at all. 

Your thighs squeezed against his neck and shoulders. The ball somehow landed in your hands but all you could think about were franks palms, gripping your legs tightly, keeping you firmly on him. A heady mixture of emotions stirred in your belly. The fear of falling into the pool, mixed with the exhilaration of Frank's hands on your thighs. You could see his large fingers pressing into your flesh, and it was making your head spin. 

You threw the ball as hard as you could, landing a pretty decent splash on your aunt's face. She laughingly demanded her son 'avenge her'. A few more splashes and Jacob came face to face with you, attempting to push you off Frank's shoulders. The poor kid clearly underestimated your determination, and promptly landed in the water, ass first. Frank cheered you on, patting his large palm on your leg before letting you fall into the pool with a little nudge. You emerged from the water laughing, the adrenaline coursing through your veins so potent you could not stop, giggling almost uncontrollably as it sizzled through you.  "Yeah! We win! suck it!" Frank's arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, your body reciprocated before your mind had a chance to catch up, squishing your cheek against his chest. It was over before you even realized. A quick innocent congratulatory hug, that pressed you against his solid frame that towered over you, sending your already overstimulated brain into a tailspin.

*******

You remembered that day vividly, in detail, every part of your visit to the pool was etched into your mind. It was like a switch flipped, or a wire was plugged in, sometimes you likened it to a detonation of a bomb.  It confused you at first, you were flooded with something so potent that it took you a while to recognize what that was. The tingling sensation between your thighs was familiar, but it was never this intense.  The deep shameful truth was that from that day forward, Frank Castle was responsible for the vast majority of your orgasms, without touching you once. It horrified you at first, especially when you learned that he was 19 years older than you. You were disgusted with yourself, with the thoughts that kept getting increasingly more explicit as you aged. It didn’t matter if you were touching yourself or having sex with someone else. It didn’t matter how it started, it would almost always end with him. His voice, his hands, his face, thinking about him was the sure fire way of making yourself cum. 

You hated yourself for thinking about him right now, on the way to your fathers fucking funeral. It was like a pavlovian response you could not shake. You were equal parts hoping you'd see him and dreading the thought of facing him. It’s been three years since you saw him last, and something changed that day.

Hanukkah 2019

The snow was piling outside, a wintery scene in complete contrast to the heat in your dad's kitchen. You were with your aunt Deborah, Jacob’s mom.  She always loved it when you came to visit, she loved it especially when she got to spend time cooking with you. Being a boy-mom, they never took interest in her cooking. You however loved it, your mother was never much of a cook and this was your chance to learn from a true expert. You were making Sufganiyot* for Hanukkah. The jewish bakery made them well, but Aunt Deborah’s were divine. Something about adding buttermilk to the dough.

When Frank came that day it wasn’t planned. “Deb, are you making the jewish doughnuts again? I can smell it all the way across my yard, you’re killing me” his voice boomed as he entered the house. Your heart skipped. You were in your apron, covered in flour, and very much unprepared to see the man you harbored a weird sexual obsession towards. 

“Come in Frank, they’re still hot” Deborah replied as she met him at the door, and Frank's heavy boots marched straight to the kitchen.

“Oh, hey there Hannah banana” he greeted you fondly, giving you a small wave. 20 years old, and still "Hannah banana"... 

“Hey Frank” you waved back, not taking your eyes off the man. 

He plucked a fresh warm Sufgania off the tray, covered in powdered sugar, with a little dollop of red jam on top. “Mmmm come here baby” he growled and stuffed his face into the soft dough, taking a huge bite, muttering “oh my god” and rolling his eyes back in pleasure. This man will be the death of you.

Frank chewed in delight as you tried not to laugh at him, his nose was covered in powdered sugar and jam. He looked back at you, fully aware of the dire situation of his face. “What? What?? I got something on my face?” he smirked, prompting you to giggle.

“Come here Kiddo, you have to taste this”.

He began to slowly advance towards you, before fully chasing you around the kitchen with the Sufgania in hand. You squealed, ‘trying’ to get away from him and ‘failing’. When he finally caught you and cornered you against the wall, he stuffed the remaining dough in your face. You laughed hysterically while attempting to clean your face from the sugar and jam, wiping a small drop from the corner of your mouth with your thumb, and sucking the finger, looking up at Frank through your lashes. Your eyes met at that exact moment, and for a beat you both got quiet. Too quiet.

His laughter faded into a polite smile almost instantly, as he backed off and walked out of the kitchen. 

He never touched you again after that day. He was not even around for the rest of your visit. You saw him once more, just when you were leaving back to college. Instead of the usual goodbye hug he settled for a wave and a “Bye kiddo”, shortly disappearing back into the house. 

Maybe he saw something in your eyes, something inappropriate that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Maybe that’s when he realized that every time he touched you was like pouring gasoline into a raging fire. Maybe things could have been different, if only you were older, thinner, sexier…not just Saul’s chubby awkward kid. 

It only took a second, one fucking second for Frank to notice what was right in front of him this whole goddamn time. One look into your soft eyes, One flick of pink tongue on your finger, and it was all clear. The thought traveled so fast from his cock to his brain he barely stopped it in time, running out of that kitchen as fast as humanly possible. You were just a kid, Saul’s kid. It was obviously sick to think about you in any other capacity. 

He remembered the time you all went ice skating, how he held your little hand when you kept stumbling and falling. The time when he took you for your first unofficial driving lesson just before you turned 16, in the empty supermarket parking lot. The time when you called him looking for your dad, he told you he’s probably asleep, and you began crying because you knew what that meant.

Were you looking at him like that the entire time? You had no fucking business looking at him like that. How dare you look at him like that.

*******

You had just a few hours to get ready and make the trip back into your hometown for the funeral the following morning. Knowing how jewish funerals worked you weren't surprised, most are buried within 48 hours of passing. 

Just a 3 hour trip from college, it felt like a different planet. You looked out of the frosted car window as Deborah was driving you both to her house, where the shiva* would be held. The snow fell softly and the storefronts decorated for Christmas gave your small town a charming cozy atmosphere. You could almost forget where you were headed. 

Beth Moses cemetery was eerily foggy, the two dozen people who had gathered for your father’s funeral were murmuring almost silently to each other. 

“You shouldn’t have worn that. And take that lipstick off, this is not a party.” your mother whispered as loudly as she possibly could, not taking into consideration that her voice carried. “Cover yourself up, here take my scarf” , you let her drape the back scarf over you, covering the dark gray sweater dress you were wearing under your coat, the one she deemed inappropriate because it showed some cleavage and clung to your belly a little too much for her liking. 

“Well, thanks for the kriah* I won’t be wearing this again after this week, mother” you replied sarcastically. Even though sarcasm never seemed to work on that woman, she was immune to your snide comments, nothing could penetrate the thick layer of self righteousness she wore like her favorite garment the whole fucking time.

“Hey Han”  Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the familiar deep voice. He appeared before you almost instantly, mercifully tearing your attention from your mother and her constant disapproval. He leaned in for a polite hug, the scent of his cologne flooding your senses, spicy and crisp. He looked the same, just like you remembered and envisioned thousands of times. Same intense dark eyes, same strong jaw, same boxer's nose that you adored. 

“How have you been?” he asked, his voice quiet and grave.

“Hey Frank, I’m ok, yeah..” you replied, robotically, still a little shocked to see him again. 

"Jackie…" he acknowledged your mother with a nod, before proceeding to greet other members of the family. 

The small crowd surrounded the newly dug grave, muttering “amen” with the rabbi as he read the Kadish*. The vapor from their mouths like a silent choir in the cold.

Sunshine broke briefly through the clouds as Saul Friedman’s casket was lowered into the earth. There was something pathetic about how small it looked, and your heart wrenched at the sight. Debora’s silent tears prompted your own but you sniffled, looking up, not allowing them to escape. “Shalom aba” you mumbled as you placed a small stone on the mound of soil that now covered him…

FIN.

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Halacha - Jewish scripture. According to the rules in order for a person to be considered Jewish their mother needs to be Jewish. (according to Orthodox Judaism) Shiva - “Seven” - a period of seven days after the funeral when the family mourns the death. People often come to visit several times during the shiva. Kriah - “Tearing” - When a next of kin dies, the nuclear family members (parents, children, siblings) have their garments torn, to symbolize mourning. The garment is discarded after the shiva. Sufganiyot - (Singular: Sufganya) - Jewish doughnuts, served on Hanukkah. Traditionally filled with jam and topped with powdered sugar.  Kaddish - A prayer said during the jewish funeral.  Shalom Aba - “Goodbye dad” 

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