#like all the friends that I have think of me as a back up friend for when nothing more interesting is going on

[yanderenightmare]

TW: angst, toxic traits, somewhat bullying, breakup

fem reader

You’re his first girlfriend. He’d never bothered with anything serious before—it seemed too messy to trifle with. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decided. Suppose he’d been feeling a little bored, and something within him saw you as a fool-proof opportunity.

It wasn’t because you were anything special. Actually, it was more the opposite. You didn’t seem like too big of a risk. You were just a normal, honest, nice person—a bit of a loser, too, if he was being honest. He could do a lot better and pick someone of the same caliber as him, someone with a cooler style and presence, but then he’d only get caught up in the competition.

You were more to his appetite—a dorky, blushy lil’ nerd who giggled nervously at everything he said. In other words, no competition at all. You’d never dare break his heart because you frankly couldn’t afford it. And he found solace in that imbalance—knowing he held all the cards and that you could only be grateful he’d chosen you.

At least, that had been what he’d thought. But then, here you are, holding his hands from across the table in a cute little sundae café, telling him how this just can’t work anymore.

He’s confused for a whole minute before it sinks in.

You’re breaking up with him.

He’s confused afterward, too.

You’re breaking up with him?

That can’t be right. You must be joking. He almost laughs, almost cackles, but ends up staying completely silent. Something about that pitiful look in your eye makes his throat tight, and he almost thinks he’s going to cry instead. 

You’re breaking up with him. You, with him. His foot starts to tap. Have you hit your head or something? You’re dressed in a hoodie, for crying out loud, with not an ounce of make-up on—effortless, as if his perception of you wasn’t any of your concern while you’re fucking breaking up with him.

No way. There’s just no way. You must be confused about something, is all. There’s absolutely no way you’re doing this.

“What are you talking about?” It comes angry. Louder than he’d intended, enough to make you jolt in your seat. A couple of heads even turn your way. You wait for them to turn back before answering.

“I just think we’re a bit too different. And… I don’t know…” You were trying to find ways of telling him you weren’t in love with him but ended up deciding it was unnecessary—it wasn’t exactly something he needed to hear even though you had a lot you could say.

You’re rude and arrogant and treat me like some rescue pet you’ve nurtured back to health. You act like you’re embarrassed to be with me even though you’re the one without any friends. You’re selfish and spoiled and—

“If you don’t know, then there’s nothing to talk about. Quit being silly.” He has a furrow between his brows as he picks up the pink menu between the two of you, scanning the different types of milkshakes you could share and forget all about it. After all, you weren’t breaking up with him—that would just be absurd. “Let’s get strawberry.”

“No—”

“Guess we could get mango if you want that instead—”

“I’m not sharing drinks with you—”

“What? You tryna lose weight or something? Not like anyone but me is gonna see you when all you wear are those baggy hoodies all the time. Speaking of which, you should wear mine instead, they’d suit you better—”

“Listen.” You stop his rambling. “I’m not sharing drinks, and I’m not wearing your clothes. I’m not being silly, either. I’m being serious. It’s over—”

“No, it’s not.” His fist bangs against the table—the look in his eye on edge and twitchy. “I asked you why, and you had no good reason—so it’s not, not until you convince me.”

You had wanted to avoid it, but it seems he wouldn’t allow you the grace to spare him. That being said, you hadn’t meant to be so brutally honest…

“You’re a narcissist. You don’t treat me like a girlfriend. I’m more like a charity case or some type of experiment to you. Half the time, it feels as though you’re just playing a game with everyone in your life like pawns for you to shuffle around the board as you see fit.” You’re the one with the furrowed brows now, unable to bite your tongue as you’d kept it in all this time. “I think you should seek help and get your controlling tendencies straightened out before having any type of relationship. Or don’t. In any case, I don’t think I’m the right girl for you.”

There’s a silence. The chatter of the café seems distant. You feel half inclined to apologize as you look at him and stare down the glassy tabletop as if trying to find his reflection for comfort—but then he beats you to the punch.

“You’re right…” he starts softly, mustering the words, and you’re almost proud to see him take it so well, but then there’s a viscousness to his next words. “You’re not the right girl for me.”

When he looks up again, his face is warped—callous and seemingly disgusted by the sight of you. Something about it even seems to lash out at you, seeking revenge.

“I can’t believe I thought I saw something in you,” he sighs. “Turns out you’re exactly what everyone warned me you would be—just a plane-boring old Jane. What a joke—wasting so much time on something so worthless. Forget breaking up with me, I should have broken up with you a long time ago.”

He gets up in a rush and bears over the table, both palms laid flat upon the surface.

“Charity case?” he seethes, then conjures a fake laugh and an even faker grin. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Enjoy sitting here alone like the loser you are.”

And even though you’re the one watching him walk away while ordering a chocolate sundae for yourself, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy… 

That had been the most emotion you’d ever witnessed come from him.

Obviously, he doesn’t take it very well, stumbling through the café before bursting out the door, but even he’s surprised by how disheveled it had made him. He’s hyperventilating when the fresh air hits him, almost sprinting to his car so that he can lock himself inside it.

But the car only makes it worse as he’s far from alone in there. You’re everywhere. On the hood, waiting for him with a smile. In the rearview mirror, waving at him. In the seat next to him with a pout, asking if you can stay over. In the backseat, naked with a coy twinkle in your eye.

He knows! He has some of your underwear at home—he’ll threaten to pass them around campus unless you beg him to take you back. No, what’s he thinking!? You’ll never come back to him that way. Fuck, what can he do, what’s he supposed to do!? He just called you worthless—what that fuck was he thinking?!

The tears startle him as they drip down and splash upon his whitening knuckles, where he grips the wheel for dear life even as the car stays completely still—safe and sound in the same plot.

There’s a light pink lip balm on the dash. Yours. You must have left it there—maybe on purpose? No… you don’t play games like that. You’d been honest in the café. The fact terrifies him—his heart seems to want to reject it at all costs, the way it tears in his chest.

He picks the slim pink stick up and rolls it around in his hand, which can’t seem to stop shaking. You’d sat on his lap in this very seat, laughing at something dumb he’d said while applying the very same balm on his lip—kissing his forehead while saying something sweet. He knows it wasn’t, but he imagines you’d whispered that you loved him.

When he smears the balm around his lips this time, he imagines kissing you and your soft lips and that everpresent smile he never bothered telling you was pretty.

He’s such an idiot. The birds in the parking lot take flight at the jostling of his car, but no one hears the roar.

And as he sits there in the following silence, wallowing in his own self-pity and regret, he can’t help but feel like the lead of some angsty teen romance.

And like the lead in an angsty teen romance, he swears… whatever it takes… he will win you back.

You will be his again.

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks

JJK – Gojo, Naoya, some young type of Sukuna or Toji

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo

AOT – Eren

[and-corn]

Opinion on Waluigi?

So one year when I was in college, all my friends went home for a long weekend but I decided to stay on campus, so naturally when everyone was gone, I went to the library and used the school printers to print out a picture of Waluigi onto 15 pieces of paper, which I then taped together to create a near life size portrait. I then waited outside my friend’s dorm for like an hour until someone let me in the building, and I taped the 5 foot tall Waluigi to the door of his suite. I waited until my friends came back after the weekend and when he showed up he was like “someone waluigied my door” and I said, “what does that mean?” And he said “someone put a giant Waluigi on my door. Was it you?” And I said “how would I have even gotten into your building?” And he didn’t question that at all so he thought that some random person was enacting a guerrilla Waluigi graffiti campaign on him specifically. Then one of my other friends took the Waluigi down from the door and put it in the shower of his suite, which we only realized when it was already too late because my friend came into the common room the following day and said “I think Eric [his suite-mate] showered with Waluigi.” Which is objectively the funniest thing someone can say and by that point we were like, “well, we might as well just leave it” so Waluigi stayed on the shower wall for the entire semester. And obviously I had taped the entire surface to functionally laminate it, so Waluigi survived and thrived in pristine condition as a shower companion for 3 months. Finally at the end of the year I decided to reveal the big mystery, so I created an elaborate scavenger hunt with like 10 different clues taking my friend all over campus to find out who put Waluigi on his door. It took him almost two hours to do the whole thing, but it led him straight to me, and he was like “I should’ve been studying for my exam tomorrow” and now he blames me for getting a C on his bio final.

anyway Waluigi is fine. Certainly not my first pick for Mario kart, but the way he’s animated in Mario and Sonic Olympic Games is pretty hilarious

[formula-nyoom]

I'm Proud of You

Pairing: Platonic!Grid x Fem!Driver!Reader

Summary: Being the youngest and newest driver to the grid is not an easy adjustment to make and it ends up taking a toll on you. Thankfully some of the other drivers on the grid are there to look out for you.

A/N: Was going to wait till Saturday to post this, but I had a shit day today so I decided to post it now. Hope you enjoy!

~~~

No one really knew what Mercedes was thinking when they announced that they were signing you, an F2 rookie who placed 6th in the Formula 2 Championship, as the one to take the 2nd Mercedes seat. Everyone expected you to be named a reserve driver, so that you could prepare for the jump to F1. Yet here you were, jumping straight into the deep end. Even after you heard the news that you would be racing in Formula One, you were left more with shock and confusion rather than excitement. 

Sure, you had done a couple of test drives for Mercedes and had participated in an F1 practice session or two, but you didn’t think that was enough to put you in contention for a Formula One seat. 

But the media thought otherwise, and so did Mercedes. 

Both your friends and family tried to reassure you that you were good enough to race in Formula One, and you had seen countless interviews of Toto Wolf saying that he had made the right decision in signing you.

But none of that could take away the fact that all eyes were now on you. 

The first female to race in Formula One, and now the youngest on the grid.

The season hadn’t even started and yet you felt like Atlas holding the world weight of pressure that was placed upon your shoulders. You now have something to prove. And everyone was waiting for you to either fly or fall.

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t find the courage to cross the turnstile that led into the paddock during the first race weekend of the season. Crossing over would make everything real. And you would be doing it alone, as both your family and your manager weren't able to get to the track till later in the day. 

“Did you forget your badge on the first day?” A voice said from behind you. You turned to see Charles and Pierre.

 “You can just jump over the gate. Yuki does it all the time.” Pierre said. 

 “No, I have my badge…I’m just nervous to enter the paddock.” You said, motioning with your head to the turnstiles.

 “What makes you so nervous?” Charles asked.

“There’s a lot of people. And cameras. And people with cameras. I feel like I’m gonna get swarmed as soon as my foot crosses the entrance.” You said.

 “You’re not wrong. The media doesn’t really know the definition of personal space.” Charles said, taking a sip of his coffee. “If you want, I can act as a buffer and draw the attention away while Pierre helps you get past.”

 “Would that work? I just want to get to the Mercedes hospitality.”

“Oh trust me, the media loves Charles. They’ll be too focused on getting pictures of him to see us walk by.” Pierre said. You looked back at the people past the entrance and there seemed to be more than when you last looked. 

 “Well…if you’re sure it will work then we might as well try.” You said. Charles smiled and gave you a nod. He then took the sunglasses that were hanging on his hat and put them on before entering the paddock. Immediately, the people that had cameras flocked to Charles and started to take his picture as he tried to walk through the paddock. You and Pierre waited a couple moments to build enough distance between you and Charles before the two of you entered the paddock. You clutched the straps of your bag tightly, expecting the nearby paparazzi to turn around and immediately start taking pictures of you and Pierre, but they were too focused on Charles.  

Pierre’s hand hovered over your shoulder as he tried to block you from most of the cameras while guiding you through the paddock. While the two of you managed to pass Charles without getting noticed, you couldn’t help but feel a bit claustrophobic, seeing Charles surrounded by so many people trying to take his picture. Eventually, you and Pierre managed to make it to the Mercedes hospitality building.

“Is it always going to be like this?” You asked Pierre.

 “Unfortunately, yes. Especially since you’re the newest on the grid. I recommend you invest in a good pair of sunglasses. But I’m proud of you for getting past your first swarm of paparazzi.” Pierre said, ruffling your hair. You laughed and swatted his hand away as Charles walked up to the two of you.

 “Whew! Thank god Lewis walked in. I felt like those reporters and paparazzi would never leave.” Charles said.

 “Sorry for making you go through that.” You said, feeling a bit guilty. 

“Pas de soucis. I’m used to it and know how to handle them. Though I will advise that you never enter the paddock by yourself. The reporters are like vultures.” Charles said. “Anyway, we will see you at the press conference, no?”

 “Yep. I’ll see you there.” You said. Charles patted your shoulder before him and Pierre headed to their own team's hospitality. 

~~~

You were beginning to hate the press conferences that you had to go to. Any question that was directed towards you involved your performance on track, or lack thereof as some reporters like to put it. You were getting tired of having to answer questions that made you feel like a failure.

“This question is for (Y/N). We’re now five races into the season and you’ve been continuously out qualified and out placed by your teammate, George? Is there a certain struggle that you’re having with the car that may be the cause of this?”

If you could walk away from this question, you would. But instead you stayed in your seat and picked up the microphone next to you. Damn Mercedes PR training.

 “There’s still some learning with the car. The engineers have said that the car isn’t up to the standards they want it to be, so I am struggling a bit on track.” You said, giving your best PR approved answer that you could manage.

“But would it be safe to say that you are under performing at Mercedes in comparison to your teammate?” The reporter asked. You tried to steal your expression and act like the comment didn’t bother you.

 “What kind of question is that?” It wasn’t you that asked it, but Lando, who was sitting to your right. You looked at him with some confusion. So did the reporter.

“Is there something you would like to add, Lando?”

“Yea. You can’t say she’s underperforming when she’s a rookie that has only completed five races.” Lando said, an upset expression clear on his face. The reporter cleared his throat.

 “I’m just saying, some have doubts that Mercedes were too hasty in signing an F2 rookie and I wanted to know if that was being reflected in (Y/N)’s driving.” The reporter said, trying to control the situation

 “I think we already know your opinion on Mercedes' decision based on the questions you ask.” Carlos said, who was sitting next to Lando. “I agree with Lando that it’s unfair to judge (Y/N) based on her first five races.”

 “I’d say she’s actually doing pretty good for a rookie, considering she’s been able to score points in two out of the 5 races she’s done so far.” Lando said.

 “Much more than you have ever done.” Carlos said to the reporter. You tried to hide the smile that was slowly forming on your face but inevitably failed as you picked your microphone back up.

“To my two fellow drivers points, I think you’re discounting me too early. I will admit that there is still a learning curve and with the continuous upgrades that Mercedes keeps bringing to the car, I am constantly having to adjust to all the new additions while also trying to get used to driving a Formula One car every other weekend.” You said, making direct eye contact with the reporter. “But I will eventually get used to the car. And when I do, I think I will be able to match George and possibly start out qualifying.”

That seemed to silence the reporter, as he sat back down. It also seemed to signify the end of the press conference as reporters started to pack their things and you and the other drivers sitting on the couch with you got up and left the room.

“Mate, I’m so proud of you and how you handled that reporter.” Lando said once you were out of the room. He placed his hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug.

 “I was ready to walk out of the press conference when I heard that question. Why do these reporters always have to compare me to George?”

 “Because that's what they do. All of us get compared to our teammates because our teammates are seen as our biggest competition.” Carlos said. “You’re gonna get it more because you’re new.”

“Just remember that you can refuse to answer any questions that make you uncomfortable.” Lando said. 

 “Even the sexist ones?” You asked. Carlos and Lando nodded their heads.

“Especially the sexist ones.” Carlos said.

 “Better yet, I’ll answer them for you in the most ridiculous manner so that way they’ll stop asking you questions like that.” Lando said, making you laugh.

~~~

So many more races. Too many races. How does a Formula One driver get through all these races and have a chance to calm down? You were used to things going fast, but lately you just wanted a chance to slow down and breathe. 

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor in an empty VIP room, looking out the window at a mostly empty racetrack. Phone in hand. Staring at the clock that displayed the timezone back at home.

2:00AM. Your parents are definitely asleep right now. It’s not a good time to call them, no matter how much you want to. 

You were so focused on staring at your phone, you didn’t notice that Max had walked in.

“Sadly I don’t think drivers count as VIPs at the races they have to participate in.” Max said as he sat down next to you, a Redbull in his hand.

 “It’s the only place that I can find privacy and some peace and quiet.” You said still staring at your phone.

2:01AM.

You turned your phone off and let out a sigh, placing it down next to you.

 “Something the matter?” Max asked. You hesitated. You didn’t want to burden a 3-time World Champion with your upset thoughts, that was for your non-existent therapist. But then again, maybe talking to someone who has been in your position before may make you feel a bit better.

“I haven’t found a good time to call my parents since the start of the season.” You said. “They were able to make it to my first race, which was amazing. I was really glad they could come…but with so many races on the calendar, it’s hard for them to come to all of them, and all the changing time zones makes it hard to find a good time to call them.” You told him. “I miss talking to them.”

Max looked at you, took in how you were hugging your knees. Max sometimes forgets that you're now the youngest driver on the grid. On the track he sees you as competition, but now he sees you as the overwhelmed rookie that you looked like right now.

“I understand what you're feeling. It does get overwhelming a lot of times.” He said. You turned to him.

 “How do you deal with it?”

“No matter what country we are in, I try to find a day or time where I can get the farthest away from being a race car driver. A spot that’s farthest away from the track where I’m not “Max Verstappen, The Red Bull Driver”, but just “Max”.” He said.

 “Don’t you get recognized wherever you go?” You asked

“Absolutely. But being away from the track, even for an hour, makes me less overwhelmed. And in regards to wanting to talk to your parents, yes finding a time to communicate is hard, but sometimes you just have to throw timezones out the window and call your parents. Even if you can only talk to them for five minutes, it’s still five minutes that you get to talk to them.” Max explained. 

You thought about what Max said. It would make you feel a bit guilty, waking your parents up in the middle of the night just because you wanted to talk to them. But at the same time, sometimes they’re the only people that could make you feel better. You looked back down at your phone.

2:05 AM

You’d be ok with just five minutes.

 “I think I’m gonna call my parents.” You said to Max. He smiled and gave you a nod before standing up.

 “I’ll let you have your privacy. But my driver’s room is open if you want to talk about anything except racing.” Max said before leaving the room. You smiled at him before calling your parents.

~~~

Finally you had finished a race with what you thought was a good race result. P6 was your highest placement so far this season and it was something you should be proud of. But even if you thought it was a good result, you knew that people were going to comment that George had gotten P4, placing ahead of you again. To you, it felt like no matter how high you climbed up the grid, if George finished in front of you, your result wasn’t something to be proud of. 

You were knocked out of your thoughts by someone bumping your shoulder. It was Oscar walking alongside you. The fact that he was looking directly at you made you assume the bump was intentional to get your attention.

“Proud of you.” Oscar said. “This was just like that one season of Formula 2 we raced in together.”

You scoffed but smiled.

 “Yea, except I now have the knowledge not to shunt the car into the back of yours.” You said. You spent most of thid race chasing Oscar’s rear wing and were glad that you didn’t do what you had just said.

“That time was an accident. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” Oscar said. The two of you stopped walking as you got closer to where the podium interviews were taking place. The two of you watched as Charles was getting interviewed about his winning result. 

“So am I gonna see you up on that podium this season?” Oscar asked. You didn’t want to shake your head, but your body acted on instinct. You have been shaking your head a lot these days.

 “That seems unlikely. I haven’t been able to match George’s pace at all and he keeps out qualifying me.” You said. Oscar looked at you confused.

 “What are you on about? You were only 2 seconds off George and that was only because I was in between the two of you.” He said. You sighed.

“Yea but it was still 2 seconds behind George. It doesn’t matter how much time is between the two of us, if I’m behind him that’s all the media is going to care about.” You said. “I’ll never have the pace to pass him.”

“Hey!” Oscar grabbed your shoulders so that you would face him. “You have the pace. You’ve been building it up this whole season. At the start you were what? 10 seconds behind him? Now you’re two. Soon there’s going to be no gap because you’ll be ahead of him at some point. It’s bound to happen.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing down, or the fact that Oscar was saying something you had been wanting to hear from your race engineer, or your team princpal, or hell, even it’s something the media should be noticing: that you’re catching up and proving your pace. Oscar’s words were making you feel like you belonged on the grid.

 “You think so?” You asked, needing the confirmation. 

“I know so. Screw what everyone else says.” Oscar said. “Are you proud of your P6?”

 You looked back at your car, then at the car of your teammate’s before your eyes landed back at Charles. You’d be in his spot at some point this season, you just knew it.

 “Yea. I’m proud of myself.”

[rafecameroninterlude]

rafe + degradation kink

warnings: mean!rafe (barely), pogue!reader, secret relationship, degradation, unprotected sex, slight jealousy, rafe slaps you

“what do you think your dumbass friends would say if they saw you like this, huh? underneath me, taking my cock like the filthy slut that you are?” you whimpered, nails digging into rafe’s skin as his hand came up to wrap around your neck. “so fuckin’ pathetic, you just couldn’t wait ‘til they left you alone.” he cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him.

“but that’s what you like, right? you run around causing all kinds of trouble, acting like you hate me but in reality you let me dig you out anytime i want. you’re such a fucking whore.” you couldn’t help but choke back a sob, tears brimming your eyes at the way the head of his cock stroked your sweet spot. rafe had your chest rising and falling, making you gasp for a full breath before knocking it right out of you again.

his thrusts were merciless, his hips slamming into your own with a force that made you tremble and shake. despite being rough, rafe still kissed you gently, whispering an occasional, ‘is my pretty girl okay?’ before continuing his brutal ministrations. “fuck!” you cried out, back arching off of his sheets.

rafe would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him when you acted like he was the worst person in the world while in the presence of your friends, the only way he could get you back for that was being mean to you during sex. “wanna act like i’m insufferable still? you should tell jj how you beg for it, ‘bet he wouldn’t believe you.” rafe laughed, slapping your cheek hard enough to make your head turn in the opposite direction.

your mouth fell open in a silent moan, eyes rolling back as your fingers started working on your clit. rafe cursed at the sight, hooking your thigh around his waist. he knew he could take you deeper in this angle, both of you moaning when you felt the head of his cock kiss your cervix. “rafe, please. wanna cum.” he shushed you, clamping a hand over your mouth.

“shut the fuck up. do you really think i’m gonna let you have your way?” he scoffed, “fuck no. i don’t even let good girls get what they want.” your eyes narrowed at the mention of other girls, your hands coming up to push at his chest. “aw, does that bother you? the idea of me fucking other girls like this pisses you off?” you bit the palm of his hand, sending his hand flying back as he glared down at you.

“fuck you.” your chin wobbled, a gasp leaving your lips when he tugged on the roots of your hair. “fuck me?” rafe repeated, “i’m just messin’ calm down.” he leaned down, kissing you softly. “how would you like it if i told you something like that?” rafe shook his head, both of you moaning at a particular stroke of his hips. “i wouldn’t believe you.” he laughed at your irritated expression. “and why is that?” you shot back.

“cause i’ll fucking kill anyone who touches you.”

[luveline]

I was just rereading your marauders sex shop blurb. I love how the boys have just adopted reader into their group, and how open they are with their affection for her. You do such a wonderful job of writing intimacy that rides the line between platonic and romantic. And I love the readers inter monologue of wondering if that intimacy means something more romantic like she wishes. It’s wonderful! I was also wondering if there’s a blurb on how the boys met reader for the first time?

thank you so much, that’s so nice of you <3 there wasn’t one but I hope this is okay!! —Remus, Sirius and James move into their new flat. You’re helpful. fem, 1k

The stairwell is filled with the sounds of kissing. Remus frowns, heart beating quickly, arms aching under the weight of yet another box. He gets to the top of the stairs and peeks around the box’s sides. 

Sitting on the step of their new doorway is James. And, sitting on top of James, stroking his cheek, is Sirius. His hair is falling all over the place and they’re kissing so much Remus assumes they’ll have bruised noses. They often turn their kisses into a fight, like one of them can win, though it never really ends that way. He wants to laugh as Sirius pushes James down for more kissing, and he sort of wants to watch regardless because they’re both good kissers and he’d quite like to be included, but mostly he needs the heavy box put away. 

“Someone please help me,” Remus says. 

James breaks away. Sirius squeezes his face and begins to kiss his neck. 

“Baby,” James says as he pushes him away, which is funny, unlike him and unlike Sirius to be called it, but also not actually unlike either of them when Remus really thinks about it. 

Sirius gives a last peck and pulls away. When he gets up to look at Remus properly he’s flushed all over from the activity, his neck and face turning red in splotches. 

Sirius and James have spent a lot of time spoiling Remus into love. He would’ve ended up there regardless, but he’s used to being the centre of attention. It was nice to see them kissing, and he wishes he didn’t interrupt quickly, but neither party seems to begrudge him. Sirius stands up and James is a second behind him, taking the heavy box from Remus’ arms before it can topple to the floor. 

“We’re on break,” James says with a grin. “Especially you.” 

“We have to take the van back tonight, in case you forgot. There’s still half our stuff in there.” 

“If we have to pay their fine, it’s fine,” James says, shifting the box against his chest. “I’d much rather pay the extra day than have us all hurt ourselves. How will we ever test the big bed if poor Remus can’t move?” 

“Poor Remus,” Sirius says, taking Remus’ hand to play with his fingers. 

This is pretty much everything Remus has ever wanted. To get to keep his two best friends forever, to be in love, to live together in a new city with good food and better cinemas. And here, nobody knows them. Nobody to judge them or give them strange looks. They can just be together like they’ve always wanted to be. 

Remus leans down to put his face against Sirius’ chest, their hands still held, Sirius’ free arm wrapping around him loosely. 

“Tired?” Sirius asks. 

James reluctantly leaves for the kitchen to put down their heavy box. 

“No. We really need to empty the van.”

“We will.” Sirius drops his nose against Remus’ hair. “Cliche if I kiss you?” 

“I like cliches.” 

Sirius puts his lips to Remus temple. Barely a kiss, no movement nor sound, but Remus knows it counts. It’s about intention. 

“Would you like a rough one?” Sirius asks quietly. 

“Maybe later.” 

“Please, let me give you one,” he says. 

“And have you press me into the floor? I don’t think so.” 

Sirius tips Remus’ head up and presses a kiss to Remus’ Cupid’s bow in an act of lifting his face, and then presses an equally gentle kiss to his lips. All this kissing… 

“I’m so happy we’ve moved,” Remus admits. 

Sirius squeezes his fingers, pulling away to meet charmed eyes. “All we need to do is find James a new team, and it’s perfect. Everything, finally.” 

“Hello?” someone calls. 

Sirius and Remus keep their hands held and shuffle across the hall to look down at the square. The flat building is strange, big and with an interior that’s an exterior, and you stand on the grass with a smile. 

“Hi!” you say, hands on your hips. You’re dressed for the strange weather, jeans and a t-shirt and a zip-up hoodie, entirely non-assuming. “Are you guys moving in?” 

“We are!” Remus says back. “You live here?” 

“My friend, I came to make sure her cat was okay, she’s gone to Ibiza. Do you need help?” 

“Oh, no, we couldn’t ask you to!” Remus says. 

“Sure you can!” 

You smile, and Remus thinks you look really lovely when you smile, it changes everything about your face. He feels guilty for the thought quickly, but it’s not as though being in a relationship means he can’t tell when girls are pretty. 

“Are you busy?” Sirius asks. 

You grin and make for the metal stairs up to the flat. 

Remus peeks at him in surprise, then suspicion, but Sirius only smiles at him. “We’re making friends already,” Sirius says, giving him a nudge. “That’s what we wanted.” 

James returns, having taken off his hoodie, a brown t-shirt loose on his frame. His own, then, because he insists on stealing from everybody’s wardrobes and stretching out their clothes. 

“Why are you guys shouting?” 

“Nice girl’s gonna come help us move.” 

James raises his eyebrows. 

‘Nice girl’ makes her way up the stairs. You’re still grinning when you get to the top, unperturbed by the appearance of another boy. “Hi,” you say, holding out your hand for an introduction. “I’m Y/N.” 

It’s the start of a long road. Remus shakes your hand and gets the sort of butterflies he’s terrified of now, though eventually Sirius and James will admit to the exact same thing, and no one will know what to do about it.

[niko-sasaki-dbd]

I'm watching this interview, and George and Jayden got me in tears. Like, I'm literally tearing up. But I think all the interview is so awesome, so here are some points:

I mean, common guys, the amount of "you're the best"/"no, you're the best!" interactions between these two is unbelievable, they are giving me toothache

George saying he's an overthinker but the chemistry with Jayden was something he didn't need to think about, cause since they met, it was just there.

Jayden saying that now it feels like they have been friends for longer than Edwin and Charles. And also, mentioning the fact they were asked if they had worked together before when they knew each other for like a week.

"I'm not gonna say it was annoying—how well they get along (...)" I just know that it was annoying, like you're no lying to me, sir. They were annoying af.

George talking about Edwin's Confession: "(...) What it's great about that moment, is that it offers the best case scenario—which I would say for queer characters on screen— you don't offen see. There's often a nice dose of trauma mixed in there."

Steve about the confession: "(...) That moment need to happen in the stairs in hell. (...) Edwin didn't know if they were gonna get out so he didn't know how many chances he was going to have, and I also don't think that he believed he would have the courage to say it if they made it back"

Jayden saying he meant it when he delivered the "you're the only person I would go to hell for" line, due to how close George and him are.

George research about Boarding School culture for Edwin included things as fives and riding horses, he also mentioned hunting lmao

What they said about all the cast and the way they work together, it's too much to put it here, but my god, it's sounds so cool [27:12]

"Look, every gay man had identified with every final girl in a slasher film for the entirety of history. Like we know what it's like to live that life" [!]

Steve saying that he wouldn't have written an autistic character and put an actor whose not part of the spectrum to play it, and adding that Edwin's personality traits are a consequence of his upbringing (his mother never touched him with an ungloved hand) and the fact he lives in kind of his own little bubble. Yes sir, that just confirmed this to me in a hundred different levels.

That's all!

[deadboyswalking]

Right after Zoro and Sanji get engaged, only hours from the proposal, they have an interesting late-night conversation.

"Gonna have to be a long engagement, Curly."

"And why's that?" Sanji asks sleepily from his comfortable position lying on Zoro's chest, "Having second thoughts already?"

"No!" Zoro replies, a bit too sharply before softening, "It'll just be a while until we can get back to the East Blue."

Sanji is silent for a long moment.

"Do you still have... family there?" he asks.

"No, but you do," Zoro says quietly, "You'd be sad if your old man weren't there."

Oh. Sanji hasn't even had a chance to think about Zeff yet, but Zoro has. Though Sanji was the one to propose, Zoro has clearly been thinking about this for a while. Zoro knows how important Zeff is to Sanji, how much Sanji loves The Baratie and the chefs there, and he's already planning for them to go back home for their wedding.

It's so different from Whole Cake Island, an unfamiliar and extravagant place where Sanji had been surrounded by detested blood relations, enemies, and strangers while he awaited political marriage to a sweet girl he barely knew. But Zoro knows Sanji and knows what he really wants, even if Sanji would never make a fuss and bring it up himself.

Sanji has never felt this loved.

"Yeah, the geezer would probably kill me if I got married and didn't invite him," Sanji finally says, his voice thick with emotion, "And The Baratie is the only place I'd trust to make my wedding feast."

"We could invite my sensei," Zoro adds, "And Johnny and Yosaku, if those two idiots haven't gotten themselves killed. I think they settled down in Nami's village."

"What about Mihawk?" Sanji asks.

"If I haven't defeated him yet, sure," Zoro grumbles, "He likes fancy restaurants and he'd probably get along with my sensei. Perona too since she'd haunt me forever if I left her out. What about Ivankov?"

Sanji grimaces, mostly for show.

"I'll invite Iva, but I don't think he'll show up. He's way too busy with his kingdom and the Revolutionary Army to go all the way to the East Blue just for our wedding."

Zoro hums in thought.

"I think you're wrong about that. Who else?"

Needless to say, by the time they finally fall asleep their tentative guest list has over 500 names on it. Even if Zoro and Sanji aren't quite as sociable as their captain (who they'll definitely have to restrain from inviting everyone he's ever met to their wedding), all of the Straw Hat Pirates have made many friends on their journey and will make more by the time they get back to the East Blue.

Sanji's last thought before drifting off in the arms of the man he loves is wondering how much advance notice he should give Zeff before his beloved restaurant is swarmed by all of the friends that the lonely little boy he saved grew up to have.

[lnfours]

childhood bestfriend! Reader baking cookies with Lando for their family get together ( their mums are friends) but things take a turn confessions are made and it gets heated 🌶️🍪

childhood best friend!lando will always get me. anything friends to lovers, truly. alsooooo i changed this up a bit and did fewtrell!reader because.. yeah..

cleaning out my inbox

every summer, your families got together for their annual party. it had been a tradition ever since you, max and lando were kids, a thing you looked forward to the most every summer.

and you had always had a crush on lando, always falling for those stupidly adorable dimples and the way his whole face lights up whenever you ask him about one of his interests. but no matter how you felt about him, you knew it was never going to be reciprocated. he simply saw you as his best friend's little sister, one of his best friends, nothing more. nothing less. and it was a fact you knew you were going to have to live with.

but right now, as he stood shirtless in the kitchen, reading the recipe on his phone, it was all you could think about. his curls still wet from your trip down to the beach earlier this morning, his sunkissed skin on full display in front of you. it was hard not to be distracted.

"do you know if we have chocolate chips?" he looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours. you hummed, turning towards the pantry behind you. he took the opportunity to take you in, smiling as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the bag on the top shelf.

you turned around, a smile on your face with the bag in your hand. he laughed softly, "perfect,"

he wasn't only talking about the fact that you had chocolate chips.

the both of you gathered the rest of the ingredients, making small talk, "so, anything new with you?" you asked, smirking and playfully rubbing against his shoulder, "any girlfriends?"

he laughed, shaking his head as he poured in the flour, "no," he looked over at you, watching as you concentrated on pouring the right amount of vanilla extract, "you? any boyfriends i need to know about?"

you shook your head, laughing softly with him, "no, no one's into me,"

"oh c'mon, i doubt that."

"i'm serious!" you laughed, "they all avoid me like the plague!"

"well, they're idiots," he shrugged, "they don't know what they're missing out on."

you looked over at him, taking in his side profile. he wore a small smile as he noticed you from the corner of his eye, still busying himself with the cookies in front of you.

"if you say so."

"i do," he said, wiping his hands on his sweatpants before speaking again, "alright, i think we're ready for the mixer."

you nodded, plugging it in and handing it to him, "do you know how to use it?"

"it's a mixer, it can't be that hard,"

"yeah, but you have to start it on the-"

he didn't let you finish your warning before he turned it on, the max speed making the whisk ends send cookie dough flying all around you. with a yelp, you reached over, turning it off before it could make a total mess.

"-slow setting." you finished, letting out a sigh, looking over at him as he held back a laugh. you bit onto your lower lip, suppressing your own laugh before it became impossible and the two of you were laughing next to each other.

"this is why they never let you in the kitchen," you said, starting to pick pieces of the dough off your clothes.

"i think you're right," he said, wiping himself off. he noticed the small piece of dough that had landed in your hair, speaking softly, "wait, c'mere,"

you didn't have a chance to react before he was reaching towards your face, lifting your chin up to let him get the small piece. you sucked in a nervous breath, the feeling of his hand on your chin and being this close to him making your stomach do flips.

he looked down at you, tossing the small ball onto the counter with the others as he met your eyes, "got it."

you nodded, breathing out softly, "thanks,"

he nodded back at you, swallowing as he took in your face. his eyes scanning over your features, the glow from the sun making you look heavenly. he was captivated, and there was no denying it now.

he moved the stray piece of hair from your face, his hand coming back to cup your cheek. you weren't sure when he got so close, his lips nearly touching yours.

you breathed his name softly, followed by a whispered, "please,"

he was happy to oblige, wasting no more time in placing his lips on yours. you kissed him back, your hands moving to wrap around his neck. he deepened the kiss, moving the both of you as you pressed up against the edge of the counter. the hand that wasn't holding your cheek grabbed at your hip, his mouth moving away from yours as he breathed against your lips, "y/n,"

your noses bumped as you tried to regain the air in your lungs. he didn't have to say it, you knew it now. you were the only one he wanted to be with, and you the same with him.

"i know," you mumbled, bringing him closer to you by his neck, "you don't have to say it, just please keep kissing me."

he smiled, dipping his head back down towards your lips, "gladly,"

[paigebueckersmommy]

maybe not enemies pt.1 - p.b

paige bueckers x fem!roomate! reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, drinking, mean paige kinda?, 1st person

a/n: i am well aware the team rooms togther but act like they don’t for this fic 🥰 also i hate this with every bone in my body.

you and paige had met briefly a few times. all you knew was you two weren’t into the same things.

it was the start of my senior year of college, and i had always taken my academics seriously, but i needed to take them more serious this year, and geting roomed with the schools biggest party animal, caused problems.

i began unpacking the suit case on my bed, waiting for my roomate to arrive. they sent an email with dorm assignments, which your roomate obviously hadn’t seen.

when i heard the door open, i snapped head. “fuck.” you heard a attractive voice say, which you didn’t wanna admit was attractive. “i’m not happy about this either.” you say making eye contact with the blonde.

“how’d you know?” paige says setting stuff down on her bed, “they sent an email.” i say looking back at my stuff.

“well, the best way to handle being roomed with the most boring person on earth, is if we agree to not talk unless it’s needed.” paige said, with an look of annoyance on her face. “agreeed, just please don’t be loud.” you say rolling your eyes, “k.”

time skip to a couple months later

you could tell paige was a little confused by your style when she mostly only ever saw you wearing hoodies, sweatpants and leggings, but tonight was diffrent.

you were standing infront of the mirror on a saturday night, putting lipgloss on. wearing a mini skirt and a mesh long sleeve, a black lacey bra underneath.

“where you going? shouldn’t you be studying or sum shit.” paige said looking you up and down from her bed. “why would it matter to you? but for your infortntion i’m going to a bar with my friends.” i say, looking back at her.

“oh my god!!! she has friends everyone!!” paige says acting suprised, not very good acting. “just because i care about my academics more than you doesn’t make me a nerd.”

“oh please, admit you’re just stating and don’t have any friends.” paige says cocking her head, when jsut then you heard a knock on your door. you opened it, your friends head peaking thru the door. “you almost rea- hey. wanna come?” your friend says, making eye contact with paige mid sentence.

“oh? inviting me? fuck it, yea lemme get dressed.”

you step out of your dorm room, shocked by the interaction. “damn. she barley talks to me i don’t know why she’d wanna come out with-“ you stopped mid sentence when paige walked out of your dorm. she was wearing white pants and a pink crop top, you had only ever seen her wear basketball gear so you were a little shocked at this.

“mm.. she knows how to dress everyone.” you say matching paige’s pace in the hallway as two of your friends were a little in front of you.

“oh i know your not talking. this is the 3rd time ive ever seen you not wear a hoodie. probobly why you don’t have a boyfriend yet.”

“b-boyfriend? i’m sorry, what makes you think i like men?” you say crooking your head words paige, curious. “o-oh i’m sorry, i just-“

“your good. i get a lot that i look straight.. but im lesbian.” you say with a soft smile making eye contact with paige, as you realize she’s also smiling.

“hm. good to know.” paige says, looking your outfit up and down, and that’s whe your mind began spinning.

did i like paige? was she trying to tell me something? were we, not enemies?

you put those thoughts to the side as you reached the doors of the bar. it was a saturday night, so it was crowded but not as crowded as it is on fridays. you, paige and your two friends found spots at the bar, paige sitting next to you as she ordered a round of shots for you two without even asking what you wanted.

“oh? thank you? your not being mean to me for once?” you say out of confusion before downing the shot. “mmm. you don’t look half as bad tonight.”

“could say the same about you.”

pt 2 soon!!!

[poppy-metal]

patrick doing something that really pissed off art, like really pisses him off, and instead of apologising he just give you to him, patrick’s pretty girlfriend. patrick watched as art blows you from behind, grunting and groaning like an animal. patrick gave you a talk before, and just like you were told, all you whimper is “sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry art,” over and over with every brutal thrust and every squelch of your wet pussy. arts rough, and he’s mean but he’s still art. pulls your hair back yes, but presses slobbery kisses to your neck. barks commands at you, like “shut up” or “stop moving”, yes, but then can’t help himself praising you, “so pretty” “so tight” “so warm”. and patrick watches everything with a smug smile on his face. god i just need art to just be so mean to me and make me cry and make it better and make me beg and beg for me and i can’t take this anymore

mean art save me save me mean art..... i imagine in this situation art doesn't actually know you that well. you're almost an extension of patrick in a way, patricks girl, patricks plaything. its the most disrespectful he's ever been - given that he has the permission to be. he can't find it in himself to throw his anger out at patrick how he wants, he can't punch him, pound his face into the ground until his knuckles are bloody because thats not art. hes not a violent person. hes not. but all that anger and resentment has to go somewhere, its like a poison, the way it eats at him. and patrick knows, knows if he doesn't offer something - concede something his relationship with art will crumble. and he cant have that. its fucked in a way, the way its not even something he has to think about for long at all - they get into an argument and art has turned on his heel, already cold, already icing patrick out and patrick is quick to grab his wrist, tug him back. "hold on - "

it should be horrible the way your boyfriend offers you up on a silver platter like you're a piece of meat. it should anger and humiliate you to be used as a bargaining chip between them to maintain peace, your body like a vessel that will exorcize their demons towards one another. patrick cant just say sorry, he cant say those words, he cant be vulnerable like that, open himself up to art for the fear of art breaking his heart.

and everyone thinks art is a lovely guy. and he is. most of the time, to most people. especially to women. his grandma raised him. he grew up catholic. you always treat a lady with respect.

unless that lady is patrick zweigs girlfriend.

he shouldn't accept but he does. the promise is too appealing. staking claim over a tree patrick has pissed all over. putting his mark there. so when patrick offers you up, art only pretends to be disturbed when he storms off. its the principle of the thing, he has to act affronted for his own moral compass. he texts patrick later. "fine."

for all you should be up in arms and upset you're not. that's your own fucked up dilemma. loving being the center of attention between two opposing forces. loving the idea of patrick giving you over and expecting you to put your pussy to work to his satisfaction - endure his closest confidants aggression to show how good you are. to show how much you can take - patrick likes you dirty he likes you bad he likes you arching your back and moaning for his best friend to fuck you harder while he watches, because he fucking asked you to.

patrick cant say sorry - but you can. with the tight glove of your wet cunt - with the warbled whines punched out of your throat with every thrust inside your body - "hes sorry, so sorry, sorry, sorry art - oh god - take him back, please, oh-" and you feel the way art winds a fist in your hair, yanks your body till its bending back to meet his hard chest as he pounds and pounds and pounds.

"not there yet," he grunts, and he shoves you back down, you press your tits to the mattress, make eye contact with patrick as you spread your thighs wider and accept every plunge - "tell your girlfriend if she wants me to forgive you she needs to squeeze my dick harder."

patrick licks his lips, eyes dark. you know hes turned on by this. you want to taste the evidence of it in your mouth, filling your throat but this isn't about patrick getting off. its about art. so he tells you, "hug his cock with your pussy, baby, you know how. just how i taught you."

your eyes roll back as you obey, obey, obey. bearing down on the cock thrusting in and out and gripping at it with your muscles as tight as you can - art groans long and hard behind you, nails digging into the fat of your waist. rolls his hips into yours, "fuck, that's good. good fucking girl - keep doing that -"

he hunches behind you, lips brushing the shell of your ear, "you need to respect yourself more," he pants, biting your lobe and pulling it between his teeth, "but not until i cum."

[gffa]

Disney, hire me as your Attachment Advisor, I will shove so many George Lucas quotes at your producers and writers, I will shove so many context-laden clips from the movies and TCW at your creatives, I will make powerpoint essays about how it's more Buddhist-aligned, not Attachment Theory-aligned, I will cite literally every time attachment has ever been discussed by Lucas AND in the show itself and show you that it's always aligned with fear, possessive feelings, and selfishness, I will do this work for you for free, I can even literally just point you to my Jedi Citations collection, DISNEY, HIRE ME AS YOUR ATTACHMENT ADVISOR, I CAN HELP YOU.

Everything I saw in the show aligned perfectly with my view of what the Jedi mean by attachment from the movies (especially with Episode II). You fail to understand that George Lucas words outside of the movies mean shit. You cane have the largest collection of words that has come out of Lucas's ass and it still does not change the movies. Look at the poster for AOTC. A Jedi shall not know love. Obi-Wan speaks beautifully about the undercurrent of remorse he feels for not being able to have an attachment with Satine because he lives by the Jedi Code which forbids it.

You people are so delusional.

Hi! You are so right bestie it has been way too long since I've talked about my love for Mace Windu! You are so right to have brought this up and I will meet your challenge! He is the Force's strongest soldier because the absolute nonsense he has to put up with every day, as someone who deals with the rest of the Council being hilarious assholes, who deals with Kenobi and Skywalker's nonsense, who has Yoda as a friend, and yet he seems to genuinely like all of these people?? Even when they're bonkers?? My man is stronger than I could ever be.

Not to mention, he goes on a whole ass mission with Jar-Jar, has to watch him make out with his girlfriend, the queen of the planet who told falsehoods about your family, and you have nothing but patience and kind words to say about them, and you only roll your eyes a little at Jar-Jar's antics, something even Padme does and she's worked with him even longer than you have, and by the end, you're friends with him, you like him and would probably hang out with him again if the chance arose???? Mace Windu is on ANOTHER LEVEL from what I would have done in his position!

And he's a former theater nerd! "The Council's gain was the theater's loss." Jocasta Nu says about how he didn't have time for it anymore after he got so busy with the Council, like can you IMAGINE Mace Windu doing plays? I want to know sooooooo bad how Jedi plays are different from non-Force-sensitive people's plays, I want to know what kind of cool effects they create with the Force, I want to know if they use their psychic empath abilities to literally connect with their audience! I want to know DOES MACE WINDU HELP THE YOUNGLINGS STAGE CUTE LITTLE PLAYS IN THE CRECHE? BECAUSE I BET HE DOES.

Because that man is so good with kids! Remember that Star Wars Adventures comic where he was so gentle and sweet with the little Twi'lek girl? Reaching down to help her up, smiling openly at her, walking with her back to her village to make sure she was safe, talking with her to make sure she understood how important and valuable she was in the galaxy? Because I'm still not over that!

His relationship with Anakin in canon is pretty great, too, like, yeah, Anakin should take a seat and stop borderline pitching a fit about getting a rank he didn't earn, and Mace still offered to believe him, despite that Anakin had accepted Palpatine's forcing the Council to put him on it. He still trusted Anakin to help him in that fight against Palpatine! Plus, oh, man, their banter on the Endurance when they're teaching the cadets? That was such good-natured teasing, that was exactly the kind of banter Anakin would have had with Obi-Wan, and by the end of that whole fiasco (do you ever think about when Anakin was in danger and Mace yelled, "Anakin!" and desperately yanked him to safety, because he was worried about him? because I think about that a lot), Mace complimented Artoo by saying he saw what Anakin saw in him, that he was complimenting Anakin at the same time? Or pretty much EVERY interaction between Mace and Yoda is absolute hilarity, the side-eye they give each other, the teasing Yoda does when Mace is on a mission with Jar-Jar, the way Mace holds his hand out in the comics for Yoda to springboard off of into the middle of a fight? ICONIC FRIENDSHIP, I WOULD TAKE A WHOLE NOVEL ABOUT IT, DISNEY.

Or that time even AT THE END OF THE CLONE WARS, like they are just a MONTH out from Revenge of the Sith, if that, and Mace is STILL trying to get the droids to stand down, that he's destroyed thousands of them, none of them have listened, but he's still trying, offering them a better life away from the war, a purpose again, even if he knows it probably won't work, that man still believed in compassion for anyone and everyone. Like, baby Boba Fett TRIED TO KILL HIM and Mace STILL argued for leniency and rehabilitation, rather than jail, because he saw a young child who was hurting and he wanted better for him. He was direct with Boba, he didn't try to befriend him, Boba would never have accepted that, but he told him, you're going to have to get over your hatred for me, he says this for Boba's sake, not his own, because he knows what poison the desire for revenge is, look at the path it's already leading Boba down.

Or EVERYTHING WITH THE ZILLO BEAST, he tried so hard to rescue that poor creature, he fought the Senate so hard, he was so gentle with the hand he carefully pressed to its face, even when the Zillo beast was dangerous, even when it had attacked them and could so easily kill more, he wanted leniency for it, he wanted to save it because he understood where it was coming from.

Or EVERYTHING WITH PROSSET DIBS, that guy tried to murder him, was ranting about how he would dance on their graves or whatever, and Mace looks at him and says, we need to help him, it's our duty to help him find the light again. And his big punishment is literally just library duty, because when Mace can decide the outcome, that guy always goes for helping people, always goes for the option that would bring them back to the light.

Even as a young Padawan, his greatest struggle was to temper his anger, which was sparked because PEOPLE WERE BEING HURT by the false prophet on Mathas, he was angry because he saw how many people were suffering and the people in charge just let it happen, his heart hangs heavy when he witnesses people in pain, because Mace Windu deeply, deeply cares about the people in the galaxy.

He cared about civilians, he cared about clones, he cared about his fellow Jedi, he didn't have to be bouncy or super smiley to show that, either. It was in every action he took. He cared so much.

And, okay, yeah, he was COOL AS HELL AND WOULD HAVE BEATEN PALPATINE'S WRINKLED ASS IN A FAIR FIGHT.

OR THAT TIME ON RYLOTH THAT WAS LITTERALLY THE COOLEST SCENE THEY EVER ANIMATED, THE SOUND DROP? THE ABSOLUTE BANGER PHYSICAL STUNTS MACE WAS CAPABLE OF? GODDAMN HE WAS SO GOOD.

AND LEST WE FORGET--CUTEST BB YOUNGLING EVER!!!!

[coriosbunni]

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🕯️ೀ₊°⋆ - on to you

pairings: academy!coriolanus snow x academy!fem!reader warnings: smut, possessive + obsessive coriolanus !!! , toxic coriolanus, breeding, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, public sex, summary: kind of a part two to " just lay there " but can be read alone ! basically corio and y/n developed a friends w benefits type relationship and they decided to go to a gala with separate dates. authors note : i personally recommend listening to haunted by beyonce during this hehehe, i just love that song sm, it makes me think of coriolanus.. also def listen to "all mine" by brent faiyaz it def suits this and "ultraviolence "by lana del rey ehehe i literally have a whole playlist dedicated to snow so im recommending them <3

you have been having this friends with benefits relationship with your best friend for months now. no one had a clue what was going on between you guys. especially you, you always wondered what it meant to have a fwb with your best friend since childhood. but of course you were always too shy to bring it up just in case it messes everything up. so you kept it safe.

after hooking up plenty of times, coriolanus has gotten pretty comfortable with your body and more secure. probably because he knows that he's the only one that has ever satisfied you. he was so relaxed and calm, while here you were thinking what this meant between yall.

with the end of the year gala coming up, you saw no reason for you two to attend together. after all, you weren't actually together. still, this reality bothered you

what you didn't know was that coriolanus had been building up the courage to ask you to the gala together. it shouldn't be a big deal, but he was hesitating so much. he had put off asking you every time he saw you. the thought of you rejecting him bothered him to no end. it would actually be the end of him.

it was two weeks before the gala that he finally gotten over himself to ask. as he walked down the halls of the academy, he spotted you at your locker talking to sejanus.

"so would you like to go with me to the gala? my mom is insisting i go and i don't want to be alone during that insufferable event with our annoying classmates" he hears you ask sejanus once he was in earshot.

he stood there a few steps behind you, a wave of anger washed over him as he processed what he had just heard. his jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed, "how could you ask sejanus? you belong to me. and since when were you friends??" he asks himself

he couldn’t help but feel a tang of jealousy as sejanus accepts, glad to attend the gala with a close friend.

your willingness to go with someone other than him, aggravated him. how could you want someone like sejanus to the gala instead of him?a guy from district 2 thats family isn't as well-connected and affluent as the snows. but with no worry, he's quick to come up with a way to get back at you.

"y/n. sejanus. have you seen clemmie?" the boy with blonde locks asked the pair. he blatantly asked them, not even with a hi or a hello.

he refused to look at you after addressing you, solely interested in knowing where clemensia was so he could ask an important question.

of course you noticed the lack of eye contact and his odd behavior, "i believe she was headed to her strategy and tactics class" sejanus remarks. coriolanus nods and says a quick thank you before rushing to catch clemensia.

you look at coriolanus chase after clemensia, hurt and worry bubbling in you chest. you didn’t need to ask your best friend any questions, call it intuition, but you knew what coriolanus needed clemensia for.

you couldn’t help but feel a surge of jealousy at the possibility of your corio taking clemensia to the gala. even though you had already asked someone else to accompany you, it didn't sit well with you.

coriolanus couldn't stop thinking about how angry he was at y/n. he was so mad he couldn't get himself to converse with you, but he needed to be calm so as to not freak out clemensia.

two weeks had passed without y/n and coriolanus sleeping together at all. the conversation between the two people was superficial and lacked any real substance. their pettiness got the best of them, and neither ever mentioned why the other had invited another person to the gala. they both ignored the ache they felt in their hearts upon knowing the other would go to a gala with someone else.

ʚ day of the gala ɞ 🐈‍⬛ ྀི . . .

y/n enters the hallowed halls of the venue, black gate protecting the valuable and expensive statues in the estate. the academy decided to use a section of the school’s art museum to hold the event.

the entrance led to a room with a barrel-vaulted skylight, textured roman travertine marble columns, and greek inspired capitals. it’s a space so big it feels divine. excitement was slowly building up within her, she did her best not to worry about coriolanus and just enjoy the night.

sejanus and y/n walks up the white concrete stairs, arms interlocked. a white pocket square on his left pocket to match her white silky backless dress. there was no doubt in the world they looked elegant and beautiful together.

coriolanus was getting drinks for him and clemensia, when he makes eye contact with y/n as she enters the venue. his eyes watching her every move, distracted by how the dress hugs her form in all the right places. the dress is accentuating her beautiful features that he has had the luck of touching from their nights together.

not to mention your exposed back, god it made it hard for him not to just grab you and take you in front of every one right there. the time away from each other was catching up to him, filling his days with a longing that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

he turned his attention back to clemensia and headed to her. she stood in her red dress, covered in gold jewels that pairs well with her styled black hair. the white rose pinned to coriolanus's lapel perfectly complemented the white dress of the girl he desired the most.

the night went by without him spending at least a moment thinking about you. when he sees you laughing at whatever sejanus said to you, he'd think about how that should be you laughing at his jokes.

upon noticing your solitude, he abruptly interrupted Clemensia mid-conversation, using it as an excuse to excuse himself. he walks straight to you, not wasting a single moment.

consumed by jealousy, he couldn't bear to let it linger any longer, feeling it overwhelm him completely.

he stands right in front of you. "y/n can we talk?" he asks, masking his anger but you could tell he had enough.

"why? what is there to talk about?" you couldn't believe him. he didn't say a single word to you during the entire night, even when you had came by him and clemensia. he couldn't possibly think you'd be okay with this treatment.

you scoff in his face and coriolanus took this chance to put his hand on your back to guide you outside. you start protesting but it was quickly shut done when he shoots you a face. his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes had this look in them.

it reminded you of when he'd be fucking into you with all his might.

he leads you outside to a quiet corner, far from the sounds of a hundred or so academy students drunk off their ass.

his jaw clenches, a flash of jealousy darkening his expression before he speaks again. "don't play dumb, y/n. I saw you with him," his tone accusing and bitter.

your heart sinks at his words, the weight of his jealousy heavy in the air between you. "and what if you saw me with him?" you counter, your own anger rising to match his. "what right do you have to be angry?"

he scoffs, his eyes narrowing with resentment. "right? you're kidding, right?" he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "you know damn well why i'm angry."

you shake your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. "i can't believe you," you mutter, unable to comprehend his possessiveness. you feel a surge of frustration and resentment rising within you, the weight of his jealousy suffocating. "you made it pretty clear where we stand."

his eyes darken, a flash of anger crossing his features, but also a glimmer of hurt. "don't do this, y/n," he warns, his voice low and dangerous. "you know damn well I'm not the only one at fault here."

your breath catches in your throat at his words, the tension between you escalating to a fever pitch. "maybe not," you concede, your voice barely above a whisper, "but you didn't have to ignore me all night."

as the tension mounts between you, his eyes burning with intensity. "you have no idea how hard it was for me to hold myself back," he admits, his voice low and filled with desperation. "seeing you with him... it made me want to tear him apart."

you feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the air thick with unspoken desire and pent-up frustration. "Then why didn't you?" you challenge, your body trembling with anticipation.

he closes the distance between you in an instant, his hands finding itself on your waist, his touch electric against your skin. "because I knew I had to make you understand," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light caress. "you're mine, rose. and no one else's."

his words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a firestorm of longing and need deep within you. "am i?" you ask, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. you finally ask him what you've been wanting since the beginning of your arrangement.

and then, in a rush of passion and desperation, his lips crash against yours, fierce and demanding, consuming you in a whirlwind of emotion. there's anger and frustration in the way he kisses you, a primal need to possess and claim you as his own.

he pulls away, catching his breath, "you've been mine since the day i met you bunny," his face still close to yours. his lips connect to yours, dominating you with his kisses. owning you and devouring you as his love for you soars.

he pushes you to a wall, your back against it. he bunches up your dress at your hips and his fingers find itself on your core. as he feels your wetness, he chuckles to himself, glad to still see the effect he has on you. "all this for me baby? hmm?" he asks.

you nod at him, unable to speak because of your trembling figure thats desperate for his touch. he tuts in respond, "come on princess use your words."

he moves to pull your panties to the side, now touching your bare clit, making your thighs tremble, “i need— fuck, i need you— inside.”

he kisses the sides of your neck, his aura radiating dominance and his touch was electrifying, each motion of his fingers inside you ignited a fire through your veins. you moan at the feeling of his fingers stretching you out— preparing you to take his big cock once again.

despite the amount of times you've hooked up with him, you were always enveloping his cock like a vice. he continued pumping his fingers in and out of your heat. your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, lost in the heat of the moment. it's a battle of wills and desires, a collision of two souls bound together by passion and longing.

he takes his fingers out of your and leads it up to your mouth, waiting for you to suck on his fingers like the good little girl you are.

and you do. you open your mouth, and taste yourself on his fingers. you match his gaze while doing the lewd act— making his cock harden even more, if it was even possible, at the sight.

the image of you sucking his fingers was his breaking point, he positions himself between your thighs, his hands firmly grabbing both of your legs and wrapping it around him, giving him more access to your wet cunt.

he locked eyes with you, a mix of desire and possessiveness swimming in his gaze. "you're mine, bunny," he growled, his voice filled with a primal possessive drive.

he groans at the feeling of you around him. you missed the feeling of his big cock inside you, "fuck me—please fuck me hard" you repeatedly beg.

he moves closer to kiss you and thrust in you fast and hard just like you asked. he was consumed by a deep, unrelenting desire, every moment with your desperate plea for more, as if he could never get enough of you.

you match his intensity with equal fervor, tugging on his hair harder.

"missed this tight pussy so much, princess," he whispers in your ear as his thrusts faster.

your moans were a symphony of desire, each sound escaping your lips like a soft, melodic plea for more. they were raw and unrestrained, filled with a longing that resonated deep within him.

every moan seemed to vibrate through the air, a testament to the intense pleasure she was experiencing, and each one sent a shiver of exhilaration down his spine.

"you take me so well bunny— f-fuck," he lets out, his pace unrelenting, determined to make you cum on his cock. he whispers "mine" over and over again, his voice a husky, possessive murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

each repetition, timed with his thrusts, was filled with a fierce, undeniable claim, as if he was branding you with every movement.

his grip on your legs tightened, and he groaned as he felt you submit to him completely, his body driving into yours in a primal and possessive rhythm.

"is this what you want princess? taking everything i give you with such good obedience," his own desire reigniting at the sound of her moans. his pace picked up again.

coriolanus noticed the way you nod urgently at him, unable to speak from how good he was fucking you. his grin widened at this, more praises rolling off his tongue. "now say it back to me bunny."

"'m your obedient little girl" you respond with pleasure and excitement in your eyes.

he places a kiss on your neck, his tongue tracing a line up to your earlobe, "tell me who you belong to."

"i-i belong to you corio" you moan loud, his dominance and possessiveness turning you on even more.

his movements become more urgent, more forceful, the sound of your bodies slapping together just a few steps away from the gala.

"fuck! i wanna—wanna cum for you please" you begged, nearing your release

coriolanus groans lowly in response, his own body teetering on the edge as he continues to drive into you. " i know baby—i can feel you tighten around me"

"you're so close. you're going to cum for me." he breathes, his eyes lock with yours, possessing your gaze and your body. "but you're not coming until i say so." you groan in response, unable to hold it any longer and you shake your head no in response.

he grinned wickedly at your inability to contain yourself, "you can do it bunny, you can take it for me," he encourages you.

his words push you further—submitting to his cruelty, drunk at the pleasure that he's giving you. "good bunny," he praised huskily, his voiced edged with desire.

"that's my good girl. take it all for me. just a little longer. don't be too loud now, we wouldn't want anyone catching us don't we?" he asks, his pace both punishing and deliciously slow; a mixture of pleasure and edging.

coriolanus moaned at the sight of your struggle, his own body pulsating with a mix of desire and need. his gaze darkened further as he watched you fighting against the waves of pleasure. "do you wanna cum for me?"

"y-yes please i want to so badly" you begged

coriolanus couldnt hold back any longer; the sight of your begging, the sound of your moans, it was all too much. with a low groan, he gave in to your shared desire. "now, bunny. cum for me."

his body tense, and as your climax hit you both powerfully and intensely, your bodies shook with wave upon wave of blinding pleasure. coriolanus held onto you tightly, claiming you as his own. "thats my good girl," he groaned, his voice a mix of breathless satisfaction and possessive love.

coriolanus held you as your bodies rode out the waves of your climax, his touch was reverent as he traced lazy patterns along your sides, his lips placing gentle kisses on any exposed skin he could find.

"are you okay baby?" he murmured softly, his voice warm and affectionate. "more than okay," you smiled up at him. content and pleasure running your veins.

coriolanus chucked softly, his heart swelling with fondness for you. he pulls out of you and fixes both you and him up before heading back inside but not without a kiss on your forehead.

hand in hand, you walk back into the gala, the warmth and light enveloping them as you stepped inside, ready to celebrate your newfound love amidst the festive atmosphere.

[fuctacles]

Forgotten

@steddiemicrofic 'stuff' | T | 483 | no cw | friends with benefits (mentioned), college | Ao3

"Is that all of your stuff?" Steve asks after depositing the last cardboard box in the back of Eddie's van. He sits on the bumper, breathing heavily. 

Eddie jumps down from the inside, and sits down next to him. 

"Think so," he heaves. "Man, this is so weird. Just yesterday I was dumping it all in the dorm and now I'm leaving."

Something twists in Steve's stomach. Well, he knows what, he just refuses to aknowledge it.

"It's just for the summer." Steve reminds him. And himself. 

"Well, yeah, and it's gonna be over so soon. And then I'll be back here again." He turns to Steve, his eyes sparkling, like he's not feeling the same loss he is. "You won't even miss me."

"I don't know." Steve cocks his head. "I'm already missing the constant second-hand high from your weed."

"Is that all I am to you? Free weed?" Eddie asks, appaled.

"No of course not. You have... Other perks." He wiggles eyebrows so the context isn't missed by his roommate.

"Oookay, you bastard. I'm feeling very objectified right now." Eddie scoffs through a smile, pushing Steve with his shoulder. "I thought we were friends!"

Steve laughs, lets the touch on his arm linger. Eddie doesn't move away anyway.

"We are. And I am gonna miss you. You better get the same dorm next term."

After this year in college got halved, it didn't feel like a dorm anymore. It was a home, where he could go back to someone he felt safe with, who would make him laugh, and had the most gorgeous smile on the campus. 

A smile he could kiss and feel all over his body whenever they felt like it. An arrangement they fell into enthusiastically after complaining to each other about disastrous dates. They've found each other attractive, felt comfortable together, and saved time. It was mutually beneficial.

Steve wished more about it was mutual. But he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to ruin a good thing. 

"I'm gonna miss you too Stevie. I'm so glad you're my roommate." Eddie softens, a rare occurance for him, and rakes his fingers through Steve's hair. "Now get your keys, we are having a parting brunch."

"Oh, are we?" Steve raises his eyebrows, but his chest floods with warmth.

"Yeah! You didn't think I'd just leave like that, did you?"

They have pancakes and coffee and when Steve's finally inside the half-empty dorm his stomach twists at the wrongness of it. How much it felt like a date after months of greasy take out and cafeteria food. He sighs, his heart deflating. 

The door opens after a characteristic knock and he looks back.

"Forgot something?"

Eddie nods.

"Yeah, one thing."

Steve expects him to dive under the bed or even mattress, but instead he's suddenly lifting him up.

"Eddie?!"

"I'm taking you with me." He grins. "Wayne already agreed."

[creativewritersposts]

introverted - Luke Hughes

summary; Luke Hughes x reader

You know him for years over the internet. But when you meet him in person, he acts awkward and uncomfortable. It's a big step for an introverted guy. Can you handle it?

warning(s); FLUFF!!, mentions of insecurity, maybe grammar errors

author's note; hi you wonderful people out there! Hope you're all okay✨

--------------------------------------------------------------

Luke Hughes is everything.

He's awkward, he's a good player and wraps every girl around his finger even when he looks like a zombie, because he stayed awake too long last night to watch the new movie.

"-so he told me I'm boring-", you spill him the tea on FaceTime, talking about the boy you really liked and ghosted you. "He's wrong", Luke smiles in his camera, looking comfortable. It's something you learned about Luke- he's very shy and uncomfortable when he doesn't know people. It's weird how you became friends, - somehow. You're living one continent apart but your connection went good and never had problems to talk with each other. "well I have something to talk about", Luke speaks out and looks away from his display, you nod. "I booked you a ticket. I know you're having your summer vacation next week and being alone at home so you can join us in Michigan", his shy side shows again.

"MICHIGAN?", you squeak under panic. "yeah", he chuckles and looks insecure, thinking if it was the best idea. "Like Michigan with your parents, siblings?", you follow up. "Yeah", he smiles. "i told you not to pay things for me!", you warn him, "take it as an early birthday present ", he argues back. "my birthday is in december!", you roll your eyes, "ok, see you in Michigan!".

Here you are, with all your bags at the airport, searching for Luke. Or a nice sandwich, you're hungry. "Hey!", Luke waves awkwardly at you, coming closer, until he gives you the hand. "Luke", you raise your eyebrows, "we're friends for three years now, gimme a hug!", you hug him because he could say something against it. "I'm sorry but Jack is the driver", he warns you, talking a bag over his shoulder. Jack leans on the car door with sunglasses on, "hi", he hugs you without asking, driving to the lake house. "Mom cooked a lot of food, hope you're hungry", Jack eyes meeting yours, Luke just smiles. "sure, can I sit next to Luke?", you ask Jack. You're here because you want to spend time with him. "I'll not interrupt you lovebirds", he laughs and walks in front of you both. "Are you ok with sitting next to me?", Luke leans over to your ear, whispering these words. "sure, Lucky Luke", you smile at him. His cheeks are blushing. After meeting the whole family you ate dinner, but Luke looks very uncomfortable next to you. Barely talking. He avoids you for three days now, you try to get along with the family but you want to talk to him. You're here because of him.

"Luke?", you ask him, when you finally found a moment in piece with him. "hm?", he smiles.

"Do you want me to leave?", you speak out your worries. "no!", he shakes his head, "I am just very shy, ok? I need my time to feel comfortable", his ears getting red. Your body feels like under electricity, you're more extroverted and never thought he feels that way. "Sure, don't worry", you smile respectfully and leave the room. "Ohh trouble in paradise?", Jack asks you with his girlfriend under his left arm sleeping. "No, it's just too much", you sit down on a camping chair. "did he say something silly? He talked about meeting you nonstop in New Jersey", he focuses on your emotions. "He avoids me for three days and i asked him if i should leave. He told me he's shy and feels uncomfortable", you blame yourself. "sounds like Lukey", he nods understandable. "It's not your fault. After a few days he's the most annoying person ever, trust me", he huffs playfully with a small grin. "what can I do?", you ask him for advice. "He loves movie nights. Ask him to do that?", he thinks about his little weird ass brother.

"I don't want him to feel uncomfortable!", you worry. Jack nods and lays his girlfriends head on the lounger without waking her up.

"Luke!", Jack steps into the house, standing in front of his younger, taller brother. "you told me about this new movie, can you remember?", you join with them. "Yeah, it's a sequel from Harry Potter ", he nods friendly. "your best friend has no plans this night so you can watch it with her", he points with his finger at you, to stop miscommunication. "uhm-", Luke's voice cracks. "If you say no I'll watch it with her", he looms. "you have a girlfriend!?", you think out loud, both turn their bodies in your direction, "I can handle two women", Jack gets sassy. "okay, after dinner", Luke plays with his fingers.

Time flew away. Now you're sitting in Luke's bed, you can smell his cologne and waiting with snacks. "ok I'm ready", Luke comes in and smiles softly, but very nervous. "What are you wearing?", he blushes again, "a pyjama", you laugh. "uhm.. without bra?", he mudders. "Who knows", you mock him. You're laying both in his bed, you can feel how your eyes feel heavy, you yawn after a while. "Can i lay down on your chest?", you ask. His bed is like wood under your body, it's definitely not comfortable. "Sure", he's distracted with watching the movie, petting your hair without thinking much until he hears your softly snores. "sleep well", he kisses your cheek, wrapping his arm around you in the comfortable way and sleeps in, too.

The next morning you wake up from voices around you, "mom take a picture!", jack stresses. "Jack stop being so annoying in the morning!", she tells him, "they're kinda cute together", he whispers. And you close your eyes again.

[g-hughes]

Bite Me - Q. Hughes

hockey masterlist | g's graduation celly

synopsis: When one of Quinn's teammates asks if their sister could stay with him to bounce back after a break-up, Quinn said yes. But six months later, Quinn feels like he has met his matched. Or when Quinn Hughes falls for his roommate, who happens to be his teammate's sister.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smut mentioned! friends with benefits situation, Boeser!Reader, nudity, cursing.

Quinn Hughes thought of himself as being a “good guy”. He held doors open for people, swapped seats on airlines when asked, donated money to various charities, and spent time, when he could, coaching the Canucks Youth Team. He was a good guy and an even better teammate and captain.

He prided himself on being the one on the team the guys could go to when they needed advice or just someone to sit and listen to them rant. He would give his teammate the shirt off his back if one of them asked. So when Brock Boeser, Quinn’s best friend, asked if his younger sister could crash with him for a few days, Quinn said yes without even really thinking it through. 

“It’ll be a few days,” Brock assured Quinn as he brought in one of her suitcases, “Her dick head ex cheated on her and threw all her shit in the driveway. She was gonna spring for a hotel, but I couldn’t let her do that. I’d let her stay at mine, but we’re remod-” 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Quinn assured his winger, “I know you’d do the same if it was one of my brother’s. She can crash here as long as she needs.” 

“She swears it’ll only be a few days.” 

But a few days turned into a few weeks, and a few weeks into a few months. Now it's been six months and Y/N Boeser has become Quinn’s official unofficial roommate. And he hated it. 

Quinn didn’t want a roommate, nor did he need one. He actually loved coming home to a quiet apartment after weeks on the road. He liked the solitude of being able to hide away from the cameras and the press in his face and following his every move. He liked to be able to walk around damn near naked and not have to worry about being walked in on. But having a roommate, all those privileges had been taken away. 

“Quintin! You parked in my fucking spot!” Y/N yelled as she slammed the front door shut. Quinn smirked to himself, as he finished mixing around the vegetables in the pan. He knew exactly what he did and he knew it was going to piss you off. Quinn had two parking spots, one for himself and one for a guest (which had become Y/N as of late), and he decided that tonight, he was going to forget his driver’s ed training and park in the middle of the two spots. 

“Quintin,” Y/N groaned, coming into the kitchen, setting down her bags from work. Quinn looked over his shoulder, trying his hardest to fight the urge to stare at your breasts. 

Yes, Quinn hated having a roommate, but it did come with its own perks. Such as, his roommate was very, very attractive. 

“Oh hey sweetheart,” Quinn smirked, “Did I miss something?” 

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms across her chest, pushing her tits up even more in the tight tanktop she was wearing, “You know what you fucking did, you parking in the middle of the spots again!” 

"Oh, I did?" He feigned innocence, "Well, maybe if you didn't leave all your damn shoes by the fucking door!"

"It was one pair! One pair, Quintin!"

"Quit calling me Quintin!"

Y/N groaned and grabbed her bag, stomping her way out of the kitchen. Quinn turned back towards the dinner he was cooking, his mood sour. He had such a good day too. Practice went smoothly, Toch only yelled at them for an hour instead of two. Things were finally starting to take a turn after a losing streak that put everyone on edge. Quinn felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, his first season as captain after a disappointing season. He had to prove himself, he had to prove that he was worthy of the captain spot. 

Oh, and waking up with Y/N’s mouth wrapped around his cock was an added bonus. 

Quinn hated to admit it out loud, it made him feel dirty and wrong about it, but there was nothing dirty and wrong about it. It seemed to have happened naturally, the tension between them building since the moment Quinn first saw Y/N. He had done his best to ignore her for the first week she was occupying his guest room. She had just been broken up with in a horrible way, and was trying to pick up the pieces of a shattered years-long relationship. But then she started to come out of her room, and she was like a storm, Quinn had no idea how to brace for. 

She was sassy, and smart, and beautiful, and stubborn, and messy, and so fucking sexy when she was pissed off about something work or at Quinn for parking over the line of his parking spot. 

It was bound to happen, the tension and animosity growing between them as the days went by. It turned into more than Quinn bitching about the shoes by the front door, which he had repeatedly told her to stop leaving them there. It turned into her bitching at Quinn for leaving dirty plates in the sink. Then it was Quinn bitching about how she would take the full garbage bag out of the can and leave it by the front door (in her defense, the dumpster was in the alley behind the building and Quinn didn’t feel very comfortable with her taking it out late at night). Then it was Y/N bitching about Quinn leaving his travel bag, unpacked, in the laundry room between roadies. 

The final straw for both of them was when they both came home, unsatisfied in different ways. Quinn had come home from a long roadie, the majority of them being losses. All he wanted to do was take a bath and relax and regroup for the next series ahead. Y/N, had come home from yet another shitty date. She insisted that her date didn’t need to walk her to the door, but he wanted to make sure she got in safely, or so he said. Quinn could hear her fake laughter from the other side of the door, as he stood at the kitchen counter, waiting for the tea kettle to whistle. 

“I had a good time,” She said, “Thanks for walking me back.” 

“No problem,” A male’s voice sounded out, “Ya know. . . this doesn’t have to end here.” 

Quinn grimaced. It didn’t take a genius to know that Y/N wasn’t interested. 

“I uh. . . I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Quinn could almost picture her nervously pushing her hair behind her ear, “I’ll give you a call.” 

“C’mon,” The guy was sounding desperate, “We both want to end the night right.” 

It was silent for a moment, and for some odd reason, anger flowed through Quinn’s body. Was the guy kissing her? Was she seriously considering letting him in? Quinn had never brought it up, but he assumed that Y/N wasn’t having people over. Not that she couldn’t, he guessed, it was her place too. But for some reason, the idea of her having a man in her bed pissed him off. 

“You’re right,” Y/N sighed. Quinn’s body seemed to move on it’s own accord as he walked over to the front door, his hand wrapping around the knob, “I better go see if my vibrator is charged. Night, Marcus!” 

Quinn jumped back startled as the front door was pushed open and Y/N charged in. He could see the confused face of the man, Marcus, behind the door as it slammed in his face. Y/N groaned as she kicked off her shoes and tossed her purse on the couch. Quinn wanted so badly to make a comment about her shoes, but instead he said;

“You have a vibrator?” 

Y/N looked at him, one eyebrow raised, “I am not a 16 year old. Of course I have a vibrator. Almost every woman has one.” 

“You use it?” 

“Yes, perv,” Y/N scoffed, and reached for her purse, “Boe said you were quiet, but I didn’t know quiet meant stalker. Night.” 

Quinn blinked several times as she walked down towards her room. His mind, again, thinking of other things to say, like apologizing for asking her such a vulnerable question, but instead, once again he blurted the wrong thing. 

“I don’t want you having sex in my house.” 

Y/N paused in her walk, holding still for a moment and turning around to face him, “Excuse me?” 

“I don’t want you having sex in my house,” Quinn stood firm on what he said, even though he regretted it the second he said it. Even though her name wasn’t on the lease, she was still living and paying rent (Quinn told her several times her money was useless, but she cried and told him she had to contribute somehow). 

“I am not.” 

“Good.” 

“Good?” 

“Mhm,” Quinn nodded. It was silent again as the two of them stared each other down, tension thick in the air like smoke. 

“Need anything else?” Y/N asked, breaking the silence. She folded her arms under her chest, pushing her breasts up in the tight black dress she was wearing. Quinn gulped, taking in her appearance; short, tight black dress, black leather jacket, black heels that made her legs look like they went on for miles. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, a dainty good chain around her neck. Quinn gulped, thinking and praying of anything that would keep the blood from rushing south. 

“Nope,” He shook his head. 

“Good,” Y/N responded, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to end my night right.” Quinn felt his boxers grow tighter as she turned on her heel, and walked down to her door. She stopped just before going inside her room, “Ya know, a gentleman would ask if I need help.” 

Quinn watched as her eyes seemed to turn a shade darker and looked him over from head to toe. In two quick strides, Quinn was pushing her against her door, his lips on hers. Her hands were in his hair, pulling on the locks she told him not to cut. His hands roamed her body, pulling her as close to him as she could possibly get. He shamelessly rutted her hips against her, his cock begging for release from his pants. 

“If I fuck you, will you stop leaving your shoes by the door?” Quinn mumbled, his lips leaving a trail of searing hot kisses on her skin. 

“If you do a good job, I might consider it.” 

From that night, their friends with benefits relationship blossomed. One would think with the among of orgasms they gave each other, that the animosity would be nearly nonexistent. But it only seemed to up the ante between them. The fights were louder, the pranks were almost near nuclear, and the sex. . . the sex was downright rough and dirty. It almost became part of Quinn’s pregame ritual, to fuck Y/N or jerk off to a video of her. 

Y/N clenched her jaw as she threw her dirty work clothes into the hamper, getting ready to shower the day off. She grabbed her speaker, making sure to turn it up loud enough to annoy Quinn down in the kitchen. He hated her taste in music, and she was well aware of it, always taking the aux cord from her when they would drive to Roger’s. Quinn also liked to eat his dinner in silence, claiming it was one of the only times of his day he had to himself. 

Smiling, she turned on Taylor Swift, letting the bass hit her ears as she stepped into the hot stream of her shower. 

Quinn was mid bite when the all too familiar intro to “SLUT!” started playing. He groaned, slamming his fork down, “One dinner. One fucking dinner in peace.” He pushed his chair away, storming down the hallway towards Y/N’s room. He wasn’t surprised to find her bedroom door unlocked, almost as if she was expecting him. He was about to push the door open, when he heard another all too familiar sound coming from the other side, the blood in his body rushing south. He smirked, imagining how deep her fingers were inside of her to get that kind of reaction. 

Quinn could tell she was getting close by the way her moans got higher pitched. He knew now was the time to strike. Pushing the door open, he walked right over to her shower and yanked back the curtain. 

“Quintin!” Y/N squealed, pulling her hands away from her core and covering her chest, “What the fuck!?” 

"Don't be shy, sweetheart," He smirked, looking up and down her soaking wet body. He licked his lips, and she scoffed, turning away from him, "Oh come on, it's not like I haven't seen it before. Turn back around, lemme see the girls again."

"Oh bite me, Hughes!" Y/N turned the shower head towards him, affectively soaking him. Quinn turned his body away from the water stream that was not only soaking his t-shirt and shorts, but the floor. 

"No," Quinn grunted and grabbed the shower head, turning it back towards her, "You'd enjoy it too much."

Y/N looked over at him, "You're all wet."

"That makes two of us now, huh," Quinn shot her that megawatt smile. Y/N rolled her eyes and snatched the shower curtain from his hand.

"You just lost your invite!"

my requests are open!! :)

[swordsandholly]

Across the Way

Chapter 4: New and Old Problems Alike

Retired!Ghoap x Fem!Fat!Reader

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

MDNI | cw: fainting, some medical inaccuracies

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

You haven’t texted them, even three days later. That little sticky note haunts the surface of your kitchen counter. It taunts you - tells you that you should text them and at least give them your number. That you’re being a terrible neighbor. They might need you too, after all. Even though you can’t figure out why they might for the life of you. On the other hand, you can’t help but feel wary about it. Men don’t take an interest in you - people in general rarely take interest. It’s hard not to feel suspicious, as pure as you’re sure their intentions probably are.

More so than any of that, you don’t know what to say. If it had been day one you could have just put your name, but now you feel like you need to explain. Or at least be funny or something. Tossing and turning on your designated rest day about what the hell you should do.

You’re overthinking it. You know that. You can’t stop, either.

They just seem so cool - so put together. So unlike you. You want to impress them. You don’t want to ruin the first possibility of friends in this new life you’re building for yourself.

Eventually you work up the courage to send off an initial text to each of them. Just to give them your name to save if they so choose - plus an extra thank you to Simon for giving you their numbers in the first place. Something simple and borderline cold. Too cold, maybe? Maybe you sound irritated. You hope not. You just want them to like you. Friends in new places are hard and to have someone around you who gets how it feels to need accommodations would just feel so… lovely. Your phone may or may not go flying onto your bed while you bury your face in your hands out of sheer nervousness.

You don’t expect it to chime about a minute later. Right as you’re staring to calm down, of course. It sends your heart violently pounding all over again.

J >> Bonnie lass!

J >> So glad u texted!!

>> Sorry it took so long lol

Oh, you could just slap yourself. You don’t have anything better than that? At all? Christ.

J >> Nah Nah

J >> No worries

J >> Actually I was wondering if u would mind if I came by tomorrow

J >> Just to chat

J >> need an excuse to get out of the house

“How the hell does he type that fast?” You scoff to yourself.

>> Yeah, come by anytime.

>> totally

>> yea sounds cool

>> rad, man

A message from Simon pops up mid your internal battle with how to respond, replying with a simple thumbs up. Very in character, you think. He knows how to be nonchalant. What would Simon say? Something casual, maybe a little formal.

>> If you like. You’re always welcome.

Okay maybe that was too much like Simon. You sigh heavily m before adding,

>> I’m trying out a new blueberry loaf

>> If you want to test for me :)

Better. That’s a little better. With another heavy sigh you decide to drop your phone into your nightstand for the rest of the day. Your heart really cannot handle this much emotional pressure.

~~~

You sort of end up just forgetting about the texts. With your phone out of sight and out of mind upstairs in your apartment it almost catches you off guard when Johnny comes striding through the door just before close. He’s dressed more casually than the last couple of times you saw him - having broken out the summer shorts and a graphic tee for some band you don’t recognize. It suits him, though.

“Hey, bon.” He grins.

“Hey.” You smile back, finishing with putting up your stocking baskets before dusting off your hands and turning around. “Simon closing up?”

“Aye.”

You hum. “Come on back, I’ll get you a slice of that loaf I mentioned.”

Johnny follows you quietly. Uncharacteristically quietly. That’s okay - you don’t have a problem with hanging out in silence. It doesn’t feel tense, surprisingly enough. He leaves Riley out front again. Should you get her a dog bed? Maybe if he comes by consistently. That would be nice. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“It’s sort of a pound cake but fluffier. I might make an icing for it but I don’t know if that would be too sweet…” You trail off, focusing on plating up the piece. You’re not sure what compels you to try and make it pretty for him. Probably something you could blame on your grandmother. She did have an obsession with presentation.

Johnny hums loudly after taking a bite, talking around the mouthful. “Y’should totally make an icing.” He swallows roughly. “Si would go crazy fer this.”

“Oh?” You smile. “I’ll send some home with you.”

There’s a lapse of silence while Johnny chews on his slice of bread and you pack up some in a paper bag for him to take home. The only sounds in the room comprised of your cutting and folding and the hum of the cooling oven.

“You’re being weirdly quiet.” You blurt, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. “I, uh, I mean that isn’t a bad thing! I don’t mind… I just, uh, was… sorry, never mind…”

“Well I did come wit’ a bit of an ulterior motive…” Johnny admits, glancing off to the side shyly. It’s a show, you think. Johnny doesn’t seem the type of man to have felt shy a day in his life.

You tilt your head. “Oh?”

He dusts off his hands and grins. “Let us take ye out! In celebration of yer first full month.”

Has it been a month already? “Oh - no, no you don’t have to-“

“C’mon! It’s a big accomplishment.” His smile is so bright that you almost believe his idea that you’ve done something great.

“…alright.” You give a tentative smile. It’s hard to believe they like you enough to want to hang out casually in the evening. Hard to imagine anyone liking you that much but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“There’s a pub down the street - the one on the corner. Want tae meet us there around six?” Johnny gives you that lovely smile. How could you ever say no to a smile like that?

“Okay.”

You spend far too long changing in and out of clothes and fussing with your hair. Up-do’s and buns and braids. A tank top then a sweater then a t-shirt. There’s no reason to feel this stressed over it. It’s not a date or anything. Besides, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Either way you look like a frumpy dumpling. Eventually you land on jeans and one of your designated ‘going out tops.’ At least it’s a good excuse to wear something other than work clothes or loungewear.

Excitement and anxiety thrum under your skin like electricity as you make your way down the street. You feel painfully nauseous - stopping once or twice just to make sure you aren’t about to throw up for real.

The pub is surprisingly quiet when you enter. Obviously somewhere only real locals hang out - there’s no theme or really any decor in general. Just a bar, some booths and a couple pool tables. You scan the floor a few times, not seeing either Johnny or Simon (not that they would be hard to miss). Eventually you just grab a soda from the bar and slide into one of the booths closer to the back. A quiet spot facing the door where you can easily watch for them.

As time ticks on you begin to grow increasingly nervous. Did you get the time wrong? No, no you triple checked. You even wrote it down in your planner. Your leg begins to bounce furiously, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Did they decide to ditch? You wouldn’t really blame them. They’re way out of your league when it comes to friends. Maybe Johnny had an emergency? Should you call Simon? If he had an emergency it would make sense that they would forget to notice you. What if something really bad happened? What if-

The front door opens and Simon’s wide frame strides through, holding the door for Johnny and Riley to come in behind him. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, willing your leg to stop bouncing with a pinch to your thigh. Why are you always so damn dramatic?

Johnny lights up with an ear to ear grin when he spots you, bee-lining for the booth while Simon casually walks up to the bar. It’s almost comedic, the way he dwarfs the counter. Johnny leans on the side of the booth, waiting for Simon, you think.

“Glad ye could come out.” He looks you over, eyes flicking from your plain top to the very practical, not at all stylish up do that you landed on for the evening.

You do your best not to squirm under his gaze. “Me too…”

Simon comes back with two beers in hand and slides them onto the table. He scoots into the inner booth to give Johnny the outer edge. Riley happily sits beside his leg and practically grins at you in a near mirror image of Johnny’s. You’d never do it while she’s on the job, of course, but part of you wants to give her a pat on the head and coo at her for being so polite.

Johnny gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry we were a bit late-”

“Johnny redid his hair about five times.” Simon butts in, not reacting at all to Johnny’s sputtering protest. He glances at your half-drunk soda. “Want me t’ grab you a beer?”

“Oh, no, I’ll just stick to coke.”

They blink at you. Simon cocks his head slightly. “You sure?”

You chew your lip. “Uh, alcohol tends to aggravate my symptoms is all...”

“Then why’d ye agree to drinks? We coulda gone somewhere else.” Johnny frowns.

You shrug. “I don’t mind. I… maybe this is over sharing but I’d rather go out and be kind of normal than just… not ever. Y’know?”

His expression softens. For having such icy blue eyes they are so, so warm. “I get it.”

“How’d you two meet anyway?” You blurt, taking a left turn to get the conversation off of you. It’s the first question that comes to mind. Maybe it’s rude - maybe you’re prying too much already.

“Military.” Simon grunts. “SAS.”

“Si retired wit’ me after I was discharged.” Johnny points to his scar the same way he did when you first met. “Russians scrambled my egg a bit.”

“Couldn’t do the time apart…” Simon murmurs, eyes locked on Johnny’s face. It’s vulnerable. More than he’s used to - you can see it in the way he tenses after saying it.

Something passes between them that a deep, wounded part of you desperately wishes to understand.

You can’t help but start giggling to yourself. They both give you an incredulous look. “Sorry, sorry - it’s just, that’s like… totally a romance book premise. It’s sweet. Really.”

“Och, aye. Wouldn’t know it t’ look at him but Si’s a real romantic.” Johnny bats his eyes at the other man, who just rolls his in response. The corner of his scarred mouth quirks up subtly.

“SAS…” You repeat, staring at your drink. “That’s like Navy Seal shit, right?”

“We worked with them a few times, yes.” Simon nods. There’s an air of ‘do not ask anything more specific’ in his voice.

“Huh.” You take that for what it is and sit back, squinting at them. “You don’t look it, honestly.”

Johnny laughs. “Tha’s just cause ye havennae seen Simon with his gear on. The Ghost.” He wiggles his fingers along as he makes a stupid, spooky sound effect. “I domesticated him.”

Simon scoffs but doesn’t deny it, just takes a quiet sip of his beer.

“Riley’s a vet, too.” Johnny pats her head. “Got too skittish around loud noises but she transitioned into a service dog nicely.”

“Now she’s just spoiled.” Simon rolls his eyes in faux annoyance. You get the strong feeling that he’s the one doing the spoiling.

You find yourself relaxing as the night goes on. Slouching in your seat rather than sitting ramrod straight and nervously twiddling your thumbs. They never press you to drink, never insist that you’ll be fine with just one. They take your statement as fact and it isn’t brought up again. That shouldn’t be as significant as it is, now that you think about it.

Johnny’s words begin to slur a little bit on his fourth, no maybe fifth, beer. You aren’t sure. It’s very cute, the little blush that forms across his cheeks. Simon loosens up, too. He slings an arm around the back of the booth and Johnny readily tucks himself into the open spot. You find yourself wondering about their military career again. You can’t picture either of them committing violence - especially Simon. Sure, he’s big and gruff but he looks at Johnny so, so softly.

Simon is the one to call it a night - though you have a feeling its because you nodded off a couple times. Not out of boredom, you try really, really hard to pay attention to Johnny rambling about the chemistry of different explosives. He makes it interesting, somehow. Really it’s just that you’ve been awake for… holy shit almost twenty hours!

“D’you need a ride?” Simon asks as you exit the pub, hands firmly shoved into his pockets.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know how to interpret the look he’s giving you. It’s intense, but not annoyed or displeased. He has such a weird knack for unreadable but distinct expressions. You wonder if you’ll ever get close enough to get good at deciphering them.

You jump when Johnny takes both your hands in, kissing the backs of them with a sloppy, drunk smile. “Thank ye fer comin’ out. “

Somehow your face feels hotter than a damn oven. You tuck your hands to your chest, kicking shyly at the sidewalk. “Th-thanks for the invite. We, uh, we could do it again sometime?”

You glance up hopefully, praying that you didn’t misread the situation. You’ve done that before - thought people liked you more than they did. Johnny just grins wider somehow and nods excitedly.

You watch them walk off in the other direction, hand in hand. Johnny giggles about something loudly and you can see Simon’s shoulders shake with a far more silent laugh. All the way until they disappear down the street.

The sheer amount that the image hurts your heart makes you feel evil.

~~~

The pub changed something. What, you don’t know. Either way, you fall into an easy pattern with Johnny and Simon over the next couple weeks. Exchanges of food, leftovers or morsels about to turn, little visits back and forth between your shops. Johnny continues to stop by after close, just hanging around with you while Simon closes up shop.

You can’t deny how much you look forward to hearing that door chime followed by a too-loud greeting from Johnny. How your heart flips in your chest when those bright blue eyes peek around the corner into the back room or light up while trying a new recipes you’ve been testing. You’re still a bit awkward - unsure how to react when he throws an arm around your shoulders or listens oh so intently while you talk about nothing important.

Things can’t ever be all sunshine and rainbows, though. Not for you. A new problem has arisen as summer truly sets in - the comfortable spring breezes giving way to nothing but bright, unfiltered sun. One you didn’t expect to impact you this much living this far north.

Heat.

It’s hard to breathe in the back room while you’re baking. Hard to keep your water and salt intake high enough to compensate for how fast you lose them. You might as well get a permanent saline drip attached to you at this point. You definitely didn’t google if that was physically possible. Your budget for liquid IVs and other supplements nearly doubles. Standing over the massive oven in the back room has your head swimming a few times. You end up resting longer on your weekends, unable to keep up like you could in cooler weather.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, the summer here isn’t like back home. It will pass quicker. Plus, you at least have methods of dealing with it now other than crossing your fingers and praying.

“Bonnie!” Johnny suddenly appears in your doorway - that charming smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Ye made it up Main Street yet?”

“No?” You tilt your head and try to ignore the way your vision spots momentarily at the motion. “Why?”

“Ye dinnae hear about the summer festival?” He leans on your counter. You shake your head. “It’s a yearly thing. Not that big a deal but they have some fun games an’ it’s nice tae see everyone out an’ about. Si an’ I are about tae head down. Come wit’?”

You hesitate. The exhaustion in your body tugs at your spine. Your limbs feel heavy. This morning really got to you - out of towners who must have come for the festival flooded your shop the moment it opened on top of your Saturday regulars. Not that you’re complaining, really. It’s easily your best day so far. You want to go with them, though, despite the ache in your back and the sting in your joints. It sounds so fun and it’s never a bad idea to take part in your new community’s festivities.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You smile. You can tough it out for an hour, then come back home. Yeah, just an hour. You’ll be fine.

You hadn’t noticed Simon leaned up at the entrance to your shop. Your eyes lock on his arms. This is the first time you’ve actually seen him in short sleeves. You can’t help but stare at his half-sleeve tattoo - all skulls and bombs and other military motifs. Faded and sun worn. Yeah, if you’d seen that sooner you definitely would have picked up on the whole military thing. You bite your lip to keep from snickering about it.

You can hear the music drifting from the speakers down the street. A few kids run by with balloons and cheap carnival prizes. It almost reminds you of the Spring Fling back home, just missing the extreme American flag theming across every booth and vendor front. Now that you’re looking around, you can actually see several booths that have been sponsored by various businesses in the area. Even the post office has a snow cone stand. The deeper you get into the event, the more flamboyant the decor becomes. Multicolored streamers and pennet flags connect stands, creating an almost canopy effect.

Simon stops rather abruptly at a booth, waiting behind a few teenagers tossing rings onto bottles. You stop with Johnny about two feet away. What’s he thinking? Simon doesn’t seem like the type who would be too entertained by basic carnival games. Even so, he steps forward and passes over a couple bills to the vendor as soon as the teenagers leave.

“Si’s really good at these. Watch.” Johnny grins beside you.

“Aren’t they rigged?” You raise an eyebrow.

Johnny doesn’t answer, eyes locked on his husband as he lines up one of the rings. You have to lean slightly to see around the breadth of the man - the multicolor rings almost cartoonishly small in his hands. Cute. Your eyes get impossibly wide with each toss, every single one landing comfortably on the bottle necks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if this isn’t one of the most commonly rigged carnival games.

“Holy shit…” You mutter, still staring.

“Aye, tha’s a SAS sniper for ye.” Johnny laughs. “Glad tae see it still comes in handy.”

Simon huffs out a quiet laugh at that. Almost more of a sigh if it weren’t for the shaking of his shoulders. You love it - their little dynamic. The bond between them that’s so strong it’s almost visible.

“‘ere.” Simon turns to you suddenly, holding out a cheap little carnival prize. You can’t even begin to decipher what it’s supposed to be - some sort of furry puff ball with big, embroidered anime eyes and two felt antennae sticking up out of it’s purple head… body… thing…

Your face heats. “F-, uh, me?”

He shrugs. “Suits you. Riley will just chew it up if we take it home.”

“Aye. She’s so good with everythin’ but cheap plushies.” Johnny snickers.

You glance down at the dog in question - her dark eyes glued to the toy in Simon’s hand. Her tail thumps against the ground where she sists dutifully, but you can see the desire to snatch the thing away in her twitchy ears and pleading eyes. You snort, taking the stupid thing and tucking it under your arm with the prayer that they don’t notice the heat now spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

“Thanks…” you murmur, already mentally deciding where to add it to the mess of stuffies covering your bed already.

Somehow you end up walking between them down the street - Simon on your left and Johnny on your right with Riley in tow. You stop at a few other games here and there. All pretty basic. Johnny absolutely kills at the dunk booth.

Simon tires his hardest to help you with your terrible aim, “Just visualize it. Y’have t’ account for the arc.”

You get to the point of sticking your tongue out in concentration. Even so you only manage to knock down a couple of the wooden ducks at the ‘Dunk-A-Duck’ stand. You do, however, win one of those rock candy sticks at the guessing booth. You just hand it off to Johnny. It’s probably not best to load up on sugar in your current state.

Johnny excitedly points to different buildings giving you a rundown of the history of his hometown as you walk. Simon seems to barely be listening. He’s probably heard this a thousand times. Prattling on about the old town square, the church bell that a bunch of teenagers spray painted one time (Johnny was not involved, how could you accuse him of that?)

You find yourself focusing on your feet - keeping each step even and fast enough to remain on pace with them. One, two, one, two, one, two. The air begins to thicken. Muggy and heavy on your skin. Your breaths become shallow and fast. You can’t catch it, the air seeming to get stuck in your throat rather than reaching your lungs. Spots begin to dance across your vision. You stumble over nothing.

Not now! Come on! You’ve been doing so well!

Riley presses against your leg acting as a counter weight. Your body moves on instinct to grab whatever you can - hands wrapping around something strong and covered with cloth. An arm solid as rebar. Hopefully it’s someone you know. All you can see are colorless shapes.

“Gonna pass out - don’t freak!” You gasp before your legs give out.

It’s not that you go entirely out - it’s rare that you fully black out. It’s more like being stuck. Limp and fuzzy and confused. Almost like sleep paralysis. There’s voices and people moving around you. Someone has picked you up, you think, based on the swaying motion and the passing shapes around you. Maybe that’s just vertigo. A door bell chimes.

You finally begin to really come to when something icy is pressed to your forehead. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds that you were gone, but it takes much longer for the world around you to come back into focus.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, eyes stinging. Even after all these years it’s so damn embarrassing. You blink, the distinct mural that decorates the ceiling of the post office slowly coming into view. Johnny said a big time traveling artist painted it back in the nineties.

“Ye alright?” Johnny murmurs, crouched down beside you. Riley sniffs at your hand, seeming satisfied when you finally move it on your own.

You nod slowly. “Overheated…”

“Give her this.” Someone says. An event medic, you think. The boys must have flagged them down. Fingers press to your pulse point, a light shines in your eyes and you follow it. A quick check of vitals. Johnny shoves a water bottle in your hand as soon as the medic decides you’re fine to move - the contents distinctly murky from some sort of electrolyte pack that’s been shaken into it.

“Up y’get. Slowly does it.” Simon helps you sit up with a hand on your back. It’s so gentle. You don’t miss how he cages in your body the way only someone intimately familiar with caretaking might. Fully ready to catch you if you go limp again.

You sip slow, eyes glued to the ground. You feel so fucking stupid. Can’t even walk down a street without creating some sort of scene. They’re never going to want to hang out with you again, are they? You can’t go out drinking, can’t walk around a festival for longer than a couple hours. You distracted Riley. What if something happened to Johnny while you were having your spell? She might not have alerted correctly because of you. She might have gotten confused and then he could have gotten hurt. He might have-

“Ye really should drink tha’ instead of glarin’ at it.” Johnny pulls you from your thoughts. He’s now sat with his legs crossed beside you. Riley’s head rests in his lap. She seems calm. Content now that the emergency is over and happily lying on a cool floor.

You hum, chugging the last bit of it quickly. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Simon says curtly. “Does this ‘appen often?”

You shrug. “Not as much anymore… usually my medication keeps me stable.”

“Do ye need a doctor?” Johnny tilts his head slightly. There’s no judgment in his tone - in either of their tones. Just calm concern. It probably shouldn’t make you want to cry as much as it does.

You shake your head. “I’ve got liquid IV at home. Just need to sleep it off.”

Hopefully. In reality, a pain flare up is inevitable now. You just won’t know how bad until you’re fully in it.

“Let’s get ye home.” Johnny says, knees popping as he stands.

“I-I’m fine!” You insist, mentally preparing to get yourself up off the floor. “I can get home on my own - I don’t want to ruin your time.”

Johnny levels his gaze onto you, so serious it almost looks angry. It doesn’t match his face. “We’re not leavin’ ye tae get home alone like this.”

You’re caught off guard when an arm slides under your back and another under knees - lifting you like you weigh half of what you do in reality. Like you’re a paperweight instead of a boulder. You blink up at Simon, far too surprised to be embarrassed. At least at first. You splutter out a poor attempt at convincing him to put you down. Excuse and reason after reason and excuse. They roll off him like water off a ducks back. Your face burns as he steps out of the post office with you neatly tucked against his chest - Johnny and Riley in tow.

If you allow yourself to be honest, to give into that weaker part of you (or, at least, the part you consider to be weak) you could possibly admit that this feels nice. Being cared for feels nice. Having your body up against someone else feels nice. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you outside of a polite handshake or accidental bump. You sink into it despite yourself - relaxing against Simon’s chest. They were right, you wouldn’t have made it back. Your head is too fuzzy and there’s that telltale pain in your shoulders radiating up to your neck that signifies an oncoming Bed Day.

It doesn’t take long with Simon’s lengthy strides to get back to your building. You probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up to that running. Well, you can’t really run much at all so you definitely wouldn’t. A stupid, muddled train of thought that melts into the hazy bog of your current mental state. Even Johnny trails a few feet behind. Neither of them speak, marching in determined silence. You attempt to subtly check their faces for any anger. You’d understand if they were angry. Most people would get angry. You interrupted their day out with your useless drama. All you get is a wide, bright grin from Johnny when your eyes eventually meet his.

Simon puts you down with all the care in the world. As if you’re made of fine china. His hand stays on your upper back - planted firmly between your shoulder blades and ready to catch you if need be. Your vision swims a bit, your joints feel like jelly but you manage to dig your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door.

“Here.” Johnny plops the puff ball back into your hands just as you turn to say goodbye. To say thank you - to apologize profusely.

Your brows raise. You completely forgot about it while swimming around in a sea of embarrassment - he must have picked it up for you. You hug it to your chest with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You shift your weight side to side, psyching yourself up for the crawl up the stairs. Probably literally. You don’t think you could stay upright if you tried to walk them like a regular day, or even with an aid. Like a regular or semi-regular person. Fuck.

Johnny follows your eyes up at the staircase. He must sense some hesitation in you. “Do ye need help up?”

You bite your lip, staring at the ground. Standing in one place seems alright, but the thought of climbing is so daunting, even with the cane you have stationed at the bottom of the steps for that exact purpose. It’s embarrassing. You’re young, you should be able to walk up some damn stairs. It isn’t even that many. It’s barely a full flight. Just one story of stairs for fuck’s sake.

“Hey.” Simon touches your cheek, the action snapping your eyes to his in surprise. “It’s okay. C’mere.”

He picks you up again in the same fashion with barely a grunt, taking his time up the steps so as not to jostle you. How many times has he done this with Johnny? you wonder. That’s the only explanation for how good he is at keeping your equilibrium so even. You wonder if he practiced - if he took caretaking classes. He probably did. Does he keep up at the gym just so he can take care of his husband? Simon might be quiet and a little formal, but he exudes dedication.

“Sorry it’s messy…” You murmur when they reach the top of the steps. Glancing behind you, you see Riley sitting patiently at the bottom. Johnny must have told her to stay. “Haven’t gotten to fully unpack…”

You’ve been spending too much time in bed on the weekends. Fucking lazy.

Johnny just laughs. “Ye shoulda seen the first place Simon an’ I had.”

“Wasn’t that bad.” Simon argues, carefully setting you down on the couch. His hands hold your waist to steady you. They’re so warm… It feels wrong to be disappointed when he lets go.

“We hadnae figured out a system yet.” Johnny huffs, hands on his hips. “We ended up hirin’ a specialized maid service the dishes got so backed up.”

You scoff, laying back against the couch with that stupid carnival prize still in your arms. Like it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. The tears that have been stinging your eyes this entire time continue to threaten to spill - a myriad of blinks and careful breaths the only thing keeping them back.

Johnny sits beside you slowly. You can’t meet his eyes. “Do… do ye want tae tell us what it is? Ye donnae have tae - it’s up tae ye. Just if somethin’ happens again…”

“We’d like to be prepared.” Simon jumps in where Johnny trails off.

You chew your lip, still staring up at the ceiling. It splits and that coppery taste coats your tongue for a moment. “I, uh, it’s called POTS. There’s different types but basically my body can’t regulate blood flow and pressure right…” You shrug. “Like I said my medication usually keeps me mostly okay.”

It’s the pain that really gets to you usually, but you don’t need to start dumping on them about that. There’s no reason to spill your guts about things they can’t fix.

“Thanks fer tellin’ us.” Johnny smiles. You stiffen slightly when he reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear. You tilt your head, still resting on the back of the couch, to meet his eye. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll lock the knob behind us. Call if ye need anythin’.”

“Okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes down and picking at your nails. “Sorry… about all this… I didn’t - I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“Donnae apologize.” He says softly as he stands. “Never apologize. We’re your friends, aye? Friends help friends. Tha’s all there is to it.”

Simon gives you a discerning nod behind him, expression both soft and deeply serious.

Friends? They consider you real life proper friends? Really? You can’t help but beam up at him. “Yeah.”

A/N: I’ve re-read this chapter so many times that it’s total mush in my brain which tells me it’s time to be done with it.

Bonus: I made a Pinterest board for this fic