#my current place i live at is shit so i get sick a lot from stress and anxiety and all that

[lustfulslxt]

Only anon bc imma pussy…but like what if matt and them have been friends for a while and she find him like jerking off to pictures and shit. Or like pics that he took of her like bent over while she wasn’t looking🤭

Caught - Matt Sturniolo

warnings : slight masturbation, sex

—

Matt’s POV

It’s currently Friday night and we have the weekend off, so Y/N is spending the night with us. We usually just hang out, eat, play games, watch movies.

Y/N’s been our friend for a good few years, and we’re together a lot. If I’m being honest, she kind of drives me crazy. She’s so perfect and the simplest things she does, quite literally, make me hard.

“Can I pick the movie?” Chris asks, jumping over the couch, landing right next to me.

I shrug, “I don’t really care.”

Nick and Y/N both round the corner, and my eyes are immediately drawn to her. She’s wearing a little baby tee and some booty shorts. It’s not weird for her to be like that, we’ve all been best friends forever now. I’ve just been having new urges for a couple of months.

The two sit on the couch opposite of me and Chris. It’s hard to pull my eyes away from her, but I have to when Chris holds his hand out to me.

“What?” I ask him, raising my eyebrows.

“The remote. Do you not listen?” He retorts.

I only roll my eyes and hand him the remote from beside me. Before my gaze can return to Y/N, I quickly force myself to stare at the blank TV. I don’t know what it is, she’s just got me in some trance lately. Taking a deep breath to push my thoughts away, I roll my neck and shuffle in my seat.

“You good, Matty?” I hear her ask me, causing my head to snap in her direction.

“W-what? Why? I’m fine.” I ramble, before closing my eyes in frustration.

“You seem tense, kid.” Nick calls out.

I just ignore him, a small groan leaving my mouth. Why am I like this? What is this sick shit? I can’t get the thought of bending her over, while she takes all of me, out of my head.

With another heavy breath, I remove my hoodie as I’m beginning to get hot, and place it next to me. I can’t help but adjust myself in my seat again, feeling hot and bothered.

Of course, seeing as I have the worst self control, my eyes slowly trail back over to Y/N. She sat against the arm of the couch, one of her legs perched up, her foot flat with her knee against her chest, her other leg lying beneath that one. The position she’s in shows off her juicy thighs and encircles her core that’s covered by the thin fabric of her shorts. I can feel myself growing harder, wanting nothing more than to drag her back to my room and rail her senseless. Quickly, I grab my hoodie and place it on my lap to cover my now obvious erection.

“Dude!” Chris whisper shouts at me, “What the fuck is going on with you?”

My head shoots over to him in a panic, eyes frantic, wondering if he knows what’s going through my head right now. I can’t even form words, my breath stuck in my throat, so I just shrug and wave him off. My attention is pulled from him when I see Y/N stand up and head into the kitchen. Without thinking at all, I’m on my feet and following her.

When I round the corner, my footsteps come to a halt. There she was, bent over in the fridge. I suck in a breath, gasping at the sight in front of me. Her shorts were riding up her ass, her cheeks being completely visible, her shorts pressed tightly against her pussy. I felt like I wasn’t in control of myself as I pulled my phone out, bringing up my camera and snapping a picture of her. Just as I bring my phone back down, she turns around and locks eyes with me, my face immediately flushing.

“Hey.” She speaks, her voice soft. “Are you okay?”

I nod, gulping, “Can you toss me a water?”

She does so, a smile gracing her face in the process. I give her a small thanks and head back to my room, rather than the living room with the rest of them. I needed space to think without having her consume everything around me.

Once I shut myself in my room, I spread out on my bed, closing my eyes and sighing, completely overwhelmed with my feelings.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been an hour or so since the movie ended, everyone else was in their rooms, presumably going to sleep. I’ve just been scrolling through my phone, not really paying attention to anything on my screen as my mind was occupied elsewhere.

I can’t stop thinking about Matt; he seemed off tonight. I want to make sure he is okay, but so far, he’s only been lying and saying he’s fine. I know him better than that, I know he’s bothered by something, I just don’t know what.

Part of me wants to get up and go to his room, forcing him to talk to me. Another part is telling me to wait until he’s ready. Surely, it’s not too serious. As if the universe is telling me to go to his room, the ‘low battery’ notification pops up on my screen. My charger is in his room.

With a small huff, I remove my blanket from me and stand up from the couch, immediately heading towards his room. I figured he was probably sleeping like Nick and Chris, so I just quietly walk in. However, I couldn’t have been more wrong as he was definitely not sleeping.

His back was turned towards me, but I could see his right arm moving up and down as his head was slightly tilted back. It didn’t take a genius to realize what he was doing, so I just step backwards in an attempt to leave. As I’m about to turn out the door, his bright phone screen catches my eye. You would think he’s watching porn or something, but he’s staring at a picture. More so a picture of me. A picture of me from not even two hours ago.

“Matt!” I whisper shout, bewildered at the fact that he was jerking off to a picture that he sneakily took of me.

He jumps, flinching in embarrassment as he locked his phone and covered himself up. It took him a minute before he finally turned around to come face to face with me, his cheeks bright red.

“What are you doing in here?” He asks, his voice frantic as his eyes dart all around.

“I came to get my charger. What are you doing in here?” I reply, emphasizing my question. When he doesn’t answer, I continue, “I saw you, Matt.”

His mouth begins to open and shut, unsure of what to say. He closes his eyes and inhales, “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You took a picture of me.” I state, as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious by now.

He nods, licking his lips nervously. I could see that he was anxiously anticipating my reaction, but I didn’t even know what to do. What do you do when you’re turned on by your best friend touching himself to a picture he took of you?

I walk over to the bed and sit next to him, “Is this the first time you’ve done this?”

He avoids eye contact with me and shakes his head from left to right, indicating he’s done it before. He opens his phone up, and immediately scrolls to the next picture and, once again, it’s of me. I was wearing a bralette and a mini skirt that barely covered my ass. One of my legs was perched up on the table as I leaned forward to put on my shoe. My asscheeks were out and you could clearly see my lace underwear beneath the skirt.

“Damn, I look good.” I smirk, pleased with the photo.

“Yeah, you do.” He chuckles, immediately stopping and looking back at my face, trying to read my emotions.

“So, you’re fantasizing about me?” I question.

He bashfully nods, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why didn’t you just come to me?”

He shrugs, “And say what? Hey Y/N, so like, I kind of want to fuck the shit out of you.”

I blush, as if it isn’t obvious by the fact that he was jerking off to me, and mimic his shrug. “What if I wanted you to fuck the shit out of me?”

His eyes widen, thrown back by my statement. After taking a moment to recover, he scoots closer to me and softly grabs my face with one of his hands, bringing me closer to him.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, looking into my eyes for confirmation.

Instead of responding with words, I close the gap between us and press my lips onto him. The kiss is short and sweet, more so testing the waters. It only takes a second before we meet again, our lips lapping one another’s perfectly. He placed his free hand on my back, pulling me impossibly closer as my hands make their way to his hair. A soft groan erupts from his throat as I give his hair a nice tug, the sound of his sultry voice going straight to my core.

Gaining a new found confidence, Matt swiftly pulls me onto his lip and shoves his tongue in my mouth. He’s licking and sucking everything, swapping saliva. I can feel his dick bulging between my legs, fully rock hard. His hands meet my hips, grinding me against him, eliciting a moan from my lips.

“I want you so bad.” He groans into my ear as his lips work on my neck.

“Then take me.” I say, allowing him more access with a tilt of my head.

Like a flip switched, Matt quickly removes my shirt, leaving me topless in his lap. He groans at the sight of my bare chest, his hands bringing both of my boobs into his palms, squeezing them tenderly. He pinches both of my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, kneading them. Soft whimpers left my lips as he did so, his wet mouth also leaving kisses all over my neck.

My hands grab the hem of his shirt and I pull it over his head, connecting our lips once more after. His arm wraps around my back and he turns, laying me flat on his bed, taking position knelt above me, his mouth never leaving mine. His fingers hook in the waistband of my shorts, lingering as if waiting for approval, so I pull away and give him a nod when we make eye contact.

Within seconds, the rest of my clothes are on the floor and I lay bare in front of him. He’s on his knees, in between my legs, and his eyes are boring into me, his pupils blown out with lust. I can see his dick protruding from his boxers, begging to be released from its restrictions, eager for any kind of stimulation. He swiftly removes the piece of clothing, before laying down right beside me.

He pulls me into him, one of his hands on my face, the other on my bare ass. He slams his lips into mine, his tongue instantly swiping against my bottom lip, asking for entrance, to which I gave him. Our tongues battled for dominance, Matt shoving his in my mouth, exploring as much as he can while our teeth clash together. With every touch, I feel my arousal pooling between my legs, drenching my folds. Matt squeezes my ass, kneading it before his fingers trail closer to my opening. He reaches down to my pussy and swipes his fingers between my folds, emitting a moan from me.

“Mmm. You’re so wet for me.” He groans into my lips.

Without another word, he slides two fingers through my slit, immediately entering my hole. He swallows every moan that comes from my mouth as he kisses me, hard. His fingers continue pumping in and out, getting me ready to take him. My hand envelops his throbbing dick, squeezing as I pumped my hand, causing him to shudder and buck his hips.

“I want to be inside of you.” He groans, still bucking his hips.

“Please. I need you so bad, daddy.” I moan out as his fingers thrust back into me.

He swiftly removes his hand, shoving his fingers in my mouth as he rolls me over so that my back is against his chest. I suck on his fingers, cleansing them of my juices. He takes his hand from my mouth and wraps it around my throat at the same time he sinks himself into me. I can’t help them lewd moans that erupt from me. His hand moves from my throat to my hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling my head back, making me arch my back. His opposite hand grabs my leg and lifts it up to the side, giving himself better access as his thrusts pick up.

“Oh fuck.” I moan, my face scrunching up in pleasure.

He picks up the pace, railing in and out of me. He leans forward, his mouth meeting the side of my neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. I can hear his low moans right in my ear and it was turning me on so much more.

“Shit. Feels s-so good, Matt.” I gasp, reveling in the way he’s making me feel.

His thrusts turn more aggressive, my legs now shaking and my breath catching in my throat. His grip on my hair tightens, pulling my head back even more. His eyes meet mine and he’s got a devilish smirk on his face.

“Nah, baby. What’s my name?”

With the way he’s pounding into me, I can’t even think straight. His hand reaches under my leg, using his forearm to keep it up, his fingers meeting my clit, and rubbing in fast, tight circles.

“What’s my name?” He repeats, his tone more demanding and aggressive.

“Daddy! Fu - fuck, daddy! Nghh.” I whine out, my body convulsing.

“Such a good girl. Cum for daddy, so I can fill you up.” He groans, keeping the exact same rhythm with his hand and hips.

My mind is hazy and I can’t hear anything but the sound of my rapid heartbeat as I let go. I shake and tremble, unable to keep my composure as pornographic moans leave my mouth. A moment later, I feel his hot cum shoot into me, loud moans escaping from him. He continues fucking into me, letting us ride out our highs.

He pulls out and drops my legs, immediately rubbing my hip and thigh, as if sensing the incoming charlie horse. After a minute, he flips me over to face him, staring into my eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just gazing at me, intensely. Suddenly a grin pulls to his lips and they’re meeting mine in a sweet and tender kiss.

“Do you want to take a shower with me?” He asks, brushing the sweaty hair out of my face. “Then, maybe spend the night in here with me?”

“Sounds good.” I grin back, pulling him in for another kiss.

—

a/n : mixed feelings ab this, sorry if it’s not what you had in mind! hope you enjoy:) send in reqs 🫶🏼

[majimasleftasscheek]

Hihi! Do you have any minedai headcanons? (Idk how to write aAAAAA)

hmmm I had to give this a good think cuz I normally don't obsess about them too much (compared to a certain other pair lmao) but here's what I got 👀

*note! gonna be a mix of silly and more realistic ideas. my interpretation of minedai is pretty unserious

Daigo

genuinely enjoys mine's company, as uptight and neurotic it may be. because daigo was given the chairman position, a lot of people don't respect him other than mine so it's nice to hang out with someone who, despite being overly respectful, is kind to him. he feels a lot at ease with mine, able to be more himself n all that. it's not much but it means a lot to daigo

that said, he totally goes out in his casual clothes when able and is still very goth coded. Mine makes intense but silent notes about every little thing in those outfits and thinks it's very cute when there's little details like tiny skulls n things

likes to do go out spontaneously when he can and takes mine along. mine thinks something like that is way too dangerous for a chairman to be doing but daigo confides that he's not worried if mine is with him (with an ulterior motive to loosen the giant stick up mine's ass to get him to live a little). cue mine choking on his heart

I like the idea of daigo being oblivious to mine's obsessive behavior to an extent. he becomes so used to mine's quirks that he writes it off as oh he's just like that lol. but he's not wholly dumb to it. he'll be lowkey flirty and that's when mine's questions daigo's actions like "why is daigo smiling at me? is he sick? I should call an ambulance..."

genuinely has zero idea what type of things mine likes. tho daigo grew up in a bougie type of life and mine currently lives it, he can assume things like fine arts and fancy shit tho personally he removed himself from that sort of thing as he got older (to avoid being anything even close to his dad lol). comparatively, daigo lives more modestly so gift giving is up to guessing but mine accepts literally anything from him and frankly refuses to give him hints as not to place expectations accidentally

likes to spar with mine and was surprised to see that daigo was decently capable of protecting himself and finds his informal style of fighting very charming. he's seen daigo fight before, but it's a bit of a different intensity when it's just to two of them trying their hardest to impress

has a network of friends/allies like kiryu, kashiwagi, etc that mine keeps a closer than needed eye on. daigo does get frustrated that he has to explain he trusts these people wholly and it's often a point of contention between them

very much likes slow days when they can just chill with each other, however that may be. cuddling is prime even if mine gets mad hot and sweaty so daigo keeps a full body towel handy. it's not unusual for daigo to go out of his way to prod mine for reactions as it's the highlight of his day

Mine

definitely has a shrine dedicated to daigo. for funnies: has weird shit like used napkins, articles of hair, etc just funky stuff someone wildin' would keep. realistically I think he'd be a lil more modest - having photos and baubles, typical normie shrine shit

absolutely has a folder on his phone/computer of "selfies" with him and daigo. most of them are just regular photos you'd find in like newspapers, half of them are blurry as hell, and there's a few he's taken himself but poorly done because he did it under a table or something. and of course there's many photos of just daigo, doing all assortment of things from working hard to hardly working

he's caught by daigo occasionally but mine attributes his behavior to "trying to find better phone signal" as he aims it coincidentally at daigo's spikey heeled boots. even when they're together together, he still does this on the sly

insists on paying for everything whenever they're out but with enough convincing, he'll back down and internally melts when daigo tells him he's just happy to have his company. has a habit tho of "making up" for what he didn't pay for such as ordering lunches n things before daigo can refuse

obvs very violently protective of daigo tho avoids being so in front of him as much as possible. it's very common for someone who's spoken ill of daigo to get their ass beat or thrown into the Tokyo Bay some days later. has a network of people dedicated solely to routing out daigo haters

is often confided to by daigo about the stresses of running the clan and it takes a lot out of mine for him to not be cold and calculating with an answer. has had to learn sometimes people just want someone to listen

at first, mine thought such confiding was some limp dick shit but over time realized that daigo never wanted anything out of such confessions which is unexpected. to have someone be so trusting and vulnerable with him is incredibly valuable

would have "sounds of daigo talking about stuff" recorded and sleeps to it every night. be assured clips of daigo sneezing are in there too

if he was in dead souls, he would be going turbo murder throughout the city just to dent the population of zombies that could even potentially get a whiff of daigo's darkness allure™ cologne. if infected, I imagine he'd have the will to remain loyal cuz the power of simp compels him

[its-time-to-write]

Hi y’all! This is my last unprompted angsty fic for a little! Gonna go back to our usually scheduled hijinks that are sitting in my request pile, I wanted to do this one first. I write all these as a way to deal with things that happen in my own life, whether it’s stressing about school and work, stupid romance, great romance, family, health, whatever, and I wanted to say (yet again) thank you for all the support. Sometimes I still can’t believe that you all like what I write but hey, there ya go

It’s funny, because my most popular fics are the ones that have been written directly out of my actual life. The ones that start out hard-to-deal-with, or with real, palpable heartbreak. The endings are often different because real life isn’t guaranteed a happy ending, but I’m allowed to take the past and see what it would be like if things went differently.

My characterization of Jamie is based on the only person I’ve ever really loved, which is why I can write his voice so clearly. I first watched Ted Lasso and was surprised at how similar they were, stupid hair and all. A lot of these fics are my way of archiving our story and immortalizing parts of it, as well as reminding myself that the love was there. It didn’t last and it wasn’t supposed to, but it was there.

Now, what’s real and what’s fiction? I’ll leave that up to you to decide, but I will say that it’s more than you might think and less than you might hope for.

So if you read this current fic and think, “huh, that was a really specific premise,” well I got news for you! It is. I’m in the first part of my journey on this, the early stages, and this story is not the way I want things to go for me. But I’m hoping that by creating a good ending out of a rough beginning, I can better face whatever lies ahead for me whether I approach it on my own two feet or with the assistance of some really sick wheels.

Anyway, enjoy this or skip it, it won’t hurt my feelings!

how to love being alive

Jamie’s at training when he gets the call. He barely registers the words on the other side when he’s cursing something awful, enough to make Roy Kent blush, and saying something about an emergency before speeding out the door. He pauses for a moment to look up an address in his phone, then he’s tearing out of the parking lot in a manner that puts Colin to shame. 

To summarize, he’s not acting like himself. 

He pulls up to a chiropractor of all places and the girl at the front desk must be able to tell who he’s here for because she just points to a door down the hall. Jamie’s pretty sure he’s never moved this quick in his life and wonders if this could translate to the pitch. Sure he’s fast, but he could always be faster. 

He bursts through the door to see you borderline catatonic, staring at the floor while a doctor pats your arm. She looks at Jamie and says, “Let’s chat for a minute outside,” before he has a chance to say a single thing. Jamie can’t tear his eyes away from you as the doctor leads him out and shuts the door. 

“Thought emergency contacts were for like, hospitals and shit,” he says. 

The chiropractor shakes her head. Jamie notes that her name tag says “Dr. Hadley,” and has a vague memory of you mentioning her a few months ago. 

God, it feels like a lifetime ago. 

“We’re not confident she’s in a fit state to get herself home,” Dr. Hadley says. “Her headspace is a little messed up, which is to be expected. Usually people come to these types of appointments with some moral support.”

Jamie asks, “What kinds of appointments?” and Dr. Hadley tilts her head at him. 

“You are Mr. Tartt, aren’t you?” she asks and Jamie just scoffs because he can’t decide between responding obviously, or telling her no, he’s not Mr. Tartt, that’s his father. He’s just Jamie. 

Dr. Hadley knows who he is because she doesn’t live in a hole in the ground, so she doesn’t ask for identification. She takes his scoff as permission to keep talking, so she says, “She’s here for her MRI results. We’ve been in the process of treating a protrusion on her spine.”

Jamie is positive everyone in this office must think he’s on drugs because Dr. Hadley is talking like he’s supposed to know this, but for the life of him he knows you’d never said a thing. 

“Your girlfriend has been in a severe amount of pain over the last few months, and we’ve finally been able to see the extent of the problem. Apparently she thought it would just go away, but it never did. So now she’s here with us.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie says automatically. Because it’s true, innit? You’re not. You’ve been broken up for a month because he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take the irritation at attending his matches and the tossing and turning in bed at night and the fact that you were wound so tight that you’d snap at the most minor offenses. 

You hadn’t been surprised when Jamie said he couldn’t do it anymore, it’s over, and at the time he had wished that you’d shown just a tiny sliver of emotion. After all, a year and two months is a long time to be with someone for you to coldly slide him his key and then turn away as though he were a stranger. 

He could have sworn there was a glimmer of tears in your eyes, but they’d looked that way for a bit now so maybe it was just allergies. There’s no reason for you to have been in the verge of tears for the entire month before the breakup, right?

Right. 

But he can’t think about that now because Dr. Hadley is frowning at him in a way that so comically reminds him of Roy’s sister that he has to bite back a laugh. 

Everything’s all twisted. 

“I certainly hope your split was amicable,” Dr. Hadley says. “You’re the only one listed as her emergency contact. She needs someone to get her home safely.”

“Right,” says Jamie. “Yes. Fuck. Right. Um, what exactly is wrong with her?” 

Dr. Hadley shakes her head. “That’s her personal information to share with you at her prerogative. And we should probably go see her, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be alone for long.”

Jamie snorts at that. This doctor doesn’t know you at all. If you’ve received any type of bad news the last thing you want is people hanging around. 

Jamie used to pride himself on being the only one you’d let into the bad-new bubble. 

You don’t count with those other people, you’d said once while wrapped around Jamie so tight he thought he’d have to call Ted to bring a crowbar. You said, I don’t have to pretend around you. I don’t ever get tired of you.

Jamie bitterly thinks that that statement turned out to be a lie, but he shakes it off because you’ve only been separated a month, and apparently he’s still your emergency contact for a doctor he didn’t know you had been seeing and fuck if you didn’t look like the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen. He’ll pretend it’s ok for as long as it takes to get you home and comfortable, and then he’s calling this office to get his number switched off. 

So he follows Dr. Hadley back into the room as she softly says your name in order to break whatever trance has you studying the carpet like your final exam is in ten minutes. 

You can barely look at her as she whispers something about going home and being gentle, to which you nod and finally look at Jamie. 

He wonders if you recognize him, because the stare you have is so vacant that you might as well be looking at a stranger. 

“Is she on drugs?” he asks because it looks like you’re on drugs. 

Dr. Hadley shakes her head and holds out her arm to help you up. “No, she’s just in a lot of pain. And emotional distress. It’s a killer combo, and she’ll need extra gentle handling for a while. No sitting for too long, no bending, no lifting. There’s a back support at the front desk for you to take.”

Jamie thinks he hears something pointed in the way Dr. Hadley says, extra gentle. What, like he doesn’t know how bad an injury can take you out? He’s in the Premier League for fuck’s sake. He knows how to deal with a strained muscle. 

Dr. Hadley transfers your arm over to Jamie’s so smoothly that he barely understands what’s happening as she ushers you both out the door, thrusting a small foam roll into Jamie’s free hand. 

“For lumbar support,” she says. “Won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Jamie’s pretty sure he’s said thanks as you climb in the car and then he’s in the drivers seat and it’s dead quiet. 

“Right,” he says to the silence. “What the fuck.”

You’re picking at your nails something fierce. Jamie has to fight the urge to take your hand in his. A month of separation is not long enough for this shit. 

“Can you just drive?” you ask in a broken voice. “I don’t want to be sitting for longer than I have to.”

There’s a new pitch in your voice, one Jamie’s never heard before, so he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t turn on the radio or a playlist or a podcast or anything, just drives in silence. He knows if it’s quiet long enough, you’ll talk. 

He’s the opposite. He doesn’t need time to crack wide open, just a kind touch or a soft glance and he’s an open book. He was always shocked how early into your relationship you’d figured that out. A soft, “What’s on your mind, Jaim?” and he was unloading about whatever stress or fear he had. 

He’s two minutes away from your flat when you break the silence. “I have gradual onset paralysis,” you say in a voice devoid of emotion. “‘Gradual onset’ means it happens over time. Paralysis means, well…paralysis.”

Jamie can hear what you’re saying and he understands it, but what catches him is the way you’re like nothing more than a hollow body. Not cracking a joke, not picking a fight. Just- empty. 

Jamie says a long and drawn out “Fuuuckk,” because what else can you say? It’s not really his business to comfort you or to pry, except he’s the one the doctor called, so he allows himself one question. 

“How did it happen?”

Last he knew, you were healthy as a horse. 

“Two disks in my spine popped,” you reply, still in that same awful emotionless voice. “They’re not really sure how, could’ve been any number of things. Anyway, it got into my nerves. And my spinal cord. And it’s messing things up and it’s only going to get worse. The scans were to see if they could operate, because sometimes you can remove the shards. Or whatever it is. But I guess they can’t, because if they tried I’d definitely be paralyzed. So all I can do now is be in pain and wait for my legs to shut down.”

Jamie doesn’t know how to respond to any of that but he’s saved from thinking of an adequate response because he’s at your flat. 

It was smart of you not to sell it when you’d moved in with Jamie. He wonders if you knew the breakup was inevitable. 

He hops out and opens the door like a gentleman, offering his hand like he’s some Mr. Darcy-type shit, except you had both agreed that Roy was Mr. Darcy and he was Bingley. So it doesn’t fit at all except as soon as you’re done clutching his hand so you can get out without unnecessary pain, his hand flexes itself like he’s in that damn movie. 

It wasn’t even a conscious choice, just a thing his hand decided to do, and he definitely thinks he’s going to have to talk to Ted about this. Or maybe Sam. Sam knows shit and is good at empathy. Maybe he’ll know what to say when your ex-girlfriend tells you she’s not going to walk ever again. 

Jamie follows you to the door as you fiddle with the lock and push it open with a sigh. For a moment he doesn’t know if he should go inside, but it smells like honey and cinnamon because it’s the beginning of fall and he thinks that he should at least make sure you’ll be alright. 

He notices you’re moving weird. All stiff, like. You’re trying to get an icepack out of the freezer but you can’t maneuver in a way that’s comfortable so Jamie grabs it and hands it to you. 

You mumble, “Thanks,” and Jamie catches a glimpse of the perpetual glimmer in your eye. 

“D’you need me to call someone?” he asks. “I can get Keeley down here. Or fucking… Ted. Or Colin.” He doesn’t say Sam, because he needs Sam. He can’t talk to Sam if he’s here with you. 

You shake your head. Jamie wonders if it hurts to talk, but he remembers how much you hate the sound of your voice when you’re crying. 

You take a slow, shallow breath to collect yourself. “I’m ok,” you finally say. “Not much anyone can do, and you’ve got training. I- I didn’t know they’d call you. I still have to switch your number with someone else. I’m probably going to ask Keeley since my family’s still far away.”

“Right,” Jamie says. Not much else to say. Except- 

“You were seeing that bone doctor when we were together, and you didn’t fucking say anything?”

It’s accusatory and he knows it, but he can’t for the life of him say it kinder. Ted’s always on about communication and shit, and that is not communication. 

You shuffle over to the couch and use it to help you lay face down in the floor. The icepack is precariously balanced on the small of your back. 

“Didn’t know how to tell you,” comes your muffled voice. “Least, I figured out how to tell you too late. What was I gonna say, ‘Sorry I’ve been a complete bitch to you for four weeks, I’ve got shit floating around in my spine that makes me hurt so bad I want to die?’ Sounds fucking stupid.”

Jamie wants to say, Swear jar because it’s a long-standing joke, but he catches the words right before they reach the tip of his tongue. 

“You could’ve said something,” he replies instead. “Chronic pain’s shit. It’s really shit and it makes you act like shit to the people you care about. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason.” As the words are coming out of his mouth, Jamie is reminded of a time when the roles were reversed, and you were giving him the “excuse versus reason,” speech. 

You’d said, You’re dad’s an abusive prick, Jamie. Makes sense that you’d have a lot of negative emotions. 

Fuck, if only you’d said something sooner. Maybe this would be something that you’d be cracking jokes about, or Jamie would be holding your hand, or he’d be laying right next to you as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

But your muscles spasm so that thought gets banished as you bite on your forearm in an effort not to yell. 

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says. “I don’t think you’re sorted on your own. I’m calling Ted.”

He walks to the other room so he can pretend he can’t hear your protests. 

—

Ted leaves training to Roy, Beard, and Nate. What’s the point in having four coaches if one of ‘em can’t leave for family emergencies?

Sure, you’re not actually family, but that’s Ted for you. He doesn’t do casual friendships. 

Jamie is out the door like a shot as soon as Ted knocks with a “Sorry, coach,” that Ted barely has a chance to wave off. 

Ted doesn’t say much once he’s inside, just rambles on about training and Kansas and Henry. He’s clattering around in your kitchen and you can’t find it in yourself to care what he’s doing so you just keep laying on the floor, willing your back to stop hurting. 

Finally, he comes over and sets down a smoothie in a short glass with a straw. 

“It’s so you can drink it without moving,” he explains. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say more to the couch legs than to Ted.

He sighs from where he’s crouched down next to you. “You don’t really have a choice, darlin’. You have to do this. The question is, are you gonna go through it alone?”

You shrug as best as you’re able. 

“Wrong answer,” says Ted, standing up. “You’ve got a whole crew of people here who are gonna root for you and support you with whatever you need. All you got to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Ah, fuck, you’re crying again and Ted can definitely tell because your shoulders are shaking. He’s pretty sure you’d want to save face so he stands up and says, “Beard’s coming over after training. Says he wants to figure out how to modify your house for a wheelchair or something. Thought I’d make us all dinner so we’re not so hangry when he mentions taking an ax to anything.”

The mental image of Coach Beard chopping down your stairs is enough to make you smile a little through your tears.

—

Waiting is really shitty. Like, really shitty. Every day is the same thing: tingly legs, shooting pains, phantom cramps. The worst was when Dani and Richard were over and you stood up to get something from the fridge, and your legs decided at that moment to lose feeling. You panicked with your arms held out for balance as you swayed back and forth for a moment, willing your feet to fucking move. They did, but not before Dani and Richard were on you in a flash, ready to catch you if you fell.

“Well that was weird,” you joke in an effort to cut the tension. They laugh, but you still catch their worried glance.

“You do not have to put on a brave face for us,” Dani says. “If you want to joke, we will joke. But if you want to cry, we will cry too.”

“You can cry,” Richard says, “I will just pour more wine.”

You laugh. There’s been a steady stream of Greyhounds at your flat for the last week and a half. Everyone and their mother (quite literally) has come by to see you. Your own parents were coming in a week to stay indefinitely while you sorted things out.

You wonder if it’s easier to lose control of your legs slowly or all at once? On the one hand, you at least have notice. But on the other hand, the long, drawn-out waiting feels like slow torture. Every day you wake up from restless sleep and experimentally wiggle your toes. Every day, you check off one more box on your mental calendar as you count down to a date that doesn’t even properly exist.

The only person who hasn’t visited is Jamie. You don’t blame him, though. Keeley’s come round almost every single day and has been successfully switched to your emergency contact. She’s the one you’re calling as soon as you discover you can’t move.

You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer. Your legs fall asleep more frequently and things are all numb. It’s like you know you’re in pain, but it’s not quite registering with your nerves.

It fucking sucks.

—

You don’t believe in intuition like spirits and all that, but you believe in it in that your brain can pick up things that you couldn’t if you were actually trying.

That’s why you’re pretty sure this is it.

Walking is pretty much a no-go right now, so you stiff-leg yourself to the couch and sprawl out as comfortably as you can.

You call Keeley, and she’s over in no time.

“Hi babes,” she says as soon as she’s through the door, “Can I call Rebecca for girls’s night?”

“Sure,” you say, “Might as well live it up.”

Keeley replies, “Great! She’ll be here in ten minutes,” and you laugh, really actually laugh, because of course Keeley’s already called her.

Rebecca swoops in all smiles and no sympathy which is great because if one more person pushes their lower lip out at you, you’re going to scream. She’s brought drinks and Keeley’s pulling out snacks and you’re going to talk and giggle until you fall asleep, ready for what the morning has.

“Is Shandy making a move on that one player?” Rebecca asks Keeley from the couch. 

“Nah,” Keeley calls back, “He said he wasn’t interested right now. Still hung up, I think.”

“What player?”  you ask. You know what Shandy’s like, and you feel for the poor guy.

Rebecca and Keeley are silent before Keeley says, “You wouldn’t know him.”

“Bullshit,” you reply. “I know everyone on that team and I know you haven’t signed anyone new recently. Is it Colin?” 

Rebecca shakes her head and gives Keeley a look. Keeley shrugs. “You’re the one who brought it up, babes.”

Rebecca turns to you. “It’s Jamie,” she says. “She’s been trying to bag him ever since Zava showed up.”

You shake your head. “She’s not right for him. He deserves someone better than that.”

Keeley’s back from the kitchen and scrutinizing your expression. “And what exactly do you mean by better?” she asks.

You laugh. “Oh no, not me. I wasn’t talking about me. No, I’m not- he needs someone different. Like, I don’t know, Roy’s sister, maybe? She’s great and a doctor to boot. Very caring too.”

“You’re caring,” Keeley says slowly, “And anyway, Molly doesn’t like him like that. They’re just friends.”

“Hang on, are you putting yourself in the same bracket as Shandy?” Rebecca interjects.

You shrug. “I was a complete bitch the last month we were together. There’s no excuse for it. I’m just surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“You were in fucking pain!” Keeley exclaims. “You said you weren’t sleeping and everything fucking hurt and you couldn’t even think straight.”

You grab a handful of candy from a bowl. “Keels, I appreciate the sentiment, but I majorly fucked it. Like, there’s no going back. So he can date whoever he wants as long as it’s not fucking Shandy. Can we please, please move on?”

Rebecca’s eyes are narrowed but they both acquiesce. “Keeley, what about your love life? I’m sure it’s boring as usual.”

Keeley shrieks and smacks her with a pillow. “Fuck off,” she replies. “I’ll have you know it’s going very well…”

—

You were right. You wake up still on the couch tangled in Keeley’s arms, and the standard toe-wiggle just… doesn’t happen. It’s quiet, the early morning type, the kind where the sunlight isn’t so harsh and birds are chirping softly and all of Richmond hasn’t quite got up to begin their day. 

As you look at your unmoving toes, the first thing you feel is a rush of relief. The waiting’s over, you think. 

You look over to the wheelchair that’s been leaning patiently against the wall all this time. Here’s the first day of forever. You’re in no rush for it to start, so you let Keeley’s little snores and Rebecca’s heavy breathing lull you back to sleep. 

—

It’s definitely a learning curve. And it’s frustrating. And if one more person catches you crying out of sheer rage, you’re going to start throwing things. But like Ted said, you don’t really have a choice. 

Your mom said, “The only way out is through,” then grinned at the murderous glare you shot her way. She opened her phone and pulled up a picture of you, age three. “Same lovely expression as always,” she remarks cheerfully. That cracks your frown. You always were a funny kid. 

It takes a while to figure out how to get places. Keeley (the absolute angel) volunteered, but she’s busy with the PR firm and quite frankly, a little too delicate to help you into a car. You made the mistake of saying this exactly one time and because subject to a rant about how she’s “not weak, just PETITE FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!”

Roy had punctuated her argument with a couple “That’s fucking right, babe"s all while rolling his eyes behind her back. It made you giggle. 

The general consensus was that at any given reasonable hour (or unreasonable if you’re Richard or Bumbercatch) a Greyhound or coach would be able to get you where you’re needed. And today, that place is Nelson Road. 

“How often does Jamie come visit?” Jan Maas asks, straightforward as ever. 

“Um, never,” you reply. “We broke up, remember?”

“Right,” agrees Jan Maas. “We all know that, I just assumed you had gotten back together.”

You laugh. How absurd. “And why on earth would you assume that?”

“Because he talks about you all the time,” comes his prompt reply. 

Huh. That’s interesting. You haven’t received so much as a single emoji from Jamie, but hadn’t thought a thing of it. But this, this is strange. This does not fit into your idea of how broken up people act. 

“Weird,” you say. “Wonder what the fuck that’s about.”

Jan Maas shrugs and moves to lift you from the car. 

—

It’s weird to be at Nelson Road, number one because it’s been FOREVER, number two because you’re eye-level with all sorts of things you’d never noticed before (ahem, part of the wall Roy kicked that no one cared to patch up), and number three because the last time you were here, it was as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend. 

Jan holds open the door as you roll in, ready to face whatever lies in wait. 

It turns out whatever is a very excited Ted and Beard as well as a neutral Roy who present you a coaching jacket and a whistle. 

“You’re coaching with us today because that little rat bastard Nate went to the dark side,” Beard says. 

You remark, “Tell us how you really feel,” earning a snort from Roy and a chuckle from Trent Crimm. 

“Oh yeah,” Ted says, “this is Trent. He’s writing a book.”

“Cool,” you say, “but you do know I know jack shit about coaching?”

Beard shrugs. “Neither do we. Worked out pretty well so far.” That earns another snort from Roy. 

“Right,” you say. “Well, I guess I’m up for anything.”

“You mean ‘down,’” says Ted. “Oh I’m sorry, is it too soon?”

“Never,” you reply. “It’s never too soon to make trauma-related puns and this world, it’s either laugh or cry. So fuck it, I’m going to laugh.”

“Fuck yes,” grunts Roy before turning on his heel to yell at the team to GET THE FUCK ON THE PITCH YOU LITTLE PRICKS!

—

You don’t do much except sit there and watch as the coaches yell and point and run drills. It’s a chore to remind yourself not to check out Jamie’s butt as he runs by so you start thinking not yours, not yours, like a mental mantra. 

He’s not looking at you so you won’t look at him and you’re sure it won’t be a problem because there are so many people to look at and talk to, except lunch rolls around (haha) and you sit at the head of a table and Jamie’s on the bench right next to you. So. There goes the no eye-contact plan. 

You take exactly two bites of your sandwich before thinking fuck this and pushing yourself back so you can roll away. You can just take the elevator to see Becca. 

You’ve made it a good way down the hall when you hear Jamie calling your name while saying, “Wait,” so you move a little faster. 

But it’s still new and you’re painfully reminded that arms are not legs so he catches you with ease. 

 “The fuck are you running away for?” he asks, and you want to point out that technically, you weren’t running. Metaphorically though, he’d be right. 

“I’m not running,” you reply. “I was just going to see Rebecca.”

“Bullshit,” he says. “I know you, and that was running. Is it because of me?”

“No,” you say, and you realize how much you’ve been looking up today. Your fucking neck needs a break so you rub it and look straight ahead, past Jamie at a life-size decal of O’Brien on the opposite wall. 

“Why would I be running away from you? You’re not- I’m the shitty ex in this situation. I’m the one who fucked things up, Jamie, so… you don’t have to like, pretend that it’s your problem. I actually think it would be better if you were just mad and avoided me instead of whatever the hell is currently happening.”

Jamie rubs his jaw. He should be exasperated, he should, but instead the gears in his mind are turning. A few words stick out to him and then it’s like the final puzzle piece has clicked into place. 

“Hang on,” he says slowly. “Hold the fuck up. Did you mess things up on purpose?”

The moment the words are out of his mouth he wants to take them back and apologize, because there’s no way they’re actually true, except you have a look on your face that can only be described as guilty. 

“Fuuckkk,” Jamie breathes out and you hurriedly interject, “It wasn’t intentional! At least, not at first. It started because I was irritable because I hurt a lot, and then I convinced myself that I was faking it so I got mad at myself for being a little liar. And then I couldn’t sleep because I hurt so bad and everything was making me uncomfortable so I started snapping at you. I noticed it pretty quick so I figured I’d get the pain checked out and sorted because I didn’t think pulled muscles were supposed to last this long. And it turned out that it wasn’t a pulled muscle but some of my disks were all weird, and then one day in between physical therapy and the chiropractor, I fell on my back and jostled everything wrong and it fucking popped.”

Jamie thinks he knows exactly when that was. He remembers you saying something about falling while walking to your car after work and him asking if you needed ice. It was at the tail end of things, and he’d taken your stiffness figuratively as opposed to literally. Like, you were acting all cold because you hated him, not because you couldn’t move. 

“So,” you continue, “I just leaned into it. I mean, Dr. Hadley was only one of my doctors, but she’s the one who told me I- you know, could end up like this. She said if things popped and it got into my spinal cord or fluid or whatever and they couldn’t get it out, it was only a matter of time before it messed everything up. They only way to stop it at that point would be to not move so either way, I end up stuck.” 

You half-sob, half-laugh. “I didn’t know how to tell you and I could tell you were already annoyed with me so I just decided to let it happen. You’re better off without me, anyway. I hate asking for help and I hate when people give me empathetic looks or what-fucking-ever, and I was going to have to ask you for a lot of help. You don’t even fucking have time for that, Jamie.”

Jamie is at a loss for words, and you’ve run out of things to say. 

You stare at each other in the hallway by the elevator, breathing heavily. You’ve both triggered each other’s fight-or-flight response, and it seems you’re both down for a fight.

“Right,” Jamie says finally, “ok, yeah, ok. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to have to deal with this?”

You nod. 

“Right,” he says again. “That’s fucked up.”

You don’t respond and he looks at you closely. “You know that’s fucked up, yeah?”

You shrug. 

“Jesus, babe.” Jamie runs his hands through his hair. He’s going to have to fix his headbands. “Alright,” he says yet again, “look. Dr. Sharon and me- we talk. And, you’re supposed to be able to talk to people about shit like this. Like, me playing football isn’t supposed to mean I don’t have time for the people I love. And if you’re feeling that way or if you’re hurting, you have to tell me so I don’t think you’re being all pissed off because you hate me. That’s the whole point of love, babe. You take care of each other’s shit.”

“Jamie, I can’t get places easily anymore. I can’t drive and I can’t go up steps. I will never be able to storm the pitch to kiss you or walk with you in Brazil. I get mad really easily because everything’s so fucking frustrating and I just want to punch something.” You shake your head. “You don’t deserve any of that. You need someone who can be there for you and isn’t a total pill to be around.”

“Are you fucking trying to push me away?” he asks.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Obviously!”

“Well fucking don’t. You almost had me the first time, but good luck getting rid of me now.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“For fuck’s sake, just kiss,” groans Will, walking by with an armful of laundry. 

“Fuck off, William!” you both say in unison and then Jamie’s on one knee, eye-level with you and brushing a thumb across your chin. 

“Fucking hell, love,” he breathes. “You have to remember that you can talk to me, yeah? Just promise you’ll remember.”

You nod, unable to speak. 

“Good,” he says. “We’re giving this another go. And if you can’t kiss me on the pitch, might as well do it here, yeah?”

[horce-divorce]

something something about the power imbalance inherent to being an unhoused person, how similar it is to the dependency that abusers intentionally foster in their relationships to keep victims from leaving. but if you're homeless and someone is putting you up, especially if it's for free/some kind of exchange other than rent, you're basically expected to put up with whatever indignity they can imagine for you and still just be grateful. And if you set a boundary or speak up for yourself in any kind of way, that's Taking Advantage of this poor kind person who's doing SO much for you already, how could you?

sorry its 2am and I'm trying to write a better draft about this for later too but its like. being homeless is a huge, huge vulnerability. ppl people will look to exploit that, intentionally or not. and doubly so if you're homeless because you're disabled.

also something the ableism involved... about how I know so many fellow disabled people who have struggled with homelessness, and we all have similar stories about people we trusted, friends or loved ones who seemed all too happy to help and take us in, and how we repeatedly impressed upon them the nature of our health and the situation, and they swore up and down that they understood and that we were on the same page about boundaries and expectations... only to have them blow up and kick us out at the absolute first sign of conflict or miscommunication, or because we didn't get jobs fast enough, or because we didn't contribute financially even after being told that wasn't expected, and so on.

and how, I know so many housed people who have never been through this, who all have very similar stories about how they tried to help a friend in need once, and they were SO lazy and horrible and took SO long to get their shit together that they clearly were just a freeloader taking advantage who should've never been trusted, just like all homeless people, and that's why we give them socks and canned beans instead of money.

I was never allowed to complain about ableist expectations or abled people ignoring my boundaries in my parents' home. Especially not after I became a disabled adult who still needed help with housing. And that's been true of most of the couch-hopping I've done since then, too.

Currently we have a fairly nice situation... we live with a trusted and pleasant friend. It's a whole house, not an apartment. Not even in the city. We have our own entire room. We don't have to pay rent or anything. It's temporary even aside from our discomfort, it's just been a nice place to land for the cold months.

However. Friends parents are not so chill. Their dad is the most disgusting man alive and has repeatedly gotten us sick bc he's always got something, bleeds all over and never cleans it up, never washes his hands, leaves his dentures on countertops and tables with food still stuck on them, coughs all over our stuff and never masks, is actively making the mouse infestation worse with all the food he leaves out, and puts our health at risk in SO many ways.

he used to work in Healthcare btw. His wife still does. They know we're here bc we're homeless; they know we're both disabled and immunocompromised; neither of them will wear a mask. Both of them are constantly coughing everywhere and not even covering their mouths. We've tried to politely bring this to their attention multiple times and nothing changes. They just ignore us.

We could literally die from this. We could get lifelong health complications even worse than what we have now. Bel lost his sense of taste today and now we're terrified that it's gonna be long covid or something else that sucks what little joy is left from our daily lives.

You lose everything, and then you're supposed to just say nothing and accept your lot, no matter how much danger you're in, because beggars can't be choosers. If you're disabled and poor you'd better just be fine with people abusing you and putting your health and safety at risk indefinitely, because you're lucky they're even helping you at all instead of JUST abusing you.

You dont get to have a home. You dont get to collect things, or keep sentimental things, or have a whole, adequate wardrobe. You get what you can carry with you and what won't get stolen or destroyed by others, or by the nature of moving so much. You dont get to have safety and stability and roots and community. You dont get the dignity of boundaries or your own space. You get what you get and you don't throw a fit. And be happy and say "thank you" if people are merely ignoring you instead of actively silencing you. And if the people "helping" you actually give you the thing that kills you, at least you didn't die of exposure, I guess? Or something?

Its just. Every single thing you do as both a homeless & disabled person reminds you how utterly worthless you are to the """normal""" people around you. Every day. It's so demoralizing.

[keirawantstocry]

okay but what if...fitpacbo but Tubbo had Tommy and Molly in his head - gods that Tubbo somehow signed a contract to that now possess him or something - and they possessed at the wrong time...

(with love) have a great day!

i got carried away...

Pac fell asleep in familiar arms but woke up with unrecognizable eyes. He leaned back from his boyfriend to look him over. “Tubbo?” 

The man sat up slowly and cocked his head. “Yes?” 

“Your eyes are different, amorzinho. Are you feeling okay?” 

His eyes had lost their swirls of green, currently sitting in a state of clear blue. Everything in Pac's body was on alert. His body was his but he doubted that what was in there was his boyfriend. But was that a neutral thing or a horrible thing? The thing stood up in a quick motion, exiting the bed to stand near the door. 

Not Tubbo blinked. “I… am Tubbo.” 

“Okay, now I'm concerned,” Pac said softly. “Let's wake up Fit and talk about this, yeah?” 

Not Tubbo nodded slowly so Pac leaned over to the far side of the bed to shake Fit awake. He awoke with an affectionate grumble but froze when he sat up and saw Not Tubbo staring at the both of them from the other side of the room. 

“What's wrong with him?” Fit asked quietly. 

“Nothing,” Not Tubbo rushed to say. “I am Tubbo and uh everything is fine.” 

“No you're not,” Pac said softly. “Don't lie to us, we can get through this easily okay?” 

Not Tubbo sighed before he dropped down, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Okay. Fine. My name is Tommy.” 

“And who exactly are you?” Fit asked. 

Tommy glanced up at them, eyes sparkling like sapphires. “His husband.” 

“Tom,” Pac said carefully. “He mentioned you.” 

Tommy perked up. “He did?” 

“He said you tricked him into marrying you,” Fit said with a laugh. 

Tommy pouted. “Yeah, okay, maybe I did. But I mean. I wanted him so stuck with me. We have a lot of history.” 

“Before the island?” Fit asked. “I thought he didn't remember his life before the island.” 

“He doesn't,” Tommy affirmed. “But I do. I remember everything. We ended up in… very different places. I ascended to godhood after the end and he ended up here.” 

“The end of what?” Fit asked. 

Tommy hesitated then laughed. “It's a long story, I don't think I have time to tell you. I lived with him on the SMP since we were 15 and until we met our final end there at 17. Two… incredibly long years.” 

Fit whistled. “You guys met your end there at 17? Fuck.” 

Tommy shrugged. “We lived a shit life.” He swung his arms out and grinned in a way Tubbo would never. “I'm just glad to be free from all those shitheads.” 

“Fair,” Pac said gently. “I'm glad to be free of other worlds I've lived in as well. Still got things to remember them by though,” he said gesturing to the metal leg by the side of the bed. 

Tommy stared at it, eyes widening. “Is that yours? That's fucking sick. All I ever got that passed from life to life was scars.” 

“I suppose you can't show us those,” Pac said disappointed. “Since you're in Tubbo's body. Wait! Did Tubbo have scars in this other world?” 

Tommy nodded excitedly. “Yeah! Shitty story but I always thought he looked cool.” He lifted Tubbo's hand up to his face and dragged it down the side. “Burn scars. Explosion to the face.” 

Pac could feel his eyes lighting up. “That sounds so cool. He has burn scars now. On his back. I love them.” 

Tommy laughed, such a different laugh from Tubbo's. “Of course you do. I've heard about you. Big fan of strong men yeah?” 

Pac flushed but he was still smiling. “Sim.” 

Tommy gasped, bending over at the waist. Fit grabbed him as he collapsed, eyes rolling back into his head. He gasped loudly, back arching before he collapsed. 

When his eyes opened again, he was Tubbo once more, familiar green and blue swirls in his deep eyes. He squinted at them. “What happened?” he muttered sounding bleary. 

Fit and Pac exchanged a glance. “You don't remember?” 

Tubbo sat up slowly and shook his head. “Feels like I just got hit by a bus.” 

“You got possessed,” Pac explained. “Tom?” 

Tubbo groaned, falling back. “Aw, that fucking idiot.” 

Fit laughed. “He's an interesting guy.” 

Tubbo shoved his palms against his eyes. “He's an idiot, that's what he is.” 

They both laughed before pulling Tubbo further back up on the bed. 

“Well, I'm glad you're back,” Pac said, nuzzling his nose against Tubbo's neck. 

“We're glad you're back,” Fit corrected. “Although if Tommy ever wants to come back, I'm sure we'd both love to talk with him. He seems like a cool dude.” 

“If by cool you mean an insufferable idiot with an inflated sense of self then yeah.” 

Pac laughed. “Oi, shut up. Don't talk about your husband like that.” 

Tubbo groaned. “Husband my ass, shut the fuck up.”

[rokishimizu4]

Nightwing’s Big Brother adventure

(Sorry for the long wait, I’m moving to a new place and starting a new job, so very busy with that. Also, I’m writing stories-BatFam, Yautjas, Undertale AUs, Homer (Odyssey) x Gods/Goddesses, Hetalia Nordic 5, etc.) This one is gonna be dialogue heavy, because I see Dick & Jason being chatty when especially nervous. (Aka there is a child that Jay told me threw up brains and powdered meth and it’s staring at me from across two buildings on top of a fucken roof) Enjoy!

Warning: Todd being Todd, foul language, in a bad mood Nightwing

The months leading up to Nightwing traveling back and forth from Blüdhaven to EVERYWHERE else was one of with a sharp decline in villain activity in his claimed city as he was not in the mood to be nice.

Especially when he learns that there may be a organization out there that’s probably experimenting on people that NO ONE can find and a child out there that Jay says “threw up a bunch of meth users’ brains and got so sick that I was ready to call dad and beg him for help”.

That shit does not fly by Dick Wayne Grayson, especially when it comes to children that might be experimented on.

So, cue Nightwing prowling across Blüdhaven from when the sun starts to go down to as soon as the sun is high in the sky with his team. He barely goes to bed before he decides to head over to Gotham to help out with whatever he can.

However, this night was far from his ‘normal’ routine as he was in route to a bank robbery when he notices that the next roof he was ready to jump onto had something strange sitting on the ledge, glowing purple in the flashing lights of the fuck ton of cop cars down below. (Dick let the cops have a head start cause he was feeling nice)

The thing reminds Nightwing of a being made of oil, slime, and water, and/or some type of clay. But, seeing the goop moving in the flashing lights like a living, breathing, human did something to his brain that reminded him of when he first met Jason Todd.

“Hello there, a lot of noise here huh? What are you doing out here so late at night? Do you need some help? Are you hungry? Thirsty?” He asks in a soft tone, trying not to scare the mysterious child, who was smaller than Jason before his death and maybe even smaller than Damien when he was dropped off at Wayne Manor.

However before Nightwing could ask anymore questions, a beeping from his com renders him speechless. He quickly puts a hand up towards the figure, while his other hand goes up to his ear and presses a small button.

“Go for Nightwing.” “Hey Wing, just heard from your girlfriend that you haven’t been fucken sleeping dick head!” “Hood, I really don’t have the time for this.” “Oh no, the famous Nightwing doesn’t have the time to take his own god damn advice! Fuck you Wing, I’m gonna come over there and beat your ass til you can’t get the fuck out of bed for a week.”

”Hood, I really need you to watch your language at the moment.” “Why, you gonna come over here and wash my mouth out with soap? Too bad, I had worse. So try me bitch!”

”Jay Bird,” Dick could tell that Jason was now actually listening, “I have a goop child sitting a full roof top away from me that is staring at me and tilting it’s head side to side like it can hear you and understand you. So please, little brother watch your language.”

”Please tell me you’re joking. Dick, please fucken tell me you’re joking.” “I wish I was, because there is currently a robbery in progress and while the cops are there already, the still flashing lights do NOT fill me with confidence. And, from what you told me about this child, I refuse to leave them alone.”

”Where are you? Please tell me where you are NOW.” Jason growls and Dick did not need to hear Jason to know that he was rushing through his house/hideout getting clothes on and tripping his own feet to make it to Dick’s location.

”Blüdhaven, the biggest bank. Please hurry, cause I don’t know what to do yet.”

”Do you have any chocolate or anything like that on you? Yes, I’m being serious, cause the kid ate a shit ton of chocolate once it got all that shit out of its stomach.”

”How the fuck…” Dick’s jaw threatens to drop in confusion as he remembers that the backpack he was carrying was full of different types of chocolates and candy to make up his absences from date nights with Kori.

“Don’t fuck tell me that you have chocolate on you.. Pfft!” Jason busts out laughing as he realizes that the kid probably followed Dick because he has fucken chocolate!

”Jay, please shut your mouth. I’m gonna give this kid some chocolate and if you’re not here in the next 10 minutes, I’m gonna convince Kori to adopt this kid with me.”

”Hey! Fuck off! I called dibs first!”

Dick cuts Jason off with a double beep, which closes the conversation, and places some chocolate bars on his combo sticks and balances it over to the building roof in between the two of them, and slides it onto the roof. Then retracts so the kid could grab and go if they wanted to.

Which, to the disappointment of Dick, and Jason, who just landed on the same roof of Dick’s building, is exactly what the child did.

In a blink of two pairs of eyes, the goopy child grabbed the small stack of chocolates bars with a pair of tentacles and then jumps off the FUCKEN BUILDING, only to disappear into the mass of flashing lights like mist.

“WTF?” “Did you?” Two coms beeps-“Wing/Hood to Oracle!”

[spiderbeam]

I hate the condescending way some people talk about Colapinto in regards to his performance. From the beginning I saw so many people say basically "oh they're throwing this poor little nobody directly into an F1 car just to fail" , "He's going to fail so hard it will ruin his career" And then he showed up...and he is doing super well...

I can't help but sense that the condescending tone comes from a place of prejudice because Franco is Latin and some people can't catch the stereotypes they foster every single time they talk about him. How can you not see what it looks like to say "Oh they took our precious little meow meow Logan and they put this guy from Argentina and he's PROBABLY going to fail because why would he be any good" and say that and not catch how incredibly xenophobic you sound. I see it so often it's embarrassing I swear

yeah i agree tbh. the hate that exists towards franco DEFINITELY has some xenophobic/racist undertones, and it’s really sad to say that i’m not really surprised??? i mean checo’s been dealing with similar comments for a while now :/

i think i made a post a little while ago about this, but the rumors that franco only got into f1 because he was a pay driver honestly sounded so much like the rumors about checo only keeping his redbull seat during this second half of the season because of the mexican gp/sponsors. like isn’t it funny that people think that the two pay drivers on the grid happen to be the two latin american ones 🙂 like the racism is not even subtle at this point.

+ if i might add it also feels a lot like people are just waiting for the moment franco makes a mistake. like if you checked out the comments after franco’s crash in free practice you could just see people jumping on the opportunity to shit on him. and it’s apparently so easy to forget that franco:

previous to monza, franco had only done a total of 8 consecutive laps on an f1 car.

franco has never raced in baku before.

a year ago franco was driving for f3.

people were so quick to jump on the bandwagon that giving logan’s seat to franco would ruin him and that he would never make it, and yet he’s clearly succeeding thus far? even if he ends up p20 tomorrow, franco and his team have been repeating this time and time again: this is a learning experience from him. there is a learning curve.

finally!!!! i also wanna add a little something checo mentioned in an interview yesterday. he said that he had a heart to heart with franco because he knows that representing your country as a driver from latam is so drastically different from being a european driver. people tend to forget that the world of motorsport is so much more easily accessible to drivers that are from europe—i mean look at the grid—but also that drivers that are from latam that are currently making it have had to sacrifice so much to get there. that’s not to say the other drivers haven’t. but you see stories of franco having to sleep in factories when he was a teenager to cut costs. you see a teen checo having to live in a restaurant an ocean away from home, unable to make calls to his family because they were too expensive and sponsors wouldn’t cover the costs.

drivers from latam have their entire country—if not the entire continent—standing behind them. it’s why checo could break into motorsport in the first place. why franco managed to make it into f2. and honestly i am so sick of hearing racist comments about the two of them i just block people when it comes up. anyways.

you can rip them from my cold dead hands

[gothra]

I’m currently on a rewatch of Supernatural, and I’m noticing a parallel with an aspect of Eric Kripke’s other project, something that I didn’t notice or care about the first time(s) I watched the show, but now I can’t stop thinking about. This relates to Sam Winchester’s consumption of demon blood and character’s (Hughie’s especially) usage of Temp V, and the language pertaining to morality that surround both of these aspects of the story.

Spoilers incoming.

In the earlier seasons of Supernatural, we establish that Sam Winchester has psychic powers due to being giving a demon’s blood as an infant.

As an adult, Sam starts getting visions pertaining to what are now his growing psychic powers, it’s only until later in the early seasons that we learn that Sam has discovered a way to control demons, by drinking demon blood, which heightens his psychic powers.

The powers he has are very useful and they come in handy multiple times. Sam can exorcise demons with his mind, a job that, before the use of demon blood, was done with a long Latin spell (that usually had to be uttered while a demon was rocking their shit) or couldn’t be done at all, requiring Sam and Dean to kill demons with a special kind of knife. Exorcism is safer for the vessel, but difficult to do, and stabbing the demons is a bit easier (not including getting within stabbing range) but it kills the demon and the vessel, which, from time to time is still being inhabited by a poor human soul that is forced to watch as the demon uses their body to do despicable things. Sam’s powers save their lives, too. He can toss demons around like ragdolls, too, and THAT comes in handy, too.

Sam’s powers are fucking cool. Not just that, they’re nearly a net positive.

Sam’s powers don’t really have a serious downside. It really seems like they would have written a severe downside into something so extreme as drinking demon blood, but they didn’t! No physical side-effects, meaning Sam’s physical body does not change, chafe, rot, or fall off every time he drinks the blood. He doesn’t hallucinate or get sick or get crazy headaches when he drinks it, just when he uses his psychic powers, and it hurts less the more he uses them. The only time he experiences physical side-effects is when he suffers from withdrawals from it. It doesn’t really alter his personality outside of the stress of hiding it and the shame of drinking it, which is to be expected. Like my friend Tyler said, “It doesn’t even make him bitchy, like when he was soulless”. There’s not even any moral problems with the method that Sam uses to collect demon blood. He drinks the blood of a demon he’s in a sexual relationship with, and she consents and encourages him to do so. He doesn’t run around kidnapping random demons and bleeding them until their vessels have run dry. He doesn’t have to do anything bad to get the demon blood. Sam doesn’t even need to drink a lot of it to deal with the demons they typically run into. Sure, he’s had to drink a lot more when it’s a bigger demon, but I wouldn’t expect anything less.

So, you can imagine my confusion upon rewatch when I realized that nobody else seemed to be on board. It would be understandable if they were tentative, or awkward or even squicked out by the blood aspect. But basically everyone Sam tells about his powers is disappointed in or angry at Sam for drinking demon blood. Mind you, this storyline is coming at a place in the Supernatural story where demons are running rampant. Sam is being mentally plagued by the demon that dropped blood into his mouth as an infant, all while he’s working with the demon who gives him the blood and helps him with his powers to take down an even bigger demon. It’s demons all the way down, yet, everyone takes the time out of their busy demon-slaying schedule to admonish Sam for drinking the blood and using his powers to help out.

Let me tell you, it’s maddening, watching people get angry at the wrong thing. It’s maddening to watch people apologize for doing something good because someone else has decided that their wrath is more important. Dean (Sam’s brother) has Sam in a moral chokehold the entire season, lecturing him, insulting him, pushing Sam aside for something that ultimately is nothing more than Dean’s personal issue. And because it’s Dean’s personal issue and Dean is a narrative favorite, his emotional and psychological needs are ultimately more important. Often, Sam doesn’t get what he deserves. His character experiences (literally) soul-destroying setbacks, and still, he is made to feel bad for doing something, when the benefits of that thing far outweigh the positives, and the negatives of that thing come off as a noble sacrifice.

You’d think I would get tired of talking about how much of a let down Season 3 of the boys is. But I got a burst of renewed energy once I realized I had something to talk about that intersected in a way that I could actually witness with my own eyes. Do I regret getting pulled back into SPN? A little bit. But, here’s the point of this:

Hughie and Sam play the same role in their respective stories. They are two people who have been deeply hurt, traumatized, damaged, and who desperately want to do some good. They both want to make a difference and make a dent in their missions.

Temp V is different than demon blood. This time, Kripke added side-effects. But the side-effects of Temp V don’t change the fact that the benefits of using it are obvious and immediate. When Butcher and Hughie use Temp V, important things happen. They came close to killing Homelander, just a pinch away. It worked. The thing that they were using the drugs for almost happened. So, denying its usefulness would be pointless.

This time, Kripke learned from his mistake. Sam didn’t experience any negative side-effects, and his personality changes seemed to be due to the stress of hiding it from his brother and constantly arguing about and attempting to justify his actions. The benefits outweighed the negatives. Hughie, on the other hand, experienced a remarkable (some would say, completely unbelievable and out of character) personality shift. Suddenly, his motives were different, ego-driven, selfish, and they tainted his actions, turning them from moral and noble, to self-centered. In Hughie’s case, the negatives and the positives are placed on an equal scale, in my opinion, by force. I think that the personality changes that they wrote for Hughie are absolutely not fitting at all, but were put in place because if they weren’t there, anyone who thought about it for more than one minute would realize that admonishing Hughie for his use of a helpful super drug is stupid. If Hughie only experienced the brain damage, he could be considered noble and brave for what he was doing. It would be tragic that he’d have to stop, and if he considered continuing to use the drug to take down Homelander after he learned about the side effects, it would endear us to Hughie and his self-sacrifice. If he only experiences the psychological side-effects, than we can even the score, then his selfishness could be enough to paint his use of Temp V as bad, as if his selfishness alone is enough to overwrite or match the immediate benefit to the mission, as if Hughie’s personal morals being in jeopardy outweigh the fact that their goal is to kill a maniacal rapist who, if given the chance, WILL kill them all, and ANYONE who stands in his way or upsets him or makes him feel inferior.

For both Sam and Hughie, they are being positioned against characters who should be considered wrong, and who should be confronted with their wrongness and never are, because their feelings on the issue, likely act as a stand-in for Eric’s feelings, and therefore, they become the narrative favorite. Dean is the suave, handsome womanizer with the gruff, yet charming personality and combat skills, and Sam is his brother. Annie is the Strong Female Character, who defies everyone because Eric needs to prove he knows how to create good female characters (he hasn’t proved that) and Hughie is her boyfriend.

Ultimately the similarities are striking. I’ve got many ideas about the reasons why Eric wrote Season 3 this way, and why he wrote Sam’s story like that, and the likelihood of these reasons increase and decrease the more I think about each of them, but that’s a separate issue and I’m very tired 😞

@deliciouskeys and @bisexualhomelander how did I do?

[synnamonroll666]

Challenge Accepted

Prompt 29: Public/Biting/Marking Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader Description: After insinuating that your boyfriend is unwilling to take risks in the bedroom, he decides to prove you wrong by bringing your bedroom under the table while you and your friends have dinner... Warnings: Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, Oral (Female Receiving), Biting, Marking, Slight Blood Play, Implied Sex... Word Count: 1.5k Main MasterList: 🖤 Kinktober MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @queenkhepri, @bihansthot, and @mmeerraa.

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I should have fucking known that he would pull something this damn risky. But I suppose that is what I deserved for calling him "safe" when it came to sex. Now, he is hell-bent on proving me wrong, which is what has led me into this situation in the first place.

Here I sit—at a dinner with our mutual friends—while we await Syzoth to return from the bathroom. But the thing is, Syzoth never went to the bathroom. No—instead, he pretended to go to the bathroom, became invisible when he was out of sight, snuck back into the dining room, and crawed under the table to give me a pretty cruel surprise.

It took every bit of strength I had to keep myself from crying out due to the shock and pleasure of when Syzoth's tongue met my mound, and it was only getting harder to stifle those noises clawing from within—which were begging for a way out—as time went on.

I should have known that he was up to something when he suggested I ditch the panties when I put on that dress tonight, but I honestly thought that that was his way of proving me wrong. Of course, he knew this and went the extra mile anyway. So now I sit between Raiden and Ashrah, listening to them chat away about living with the Shaolin while I live in pure hell.

"Are you ok, (Y/N)?" Ashrah breaks away from her current conversation to ask me as a new sense of concern fills her tone and features. I now realize that my stiff movements show a clear sign of something being wrong.

Hell, by how hot my damn cheeks feel, I am sure that I am as red as the God damn devil in this moment.

"Yes, Ashrah. I am fine." I struggle to speak as I grin reassuringly at my friend before forcefully shovelling a fork full of food into my mouth to prove that I am okay.

However, Raiden notices my odd behavior as well, and I soon realize that I am in more of a predicament than I first thought.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)? You are looking quite flushed. Perhaps you should go outside for some fresh air." Raiden suggests this while flashing me his signature kind smile.

I open my mouth to utter another excuse to prove that I am fine, but luckily, Kung Lao and Johnny's argument cuts into our conversation and takes the heat off of me quite quickly.

"Please! Alien was so much better!" Kung Lao rolls his eyes before taking a bite out of the chicken leg in his greesy grasp, letting out yet another obnoxious burp after he swallows the mouthful.

"Oh, come on!" Johnny scoffs at his friend's words. "Predator was one hell of a lot better done and scarier! I mean, it even scared the shit out of Syzoth!"

Right after Johnny's statement, I feel Syzoth grumble bitterly against my mound. Despite the hilarious moment and his reaction, the vibrations of his voice sent electric shocks of pleasure straight to my core. It takes everything in me not to cry out right there. But I have to stay strong for the sake of my friends' sanity. I could even imagine how they would feel, knowing what was currently happening under the table. But unfortunately, Raiden's ears picked up on the noises of my lover.

"What was that?" He asks while lowering his fork—which was full of food—from his mouth to look around in confusion.

"Uh—just my stomach!" I blurt out quickly, not even thinking of my words since I am too afraid of being caught.

Raiden looks back at me and whispers in a very worried tone, "Are you sure you're not sick?"

"Yes, Raiden. I am fine." I reassure my friend, feeling guilty for concerning him. I am so grateful for how much he cares, but he has absolutely no reason to be. Because despite this hellish situation I am in, my body feels like it is ironically in heaven. Syzoth's tongue wiggles and curls against my puffy little bead, pushing me closer and closer to something I want and fear so much in this moment. The anxiety and need battle furiously for control in my mind as this scene progresses, but either way, I know I am going to receive what my man was hell-bent on giving me.

Trying to take my mind off of what is going on between my thighs, I turn back to my food and the conversation before us to find that Kenshi has now joined in on the argument.

"Can't you guys just agree that both movies are good?"

"No!" Both men yell in unison, earning a chuckle from the rest of us and, unfortunately, Syzoth as well.

His voice rattles through my aching mound and is just enough to finish me off. I squeeze my legs shut, caging my lover between my thighs as he works me through it. I grit my teeth together and close my throat to suppress any noises that dare escape me, while trying so desperately hard to ignore the excessive amount of pleasure flowing through my body and creating one of the best orgasms I have ever had.

But I am unsuccessful. Clenching a fork in one hand and a steak knife in the other, I subconsciously slam my fists down on the oak wood—the only thing separating my friends' attention from the lewd actions of what my lover was doing below—and unintentionally bring their attention to me instead.

They all look at me with confusion contorting their features, and humiliation falls on me like an anvil. Though that embarrassment is soon forgotten, when the intense pain of sharp teeth ripping flesh tears through my thigh. I try my hardest not to show any signs of discomfort to my friends. The urge to shake my leg was strong, but I refrained from doing so, not wanting to hurt my lover despite him hurting me first. Though the thought sure is fucking tempting...

Once the grip of my man's jaw releases me, I am out of my seat, rushing out of the room while muttering a quick apology to my friends. I quickly enter the bathroom, locking the door behind me and rushing over to gather as many tissues as I could to soak up the blood that is now dripping down my leg.

Feeling a second presence in the room with me, I look behind me to see Syzoth standing before me with guilt written on his face, lips and chin still glistening with my slick. He seems hesitant to approach me, his lime eyes staring into mine like he is waiting for my approval for him to come closer.

"I-I'm sorry." He says, after a long moment of agonizing silence has passed. "I did not mean to hurt you; it's in my nature to mark my mate if others are nearby while we engage in acts of love."

I heave a sigh, no longer caring about the wound on my thigh or the awkward reunion I would have with my friends after leaving the bathroom. A smile slowly stretches my lips and I shake my head, amused by my boyfriend's apology.

"You do realize that they most likely have clued in to what is going on, right?" I ask him, mischief clear in my tone. I may or may not be trying to embarrass him, but judging by the blush that is quickly spreading across his cheeks, it is working well.

"Y-You think so?" He questions my words, his eyes shifting as he shifts uncomfortably in his spot.

I playfully roll my eyes before stepping forward to nudge his shoulder. "Don't act so innocent, Mr. Goes-down-on-his-girl-in-front-of-everyone! You knew what you were doing!"

"Perhaps, I did." He huffs a faint laugh. "But one thing I do know for sure: you really enjoyed it."

I am a little surprised when his shy eyes shift to ones lidded with desire, but I am not complaining. His hands find purchase on my sides, and a soft gasp escapes me when they squeeze me gently.

He leans into me, his lips brushing my ear before he whispers, "You know, you still have one unmarked thigh—one that would look oh, so good scarred by my teeth."

"Is that so?" I breathe shakily, arousal developing once again within my core.

"Yeah," he rasps against me before tenderly kissing the shell of my ear, his lips lingering on the delicate flesh for a moment before continuing on with his words. "And one more thing: that's what you get for calling me "safe"."

I pull back in my lover's grasp to see him staring down at me with a devilish grin, spreading his lips apart to show me his still-bloodied canines. I roll my eyes again, swatting his arm before bringing him in for another kiss to taste myself upon him. I definitely should have known better than to call him "safe". Because deep down, I know the wild beast my man is capable of being. After all, I just got a small sample of it tonight.

[landinrris]

Snippet following Silverstone 2023 from the current pr fic wip!

Carlos calls Lando on Monday when he’s back in Maranello, if only to hear his voice. Collapsed into the sofa, fresh from the shower after his run.

Lando answers on the third ring, a warm, “Hey,” reaching Carlos’ ears.

It’s the single sweetest syllable Carlos has heard in the last forty-eight hours.

“Hey. I didn’t tell you yesterday, but congrats on the podium. You deserved it. You looked so good up there.”

Lando hums, an evident smile in his voice despite how hard he’s trying to fight it. “Thanks. It was pretty cool, not to rub it in.”

“It’s quite the view. I remember from last year.”

“Maybe next year I’ll be up on that top spot.”

“Maybe I’ll join you.” It’s quite the thought, one that has Carlos feeling more wistful than he was prepared for. They’re overdue a podium together— yet to fulfill their 1-2 wish from back at McLaren.

“You promise?” Lando asks.

It’s Carlos’ turn to hum, letting the conversation fall into a lull. He scratches at a spot on his neck he’d nicked while shaving and mentally curses when his fingernail catches against it.

“What are you doing right now?” Lando asks. Carlos would tease him about the suggestive nature of his question if he felt like they were at a place where they could.

As it is, Carlos feels like he’s walking across shards of glass.

“Just got in from a run and showered— in Maranello for now. What about you?”

“Spending a couple of days with my family before going back to Monaco. It’s nice to kind of just decompress for a bit. Log off social media.”

“Stay off the algorithm,” Carlos adds.

Lando sighs. “Suppose I should apologize for the last few weeks. My head’s not been great, and I’m trying to deal with it.”

“Lando, you don’t have to apologize.”

“No, I do because Max has already told me off about it. I’ve just been avoiding you without telling you why, and that’s not fair to either of us. I just kept thinking about what you said about the European leg and how she was just gonna be around all the time, and it's made me sick to my stomach. Fuck, it makes me sick just saying it again. But I don’t want this to ruin us.”

“Shit…” is all Carlos can say. He’s had a sneaking suspicion, but to hear it confirmed is something else. “I should’ve been more demanding about her not coming golfing.”

“It’s not just the golfing, Carlos—”

“No, but I should’ve been more demanding. I should have said I wasn’t going and done something else with you. This has already taken so much.” Carlos knew it was doing damage, but now it's different.

Their promises to each other are coming unraveled in real time despite how much they try.

“What are you doing this week?” Lando asks, an edge of hope palpable in his voice. “I could come to you or you could come to me, and we could kind of just reset? More than Canada. Just exist a few days and forget about the world.”

The proposition sounds like one of the best ideas Carlos has ever heard. He can practically picture Lando in his bed, sitting on the kitchen counter, pressed up against the glass door in the shower.

He thinks about Monaco back in May and the utter bliss those handful of days were when it was just them. They shut the rest of the world out. It would be so easy to say yes now. It would be so easy to buy Lando’s plane ticket for him with a couple button clicks.

Carlos’ brain slams on the brakes.

“I don’t think this week will be good. I think the plan is to let everything settle before the summer break. Either of us being spotted where the other lives will only raise Caco and Guzman’s hackles.” Getting them to agree to let him have this break in the first place was a lot. The last thing he wants to do is laugh in their faces and tempt them into something.

“Yeah, sure. That’s fine.” Lando’s tone is clipped— the opposite of fine, Carlos knows.

“Lando,” Carlos begs. “We can do things together on Facetime maybe. We can make dinner together tonight? Maybe watch something together even though you will fall asleep halfway through. It’s not that I don’t miss you, cariño. It’s that I am trying to finish this as quickly as possible.”

Lando sighs. “I know. I think I’d really like to do those things. I’ll be back in Monaco tomorrow night. We can cook dinner then?”

Something inside Carlos settles. “Yeah, that sounds good. I will figure us out a recipe. I can keep talking for now though if you are okay to.”

“I know I’ve been avoiding you, but I could still talk to you forever, you know.”

Carlos smiles to himself. “That’s good because so can I.”

They stay on the phone with each other for another hour and a half until Lando’s father evidently tells him dinner is ready. Carlos is morose to eventually let him go— he'd much rather choose to stay on the phone and talk about everything and nothing.

Carlos wants to hear more about the stack of old sketchbooks Lando found in the desk drawer in his room full of sticker designs. He wants to hear more about how when this is all over, Lando wants to bring Carlos home as his boyfriend and show him around.

Likewise, Carlos wants to keep telling Lando about the neighbors in his building and the people around town. He wants to talk about what color he should paint the living room because it’s too yellow as-is. He’s been spending more time there and has discovered he hates it.

Lando tells Carlos he’ll help paint it.

When they do hang up, Carlos feels better than he has in a while. It feels like something has shifted between them the tiniest bit. Not good or bad, but just different. It’s like they’ve taken a step back for a moment to something safer, and Carlos is oddly grateful for it even if he still wishes with every fiber of his being that he could have Lando here with him.

The next few days only reinforce the shift. Like taking a hit off an inhaler, suddenly Carlos feels like he can breathe again.

Sure, making dinner in parallel with each other feels silly, especially when Lando can’t get the peel off the garlic clove and he refuses to smash it with the knife because the instructions stated he has to slice the clove, and he can’t slice it if it’s crushed. If they were together, Carlos could help. Now, he just groans.

He feels less silly when they’re both lying in their respective beds the next night, the only light coming from each of their bedside lamps. Lando looks swamped in his hoodie, the hood pulled up and pushing some of his hair down onto his forehead.

“I want to kiss you so bad it makes my chest hurt,” Carlos murmurs. It feels like he’s shouting.

Lando gives him a sleepy smile. “I want to kiss you until my lips are so bruised it hurts. And then I want to keep going.”

“I want your name to be the first one I say when I wake up and the last one I say when I go to bed.”

“I want everyone to look at you and know I’m your other half.”

“I think the grid already does if I am being honest.”

“But I mean everyone. I want some random fan to think: Carlos Sainz? Oh yeah, he’s Lando Norris’.”

Just the idea sends a shiver up Carlos’ spine.

They go back and forth for an embarrassingly long time. Carlos doesn’t wish Lando was there any less. He wants to trace the dimples in Lando’s cheeks and on his chin. He wants to kiss each and every freckle and mole and memorize the pattern of color in Lando’s eyes.

Lando falls asleep on the call, his bedside lamp still on. If Carlos was there, he could turn it off for him. Instead, he just watches Lando sleep until his own eyes grow too heavy to keep open.

[gabsforjustyuris]

My dear customer

Hey, sorry in advance for the grammatical errors, English is not my native language, anyway, I hope you like it! ^^

Hurt/comfort, Angst, Oc Pov, F!Reader, Kafka x Reader. 2k words.

Wandering the galaxy as a nomad and doing different jobs. You with your dark past found yourself without hope about the future, until a certain woman with magenta hair decided to see you again.

You woke up, meditated and got ready to head towards the daydream bar, seeing those pompous sofas and extravagant chandeliers. Not that you liked seeing them every day, of course, it got to the point where it made your eyes sick with so much brightness, but at least it was proof that the recognition of the place as a paradisiacal oasis lived up to the rumors that spread across the galaxy. 

The atmosphere surrounding the installation was one of relief and at the same time a lot of energy, something like an endless party or solving all problems. And you couldn't judge those who actually believed it. Penacony was made to convey this type of illusion, however, it failed to reach you.

His goal was vague. The routine consisted of getting up, serving glasses, meditating and sleeping. You didn't trust the dream world or believe in its symbol. Paradises don't exist. It was direct and simple, just like in life that is born to meet its end.

On the other hand, luck determines success. Blessed are those who had the compassion of an Aeon, who in turn, reversed their miserable lives with a divine touch. But who would say that most living beings would have such an opportunity?

As the firstborn daughter and former heir guardian of Aqualis, I should pursue a life of responsibility. But a curse from the selfish gods broke our bloodline. My people suffered and ultimately lost our planet to the corruption of a Stellaron.

Therefore, what fault would it be to be bitter with the Aeos or disbelieve in eternal life?

What fault am I? None.

My past has distorted the good memories over the years, and the trails of scars I left stain every planet and facility I've ever visited until I arrived in Penacony, where he has remained for the last few weeks as a bar attendant outside the worldly. My steps are doomed, and the people who passed my path had their own disappointments, and yet I just swam with the tide without knowing the current.

– A very relaxing place to have a drink, I must say… – I heard it in between my stormy reveries, making me give the speaker a wary glance.

Of course, it was no longer enough that memories flashed before my eyes, or in every job I had to interact with ignorant people, as well as facing a past ghost that followed me everywhere.

Kafka. I remembered your name, already feeling a bitter taste rising in my throat. 

Shit. I just sighed deeply and finally turned to the cross-legged woman on the counter seat. Wearing that damn attractive look, silky hair tied in big locks, sunglasses that covered her eyes and those honey lips. 

Tired, I just sighed while continuing to clean the glass in my hand, averting my eyes from the innocent smile, in an expression so soft that it was irritating. I stopped for a moment to admire the shiny tables, watching with a certain envy and at the same time without interest the people and robots who were enjoying their short lives before finally returning to what was in front of me.

– Look, if it isn’t a bag of gems from the cosmos.

– If it isn't the princess without a home. – She responded, resting her hand on her chin and turning her head, all while maintaining the curve of her lips.

– Fuck you – I lowered the tone when I swore, standing in front of her, observing how the sound of her laugh came out of that relaxed expression, as if she had no intentions, but I knew she did, she always does.  – What do you want?

– I'm a customer, aren't I? – He questioned, placing his gloved fingers on the edge of the glass that had just been cleaned, pushing it towards me on the counter. – Surprise me, sweetie.

I looked at the glass and then looked up at her, swallowing my own words in an uncomfortable silence, starting to prepare a mixture that I thought suited the hunter's standards.

Deep down I knew her predatory eyes were shamelessly chasing my ass, and just thinking about it felt like my consciousness was slipping out of focus, feeling my heart stop or my trembling fingers falter, but at no point did I turn to her. see her again, because with every breath, with every blink of an eye, those memories emerged, their voices in the depths of my consciousness.

– Here it is. – I delivered the purple pigmented milkshake with a vanilla interior sprinkled with small chocolate droplets and a cream-filled edge.

– Purple, how thoughtful of you. – His drawling voice seemed satisfied, looking at me behind his neutral glasses as he drank the drink through the straw.

I sighed once again, looking away again until I found another visitor, which was the perfect excuse to leave.

– Excuse me. – I went to the next customer, talking while preparing the drink, serving with a polite smile, all while being aware of how her eyes followed me throughout the process, raising her glasses above her eyebrows.

The day was too calm for me to worry so much. My fingers pressed against my temple and my head tried its best to push away the problems that surrounded my mind. Adjusting my simple dress shirt and vest look with this suffocating colorful tie around my neck. As much as she was here, I would have to bear it for my current job. I need to be professional and ignore her advances until she gives up.

That would be if she wasn't as resilient as I imagined, something that shattered all my expectations, because she was. Time passed in a calming silence between both parties, from time to time I cast discreet glances to check on her, noticing how the hunter of Stellarons she seemed a little hazy, as if she had happy thoughts without removing the smile on her face, and at the same time, sad memories due to the sadness in her eyes, but who really knows? She was a mystery...

– Do you want anything else? – I decided to get closer again after all this time, attracting her gentle eyes.

– Hmmm… – She hummed thoughtfully, looking at the empty milkshake glass as if thinking carefully about my question, returning to me. – I pass.

I waved, unconsciously smiling and picking up the glass to clean, but before that, now focusing on her a little calmer than before, since the woman didn't appear to be a threat at the moment.

– You seem thoughtful. – I blurted out, giving her a reason to let out another amused hum, increasing the smile on her face.

– I do? – He placed his fingers on his chin, caressing his own face until he almost covered his own smile, 

– Yes… – I sigh deeply, combing my hair and looking away for a moment. And so I decided to get straight to the point after thinking about it, placing my hands on the counter in a centered position in front of her. – Just one thing... to be clear, I don't want any trouble so... don't waste your time trying to get my head for money.

– Didn't you like our last meetings, princess? – He tilted his head with a malicious look behind his peaceful face.

– If you want to call fights like that…

– You know, normal dates are boring. – He started watching my movements with disinterest. – or are you going to tell me that our battles didn't make you feel anything?

– I think you're weird, but I… I suppose so?

I responded, making her laugh at my reaction, which without realizing it, made me smile discreetly, going towards the sink from behind, washing the glass, with my back to her.

– It is a shame.  – She said, catching my attention, turning to look into her eyes, confused by the comment.

– What do you mean by that? – I asked, and Kafka shrugged, continuing.

– I mean, you've spent most of your life training and now you're limited to wandering the cosmos like a nomad, helping people and wasting your time with boring jobs. 

– Does this bother you? – I asked, putting away the body and returning to her. – As far as I know, you were never really interested in my life.

– No. – He agreed, without wavering or taking his eyes off mine. – But I expected more from you.

– And should I care what you think after all? – I placed my hands on the counter again, feeling a little nervous. – My planet was dying, I lost my family, my friends and in the meantime you just disappeared and came back just to use me as a toy to entertain your selfish desires.

It was an indisputable fact. On their home planet, the Arcanis imperial family would begin with the clear objective of establishing energy balance. nexalith, a powerful magic that established easy transport between planets, being the primary material essential for the revitalization of the planet. 

During the last years of her life, as a young adult, I ended up meeting the hunter of Stellarons without being aware of their high-danger status throughout the universe. I didn't know why she was there, or what she really did. Sometimes she disappeared without saying anything and then came back acting naturally. Kafka was a woman who didn't usually talk much about herself, but she always listened to my outbursts or appeared from time to time at my window after a long day to pass the time, and that never failed to catch my attention. Her answers were too vague or so complex that I found myself thinking all day. She would tell some stories so detailed that I would wonder if they were true, and her touches were so precise, safe, without restrictions because she didn't seem to be afraid of anything. 

And when everything happened, Kafka completely disappeared from sight, and then returned months later as if nothing had happened, infuriating you and inevitably taking you both to the battlefield against your own will, despite the fact that the woman seemed to have enjoyed it. fight.

– The end of your planet didn't depend on me, it was its destiny to end.

– But I… i just… – I hesitated, looking into her eyes, feeling a slight burning in the corners of my eyes, furrowing my eyebrows and in the end giving up, taking a cloth and going to rub it on the counter. – Forget.

An awkward silence fell between us, but we still had each other's company. The sound playing in the back of the room accompanied simple notes, distracting my consciousness. With that violin in the background, the instrument that I knew very well, was his favorite.

– So… did you miss me? – Suddenly I hear doubt come from her voice, making my hand that was rubbing the counter with the cloth stop abruptly for a moment.

– You stupid, stupid idiot. – I take a deep breath, swearing in whispers, knowing that she could very well hear them, and then, I turned to her, in a failed attempt not to sound slightly vulnerable, in a low tone: – Of course I do.

With that she smiled, getting up from the bench, looking around and seeing the few people who were present in the room. Probably most of them went to the worldly or they had gone to rest, well, it doesn't matter. Kafka seemed to have something on his mind as he walked up to face me. His height is close to mine, being taller thanks to the heels on his feet, looking at me from head to toe.

– And then? – I furrowed my eyebrows, losing my patience with her games, almost immediately receiving a quick response from her. – There’s something wrong with my fac-

That's how the woman with the magenta hair saw the perfect opportunity to advance towards me, grabbing my tie, pulling hard until my body collided against the counter and my face came closer, leaning towards me and coming face to face with me. my lips, taking me by surprise.

Little by little, I let myself be carried away, without resisting the hunter. I closed my eyes and focused on our calm kiss, feeling a kind of relief course through my body as my stomach fluttered like it was full of butterflies. My mind went blank, leaving only the moment. The pressure on my body softened, and my fingers released a small grip on the cloth, causing a large shiver. She left me breathless, speechless. When he pulled away, he looked into my eyes with that charming smile, alternating his attention between my iris and my lips.

– It was good to see you again too, sweetie. – She whispered to me, pulling away and turning his back, walking away.

Not knowing what to say, I just watched his farewell with a tightness in my chest, feeling as if a part of me was going along. I was overcome by an internal conflict, with all those sweet memories running through my mind. It was a rollercoaster of emotions; This woman awakened something I had never felt before. Seeing her go was like a weight being lifted off my shoulders, but deep down I knew I longed for her presence again.

And when I lowered my eyes, reflectively, I came across a bag of money tied with a bow in my favorite color. In it was a small folded paper, carefully attached, piquing my curiosity. When I opened it, I read a sentence that, even against my will, made me let out a slight genuine smile.

Until death do us part in the next duel, darling.

Kafka.

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 25, 2021 8:00 p.m. the black pearl

[grant] well, i know it doesn’t fix the existential angst and you shouldn’t ever feel like it needs to go away instantly, but i guarantee you will be a good dad.

[grant] any kids you have will feel loved. they’ll be set up for the future no matter how everyone’s lives play out. i know you’ll do your best, and i know soobin will, too. you guys have worked so hard to have such a long and healthy and sincere relationship.

[grant] and the fact that you’re worried about any of this means you’re going to do a good job. shitty parents and shitty partners don’t ask if what they’re doing or about to do is wrong.

[grant] everyone is going to make mistakes sometimes but it’s about getting most of it right, and i believe you will. soobin doesn’t hold it over your head that for a while, your fear made you a little controlling. you improved and she forgave you. you’re smart, you’ll adapt, and most of all, you should know you’re loyal. at the end of the day, a parent who puts their kids first and never turns their back on them is the best parent in the world in my eyes.

[grant] mistakes can be forgiven if you put your kids first and treat them like a human being who matters.

[henry] thank you. i appreciate it. that means a lot coming from you.

[grant] and i understand your main fear in the first place. i've thought about it many times. i never worried about myself dying but others dying. elizabeth, uh...yeah. those big family losses seriously will ruin you forever in one way or another. the way you lost your father only makes it worse. it does strip away any feeling of invincibility you have.

[henry] you can say that again.

[henry] i'm glad someone understands.

[grant] you can never really know, i guess, what’s going to happen to you or to anyone you know, and it’s not helpful to say it’ll be fine because we all know crazy and terrible things happen. it's unfortunately mathematically true. but trust me, i'll kill you if you die!

[henry] you’ll kill me if i die? haha.

[henry] thanks for making me laugh, too.

[grant] yep. i will re-kill your ghost.

[henry] i'll kill you if you die.

[grant] thank you, buddy! you’re a real one.

[henry] dude, ugh, i googled life insurance policies a month ago. ew, adulthood.

[grant] life insurance is a good thing to have, though.

[henry] it is, it is. even if my hypothetical kids just buy a fucking pool with the money.

[grant] i mean, if it benefits them, right?

[henry] let me add a note to the policy saying you can either get an in-ground pool put in or free college tuition–one or the other.

[grant] does that include getting a sick ass waterfall feature installed on the pool or no?

[henry] by the way–

[henry] disclaimer that this is just an idea, not concrete at all, but soobin and i briefly mentioned moving back to korea as a way to make sure our kids have a good life.

[grant] wow, really? it is worth thinking about! it is rational. most of your family is here and all of soobin’s family does live here, and you do have to consider what’s best for you and your family, current and future. before i did move back home, when i was with you know who, i thought about this, too, if we ever had kids that maybe we could or should move back to michigan so they'd have my whole family around.

[grant] and just so it’s on the record, you have my full support in any decision here.

[grant] are you interested in moving back?

[henry] i don’t know. i haven’t lived here since i was five years old. i've only visited, and then came back for one year to do the military service because i was wary of giving up my citizenship. but i almost did because truly, i did not want to go into the army. that shit sucked.

[grant] what does soobin think?

[henry] well, it was her idea. i'm very whatever about wherever i live. i feel no strong pull one way or another at the moment. but it’s different for her.

[henry] she lived here much longer than me. she cares much more and has a preference. i mean, she spent pretty much her entire life here except since college and during the school semesters between sixth and twelfth grades because her parents sent her to a fancy private school there.

[henry] i will say, soobin’s main point isn’t wrong, and it's the one you brought up. most of our family is here. it’s like you and michigan. that’s where your folks are. and that support is invaluable when you have kids, both for their social development and for financial reasons. plus, my mom actually wants to move back. she never talks about it, but i know she does.

[grant] i get that, too.

[henry] like i said, she’s just never been the same since my dad died. which i don't fault her for. she does her best to be happy, you know, but i think she feels very alone, even more now that i don’t live on the upper peninsula anymore. she was with him forever. they were soulmates. and her life drastically changed after he died.

[henry] this has been the first time she's had a job since, god, the 1980s. she loves being an art teacher for school kids, but that's a huge change in addition to the sudden loneliness.

[henry] and on the loneliness side, she has your family and they've been close for a long time.

[grant] she was literally over at my aunt bridie's house the other day making shampoo with her.

[henry] yeah, so she sees them pretty often and she also has her book club and some other friends, but she knows way more people here. seoul's where all her family and friends are.

[henry] i want my mom to be happy, you know? it’s my job as her son, and i'm the only child she ever had. she doesn’t need me to look after her every day, not really, but i want to and she deserves that. and truth be told, a part of me believes that if she comes back, i would feel not very good about being away from her.

[henry] i think that if i encourage her to come back or talk to her about it and she does go through with it, that would sway me more to soobin’s side. again, i want my mom to be happy, and i'm also scared of losing her. it doesn’t matter if it’s sudden or slow. i don’t want to lose her, and especially not if i feel like i've spent my whole adult life away from her, not prioritizing what time is left with her.

[henry] not to be morbid, but she’s almost 60. at some point you do ask yourself how much longer you have left with your older family members around. life is unfortunately very short.

[grant] of course. that’s totally understandable. she's a great mother, and you wouldn't want to miss out on that. and i'm sure you don’t want your kids to not have their grandma present in their lives.

[henry] but then i have to start over with my job and maybe i lose contact with my friends if i leave. i do have friends here–sorry, they weren’t able to come hang out this time, maybe next time–but my real two best friends are in michigan. it’s you and ben. i don't let anyone else get that close to me except for soobin because to me, my best friend slots are full. i don't want anyone else. no one else is worth it.

[henry] and i always said you’d be my kids’ godfather. i don’t want them to miss out on knowing you the way they should.

[grant] there’s facetime! and i'd come visit. and i'm so goddamn annoying, i will be texting you about everything i think about in the world for the rest of our lives. you're not going to lose me.

[henry] i try my best to believe i won't lose you.

[grant] also, don’t stress out too much about this yet. you do not have to make any of these decisions now, and when you do need to, the right answers will come to you.

[grant] and listen, one last thing and then i'll shut up. i don’t know how, i don’t know why–i don’t think there is an answer to this–but the people we lose are still with us, even if only in spirit. i am famously a skeptic, but i felt something this year that changed my mind. i know you miss your dad but he’s still with you. somehow he’ll see your kids grow up, and he’ll be there guiding you to make the right decisions.

[grant] your dad loved you, like, beyond what words can express. he loved your mom just as much. he would never willingly leave you. if there's something after this mortal existence, he's still with you.

[grant] oh, and we should probably eat this pizza before it's frigid.

[henry] fuck, i forgot about it. thanks for reminding me. yeah, let's demolish this pizza, and then i'll take you to that cool arcade i told you about. we'll make up for the awful arcade experience at your cousin's bachelor party.

[arctichotch]

hey, i saw your send request post, currently im not feeling well so can you write captain john price taking care of sick reader? also they have some cuddles, just a very fluffy fic! thank you!! :D

hey, hope you feel better soon!

(i haven't written anything in donkey's years so excuse the potential mess below)

pairing: john price x gn!reader

warnings: sickening FLUFF, sick stuff nothing gross though, short and sweet

whilst you're here check out my character list and feel free to send me more requests

You felt like your insides were on fire. That your brain was knocking on the backs of your eyes trying to bust out of the confines of your skull. You felt like a sweaty mess and judging by the looks of sympathy you got from your colleagues walking out of your office after your boss sent you home, you looked like one too.

The journey home was a total blur and you nearly collapsed onto your couch the second you got through the door, only just having enough energy to kick off your shoes. You heard the shrill ringing and buzzing of your phone dumped by the door but there was not a single part of you that felt you could go get it.

Your eyes slipped closed, and that was that. One final thought before you fell to sleep - John will not be happy that you went to work feeling unwell this morning...

-

The bang of your apartment door closing woke you suddenly.

Oh shit, you are definitely not in any position to even think of some of the self-defence John taught you, let alone using it.

Luckily, you heard one of your favourite sounds (although as much as the sound was appreciated, it still made your head throb.)

"Love, I'm home."

Shit, he was home. You had a vague remembrance of him letting you know he'd be home from his month long mission and having told him you'd take him out, treat him to dinner.

So much for those plans.

"M'here," You grumbled from your place on the couch. John rounded the couch into the living room turning on the lights, making you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to alleviate the pounding in your head. "Think m'sick."

"You look sick, yeah. This why you didn't pick up your phone, was calling you. Got worried, love." He knelt down beside you, his knees groaning at the movement.

"You shouldn't kneel like that, you'll hurt yourself, old man."

"Oi, watch it, cheeky." He placed his always freezing cold hand on your forehead. "Could fry an egg on that head of yours. Have you taken anything?"

You shook your head, burying your head into the pillow. "Okay, I'll go get some ibuprofen to try get your temperature down, then I'll get you something to eat. I assume you've not eaten anything, right?"

"Hmphh."

"What would you do without me, eh? Just wither away from the common cold." He chuckled as he moved towards the kitchen.

After he had loaded you up with ibuprofen, some toast and a whole lot of water, he set you up on the couch all tucked up with blankets and the TV loaded up with Netflix, while he took a shower (only allowed to leave after he had promised you with cuddles after he was done.)

When he came out you immediately commandeered him and his attention, snuggling up practically on top of him while watching your favourite show for the billionth time.

"I'm sorry that we couldn't do dinner. I promise this isn't just me trying to get out of paying."

He laughed, his big belly laugh that you miss every single day he is gone. "It's okay, love. I know you're really sick, poor baby."

"I feel gross and sick, and I don't want to make you sick but I really can't think of anything worse than you not being right here."

"I don't get sick, my immune system is undefeatable and you know it. You ever seen me sick, love?"

"There's always time, babe." You slipped your hand under his shirt resting it on his stomach, trying to leach some heat off him.

"You're shaking. You cold?" You nodded and he was quick to pull a blanket from the back of the couch to cover you both.

"I missed you, lots and lots." You said, just now feeling the relief of having him back safe with you.

"Missed you too, love. Hopefully got a few days off now, so I can nurse you back to health." He gave you a big sloppy kiss on your forehead, "I'll take my payment in kisses and cuddles, please. No other currency accepted."

You smiled looking up at him, "I'll see what I can work out."

[seka1-k0k0ro]

CRYS OMG.

bf kei taking care of u when ur sick omgomg and maybe kageyama n kuroo too? omg.

(i'm currently sick rn and this idea just hit me AHAHAHAHHA)

-🍙

OMGGG awww this is so cute; yes ofc onigiri! also get some rest and drink lots of water, hope you feel better and get well soon!! 💓

bedridden.

*post timeskip!*

tsukishima kei, kageyama tobio, kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

cw: lots of fluff, mentions of sickness, some cursing

[i will format this better later + lower case intended]

tsukishima kei:

this man is the type to complain at first and silently take care of you until you feel better

and whenever you do end up feeling better and thank him he would have the worst blush on his face and pass it off like its nothing

you both live separately, but he has a key to your apartment

so when you didn't pick up your phone and text him back, he got a bit worried

after his uni classes, he raced to your apartment, mind running wild as to why you weren't responding to him

he unlocks and opens your door, confidently. he takes his shoes off and dumps his bag on the ground while calling out to you.

he hears you cough and his worry only worsened

he beelines to your room, and opens it harshly to see you coughing while laying on your bed, underneath the blankets.

"so you've been sleeping all day, huh?" he got no response from you besides a cough. he lifted a brow, confused as he slowly made his way over to you. he saw your cheeks were flushed and you let out another cough. his hand grazed your cheek, in a lazy attempt to check your temperature. "shit, y/n, you're burning up. why didn't you text me for help?" you melted into his hand as an apology and relief. that he was there.

kei got up and immediately searched for a glass of water and a cold compress. he found medicine on his journey as well and brought it back over to you. he made sure you were fed (he ordered it, he's not that good) and stayed by you until you felt better. he ended up sleeping on the floor in case you needed anything.

~.~

kageyama tobio

mans is clueless however he's not dumb

he rarely takes care of himself but when it comes to you, he'll bend the universe to make sure you're okay.

you'd text him you would be able to have your weekly breakfast date (put in place due to busy schedules) because you were sick and he cancelled everything except volleyball practice to help you.

def the type to call him mom or sister while he's at the store for help

"i just don't know how this is going to help."

"just listen to me and you'll be good," answered his sister. they bickered about getting too much or too little and which food he had to bring you. he stood in line of the store with thirty things all variations of other items in the case you reacted badly, or didn't like it. he checked out and headed immediately to your place.

he got back and saw you were walking to the kitchen. he gasped, "what are you doing out of bed? i told you to stay there." you looked him up and down as he looked also more disheveled than you with five plastic bags in his hands.

"i wanted a water."

~.~

kuroo tetsuro:

def the type to scold you the minute he found out

you're his personal assistant, and when you called in sick he laughed and said some stupid ass shit like "damn i did you that good huh?" even though literally nothing happened the night before.

you hacked out a bad cough and said you were really sick, and his entire mood changed.

trying to be professional, he said "alright, take the day off, and keep me updated."

yet he would send you emails, text-after-text, of him keep you updated.

he would send pictures of him throughout the day captioning it like "picture of my beautiful face to instantly make you better"

you're usually the one that takes care of him, so he's at a loss but he sends you flowers and your favorite takeout in the mail.

'dingdong check your front door,' said the millionth text from kuroo that day. you begrudgingly got up and made you over to the front door, and when you opened it, there it was. you smiled as you smelled the fresh roses and still warm takeout.

'thank you, my love,' you texted back with a picture of it. you took everything inside and downed your food. halfway through eating your phone started buzzing uncontrolably again.

'are u better yet? i'm bored.' you rolled your eyes as he was literally a busy ass businessman, and you only juggled half the work.

'stfu kuroo, im trying to eat then sleep.'

'gobble gobble that shit up, babe!' you questioned everything then and there, with a smie.

feel better lovely! inbox is always open. 💓

[zestymimblo]

Writeblr - ReIntroduction

Howdy howdy! I figured I'd type one of these out again because I'm trying to be more active on here, and also pushing myself to indulge in my passion for writing again... this helped last time, so I may as well give it another shot.

My name is Milo (he/xe) and I'm an aspiring author. I've always loved writing, and there's never been a point in my life where I didn't want to write in some capacity. It's easy for me to succumb to writer's block, but writing makes me happy and I want to be able to share what I create.

About Me

I'm a 21 year old (very gay) transman from Canada, and I want so badly to be able to travel to other parts of the world one day.

I'm a D&D nerd. When I struggle with a writing project, I often fall back on expanding my D&D worlds/characters. It's my safety net.

My career is in film. I work in the Art Department, mainly in props, and am working towards maybe becoming a Production Designer one day. Film work is a competing passion of mine, and you'll definitely find posts of me talking about work.

Like most other authors, I love weird shit, and you'll find a lot of weird stuff in my writing. Weird Fantasy is my favourite kind of genre.

In my writing you'll find themes of 2SLGTBQIA+, found family, fighting destiny, struggling under mega-corps/capitalism, nature vs nurture, self-discovery, different kinds of love, slightly unsettling surroundings, and weird lil monsters/freaky dudes.

My Current Projects

I have two writing projects going on right now. One I had to put on the backburner because I had written myself into a corner. The story wasn't progressing or flowing the way I had envisioned/planned, and I ended up getting more stressed than excited to write it. The other is one more laid-back for me to write. (Keep in mind, these short descriptions may be subject to change in the future)

The Strings of Willis Manor: Thistle Willis is sick. Her condition leaves her confined to the property of Willis Manor; a sprawling estate with lush gardens, dusty libraries, and secret corridors. At her attendance is Clementine (an automata handmaid, who was created with the sole purpose of tending to Thistle) and Andromeda Marrow (Thistle's childhood best friend). When her father doesn't return from a business trip to the South, Thistle's mother begins to fear the worst. In an effort to find a cure for her daughter, and establish Thistle as the head of the family business, Mama hires a Healer from an unknown land. But this cloaked Healer isn't who they say they are, and Thistle begins to uncover what really may be going on in the house she thought she could call home.

(Backburner) - Beneath Tattered Flesh: In the hissing, polluted, Magic, and bronze city of Ritec, Caesar Dampton is trying to move forward. He's trying to get over a bad break-up, make ends meet, and help his best friend - Emersyn Riley - find her place in the world. Between running away from his ex, and trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life, Caesar is stuck in a downward spiral. Newt Gourdeau got the chance of a lifetime; a full scholarship to Verne Cobb University. Leaving their small town behind, they carved out a life for themself in the city of opportunities. They're trying to bury their problems in mystery novels, university studies, and attempting to find a scientific reason as to why some people in this world have Magic, while others don't. Their obsessions leave them in solitude for days. But when the unlikely pair see similar tragic events happen at the same time, but in different parts of the city, they stumble into each other's lives. Manipulation and death follow the two at every step, but they're both determined to get to the bottom of a gruesome mystery unfolding in the city... or die trying.

What I'm Looking For

As you could probably already tell, I'm not awesome at keeping myself "on schedule", which is code for "I sometimes let my life/anxiety/career/whatever eat away at my passion for writing and I'll abandon it for several months a time". Having a place to post updates, or even just little rambles, really helps me out.

So in all honesty, if you're interested in what you see, then feel free to stick around! I'd love to chat, do fun word tags, and just be in a community of like-minded people.

Thanks for reading!

[scarebats]

WIP Master List

read finished fics here! 

EVERYTHING IS CURRENTLY ON HOLD.

feel free to ask me questions about any of these!!<;3

if you ask nicely, i will post a sneak preview of whichever fic had been requested on any day (including wip wednesdays).❤️

Pierce My Heart

slicemav because there isnt enough

flower & tattoo shop au cuz all the other ones aren’t finished

love at first sight kinda thing but slider and ice make it like a competition yk

probably gonna have a generous amount of smut

mav and goose are ex-navy (they discharged together after top gun)

will probably turn into a multi-chapter fic

Holding Close

ice invites (read: forces) mav to come with him for christmas

ft. ice’s little sister having a puppy crush on mav

love confessions and fluff!

Bitter With a Hint of Sugar

coffee shop au!

employee!mav and customer!ice but its very possible that ill switch the roles around

ft. slider, goose, & carole over their shit (slooserole)

mav being a cutie and ice having a crush (mav too)

will most likely somehow end up with smut somewhere in the mix

So Much Time

touch starved ice

maverick to the rescue

ice’s love language is touch and mav is there to provide it

tooth rotting fluff with a pinch of angst

Not Quite Over the Edge

sea sick maverick

protective and worried ice

goose lives au!!

sickfic (obviously) with angst

No More Bandages

mav has a burn on his leg from his motorcycle

he doesnt tell anyone cuz yeah

eventually ppl find out and they mad and worried

angst then it turns to fluff

Another Hand To Hold

ice gets married to sarah

mav rlly upset

slider helps physically and emotionally

lots of feelings and angst

icemav pre-fic then slimav during-fic

Catch Me If You Can

‼️NOT THE MOVIE‼️

mav is an instructor at tg and ice is a student (mav would be like early 30s and ice same age as he is in the og movie)

slider being a good friend but at the same time teasing ice

mav definitely knows smth is up but otherwise is oblivious and thinks ice is just being nice

will probably turn into a multi-chapter fic

takes place in the early 90s

goose lives!! (but is no longer in the navy)

In The Car? (I Just Can’t Wait)

dagger!ice w daddy issues

22!mav that ice finds endlessly attractive

he does in fact have a daddy kink for mav

smut featuring top!mav & bottom!ice

will probably turn into a multi-chapter fic

ice is like 34 in this and is a top gun graduate from when he was 28

age difference, which is 34 & 58, don’t read if you’re not comfortable

ft. slider still as his rio

takes place during tg:m, but will most likely end before the mission events