#so sick and tired of being sick and tired 😔😔

[happy74827]

People need to be have more hype for all my favorite characters. I’m tired of going to look for fanfics and being forced to write because there’s LITERAL CRUMBS

Populate those fandoms people ��👏

[newyawkbeauty]

maybe I’m just meant to be misunderstood

[running-in-the-dark]

just started typing out another post complaining about my stupid sleep issues but then thought what's even the point

it's the same damn thing over and over again. I'm tired! except when I want to sleep. cool! got it. can I just stop complaining about it now? nope.

[oncominggstorm]

I’ve been laying in bed awake but unable to keep my eyes open NOR fall back asleep for like 2 hrs now ughh

[floral-hex]

So this is my thing now, I’m afraid to go to sleep. This is kinda bullshit, brain.

[wonwoonlight]

when mingyu is much too extroverted for you but it's okay because he's your battery anyway

A/n: mingyu brain rot. happy mingyu day (still)

Tags: me projecting kinda fluff, one (1) kiss. Theyre just so in love😔 lowkey inspired by the mingyu, hoshi pinggyego episode bc i was just rewatching it yestday. Idk the wc bc i write it on a whim directly on tumblr lol.

Sometimes you look at Mingyu's schedule and get tired in his stead.

He'd have a shooting in the morning (which means salon appointment before that), work out after lunch, attend his english class before dinner, meet his friend for dinner, dance practice with the members, then go home and have it in him to happily make some juice himself.

You often look at him like he has two heads, wondering where does he get all his energy from. You've asked, but he has simply grinned at you like it answers anything.

It's really a wonder how you end up being with him, and you mean it in so many ways. But in this case, it still fascinates you that you, whose social battery starts at minus twenty when you wake up in the morning, would be with Mingyu, whose sociak battery's always recharged to 300% the moment he opens his eyes.

You have your moments too, of course. There are days when you feel like going out and meeting friends even though you know you'll get too tired the next day; when you strike up conversations first with some people at work; and when you become the center of the noisiness in your small group of friends.

But those are particular moments with particular reasons.

You're only noisy with the people you’re comfortable with. You strike up conversations first because it's more awkward if you don't. You force yourself to meet with your friends because you're a little lonely despite your comfort in being alone, and you miss them despite the way they drain your social battery.

Mingyu, though?

Mingyu rarely has his other moments. His idea of healing is to go out with his friends even though his body is begging for him to take the day slow and sleep for 24 hours.

He used to think it's okay because he slept well, anyway. Two hours between schedules. One hour on the way home. And then perhaps three or four hours during the night if he's lucky.

But it doesn't work that way and he's learned it the hard way when he fell sick due to exhaustion.

It's only after he meets you that he's learned to slow down.

"Let's go out tomorrow! You have the day off, right?" He had asked one day, a thousand places going through his mind as he pondered where to take you.

"I just kinda... wanna stay at home?" You answered him sheepishly. "Can we do that?"

"But you have the day off? Don't you want to do something on such a rare day?"

"I do." You smiled at him, his resolve melting by the seconds. "I want to be with you at home."

Of course Mingyu knows some people just live like that. He had lived with twelve other people before; he was housemate with Jeon Wonwoo, The Hermit. He understands. But, still, sometimes he wonders if you're really okay spending your time off by... being home instead of doing something special.

He should've been able to start slowing down when he lived with Wonwoo. But he was busy with his schedules and he didn't think much about Wonwoo's habit of staying home.

With you, though. He always, always, wants to go somewhere with you. When he discovers a new place, when he sees something on Instagram, when he hears anyone recommending something, you're his first thought. He always asks you first if you want to go, and only then decide to go with someone else if you don't feel like going.

You indulge him, of course, would force yourself to go out if it means getting to see Mingyu's excited smile at going out and trying something new.

But sometimes you just don't have it with you to go out even with Mingyu by your side.

Mingyu, of course, appreciates your honesty. He never fails to remind you that it's okay and that he understands.

In the same sense, on the day when Mingyu is a little too hyper and he just has to do something outside, you'll pull through despite your social battery already blipping from its low status.

It's Seungcheol's place you find yourself in this time. Some of the members randomly get together as they suddenly feel like drinking and their hyung's place is always their haven. Jeonghan's sister and Minghao's best friend are also present, making you relieved because you're not the only non Seventeen member in the room.

You would join the conversation from time to time until you don't. It's your telltale: head falling into his shoulder, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt, and your lips shut because you just can't really talk at that point.

"Wanna go home?" Mingyu whispers when he notices, which is immediately after you start leaning on him. "We can go home. I don't mind."

You look at the room, heart warm at the thought of these people having been there for Mingyu since day one. That you're glad they've accepted you as a part of Mingyu. That, even if you're tired from the day, and you no longer feel like talking, you don't mind being here a little longer.

You look at Mingyu, can tell that he still wants to be here but he really doesn't mind if you'd rather go back and rest.

You choose to drop a shy kiss on the corner of his lips instead, holding back a laugh at his stunned face.

"It's okay." You return to your original position, head on his shoulder, your arms holding his as your anchor. "We can stay."

[theflyingfeeling]

so who else is looking forward to the Deadzone merch drop because they need the serotonin boost of spending money on something they don't need but desperately want as a completely healthy coping mechanism or is it just me 👍

edit. woops I did not realise the merch drop happened already lol anyway I was expecting a t-shirt??

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

standing in the light of your halo, i got my angel now

summary: dating after harry surprising you at your show gave you the final push you needed, you two go public and quickly find out you weren’t as subtle as you thought. later, a wild lando appears.

vicious speaks: we’re finally here!! this is nothing but pure fluff for these babies 💗

series masterlist

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yourusername has added to their stories

replies

oscarpiastri y’all are so cute it makes me sick

⤷ yourusername you love us

oscarpiastri unfortunately 😕

fan1 day 56893 of asking ya’ll to post a selfie together

fan2 flower boyyy 💐

yourbff we love to see you being treated the way you deserve!!

ynharrysthird MY LOVES

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harrystyles has added to their stories

replies

fan1 ohhh to be on a beach paint date with yn

fan2 don’t be shy, post a pic of you kissing

alexandrasaintmleux 💓🥹💓

fan3 you being active and posting personal pics is still something i’m not used to 😵‍💫

fan4 you in your bf era is such a serve

ynharrysthird i’m being soooo normal about this i promise (lie)

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liked by harrystyles, gemmastyles, and others

yourusername first vday with u 🌷

tagged harrystyles

view all comments

harrystyles first of many 💗

⤷ yourusername 💕

⤷ fan1 I CAN’T HANDLE ALL THIS CUTENESS

fan2 *pretends to be shocked*

⤷ fan3 we definitely had no idea you guys were together

⤷ fan4 yeah this is such a surprise

⤷ harrystyles alright 😂

⤷ lilymhe clocked 😭

yourbff 💞💞💞 ♥︎ by author

mclaren our favorite couple 🥰

⤷ yourusername our favorite admin 💘

⤷ fan5 admin making it known yn’s still a mclaren girlie

⤷ mclaren always!

⤷ yourusername it’s a for life thing!!

⤷ fan6 stop, yn saying being a mclaren girlie is a for life thing is gonna make me cry 🥹

annetwist so cute! 💓

⤷ yourusername 🥰

⤷ ynharrysthird gem being in the likes and anne being in the comments is so personal to me 🥹

fan7 ADOPT ME

carlossainz55 he’s making everyone else look like bad boyfriends

⤷ carlossainz55 not me, though

⤷ yourbff lmao nice save

⤷ carlossainz55 love you, querida

ynharrysthird HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY 💕

⤷ yourusername HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY 🫶🏼

⤷ ynharrysthird OHMYGOD

⤷ fan8 how ya doing, buddy?

⤷ ynharrysthird NOT WELL

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oscarpiastri has added to their stories

replies

fan1 thank u oscar for providing us with adorable ynharry content

yourusername omg i completely forgot you were here!!

⤷ oscarpiastri i could tell

⤷ yourusername 😭

f1 understandable, they’re really cute

fan2 going from you saying lando didn’t deserve yn last year, to you posting a pic of her and harry being all lovey dovey, oh we have never been more up!!

fan3 does this post you mean you officially give them your blessing?

fan4 this ain’t it

carlossainz55 you will be missed, amigo 😔💔

fan5 aren’t you supposed to be landos bsf 🤨

ynharrysthird when i’m in a biggest ynharry supporter competition and oscar piastri is my opponent

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765,430 likes

landoupdates lando liked this tweet.

view all comments

fan1 dkfjgjd even you sound done with his shit 😭

⤷ landoupdates he doesn’t move for so long and once he does, it’s just to stir up old drama 😵‍💫 imagine how tired i am.

fan2 he needs to get over it, it’s been a year and HE’S THE ONE WHO CHEATED.

fan3 going this hard for lando is crazy, he isn’t gonna fuck you!

fan4 “that girl and her boyfriend” is crazy when it’s literally yn and harry styles

fan5 lando LOSER 🫵😂

fan6 the ratio has me crying

⤷ fan7 quotes are beating their ass 😭

fan8 he’s so desperate for attention, it’s sad

fan9 nah they’re right, oscar was a snake for that

fan10 lando you fumbled, move on bro

fan11 his audacity is astounding

francisca.cgomes she did NOT try to ruin landos life wtf HE tried to ruin his OWN life when he thought he could cheat without getting caught instead of making up his damn mind about who he wanted to be with

liked by lilymhe, yourbff, itsaria, alexandrasaintmleux, gemmastyles

fan13 all the wags, aria, and gemma coming to yns defense oh lando it’s so over for you

fan14 yeah lando’s definitely the problem

ynharrysthird mf GET A LIFE and leave these people alone lando

fan13 lando is currently in the “find out” phase of “fuck around and find out”

oscarpiastri if he were a real man he’d contact me instead of being a little bitch and liking tweets

⤷ fan14 WHOA

⤷ fan15 THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGG

⤷ fan16 🕯️manifesting there’ll be cameras around if they throw hands 🕯️

⤷ fan17 i’ve got $100 on oscar winning

⤷ ynharrysthird i’ve got $200

⤷ carlossainz i’ve got $1000

⤷ fan18 your ass is always at the scene of the crime 😭

⤷ fan19 he’s just here to look pretty and be messy

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liked by ynharrysthird, yourusername, and others

harrystyles yourusername met our third today

tagged ynharrysthird

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fan1 the caption fkgjfjdjdhs

ynharrysthird it was so lovely to meet you 💕 thank you again for taking time out of your day to have a conversation with me 🥰 ♥︎ by author

fan2 OMGGGG

yourusername WITHOUT ME?!?! just fell to my knees in a walmart

⤷ ynharrysthird omg 😭

⤷ yourusername i’ll meet you next time dw <3

⤷ fan3 WHEN IS IT MY TURN

yourbff omg the legend, the icon, the moment™️

⤷ ynharrysthird QUEEN

fan4 she’s been ur #1 supporter since day 1, this was def deserved

maxverstappen1 insane caption

fan5 lmao he’s so unbothered

⤷ fan6 he said “lando who?” 😭

fan7 ynharrysthird how does it feel to live my dream?

⤷ ynharrysthird pretty good, i’m not gonna lie

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liked by yourusername, carlossainz and others

yourbff lately 🤍

view all comments

carlossainz55 😘

⤷ yourbff 💋

fan1 just casually reminding us she’s dating one of ferrari’s hottest racers

yourusername missing you already 🥺

⤷ yourbff same ❤️‍🩹

fan2 not to be that person but the only other pic that’s in black & white is the one of yn…perhaps hinting at a paddock return?

⤷ fan3 omg DO NOT get my hopes up

⤷ fan4 God i hope so, i miss her race day looks

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taglist: @pansexualdarling @mx13sworld @willowpains @nebarious @daemyratwst @hi26loveie @angelluv16 @ggaslyp1 @kikiki81 @eugene-emt-roe @nichmeddar @callsignwidow @harryssunflower17 @lomlolivia @isinpfortvdmen @yourlocalstilinski-valdez @hshp98 @l0nelyhe4rts-club @roc-haze @this-is-tiny-mia @harryzcherry @theekyliepage @maudie-duan

[happy74827]

One Call Away

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: During one of his "jobs," Deadpool gets a call from his favorite gal [GIF Creds: jdsheart]

WC: 1970

Category: Fluff, Major Comedy {TW: Deadpool’s Humor/Nonfiltered Personality}

This man is so hard to write. I’m always stressing the noggin when it comes to planning and plotting 😔

『••✎••』

"And away we go..."

One neck crack and a couple of hip twists later, he was off like Aladdin and his fucktoy carpet, scaling the building similarly to a chameleon on LSD.

The only thing that was missing was some epic music.

He'd been chasing this baddie around the city for almost two days now. Some big-shot mob boss with ties to Hydra, or the Mafia, or the Yakuza, or some other three-letter-acronym organization. It was hard to keep track of them all at this point. They were all the same, except for the name.

They all had their own agenda.

Kill him, keep him prisoner, pay him off...

Wade never cared enough to listen because it was always the same. He just got hired to do the dirty work, and the pay was good.

The killing was better.

This one, however, was particularly good at eluding him. He'd been trying to get his hands on this man for a few days now. It wasn't as though he was trying to be stealthy or anything, either. He'd walked right up to his front door, knocked, and was greeted with a spray of machine gun bullets.

So, the usual.

But then the guy ran and didn't stop. It was like the fucking Roadrunner met Sonic the Hedgehog, and they decided to fuck around and find out.

Wade was getting real sick and tired of being a Roadrunner, too. He had a reputation to uphold. He wasn't known as the Merc with the Mouth for nothing. He was supposed to be the one doing the running and the killing.

Not the other way around.

Finally, finally, he managed to reach the roof where the guy was currently taking cover behind a small brick shack. The sun was rising, but it was still dark, and there were a couple of floodlights shining on the rooftop. It made him think of the night he'd had that heart-to-heart with Blind Al, even though all she really wanted was for him to bring her some of that special brownie mix.

What a night that had been.

But anyway, this monologue is starting to get too long, and we should probably move things along, eh?

Right.

So, the baddie.

His name was something long and non-English.

Salvatore, or Santino, or Salvation... Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time to make him dead.

He stepped around the corner and was met with a spray of bullets, all of which lodged themselves into his Kevlar vest.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the gunfire. "This is real leather, you know. I'm tired of all the offscreen sewing and shit."

When the spray finally ended, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"…ow," he whispered to himself.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," the man said.

"Yeah, whatever," Deadpool replied. "Look, I'll make this easy for you. You drop down and give me fifty, and I'll let you keep that hideous mustache you're sporting."

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Deadpool assured him. "You got a squirrel living in it or something?"

"It's just a little bit of gray, you dick," the man argued. "What about you? What's with the mask? Are you hiding a mustache under there, too, or something? Maybe some acne scars?"

Deadpool shook his head and stepped forward, his guns drawn.

"Don't come any closer!"

"You know, this would be much more intimidating if you didn't look like a cartoon mouse."

"Stop it with the mustache!"

"Alright, alright," Deadpool said. "Enough with the mustache. But what is it about your hairline? I can't put my finger on it."

The man sighed in exasperation and pulled out his pistol, aiming it right at Deadpool's face.

"Hey now, don't point that at me," Deadpool scolded him. "That's not a very nice thing to do."

He ignored him and pulled the trigger, a loud boom ringing out as the bullet fired. It whizzed by him but missed its mark.

"You really are a dick," He grumbled before aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. And he was going to shoot, honest.

He really was.

But then his phone rang, and he was well-reminded of the current song playing through his head.

I'm a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!

Needless to say, he was distracted.

He lowered his gun and looked down at his pocket, where his phone was still ringing and still vibrating against his leg.

"Shit, hold that thought," He said to the guy, and he holstered his gun.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Deadpool put his finger up to shush him before pulling his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

If you're an evil witch, I’ll punch you for fu—

"Heyyyy," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you've reached the phone sex hotline. For kinks and fetishes, press one. For booty calls, press two. For your favorite mercenary, press three."

"Ey, pendejo—" His opponent started, but he cut him off by snapping and raising his finger.

"Cut it, Tuco Salamanca. Breaking Bad called and wants its meth-cooking mustache back."

"Wha-I-you-"

"Anyways, this is your favorite merc speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Wade's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Baby girl! Is that you? Oh, how I've missed your voice. It's like hearing an angel, or an angelic chorus, or a whole bunch of angels, but you're the most important one. Like, the lead singer or something."

"I literally saw you last night." Your voice was always drenched with the most amazing kind of sarcasm, and he'd missed it.

"And?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"And?"

"That's a short amount of time."

"And?"

You sighed, but he knew you weren't really annoyed.

"Anyways, you sounded busy," you continued, "so I'll just let you go."

"What?! No! Don't hang up!" He shouted into the receiver. "I've only fiddled with my pistols! Nothing interesting is happening right now!"

"Your pistols, huh?" You asked a hint of mischief in your voice.

"Well, yeah. They're the most important part of the mission, you know."

In the corner of his eye, he could see his target making his way towards the edge of the building. Quickly and efficiently, without dropping his attention from his conversation with you, he lifted his gun and fired a shot at the man's knee.

"Ah, fuck!" the man screamed in pain. "My knee!"

"Hey! Language!" Deadpool scolded him. "The lady of the house is listening!"

"Lady of the- what the fuck?!"

"I said language, you mustachioed rat!"

"Mustachioed rat?" You asked.

"Sorry, babe," he replied. "You know how excited I get when Downtown Abbey is on."

“There’s gunshots in Downtown Abbey?"

"Gunshots? Oh, no, no. That was… uh, a car alarm. Yeah, the neighbor's car alarm was going off."

"Uh-huh," you said, not sounding very convinced. And, of course, that was right around the time the guy's gun went off again, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. It made the phone fall out of his hand and clatter onto the ground, but the call was still connected.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking at the fresh blood dripping down his arm. "That's gonna take forever to heal!"

"Who are you talking to?" The man demanded, his gun still aimed at Deadpool's face. "You're working with someone?"

"Hey, now, I don't remember giving you permission to talk," Deadpool told him, holding his bloody arm up to his face. "Look, I've gotta call you back, babe. I know it's been so heartbreakingly long—"

"Again, only a few hours," you said.

"—but duty calls. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

With that, the line disconnected.

"Ugh," he groaned, his heart aching for the loss of your sweet voice. "I miss her already."

"Ey," his opponent growled, drawing his attention. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, which Deadpool didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. The guy was just ranting and raving.

"Alright, alright, chill," Deadpool said. "Just calm down. It’ll all be over soon, little buddy."

"I am not little! I am a giant!" The guy protested, and Wade could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "And I will not chill!"

"Well, can't argue with that, I guess," Deadpool said with a shrug, and he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the guy was running again.

"Hey, what did I tell you about running?!" He yelled, but his voice fell on deaf ears as the guy reached the ledge.

"I am a giant!"

"No, you're a giant asshat!"

"I will not be bested by some masked buffoon!"

"Buff? Me? Why, I never!"

"You're the biggest asshole I've ever met!"

"You know what? I am a big ass! A big, round, bubbly ass." He paused for a second. "Hey, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Fuck you, you red-clad imbecile!"

"You know, I'd ask you out to dinner first, but we're kinda past that now."

"Argh!"

"Alright, enough stalling," Deadpool said. "It's time to end this."

"Yes," the guy said, turning his gun back on Deadpool. "It is."

Of course, Deadpool being the smart-ass he was, he'd already taken a step to the side. As the bullet whizzed past him, he reached for his gun.

"Now, where did I put that thing? Oh, there it is."

He aimed the gun and fired, and the man fell back onto the ground. The bullet hit him right in the middle of his forehead, his blood splattering all over the concrete.

"Ha ha! Fatality. Deadpool wins!" He said, his voice taking on the deep, grounded tone of the narrator from Mortal Kombat. "Flawless Victory."

He stood over the body for a few seconds, reveling in his victory, before he felt the presence of another.

The gun on his right side got ripped from its holster, and the barrel was aimed back into his face, as it always seems to be.

But, he already sensed it was coming, so his fingers wrapped around his other and aimed that right in the golden spot… and let’s just say, The Golden Girls was a little less golden and a lot more crimson.

"Wow, this has got to be a record," He said as he bent down to stare at the new one’s anguish. "Two dead ugly mustaches in the same day. You can call me Sweeney Todd because shit… I just shaved you the fuck up."

He didn’t give the poor bastard a chance to even whimper before he fired another two shots into the man's head. All in all, this had been the easiest payday he'd had in a while.

He picked up his cell phone and slipped it back into its pocket before bending down and scooping up the mustache man's pistol.

"Ooh, lookie here, a nice, shiny new pistol," he said to himself. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, I don't actually need it. It's not like I have any other holes in my body, but you know what they say. The more the merrier."

He stuffed the gun in his holster and turned around, heading back the way he'd come.

"Time to get back to the good stuff," he said. "I have a date with my favorite girl."

He hopped up onto the ledge and looked down, his eyes locking on the window to his apartment.

And when he arrived, bloody and battered, you could only smile while holding up little ole Mary Puppins in all her drooling glory.

God, how he missed his girls.

[decojellyfish]

So we saw Guard dog! ghost and kitten! reader

Rescued fighting dogs! Ghost and Soap with cat! reader

how about we get some of Price adopting a puppy! reader and reader having to learn the ropes from Older dogs! Ghost, Soap, and Gaz(maybe??)?

or just Price rescuing another former fighting dog! reader and them being all defensive against former fighting dogs! Ghost, Soap and Gaz(maybe??), maybe even fighting against them when they(soap) try to get too close for reader’s comfort

Thank you so much for being my second request!! I decided to go with the second prompt you offered me, and I had fun writing it! I just don't have fun making you guys cry because, fair warning, this one is gonna be angstyyy... 😔 But I hope you guys enjoy!

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Bite

Hybrid AU! TF141 Retired Fight Dog! Gaz, Ghost, and Soap x Retired Fight Dog! GN! Reader x Owner! Price Reader is only addressed as ‘you’

SFW ~ Angst

Warnings: Brief/occasional swearing, mentions of abuse, depression, extreme violence, trauma

───♡───────────── Beginning Your body ached. You didn’t know if it was because you were starving, or if it was your muscles and joints crying out for help from your most recent fight. It was a couple of hours ago, and it was rough. Your previous owner had disowned you when he found a new pup to use and abuse for profit. Part of you was happy, the years of abuse and ruthless training were over. The other part of you was absolutely terrified. You had no more food, no treats, no worn-out bed for you to sleep on, and no roof over your head.

You’d been homeless for nearly a year. You gave up on keeping exact track months ago. Your slightly sunken stomach never ceases its eternal growl, constantly yearning for food. Dumpster diving has become a part of your lifestyle. You had managed to find some food, albeit moldy and/or coated in garbage juices, but it was still food. ‘Food is fight fuel’ was constantly echoing through your head, while you fought off the sickness going through your head as realization set in that you were literally eating garbage. Sometimes, you even wondered if food was even worth it. You weren’t fighting as much as you used to. Sometimes you were suddenly assaulted by other stray fighter dogs as well, forcing you to live in constant paranoia, anxiety, and a never-ending feeling like you had to fight.

There were times that you even lashed out at strangers because of this constant fear. Domesticated dogs would find themselves abruptly thrown into a fight when you were around. They would leave with scratches, bites, bruises, and even chunks of flesh missing due to your fierce bite. In the underground fighting scene, you were most known for how gnarly the wounds from your bites would be.

This would result in animal control being called on you. But you’d evaded them countless times, which meant that you were far from where you originally came from. You would bounce from alley to alley, town to city. You were far from home if you could even call where you came from ‘a home’.

Though you were far from old enemies, you still made new ones. You were so used to lashing out that you were still getting into fights, but now you were getting into fights with fight dogs you didn’t even know.

Some days, you were tired. So tired, you just wanted to lay in your current alleyway and just rot. Let the bugs eat away at you, sometimes you even want to turn yourself into the pound. At least there you would have food in your belly and a semi-warm place to sleep. On other days, you were mad. So mad, you just wanted to paint the town red with any kind of blood, even your own.

Today was a tired day. You were lying against a wall, it was raining. Rain would be the closest you had to being bathed. Your rotted clothes were soaked and falling apart, your hair sticking to your face and skin as you stared at the opposing wall. Your eyes had nothing behind them, you were lost in your little world. Your happy place.

You imagined yourself in a cabin, or a cottage, just somewhere secluded and cozy. You had a loving partner, and pups of your own to take care of. A garden in the backyard, full of fruit, vegetables, and herbs. A flower garden in the front yard, full of daffodils, tulips, rose bushes, and trumpet lilies. You wore soft clothes like they were made of clouds. In your happy place, you were warm. In your happy place, you were safe.

Unfortunately, you were ripped out of your happy place by a smell. A familiar smell. Multiple familiar smells. Your heart had already started to beat rapidly, and the sense of adrenaline you had when in the fighting ring was coming back, slapping you in the face. You shifted your position from laying back against a wall to standing up and ready to fight, your teeth already beginning to show and a low growl slowly leaving your throat.

Familiar smells were never good, it meant that someone who had been made an enemy was close. Another fight was about to happen. You could hear men chatting with each other, though it was muffled by the ringing in your ear as your brain was now filled with nothing but adrenaline, panic, and one word. Fight.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price was going on his weekly walk with his boys, all rescues. His home had become somewhat of a mini rehabilitation center. His pups, although fully grown dogs, were his pride and joy to be around. Gaz was his first rescue about seven years ago, Soap was rescued about two years after Gaz, and Ghost had been rescued three years before today. Price, himself, was a retired military veteran.

He enjoyed going on walks with his pups, he found it to be a nice bonding experience. Although today was rainy, it didn’t stop the group from following tradition. Gaz loved the rain, the sound and the feeling of raindrops hitting windows, umbrellas, or even himself was beyond calming for him. Soap didn’t particularly like rain, it mostly made him think of those unbelievably sad scenes in movies that involved rain, like an intense breakup. Ghost was neutral about it.

But Ghost found himself focused on something else, a smell. He glanced over at Soap, who could also smell this sudden scent. “Stop.” Ghost spoke firmly, grabbing Price’s shoulders and looking at the rest of the group. “Stay here, I smell something.” “Ghost, I don’t want you getting hurt-“ Price protested, only to be interrupted by Soap. “Stay, somethin’s here tha’ could rip out your throat.”

Gaz was worried as well, even though the scent wasn’t as familiar to him as it was to Ghost and Soap. He could smell a large amount of adrenaline and even panic or fear mixed in.

Ghost slowly walked up to the scent source and braced himself, slowly watching as a familiar face came into view. The two of you had been through plenty of fights together, each parting putting up a massive fight. You were snarling at him when he approached you, your body unconsciously moving closer to the wall, further away from him as he grew closer. Your hollow, starved appearance had him taken aback. You looked terrible. You were coated in scabs, bruises, and open wounds that had miraculously not gotten infected.

Your heart was beating so fast, that both you and Ghost could hear it. He had his hands up, his palms open as he showed he wasn’t looking for a fight. That didn’t stop you though. All you could see was all those fights, years ago. Ghost snarling back at you before he would nearly tear a chunk out of you while you almost ripped both of his ears off. You lunged at him with a loud bark, tackling him as you began to scratch and bite at him.

The group was startled, and terrified. They would all run to Ghost as they tried to get this rabid dog off of him. Of course, four men against you was an unfair fight and you were swiftly removed from the fight.

Soap held you against the ground, crouching over you as he pinned both of your arms behind your back as you continued to snarl and attempt to bite. You panted and stared at them with wide eyes, mostly focusing on Ghost and Soap since they were enemies from the past.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, aren’t you..?” You spoke shakily, to either of the boys. Soap could feel how strong and deep your breaths were as you hyperventilated.

All the men shared a glance of worry, Soap spoke up, “We’re not those dogs anymore.” Ghost would nod in shared agreement. “You don’t look so good, since the last time I saw you.” He looked down at you, noting how your stomach churned from hunger, how tired your eyes were, and your slightly raspy breath. Even your recent wounds worried him, some nearly looking like early stages of infection.

You grunted as you struggled under him, “Yeah, well, ‘m happy to see you guys living the high life.” You grumbled, the other dogs’ ears twitching as they heard a slight crack in your voice. You couldn’t ignore it, you were jealous. They didn’t look as tired as they did at your last fight, not on edge all the time, they looked well fed, and they smelled good too. And worst of all, what made you want to lash out at all of them, even their owner, was the fact that they looked happy with this new life. The life that you desired that always seemed to be out of reach.

All the men looked back at Price, Gaz included, with one question in their eyes. ‘Can we keep them?’

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taking you back to their home was a fight in it of itself. You couldn’t help but be scared. Maybe they were all tricking you, maybe they were gonna lock you up in their house and sell you off to another owner in the underground fighting scene. Maybe they really were going to kill you. You only felt slightly safe with Gaz, but that’s because he didn’t look as scarred a fighter as Ghost and Soap, and his eyes held a safer gaze than the other two. He would hold your hand on the way home, firmly but protectively. However, he only did this after you attempted to run away from the group about 4 times.

Arriving at the Price household, there was an overwhelming amount of smells. Everything smelled like all the boys, but individually and in one unit all at the same time. You would stay close to the front door at the entrance, scared to step one foot further into the house. You still didn’t know if it was safe or not. Price respected this, though. He had Gaz let go of your hand so you could settle into the house at your own pace. The look of fear in your eyes was one that he was familiar with, he’d seen it in all his other boys when he first brought them home.

He had the boys all continue on with their night, only giving you directions to the bathroom in case you needed it at some point.

As time went on, your legs would grow tired of just standing. You remained seated, close to the door as you watched the household live out their lives. Price would only stop by you once for the night, and it was to give you a late-night snack and to wish you a good night. He had set down a plate with pieces of watermelon and a glass of water. He left after that, supposedly going to bed. The boys would stay up a bit later, they would watch you in secret. But you were quickly able to tell they were spying on you, however, you let them continue.

You saw it as a way to test if they were trustworthy. Your ears slightly twitch as you listen to their whispers.

“...how do you know them…?” Gaz would whisper, curiosity lacing his voice. “...Ghost and I have had a few tussles with ‘em years ago…” “...Fierce dog… don’t underestimate them…” Ghost grumbled in reply, Soap nodding in agreement. “...Nearly took mah whole face off…” Soap chuckled. “...They almost got my ears…” Ghost added.

You would faintly smile at the warning of underestimating you as a fighter dog. But then you were reminded that you were a fighter dog. And a successful one. Any moral being would never want to be a successful fighter dog. That meant you were scary and either could have killed or even mutilated another dog. Memories of all your fights would flash across your mind, like a blinding camera shot. Your successful ones, the ones where you would lose and your owner showed you what bad dogs get for losing. The bits of compassion you would feel for your opponent as they bleed out, or yowled in pain as their bones broke, pellets of skin torn off, or their bleeding gums from when you knocked nearly all their teeth out.

You wanted to hug them, apologize to them, tell them that you wished you could fix them. Only to have those moments of kindness wiped from your mind as the shrieks and cheers of your owner and the people who bet money on you were released into the air.

Coming back to reality, you were perplexed when you didn’t hear the whispers anymore. Taking a chance, you glanced up at the boys. Only to see that they were now staring at you, curious and worried. You didn’t know why they were staring until you heard a soft pit-pat against the floor beneath you.

Glancing down, you saw little droplets. Your hand instinctively raised to your face, feeling little beads of tears and the streaks they left behind on your face. You would quickly smear your tears away and shoot the dogs a mean growl before reluctantly stuffing a piece of watermelon into your mouth. You just wanted something else to focus on aside from the stares you were getting right now.

An hour later, the men had all gone to sleep and you had eaten all the food Price had given you and drank all the water he offered. You stayed awake throughout the whole night, however. You still didn’t trust anyone, believing the house was a trap.

Morning arrived, your eyes tired but still open as you didn’t want to lose your guard. Price was the first one up, yawning and scratching at his chest as he walked into the room. He would glance down at you, smiling when he saw you’d eaten all your food.

“Food was good, yeah? Don’t worry, I’ll get you some more soon.” He chuckled, taking your empty dishes away and heading into the kitchen.

You felt awkward now, just sitting there as Price had begun to cook breakfast. You would quietly stand up and slink into the kitchen, sitting on the cold tile as you would watch him from a random corner of the room. It had been about ten minutes before Price would look over his shoulder to check on you, only seeing that you weren’t in your previous spot. He would then glance down at you in your new spot, chuckling to himself.

“Got bored of the old spot?” He asked before going back to cooking. He didn’t expect you to be speaking right out the gate, all the other boys were like that too when he first took them in. After a few minutes, Gaz would walk in, rubbing at his eye. A big smile formed on his face as he smelled the currently cooking food. “Smells good in here, Price.” He would then finally look at you, mildly surprised you had moved but he would regain his smile.

Waving at you, he would approach you but keep his distance. “Did you sleep well last night…?” You silently stared at him, your restlessness very obvious, especially in your eyes. “Did you sleep- at all last night…?” He looked concerned, his brows only furrowing more when you shook your head no. “...Too scared?” You stayed quiet. “That’s okay, Ghost and I were like that too.” He smiled at you. You couldn’t deny it, he was a comforting ball of sunshine to you.

“I could set up a bed on the couch for you, I could even keep the telly on for you if you like falling asleep to that sort of thing.” You remained quiet as he talked to you, causing him to let out a slightly amused but comforting huff. “That’s okay, you can think about it during breakfast.”

Breakfast included food that was the most delicious food you had devoured in years. French toast, fried eggs, bacon. You would quietly inhale the first actual meal you’d had in a long time, everyone else watching you at the kitchen table, some trying not to laugh at your eagerness.

You awkwardly stared at everyone else, wiping away some yolk on your mouth with your hand. Price chuckled, “That reminds me, we ought to give you a bath today and get you some new clothes.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You awkwardly sat in the tub as Gaz would scrub a sudsy sponge along your back. Price was washing some clothes, making sure the scent was cleaned out so you had no trouble with wearing them.

“Don’t worry, I was like this when Price first took me in.” He laughed a little. “Quiet, scared, and I didn’t know if this place was my permanent home. But it is my home, and it’s gonna be your home too.” He smiled at you, now rubbing shampoo into your hair. “...what’s it like?” You looked up at him. “Y’know, living here? What’s it like?”

Gaz thought for a bit, also trying to make sure none of the shampoo got in your eyes. “Well, it’s nice. Good food, good clothes, good comfort. Price will sometimes pick up our favorite snacks for us, he’ll do that for you too, you just need to ask him or write it on the grocery list. We go on weekly walks around the block, sometimes we go to the park which is really fun. Especially with Soap, he really likes to play games at the park.”

That surprised you, you never took Soap to be a ‘fun games at the park’ kind of dog. Well, that could also be because you never got to see him or Ghost as a domesticated dog, your only memories of them being in the fighting rink. Maybe they have changed. Maybe you should give them a chance to show you they’ve changed.

Maybe they were doing that all along since they found you, only holding you down instead of attacking you in response to being attacked by an old foe.

The bath was eventually drained and you were dried off with a towel, Price coming in with a pair of folded up clothes, a t-shirt and some sweatpants. You were left alone in the bathroom to get dressed, also to let you just have time to yourself.

After a few minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom in your new attire. You couldn’t lie, the clothes were beyond comfy and were nice and warm. Probably fresh out of the dryer. The rest of the boys were on the couch, watching a show on the TV. You would stare at them before slowly beginning to move your legs towards the couch as well.

They would notice your approaching, but wouldn’t bring any extra attention to it. They all remember their first time trying to get comfortable in the new home. It honestly warmed their hearts watching you hesitate on where to sit before eventually picking a spot and huddling into the soft pillows.

Price was already dressed for the day and was writing down the current shopping list before slipping his shoes on. “Oy, Gaz, you’re coming with me for groceries today.” He called out to the couch, Gaz promptly getting up and putting his own shoes on. He waved to you and the other two before stepping out the front door, Price giving a wave as well. “We’ll be back in 30.”

You sat there in silence, now stuck with your past enemies. There was tension, no doubt. At least, that’s what you felt. You were the one who was constantly looking over at the boys, a nervous sweat forming on your forehead. The two were just sitting there, watching the commercials play and pass by.

Now that the only pacifists in the house were gone, they were going to pounce at any second. You were sure of it. At any given moment, they were gonna do it. So you sat there, in a state of constant fear and bracing yourself for a fight you didn’t even know would happen.

Ghost noticed your condition, Soap a few seconds later would see it too. “... you okay, pup?” Soap would ask, seeing the little bits of sweat on your skin. “You’re scared.” Ghost stated, looking deep into your defensive form. “You don’t need to be, you’re safe now. We all are. We aren’t the same dogs you fought those years ago.”

They continued to watch you, watching as you stayed quiet and just stared at them expectantly. “We know you’re also no’ the same dog from those fights. Ye dinnae have a choice, only doin’ tha’ for your own survival. Like us.” Soap’s eyes were full of empathy and concern.

“No need to be scared. It’s safe here.” He smiled at you, slowly reaching out to you to rub your shoulder.

You only saw the worst in people, you would see a possible future where he was reaching out to strangle you instead of comforting you. You thought you could see his teeth start to bare, maybe he was snarling at you.

You felt like you were back in the fighting ring. You could feel the adrenaline begin pulsing and coursing through your veins.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You didn’t know how you did it, it went by so fast. The last thing you saw was Soap’s teething smile and his hand. Now you were pressed up against a wall, hyperventilating at the sight of what you just did.

First, you  grabbed his arm, throwing him to the ground before you began to bite and tear at his flesh and clothes. You woke up when Ghost pinned you to the ground, keeping your wrists together so you couldn’t hurt anyone or yourself. You scrambled away from him and coward into a corner.

You thought you were doing good, only a day into this house and you were doing so good. You didn’t feel like a good pup, not anymore. You weren’t deserving of this house, these new clothes. the food that resided in your stomach. You were a bad dog. There was no way you could look any of the boys in the eye now. Not after what you did.

Lost in a tsunami of your thoughts, you couldn’t hear Ghost trying to reassure you, that it was normal for an outburst like this to happen. He, himself, did it to Price. He brought Soap to the bathroom, taking out the first aid kit along with a few extra bandages. Living in a house with a bunch of retired fighter dogs, the first aid kits would be a bit more extreme than a regular, everyday one.

When he returned to check on you, to tell you that Soap was going to be okay, he didn’t see you in your corner. Not even the spot you were in on your first day here. But he saw that right next to the spot, the door was left open.

They lost you. ───♡───────────── End

If you have any requests, or asks, feel free to submit them!

[saaturrn4]

.MDNI !

| TWITTER LINKS ── .✦ MORTAL KOMBAT 1 (Lin Kuei Brothers)

⭑

• Bi-Han (SubZero)

He loves your pretty mouth🫶🏼

Ramming into you so nicely🤍

He loves making a mess in you :)

He missed your pussy so much after being away from home 🖤

Taking his anger out on you after being so sick and tired of his brothers.

You try so hard to keep quiet but his huge cock just keeps ramming against your sweet spot:( this unfortunately not available anymore😔

• Kaui Liang (Scorpion)

He loves it when you do all the work🫶🏼

He absolutely adores your cute little moans

Making a sticky mess on your pretty little pussy

He loves waking up to his girl being so horny for his cock

He loves making you cum on his fingers🥴

Bouncing on his dick so nicely💜

• Tomas Vrbada (Smoke)

He loves your pussy so so so much

Nice and steady strokes for him

He gets so horny in the morning so he wakes you up for a quick little fuck🩶

He absolutely loves it when you throw it back for him

Fucking you while you’re still half asleep

Tomas just showing off his skilled fingers<3

Heyyyy sorry I haven’t been active:( so here’s a special treat for all of you who loves some mortal kombat men. So here is some links I’ve found for the Lin Kuei brothers, so enjoy;)

Also, I’m almost at 100 followers?!?!?!?! Holy shit thank you all so much <3

[mylovesstuffs]

“It’s not cute” — Choi Seungcheol

Request: hey, Celeste!!! how are you doing? I'm so glad your requests are open!

i wanted to request something (in whatever form you feel most inspired to): reader having essential tremors (it's an actual condition im not making it up 😭✋) and being frustrated about it, maybe lashing out or breaking down one day. the fact that everyone points it out and sometimes joke abt it, etc. angst + comfort , maybe? also i'd like it to be w cheol or wonu, but tbh any of them is absolutely fine!

tysm <333

It starts with eyeliner and ends in a breakdown. The world doesn’t understand what it’s like to live in a body that won’t always obey, tired of laughing first before someone else can. But Seungcheol doesn’t need to understand it all, he just holds your trembling hands like they’ve always been steady, and loves you like you’ve never been less.

Genre: Non-idol au, established relationship, angst and comfort, introspective slice of life and character study

Pairing: Seungcheol × fem!reader

Content: Essential tremors [aka benign tremor, familial tremor, and idiopathic tremor], emotional breakdown, eyeliner symbolism [bc girlyhood], comfort from a loving partner who is choi seungcheol, no judgment, warm arms and understanding hearts, one-sided flashbacks to bullying/teasing, reader struggling with internalized shame, reassurance, love that stays

Content warning: Mentions of medical condition [essential tremors], anxiety, childhood bullying, ableist microaggressions, internalized frustration and self-doubt, crying, cursing once or twice, one emotionally charged breakdown. No explicit content.

Word count: 921 words

A/N: It was supposed to be shorter... about 400 words like a drabble, though I still think it's drabble but I was hoping for it to either be 400-500 words or 1k 😔

For my sweet anon—i hope this gives you even a sliver of the comfort you were looking for. This one was written with a lot of heart at like... 2:46 am when i should’ve been asleep but cheol brainrot said otherwise. To anyone else who reads this and relates even a little: your exhaustion and frustration is valid, and your hands deserve to be held gently too. I experience a slight tremor as well, though I believe it’s genetic since it runs in my family. According to my doctor, mine is primarily triggered by stress and anxiety [I was under treatment back in October during a period when my mental health went really down]. I’ve been prescribed different medications since then, not specifically targeted for tremors, but the tremor was listed as one of the symptoms being addressed in the medication guidelines. While I might not fully relate to this experience, as my condition hasn’t been formally diagnosed and doesn’t really interfere with my daily life, I still hope I was able to do this piece justice. Also, huge thanks to Calli @hhaechansmoless for beta-ing. As always, we run anyway ! (￣▽￣)ノ♡

It starts small, and it always does; a dropped spoon, a tremble in your fingers while pouring water. The slightest bit of shake that you'd think it could pass unnoticed, but that, people always notice, and never don’t comment on.

“Why are you always shaking?”

“You nervous or something?”

“You should drink less coffee.”

“Aw, you’re like a baby deer.”

Haha, it is so funny to you at this point. But today, it feels entirely different to you, it's like you're not yourself anymore. You’re tired, and you just want to put your eyeliner on, but the line goes jagged again. And for some reason, that tiny thing becomes the last straw of the day.

You slam the eyeliner on the counter and nearly knock over everything else with your unsteady hands. “God, I’m so sick of this!” you hiss. “Why can’t I just be normal for five fucking seconds?”

The bathroom door creaks open and you already feel Seungcheol behind you. “Hey,” he says softly. “What’s going on?”

You blink back your unshed tears, but still they betray you like everything else lately. “It’s not cute, Cheol. It’s not quirky, or funny, or something you get to joke about. I hate it. I hate how I shake. I hate how people treat me like it’s some personality trait. It’s a condition, and I’m tired.” Your voice cracks, and so does your composure, and you sink down onto the closed toilet lid, face in your hands, breath shaky just like your very own fingers. The way they’ve done for so long, it doesn’t even surprise you anymore.

All you expect right now, is silence. But instead big, calloused, warm hands wrap gently around yours.

Shaking or not, he brings them to his lips and kisses your knuckles, softly and slowly. “I know it’s not cute when people don’t take it seriously,” he says, kneeling in front of you. “And I’m sorry if anyone’s ever made you feel like you have to pretend it’s no big deal.”

You look up with your glassy eyes and trembling lips. “I’ve never once thought less of you for it,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to be ‘normal’ to be everything I love.” A small sob leaves your lips, and he pulls you into a hug, his arms secure around you, voice a low hum against your hair. “You can be frustrated. You can hate it, but you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here, even if your hands shake every day for the rest of your life, I’ll still hold them just like this.”

You want to believe him, even as your fingers tremble. In fact, you do believe him; believe that he doesn’t want to let go, that he won’t.

But there’s something bitter lodged deep in your chest, a heaviness that doesn't disappear just because someone holds you through it, because you've heard this before. Variations of it. Words that sounded like comfort, but were laced with pity, gestures that looked like care, but never stayed long enough to be safe.

You remember being younger and dropping your spoon in front of classmates during recess. The laughter and the mock sympathy haunted you for years and they still does. “Are you scared?” they'd tease. You weren’t; not then at least. You didn’t even know what was happening, and why your body betrayed you when all you wanted was to be still.

And now, years later, it’s not even the tremor that hurts most, it’s what comes along with it without your consent. The way people watch, the way they assume it’s your fault, the way you're constantly being explained—to others, to yourself, that you’ve become a walking explanation.

“You know, she has this thing—”

“It’s not that big of a deal—”

“She’s always been like that—” You’re always like that.

It chips away at you, little by little, and you start adjusting your life to avoid the gaze. No eyeliner on days you feel particularly self-conscious, two hands to hold a cup, even if it makes you look ridiculous, rehearsing how you’ll brush it off when someone points it out again; laughing before they do, so it seems like you're okay with it.

You’ve weaponized your own shame into pre-emptive jokes. Turned your fear into something palatable… but it still hurts. It hurts when people don’t even ask if you’re okay. They just assume you’re something to laugh at, to observe, and you’ve been strong for so long, that today just felt like the end of it. Like how this one tiny thing —the jagged eyeliner—was all it took to remind you how helpless it can feel to live in a body that doesn’t always listen. But now, there’s warmth.

And maybe that should terrify you, because if people can be cruel, then love can be temporary. But his arms around you don’t feel temporary, his silence doesn’t feel judgmental, and most important of all, he doesn’t ask you to feel better; he just stays along with you.

You want to believe that someone can see all of it: the struggle, the cracks, the exhaustion, and still choose to stay, but not because they pity you, not because they want to fix you, but because they love you even like this, and especially like this.

Your breath hiccups in your throat, and you let yourself lean into him just a little more. Though your hands still shake, you begin to believe they don’t make you any less worthy of being held.

[vikuo-kuma]

💍 orter x reader where he has a soft spot for her yk

Softer than a Cloud

A/N: I nearly typed clothes instead of glasses 😔(Next up Mash)

Warning: Idk

—

"Do you seriously not know how to do your job properly? Get out before I pour sand into your mouth", The brown haired male send an intense glare towards the poor assistant, threatening them with his wand. Orter had a frown on his face, upset that he had extra work to do because of his incompetent assistant. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his tired eyes. "Such incompetent people..", muttering under his breath while rolling his head around to loosen his stiff neck.

He decided that a walk was needed before he had to return to the stacks of paperwork sitting on his desk.

As he exited his office, and the brown haired male was greeted with you. Talking to a colleague while holding your shoulders like you were cold.

"So, I told her, 'you should go-", you were interrupted by the feeling of a coat being placed over your shoulders. Turning around, you saw your boss, Orter, standing over you without his coat. "You shouldn't be walking around like that, you'll catch a cold", the brown haired man expressed his concern, his tone of voice wasn't as stern as before. Which shocked your fellow colleague, and the assistant, who was staring around the corner. "Well, I was kind of rushing here, and I left my coat at home...", You replied, scratching your cheek lightly.

Orter sighed at your clumsiness. "You can keep my coat for the rest of the day, my office was getting too warm anyway", the other's eyes widened even more, staring at the scene in front of them. "I could also drive you home after work if you like", he continued, maintaining his eye contact with you. The brown haired male kept a neutral expression, while taking to you.

"Really? Thanks for the offer, but I'll manage..", awkwardly smiling towards your boss. You were about to take off the coat but he stopped your hands. "At least keep the coat on, I wouldn't want you to catch a cold and be sick the next morning", Orter insist, turning around to continue his walk.

—

Note: Husband material???

[pb5luvr]

in sickness and in health

a/n: sorry for my hiatus i was gonna write on thursday night but i fell asleep at like 8 pm and this weekend i’ve been busy but im back now!! also sorry this is so short im tired (btw i took inspo from someone on this but i forgot who im sorry 😔)

3rd POV

azzi was dying. well, not actually but it sure felt like it. with just her luck, she caught a bad cold at the same time she got her period —so practically dying. one thing about azzi, though, is that she hates being sick, so being sick and on her period felt like a damn near death sentence.

that’s how she ended up, curled up in her bed, surrounded by blankets, with a heating pad resting on her stomach. paige —determined to rid her girlfriend of her struggles— stumbled in the room, seconds later, trying to balance a bowl of soup, a mug of hot tea, and advil on a tray without giving herself third degree burns. she set the tray on the bedside table before leaning down to azzi’s level to brush a curl out of her face and give her a soft kiss on the forehead.

“do you wanna try eating some soup? or drinking some tea?” paige asked in more of a “you will” tone.

reluctantly, azzi sat up, “some tea,” she croaked out.

paige picked the tea up off the tray and blew on it before handing it to azzi. azzi took a small sip and couldn’t tell if it was her throat or the temperature of the tea that made her throat burn, so she handed it back to paige.

“no more,” she said, “it makes my throat hurt”

paige gave her a sympathetic look before placing the mug back on the tray.

“do you want me to get you anything else instead?” she asked azzi

azzi just gave her a pouty look, her lips slightly puffed out and her eyes glassy. paige could read her girlfriend like no other and could tell something was bothering her.

“what’s wrong beautiful?” she asked softly as she sat down next to azzi.

suddenly, azzi’s bottom lip began to tremble, “i hate feeling like this”

“i know princess, i’m sorry you feel like shit” paige brushed a few curls behind azzi’s ear.

“i just want to feel better and not be bleeding out of my uterus” azzi said, breaking eye-contact with paige.

paige gave a soft chuckle, “you have to try to make yourself feel better if you actually want to get better,” she said, now moving her hand to azzi’s thigh and rubbing her thumb against it, “can you at least try to drink some more of your tea?”

azzi was silent for a moment before she finally spoke up, “can we please just cuddle for a bit?” she asked softly

“only if you promise to drink the tea after” paige raised an eyebrow at her

azzi went silent again.

“azzi-” paige started.

“fine,” azzi cut her off, “i’ll drink the stupid tea after”

paige responded with a smile as she moved towards the middle of the bed and slid under the covers, opening her arms for azzi to lay in. azzi gladly accepted the offer and layer her head on paige’s chest, throwing an arm over her waist. paige closed her arms around her girlfriend and started to drag her fingertips up and down azzi’s back.

it was silent for a while, not awkward, just comfortable, before azzi spoke softly, “thank you for taking care of me”

“i’d do anything for you az” paige replied, meaning every word.

azzi smiled sleepily, paige’s fingers lulling her to sleep, “i love you”

“i love you azzi,” paige said, “and you better drink that tea when you wake up”

azzi’s smile widened just a little more knowing damn well she wasn’t drinking that tea when she woke up.

[sweetheartsofpanem]

Paper Spine - Soft Things Survive

Previous Part

i am a thief of joy😔 must keep the story on brand with Y/N being traumatized. i sleep now, post another part tomorrow😗

warnings: refer to series masterlist

pairing(s): refer to series masterlist

word count: 2.65k

series masterlist | main masterlist

The day starts out quiet.

You wake with the soft gray light of morning slipping through your curtains and the scent of damp earth from the night’s rain still clinging to the windows. You get dressed slowly. Eat half a piece of toast you don’t remember making. It’s one of those days where your head feels a little too loud and a little too empty all at once, but you tell yourself it’ll pass. You’ve had worse.

By late afternoon, you’re sitting on Haymitch’s couch.

It’s nothing new. You’ve been here a thousand times by now. Sometimes you read while he mutters over his latest attempt at cleaning up the place. Sometimes you both sit in silence. Sometimes he starts a conversation and you fall into your usual rhythm—sharp words, softer looks, elbows nudged and insults traded like currency. It’s familiar. Safe, in its own strange way.

But today is different.

Today, something’s off.

You notice it the second he walks into the room—his shoulders tight, jaw set, eyes just a little too dark. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just grabs a stack of books from the floor and sets them down harder than necessary on the table beside you.

You glance up from the page you’ve been pretending to read. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t look at you. “Fine.”

That’s the first warning.

You try again. “You want help with anything?”

“I said I’m fine.”

His tone is clipped. Sharper than it needs to be. You blink, lips parting, confused. You weren’t even pushing. You were just—asking. You watch him move across the room, setting down another stack like it’s full of glass, but his hands are anything but gentle.

He doesn’t look at you once.

You press your lips together, trying to ignore the cold creeping down your spine. You don’t want to push. Maybe he’s just tired. Maybe it’s just one of his bad days.

You set the book down and reach for the empty cup beside you. “I can take this to the sink for you—”

“I said I don’t need anything, alright?”

His voice is piercing, bitter. It lands like a slap.

Your hand freezes mid-reach. Your breath stutters.

And all you can say—so quiet it barely exists—is, “Oh.”

The sound of it turns something in the air. Haymitch looks up then, but it’s too late.

Your shoulders curl inward like a reflex. You stare at the cup. At your hands. At the floor. Anywhere but at him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, already standing, already moving toward the door before he can speak again. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Wait—”

But you’re already halfway down the porch steps, not looking back.

Your house is too quiet.

You lie in bed, fully dressed, arms folded tight against your stomach like that might hold everything in. Your eyes don’t sting, but your throat does. You don’t cry. You don’t even blink hard enough to try.

All you can hear is your mother’s voice.

Always too much. Always in the way. Always trying too hard.

The words crawl in like smoke, thick and choking, coiling through the cracks in your ribs until you feel them settle in the hollow spaces you thought had started to close.

You don’t move. You just stare at the ceiling, motionless.

It wasn’t a big thing. It wasn’t screaming. It wasn’t cruel. It was just—too sharp. Too close to home. Too familiar. And it was from him.

And somehow that hurts the most.

You stay like that for a long time. Hours, maybe. Time folds in on itself.

Every little sound in the house feels too loud. Every silence feels worse.

He’s going to leave.

You know it with a sick kind of certainty, the way you know the sun’s going to rise or your heart’s going to beat or that when people get tired of you, they always, always go.

You were too much. You knew it. You were getting too close, too comfortable, too obvious.

You pushed too hard. He didn’t want your help. He didn’t even want you there.

He sounded like her.

And you—you just stood there like a kid again, hoping that maybe this time would be different, like an idiot. Like you didn’t already know how this always ends.

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper into the dark. “Why did I ever think it’d be different?”

Your hand curls into the edge of your blanket. Your chest feels too tight. Your skin feels wrong. Your thoughts keep spiraling like water down a drain.

“Why do I even have this stupid crush?” you mutter, voice breaking on the word. “He’s never going to love me.”

You swallow hard, but it doesn’t go down.

And then her voice comes again, soft and poisonous and etched so deep into your bones you can’t separate it from your own anymore.

The only people stupid enough to love you are dead.

You shut your eyes. Shake your head. Try to stop hearing it, but it echoes anyway, bouncing around the hollow parts of your skull until it makes your stomach twist.

Your heart stutters, flips. And then your brain does what it always does—it goes further.

Katniss and Peeta.

You think of them. Of Peeta’s steady kindness, the way he always knows how to pull you out of your spirals. Of Katniss’s quiet comfort, the way she just exists beside you without asking for anything.

They’ve known him longer. Trusted him longer.

If he goes, they’ll go too.

Why would they stay, if he’s done with you?

You were doing so well. You were getting better. You were okay.

But if Haymitch is tired of you—if he sees you like she did—then it was never real. None of it. Not the puzzle pieces, not the porch swing, not the lake, not the way his voice went soft just for you.

It was nothing.

You curl tighter around yourself, barely breathing now.

And the voice—hers, yours, both—doesn’t stop.

You’re too much.

You’re nothing.

They’re going to leave.

And for the first time in weeks, you believe it.

You turn your face into the pillow, like maybe the quiet will swallow you whole if you press hard enough.

It doesn’t.

The silence just stretches.

You were so stupid. You let yourself believe in this. In him. In them. In this stupid, fragile little version of a life you thought maybe—maybe—you could have.

You press your palms to your eyes. Try to stop the burning. But it’s too late.

The tears come anyway.

And the worst part is that it’s been so long since you cried like this. So long since you let yourself fall apart. Not since Peeta, someone you’d started to see as a best friend. Not since he found you and pulled you up out of the dark with soft words and lemon cake and the kind of safety you didn’t know how to ask for.

But he’s not here.

No one is.

And maybe that’s for the best. You’ll have to get used to this again. Might as well start now.

You press a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound as a sob slips out anyway, sharp and sudden and humiliating.

It doesn’t stop there.

You curl in tighter, as small as you can make yourself, shaking with it now—whole body trembling like it’s trying to collapse in on itself, trying to disappear. The ache in your chest is unbearable, like something’s caving in from the inside.

Your breath stutters. Catches.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, choking on it. “I’m fine. I’m—fine.”

You’re not.

They’re all going to leave.

It gets louder every time you think it. Louder and truer.

You shouldn’t have let yourself get used to being held up by other people. You shouldn’t have believed you could trust someone and not end up here.

You can almost hear your mother laughing.

Look at you now. Just like always. Falling apart. Alone.

You let out a strangled sound—half sob, half scream muffled into your pillow—and it still doesn’t make anything stop.

You curl in tighter.

The room is dark now. You didn’t notice when the sun went down.

And the worst part is… you don’t want anyone to come fix it.

Because you’re sure—so sure—that no one will.

You don’t know how long you stay there, curled up and sobbing into your pillow. At some point, the tears slow—not because it hurts any less, but because your body is too tired to keep up.

But your mind doesn’t stop.

It only gets worse.

You sit up with a gasp, hands shaking, chest tight like something’s pressing down on it from all sides. You try to suck in a breath and it feels like your lungs won’t stretch far enough.

Your feet hit the floor without thinking. You start pacing. One side of the room to the other. Again. Again.

You press your hands into your chest like maybe that’ll help, maybe it’ll hold everything in place.

It doesn’t.

Your breathing’s too fast now. Shallow. Your fingers tremble where they curl into the hem of your shirt.

You want to scream.

You want to disappear.

You want to go across the way and bang on the door until Peeta opens it and pulls you into a hug and tells you it’s going to be okay even if it isn’t.

But you can’t.

You’re right back where you started. Barely able to breathe. Terrified of being too much. Too needy. Too loud.

You promised yourself you’d never put that on them again. That you’d be better.

But you’re not better.

You’re a mess. Just like always.

You sink down to the floor beside your bed, knees drawn to your chest, rocking slightly without realizing you’re doing it.

And all you can think, over and over, is:

I ruined everything.

I ruined it and now he’s going to leave and they’ll leave too.

And I’ll be alone again. And it’ll be my fault.

You’re still on the floor, trembling, arms tight around your knees, your chest caving inward with every broken breath that won’t quite make it all the way in. You’re gasping, but the air feels too thin. The walls feel too close. The silence feels like it’s screaming.

And then—

“Honey?”

It’s barely a whisper. Soft. Rough around the edges, like it hurts him to say it. Like maybe it’s not the first time he’s tried to call your name and failed.

Your head jerks up.

You hadn’t heard the door. Hadn’t heard the stairs. Hadn’t heard anything over the sound of your own spiraling.

But he’s there.

He’s in the doorway to your bedroom, standing still—shoulders tense, brow furrowed, eyes wide in that way you rarely see.

Not angry.

Not annoyed.

Worried.

Sad.

Your breath catches again, but for a different reason this time. Something sharper. Something that feels almost like shame.

You wipe at your face quickly, though it doesn’t do much. Your hands are shaking too hard.

You can’t get a single word out. Just stare at him, chest still heaving, tears still slipping silently down your cheeks.

He takes a slow step forward, voice even softer now.

“Can I come in?”

He sees the nod—small, shaky—and that’s all he needs.

He moves carefully. No sudden steps. No sharp sounds. Just crosses the room like he’s afraid you might break if he gets too close too fast.

When he reaches you, he crouches down without a word, his knees creaking with the movement. His eyes flick to your hands, still fisted tight in the fabric over your chest, like you’re trying to hold yourself together by sheer force.

Your breath is coming in shallow gasps. Too fast. Too thin. You can’t stop.

Haymitch doesn’t touch you.

He just sits there, eye-level, and says, quiet as anything, “Alright. In and out. With me now. Just like before.”

Then he inhales—slow, deliberate.

“In.”

You try. Your lungs stutter, catch on the inhale.

He nods, patient. “That’s it. Doesn’t have to be perfect, honey. Just try again.”

He breathes out through his nose.

“Out.”

You copy him, or at least try to. It comes out more like a gasp, but it’s something.

His voice stays steady. “Good. Again.”

And again.

And again.

He never rushes you. Never tells you to calm down. Just sits there, breathing with you like it’s the only thing that matters.

Like you’re not broken. Like this is okay. Like you’re okay—even if you don’t feel it.

Even if you’re not sure you ever will.

Your breathing slows—gradually, painfully. The gasps become uneven shudders, and the shudders finally give way to silence. Not peace, but quiet. The kind that feels raw, like it’s all that’s left after something breaks.

You don’t say anything. Just hide your face in your knees, hands still gripping your shirt.

You feel the heat of him still sitting there, close enough to touch, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

You can’t look at him.

Shame settles heavy in your throat. Your fingers dig into your sleeves.

You swallow hard, trying to force the tears back down. They burn anyway.

You stay curled in on yourself, still too afraid to meet his eyes.

Still waiting for the moment he leaves.

You flinch when the floor creaks beside you, but he doesn’t say anything. Just shifts closer—slow, deliberate—and then you feel it.

His hands, steady. One at your back, the other at your knees.

He gathers you gently into his arms, pulling you into his lap like it’s nothing. Like it’s easy. Like he’s done it a thousand times before. Your side rests against his chest, your legs curled beside him. You melt into him, almost instinctively, placing your head on his shoulder.

He holds you so tightly you can barely breathe—but not in the way that hurts. It’s the kind of tight that says I’ve got you. The kind that doesn’t let go.

His chin rests lightly on the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice low and rough. “Honey, I’m so damn sorry.”

Your hands are still clutching your shirt, but you don’t pull away. You can’t. You wouldn’t even know how.

“I shouldn’t’ve snapped,” he murmurs. “Wasn’t about you. None of it was about you.”

You nod once, barely.

He presses his palm between your shoulder blades, grounding. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A beat. Then another.

“And I’m not going anywhere.”

You press your face into his shoulder, a quiet, shaking breath escaping.

“You hear me?” he says, firmer now. “You don’t get rid of me that easy. I’m too damn stubborn for that.”

His grip tightens, like he means to anchor you.

“You’re stuck with me, honey.”

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out soft, broken. 

His breath catches like he hadn’t expected you to speak at all.

You feel it in his chest, the way it stills beneath your cheek. Then—

“No,” he says, gently but without room for argument. “You don’t apologize for this.”

You don’t move. Don’t lift your head. The quiet sits between you like something fragile.

“I messed up,” he adds, voice lower now. “You were trying to help. I—” He exhales through his nose, like the words are hard to get out. “That wasn’t about you, and I still made it your problem.”

You shake your head, but you still can’t look at him.

“It’s not your fault I’m broken,” you whisper.

Haymitch huffs softly, something between a laugh and a breath. “Then we make a fine pair.”

His hand rubs slow circles against your back. You stay curled into him, small and silent, until your fingers unclench slightly at the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t let go. Doesn’t even ease his grip. Just keeps holding you like you’re something worth holding on to.

Next Part

[landograndprix]

╰┈➤ ❝ desire us • l.n ❞ iv

part three - part five

➪ life changed after you decided to go through it as a single woman, offering your daughter the best life she deserves, focusing on work, friends and family but damn, that guy.

➪ summer break is exactly what you need, right?

➪ mom!reader x dad!Charles (platonic) x lando

➪ comments and reblogs are welcome <3 I've lost all my taglist apart from the ones that belong to certain fics so if you're not tagged, I'm sorry 😭

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y/nusername

liked by maxfewtrell, manon_roux and 589,567 others

y/nusername last one before the break 🇧🇪

tagged: landonorris

view all 1,762 comments

norry4 we are sooo back 😭

hamilt44n ugh so happy for you guys

manon_roux what's meant to be will find it's way back 🥰

↳ yukisan so true bestie

norrizz that little menace in slide 4 knows exactly what she did 😂

milliexoxo my favorites 😭

↳ chilisainz you're no longer a child of divorce!

lan4lan hope you guys have a nice summer break after this week!

maxfewtrell ❤️

peargasly men and using their gf boobs as a pillow, name a better duo lol

riabish 💗💗

bott_ass my man did it again, back with his own little family

landonorris ❤️❤️❤️

↳ y/nusername ❤️❤️❤️

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landonorris posted to their story

manon_roux replied to your story

manon_roux

biggest simp on the planet

child free? No zoë?

landonorris

yep just us

figured she could use a couple days without anything or anyone

She's been super tired lately

sleeping all day if she could

manon_roux

That's very unlike y/n 🤪

landonorris

nah this is different

manon_roux

I mean despite being friends since we were little, I feel like you know her best..is she like sick or something?

landonorris

No, just extremely tired, a bit moody and a bit sore

manon_roux

Huh, interesting

landonorris

??

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 589,999 others

y/nusername ☀️⛱️❤️

tagged: landonorris

view all 1,899 comments

norrizz look at my babies 😭

julieeeexo hope you enjoy your summer break!

manon_roux well deserved break babes, enjoy ❤️

charles_leclerc zoë says hi ❤️

↳ y/nusername tell her we said hi back ❤️

charles16 wait they're back together?!

milliexoxo you could have put me in your suitcase?

↳ y/nusername this is a child free vacation. 😉

milliexoxo 😔

yukisan millie finding out life isn't fair 😂

landonorris love you muppet ❤️

↳ y/nusername love you gremlin ❤️

norry4 oh OH my heart 😭

landooooo shut up I love them 😢

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y/nusername posted to their story

milliexoxo replied to your story

milliexoxo

You're in (s)pain 😂

y/nusername

What?

milliexoxo

manon told me you feel like shit 😂

no?

milliexoxo

I know you've read my messages

milliexoxo

why are you ignoring me? 😭

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