#so sorry for being this late; today’s been a shitshow

[deepouterspacecandy]

Ex Machina

I received so many requests for period sex with Abby. This is a sensitive topic, difficult to write with the intention of fitting a wide array of readers, as our experiences with our bodies are all so different. Anyhow, this is my interpretation of Abby and intimacy during your time of the month. I hope I did it justice. Thank you for reading. 18+ only.

From the moment you crawled out of bed, a stubborn headache has plagued you, a dull throb pulsating behind your eyes. Sunlight floods your apartment, drenching the lush green leaves of all your plants while simultaneously intensifying the pounding in your head.

You glance out into the stadium and spot Abby leading the new recruits through drills on the field below. All week they’ve been running late, and although she’s usually home by now, it seems like today will be another exception.

Perhaps it’s for the best since you’re teetering on the brink of a bad mood.

You realize you should eat the breakfast she’s prepared for you, but your stomach is churning. Exhaustion burdens every inch of your body, as if your bones themselves are weary, the brain fog and bloat leaving you miserable.

While some months are more challenging than others, your period is never a pleasant ordeal. Growing up, the focus was on survival rather than on understanding the intricacies of womanhood and how to navigate them. Now, the demands of being actively involved in the WLF have made it difficult for you to prioritize and manage your health. It doesn’t help that your superiors interpret any actions that undermine your performance or distract you from the objective as a sign of weakness.

In this arena, Abby is an absolute godsend. With her background as a trained medic, and raised by a phenomenal doctor, she is also a highly empathetic partner to you.

Next to your breakfast, Abby has thoughtfully prepared a thermos of ginger tea, its peppery aroma offering respite from your nausea as you drink it down.

Abby’s concern about how much you’ve been pushing yourself has reached a peak, and given how awful you feel, you’re starting to see her point.

This time around, it’s pure luck that your days off align perfectly with your desperate need for them. Counting your blessings, you drag yourself to the shower, hopeful that the hot water will alleviate some of your agony.

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

Abby strolls through the door in the late afternoon, and you immediately catch a whiff of citrus and jasmine as she places a vase of fresh flowers on your bedside table. They’re a gesture of peace to make up for being gone so long, but she’ll always find an excuse to bring you fresh flowers. 

“I’m sorry it ran so late today,” she says, letting out an exasperated sigh as she kicks off her boots. “God, what a shitshow. Let’s run away together, yeah?”

“Ask me again in a few days,” you say.

While you dig through your shared drawers, she observes you swapping your pajamas for one of her roomiest shirts. The corners of her mouth lift in a devilish grin, giving her an air of playful wickedness.

“Still feeling rough?” she asks, plunking herself onto your bed.

“I think it’s worse this time around,” you explain, your hands cradling your sore stomach, finding comfort in the soft fabric against your skin. “Everything aches, and I’m so bloated. It really sucks.”

“Well, you look beautiful,” Abby says.

You go the extra mile to give her the most over-the-top eye roll you can manage. She’s a sweetheart, but her words can’t mask the overwhelming sense of detachment you feel from your body, intensifying your self-doubt.

“I’m serious,” she says, reaching out to pull you closer. “Have I ever lied to you?”

You can’t recall a time when she’s made you doubt her—the integrity of this woman is unwavering. Her straightforwardness knows no bounds, often leaving others taken aback. It is ultimately one of the traits you admire the most in her.

“I don’t feel very beautiful, I guess.”

Abby’s fingertips glide down the back of your thighs, tickling the sensitive skin behind your knees, before trailing back up to toy with the hem of your shirt. Her shirt, technically speaking.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks.

Her question carries a familiar undertone, one you’ve been meaning to address for a while now.

During Abby’s cycle, her sexual desire intensifies to an unprecedented level, and she’s insatiable.

One night, after your shift let out early, you walked in on her. The blonde wisps of hair framing her face were curled with sweat as she touched herself under a blanket on the couch. You recall vividly her delirious gaze, head tilted back on the plush armrest as she rode the waves of her pleasure, filling your apartment with the sweetest sounds.

It was in the early phases of your relationship, and you were so surprised when you entered the room that you hesitated—torn between quietly leaving to let her finish or offering to help her. Luckily, she decided on your behalf.

Instead of panicking and hurriedly covering up her deed, Abby continued without missing a beat—beckoning you to join her. It was one of the most sensual experiences of your life, and the memory of it still makes your heart race.

But for you, it’s different.

It’s a constant battle of messiness, discomfort, and frustration. When your hormones are fluctuating and you feel a spike of arousal, the thought of Abby seeing you in that state halts your excitement.

In the past, she mentioned how her lifestyle influences her body’s bleeding patterns. She attributes her active lifestyle and high stress levels to a lighter flow. But she also understands that certain conditions are beyond control for many women, affecting their relationship with their cycle and the way their body reacts to it.

“How the heck do you do it?” you ask, your fingers connecting with hers as you delicately flip her hands over to trace the deep lines etched on her palm. “You get so confident.”

Every day, without fail, you find yourself entranced by the beauty of her ethereal blue eyes as she seems to peer directly into your soul. There’s a special intimacy in truly knowing someone, beyond the flaws and all the fears.

She has a keen sense of what you’re grappling with, often before you can articulate it.

Her brow quirks as she rakes her teeth over her pouty bottom lip.

“Horny, you mean?” she smirks.

“Is that what it is for you?”

“Not always,” she explains, as her fingers move to brush against the front of your thighs, igniting a tingling warmth between them. “But I listen to what my body tells me. It’s how I heal.”

“What does your body tell you?” you ask.

“It depends,” she says, looking up at you through her soft lashes. “Sometimes it tells me to rest—other times, I need a little more than that. But I have bad days, too.”

You reflect on your relationship with your body and how Abby’s presence has transformed your self-perception over the years. She empowers you to find security in your own skin, even when you’re clawing the walls of your existence.  

Even on the toughest days to practice self-love, she’s right there by your side, offering that extra boost to keep you going.

“It doesn’t gross you out, the thought of touching me when I’m like this?”

Abby lets out a surprised chuckle, gently placing her hands on your hips for a reassuring squeeze.

“Baby,” she says with an air of certainty. “There’s nothing you can do that would ever disgust me. This just reminds me how much of a badass you are. I’m a pretty big fan, if you haven’t noticed.”

You nod in acceptance as your fingers weave into her hair, gently tugging the long braid that rests on the nape of her neck. She fixes her busy gaze on you, brimming with an unmistakable and sincere affection, patiently awaiting your next move.

“It fucking hurts,” you say.

“Inside?” she asks.

“Everywhere,” you whisper.

Her lips meet the swollen part of your stomach as she leans forward, pressing kisses from your belly button to your hips. Her methodical nature shines through, ensuring she leaves no tender spot untouched.

When she glances up at you again, her eyes are heavy with hunger.

“Do you want me to make it better?”

It’s a lot to consider, and she watches you closely, anticipating your reaction as you try to process it all. If it bothers you, it will surely bother her, too—but can the reverse be true? If you have a pleasant experience, is it possible that Abby will also have a good time?

“Can we sleep on it?” you ask. “I’m just, you know—worried, I guess.”

Abby invites you to sit on her lap and when you oblige, she snuggles into the curve of your neck, sighing happily.

“Of course we can.”

Noticing your musing, she leans back to get a solid look at you. When your eyes meet, she crinkles her nose, a silent, impish signal she frequently uses to let you know she’s with you, even from across the room.

“What’s going on in that pretty head, huh?” she asks.

“I’m just glad you’re wearing dark pants right now,” you snort. “This cup thingy you got for me is working okay, though.”

“Well, thank God for that!” she huffs. “What would I ever do with bloodstains on my pants—can you imagine? Not this girl.”

“You’re on a roll today, aren’t you?”

Abby’s tongue darts out, lingering at the corner of her mouth until you dig your fingers into the ticklish spot at the small of her back, causing her to squirm with laughter. She quickly unravels under your ministrations, her voice transforming into something high and wild as she reprimands you through wheezing breaths.

“See, I warned you about teaching me how to lift weights!” you giggle, your grip on her wrists unforgiving as you pin her hands behind her. “Game over, Anderson.”

“You think so?” she chuckles breathlessly. “Hey—can I show you something?”

“You can try!”

Abby regains control of her hands and flips you onto your back with such ease it renders you utterly defenseless.

“Now what?” she asks.

She has you trapped, pressing your body and hands firmly against the mattress, careful to avoid your abdomen. It gives you an advantage, an edge to steal the upper hand, and with a sudden burst of energy, you buck into her, entangling your legs with hers in a fierce grapple. By the end of your wrestling match, your muscles burn from exertion, your focus shifting solely to the simmer of adrenaline working its way down your spine.

You leave behind any awareness of your physical state or appearance in favour of being in her arms, and she’s delighted to have you there.

Her rugged hands rest on your belly, rising and falling in sync with your breathing, and you’re weightless. The pain that had been radiating at your core all day has subsided, the niggling headache lifting from your temples as Abby works out the tension at the base of your skull with her fingertips.

Prominent veins pulse along her powerful arms in thick blue vines and as you trace them, her nostrils flare. The most innate manifestation of life and simply being alive underneath your touch.

“Let’s grab some dinner, yeah?” Abby pants, dropping a playful, squeaking kiss between your brows. “I’m starved. I need sustenance.”

“What else is new?” you tease. “You’re my God and my freaking machine.”

“Quit beating me up then,” she groans, a smile dancing on her lips. “If you build up my appetite, it’s only fair to replenish me. Do you want me to waste away or what?”

“Listen to you!”

She turns her face away, attempting to hide her jubilance.

“Bullying me—using up all my energy,” she says, jutting out her bottom lip. “Poor Abby is what they all say. You should hear them!”

“You literally started it,” you blurt. “I’m so done with you.”

Before you can roll off the bed, she quickly snatches you up and buries herself against your chest. Trying to suppress your triumph, a whirlwind of flutters spins between your ribs, like a miniature tornado poised to absorb everything in its path.

“Please don’t ever be done with me,” Abby murmurs. “Okay?”

Tendrils of soft hair spill out from her braid, and you can’t resist the urge to twist the golden threads around your finger, stroking her freckled shoulders with your other hand.

“Forever is a long time,” you murmur.

“It sure doesn’t feel like it,” she says, wrapping herself around you.

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

After months of waiting, the chow hall is finally serving your favourite meal, and you’re in a state of pure bliss as you savour it with your friends and comrades.

Manny is on his grind, recounting the funniest stories he can think of, causing uproarious laughter and taking harmless jabs at everyone at the table. Among her squad, Abby truly shines, earning admiration for her ability to treat everyone as equals, regardless of her superior position.

She is a leader in the field, but at home, she’s everyone’s trusted friend.

As you reminisce about a time before you knew her, the thought of living without the familiar scent of pine soap and the comforting feeling of her arms around you while you sleep becomes hazy and indistinct. The sensation of her breath against your neck as you wake up each morning is a treasured gift that you never want to lose sight of.  

Under the table, you give Abby’s knee a gentle squeeze. She instinctively laces her fingers with yours, fully focused on Manny’s irrational fear of a girl storing her toothbrush in his apartment.

Only when your hand glides up her thigh does she split her focus, giving you a knowing sidelong glance.

Abby subtly adjusts herself to accommodate you, widening the space between her legs as the edges of her ear takes on the prettiest pink hue.

You toy with the button on her cargo pants, trailing your fingernail along the zipper, and despite her best efforts to focus on the surrounding conversations, she’s fading fast. Absentmindedly nibbling at the dry patches on her lip, she blinks with a slightly delayed rhythm, absorbed by your attention.  

With each seductive surge, the intensity of your pain subsides, smoothing out its sharp edges.

“It’s your fault,” Manny explains, addressing Abby directly, the tines of his fork slicing the air. “I never had these problems when you were my roommate.”

Foreseeing a mental showdown, you slowly retreat to your lap, but Abby immediately tugs your hand back.

You know precisely what is going through her mind.

“Don’t blame your mommy issues on me, Alvarez,” Abby retorts. “Shit or get off the pot.”

Your fingers scratch a torturous path across her hard thigh, only stopping to pay special attention to the rigid seam of her pants before traveling back to her knee. Abby clears her throat and straightens up, indicating that she’s about three seconds away from a polite excuse to refuse dessert and propose an early night.

You beat her to the punch by deftly gathering your trays, offering a nod of farewell to everyone in the room and letting your girl know it’s time for her to take you to bed.

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

Rain trickles in silver ribbons along the panoramic windows of your apartment, flashes of lightning illuminating the night sky as the occasional rumble of thunder punctuates a mounting storm. Abby places candles on every tabletop and surface, creating a dim, flickering glow in anticipation of a possible power outage.

The crackling hiss of each match strike pulls you deeper into a state of relaxation.

She abandons the matchbox and, in one fluid motion, lifts her sweater up and over her head, tossing it onto the rocking chair in your reading nook.

Her back is a tapestry of sculpted muscles and you’re eager to feel them twitch and flex. It’s time to put an end to the silence that has been lingering between you since dinner.

“Abby?”

She hums, spinning around to face you, her expression lifting with an affectionate smile.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“I trust you.”

All traces of her tough exterior vanish as her determined strides carry her across the room, closing the distance between you. It’s a compliment that you know she will hold in high regard.

“I’m glad,” she whispers. “You’re always safe with me, okay?”

Abby’s eyes are a fragment of the ocean, a world of mystery and depth pulling you in. Her touch is gentle as she cups your jaw, delicately tilting your chin toward hers.

“I mean it,” she says.

The moment your lips meet, the taste of her intoxicates you, the room a dizzy blur of raindrops and candlelight. Her eager hands greedily explore the curves of your body, and the languid pace is torment. Taking her lower lip between your teeth, you suck her gently into your mouth, rocking against her for relief.

“Please let me take care of you,” Abby says.

You guide her hand between your legs, giving her the freedom to ease your pain. The surface is so slick that her fingers glide over your smooth folds, circling your swollen clit until you’re whimpering against her throat.

“Fuck, you feel good,” she whines. “You’re so wet, I can’t even take it.”

“Keep this up and I won’t last long,” you giggle.

Abby lifts you and sets you down on the bed, and that’s when you see it for the first time. Faint streaks of you staining her fingertips.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say.

“Look at me,” Abby murmurs, trailing kisses up your thigh. “You are so incredibly sexy like this.”

[wososage]

Left Out: USWNT x Reader

This was not requested but it is in my head so i wrote it out. Please ignore that this was written and finished over a year ago and i never posted it. Anyways send requests so i can attempt to ignore the shitshow that is my life.

Summary: Reader is allergic to gluten and feels left out

Warnings: none

Word Count: 791

It’s Pinoe’s birthday dinner. This is the fourth time we have had cake in 5 days due to all of the birthdays and the fourth of July. Everyone is enjoying the cake, while I sit here watching. I’m used to this though, seeing as no one really ever remembers that I am allergic to gluten. Somehow, the years of not being included still don’t completely stop this from hurting.

Is it too much to ask to be allowed to have a single piece of cake after everyone else has been eating cake for days?

At some point, I’m not completely sure when, the team moved on from eating cake to just hanging out with each other.

“I’m telling you guys that funfetti is better than any cake we have had this week,” Sonnett says. 

“Dasani, the cake we had for Alex’s birthday was way better than funfetti,” Lindsey replies.

“I think the cake for the fourth of July was pretty good myself,” Becky comments.

I zone out again but after a little while, I notice that Tierna is staring at me with a look of confusion on her face. I try to look away and hope she is just thinking too hard about her cute science things, but apparently, luck isn’t on my side.

“Y/n I have a question,” she says, which gains the attention of the whole team.

“Y/n doesn’t have an answer,” I say, trying to get out of whatever is about to happen.

“Have you eaten any cake when we have had it?” She asks. Of course, bringing up the one thing I do not want to talk about.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to get out of answering the question.

“Well I know for a fact that you did not eat any cake today, because you sat there looking like a sad puppy the whole time, but I thought that maybe you did not have any because of how much cake we have had in the past few days, but then I started thinking about the other times we have had cake, and I don’t think I have seen you eat any at all.”

“No, I’ve had some cake,” I lie, hoping no one catches me.

“You obviously just lied,” Christen says, to no one's surprise because she is the most observant person on the team. “But if you don’t want to talk about it we can drop this.”

“There's not much to talk about,” I say while staring at the ground. “I just haven’t had any cake.”

“But why?” Pinoe asks. “It’s okay to have cake once in a while, you don’t need to eat healthy all the time. You work your ass off, you can enjoy some junk food every once in a while.”

“There’s probably still some cake left kid,” Alyssa says. “I can get you a slice.”

“You don’t need to get me any,” I say hoping no one can hear that I am about to cry.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t eat the cake because I am allergic to gluten. It just sucks to be left out. It feels like I’m not important.”

I get up and leave because it turns out I cannot keep my emotions in check and I do not want to cry in front of the team right now. Thankfully, everyone gets the point that I want to be alone and no one tries to come to find me. I end up staring out of the window of my room as I’ve done every night since training camp for the Olympics has started. Eventually, I fall asleep, feeling entirely alone.

The next day, no one brings anything up. Which seems completely out of character of this team. I make it through the day, which has been seemingly impossibly hard lately. At dinner I mind my business, just hoping to get to my room to go to sleep, but then suddenly there was a slice of cake in front of me, and everyone was looking at me. 

“We are sorry that you’ve been left out,” Becky says. 

I shrug, just hoping that someone will draw the attention away from me, but I receive no such luck.

“Y/n,” Tierna says, getting me to look at her. “Are you doing okay?”

“Not really,” I mumble. “I’ve just felt so alone since training camp has started. At least when we were in America I could still text my friends. Now I am just staring out of my window for hours every night until I can fall asleep. Not much anyone can do about it though.”

“Of course, we can do something about it,” Becky says. “We can be better teammates. We can be better friends.”

[leossmoonn]

🩱 >:)

using this prompt: “we’re gonna survive this, right?” with either eddie or steve. maybe slight angst but more fluff than anything?

congratulations on your incredible milestone, sweetheart. ❤️

Imma do this with Steve hehe >:D

This is a long one my bad. I did pretty much half and half angst and fluff

“You’re late again!” you glare at Steve. He sighs, running clammy hands through his hair. “I-I’m sorry, okay? I had to work late and —”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it all before,” you roll your eyes.

Steve puts his hands on your hips and looks at you. You feel bad, but it’s how you genuinely feel. The last two days have been a shitshow. A very disappointing shitshow. You’re home for college and went back to Hawkins to visit your family and boyfriend, mainly your boyfriend since you both never get to talk, even when you’re away. He’s always busy with work and you’re always busy with school. Before you came back, you two haven’t spoken for literally three days. You two left each other voicemails, but that barley helped. You both thought that you being home would be better for you. Give you two a chance to reconnect, but that turned out to be a bunch of crap.

“Look, it’s not my fault that I didn’t into college but you did. I’m trying to work my ass off to pay for some of the tuition because believe it or not, I actually want a future!”

“I never said that Steve! Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“You don’t seem to have a problem to do that to me,” Steve scoffs.

“You didn’t even see the dinner I made for us?” you gesture to the kitchen table. “Did you even remember that today is our anniversary too?”

“Of course I remembered. Who do you think I am?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, “I have no idea.”

Your words cut him deep. You instantly feel bad. You know you shouldn’t have said that. It was crossing the line. Steve hasn’t changed, you two have just gotten busier. Quality time escaped you two and it was both of your faults, probably more yours than his since he’s always available to call and talk. “I-I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to —”

“No, I’m sorry,” he shakes his head. “You’re right. All I have done since you got here is work. I’ve just left you alone to do whatever, when you came here to see me. I’m sorry.”

“No, Steve. Don’t apologize. You’re right. You need to make money, and it’s hard to find a good job here. I understand. I’m sorry for being insensitive,” you say.

You both stare at each other for a good five minutes. Both of you break into a smile simultaneously. You hold your hands out for Steve to grab. He trudges over to you, slipping his hand into yours and intertwining your fingers. He closes his eyes and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. You bask in his warmth and loving gestures. You didn’t realize how much you had missed this, missed him. It seems like a lifetime since you two have even held hands, or even been this close to each other. “I missed you,” Steve sighs. “You have no idea how much I think about you. You’re on my mind every second of the day. In the morning, while I’m eating, when I’m in the shower, while I’m talking to customers, at night.”

“And what’re you doing thinking about me in the shower, huh?” you raise your brow. He chuckles, “lots of things.”

You wrap around arms around him and hug him, kissing his cheek multiple times, trailing down to his jaw and to his neck. You squeeze him tightly and hold him close, inhaling his cologne and signature hairspray that you’ll never get tired off smelling. His arms wrap around your body, pulling you flush against him. He loves the way your body mold with his. You were truly made for him, there’s no doubt in his mind. He kisses the top of your head, tracing up your body with his fingertips until his hand cups your face. He pulls away just enough to where he can look at you. You nuzzle into his palm, enjoying the warmth and comfort he brings.

“I missed you too, you know? Being 2,000 miles away is hard. So freaking hard,” you sigh.

Steve nods in agreement and looks into your eyes. “We’re going to survive this, right?”

Your brows knit together and your eyes soften. “Of course, baby. Of course. C’mon, you know us. We’re practically Mr. and Mrs. Harrington already. Nothing can stand in the way. Not even 2,000 miles.” He smiles in agreement. “Yeah, totally.”

You giggle a little bit, leaning up to kiss him. “That all you have to say? Yeah, totally?”

“I also have this,” he says before he kisses you. You never thought you would ever feel so relieved to kiss anyone before. His lips are soft, familiar, like home. The way they caress yours ignites a spark inside your belly, warmth filling between your thighs. You run your fingers through his hair, bringing him impossibly closer. He holds your waist, dipping you backwards slightly to deepen the kiss. He kisses you slowly and passionately, making sure you can feel every movement of his lips against yours. You pull away slightly, resting your forehead on his and staring into his eyes. “Why don’t you show me all those things that you think about in the shower?”Steve’s eyes brighten and he nods, an excited smile on his face. He looks as if he won a prize. Without saying anything, he lifts you up, taking you to your bedroom. You both spend the night reconnecting, in more ways than one.

[celestie0]

ELLIEIEIEIEIE hi 💗💗

bae you should’ve HEARD the squeal i let out when you posted 😭 i like rolled around on my bed and kicked my feet for a good minute or two IM SO GLAD YOUR BACK BAEEE 💗

also bae omg im realizing how many mistakes i made on my most recent ask omg its so embarrassing 😭😭 im assuming you understood what i meant tho? 😭 IN MY DEFENSE I WAS ON THE TRAIN SO IT WAS BUMPY AND I DIDNT WANT PPL SEEING MY PHONE 🫠 like have you ever been in public and then someones looking over at your phone?? SHIT HAPPENS TOO OFTEN I SWEAR.

bae missing gojo so bad rn i turned to character ai 😓

anyway do u remember C?? yeah so i confessed and uh 🧍‍♀️he kinda just brushed it off and brought up another girl 😭 BUT GET THIS. THE OTHER GIRL IS ONE OF MY CLOSEST FRIENDS. like imagine you’re texting a girl who’s been your friend SINCE YOU WERE KIDS and KNOWING she has a crush on you and then you still bring up one of her closest friends relationship status. LIKE??? i’m being so fr when i say this i cried. i called my friend D in TEARS after i finished talking to C and D was just like “yo wait what happened?” and then i had to explain AND IT TURNS OUT C HAD BEEN ASKING ABOUT MY FRIEND FOR A WHILE. they danced together once at a party and apparently hes had a crush on her ever since??

okay but enough abt C,, hes an asshole and i never want to speak to him again (i still like him very much and i still need him but im tryna cope lolol) 💗 how’ve u been bae?? i hardly ever send in asks anymore so i feel like we don’t interact as often 😞 omg bae do u have any show recommendations?? i’ve been dying to watch something new lately but all the shows my friends recommend are ones i’ve seen already 😓😓

anyway bae thats all 💗 i hope you were doing well on your hiatus (even though it was short!) and i can’t wait for the next kickoff update ‼️ byebye and i love uuuu

-🦌

hiii my lovely <33 OMG you're too fucking sweet i swear you make me smile everytime i see you in my inbox. yes it's nice to be back i missed everyone lots :'') i still might take it a lil easy tho haha i realized during my hiatus i've gotta just spend less time on tumblr between my fic updates kdjfhsdkfjl

haha yes i hate when ppl look at screens. but i always used to look at people's screens during lectures in college to see what they're up to and what they're ordering on amazon HAHA i guess it's human nature to be nosey asf

omg NOOOO babe that's horrendous fuck C i'm so sorry you went through that :(( you deserve sm better than that. aww bb whatever helps you cope is valid, but i do think that maybe it's time to let C go...you confessed n did what you could, and even if he didn't like you back, he should've treated your confession w care n respect. the way he reacted is major red flag!! i'm sorry though, i know you've known him a long time, so that has to be really tough to go through :'') chin up bb, i promise you'll find better guys out there that will treat you w the care you deserve

i've been okay!! i had my last day of work on thursday which was kind of bittersweet, i cried in front of my PI LOL (he's an old german man and he's always been very sweet to me n i'm really gonna miss him aaa) i had social plans the past couple of days which was fun but i'm kind of an introvert so i spent today recharging my social batter haha.

ooo i've been watching bojack horseman recently!! i like it, it's funny and realistic, but i've heard it becomes a total shitshow (not as in it becomes a bad show, it's still a great show BUT the characters kinda stress you out)...i really like it, i've been recommending it to people! i like shows that are kind of cynical commentaries w an overlay of comedy though HAHA so if you're into that too, i'd recommend it. if you wanna watch a really good romance show, i'd recommend 'one day' on netflix!! it's like a slow burn friends to lovers, and the acting in it was phenomenal. no spoilers but i will give a heavy angst warning.

thanks bb!! yes my hiatus was good haha i appreciate you sm <33 love u tooooo darling

[macaroni-rascal]

Hey it is I, your fashionista nonny of yore, I'm still around and kicking, I just had some life stuff happen (my dad somehow fell down at the cottage, broke his hip and needed surgery, and he's not even an elegant pair girl with full turnout, so, like... the audacity!? Anyway, he's on the mend). It was probably for the best that I couldn't be on here after NHK because I swear to fucking god... I literally couldn't watch the other disciplines until quite a bit later, I was so angry. It was basically confirmation for me that P/C are coming back, because why else would MF be hustling so hard to get this team medals now? Because she knows it'll be impossible later, and P/C is literally the team that made her the political force she is today, so... My condolences to the Italians and whichever hapless Montreal teams suffer the wrath of vindictive panels at upcoming events. I can already tell the GPF placements are gonna be a shitshow.

I've been watching shit here and there, including this Bosphorus Cup aka the longest event of my life but hey - at least we got a free stream, and I felt the need to shout out that one team with the full frizzy hair and the jean jacket over the sparkly red dress on the girl for a Tina program and the guy in a Canadian tuxedo, A+ packaging while still presumably on a budget, I wish other teams would take a page out of their book, these kids understood the assignment! On the flip side, as much as I feel for them, I wish S/F would see the writing on the wall and spare themselves the heartache, they came all the way out here just to not get minimums and their new fed apparently doesn't even have the budget to send a coach out with them, so what's the point? Both Firus brothers married up, isn't that enough? So what if one of them doesn't make it to the Olympics? Judges from other small feds will kill them to prop up their own teams just because there are limited spots for Milan, this switch isn't the magic bullet they've been hoping for. (Also word on the street is Ted and Mama Firus can't stand each other, so that may have influenced their decision as well).

Also at the NRW Trophy there was a Hungarian team with a Depeche Mode FD that was an absolute mood and while the concept perhaps was not executed to its utmost potential, it had this cape-y dress that gave off such witchy vibes and the girl had a Glenn Close-ness about her that was just fabulous, highly recommend. I haven't watched the Challenge FDs yet but the persistent underscoring of Paul Mac's technically superior teams is infuriating. If Skate Canada knew what's good for them, they'd be pushing Korneva/MacDonald for the junior title now with Lewis/McMillan out, not Random Burnaby Team #154 that won't go anywhere, but they've been making some truly boneheaded decisions or none at all lately, so I've abandoned all hope. They're sleepwalking into an ice dance drought post-2030 and they'll depend on importing teams, it feels like, and it won't be just because of kids quitting because of the economy. Kieran has some of the crispest, most textbook turns out there, and it's so cute that he's being coached by his sister, she's done a phenomenal job. The best moment was when Ted and B/B realized the mics weren't on and then afterwards the auto-subs transcribed Nadiia as Daddy, 11/10 Skate Canada stream fail moment, no notes. Anyway, rant over, hope you're doing well and I'm glad you're being wooed by your boo so delightfully, they seem to be a gem! 💗

FASIONISTA NONNY! So good to hear from you!

I'm sorry to hear about your dad. (Wild he chose not to at least try for a triple throw...) I hope he's doing well. I'm sending you and your dad some warm fuzzies!

NHK was a time and a half, that's for sure. I've repressed some of it, so who really even knows what happened? P/C were also seen in a video training with the French ballet, so that's another good?bad? sign that they will be returning. Le sigh. I'm gonna repress this too. What were we talking about?

As for the Bosphorous Cup, love a commitment to a theme, and I'm biased, but also love a Canadian tuxedo. S/F is just...so....I actually just sat here with my hand over my face shaking my head for about 20 seconds. That's what they are. If they can make it to the Olympics and live their dream, all the power to them, and if they don't...woof.

I didn't even know there was another competition happening, Fashionista Nonny, you give me all the good deets! Glenn Close-skater girl sounds very iconic, love her already. I have no confidence in Skate Canada, and I never did. If I ever see Mike Slipchuck in a dark alley, he better run.

Also, thank you! My partner is a freaking sweetheart and I adore them a lot.

All the best to you and yours, Fashionista Nonny! Your message was a wonderful treat, as always.

[yokohamabeans]

Hello Yoko !! ( I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time but didn’t think it was worthy enough for sharing, still, here I am)

 Remember your headcanons on “what type of girls the Tenjiku boys would like” ? 

 I think all of them are on point, tho (TW: cringe) I was a tad bit disappointed  that Kaku’s ideal type description didn’t fit me, but that’s not the point;  what I really like is that Yua doesn’t exactly fit the “nice girl next door” criteria either, but you still managed to make Kaku fall for her, and I really like that! Because not only doest it give more depth to their bond it also makes Kakucho really like her for her and not because she fits into a certain category. Their interaction reminds me a lot of Van Gogh's relationship with Sien, Van Gogh said: "A love like mine for Sien is the only kind I'm capable of (...) She & I are two unhappy people who keep each other company and share a burden, and that is precisely why unhappiness is making way for happiness, and the unbearable is becoming bearable"

You don’t find that everyday amongst fic writers, because most of them mold their OCs for the sole purpose of being a certain character’s love interest, and so the OC is only tied to that role and has no character depth, even their bond is surface levelled cause they can be replaced by anybody with the same description, it feels like they’re just a copy of a copy. 

it's either that or they make their OCs flamboyant and “different” and nothing about them really makes sense, I personally prefer simple and average characters (I find their simplicity charming) , just like Murakami’s protagonists, and Yua has that sort of vibe to her, that’s why I really like her.

(but no hate to anyone who likes/ writes that type of character)

In short, I really like Yua’s character and how you constructed her bond with Kakucho, i find everything to be logical and realistic in ROAC which is why it’s my favourite fic, I think your writing skills are amazing! Love you Yoko!! keep up the good work and have a nice day/ evening <3 

( I usually send anonymous asks, but today I’m in high spirits and feel brave lol)

Hey Pickle!!! As mentioned to you, the quote you gave about Yua's and Kakucho's relationship is SO ON POINT that I absolutely have to share it on my blog AHHHHH I'M STILL SO THRILLED THAT YOU FELT THAT WAY ABOUT YUA!!

When I wrote their meeting, I seriously wanted to depict a kind of bond that can only happen to people who have lost, because they understand each other on that level. Kakucho's lost his family, dream and Izana and Yua's lost her mother and family and her life was a shitshow, so they both had gaping holes in them. I'm really so so so happy and thankful that what I wrote gave you that impression!!

About creating Yua as an OC: I've always wanted to write a jaded, icy-prickly, I-just-wanna-get-by kind of character so I had her haha! And because it was an OC I really did want her to exist beyond being a love interest. I'm really having fun writing her!!

Again, thank you so so so so much Pickle!! And so sorry for how late it took for me to push this ask out!!! I hope you've been doing well and will be even better! Let's all hold hands in spirit as we approach the end of TR and await a Tenjiku story in the bonus DVD chapters!! ❤️

[murdrdocs]

YOU RIGHT?? LMFAOO sorry I haven't updated all day today's just been kinda a shitshow this whole week has been during study hall in the library the childhood development class came in they have kids with them once a month and they were there that day and I h a t e the sounds of babies/kids crying because it's sorta a trigger response so that was great half of our understudies won't be here for the understudy run and our director refuses to move it I sing pretty loud naturally bc yep and after the song I star in one of the girls I work with go "you're singing over shakespeare and he has a mic." and I apologized and she went "either sing quiet or don't sing at all." so yep I had a breakdown over that one of our featured dancers (the self-destructive one who refuses to admit that she's hurt) fell backstage and landed on her NOSE SHE SOMEHOW ONLY GOT A NOSE BLEED??? but reese updates for the day hmmm Earlier we were taking quizzes for fun and he asked if he was creepy or disarming and I said like 85% disarming and he asked why and I said "Well I used to be scared shitless of you. you have a very... intimidating figure" and he got all puppy eyed and stared and went "really?" and I nodded but hey it was hilarious seeing him sprint out the door 15 minutes late after rehearsal for guitar lessons

ur day was so hectic ???? i hope you have some unwind time planned make sure you do. even 5-10 minutes of some meditation can help ! plus im sorry about the crying babies :(((( ALSO THE PERSON MAKING U FEEL BAD ???? PLZ DON'T LISTEN TO THEM !!

ik its easy for me to sit here comfortable in my own skin and tell you "don't let them get to you" but srsly, do not let them get to you. sure, you can learn a thing or do as people always can in life, but do not let someone who obviously has their own things going on, hence why they're being unnecessarily rude, dampen your attitude or rain on ur parade (DONT TELL ME NOT TO LIVE)

but the reese update mhmmmmmm good stuff good stuff. plus, he plays guitar ooooo 😏

[agent-grey-fics]

Dancing in the refrigerator light | Lip Gallagher x reader

Pairing Lip x reader Requested by @ marvelimagines18 

Hey Lexi I was wondering if you could make this video a prompt for reader and Lip Gallagher it would make my whole week thanks babe❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMLnGNVtW/

Warning: none Wordcount: 1728 AN: Thank you for your request honey, I could totally imagine this scenario happening with Lip. I did my best to write something cute but it’s a bit shorter than usual. xoxo Lexi 

It had been a stressful day at the hospital. It all started out fine, you were on a 12-hours shift while one of your close friends was the on-call doctor. You always looked forward to the shifts you could work together. But today was a total shitshow, they had brought in a kid who had seizures every couple of hours and no one seemed to be able to figure out what was going on with him. None of the typical anti-epileptic medication seemed to have an effect on the seizures Cedric, Dr. Moore, had assigned you to watch him closely and ordered you to page him every time the seizures started again, which was a lot. It broke your heart to see the little boy and his family like that. The only good news you got that day was that Dr. Moore had found a drug that controlled his seizures for now. You loved being a paediatrics nurse but a case like this broke your heart, you didn't want to think about the possible brain damage that the boy suffered. ‘Y/n, go home you’re way over your hours and you can’t do anything here.’ Cedric looked at you with compassion as he spoke. He was right. Your shift had started at 6PM the evening before and it was already 8:30. Lip was probably wondering where you were as well. ‘You are sure that I don’t need to do something else before I clock out?’ He shook his head. ‘You already did enough today, now go home to that boyfriend of yours I bet he’s waiting for you.’ A boyish grin found its way to his lips as he spoke and you rolled your eyes at him. The two of you said your goodbyes and you made your way towards the parking lot so you could drive home. It was surprisingly quiet on the road for a Saturday night in Chicago but you didn’t mind. After a day like this you were not sure if you could handle the typical road rage you normally experienced in the city.

‘Honey?’ Twenty minutes later you closed the front door of your apartment behind you and you kicked off your shoes. ‘I’m late I know I’m sorry but there was this kid that they brought in and I just could not leave him any sooner.’ Lip made his way over as he saw the expression on your face, tears welling up in your eyes. You were exhausted. ‘Hey hey, don’t worry about it. Were you able to help the kid?’ ‘In a way, it was rather complicated. The doctors weren’t able to figure out what was going on immediately so it was scary for the parents as well. I’m just glad I’m home.’ A small smile formed on his lips as he held his arms open so you could walk right in. ‘You’re doing amazing things at that hospital y/n, those kids are lucky to have you as their nurse.’ You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his shoulder. ‘It just gets to me, even after all those years that I’m on the job. It breaks my heart to see them so helpless. Let’s hope that Cedric can figure out what’s wrong with the little boy and that everything will be fine when I return on Saturday.’ Lip softly ran his hand up and down your back to calm your nerves. ‘Did you already eat something?’ You shook your head only now realizing that you were starving, you didn’t eat anything since this morning. ‘Taco Thursday, how sounds that?’ ‘Perfect. Just let me get out of my scrubs first.’ He followed you into the bathroom and you both changed into your pyjamas: grey sweatpants and a band t-shirt for him and an overside t-shirt for you.

Lip pulled you into the kitchen and made you sit on the countertop while he started making dinner. ‘Hey Alexa, put my favourite songs on shuffle.’ ‘Y/n’s favourite songs are playing now.’ Born to Die by Lana Del Rey started playing in the background. You didn’t want the virtual assistant at first, you weren’t that much of a tech nerd but damn that thing came in handy as a sound system. ‘How was your day? Was it busy at the shop?’ A small grin appeared on his lips as he started talking about his day. ‘It was quite calm today actually, me and the boys went for a drink earlier.’ You lifted your eyebrow as he said that he want for a drink. ‘Non-alcoholic drinks of course.’ He reassured you. ‘It was nice actually, Jason and Tammy are expecting by the way.’ Your jaw dropped. ‘No way? That’s nice for them, the baby fever the two of them had was crazy. Glad that it worked out for them.’ The guys from the shop became close friends over time and they became your regular hangout crew. ‘Yeah, you should have seen Jasons’ face as he told us. He was so proud, it was really cute to see him so happy actually.’ Lip had already cut up some bell peppers and onions as he started baking some veggie minced meat. You were grateful that he was cooking because if you were alone you would have ordered takeout or simply not eaten. 

The two of you were at a steady moment in your life actually. You and Lip went all the way back to when he still lived with his siblings on North Wallace. It was an on again off again kind of relationship but in the end, the two of you always found your way back to each other knowing that you had a special connection. He was turning thirty while you just turned twenty-eight and life was great. You both had steady jobs, bought an apartment together and had an amazing friend group. You both loved kids but just for as long as they weren’t yours and you were glad that you were on the same page on that topic. You would give your life for the kids at the hospital but you could leave them and go to your peaceful home. Just perfect. ‘I bet that they will be great parents, we can be the cool aunt and uncle you laughed.’ Lip looked at you with a mischievous look in his eyes. ‘Oh boy, we can cover for them if they sneak around after their curfew and pick them up after parties their parents don’t know about.’ You started laughing. ‘You will have to wait another sixteen years for that mate, we can babysit and buy them cute gifts in the meantime.’ Lip pushed a filled taco shell in your hands. ‘Here, taco’s Gallagher style.’ That just meant that there was nothing more than the veggie minced meat, peppers and onions in the taco but you learned to appreciate it over the years. ‘My favourite style.’ You said before you took a bite of the hot mixture. ‘Thanks, didn’t realize how hungry I was.’ 

The two of you ate in silence, you sitting on the counter while Lip stood next to you. This moment was more than welcome after your busy day. Your peaceful moment got interrupted by Love Is Strange, the song from dirty dancing. It was one of your favourite movies of all time, their love story reminded you of your own relationship. A bad boy meets an innocent girl and they fall in love. Lip bumped against your shoulder while he had a boyish grin on his face and started to hum along with the music. He pretended to play the guitar with his hands in the air and it made you laugh. ‘Oh God, what are you doing?’ It was when the famous part started that he placed his plate down and stood in front of you ‘Sylvia?’ You didn’t answer and just shook your head while laughing as placed your plate on the countertop next to you. ‘How do you call your loverboy?’ He looked at you with a mischievous grind waiting for you to join in while he kept playing the air guitar. ‘Come here lover boy.’ You tried to say in your most serious voice but you failed because Lip made you laugh when he did some air guitar solo. ‘And if he doesn’t answer?’ ‘Oh lover boy?’ You crawled from the countertop and started swaying to the beat of the music. ‘And if he still doesn’t answer?’ ‘Oh I simply say, baby. Oh baby.’ Lip placed his hands on your hips so he could pull you against his body so the two of you could dance to the beat. ‘My sweet baby.’ You softly traced your hands over his chest as you sang the words with a big smile on your face. ‘You’re the one.’ The two of you burst out laughing whiles you were swaying in each other's arms. The two of you pretended to play the guitar pieces on air guitars. ‘Baby, oh baby. My sweet baby.’ He placed a quick kiss on your lips, both having big grins on your face as he did. ‘You’re the one.’  

The song ended and the two of you were standing in the middle of your kitchen with your arms around each other with big smiles on your faces. “O Children” from Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds started  to fill the room before any of you said a word and Lip pulled you in closer and softly started swaying the both of you to the rhythm of the song. ‘Forgive us now for what we've done, It started out as a bit of fun.’ Lip murmured the words against your hair as the two of you were dancing. It was a sad song but you loved the way it was composed, it made you feel things even if you didn’t understand what the singer had written it about. ‘Thank you, I needed this.’ It was only a soft mumble but loud enough so he could hear you. ‘I love you y/n.’ A small smile spread across your lips as he looked down at you. You reached up so you could gently press your lips against his. ‘I love you Lip.’ You buried your head against his shoulder and sniffed his familiar scent. This was what home felt like. 

[charles-rxwlands]

the aftermath of 'i love you.'

this is the sequel to my fic how kaz would react to 'i love you.' which was basically all angst. spoiler alert: this is all angst, too.

pairing: kaz brekker/reader but not exactly (??) cause they've broken up so uh

rating: teen

word count: 1.5k (rounded up)

summary: what happened after you said 'i love you,' to kaz

tags: gender neutral!reader, angst, unhappy ending

warnings: swearing, self-deprecating thoughts, and i think that's it? but pls lmk if anything else is needed

read on ao3

a/n: the writing quality of this really went 📉📈📉 but in my defense i wrote most of this while my brother watched tommy innit videos at full volume so ofc i was distracted.

and fyi muzzen is not an oc, he's one of the minor minor characters in soc!

once again, feedback and reblogs are appreciated! hope you enjoy reading <3

Kaz's pov

He watched you from the other side of the room as you blatantly flirted with Muzzen. He had his glass of kvas (Jesper had begged for the club to order the ravkan mead for weeks) in a death grip. You ran your fingers through your hair, and smiled at something Muzzen had said. He tugged lightly on the collar of your jacket, making you laugh softly. Kaz's heart tightened, jealousy settling in his chest.

You looked happy, even as you conversed with the brainless bodyguard who probably couldn't count up to ten. Kaz hadn't been able to make you happy like that. But you had loved him anyway, and he had 'fucked you over', as you'd put it.

I love you.

You're a coward, Brekker.

Kaz let out something in between a sigh and a frustrated grunt. He drained the rest of his drink in one go, and set the glass down more violently than he'd intended. His scowl deepened, if that were even possible, when he sensex Inej slide into the seat next to him. He waited for her to speak, because he sure as hell wasn't going to initiate the conversation. What was there to say? You and him were over. And it was all his fault. 

"Kaz," Inej said. Her tone of voice was gentle - too gentle. He didn't want to be pitied, for fuck's sake. 

"What is it, Inej?" he snapped. 

"Tell me what happened between you and Y/n."

"Nothing to tell." He shrugged. 

Annoyance flickered over her face. "I care about you both, you know," she said. "I don't like seeing you two like this."

He gave her a withering look, if only to disguise the ugly feeling that flared up within him at her words. 

Don't care about me.

Don't love me.

You can't.

Kaz bit the inside of his cheek and hung his head. He studiously ignored Inej for a solid minute. At some point, he noticed that you and Muzzen had abandoned your corner table, most likely to go suck each other's faces off. The thought sent jolts of jealousy through his heart. 

"For Saint's sake- did she break your heart? Is that it?" she demanded, apparently having had enough of his silence.

He 'tsked' in annoyance, standing up abruptly. He snatched up his cane. "Maybe I broke hers," he muttered before walking off. He didn't want to answer questions today. Or ever.

Inej didn't follow him, and he was thankful for that. He trudged up the stairway, the rickety steps creaking under his weight. Emotions swirled within him, brewing up a storm. It was just a matter of time before he exploded, because as much as he hated to admit it, he was still human. Especially when it came to you. 

You had been one of the first people to see his humanity, and the last thing he wanted was to become another monster in your life.

But then again, maybe it was too late.

Suddenly, he bumped into someone. He hissed, flinching backwards. "Watch it-," his next words died on his tongue when he looked up, and came face to face with you. For a few, painfully awkward moments, the two of you held eye contact. Your face was stony, but your e/c eyes betrayed some kind of emotion that Kaz couldn't be bothered to decipher right now.

"Sorry, Brekker," you apologised. Your tone was flat. "C'mon, Muzzen," you gestured for him to follow you back down with a jerk of your head.

His hand twitched at his side as you left, almost as if his body yearned for your presence. Your shoulders nearly touched - missing each other by less than a centimetre. He couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. 

Letting out another sharp breath, Kaz resumed the walk back to his room. His footsteps grew quicker and more urgent. Your name echoed in his mind, as well as the three words that had haunted him for days now. 

Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He slammed the door behind him when he finally reached his quarters. His cane fell to the floor, although his gloves stayed on. He stumbled into the cramped bathroom, bracing two hands against the rusty sink. He twisted the tap open, ignoring the squeak of the old mechanism that would have otherwise annoyed him. A gentle stream of water flowed from the tap head, and he splashed some on his face. 

No, he thought stubbornly, I am not going to break down because of Y/n.

The despair that rattled inside of him said otherwise.

f only he had reacted better when you'd told him you loved him. If only he hadn't yelled at you and called you all those horrible things that weren't true about you in the slightest. You weren't selfish at all. You were the exact opposite. You were kind, and thoughtful, and understanding - so, so understanding of him and his endless baggage. And he had- he had ruined it all, because of his own cowardice.

You're a coward, Brekker.

I know, he thought, not for the first time. I'm sorry. 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Your pov

"I- I'm sorry, Muzzen, but I think I'm gonna turn in for the night," you said to the bodyguard, smiling sheepishly. "I've got a bit of a headache."

"It's alright," he said, giving a half-hearted smile back. It was clear he didn't believe you. You didn't know if that was because your acting skills weren't as up to par as you thought, or because the bodyguard was smarter than you made him out to be.

You all but ran up the stairs, nearly sagging in relief as the door closed behind you. You suddenly couldn't stand the feeling of the fabric of your coat on your skin and shrugged it off; Kaz had bought it for you, because of course the reminder of him lingered everywhere you went.

Your room wasn't anywhere near big, but it was a good way away from Kaz's, and for the first time, you were grateful for that. You couldn't deal with him at the moment.

Wait, no, that came out wrong. It wasn't him specifically that you couldn't deal with, it was the bad memories (or, rather, memory, as there was one key shitshow that had ruimed everything) that came with him.

Oh, Saints, why, why, why had you told him you loved him? Things had been going so well! And then you- you fucked it up. Yes, you had blatantly blamed this on Kaz the day of the argument, but deep down, you knew you were the one at fault. 

Your heart ached every time you thought of him. You missed Kaz. So, so much. It hadn't escaped you how he had been eyeing you and Muzzen earlier in the evening. You could only hope that he was staring out of jealousy, and not devising some foolproof plan to get rid of you.

What would it take for Kaz to forgive you? Or had you fucked things up beyond repair? 

"Shit," you whispered, leaning your head against the wall. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes. "Shit." You didn't know what exactly was 'shit'. Maybe the decision you came to moments later.

I'm going to apologise to him," you said to your empty room. "I will."

With a sniffle, you cracked open your door and slipped back outside. You had left your coat in a pile on the floor, making you vulnerable to the cold that pierced the empty areas of the Crow Club. Your feet carried you to Kaz's room naturally. You barely had to think about where you were going. Instead, you thought of Kaz himself. 

Kaz. Your fallen angel, you used to call him in your mind. You couldn't express how sorry you were. You didn't even know what you were sorry for. Loving him? Loving him, and saying it aloud? Loving him, and saying it aloud, because you were so sure he felt the same way? 

You had been being selfish. Kaz said so himself. Selfish and stupid. Of course Kaz didn't love you.

At last, you were in front of his door. You raised a fist to knock. Opened your mouth to call out. Except you did none of those. You just stood there, tears welling up in your eyes once again, a familiar pang of sadness in your chest. 

He wouldn't want to see you. How could he? This was your fault, wasn't it? It was your selfishness, and your wishful thinking that had gotten you two into this position. You missed him, but you wouldn't go as far as to think he missed you, too. If you attempted to apologise… would it really be for him? 

You wouldn't be selfish. Not again.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. 

You turned around, and walked away. 

[magniloquent-raven]

so there's this post @draculcid made a lil while ago that i thought was fuckin ADORABLE, and i wrote a thing. that sat in my drafts for a while lol, but here is the finished product, pls enjoy

--

if asked, he honestly couldn't say how he ended up being holly wheeler's babysitter. something to do with steve mentioning to claudia, who mentioned to karen, that billy has a lot of free time lately, and the next thing he knows he's being cornered at melvald's and strong-armed into spending afternoons with the least bratty wheeler child.

ever since she got her new job and apartment and shit, she's needed someone to pick holly up from school, and apparently billy counts as a qualified adult.

the couple hours he has to spend watching the kid aren't awful, holly's alright, but the five minutes of small talk when mrs.wheeler gets back is always awkward as hell. she tries painfully hard to be polite and he hates it.

but he needs the money. it was either this or waiting tables at the 24hr diner, and, shockingly, he's actually more qualified for the babysitting gig.

maybe he's not dad material or anything, but he manages. he had fun bossing the aqua tots around last summer, while it lasted. the young ones are easier to deal with.

though it's truly exhausting sometimes. on the days when his scars ache and it's more noticeable than ever that he isn't as strong as he used to be because he has to keep putting holly down even though he promised her a piggy-back ride.

but on those days he calls steve, because steve is a goddamn blessing.

steve always has pizza money and he lets holly put glittery clips in his hair—something billy doesn't do anymore, not after she got one tangled so deep in his curls he had to go home with it still in there—and he's a good sport when she wants to play pretend.

today she wanted to play house. billy's not entirely sure what that means but it's keeping the kid happy and steve looks ridiculously adorable in the stupid apron she made him wear, so.

billy though, billy likes to think he still has some dignity left, so he's busying himself cleaning up the mess of lego on the living room floor while steve makes an invisible sandwich for holly.

but then holly says, in her quiet little voice, "is daddy coming home now?" and billy pauses, stops with his hand hovering awkwardly in midair and his heart hammering.

he glances at her out of the corner of his eye. awkward conversations about the fact that her mom and dad are divorced now, and what that all means, are definitely not supposed to be part of his babysitting duties.

how would that conversation even go? he's pretty sure she knows about the separation, she has to, she moved away without her dad, they had to have told her something, but—

"i think she means you, big guy," steve supplies, with barely contained amusement.

ah. right. playing house.

he mentally shakes himself, and drops the lego bin on the coffee table before shuffling over to join steve and holly by the little plastic kitchen set. steve is smirking at him, way to smug for the guy who's wearing a frilly apron.

billy plops on the carpet next to steve. "honey, i'm home," he says dryly.

it takes about fifteen minutes for him to completely forget about feeling weird about it all.

in fact, it's disturbingly easy to slip into his role, making moon-eyes at steve and pretending it's because he's acting. he's been careless lately. letting his feelings get all over the place. he never was that subtle around steve, but the weird domesticity of babysitting a kid together gets in his head.

like when steve pokes fun at his make-belief dish washing skills and it's somehow not embarrassing. and it just does things to billy's stupid heart because it doesn't realize they aren't actually married.

"shut up," billy mutters, softly, too soft, warm and not at all threatening. he should feel off-balance but he doesn't.

"is that any way to talk to your wife?" steve can barely say it without grinning.

his big dumb sunshine-y grin is probably what fried billy's brain enough for him to respond with, "aw, sorry, baby," a little too sweetly to be serious, and then—

it's over before he even realizes what he's doing. and he's left sitting there, leaning into steve's space, looking into steve's eyes, wide with shock, searching billy's face, still inches away because steve hasn't moved or reacted or...

"claire from art class says boys aren't supposed to kiss each other," holly whispers.

billy jerks backward, ending up a foot further from steve than he was before, trying to pretend his heart isn't racing and he isn't struggling to breathe, and his goddamn lips aren't tingling with the phantom sensation of steve's mouth pressed to his, breath mingling, a soft sound just...

he curls his fingers into the carpet at his sides and stares, unseeing, at a stain on the knee of his jeans.

before he can even fathom saying a damn word, steve cuts in with a vehement, "claire from art class is full of shit," and billy startles, turning to look at him. there's a set to his jaw and a spark of something in his eye, determined and steady despite the flush on his cheeks.

it's a really inconvenient moment for billy to get distracted by how fucking gorgeous steve is.

holly lets out a nervous giggle. "steeve...that's a swear."

"ah, fu—uhh...um. right." steve pushes his bangs away from his face and sighs. a couple locks stick out awkwardly when his hand falls away, and it makes billy's fingers itch. "listen, holly. it's not nice to tell people they aren't allowed to love someone—"

"you and billy are in love?" she gasps, her eyes huge and round, flicking between the two of them.

steve turns impossibly pinker, mouth opening and closing silently. billy's heart leaps.

he bites his lip, holding back a smile and trying to stamp down on the bubbling, hopeful warmth in his chest. he needs to do something. right now. something other than stare at steve. he runs a hand down his face, blows out a breath, and tries to get his shit together.

"alright, holly, steve here is gonna make us some hot chocolate, with extra marshmallows, and you are gonna forget this ever happened, deal?"

she glances between billy and steve with a furrowed brow. "and a piggyback ride?"

billy snorts. "sure, kid, whatever you want."

she grins, suddenly, and nods. "okay."

"billy, you sure you're feeling up to that?" steve murmurs. when billy turns to look at him he's a lot closer than expected. his breath catches, the irritated retort on the tip of his tongue evaporates.

"yeah, i..." his gaze wanders down a little, touching, briefly, on steve's mouth before he snaps his eyes back upward. "i'm fine."

steve's hand inches towards his on the carpet between them, fingertips brushing billy's knuckles. holly's staring at them, billy can see her out of the corner of his eye. the scrutiny is setting his teeth on edge but he doesn't pull away. "just. don't push yourself, okay?"

billy scoffs. "yeah, yeah."

and then steve kisses his cheek.

fucking. kisses his cheek.

he doesn't linger, he's sauntering off to the kitchen before billy can even fucking blink. it's brief enough that billy wonders if he imagined the sudden warm pressure of steve's lips against his skin, the way steve's eyes were all lit up and fond and just that little bit defiant, like he was daring billy to say something about it.

they'll talk about it, he's sure. later. billy's a horrifying mix of ecstatic and absolutely terrified. he's shit at talking about his feelings, and so is steve. it's going to be a goddamn shitshow, but...

but still. he has a good feeling about it.

holly's even quieter than usual when she scoots over to sit next to billy, "you love steve?"

"thought we were gonna forget about that, wheeler." he glances down at her. there's nothing but innocent curiosity on her face. he sighs. bites his lip. "...yeah. yeah i do."

[justaredheadf1fan]

The Emilia Romagna 2022 GP killing me softly

Masterlist

Have I been around 5-6 hours shamelessly procrastinating instead of coming here and unburdening myself of all the shit that was going through my mind after that race? Indeed, I have. And now I'm basically writing this late because yes, I'm a fucking mess 🤦🏻‍♀️

Of all the shitshows I was considering possible for this race, worst case scenario was the chosen option, I see. In the words of Günther Steiner, paraphrasing... probably: fucking hell. No way in hell did I see this shit coming, honestly. I hope this is the last time this crap is pulled during this season, otherwise I might have a stroke before the season ends. Marina and I were talking during the race and we came to the conclusion that I've become her during season 2021. Which is true. I worried, I almost cried, I shouted at my laptop, I cursed my way through the whole race, I hated on plenty of the drivers, and so on. And for what.

Anyway, I'm not sure I'll get passed this, it was terrible. No upsides, no fun stuff whatsoever. 1-2 from RBR + Lando 3rd 🤬, Daniel hitting Carlos in the 1st lap and making Carlos retire (not that I care much about Carlos, but good thing my boy went after the race to apologize to him like the teddy bear he is), Leclerc clowning (I'm sorry, darling, but you know it's true) at the very end of the race, Mick unfairly falling back to almost dead last, Lewis 13th (thanks to Ocon's penalty since he was actually 14th)... I can't even begin to describe the clownery on this one.

I might get burned for saying this again, but I'm truly angry at Mercedes. Like, seriously pissed off. From my perspective, as always, I see that yeah Toto apologized to Lewis for the shitty car, but Jesus Christ Torger Wolff, THEN DO SOMETHING USEFUL ABOUT IT SO THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO, MAYBE? Like, they have our guy there trying stuff nobody knows what for anymore, having more weight put onto his tractor of a car and on the other side you have George (nothing against him) calmly swinging by ending up P4 with the "same" tractor. Excuse me, what!? I'll say it once (again) and I'll say it twice and I'll say it indefinitely until proven wrong. This is the year Mercedes HAS TO give Lewis everything to win this shitty championship, it's not the year to make him lose it, with no one else to blame this time but themselves. Otherwise, all the promises made and all the pain have absolutely no meaning. And I'm not denying that engineers, mechanics and everyone in the team have worked their asses off, because they have, as they always do, but the result doesn't show it at all.

And now we have Karen Horner saying that Lewis is after all an "eight-time world champion". When you say something without thinking you, deep down you mean it and, in the words of George Russell himself, that's a FACT! Okay, I need to stop.

Then, like it hadn't been hard enough already, I came to Tumblr to seek some solace after this crappy race, and what do I find? The saddest, most heartbreaking image from this day, Charles totally devastated after his failed attempt and resulting crash against the wall (ever so lightly that he could go on at least). I was sending an audio message to Marina while he crashed and I haven't asked her, but I was shocked at the very least, so the audio message must have been funny to hear 🥲 My poor little demon. It was a great effort, but ultimately wasn't bound to happen today I guess.

Last thing I wanna comment on, even though I haven't seen it myself and I had to ask what it was about (remember, I've missed almost 8 years of Formula 1, so I had no clue this happened) before saying anything about it, but apparently some tifosi fans have showed a very racist banner that happened to go viral a few years ago, as usual being racist to Lewis. What a shocker, huh? Worst thing is that most (if not all) media have showed it without remarking how disrespectful and wrong that was. No, no, they just showed if for a good 20-30 seconds and said nothing about it. Good job, Europe. Very, very nice. As if the act itself wasn't bad enough, you all just gave them screentime. For fuck's sake. It's 2022 and this just never seems to stop. Can we be any more stupid as a whole? I wish I could say no, but I know it wouldn't be true. We seriously NEED to do better. We've learnt nothing, it's so fucking sad.

Next race: Miami. New track in the US, which I wasn't looking forward to (even though I'm one US fan, but for more tourist and simple reasons). I mean, didn't we have enough with COTA? Where's Germany? Which has 2 fantastic and crazy tracks where we could enjoy very interesting scenarios, but noooooo. Jesus. Let's hope at least it's a better one, I'm not asking for it to even be a good one at this point.

Until then, peace out darlings!

[jaalismyhusband]

Took you long enough

Title: Took you long enough

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x f!reader

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, explicit language, age gap, corruption kink if you squint

Wordcount: 2.9k

Masterlist

To say that these past few months have been stressful is an understatement. You were an aspiring actress and somehow landed a pretty big role in a movie. It already had some famous names attached to it and you were quite intimidated to star along the other actors. But nonetheless, you put on your big girl pants and took the opportunity. Caught in a loop of constant stress, memorizing the lines, filming the scenes, promoting the movie, you had only so much time to really appreciate what was going on. It was only after the first month of filming you realized what the hell was actually happening.

Your co-star Sebastian Stan has helped you a lot with handling everything. You remember, when you found out he was starring in the movie as well, you almost passed out. Getting to know him was such a surreal experience. Although you had a big crush on him, you stayed respectful towards him and you two became rather close friends.

To be honest, the more you got to know him, the more you liked him. And this time it wasn’t just a platonic crush. You tried to fight it, but your struggles were fruitless. You had it bad for your best friend. Acting on your feelings was not an option however. It was no secret that no woman occupied his bedroom for more than one night. You knew it was bad news to fall for him, yet you couldn’t help yourself. You liked how he didn’t pretend, but actually listened to you. How he seemed to remember even the little details you mentioned to him. How protective he was of you from the day you met, especially while defending you when people called you “the new kid” - the nickname stuck with you during the whole period of filming, much to your dislike. You knew they meant well when they called you that nickname, trying to make you feel like a part of the group. You were much younger than most of the cast, but you didn’t think of yourself as a child anymore. It seemed impossible to convince others of that, though.

Only a few people respected you enough not to use that nickname - one of them being Sebastian. At times you thought he didn’t see you as a kid with the way he treated you and you were naïve enough to get your hopes up. That was a mistake, you thought, as you watched the interview Sebastian had done earlier that day. He was asked about the cast members. You anxiously waited for your name to be mentioned, palms sweating as you guessed what he would say about you.

“What about Y/N? You seem close, not to mention how often you are spotted together.” The interviewer raised his brow, as he waited for an answer.

Sebastian smiled widely as he answered: “Yeah, we are really close. She’s like a little sister I never had, you know?”

Your heart clenched painfully, as you stopped the video. You just had to accept that it would never work. How could you be so stupid to think he’d actually like you, when he had so many women at his feet, begging to be noticed by him. You were thankful you were his friend - that had to be enough. It wasn’t, though. No matter what you told yourself, you always ended up thinking about him in inappropriate ways.

The door on your trailer opened and revealed happy Sebastian with take out.

“Hey, I thought to bring you some food, since it’s going to be a long day today.” He smiled at you as he sat down next to you on the couch, handing you your food.

“Thanks.” You smiled back. You didn’t waste time and dug in, only now realizing how hungry you were. He seemed to know you better than you knew yourself.

Sebastian broke the comfortable silence: “Hey, so, I want to ask you for advice.” Did he seem nervous? No, you thought as you hinted him to ask away.

“There’s this woman, that I like. I shouldn’t, but something about her is so intriguing, I can’t help it. And I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“I can’t believe you are asking me for an advice on how to pick up women. You getting rusty, old man?” You joked, as his face fell in disappointment.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I think I’m ready to go all the way with her. But she’s not really – uhm, how to put it – available. That’s why I’m so nervous about it,” he sighed, as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Right, sorry. But still, I think you’re perfectly fine. Just ask her out. She’d be stupid to reject you,” you spoke sincerely.

“Thanks, I’ll go for it then.”

The rest of the lunch was enjoyed in silence.

Few days have passed and your mood seem to only decrease as the time went on. You secretly hoped Sebastian was talking about you and that he would ask you out later. But this was your life, not a romcom. Your hopes were crushed, when you asked Sebastian about it and he confirmed what seemed like your worst nightmare.

“She said yes!” he exclaimed excitedly and you gave him a hug to hide the mixture of unpleasant emotions plastered on your face.

“I’m so happy for you,” and you were, truly. As long as he was happy, you would be too. But why did it hurt so much anyway?

Ever since then, you just weren’t your ever smiling self. What you were was a millennial and you did what millennials knew best – repressed your emotions. Stuffed them deep inside your soul where nobody could acknowledge them, not even you.

The days seemed repetitive. You were exhausted from putting up a show not only when you were filming, but now also when you were in a company of your friends. Luckily, there was only one scene to film and then a much needed vacation awaited.

“CUT!” screamed the director. “What the hell Y/N?! This is the seventh take and you still can’t get it right.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get it this time, I swear,” you apologized and immediately took your spot, wanting nothing more, than to finish this scene, go home and curl up in bed while watching your favourite show.

Today was just one of those days, when it seemed like the whole universe conspired against you. First, your alarm didn’t go off, which resulted in being late on your last day. Your hands were shaking by the time you got to the set and you managed to knock over the cup of coffee, just barely missing your costume. Not to mention how anxious you were, since you were purposely avoiding Sebastian. You only missed him more and yet, you couldn’t stand being in his presence. It hurt not being able to look into his eyes. This all held you back from giving a flawless performance in front of the camera, which only frustrated you even more.

“We believe in you, kid. Breathe, focus. Action!” You were truly thankful for the support, as you finally got the scene right.

“And cut! We got it! Ok, that’s it, guys. It’s been pleasure to work with you all. As you may have heard, there will be an afterparty, if you will, tonight. Please, do come! Till then have a great day everyone!” Finished the director and people started to clap. There has been a heavy boulder of a rock lifted from your shoulders as you realized this was it. You quickly said your goodbyes to everyone, eager to go home and hide.

“Y/N! Wait!” you were on your way out when you heard your name being called. You sighed and put on a smile, before you faced Sebastian.

“Hi, I’ve tried to call you, but you weren’t picking up. You’ve been distant lately. Have you been avoiding me?” He accused.

“No! No, I uh… My phone has been malfunctioning these days, I’m getting it repaired soon,” you weren’t proud of yourself for lying to him, but you weren’t ready to tell him the truth just yet.

“Are you coming to the afterparty?” It was obvious he didn’t buy your white lie, but decided not to ponder on it.

“Oh, I don’t think I am. I’ve had an extraordinarily shitty day and I don’t wanna be a party pooper.” You immediately gave him a list of excuses.

“Yeah, yeah, quit it, queen. I’ll pick you up at 7.” He left you no space to argue and just walked away. You shook your head in disbelief and made your way home.

“Finally,” you exhaled a big breath once you collapsed on your bed. Sleep was an alluring way how to avoid your problems. So, you did the reasonable thing and took a nap.

You woke up right as the sun was setting. You still hadn’t decided if you were going to go to that stupid get together or not. You knew it would be a nice change of pace, to let go for one night. Afterall, it was a celebration of the hard work the cast had done. On the other hand, Sebastian would be there. And now that you thought about it, he would probably bring that woman, he asked out earlier. You weren’t ready to see Sebastian all lovey dovey with someone else, god no.

But this was also the chance to see him for the last time. You weren’t sure if he would keep hanging out with you after the movie was done. Tears stung in your eyes as you realized that he would probably cut ties with you. Sure, you would call each other once a week, then once a month, then only on holidays and then he would eventually stop calling you whatsoever. You were going to lose him. You were so sure of it. The tears were now streaming freely down your cheeks as you hyperventilated. All of those emotions that were supposed to stay stored away came at you at once, demanding to be experienced, to be felt.

You couldn’t calm down and there was only one person who was able to soothe you. Your best friend from high school. Due to your career you two weren’t hanging out as often as you’d like, but your bond hadn’t suffered because of that. You dialled her number after you blew your nose, so you were able to somewhat form words.

“Hi, Y/N! Oh my god, it’s been so long since we’ve actually talked!” You sobbed even harder when you heard her enthusiastic voice.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” she pleaded, as you tried to calm yourself enough to talk.

“Today has just been such a shitshow,” you cried out. You told her all about your day, but the topic soon enough changed to the real reason why you were crying – Sebastian.

“You know what’s the worst thing? I love him. So fucking much. And I know he doesn’t feel the same. He sees me as his little sister. SISTER. No way he would be attracted to someone he considers a sibling. Oh, and have I mentioned that now he’s suddenly had a change of heart and stopped sleeping with random women because he mEt SoMEoNe sPeCiaL?” you mocked him, “I just can’t. I know that I did this to myself and it’s not his fault, but fuck! I can’t even tell him how I feel, because there is only one scenario to this – him ending our friendship because of it. I don’t know if I’m ready to lose him completely.” You kept on rambling as your supportive friend listened, offering you her kind words here and there.

Soon after she apologized profusely, as she explained her break was over and she had to get back to work. You assured her it was okay and that you were thankful she found some time to listen to you pour you broken heart out through the phone. She ended the call by reminding you that she loved you and hung up.

You sighed and blew your nose again. You stood up from your bed, taking the used tissues with you.

“Fuck.” You stopped dead in your tracks, feeling like a deer in front of a headlights. There stood a very shocked Sebastian.

“How did you get here?”

“I came to pick you up, remember? Front door was unlocked, so I let myself in. You didn’t respond when I called your name. I looked for you and found you here, crying,” his voice cracked at his last words: “I have never seen you cry before.” He seemed truly sad, but you were too frightened to notice.

“How much of it did you hear?”

“Everything.” He exhaled and you struggled to meet his gaze. You huffed, storming out of your bedroom, leaving him behind. You just wanted to disappear right on the spot and avoid this confrontation.

You almost ran to the kitchen, throwing the tissues to the bin. You hoped this was all just a bad dream and that in fact Sebastian wasn’t here, but all that convincing was futile once you turned around and saw him sitting in your kitchen. There was a tense silence, as none of you knew what to say next. The air grew heavy, suffocating you.

“So,” Sebastian cleared his throat, “you like me?” To which you only nodded, as you leaned on the counter.

“Why?” he asked. You laughed at that, the sound so alien to you because of all the crying.

“You were nice to me from the first day. You gave me a chance to get to know you. Once we started hanging out I just, I don’t know. I like how you talked to me, like I wasn’t just the new kid. You actually listened to what I had to say. You made me feel special, Seb. Not to mention, you look like a fucking Greek god,” he chuckled at that.

“Weren’t you discouraged by my age? Or the fact that ‘I slept with random women’?” he asked, using your words against you.

“Well, I can’t blame you for that. And I can’t blame those women either. And your age never bothered me. In fact, it’s just another thing about you that turns me on.” You realized too late what you were about to say and just said it. Your eyes widened and your face heated up, as you tried to shrink your existence and hide from Sebastian’s piercing gaze.

“I turn you on?” Sebastian asked, amused by how embarrassed you were. He stood up and walked up to you. You shied away, but he trapped you in between his arms against the counter, so you wouldn’t run.

“I’d like your advice on something,” he started as he looked you straight in the eyes, “There’s this girl I’ve befriended. She’s really young and innocent, like an angel. I think I liked her right from the start, but I knew I wasn’t good for her. And yet, I can’t help but be attracted to her. I’ve tried to forget, but all those meaningless nights and faceless women couldn’t fill the void. Couldn’t erase the feelings she brought up in me every time I thought of her, saw her, touched her. I think about her almost every night. About how I’d hold her, kiss her, make her moan my name.” You squirmed under his gaze, but he paid no mind as he continued his monologue: “I fantasize about deflowering her, turning her into a mess, while I transform her into my greedy whore. The image makes me painfully hard. And now, I have a chance to make her mine. What do you say, doll? Should I go for it?” You gasped at his confession and only weakly nodded.

His lips met yours in a desperate kiss. It was all tongue and teeth. He wasn’t gentle with you by any means, not that you wanted him to be. His hands pulled you impossibly close, as they squeezed your ass, making you moan into the kiss. You both had to stop and take a breath, your foreheads connecting as you panted.

“I made her up, you know,” spoke Sebastian softly.

“What?”

“The woman. She doesn’t exist. It was you who I’ve been talking about, but then I chickened out.”

“Why?” you were curious and anxious at the same time to hear his answer.

“You called me an old man! I thought you would be creeped out!” he got defensive.

“That was a joke, Seb,” you laughed, “Why did you tell me that she accepted?”

He awkwardly scratched his neck, as he mumbled: “I didn’t want to disappoint you, that your advice hadn’t worked.” You just burst out laughing at that. Sebastian didn’t like that, as he faked getting offended and hurt, which only caused to make you cry-laugh. You finally calmed down, after a while, only now seeing how Sebastian was watching you the whole time. He gently wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, as he held your face.

“I love you, Seb,” it felt good to finally say it out loud. You were absolutely lovestruck and at this point you didn’t care.

“Took you long enough,” you rolled your eyes at him, as he smirked.

“I love you too, doll.”

[yeah-all-of-it]

“Hey, sleepyhead! Get up! Busy day!” Ian calls from the bathroom.

He hears a grumpy, incoherent groan come from somewhere underneath the pile of blankets on the bed. After he finishes fixing his hair, he walks over to the bed. He perches himself gently on the edge, slowly sliding his hand underneath the bright white, high thread count duvet, a housewarming gift they had treated themselves to several months ago along with a new mattress and some sheets. After having to bang in walk-in coolers and dugouts and sleep on old mattresses and prison bunks for years, they wanted their bed to be a haven.

He has to feel around but Ian finally finds the waistband of Mickey’s boxers, and slips his hand in. This elicits a more pleasant groan from the pile of blankets.

Ian leans down and whispers softly, “We don’t have time now since someone decided to sleep in so long, but if you get up now, I promise I’ll make it worth your while later.”

“Ugh, fine,” Mickey grumbles, throwing off the covers and rolling out of bed. He stumbles to the bathroom, still half asleep, and shuts the door. Ian continues getting ready as he hears Mickey’s usual morning ritual; taking a piss, washing his face, brushing his teeth. He emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, decidedly more alert, and stops dead in his tracks.

There, standing in front of the full length mirror affixed to the back of the bedroom door, is his husband. He is dressed in a navy blue suit that looks like it was crafted just for his body. A slim fit jacket that enhances his broad shoulders and hugs his muscular arms. Slim leg trousers that show off his perfect ass, still deliciously thick from a few remaining quarantine pounds. Underneath the jacket is a crisp white dress shirt with a burgundy tie, and he has a pair of wing tips the color of caramel on his feet. He has put some gel in his red hair, not losing his curls, but styling them a bit more than normal. In short, he looks fucking incredible.

Once Mickey is able to breathe again, he manages to get out a flirty, “Hey there, Mr. Milkovich,” while very blatantly panning his eyes up and down Ian’s body.

Ian glances up at his husband, standing there in nothing but his ratty boxers, and grins at him.

“See somethin’ you like?” Ian inquires.

Mickey nods his head and smiles that million watt smile of his.

“C’mere.”

Mickey does as instructed and saunters over to Ian, who wraps Mickey tight in his arms and presses a kiss onto his mouth, gently sucking on Mickey’s lower lip. He lets his hands wander aimlessly all over Mickey’s bare back and Mickey melts into him with a soft “hmmmm”.

“Okay okay okay,” Mickey finally interjects, and pulls away. “You’re turnin’ me the fuck on and unless you want that fancy fuckin’ suit ripped off’a you right now, we gotta stop.”

Ian steps back and holds up both hands in mock surrender.

He then walks over to the dresser to grab his wallet and phone. “Mick, you got about forty five minutes to get ready before we have to leave.” He kisses Mickey on the cheek and steps out of the bedroom door, yelling from the hallway, “I’ll brew some coffee and we can take it with us. Lip will kill me if we’re late for his wedding.”

Forty minutes later, Mickey walks out into the living room where Ian is waiting on the sofa, playing some stupid game on his phone. He has poured two travel mugs of coffee that are in front of him on the coffee table. He looks up when he hears Mickey enter the room.

Mickey has on a modern dark gray suit, black dress shirt, black tie, and black wing tips. He’s gelled his jet black hair and it harkens back to years ago, when he was younger and wore his hair gelled every day. His brushed white gold wedding band gleams in the sunlight coming in from the window as he reaches up to adjust his tie. His bright blue eyes pop against the dark color of the suit. Ian sets his phone down and stands up slowly, unable to take his eyes off of his husband.

“Hell-o, Mr. Gallagher,” Ian purrs, while strutting up to Mickey, placing his hands on either side of his freshly shaven face. He slides his hands down Mickey’s arms and buries his nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply. He smells of shampoo and Irish Spring soap, fresh from the shower, not yet tainted by the scent of cigarette smoke. He kisses Mickey’s neck gently, sighs, and reluctantly pulls away.

“We have to leave right now if we plan on being at the church by noon for the first round of pictures,” Ian states, double checking his watch.

“Alright, well let’s get goin’, GQ,” Mickey says with a sly grin and a quick raise of his eyebrows, grabbing his coffee on the way out.

Ian’s close behind and smacks Mickey on the ass before closing the door behind them.

———

“You’re early! I’m so fuckin’ proud!” Lip exclaims as the Gallagher-Milkoviches walk into the church.

He steps up to Ian and gives him a tight hug with a firm pat on the back; actually shakes Mickey’s hand. “Hey, you shitheads clean up pretty nice!”

Ian and Mickey both give him synchronized middle fingers.

“Uncle Mickey! Uncle Ian!” Franny yells and runs up to them, jumping into Mickey’s arms. She’s wearing a burgundy sparkly dress with a poofy tulle skirt and gold Doc Martens.

“Hey, kid!” Mickey says sweetly, swinging the tiny girl into the air, causing her to squeal with delight.

“Franny, you look beautiful!” Ian says to her once Mickey has set her down. “I love your dress!”

“It’s like the one I wore when you married Uncle Mickey!” she chirps cheerfully.

“It sure is!” Ian exclaims, giving her a big hug.

“Hey, Lip, where’s the newest little Gallagher?” Ian inquires. “Gotta get some snuggles in before things get busy.”

“She’s right over here, man. Tami’s got her. She’s gotta go get dressed anyway. Come on.”

Ian walks with Lip over to Tami, who is holding a snuggly baby in her arms, dressed in a soft cotton burgundy colored dress and a white cardigan, with little gold moccasins on her feet. Tami gives Ian a big hug and passes the baby off to him before heading elsewhere to put her gown on.

“Hey, there Sophie Gallagher. Uncle Ian missed you!” he coos. “I can’t believe you are three whole months old! And your mommy and daddy are getting married today!”

He glances up and sees Mickey standing off to the side, looking at Ian holding the baby with nothing but love in his eyes. Ian can’t wait to have kids with Mickey, but there is no pressure. They’ll get there one day. Right now they’re just enjoying being husbands and uncles. Mickey’s still nervous around babies, but Franny and Fred adore him.

“Okay okay, my turn!” Debbie interjects. She carefully takes Sophie from Ian and goes to sit down.

Ian spots Fred and heads over to him. “Freddie, my man, what’s up!” he says and picks up the toddler in the matching tiny blue suit who wraps his arms around Ian’s neck, saying, “Hewwo, Uncle Een!” in his sweet little voice. “Where’s Uncle Mickey?”

“He’s right over there. You wanna go tickle him?” Ian asks playfully.

“Yeah! Wet’s go!” They run over and wrap Mickey in a big bear hug. The tough guy can’t help but melt into a big puddle around his nieces and nephew.

“Hey, buddy!” Mickey exclaims, laughing at Fred’s small fingers tickling his sides.

Typical Gallagher chaos is happening. Liam is trying fruitlessly to convince Franny to go potty before things start. Debbie and Lip are arguing about something, as usual. Carl can’t find his suit jacket.

“Alright, we’ve gotta get this show on the road, people!” the photographer yells over the noise.

The photographer attempts to line up the bridesmaids - a couple of Tami’s childhood friends, Debbie, and Cami as the maid of honor, all dressed in burgundy chiffon floor length gowns. Debbie continues to gripe at Lip from her spot in line.

He then tries to get all the boys to line up - Ian, who is the best man, Brad, Carl, and Liam the groomsmen. The photographer has to shoot Ian a look as he puts Carl in a headlock when they are supposed to be lining up.

“Sorry!” Ian yells, straightening his suit and stepping into place.

Rounding up Franny and Fred and getting them to stand still proves to be easier than getting the adults to cooperate.

Mickey just sits back and watches the Gallagher shitshow with a huge grin on his face.

———

“You ready to do this, big brother?” Ian asks while standing in the hallway behind the sanctuary. The faint sound of people finding their seats and conversing quietly fills the air around them.

“Absolutely. Tami’s a good woman, ya know? She calls me on my bullshit, which is something I really need. She’s fuckin’ beautiful and she’s an amazing mom to Fred and Sophie. I’m really fuckin’ lucky, man,” Lip says, and Ian thinks he sees tears forming in Lip’s eyes. “I love her.”

Ian just smiles. “Soft motherfucker,” he jokes quietly and wraps his big brother in a hug, squeezing the back of his neck.

They hear the wedding march begin and know it’s their cue to step out into the sanctuary.

As they stand at the front of the church, the doors open and reveal Tami on the arm of her father, wearing a white beaded gown. It’s strapless and form fitting til it gets to the bottom where it fans out. She has her long blonde hair pulled up into a soft chignon, wispy hairs around her face, no veil. Simple. Lovely. She has a radiant smile on her face as she looks at her husband to be.

They begin to recite their vows and Ian notices they have chosen traditional vows. The same ones he and Mickey said to each other almost two years before.

“I Phillip, take you, Tami...”

“I Tami, take you, Phillip...”

“In sickness and in health...”

Ian can’t help but find Mickey in the crowd, locking eyes with him.

“For richer or poorer...”

Mickey softly smiles at Ian, and Ian just knows that sensitive asshole’s eyes are tearing up.

“Til death do us part.���

Ian is smiling at his husband like an idiot now, unable to take his gaze off of him. He can’t help but think of the day when they said those same beautiful words to each other, meaning them with their whole hearts. They had already been through most of it; sickness, poverty, better and worse. And they had made it. Making those promises that day just cemented that they would always go through those inevitable things together.

It was the best day of Ian’s life. The beginning of their forever. No more forced separations. No more goodbyes. No more lonely nights, wondering if the other is safe and okay. He has to fight back tears; this is Lip and Tami’s day after all.

Lost in thought, he’s startled back to the present by applause as Lip dips Tami for a kiss that’s a little too hot for church. This elicits a standing ovation and whoops and whistles from the guests. Ian can’t help but cheer and clap for his brother and his new wife.

———

After another hour of pictures, these including the bride and groom, they all head to the reception hall.

It’s decorated with white and burgundy linen tablecloths and elaborate floral centerpieces. There are Edison bulb strings hanging from the ceiling. A DJ is spinning beside the parquet dance floor, disco lights flashing away. There is a large table full of chafing dishes and a three tired cake on a separate round table.

“Man, the Tamiettis really went all out,” Mickey says to Ian, grabbing a carrot stick off one of the veggie platters with his fingers, sticking it into the bowl of dip, and shoving it into his mouth.

“Like you have room to talk, Mr. Gold- chiavaris-with-the-white-cushions,” Ian jokes, to which Mickey responds with a light hearted “fuck off”.

After filling their starving bellies with meatballs, chicken wings, finger sandwiches, and cake, the Gallaghers take to the dance floor. They know how to party and they’re not about to let this amazing night with music, free food, and an open bar go to waste.

The whole family is dancing to YMCA, a wedding reception staple, when the end of it fades into a slow song. Ian and Mickey lock eyes. Ian raises a quizzical eyebrow and Mickey nods, almost imperceptibly. Ian slowly walks over to him, gently grips his hips, and pulls him in close. Mickey snakes his arms around Ian’s waist and grasps his hands together at Ian’s lower back. Ian slides his hands up Mickey’s arms and wraps them around his shoulders. They sway slowly to the music, bodies pressed together so closely they can feel each other’s hearts thrumming in their chests. Mickey nuzzles his face into Ian’s neck as Ian rubs his hand on the back of Mickey’s head. They are intoxicated by each other, the romance of the day, and the few Old Styles they’ve shared from the bar.

“Hey, Ian?” Mickey inquires, a little muffled, not bothering to move his face from its place in Ian’s neck.

“Yeah, Mick?” Ian questions, talking into Mickey’s hair.

He hesitates for a second, like he’s trying to think of the right words. “Maybe... maybe it’s the beer, or… or just this day, or maybe being married to your ass is making me fuckin’ soft...” he drifts off.

“Out with it, Mick,” Ian sighs calmly.

“It’s just... I love you. So fuckin’ much. I feel like I don’t say it enough, man,” Mickey finally confesses.

Ian stops swaying, pulls back, and tenderly holds Mickey’s head in his hands. Looks him directly in the eyes. “Mickey. Listen to me. No, you don’t say it very much. But you don’t need to. Because you show me every fuckin’ day. And that’s so much more important and meaningful to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean… you got me to stop wallowing on the couch when I lost my job, paid enough attention that you knew where that could lead. Stopped it before it got bad. Checked in with me. Don’t know where I’d be, ya know mentally, if it wasn’t for you. Worrying about me and shit. Fuck, I probably would have fallen through the cracks years ago without you. And… and you created a job for me so we could work together. You planned a surprise anniversary party for me. You moved to the fuckin’ Westside because I wanted to. You agreed to buy a duvet, for fuck’s sake, and helped me pick it out,” Ian laughs.

“Okay, yeah, I guess I am a pretty amazing husband. You really fuckin’ lucked out, Gallagher.”

“Yeah, damn straight I did,” Ian smiles and pulls his husband back into his arms, thinking the matter settled.

There’s a short beat before Mickey says, so quietly Ian almost doesn’t hear it, “I fuckin’ lucked out, too, ya know.”

“Ya did?” Ian asks casually, expecting a snarky answer. Another slow song has begun so they stay where they are, in each other’s arms on the dance floor.

“Yeah, man. Like… like with my fuckin’ dad?” Mickey begins.

Okay, not where Ian was expecting this conversation to go.

“You… you found nurses for him and shit… and kept trying when they… didn’t work out.” Mickey keeps pausing, like the conversation is making him uncomfortable, but he can’t stop. “He was an evil prick that didn’t fuckin’ deserve our help… but you helped anyway… for me, ya know? ‘Cause it was important to me.

“And then… when he…” Mickey sniffs uncomfortably, reaches up and scratches his nose with his thumb. “…you just let me cry for like, 4 days. Didn’t make fun of me. And you held me. But you didn’t let me forget what a monster he was, no matter how hard I tried to only remember the good shit.”

“Mick, it’s okay, we don’t have to talk about all this, not here anyway —,” Ian begins but Mickey interrupts him.

“No, I wanna… I spent so much of my life never saying what I fuckin’ feel and I want to tell you right now how I fuckin’ feel,” Mickey declares, determined but still so tender.

Ian just nods for him to continue.

“Look, all the shit with my dad is in the past. But I’ll never forget the way you were …just, there for me. Through all of it. It just… it meant a lot to me. It meant everything to me, man. I just… sorry, all this wedding shit has me all fuckin’ emotional and I just needed to let it out. Tell you what you mean to me, that’s all.” He clenches his eyes shut, and squeezes the bridge of his nose with his fingers, only briefly. “Just… don’t fuckin’ get used to it, okay?”

Mickey grins after that last statement, relieving some of the tense emotion of the last several minutes.

Ian smiles back and replies sarcastically, “Wasn’t planning on it, softie.”

“You’re a fuckin’ dick,” Mickey laughs and draws Ian in close, starts to sway to the music again.

“Hey, Mick?” Ian whispers into Mickey’s ear as the song finishes. “I love you too,” and he feels Mickey’s smile light up against his skin.

Ian and Mickey dance and drink the rest of the evening away, celebrating not only Lip and Tami, but also the freedom they’ve found in being so emotionally vulnerable with one another. There is a lightness that comes after getting things off their chests, sharing their unfiltered feelings with one another. This might not have been the ideal occasion to share such heavy stuff, but Ian doesn’t want Mickey to ever be scared again to just blurt out how he fuckin’ feels every minute.

———

They aren’t completely wasted, but are definitely drunk enough that they shouldn’t be driving home. They grab an Uber and Carl, who has an early shift the next morning and quit drinking around 9, drives the ambulance to the Gallagher house where they’ll pick it up later.

Feeling no pain, they laugh and joke and sing like when they were just drunk teenagers, arms tangled around each other, up the elevator and down the hall. It’s nearly 1am and they aren’t exactly being quiet. Their neighbor across the hall, an older eccentric lady named Rhonda, pokes her head out to see what the commotion is, catching the two men pressed up against the wall outside her door in the middle of a steamy kiss.

They finally notice her presence, break apart and Ian blurts out, “Heyyyy, Ms. Rhonda! So sorry to bother you!” as their cheeks turn bright red. They’re not embarrassed that she caught them making out in the hallway, they’re embarrassed because this isn’t the first time she’s caught them making out in the hallway.

“Oh, you beautiful boys are no bother!” she laughs. “Wish I had someone to throw me against a wall and kiss me like that. Shew! You two crazy kids have a great night; god love ya!” and retreats back into her apartment with a friendly smile and a wave.

They laugh, bid her good night, and decide they should probably go inside their apartment before they encounter one of their less friendly neighbors. Ian fumbles around with the key for what feels like an eternity before finally getting the door open. They stumble through the door, slamming it shut loudly behind them, Ian reaching up to lock the deadbolt.

He stops as soon as he throws the keys onto the entry table.

“In case I haven’t told you yet, Mick, you look hot as fuck in that suit. But…,” he steps closer to Mickey. “I think it’ll look even better on our bedroom floor,” Ian teases.

“‘Ey, you look pretty fuckin’ hot yourself,” Mickey responds, biting his lip.

They just stare at each other for a moment, appreciating the sight before them. Suits and ties and dressy shit don’t happen around here that often.

“S’you remember your promise from this morning, right? That if I got outta bed, you’d make it worth my while later?” Mickey asks playfully.

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s fuckin’ later, Gallagher. Time to pay up,” Mickey declares with a flirty grin.

Ian doesn’t even hesitate. Grabs Mickey around the waist and pushes him back toward their bedroom, to their bed with the cloud mattress and the bright white duvet, to their haven.

ETA: Check out Ian, Mickey, and Rhonda’s friendship origin story here!

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Save Me Again•

Summary: Ouchies :/ some hurt+comfort with Kiri. Its a rough mission for Red Riot, his anxiety gets to him, you pick up the pieces.

Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima x NBreader (both 18+)

Warnings: Angst, panic attacks, mentions of blood, death, grounding tactics (five senses method)

Word Count: 1,605

A/N: Wrote this with a big achey heart at five in the morning. It hurts. Sorry y'all lmao.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The images flashing on the television are nothing short of horrendous, they're devastating and gorey. It leaves you feeling painfully sick and hopeless. You cling to Eiji's shirt, crying into the fabric every time a life is lost. The anchorman is talking, but his words are lost somewhere between the speakers and your ringing ears.

A particularly gruesome death is shown, you feel your body sob, but again can't process any sound. Where is he? Where the hell is he?

The screen cuts to blue, some well worded message about sparing the audience of graphic content flashes on it.

You have to breathe, you have to keep moving, you have to focus. You can't though, your lungs won't fill, your body won't budge, and your brain won't settle.

He's ok. He's built for this.

-But, he's cities away, and you haven't heard from him or seen evidence of him on the news… so, what if he isn't ok?

Those villains weren't anything he hasn't faced before, but there were so many of them. More bloodthirsty than usual, more reckless. Now, with the stupid news cut off, you have to just wait and hope to whoever the hell is running this shitshow that Eiji is holding his own.

The secret feed. Fucking hell the secret news feed.

Being a loved one of a Pro, you're connected to a secret news feed that covers events like this uncensored. It's something his commission came up with, not long after you had your first severe panic attack from not knowing if he was alive or dead on a similar mission.

Your phone is torn from your pocket, thumbs flying with urgency as you pull up the feed.

With nearly supernatural timing, the camera pans to Eijirou, who's covered head to toe in ash, debris, and blood.

"Oh, baby…" You choke out, hand reaching for him subconsciously.

In his strong arms, wrapped in rock hard safety, is the limp body of a little boy. Blood seeps from an open gash on his head, it looks deep, it looks serious.

Eiji's face is hard to read, it always is when he's in mission mode. He looks focused, but shaken, resolute, but disturbed.

You watch as he brings the boy to a medic who promptly has him laid out on a stretcher. His pulse is checked, followed by a slow, mournful shake of the medics head.

Then Eijirou's face falls, you can see his heart shredding as if it's his own child laying there.

You cry for him, your heart cracks and falls apart as you watch him realize he was too late. You know what he's thinking, you know he doesn't think he's helping, or that he should even be there.

You know he doesn't think he's a Hero.

You watch helplessly as they stabilize the situation, capture the villains, and clean up the mess. Every time the camera is on Red, your heart breaks all over again. He's not doing well, the rock has been shaken.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

When the front door finally opens, you freeze completely. You should run to him, you should say something, but what would you do? What would you say?

So, you wait. You take in his battered form, the blood, the falling hair, the broken eyes. He shucks off as much of his hero gear as he can.

His eyes stay on the ground as he walks over to you with heavy feet. He slumps down on the couch, elbows on his knees as he buries his face in his filthy hands. He smells like battle, an almost offensive smell, but something you're used to.

After a tense moment of heavy silence, a trembling sob rattles through his exhausted body.

You want to throw yourself on him, wrap around him and coddle him, but you know you have to wait.

"Can I touch you?" You question softly, trying to remember all the steps you need to take to ground somebody when they're shaken up like this.

His only reply is grabbing you by the waist so he can pull you into his lap. His arms lock around your body, his face buried into your chest, and he just cries.

The cries turn to sobs that turn to screams. All sent somewhere deep inside you, somewhere dark and hopeless. Your fingers are in his hair, as soothing as they can be when you're shaking this much.

"I know, baby… I know." You whisper, tears covering your cheeks as you break with him.

"No." He chokes, he says it like he's fighting something, like he doesn't want it to happen.

"You don't know, nobody knows." It isn't accusatory, it isn't angry, it's just painful.

You wait for a moment, unsure of your footing, trying to calculate what to do next.

You have to diffuse somehow, you have to bring him back down. He's nearly hyperventilating, and you don't want him to go through a panic attack. You know you can handle him, but when Eiji panics, it does a real number on him.

"Honey, can you feel me?" You ask cautiously, digging your fingers into his matted hair, squeezing your body around his.

He nods as another gut wrenching sob rips from his throat.

"Ok, good, baby, that's good." You coax.

"You can hear my voice, right? Can I hear yours, please?"

He takes a moment to pull breath into the bottom of his lungs, pressing the side of his face against your sternum.

"I'm here. I'm right here." He answers, just like you practiced.

"Thank you, thank you for being here." You lean back slightly, a bit difficult with how tightly he's holding you. When he feels you shift away, his breathing picks up again, his hands hold on painfully and he shakes his head frantically.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. I'm not leaving." You reassure him, reaching for the water bottle on the table beside the couch.

You guide his face towards yours with a gentle hand on his jaw. He's a mess of tears and snot and blood. His eyes are more bloodshot than you've ever seen them, lips quivering, eyebrows drawn tight with anxiety.

It makes you want to cry as hard as he is, but you can't. If you cry, he'll want to save you, and he's done enough saving for today.

You bring the bottle to his lips, tipping it up and making him drink. He closes his eyes as he takes in the cold water, undoubtedly dehydrated.

"You can taste that, right?" You ask as you pull it away after a few long drinks.

He'll want to chug it, but he can't, it'll make his stomach hurt.

"I can." He answers, almost like a robot, but it's better than nothing.

"Thank you, Eiji, you're ok. I'm here." You remind him.

"Can I take your shirt off?" You ask.

He nods slowly, following the lead you've taken on the situation.

Your shirts are both discarded, as soon as you're rid of the fabric you grab the blanket off the back of the couch and throw it around your back before pressing your bare torsos together.

You've learned that skin to skin is the best way to ground him. As you expect, he melts into your warmth, bringing you back down against him so he can hide his face in your neck.

"You smell nice." He whispers, picking up the senses where you left off, it makes you swell with pride.

"Good, thank you baby, what else is there?" You prompt, willing him to keep going.

"I see our home." He sniffles.

"That's right. You're home. You have me. You're safe." You repeat it a few more times.

Between gentle touches, soft kisses, and extensive reassurance, his breathing settles and his tears stop falling.

"I don't think I should be out there." He finally whispers after several moments of slowly breathing together.

You don't answer, you don't combat it. You both know he should be out there, but you know he needs to get this out, so you let him.

"I couldn't even save one k-kid." The heartbreak in his eyes is immeasurable, inconsolable, it makes you fall apart in a thousand different ways.

You don't speak, you don't fabricate comfort with sweet words. You just let him cry again, full bodied into your neck. He'll do this a few times, settle then fall apart again. You'll be patient, sit there with your glue and tape and piece him back together.

"You saved me." You remind him quietly, recalling how you met.

He truly did, you were almost collateral damage, just another tally mark on the wall counting lives lost to villains. However, one Hero, one brilliant Hero, saved your poor civilian ass.

He pulls away to blink up at you, eyes swollen and wet, broken and searching.

"You saved me." He breathes.

Your forehead falls against his.

"We save each other. That's enough. You're doing enough." You assure him, knowing he needs to hear it.

The push and pull goes on for a little while, you let him break, you stitch him back up. You wipe the dirt and blood from his body, kissing the bruises, reminding him you're real. You clean him up and talk him down, until his body is wrapped around yours in bed.

He cries himself to sleep in your arms, tears falling more slowly, the result of a dull ache that will linger for days. It'll stay this way for a bit, an unstable back and forth, but you'll be here. You'll reach down and pull him up, you'll save him like he saved you.

[hoodharlow]

Mr. Hood [Teacher!Cal AU]: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

AN: So I made it to another chapter in this series. Buckle up folks bc it’s gonna get wild. 

Requested?: no 

Warnings: smut, petty remarks from calum

Word Count: 3600 words 

"Mina, apurate. The meeting has already started." Odalis said impatiently to her daughter in the stall.  

"Ya voy." Mina sang-song.

Odalis knew she should've made her go to the bathroom before leaving the bakery. Now she was late to the meeting for Mina's field trip. She wasn't sure how, but Aubrey roped her into being one of the chaperones. He was going to be, but because Johnathan got called to an emergency work trip, he cancelled.

Overall, she was dreading seeing the other moms. Most of them judged her because she was always working and never helped during fundraisers and all those other PTA activities. Odalis on the other hand didn't like them because one of them started a rumor that she's only Aubrey's surrogate and not really Mina's mom. Because it was completely reasonable for one fifteen year old to ask another fifteen year old to be their surrogate. 

She just can't handle them being up her ass critiquing and giving her disapproving looks. Maybe the box of cheesecake brownies would make up for her tardiness. She knew those moms love her baking. They all conveniently act friendly towards her during Valentine’s day, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

Mina walked out of the stall and gave her an unsatisfied look. She pointed at her chef's jacket and Dickie's pants. "Why didn't you freshen up? You can't meet Mr. Hood like that." 

She’s been insisting Odalis meet her new  teacher so she can date him because her teacher choked on his coffee when she presented her family tree to the class. That family tree project was cursed. 

It was a month ago when she was barely coming home from her night with Calum that Aubrey called her to ask if she could watch Mina because he got called into work. The day was fine. She had a little spa day at home with her, and they watched the first three Shrek movies. After dinner, Odalis was fixing Mina's homework folder when she saw the family tree project. A lot of tears were shed that night, most my Odalis. By the time Aubrey picked her up, the project was finished.

"Why are you so adamant about me meeting Mr. Hood? You know what? I'm not getting into it, hurry up."

She stepped out of the bathroom and paced around until Mina came out. They made their way to her class. As predicted all the moms sent her daggers as she slipped in the classroom. She bumped into a tall figure making her drop the brownies. She silently cursed and apologized to the person as she scrambled to pick up the pieces.

"Just take a seat." the person said.

She immediately recognized the voice. 

It was Calum's. 

Odalis set the box on the table and took a seat next to Mina in the back. 

"As I was saying," Calum continued, looking away from her and back to the other parents. 

Odalis wanted the ground to split open and swallow her whole. Of course she would sleep with her kid's teacher. 

Her phone silently lit up. It was a text from her friend Ashton. 

That was quite an entrance. The message read. 

She looked up and scanned the classroom. She spotted Ashton's bright smile. He waved at her and turned to wave at Mina who returned an enthusiastic wave to him. Her phone lit up once more. 

You're chaperoning?!? I'm about to order a 'MILF of the Year' trophy. 

Odalis rolled her eyes at his message and went back to pretending to follow along to what Calum was saying.

"He's so handsome. I wonder how he's still single." She heard the lady next to her whisper to another mom.

"I know. You can just tell he's good in bed." The other agreed.

Odalis tried paying attention to Calum and the whole itinerary for the day while those two debated which position Calum is best at, but she couldn’t. She itched to tell them that being on all fours while he takes it from behind is a religious experience. Especially when he's whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

She shifted in her small seat, hoping to get some sort of relief in between her thighs. As she watched him, she tried to distract herself from the more filthy thoughts that filled her mind but failed. He talked with his hands, which were not helping the situation at all. There was also his teacher's voice. He spoke more articulate and precise whereas at the bar he was more relaxed and carefree. He sounded so demanding, yet caring. She couldn't explain it, but just from watching him in front of the classroom she knew he belonged there. 

About half an hour later, she noticed everyone got up. She followed suit, and walked over to Mina, who was in Ashton's arms. She glanced back at Calum as he smiled and nodded to whatever the swarm of moms told him. 

"Mina, recoge tus cosas." Odalis told her. 

Her daughter huffed and Ashton set her down. She went back to where she was coloring and picked up her book and crayons. 

"What are you doing here?" Odalis asked Ashton, reaching over to give him a side hug.

"My mate's the teacher. He needed another chaperone for the trip." He explained. He leaned in close her ear. "You didn't hear from me, but he slept with one of the parents here. So I'm here to see that shitshow unfold."

"Oh god, I'd hate to be that parent." She laughed awkwardly.

***

"Fuck! Right there Cal! Yes!" Anya screamed, as Calum took her from behind. In a matter of seconds she was a moaning mess.

“Shit." Calum grunted. 

He closed his eyes, hoping he finally would cum. But all he pictured was Nelly and not the girl in front of him. He frustratedly pulled out of Anya and dumped the condom in the trashcan next to his nightstand.

"Did you—"

"No." He snapped. He dropped his shoulders. "Sorry, I just have a lot of shit in my head right now."

"Don't worry about it. One good thing about you, is that you make sure I finish at least twice." she teased, making him playfully roll his eyes at her.

Calum pulled on his sweats and got out of bed. Thankfully, Anya knew when her time was up. She didn't mind much, it came with the territory. She knew that someone like Calum wasn't in the cards for her. She picked up her clothes and went to the bathroom. 

He gently knocked on the bathroom door. “I’m going to go take Duke out. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Help yourself to anything.”

“Okay, I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick.” She responded. 

He grabbed his hoodie and exited the room. Duke lifted his head from the couch. His tail wagged excitedly as he watched Calum get his leash. He hopped off the couch and hopped on the small bench under the key holder where the leash is. 

After struggling to get the raincoat on Duke, Calum and him were on their way down. Once they reached the lobby, Duke gave him an annoyed look after seeing that here wasn’t any reason for him to be in the raincoat. They spent fifteen minutes wandering around the same tree until Duke decided he rather pee on the small flower garden bed. If Ashton saw him now, he’d drop dead.

They went back inside just as it poured. Calum pressed the elevator button and waited. He answered a text from his best friend sent him, asking if he was still coming over to his girlfriend's belated birthday party as he rode back up to his room. By the time he arrived at his apartment, Anya had left. 

Calum checked his calendar when he put Duke’s leash back on the key holder. The day of the field trip approached faster than Calum anticipated. It was weighing heavily on shoulders that he couldn't fuck it up. While he was getting ready, Dr. Tellez, the principal and his boss, called him telling him that she was going to meet them at the museum for a bit. 

He finished buttoning the last button of his shirt when his phone rang. He patted his pants, cursing that he couldn't find it. He threw all his clothes off the bed and patted the duvet, nothing. He got up and surveyed his room. He spotted it on his night stand. 

He saw Crystal, Ashton's girlfriend and one of the other third grade teachers, on his phone. He'd been avoiding her and Ashton since the meeting. When they went to their friend's house, Ashton badgered Calum the whole ride there, wanting to know which parent he slept with. "'Lo?" He answered. 

"Hey, my car is out of juice. Can you stop by Delicias and hook me up?" Crystal said through the other side.

Delicias was Odalis' bakery and there's no way in hell he was ever going there. 

"Can't you ask Ashton?" He asked.

"I'd ask Ashton, but he rode with me. Odalis is here, but she looks busy and I don't want to annoy her."

Calum silently cursed and rubbed the top of his nose. "I'll be there in a bit."

"Thank you! I'll go make Ashton buy you coffee and breakfast. They make the best bagel sandwiches ever."

Calum bid her goodbye and threw himself on the bed. Duke jumped on the bed and nudged him.

"I know mate," he sighed. He pulled Duke and scratched behind his ears. "Today's gonna be a shit show."

In less than ten minutes he pulled up to Delicias and parked next to Crystal's car. She already had her car ready for Calum. 

"Thank you so much." She said after a few minutes. She tested her car and instantly it roared to life. "Oh look, there's Ashton."

Calum looked up and made a face as Odalis and Mina were with him. Odalis was already looking at him when he met her eyes. She quickly averted her gaze and nodded to whatever her daughter was saying. 

He still couldn't wrap it around his head that Odalis was Mina's mom. But it made sense, personality wise, and everything Mina told him about her made sense too. Which was why seeing her small cutout on Mina's family tree project was adding salt to his wound. 

When he woke up the following morning, he was surprised to find her side empty. He knew their encounter was a one time thing, but he was hoping it would have ended later, after a quick round and breakfast. That day he holed up in his room. His friend Luke had come by around noon to drop Duke off. Calum told him what happened the night before only for Luke to call him a dumbass. 

Calum ended up sleeping the rest of the day and was unprepared for the following day when Mina proudly presented her project. Of all people he was not expecting Odalis to be on there, not to mention his neighbor from a few doors down was also on the poster. Not only did he sleep with his student’s parents, but his neighbor's daughter. Mina just had to put Odalis' father on her poster as well.

"Hi, Mr. Hood!" Mina greeted him when they approached him and Crystal. Calum waved to her.  She not so subtly pushed Odalis to the front. "This is my mom, Odalis." 

"I didn't get a chance to introduce myself the other day at the meeting. I’m Mr. Hood." He told Odalis with his hand stretched out. “Nelly right?”

"It's Odalis actually." She corrected him. 

"Oh sorry, you look like someone I met before with that name." He apologized sarcastically. She gave him a sardonic smile before rolling her eyes.

"I have to go back to work." She told Ashton, ignoring Calum's last comment. She leaned in and gave Ashton a side hug and waved to Crystal. She tucked her hair back. "Mina, let’s go back inside and wait for grandpa."

“You’re not going to the museum?” Crystal asked her. 

“No,” Odalis shook her head, she quickly glanced at Ashton. “I got a last minute order from an annoying customer.”

After Odalis and Mina drove off, Ashton smacked Calum upside his head. 

"You two fucked!" Ashton yelled at him.

"Wha-what are you talking about?" He stammered, rubbing where Ashton hit him.

"I've known Odalis for almost six years. You think I don't know about ‘Nelly’? I was the one that called the cops when the creep showed up here, and I later suggested that she go by a fake name."

"Ash—"

"Don't Ash me. She's like my little sister. I can't believe you fucked my little sister!"

"I didn't fucking know!"

"Ash, fucking calm down." Crystal said calmly. "Here have some tea and go wait in the car."

"Fine, but at the museum I'm paired up with you and not him." Ashton slammed the car door shut, emphasizing his anger toward Calum. Though once inside he happily sipped his prickly pear and hibiscus iced tea. 

***

Calum hadn’t heard from Ashton in two days, which was long for Ashton. So he was surprised to hear from him when he got a text from him on Valentine’s Day morning, that he better show up for Crystal’s surprise birthday party later in the evening. He planned on responding that her party was about two months late, but he didn’t want to risk getting uninvited. 

He slipped his leather jacket over his hoodie and was on his way out. In less than fifteen minutes he pulled up to Ashton’s condo. He was locking his car when a bright red blur hurried past him. 

It was Odalis.

His eyes followed her as she stalked a few boxes with her bakery’s logo on top of a hand truck. She wore a short scarlet red satin dress with a bright red turtleneck sweater. She looked beautiful, plain and simple. 

Calum was going to approach, but hid behind his car when someone walked up to her. He couldn’t see who it was, but from her laugh, he hated him. He grabbed Crystal’s present, a charcuterie set he ordered from Crate and Barrel. He slipped inside and made his way to Ashton’s yard. Grabbing a beer from the cooler behind the makeshift bar, he made his way to greet Crystal. 

“Happy belated birthday, love.” He said, pulling her to hug. 

“Thanks Cal!” She squealed. It was obvious she had a little bit too much to drink. She looked down at the wrapped box. “Is that for me? You got me a present?”

“Of course it’s your birthday party.” He smiled. 

“You’re like the best co-worker, Cal.” She gave him another hug before taking the present and went to her friends. They all cheered as she showed off the box. 

Calum finished off his beer and went over to Michael and his fiance, Hunter. He pulled Michael into a hug and gave Hunter a side hug. He didn’t miss a beat and congratulated them on their engagement. He told Hunter about how nervous Michael was a few weeks ago when he got the guys together to tell them about how he planned to propose. The trio chatted for a while. Ashton eventually joined them. The only person missing was Luke.

“Luke is absolutely smitten. He hasn’t left her side.” Hunter said, sipping some of her piña colada seltzer.

Calum turned back to where she was looking and found Luke talking to Odalis. He frowned seeing her smiling at Luke. Part of him wanted to go up to them, but he couldn't. Ashton would have his head for ruining Crystal's part and serve it in the charcuterie board he got Crystal.

"I'm gonna go get food." He told them. 

"I moved all the food inside and just left the desserts buffet." Ashton told him. 

Calum nodded and went into the kitchen. He grabbed a plate and served himself. He read through some emails from the PTA moms about the upcoming bake sale while he ate.

He went to the bathroom in Ashton's guest room. He heard the bedroom door close as he peed. A hushed voice filled the whole room. After finishing his business he waited a few more minutes until they hung up. He quickly flushed the toilet and washed his hands. His eyes met Odalis' when he exited the bathroom. 

"Following me around I see." she said. 

"I was taking a piss when you got inside. Maybe check if the room's being occupied before coming in, Nelly." He said, leaning against the door.

"It's Odalis." She corrected him.

"Could've fooled me— actually you did." he sarcastically laughed. 

Odalis was quiet. After finding out he was Mina's teacher, she forced her dad to take her place as chaperone. She didn't know how to feel. Part of her wants the earth to swallow her whole, but the part of her feels relieved to see him. She missed him for some odd reason. There was something about him that attracted her to him. 

"You okay?" Calum asked her. He waved his hand in front of her face when he noticed her zone out. 

She blinked a few times and then met his gaze. Her eyes dropped to his lips. She longed to have his mouth on her. She spent nights just getting off at the thought of his kisses. How he kissed with so much determination, how he'd smiled on her lips when she moaned as he fucked her senseless.

Odalis got on her tippy toes and leaned in. It took Calum a second to kiss her back, he surprised that he was kissing her once more. Without breaking their kiss, he grabbed the back of her thighs and picked her up. Pushing her against the door, he locked it. 

She pulled away and  slipped off her sweater. Odalis pushed his jacket off him and helped him out of his hoodie and shirt. She slid her hands over his chest and up to his face. She couldn't believe he was in front of her. 

Their kisses led them to the bed. The last few layers of clothes shed as they got reacquainted with their bodies. 

"Can I have a taste?" Calum whispered in her ear. Odalis looked up at him with an unreadable expression. "I don't have to, of course. Whatever we do is up to you. If you just want to make out then we'll just make out. But if you want to have sex, fine by me. I want you to know that you're not obligated to do anything. We can stop and just act like—"

"Just be gentle." She said, stopping him from rambling.

"Wait, seriously?" His face lit up. 

"Yes." she softly giggled. 

Odalis wrapped her arms around him as she deepened the kiss. She let out a soft groan when Calum pulled away from her lips. She watched him kiss her body as he made his way down. 

He looked up at her when he reached her dripping core. 

"Ready?" he asked. 

Odalis nodded her response, partly speechless that he was actually going to go down on her. 

"Use your words, sweetheart." 

"Yes." 

Calum nodded and opened her legs to him. He kissed up her thigh, gently nipping her and repeated with her other leg. He smirked to himself, hearing how restless Odalis got. 

She let out an inaudible gasp of pleasure when Calum licked her. She tried closing her legs, but Calum's grip on them kept her in place. He moaned at her taste and savored her, taking his time with his tongue. He pushed one of her legs to her chest, giving him better access to her. 

"I'm gonna insert a finger in you, okay?" He asked. 

"Yes, that's okay." She panted. 

Calum continued to eat her out for what seemed an eternity, but Odalis wasn't complaining. He inserted another while he pressed his thumb on her clit. Odalis felt something build up in her. She felt pleasantly overwhelmed with Calum's fingers and tongue. Calum felt it too. He sped up his fingers and circled his thumb on her clit roughly. 

"Calum!" She moaned out, not caring who heard her. Calum lapped up her release. He dropped her legs down and laid next to her.

Odalis didn't wait another second. She pulled him back on top of her and kissed him. They continued to kiss, teasing touches here and there, but nothing too intense for either of them. That is until Odalis thrusted her hips to meet his hips. They rolled around shuffling to get a condom from the drawer in the nightstand. 

"Please, Cal, I want you so bad," she whined. He bit back a sarcastic remark and just gave her what she wanted. She gasped loudly as he slid into her without a warning. 

Calum buried his face in her neck. With a few slow and deep thrusts he began to take her  at that slow and deep pace. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders and back. His head was buried in her neck, praising her with sweet nothings.

“Cal, fuck,” she panted, gripping his biceps as she met his thrusts. 

He pulled his hips back, pulling almost all the way out of her. He slammed into her without a warning and slowly retracted his cock once again. He continued to take her like that until she was a moaning mess. Calum slowly circled his thumb over her clit, nearing her to her climax. She clenched around him, his name was at the tip of her tongue. All she needed were a few thrusts. But then she felt empty. She opened her eyes and saw Calum getting up from the bed. 

"You owe me a date, sweetheart."

Taglist: @another-lonely-heart ​​​ @sunshinebabycal ​​​   @calumscalm ​ ​@karajaynetoday ​​ @cherryxwildflower ​​​ @myloverboyash ​​​  @idontneedanyone ​​​ @findingliam-o ​​​ @5-secondsofcolor ​​​ @spicylftv ​​​ @sexgodashton @2fangirl4u @fckingpernico ​ @calpops ​

Special guests: @be-ready-when-i-say-go and @kindahoping4forever bc I named Michael and Ashton's significant others after them

[hermannsthumb]

I know you don't usually write PRU stuff, but if you ever feel inclined, here's a ficlet idea! so: Newt is trying to fight off the Precursors by constantly reminding himself that He Is Human. but whenever newt thinks about what makes him Feel Human, the answer is always hermann. so newt starts conjuring up vivid mental images of hermann (doing mundane, hermann-y things) to ward off the Precursors. bonus point if, like, newt fondly remembering smth innocuous (like the scent of Hermann's chalk dust?) is enough to actually sever the alien mind control.

Anonymous asked: Maria!!! Would you ever write an angsty post uprising prompt? Or even a pre uprising? Anything with Newt fucking around with Kaiju and being sad i am HERE FOR 👏

in honor of the sequel’s 3 year anniversary, let’s try something a little different 👀 THIS ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME RE: LENGTH....I'll leave it up to interpretation whether or not the bonus is wholly fulfilled.... also on proofing this I realized it might need content warnings? so vague refs to disordered eating and alcohol drinking (ie, newt’s body is inhabited by aliens who forget how human stuff works)

-----------

Honestly, Newt’s life has been kind of a shitshow lately. He’s too, like, high strung. Too many responsibilities. Not enough hours in the day to get that shit done. He’s even higher strung than he was during the war, which is nuts, because certain doom was lurking around every corner. Maybe that’s why it’s not that nuts, though. The war was chaotic—and Newt’s fueled (or, used to be fueled?) by chaos. The kaiju were unpredictable. The kaiju didn’t run on a 9-5 schedule. The kaiju didn’t expect Newt to have three new jaeger prototypes on their desk by noon on a fucking Saturday, which is usually the day Newt spends two hours in his expensive bath tub and drinks a nice bottle of wine, and definitely not a day he wants to spend giving himself a stress migraine and shouting at underlings to make themselves useful. On top of that, his usual cafe got his coffee order wrong—when Newt had to run in to get it, himself, on a Saturday morning—and it only had half the espresso shots he really needs for the day. No wonder he’s going grey at forty. Fucking nightmare. Stable employment is exactly the kind of chaos that’s bad for Newt—give him the kaiju any day, thanks.

“Dr. Geiszler?”

Newt pushes his sunglasses up, and scowls at whichever one of his employees has dared to interrupt his catnap. The fluorescent overheads are brutal on his poor eyes right now. The lab needs more natural lighting. Maybe if he complains, they’ll knock out some walls in put in a few more windows. “Did you find any Aspirin?” he says.

Wordlessly, Newt’s assistant passes him a bottle. Newt pops the cap off and takes at least four. The coffee he washes it down with is cold. “How are the last simulations coming along?” he says, flicking his sunglasses back down. He seems to have so many migraines these days. It’s the contact lenses, he thinks—making the switch over from frames so late in the game. Screwing with his perceptions. Newt went thirty years with frames, after all. “We only have two hours before—”

“We’re almost done,” his assistant cuts in. “We’re working as fast as we can, Dr. Geiszler.”

“But are we gonna make the deadline?” Newt says.

She fidgets, and moves her clipboard to her other arm. “Well—we’ve had some—issues.”

Newt stands up with a long sigh. Double overtime, probably. Sunday lost to this shit too. That new bottle of wine waiting for him on his kitchen counter bought for nothing. “Gotta do everything myself, huh? Unbelievable.”

He follows his assistant over to the main lab down the hall, where his team of j-techs are hurrying around. Hardly anyone in proper lab attire—no labcoats—someone in sweatpants—Newt wasn’t the only one who had his Saturday ruined, probably. No one else is going grey, though. “What’s this shit?” he says, stopping in his tracks with one foot through the doorway. The high-tech holo-smartboards have been pushed aside, and instead, someone’s wheeled in a huge…chalkboard.

“Technical issues,” his assistant says. “The other floors are having the same problem—something in the new interface update that downloaded last night, we think. They’re all out of commission. Technology is working on it, but for now, we had to pull that out of deep storage.”

Two of his scientists are scrawling across the board quickly—one with white chalk, the other with pink. They’re debating something in hushed tones. Newt hasn’t seen a chalkboard in years. It doesn’t fit with Shao Industry’s whole chic, sleek, futuristic aesthetic. So—bulky. And messy. “Of course it would happen today of all days,” Newt sighs. The sight of it makes him feel odd, and he can’t seem to drag himself any further into the lab and any closer towards it.

His assistant says something. Newt doesn’t hear—he’s listening, instead, to the squeaking of chalk across the blackboard. So noisy and obnoxious. It reminds him of years and years ago, of working in a grimy little basement, of…

“—look it over. Dr. Geiszler?”

“Hm?” Newt says. It was like a layer of fog had begun to lift from his thoughts, but the interruption sends it rolling right back in.

“I said we’re ready for you to look it over. Only if you want too, of course,” she adds, nervously.

“Uh-huh,” Newt says.

Newt’s never had anyone fear him before, not like his employees seem to fear him—he’s not sure he likes it. His scientists shut up the second he looms over (well—under, Newt’s never loomed over anyone in his life) their shoulders to inspect their work so far. The squeaking stops. One of them lowers their piece of chalk. “Wait,” Newt says, too-loudly, surprising them and himself. They both look at him with the same nervousness as his assistant, like he’s about to start shouting or something. “Keep doing that.”

“Keep…?”

“Writing,” Newt says. “On the chalkboard.”

The scientist frowns at him. “Um, okay,” she says. “What am I supposed to write?”

“Anything,” Newt says. “Seriously. Anything.”

She hesitates.

“Anything,” Newt repeats.

She picks up the white chalk, and writes out her name, then doodles a few random pictures—a DNA helix, a flower, a cat face, a star. Newt shuts his eyes, and breathes in deeply. That smell. He snags the forgotten piece of pink chalk from the ledge. “Can I have this?” he says. He doesn’t wait for them to respond—though they both nod yes frantically, and bewilderedly—before writing out his own name on the board. Dr. Geiszler. It looks wrong, so he writes Newt beneath it. He shuts his eyes, and writes Newt again. Why does he feel like he’s done this sort of thing before? This thing is ancient—before his time at Shao—he wouldn’t have used it before they carted off to the basement. Newt, Newt, Newt Was Here,he writes, Newt +, and then he stops.

He opens his eyes. “Who’s Hermann?” his assistant says.

Newt + Hermann. Newt didn’t realize he wrote it. “Someone I knew,” he says, faintly. “Years ago. He was my—” He swallows. He feels strange. “My colleague?”

Strange. Dizzy. The Aspirin isn’t working. Definitely the contact lenses. He could afford laser eye surgery now, if he wanted, maybe he should look into it. He grips the ledge of the chalkboard, swaying, and grits his teeth; his two scientists back away from him slowly, no doubt worried he’s about to hurl all over their shoes. He might, to be honest. Newt + Hermann. Hermann was his colleague. Hermann was his— “Are you feeling okay, Dr. Geiszler?” his assistant asks. “You look…”

“Tell Shao I’m taking the rest of the day off,” Newt says.

“What?”

“You guys got this shit handled without me,” Newt says. He pockets the chalk. “I’m not—I’m not feeling myself. I think I need to go home and lie down. Seriously, you’ve got it under control—all these numbers look, uh, good, I trust you. If you guys don’t get it finished you can just tell Shao it’s my fault, okay?”

She gapes at him. “Uh,” she says. “Okay?”

Newt doesn’t go home. He goes to the nearest shop he can find instead, and makes a beeline for the art supplies aisle. Only a few boxes of chalk in stock. Four multicolored, two all-white, one yellow. He drops them all into his basket but the yellow, which he rips opens and immediately smells. Newt + Hermann. Hermann always smelled like chalk dust—he always had a fine layer of it on his clothing, patches of it on his blazer, his sweatervest, even on his undershirt. Newt used to tease him for that. He closes his eyes, and breathes in again. Funny—all those baths, all those bottles of wine, and this stupid little box of chalk is what’s finally making him feel calm for once. Quieting down his brain. He didn’t realize how loud it’d gotten in there. When Hermann would kiss Newt, he would sometimes stain Newt’s clothing with chalk, too, and Newt would pretend to be annoyed, but he never really was.

Someone is speaking to him. An employee. They’re staring at him, a cautious distance away, and Newt’s not sure what they’re saying.

His vision’s gone blurry—he didn’t realize he’d started crying, either. He wipes his eyes on the cuff of his blazer and sniffles. “Sorry,” he says. The box of yellow chalk is wet. “Um. Do you have any more of these in the back?”

He takes the bus home for the first time in years, one hand stuffed in his little brown shopping bag the whole time, wrapped around a box of chalk. When he gets back to his apartment (his big, lonely, apartment), he pulls out the only food in his fridge—some leftovers from a Shao Industries event three nights ago—and settles down on his big, lonely couch. He can’t stop thinking about Hermann. Five or so years, maybe more, not thinking about Hermann, and now suddenly—it’s like the floodgates have opened. He thinks about Hermann’s haircut. (Bad.) He thinks about Hermann’s smile. (Silly, and sweet.) He thinks about Hermann’s dumb accent, and the clack of Hermann’s cane on the floor, and Hermann’s chalk squeaking over his chalkboard, and how it felt when Hermann would wrap him in his arms and kiss him and whisper things to him. Hermann’s sweaters always smelled like mothballs and stale cigarette smoke. Terrible combination.

Newt’s stomach growls. He’s finished the small bit of leftovers without realizing, and is apparently still hungry. He would kill for some sushi takeout right now. Or pizza, God. Yeah, it’d be screwing with his new diet and fitness plan—he casts a guilty glance over at his brand new exercise bike, which is gathering dust in the corner by his TV—but he’s tired of doing stupid kale and juice cleanses or whatever, just to please—well. He’s only human.

He is?

He walks up the stairs to his bathroom, and stares at himself in the mirror. Stupid vest. Stupid tie. Neat hair, clean-shaven cheeks, contact lenses. Newt’s only human. “I’m human,” he tells his reflection. Is he human? He felt human standing by that old chalkboard back in the lab, and holding that box of yellow chalk in the aisle of that little shop. He felt human when he was remembering things. Because of—Newt blinks at himself. Because of whom?

“Hermann,” he says, and smiles at the way the name makes him feel. He should text him, maybe.

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

“I must say,” Hermann says, “I was quite surprised when I received your dinner invitation. You’ve done a rather fine job of ignoring my calls as of late. I’d thought— Ah, thank you,” he adds, as Newt holds the door open for him. He steps into Newt’s apartment and cranes his neck around, squinting curiously, and then shoves a bottle of red wine at Newt’s chest. Hermann is much more personable than Newt remembers—what little Newt remembers—and he wonders if it’s age or something else. “I’ve been holding onto this one for a while. It’s the one you gave me as a part of a gift for my thirty-seventh birthday—you remember? Oh, but isn’t it so terrifically, er, modern in here.”

“Is it?” Newt says. He’s never given much thought to his apartment before, but he stares around at it now in mild interest. It is very chic, isn’t it? Monochrome. Impersonal. Not something Newt would’ve picked for himself. “Yeah, I had some interior decorators come in and do it for me.”

Hermann arches an eyebrow. “How…”

“Modern,” Newt offers. He puts the bottle of wine on his marble kitchen island. “Thanks for this, by the way, but I’ve actually been trying to cut back on the—” He bites back drinking. No need to alarm Hermann. “—Calories, so if it’s cool with you I’d rather not open it. I’m doing a, um, a new fitness program.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. “I suppose that explains that, then, doesn’t it?” He points at the dusty exercise bike. Newt watches his gaze move from that, to the barren leather couch, to the short staircase which leads to Newt’s shut bedroom door. Newt can practically see the gears working in his head. “Will—ah, what was their name, that little flight of fancy of yours—a dalliance, one might say—will they be, ah, joining the two of us?” He looks at Newt out of the corner of his eye. “Alice, was it?”

“Who?” Newt says, blankly.

Hermann breaks out in a broad grin, which he quickly tries, very badly, to turn into a sympathetic frown. He pats Newt’s arm. “There’s the spirit, then, Newton! All in the past, I presume? Hardly any use in dwelling on a broken heart. Then again—it’s not as if you were together long enough to warrant those sorts of dramatics, were you?” he says, cheerily. “What I mean is—certainly it wasn’t as if you had any sort of deep or emotional connection with—?—oh, I’ve forgotten the name again.”

“Uh,” Newt says. He’s not really sure who Hermann’s talking about, but just based on that fact alone, he would assume Hermann is right. “I guess not?”

“Precisely as I expected,” Hermann says, with a satisfied nod. “Rotten grounds for a relati—for a fling. You deserve far better, Newton.” Hermann touches Newt’s arm again, and this time, he doesn’t move his hand. It makes Newt’s skin prickle pleasantly. “You look well these days, though I admit it’s a bit of a shock to see you without your glasses,” Hermann continues, flicking his eyes up and down Newt twice. He lingers on Newt’s left hand, over the bare spot where—until this morning, when he suddenly realized how stupid it looked and yanked it off—he was wearing that Elvis ring. “Ending things must be treating you kindly. I don’t suppose I could dash to your loo?”

“Loo?” Newt says. “Oh, right. Yeah, it’s that door there, right off the living room.” He drops down onto the leather couch. “Knock yourself out. I’ll be right here.”

Hermann disappears into Newt’s bathroom, and comes back out three minutes later with combed hair, a straightened collar, and the vague smell of cologne. He’s tucking a small bottle into his top pocket. “I found a box of hair dye in your medicine cabinet,” he declares, smugly. “I knew there was no bloody way that was natural. Though I’m not surprised it fooled Alice.” He rests his cane against the glass coffee table and sits down next to Newt. Right next to Newt. The whole sofa to pick from, and he’d rather their thighs touch. Newt doesn’t mind—actually, the contact is strangely grounding, like Hermann’s hand on his arm had been earlier. He’s here, in his living room, with Hermann, his friend Hermann, his colleague Hermann, his—well, question mark—Hermann.

“Hermann, can I ask you something?” he says. “Something important?”

“By all means,” Hermann says, leaning in and fluttering his eyelashes. Even over the cologne, Newt can still make out that mothball-chalk-smoke smell.

“Do you take your coffee with sugar?” he says.

Hermann laughs. “Do I—what?”

Newt repeats the question. The smile slips off Hermann’s face, and he draws away, furrowing his eyebrows. “Well,” he says, “yes, usually, only I’m not sure what—”

“Sugar, and some milk,” Newt says. “It was the same with your tea. And you had a mug that you would use—you wouldn’t use any other. It was blue, and it said—” He exhales through his nose. “It said TU Berlin. That’s where you got your PhD.”

After Newt sent Hermann a text about dinner last night, he sat down with a pen and pad of paper and made a list of everything he could remember about Hermann. He started with what Hermann looks like, and who Hermann is, and then moved into the harder stuff like what Hermann likes and the sort of things Hermann used to do. He stayed up all night doing it, until his hand cramped and his head hurt even more than it had that morning, and then recited it over and over to himself in a whisper as he fell asleep. Hermann has brown eyes. Hermann likes blackberry jam on his toast. Hermann wears little glasses on a chain. Hermann uses a cane with a tiny little nick in the brass of the handle. The list is in his pocket now; it makes Newt feel calm, and even calmer when he reaches into his pocket and touches it. He exhales again, hard, and then inhales. “We were together,” he says. “When we closed the Breach, you told me you loved me.”

“I did,” Hermann says, quietly.

“I said it back,” Newt says.

Hermann nods.

Slowly, Newt reaches out and puts his hand over Hermann’s. Hermann makes a strange noise in the back of his throat—like a sigh, or maybe a groan. His pulse twitches erratically under Newt’s fingertips. “I bought chalk,” Newt says.

“You—” Hermann echoes, his voice choked. “You bought chalk?”

“It reminded me of you,” Newt says.

He’s not surprised when Hermann kisses him, but he is surprised at his knee-jerk reaction: to pull away, or push Hermann away, and to order him to get out of his apartment. He’s surprised, because those aren’t his thoughts. He doesn’t want Hermann to leave—he wants Hermann to stay longer, and kiss him more, and help him remember more. “Oh, Newton,” Hermann says. “Newton, Newton—” He moves his mouth to Newt’s neck, kissing, breathing, and whispering his name, and Newt shuts his eyes and forces himself to remember his list.

“Tell me things about you,” Newt begs. “I want to remember you.”

Hermann’s laughter, hesitant and confused, comes out in a puff of hot air against his skin. “Remember me?” he says. “I’m not sure— Are we not a bit—?”

“Hermann,” Newt says.

He grips the back of Hermann’s sweater, digging his nails in Hermann’s skin through the layers of fabric. Hermann must hear the urgency in his voice, because he shakes his head with another laugh, kisses Newt’s jaw, and says, “Well, alright. What am I even meant to tell you?”

“Your favorite color,” Newt says. Hermann kisses his chin. “Your favorite song. No, wait—” He nudges Hermann away from him, just enough so that Hermann can see him smile. “Tell me what you like about me.”

“Feeling rather egotistical tonight, aren’t we?” Hermann teases. He reaches out and brushes his fingers through the side of Newt’s hair. One of the spots Newt dyed—it was too grey. He catches Hermann’s hand by the wrist and pulls it away gently, but only to press himself up against Hermann’s chest instead. He can feel Hermann’s heartbeat. “I like—hm,” Hermann says. “I like your stubbornness. I like your passion. I like…”

His voice vibrates in his throat—Newt can feel that, too. He listens.