#tw: cussing

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Clockwork sees how stressed Danny is from trying to be the goodest boy and never do anything remotely bad that could turn him evil and thinks he may have overdone it. At this rate his panic over never doing anything evil is going to force him to emotionally burn out and stop caring. Then he'll turn evil anyway.

So Clocky does something that sounds completely ridiculous in theory. He scoops Danny up and drops him into a universe full of superheros and villains and tells him to "Do whatever you want. There will be no consequences for you." Then he leaves.

And just like that, Danny goes apeshit. He decides to do the one thing he always wanted to do but was too afraid to because he didn't want to be judged, or worse, forced to join his parents.

He becomes a supervillian. Not as Phantom, no. But as Fenton! He goes full super genius mad scientist and terrorizes whatever city he's in. The local superhero is being driven insane as Danny builds death rays, shrink rays, his own modified version of the GAV, ect.

The best part if that the local heros can never catch him for long and when he is caught he always escapes before he is transported to whatever facility they wanted him in. He always ends up back in his home dimension where he goes back to acting normal and no one from either human dimension or the Infinite Realms knows what he's up to (except the stop watch of course)

After a particularly fun day in which Danny highjacks all broadcasting services to teach everyone in the world how to make insulin at home so you didn't have to pay a ridiculous amount for necessary medication, the Justice League was now on his tail.

Danny just laughs, thinking there's no way they'd ever be able to arrest him. Little does he know some guy calling himself Batman is leading the mission and he has no intention of arresting him. Danny, much to his horror, becomes far to familiar with adoption papers. As in he keeps having to set them on fire.

[felswritingfire]

Homelander x Chaotic! Hyper Fem!Reader

The Homelander brainrot is real and I hate it with my whole being. I want this man dead, he's so pathetic. Anyway, I haven't watched The Boys but I'm hooked on his character thanks to falling down the rabbit hole with Character.Ai and all the talented writers for The Boys fandom, like? Absolutely scrumptious works. Also I just really wanted to write for a chaotic reader, the hyper fem part came after lmao

TW: This was written with a AFAB reader in mind so there's descriptions of Reader wearing a skirt, no pronouns specified; Homelander's creepiness is considerably toned down for this, but he does break into reader's apartment and actively stalks them; Reader says some saucy stuff; Cussing; Homelander has a panic attack/mental break down; Reader is a horny virgin; Age Gap, it's only mentioned once or twice, but it's still there and prevalent; Gen Z humor- reader is a Gen Z baby, they're in their early 20s

"You didn't tell me that Homelander had a slutty ass waist." The words caught him off guard. They were whispered. Somewhere in the crowd. His eyes fought to stay glued onto the press speaker, his smile twitching ever so slightly.  The comment had hung in his head, floating around like a phantom, even as he took the stage and did his speech perfectly. Like always. He preens as the people clap and cheer for him.  Then the voice chirps out, in the safety of the cheering and the noise: "Homelander? More like Sluttylander, am I right?" He hears a scoff after that, zeroing in on the conversation now: two women. No older than their mid 20s. "Hey, I mean that respectfully." "You know he's like 20 years older than you, right?" "I'll bend him over and make him call me daddy. I'm not a coward." A cackle. He had scanned the crowd while keeping a smile plastered on his lips. He was curious what foul mouth little shit was talking. Until his gaze lands on… you.  You look like the cat that got the cream as you look at your friend who has to hold onto you for support as she giggles and laughs. Your bright eyed gaze moves from her back to him just to tense as you catch his gaze. "Um," you elbow her- Renae- to get her attention and she giggles before she looks and she's freezing too. "He isn't looking at us is he?" She shrugs. "I don't know…" she trails off. You squint before covering your mouth with your hands, talking just loud enough for Renae to hear you but no one else. "Blink twice if you can hear us." It was a joke. There's no way- And then he's blinking. Once. Twice.  "Oh bitch-tits." You want to scream, grabbing Renae's wrist, pushing through the crowd. "Fuck, dude, this is going to be my thirteenth reason, I swear to fuck-"  He watches the two of you go. He shouldn't be interested. You're just some snot nosed kid. But… how you spoke, the chaotic-ness of it all. The way the light caught your hair, the curves of your body, the way that skirt flares up as you scurry away... he's intrigued to say the least…

💫 Homelander wasn't normally so… interested in the general public, but he had been quick to commit your face and voice to memory. He had actually stumbled upon you, finding out you worked at some high-end retail job. You dealt with snooty people and all the while kept up that pretty little customer service smile despite the clear signs of barely concealed frustration searing under your skin. He could smell the heat of your blood and watched you through the building's walls when you went on break and sat down stiffly, just to scream into your hands. It started out as something funny because he found your misery amusing and then the descent into madness started.

💫 It was like he went through the five stages of grief. At first he had convinced himself that he keeps watching you out of sheer amusement. And then he started to take in more pieces of you: how you took care of things you treasure; how you cared and cooed at the plants that were in your house; how you talked to that damn fish that your treasured so much; your little mannerisms- things he started to find… cute. Then it was denile: no he didn't find you cute he found you amusing. He laughed when you seethed about your toast burning; how you had a breakdown as soon as you got off work because the crushing weight of living in a capitalistic society came crashing down on you; how you talked to yourself like you were having a full blown conversation with another person- you were amusing. And then came the realization and then rage: how dare you make him feel like this? You were just a sniveling little thing. He was a god. How dare you? And then came acceptance. He was… casual when he accepted it. Like all the turmoil had fallen off his shoulders. He was watching you, taking in how you nurtured your "plant children", how you talked to them and wiped the dust off their leaves. It made his heart flutter.

💫 After that, his casual viewings become much more of a time investment as he pays closer and closer attention to you. Every waking moment he has when he's not busy juggling the press and Vought, is spent watching you. Taking in information and storing it in his brain for safe keeping: what you like to eat; your favorite type of plant; your dream vacation; what type of fish you have (you have a betta. He searched them up. He learned all about them to feel closer to you). 

💫 Soon enough, observing isn't enough. He starts to go into your apartment when you're not home, looking at the coziness of your space. Taking in the scent and looking at your plants and your Betta fish that flares his gills at him. It makes him snort in amusement. How cute. He'll lay on your bed, shoving his face into your pillows and inhaling deeply, moaning in contentment. 

💫 He also starts to "coincidentally" run into you on the streets. He finds it so funny each time you gawk at him. A "holy fuck!" Leaving you as you gesture wildly, "it's fucking Homelander!" 

○ He's not too keen on your potty mouth, but he supposes he can let it slide. He's just as bad.

💫 He smiles his charming little smile as he'll make small talk with you, his hands on his hips as he takes you in. He loves knowing how much stronger he is than you and he has to fight hard to keep from popping a boner. You're so fun to talk to, you say the most out of pocket things:

"Yeah, like, almost got stabbed by a homeless man today. Like, 0/10 would not recommend." You said, looking at your nails. Frowning about the nail polish already chipping. "Yeah, well, not many people put 'being stabbed' at the top of their list of things to happen to them." He replies with a laugh, moving closer to you, taking in that mellow perfume you wear. "I mean, I'm down for knife play, but I'm a classy slut. You have to take me to dinner first." He's flabbergasted. He loves it.

💫 He begins to insert himself into your life, taking up more and more of your free time, you don't even notice it at first. How he just… starts spending time at your home. How you two begin a ritual of movie night every Saturday (he forced Vought to make that day his off day. He was not to be called under any circumstance short of the world going to implode on itself). You have so many emotions in that body of yours and he finds it amusing when you gasp or a look of disgust crosses your face at something a character did. You'd be horrible at poker.

"What the fu-" He has an easy smile on his face as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and places his hand over your mouth. Not threateningly. More playful than anything. You simply hold onto his hand with both of yours as you watch the screen. 

💫 You catch him off guard all the time. Your girly appearance gives nothing away to the chaotic tendencies. You were the closest thing to an actual agent of chaos he's seen. He once watched you, while you were with that little friend of yours- Renae- run across the street as a group of men cat called you, swinging your purse at high velocity speed, yelling: "I'll fucking end your bloodline!" The men were terrified and scurried off screaming "crazy bitch!" You had given Renae a thumbs up, proud of yourself. He also watched you steal a pro-life abortion sign "saying Jesus wouldn't want this" and javelin throwing it into someone's backyard pool before bolting down the street, cackling. Both times in heels. Both times he was weirdly turned on. 

💫 He likes how girly you dress. He loves it actually. He loves all the soft pastel colors you wear and the pleated skirts. It makes you look soft and delicate and he's obsessed with it. He has a tendency to pull at the hem of your skirt, flick it up slightly. You just give him a dead stare and lift up your skirt. "Shorts, bitch." You do it every time and he thinks it's funny.

💫 He hates that you're home screen is a collage of Soldier Boy with that stupid cursive font saying: "my daddy is super dead, but he could still hit it <;3". He hates it and then your lock screen is of your fish.

"Why do you have that?" He asks with disdain.  "What?" She asks looking up at him. He rolls his eyes. "Don't play stupid. Why is he your wallpaper? He's dead. He's been dead." Sure, that was his hero but like hell he wanted to see that man's charming smirk on your homescreen. "Soldier Boys is hot." You say it with all the seriousness of someone telling a prophecy. Homelander's eye twitches. "And I'm not." "No. You are. With your slutty waist." She assures him. "But Soldier Boy is the OG daddy." He scoffs. 

● He ends up stealing your phone later on when you're not looking and changing the wallpaper himself, having memorized your password.

💫 For as flirty and raunchy your mind was, you were oddly freaked out of genuine touch. The first time he tried to make a move on you, you screamed and almost gave yourself a concussion with how you fell over the arm of the couch. He was stunned until you explained you had issues with romantic touch. "Daddy issues, am I right?" She tries to play it off with a laugh. He is not laughing. Later, though, he starts to find it amusing, taking the chance to make you squirm and blush is so funny to him. He revels in your pain and embarrassment.

● He has killed people who had done the same. Like, actually snapped a guy's neck for it.

💫 He is NOT thrilled when you talk about wanting to rail fictional characters. He actually gets pouty. Genuinely gets pissy. He tries to ban you from watching anime.

"But. Toji hot." "I don't care if 'Toji hot'. He spits. "Toji is a fictional character. You need a real man that knows how to please you." You look at him, eating a spoonful of cereal despite his protests about eating it so late. You chew slowly and swallow. "Toji's got that potent dad nut. It works, John." Homelander practically chokes on his spit at that.

💫 He lets you call him John. He likes when you call him John. Call him John.

💫 He actually tries to be better for you because you've voiced how you didn't like when people get hurt. He tries. Key word tries to be more aware, to be a better person. Just for you. 

💫 Absolutely goes insane if you praise him. It's all he wants and all her craves. You've casually complimented him once and he's latched onto it ever since. He's infatuated with your praise. He's like a puppy, looking to you after he did a good deed, looking to you when he does a chore right. It's almost better than sex for him. Almost.

💫 He's elated when you let him lay in your lap. Despite how squeamish you were about sex, you craved physical touch and, guess what? So does he! He's obsessed with laying down and taking in your sweet scent, your fingers playing with his hair as you scroll through your phone. He adores the casual touches you leave on him, adore every time you hang onto his arm. He knows you don't mean anything romantic, but it still fills a hole to have a genuine companion that cares about him in his life. 

💫 You've helped him after a breakdown, when his mind felt like it was splitting and his ego was taking in a mind of its own- and then there you were. In all your pretty, pastel colored and pleated skirt glory.

"John?" You say softly, not approaching him just yet. Giving him the space he needs. "Do you need a hug?" He's breathing hard. He didn't know why he came to your apartment. He thought he was going back to his penthouse in Vought towers. But no. Here he was. And you're standing there, confused about your pretty features. The chaotic side of you is completely gone for the moment. He just stares at you. Of course you'd run to some bitch. A voice hisses in his head. We're a god among men and you come crawling to some fucking-  He squeezes his eyes shut. Your eyes soften. "Come on." You say, your voice soft and gently. A soft coo to him. "Let's sit you down." You open the door wider for him and he trudges in, looking completely drained. He sinks into your couch and you disappear into your room and come out with a fuzzy blanket. The one you wrap around the two of you have movie night. You drape it over him, gently. "It's ok, sweetheart," you say. "I don't know what's happening but you're safe now." He almost scoffs. No one could touch him. He was The Homelander. But… how you said it. It made his chest ache with something heavy. "Can… Can you hold me?" He practically whispers. "Of course, honey." You open your arms up for him. He immediately melts into your hold, his head pressing against the crook of your neck, his hands desperately clinging to the back of your shirt. He sucks in a breath of your scent before he breaks, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as his sobs into you.  He's not a pretty crier. But who is? You run your hand through his hair. Your cheek resting against his head. It feels strange to see a man that could be your father break down. But you had a feeling he was a mess on the inside. All that bravado and charisma making up for an abysmal childhood.  It takes him a while to calm down. His puffy eyes blinking, his blue eyes glassy, he sniffles.  "Oh, sweetie," you coo, swiping your thumb under his eyes to wipe the tear streaks away. "You look like a mess." You say softly, not to make fun of him. Just to state an obvious fact. He sniffles, glaring at you.  You smile at him and he melts.

💫 He won't let you paint his nails, but he wants to paint your nails. He has a pension for picking colors related to him. You make fun of him for it. 

💫 He lets you put accessories in his hair. ONLY when it's movie night. He did accidentally go to a meeting with a hair clip that has rhinestones that spelt 'JUICY' on it. The Seven stayed silent and he was embarrassed as hell when he saw it in the mirror of the window.

💫 HE IS ACTUALLY TRAUMATIZED WHEN YOU FIGURE OUT HE WEARS A BODYSUIT OH MY GOD. HE SUFFERS. THAT'S HOW YOU GET HIM BACK FOR MESSING WITH YOUR FLUSTEREDNESS.

"What's up, my cute stick bug." "Shut the fuck up."  You are the only person allowed to poke fun at him about that. Anyone else would get obliterated.

💫 If you involve him in picking out your outfits, he has hit Nirvana. He has truly seen heaven. He actually has a pretty solid eye for clothes. But he will take the opportunity to coordinate an outfit that has colors that compliment his hero outfit. If you notice, he'll play dumb.

💫 Anyway, congratulations, you have an OP friend. Until he isn't content with just being friends any more….

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to support me consider donating to my Ko-fi!

[bruisedknucklesandbloodykisses]

Boyfriend

CW: College AU; Unreliable narrator/reader; Delusional reader/Nobunaga; Unhealthy relationship; Lovesick reader; Insecurities (Reader); Possessive; Ignoring multiple red flags; Sexual content towards the end (Grinding, Messy Kisses)

Summary: You’re  hesitant to ask Nobunaga on a date due to not wanting to destroy your friendship with him. He has other views on the subject at hand.

Word Count: 2,094 Note from Knux: I just wanted to say that I was very inspired by this fic from @uvobreakmylegs (they have the best writing PLEASE-). But, seriously wanted to give credit where credit is due though!

You leaned against Nobunaga’s side, his steady breathing helping to distract you from your nerves. It was so silly how nervous you were; it was just a date after all- well, it would be a date if he accepted. The words seemed to die in your throat, turning into a hard lump that made it hard to breathe, every time you tried to ask the simple question: do you want to go on a date with me? 

Honestly, those words weren’t daunting at all and it was frustrating that you’ve never had any issues asking before. You were used to making the first moves on people you liked- sure, you haven’t done it since high school, but that’s besides the point. The point now is that you felt like you were drowning in your own emotions because you could spit out the damn phrase. 

You glanced up at Nobunaga, taking in his face: angular, lips drawn into a thin line and his dark eyes focusing hard on the text in front of him. It was funny to you how you had convinced him to join you on this little study date- it made you feel fuzzy inside. Though, you had finished your studies and were simply keeping him company now. Which, you didn’t mind. If it meant that you got to hang around the silly athlete, the better it was. 

You sighed, nestling closer to him, allowing your eyes to slip shut as you snuggled deeper into the blanket you wrapped yourself in. 

“Hmm, getting bored?” Nobunaga’s voice said, startingling you out of your dozing.

“Maybe,” you murmured against him, pressing your face further into his arm as you let your eyes slip close again, “but I don’t really mind if I get to sit with you.”

He snorted. “You sap. You sound like you really like me.” 

“Well, yeah.” You quickly added: “we’re friends after all.”

He went silent and you couldn’t help the way your stomach started to churn with a strange sort of anxiety. A frown tugged at your lips, peaking one eye open to glance up at him. He seemed irritated as he glared at the book in front of him. 

You slumped against him once again, both eyes open now, as you thought of how you (or what) had upset him. Nobunaga had a bit of a hairline trigger with his frustrations occasionally- you sometimes felt like you were walking a tightrope with him, but you didn’t really mind. It was just how Nobu was. Your silly friend who was sweet and always took care of you. Before him there was only you. 

A small smile pulled at your lips. How did you ever make it without him? 

“Ah, fuck- this thing is boring!” Nobunaga finally declared, slamming the book shut. 

You couldn’t help but giggle despite how he jostled you around when he crossed his arms and pressed himself back into the worn (but comfortable) couch in your living room. “How about you take a break, I’ll make some tea, that sound good?”

He grunted, sulking into the cushions while you unwrapped yourself and laying the fluffy blanket on his chest and tucking it behind his shoulders after you got up. He had grumbled but let you continue with your antics. You laughed as you went to the small kitchen in the apartment- nothing too fancy, just big enough for the fridge, a sink, an oven, and a little bit of counter space for a microwave and the odd times you wanted to bake. 

You reached into the cabinet right above what little counter space you had and pulled out two mugs. They were cute: a sleepy gray cat face and an overly excited white and tan puppy face for the other- they were round and the little cat reminded you too much of Nobunaga not to get. Though he had also insisted that he’d get the puppy one for you if you were getting the “damn cat” for him. 

You traced over the smooth porcelain with the tip of your finger. Maybe… maybe you could just let things be. Let them snowball into dating all on their own. At least, that’s how you hoped that they were going to snowball. The worries began to pile up as you got to work making the drinks. 

Nobunaga was a handsome guy with his angular features, fit form, and his glossy hair. The only downside to him was probably how radically his emotions could go from one end of the spectrum to the other but that was easily avoidable (at least you thought it was, there were several people who dined to disagree but you simply assured yourself that it was because of something they did. Not Nobu. Never Nobu). He could have any person in the world that he wanted if he really wanted- what was stopping him from pursuing someone prettier, more charismatic, more successful than you? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

There was a level of anxiety that shook in your fingers as you had finished Nobu’s and your tea, stirring honey in the calming herbal mix. 

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your wits. Your mind was wondering again. You need to stop before Nobu thinks something’s wrong because you won’t be able to control your tongue if he does. 

You nod to yourself before going to pick up the two mugs just to stop as a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin rests against the junction of your shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Fuck.

“Nothing- nothing’s wrong.”

“Now, now,” he started to lean his whole body weight against you, causing you to catch yourself on the counter. “ Lying ain’t a good look for you and we both know it.” 

There was a certain edge to his voice that made your blood freeze. You had only heard it once or twice, just towards guys who didn’t know when to quit hounding and couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Never at you. 

You licked your lips, squeezing your eyes shut as you willed your knees not to shake. “I-I’m not lying, Nobu-”

He shifted his feet, pressing himself even harder against your back, like he was trying to become a second skin. “Lying doesn’t look good on you.” He repeated, squeezing his arms around your stomach. Hard.

You wheezed, hands scrambling to hold onto his arms. Though, you made no attempt to pull him off. It was so fucked up how you were relishing in how close he was despite how angry he was at you. You just wanted to be held by him- be close to him- you wanted to be as important to him as he was to you. You just wanted to melt into him. 

What a horrible friend you were.

Your chest burned like you had ran a marathon and suddenly the world was spinning and your eyes were stinging with tears that rested heavy on your lashes. How pathetic. 

Hearing a sniffle come from you, something seemed to snap Nobunaga out of his frustrations. “Hey, you ok?” He began to loosen his hold on you, muscles relaxing until your shaking hands squeezed his wrists. 

“No…” You whimpered, “no, please- please don’t let go.”

You sounded so weak and frail. It made Nobunaga’s heart leap to his throat. He squeezed his arms around you again, much more gently compared to a few moments ago, but enough for you to know he had no intentions of leaving. 

It was a couple of moments until you stopped shaking. By this point, you were leaning back against him, hands still resting on his as he held you. His face nestled against your neck. “You feelin’ ok to talk?” 

He wasn’t letting this go, was he? You took a deep breath, releasing it as you nodded against the side of his head. 

He pulled away from you slowly until his face was level with your peripheral. His eyes were dark and observant. “What’s wrong?” 

Your throat felt tight again, but you still forced yourself to talk. “I- you- what… would you…” you lick your lips. “Would you date me? If I asked you out?” Your hands were sweating and you looked away, instead, focusing on the smooth skin of his arms, running your fingers over the sparse hairs. 

When he didn’t answer you began to shift, uncomfortable on your feet. Your skin feeling like it was boiling. This was stupid. You were stupid. You just ruined your friendship with Nobunaga. You’d never be able to see him again- you’d just have to sit like some stranger while he moved on with someone that was on his level- someone who was prettier, more talented- better than you. He was going to leave you behind and take your bleeding heart with him-

“I don’t get it.” You felt a sudden dread rest deep in your chest. He sounded mad. “Why do you always talk like that? Like we aren’t dating already?”

Huh?

Before you can voice anything, his hands come slamming on your counter, once again caging you. You can see the veins pulse on the side of his temple, frown deep as he seethes: “you think I act like this with everyone? Think that I get like this-” one of his hands glides down your spine, a gasp leaving you as when he grabs your ass in a tight grip and presses your hips hard against his. You gape. He’s hard. He’s so, so hard- “with everyone?” He begins to grind against you, hot breath moist against your cheeks as he huffs in frustration. Your hands scramble to hold onto his shirt, head spinning with too many things at once. “I only get this fucking hard with you- it fucking- oh, fuck- do you know how hard it is not to grab you and shove you face first into the closest surface I can? Not to rip you apart? You’re like- like a damn lamb: dumb and oblivious to everything around you-” he grunts when you hike your leg up on his hip (or try to, it’s a bit of an awkward endeavor considering how close he’s pressed against you). 

You’re desperate. You want more of his demeaning words. You want more and more of his attention. You want him to sink his teeth into you and rip you apart. Your blood boiling with white, hot want. “‘M sorry-” you gasp as you begin to rock your hips back against his; sloppy and uncoordinated. “‘M sorry, I didn’t notice. I was-” a moan wretches out of your throat. You crane your head back, the expanse of your neck presented to Nobu, who wastes no time pressing wet, open mouthed kisses against your salty skin. “You’re just so beautiful, there was no way you’d want to go out with someone like me-”

A growl comes from deep within his throat. His hands have come to dig into your hips, guiding you to grind harder against him. “You're so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid- you’re mine. Mine. No one gets to see you like this.” He crushes his lips against yours. The kiss is all teeth and tongue- a mess of passion and repressed frustrations. 

You couldn’t get enough.

“‘M yours. ‘M yours-” you chant against his mouth, head spinning, close to the precipice of an orgasm. Teetering on a precarious line that, whichever way you end up tipping, you’ll be drowning in the euphoria of having Nobunaga suffocating you in his affections. 

He lets out a loud moan, all guttural and masculine, it has your legs trembling. He uses one hand to squeeze your cheeks, swirling his tongue with yours in a sloppy french kiss that has drool dripping from the corners of your mouth. “You’ve been mine since I laid eyes on you.” He pants, his forehead resting against yours, his hips coming to a stop. You whine at the loss of friction, the leg that is still hooked over his hip trembling with leftover electricity. He chuckles, pressing pecks to your lips. “I’m not letting you go.” You envy how even his voice despite having humped you like a dog in heat only a moment ago.

You nod, not trusting your voice. You would give him anything he asked for. Whatever to keep him near you. 

So, you follow him, with your heartbeat pulsing in your ears, as he pulls on your wrists towards the couch, tearing your clothes from your body. You accept that he’s going to tear you apart with open arms.

[sortofanobsession]

could you maybe write a fic where Jamie gets sick at an away game— whether it be anxiety, food poisoning, flu, etc. Maybe he sicks up in the middle of the night and Dani or Sam (I imagine they room together and are best friends) go get Roy and he’s very very sweet in his own Roy way to Jamie and then the next day on the bus Jamie still doesn’t feel good so he snuggles into Roy in the back of the bus?

I literally love your work so much and would absolutely die if you wrote this (plus my birthday is coming up (Jan 25th) so this would be so epic to read then))

Happy Early Birthday, Anon!

Here is worried Roy Kent, sick and confused Jamie, amused Keeley, #1 nurse Phoebe, and well, everyone else. Hope you like it.

A/N: I'm not a medical expert. I have asthma so I know a few things about raspatory issues. But this might not be the most accurate. And it's unbeta read, as usual.

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Ao3

Pairing: RoyJamie

word count: 4k+

Content warning: Illness, pneumonia, fever, coughing, vomiting (from coughing), panic, angst, sleep depravation, fear, swearing/cursing/cussing.

Fever in the Night

Roy Kent growls at the knock that would have woken him up if he had been asleep. He’d been reading and didn’t appreciate being interrupted. 

“Better be fucking dying,” He grumbles as he opens the door. “What?” he snaps at Sam Obisanya. 

“Sorry, Coach,” Sam nervously says. “But it’s Jamie.” 

And that has Roy moving before his tired brain catches up. He almost forgets to grab his room key and phone, but he isn't a fucking idiot, so he grabs them. Sam relaxes a tiny bit that Roy didn't argue or even swear as much as Sam had expected for it being 1 a.m. Roy feels uneasy when he looks up to see Dani Rojas and Jeff Goodman in the hall, both in the open door of the room Sam and Jamie shared. The four players have adjoining rooms. 

“What about Jamie?” Roy finally asks as he follows Sam.

“He's very sick,” a worried Dani Rojas says. Jeff nods. 

“Okay,” Roy says. He was tempted to ask them why the fuck they woke him and not the team’s doctor, but it was about Jamie Tartt. He'd be pissed if they didn't. He cares about Jamie. And he shoves that thought aside because he really shouldn't think like that. And Roy forgets it completely when he gets one look at Jamie. Jamie’s pale. His stupid fucking hair is sweat drenched and sticking to his face. 

“You two, out,” he says to Dani and Jeff by the door. 

“But-” Dani starts, but Roy glares. Jeff was smart enough to be back in his own room already.

“You have a fucking match, with or without Tartt, so fucking sleep. He'll be fucking fine.” 

The coach weighs his options before handing Sam his own room key. “You fucking too.”

“But coach-”

“Not going to fucking repeat it,” he snaps. 

“What about you?”

“Don't fucking argue.”

“Sorry, coach,” Sam says, but he hasn't moved. The room key and his phone gripped right in his hands. 

“I’ll call the physio team, now fucking go.”

Sam nods and silently leaves. Roy sighs once the doors are closed. As tired as he is, his fucking heart is pounding. Something is wrong with Jamie Tartt. And that twists something inside the gaffer. And despite the protest in his knee, he is kneeling down beside Jamie to get a good look at him. He should call the physio team. He needs the team’s doctor. Roy might know more than your average bloke when it comes to health, thanks to his sister, but he's no bloody expert. But he needs a bit more information first. He reaches up and carefully moves the hair out of Jamie's face. 

“Fucking hell,” he says when just his fingertips can feel the heat of a fever. Just to be sure, he places his palm on Jamie's forehead. And he squashes down whatever feeling is stirred up by how the sick striker shivers at the contact but still leans into it. 

“Fucking burning up,” Roy mutters to himself. 

He winces at the pain in his knee as he stands up. He tucks Jamie's blankets tighter around him. The gaffer is scrolling through his contacts to find the one he needs. He flips the light on in the ensuite and talks to the team's doctor as he grabs a flannel and wets it. As he hangs up the phone, he sets the damp cloth on Jamie's forehead. That's when the player’s eyes snap open. Confusion, followed by panic, flashed across the striker’s face. Because in Jamie's mind, if Roy Kent is there, then Jamie is running late for something, and Roy is probably pissed at him. Jamie hates when Roy is pissed at him. Jamie doesn't like disappointing Roy. 

“Easy, Tartt,” Roy says. “Fucking stay put.” Roy puts the fallen flannel back in place. “Try and relax.”

And as anxious as Jamie is, a command from Roy Kent is one that Jamie will follow. 

“Roy?” Jamie manages to ask. And the coach hates how tired, weak, and utterly confused Jamie seems. 

Before Roy can say anything else, a knock at the door makes Jamie flinch. Without thinking, Roy smoothes the younger man’s hair back in an attempt to calm him as he gets up. Roy’s always been better at physical gestures than words. And if that's what was needed to keep Tartt from panicking or hurting himself, well, then that was a no fucking brainer. He was going to fucking do it.

He lets the doctor into the room and silently hovers as the doctor deals with the striker. 

“Any other player showing symptoms?” the doctor asks the gaffer.

“Fuck if I know, Obisanya, Rojas, and Goodman just seemed fucking worried. Are we going to have a fucking team tomorrow?” 

“Guess we will see in the morning,” the doctor says. Roy gets a rundown on what needs to be done for Jamie. The coach leans his head against the cool wood of the door when he closes it behind the doctor. 

“Where's Sam?” Jamie asks, finally realizing that his roommate’s gone. And that concerns Roy a bit. Jamie is one of his most observant players. On and off the pitch, he tends to keep track of who is around him and where his mates are. He likes knowing where the people he cares about are. He was just noticing Sam’s absence now, which wasn’t a good sign. 

“Sent him off to get some fucking sleep,” Roy says. Several things had been dropped off at the room by either the physio team or hotel staff. Roy had been focused on the doctor and Jamie when it had happened. The gaffer hands the player a bottle of water. Jamie takes it without argument.

“Where?” Jamie glanced at Sam's empty bed. Roy rolls his eyes. 

“My room,” Roy answers, and that seems to surprise Jamie. Before the player can comment on the decision, Roy adds, “Not like I'm fucking using it.” And Roy regrets saying it at the way Jamie gets a sad look on his face. “It's fucking fine, Tartt. My fucking choice.” 

“But-”

“But someone needs to make sure you fucking rest.”

And Jamie hates that because he doesn't want to be a burden to anyone. 

“You don't need to-”

“Already fucking decided,” Roy states. “Just try and fucking sleep.” 

Roy is woken up by violent coughing, and he is out of bed without thinking. Helping raise Phoebe had him trained to be a light sleeper at times like these. Roy follows the sound to the loo. He knocks on the closed door. He didn't know if Jamie had coughed so hard he made himself vomit or vice versa. But from what he could hear, it was painfully obvious one of the two had occurred. The gaffer is glad to find the door unlocked and lets himself in. Jamie tries to argue and kick him out, but he is tired and shaking and can barely move. And that has something in Roy breaking. 

“Not fucking going anywhere, Tartt,” Roy says. As he grabs some water and sits beside Jamie. Jamie accepts the glass if only to rinse his mouth out. Roy can hear the way Jamie's lungs struggle, and that has Roy struggling not to panic. But he manages. He gets Jamie calmed down, cleaned up, and back in bed. Roy ends up texting his sister, who calls him. She asks him if Jamie has been sick recently, but then he remembers what Jamie had told him during training. He'd nearly choked to death at Ola’s over a joke one of the other idiots had told him. And fuck, Jamie couldn't catch a break. His sister tells him it sounds like aspiration pneumonia to her. He should have the doctor double-check, but hopefully, Jamie being a fit footballer will mean he can fight it off without too much trouble. He would need to keep a close eye on him. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to be admitted to hospital. And that had Roy’s blood running cold. A cold and a fucking joke. He sent a message to the physio team and went back to Jamie. 

The only good thing was that pneumonia wasn't inherently contagious. The cold Jamie had before it might be, but it was unlikely to take Sam, Dani, or Jeff out of the game. Jamie wouldn't be leaving the hotel the next morning. Roy really dreaded the idea, but he was already hitting the number on his phone. Keeley would have a lot to say about this at some point. She’d probably see right through him and know he cares more than he should for just being Jamie’s coach. But he needed help, and he knew Jamie trusted Keeley as much as Roy did. 

“Better be good, Roy,” Keeley says. She was clearly annoyed and not a fan of being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. 

“Fucking opposite, it's very fucking bad,” he says, and he sounds it. And she knows if Roy is that upset, it means one of three people was in a bad state. It must be Roy's sister, his niece, or Jamie Tartt. Roy and Jamie might both be her exes, but she knew them well enough to know that they were both idiots in love, just neither of them would admit it. And since it's an away match, it probably meant Jamie was the one having issues. 

“What's wrong? What happened?” She says, all annoyance gone and completely awake. “Is Jamie all right?”

Roy tells her what has happened since Sam knocked on his door. She tells him to keep doing what he's doing. She’ll stay with Jamie during the match. 

“Just let me text Rebecca, and I’ll be there,” Keeley tells him. Roy Kent doesn't argue. 

Roy is an anxious fucking mess throughout the whole match. He does his job. The team does theirs, but everyone feels like there is a gaping hole in the lineup. Even if they physically have a full team, thanks to Roberts. But Isaac had told them to win it for Jamie, and the fucking lads did. That would at least make Jamie feel better about having missed it. Colin Hughes and Dani Rojas had Sky Sports doing replays of goals. And post-game interviews had been more about Tartt than one would think for a game he wasn't in. Roy was just glad he’d had Jamie give Georgie a heads-up that he was sick before he left for the match. The striker listened to his mum as an amused Keeley kicked Roy out of the room. 

The team didn't even ask Roy if he was going out to celebrate the win. The gaffer hadn't even hung back for the bus. He didn't even change his clothes. He let Nathan Shelley to handle the press. He caught a ride back to the hotel, annoyed by the chatty driver, but he was cognizant enough to not verbally eviscerate the guy. He was just doing his job. Tipped the guy well. Not his fault Roy was a shit company. 

“You weren't joking,” Keeley grinned when she opened the door for Roy. Her voice was quiet.

“Said I'd be back after the match,” he stated as he tossed his jacket over a chair in the room. His tone matches hers. “How is he?” 

“Out cold. Whatever the new doctor gave him must be working.” 

Roy hummed. The hotel’s concierge had arranged for a local doctor to treat Jamie so the physio team could focus on the match. And Roy didn't even mind the outrageous fee that was going to cost them. He'd throw all the money he had at it, even though he knew Rebecca Welton would cover it in a heartbeat. She cared deeply for her team these days. And Roy could respect that. He did respect that about his boss. He glanced at the muted TV as Sky Sports blathered on about the game. Roy was glad it was silent. He could ignore the bullshit commentary on his coaching. They won. That's all that fucking mattered. 

“You need to leave?” Roy asked at the way Keeley's phone kept going off. 

“Maybe to take a few calls. Seems the internet is not satisfied with the team's explanation of Jamie's absence.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Roy says as he moves to check on Jamie himself.

“You would say that,” Keeley grins. “But it's my job to answer it. I'm his publicist, after all.”

“Fair,” Roy states, but he doesn't look at her. His eyes are locked on Jamie. He doesn't see the knowing look on Keeley's face. 

“Team should be here soon,” she tells him as she grabs her bag. “Text me if you need me.”

Roy grunts and nods. He finally looks up at her.

“Doctor said he’ll be back up in a few days,” she assures him. “Bus ride might suck, but we'll manage.”

After she leaves, Roy turns off the TV. He was glad he and Sam had switched rooms. He silently changes into more comfortable clothes and pulls a chair up next to the bed. He picks up the book he had been reading. He didn't get very far in his book. He was too distracted by the wheezing sound coming from Jamie. He knew the team was back as the noise level in the hall increased. He was about to go out and tell them all to shut the fuck up when someone beat him to it. There was a quiet knock on the door. 

He opens it to find Nathan Shelley.

“How is he?” the assistant coach asks.

“Sleeping, but it's not fucking great,” he tells him.

“Think he’ll be able to travel?” Nate asks.

“Can't fucking leave him here,” Roy says. 

“That's true, but it won't make him worse, will it?” 

“Not much to fucking do about it.”

Roy had bought Keeley a ticket back so she could meet them when they got back. She complained, but he was ordering her around, but she didn't really mean it. They were both worried about Jamie. And if she could help ease his pain after a long trip, then she would. 

Roy had triple-checked that he had everything packed up for both himself and Jamie. Dani and Jeff had taken their stuff down so Roy could focus on getting Jamie up and moving. No one says anything, but they watch curiously as Roy leads a pale Jamie to the far back of the bus. The players exchanged worried looks. It was going to be a long, tense ride back to Richmond. 

The bus was quiet, as it usually is during these late-night trips, but this was an uneasy silence. The entire bus would go painfully tense every time Jamie coughed. 

They were on the road for half an hour when Roy noticed Jamie was shaking. Roy couldn't imagine how shitty the striker must feel. Fever-induced chill on a fucking crowded bus. 

Jamie's eyes snap to his when Roy feels the ill man’s forehead for what feels like the millionth time. 

“You okay?” Roy asks quietly.

“Cold,” Jamie says. And Roy had already figured that out by the way Jamie not only avoided the cold glass of the window but also the way Jamie sort of chased the warmth of Roy's hand as he pulled away. How Jamie could be burning up but shivering cold had Roy thinking this was a terrible idea. He should have made better arrangements for Jamie. He should have extended their stay at the hotel, no matter the price, and sent the team back without them. Sure, there would be a lot of questions he didn't even want to answer to himself, let alone out loud, but he regrets not doing it. For Jamie's health and safety. Jamie was already wrapped in his usual blanket, a new one Keeley had given him, and Jamie's jacket. But it didn't seem to be enough. 

Roy hummed. 

Jamie's tired eyes watched as Roy dug through the bag he had with him. First, he makes Jamie take more meds. Jamie is vaguely aware of the quiet buzzing alarm on Roy’s phone. As he takes the meds, he sees Roy pull out a jumper from his bag. Roy kept it with him on trips like these in case a hotel or bus had a busted heater, and he needed extra layers. Jamie considers arguing, but he is just too exhausted to actually do it when Roy helps him out of his jacket and into the jumper. Instead of Jamie’s jacket, Roy's much thicker leather jacket, still warm from Roy wearing it, is wrapped around the striker. Jamie almost cries because it's warm and it smells like Roy, and it's overwhelmingly comforting to his fever-muddled mind. Roy must notice the glassy look in Jamie's already bloodshot eyes because without hesitation or protest, even at the odd looks from a few people around them, Roy shifts them both. Roy moves so he can lean against the window with Jamie's back to his chest. One foot on the floor to brace them both. And Jamie manages to get a bit more air than he had bundled up in the window seat. Roy was fucking warm, and Jamie just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep in his lap, but his lungs hurt, and he could barely breathe as is. Thankfully, the bench at the back of the bus they were on was a bit longer than the normal seats, and Roy could stretch his knee out. They still had nearly 5 hours on the bus. Jamie’s eyelids felt heavy when Roy pulled the blankets back around him. The violent chills finally eased a bit. Jamie didn't know if it was from the meds or how blissfully warm Roy fucking Kent was, but he felt just a tiny bit more human.

“Quit fighting it and fucking sleep, Tartt,” Roy said. Jamie chuckles, but it turns into a wheezing cough that earns concerned luck from the teammates who are sitting nearby. The striker doesn't see the way Roy silently waves them off, too distracted by the way Roy’s arm holds him tight, a hand on his chest to keep him from falling to the floor. Roy's other hand starts rubbing Jamie's back until he can pull an exhausted Jamie back against his chest.

“Just try and breathe, Jamie,” Roy's voice is in his ear, sending a shiver down Jamie’s spine. “Let the medicine work. Nothing else matters. Just fucking breathe.”

Jamie whines slightly because all he wants to do is tuck his face in Roy's next and probably cry.

Roy Kent’s heart fucking shattered at the weak noise that Jamie makes, and he can't take it. He wraps his arms as tight around Jamie as he dares with how much the striker is already struggling to breathe. And he plants a kiss on Jamie's temple.

“It's okay, Jamie,” the older man assures. “I've got you.” And that seems to do the trick because Jamie’s hands wrap around Roy's wrist. So the coach adds, “I'm not going anywhere.” And Roy starts quietly telling Jamie about his first time in Newcastle as a kid when he’d been training in Sunderland. His hushed words continue until Jamie is fast asleep against him. 

About halfway through the trip, Coach Beard comes to check on them. He isn't surprised that Jamie is passed out. Nor is he shocked to find Roy Kent wide awake. The gaffer might be exhausted, and on night two, he has no sleep, but he is wide awake. Beard hands him a water bottle. One Roy accepts because he was sort of trapped where he is. 

“You good?” Beard asks. Roy nods because as painfully asleep his leg might be, and as achy his bad knee is, he'd endure it if it meant Jamie slept. Jamie had spent much of the first hour of the trip trying to get comfortable. The fact he had slept long enough for Roy to get sore was good. 

“Fucking fine,” Roy grumbles. 

“You sure?” Nate asks when he appears over Beard’s shoulder. “We could help you-” 

He is cut off by a low growl from Roy. “You fucking wake him, and you’ll be picking your teeth up out the aisle.” 

“Right, yeah, got it,” Nate says before disappearing, presumably back to his seat. Beard just nods and hands him the book Roy had set aside. 

Roy can feel the rattle in Jamie's lungs worsening as the meds wear off, and Jamie starts to wake up. Thankfully, they were only about 45 minutes out from the dog track now. 

Roy gently shushes him as a bump in the road jostles everyone on board, earning a pained whine from the ill man. “It's okay, Jamie,” Roy tells him. “Nearly there, then we can go home and get you in bed.” 

And it's like a knife in Roy's heart that Jamie is too tired and sick to make a snippy comeback or stupid innuendo. Like all the humor and joy was being drained from the player. And Roy hated it. As much as he acted annoyed or put out by Jamie, he fucking adored him. Wouldn't change the man Jamie had grown into for the fucking world.

On the contrary, he'd fucking fight anyone that doubted Jamie. Because Roy Kent was fucking gone on Jamie Tartt. The arrogant prick stole his heart at some point, and Roy hadn't even fucking noticed. His sister and Keeley were never going to let him live this down. And he'd endure it as long as Jamie was okay.

Jamie worried as he watched how Roy had to grip the seats as they exited the bus. Roy is slower than usual. Jamie might be sick, but he knew Roy. He could identify Roy while blindfolded by footsteps alone. The slight limp and the way Roy leans heavily on the railing with each step down makes Jamie’s brows furrow.

“Fucking stop it,” Roy says when his eyes meet Jamie's. 

“Your knee-” 

“Is fucking fantastic. You going to just fucking stand there or what?” 

Keeley's laugh has Jamie looking behind him.

“You two are a sight,” she grins. 

“Did you-”

“Course I did, Roy-o,” she smiles. “Let's get you home, babe,” she says to Jamie, and he is too tired and confused to argue. He nearly panics when he notices Will helping Roy along, but Keeley's warm hand pats Jamie’s chest. “He's okay, just a long ride,” Keeley tells him. “Telling either of you not to worry is a waste, but I can tell you, he doesn't regret it. Now, in you go.” She helps him into Roy’s G-Wagon with little argument. He is surprised when Roy gets in the back beside him, and Keeley gets behind the wheel. Roy doesn't often let others drive his car. But then again, this is Keeley.

“Jamie?” The striker's eyes snap up and he meets Keeley’s in the rearview mirror before Keeley looks away to meet Roy’s. 

“Hmm?”

“She asked if you were fucking hungry,” Roy tells him, and the worried look on Roy's face has a familiar feeling in Jamie's gut returning. 

“I'm knackered more than anything,” Jamie says.

“I get that,” Keeley says. “Be home soon.”

Jamie must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he's waking up in his own bed, unsure how he got there. He tries to put the pieces together, but he comes up short. 

“Good, you're awake.”

“Phoebe?” Jamie asks because Roy Kent’s niece is in the doorway to his bedroom.

“Hang on, I have to tell my mum.”

“Your mum?” Jamie mutters, but she is gone. So Phoebe and her mum were there. Jamie’s tired brain tries to remember what happened to cause this to happen. 

“Well, your colour's better,” Roy's sister says as she walks in. 

“You're in my house?” 

She nearly laughs at his confused look. Phoebe giggles.

“Well, yeah,” Phoebe says like it's the most obvious fact in the universe. “Uncle Roy let us in.”

“Uncle Roy,” Jamie mutters.

“My brother begrudgingly went to training,” the doctor tells him. She uses a stethoscope to check his breathing. Jamie coughs as she does. “Rough,” she tells him. “But better than it was.”

“Uncle Roy said it was something like popcorn popping while rattling a jar of change, and when you pinch a balloon as it deflated.”

Jamie’s laughs turn into a wheezing coughing fit at the odd description. He startles slightly as a funny mask meets his face, but he looks over at the doctor as she turns on a machine. 

“Yeah, she asked him, and that's how he explained it,” the amused mother said as she looked at her daughter. “Nebulizer,” she taps the machine. “Help get those lungs to open up faster. Make it easier to breathe.” She goes on to tell him how it works. 

“So,” Jamie says despite the mask muffling his speech. “You…have…Babysitting…duty?” 

He doesn't miss the worried look on Phoebe's face as he has to break between each word, but her mum just squeezes her knee, where she sits on the side of Jamie's bed. Phoebe's hands were too busy holding Jamie's hand. And that makes Jamie smile behind the mask. He was always happy to see Phoebe. Sure, this was a weird visit, but he was glad she was there. Being sick was awful. But it was easier when you had people that cared around you. 

“My brother insisted Phoe was the best nurse for the job.” And the smile the girl gave them did wonders to heal Jamie's heart. She was a ball of sunshine. Jamie was still trying to figure out how they got there when he remembered that Keeley had driven Jamie and Roy to Jamie's flat. Roy must have stayed. 

“His knee?” Jamie asks, sure that Roy's sister would know.

“Fine, after he iced it,” she tells him. “Or as fine as it ever is.” She shrugs. “Although if he doesn't start wearing the brace again on bad days, I'm going to kick him in it.”

“That's not very nice, mum,” Phoebe says.

“Neither is your uncle when his knee hurts, so seems fair,” her mum grins. Jamie chuckles. “Medication must be working. We got a laugh that didn't turn into a cough.”

“Yay!” Phoebe cheered, and Jamie smiled. The pair stayed, and Phoebe told him all about the match he had missed. As much as it hurt him to know he had let his team down, the colourful commentary from an 8-year-old made it easier to stomach. 

Roy had let himself in with Jamie’s keys and followed his niece’s laugh to find them all in Jamie's room. His sister turned off the nebulizer. And the icy grip around the gaffer's heart eases slightly at the smile on Jamie's face as the mask was set aside. 

“Uncle Roy's here!” Phoebe announced. 

“How's the best medical team doing?” Roy asks. 

“Great!” Phoebe grins. 

“And the patient?” Roy adds. And Jamie is stunned at the strange dichotomy on the gaffer's face. He looks exhausted. He has bags under his eyes. At the same time, there is a spark in his eyes. A smile on his face as he leans against the door frame. And Jamie feels butterflies when Roy looks at him. It's not the first time he's felt it. He's always craved Roy's attention. Even when they were both playing for Richmond, Jamie would go out of his way to antagonize his captain. Getting to see Roy content with his family was something Jamie always considered special.

“Much better,” Phoebe answers. “He managed to laugh without coughing.” 

“Oh really?” Roy asks with amusement. 

“He had the nebulizer on at the time, but it means we're on the right track,” Roy's sister tells him. “That and his fever finally broke.”

Jamie hadn't even realized that he didn't feel feverish anymore. 

“That's great,” Roy says. The gaffer feels himself relaxed. Jamie was getting better. 

Roy watches as his sister gets up from the chair beside Jamie's bed. She reaches a hand out to Phoebe. “Come on, Phoe, soup-making time,” she says. Phoebe gives both Jamie and Roy a hug as she leaves. Roy can't help but grin at the dopey smile on Jamie's face. 

“Wait, soup making? Do I even have the stuff for that?” Jamie asks, and Roy gets a bit uneasy again. 

“You do now,” Roy says as he moves to take the seat his sister had been in. 

“Since when?” 

And Roy gives him an odd look. 

“Since yesterday.”

“Did Keeley get them before we got back?”

“No,” Roy answers. “Jamie, you've been in and out of it for a couple of days since we got back.”

“What?” And he remembers that Roy's sister had said Roy was at training. They usually had the day off after long travel away matches like that. 

“A couple days?”

“You okay?” Roy asks as Jamie coughs. 

Jamie winces. He felt terrible thinking about how many nights of sleep he had ruined for Roy. 

“You should go home,” Jamie says when he can finally speak again. 

“Already here,” Roy states.

“I know, but…” Jamie starts. “You need sleep.”

“And you need to recover, so here we fucking are,” Roy tells him. 

“I know, but-”

“I can fucking assure you that I will not sleep better in my own fucking bed. Probably worse because no one is here to look after your dumb arse.”

“But my fever broke, and I'm feeling-”

“You just had a coughing fit,” Roy says with a glare.

“But I didn't throw up or pass out, so I’m-”

“Fucking hell,” Roy says, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Fuck it.” A stunned Jamie watches as Roy climbs into bed beside him. “Now will you shut the fuck up and sleep.”

Jamie woke up feeling warmer than he had in a long time. He felt better too. His lungs still felt like crappy, but he didn't care as much. 

[yourpostisonpinterest]

you know the pinterest girlies. the "my parents won't let me have any social media but pinterest" girlies. they love pukicho. they have the pickle man, just like us. in many ways, we tumblr users are similar to the pinterest girlies. and there are many tumblr posts reposted onto pinterest. have you ever wondered if your post made it onto pinterest? if your post got big enough to be posted on pinterest, you probably already know that it's there. so this blog is kinda useless. but i wanted a gimmick blog.

if you find a post on pinterest and i haven't, you can send me an ask (speak, fool) or submit a post (did i miss a post?) have fun.

i'll try not to tag anyone multiple times. i can't find a better way to do this than tagging the person with a pic of their post. sorry. whoops. tumblr search engine sucks.

goodbye. you know the drill. dni if you're a dick. don't be a dick.

inspired by: every gimmick blog ever and all of the pinterest girlies

[subparcarrion]

CW//TW: kinda vent, discussion of tics and tic attacks (and some of the aftermath for me), discussion of high stress and anxiety situations, cussing/cursing, discussion of physical pain, discussion of pills.

(ACTUAL POST UNDER CUT.)

So... yeah,,,

Tic attacks, gonna have to go with ☆☆☆☆☆/★★★★★ (0/5). Especially at close to four in the morning at a sleepover.

Not really sure why I'm deciding to put it out on the internet, but I guess I wanna talk about it or smth. And with March break and my crippling social anxiety the closest I've come to talking about it irl is a quick "that was kinda traumatic ngl" to a close friend over text.

In retrospect it makes sense, it's the most stressed I've been in a while now paired with a lot of just having to be constantly "on" and feeling scared to say no.

For context I did a pseudo babysitting job for a family friend from around mid afternoon to nearly midnight. I then decided to go a sleepover with my friends late since they had been kind enough to move the date so I could attend. (Probably not the best idea for the future who has a bad anxiety disorder and probably a lot of other stuff, but when have I ever said no.)

The job itself was pretty stressful but the kid and her mom's are super nice and did their best to accommodate me, so that was really nice. (They also paid me really well when I would have honestly done if for free so I'm not gonna complain. Anything bad was kinda just unavoidable considering it was me who was doing the job.)

Im also not really gonna bitch about the sleepover too much, my friends are lovely, the timing just made things rough.

Since I was arriving so late we hung out for like an hour and then went to bed (at least tried to go to bed), a lot of tha time was just kinda spent getting ready for bed though. There's nothing wrong with that, I just ended up feeling a little like I had missed out on the best part of stuff. (Again, no one else's fault.)

Everyone else fell asleep pretty quick, however I was not tired at all. It wasn't unexpected though, going from one high stress situation to another doesn't really let you let your guard down. Let alone feel properly sleepy.

So I just kinda did some stuff on my phone for thirty minutes to see if I would get tired and then decided to finally turn in for the night still very much all to aware of everything.

At this point it's probably important to mention that everyone in my froend group has at least a passing interest in a game called "The Stanley Parable". And if you didn't know you can go into an elevator in that game, and it kinda just plays this goofy elevator music in loup until you leave.

It is thus tradition in my friend group to play the elevator music while we fall asleep at any and all sleepovers where it is possible and everyone is chill with it.

The elevator is kinda some basic lyricless pop-ish kinda techno song where you can occasionally, if you listen closely enough hear the narrator hum along with the tune. The song itself is a certified banger, but I was stressed as fuck and hyperaware of everything. It was safe to say it was driving me crazy, especially the humming part.

I didn't really have any means to turn it off though and I would feel bad doing it. After all, I had agreed to it any it would be distruptful to try since it was super late and the room was pretty packed. To move around too much would probably wake someone up. (Wow, foreshadowing or smth.)

I never really got to sleep and it was around late three in the morning, nearly four when shit really started to hit the fan.

(Another bout of context before I continue: so I've had what I'm just calling tics at this point for about a year now, maybe a bit longer. At least that's when they started getting really noticeable and causing real problems for me. Personally for me it's mostly motor ticks that get much worse in stressful situations. Stressful situations being an iffy description that could cover pretty much anything on acount of the anxiety disorder. Albeit over time it has developed into mostly motor ticks with occasional verbal ones.

I can have periods where they are happening very few times a day and then ones where they are happening several times a minute, either way they never really go away. I had been doing pretty good tick wise before this whole ordeal, now it's definitely leaning towards the worse, more disruptive and painful side.)

It started off with a ciuple of my usual motor tics, getting more and more aggressive very quickly. For the most part these would consist of things like my shoulders jumping up and hitting the vase of my head and neck or my hands doing weird shit.

By the time the verbal tics started the motor tics were so aggressive and frequent they were getting pretty painful. This would be the same time I would start making small squeaks as a verbal tick.

It became pretty clear after that this wasn't stopping any time soon so I sat up and used my pillow to cover my mouth in hopes to muffle the noise so I wouldn't wake anyone.

This was the point where something changed and my tics got the worst they'd ever been. It went from squeaks to small screams and loud grunts. And I was just sitting there in pain scared out of my mind for nearly and hour before the noise finally woke up my friends. Cuz despite all my effort a pillow can't hide constant screaming for very long.

When my friends woke up they were reasonably concerned, they knew I had tics that could occasionally get kinda bad but this was the worst it had been, and I could barely explain through the ticks that it had been going on for about an hour. There was definitely no way I was calming them down, and in all fairness I was freaking out too and they handled the whole shitshow remarkably well.

They probably spent twenty minutes or more trying to calm me down or help, but nothing was working, in fact it might have been getting worse. One of my friends also tried Google-ing it, but Google pretty much said drug him or ignore them were feasible options for yours truly, the little bitch boy.

My friend eventually got their mom and I regained enough control to pack my shit and got driven home. I downed as much sleeping and pain meds as I was allowed to take and continued ticking until I passed out.

Idk,,, not a particularly entertaining story, ig I just wanted to get it out somewhere.

As for me right now, it's been two days and I can't go five minutes without some sort of tic at most.

However, I'm feeling somewhat better, even if my neck hurts like shit.

I suppose that's all, thanks for listening to me bitch and moan tumblr. <33 /p

-carrion_

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

[desastreorcalamite]

𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 @walstarterblog

John B pulled himself over the edge of the boat, using one of his legs to steady himself on the dock as he heaved the heavy toolbox onto the boat. If it had been up to him they would have kept needed tools onboard the ships at all times, but unfortunately, that wasn't his decision to make. So instead, he was required to haul them with him for every repair. Setting the toolbox onto the hull of the ship, he hopped in after it and began digging through the rusted metal box for the tools he needed. "Shit," he grumbled to himself. He had left his second, smaller box on the dock with the hope that he wouldn't need to haul both into the ship for this particular job. Apparently, that wasn't the case. Catching sight of someone passing by, he reached up an arm to wave them down. "Hey, can you pass me that?" John B asked, pointing to the smaller box.

[momocicerone]

prefacing this by saying that i have ran out of feelings for every single one of you motherfuckers

took me bout two years to realize that i am not responsible of teaching any of y'all basic human decency and/or common courtesy. i am tired of being mother teresa of calcultta and being '''''the only person who gets/loves/understands'''' you . like gee mayhaps they keep leaving because you kinda suck on a human level.

this is not about you, b. chill. sit down. we'll talk later. (if you're reading this)

anyway.

being the understanding/nonjudgmental/forgiving friend will get you in hell. take it from me. billie said it first: all the good girls go to hell. be an asshole instead. it worked for me in the past, idk why i decided to be a nice person.

to that one specific person who blatantly implied i deserve to be treated in an antagonistic way: get thrown into a tank of piranhas and rot. i hope you choke on dog shit and perish. fuck yourself in the ass with a double cactus, specifically for making me ever believe you cared about me. i hope you get incurable herpes :)

i am doing a deep cleanse. if i ever had love or fondness for any of you motherfuckers, #can'trelate. sayonara bitches.

[cloud9sora]

He looks so baby gurl than daddy to me

BUT WHEH ABOTHWR ARTIST DRAWS HIM UTS ALWAYS DADDY LIKE LOOOOKK

what the actual fuck?!!! AAAA

🤩🤩🤩🩷🩷🩷❤️❤️💖💖💓💗🥹🥹😭😭✨✨✨✨

[alltimefail-sims]

People taking the time out of their day to send anonymous hate really is wild to me.

Welcome to Simblr kindergarten! Before you take your wimpy anon ass into someone's inbox to send some foolish (or downright deplorable) shit, ask yourself the following:

If it isn't one of these things, maybe just unfollow and/or log off. It is really not difficult!

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Dragon Danny rampages through Gotham and claws his way up Wayne tower with Tim Drake in one of his claws. Tim is freaking out because the dragon speaks and all it will say is his name. What did he do to piss off a dragon???!

Damian is jealous and trying to get the dragons attention, Jason is taking pictures of "captured princess Tim" in revenge for a prank Tim had pulled earlier, and Dick is trying to plan with Bruce and Barbara.

Everything comes to a head however when Tim's evil(ish) clone calls to the dragon from the roof of the building they were on and says, "Wrong one, love."

Danny is bashful and gently places non-clone Tim on the roof and pats his head his his finger before lifting up his actual boyfriend and triumphantly roaring.

Tim asks wtf is happening and other Tim explains hes a clone made by Ras. As if one cue the dragon hissed distainfully, "Raaaaaasssssss"

He would like to change his earlier question. "What did Ras do to piss off a dragon?"

---

The batfam track the dragon as it flies to some place in the middle of nowhere and discover what looked like an abandoned city. It was completely pristine other than some overdrown lawns and leaf litter but there wasn't a soul in sight. Neither human or animal roamed the streets and the whole place gave off an eerie vibe.

Whats more? There are no records of a city named "Amity Park" ever existing

Aka Amity Park gets sent into another dimention without its residents after Vlads portal explodes. Danny has to save everyone but the only way he could was to absorb the ecto-contamination out of them but he couldn't do that for the city itself so he just stole the freaking city like a madlad and moved to another dimension.

He meets Evil Clone Tim made by Ras and they fall in love and Danny takes him home where they live happily until Ras kidnaps EC Tim and Danny gets cursed via magic user to be a lizard.

Unfortunately for them non-ecto magic doesn't work too well on ecto-entities and Phantom definitely became a "lizard" all right. Just not the type they wanted.

[duskoon]

“Weakness”:

Tw: Fem!Earthing!reader, Yandere themes, Stalking, Attempted murder (against the reader), Manipulation, Established relationship with the heroes (Who are my OC’s, btw.), Kidnapping, Violence, Cussing, Non-consensual touching, Non-consensual kissing, Implied hypnosis.

+ Yandere type: Possessive, Manipulative, Delusional.

+ Intensity: Medium-to-High. (A+)

+ Manipulative: High. (S)

+ Danger: Medium. (A)

QotC: “No good deed goes unpunished.” -Oscar Wilde.

Weakness. Such word only roused revulsion and dismay within himself. Yet, here he is. Soaked entirely in it, as his crimson irises trailed on the delicate frame of his recent addiction from afar. His presence is concealed, lest they -bothersome pests-interfere with his doing.

She was the quintessential of frailty; A body that can give up easily, crushed and obliterated into a bloody plump by the mere sight of a Ki-blast. His mind could not divulge him a proper reason for such obsession. Conceivably the fact, she had saved his life- ignorant of his identity- and in silent appreciation this unwanted illness has came to be.

The albino bio-android made every effort possible, to rid himself of this sickening disease. It was a plague that breached both his heart and mind. He even attempted to kill her, whilst the time patrollers “heroines” were busy elsewhere interrupting with his creator and his plans.

Maybe the strange sensation will vanish, if she ceases to exist. Just a quick twist of her puny neck and she will be gone, thus he could finally get on with his foremost objective.

The goal that he was created for and intended to achieve, that is to become the strongest life form in the whole macrocosm. However, it was easier said than done. For when the time called, his hands betrayed him. He couldn't come to kill her for some odd reason. Was it gratitude holding him back? Or was it pity? He doubted that, as a demon like him have no need for that emotion.

~~

She could feel eyes burning into her frame wherever she went, but couldn't figure out who it was. It terrified her to her core, especially when it followed her home within Conton city. She was no one of importance, the only thing she had was her intimate connection with the heroines of Conton city and Toki Toki city. That's why she reached for her most trusted companions, to help her out with her current predicament.

“Hey Hummingbird, nice to see ya again. What did you invite us for? Is it for a feast again, you know that I love your food so much.” Anima, the female saiyan, commented cheerfully. It was so apparent, as her grey tail wagged in a way that conveyed her excitement at the thought.

“Is food all you ever think of? Did Kakarot contaminate your mind again. Plus, her name is (Y/n) not hummingbird.” Toma, the other female saiyan, stated annoyance creeping into her words.

“At least, I ain’t Vegeta lite. Also, are ya jealous of my relation with the little birdie~ ” Anima teased, painfully drawling her syllables. Her nickname made the earthling’s face flushed in embarrassment, even as years has passed by she wasn't used to her friend’s shenanigans.

“What did you say?! I ain't a rip off of anyone. Nor am I jealous, what are you on?!” The dark haired saiyan retaliated angrily -tail swishing to the sides like a pendulum-, as a dust of pink appeared on her milky cheeks.

“Sure. If that what keeps your mind at rest.”

“Why you..”

On daily basis, she finds their disputes to be amusing. Yet, today’s subject was of significance.

“Unfortunately, no. It is something unnerving and has been on my mind recently.” The (h/c) woman expressed, her tone is uncharacteristically sombre and tense. Distinguishable from her usual carefree and easygoing nature, that adorned her visage. Both heroines took notice and their expression shifted into seriousness.

“Is there someone that I need to kill? Because if that is the case, then hell ya you're speaking my lingo.” Toma remarked with a wicked grin gracing her scarred face.

“No. Lately, someone has been stalking me.” With that said, (Y/n) felt a sudden change in the air. Looking around, only to discover that Toma has subconsciously transformed into her SSJ3 form. The ground of her home is shaking with the blonde’s wrath, as the (h/c) could clearly discern the signs of bloodlust in the former raven haired warrior’s expression.

���TOMA. Calm down. Can't you see you're scaring her more than she already is, plus no super saiyan within the city parameters. Remember?” The elder saiyan reprimanded her partner. As she pointed to the earthling’s frightened countenance to verify her point.

“Fine, mother.” The latter grumbled sarcastically, hair turning jet black like it used to be prior to the transformation.

“Now, Hummingbird. Can you tell us exactly what happened and how did you come to the conclusion that you are being stalked. After all, this is the first case of someone getting stalked within a city as tightly secured as Conton city.” Anima uttered softly, confusion hazing her mind as she tried to come up with an explanation for the current situation.

“At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks or I was paranoid seeing that this city is armed to the teeth. I know this may sound ridiculous, considering I can not sense energy like you two. As weeks went by, their presence kept on growing. Until one day...” She started, as her hands began peeling off her baggy scarf.

“This mark appeared out of nowhere on my neck. I assumed that somebody tried to kill me, while I was asleep.” She continued trying to hold back the urge of breaking down in tears, as she pointed toward the imprint of a large hand on her throat. It faded into pink, owing to the passing of days. Otherwise, it would've been glaring red.

Anima’s silver eyes darkened, as she gently traced her slender fingers on the earthling’s wounded area. Who would dare harm her friend, let alone stalk her and in her sleep too? And for what gain? The (h/c) didn't have anything of value, other than the fact she was kind and respectful. She was a human, after all. Not a saiyan that was blessed with peak physical strength, nor a namekian with regenerative properties.

Suddenly, a dark possibility washed her mind as Anima locked her silvery irises with Toma’s amber ones in a knowing stare.

“(Y/n), do not panic.. I know it is a lot to take in mind, but the only ones who I and Toma believe can bypass the barrier of the city are the time breakers.” The grey-head worded her statement, mindful enough not to plunge the human further into bouts of anxiety. The fact her playful saiyan friend dropped the nickname, meant she was earnest in her saying.

“No.. No.. It must be something else. Maybe someone else is stalking me. Maybe, the city’s laws are not enforced as it is believed to be. For whatever reason do a demon want with a mere human like me?” The panicked woman endeavored an explanation, lest her mind falls into the clutches of madness and trepidation. Trying to convince herself, more so than the two saiyans.

As much as the sight of the young woman crying, tugged at her steeled heart. Toma would have her know the truth, rather than let her drown in a false sense of hope.

“I am afraid, that is the case. It is unlikely someone would break a law here and escape without a patroller being notified. Unless said criminal hid their ki skillfully, or lack it completely. At least we know the perpetrators, so now we could do something about this problem.” The silent saiyan finally spoke, wrecking the earthling’s false sense of safety.

“C’mon Toma, Could you not be insensitive for one moment in your life and be mindful of your words? The poor girl is breaking down and you are not helping the situation.” Anima responded infuriated at the younger’s harsh nature, as she took in the earthling into her strong arms.

“You might be older and stronger then me, but Kami... You're an absolute buffon, if you believe sugar coating the problem would do any good. If anything, it will make it far worse than it already is. I am doing her a favour and protecting her, instead of letting her rot in ignorance like you.” Toma spat, glaring into her argent eyes in a challenging manner. Goading the elder saiyan to refute her statement.

Anima did not say anything, why does she when her body language speaks it all? Her silvery-white pupils darkened to almost ashy grey, grim expression drawn into her porcelain visage, and her hold onto the crying female tightening. Grey tail protectively wrapping around the earthling’s waist.

“You stay with her, while I see it through with Chronoa regarding this issue. If I see one hair on her head unaligned, you will be held accountable. And you won't like me, when I am really mad.” Anima voiced calmly, with a threatening tenor in tow.

“That, you should not be afraid of. Finally, you suggested something of reason.” The taller of the two assured.

Before letting the (h/c) go from her tight grasp, Anima previous tense expression has softened up as she addressed the following words with honeyed timbre.

“Don't worry, Hummingbird. So long you're with us, no harm will be dealt against you. That I promise you.” With that, Anima flew away from the house to contact the supreme kai of time. Leaving the other two females behind.

“Good grief. Fine, I won't kill them. Even though, they obviously deserved it. Just, please, stop crying. It's irritating.” Toma groaned, seemingly vexed. However, it was far from the truth. As deep down in her shriveled heart, she truly cared about her friend. After all, the human was the first to accept the unruly saiyan unconditionally. Hell be damned, if she'd let anyone take the light and joy from her friend’s (e/c) eyes.

~~

Hatred- no, emotions has always been an enigma that he could not personally understand nor feel. As it was unnecessary for him to have one. His body, soul, and heart-assuming, he had one.- were churning with a bizarre distasteful sensation. It was those execrate saiyans again. Not only do they persist to hinder his plans, but also steer away his obsession from him.

He wanted nothing more than to rip the sliver-head to shreds, as he watched the interaction from a device that Towa has created. At this point, his desire for a battle with the two waned into a lust for their blood.

“My, Mira. Something on your mind? It is very unlike you to be this unfocused, especially when the plan goes our way. Is it perhaps the human, again?” Towa inquired teasingly, her bloody hued pupils dissecting the brooding android.

“Not at all.” Mira replied almost instantaneously, holding back the claws of envy from overwhelming his senses.

“You can lie to Dabura all you want, but not to me. After all, I am your creator. I know all about your inner machinations, so tell me. Perhaps, I can even lend a hand. Do you wish for the human to be utterly yours and yours alone?” She suggested, whilst mischievously twirling her staff. A cruel smirk tugging at her plump lips, awaiting patiently for the demon’s response.

He felt it once again, but this time it was much more pleasant. The notion of having her close to him made his engines- heart whirl with excitement and elation. To deem her as his and his alone. What a paradise it will be, as much as raising the demon realm from it's rubbles.

“Yes, I do...” Mira answered.

“Are you sure? You seem hesitant. Do not worry about my brother, if that what concerns you. I am sure he would understand, as you are loyal and such fealty must be rewarded. No?” Towa reassured, tapping her staff on the grounds of the demon realm. By doing so, she opened a rift into Conton city.

Her words enabled his fixation more, as he gave his final verdict.

“Yes, I do.” This time, more assured then before.

“Excellent. A loyal solider, deserves nothing less. In addition to that, I can’t wait for those saiyans to crumble to the hands of despair. Watching their dearest friend, disappear not to be seen again. Especially, after being such nuisances.” The demoness uttered, face twisting into a fiendish grin.

~~

She was walking through the recreational plaza to gather some ingredients to cook, with Toma trailing close behind her. It was her way to show her gratitude towards the saiyans, who are currently overwatching her.

“What are you planning to cook? Y’know you don't have to do this, right?” Toma stated, arms crossed at her chest.

“I know, but that the least I can do for you guys. Plus, It is a surprise you will surely like.” You replied back softly. Feeling obligated to return the favour, even if it was their duty to do so.

“Ah. You are always too good, aren't you? Just be careful, not everyone in this shitty world is well deserving of it. Do not put your life in some else hands, they're bound to steal it away.” The taller saiyan advised with a ghost of smile emerging on her blemished lips.

“Noted.” She smiled tenderly.

‘Kami, I thought at first you were weak. However, I was clearly mistaken. It was purity not weakness, and I fear for it as a demon or corrupt asshole may feed on it. Let's hope, it does end in good terms.’ Toma thought, keeping her sharp honey irises on the kind-hearted woman.

As the earthling carried on with her shopping, Toma felt four large familiar and sinister energies nearby. Her stoic visage curled into concern as her calloused hands latched on the oblivious woman, therefore startling her.

“What is it?” She asked confused and slightly worried at the drop of the buoyant mood.

“(Y/n), stay behind me and do absolutely not move.” Toma ordered, voice strained. The human nodded, as she followed the dark haired warrior words.

“Well. What do we have here? A saiyan and her earthling pet.” A feminine voice lulled from above, as a sudden pressure of evil Ki appeared with the arrival of the mysterious individuals. Two of whom are demons; With pristine white hair, azure complexion, dark crimson pupils, pointed ears, and claded in red and black outfit.

Towa and Mira, her guard dog, didn't elicit fear in her gut as much as the other two floating beside them. The fearsome pink demon with pitch black sclera, boiling red irises, mauvelous pink skin, and a menacing grin that itches to destroy anything in his path. Majin buu, more specifically Kid buu.

In a normal circumstances, Kid buu is a pain in the ass to deal with. But to add Broly in the mix, that's a recipe for a nightmare. As she remembered clear as a sunny day, how that green haired sai- no, devil stomping on her back without a single regard. Laughing with mirth at every second of her pain, as if it was the most delightful thing in the world. The only way to defeat these two combined, is via fusion with Anima.

The (h/c) might not know the gruelling details of her friends’ work, but she knew those four are to be reckoned with. She does not need the ability to detect energy, when their imposing image is enough as it is. Especially the towering and pupil-less male, that could easily snap her into two like a twig if he wished to.

“I am afraid your command is unnecessary. The human will come with us.” Towa stated, watching the power level of the dark haired saiyan rise exponentially, as her short raven hair shifted upwards and into blue hair.

“The hell she will.” Toma roared. Anger flowing her veins, like rivulet of water within the trims of a leaf at the dawn of day. She formed a ki-blade in her hand, then sped through the menaces to get a chance at slicing the female demon. However, her endeavour at harming Towa was blocked with Mira’s hands. With a flick of a his finger, the demonic android sent the heroine flying through multiple buildings.

“I simply can not let you do that. You have crossed our my way for the last time.” The silent demon finally spoke with semblance of irritation seeping onto his proclamation. As he and the pink terror chased the super sayian around the city.

“You saiyans are quite tenacious folk, despite the fact that you are clearly outnumbered you still fight. It is point-” Before she could keep going, a fierce fist hooked with Towa’s surprised face. Which sent the albino demoness soaring uphill into the sky.

“No. It isn't, you putrid bitch. Unlike you, we saiyans are prideful of our convictions. If, by Kami’s name, anyone dared to cross it.. I will eviscerate them. Starting with you, then your lap dog.” Anima, in her SSJBE form, remarked coldly as she wiped the filth’s blood from her fist.

~~

Whilst her friends and the other patrollers were fighting, (Y/n) decided to take a refuge in the most secured place her mind could conjure. The time nest.

Which was surprising, considering the area wasn't heavily guarded as she thought it would be. Something was wrong, yet she couldn't put her finger on it.

This was her first time in here, as it usually is restricted to time patrollers, GoDs, and other Kais. Other citizens were not authorized to enter, to prevent probable alteration towards history from happening.

However, something felt off inside the time vault. Her mind told her no, yet her body moved on it's own. Curiosity already sparked, she pushed forward.

Hesistantly and carefully, She moved into the chamber. A dark voice ricocheted through the hardened walls, as they tampered with the time scrolls.

“Ah, Hummingbird. Was it? No need to be shy, show yourself or I'll make you.” The unidentified individual spoke sensing her unadulterated energy, their voice oddly familiar and jovial. Heeding their orders, she revealed herself from behind the lofty pillars.

Only to be shocked, that it was the supreme kai of time who was behind this. No, there was something uncanny about her like the two terrifying beings she saw with Toma. The Kai’s forehead was plastered with the time breaker’s insignia, as her usual deep chocolate irises alongside her sclera is as crimson as blood.

“Y-y-you’re not Chronoa, who are you?” She stuttered fearfully, perceiving the wickedness from the kai’s imposter.

“You are not as brainless as your kin, it seems.” She taunted, voice shifting from feminine into a gruff masculine one. His guise falling apart, exposing the demon king himself. Dabura.

With each step the demon took toward her, she trekked back twice frightened of his powers and what he is going to do to her.

“What do you want for me? I-I am worthless as a source of an energy, if that what you intend with me.” You voiced. Feeling the coolness of the pillars crashing with your rear, as you kept your distance from the sneering devil.

“Why such a dreadful expression? I won't hurt you.” He said, relishing on her terrified bearing. It was akin to eating from the tree of might. His poor sister’s creation mistook her purity for weakness, though Dabura could not blame him for that. She is weak, but pure.

No wonder his sister’s quiet partner was attracted to her ki, for a demon’s-even as artificial as Mira- favored craving is that of innocence and the woman in front of him reeked of it.

‘As if, with the previous threat.’ Her mother used to tell her tales, regarding demons. How they are the manifestation of undiluted evil, that tainted every creature with their heinous actions and tempting lies. Bringing out the worse of the worst within each soul, a catalyst for calamities and utter destruction.

To see one- let alone their king- shook her to her core and she felt bile rising from her stomach, as the realization suddenly strikes her. She was alone, with possibly one of the strongest and most vile beings on the cosmos in front of her, without any protection or combat experience whatsoever.

“As for your previous question, how would you like to hold the position of a princess?” The red skinned demon suggested, his cruel signature smirk remained on his visage.

“Why should I believe a foul demon like you?” You expressed skeptically, eyes scanning for any outlet to escape from. Once you do, you will run off as quick as your legs can afford to.

“Your fear is very much founded, but you earthlings and your silly superstitions are laughable. Let's not digress, this is not the point. Whether you come willingly or not, it will end up the same. Don't you think it is rather strange, that you’re alone? So do yourself a favour and do not be a stubborn brat.” Dabura chuckled at her false bravado, that masked her true feelings of paralyzing terror.

“So you're telling me those people who were sent against my companions were nothing, but distractions to drag me out here on my own?” You said, slowly working out the implication of his assertions. So, it was premeditated all along. It was them, after all. Toma nor Anima were lying, yet it was dread that clouded your judgment back then to take notice.

“Heh. You are not as dumb as you are naïve, aren't you?” The hellspawn responded jeeringly, playing with her anxiety like a predator would do to it's prey before devouring it whole.

The female bolted without hesitation from whence she first came from, once she saw the gate was no longer blocked with an imperceptible force. Her heart thumping hard against her torso, that it might as well rive through her body from the sheer terror she is currently experiencing.

Sweat rolling down her neck, blood turning cold, and her body in a seemingly permanent flight or fight mode. Desperately trying to outrun the laughing beast behind her. His steps were slow, in comparison to her speedy one. He was either taunting her or he was dragging this chase long enough to satiate his wanton sadism, for she knew that he could've caught her without breaking a sweat.

“This is completely your fault. If you weren't so kind you wouldn’t be in this quagmire, in the first place. Your tender-heart was and still is your downfall.” His hurtful words stung her deeply and confused her at the same time, yet she didn't have the stint to lament or reflect on it. Her life was on the line, yet she was unaware of the deep-rooted obsession that a certain demonic-android had for her.

She was so close to the gleaming portal, that separated the time nest from the city. Yet, she felt a pressure from behind pushing her down to the grassy ground. Her hands were tied behind her back with an insurmountable strong chains, or seems like it as she can not move them freely.

“Now, think... (Y/n) think. Whom did you help last month? A poor lady in need of assistance or an injured traveller, perhaps?” Dabura remarked hoping his statement would rejuvenate her memories, as his sharp talons grazed the earthling’s shoulder gently. As much as he wants to continue playing with her, he won't injure her. After all, he has a promise to keep with his sister.

Her (e/c) eyes dilated for a moment, as she processed his words.

‘No... No... It can not possibly be the stranger that I took a month ago and nursed back to full health.’ She refused to accept it. If it was true, then the demon king was not fibbing at all. When he stated, it was her empathy for others that screwed her over. She unwittingly helped a demon, even when they behaved in a dubious and vague manners.

~~ (Flashback, a month prior.)

It was at the dead of the night, when she had first heard it. The sounds of something hefty crashed on top of her roof, startling up the lady from her sleep. Rousing up from her slumber groggy, she decided to investigate the source of the noise.

What she has discovered made her sleepy eyes open wide at the sight of the unconscious individual. They were gravely injured, based on the electrical sparks and strange dark blue liquid seeping from their wounds.

Were they an android? She was no stranger to one, seeing that she lives in a city where she is exposed to unique races on daily basis.

Usually, she would inform the patrollers about this strange occurrence. But, it was far too late for that. Her conscious would not let her live with the guilt of not helping them either, when she clearly has the ability to do something about it.

Taking matters into her hands, the female decided to carry the person inside. Or more precisely, drag considering how heavy they weight owing to the fact they're an android she assumed. Once she managed to bring them onto her couch, her smooth hand slid over their tattered cloak. The earthling tried to remove the garment. Alas, her appendage was unexpectedly clasped in the the stranger’s powerful grip.

The alien’s lustrous red LED was glowing underneath his hood, eyeing her movements cautiously. It was quite a shock to her that they were awake based on the damage they had sustained, but she doesn't blame them for their sudden wariness.

“Don’t worry, I am here to help. If it will make you comfortable, then I won't remove your cloak. I will just patch you up.” Her statement managed to put the stranger’s mind into rest, as his robust azure hands laxed its grip on her own. However, he understandably did not let go.

“Who...are...you? Why...are you helping...me.” The stranger asked. His masculine voice was raspy and static-like, presumably due to the incision that ripped through the stiff fabric of his voicebox.

“My name is (Y/n) (L/n), and I do not need a reason to help anyone in need. What truly matters, is that you're okay. I hate seeing people hurt, including androids. Plus you needn't worry. I am an engineer myself, so you're in good hands. That I assure you.” She introduced, whilst her rough hands were carefully tending the obtrusive injury on his pectoral.

“Ho...w... naï..” His voice cut off mid-sentence, as he abruptly fell into a state of comatose. It seems his lesions finally took a major toll on his energy.

‘Good grief, this will be a lot of work. At least, it will be worth it. Seeing that I will save a person.’

Hours has passed, since then. She, first, mended the vital wounds, then progressed towards the lesser ones. It was a tiring work to say the least, especially near his pectoral region. Where she had to stitch it close with different reinforced material, than the one he was created from. So that his artificial heart, as bizarre and strangely organic as it is, would not be exposed to detrimental effects.

Within her repairing session, her mind could not help but wonder about how this particular android was created. After all, she dealt with injured androids’ time patrollers before.. All of them, seem to be made by similar components. However the one she is currently dealing with, is far advanced and distinct from what she is accustomed to.

Her final strike was shrugging it off. Thinking of the matter as nothing, but a new product that Capsule corps’ are starting to manufacture. To upgrade the current androids for combat and security purposes.

Soon after, she went to sleep. Darkness took her in its cold embrace, ignorant of the gleaming bloody eyes that stalked her drowsing figure in the shadows.

‘Foolish girl, yet if it weren't for you... I would.. No, I am far stronger than that to rely on her. In addition, this aura you are drenched in... is not something to see everyday. It is addicting, but I am better than... that. Maybe, this accident is not pointless...’

(Flashback, the day after.)

Greeting, Ms. (L/n).

My sincerest apologies, if my disappearance has distressed you. I would like to thank you for your help personally, but... I had an urgent mission that I must attend to. Perhaps... Once I am finished with my tasks, we could meet face to face.

Of course, if you do not mind that is. I would never ask of you something, that you're uncomfortable with.

Regardless, your aid will never be forgotten and overlooked. One day, I hope I'll return the favour to you. As for my name, it is attached by the end of this letter.

~ Arim, an appreciative android.

. P.s. I heard you ,earthlings, find meanings in flowers. I wish the yellow lilies is to your satisfaction. I brought it in as a compensation for the trouble that I gave you.

His words were nothing short of beautiful and elegant- albeit straightforward, yet you were flattered by it. Especially the golden blossoms that lay atop the letter, it's sweet aroma has managed to relax your nerves. How did he manage to know your favorite flower is beyond you, perhaps it was by coincidence that or he was acquainted with humans.

Honestly, you were reasonably worried about him. Despite the fact he was an adept android, his injuries were quite severe and would normally require at least three weeks of recovery. Sighing, you decided to cook a feast as two of your most cherished friends will be visiting today.

A dreamy smile adorned the female’s visage, as she continued to stir the pot. Her thoughts drifted off to Arim, finally a name she can assign to the mysterious android, as she tried to envision what he would look like underneath his shroud. ‘Probably, a handsome lad.’

As much as she would want to share her story with the two rowdy saiyans, she decided it was best to keep it a secret. Namely, out of respect towards Arim’s identity and circumstances. Soon she'll come to regret her decision, but for now she drowse happily in her own world.

~~

(Current day)

“That look of yours... means only one thing, that you have began to finally acknowledge your current situation. Now... You better yield, if not.. Well, I have other means to make you come with me and you'd not like that.” Dabura demanded impatiently, his previous impish mood has completely dropped.

His words -however- fell deaf to her ears, as she starts hyperventilating at her own stupidity. This fucking situation would have been avoided, if she just minded her own business. But, her heart decided to intervene and play the role of a hero. Now, she pays the price for it.

Tears began cascading endlessly from her burnt visage, her breath shortened; feeling her chest getting tauter as minutes pass, and her harrowing cries echoed across the vastness of the time vault.

“My... friends will come f-for me, just you wait.” The earthling hiccuped feigning courage, barely hanging on a flimsy rope of hope.

For if that did not occur, then her mind would lose it all. If only she was a saiyan, or had the ability to utilize her own ki to its fullest potential... Then she would not be so pathetically weak and certainly not be a burden to her companions. Her sight bit by bit becoming bleary, whilst her body started tiring out due to her breakdown.

“That is... If they managed to survive.” The red devil spoke coldly, watching the female faint owing to exhaustion. Her unconscious condition is pitiful and would've garnered his sympathy, if it weren't for the fact that he could not spare any for her hypocritical kind. He is doing it out of respect for his sister’s wish, otherwise he would've killed her earlier.

~~

It... hurts. Her head was throbbing painfully, as if she had been whacked with a strong blow on her cranium. Opening her eyes, she finds herself in an unfamiliar territory. The area she was imprisoned in was rather nice for a supposed penitentiary.

The human was kept in a fancy alabaster room, with checkered black and white marble floor. She laid on a pastel blue queen bed fit for a noble standing, which she was far from it. Apart from that, the room was surrounded with plethora of aristocratic portraits and botanical engravings that were affixed on the walls.

Alongside that, was the presence of her most beloved flowers. It decorated the room with its alluring fragrance and provided refreshment for the chamber. The individual behind this must've tailored it, specifically on her preferences.

Her fingers brushed the soft satiny cover, enjoying the texture of it. That is until a particular movement, has snapped her from her mindless stupor. She made an effort to stand up, yet her hands were pulled back into the bed. Which propelled her, much to her dismay, onto the smooth cushion. It seem like she was restrained by a hidden force, which bred a dark thought into her cerebrum.

“Calm down, do not panic.” She kept on muttered those words like a mantra. Hoping it would extinguish her rising anxiety. Looking down below the bed covers, she noticed that her clothes were left unchanged. Which somewhat quieted the worst of her fears.

“Hush, hummingbird. You have no reason to be afraid of me.” A familiar baritone voice echoed from the shadowy corner of the room. It was Arim. As much as this room was what she envision to be her ideal residence, she did neither want to abandon her friends and the place she came to call home for it.

To see help finally arrive, has sparked anticipation in her spirit to escape from this dreary area. She did not know why, but it stinks with evil and wretchedness. Regardless, that wasn't important as much...

Like a sheep waiting to be slaughtered, she waved her hands in hopes of her saviour to witness.

“Arim, is that you?” Questioned she, her eyes burning with hope and tears of happiness. Kami knows, how much time has passed since she was knocked out.

“Indeed, It is I. You needn't worry, for I have saved you. You are home, where you belong rightfully.” The android statement confounded the earthling, as her brain tried to figure out his perplexing saying.

“H..ha..ha this is no time to joke, Arim. This is not my home, never is and never will be.” (Y/n) gulped nervously, feeling his intense stare on her shivering figure.

“Is it not to your satisfaction? Perhaps a change is in need, then.” Ignoring her comment, he continued.

“W..why are you so insistent about me staying here?” Inquired she fearfully. The (h/c) decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he had hit his head or something. Because there is possibly no way, Arim would do this of his own accord.

Stepping forward, Arim, revealed himself. She was both in shock and despair once she saw who it truly was. Incredibly tall build, short snowy white hair, bright cerulean complexion, pointed ears, accursed carmine irises, red and black outfit, and that harsh stoic expression. Her saviour was all along her captor, Mira.

At this instance, she understood why fate is considered a cruel lady. For she feeds on her subjects’ anguish.

“Simply, I am protecting you from those who wish to mislead you. Look where your naïvety has lead you, that would be avoided if you left me to die. Yet, if weren't for you... Then I would not be able to accomplish my goals and for that I am completely grateful.” Mira spoke bluntly. Despite his stolid disposition, his crimson eyes creeped with an obsessive need to hoard her.

Akin to a dragon selfishly hoarding it's most valuable treasures, far away from the leering sight of the unworthy. Soon his large hands began brushing her arms gently, lest she falls asunder at the mere spike of his own power.

His hands were utterly cold, so chilly it may as well be colder than the vacuum of space. She should have noticed the signs before. If she did, she wouldn't suffer like this. The earthling tried to retract her hands from his grasp, but to no avail it only grew tighter.

“Grateful, how?! By letting your cohorts kidnap me, possibly hurting my friends in the process, and daresay lay destruction upon my home. The only precaution I need is against you not from you. Let me go, you bastard.” She screamed, shaking her invisible shackles in a fit of boiling rage. Angered at her stupidity, outraged at the injury of her friends, and especially wrathful - or is it sadness under the guise of fury?- at the man, no- demon who took advantage of her kindness.

Mira’s impassive expression shifted into a seemingly saddened smile, as his cool magnetic eyes melted into softness. Which only managed to invoke bitterness within the captive.

“Those weak saiyans appears to have poisoned your mind with their barbaric ways. It is my duty, as the future king of the demon realm, to ensure the safety and comfort of my queen. That, and I've come to see you in another light.” Mira started, whilst his rugged appendage has moved from her polished hands to where her heart was located. The action caused the earthling to suddenly panic, perhaps he had decided to end her for her insolence.

However, she was far from the truth. If anything, he had finally accept it. That she may be weak, but if it weren't for her purity... then he would be gone forever. After all, androids do not have souls and thus can only be permitted to live once with no afterlife awaiting them.

“Wh-what light?”

“You saved me, in turn I must save you. And that I love you.” The bio-android’s statement has shook the already terrified woman. The softness in his eyes remains, lips upturned into genuine smile across his azure visage.

The chamber was drowned in uncomfortable silence, while the (h/c) tried to comprehend his deluded sayings.

‘What?! All this time, a demonic-android have been pining after me?! Shit, if only I had... reported the incident back then. But, it's far too late for that.’ Her brain was swirling full with regrets. Despite that... She won't give up on her friends, home, and all that she knows easily for a demon’s whims.

“An android cannot love, let alone a demon like you. You fucking tried to kill me.” Spiteful she was, making an effort to harm him with her words instead of force. Her words stroke a nerve in the albino, as his smile shifted into a demented grin. Fit for a demon like him. Showing his true colors, that what the earthling thought.

“If that what you personally believe, then let me change your mind. After all, you once loved me. Surely, you can do that again.” Before she could rebuke his argument, a pair of cold hungry lips has abruptly locked with her own in a heated session.

Groaning, she attempted to push the hulking male away from her. Yet, his hold on her arms stilled. It was not harsh to the point of leaving a bruise, yet it was firm to keep her in place. Looking in his usual red eye, she noticed that his pupils began to glow white.

After a while, Mira removed his lips from hers. With that being said, her energy began falling. Thd last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered close, was Mira’s vile grin. She doesn't know why, but that damn kiss had drained her vitality completely.

“Hush now, my Queen. Once you are awake, by then the universe will be at the tip of your fingers. Now rest your mind, and succumb to me and me alone.”

An:

I decided to add a new ranking system, regarding yandere’s attributes. (Z being the highest D- being the lowest.)

QotC = Quote of the chapter. It gives the one shot it's general theme. Based on the quote, you can guess the reader shot herself in the leg by saving Mira.

The quote is often associated with Oscar Wilde, yet there has some speculation that someone else (Anonymous) had said it before him. If I figured out who, then I will edit it.

Also, I must apologize for my inactivity lately. I had mid-exams concerning calculus 2 and data structure, for those who are curious.

On another note, dragon balls has a huge following. Yet, barely any yandere writing I wonder why. 🤔

General question, which db/dbz/dbgt villains is your favorite or/and scared you the most when you were younger?

Reblogs are much appreciated.

Lastly, I hope you enjoyed this one shot. I also hope that I didn't butcher the character’s personalities (especially Mira). Personally, this is not my best but I needed to get it done and post it. Mainly, because I've not been posting anything for a while. 🥲

[felswritingfire]

Could you do Dislyte Drew with breeding kink headcanons?

TW: Breeding Kink; Reader is described as AFAB but pronouns are not explicit; Other TW's will be added before the individuals snippets

Ok, so I know you only asked for Drew, but I had to throw in Sander and Freddy to make sure we had the Furry Triad lmao, so pls forgive for the two extras in there. Also I just went with an AFAB reader because, well, I know how those work lmaoooo also it's been a while since I've written smut so, just to be om the safe side jdkdkd

So if you'd like AMAB instead totes send in an ask!

(Extra note from Fel: I JUST READ THE HC PART AND I WROTE THESE AS FUCKING MINI SCENARIOS OMG, I'M SO SORRY, IF YOU WANT ME TO REWRITE THEM, YOU CAN TOTALLY ASK OMG 😭😭😭)

Drew:

TW: Whiny Drew; Dom leaning Reader; Sub leaning Drew; Begging

“Are you alright, love?” Drew’s voice was gentle against the shell of your ear, his wet nose nuzzling against your sweaty neck. You shivered as his long, pink tongue licked slow stripes against your pulse. “We can-” he let out a labored breath at the way you pulsed around him- “we can take a break- you’ve already helped me so much, I don’t want to-” his ramble cut off into a moan as you squeezed your legs harder around his thin waist, pulling him close to you. 

He had already cum in you twice, but he was still hard- pulsing with want and need inside of you. You were already so sensitive, but the desperate, ghost of whines that you sound from the back of his throat, like he was in physical pain, and how could you possibly leave him like that? So, once again, you grind your hips against his the best you can- pulling him as deep as he’ll go. “It’s ok-” you whimper- “I’ll be ok- move, baby, move.”

A full body shiver rushes over him and in a sudden, fluid movement, he’s squeezing you close to him as he begins to piston himself in and out of you. “Thank you! Th-thank you, my darling- my good darling- my sweet darling-” he slurs, rubbing his muzzle against your cheek- “you’re so good to me- so, so sweet and caring and- and-” 

His words began to bleed together as his thrusts became sloppier, hips shaking as he chased his high. He pulled away from you, pausing for a moment in his movements to push your shoulders down and pressing you against the mattress. 

You can’t help but think he looks beautiful like this: ears flickering wildly, his purple eyes bright with energy, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth- Drew looks like an utterly, perfect mess.

A moan rips out of your throat at the sudden explosion of pleasure from the stimulation of his thumb rubbing firm circles on your sensitive clit. 

You barely  caught his mumbles as high pitched begging: “please cum with me- please, please, please, darling- please, I’ll do anything for you. I love you, I love you. Cum, cum, cum, cum-”

It was enough to push you over the edge. You convulsed around him, reaching out to him and dragging him down as soon as he leaned back down, his arms buckling from being suddenly dragged into his climax as well. You cling onto him, hips spasming as you ride out your orgasm.  

Your stomach feels so heavy with heat, cum threatening to spill out of the sides of Drew’s knot as it locks into you. 

Drew is still trembling by the time he regains his composure, his ears flickering forward and a heat flushing over him. “Ah, darling, may we go one more time? Please?”

Freddy:

TW: Dirty Talk; Pet Play(?); use of the word ‘pet’ (not on Freddy); Implied Size Kink; Mentions of a Knot (he’s a wolf, duh- bro got furrified, we die like men)

You felt like the air was being pressed out of your chest as the fat head of Freddy’s dick pushed into you You couldn’t believe that it was only the head- it was already giving you such a burning stretch, causing a tremble in your lower belly and a gush of fluid to come out of you. You trembled, face flushing deeper in embarrassment. 

“Oh, fuck-” Freddy choked, rocking his hips back a forth, only barely pressing himself in and out of you- “how is the rest of me gonna fit?”

You didn’t know if he was talking to you, but you hoped he wasn’t because he began to put more weight into his short thrusts, bit by bit his length sheathing inside of you and stretching you wider and wider; the veins on the underside of his shaft were throbbing against your gummy walls, the heaviness settling inside of you as if it was weighing itself in your throat. 

You yelped when he gave a rougher thrust, lifting you by your hips and bullying his way into you. Tears weighed heavy on your lash line as the sudden zing of pain and over sensitivity shot up your spine. “F-Freddy-”

“No- no- ah-” he hunched forward, resting all his weight on one thick, burly arm next to your head. His snout nuzzled against your throat as his fur shifted like waves in shivers. “Fuck- try to relax- ‘m gonna cum too early if you don’t.” He was already slurring his words, almost like he was drunk. And maybe he was because you weren’t faring any better with how hazy your brain was beginning to get. 

‘-gonna cum too early-’ Your brain clung to that tiny phrase like a lifeline. You could already see the way he’d bare his teeth, how drool would come from the sides of his mouth, the tight crease between his eyebrows- fuck, he’d be so fucking pretty. You squeezed around him, a pulse of arousal causing your walls to clamp around his thick cock.

He whined, whole body shaking like an earthquake. He sucked in a deep breath, yellow eyes flashing with a warning. “Don’t- don’t do that, unless you want me to fuck you into the matress.”

You let out a moan at that- wanton, needy. 

A nasty smirk pulled at his lips. “Oh? You like the thought of that? The thought of your big man fucking you like a bitch in heat?” He started to rock his hips, grinding against you, much needed pressure being applied to your clit. You trembled, mouth hanging open in soft pants. “Fuckin’ fill ya up til’ you can’t take anymore?” Each word was emphasized with a hard thrust and growl. “Maybe I’ll plug you up with a knot- had to get used to that thing, you know? It’ll be a stretch-” his grin grew, eyes swirling with an almost unhinged sense of energy- “we can make it fit? Don’t ya think? You’ll be a good pet for me while I fuck you and fill you up over-” you almost choked on your spit when he suddenly grabbed you by the undersides of you knees and practically folded you in half- “and over-” he began to thrust fast, moaning loud in your ear as all you could do was cling to him, your voice high pitched and whiney with almost screams from each thrust- “and over again. Would you just love that, baby?”

Sander: 

TW: Sander is fucking mean; Overstimulation; Sadistic Tendencies (Sanders); Biting/Nipping; Blatant Dom/Sub Dynamics; Dirty Talk (use of the reader being called ‘whore’ , 'slut' and ‘toy’)

Sander had your chest pressed flat to his desk, his hips jackhammering into you without a care for your own pleasure. The hard edge of the wood dug into your stomach. “S-Sander,” you whimper. “S’hurts- p-please just a little more gentle-” your plea is interrupted by a yelp ripped out of you as the Espers’ huge hand grabs your arm and pulls you back, forcing your back to arch at an uncomfortable angle. 

“You asked for this- now stop complaining and be a good whore.” He bit out, tilting his hips up to fuck into you. 

Stars exploded behind your eyes, your legs trembled with the effort of standing up. Your shoulder was sore with bite marks and bruises from where he had nipped at you. He seemed more frustrated than normal today, using you as his main source of stress relief. 

He leans over his chest pressed flush against your back, his hip movements precise and calculating. His breath was hot against your ear, “you like this don’t you?” His voice was gravelly, low in his throat. “Like being a good little toy for me don’t you? The perfect fucking slut for me to spill myself into.” His breathing began to get labored, his thrusts becoming more firm, more sporadic. 

The air in your throat being jostled out of you as he pulls your hips back against him. You try to call out his name, try to whimper out how good you feel when he shoves his long fingers into your mouth. He holds your tongue down, giving the rough command of: “suck.” 

And you do. Eyes watering as you try your best to purse your lips and lathe your tongue over the two digits, even as he pushed them further down your throat. You gagged and he let out a breathless laugh that quickly bled into a long, drawn out moan as his dick twitched. His hand darted down to your clit and he began to rub rough circles into it. The electric pleasure dancing up and down your back had you twitching and letting out muffled whining, the tears finally spilling over your cheeks. 

The pain of sharp fangs digging into your shoulder made you shudder, tipping you into your orgasm, your body spasming around him and your legs almost buckled from under your if Sander wasn’t holding you up, almost squeezing the breath out of you with how tightly his arms squeezed you against him. He let out a guttural growl, his movements stopping all together as he pressed himself as far into you as possible. The heat of his cum causes you to shudder again, your eyes squeezing shut at the sudden over stimulation. 

The room was silent for a moment, Sander having pulled his fingers out and allowing you to lean against the now cold desk, catching your breath, before you let out a startled yelp as he dragged his hips out again, slowly. 

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” 

[bruisedknucklesandbloodykisses]

Coming Back from the Diner

CW: Modern AU; Half Dead Guy; Blood; Cussing; Description of Wounds; Manipulation; Gaslighting; Callous Behavior (Ging); Reader is very much teetering on denial and dissociation; passive reader; No defined pronouns but AFAB reader is heavily implied towards the end; Reader is referenced as 'House Wife' Mentions of pregnancy; Established relationship; Reader is Gon’s stepparent; Ging is an actual present father in Gon's life

Summary: On your walk home from work, you find your boyfriend of two years, Ging, standing over the body of a- what you can only assume- dead man, covered in blood. 

Word Count: 2,020

There was something to be said about how well you were taking this. You would have applauded yourself if your legs weren’t trembling so bad and the corners of your vision weren’t slowly fizzing out into a fuzzy tunnel vision that was slowly eating up your peripheral vision. 

Ging (your lovely, awkward, brash, and shy boyfriend) stood staring at you with an even gaze. Someone lay at his feet, unmoving, blood pooling around their head and the sleeves of his well worn button up rolled up to his elbows, had flecks of blood on the off white fabric in random places. You gulped as your gaze followed the slight bulge of the vein that traveled down his forearm. You felt silly that you always felt surprised seeing how muscular he was- how defined his muscles were- his architect work was a serious workout. You had told him that once and he just grunted. Told you to be happy you had a cute boyfriend who naturally had a six pack. 

You had smacked his shoulder for his cheeky attitude. He had just grunted again and claimed he was being ‘domestically abused’. 

The further your eyes traveled down, the more red there was. His knuckles were dripping blood and you couldn’t tell if it was his or the person’s at his feet. 

“Are- are you ok?” You had blurted out. You hadn’t meant to. It was the first thing that came to mind though- somewhere in your overheating mind a voice was telling you to check on Ging. Check on the man you were so madly in love with. 

He blinked, head tilting before his eyes narrowed at you. “You serious?” 

You don’t say anything. Your hands digging into the hem of your shirt and twisting the fabric. 

“Holy shit,” he says it in a breathless laugh. “Holy shit. You’re serious.” He points with a bloody finger at the person- man- on the ground, “this guy is lying here and you’re asking me if I’m ok?”

Your throat tightens at the way he simply steps over the guy. Your eyebrows knit together. Why did he look so familiar? Fingers pinch your chin, guiding you to look at Ging’s eyes: they’re sharp and swirling with an emotion you can’t place. Whatever it is, it sends chills up your spine. “The hell is wrong with you?” 

“I- you’re,” you suddenly can’t breathe, hand pulling at his wrist to look at his hand. “You’re hurt.”

 He watches as you ghost your thumb over the splintered skin, the drying blood on his hand. You pull his hand down to naval level and start dabbing his hand with the (now wrinkled and untucked) hem of your shirt. It was staining the light blue fabric red. He titled his head again. “You love that shirt.” 

The statement was more of an observation on his part rather than for you to give him an answer back, but nonetheless you whisper: “I love you more.”

His hands twitch in your hold. 

Ging’s breath is suddenly right next to your ear and you shudder at the warmth of it on your clammy skin. “You love me? Despite that guy who’s drowning in a pool of his own blood?” 

You freeze. That man isn’t dead? Your ears pick up on the soft, wet sound of wheezing. You refuse to look at him though. You lean your head forward against his shoulder. He was sturdy. Just like all the buildings he worked on. Your gaze remained glued to his hands, slowly rubbing the blood away until you saw patches of his sun kissed skin. Your eyes are watering and you feel your throat tighten but your words are clear in the quiet. “I love you.”

He pulls his hands away from you, cupping your face, once again, guiding you to look at him. This time, Ging’s features are more calculative- more observant and calm- than before. He tilts his own head back, looking down his nose at you, as he begins to turn your head this way and that. Soon enough a boyish grin was spreading across his face. “You weren’t lying. You are totally and irreversibly whipped for me.” His sticky palms ran down from your cheeks to rest at the junction of your neck. The corners of his eyes crinkled, pupils shrinking in a way that you knew he was about to be crude. “I could probably kill that guy now and you’d still be whipped for me.”

Your blood felt like ice. Ging’s hands suddenly molten against your prickling skin.

He seemed to soften. “Sorry.” He muttered. He was always so gruff with his apologies. “I won’t do that.” He glanced behind him. “I think he learned his lesson, anyway.” 

“What did he do?” 

“Hm? Him?” Ging jerked his thumb at the man from over his shoulder. Though one of his hands was still resting on you, it had traveled from your neck and was now loosely holding onto your shoulder. He scratched at his stubbled chin. He looked embarrassed. “Ah, shit.” There were little smears of blood on his chin now and you couldn’t help but reach a trembling hand up and try to wipe it away before it dried. He wrinkled his nose at the gesture but didn’t stop you, his cheeks heating up. “Aw, damn,” he suddenly blurted, “I was annoyed by this fucker.”

You blinked. “Why?”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t remember the guy that’s been hounding you for- what? A week? At the diner?”

You blinked once, twice- and then it hit you. Brad. Fuck. That guy’s name was Brad. He had been bothering you for a straight week. Coming into the diner that you worked at (Ging would pout about you still working there. Dropping blatant hints that he wanted you to quit, just become a stay at home mom for his little toddler, Gon. It was tempting. You loved that little bundle of joy, but you wanted to stick it out at least until they had someone to fill your position) harassing you, catcalling you, or just becoming aggressive and borderline violent when you didn’t give him the attention he craved. 

You had told Ging about it a couple of times, nothing horrible just annoyances that stemmed from him. You insisted that you were fine, that you could handle it. 

 But last night, the steady stream of anxieties slipped out as you tended to Gon. Despite how much fun Gon was having with playing with your fingers, giggling and squealing as you tickled his round belly, you couldn’t shake the pit of dread that had formed in your gut. “I just- I don’t know, Ging- he’s getting bolder. It’s uncomfortable and my boss has gotten death threats from him for trying to stand up for me- I just-” you sighed, fingers going limp and a confused little Gon staring up at you. You had traced your fingertips over his soft, chubby cheek and he began to giggle again- “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want him coming after Gon- after you. I-”

Ging, who was sitting on the worn out love seat of your living room, was instantly crouching down next to you, squinting at you with that silent sort of judgment that he liked to carry around. He poked your forehead. “Quit whining. I’ll take care of it.”

“Whining?” You repeated, annoyed, “I was just venting to you-”

Him pressing his lips to yours ended the scolding there. The tension in your shoulders left you as you became boneless against him. The two of you pulled apart easily, staring into one another’s eyes. “I’ll take care of it.” He repeated, voice soft, one of his calloused hands came to cup your cheek. Your eyelashes had fluttered as you pressed against the hand. Though, it wasn’t long before a small whine caught your attention. A little Gon staring up at you with round eyes, pouting. 

The anxiety had completely washed away by the time you wrapped your arms around him, leaning your whole weight against Ging while he grumbled as he wrapped his arms around the two of you. He yelled, "Hey!” when Gon had pushed his face away, pressing a plump cheek against yours, to which the toddler started giggling. 

The warm feelings left as Ging lightly flicks your forehead. “You remember now?” 

You nod, fingers shake as you rub the (lightly) abused spot. “What-” you clear your throat, your jaw feeling numb. “What’re we gonna do with him?” The realization that there was a half dead man out in the middle of a back alley on your way home from the diner was settling heavy on your shoulders. If it weren’t for the annoyed grunt that Ging had let out when he brushed his thumb over his torn knuckles, you probably wouldn’t have noticed them at all. 

He looked thoughtful for a moment. He shrugged and brushed past you, “nothing.”

“Nothing?” 

“Nothing.”

You were stunned. By the time you had gathered your barings, Ging was already rounding the corner of the brick wall. “Ging! What do you mean ‘nothing’?”

“I mean what I mean,” he shoved his hands into his pockets, taking long strides. “Someone will find him in the morning, dead or not- not like people don’t get beat up ‘round here all the time-” he spun on his heel to jab a finger into your chest- “that’s why I don’t want you walking around anymore at night-”

“But I have a job-”

“Not anymore.” He said, that easy grin cracking across his face as he steps back into your personal space, once again, noses brushing against one another. “You are going to call in and quit tomorrow and then-” he rests his hands on your hips, pressing the two of you impossibly closer- “you’re gonna take care of our little rugrat while I go out and work on some things and then I’ll be back-” his hands were scorching hot, seemingly searing into your flesh- “and I’ll put a kid in you, and you’ll be my perfect little housewife.”

“Ging, you can’t just-”

He presses a finger against your lips, that strange emotion swirling in his bright eyes again. “Nuh-uh.” He took a deep breath before continuing, voice low and rumbling somewhere deep in his chest, “the world is a scary place. You wanna know where I caught that guy?” He leaned against you, lips brushing your ear, “I found him, with a knife, waiting outside the diner. I wonder who he could have possibly been waiting for.”

Your throat suddenly felt dry, limbs shaking even harder. Your fingers felt numb as you dug them into his shirt. 

“Yeah. Pretty nerve wracking, huh?” He began to sway the two of you, him making that strange little humming noise he made when he was giddy about something. “But you wouldn’t have to worry about any of that at home. You’d have me and Gon. Mito could keep you company if you get that lonely, you know? Though, I know how much you love that little kid. And he loves you too. So just stay at home for him, ok?”

You could barely form the words, “ok.” 

He hummed, happy as he pulled you along, chattering about his day as if his hands weren’t still sticky and hot from the blood of a man he practically beat to death. And yet, you held onto the hand that held yours with all the strength you could muster as you followed him on your bambi legs, the numb part of your brain thinking about how excited you were to see your little boy, Gon, when you got home.

[sortofanobsession]

omg I’m so glad you’re alive and I hope you’re feeling better. Can’t wait to read your Ted lasso writing again<3

Author's Note: ask and you shall receive...

Content warning: injury, hospital, surgery, anxiety, fear, cussing (it's Roy so duh) Crying.

Paring: Roy/Jamie

No Show Roy-o

Jamie paced the locker room. The team just watching him. 

Everyone's eyes snap to the door when someone starts to open it but they are disappointed when Ted and Beard walk in. The two coaches look at each other and then the team before heading into the office. 

"Okay, something is wrong," Ted says as he sets his backpack down. 

"Clearly," Beard replies. 

Ted watches the team through the window and notices all the attention on Tartt. Well, then he knew where to start.

"What's wrong, Jamie?" Ted asks as he approaches the striker. 

"Roy didn't show for training this morning and he isn't here yet."

"Has he ever missed before?" 

"The man actually lives to wake me up at 4 am to order me around," Jamie states. "No, he never misses. Not without a text at least."

"Did you call him?"

"I'm not daft," Jamie huffs. "Several times. No answer. Now it goes to voicemail."

"Some of us tried too," Isaac says. "Nothing."

"Keeley hasn't been able to ring him either," Jamie says. "Should I call his sister?"

"You have his sister's number?"

"For emergencies, and Phoebe," Jamie admits. 

"Hold on, you have contact with Roy's niece?" Ted asks. "She's what? 8?"

"That's really the important part to you now?" Jamie asks.

"Kinda, odd friendship there," Ted admits. 

"She insists I'm Roy's best friend, and Roy says it's for emergencies. She has a very different definition of emergencies, like you said, she's 8."

"Okay, fine," Ted says. He could let that go for now.  

"Do you think this counts as an emergency?" Jamie asks. 

"Let's see if he is doesn’t show, not just later than normal," Ted says. 

But when time comes to head out to the pitch and Roy still isn't there Jamie cracks and texts Roy's sister. She texts him back that she'll check his place. And that gives Jamie some reassurance as he begins training. He gives Ted his phone in case she or Roy calls. Ted initially thought it was silly, but about an hour in she does call. She tells Ted that Roy wasn't there and the fact he isn't answering for her is unusual. Roy would never ignore a call from her or Phoebe. But she also insists that Roy can handle himself. And she'll let them know if she hears anything. And that makes Ted a bit nervous. They were just about to take a break when Phoebe called Jamie. She is crying and Ted actually does call Jamie over for this one. And Jamie, still in his kit, drags Ted inside. Changes only his boots while still on the phone and whispers to Ted to get what he needs. 

"Where are we going?" Ted asks but does as Jamie says because something feels very wrong here. 

"The fucking hospital," Jamie hisses, not to be mean but more so Phoebe doesn't hear. 

"Oh, that's bad, yeah, let's go." Ted nods and follows Jamie’s lead. 

"We're on the way Phoebe, just stay there." 

Phoebe runs over and hugs Jamie when she sees him.

"Hey, Phoe," Jamie says and despite the fact she is 8 years old, Jamie hauls her up into his arms for a hug. And Ted is almost envious of how easy that seemed for him. But Ted is still very confused. "You remember Coach Ted?" Jamie asks her. She nods as Jamie sets her down. 

"Hi Phoebe," Ted says. "Are you okay?" Ted asks. 

She shrugs and looks over. Ted sees a doctor he had met before, but she looked out of place in street clothes. 

"Hey, Doc." Jamie hugs her. "What happened?"

"Still trying to sort that out," she says.

"You're Roy's sister?" Ted finally asks. 

"Oh sorry, yeah, Coach Lasso, Doc. Doc, Coach Lasso."

"Thanks Jamie," Ted says at the less than helpful introduction but Jamie is already being pulled away to the waiting area by Phoebe. 

"How much did Jamie tell you?" 

"Absolutely nothing," Ted admits. 

She shakes her head. "Right, Roy was brought in about a half hour ago. A friend of mine on shift recognized him and called me. They think he was hit by a car but we have no idea."

"Oh wow, I am so sorry, that-" Ted starts to say but she stops him.

"Thank you, he's in surgery now, I assume you will want to let Ms. Welton know. He might be out for a while."

"Yeah, right, good calls must run in the family," he says. 

"Something like that," she says before going to check on Phoebe. 

She leans in and whispers to Jamie that Roy is in surgery and it's a waiting game now. 

Ted calls Rebecca and Beard, then Keeley. Keeley is there in less than twenty minutes.

"Keeley?" Jamie asks when he sees her. She hugs Phoebe and then him. 

"Ted called," she says and smacks his arm. 

"What was that for?"

"You didn't call me!"

"I was busy with her," Jamie says, gesturing to Phoebe. Thankfully she had her headphones on and was curled up in a chair. 

"Fine, that is an acceptable excuse. Here," she hands him a bag. "I ran by Nelson Road and got your stuff. Sam had made sure it was packed up. They're all pretty worried."

"They aren't the only ones," Jamie glances at Phoebe. 

"Does Ted know?" 

She glances out the window to where Ted was clearly on the phone with Rebecca or Higgins.

"Know what?"

"About you and Roy?" She says.

"Nah, didn't know if I should tell him. We haven't talked about it."

"Well, I think this might genuinely blow your cover."

"Hasn't yet," Jamie says.

"Jamie, I know you. You're managing right now because of Phoebe, but the minute you see him, you-"

"I know," Jamie seems to deflate. "I am trying so hard but-" 

"Oh babe," she hugs him and grimaces. "I love you, Jamie but do us all a favor and change. I'll stay with her."

"Yeah, right, okay," Jamie says as he heads to the toilets to change. 

"Where's Jamie?" Ted asks when he gets back.

"Changing out of his kit, Ted there is something I need to tell you, the boys might get mad, but Jamie is going to need someone and as much as he tries to hide it he is terrified."

"Okay, lay it on me," Ted says.

"Roy and Jamie have been secretly dating since just after international break."

"Wow," Ted says. "That's…new information." He admits. "Does explain why he has Roy's sister in his phone. And why he was so worried when Roy didn't show up for training." 

"They were keeping it a secret because well, for a lot of reasons, but I believe that ship might have sailed based on the fact Jamie didn't even change out of his kit."

"Did change his boots," Ted says.

"Probably not easy to drive in," she says.

"Probably," Ted agrees. 

"Please don't make a big deal out of it, Jamie wasn't going to say anything because he wasn't sure if Roy would want him to, but Jamie brought you for a reason. He brought you because he trusts you and Roy trusts you. And I know you won't hold this against them."

"Heck no, I'm glad they have each other, just surprised is all. You think Jamie is just a ticking time bomb in this one?"

"Definitely," Keeley nods. "And I'm not sure what will set him off."

"Thanks for the heads up, I'll keep this between us unless something happens."

"Thank you, Ted." 

Keeley heads back to work after they promise to keep her in the loop. Roy's sister comes back a bit later to tell them that Roy was out of surgery but it would be a bit before anyone could see him.

"You should be at training," is the first thing out of Roy Kent's mouth when they walk in. He glares at Jamie. 

"Uncle Roy!" Phoebe rushes over and hugs him as best as she can.

"Hi, Phoebe," he says before looking at Jamie. 

"You really think I would stay at training after they called me?" Jamie challenges.

"Yes, not much you can do here," Roy says.

"How hard did that car hit you?” Jamie narrows his gaze at him. “Because clearly your brain is rattled, old man." 

"How you feeling, Roy?" Ted asks to get the two to quit being so grumpy.

"Like I got hit by a car," Roy states.

"You did," Phoebe sniffles. 

"I'm okay, kid," he says. Earning a scoff from Jamie. Roy glares at him. "You should-"

"Oh, Jamie Tartt's not going anywhere," Ted assures him. "Rebecca already knows you'll be out for a while, and sorry boys, but the cats out of the bag on this one."

"You told him," Roy glares at Jamie again.

"I did not," Jamie looks just as shocked. 

"Keeley told me," Ted says. "Because she was worried Jamie was handling it too well."

"Of course she was," Jamie complains. 

"You did cry, like a lot earlier," Phoebe says. 

"Thanks for that, Phoe," Jamie says, his tone less than amused at being called out by a literal child.

"Phoebe, why don't you help me find your mom and call Keeley," Ted says. 

She seems to weigh her options.

"And stop by the vending machines," Ted adds.

"Okay," she hugs her uncle again before following Ted out. Roy looks over at Jamie and can tell he really is hanging in by a thread.

"I'm fine," Roy says. And Jamie doesn't even say anything, just crawls in the bed beside Roy. Roy grunts but manages to shift a bit to make them both fit. "Better?" Roy asks once Jamie is practically molded into his side. 

"Yes, much," Jamie says and he buried his face in Roy's shoulder. 

"Why am I not surprised?" Roy's sister says when she walks in. 

"Not my idea," Roy says.

"Not complainin' though, yeah?" Jamie counters.

"Tear his stitches and I'm banning you myself, Tartt," she says.

"Ouch, Doc," Jamie says. "But fair."

She hums as she sets to checking his vitals. 

“Pain?” She asks.

He grunts.

“Roy,” she starts but Jamie beats her to it. 

“It's either now or you have to admit it when Phoebe gets back,” Jamie says. And whether it is because he's right or that Jamie's so close to losing it Roy knows he needs to answer. 

“Fine, 6.”

“Right,” his sister says.

She makes a few notes.

It was quiet again when she left. 

“Are you mad?” Jamie asks.

“That I got hit by a fucking car?” Roy counters. That seemed like an obvious question. Of fucking course he was. He could have died. His mind circles back as Jamie shifts. 

“That people know,” Jamie corrects. “About us.”

Roy considers it as best he can with painkillers in his system. And he really doesn't fucking care because Jamie is there with him and despite how he was acting before he was glad he was there. It had been terrifying to think he might die when he has people that need him. 

“No,” Roy finally answered. “Needed you here, and if that's the fucking cost. Fine.”

“Good, because I think the team knew something was up, but that might have been because I couldn't sit still.”

“When have you ever fucking sat still?” Roy posits.

“This was worse,” Jamie tells him. “I'm sure Will is going to be pissed at the state of my boots. Pacing constantly on a hard surface.”

“Well get you new fucking boots,” Roy assures.

“Least of my worries, love,” Jamie admits, carefully shifting so he can see Roy's face. “Scared the shit out of me when I couldn't- you weren't answering. No one could find you. You never-”

“Fuck,” Roy says because Jamie has tears streaming down his face and he hates when that happens. He hates that it's because of him, even if he had no say in what happened to him. Despite the ache it causes Roy reaches up and brushes as many of those tears away as he can without risking his stitches. “I'm-”

“Don't!” Jamie starts to pull away. The striker knew what he was about to say. Jamie vehemently shakes his head, causing Roy's hand to have to fall back to the bed. “You are not fucking fine, Roy,” Jamie states, and it was clear what little hold Jamie had on his feelings was slipping. “Because I’m not! Phoebe isn’t either. You nearly died! I can't…do you think I want to do any of this shit without you? Because I fucking don't.”

“Not fucking asking you to,” Roy says, and it probably comes out more aggressive than he intended because Jamie was no longer tucked against his side. The footballer was on his feet, having wound himself up to pacing again. And Roy's chest always gets tight when Jamie does that shit. He needs Jamie to be okay. But he knows he probably said that wrong when Jamie glares at him. 

“You didn't fucking have to,” Jamie retorts. And that's fair. 

“Fucking hell,” Roy grumbles, attempting to sit up so he can better track Jamie's movement. 

“Don’t do that,” Jamie grumbles as he moves back to help him. “Hurt yourself and your sister will boot me.”

“Then quit fucking pacing,” Roy tugs at Jamie's arm until he sits on the edge of the bed. Roy sighs, ignoring the ache in his ribs as he does. 

“I'm not fucking dying, Tartt. Fucking doctors made sure of it.”

“Barely,” Jamie says.

“But they fucking did, and that's fucking that.”

Jamie scoffs but doesn't bother arguing. He was anxious and still thinking about how much worse things could have been, and how much could still go wrong.

“Look at me, Tartt,” Roy demands. Jamie does. “I know this is a fucking mess, but I will be fucking fine. You know why?” Jamie shrugs. “Because you lot won't stop until I am. You, my sister and Ted fucking Lasso, are all fucking determined. Throw in Keeley and that fucking team. I probably won't get a fucking quiet moment til I'm back at the dog track. So fucking do it.”

“Are you telling me to take care of you?” Jamie asks. 

“Going to fucking do it anyway, yeah?”

“Of course,” Jamie nods. “What do you need me to do?”

“You're here, so things are already fucking better,” Roy states. That has warmth spreading through Jamie's chest because Roy has less filter than most, but it would appear he has even less now. And it's oddly sweet.

“Yeah, I'm here,” Jamie says as he shifts to prop his knee up on the bed and takes Roy's hand in his. The fact Roy seems to relax even more has Jamie smiling for what feels like the first time all day. “And you heard the gaffer, I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me.”

“Good, going to need help with the kid,” Roy says. “She is going to be impossible to get rid of.”

“Don't lie Kent, you love every second of it. You love that kid.”

“Not the only fucking one,” Roy states. 

“That loves Phoebe? Of course not, she's adorable and-”

Roy squeezes his hand. 

“That I love, you fucking muppet. Sometimes I wonder why but fucking hell, Tartt. I fucking love you.”

Jamie grins. “Fucking love you too, you prick.”

Roy tugs him until Jamie lays back down beside him. There is a knock at the door. Jamie goes to get up but Roy doesn't let him. 

“Well aren't you two adorable,” Ted says as he and Phoebe come in. 

“Fuck off, Lasso,” Roy grunts.

“Uncle Roy,” Phoebe starts.

“I know, kid,” Roy says. 

“Your mum probably knows where his wallet is more than he does,” Jamie says.

“Could probably finally cash out that tab I've heard about,” Ted adds.

“Oi, don't give her fucking ideas.”

“That's two,” Ted states. 

“Fucking hell,” Roy mutters, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the pillows. 

“Three,” Phoebe giggles. 

“I got you,” Jamie quietly tells Roy. Jamie grabs his wallet from his locker and tosses it to Phoebe. Phoebe gives him a look. “He's been through it, so I'll take the hit for him.” Jamie grins. Phoebe just shrugs and takes three quid from him.

“Now he owes you,” Phoebe says, setting his wallet on the table by his phone, which he had set aside to focus on Roy when he initially crawled into the bed. 

Roy glares at him, but it doesn't bother the striker. 

[arsynnotarson]

we are so back

this is a proship blog. ignore or forever be disturbed.