#takes a minute for my brain to register what I'm reading too still getting the hand of sentence structure here

[thatoneluckybee]

foreign language classes are weird because you get demoted to first grader for 50 minutes a day

#This is my dog. The dog is my friend. #The dog is brown! The brown dog likes to play. I like to play with the brown dog. #Rambles #screenshotted tags to copy paste so if formatted weirdly that's why I'm not gonna remember what all i said in tags #Because tumblr froze when trying to click post now #Love my teacher but it is a very funny phenomenon to see #rambles #sounding out words #Doing some reading thing today and answering questions and #the reading thing is basically those learning sight words books i did as a very little kid #takes a minute for my brain to register what I'm reading too still getting the hand of sentence structure here #and questions (in Spanish) are just #“What color is the dog?” “Who is my friend?” It is PRICELESS hearing the conversations about this #“I thought the dog was gray?” “No you #*slur i will not repeat* that's BLANCO what is wrong with you?" #(yes I know blanco is white I am. Stealing a quote from a classmate dont yell at me)

[lxvebun]

challenge accepted!♡

synopsis: you're surprised when you find out he has not had his first kiss yet, you're even more surprised when he lets you be the one to change that aka your first kiss with Satoru<3

content: Gojo Satoru x gender neutral reader. Fluff!. Written with the highschool arc/satosugu friendship in mind so you'd be in the same grade together, but you can read it however you wish♡ Detailed descriptions of kissing. Around 650 words. Eng is not my first language. Not entirely proofread, lmk if there are any annoying mistakes♡

He's the strongest around, the Gojo Satoru! He has everything he could want and he doesn't have to prove anything to anyone. He doesn't have to but he does enjoy doing so.

So when you and Suguru teamed up against him, giggling oh so cruelly because here he was spouting out dating advice, saying that Geto will turn into a "grumpy old man" if he continues to reject people's advances, when he hasn't even had his first kiss yet, he knew he had to fix that♡

⁎⁺˳✧༚໒꒱.*

"You don't have much of a say seeing as you haven't kissed, let alone dated anyone yet, Satoru.~" Suguru replies, voice still as gentle as always even when he's dealing with his best friend's nonsense.

You're not entirely sure why your heart skipped a beat at the revelation. Sure it's unexpected given Gojo's flirty nature and good looks, but it's igniting a feeling of something almost hopeful in your heart....you don't like him that, not at all, right? So why is the image of him pulling you in by your waist and dipping down to lock his lips against yours fogging over your mind?

You've gone quiet for a bit as you hoped to make sense of what you're feeling, not unperceived by your friends sitting next to you

"Y/n?" They speak at the same time. You miss the shared glance of concern

You're glad you can blame the afternoon sun for the sudden spark of warmth surging through your body.

"Sorry, yeah, I'm here" you reply a bit clumsily as you make the mistake of looking back at him and the words almost get stuck in your throat. he looks ridiculously handsome with the way his head is slightly tilted, enough to look at you over his glasses, blue eyes shining even brighter in the sunlight, and something as simple as that really shouldn't be as attractive as it is.

Just for a split second you see his eyes soften as he lets his gaze trace of your features before he nudges his glasses back in place and continues-

"You're supposed to back me up, you know?? Tell him!"

"There's nothing wrong with not having had your first kiss yet, Suguru" you say sweetly. Gojo visibly relaxes and that stupid infamous smirk forms on his lips as he nods along with your words. you stifle back a laugh as you continue, "Unless you're Gojo Satoru"

The flail of his arms is entirely dramatic and entirely in character. It's not helping that you can hear the snickering of Suguru beside him too.

He's quiet for a moment as he regains his composure, one of his arms now draped behind you along the bench. He takes his glasses off and hangs them on the collar of his shirt.

"Alright"

.....

"Alright?"

Your body registers it before your brain does, heart fluttering in your chest, a hitch in your breath as he leans in. He's close, but he doesn't close the gap just yet. You can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks and his intoxicatingly good, probably extremely expensive cologne envelops the rest of your senses, makes you a little dizzy as all you see, hear, and feel is him but he allows you enough space to back away if this is not what you desire.

Perhaps your heart already knew what you're mind was just trying to catch up to. You have fallen in love. Fallen in love with Satoru of all people.

You're sure that at least a minute has passed since he leaned in but he doesn't falter and patiently waits until you do finally give him the smallest of nods and then it's over for you, you've fallen too deep now and you cannot and do not want to come back from this, from him.

the kiss is sweet, almost too sweet if you didn't have a sweet tooth that could battle Satoru's. And for a first kiss it's quite heavy, a little deeper and longer than you expected and it continues to linger warmly on your lips when he finally pulls away, face a little flushed, eyes bright, and smirking like he just won the lottery

"Now, listen, Suguru" he begins but you tune it out. Too focused on trying to calm the racing of your heart, too enamoured with the memory of his lips on yours

Gojo doesn't remove his arm from around your shoulder but his other hand has intertwined with yours as he draws heart shapes on the back of your hand with his thumb, silently letting you know this was more than him just trying to prove something, silently letting you know, he'd be yours if you'll have him♡

Thank you for reading, angels!<3

I haven't written for jjk in such a long time😩 but I started season 2 and I want them to be HAPPY

#gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk fic #jjk fluff

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 7 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: I’m back baby! Thank you guys for waiting <3

W/C: 4.611

part six

"I won't look. Don't trust me at all, do you?" I mutter to Amira after taking my top off, grabbing the shirt she's handing me with my eyes closed.

"You'll like it. It's a part of my surprise." She sighs, helping me pull the shirt down my body without my makeup getting on the collar.

"Can I look now?" I ask, eyes still squeezed shut.

"Yeah, turn around."

I turn, looking in the mirror. I stay quiet for a moment, then gasp in surprise.

"What? An England kit? Why are you making me betray Spain?" I attempt to joke, looking at her.

"Like you didn't live here for so many years." She scoffs, pushing me.

"I'm just kidding. Why the kit, though?" I ask, fixing the material in the mirror.

"Ta da!" She exclaims, I look back at her, frowning in confusion when she starts waving two keycards in my face. My hands fly to take one and I read it quickly.

"No, way! You got tickets for the England vs. Australia friendly?"

"Yeah, got them a couple days ago." She replies, and I eye her suspiciously.

"Oh- mister Trent got them for you? Guess he really likes you." I tease, watching her become more and more flustered.

"Shut up- he gave them to show his appreciation."

"Yeah, you want to believe that? You'll be upgraded to wag in a few weeks, trust." I add, laughing at her annoyed expression.

"Aren't you and Jude a thing?" She accuses, putting on her own kit. Finally, she grabs her handbag and car keys off her desk.

I register her words a little too late, but my head whips around in disgust.

"Over my dead body."

"You both were cute last time." She mumbles, both of us walking up to her parked car.

"Absolutely not." I state firmly, immediately connecting my phone to the car.

"Oh, how the tables have turned.." She whispers, but I hear her clearly. I send her a glare, though my glare gets even more intense when she pulls out her strawberry and mango-flavored vape.

"Put that thing away, now!"

"I just realized how different watching a game feels when I'm not working." I say, admiring the full Wembley Stadium. We had finally arrived at our seats, and the view was perfect. Looking around, I do recognize some people, realizing this was probably the family section.

"Turn that working brain of yours off and enjoy. Look, it's starting!" Amira nags, wrapping her arm around mine in excitement.

I chuckle at her, deciding to just enjoy the match. Watching both England's and Australia's teams move around the pitch. Halftime comes around and ends quickly, making way for an opportunity for England. Grealish kicks the ball against the post, missing a chance and making us cringe, but we burst into cheers when Watkins manages to try again and scores.

The match ends with a 1-0 for England. When the whistle is blown, we sit down again. We'd stood up near full time, anticipating a last-minute goal from Australia. It was a friendly, we knew that, but making it exciting was so much more fun than just sitting there and watching the game.

"What now? Is your man coming here?" I ask, fixing my shirt and smiling cheekily at Amira.

"He said he will- after freshening up. Let's wait." She tells me, patting my thigh.

"Didn't even deny that he's your man?" I tease, watching her roll her eyes.

We're interrupted a couple minutes later. I hear someone shout her name, watching both Trent and Jude walk over to our seats. Trent greets us in a friendly manner, while Jude stands next to him like he was forced to come up.

I slowly allow Trent and Amira to have a private conversation, and my eyes land on Jude when they walk away to have some more privacy.

"What are you doing here? And what's with the kit?" He asks, arms crossed.

I scoff, mirroring his body language. Looking him up and down. 

"Can't attend a match now? Don't worry, I was over the moon since you weren't playing." I retort, being petty.

I watch him roll his eyes, his expression changing for a second. He opens his mouth to say something, but he hesitates for a moment.

"Who's on your back?"

"What?"

"Your shirt number."

"I don't know- who?" I ask, turning around, confused, when I hear a sudden chuckle.

"Who's on the back?" I ask, trying to see with my phone camera, frowning at his smug face. What the hell was his problem?

I take a picture, turning to face him again as I click on the picture, freezing when I see Jude's last name and number. My expression falters, and I use all my strength to keep my composure.

Amira, you fucking witch..

"Think you're obsessed with me." He whispers, leaning in. I lean back immediately, like he's some highly infectious disease.

"You're sick, Bellingham. It’s just your name, calm down..”

I reply, annoyed at the fact that I couldn't take the shirt off or put my jacket on since I left it in the car.

He goes to say something else, but he's cut off when I hear a familiar voice call out to him. Both of us turning around to see his mom, her eyes lighting up with warmth when she recognizes me.

"Mrs. Bellingham.." I greet, permanent smile plastered on my face when she walks up to us. I notice both her- husband and youngest son behind her. 

How could I not recognize his dad and brother?

This past summer, my entire social media feed was plastered with photos of Jude and his family on their first day. Not to forget the fact that I was literally behind the camera when the pictures were taken.

She pulls me into an embrace, her arms wrapping around me warmly. The musky and orange blossom scent of her perfume greets me, and it smells like the most expensive bottle of YSL 'Libre' I have ever smelled.

"How nice is it to see you here. Are you off due to international break?"

"Yes, I thought I'd come visit family and friends out here..." I trail off, my eyes darting to her husband next to her. She notices the hesitation in my voice and introduces us to each other.

"I’m Mark, nice to meet you. I have heard some good things about you. I've also had some contact with your father on some legal matters over in Spain. Good man he is.." He shakes my hand firmly, a very kind smile on his face.

"Thank you, I hope he's been a great help to your family.."

I immediately switch my speech. Trying to sound totally different from the tone I had used with Jude.

"Oh right, this is our youngest son. Jobe.." Denise begins, pushing her son towards me.

I press my lips together to stifle a chuckle, awkwardly shaking the teenage boy's hand.

"Nice to meet you. Hope you're a better football player than your older brother over here?"

I say, pointing a thumb at Jude. It sounds like a joke, but when I glance at Jude, he's giving me the nastiest look when his parents aren't watching. Jobe has only muttered one or two words, but has probably already been nicer to me than his brother has ever been to me.

Jobe only replies with a small smile, so I look up at his parents.

"You must be proud.."

"Of course, equally proud of our two boys.."

Mark replies, holding his son's shoulders. I chuckle, looking at Denise when she speaks.

"Did you enjoy the game? Must be a change of scenery.."

"Oh- yeah, felt weird not working during a game. It was nice though, I was invited by a friend-"

I trail off, looking around to see Amira, noticing her giggle and chat with Trent a couple seats away.

"But she seems busy.." I laugh, they follow my line of sight and chuckle, nodding in acknowledgment.

"You're also wearing an England kit.." His dad notices, pointing to my shirt.

"Jude's, I presume?" His mom asks, making me nod. I turn, giving them a quick look at the "Bellingham" and number 10 on my back.

I'm wearing their last name on my back, that is really weird, if given some thought..

"A gift too.." I smile, facing them again.

I notice that they all glance at Jude for a moment before Denise speaks up again.

"Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? A small appreciation for helping Jude out with his Spanish and adjusting in Madrid."

Damn, how close did they think we were?

Lovely, very nice of her, but that would be a masterclass in awkwardness.

"That's incredibly kind of you, Mrs Bellingham, but I'm sure you don't get many dinners together as a family. So, I don't want to inconvenience your family. Besides, I've got some dinner reservations with my high school friends.."

Her expression immediately turns into an understanding one. I thank her once again for the invitation, holding her hand to convey my appreciation. Finishing our chat, I grab my bag from my seat, pulling it on my shoulder.

"I've got to go, roads will be busy.."

"Right, why don't you accompany y/n down, son?" Mark says, throwing his son a look.

I dart my eyes to Jude, his expression falters before he nods, listening to his dad.

I quickly bid them farewell, walking down alongside Jude.

"You didn't even jump in to save me once.” I mutter, grabbing my phone out of my handbag. Checking for any messages from Amira. 

Where did this little minx go?

"I was struggling to breathe when my mum invited you for dinner. Kept my mouth shut with difficulty.."

"How helpful.” I scoff, biting my lip in anticipation as we wait in front of Amira's car. The grey Audi A5 easily recognizable next to all the expensive sports cars.

"You can leave, you know.." I break the silence, looking up at Jude, resting my weight against the car door.

The alarm won't go off, right?

"You think my mom is going to be happy when I leave you here alone?" He asks, scrolling through his phone.

I sigh, sending one last threatening text message to Amira before shoving my phone in my pocket. An awkward silence ensues before I break it again.

"So, are you actually going to play next Tuesday against Italy?" I ask, giving him a skeptical look.

"Why? Want to see me play?" He smirks, putting his hand in the pocket of his blue sweatpants.

"Is that a genuine question? Obviously not.." I answer, furrowing my brows.

He scoffs, poking his tongue through his cheek. Looking me up and down.

"Why would I voluntarily come to see you?" I add, widening my eyes, looking at him in disbelief. 

"Your friend will probably come, with the way we're waiting for her and Trent.."

I look around the empty parking lot, was this a camera prank?

What the hell were these two doing anyway?

Speaking of the minx, she finally appears a good ten minutes later. I could've sworn if she didnt have a deep skin tone, she'd probably be as red as a tomato. Because, honey she looked flustered.

I raise my brows at her- disheveled appearance, instinctively giving Jude a knowing look.

Though, my look of scrutiny stops when I realize those two were onto some- freaky shit. Seems like Jude realizes at the same time, because, he too looks away from me.

"I'm leaving.." He quickly blurts, walking away without looking back. I watch his figure disappear, snapped out of my trance when Amira taps me.

"What the fuck? What did you two do?!" I ask, laughing loudly. Sure, I was annoyed that I had to wait for her, but my best friend's happiness was more important.

"Get in the car! I've got to tell you every single detail.."

"What's it called again?" I turn to Amira, asking her about the name of the venue we're supposed to go to.

I had been in London for a couple of days now. From family dinners to meeting up with high school classmates, all of it kept me busy. Everything had been very fun and memorable so far.

Last night, England played their match against Italy for the EURO qualifiers. I couldn't lie, the 3-1 win for England was very satisfying, especially when watching live from Wembley Stadium.

Right now, Amira and I are in the car. Getting driven to the restaurant or bar - Trent had invited us to. A small gathering to close off international break, if you could call it that.

Small or big party, Amira and I had to look our best. For obvious reasons, I am wearing the black mini-dress I had tried on in Amira's office.

"Novikov Restaurant & Bar.." She mutters, touching her lipgloss up while looking at her phone camera.

"You ever been?" I ask, equally fidgety with my appearance.

"Yes, nice place, but we'll probably go clubbing after."

I raise my eyebrows at her, sighing, before leaning against her shoulder.

"Will you keep me from getting drunk?"

"Can't save you, darling.."

Yeah, y/n is an absolutely a goner. Everyone within meters of her is aware of it, though to her, her limit has not even been reached yet.

She throws her head back as she downs another shot of- she doesn't even know. She took and gulped down anything that was handed to her by her best friend.

All she knows is- it burns in the back of her throat- like a fucking bitch. She doesn't even stop to think about why she's doing it, all she's been wanting to do, is take her mind off work and university. The opportunity was presented to her in a shot glass, and who would refuse?

A smart, responsible person, probably...

"Go dance with him.." y/n mutters, wiping the spilled and dribbling alcohol off her chin. Eagerly pushing her friend in Trent's direction.

The football player had invited the both of them for a reason, and to drunk y/n this was a good opportunity to play Cupido.

"No! I want to dance with you." Her friend replies, grabbing y/n's wrist.

"Go! You can dance with me anytime, go now!" She ushers, pushing Amira away with all the strength in her arms.

She giggles to herself when she notices Trent grab Amira's hand, feeling like her mission was partially accomplished.

Though, her happiness is short-lived when she curses herself. Her feet were practically going numb due to the stilettos her stylist bestie had forced her to wear.

To forget the uncomfortable feeling, she decided to get another drink. She clutches onto her handbag, starting to walk- or stumble towards the bartender.

She knew how to have fun on her own, there was no problem in that regard.

"Oh, fuck- sorry.." She slurs, looking up when her forehead collides with a hard chest. She makes immediate eye contact with a completely sober Jude, he raises a questioning brow, taking her disheveled appearance in.

"I take it back.." She loudly says, pushing past him to get to the bar. Loud music drums into her ears, causing her senses to tingle.

She's about to order a drink, but before she has the opportunity to speak, she's rudely interrupted by someone.

"A whisky neat, for the beauty here.." Someone says, she turns her head in a flash. Fucking pissed, a man dared to speak for her and over her.

It's a young man, around her age- slightly older judging from his appearance. His brown hair is slicked back with an estimated ten kilograms of hairgel, along with the tackiest combination of a white button-down and- skinny jeans.

"No, thank you!" y/n replies waving her hand and shouting over the loud music. She blinks a multitude of times, trying to clear her vision and mind.

"What'd ya mean, luv? Not suited to your taste?"

"I'm not interested.." She says, turning away from him and ordering her own drink. Fidgeting with the clasp of her bag and pulling bills out of her wallet.

"Oh, come on. Can't you see how much of a catch I am?" the douchebag insists, pointing up and down his frame.

She rolls her eyes at the words. This time her eyes might stay there permanently because the stranger continues repeating the corniest of words.

"No, thank you.." She repeats, taking a huge gulp of her pink Cosmo, looking away, and continuing to ignore him.

Should she start barking like a rabid dog to scare him off?

"Come on, babygirl... Would it hurt to smile for me?”

She almost chokes on her drink at the words. Eyes hazy and unfocused, one thing she's sure of- this man is about to get a taste of her leather handbag.

"Does it look like I'm interested?!" Her voice isn't loud, though her tone is sharp and full of irritation. She takes a step back, giving him the most repulsed look.

"I like my women feisty and alluring like you.." The guys persist, placing a nasty hand on her hip, a little too close to her backside.

"Get your filthy hand off me.." She demands, the grip on her glass tightening. Her brows furrow and her mood drops tremendously fast.

"Your words are sharp, but your body seems to be enjoying this. Let loose for me, sweetheart. Won’t ya?” His breath reeks of the most pungent alcohol she’s ever smelled, and his hand keeps inching closer to her bottom.

'Oh, fuck no' she thinks, placing the glass on the bar table. Readjusting her grip on her bag.

"Can you fuckin' let go of her?" She hears a loud voice say, Brum accent thick, but it's already too late.

She moves her handbag behind her, creating a good distance for maximum impact, before using all her force to hit the guy square in the face. The contact makes a loud noise, and surprisingly enough, it's detectable over the insanely loud music.

The guy immediately retreats, stumbling a couple steps back in shock. He cradles his head, screams of agony leaving his disgustingly filthy mouth.

"I said no- didn't I? Are you fucking deaf?!" She curses, temperature rising as she breathes in harshly. She can't even register what's happening- but he deserved it and had it coming.

"Let’s go..” A familiar voice exclaims, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her towards the restroom. He pulls her into the unisex section, locking the door behind them.

She struggles against him, her heels tripping and scratching against the floor. The now blood-stained handbag slips out of her hand, dropping to the floor.

"Let me go! You fucking creep! I swear, I'll bite it off!" She shouts, eyes shut tightly, as she hits his rock-hard chest multiple times. Hand squeezed up in a tight fist as she keeps trying to get out of his hold.

"y/n!" He shouts, trying to get her to look at him. He doesn't know the full story of what happened. All he saw was the guy touching her, putting his hands on her, and he was sent flying with a blow to the face.

Jude is impressed, though that's not his main thought or concern when y/n is fighting him as if he's the guy who was bothering her.

She’s drunk, but still recognizes his voice. The way he pronounces her name, not with venom and hatred per usual. No, instead, with the upmost panic and concern. He wants to snap her out of it, back to reality, back to him.

Her eyes snap open, arms held tightly by Jude. His fingers digging into her skin. Both of his hands keeping her up and steady.

"Jude?" She mumbles, looking up at him with the widest eyes imaginable. Her mascara running down her hot and sweaty face. Her favorite lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth.

"It's me, you're good." He replies, noticing the faraway look in her eyes. His voice softens, lowering to a gentle decibel. Unlike the booming and ear-deafening music and conversations outside of the enclosed space they're in.

"Sit.." he gestures, pointing to the restroom countertop. She looks up, blinking repeatedly, she's not thinking of sitting when her mind and thoughts are still hazy and in fight or flight mode.

"Can I lift you up?" Jude suddenly asks, his hands leaving her arms. It sends a surge of extra adrenaline through her body, but she nods absentmindedly, looking away.

Jude takes a deep breath, hands reaching to the back of her thighs. He lifts her up easily, placing her on the countertop. His biceps flex under his sleeves, a frustrated noise leaving his lips.

y/n sniffles, the shock of it all sobering her up a bit. She raises her head, looking up at him. He stands in front of her, practically in between her legs.

He looks away, grabbing a paper towel from the roll and handing it to her.

"Here, wipe your- nose.." He mumbles, watching her. He walks away and grabs her bag off the floor, meticulously wiping the blood away with a dampened paper towel.

"Fucking bastard.." Jude mutters underneath his breath, venom on the tip of his tongue, as anger rushes through his veins. Though, y/n had practically handled it all on her own. Even in her drunk- mess of a state, she’d managed to break the lowlife’s nose and his ego.

The only thing that kept him from running out and breaking the bastard’s limb was the image of him already suffering and withering on the ground. Bloody, broken nose making him look so pathetic and disgusting, like the person he genuinely is.

y/n wipes her nose, eyes wet and irritated. The pounding in her head seems to increase as she struggles to hold her tears back. Although, she’d kept sort of calm in the moment, her heart was hammering in her chest. She could stand up for herself, that was no problem. It was the fact that she wasn’t fully coherent, which made her feel absolute terror in the moment.

All of the mixed emotions and alcohol make the nauseating feeling in her chest and stomach worse. Her eyes flutter for a moment, and she gags, clamping her hand over her mouth.

The noise alerts Jude, it takes him out of his murderous and aggressive thoughts. He looks up, immediately holding his hands out to her.

"Are you going to be sick?" He asks, eyebrows raised. She nods, hand still clasped around her mouth. Her mouth salivates, an imminent sign of needing to puke. It prompts Jude to help her down the countertop, his hands on both of her sides.

When her feet hit the floor, she practically leaps over to the toilet, retching and heaving over the toilet bowl. A warm hand is placed on her nape and forehead, trying to put pressure on those parts to stabilize her.

A choked sob leaves her dry lips, sweat beginning to glisten on her forehead. There was nothing she hated more than throwing up, the way it made her feel weak and out of control was an absolute nightmare to her.

"It's alright.." She hears, the soft whisper reaching her thumping ears. She takes a breath, squeezing her eyes tightly before heaving again. Her body shakes as all fluids leave her stomach, and the pungent smell of stomach acid makes her condition even worse.

It's all a blur, like a foggy fever dream. The only thing she can register are the sweet words reaching her burning ears. Full of reassurance and gentleness while she felt like she was losing her mind in the moment.

I hold back a gasp as my eyes land on the photo on my Instagram feed. I immediately sit up from my chair. My jaw slacks open as I read the caption.

"Jude Bellingham and alleged girlfriend spotted getting cozy after Australia friendly."

"The 20-year-old Madrid star seemed pretty happy to see his name and number on her shirt. The moment was captured by attendees, who provided us with pictures of the athlete's parents and his alleged lover having a seemingly very nice conversation. It seems like Mrs. and Mr. Bellingham approve."

"The identity of the young woman hasn't been revealed or confirmed as of yet. With some speculation about her father having close ties to Real Madrid CF."

I resist the urge to cry my eyes out at the association and immediately stand up from my desk. Practically skipping steps when running down the stairs, almost running into a group of fellow staff members.

My eyes dart around the cafeteria to spot the douche I needed to find. I make a beeline towards him as I watch him interact with the other players.

"I'm sorry, guys. I need him for a quick moment."

I say not waiting for anyone to answer. I grab onto Jude's upper arm and drag him out of the cafeteria. I hear some teasing whistles behind us, but I ignore them as I pull him into one of the small meditation rooms.

"What are you even doing-" he begins, but I cut him off as I shove my phone into his face. Showing him the photos and the caption which will probably keep me up tonight.

"What the fuck is this, huh?" I ask, raising my brows. Analyzing his facial expression as I fold my arms defensively.

I expect him to frown, get angry, get upset, but instead-

He fucking smirks, an amused chuckle leaving his lips. He snatches my phone, fingers tapping to read the comments on the post.

"Really? Is this a laughing matter to you?" I exclaim, ready to have a mental breakdown, while he just continues scrolling through the comments, starting to read them out loud.

"Not his usual type."

"He can do better."

I grunt, snatching my phone out of his hands, annoyed.

"I can play this game too, idiot!" I say, scrolling through the comments as well.

"He must be crazy, she's too pretty for him." I begin, passive aggressively reading positive comments about myself. I look up at him, watching him roll his eyes as he shoves his hands in his pocket.

"Well? What are you going to do about it?" I say, turning my phone off.

"What can I do about it?"

"This is your fault? If you weren't annoying me with your stupid antics, they wouldn't have made these speculations."

"You engaged in my 'stupid antics'!"

"Ugh- just send a cease and desist letter or something!"

"It's an Instagram gossip page, not a damn newspaper!"

I huff in annoyance, pacing around the small room.

"Can't you like- deny rumors?"

"I'm a football player, not a reality TV personality! They speculate about everything in my life already. Why would I deny them this time around?"

"Is that a question you really want an answer to?"

"Come on! What bad does it do you to be tied to me? Only good if you ask me.." He shrugs, and I don't miss the smirk on his face.

"Never mind, I'll ask my dad to handle it!" I say, walking past him to push the door open. I close my eyes in annoyance when it doesn't budge.

"You need to pull.." I hear Jude speak, the smile on his face practically audible from behind me.

"Fuck off.." I mutter seething in anger, pushing the door open and leaving him behind in the meditation room.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football #football imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid

[appocalipse]

hi!! could you please do a steve drabble with 60 & 70? and congratulations on 600!! <3

thank youuuu 💘 i love your writing btw <3  also i turned this into an exes to lovers, i hope it's okay and to your liking 💋 | “You were never my second choice” & “They're not you” with Steve Harrington.

“I think we should stay a little bit more, just to be sure,” he says. “What if you have a concussion?”

Steve Harrington is standing by the bed, shoulder resting against the white plain wall like he's all calm and relaxed — though his expression is anything but that.

He was at work when he got the call; now he could honestly thank his mom for something: when the local hospital called, she picked up the phone at home. She even went as far as to call him at Family Video and let him know the reason behind the call: your girlfriend, she'd said, she's in the hospital.

Steve didn't even acknowledge the fact his mom didn't know you two had broken up — though it has been a few months now — because when she repeated your name, he felt as if the world had stopped spinning. He mumbled a few almost unintelligible words at Robin — Y/N, accident, gotta go. But he thought she somehow understood, because she nodded her head vigorously and said go, watching as he clutched his keys tightly, running as if his life depended on it. 

Well, not his life. 

Your brain now registers his arms crossed over his chest, a familiar crinkle of worry between his warm brown eyes; he straightens his posture and stares down at you with utmost intensity. 

“I don't have a concussion,” you guarantee, your voice small. You're exhausted, yes, but his presence, his proximity, keeps you alert. 

You shift on the bed, about to get up, and he rushes to your side at lightning speed. 

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve nods at your ankle — on a cast — and the crinkle between his brows deepens when he turns to you once again.

You're painfully aware that he's touching your forearm — gently, respectfully, only in hopes of keeping you steady should you need it…but still touching your forearm. Not completely unlike all the times he’d touched this exact same spot before, in a completely different situation, an utterly different dynamic... 

“I'm going home. They said I could.”

“They didn't say you should.”

“It's just a sprained ankle, Steve. I'll live.”

You stand. He looks about ready to panic, hand firm on your arm.

He's wearing his Family Video uniform, you notice. Stripes under the vest, even that little name tag. Up close, he smells like good memories and heartbreak, like lazy mornings and sweet words and all the things you wish you could forget. 

But you can't. 

“Were you at work?” you ask.

His gaze is soft. He can read you like a book. “Don't worry about that.”

“They shouldn't have called you,” you insist, too quickly, too embarrassed. Too familiar. “I'm sorry, I completely forgot you were my emergency contact. I should have-”

“I don't mind.”

“I don't want to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me.”

“Steve,” you try to adjust yourself to the additional weight of the cast on your left foot. He stares at your face as if he is afraid you might break. “You should go back to work. I don't want you to get fired because of me.”

“I won't be fired. Robin will cover for me. Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer just to be sure?”

“Steve.”

“I can't just leave you here. Let me drive you home, at least.”

His tone is almost pleading.

“You don't have to,” you say, well aware that every minute this close to him is a new opportunity to make a mistake. “I can call-”

Who? None of your close friends have a car, you recall, maybe a bit late. You couldn't lie; he would know in a heartbeat. Steve also knows that your father is normally out of town this time of the month, and so all your excuses die down your throat.

All but one.

“I could take the bus,” you shrug. Sounds silly even for you.

Steve frowns. “Don't be ridiculous.”

Later, when you reach your front door with his arm around your waist — for support and nothing else, you assure yourself —, you’re not really sure of the hows and whys, and maybe it’s better that way. 

There are memories coming to the surface; you try to push them to the back of your mind as he leans down to grab the spare key. It’s under a small vase beside the porch, but he remembers it on his own. You don’t have to say anything.

You both enter. The house feels oddly warmer.

The sun is setting outside, painting his silhouette golden against the doorframe. “Are you hungry?”

He gently hands you the crutches you got from the hospital, making sure you have a firm hold on them before letting go. 

“I’m not gonna break, Steve,” you say. As if his concern doesn’t make you feel all warm inside.

“I know,” he’s biting the inside of his cheek. Anxious. Not looking at you at first, then staring like there was no other choice. “So, are you? Hungry?”

“I don’t know. Not really.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

He takes your silence as a bad sign.

“I”ll make something for you,” he says.

“Steve-”

But he’s already moving on to the kitchen, towards the fridge and the cabinets. He knows where everything is.

You half walk, half limp towards him with the help of the crutches. He watches your every movement from the corner of his eyes, trying to be subtle — but failing. He looks like he’s experiencing physical pain just from seeing you hurt.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Sit down and rest. Please?” Steve indicates a chair nearby, hands quickly sorting through everything you have in the kitchen — not much other than a bunch of ramen and a few carrots, he notices, defeated. And worried. How are you even alive eating like this?

He’ll lecture you about that later. Maybe he can even convince you to let him go grocery shopping for you.

Steve settles on a canned soup he finds stored in the back of the cabinet after checking if it’s not expired. He is halfway through warming it up when he glances over his shoulder and catches you staring back at him.

An eternity seems to pass between the moment your eyes meet and when you open your mouth and say, not particularly thinking it through before doing so, “I heard you had a date tonight.”

He’s taken by surprise, that much is clear. “I…Who said that?”

“Dustin.”

Steve rolls his eyes, turning his back on the soup once he’s sure it’s safe to leave it on its own. “Of course he did.”

“It’s okay,” you say. And it should be.

He’s silent for a moment. Then he sits down across from you, leaning back on the chair with his arms crossed. So close yet so far. 

“Is it?” he asks.

“Of course.” No, it’s not.

His proximity is suddenly suffocating, his gaze suddenly heavy. Your eyes prickle and you’re not sure why.

“It smells good,” you stand up, not bothering, or remembering to, grab the crutches as you start for the stove, not one bit interested in the soup but pretending to be so. 

Steve is up in no time. Which is good, because you trip almost immediately, and his hands on your waist are the only thing keeping you from falling over unceremoniously.

But now he’s close. Closer than before. Closer than he’s been for the last few months you’ve spent apart.

“Careful,” he says, not moving an inch.

Your traitorous, traitorous eyes end up on his lips. You don’t want to get away from him, but you must. 

And yet, you don’t move.

Then, unexpectedly, almost unintentionally, he lets out, “You know none of these dates will ever lead anywhere, right?”

You’re not entirely sure you’re breathing now.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he whispers, taking his time, “they’re not you.”

Or maybe you’re breathing too fast. Is there such a thing? Suffocating on too much oxygen?

Maybe more like on too much love.

“Steve,” you mumble. He leans down, closer, the sound of his name on your lips pulling him in. 

Then….

“We broke up.”

“No,” he says, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “You broke up with me.”

He tilts his head to the side, too close, and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Steve.”

His voice is nothing but a whisper, “I miss you.”

Your lips part. You wanna reply I miss you too, so much, but you’re breathing each other, his hands now hugging you tighter, closer, more desperate, and there’s a voice in your head saying you should probably remember why you broke up with him on the first place.

So you do.

“I can’t do this. We can’t do this. You’re…”

You step back, not half as gracious as you’d hoped, but still — out of his reach. He lets you. No resistance, arms falling back to his sides.

His eyes tell a different story, though.

“I’m not the one you’re missing,” you say, your own eyes prickling with tears. “Not really.”

“Y/N-”

“I don’t wanna be your second choice, okay? I won’t.”

“You were never my second choice!”

He sighs; licks his lips, runs a hand through his hair. Steve’s a mess; he wants the words, the right words this time, but he feels like he can’t think straight, like you’re slipping through his fingers once again.

It’s complicated. Everything is so complicated. 

He wants to make it simple.

He takes your hands in his; gentle, familiar, comforting. Your touch anchors him, his thoughts, his feelings — here, where he wants to be.

“There was never even a choice to make, Y/N,” he brings your hand to his chest, movement gentle, and places it over his heart; carefully, in no rush, finding the exact spot where you can actually feel his heart beating under your palm. 

For you.

Maybe he’s being cheesy, he thinks. But he's helpless; Steve couldn’t care less if he does.

“It has always, always been you, from the moment we met, this heart has been nothing but yours, all yours, Y/N. And even if you don’t want it- even if-” he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, eyes wandering everywhere as he tries to grasp the words once again. “I was yours long before I had the guts to let you know. I'd rather be here eating canned soup with you then anywhere else with anyone else.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington oneshot #steve x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things #stranger things drabble #stranger things oneshot #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

[mybrokenveins3000]

Hey I just read all of your college Ross pieces and I love them!!

What about one night if reader goes out and ends up too drunk and calls Ross so he comes to pick her up and takes her home. Maybe she's trying to talk about her feelings for him but he doesn't want her saying anything she'll be embarrassed by. Or she asks him to stay the night so he sleeps on her floor

A/N: Oh. My. God.

FIRST AND FOREMOST, thank you for the love and for readingg <3 It really means the world to me. SECOND OF ALL... ANON... YOUR BRAIN IS SO LARGE. I am going to PASS OUT. Thank you for this request, my heart might just burst. I might have gone over board, this is the longest thing I've written thus far. Anyways, here goes nothing... enjoy ;)

Drunk Call - College!Ross Macdonald

word count: 1.5k

♫ Heavenly - Pale Waves

This party is excessive and headache-inducing - the music is bad, the people even worse. You don't even know why you're here. When your flatmates asked "why that party?", you simply replied, "just for something to do".

You're slumped down by the foot of the couch, tangled between legs, empty bottles, empty cups. No matter how much you hammer at the side of your phone, all that blinks back is a fat 0%.

The liquor is not sitting right in your stomach, you're not in the mood, and each thrum of bass reminds you of him.

You haven't seen Ross for what feels like forever. He had gone back to his hometown for the week whilst you stayed in the city. There was something noticeably different about the setting without him, the lights felt dimmer, the air felt colder.

You were conscious not to disrupt his week at home, spending so many nights staring at an untouched keyboard. Oh, the amount of text messages you thought up but never sent.

But you knew he would be back today, which was your main source of hope in this tragic, alcohol-punctuated moment.

Without a second thought, you pull at a semi-familiar friend's trouser leg and ask if you can borrow their phone. After a reluctant "yes", you're punching a familiar number onto the screen, then the bright and inviting call button.

The phone buzzes softly in your hand as you lift it to your ear.

Pick up pick up pick up pick up--

"Hello, this is Ross speaking."

You relax at the sound of his voice. You were beyond the border of missing him.

"Hello!!" you exclaim, loud enough to hear yourself over the music - which is to say deafening from his side of the line.

"Whoa," it's like you can hear him wincing, "is that who I think it is?"

"Mhmmm"

"Where are you? Are you okay?" You selfishly smile at the twinge of panic in his voice as he registers the state you're in.

"My phone... it died... This is the only number I know," you gulp, "off by heart."

He's speechless, already devising a plan to save you. If only you could see him now, a blushing mess, half worried, half desperately in love.

"Are you busy?" you add before he can react to the former statement.

"Uhh no, just finished practice. Where are you?"

"Oh, practice... GUYS, I'M ON THE PHONE WITH A ROCKSTAR!!" you announce with such pride to a room full of strangers and acquaintances, once again almost deafening him on the other side of the line. And yet he's hanging onto every word, even if it hurts him.

"Okay, I'm coming to get you," he laughs, "don't worry, I think I know where you are."

"My hero!" you tease, "but please come soon, the music is so bad and I miss you, Ross, I FUCKING MISS YOU--"

You accidentally hang up.

---

Not two minutes later, you see a familiar, flushed face enter the room. Did he run here?

The scene is hazy and fragmented, but you could recognise the space he takes up in any room, even in this state. Ross towers over the crowd, a vision in black denim, searching over moving heads and smoke. Then he locks eyes with you.

You wave at him, still sitting on the floor by the couch. He seems to sigh in relief, hand on his heart.

You spring up as he approaches, unaware of the bottles and cups you've knocked over. He takes you in - you, slightly unravelled but the same as ever. Still beautiful as ever.

"ROCKSTAR!" you cry as you flop into him, catching his eyes crinkling at the name. And you're back in his arms, so inviting, not so dissimilar to the comfort of home. "How did you know I was here?!" you beam at him.

"Matty mentioned it. He wasn't invited," he laughs.

"Lucky him."

You stand there in the middle of the room holding each other for a while, both revelling in how much you've missed each other. For a second, it's warm and quiet. If it took one long week and a bad party to experience this, you think, then it was all worth it.

Suddenly, the song changes to a particularly insufferable one. You both groan like you're one body, one mind.

"Let's go?" he says.

"Let's go."

---

You dance in and out of streetlights down the path to your accommodation, humming one of his band's songs, one from the night of the gig. Ross's walking right beside you, arms at the ready in case you fall or turn where you're not supposed to. Even as you stumble, he gazes at you with amazement at how beautiful you look without even trying.

"What was that thing?" you blurt out.

"What thing?" he hums in response, his alertness veiled by a sense of calm, eyes still glazed with wonder.

"You know, that thing you said when we first met? I'm someone you want to keep, was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I never said that." he teases, his playful grin giving away his lies.

You throw your arms out and scream into the night, "I'M SOMEONE YOU WANT TO KEEEEEEP!!"

He laughs awkwardly, eyes widening at your sudden outburst. But he adores you. In this moment, that's his only truth.

"Ah, okay, let's take a break"

He settles you down onto a nearby bench. You take in a deep breath of fresh air which turns into a yawn.

Your head starts to droop, but he quickly rests it on his shoulder as he lowers down to sit next to you. Always ready to take care of you, to save you when you let him.

"So suave, so so nice, so nice" you mumble drowsily, half to him, half to yourself.

"What was that?"

"You're so nice... And so good-looking," you can't stop your mouth from moving, "I really like being around you and I missed you so much, but I don't know if you felt the same!! But you're so nice, sometimes I just want to--"

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he slithers his arm around your waist and hoists you back up onto your feet before you say something you'll regret.

But he's unable to bite back a smile. In another world, he would let you speak, but he knows you and knows better than to let you talk yourself into a hole you can't escape.

Not yet, he thinks, not like this.

"Hey! You could compliment me, you know," you nag as you start walking again.

There's a pause as he really considers his response.

"...you know you're gorgeous, right?" he finally sighs, breath visible in the crisp night air, "besides, everything I'd say, I'd want you to remember."

---

He gently lays you down in your bed, but you can't seem to let go of him.

"I don't want you to go", you whine, "won't you stay?"

"For how long?"

"Stay forever."

His eyes soften as he looks down at you, your arms still clasped around his neck. Only you have the power to render him speechless like this. It's so easy for you to get what you want.

You let go of him, aggressively patting the empty side of the bed.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I don't share beds with drunk girls," he says. He takes a stray pillow and blanket, and plonks them onto the floor beside you so he can monitor you as you sleep. By this point, you've already passed out.

---

Ross can't sleep. He doesn't mind the floor, but stirs at every sound and movement you make, constantly checking if you're okay.

Throughout the night, he finds himself looking at the details of your room, at books, concert tickets, and photos of friends and family - pieces of you that he wants to know more about.

He watches you, so peaceful, in awe how he has someone like you in his life.

My life would be so boring without you, he thinks.

---

You wake up just as he walks into the room with a cup of tea. He sets the cup down by the bedside table with a soft smile. The air of domesticity is something you could live in forever.

"Hi," you mumble through fluttering eyelids, filtering the Sunday morning sun.

"Hi. Are you doing okay?"

You nod as you sit up. He sits on the bed, brushing the stray hairs from your face, the warmth of his hand like a healing force. You can't tell he hadn't slept because of how happy he looks just to be there.

You reach over for the tea with the comfort of knowing he made it just how you like it.

"I didn't say anything weird, did I?" you croak, sipping the tea.

"No, not at all," he replies.

There's a moment of silence. The morning birds fly past the window, the steam of the mugs mists your eyes.

"I missed you too, you know," he finally says, "I missed you so much."

A/N: Didn't proofread this but HOPE YOU ENJOYED. I'll probably edit it a bit when I come back, but I wanted you to have this sooner rather than later, anon. THANKS FOR YOUR REQUEST AGAINNNN

#ross macdonald #the 1975 #1975 band #fanfic #matty healy #matty the 1975 #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald imagine #ross the 1975 #fresher!ross #college au #college au ross #university au #university au ross #college!ross #college!au ross #college!au

[oldsargasso]

ficlet: should've atoned by now

what if Way faked his death and ran away and also he started getting morning sickness? and called Kenta for help? and I've been having a lot of pack-related thoughts thanks to @le-trash-prince? (I'm about to respond to your asks I just had to get this out of my brain)

and then I wrote 1k of it? what if that happened.

way-centric. implied pete/way. (background kenta/dean + polycule if I were to actually finish this) warning for pregnancy & pregnancy termination

The first morning he throws up, Way thinks it's due to the awful hangover he's woken up with. He's never drinking curaçao again. No matter how fun the cocktails had been, it's not worth this. There's not a lot in his new apartment, but at least he'd picked up some groceries the day before yesterday. Once he can get off the floor—the lovely, cool, quiet floor—he'll figure out what to eat to settle his stomach.

The next morning, he's forced to reassess. He's not drunk, or hungover. Maybe a stomach bug, he thinks, brushing his teeth twice to get rid of the taste of bile.

A week of mornings later, he's forced to reassess again. It's probably not a stomach bug or a virus that's making him puke his guts up every morning while leaving him with no other side effects.

Pulling out his phone, he searches up possible causes. One particular answer comes up repeatedly. But—no chance. It's out of the question. They hadn't—but they had, Way's memory helpfully informs him. The second time that night. He doesn't know if Pete knew because he knew or if Way was just far too easy to read with his walls down. But that second time, Pete had spooned up behind Way and pushed inside him bare, whispering things into his shoulders that Way had forced himself not to hear.

Then they'd gotten up, gotten dressed, and gone to confront their father, and Way had consciously not thought about it in the three weeks since.

Way slumps back down next to the sink.

"Fuck," he tells the bathroom, voice rough after days without speaking to anyone.

There's only one way to know for sure. Somehow, when Way had been making plans upon plans, he hadn't thought to include a fucking doctor for his new identity. A stupid oversight. He'd gotten sloppy, distracted, the past few months.

Digging a denim jacket out of the depths of his closet, Way shoves a cap on his head and a mask over his face, and heads for the biggest chemist in town.

---

It feels too conspicuous to just buy a single pregnancy test. Wandering the aisles for a little while, Way tosses various other items into his basket. He'll probably never need a lavender-scented heat pack but hey, why not? Maybe the teenager working the register will think he's buying all this for a girlfriend or something. It’s still hard to shove down the desire to reach out and make someone like her just forget they ever saw him—Way does it despite the effort required. Crams the urge into one of the many boxes in his mind labelled DON’T and leaves it there to remain untouched.

Not, as Way finds out a few minutes later, that the teenager cares even the slightest bit about what Way is purchasing, beyond telling him the total and sighing impatiently when it takes him more than a millisecond to fumble his card out of his wallet. Taking the proffered bag and receipt, Way escapes from her judgemental glare.

He makes it home without getting stuck talking to his overly-friendly neighbour, which is a minor miracle in itself. Way's fairly certain the guy doesn't work, or do anything other than sit and stare out the window, waiting to ambush anyone passing by. Even pretending to be on the phone doesn't dissuade him, Way has unhappily discovered.

Half a bottle of water later, Way takes the test.

Then he takes half an hour to work up the courage to check the results.

"Fuck," he says emphatically at the awful cheerful positive indicator. "Fuck." How the fuck is he—how is Ice, 36 year old beta who recently quit his job in admin at a car dealership and moved to his mother's hometown after her untimely death—supposed to terminate a pregnancy? Without anyone knowing?

Several deep breaths and a shot of whiskey later, Way lines up all his contingency plans and goes through them all, one by one. Four hours later, he makes a single phone call.

---

Contingency plan #53 turns up four uncomfortable mornings later with an extremely uninvited companion.

"You tried to kill Babe, " Way says, ignoring Kenta's polite greeting.

"Sure did," Dean answers, all false bravado and trembling fingers. "Tried to kill Charlie too."

Way couldn't hold back the eye roll. "Obviously I don't care about that." He sighs. It still kinda hurts to start talking these days. He refuses to be one of those people that talks to themselves out loud all the time though.

"He only did it all that because I convinced him to," Kenta adds in a mild tone.

"Fuck off," Dean scowls at him. "You aren't the boss of me. You can't make me do anything." Kenta looks back, face impassive as usual.

"Come inside, " Way orders them both. "My neighbours are so nosy." He steps back to wave them through the door. Dean moves past him, close enough for their arms to brush. He smells like himself: warm cotton and frangipani, and he also smells like pack. It hits Way visceral and deep. The urge to pull his pack member, his pup, close and safe is overwhelming; Way's moving before the thought is even fully formed.

Dean's lost weight. His shoulder blades are so fragile under Way's hands. He's torn between the desire to squeeze tighter: to crush Dean down to a fine powder, and an intense longing to shove him into the comfortable chair in front of the TV and feed him until he's overfull. He does neither. Just holds an increasingly trembling Dean with both arms tight, tight, breathing deep of his scent until it’s all Way can sense.

The whole time, Kenta stands and stares at them. Unsurprising, really. He's probably still learning that humans have emotions. Way frowns at him just for fun, just to make him flinch, then goes back to burying his nose in Dean's hair.

"Welcome home," Way whispers and doesn't even complain when Dean gets the front of his shirt all wet.

#my fic #pit babe #cannot stop thinking about like. alphas being possessive of their packs #and then enigmas being more so? #that's why pete has such a saviour complex he's already adopted everyone into his pack #anyway I think way should have to live #not written: way and dean discussing the different ways they hurt Babe and how they feel about it while not talking about feelings at all #also not written: way making dean sleep next to him in the bed for pack bonding and kenta sleeping on the floor

[screechthemighty]

Titanfall fic writing is back, babey!! Fun fact, I started writing this *checks notes* literal years ago, but only just now circled back to it now that I'm filling in the holes in the Titanfall part of my Respawn Cinematic Universe. I will be eventually circling back to the stuff that happens after The Citadel, don't worry! I just wanted to get this one out of the way (again: literal years). AO3 link will be in a reblog, but you can read the first chapter below!

crash and burn (and then return again) | a titanfall 2 fanficpart one

cw: vomiting, loss/grief, shutdown, references to alcoholism

.

Things would’ve gone a lot differently if he were a in movie. For starters, Cooper wouldn’t have passed out within five minutes of arriving on the main battleship.

That was his own fault. His body had been giving him signs it was going to quit on him the whole flight back. He was shaky, almost dizzy, nauseous, and it felt like someone had replaced his brain with piles of stuffing. Cooper had figured it was just the adrenaline. Been there, done that. He’d be fine once he had something to eat and some real sleep. He didn’t say anything because it wasn’t a big deal.

Turned out it, was a big deal.

His memories of what exactly happened were hazy. Commander Briggs was there, he knew that, and Robert Taube. He remembered there were a lot of other people, and that he thought it was all those eyes on him (even in a positive light) that were making him feel worse. He tried to be subtle about excusing himself. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded or not; he thought someone followed him, but he couldn’t remember if it was Commander Briggs or Taube or both. Maybe it was neither. But he was pretty sure he remembered someone asking if he was okay, and replying that he didn’t feel so hot.

That must’ve been when he passed out, because his next concrete memory was lying on a moving gurney and someone checking his pulse “...repeated physical contact with an unknown energy source, we have no idea…” someone was saying.

Cooper risked opening his eyes. Commander Briggs was there, Taube, too, and a nurse, and a medical droid. It wasn’t that big of an audience, but it felt like a whole stadium of people once he realized what happened. “Did I throw up on anyone?” he mumbled.

“No,” Taube replied bluntly. “You about to?”

“...uhm…”

He must’ve gone grey or green or whatever color you turned when you were about to puke, because Taube swore and got out of the way. At least that way, Cooper didn’t throw up on anyone. Puking on the floor in front of his new CO, a respected war hero, and two medics was still in the top ten most humiliating moments of his life. There wasn’t much in his stomach to throw up, just water and one and a half energy bars. But apparently his body really didn’t want it.

There was a hand on his shoulder, someone asking him something, but Cooper barely registered the question. He stared down at the floor, eyes defocused. This had happened before, right? Fracture? Yeah. Fracture. He’d hit his head, suffered a concussion. Did he have another concussion? He’d fallen so many times on Typhon. He’d thought the jump kit and the helmet would take the worst of it but…hell, he didn’t know. He had no clue what he was doing. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Were you given any medication during Broadsword?” asked the med droid. Its voice was neutral in a calming way, but higher pitched than BT’s had been.  Thinking about BT made his stomach churn. “Exposure to any other energy sources?”

Had he? So much had happened. He could barely keep track. “Uhm...s-sansufentynal. After my drop pod landed. And...Lastimosa…” The name tasted bitter in his mouth. “…gave me something, I don’t know what. He said it might knock me out, but I’d feel better once I woke up. I was in a power chamber, there was some radiation, but I think it wasn’t so long that my suit couldn’t handle it.”

“Understood.” The med droid began speaking in softer tones to the medic, something about blood work and scans; Cooper was too busy trying to control his still-revolting stomach to really pay attention.

Am I dying? Did I really survive all that bullshit just to die like this?

“You’re not dying,” said Taube roughly. Cooper looked up at him, confused. Had he said that out loud? How out of it was he right now? “Just keep it together, kid. We’re gonna get you help.”

He was the one resting a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. The reassuring pressure of the grip contrasted with the way Taube actually looked: worn down, five o’clock shadow, bags under his eyes. He looked just as ready to pass out as Cooper felt.

Cooper couldn’t blame him for that. It had been a hell of a long day. Using the past tense didn’t feel right, though. A day like that couldn’t just be…over. Not like this. Not with…

He lay back down and shut his eyes tightly.

He can’t be gone.

How can he just be gone?

The thought kept echoing in his head as they dragged him into a private room in the medbay. Cooper went through the motions, sitting up, letting them look him over, responding to any questions he knew the answers to. The answers kept getting shorter and shorter; if that concerned the medics, Cooper barely noticed. Everything was growing more distant—sounds, sensations, the overall feeling of reality. All he wanted to do was curl up somewhere quiet and dark and sleep.

Sleep and wake up in a world where BT wasn’t gone.

.

Cooper had gone quiet.

Barker hadn’t noticed it at first. He’d only realized because he’d happened to glance in Cooper’s direction. He was hunched over, face buried in his hands, not making a sound even as his shoulders shook slightly. Barker wasn’t shocked—after everything Cooper had been through, having an emotional crash with the physical one wasn’t out of the blue or anything.

Should I do something?

Barker barely knew the guy from Adam, but he had a feeling Briggs didn’t either. That might’ve been part of the problem, now that he thought about it. All that shit and no one he could talk to about it.  Still, one of us should say something. Briggs was still talking intensely with the human medic, and the bot didn’t look like the reassuring type. It was either interrupt or…

He sighed. Ah, screw it. “Hey, Cooper?” Barker said carefully as he stepped forward.

Cooper didn’t reply.

Shit. “Cooper?” Barker repeated, a bit louder this time. When that didn’t get a response, he knew it was time to switch tactics. Cooper had been a rifleman before this; maybe he just needed a good prod from a CO to get him out of it. “Pilot,” Barker tried, trying to force his voice back into tones he hadn’t used since the IMC.

Still nothing.

Except he hadn’t been pilot for longer than a few days, right? Field promotion, no time to get used to it. So maybe…

“Hey, Rifleman.”

Cooper straightened up immediately, shoulders squared, hands dropping down from his face. “Sir,” he said. His eyes were pink, still wet with tears. He didn’t seem to register who Barker was at first; his body just responded to the rank. Muscle memory. Hell of a thing.

Barker had Cooper’s attention all right, but now he didn’t know what to do with it.

“You, uh…” Barker took another few steps forward and clumsily rested a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “You okay?”

The kid looked at him like he was trying to figure out the right answer to the question.

That look didn’t last long. Whatever it was Cooper was trying to press down and re-shape into an acceptable answer shattered like a glass bottle. His composure and decorum went with it. Next thing Barker knew, the kid’s face was pressed against his chest as his body heaved with audible sobs.

Damn it, I am not equipped for this.

Though he may have been more prepared than everyone else there. Briggs looked just as caught off-guard as he did, and the medbot wasn’t going to be any help. The flesh and blood medic looked lost, too. Barker shot them all a baffled look as he clumsily patted Cooper’s shoulder. You’re gonna let me do this? Really? “’S’okay. Let it out.” Don’t worry about me telling anyone. I will definitely be drinking enough to forget this. “I’m sorry.”

The words tasted sharp, bitter. I get it. That part was left unspoken, but he did. The empty hole in your head, in your soul. You formed bonds quickly in combat. Cooper might not have had the years of connection Barker had with Juliet, but that wouldn’t make it hurt less. Someone sacrificing themselves for you never went down easily.

Barker gritted his teeth. Definitely drinking tonight.

“You’re safe now,” he said instead. “We’ve got you, kid.”

Cooper’s sobs slowed eventually. He let go of Barker’s jumpsuit, instead tightly hugging himself. He rocked slightly in place—self-soothing, if Barker had to guess—and his eyes stayed clenched shut. “Can’t,” he choked out.

“Can’t what?”

“It…mmph.” His shoulders hunched more tightly, like he was trying to shrink into himself. “Bright.”

Briggs finally snapped out of it and went to dim the lights. The medbot said something to the human medic, who cursed quietly and started digging around through some nearby drawers. Barker, meanwhile, crouched in front of Cooper, trying to catch his gaze. “That better?” A pause. A nod. “Anything hurt? Like, about to drop dead hurt?”

Cooper hugged himself more tightly. Damn it, I’m making things worse again. Barker didn’t think this was a panic attack; he’d seen plenty of those before. So what is it? What’s wrong?

The medic nudged him aside gently and held out something to Cooper. “Here,” she said. “Do you think you can use this?”

She small tablet she’d passed him had an application open with a bunch of buttons. Barker could see an alphabet, and some standard words and phrases. Cooper took the tablet, then stared at the application as if trying to register what he was looking at. After a lengthy pause, he tapped one of the options.

“No.”

Okay, they were getting somewhere. “No, nothing hurts?” Barker guessed. Cooper nodded. “What do you need, kid?”

A pause. This time, Cooper tapped at the letters.

“Alone.”

…yeah. Fair.

“Can we clear the room, guys?” the medic asked. To Cooper, she added, “We’ll be just outside. Come get us if you need anything, okay?”

She seemed confident that Cooper wouldn’t hurt himself or have a heart attack, so Barker followed the others outside. He took one more glance at Cooper as he stepped out, and almost wished he hadn’t. The freshly minted pilot had hunched back over, the tablet hugged tightly to his chest. It was something no one should see, least of all the drunk who’d only just met the poor guy.

Barker looked away. Jack Cooper was going to be the talk of the town when they got back to Harmony. The least they could do was let him grieve in private while he still could.

#titanfall #titanfall 2 #fic: crash and burn (and then return again)

[whumpster-dumpster]

Have some irl whump out of my stupidity!

I was really craving a burger wrap from Sheetz (gas station with bomb ass food) but I don’t have a car so I figured I’d just walk the 40 minute round trip. Was 11° outside but with the wind and all it felt like -5°. At some point I ended up dissociating because I felt so exhausted and didn’t think I’d make it back to the house. When I got home I texted my partner and realized my vision wasn’t right. It was like a trail effect every time I typed something or sent a message. Then I realized I didn’t feel cold at all and the last unfrozen brain cell screamed “YOU PROBABLY HAVE HYPOTHERMIA.” I checked my temperature with my thermometer and it said “L°” so my body temp was too low for it to even register. Keep in mind my thermometer can read any temp over 90° and the starting temp for hypothermia is 95°. So I got under two blankets and then decided I was gonna jump in the bath because I was feeling cold again and couldn’t stop shivering. I had the water the hottest it could go and it felt lukewarm on my skin. Usually it feels like it’s burning me at that point and I could see the steam so I knew it was hot. I called my partner because I couldn’t think clearly enough to know what to do anymore and they told me to get under as many blankets as I could and cover up my entire body leaving just my face exposed. Currently still under the blankets but my temp is back up to 98.6 😎👍

Oh no! I'm glad you're feeling a little better now, take care of yourself!

#whump #irl whump #hypothermia #answered ask #anonymous

[russellsppttemplates]

Coffee (George Russell)

Note: english is not my first language

The more I read this the less I like it but this idea had been brewing in my brain and I thought I'd share

Feedback is appreciated 🤍 and although I'm not taking requests per se, if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so!

When your supervisor said that you'd gotten the permission to initiate the first option of your research, you sat in the office dumbfounded. Sure, you submitted a possible study involving teams of engineers that worked in motorsport in order to study a few behaviours you were interested in, but never actually thought you'd be able to do it given the intricacy of the population you were after, submitting it just so that at least the university senior research panel would see that you had some interesting ideas. But now you've got it, and 10 minutes later you still can't believe it.

"So you mean I can go and collect data? All the teams have given their acceptance?", you asked your supervisor, "Yes, we're still waiting on a formal acceptance papers that usually take longer, it's nothing to worry about, but yeah, you can start going next Monday. I'll mail you the schedules they prefer for you to go in and you can choose what's best for your schedule too. Y/N, I'm very proud of you for getting this study, and I'm here to help you achieve all of the greatness I know you can bring!".

And that's how you ended up in the Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 Team building, confirming your identity in the front desk and heading to the room where you do all the interviews. As you'd become a familiar face around the building, so did the people who were participating in your study and, noticing some missing data, you took liberty in heading to look for that engineer.

"Y/N, what a lovely visit you're paying us. Looking for anyone?", Paul, one of the engineers, asked as you knocked on their door. "Sorry to interrupt you, I know you've been busy, but I was hoping I could find John, do you know where he is?", you asked after a quick scan of the room, "You're not gonna find him today I'm afraid, his son was feeling poorly so he stayed home today, but drop into HR and they'll give you his contacts". Thanking him, you wished them a good day and closed the door. Great. Just great. Sure, you'd been here for a good amount of time, could blindly walk to every coffee machine they had (you needed your fuel), but HR? You didn't know where that was. You remembered being there once in the first week but that was it, and now you had no recollection where it was.

Seeing someone in the team attire, you decided to take your shot, "I'm sorry, hi, do you happen to know where HR is?", you gently called hoping the tall man would help you. "Hi, yeah, you can go that way which goes through the factory or you can follow these stairs. I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've met before, I'm George", he said flashing you a charming smile.

"Thanks. I'm Y/N", you replied, suddenly then remembering the new drivers and realising who you were talking to, "sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you. Thanks again for the help. I'll get going", you flashed him a smile and finally headed to the offices.

Unbeknownst to you, as you made the turn to the offices, George had gone down the same way so he could be on the factory with everyone. When you went through the corridor again, everyone waved at you, and George waved his arm too before even registering what he had done, "So, you all know Y/N?", he asked, "yeah, she's doing this study and we're all participants, she's a really nice young lady", someone responded whilst George's gaze followed you for as long as possible.

"Yeah, George apparently also thinks that", Paul teasingly added, "I just met her, she was looking for the HR offices, she was really nice", George replied, quickly shaking himself off and turning his attention back to the numbers on the screen.

Weeks had passed, and with the season approaching George was a recurrent encounter in the corridors of the building, making you meet at least once a day for a little chat, something that the both of you refused to admit was the favourite part of your days.

"Y/N is leaving today, she said it's the last day she's gonna be here so I thought we could have a little get together, since everything is under control and we could all enjoy a little time off", Toto said, "so in the afternoon everyone is invited for the get together, but Y/N doesn't know about it! So if you see her you don't tell her anything! Whoever is with her at that time will come to the gathering, that's your job!", he ordered as you were known to be always running around the place, never certain where you would be and fearing that you would catch up with the surprise.

As you were carrying the last things back to your car, George spotted you from inside and immediately started thinking that maybe you were leaving, and Toto had specifically requested that you'd be there. Going down the stairs as fast as he could, he reached the parking lot, not going unnoticed by you. "Finished your day too, George?", you asked. Truth was, you had gotten to know so many incredible people over the course of the time you were there, but you had to admit George was your favourite acquaintance. He may seem frigid at first, but underneath it all you found an amazing, funny and kind guy and maybe, just maybe, you may have a crush on the driver. Good job sorting that one out, Y/N, you thought.

"I was just going to get something from my car", he said as he approached you, "And you?".

"I'm just packing up a few things and then leaving, so you don't need to worry about being pestered by me!", you said, smiling a sad smile as you realised you will most likely never see him again, not like this anyway.

George started getting nervous, looking at his watch and realising that he was the one responsible to bring you to the surprise get together, "How about we go inside? I seem to have forgotten my car keys and perhaps you could accompany me for a coffee?", he said, "If management finds out how much coffee I've been drinking here they may think I came here to get them to go bankrupt because of coffe", you commented, as when you weren't collecting data or looking for someone to interview, you were most likely found near the many coffee machines they provided.

"C'mon, just one last coffee with me, I promise I won't tell anyone", despite feeling nervous and afraid he may have ruined the team's surprise, George flashed you one of those charming smiles of his and you couldn't say no, "Alright then, one last coffee", as you reentered the building.

"Not that I am the most oriented person here but there are no coffee machines this way, and if you must know the really good ones are actually somewhere else", you said as you went to what seemed like the outdoor area, "what? 'really good ones'? How come you're only telling me this now?", George asked you, "yeah, the really really nice one is upstairs, in the little room before the IT offices. I never shared the information because I was afraid everyone would go there and they'd run out of the good coffee", and George could only laugh at the innocence and excitement you displayed talking about your fear of losing your good coffee supply. "Don't laugh", you playfully swatted his arm, "it is God tear coffee and the least people that know about the better, means everyone who knows gets the good stuff. I only found out because Lucy from IT brought me coffee from there once and I noticed the difference. I'm letting you on a secret here Russell, you should feel privileged to have this information", you laughed with him.

"George, since when do they have coff-", you were interrupted as he opened the door for the little outside area that was filled with every member of the team, tables with drinks and food, "We couldn't let you walk out of here without saying a proper goodbye so... yeah... there's food and everyone's here... I don't think that coffee machine is the one you were talking about but hopefully it'll do", George said and you could have cried from the thought and dedication. It had been an incredible experience. Going from submitting the idea just in case someone might be crazy enough to take you on to finishing the most experience ever with so many dear people to your heart and a great sense of accomplishment, you could not be more grateful, letting the tears flow freely.

George quickly noticed your tears and ran his hand aling your back, slightly holding you on your side, making you hug him back and choosing to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, just enjoying the comfort he was providing.

"Well everyone, let's just enjoy this little break because I think we all deserve it", Toto said and everyone went around the tables picking food and talking.

George couldn't help but notice how you talked and knew every single person that was there, wether they were cleaning staff or engineers, you talked to them like you had known them forever.

"She's truly something else, isn't she?", Lewis asked his teammate, "If you really like her, which by the looks you give her you do, maybe this is the time to ask her out man", he advised as he saw her coming closer to them, "Hey", you greeted, "thank you for making my time here incredible. I really appreciate it", you thanked them and fell into comfortable chatting until Lewis had to leave and, soon, everyone else started gathering things to clean up and leave.

As you were walking back to car park, you were dreading having to leave everything (and George was probably up there), "I was promised a coffee, Mr Russell, and I have yet to see, let alone drink, that last one", you teased him. This was it, George thought, "Well, what if you and I made a deal. You can give me your number and maybe this weekend we can go get one", he said, looking into your eyes, "that sound good for me", "and maybe it won't be a last coffee, perhaps the beginning of many...?", he responded.

You turned to face him, looking up to his beautiful eyes, "I'd like that too", you smiled, giddy to what the future may have in store for you two.

#george russell imagine #george russel fic #george russell #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #george russell fluff

[wind-corner]

Chapter nine

Samantha or Sam for short, (though not to be confused with the shop keeper, she was just going by the shorten version of her middle name; alex ) woke up. And honestly with how she was feeling she sort of didn't want too. Greatful that she had decided to close the curtains of the half testers, the night before, so that the sun's rays didn't blind her. sam shifted slightly trying to get comfortable again.

She felt heavy. Like a large weight was on her. Sort of how one feels, after laying in a tub full of water for too long. And her head ached. A migraine perhaps? Maybe more sleep would help, after all if the alarm isn't going off than it mustn't be time to wake up yet. With that thought sam, had been hoping for she could sleep more. Sadly the sound of her phone going buzzing with a call made her pause.

Who is calling this early? Not wanting to actually open her eyes, Sam felt around for her phone and than partly open her eyes just to look at the number and answering the phone, grumbling a sound to show she was in fact awake despite not being able to fully function.

The person on the phone was panicked and asked if she was fine. Samantha shifted her brain wasn't fully registering everything but she knew something was up. "Yeah....though I think I have a migraine." Samantha yawned and while tempting to rub her eyes, she knew if she did she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep easily.

Half listening to her mother the teen was about to drift back to sleep, only for her mother to say something which snap her out of her drozy state as her eyes shot open adrenaline now coursing though her. "What do you mean?!?! Missing?!?! Have you try calling mina?!"

Samantha had just spoken to her sister hours before! How could she be missing? Her mom continued to speak explaining while not actually missing it was merely a nightmare and yet she hasn't gotten ahold of the mina thus her fears.

Samantha sort of hated how now she was starting to worry for her elder sister. "I was talking to her last night, while it wasn't that late here, it was bound to really late for her, maybe she's still sleeping, or she mistakenly broke her phone again." Sam could easily see her sister getting to excited reading a fanfic and snapping the phone in her excitement or losing said phone and in a panic start tearing though everything only to end up stepping on the screen and screaming at the top of her lungs about her poor luck.

And while funny, she also felt some amount of pity for the elder who struggled with sensitive things, which is why when the elder decided to go into the field of archeology, the family had been surprised. But the mina had wanted it and thus she was off doing that in fact she should be at a dig site if she recalled, and Samantha decided to relay that information to her mother, who still seemed to be in panic.

It didn't seem to fully help, and it honestly it did worry mina to hear her mother in the middle of freaking out. Though thankfully she soon hear her dad in the background before he took the phone from her mother, and she knew it based on how loud he gotten when he spoke.

"Sorry dear, I know it's early over there, which is why I told her to wait and call, but she can't seem to sleep or stop worrying without check on everyone, and while I guess she already asked but how are you doing?"

"Yeah, she did. And besides officially being awake thanks to ma' scaring me, and my head hurting like I have a migraine. I'm alright. School's been well School. And I. Passing all my classes so far." Since she wasn't sure what time it actually was sam moved the curtin so she could see the clock on the desk, she had thirty minutes before it went off saying she had to get up, not to bad, but still annoying.

"Sorry about that, if you don't feel up for it you can head to the nurses office and take the day off, just remember not to push yourself."

Sighing sam nodded only to remember she was on the phone. "I know. And ill text mina see if she responds, but how is everyone?"

"Overall good. Not including this nightmare, your mom misses you and your sister, and is currently trying to get your youngest brother to join jrotc, with help from your brother. And grim was sulking because he didn't want to join a cooking class. And I quote your brother. 'Why would I join a cooking class when I bake and cook at home?' End quote.

Sam found her self chuckling. "Grim is suck a glutton." She smiled at the thought of the feline sort of missing home and though she came to sage Island to better her education, it still didn't mean she didn't wish to maybe have gone to a school closer to home. None the less she can't change the past and she was going to finish her years here, just like her sister and than be the best in her field just like her sister and father (at least Samantha thought so anyway)

"He is, though I'm sure it about time get up, and I'm going to try calling the dig site manger to get your mom to relax, I'll text you what he says of you don't hear from mina."

"Oh! Ok. Text you later, and love you dad, tell mom and the boys i love 'em too." Sam heard her father chuckle and respond to her before he hung up.

Taking the phone from her ear sam checked the time and while not quite time she decided to just get up thus wiggling out of the warm sheets and grabing her things, some of which was in the chain up and hidden lock box (something her mother insisted on) she made her way to begin her morning routine.

Dressed, hair brushes, teeth brushed head back to her room to toss her sleeping clothes on her bed. Check to see if their was an inspection that day. If so fix said bed, if not head to the cafeteria. (Doing so also warns her roommates who get up later than her to panic and fix their stuff before they all get busted for stuff.

Once at the cafeteria she would see what they're making and decide what to eat from there. Sometimes if she was feeling a bit homesick like she was now. She'll ask the ghost in charge of cooking the food if they can burn her food a bit. Since despite being married to her father, her mom still had a bad habit of burning things and eatting it like it was perfectly fine.

While it wasn't fully charged or anything but eggs being a bit brown or pancakes black on one side possible on both. Or the tortillas having some darker spots. And while not just breakfast foods her mom like a lot of things extra crispy. And while sam found it not the best, she normally would eat it because her mom was always so proud and excited to see everyone's reactions and hear thoughts. And while same had been younger she had been honest and said it tasted bad or wouldn't dare try the food because of how bad it looked and or tasted to her.

Her father had one day pulled her aside and explained that her mother was cooking to express her love and show off the cooking skills she's learned from her own family or what she recalls from her own memories.

And that her mother is unable to ever see her own family ever again, and thus her and her siblings will never meet said side of the family. And so her mom is trying her best to show glimpse of her family, which would be the only way though what ever fragment of memories she has.

And while Samantha couldn't fully understand as a child, she now understood that her mother was dreadfully homesick. And insults to what little she could do, and was in a way a slap and reminder that she would never truly belong. And as odd as Samantha thought it to be her mother also took it as an insult to her family, but than again age makes it sort of make sense.

And now, she felt slightly burned or char food reminded her of her mother's excited and happy smiled as she urge everyone to try the food she spent cooking. Food that taste good, not because it was the best thing in the world, food that was ok or decent at best, in the flavor department, but was made with love and joy, that made it taste good.

Sighing softly and lost in thought sam didn't realize how much time had past till she felt someone sit beside her and noticed it was her fellow dormmate Lewis. And she greated him like she would anyone, while trying to keep her thoughts to herself.

Though it seems Lewis is smart enough to remember, what slightly burnt food on her plate meant. (But than again she had tap into the inner anger as she may or may not have not lifted the male off the ground with not so vale threats after he had tossed her food in the trash. Why he seems to come pester her after that she wasn't sure) "Alex? You good? After all I'm sure you can always call and what not, plus didn't you say you're family is coming to that compation thing? So its not like we got to wait to long for that to happen."

Samantha sighed deeply as the male kept calling her and getting on her nerves ans she debated on if it was worth the effort to get up and walk to a diffeent table. Taking a bite of her cooling eggs and putting it along with some of the fry potato bits into a slice of bread she ate it like one a taco or hot dog. Munching it while also mildly wondering if the universe decided that they would be out of mugs, would be because she would be tempted to brake it over Lewis's head.

Sighing and taking a drink of her orange juice a must for breakfast, since her mother swears by it. And looked around the room to find an out. Only to freeze as she saw a familar face. And stood up shocking Lewis at the suddenness of her action. (Not that she cared)

Food abandon for now, sam made her way over to the elder. After all the elder girl did save her from a bunch of bullies, and it hadn't mater she was from a diffent dorm she had done so regardless. So the teen was pretty excited to see some one she now looks up to back after being missing for a while. "Miss Brigitte! Miss Brigitte!" She was waving at the elder who seemed to notice her and wave back at her.

Once close Sam couldn't help but find herself need the tea on what happened and if the elder was ok, and maybe because miss Brigitte reminded her of her sister, but sam found herself reminded of home when talking to her. Which given the fact mina was currently being hard to get ahold of again, was at least a comfort, and maybe this is a good sign that mina was completely fine? and again just a clumsy person. After a thought, Samantha thought that Yeah, this was definitely a good sign that her elder sister was perfectly fine.

#winds art #twisted wonderland ocs #muns art #a leap in time #chapter 9

[phvnthom]

What's so wrong with the spiderverse movie🤔

Okay, I held off on answering this bc I want to clearly state this is MY personal grudge with the movie and is entirely subjective and weirdly specific and most people have and will just go, "Yeah, you're insane." And that's because I'm an absolute hater. BUT there's a reason. I promise there's a reason, and this is why I (personally) cannot stand this movie for the life of me. And to make this quick (for me) I'll just copy and paste whatever I've said before, but be warned there's an essay-level rant below the cut bc I'm insanely hateful over this.

But ITSV absolutely demolished and bastardized Miles as a whole. In the sense that it set everybody's brain back a good ten to fifteen years in critical thinking, and sanitized and branded him as a "cute little wholesome smol bean boi uwu so innocent" GIRL, he's sending people to the ICU EVERY DAY!!!!!!! Spider-Verse is literally spineless. And in broader terms, ITSV is a classic case of "the fandom ruined it" for me. ITSV is inoffensive and beautiful, but hollow. Everyone likes it because it was made to be liked by everyone. Watching ITSV!Miles feels like watching your best friend become a stranger. I literally do not register him as Miles, at all.

If you know nothing, you love him.

If you're a little kid, you love him.

My hatred of it comes from being bitter that that's the Miles who got it— not because the movie isn't revolutionary and beautiful and funny with a good everything— it is, of course it is. It was made to be as palatable and inoffensive as possible! Even with me being a colossal hater I still own the movie in physical copy in goddamn 4K HD, and when it's on, I enjoy it. It's funny. Beautiful. I literally cannot take my eyes off of it.

My gripe is personal and comes with the fact that that's the Miles everyone will know, and that's the Miles everyone will think of, and that's the Miles that gets remembered and gets plastered on all the merch and the only one that gets talked about in the mainstream, and the only one who floods all the tags or shows up anywhere. Because Spider-Verse is a work of art, but to me, that's just not really... Miles. And a mutual would just always say, "What are you talking about????? That's literally comic book Miles with a can of spray paint." And I just couldn't see it. I've read ultimate Miles and his latest run and a lot of the other runs he shows up in and I just don't see him.

To me, ITSV Miles is just... gutless. He has no personality. He has been culled of anything conflicting or ugly. He's bland. Boring. Praised for being nothing. Literally nothing in the movie, narrative or action-wise, was brought on by him. Everyone around him makes those actions for him and drives the narrative forward. He's just kinda..... there. The movie happens to him, he doesn't affect anything.

"Well, that's the purpose of the movie. It's supposed to be that way. It's him finding his way and navigating that uncertainty. He's not supposed to be powerful or do too much. That's the whole point."

I know that!!!!! And that's exactly why I don't like him!!!!

I don't find that narrative interesting or compelling or worth praising. The superpowers shouldn't be what makes him interesting or powerful. Miles does absolutely nothing the whole film. The only thing he ever does for himself is spray paint his logo over a suit he didn't make— a suit he ripped off from Peter.

That's it.

I don't believe he earned it either, especially when he magically swoops in maybe 5-10 minutes before the movie ends and gains all his agency out of nowhere. He has no sense of purpose on his own, the narrative just... gives it to him and then solves everything for him in one sweep. He's literally invisible and a bystander in his own movie. You see more character development with Peter than you ever get with any of the characters (which I know isn't the only development that matters, but is the one I'm focusing on right now).

And even with all that, you still get shit like this:

Everything gets compared to it, and punished when it doesn't reflect it. Like, I don't want no damn Spider-Verse bootleg ass game!!!!! (Yes, I prefer game!Miles. Yes, that's my Miles. Yes, I'm aware that makes me slightly biased).

Everybody sees Spider-Verse like some holy grail, but I'm so sick of seeing Spider-Verse Miles as the Miles. I want to see comic Miles or game Miles or whatever else— I really don't care at this point, I'm just sick of seeing him. Enough with the Miles that's all watered down!!! It's everywhere, like an eye-bleedingly bad wallpaper on every wall of the room you're in. You can't fucking escape it. It's practically shoved down your throat atp. It's oversaturation and I'm tired of it. It's literally just the ultimate level of dick-riding, is what it is.

I firmly believe Spider-Verse was the worst thing to ever happen to Miles, just like the MCU was the worst thing to happen to Peter. Every subsequent Spider-Verse movie just makes me want to commit murder.

And like, yes, I know it's a kids movie, but everyone in fandom are mostly adults, and the importance of this specific film has been raised to a higher status than what it should've been— it's on a pedestal. A very, very high one. It's not just a kids movie anymore. Even with the message that courage is hard and believing in yourself is the ultimate power to drive you to move forward, it feels so so hollow to me. The world is hollow and empty to me. The characters don't matter. Nothing is going on in that movie. Besides being aesthetically gorgeous, it has nothing.

Try to think of any characteristic of Spider-Verse!Miles that is remotely strong. Like, nothing jumps out (frankly, PS4 Miles would wipe the floor with him).

And it's not that I don't want Miles to be loved, what bothers me is that people are cementing ITSV!Miles as the Apex™ This movie is everywhere. Billions of people know it. It was a huge success. When this thing came out it was inescapable. It still is to this day!!! People who have never and will never see the movie know the songs. Hundreds of think pieces and essays and videos detailing how this is the greatest Spider-Man movie or piece of media/animation ever created and that it's this genius larger than life thing and I'm tired of it!!!! And it's not even the movie's fault!!!!

Most times I see Miles it's all from Spider-Verse. Like 99.9% of the time. It's like stepping into an alternate world or something. It's the baby-fied version of Miles. Literally the same treatment that Tom Holland's Spider-Man got, being pushed into this woobified cinnamon roll... role. Just complete and utter babyfication.

Not to mention, that for a lot of people this was their first introduction to Miles (shit, it was mine too! But then I played the MM game and realized how unappealing and unauthentic ITSV!Miles really is). So, they don't know anything else, of course this image of him is the one that gets accepted. This is a lot of people's Miles. Which is... fine. It's fine. But the movie made it so these very specific type of people flock to it an overwhelmingly disproportionate amount and then drown out everything else. It's kiddie Miles for people who like kiddie things and have literally never read anything else and never will.

And to basically bring the point home bc I'm rambling, tldr; I hate the way the movie is treated and the favor it gets shown. That's it. Which is kinda stupid, actually, bc how tf you gonna get mad for something being good and doing its job well????? Like???? 😭😭🤡🤡 Either way, this is all ridiculous and I'm sorry for anyone who had to read this ✌🏽

#ask #long post

[theomnicode]

Saitama versus Mirror S

CW: Graphic depictions of violence, gore, blood, near death experiences

This is an older headcanoe of mine pre-cosmic Garou, so take it with grain of salt about what could've happened if Saitama faced this kind of enemy.

Read on archive of our own

--

Saitama stares impassively at his opponent, Mirror S, glancing at the fallen S-rank heroes around him. This enemy must be pretty tough if he managed to beat all these heroes. 

He steps into a stance, stating nonchalantly “Alright, let's get this over with. Come on,” and dashes towards the shining Mirror S. He's not concerned about the smirk that adorns the villain's face as he preps for a punch.

He is concerned about the sudden shout from a broken Genos that tells him to stop what he's doing though, however it's too late; Mirror S is going to be shattered to billion pieces like his namesake as his punch connects with its chest.

Except–

“Wait. He didn't explode. My punch didn't...work?” 

Confusion.

“SENSEI, MOVE AWAY FROM HIM!” 

Panic

“Huh? Genos, what–”

A stabbing, indescribable pain restarts his brain and he looks down at his abdomen, finding the still smirking Mirror S’s arm protruding through his stomach. Blood pounds in his ears and he vaguely registers Genos shriek of “SENSEI!” in the background. The enemy moved just as fast as he does and punched just as hard as he did. How-

“I have the ability to mirror everyone's powers and now, your abnormal strength is mine, ku ku ku.” Mirror S arrogantly supplies and pushes Saitama away roughly, blood gushing from the hole in his stomach. The villain now looks like Saitama himself, except for the black, gleaming eyes and the sheen of his skin.

‘Oh, I see, that's how…’, he thinks as he collapses on his side, pain and shock lancing through his body. Nobody had been able to even put a scratch on him in years so he had forgotten what actual pain felt like, so certain of his invincibility. But this is far worse than anything he had ever felt before, it felt like–

‘Am I dying? Is this how it feels like?’ He can’t do anything except hold his stomach and try not to move, else paralyzing pain courses through his gut.

Mirror S turns around with a flourish, brandishing his bloodied fist in the air like a red glove. “Now that I am the strongest being in this universe, nobody can stop me. I am invincible, I AM GOD INCARNATE!” He postures.

Genos makes a futile attempt of crawling towards Saitama's prone body. It is difficult without any limbs to use. “S-Saitama-sensei…”, his breath catches when he sees the extent of the damage and the growing puddle of blood. “Shit. I should have warned you sooner. I’m so sorry sensei, because of me you’re–wait, don’t try to speak sensei, save your strength, we can still–”

“It's ok Genos…” It's not ok, his body contorting from the pain. He's lying through his teeth, but he doesn’t want to make Genos feel like it’s his fault. He had a tendency to beat himself up for any mistakes he made. He feels cold, it's hard to breathe and his eyes droop. He could almost taste the kiss of death.

‘Fuck, I'm sorry Genos. I fucked up big time’, he thinks bitterly.

Saitama hears footsteps stomp near him. “Now that I am this mighty, I think I shall do some clean up duty. This place is such a mess. Starting with–” a crunching sound and Genos gasps in pain and Saitama's heart stops, “this really annoying cyborg right here. I wonder how much force I need to use to break your spine. It’ll be fun to test my new limits.” Grinding noise and Genos lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

‘Don't touch him, I will kill you.’ Saitama feels his body grow inexplicably warmer. His heart pounds faster. The searing pain starts to lessen and his body feels stronger than a minute ago. He needs to stand up and fight and stop this monster, he has to. His body starts to rise from the floor. ‘I can do this, this is nothing.’ Fire lits up in his dark brown eyes.

Mirror S laughs as he continues to grind his boot against Genos’ neck and choking him. “Hehe this overwhelming strength is pretty fun, I wonder what else this guy has the capacity to do–wait, aren’t you supposed to dead?” He suddenly exclaims as he turns back towards Saitama who is suddenly standing up, allowing Genos to turn his head and stare at Saitama, wide-eyed.

“Serious Series…” Saitama pulls back his right fist.

“Wait, you're supposed to be powerless, I absorb–”

“Serious Punch!”

Mirror S shatters into glittering dust particles.

Saitama stares angrily at the corpse. “Fuck around and find out.”

Genos gapes at him.

#opm #one punch man #saitama #genos #original character #violence #gore #blood #near death experience #my own work #fanfiction #drabble

[justablah56]

I wrote a thing :)

read it on Ao3 here

Sooo, have this little analogical roommates au that I decided to make up for this one specific oneshot (unless people like this au and want me to write more for it) !! Little bit of context, in this au all the sides are roommates, don't ask me how it works unless you want my very specific way that it looks and works out in my head so there's that. I'm just writing about these two gay dumbasses because them <3 :)

There's no trigger warnings for this fic, it's all fluff today. and for a bit of mostly irrelevant info, I have decided that Logan gets to be 5' 4 and Virgil gets to be 6' 5. because fuck you, tall Virgil and short Logan rights. also Virgil is definitely a tummy appreciator, and Logan just happens to have a tummy, I don't make the rules. and as per usual in my fics, Virgil uses they/them pronouns :)

Logan woke up groggy and exhausted. He had stayed up probably a little too late last night, and now his brain wouldn't even give him the mercy of sleeping in. Rather, it had woken him up earlier than normal. 4:03 in the morning to be exact, having gone to sleep not even 2 hours previously. 

In summary, Logan was miserable. He even tried to go back to sleep, but after 27 minutes it was evident that it wasn't going to happen, so he decided it was about time he actually woke up.

He got up, slipping his glasses on, but not bothering to put on a shirt or change out of his baggy grey sweatpants. After all, it wasn't like anyone else was going to be awake this early.

He left his room for the kitchen to make some coffee for himself with the hopes that it would give him the energy to function properly.

After his coffee was done, he sat himself down on one of the chairs in front of the counter. Zoning out and just barely aware of anything else that was happening around him other than the steaming mug of coffee in his hand.

His mug was half empty before he really started to gain consciousness, and he noticed that there was something on the chair he was sitting on. He really only noticed since the chair, which usually was quite uncomfortable honestly, was now... not uncomfortable?

Whatever it was, it was pretty warm. And soft. And it smelled quite nice now that he thought about it. 

He was still tired enough that this didn't register to his sleep deprived brain as anything important enough to divert actual thought into. So, of course, he continued drinking his coffee and just enjoying the comforting smell, feeling relaxed and content. 

Virgil on the other hand, woke up that morning, feeling... off. They weren't sure exactly why. Well, that wasn't particularly unusual, being anxiety they often felt like something was wrong. But hey, if it was anything important they were sure they'd figure it out.

They got up out of bed, and then they realized what was wrong. Their hoodie was not hanging up where they always made sure to put it before bed. Fuck, this was not good. Not only were they going to be cold all day, but they wouldn't have their hoodie. And that also meant that they'd have to ask the others if any of them had seen it.

Well, wait a minute, no it didn't. They could find it themself. They always woke up earlier than everyone else, so maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to find it before anyone else woke up. It was still only 5 am, so they had two-to-three hours before anyone else was due to wake up, assuming everyone else didn't suddenly decide to differentiate from their usual schedule.

They would start with their room obviously, it was the most likely place after all, and then they would check the living room, and they could work it out after that. It was unlikely that it was anywhere else, really. There weren't a lot of places they was comfortable taking his hoodie off.

Well, they might as well start looking, it's not like the hoodie would find itself.

It wasn't until Logan had finished his coffee 30 minutes later that his brain finally caught up to his unusually comfortable chair and decided to actually look and see what he was sitting on. He turned back to see... Virgil's jacket?

What was that doing here? Virgil never went anywhere without their jacket, it was unlike them to just leave it lying around. They must've just forgotten it. Somehow. Virgil never just forgot their hoodie, Logan had never even seen them without it on! Something must've happened.

Well... Virgil would likely want to know where their jacket was when they woke up, so Logan should keep it on him, right? It was purely so that Virgil could get their hoodie back as quickly as possible. Obviously. 

And therefore, it would only make sense for him to just wear it, then he wouldn't misplace it and he could just give it to Virgil once they woke up! Yes, that's what he would do, it was a perfectly great plan with no alternative motives. Of course.

Logan sighed. Well, there was no point in attempting to reason himself into believing that there was a decent reason he wanted to put on the hoodie, he knew why (though hed never admit it, of course) and he also knew he was going to do it anyway, so there was no point trying to give it an explanation. 

He slipped the hoodie over his shoulders was immediately struck by how warm it was. Virgil must've had some sort of heating mechanism in it to keep it that way if it was still warm after being left out all night (presumably). That thought was immediately followed by how good it smelled. It didn't really have a discernable smell, other than just... Virgil.

No no. None of that. Just because he didn't have the optimum amount of sleep didn't mean he had to get all... feelings-y. So the next reasonable thing to do was continue with his morning routine. After all, waking up early doesn't mean he gets to mess up his whole schedule. Meaning that he had to get up from the counter to continue with his morning routine. 

He dragged himself out of the chair, not bothering to zip up the jacket, but he did bother pulling the sleeve over his hand and bringing it to his nose to get another smell of the hoodie. Of Virgil. No. Stop. It didn't have anything to do with it smelling like Virgil specifically, it just smelled good. Virgil just (objectively) smelled good! It's an objective fact that Logan has no biases toward. Obviously. 

The next thing he realized upon getting up from his chair was how big Virgil's hoodie was on him. Virgil already liked wearing large clothes, not to mention the fact that they were by no means short, standing a good foot or so taller than Logan himself. So putting those facts together meant that the hoodie went just above his knees, effectively keeping his bare torso warm (which was the only reason his face was red, thank you very much).

He then rinsed out his coffee mug, and started some toast. After all, breakfast was an important part of one's day. He really should've started it when he started his coffee like he did normally, but given that normally he didn't only get 2 hours of sleep, he felt he had at least a bit of leeway. 

A few minutes later his toast popped up and Logan got the jelly out to put on it. He rolled up the sleeves on Virgil's jacket, it would do no good to get jelly on their jacket of course, and quickly prepared his little breakfast.

After he finished the slice of toast he made a quick stop by his room for a book to read for the next hour or so. Seeing as most of today's schedule depended on the others being able to help, he might as well use this free time to do something he actually enjoys.

He settled himself on the couch against one of the armrests and began to read.

Fuck. Virgil had spent the last hour checking every nook and cranny of their room and, lo and behold, their hoodie was nowhere to be found. Which meant, that they now had to go outside their room to search for it, with only one more hour to check the rest of the mindscape before everyone was supposed to wake up.

Well. They'd better hurry then. They pulled a shirt on, and slipped out their door towards the commons. 

The sight they were met with as they reached the top of the stairs was enough to stop them in their tracks.

Right there. On the couch. Was Logan. Wearing their hoodie. Now, if it had been literally anyone else, Virgil would undoubtedly be at least a bit upset, but when it came to Logan, all they could do was stare as they felt their face heat up. 

Logan was curled up leaning against the arm of the couch, one hoodie-concealed hand pressed to his face, the other holding his book open. And as if just the sight of Logan drowning in their hoodie wasn't enough to leave them a gay mess, he didn't have a shirt on. 

At this point in time Virgil would like to pride themself on not passing out, because it was then that Logan seemed to deem it time to stop reading. He put in his bookmark and proceeded to stretch his arms up over his head, closing his eyes and yawning as Virgil's hoodie slipped over his bare chest.

Virgil's eyes went wide and were immediately drawn to the small pouch that was Logan's stomach. Goddamn it- why did Logan have to be so fucking cute and why did Virgil have to be so fucking gay.

It was then that Logan relaxed his arms and opened his eyes. Which wasn't the best thing when Virgil was currently standing completely and utterly still, enamored with just Logan, within Logan's vision field now that he wasn't focused on his book.

After Logan had finished a couple chapters, he decided that he should probably actually go get dressed. After all, he couldn't just wait for everyone else to wake up and see him half naked in Virgil's hoodie, he had a reputation. And now that he was properly awake, he probably shouldn't be wearing Virgil's hoodie whenever they decided to wake up, they were awfully touchy with their hoodie.

However, it appeared that he was just a bit too late- for as he stretched in preparation for getting up, he looked up to see who else? But Virgil themself standing at the top of the stairs, face red, eyes wide, and staring directly at Logan. 

Well, not directly. Not his eyes, anyway. No, Virgil's eyes were focused, quite intently he might add, on Logan's stomach. 

Logan immediately flushed and went to cover his bare torso with the hoodie, only to remember that the hoodie belonged to the very person right in front of him, struggling to get out of the hoodie to give it to them.

Logan looked back up to see Virgil's eyes had flicked up to Logan's as soon as Logan had moved to cover himself.

"Sh-shit sorry- I was- I was going to give it back when you woke up, I swear-" Logan began to stutter out.

It was then that they interrupted him with their own apology, "No- fuck- I, I - I didn't mean to- to stare or anything I just-"

They brought their hands up to cover their steadily reddening face as they quickly glanced away from him again, pointedly looking at the wall behind him.

After just a few moments of awkward (and very gay) silence and avoided eye contact from both of them,

"Erm- Virgil. You could- W- Would you like to have your hoodie back?" Logan asked hesitantly, beginning to take off the jacket, assuming their answer.

"Oh! Um," Virgil's gaze landed back on Logan's for a moment, "Yes? Well- no- you actually look really fucking cute in my hoodie and ohmyfuck I don't know why I just said that-" they rushed the last bit out, sounding absolutely mortified at what Logan was pretty sure they had just confessed.

Logan froze, "Y- Wait. What? I- You. think I'm cute?"

Virgil once again removed their hands from their still blazing face, "Er- Yes? I mean, have you seen yourself? Anyone who doesn't think you're cute is either blind or lying, so-" 

"Virgil." Logan started, gaining some hidden confidence from god knows where as he took a few steps towards the stairs that Virgil was still standing atop. Perhaps he had been embolden by Virgil's words, or maybe it was just that Virgil had been the one to say them, but regardless whatever his brain decided to do with this newfound confidence, it was likely going to end up being overly blunt.

Virgil looked down at him, now looking a bit confused along with their flushed face. "Um. Yes, Logan?" they asked.

Logan stepped up the rest of the stairs until he had reached the top. "Kiss me?" he asked, looking up and hesitantly reaching for Virgil's hand.

Virgil froze, face going blank for a moment just long enough for Logan to doubt his ability to assess the current situation, before breaking out into a grin and answering with a "God yes." as they grabbed Logan's hand in one of theirs and wrapped their other arm around Logan as they leaned far enough down to press their lips against his own.

#sanders sides #sandersides #logan sanders #tss logan #virgil sanders #tss virgil #analogical #tall virgil #short logan #chubby logan #sander sides fic #my writing

[nathank77]

4/6/24

10:04 p.m edited 10:34 p.m

Idk If it was you, I stopped my stream around 27 minutes in.

I put my glasses on when I saw the viewer go to 1 just incase it was the girl of my dreams.

It may not have been you. Idk. I question everything I think bc of psychosis when it comes to things that I can't prove factually.

All I know is I made that post about what was public on your fb and you put back up the family reunion photo. The part of me that has accepted the label of crazy or psychotic, is like you had a visual hallucination and it occluded it before the post.

The other part of me is like stop labeling yourself, maybe Elise didn't show up on my stream. I don't know.. but you didn't have a visual hallucination that occluded the family reunion photo and she really is here.

If you're here being how personal my blog is, I can't imagine you aren't in love with me. I mean of course you could be a concerned caring friend but-I mean I talk about hsv2 potentially being a diagnosis, I post almost naked photos, I talked about that dream I had where we made love, etc.

Why would a caring friend who feels bad for me subject herself to reading my personal diary? Especially every single word.

I do think you're here Elise and I'm not asking you to do the things I asked you to do in that post where I wanted direct answers. I understand why you don't want to. Especially if you've been here longer than since February...

I doubt that, but I remember seeing your following go up and down and your link being posted and removed when I was in Andover and Southbury... I chalk that up to visual hallucinations before I got full on psychosis...

But you very well may have been here since like June.

All I know is I believe you've been here since February 2024.

I still question my sanity bc sure my brain could have went you posted that and now you can see the family reunion photo but I'm not really someone who has visual hallucinations enough at this point in time.. that I'm aware of... I see black specks in my vision when I take my glasses off but that very well may be bc I need my glasses...

I did feel like I felt you on my stream, I put on my glasses all awkwardly for a reason but... idk... I can't go off a feeling. I can only go by what I see with my eyes....

I see you put up the family reunion photo within a hour of my post. I want to trust my eyes.

If you're here I know you love me. I hope you go to the Southbury Tango. I'm going to be incredibly awkward. I'll wear my glasses just incase you're here and you do show up.

I got to organize my finances bc of the cost to get in..... and I got to give you at least a week so you can arrange your life.

Tbh I'm considering using my 30$ in kohls cash that expires in like 10 days to buy more boxers. I could get 12 more pairs and 6 pairs of socks for like 160$. I won't need boxers for a long time but I got to make sure I can swing it, bc I'm at 250$ on my creditline and I'm up to 100 on a different one and I got to make high payments for the next 4 months to not accrue any interest.

I also have to determine how much it'll cost me in gas to get to Southbury.... idk if you'd show up and I'd only go once. I may even give you two weeks bc you're a Mom...

It's on meet up, and you have to rsvp I believe. I want to find you Elise. Idk how but I can't just show up places without having intentions like a dance class or a singles event or a hike...

So yea I do believe you're here and I can't wait 2 more years. I'd legit do anything to see you but stalk you or force you to see me.

I hope I'm right that you need to run into me somewhere. I hope that when I register for the Southbury Tango meet up you do too even if you show up in the driveway and step out of your car and I lose my money... it would be worth every penny to be able to look into those beautiful blue eyes again.

Anyways. I'll keep you updated. I don't expect you to go and idk what car you drive. I feel like it was a blue Subaru but idk. I know you told me. My memory is impaired from microsleeping and psychosis....I still remember all our moments though and what you told me about your life.

You'd have to step out of the car if you didn't actually register to attend. I don't know what you drive.... but yea.. I'm going to stop talking now.

Maybe you are just a concerned friend. Somehow I doubt that. Somehow I think you're my soulmate and we are like star crossed lovers..

Except we don't have to be star crossed lovers. We dont need to be kept apart. I meant it when I said, we can be friends first, we don't have to talk about tumblr or Instagram or any of it.

I'd want to build a strong friendship with you and grow into a beautiful relationship. I'd like to watch us grow and get married. Starting at friendship is important. I always valued that. Anyways I love you girl, and I'm sorry if I'm wrong about everything but I think I'm right.

[221bshrlocked]

do you trust me?

Paring: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Words: 3708

Warning: Lots and lots and lots of touching because Din is getting a massage. Blindfold. Handjob. A sort of foot/hand fetish if you like squint...really really squint.

Summary: It's been a while since Mando came for a massage but things get heated when he asks you for a favor...

A/N: Ok so there was this one anon message I was writing a fic for yesterday when I lost the 1.5K words and it was something along the lines of "imagine Din frequenting your massage parlor and you're a masseuse" so I added a little twist to it because Shy!Din who doesn't want to cross that line until he's 1000% sure you're okay with it does something to me so here you go. I hope you enjoy it people and I'm sorry I lost your message anon. I'll reblog with the taglist later. This is not beta'd!!

You can’t help but smile when your boss comes in and tells you that one of the regulars was asking if you were available for him today. You know who she’s referring to but still tell her that he should be serviced soon since he probably doesn’t have that much time. When she tells you that he specifically asked for you, you tell her that you’ll take him up in the next slot.

It was strange to have someone like the Mandalorian come in for a massage. His people weren’t necessarily known for letting their guard down, especially in an establishment like this. But you felt a sense of pride every time he came in. Granted it was every once in a while, but you enjoyed those sessions immensely. You remember how weird and intimidating it was when he first walked into your room. You couldn’t see a single inch of his skin and you wondered why he would come into a massage parlor when he wasn’t allowed to take off his clothes. He’d quickly explained to you that it was only his helmet that he couldn’t take off. It was a little sad though because for those first few times, he only ever took off his beskar armor. You told him that you would unfortunately not be able to use any of the oils on him since he chose to keep his clothes on and he nodded in understanding.

But then something shifted in the dynamic between the two of you and over the span of a few cycles, Mando, as you liked to call him, began to strip off his layers. You never questioned him about his decisions, ensuring to follow his lead and tell him that he was very much in control of what happened in the room. But as patient as you were, you couldn’t help but feel guilty because maker, why couldn’t he just take off his clothes? It was the most mind-boggling thing you’ve ever experienced. You had adonis on your table come in every day, but just seeing his arms and his waist had your mouth watering. It was pathetic too because no matter how many times you saw him, your heart still skipped a beat when you touched him.

As you finish with your current client and prepare the room, you remind yourself to try and be on your best behavior for his sake. It took the man almost five months to finally feel comfortable enough with you and take off his shirt so you couldn’t go and destroy all of that work. When you’ve set everything up and replaced the candles, you walk out and head towards the front desk. You don’t have to glance around for too long. It’s hilarious how much he stands out next to everyone. As soon as you look at him, Mando’s posture changes and he sits up, his hands clasping his knees as he waits for you to nod at him. You ignore his rigid attitude and whisper something to your boss, smiling back when she turns to Mando and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Come on, I don’t have all day.” You call after him and watch as he stands up and struts towards you. No matter how many times you saw him walk, it’s always a little intimidating when you’re at the receiving end of such a powerful hunter.

“You could have been on your merry way Mando.” You say as you lead him through the hallways. “That’s not how I see it mesh’la.” You stop and turn around to look at him, narrowing your eyes when he almost bumps into you and mirrors your stance. “Are you ever going to tell me what that means?” You think he’s looking past you when he responds and rings his fingers nervously. “You don’t have all day.” The curt comment lets you know he isn’t going to answer your question and you shake your head before you continue to walk towards your room. Before you unlock it, he clears his throat and grabs your wrist to stop you from going any further.

“I- I can come back later, if you’re already booked for today.” You’re a little surprised by his comment but you shrug your shoulders and push the door open for him. “I cleared my schedule just for you so you better not change your mind now.” He turns away from you and stares at the floor before he steps into the room and you let out a breath when he begins to take off his weapons and place them on the corner table.

As you shut the door and move towards the table with the oils and towels, you’re met with a silence like never before. Thinking that he was probably not in the mood to chat, you shut your eyes and count back from ten to calm your nerves. You could do this.

But then you turn around a couple of minute later and you almost drop the bottles of oils when you see Mando’s state of dress. He’s standing in front of the table, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, staring at you through his visor.

You can’t do this.

“Is- is this okay?” Mando asks and you clear your throat quickly before moving the oils to the massage table. “Y-yeah of course. As long as you’re comfortable. Like I said, I don’t want you to think that you have to do anything.”

“I know…I- I trust you.”

Those three words do little to calm your nerves and you look up at him as soon as the admission registers in your brain. You aren’t sure if it was normal to react this strongly to such a simple declaration but you turn away from him to give him some privacy as he hopped onto the table.

“Can I ask you something mesh’la?”

“Hmm.”

“Do- do you trust me?” His question catches you off guard yet again and you tilt your head at the odd timing of it before you nod. “Of course Mando!”

“Then can you do me a favor?” You hope he’s about to ask you what you’ve been silently craving for months but then he brings out a simple cloth and you’re confused.

“I would like to feel…relaxed, and this helmet makes it difficult to- to…I can’t take it off in front of anyone. I understand if this is too much but if you don’t mind, could you maybe-” You know what he’s asking as soon as he brings up the helmet and without missing a beat, you walk around and take it out of his hand.

“Sure, but I won’t be able to see if I’m doing something that you don’t like. I tend to read body language but this will be more difficult, so you’ll need to speak up. Deal?” You wait until he gives you his confirmation before you return to table. As soon as you see him move to lay down, you turn around and wait until he’s comfortable before you raise the blindfold to your eyes. Mando watches as you twist it tightly around your eyes before you tie it, waving his hands several times in front of you to make sure that you don’t see him.

“Ok, I can’t see anything so…um, hand me the urn with the light-yellow oil please?” You call to him and force yourself to stay quiet when he takes your hand in his and places the urn between your palms. You thank him and wait until he tells you that you can begin. As you test the temperature of the oil, you hear a soft hissing sound coming from the top of the table and you stop your movement when you hear Mando setting down the helmet on the floor.

“Just umm, let me know when I can begin yeah?”

“Go ahead mesh’la, I’m ready for you.”

It never occurred to you that he might sound different without the vocoder and you grip the urn tightly as his voice rings through your ears. It was much deeper and hoarse than you thought it would be and for a moment, you wish you could hear it as he whispers the filthiest desires across your skin. But you bite your cheek and keep yourself under control as you step forward.

“Here, let me help you.” Without warning, Mando grabs your hand and rests it on his chest, and you think that this is probably the moment where you die of sheer sexual frustration.

“Thank you,” you whisper to Mando as you bring the urn above your head and begin to slowly pour the oil across of his chest and stomach. You vaguely feel his arms moving but you say nothing and put the urn aside as you begin to spread the oil across his skin. No matter how many times you massage him, you always felt giddy touching him. He wasn’t exactly ripped per se but he was muscular enough for his job, with some softer muscles here and there.

As you dug your fingers into his skin, you hoped he wasn’t staring at you because you were sure your skin was flushing deeply the more you felt him twitch and flex beneath you. You could tell the past month or so has taken a toll on him because the more you kneaded and stretched his muscles, the louder his gasps and groans grew.

But then you passed over his nipples and you swore he was murmuring curses beneath his breath. Opting to just move on and not apologize, you dig your knuckles into his pectoral muscles and hold back from commenting on how solid they felt. As you move to his shoulder, you could tell that he really was in need of relaxing because there were too many knots in just a small area. Mando is keeping silent the entire time and you thank the maker that he was a usually a quiet guy because there was no way could survive hearing his voice for a long period of time.

Taking a deep breath, you pour some more oil on your hands before you take hold of his arm and begin to stretch it. Mando says nothing as you bend it and move your fingers across his biceps and if he flexes for you, it’s a completely unintentional reflex. When you reach his hand and push your fingers into his palm, Mando swears again, turning his full attention to you as you try to loosen his ligaments. You know you don’t need to spend that much time on his hands but you’ve always loved how much bigger and thicker they felt compared to yours. It also felt a little intimate feeling someone’s hand relaxing between yours, but you kept that bit of information to yourself, not wanting Mando to feel nervous around you.

You slowly walk around the table and apply the same attention to his chest and left arm, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way you were clenching your thighs together as you felt his fingers curl around your wrist as you massaged his forearm.

“Moving onto the legs so if there’s anything you’re not comfortable by, let me know.”

“Yeah,” you almost jump when you hear Mando’s response because…was his voice this deep earlier?

Deciding to just go for it, you twist the towel far enough until it reaches his thighs and begin to pour oil on his thick muscles. You swear he didn’t look this tall but you realize that perhaps the armor didn’t make him look big, just more intimidating. As you squeeze the flesh of his inner thighs, you hear his breathing become erratic and you stop for a second to give him a chance to say something. When he doesn’t, you return to the task at hand and try your hardest to not think of the appendage that was not too far from where you were touching him.

Fuck, this should not be turning you on this much.

You’re not sure what it is about this situation that’s making you this needy and you think that’s it’s perhaps the blindfold but you brush the thought aside immediately, knowing that your brain would not be shy from thinking of more inappropriate scenarios involving blindfolds and liquids should it wanted to.

Pretending you weren’t just daydreaming about the Mandalorian bending you over this table and fucking you into the next parsec, you move to the other side and attend to his other upper thighs. Maker, this man really as built like a hunter. Well, he was an actual hunter so-

“Where did you go?” Mando’s voice breaks you out of your haze and you take your hands off of him when you realize he may have actually been staring at you.

“S-sorry I was just- well, it’s nothing important. Never mind.” You smile embarrassingly at him before you move to his feet and spread them apart. Mando’s sudden intake of breath sends a panic down your back and you take your hands immediately off of him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No! N-no, you’re…carry on.” He’s quite breathless as he speaks to you and furrow your eyebrows before you return to knead at his feet. And just like earlier, your thoughts take a turn for the worst when you notice just how large his feet were. They were much bigger than your own little hands and you think that maybe, just maybe, they might be proportional to his-

“That tickles,” Mando’s chuckle would have brought you to your knees had you been focusing on what he’s saying and you apologize before moving onto his other foot and finishing it quickly.

“Alright, turn for me Mando.” You tap his legs and wait for him to move, all the while trying to not think of him turning you around and spreading your legs to-

“Ready.” You silently curse him for always cutting off your train of thoughts but you bite your tongue and move to the other side of the table. Standing right in front of his head, you pour more oil on his back and attempt to ignore his whimpering which you were sure he wasn’t aware of. Once there is no more oil, you mirror your actions from earlier and dig you knuckles into his shoulder blades, finding the tense muscles and tendons much more difficult to relax than his front.

“Maker…you’ve been working hard haven’t you Mando?” You only get a small groan in return and you chuckle when you massage a particular spot that has him reaching out and grabbing on your legs.

“Oh…uhh please,” if it was possible to choke on air, you would have done so as soon as he moaned for you. This was not what you signed up for when you first woke up today, and you hated how much more relaxed he felt in your presence because the lower you moved down his back, the more confident his groans grew and before you knew it, he was whispering your name and speaking in his mother tongue. You weren’t sure if he was saying good or bad things, but from the way he was reacting to you, you had an idea of how he was feeling. And by the time you got to his calves, the man has pretty much melted underneath you.

As you finished up and moved away from the table so he could take his time to get up, you felt a strange haze wash over you. Something about the way he moaned your name along with expletives and maker knows what else had you wishing he could just muster up the courage to step over that line with you.

Slowly turning around, you wait until Mando begins to sit up before you speak up.

“I hope you don’t take too long before you visit again…it’s difficult to get you to loosen up when there’s so much pent-up energy.” You smile and hope he can tell that you’re joking with him, not realizing how much danger you were in just from being near him.

“It won’t help.”

You’re shocked by his response because he’s never actually insulted you before and you’re about to bite his head off when he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him.

“M-mando wh-”

“It’s not going to help, because I still have a lot of pent-up energy mesh’la. And you’re the one to blame.”

It’s like a zap of lightening has struck you down because as you try to free yourself from his grasp, you accidently brush something beneath the towel he has around his waist, something that was tenting the fabric and making it much harder to the touch.

“I’ve been trying to convince myself to visit you for so long sweet girl, but I stop myself from pushing in the coordinates when I remember how good it felt to have you worshipping me with your hands, your strong, soft little hands that I dream of touching me elsewhere…where I need you, crave you, fucking burn for you.” His words are laced with promises that you’ve longed to hear from him and you don’t realize that he’s waiting for you to answer until his grip tightens around your waist and he pulls you in closer.

“Mando,” you whisper to him as you lean into his neck and before he can ask you again, you slowly leave a trail of kisses across his jaw and down his jugular, not caring for how rough you’re being as you descend down his chest and leave bitemarks across the beautiful skin of his broad torso. He’s already somehow a moaning mess underneath your touch and the more you lick and kiss him, the more needy his groans become.

“Please, let me.” You plead as you raise your lips until they’re brushing against his and as Mando slowly tilts his head to capture your lips in a kiss, you dip your hand beneath his towel and firmly grasp his cock. Mando is distracted for a moment and he lunges into you when he feels how your warm hand massaging his dick. Although he normally doesn’t prefer any display of emotion, he can’t hold back from moaning your name as you slowly stroke his length. You’re not surprised by his size, but you’re a little shocked by how hot he runs and as you twist your palm around the bulging tip, Mando leans into you and shoves his tongue down your throat, making sure you don’t run away from him as he slips one arm around your back and keeps you as flush to him as possible.

The room is suddenly filled with the sounds of Mando’s heavy breathing and groaning, and you smile to yourself when you remember how desperate he said he was for you. You’re glad you weren’t the only one feeling such an intense neediness and it’s your turn to gasp when you dip your hand and grab his balls. Mando’s hold on you tightens and you’re sure he’s giving you bruises but you can’t find it in yourself to care because this monolith of a hunter was falling apart just from your hand.

You break the kiss and slowly push him down so he could lay on the table again and as he follows your lead, you smile down at him before you grab the oil and pour a little more of it on his dick. He twitches at the warm material but quiets down as soon as you bring two fingers and shove him in his mouth.

“Be quiet for me baby, don’t want the other clients to think they’ll be getting this treatment too.” Mando bites down on your fingers as he nods and you try to hold back from jumping on the table and sinking down on his cock.

Fuck, it felt like it was beautiful and you hoped that you’d get to see it at some point in the near future. But you were satisfied with what you had now and as you worked him closer to his orgasm, you wished you could see his facial expressions as he surrendered to you.

You could feel him buzzing with energy on the table, and you giggled when he stretched out and grabbed your leg to bring you closer to him.

“Please…oh fuck, please I-”

“Cum for me Mando…cum for me, let me taste you on my lips baby please. You’ve been so good to me, letting me take care of you and trusting me to keep your secret. Go ahead darling, and cum for me.” He suddenly sits up on his elbows and you let go of his mouth before grabbing his balls and massaging them until he fell over the edge. As he growled his release, you couldn’t hold back anymore and leaned down, taking as much of him in your mouth as possible as you sucked on him and tasted his seed. There was so much that you swallowed and you marveled at how much he still had as you continued to milk him dry. When he finally finished and fell to his back, you stroked him softly a few times before licking across his navel to clean him up.

As you stood next to him, you felt a little shy at what was to come. But Mando seemed to see you overthinking because he didn’t waste another minute, sitting up quickly and pulling you in his arms. You stood in between his legs and smiled when he leaned down and began to kiss across your eyes.

“You…you’ve been so good to me mesh’la.” He whispers hoarsely as he nips at your shoulder and you giggle when his scruff begins to tickle your skin.

“So have you.” Mando sighs heavily at your confession and you repeat it one more time so he could believe that you were telling the truth.

“I- I think I’ll start coming more often. You know, so the muscles aren’t too knotted like you said.”

“Hmm, is that all you’ll come for Mando?” You smile when he pecks your lips and brushes your hair aside.

“No sweet girl, I’ll be coming for you too. More than you think.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #massage #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut

[sailorwritesstuff]

To make up for the VERY SAD FIC I READ LAST NUGHT THAT HAD ME S O B B I N G

can I please get a Mirabel x fem reader

It’s before the movie Where Mirabel brings girlfriend reader over and the family are ignoring her so reader sticks up for her?

first of all...link 👀👀

second of all: sorry this took so long to put out I couldn't figure out how I wanted it to go and I still don't even like how it came out.

I've got your back

Mirabel x fem reader

summary: Mirabel plans to introduce her family to her girlfriend at lunch and she wants nothing more than their approval. too bad they won't give her the time of day long enough to introduce her. but y/n isn't having it.

warnings: reader has a bit of a temper/is protective, I started in third person and switched the first person halfway through so if I missed a "you" somewhere in there sorry. but thats about it.

I'd been into the Madrigal's home before But still every time I entered it was magical, it felt like I was entering a fairy tale. My eyes glance around the wide space as my girlfriend tugged me along telling me about the matching dresses she'd be embroidering in hopes of me wearing one with her to her Mom's birthday party, which was coming up in just a few days.

"So what do you think?" she stared at me, hopefully pausing in her tracks to look back at me. Her eyes were so big and excited I couldn't say no even if I wanted to.

"I think... I'd love to wear anything you'd make for me, dear." I smiled softly at her and she seemed to practically vibrate from the straight forward praise.

"Thank you!" Her eyes went as wide as saucers and she started pulling at you again. "Come on,let's have lunch first! then I want to show you!" my brain registered the blur of lavender coming toward us but before I could warn her she turned around and ran straight into her sister, Isabela.

I winced and scrambled to catch Mirabel as she stumbled and managed to catch her glasses before they could fall in front of Isabela's feet.

"Are you ok?" i checked her over putting her glasses back on the bridge of her nose.

"yeah im fine." Mirabel smiled.

"I'm great too, thanks for asking." Isabela rolled her eyes, shaking her hair off of her shoulder and dusting off her dress in distaste. "watch where you're going Mirabel. you're in the way."

I felt my eye twitch slightly at her rude comment but I didn't want to overstep with her sister. I grabbed ahold of her hand once more and pulled her away as she went to apologize for something that wasn't her fault. "Come on. the kitchen right?"

"y-yeah." in the kitchen sat the rest of her family members. the whole reason I was here.

Mirabel brought me to the table sitting me next to her; nobody seemed to notice our presence. "Excuse me." Mirabel tried to gain her family's attention. The scene before me was truly...pitiful, really. they all talked over her like she wasn't there.

"Abuela i wanted you to meet-"

"Camilo, can you pass the-"

"Hey Dolores can i have-"

After about two minute of it my leg started bouncing in an attempt to keep from remarking but I could feel my annoyance rising. My mind chanting the whole reason i was here to start with. 'make a good impression on her Abuela. make a good impression on her Abuela…' and then another 3 minutes of them cutting off Mirabel finally got me so irritated i couldn't just say silent while they verbally tramped it over her like elephants.

I glanced around the table clearing my throat loudly enough that no one could ignore me. Everyone paused mid conversation to stare at the two of us which made Mirabel fluster.

"Thanks." I frowned. "Mirabel had something to say." Mirabel rested her hand on my leg, a silent reminder to mind my temper in front of her Abuela. "not that you're ones to listen from what I've heard..." I mutter under my breath rolling your eyes but taking Mirabel's hand.

"Hey-" Dolores started "I don't know What you've heard but we listen to Mirabel." she insisted. Shit. I'd forgotten about her hearing, another reason the family had no excuse to ignore her like they did.

"Well we've been sitting here for about 5 minutes now and she's been trying to speak with all of you. sounds to me i heard correctly, Dolores. In fact I haven't seen any of you glance at her." Mirabel's grip tightened on my leg and I remembered to mind my manners. clearing my throat again this time softly. lowering my voice drastically, mumbling a begrudging "Lo sientos, mi princesa."

"And who is this young lady?" The word lady was laced with venom, from the head of the table herself, Alma. Mirabel stiffed nervously and you squeezed her hand

"Abuela, i wanted you to meet Y/n, i told you i wanted you to meet her and you said today. for lunch. i wish it went better" she fumbled awkwardly through her sentence whispering the last part more so to herself before quickly adding in while she had the floor "and Camilo I was wondering if you could pass the water pitcher, and Dolores I really needed the salt." she smiled politely.

Alma didn't look impressed by my presence at all. not that the feeling wasn't mutual. The table sat in awkward silence as I avoided eye contact, with the woman staring into my soul. Both the water and salt were passed our way, and Mirabel removed her hand from my leg to grab them. 'Yeah she definitely isn't going to like me…' soon the conversation picked up, this time some of the family were mindful of including Mirabel as you just listened. "How did you two meet?" was thrown in from somewhere and I feel flustered biting back the urge to groan at the embarrassing story.

When it all came to an end Alma left without a word and I offered to help Julieta clean. the older woman waved me off and said she had it, but thanked me nonetheless.

"Come on," Mirabel grabbed my arm to pull me to her room. "I can show you the dress and we can think of something to make Abuela like you-."

"no." I frown.

"n-no?" she hesitated at the door.

"Listen, if standing up for you makes her not like me. I don't want her to like me." I sigh , resting my hand on her cheek watching her subconsciously lean into the warmth. "You are my main priority in our relationship, ok? I've always got your back."

"...i love you." she gave her goofy slanted smile and I can't help the one that forms on my face as well.

"I love you too. now... show me that dress."

#mirabel madrigal #mirabel encanto #encanto #mirabel x reader #Mirabel madrigal x reader #pre canon