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todayisafridaynight · 1 year

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SO! I've wanted to talk about The Clip all day but felt like I should wait until the tumblr "premiere" (even though I think you were literally one of the first people to see it on Twitter lol). Thank you for defending my honor btw even if I am just Someone <3

But. Yes. Yeah. Yokoyama's absolute certainty in saying that??? Without anything to even buffer it? No maybe. No "don't expect too much." Just point-blank in front of a huge fan (whom I believe he's now going to be working with), a staff member, and a massive audience. As if that part isn't the matter of contention. I WILL be injecting those words directly into my veins for some time.

I was on the verge of choking and/or spewing blood and/or crying before posting it though lol, so I really appreciate the vote of confidence regarding the translation and I love your redraw! The reception as a whole has been really nice, although I wish people would keep it to themselves if they'd rather have Nishiki or Ryuji back or whatever. Not like it's a race, but even if it was, Mine's been in last place for ages lol.

And while I enjoy Y3's writing more than most, Mine's death wasn't some Grand Meaningful Statement, it was the decision of a fledgling studio that never knew if it would be able to keep making these games trying to tell a self-contained story. It did have far-reaching consequences for the series, but those consequences are also... not really relevant anymore?

Like, I can and have argued that Mine's death caused the fall of the Tojo Clan, but the clan has already fallen. So I don't see why some people are acting like revisiting his character would be A Spit In The Face to the saga somehow, but I guess I've never really been against characters being brought back...? A quote from the staff that's always stuck with me from the staff is that RGG is always going for RGG-ism, not realism.

Ranting aside... I honestly don't know if I should be saying this, but there's this new guy working the counter at Survive in some LaD8 behind the scenes footage. Now, upfront, I'm 99.8% sure it's not Mine (I happen to have a 100% accuracy rate so far identifying major RGG characters from extremely blurry images and silhouettes lmao), and I have no idea who it is, whether it's a new character or an old one heavily redesigned or Just Some Guy.

But he's not Kashiwagi. And he happens to have slicked-back dark brown hair with what appears to be an ahoge in some angles. And, unless the materials are temporary, he also dresses A Lot Like the celebrity Mine's design was based on. And his features... line up closely enough to piss me off, even though they don't fully match in the end, which is why I don't think it's him.

I'm in argumentative essay mode 100% of the time which is why I'm saying this in a "convincing" tone despite literally not believing it myself, but like... wouldn't that be something? To just have Mine part-timing at Survive or whatever and no one makes a big deal of it because they don't know any better? If nothing else, I really do think he should get The Bartender Treatment.

I dunno, I might post about it with a comparison tomorrow because it's been on my mind lately, especially with The News, but I really don't want people to get the wrong idea either. Or embarrass myself if it was too tenuous of a link to look that deeply into from the start lol

I remember seeing it two minutes after you posted it, so I can imagine I was one of the first to the scene of the crime (so my friends put it LMAO). AND OF COURSE I- and a lot of us- can't be any more grateful for all the work you do than we already are. I'd go insane trying to document and manage everything you do! especially when you have insane people like me ready to pounce on the smallest thing like I know I'd cry FJLKAJ The least I can do is give a proper title/credit to you when I can o7

If Yokoyama had any remaining hesitance about Mine being alive, then he REALLY would have fumbled by sounding so certain. Like in his old tweet, he certainly sounded more ambiguous, but this time he really had no extra notes and sounded more sure of himself. I won't expect RGG to do anything with Mine, but the concept is still very much exciting and the idea that Yokoyama almost seems earnest about the idea of bringing Mine back for whatever reason is very nice to know :] And thank you about enjoying the art I did! I can't lie in the slightest, since the last ask where you alluded to posting the clip, I had that drawing saved in the back of my head ready to make once you had that posted LMAO

But oohh not to touch drama since I generally try to Not touch it, but yeah I can't act like I haven't seen some people be. ""Interesting"" about the idea of Mine being alive. I won't dive too deep into it, but I think my major issue with the few grievances I've seen is that RGG hasn't done anything with Mine's alive status. As of right now, it's just a thing Yokoyama said, so I don't understand the need to be so angry about it (it's especially weird to say Ryuji hasn't been back when he not only got to be a playable protagonist in Dead Souls, but he was also the protagonist of RGGO- though I suppose I can understand wanting him in the mainline series again. Still, it's weird to act as though Mine's back any more than he is and being upset about it just because Yokoyama said he was alive)...

Moving on though, I'm really curious as to this 'mystery figure' you mean. I've been missing out on LaD8 production material, so I haven't seen this bit myself but I'd love to take a stab at it and analyze myself too. I agree though: if Mine does come back- whether he's working at Survive or anywhere else- I would greatly prefer if he had The Bartender status and was just never really called attention to and only existed in the background

#long post #snap chats #it'd be hilarious if mine came back and he was just there... just slap glasses o him and call it a day #like pleeaaasssee that'll be so funnyy if he does come back in LaD8 i dont want a dramatic reveal or whatever #i want the exact same shit like with kashiwagi just have the gang like. visit daigo and co at the security company #and the bitch at the front desk You Wouldnt Fucking Believe It Oh My God #i'd laugh so loud oh my god pleaaase yokoyama do it. you should also make ryuji just a random takoyaki salemen in 8 #just so we're covering our bases here because im a ryuji-just-sells-octopus-balls truther #oh but on Mine's Death Fucked With The Tojo i definitely support the notion that he was a huge. Forgive The Pun asset to it #like i guess there's a lot of speculation and suggestions- at least on my end- when it coems to mine's importance #i mean we KNOW he was incredibly impotrant financially if katsuragi was anything to go off of #and listen ik i make the Widow Daigo joke a lot but geniunely i can imagine if daigo lost someone close to him he wouldnt be 100%#liiiiikkee i'll reserve the rant/ramble for my Daigo Essay but im just saying it cant be easy running a ship on your own with no real peers #yk cause pretty much everyone was older than him or only there for an ulterior motive and Blah Blah ill save the rest for another day #im rambling as is LMAO and i dont wanna say anythin FOOLISH #but yeah on mine coming back tho i dont think itd really tarnish any kind of thing his death could have done #like he died. or 'died'. 15 years ago (at the time of 2024)#the tojo's long gone by then it's been gone for five years at that point so it's not like mine would just Resume As Usual #he'd be starting over just as much as the other tojo clan members are yk what i mean #like i really cant think of. what else mine's death has done for the franchise that wolud be 'undone' if he was back #so yk. Why Not. it'd be funny and i think that's the only thing that matters ☠️ my dedication to the bit lets me forgive Insane Shit LMAO #but thats enough blabbering from meeeee thank you for writing in !

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whomturgled · 1 year

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i'm not like other girls, i'm not a girl (but not not a girl) and a witch cursed me with looking, like, 15 forever. when i WAS 15 i got a bad grade in flexibility, and by extension being a woman, because i guess theyre Supposed to be flexible. also i'm autistic

#there was another version of this post that got even more specific bjt #but* i think its funnier and more relatable like this #i mean physical flexibility btw like im just not very stretchy or flexible unfortunately u_u #jokes on my phys ed teacher when i started transitioning a year or so later #anyway today one of my supervisors asked what grade im in. im 24.#the other day one asked if this was My First Job (ever).#like i can not catch a break 🤧#and i think at work i should have a hat or something that says im autistic please dont talk to me or ill say something weird #just to like. save everyone some time and grief.#feel free to rb if u too have goofy baby lookin ass disease and are autistic and have some gender going on

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foone · 1 year

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I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

#ADHD

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heartmix · 20 days

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Simon Riley Headcanons

random headcanons that i have of olderbf!Simon.

Olderbf!Simon who sees you stressing about the way the economy is shit and everything is so expensive.

Olderbf!Simon who rolls his eyes knowing his years of savings and his income will make you and the next generation live comfortably. Why did you even go to college? There was nothing or no one else to spend it on anyways.

Olderbf!Simon who loves that you don't want to work a regular 9-5 or that you don't want to work a regular job in general. You instead have side gigs when you're bored. Your friend needed an extra pair of hands for a work assignment? Sure. Once a month event staff for whatever concert is in town? You love that.

Olderbf!Simon who watches the silly tiktoks and mini vlogs you make while he is away. He doesn't actually have tiktok downloaded but you always send him the videos you make.

Olderbf!Simon who agrees to do one of the tiktok trends with you. The one where it goes "I'm a ____ of course I ______." You didn't need to tell him how it worked. You showed him one video and he understood the assignment.

"I'm a Military wife. Of course, my husband has a side piece."

"I will literally k*ll myself before I look at another woman."

"It was a joke."

"Not a funny one, love."

Olderbf!Simon who is used to your hyperfixations changing every month. His "office" is filled with trinkets and collectibles of your newest obsessions. As a matter of fact, the whole apartment is filled with your stuff. At this point, you'll need to make new storage or get rid of things.

"I think I may have a problem or adhd. Some sort of mental illness."

"I think it's time to get a house."

Olderbf!Simon who lets you pick everything. The only thing he did was give the money. As long as you're happy he didn't care where he lived or what the colors of the bathroom walls were.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley headcanons #olderbf!simon #cod x reader #cod headcanons #simon ghost x reader

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httpsserene · 2 months

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𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 “𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤”𝐞𝐝 - 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar’s girlfriend is feral on main. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: crack. this is a shitpost, you have been warned. uh this is completely unrealistic, it’s pure vibes okay. this is not an accurate representation of those mentioned. 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smau.

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i wouldn’t consider myself an oscar girlie but then,,, i opened tumblr and saw the photos of oscar from when he went karting and um…now have another op 81 mess of a smau! this is completely unserious and it’s inspired by the nefarious actions i would do to oscar’s biceps. inspired by @dwarvenchords and @hookhausenschips ‘s reblog lol. it’s short but, enjoy, loves xxx.

insp. 1 | insp. 2 | taglist | feedback & requests | table of contents ↻

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th

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oscarpiastri: love…you couldn’t even save this for the close friends stories? you had to post it on main yninstagram: did you like my joke? oscar “jack”ed piastri LOL im so clever oscarpiastri: ijbol 😐 yninstagram: i’d be pressed but ur muscles are distracting me oscarpiastri: u should cmere and give them a kiss :)

lilymhe: he let u tie a bow around his bicep?!!! omfg i have to do this with alex yninstagram: i don’t think alex has enough muscles to meet the requirement for the bow :/

landonorris: he’s such a simp landonorris: i would never let my girlfriend tie a bow on me 🥱 yninstagram: step 1: have a girlfriend

logansargeant: your freak out on twitter had a slight mentally-ill aura yninstagram: shut the fuck up and get on a podium before you talk to me yninstagram: gangly bitch + not funny didn’t laugh + L

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th • in between my boyfriends tiddies ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, mclaren, logansargeant, markwebber, and 1,223,458 others

yninstagram: things to do with your boyfriends muscles; listed in the comments below (a huge thanks to the toto user on twt for FINALLY sending me the photo)

tagged oscarpiastri

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yninstagram 1. tie a bow around them (completed)

➥ user thx for sharing the photo

➥ user FUCK! I CAN’T FIND A PIECE OF PAPER TO WRITE THIS ON

yninstagram 2. kiss them (completed)

➥ user awh how cute! going to nap on the interstate rq

➥ user wait for me!

➥ user omg slumberpartyyyyy

yninstagram 3. touch them (completed)

➥ markwebber there’s a time i thought you were a normal girl

➥ yninstagram who told you to think that??

user i know those arms are rock solid 🥴🤤

user i’m the toto user on twitter !!! she did not kill me y’all !!!

➥ user u were flirting with death babes

➥ user i would not have admitted to this under her post

➥ user you should seek witness protection 🙏🏾

yninstagram 4. have him suffocate you with them (he said no)

➥ oscarpiastri WHY DID YOU INCLUDE THIS ONE

➥ logansargeant i think you’re proving the mentally-ill part y/n

➥ yninstagram u sound jealous logan

➥ user personally, i think if you didn’t want her to say that, you shouldn’t have muscles @/oscarpiastri

➥ oscarpiastri oh! yeah! why didn’t i think of that—lemme just take them off rq 😐 WTH

yninstagram 5. wall sex (?)

➥ oscarpiastri i specifically said not to say #4 and #5 in public

➥ user the question mark is SENDING MEEEEE

➥ yninstagram i mean, i can tell you that he didn’t say no to this one 😈 @/user

➥ landonorris i did not want to see this when i opened ig

➥ yninstagram do us all a favor then and delete ur account x

➥ oscarpiastri what she said^

➥ landonorris :o -> :(

yninstagram 6. draw on them (in progress)

➥ user wait this one is actually cute 🤭

➥ oscarpiastri watching the pure concentration on her face is adorable

➥ user omg she’s so 👉🏼👈🏼 coded

➥ oscarpiastri it tickles lol

➥ yninstagram ur moving around too much

➥ yninstagram might have to tie you to the headboard 😏

➥ user and she’s back on her bs

yninstagram 7. watch him flex for you (ongoing indefinitely)

➥ mclaren do we have your permission to post oscar thirst traps now?

➥ yninstagram i’m sure we could work out something mutually beneficial

oscarpiastri • february 28th • my girl’s basement ⚑

liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, and 1,478,539 others

oscarpiastri she knocked out on my chest halfway through drawing on me. didn’t know this was part of the boyfriend job description, felt like there was some false adverting. overall: 12/10 experience, will be doing this again.

view comments

danielricciardo didn’t know where this was going for a sec but fuck you guys are so cute 🥹

➥ oscarpiastri thank you? i guess

➥ user oh to have my relationship praised by danny ric

➥ user girl ur man responds to your texts two days late

➥ user DAMN u didn’t have to air out my business like thatttt

user WHAT DID SHE USE TO DRAW ON YOU OSCAR??? HELP A GIRL OUT

➥ oscarpiastri its liquid eyeliner 🫡

➥ oscarpiastri she used an eyeshadow palette when she wanted to add colors

➥ user why did i never think of that, she’s so smarttttt

user oscar piastri the MAN that u AREEEE

logansargeant so,,,,are we still getting dinner later orrrrr

➥ user LOL

➥ user omg y/n was right logan IS jealous

➥ logansargeant im not jealous !!!!

➥ user 💀

➥ user okayyyy….we believe you LMAOOOOO

➥ oscarpiastri ijbol 😂

➥ logansargeant stop using ijbol it’s not funny

➥ user this will be the only time that i say i agree with logan on something

➥ logansargeant ur literally a fan account FOR ME?? @/user

➥ user yeah man u didn’t have to bring that up 😒

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @loomiscorpse @hiireadstuff

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thechy-fychannel · 1 month

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I saw a few other blogs doing this so I thought I'd share my input on what I think would happen in the House MD universe in 2024:

the constant jokes abt house and wilson's relationship turns into the fellows jokingly writing fanfic abt their boss and his boy best friend. somewhere along the way they all get very serious abt the quality of it and it turns into a Whole Thing, a 150k+ novel that they vow to take to their graves.

house discovers the fic by accident and sends it to wilson. wilson discovers things abt himself and then he and house discover each other shortly thereafter.

house purposefully posts the fic online and credits the fellows by their entire full names so it embarrasses them more than house and wilson. It's never spoken abt again but it gets way more online attention than any of them expected.

wilson doesn't get how the Cloud works and accidentally uploads his and house's nudes to the google nest hub on his desk. He doesn't notice it until one of his sweet little old lady cancer patients points it out to him during their appointment. He throws the google nest hub into his trash can until he can figure out how to get the naked pictures off of it.

house has an alexa and abuses the hell out of it. sometimes ppl hear him screaming at someone in his office, only to walk in and find a robotic voice replying with "sorry, I didn't get that" and house throws it off the balcony.

wilson gets addicted to online shopping. house has to stage an intervention bc they do not have enough room in their closet for another pair of prada loafers and their kitchen is full of shitty gadgets that wilson bought off temu or something.

some right wing social media influencer comes in with a mysterious illness and ends up getting castrated as part of the solution. 13 personally does the procedure herself and house watches like a proud dad.

a patient reveals chase's grindr by shoving his phone at him and asking "is this you?" abt the headless profile with the ripped abs that says Dr. Feel Good, 0 feet away, in front of the rest of the team.

foreman finds the team doing tiktok dances bc house told them to learn it in order to understand their 15 yr old patient better.

chase medically murders mitch mcconnel and the entire hospital celebrates ding dong the witch is dead style.

there's a whole episode where house faces his transphobia bc of a trans patient that he connects with. the patient tells him to fuck off and go face his own problems instead of pretending to make it right by being nice to one trans person. And house does, even if he's not perfect, he really tries to do better.

13 gets her medical marijuana card and accidentally becomes the team's plug. her main customer is wilson who still supplies it to certain terminal patients. She hears "hey, can I hit your pen?" at least four times a day.

foreman buys a tesla and it blows up in the parking lot. they spend the entire episode trying to figure out who tried to kill foreman, but it turns out that teslas just do that sometimes.

there's an episode where house finds out that netflix is removing his favorite obscure tv show that ran for 2 seasons in 2002 and wilson recruits the team to hunt down a dvd copy of it without house finding out. they somehow manage to find one and spend a ridiculous amount of money on it, only to open the dvd case and find a copy of the porno wilson starred in that one time instead of the dvd of the show. park saves the day at the last minute by finding a copy of it in a box of dvds in her parents house.

#might fuck around and add more later if i can think of some more #chyanne speaks #house md #hate crimes md #medical malpractice md #hilson #dr. gregory house #dr. james wilson #remy thirteen hadley #eric forman #chris taub #chi park #robert chase #house md headcanons

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fabulouslygaybean · 2 years

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god. im scared

#realizing that i lost all of my teen years to trauma and bullshit like that. and that it forced me to be an adult way sooner than i -#- should have needed to be.#im turning 17 in a whopping 13 days and just. im terrified. like genuinely scared.#my family is having a lot of financial issues rn and im probably gonna have to pick up another job to help my mom make ends meet #and i think she wants me out of the house by the time i turn 18 so i gotta hurry.#idk how the fuck im gonna find a job where i can make enough money to help my mom while also letting me save up for an apartment while -#- also helping me cover all of my own costs BEFORE i turn 18. so food and medical stuff and clothes and such. while also having enough -#- time and energy to balance my final two years of high school AND somehow have a social life on top of that #i dont know how the hell im gonna pull it off. i dont feel like an adult but i have to be one already so i just gotta figure it out i guess #ive already lost the rest of my teen years. i shouldn't be sad about losing the last few. i don't have time to mourn.#my mom keeps saying that i need to stop stressing out bc its my birthday but like. the problem is my birthday.#sigh. i should be happy this month. im turning 17! im going to riot fest! i like most of my teachers this year! i have a bit of freedom!#but i don't feel happy. im just violently reminded that time has passed way too quickly and that im running out of time for everything.#im also violently reminded that i very much do not feel like an adult. even though it's only a little over a year till im 18.#i still watch cartoons and buy stuffed animals and have sleepovers with friends where we gossip about school and make pony bead bracelets #i cover my notebooks with stickers and laugh at immature jokes and have glow in the dark stickers on my bedroom ceiling #just. idk. i keep trying to catch up for lost time but i just have to keep rushing foward faster than i can handle. its weird.#sorry to post disappointing shit. im just tired and my body hurts and im stressed and scared and sad. nothing's going right.#in better news. after i get a job to pay for it i can apparently get a birth control prescription without parental consent in my state #i might finally be able to escape from my debilitating monthly pain! ill be able to function!!#im also gonna be getting myself a lowkey ugly rottmnt birthday cake from a grocery store because its my birthday and i can do what i want #so im still stressed and scared but ill have a day with friends where we can play games and do stupid shit and act like teenagers i guess #it'll be nice :')

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atrwriting · 9 months

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selfish - frank castle x reader

hey y'all back in action with another porn no plot one shot

all i'm saying is,,, they knew who their target audience was with this (or are we just all mentally ill?)

summary: frank shows you what it means to be a real, selfish man.

informal warnings: frank is the selfish man in this, but I was the selfish woman writing this. couldn't get this out of my head as I started season two of the punisher, and frankly (haha get it -- sorry) after this scene you wouldn't be able to either

as always, the actual warnings: vulnerable frank, #sadboihrs for both the reader and frank, smut, porn no plot, choking, dirty talk, and ROUGH frank

anyway... selfish:

“what’s your type?”

the million dollar question. the one that you had been troubling yourself over for years.

“my type?” you repeated, eyeing the man who asked you. “or my pattern?”

he tilted his head in curiosity. “both.”

you chuckled. “my pattern… well, they’re usually useless. man babies.”

it was his turn to chuckle. “you like taking care of them, yeah?”

you shrugged. “i love taking care of people, but not men that de-age into babies as time goes on. did you know a guy i dated asked me how to boil water once?”

“you’re joking,” he took a swig of his beer, eyeing you. “no way that’s true. made that up.”

“i wish,” you laughed, rubbing a hand over your face. “i’m also not making it up that i stayed with him two years after that.”

“sounds like your fault.”

you nodded. “the pattern made me realize what my real type is.”

“what?”

“it’s corny.”

“say it.”

a smirk attempted to appear on your lips, but you pushed it back down. “i don’t like selfless men.”

he let out a laugh in disbelief at that. “you and every other chick.”

you chuckled too. “i heard this an analogy once… if you’re falling over a cliff, would you want your person to save you? or someone else about to fall on another side of the cliff?”

he stopped talking then, listening intently.

you kept going. “obviously, i’d want the other person saved… but in my head, when i’m all alone and there’s no one that has to be saved… sometimes it’s nice to think that someone would be so selfish that they would save me over doing what’s right.”

“you could live with that though?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, a bit of judgement lacing his words.

you shrugged. “never been the person that was saved, so i’m really not sure. it’s not that i want to be saved or anything — that’s super fucking corny. but man, a fucking masculine man, putting you over other things? deciding that in that moment, you’re what matters to him? i spend all my days being selfless, putting myself in danger so other people are saved… and i’m tired.” you took a swig of your drink. “i’m really fucking tired.”

“why don’t you save yourself, then?”

“for the same reason you’re here,” you sighed. “when have we ever been selfish, frank?”

he laughed at that, but almost scoffed. “i don’t do anything i do for anyone but me.”

you swallowed then, clenching your jaw. “so many people have wronged you… but you’ve only done what you’ve done because of how people have wronged those you loved. hate to break it to you… but you’re as selfless as anyone could be.”

he folded his lips underneath his teeth and stared aimlessly off into the distance. there were bags under his dark eyes, and no amount of sleep or beer would ever take them away. the man would never know peace, and your heart broke at that. however, it was nice to know someone was going down the rabbit hole with you.

“i don’t think i’m selfless,” he finally spoke after a bit.

you raised an eyebrow at him, calling his bluff.

“i did the things i did because my family was what was most important to me,” he admitted. “that’s selfish.”

you swished his words around in your mouth a little, and decided he was right. the spin on your words made you nod, agreeing with him. “i see your point.”

“so, what?” he asked. “you want a man that would choose you over innocent people?”

you huffed, standing. “i know you know that i never said that. i’m saying that in the back of my mind, it would be nice, just once, for a selfish man to decide that i’m all he wanted. it would be nice to know that i don’t always have to carry the weight on only my shoulders.”

he didn’t say anything then, staying planted on his seat on the floor. he twisted the bottle in his hands and listened to you.

“if i’m being honest with myself…” you began, swallowing your heavy statement. “i would prefer if they saved the innocents, but only so i could die, as i probably would falling in that situation, with a clear conscience. all i’m saying is… it’s a heavy fucking burden always doing things so i don’t feel guilty.”

you walked away then, not muttering a goodbye. frank didn’t say anything either. you heard him raise the bottle to his lips once more before you shut your bedroom door behind you.

it would be an hour or so before you heard a gentle knock on your door. there was no yelling or screaming outside, so you were grateful to hear there was no imminent danger present. in your tiny pajamas, you answered the door to find none other than frank. he was leaning against a wall in the hallway that led to your door, only a couple feet from you.

he didn’t say anything when you came face to face with him. he just stared at you, placing all of his focus on your confused face. it would be a few moments of silence before he finally stepped closer to you, and placed a calloused hand on your face.

you froze. frank castle never touched you, especially in that way.

“wanna know my type?”

you stared at him and swallowed thickly. your lips parted to whisper, “sure.”

“an escape,” he whispered back. “i know what you meant by always having the dark cloud of duty hanging above your head, ready to kill any moment of peace you happen to get your damned hands on. i’ve done everything i’ve ever done for the people i loved, and i know the only way for me to experience any fuckin’ joy is with another person.”

his dark eyes held your gaze, and you soon grew lost in them and his words. you swiped your tongue across your lips and stepped closer. you could feel frank’s breath on your chin, but you couldn’t breathe. his scent, his stare, and his fucking words were more intoxicating than any alcohol you had before.

“you want an escape, frank?” you softly asked, eyes darting to his lips.

“i do,” he stated, before he lowered his head and kissed you.

his free hand immediately came up to the other side od your face and pressed against your cheek. there, he held you in the palms of his hands as you rested your hands on his thick, muscled chest. his lips were dry and cracked, but you didn’t care. the fire that brewed from his affection was enough to fill any of the cold, dark, and lonely places inside of you and you greedily drank from anything he offered.

“you want someone to want you, darlin’?” he asked in between kisses.

you hummed in agreement, not wanting to break apart your kiss for anything — even words.

“can’t get you out of my head, sweetheart,” he spoke, dipping his tongue into your mouth. “need to feel those long legs around me.”

you whimpered at his words, letting his tongue dance with yours. you could taste the heineken on his tongue and savored every bit. “please, frank… i need to feel you so badly.”

“i’ve got you, darlin’.” he picked you up by the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around him. the pads of frank’s finger tips dug into your flesh and a warmth spread throughout you. “those fuckin’ legs.”

you would’ve giggled, but you were too consumed with the very touch of frank to even care. you pulled at his shirt and threw it over his head, sad to break the kiss for even a second. you immediately went to his neck and began to nip at the thick skin, causing a growl to rumble in the deepest parts of his rib cage.

“y’drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he grunted. “sweetest fuckin’ kisses.”

“oh, frank…” you moaned against his neck before he threw you onto the bed. you turned over onto your back to face him. he locked eyes with you as he stood over you, muscles naturally flexed as he undid his belt. your mouth watered at the sight of the fucking man before you, taking off his belt for only you. the way his shoulders, pectorals, and arms worked in the dim light of your room… that man would be the death of you. you hissed, “you’re such a tease.”

he smirked at that, throwing the belt somewhere in the distance. “think you’ve just never been with a real man before,” he replied, before engulfing you into another kiss.

frank’s hand dipped into your shorts and immediately went for your slit. your body fucking sang at finally being touched the way you needed to be as you arched your back into frank, his chest pressed against yours. when frank began to run rough circles around your clit, nothing could hold back your moans or him swallowing them whole.

“only took off my belt, and this is how wet you get?” he asked, biting down on your neck. his long, thick middle finger dipped inside of you as his thumb worked at your clit. he tapped against your upper wall and you keened into his touch, whimpering his name. “now i know it’s the men before me. barely doing a fuckin’ thing and i’ve got you like this.”

you nodded pathetically, just wanting him to continue. “it feels so good,” you gasped, bucking your hips into his hand. “please, please — don’t stop, frank.”

he leaned over and pressed his chest against yours before his lips found your neck once more. his kisses were wet and sloppy, and there was nothing better than feeling the weight of a strong man above you working at your needy pussy. his rough movements against your sensitive skin were sending you into a frenzy as if nothing mattered in the world besides frank — your world started and ended there. your body felt hot — steaming from everything this man was doing for you with barely any effort. your whimpers and gasps fueled frank’s movements as if he couldn’t get enough of them.

“such a good girl f’me,” he said before he bit down on your neck and kissed the spot. “y’get so worked up, i want to see what it’s like when you fall apart.”

“i’m so close, frank…” your voice was hoarse and full of lust, and you were about to break any moment.

“that’s it, baby, yeah,” he spoke, slipping a second finger inside of you. “cum all over these fingers baby. let me taste you after.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck —!”

your world came crashing down onto you. your strength was no match for frank’s, but with the way your back arched and body curled into him, your chests both rose off the bed. he wrapped a strong arm underneath the curve of your back as you fucking sobbed his name, holding you to him and supporting your weight.

“that’s it, darlin’,” he grunted against your ear. “yeah — that’s it. keep cumming for me, fuck…”

your hands grabbed at his thick biceps and you grew lost in his movements against the most sensitive parts of you that never ceased. your hips were rolling in circles with his fingers and your vision went hazy.

“so beautiful like this f’me,” he groaned. “might be mean and not let you stop.”

“fuck, frank,” you cried, whimpering for him. your body fell limp against his arm, and he lowered your bodies back down to the bed. during your comedown, frank kissed at your neck as his free hand ran up and down your body. his other hand continued to rub against your pussy and it was driving you fucking crazy. “let me ride you — please.”

your voice was full of desperation, and frank smirked down at you. he slipped his fingers out of you and rolled off of you onto the bed. you tugged his pants down to his thighs, not wanting to waste any time. you were so greedy, but he didn’t care. he smirked as he watched you pull down your tiny shorts. you straddled him, pressing his chest to yours, as you sank down onto his thick cock.

“my fucking god —“ you gasped, your pussy stretching around him.

frank immediately grabbed your throat and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. he placed the tips of his fingers in his mouth, and tasted your juices that remained on his skin. there you were, impaled on his cock, hovering over him as you watched the most sensual thing you had ever seen him do. his dark eyes were locked on yours, but your lips parted as you watched him taste you. only a smirk remained on his lips.

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever tasted,” he spoke. “now show me how she rides me.”

he roughly pushed you upwards so you stood up straight. the angle made a whimper leave your lips, as he was now fully inside of you and the deepest anyone has ever been. you planted a limp hand on his stomach, and began to roll your hips against his.

his calloused hands found your hips as he threw his head back against the bed. the tendons in his neck were on full display as he stretched his head back as far as he could. the pleasure he felt was spreading all throughout his body, and he couldn’t help but go taut at the feeling. you watched his mouth fall agape and his eyes close as a moan pushed passed his lips.

the pads of his fingers dug into your hips and pushed you forward and back. even his fingers were strong and had control over you, and you couldn’t help but willingly give everything over to him. your whines filled the room, getting lost in your own pleasure with him. there was nothing like the sight of being thrown into vulnerable pleasure with the man under you, succumbing to your touch.

“fuckin’ god —“ he moaned, raising his head back up to keep his eyes locked on where your bodies connected. “never felt so fuckin’ good.”

his hoarse voice caused you to move faster as you ground your hips against his. his hands were rough and desperate as they pulled you up, down, back and forth — until you didn’t know which way was anything. all you knew were the directions of frank’s hands, and you followed in suit as he dragged you down another road of ecstasy.

“greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he groaned. “never enough for her, huh? needs more, even after what i did?”

“yes, yes,” you whimpered pathetically. “your cock feels so good, frank. so fucking good.”

“yeah, darlin’, that’s it,” he grunted, brown scrunching together. “such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”

“fuck, frank — don’t say that,” you cried loudly, biting your lip. “feels too good when you say that — i can’t cum yet.”

he immediately reached for your neck and pulled you down to him. you gasped at his rough touch, but your hips never stopped. he bent his knees so your ass could bounce off of them, giving you more leverage. his cock curled deeper into you, hitting your cervix.

“oh my — god —“ you sobbed so close to his lips.

“nah, baby, that’s not how this works — you’re gonna take everything fuckin’ i give you,” he grunted. “i know y’want to be a good girl f’me, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you were incoherent at this point, ready to tell frank anything he wanted to hear as he bucked his hips into yours. “frank, i’m so close — how —“

“love a needy pussy like this,” he spoke, pulling you closer by the throat for a kiss. “you gonna be good to me? you gonna cum around my cock?”

“fuck, yes —“ you sobbed. “i want you to cum with me, baby, fill me up.”

that set him off. he rolled both of you over before you even knew what was happening. he had you pressed against the bed, hand still around your throat. you grabbed at his arm, loving having the feeling of his strong muscles hold you down. you wrapped your legs around his back as he threw his hips into you. over, and over, he drove himself inside you.

“dirty fuckin’ girl,” he growled, biting down on the skin of where your neck and shoulder met.

that was it. that was how you crumbled a second time for frank that evening.

you fucking wailed his name.

you grabbed at every part of him you could, struggling to hold on for dear life. your body shook with convulsions as your pussy tightened around him, locking his cock in place. nothing could stop his strong hips as they continued to rut into you — riding out your second orgasm of that evening.

you fell back against the bed, fucked out and gasping for air pathetically. frank pressed several kisses to your neck before he stood up on his knees, leaving your weak body below him. you pushed yourself to your elbows with whatever strength you could muster. frank grabbed you by the hips and you watched him slam his hips into yours.

you watched his forehead scrunch as his mouth fell agape. his chin was almost tucked to his neck as his eyes never left where his cock fucked into you.

“use me just like that, baby,” you cried. “i want your cum inside me.”

his strong, trim body went taut as his orgasm hit him, and you watched hungrily as the man before you fell vulnerable to the only pleasure he could allow himself these days. you watched as his conscious mind slipped further and further into the sensation until every ounce of stress and exhaustion left his face. you couldn’t help but bite your lip in pride and satisfaction — knowing that you will never see a more beautiful sight like frank castle using your body to get off.

you fucking loved selfish men.

----

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN NOW EVERYONE GO WATCH THIS SCENE -L xox

#the punisher #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank x reader #frank x you #he can punish me #lol #frank castle smut #frank smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle fit #frank fic #frank imagine #the punisher smut #the punisher fic #the punisher imagine

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 6 months

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Prompt: The Prefect and their friends talk about the events of the Glorious Masquerade and come to some... rather belated conclusions.

Pairing: GN!Prefect/ Yuu/ MC with Deuce Spade, Epel Felmier and Sebek Zigvolt (Platonic)

Genre: Crack

TW: Slight spoilers for Book 5 of Glorious Masquerade.

AN: So... finally read the ending of Glorious Masquerade. I have very many feelings about Malleus and Rollo (obviously) but I also have many feelings about the Prefect's immunity to the firelotuses that everyone so conveniently forgot. In Idia's words, they're all a bunch of 'unga bunga, brute force' kinda people lmao-

This is also my first time writing for Sebek and Epel so I'm very nervous lol. If they seem out of character or something else seems weird, let me know!

"Man, I'm beat."

Deuce flopped onto your bed, sinking into the soft mattress with a sigh of relief. You smiled at him, running a comb through your hair to remove any tangles in it.

The two of you were already in pyjamas, tired from a night of dancing and socializing. You were waiting on a few more people though.

"Did you tell Epel and Sebek to meet us in my room?" You asked him as you ran your comb through your hair. The older students had to report the entirety of the previous night to Professor Trein, so you had decided that the first years could have their own tea-spilling session in your room. Grim, however, wanted to hear the heroic tales of the older students (and regale them with his own, no doubt) so he was with Professor Trein instead of being with you.

"I told Epel" his voice was muffled as he spoke, face smushed against the pillow. "He said they'd be here-"

Knock, knock. "Prefect? Are you in there?"

You walked over to the door, opening it to find Epel and Sebek, both in their pyjamas as well. Epel smiled at you, holding his hands behind his back, "I got Sebek like Deuce told me to."

"Human, what is the meaning of this?" Sebek huffed, too tired to yell his words like he usually did. He crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at you. "As a retainer of Malleus-sama, I must get the required eight hours of sleep to continue to serve him diligently. How dare you keep me up after a night of saving the entirety of Twisted Wonderland from those abysmal flowers, and another night of merry-making?"

His words lacked their usual fire, so you just gave him a cheeky smile and pulled the two of them inside, closing the door behind them. "Come on, I just wanna talk to you guys. Besides, I have snacks."

Epel gave you a side-eye, trying to keep a cheeky smile from forming on his face. "Vil would be so mad."

"What Vil doesn't know won't hurt him~" you hummed, and Epel giggled. Sebek just sighed, taking his place on your bed after nudging Deuce a little.

"And then, when the flowers started climbing up his tail, he climbed onto Professor Trein's shoulder!"

"What?!" "Oh my-" "HOW ILL-MANNERED!"

You giggled at the reactions of your friends as you recounted Grim's actions. The four of you were sat on your bed. You were sitting with your back against the headboard, a pillow on your lap on which Deuce rested his head. With his feet planted on the bed and his knees in the air, his legs made a backrest for Epel who leaned against them, sitting with his legs criss-crossed. On your right side sat Sebek, with the snacks you four were sharing in the middle of the bed.

"I had half a mind to pull him off Professor Trein, but before that, the Bell of Solace rang," you hummed, messily braiding Deuce's hair as you spoke. "And then all the flowers wilted, and well, you know the rest."

"I still can't believe Grim tried to climb Professor Trein," Epel giggled as Sebek shook his head. Deuce sighed, looking up at you, "Well, I can't blame the little guy for being scared. Those flowers were no joke."

"Yeah, for you guys maybe. For me, they were just plain old flowers, if a little persistent and irritating," you shrugged.

"What?"

"Magicless human, remember?"

All three boys looked at you like you had grown three heads and burst into song and dance. You gave them a defensive glare, "What? I'm just saying, those things were perfectly harmless to me."

"....Yeah... Wait, does this mean we could have just sent you up to ring the bell?"

"Probably not...? I mean, Rollo was there on the top guarding the bell wasn't he? If he used magic against me, I'd be defenceless."

"Well, Rollo seemed a bit... partial towards you? You could've tricked him like you did with Azul-senpai that one time..." Deuce trailed off, and the four of you took in his words.

There was a moment of silence before-

"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THERE WAS NO NEED TO PUT MALLEUS-SAMA IN DANGER?!"

#ice writes #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #gn!yuu #gn!reader #gn!prefect #twst #twst deuce #twst sebek #twst epel #deuce #epel #sebek #glorious masquerade #twst x reader #gn!mc

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justlostinautumn · 1 month

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Request: Love Sick!

@catmikaelson20 asked: hello, could you make a request for klaus where he is madly in love with the reader and is courting her and everyone makes fun of him because with the others he is an idiot and around him he basically follows her like a puppy and grabs anything to please her🥰🥰

Klaus normally gets what he wants. Women and men normally fall at his feet craving his attention, but Y/N wasn’t like that and he was happy about that. He had made it his mission to make her his. He was going to court her, he didn’t care the lengths he had to go to win her favour, but what he did know was that he was going to win it.

Klaus had decided that it would be Y/N or no one else. So, he decided that he would begin the courting process. He knew that it would take time, but he has all the time in the world.

Klaus decided to start off simple and thought it would be best to be friends. Getting to know one another and spending time together. Y/N loved spending time with Klaus, he was always so open about talking about everything he had seen and experience. Whereas, Stefan just wanted to bury it away like his nature and Damon would always make some wisecrack joke about his past. Y/N found herself spending more time around Klaus and his family and getting to know them. Spending time with them felt undramatic and simple, it didn’t feel like there was another drama around the corner and she was happy about that.

The more time they spent together to more often Klaus would bring her gifts like her favourite flowers and chocolates. But, sometimes it was the simple things like her favourite coffee or a small sketch of her. Without fail it would make her blush and she couldn’t help the smile that would invade her face.

It wasn’t just Y/N that he won over but also her family, his easy charm and manners won them over. They enjoyed watching him with their daughter and how kind and caring he is about her.

When it came to the ball, Klaus got her a stunning dress and requested that she saved him a dance. Y/N wasn’t planning on attending the Ball but she couldn’t refuse him. She loved it and felt like a princess the whole evening even though she had no clue what her friends had planned for the Mikaelson’s. It was Damon and Stefan who had noticed how his focus had gone solely onto Y/N.

Rebekah and Kol were watching as Klaus filled a basket with treats and gifts.

“Nik what are you doing?” Rebekah asked with a raised brow.

“Y/N is ill and I thought that I would make her a hamper with all the things she likes to make her feel better.” Klaus answered as he was putting the finishing touches on it.

“Look at you Niklaus all domesticated.” Kol grinned manically at his brother.

“Shut it Kol.” Klaus glared at his little brother.

“I didn’t know you could do something so selfless.” Rebekah looked at her brother in shock.

“Well, I have my moments.” Klaus huffed picking up the basket and left quickly leaving behind two highly amused siblings.

Rebekah found it funny watching her love sick brother who refused to love anyone follow after her like a puppy. All she can say is that she is glad that it wasn’t someone like Caroline Forbes.

Elijah found it refreshing to see his brother like this he had always said that love is a vampire's greatest weakness and now to see him fawning over someone was amusing.

Finn watched on in shock, but soon found it as amusing as his siblings especially in moments when Y/N wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Kol found it hilarious. Kol’s favourite thing is to flirt aggressively with Y/N and also to take up as much of her time as he can to make Klaus jealous.

Y/N decided that she wanted to go to the Grill for a little while and Klaus found out and decided to join her. Damon, Stefan, Caroline and Elena were also there and they watched as Klaus followed Y/N like a lost puppy.

“Oh look it’s the puppy.” Damon grinned, receiving a fierce glare from Klaus and a low snarl making the group all flinch back at the sound, before Klaus quickly brought his attention back to Y/N and melted under her smile. The group watched in mild awe at how different Klaus was with her compared to others. When Y/N leaves after a call from her parents, Damon makes his way next to him. “I didn’t know the big bad Hybrid was all soft for some girl.” Damon grinned amused.

“Have care how you talk about Y/N.” Klaus glared at what Damon said.

“Ohhh, what hitting a nerve with the puppy?” Damon grinned amused.

“Just because you two seem doomed to always want each others girl doesn’t mean we all have to fall at her feet.” Klaus snaps at the two who where taken aback by his words.

Stefan likes to tease him about when they were werewolf hunting and he was continuously asking about her.

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stellar-skyy · 1 month

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Hiii congrats on 200!!

May I have hot honey & vanilla tea with lyney? Extra fluffy if you can 😌

“lyney! i have an order for lyney, a honey and vanilla tea!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: Lyney finds his partner crying, and reminds them they are loved. ii. CWS & NOTES: crying. reader has a bad day and lyney comforts them. lyney x gn!reader. hurt/comfort & fluff. established relationship. 1k words. iii. A/N: aly!! thank you for your order!! i think i bent the prompt a little bit, so this came out a bit more hurt/comfort than strictly fluff, but i hope you enjoy regardless!

Lyney slid his key into the lock, turning it with a click. The noise was loud in the quiet of the night, abruptly tearing through the silence. He paused, letting the night settle once more, before pushing the door open.

“[Name]! I’m back,” Lyney called, hooking his finger under the brim of his hat to tug it off his head. It was tossed unceremoniously onto the table, along with his gloves. His boots were next, stacked beside the door in a row with the rest of the shoes.

“Hello…?” He tried again, gently pushing open a door to peer into a deserted living room.

There wasn’t any sign of life in the room, but there were traces. The pillows were askew, scattered above a small dent in the couch where someone had left too quickly to smooth it back down. A mug rested on the side table—his mug, Lyney noted, not theirs—with the residue of a drink long gone still lingering at the bottom. There was a strange silence in the air, which unnerved him more than he would like to admit. At this time there was always something; distant beats of music coming from somewhere in the house, or the unintelligible sound of chatter from the television two rooms over, or even just quiet thumps and echoes that reminded him of another presence within the house.

“My dear, are you home?” Lyney called out again. The sound of his voice reverberated across the walls, with no answering call to meet him. His brow furrowed further, an uneasy feeling seizing him tightly. It wrapped itself around his lungs, squeezing tighter with every step out of the living room and through the hall.

A light glowed dimly from under the final door of the hallway, their shared bedroom. Straining his ears, he could hear a low, muffled sound from behind it. A smile graced his lips, coated in relief, and the tension slowly eased itself away from his chest, if only by a fraction. They were in the bedroom, it seemed; they had simply turned in early. There wasn’t a need to worry at all.

Still, Lyney was ill at ease. It was late in the night, far later than any reasonable person would be awake for, but they always waited for him on nights like these. Their face filled his thoughts in every step of the walk home, idle wonderings of whether they had made dinner yet, or how they were spending their evening.

Lyney gripped the doorhandle, swinging the door open with a touch too much force. The bedroom was dark, save for the light of a bedside lamp dimly illuminating a curled-up figure on the bed.

“Ah, there you are! I was beginning to think you pulled a disappearing act on me! But of course, I’m the only magician here—” He cut himself off abruptly, as his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness of the room. Squinting, he could see the outline of their form grow sharper, smoothing out to show the details he had missed on his first glance.

A sheen glossed over their red and swollen eyes. The edge of the blanket was clutched in a hand so tight it was shaking. Their breaths were fractured, drawn sharply from their place under the sheets.

“Are you alright?” Lyney asked, keeping his tone light, in spite of the panic clouding his thoughts. His mind was buzzing, spinning in circles with constant questions of why. “Come on, you didn’t miss me that much, did you?” He tried to joke as he walked up to the side of the bed, grasping at any chance of easing the tension in the room.

A weak sob broke apart any feeble attempt at lightening the mood.

“Shh… I’m sorry, it’s okay, I’m here…” he whispered, settling a hand on their cheek. “You’re okay. I’m here. I love you.”

I love you. The words fell almost too easily, surprising himself. Love was always a distant emotion to him; felt, but rarely spoken aloud, for fear it would vanish the moment his lips formed the words. But he knew he loved them—so much, so much more than they would ever be able to see.

“I love you,” he said again, firmer—to convince himself as well as them. His hands shifted from their cheek and brushed along their arm with a feather-light touch, grasping their hands in his own. He brought them to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Now what’s wrong? Did you have a bad day?”

A murmur; not quite affirmative, not quite refusing.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to.” He reassured them, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on the side of his hand. “I’ll be ready when you do.”

Lyney let go of their hands for a moment to shrug off the outer layers of clothing, letting them fall into a pile on the carpet. He didn’t bother to properly change into his nightclothes; instead, he fell onto the bed, costume and all. The corseted portion of his outfit dug into his skin uncomfortably, but he barely noticed; he was too busy tugging them against his chest.

“I love you,” he said as he kissed their forehead, leaving his lips resting on their skin for a beat.

“I love you, so much.” He murmured as his fingers began to card through their hair, working out all of the tangles that had found themselves there.

“I love you, and whatever you’re going through, I am here for you.” He promised as he pulled them as close as they could, resting with their face in the crook of his neck and his arms draped loosely on their hips.

Their sobs soon evened out to low, shuddering breaths that left them shaking in his arms. Lyney was still, only daring to move his hand to trace circles across their back. Even with all his reassurance, they were yet to speak a single word. He continued to speak anyway, pressing his nose to their head and whispering into their hair, between gentle kisses to their face.

Each one was a promise, a lingering reminder that he was there. One to the bridge of their nose, one more to their forehead, two to each of their cheeks. They were peppered across their face, scattered like invisible stars in the smallest of skies.

He would wait there as long as he needed to, murmuring gentle words under his breath until they knew just how loved they truly were.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #[ interstellar teashop ☆ﾟ. ]#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#—stellaronhvnters.#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney x reader #genshin lyney x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #lyney x gn reader #lyney fluff

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ivestas · 1 year

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Thank you for writing my request, I loved it!! I have another idea but it's a deeper subject so I understand not everyone is comfortable with writing about it. Could you write about a younger reader and the team see self harm wounds and scars while they were injured or while they were changing? (Something along those lines) and what they would do/ react? Xx

what is most precious to you?

Summary: The 141 discover a part of you that you’d wanted to bury.

Tags: TW s/elf harm scars + sui/cide and talk of it, please read carefully/don't read if this topic triggers you, platonic!141 x medic!fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, younger!reader, descriptions of blood and injury, canon typical violence, soap + ghost focused, unedited

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: im glad u enjoyed the previous req anon! i hope I'm able to do this req justice too 🫡

You’d been a part of the 141 long enough for the others to know and trust you.

An esteemed medic that knew medicine and all things fixing like the back of her hand, despite your age—it was a natural skill, it seemed. Your hands were always so damn fast with a gauze—hell, even a dirty rag you’d make use of in an instant.

You were just good. Reliable. Consistent. Seemingly just a normal young lady whose only eccentricity was the job she chose to be: a medic for a merc group.

Soap often liked to joke about that normalcy that clung onto you.

“Bet when you’re on leave you work a 9 to 5 and sleep right at 8. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You snorted. “No, I’d sleep at 9.”

“Ohhhhh, daring! Don’t be too crazy! Ya might just lose a leg!”

Even Ghost would sometimes jump in, adding his own joke occasionally.

“Should I get you a planner for your birthday? A nice, minimalist one with neutral stickers to match.”

You’d scoff and jab back, whether it be at Ghost’s mask or Soap’s current and past hair-styles.

But they never gave you a tough time about it—they were glad that one of them was able to blend back to civvy life with ease.

Price even said it was his favorite trait—”sometimes, you need the practicality and mindset of a normal lady to get shit done.”

“Thanks?”

The guys all had a similar image of what your childhood was like: middle-class, parents all stiff-like and old-timey, your favorite hobbies probably were things like football or reading, things like that.

However, that image shattered during a post-mission intermission.

Things went wrong, completely askew—the enemies were clearly prepared for the attack, because landmines were everywhere and the area was crawling with hostiles.

It was a resounding loss—many casualties, wounded, etc.

You could hardly keep up, trying to patch up as many as possible, even when the sky rained of bullets and the air tasted thickly of gunpowder and death. It was like a place between purgatory and hell, a constant flow of shouts, screams, explosions.

It was too late for you to noticed a bullet grazed your arm; it was deep enough to be visible, but luckily it wasn’t aimed low enough for it to shoot into your arm.

You had ignored the wound—in your mind, it only made sense to focus on the soldiers who were fighting for their lives and riddled with bullet wounds.

So you just did that: focus on them.

But, due to the constant movement and strain, the graze only worsened, almost tearing. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch soon enough.

Luckily though, Ghost shouted in your ear through the comms.

“Bravo-1, retreat!—fuckin’ hell—everyone, retreat!”

You did just that—retreat.

Huffing and puffing, you were quick to run to the distant chopper you recognized as the 141′s. A haze of sand was the only saving grace as it covered you from the enemies direct line of sight.

Soap pulled you into the helicopter with a quick grab of your wrist, completely unaware of the graze that arm sustained. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, feeling the skin tear just a little more.

The entrance of the helicopter shut, and with both of you heaving, the plane finally shot back into the air, rocking back and forth the slightest bit. The sound of bullets slowly melted away into harsh whirring and mechanical buzz.

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling sharply before you got up, arm still bleeding.

But, strangely, you felt it drip along your arm and into your hand, running along your finger—ah, it should’ve been obvious, the sleeve of your wounded arm had completely torn.

You lifted the arm, examining the wound.

Scars of varying sizes, textures, and freshness—some having strange bubbly dots, others consisting of messy lines. Some of the fresher scars had torn a little, causing thin lines or red to rise.

Your blood ran cold. You glance up, hoping—praying—that Soap didn’t see, or even understand the implications.

But you could see he was staring, the cogs in his mind slowly snapping together.

You put your arm away to your side, hiding it from his view.

“Lass—“

“I need a medkit. We have one on the plane?”

You loathed the look of sadness, of pity that shone in his eyes, pulled at the muscles of his face.

Don’t. Stop.

I’m not weak. Don’t—I’m not weak!

A chorus of words, feelings, of palpable dark was what filled your mind now. Insecurity, self-hatred, all of it—you’d been working on it, trying to regulate, to reason with the miasma that had taken ahold of your consciousness.

But, fuck, you’ve revealed it to Soap of all people—he felt bad, didn’t he? Disgusted? Worried? He was gonna tell Price, wasn’t he? That your unfit for the 141, that—

A hand rested on the top of your shoulder.

“Can I patch you up?” Soap asked softly.

You grit your teeth. Moving away from his hand, you shook your head, glaring at the floor. A small splatter of blood was there. “I can fix it myself.”

You expected—wanted—him to berate you.

But he didn’t. He was kind.

“Sure, kid. I’ll just get ya the med kit—stay put.”

Another wave of shame rocked you. You sat on one of the small seats connected to the walls of the heli, rubbing away the small bits of dried blood.

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t hear Soap murmuring to Ghost.

“The kid—she, ah...” He ran a finger along his wrist. “Catch my drift?”

“Cutting herself?” Ghost said bluntly.

“Sometimes I wish you had a little more tact, L.T.”

Ghost ignored him. “They fresh or old?”

“Both,” he sighed, grabbing a med kit from one of the plane’s various compartments. “What’re we supposed to do? Don’t wanna scare off the kid, but don’t wanna leave her on her own devices hacking away at ‘erself!”

Ghost grabbed the kit from his hands. “I’ll handle this. You sit down—go near the Captain. Try to leave us some privacy.”

Hesitantly, Soap nodded. “Work your magic, sir.”

Ghost made his way to the other end of the helicopter where you were. You were hunched over your wound, a deep frown on your face. It’s uncharacteristic, but he knew it was a part of yourself you’d prefer to be shrouded in dark. Suffering wasn’t a nice look, was it?

But it was human. Denying your own right to feel it—it made Ghost frown too.

He sat beside you, kit in his hand. You had finally looked up then, alarmed.

“Gimme your arm, kid.”

You opened your mouth.

“Not leavin’ till I patch your arm up, so don’t even try.”

Shamefully, you lifted your arm slowly.

He took it with gentle but firm hands, a thumb running along a faint scar.

Ghost opened the kit haphazardly with another hand.

“When I was your age—maybe a little younger—couldn’t find much meaning in everything.”

He lifted his hand from your arm and grabbed alcohol and a small cotton rag. Dampening the rag with alcohol, he drew it to your arm, rubbing away the excess blood and cleaning the wounds. You didn’t make any noise, only breathing raggedly.

“The suffering was pointless, in my eyes; thought, ‘this isn’t bloody fair’. Born in a shitty house with a shitter father, food hardly ever on the table, my mind deteriorating, and the world cast in deep gray.”

You nodded.

Ghost grabbed a bandage gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it gently around the graze and the scars. It was calming, watching him work away, even if the wrapping was a little clumsy.

“The harsh reality came a little while later, and it’s that people like me—us—we gotta work hard for shit to change. That this weight forced upon us, it’s only we that can shed it off. It’s still not fair—frankly, suicide is easier. Thought of doing it for the longest time... But...”

He shook his head. “In my eyes, it’s a coward’s way out. We should never die by our own hands—there’s always something to live for.”

“What are you living for?”

“Mmmm.... For tomorrow’s pint.”

You laughed.

He grabbed a safety pin and pinned the end of the gauze. “...now, I know it’s ‘silly’ to say, but you know we’re here for you?—the 141′s got your back, kid—how about this, let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?”

“You ever have the urge to cut yer arm, you come straight to me, or the others. They’ll listen. They care.”

They care.

It’s weird, but hearing the words said out loud, it hit you.

They really care.

You took in a shaky breath. “Thank... you.”

“It’s no problem at all, kid. Stay strong.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #tw s/elf harm #idk if its an unpopular opinion to assume ghost has some variation of depression #but its a personal headcanon!#john mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #mw2 x reader

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epicbuddieficrecs · 4 months

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Buddie Christmas 2023 fic rec!

Merry (late) Christmas everyone! I thought I'd gather all the Christmas-themed fics I've read this year into one rec for you guys :)

Completed

Here Where We Should Be (Kiss Me, It’s Christmas) by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Christmas, Getting Together | 5K | General): It’s Christmas and Eddie decides he can’t possibly wait any longer to start kissing Buck.

Keep My Heart Warm In Yours by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Christmas, Post-S6, Getting Together | 18K | Mature): Christopher decides that he wants to go skiing, Buck makes it happen and the cabin at the foot of the mountains turns out to be quite the romantic backdrop for their little getaway.

Hiding the Christmas Present (of You and Me) by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Christmas | 7K | General): Buck thought he was going to spend Christmas alone. His family decides to correct that assumption.

give it to someone special by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Canon Divergent - Different First Meeting, Christmas | 12K | Mature): Buck and Eddie meet at the airport after their respective girlfriends live their Hallmark movie dreams and dump them right before Christmas.

Christmas Lights by ZainClaw/ @zainclaw (Established Buddie, Christmas | 1K | Teen): “What are we looking at?” Eddie asks, his voice slightly muffled from where his cheek is resting against the top of Buck’s head. “The lights.” “Okay,” Eddie hums. “And what do we think about the lights?”

Pining. Get it? Like the Tree? by littlechivalry/ @jonlybonlyfromboldlygo (Christmas, First Kiss | 2K | General): Buck likes Christmas. Well, he likes the idea of Christmas. Loved ones getting together. Generosity. The magic of the season. It's wonderful. The reality however, or at least the reality he's experienced? Not so much.

all I want for christmas by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Christmas, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Eddie has to work Christmas Eve and asks Buck to take him to the Buckley-Han Christmas dinner. Buck is happy to spend Christmas with Christopher, but being with his parents dampens the mood. It makes it worse when his mother questions his place in Christopher’s life. Luckily, Christopher knows Buck enough to see him hurting and has a plan to make him feel better. To show him who his real family are.

baby, you never lookеd better than you do in that ugly Christmas sweatеr by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (Christmas, Getting Together | 7K | General): Buck mentions he always wanted his family to wear matching Christmas sweaters, but never got it - Eddie takes matters into his own hands.

and i feel just like i want to kiss you underneath my mistletoe by oklahoma/ @malewifediaz (Christmas | 9K | Teen): 5 times the team tries to get Eddie and Buck to kiss under the mistletoe and the 1 time they do. Kinda.

You and Me Here (underneath the mistletoe) by Bob_loblaws_lawblog/ @buddierights (Christmas, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): It’s fine. It’s just a kiss under the mistletoe. It’s a Christmas tradition, and in this case, just a joke. Not a big deal. He can play along – his only other choice is being weird about it, which sounds too much like revealing his feelings.

Home is Just Another Word for You by Bob_loblaws_lawblog/ @buddierights (Christmas, Different First Meeting AU | 10K | General): Eddie misses his flight home to his son on Christmas Eve, and just so happens to get stuck with the handsome man who sprinted across the airport with him.

Packing Light by devirnis/ @devirnis (Last Holiday AU, Christmas | 32K | Teen): The discovery that he has a terminal illness prompts Buck, who has been stagnating as a sales associate at Kelly’s Department Store, to withdraw his life savings and jet off to Europe. There, he lives like a millionaire at the luxury hotel where his sister works. The only one missing from his new life is his coworker and longtime crush, Eddie Diaz.

The Diaz Christmas Experience (series) by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Christmas, Getting Together | 4 works | 26K | Complete): Or: a fluffy Christmas story where Buck gets to experience The Diaz Christmas spectacle

merle said mama tried, but the prison still won by oklahoma/ @malewifediaz (Christmas, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Eddie goes to (mall) jail.

Of Love, Hospital Jitters And Christmas Lights by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Established Buddie, Hurt Chris | 6K | Teen): Eddie and Buck end up in the hospital waiting room a few days before Christmas

all i want for christmas by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Christmas, Proposal | 3K | Teen): Eddie decides to finally pop the question to Buck, but his proposal doesn’t go quite as he planned.

'tis the damn season by spaceprincessem / @spaceprincessem (Post-S5, Christmas, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Eddie asks Buck to the Holiday Fireman's Ball. It goes so much better than he could ever imagine

there you are, sweetheart by oklahoma / @malewifediaz (Christmas, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Over Christmas hot chocolate and silly banter in the kitchen, Eddie tells Buck he loves him.

You Ring, I Drool by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Christmas, Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): 5+1 times Buck reminds Eddie of a dog // alternatively; the one in which Eddie accidentally conditions Buck to beg for treats

i love you best when you're just yourself by oklahoma/ @forthewolves (Established Buddie, Christmas | 2K | Teen): Buck’s having trouble picking out the perfect tree for his first Christmas with Eddie and Christopher as Eddie’s boyfriend. Eddie puts those worries to rest quickly.

If This Is What The Season Is Bringing by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Post-S6, Christmas | 2K | General): Buck and Eddie made a promise after Eddie decided to leave the 118 and they finally make good on it this Christmas.

🔥 Goodwill is Sent in Snapshots (You Only Get the Full Picture on Return) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (The Holiday AU | 14K | Mature): When both Evan Buckley and Chimney Han are dumped at the start of December, they decide to swap houses - with each other. A nice two weeks in a different location will be a great unconventional Christmas. Certainly not anything life changing. Then Buck meets Chim's next-door-neighbor, and Chim meets Buck's apartment-crashing sister.

you’re everything that I want, but I didn’t think I’d find by Daffi_990_ao3/ @daffi-990 (Post-S6, Proposal | 2K | Not Rated): Eddie is so in love and proposes to Buck on Christmas Eve. (sequel to come close, let me be home)

i just want you for my own (more than you could ever know) by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Christmas, Getting Together | 1K | General): Eddie bites down on the urge to say I remember everything you say, because that’s not the kind of thing you tell someone in the middle of a Christmas party at your captain’s house. He’s a little concerned it makes him seem like some kind of unhinged stalker. He’s not. He’s just desperately in love with his best friend. Which is where the regrets come in, because Eddie is very very sure that mistletoe and unrequited love is not a combination that’s worked out well for anyone, ever.

may these memories break our fall by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Married Buddie, Amnesia | 6K | Teen): or: eddie is a soldier coming home for christmas, he wants to surprise his husband and son for the holiday but things don't go as planned.

WIP

They don’t know (your name is already mine) by thewolvesof1998/ @thewolvesof1998 (Post-S6, Secret Relationship, Hurt Buck | 3/4 | 7K | General): Buck gets in a car accident on Christmas Eve Eve and the only ID he has on him is Eddie's dog tags. A case of mistaken Identity, a trip to the hospital and a Christmas Surprise.

#buddie #epic buddie fic rec #buddie fic #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #911 fanfic #911 fic #911 fanfiction

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qsphyxias · 2 months

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Nightwing x Male! Reader (hurt/comfort)

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; you just broke up with ur bf bc he cheated on u and Nightwing comes to make u feel better.

warnings ; swearing, break ups, venting (not traumatic or too deep) about relationship, manhandle joke, angst? its topic is sad but I think I made it too nice and fluffy

note ; i wanna add more, esp. with pillow talk or whatever but I'm too tired and maybe ill just make another part or smth or edit it

words ; 1.3k+

Your face burned, and your lips trembled against the hand you held up against your moth. You sighed shakily, dropping your head atop your arm leaned up against the railing of your balcony. That was the end of another relationship.

You looked at the wet cement down below, over the thin, black iron railing, your eyes couldn't focus on anything because of the fat tears that obstructed most of your vision. Gravity pulled your tears to the ground, almost pulling you entirely over the rails — you just felt so tired.

The day you've had was just about enough for you to bear. You found out your boyfriend of three years was cheating on you for two of those three years. But the worst part was that you hadn't even found out yourself; he had told you, and he had been the one to break up with you. As if, you were the problem.

You were in the way.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You murmured under your breath, rage began to well up, and you could feel it in your throat — strangling you, taking your breath and turning it into steam. "I wasted three years on him. Three fucking years of my life!" You backed away from the ledge, looking up at the sky as if it represented the entire world before you. "And for what?"

Despite it all, a part of you wanted him back. Not because you loved him, but because, where else will you find someone? You knew everything about him, and you... well, you hoped he knew just about everything to know about you. But now, all that information is useless. You were scared and alone; how much time did you really have? It's not like some handsome, piece of ass is going to come around and save you.

You slid down on the cold surface of the balcony, sitting down and tucking your knees in as you watched your fingers fidget in front of you. You stopped crying, but now it felt worse than before. Your heart had no means to release all that raw emotion because your body couldn't take the exhaustion.

"Hey, are... you alright?" A gentle hand grabs your shoulder, and your head shoots up to see dark blue eyes, staring at you with nothing but hopeful concern. His hope to somehow make you feel better, and his concern that you are currently sitting on the ground, eyes, nose, and mouth red and swollen.

You don't push away, not at all — in fact, that's the last thing on your mind. Even when it hits you that Nightwing is leaning over you, a knee on the ground and his arm on your shoulder. You're too drained to react properly, you just stare at him.

You pressed your hand on your cheek, murmuring your speech. "Give me a fucking break." Had he arrived at a time — literally any other time — less inconvenient, you probably would have asked him for an autograph and fawned over his arms. He chuckled at your reply, not at all offended by your display of disdain at his appearance. He took a seat next to you on the cold hard ground.

For a couple of minutes, you both just sat there, and you stared off into space as you silently fought with your inner demons to not lash out at him. With an apologetic sigh, withdrawing your attitude from before. "I'm sorry, it's been a rough night- I just found out my boyfriend was cheating on me for two years." Nightwing glanced over as you mentioned a boyfriend, so you weren't straight, huh? That totally won't affect how he sees you.

The man beside you sucked in a sharp breath as you mentioned your situation, immediately feeling terrible as he put himself in your shoes. "Don't worry about it; you deserve a little lashing out." You scoffed affectionately as you wiped your remaining tears away with your sleeve, he was friendly, wasn't he?

"That's nice of you to say." Suddenly, the floor looked much more interesting than looking at the attractive man beside you. He noticed the averted gaze and brought you back to reality by placing his hand on yours. "I'm serious, lash out at me! Whatever you wanna say to him, say to me." He was serious, grinning at his great idea.

"I mean I heard you wailing from miles away; I'm sure you don't have a shortage of things to say." He looked proud of himself. "Dear god — you heard that?" You stood up and backed away from him, with him following you closely. "I think half of Gotham heard that." He teased, watching your ashamed expression with a smile.

"You're kind of an asshole, aren't you?" You said, standing your ground as you taunted him right back. His smile only grew, "I have mixed reviews."

"Alright, Nightwing. I'll take you up on your offer." You crossed your arms and stepped closer to him, "I'll vent."

He rubbed his hands together in response, beckoning you towards him. "Give it to me."

Your face turned beet-red at the sudden conspicuous innuendo, and you paused. Hoping he hadn't noticed, you got back in the zone and tried to imagine your ex's face in place of Nightwing's. "Okay, alright. Well. You're... You're a dick."

Dick laughed, for more reasons than one. "That's it? Have at me! Don't be shy." You frowned, "Fine then, you're not just a dick. You're also cruel." You looked into his eyes, seeing your ex's face before you instead of Nightwing's.

To fuel the fire, you channeled all those feelings into your speech. "You broke my heart for no reason when you could have left me when you met him. And- Instead, you wasted my time, thinking I was in this... This loving relationship with a man I was going to marry — " Before you could keep rambling on, you felt strong arms around you, grounding you. You hadn't noticed you were trembling from the emotion until you felt the calm, still body against yours.

You also hadn't noticed how much you absolutely needed that hug.

Hesitating, your arms hovered over his back before you tenderly hugged him back, sinking into his body knowing he could still hold you from his already tight grip. You wondered if you'd ever be hugged like this again now that you didn't have a boyfriend. Whenever your ex did decide to hold you like this, it wasn't often.

Sleep took over your body as his warmth may have reminded you too much of your sheets, and the comfort of your bed. Maybe he reminded you of home.

"... Was that too much?" You murmured against the chestpiece of his suit. He shook his head, not wanting to see your expression just yet. Your frown and your trembling lips broke his heart.

"I think I'm tired." Dick took that to heart and picked you up with ease, walking over to your balcony door and stepping in. "Oh- so you're just gonna manhandle me then?" You declared eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. For a second, he was worried he had crossed a boundary. "Well, I'm okay with that." Now he wasn't so worried.

Dick chuckled as he placed you down on your bed, turning off the light beside you and moving to exit your apartment. He stopped in his tracks as he heard you groan. "Wait, come back..! Stay with me. Please?" He turned around to see you pouting on your bed, knowing you were trying your absolute best to extract pity out of him to make him stay.

"It'll be my first night in three years without a warm body sleeping next to me; you're really gonna leave a guy hanging?" He rolled his eyes as you played the break-up card, waltzing over with a defeated look on his face. You on the other hand, had adorned an expression of joy.

"You regret stopping by my balcony, don't you?"

"... Far from it, actually."

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abiiors · 6 months

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red lines - pt. 1 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: i want you to read this very very carefully: i am pro-choice and i will always be pro-choice. and this is a work of fiction. also feel the need to add that this is more a collection of small vignettes??? ugh idk, hope you enjoy regardless cw: *deep breath* angst, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mentions of vomit, (and other pregnancy symptoms), crying (so much of it my god) and arguments, mentions of smoking, illness, hospitals, panic attacks, reader has a good relationship with her mother so i guess that's a cw too, (most definitely inaccurate) descriptions of birth. wc: 4.6k

two red lines is all it takes to ruin a perfect life.

two red lines repeated twice on two different tests that stare back at you from the counter—innocent and white and damning. the bathroom is utterly still, save for the tap dripping one drop every seven seconds. you would know, you counted it, used those seven seconds to ground you and stop you from spiraling into another panic attack for the three minutes it took to get those two red lines.

pregnant.

with two more weeks left on tour by matty’s side.

gingerly you wrap them in toilet paper, make sure they’re safe and secure and nothing’s peeking out. you throw it in the bin, looking at it with a deadness on your face that you feel deep inside. then you call the reception and ask them to take out the trash.

matty isn’t here. he’s on stage, serenading thousands of people who hang on to every single word he says, looking at him with all the love and adoration in the world. matty, your matty, who belongs as much to you as he does to the people, the fans. you should have been there too but there was the migraine and the nausea that wouldn’t go away. so you told him you would just sleep it off tonight.

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg. and then a sweet kiss and a promise to see him tomorrow.

and then the two red lines.

every time you blink you see them flash in front of you—like a promise or a warning. or maybe even a sentence.

pregnant.

a baby.

a cause for happiness and celebration.

and the conversation from a week ago that lingers in your mind, echoes inside your skull as if those words are the only ones you remember.

i’m just not ready love, he says, not now. maybe not for another year or two. i don’t know, babies are a lot of work. and i am a lot of work.

i love you, he says, kissing you deeply and tasting his own cum on your lips. i love you but a baby right now is a hard no.

nothing in particular spurred this conversation really—just the two of you, naked, and tangled up in the sheets, his hand caressing your lower stomach and you letting yourself daydream. who knew the daydream was indeed reality? and now here you are, head in your hands—partly from the migraine, partly from the anxiety—waiting for him to be back.

he will change his mind, you know it. matty loves you, and this baby is half you, half him. he will come around and you will be there to soothe his worries. you know he will hear the baby’s heartbeat and fall in love.

you know he will treat them like the most precious thing in the whole world.

the thought makes you smile and the door creaks open.

“pregnant,” he looks at you warily, “what do you mean pregnant?”

the small smile on your face fades away. “pregnant with a baby, matty. what other kind of pregnant is there?”

you wonder if you meant to joke, if he will break character and laugh and everything will be okay again. maybe you just caught him by surprise, this is just a blip. in two more minutes, he will smile and drop down to his knees and kiss your still-flat stomach. he’ll say hello to them. tell them he loves them and then tell you how much he loves you, kissing you gently and pulling you into him.

you can already feel his feather-light touch on your skin. his mouth lingering on your lower stomach on his way down.

matty stills in place.

“no…”

one word, it’s small and broken and so unlike him that you almost do a double-take.

“what do you mean no?”

“i can’t okay?” his voice rises, “i told you i can’t!”

you can sense the agitation he feels, his hammering heartbeat and the shallowness of his breaths. his hands runs through his hair, spilling the curls everywhere.

“you’re on the pill.”

“i think…” you hedge, tears gathering in your eyes, “i think i missed a day.”

he snaps his head up to look at you. when matty first came back to the room, he looked happy and giddy—cheeks pink and hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat. now he looks grey and listless. like all the colour’s been zapped out of him.

“you missed a day,” he repeats.

“matty, please…”

but matty is already turning around and storming off to the balcony. through the glass you watch him light a cigarette with shaky hands, taking a deep drag before he tips his head back and blows it out. another drag, another blow. eyes closed. breathing that slowly goes from rapid to normal once again.

five minutes later, only the stub remains and matty is back in the room.

“i can’t,” he says firmly. “i told you i wasn’t ready.”

it sounds final. like a death knell. instictively your hand covers your stomach.

“i won’t,” you shake your head and the tears fall rapidly, first down your cheeks then your chin and onto your chest. “i won’t get rid of it.”

matty stares at you quietly, you stare back. it seems you’re at an impasse.

twenty minutes later, you pack your bags.

london is greyer than it has ever been, especially from your new flat so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. not that you’ve had much time to get acquainted with the new area after being bent over the toilet for days on end, retching and heaving until there’s nothing left inside you. a hollowness so deep that no amount of food or water will fill it.

so you eat strictly for the baby. pre-natal vitamins and supplements and a nutritious breakfast that you throw right back up. but you try. all for the sake of the tiny clump of cells dependent on you. the image of the two red lines has long been replaced with a grainy black and white rectangle. every time you close your eyes, you see the screen lit up with an image of your little bean, moving around. in some far back corner of your mind, you think they look happy.

at night you curl up on your cold bed, phone in hand, the baby’s heartbeat playing on repeat. it used to be his, your brain reminds you painfully. back when you slept all cuddled up with him. head on his chest, his soothing heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

you mother is worried about you. she calls at least thrice a day to make sure you ate every meal and took every pill. she comes every sunday to stock you fridge full of vegetables and fruits and make sure you have enough ginger and peppermint tea. sundays, begrudgingly, become your favourite. your mother, once again, becomes your best friend.

but you can’t let her move in. can’t let her be a constant presence and drive you crazy and unearth him every chance she gets. so like clockwork, at 6 pm, you usher her out the door, tell her you need privacy and quiet and solitude. like every single time, she promises she’ll be back next sunday.

and every single time she keeps her word.

one day you wake up to a change—a small one, really, but a change regardless. barely even noticeable at first. it’s your top that doesn’t reach all the way down. maybe it shrunk in the wash, you think. then the full length mirror reminds you of the reality. and the tiny little bump that’s seemingly grown overnight.

your little bean. suddenly so real. so tangible. so present.

“hello, little one,” you coo at your stomach, feeling a little silly at first. there’s no reply, of course, just the sounds of morning traffic coming in from the open window. but your eyes stay trained on the bump. “you weren’t so noticeable last night.”

nothing happens. no movement (of course, not. they’re too small for that.), no one appreciating the change with you. matty who should have been here to witness this…

matty who isn’t here to witness this.

emotions swirl in your head so fast that it’s dizzying. this time there’s no tears falling one by one. there’s the sobs that come all of a sudden and the floodgates that open in the blink of an eye but he is not here to hold you or pull you into his chest when you gasp and gasp for a breath that never comes.

in a panic you dial the first number you can find in your contacts, gasping and yelling out broken sentences and panicking at whoever’s picked up. it’s 8 am on a wednesday, whoever you called must be utterly bewildered. yet when you can focus enough, you realise it’s a man’s voice replying. a familiar voice. shocked and equally panicked and asking you if you’re okay again and again.

you pull the phone away from your ear and look at the screen. at adam’s name flashing on it.

the first contact on your list. one starting with an a.

“fuck,” you mumble. “sorry, i’m okay. i’m fine.” and then you hang up, and rock yourself back and forth on the ground until your breaths resemble something normal.

fifteen minutes later, there’s pounding at your front door and the bell rings incessantly. in your gut you know it’s adam. and it’s confirmed when his voice floats through the door.

“open the door,” he urges. “i need to know you’re okay.”

and so you pull yourself back up, harshly wipe away the tears and unlock the front door.

it’s only been a month since you last saw adam but he looks different. his hair’s grown out, his dark circles are gone and in spite of the worried look on his face, he looks happier somehow. healthier.

being back home with the love of your life and your baby will do that to you.

“you look well,” you croak out and then clear your throat. adam doesn’t take the bait.

“do you need me to take you to the hospital? call your gp?” straight to the point as always. you smile at him fondly.

“no, no i don’t. i’m okay, i promise.”

“you didn’t sound okay.”

“i meant to call my mum, adam. sorry i dialed the wrong number.”

“regardless,” he holds up a hand. “can you please talk to me. or talk to mat—”

“don’t.” the voice that comes out of you is stern. “he doesn’t want me or the baby. i will not let him talk me into an abortion.”

adam winces and rubs a hand over his face. perhaps that was harsh, you think, he’s not some evil villain. but none of it changes the outcome. in every single universe, you end up here—fresh off a panic attack in your living room, talking to your ex-boyfriend’s best friend.

“how did you know where i live?”

at that he looks a bit sheepish. “i asked you mum. not today!” he reassures hastily when your eyes widen. “don’t worry. i asked her a few days ago. i wanted to… i’ve been meaning to check up on you.”

“and you couldn’t call?” you smile at him wryly.

“no. i wanted to see you in person.”

“so you can report back to him?”

adam clicks his tongue and warmth fills your chest. he’s always been good to you, always been kind, and loved you like a little sister. you shouldn’t have cut him off like this.

“no,” he says. “so i could make sure you were okay.”

it’s a small mercy that the morning sickness eases a few days after that as your bump continues to grow. more often than not, you find yourself with a hand on your stomach, drawing small circles on it and humming to it. lately, you’ve also noticed the little flutters that linger long after you stop humming. your baby responding to you. showing you they’re there.

it’s not far before you approach the twenty week mark. the most important scan you’ll have throughout. you’ll find out the gender, you’ll find out if they’re healthy or not.

and each time you think about it, it’s like the weight of the entire world is on your shoulders.

the night before you contemplate calling your mum, nervous and panicked once again but it’s almost 11 pm. she would be deep asleep by now—she would be excited too. no need to put a damper on her mood.

then you wonder if calling adam is a good idea. but you quickly scrap it.

for the first time in months your finger hovers over the familiar name in your contacts. over the little heart that’s still next to his name that you never bothered to change.

what will he say if you called him now? will he even pick up?

are you ready enough to brave it?

the truth still remains. you want this baby, he doesn’t. the same impasse you were at months ago. if any of that had changed, he would have called you. he would have reached out… right?

so instead you do the second stupidest thing. you type up his name in google.

your stomach churns with nausea or anxiety or just impending doom while the webpage loads—slow, too slow for your liking. or maybe time has simply slowed down and you’re too much of a coward to really face the consequences of your own action.

the webpage loads. the frown on your face deepens.

nothing. rather, the last article written about him specifically is from two days after the tour ended. everything after that is either recycled news, or some silly quiz about the band. nothing about him. no pap photos, no social media activity. absolutely nothing to indicate he’s even left his house in the last few months.

you mind buzzes with all kinds of thoughts, swirls with wicked possibilities. you almost even text adam about it before the turning your phone off abruptly and chucking it to the other side of the bed.

no more temptation.

sleep is like a fickle friend—has been since the day you left the hotel room in tears. but you close your eyes and imagine your baby’s heart beating inside you in sync with yours. tomorrow, there will be a new recording to replace the older one. hopefully one that’s stronger. calmer.

when sleep drags you under around three in the morning, you dream of his hands—fingers gingerly touching your stomach, resting on all the spots that flutter with movement. gentle hands that massage your sore feet and work out the kinks in your back.

hands that you might never feel on your skin ever again.

the doctor smiles coyly and slides an envelope to your mother. it’s a little hush-hush secret, one she insisted on and begged till you relented. the gender reveal isn’t huge or flashy but you know there’s a cake waiting for you at home along with a few friends and family. and for the first time in months, you let the excitement of it wash over you.

the scan was perfect! and now you feel a bit bad for clutching your mum’s hand hard enough till she’d winced (even though she hid it quickly and smiled at you in encouragement). so now here you are, thanking the doctor and practically skipping out the room with your mum laughing in tow.

she looks lighter too, you realise, much more carefree as she gushes about her precious grandbaby and how excited she is to meet them.

“we have to buy onesies!” she squeals getting behind the wheel and you laugh.

“we will, mum, but they’re going to grow out of it in weeks so you can’t go crazy, okay?”

she dismisses this with a wave and a pfft and you can already imagine the mountain of clothes she’s going to buy over the next twenty weeks.

you nod off to the sound of your mum excitedly making plans for an elaborate baby shower, one that you’ll have to beg her to tone down, but her voice fades away soon. instead, you dream of him. your subconscious wonders what he would have been like today—maybe he’d cry out of excitement or being overwhelmed, maybe he would smile so wide his cheeks hurt. in some parallel universe the two of you would be in the baby aisle—hand in hand and cooing over tiny onesies.

in this universe, you jerk out of the daydream just as your mum parks in the driveway.

your friends and family don’t yell “surprise”, much to your relief. there are many hugs and congratulations. tears of happiness and jokes and then a delicious vanilla cake brought in front of you.

everyone waits eagerly. no one brings him up. not even you, as you sink the knife into it and cut a slice.

it’s pink. a gorgeous, pale pink. it’s a girl.

everyone cheers. your mum hugs you and you sniffle into her shoulder while laughing giddiy. a girl, your baby girl.

right then you know what you’re going to call her—you don’t need baby name lists on google or a hundred suggestions from your mother. you already know her name.

mia.

mine and mine alone.

blink and twenty weeks go down to fifteen and ten and then five. each day it seems like you only get bigger and bigger, impossibly so. your life is filled to the brim with baby stuff, inside and out. everywhere you look there’s either a pram or a crib or pregnancy books. every time you get one spare minute you’re reminded of the back aches and sore feet. the constant hunger that just does not seem to go away no matter how much you eat.

your mothers visits increase from only sundays to whole weekends to three days a week.

at first you protest—fuelled by hunger and hormones and mood swings. fuelled by the rage of a thousand burning stars as you stomp into the living room where she’s folding yet another batch of baby socks and blankets.

“you’re suffocating me!” you snap, already on the brink of tears while she looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.

“baby—”

“no! mum,” a deep breath and a few stray tears, “i’m not a baby. i’m having a baby for fucks sake.”

“language!” she scolds.

“stop it, just, please!” there’s not much you can do but stomp your foot like a petulant child. proving her point most likely. “stop acting like i need to be coddled and protected. just. stop!”

your mum looks speechless, too stunned to speak but the ball is rolling and now you cannot stop.

“i don’t need you here. i don’t need you acting like i would crumble and wither away without you. i don’t need you and i certainly don’t need him—fuck!” you gasp for a breath, choking mid-sentence.

the second those words spill out of you, you want to take them back but it’s too late. her eyes are already red-rimmed and glossy. one tear rolls down her cheek and that’s all it takes for you to break down completely.

“fuck!” you repeat. “i’m sorry, mum. i’m so sorry.” that’s the only thing you can chant until she chucks the clothes aside and wraps her arms around you, shushing you the best she can through her own tears.

for the first time in eight months you wonder about what if. and for the first time in eight months, you think about his words from that night.

maybe not for another year or two.

you’re closer now to the one year mark that you’re to that night. mia kicks your insides again—her own version of support or maybe it’s her doling out punishment for never introducing her to her dad. either way, it’s not helping. all it does is spread pain throughout your lower body as you hold onto your mum, rocking back and forth.

“it’s alright, sweetheart,” you mum whispers gently, kissing the crown of your head and cradling you like she used to when you were a kid. it makes your emotions worse. increases the ache tenfold.

“i miss him, mum,” you admit finally, in a voice so small that you might as well not have spoken. but she hears it anyway. she hears it but doesn’t interrupt. she lets you speak.

“every single day i wonder if he even gives a shit. or if he regrets leaving me, leaving us. i speak to adam and carly and i wonder if they ever tell him about me. i wonder if he even cares…”

you gulp down air, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your jumper and cuddling into her further.

“and after everything. i miss him more than anything in this world.”

there it is. the truth, finally out there, finally spilled after months of pretending to be cold and callous. you wait for her to speak, to say something that will dull the pain and release you from this torment but she never gets the chance.

because that is the moment your daughter decides to make her grand entrance.

it’s pain like you’ve never felt before.

pain and panic and unadulterated fear. she’s not supposed to be here yet. you’re only 35 weeks pregnant—nowhere near full term. what if this affects her negatively. you blame and blame—first yourself; you must have done something wrong, right? ate something wrong or not taken the right vitamins or slept the wrong fucking way. then you blame matty. if he was here, you would have never been this stressed and unhappy in the first place. everything would have been smooth-sailing.

and yet a small part of you yearns for him to be here. to brush your sweaty hair away from your forehead instead of your mother as the doctor yells at you to push.

it’s all too much, all too soon. this is not how it’s supposed to be. this is not how any of this is supposed to be.

the machines around you beep in a rhythm that’s all worng—it’s too loud and erratic and out of sync with the rest of the world. surely, that’s not how fast your heart’s beating. maybe the beeping is something else you’re unaware of. and yet your body feels hot and cold at the same time. too weak to move but pushing and contracting and tearing you apart from the inside. you’re vaguely aware of the screams that tear out of you, of gripping your mum’s hand so tightly that you worry, you’ve bruised it.

but she’s strong, stronger than you’ll ever be. she endures and passes along some of that strength to you.

“one more big push,” the doctor encourages. she’s a kind, middle-aged woman. probably someone who’s brought many babies into this world. she knows what she’s doing. but your body won’t cooperate.

all you feel is a bone deep exhaustion that tries to drag you under as your mother taps your cheek.

“a big push, baby,” she repeats. “one big push and her shoulders will be out.”

and that would almost be the end of it, right? so you nod with whatever’s left in you and breathe the way they taught you in birthing classes.

and that’s how it goes. inhale. hold. exhale. gather strength. push. all of it done to a constant stream of rather futile encouragements. until you feel like you’re bursting at the seams and coming undone. about to unravel any moment.

but then a tiny cry echoes around the room and the world comes to a standstill.

mia’s arrival changes everything in the blink of an eye.

you have no time left for self-pity; every waking moment is occupied with feedings and nappy changes and laundry. you sleep when she sleeps, you hold her close every chance you get. you sing her and cradle her and shower her with enough affection for two people. she has you and your mum. she doesn’t need anyone else.

slowly you let other friends and family visit—extremely selective and protective about who gets the priviledge but one afternoon when adam messages you know you can’t deny that to him. even when you’ve tried to keep him, and all of them by entension, at bay.

in another universe, she would have been his goddaughter. you’re sure of it.

so you let him and carly and their son visit, let them hold her and gush over her. carly instantly falls in love with her, cradling her close and trying to make her smile even though she’s just woken up. mia babbles at her and grabs her shiny necklace.

you watch them transfixed, giggling at carly’s squeals and coos until adam asks if he could speak to you alone.

“i don’t want to step over a boundary,” he starts and you know what’s coming but you let him continue. “have you thought about letting him know? that she’s already here…”

“i…” in all honesty, you had wondered if you should call him and let him know. but what if he still doesn’t care. “i didn’t. i couldn’t.”

adam’s face softens. “he’s back in london, you know? you could. you could try.”

that piques your interest. you hadn’t knows he’d left in the first place. “he’s back?”

adam takes a deep breath, eyes darting slightly and lingering on his wife as if he’s trying to steel himself. as if he has some news he’d rather not share. in the end however, maybe he chooses not to.

“yes, he’s back,” he says, trying and failing not to sound cagey. “he wasn’t until now. but if you would talk to him… just, i think you should talk to him.”

for the rest of their visit, his words linger in your mind. they stay even after the hanns leaving, promising another visit whenever you’re free next and you tell them they’re welcome any time. this time, you even mean it from the bottom of your heart.

but adam’s words come back to haunt you day after day as mia continues to grow. day after day you watch her learn about new things and figure out new stuff around her.

matty should be here. if not for him then for her. and once again you wonder about calling him.

one last chance. if he ignores this then he loses the right to his daughter forever.

so one tuesday morning, you gather the courage. you strap your baby to your chest and go downstairs to make some pancakes.

“after breakfast, darling,” you tell her, even though those words aren’t meant for her. “after breakfast we’ll call him again. maybe he will pick up. maybe he won’t.”

mia babbles when you kiss her head and flip a pancake, ignoring the worry that settles in the pit of your stomach. you’re so focused on the task at hand (rather, at ignoring the thoughts of impending doom) that you almost miss the doorbell that rings once and then again.

so focused that you have to scramble to wash your hands and rush to the door. maybe it’s your mum again, even though she wasn’t supposed to come today. it won’t be her first surprise visit, though. she misses her granddaughter far too much for that.

in a hurry you open the door, without even thinking about it twice. without even bothering to unstrap your daughter from your chest.

matty’s familiar face comes into view and for the second time in three months, the world comes to a standstill.

lemme know what you think <33

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#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy imagine #matty healy angst #the 1975 fic #angst #minors do not interact #read the cws pls!!!#ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #it's very unlikely i will ever write anything like this again #so oh well here we go #matty x you #matty x reader

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