#Anyway it’s just yeah. Watching the news. We used to live there!

[cherry-pop-elf]

Follow My Lead

Curly x Disabled!Reader

Can be read as platonic

AN: Purely self indulgent. I’m suffering extreme disability issues do to the change in weather and it’s very painful and exhausting. So here we are. Friendly reminder of disability’s existing and lives can still be lived. Thank you

SUM: You were returning to the Physical Therapy center for your weekly appointment. As you enter the designated gym, with its nurses, you noticed someone new. New people in the waiting room, and new people in the gym. Wonder who that new nurse is to…

Warnings: Disabilities, medical discussion, reader’s disabilities are vague but will have issues that are common in the disability community, PTSD, Trauma, Everyone lives except Jimmy, lots of medical discussion, so much trauma Jesus Christ

“Just wait for a few minutes and we can call you back.” The woman would tell you. You would give a nod and returned to your seat in the waiting room. Right next to quite the chipper fellow. With floral attire. There with a much older man. Perhaps his father?

“Hi-!” The floral guy would say, before the older man nudged him. Telling him not to bother the other people here at the gym here. You didn’t mind. People can make the atmosphere here so depressing sometimes. It’s nice to have some sunshine.

“Hello!” You returned, meeting his energy. That had him just beaming.

“You two are new here, aren’t you? First time here?” You asked, as the floral man nodded. The older just let the younger do all the talking. The floral one seemed the social butterfly anyway.

“Yeah. It’s not for us though. It’s for our friend Curly. And also Anya! She’s a nurse. Since she’s a nurse she’s helping him with the other like physical therapists here. He really needs a-lot of extra help. His arms and legs are missing, eye is missing, had so many skin graphs. He’s been through A LOT. So we’re here for moral support.” He explained to you, and you would listen.

Damn that Curly really went through alot. Sounded like he lost the limbs then actually was without them earlier in life. He’s going to have a long journey ahead of himself.

“Swansea here is also helping install stuff at Curly’s place to make it easier to move around in. Like railings, changing door knobs, stuff like that! He’s got prosthetics he’s still getting used to, but he also uses a wheelchair when they make his muscles ache too much.” He would ramble on, and you happily listened.

It was so nice to have someone be so positive. Many able bodied people just treat disabled situations with such mourning and sadness. It was refreshing to have someone have a positive outlook. To be excited to help compared to just mourning and worrying.

“You can come back when you are ready-!” A physical therapist would call for you. As you went to leave, the floral man was quick to call out.

“Oh! I’m Daisuke!”

“Well hello Daisuke. Please talking to you-!” You would wave, before heading back to the gym area with everyone else.

Typically most physical gyms would have a designated nurse for each person, that way you can be watched carefully and monitored for improvement. This gym, however, allowed that people who had progressed to a certain level can work out independently with the gear offered here. As a means to allow more independence, and for them to improve or care for their health by their own speed.

It seems like that Curly guy won’t reach that milestone for ages.

He was very easy to notice amongst the often elderly folks there. The rare younger type, but often it’s from some kind of long turn injury or recovery of surgery.

There you would see a man using the standing bars. Metal bars on each side, and a person would walk through the middle. Gave them the ability to use their arms to keep support instead of using all their weight on their legs.

Just like Daisuke said he was in pretty rough shape. His arms had prosthetics and same for his legs. A eye patch covered his missing eye, and much of his skin still was incredibly rough.

Despite it all, he’s trying. He’s shakily walking through, with his arms on the metal, and he’s taking it step by step. Still trying to adjust to having somewhat of limbs again.

Next to him was a kind looking woman. Her eyes looked like they had seen too much, but her smile said she is willing to keep on living. To spite the world she will be happy.

“There you go Curly. You are doing a good job. Just take it very slow. There’s no need to rush. You will be able to do more once you adjust. How about you finish this walk and we can sit down. Then we can try and use your arms for a while. Legs are the most exhausting.” She would say to him.

She had such a warmth in her voice. A nurse that everyone wished they had after any life threatening event. She was perfect for a physical therapist.

“Shit shit shit-!” He would start to panic, and he would end up slipping. She was quicker though. She managed to grab him by his chest, as his limbs went limp. Just dangling like a doll. He looked so humiliated.

Maybe he needed a friend.

“Hi! I heard you two are new here. That guy in the waiting room, Daisuke, told me a little about you two. Do you need help with like, oh I don’t know, anything? I’ve been coming here for a while now. If you want anyway.” You would offer, as Anya would help him stand back on his bionic feet again.

“Oh that is very kind of you. I think we are alright, for the time being. But thank you so much.” She was so gentle with her words. Clearly each word was truly kindness, and not just words to push someone away.

“I wouldn’t mind it. I….I have no idea what I’m doing.” Curly would admit, as there was still shame in his expression. As if he felt unworthy to be there. To be helped at all. That he just deserved the worse.

Very relatable.

“Oh sure! Oh oh! Maybe I can be on the other side of the bar. You can place your hands on my shoulder and your other arm on hers. We will hold you up ourselves so when you slip you don’t fall.” You offered, as you stepped into position.

Anya would do the same, and made sure there was a hand on his back and one on his chest. To help him keep himself straight, and if he slipped you both can push him back into place.

“Deep breaths Curly. You got this. You are almost to the other side.” Anya reassured, as you smiled as well. Suppose seeing you both trying so hard helped him gain the motivation to push through.

Each step was heavy, slow, and frustrated. He was trying his best, but sometimes his muscle spasms kicked in and his leg would just move the wrong way. You could relate to that. Muscle spasms were so annoying to deal with. Especially in public. People think you are on some kind of drug and question you. Annoying as hell.

It was slow, but you didn’t care. He needed a little extra help and you figured you could offer it. Make things just a little easier for him. It’s rough. You know it so well.

He finally reached the other end, and Anya couldn’t help but clap and beam. So proud of him. So damn happy he did it. Course when she let go he ended up falling into you, but you managed to help him get back up again.

“Sorry! Just you did it! Before you know it you’ll be running and jumping. You’ll be back to skiing in no time.” She would encourage, before bringing the wheelchair over. The two of you helping him sit in it. Such a relief.

“You ski?” You asked, as Anya would help take his legs off. Let him breathe for a while. While she did that, he gave a small nod.

“Before all….this….I used to really be quite the athlete. I loved winter sports. If it was in the snow I was there. Snowboarding, Skiing, ice skating, ice climbing, I used to do it all. Even was a body builder. To think I used to do so much…..” He sighed, as he looked over at his arms. Looking at what was once muscle and bone. Now just metal and specialized plastic.

“Hey….I know you’ve been told this a million times, so I’ll just say it from a person that also doesn’t have the best mobility either. You’ll have good days and bad days. Some more extreme than others. It’s gonna to fucking suck. It’s gonna hurt. It’s going to be exhausting. You’ll have days wondering why you should even stay alive. But you’ll also have days where you can accomplish simple things like making your own dinner. Taking out the trash. Fold some laundry. You’ll get there. It’s gonna suck but you’ll reach it.”

Having someone keep it blunt with him seemed to be what he needed to hear. Was like he learned a mistake about keeping things to sweet. That sometimes you need a reality check.

“Thank you….I think it was very important for me to hear that. Thank you.” He would do his best to smile at you, but the nerves in his face were rather damaged. You wouldn’t be surprised if he needed some more surgery there to.

He’s still going to go through so much, but maybe having someone who can genuinely relate to it all could help.

“Hey, I come here every Saturday. That way when I’m painfully exhausted from it I can just relax and have Sunday be a complete recover day.” You said, as you walked with him as Anya rolled him over to a spot to not bother people. She would soon sit across from him, with a small ball, and the two of them would try and play simple catch with it. Both to help with his arms and his new adjustment with a single eye.

“Think that sounds like the best plan for me right now as well…” He nodded, as that was the way you two could agree on it.

He would do his best to play catch with her, but it kept falling in his lap. His limbs just not moving quite fast enough, and his send of direction never quite there. Was so frustrating, and you understood it.

“Said a million times, I know, but take it from me. You’ll genuinely get there. But it will take a while. Not days. Not weeks. Months if you keep at it. But it’ll get there.” You reassured, as you stepped away. Off to do your own exercises for your own issues.

Was a peaceful gym day like that. Spending what spoons you had to take care of yourself. Every now and again, when taking a breather, you looked over to him. Seeing Anya help him get used to his limbs. Small things like picking up something, catching, even paddy cake. Taking it slow for him.

Once you ran out of energy you would kinda hang out with them.

You didn’t ask him how he ended up like that, you just let yourself breathe. Breathe as he spoke what he wanted to speak about. Same for her.

From what little pieces you could pick out from them it sounded like they were victims of a ship crash. No wonder he ended up so fucked up. That fact he’s alive at all is insane to you. Anya deserved way more credit.

There also seemed to be a shared enemy between them. When a person called over for a therapist, named Jimmy, the way they flinched and looked around like someone started unloading a gun. Whoever this Jimmy was sure made his mark on them.

Once he finally couldn’t go on any longer she would take the arms off as well. Letting what was left of his limbs breathe. He was so exhausted, but he seemed happy. Happy to have made some kind of progress, and even happier he had someone to talk to through it.

“I’ll see you next Saturday.” You smiled, and waved, as you started to leave. He gave a wave of his own, before Daisuke and Swansea returned to him. There to carry his prosthetics and be his cheerleaders.

You were happy for him. He deserved a support network.

He deserved to smile again.

You just knew he did.

[camillomea]

Child of crime alley 4- telepathy

Here is the new chapter, I hope you like it. Enjoy reading. Write your thoughts in the comments. I am always open to suggestions and criticisms.

Tim looked at Bruce. Bruce was examining him and asked, "Are you cold?" Tim said, "I'm fine." With a flat expression, Tim said, "I understand." Bruce said quietly. Tim thought, "What does he want?" They were all really weird lately, he was tired of dealing with it. He took his computer out of his bag, it was probably expired, but he didn't want to spend unnecessary money, he definitely didn't have enough money for that, he started to turn on his computer, he leaned back while waiting for it to turn on silently. Bruce was watching him. "Have you eaten?" he asked. Tim said, "Yes, I ate before I came." Bruce nodded.

Jason came with two mugs in my hands. "Here's some tea. It'll help you warm up." Tim said, "Thanks Hood," he said, taking the mug. Jason's eye twitched, but he didn't comment on the Hood. He stuck his head out from Tim's side and looked at what he was doing. He frowned at his computer. When Tim got too close to him, he looked at him as if he was asking. Jason asked, "Can you look at something for me later?" Tim asked, "What is it?" Jason said, “It’s about a case.” Tim said, “Okay. I’ll take a look before I get to work.” Jason said, “Thank you, Little Bird.” Tim nodded silently and drank his tea. Jason had pulled up a chair for himself and sat down. He glared at Bruce before he started to mind his own business. Bruce said, “What happened?” telepathically. Jason said, “Bird and I had a long talk today.” Bruce said, “About what?” telepathically. Jason said, “I wonder what it’s about.” YOU THINK. Bruce flinched and looked away. Jason said, “We need to talk. But we’ll do it after Bird gets back to where he lives.” telepathically. Bruce nodded silently. Jason said, “The rose in my palm turned color after I made contact with him.” telepathically. Bruce’s eyes widened. “No, no, that can’t be impossible. If it was, I would know. We would know. It’s impossible,” he said telepathically. Jason said, “That’s what happened. And you’re too stupid a jerk to realize it,” he said telepathically, angrily. Bruce flinched. Tim looked at them staring at each other. “Umm, is something wrong?” he asked nervously. Jason said, “Oh no, Bird. It’s nothing. He was just asking me something.” Tim blinked. “What do you mean?” he asked. Jason froze. “Little Bird, you know about soulmates, right?” he asked. Tim said, “Well, I heard,” he said, tilting his head. Jason said, “The archetype is usually your parent’s bond. Don’t you have any of those?” Tim shrugged. “I’d be surprised if I did. They’re not my family, after all. There’s a reason I don’t have the Drake surname,” he said blankly. Jason’s eye twitched. “And what’s that?” he asked. Tim turned back to his computer and focused on his computer. “They left me when I was 11 and fled the country. They even took their last name off my ID. I guess my only regret was not being able to go back into that house one last time and get my things,” he muttered. Jason’s eyes flashed green with anger. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Bruce said, “Timmy, are you telling us that your parents abandoned you and left you on the street with nothing?” Tim shrugged, “Yeah. Apparently they got into some kind of trouble and ran away. Not that they were home before, they had been traveling abroad for archaeological digs since I was 4. I didn’t even have a babysitter after I was 6. Apparently I had grown up enough. Anyway, when I was 11 and left on my own, it worked out for me. I was experienced enough to take care of myself,” he said. He flinched when he heard a thud. Jason had broken the glass in his hand in anger. When he saw Tim’s reaction, he asked, “Sorry Little Bird, my hand slipped. It didn’t come to you, did it?” Tim shook his head. “Are you okay, Hood?” Jason said, “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s okay, I didn’t get burned,” Tim said, nodding. Jason cleaned himself up, then said, “Back to the topic. Soulmates have a telepathic connection, so I can curse Bruce’s stupidity without putting money in the swear jar.” Tim laughed lightly. Then he asked, “Oh, so you were talking that way?” Jason said, “Yeah.” Tim mumbled, “Oh, I see.” Jason smiled, but telepathically shouted—HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE? Bruce looked away. Tim was intrigued by what he was saying, but didn’t comment. He didn’t have a soul mate, after all, and probably never would. So he focused on the task at hand.

[rotzaprachim]

one of the things I think a lot of goyim esp western based don’t clock about Jews is that a lot of the places we lived before mass immigration to the US&west and the creation of the state of Israel not only often pretty violently killed or expelled us, but were and are sights of continual warfare and dislocation that was and continued to be fucked up by external and internal conflict, by the direct actions of the British ottoman French American and Russian imperialisms….. Jews only became a “western” people through the acts of violent dislocations from our homelands we’d often lived in for hundreds and thousands of years.

We lived in Afghanistan. We lived in Yemen. We lived in Iraq. We lived in Serbia. We lived in Bosnia & Herzegovina. We lived in Belarus. We lived in Ethiopia. We lived in Algeria. We lived in Morocco. We lived in Syria. We lived in Iran. We lived in Kurdistan. And we lived in Ukraine. We often have complicated histories with these places, varying extents to which we identified with them or with the nationalisms that drew their borders, but we lived there, and in so many ways, from our language to stories to food, we carry them with us and are hurt by the loss of their memory in our lives, pushed into the diaspora of the diaspora. None of this justifies the often profoundly violent antisemitisms we found there, nor should it allow for simple rounds of flag waving - our communities were almost always older than the modern states, and many institutionalized Jewishness as something irreconcilable from the modern National Citizen. But we lived there. Inextricably we are a part of their history, just as they are a part of us.

Any simplistic takes about how Israeli jews should just LEAVE AND GO HOME without understanding the contexts of why that isn’t possible not only whitewashes histories of violent antisemitism but also the CURRENT ongoing realities in many of the countries we lived in, and it comes off not only as callous to Jews but to the people who continue to live there, after our links were severed. Any antizionism that doesn’t seriously reckon with these histories is incomplete. “Why don’t you go back to where you came from?” The American goy asks. I think of my friends and community. To Odessa? Or to Baghdad? To Aleppo? Or to Herat? YOU TELL ME.

[resident-rats]

THERES A NEW CAT IN MY NEIGHBOURHOOD!!!!

[neverendingford]

.

[todayisafridaynight]

Prior to sending the ask I was just guessing what matrophobia meant based on the root words but I looked it up after and went ohhhh and then you confirmed that extra dimension to it and I went OHHHHH

I think that gets to the heart of what I've been thinking about, that bittersweetness, because despite his best efforts... of course he could never end up anything like Yoko, but he still ended up with an abusive "household." Because in addition to Masato ending up how he did, he has to see those same situations play out, feel that same tension in the air between Jo and Ichi, over and over for almost a decade straight.

Like, in a way, he's forced to put himself in Toshio's shoes when that happens. He can't really get through to Jo, in the same way Toshio can't get through to Yoko, but he can try to step in before lasting damage is done, and he can try to make it bearable for his son. You know. Have a nice talk. Treat him to Peking duck. I'm SO normal about the (drawn-out) parallels of those scenes

So then with Jo... he kind of does become his father, even if he never wanted to (no one wants to), both through his ruinous neglect of Masato at birth and through how he comes to look at discipline and corporal punishment. I'm sure it's not lost on him in Masato's case (owww), but with Ichi, it's not like he has any reason to see him as his son... But How Far Can That Take You.

Because it's like, at the start, he was openly beating Ichi in front of Arakawa and not letting up much when Arakawa intervened. But then you have The Yubitsume Scene and Arakawa walking in on All That and... he looks sorry. Sorry for being caught, probably, but sorry nonetheless. Like... what changed between then and now... have you two had a Heartfelt Conversation... do you know where Arakawa got that scar... are you unable to change your "nature" even then...

Side note bro your SHOE is the size of his TORSO I promise you do not need to kick him with all the strength you've got like what the hell is this 😭😭😭

BUT ALL THAT ASIDE thank you so much for delving into the symbolism! Wonderful read. I don't really have an eye for symbolism, so that makes it all the more enjoyable to revisit the comic and everything with what you've gone into. I think a lot of your experiences resonate with mine, so conversely I'm not sure what others would take away from it, BUT I think there's enough there that's so insightful and evocative that it's effective without personal experience. I don't think there's anything I could add, so. Yeah. For once I am happy to sit back and take it all in... On that note, definitely looking forward to your next comic!

AUUUGH YEAAAH YEAHEYA HYEAH THAT EXACTLY OUUUGH OWIEE OWW.....

that's literally it though. like no extra notes. except The Obligatory Few i dont think it was an accident that arakawa is set up as the beginning of the game's 'protagonist' and planting that 'troubled family' taste first thing in our mind. i remember how i felt when i first saw arakawa walk in on jo and ichi and then arakawa taking ichi out for dinner i was just like🧍‍♂️Girl No The Cycle.... It's Continuing...... //screams// LIKE UGH IT WAS SO GOOD BUT ALSO OWWW STOPPP and then on the REPLAY it just hurts more cause with the added context to jo's character its like Oh No...... You're Your Father's Son....

and youre right: jo doesn't have an implicit reason to see how he treats ichi is wrong, hence he similarly doesnt have any reason to stop- not unless arakawa intervenes of course (and i will stand outside my window thinking of the possibility arakawa ever did try to have A Conversation with jo... arms folded behind my back and all like Man™️....)

oh but yeah, absolutely no problem ! im lowkey of an egotist so i do like to talk bout the stuff i make. More In Depth (though thats obvious considering the fuckin essays in the tags i always leave ☠️☠️) gerjlgaELKjg. so i was happy to explain ♪(´▽｀) !! what i like about symbolism is that it can be intentional or not, and the fun is always finding it just by chance. i cant explain it properly, but i just think its a neat 'seasoning' of sorts to drawings (❁´◡`❁)

[thethingything]

today's Ant System nonsense is: waking up, going downstairs, and almost immeduately having to explain to our mum that her boyfriend is probably a system. we've been awake for 3 hours and most of that has been spent describing system experiences while our mum goes "oh my god he experiences that constantly" or "that explains so many things"

[cherrygirlfriend]

bsf!rafe fingering reader while they're watching a movie with friends

warning: smut!! MDNI, exhibitionism kinda i currently have acrylics so if i get any typos i'm sorry i'm practicing doing nails ... anyway sorry bsf!rafe lovers he's gonna be going through the wringer ... this is not a threat, but a promise.

movie nights were nothing new for you and rafe, having been a wednesday night tradition ever since you were both in middle school, but ever since you had started hooking up, it mostly turned into you two making out and eventually fucking while the movie just played in the background.

every time, you had told yourself that you two would just watch a movie, maybe cuddle a little, but as soon as rafe brought his large hand to your thigh, holding it in his palm, so close to your pussy that it usually took about fifteen minutes until your shirt was on the floor as you ground yourself against rafe's bulge.

and of course, on the wednesday when you wake up so horny even using your vibrator doesn't help, when you go through the day just antsy to get to have rafe all to yourself, to ride his cock until you're sore, of course that's the day when fucking topper and kelce decide to join, topper complaining about something sarah had done again.

a blanket laid on your lap as you bit on your nail, the throbbing in your cunt so intense you couldn't even focus on the movie playing on the large tv in rafe's living room, the smell of weed wafting in the air as topper took another hit from his bong.

you turned to look at rafe, the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed a large swig from his beer, his large hand at the neck of the bottle making you wish it was your neck it was around while he fucked into you ruthlessly, pounding into you from behind, mumbling obscenities under his-

you clear your throat, trying to rid yourself of the filthy thoughts in your head pressing your legs together for some sort of relief, feeling a wet patch on your panties. rafe looked at you with furrowed brows, scooting closer to you. "you alright?" he asked quietly, not wanting the other boys to pay attention to you two.

"yeah..." you mumble weakly, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, the sight making rafe chuckle under his breath; he knew what was going on.

he moved some of the blanket on your lap to cover his lap, leaning closer to your ear, "don't tell me you're horny." he whispered with a tsk, your eyes widening, wondering how the hell he knew. he tugged a strand of your hair behind your ear, before glancing over at topper and kelce, the two boys too high to notice anything was going on. "i know your body like the back of my hand, baby." he said, pressing his hand on your thigh, under the hem of your dress. "plus, you only wear dresses when you want me to have easy access."

his hand slowly wandered closer to the edge of your panties, your legs automatically opening, and when he finally touched your core through your panties, he let out a dry chuckle, feeling the wet patch on the lacy panties rafe himself had bought you.

"r-rafe..." you whispered softly, but rafe simply turned back to the tv as his pointer finger and middle finger began rubbing your clit over the damp fabric of your panties, not enough to make you cum, but enough to keep you on edge.

"shhh, we don't wanna make a scene." rafe whispered as he turned to glance at you with an almost sadistic smile. the more he rubbed you over your soaking panties, the more your legs inched apart further, your aching cunt just begging to be filled with his cock, having grown so used to being stretched out, the thought making you whimper. "you want me to stop?" he looked at you warningly as you let out the noise, and you shook your head, pressing your lips closed. "good girl."

he let his hand slide under the lace of your panties, finally rubbing your clit directly, the sudden new sensation causing your back to arch off the couch, a small moan leaving your lips before you covered it up with a cough, but it caused topper to glance over, a confused look on his face. "you good?"

"y-yeah," you muttered, "i think i'm getting sick. i've been feeling weird all day." topper simply nodded at your answer, before taking the bong from kelce, taking another hit. rafe let out a small chuckle as you stared daggers at him in embarrassment, but your disdain was quickly forgotten as he continued his ministrations, his fingers rubbing your clit with more pressure, the tips of his other fingers brushing against the folds of your pussy with every move he made.

you could feel the climax building, the way the coil in your stomach grew tighter and tighter. suddenly, your legs shook, your toes curling as an intense orgasm crashed through your body, your hips bucking, your back arching, trying to get closer to the hand that was wreaking havoc on your clit.

rafe used your orgasm as an opportunity to shove his hand higher, feeling your wetness drip onto his fingers as he began to rub at your entrance, his thumb moving to your clit, the friction driving you wild.

topper and kelce were still too high to notice anything, the two boys now debating which superhero on the movie was stronger, a conversation you couldn't care less about, your mind only focused on rafe's hand, on the way your body was responding to his touch as he plunged his fingers into you, your pussy clenching around his digits due to your orgasm.

when you were finally getting down from your orgasm, he pulled his hands away with a cocky smirk, subtly cleaning his fingers with his mouth. he was about to whisper something to you, but you were both pulled out from your reverie when his phone started ringing on the table, and even though you only got a glance at the screen, you knew it was sofia.

rafe rose to his feet, taking his phone and going into the other room, and suddenly all the euphoria your orgasm had brought you was gone.

[princessbrunette]

babydaddy!rafe was doing one of his weekly visits.

he was on the phone when he walked in like he owned the place, because well — technically he did. he’d practically handed you one of his families properties the second you got pregnant and refused to live at the ever dysfunctional tanny hill. he figured it was an investment, he was certain it wouldn’t be long before he was living there with you too anyway. you however, was making that plan very hard to come to light.

“just have my shit, alright? you— you know i could have someone else do your job in a second alright so, prove your worth to me… okay listen i gotta go— at my gir— uh, at my fuckin’… the mother of my daughters house. so i gotta go. email me.” he’s got the phone pressed to his ear between his cheek and shoulder as he counts a wad of money, almost in a caricature of himself. you bite your lip, awaiting him to finish up as you lead him to your room where your baby had just fallen asleep.

“hey.” he drawls with a small smile as he addresses you, pressing the cash into your hand. he did this every week, and at first you refused it — but he’d just transfer it to you on your bank app, not taking no for an answer, so you gave up fighting.

“hi.” your fingers brush his as you take it from him. “i tried to keep her awake to see you, im sorry. she had a late night.” you inform apologetically in a hushed tone, watching her father scroll over with a shrug, brushing a gentle hand over her tiny head, bending over to press a kiss to her cheek. she stirs but doesn’t awaken, the familiar touch and smell of her father not disturbing enough to remove her from her sleep, at peace. this makes your heart ache. your little girl knew her dad too well.

“yeah, that’s alright.” he stands back up, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looks around the bedroom. you were always doing something new with the way you decorated, so he glances around — looking for something to use to converse with you. his face falls as his eyes land on something. now this, wasn’t the type of conversation he was looking for.

“who’s uh, who’s jacket is that?” he scratches his cheek, already holding that accusatory look in his gaze as he nods towards your vanity chair.

you turn, staring at the jacket, and at first your mind blanks. there was a few seconds where you did actually have no idea. all you knew, was that it was obviously a man’s jacket, hung almost domestically on the back of your chair like it was apart of the decor. rafe had already decided it looked too comfortable there.

“uh…” you frown, and when he walks over and plucks it up between his fingers — tossing it demonstratively onto the bed without a word. when you get a good look at it, your face suddenly lights up in recognition. like you said, the baby didn’t sleep too well last night — meaning you didn’t sleep too well. you were a little slower than usual.

“oh! its the electricians. yeah, it was hot so i took his jacket for him. he must’ve left… it.” your voice trails off when you see the look on rafe’s face. he’s squinting out a glare of disbelief, releasing a scoff when you finish talking.

“you really expect me to buy that line of shit? the electrician?” he drawls, stepping towards you.

“why would i lie? plus we — we aren’t even together—”

“hey.” he interrupts and your eyes skip towards your sleeping baby in the cot and your breath hitches.

“rafe not here, c’mon she’s asleep i don’t want her to hear us like this.” you plead and he licks his lips, glancing round at the cot before nodding towards the door, lugging his big body into the hallway. you sigh, checking on your girl before following him out, crossing your arms. “rafe.”

“so i pay for this house, i bring you money every week, and you got the nerve to have other guys in here? around my little girl? around you?” he tilts his head, crowding your space, voice more hushed now. you hate how your body reacts to him, instantly heating a little. as toxic as it was, hearing him act territorial told you that he still cared immensely and wouldn’t suddenly get bored and leave you to your own devices. your lashes flutter a little as you exhale and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “you do it to make me jealous? huh? ‘cos i can’t — i can’t imagine that there’s anyone out there that’s lookin’ after you like i am— alright, who’s gonna pay those fuckin’ bills for you hm?” he takes a step closer and your eyes practically glaze over when your bodies brush one another. he takes the incentive to reach forward and put his hand up your silky night gown, cupping your cunt. of course, no panties. “whos gonna fuck that needy lil’ pussy if it’s not me? huh? nah really, tell me?” he tilts his head, talking all low right in your ear making you mewl.

“it really was the electricians jacket!” you squeak, gripping his shirt in your clenched fists. you were so pent up.

“you swear?” he licks his lips, eyes wide as they stare into your own.

“on my life, rafe.” you breathe desperately, and he knew you wouldn’t ever swear on your life if you didn’t mean it. it was just the kind of person you were. he takes his hands off you, holding them up as he licks his lips, eyeing you over.

“alright… a’ight i’m sorry. just had a long day.” he apologises, seeming like he’s taking a moment to catch his breath. you continue to stare, thighs subtly shifting together. “you got that baby monitor?” he blinks.

you nod frantically, knowing it was turned on most times. rafe rubs at his jawline, looking around before nodding in the direction of the living room. “right. okay… go lay down on that couch. s’clear you need something from me.” he commands with no room for argument before sauntering off ahead, adjusting himself in his pants.

[norrizzandpia]

The Video (Part 2) (LN4)

Summary: They’ve taken leaked videos to a whole new level.

Warnings: its a sex tape so that, sexual conversations, language, explicit

Note: when i was trying to come up with a part 2 for the video i literally couldnt think of anything until i was half asleep and this came to me and i was like THATS IT 🤓☝🏻(part 1 is here)

TWITTER

mclarensgirly woke up today and saw “lando norris y/n y/l/n sex tape” trending and thought it was a joke so i clicked on it and GOOD GOD IT WAS NOT A JOKE

- ln4andop81 my jaw DROPPED when it surfaced

- mclarenfan22 anybody watch it??

- mclarensgirly yeah ofc who do you think i am

- ln4andop81 YES.

- f1fan2 you bet your ass i grabbed my popcorn and STUDIED that vid

- mclarensgirly i had an idea lando was dirty but BROOOOOOO

- ln4andop81 its even hotter that the camera isnt propped up somewhere its literally being filmed by lando as he goes in from the back

- f1fan2 I LITERALLY STILL CANT WRAP MY HEAD AROUND IT LIKE HIS VOICE WAS SO CLOSE TO THE MICROPHONE AND YOU COULD HEAR ALL HIS MOANS AND THE SHIT HE WAS SAYING TO HER

- mclarenfan22 “you like being fucked from behind baby?” I CEASED TO EXIST.

- ln4andop81 WHEN HE WENT FASTER AND SAID “fuck baby so tight” 😩😩😩

- f1fan2 the way he gripped her hips so he could go harder>>>>

- mclarenfan22 this video has literally altered my brain chemistry.

—

y/nnn yeah ofc we have sex… look at him.

Comments:

danielricciardo HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

- landonorris shut tf up

- y/nnn let him laugh its fine im getting good dick

- danielricciardo im no longer laughing.

mclarenfan22 SHES SO REAL OMFG

Landos-lover1 slut behavior

- y/nnn stalker behavior babes, youre not his lover, i am 💋

- mclarensgirly oh how i wish to be as unbothered as her

- f1fan2 SHUT. DOWN.

landonorris this was not the planned statement we talked abt 🥲

- y/nnn planned statement my ass we were having good sex let them wish they were us

- ln4andop81 she understands the lando girlies to a level that makes me believe she once was one of us too

- y/nnn OH HELL YEAH I WAS DONT GET IT TWISTED HE WAS MY CELEB CRUSH FOR YEARS BEFORE WE STARTED DATING

- ln4andop81 BRUHHHHHH YOU MANIFESTED IT I ENVY YOU

- y/nnn THANK YOU THANK YOU I DID MY BEST

- ln4andop81 YEAH AND NOW YOURE HAVING GREAT SEX AND RUBBING IT IN EVERYONES FACES

- y/nnn THAT TRULY WAS THE GOAL.

- landonorris what just happened

—

landonorris apparently the statement never mattered anyway so basically i love my girlfriend and that video was supposed to be kept between us but honestly now all yall bitches know im good in bed SO THE NICKNAME NORIZZ BETTER BE PUT. DOWN.

Comments:

carlossainz norizz will never die.

- danielricciardo norizz lives on.

- oscarpiastri norizz forevermore.

- landonorris i hate you

- y/nnn its ok baby they didnt see the tape so they dont understand

- landonorris well now they need to watch it to understand im sick AND TIRED of this

- oscarpiastri ARE YOU STUPID DID YOU JUST ASK ME TO WATCH YOUR SEX TAPE

- danielricciardo lando there is a target on your back.

- carlossainz im gonna pretend like i dont even know who you are

- y/nnn what an overwhelming no!

- landonorris 😒😒

oscarandlando4ever norizz the nickname was forgotten the first time around when the grinding vid surfaced

- f1fan2 yeah they went in for the overkill this time

mclarenfan34 yeah we def KNOW youre good in bed now dw

- mclarenfan22 “do you like it when i make your eyes roll back my love?” PROVED THAT.

- mclarensgirly “ill never get over the feeling of you fuck baby” 🤭🤭🤭

- f1fan2 *she moans his name* “yes y/n say my name baby let everyone know who makes you feel this good” I HAD TO TAKE A BREATHER

- mclarensgirly “good girl” and “youre taking me so well” HAD ME DRY HEAVING.

- ln4andop81 no but the best part of the entire vid was when she came and he moaned “yes baby ill never get tired of the feeling of you cumming around my dick like a good girl”

- y/nnn im a lucky girl ‼️

—

TWITTER

mclarensgirly one month since the sex tape leaked and we FINALLY get the info from lando on HOW it got leaked

- mclarensgirly in an interview with lissie he says, “it was actually my fault. There’s a, uh, folder, if you will, on my laptop that has videos and pictures of that category which we have accumulated in the years we’ve been together. Well, anyway, i was emailing with a fan about her transaction with quadrant merch. It’s a long story but her order had been so screwed up that i had to step in and see it out myself, but, nonetheless, i was trying to attach her old receipt and new receipt to the email, but, because it was 2 AM and I was exhausted, I didn’t realize I went into me and y/n’s folder, didn’t realize I clicked and attached that video. By the time I realized what I had done, the email had already been sent. The fan never emailed me back to get her merchandise, but the next morning we [y/n and him] woke up to it being plastered on all platforms.”

- mclarensgirly he later goes on to say, “No, we weren’t that mad. I mean, yes, we were mad the fan had leaked it, but we weren’t upset it was out there. You can see us make jokes about it on our social medias. We’ve made sex jokes before and we had that other video leak a few months back, so it isn’t a shocker or touchy subject with our fans that we have sex. Yeah, the video was a lot and I’m sure made people uncomfortable, I’m sorry for that, but, at the end of the day, it’s a natural, healthy part of a relationship and we didn’t feel the need to try and cover it up.”

- ln4andop81 YOURE FORGETTING MY FAVORITE QUOTE FROM THE ENTIRE INTERVIEW WHEN HE SAYS “we have great sex! We have a great sex life! And if people know that I’m more than capable of satisfying my girlfriend in bed, then so fucking be it. Neither of us are complaining.”

—

TWITTER

landonorris 2 videos leaked, nervous the others will too

- y/nnn put the GODDAMN folder on a flashdrive and give it to me PLZ. i will keep it safe

- landonorris only way ill do that is if you recreate both leaked vids with me

- y/nnn deal.

[moonstruckme]

pls hear me out 🙏🙏 vampire!james is recently turned and doesn’t feed cause he’s such a sweetheart he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

reader notices how weak he is and finds out he hasn’t been feeding and basically offers herself to him and it’s just really comforting and cute

Babe I hear you !!! I hear you soooooo clear (the voices omg, I was so excited to write this). Thank you for requesting!

cw: blood mention

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

James never had a problem with eating animals before he became a vampire. You pointed this out to him, once, but he only said it’s different. You suppose it is. The chicken nuggets he used to devour came to him cooked, fried, and with sauces, utterly unrecognizable from what they’d once been. There’s no separating the live-ness from what James has to eat now. 

You spy on him over the top of your book. He’s sitting on the other end of the loveseat with your feet in his lap, massaging your arches through your thick socks while he watches a football match on the telly. His dusky skin had paled after he was turned a few weeks back, but he looks even paler than that now. If he were still human you’d think he was anemic. It’s four in the afternoon, and your ball-of-energy boyfriend looks as tired as if he’s ready for bed. 

“Jamie,” you say, and he squeezes your heel to indicate he’s listening, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, lovely, yeah.” 

“Have you been feeding?” 

James stiffens at the term. “Mm, why do you ask?” 

It’s as close as he thinks he can get to a non-answer, and it’s an answer for you anyways. James can never stand to lie to you. It’s terribly endearing. 

You turn your foot to poke his abdomen. “I can hear your stomach growling.” 

His lips curve. He glances at you. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.” 

“Really? How does it work?” 

“I don’t actually have a clue.” James smiles, which was your aim. He’s been far too downcast for your liking, his new condition entirely to blame. 

“Well, you’re looking pale.” 

“I’ve been pale.” 

“Paler than pale.” You set your book on the side table, moving closer to him. You sit with your feet folded under you. “Also, you haven’t been going out to feed like you used to.” 

James finally looks a bit sheepish. You smile and cup his face in your hand. Though he knows you know, James has still been a tad secretive about the vampire business around you. He sneaks out after he thinks you’re asleep. You’ll hear the front door open and shut when he leaves and then again when he comes back, the kitchen tap running as he cleans himself up. You wish he’d just use the shower. You don’t mind him walking through your bedroom with blood and dirt on him if it means he gets to feel clean when he slips back into bed with you. 

You rub your thumb over his cheek. “What’s keeping you?” 

He sighs. His face weighs a bit heavier in your palm. You think this must be progress, and you repeat your ministrations to his cheek to encourage it. 

“Everything’s hibernating,” says James, a quiet shame underlying his tone. “The…things I used to feed from are gone, and I’m not left with a lot of choices.” 

You hum. “Well, you’ve gotta eat, Jamie.” 

He hesitates, and you give him your sternest look. 

“You do. What about the deer?” 

“They’re harder to catch. And…I…I just feel bad, you know?”

You nod. Take his hand and press a kiss to his palm. Your poor sweetheart. You know James hasn’t killed anything he’s fed from, but even scaring them and potentially hurting them for the time it takes him to feed rattles him terribly. He’s too good, good and kind down to his core, but you know he’s going to have to find some way to cope other than starving himself. 

“What about people?” 

James’ eyes round behind his glasses. “Wha—no, I—”

“I wouldn’t mind you using me.” 

He seems to falter for a moment. His thick brows draw together in stages, from disbelief to confusion and back again. “Angel,” he says, “I couldn’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because, it’s—it would be—” 

“Or maybe we could try someone else. Someone bad, like a corrupt politician or one of those people who siphons money away from charities.” 

“No.” 

“Then we’re back to me.” You smile at him, one part teasing and two parts genuine. “James, I want to. I don’t like seeing you like this, and I really don’t think I’d mind it.” 

James looks like he’s still having trouble processing. “You don’t think you’d mind?” 

“I don’t,” you repeat patiently. “I’m sort of curious, actually. It could be fun.” 

He looks, to your surprise, like he might actually be considering it. He’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know if it’d be fun, angel.” 

“That’s okay,” you promise him. “I want to do it for you. You’re hungry, yeah?” You try to make your voice serene and persuasive, your hand coasting up and down his arm. “Let me help.” 

James looks you in your eyes. You hold his gaze. After a while, the fight seems to go out of him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. 

“Oh, baby.” You kiss him on his cheek, your heart bulging. “You won’t. It’ll be fine. How do you want me? Hair up?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s good the way it is. I think, um, it might be easier if you were in my lap.” 

“Okay.” You grin, lifting your thigh over his so you’re straddling him. His hands settle on your hips. “Are you romancing me? Is this part of it?” 

James lifts the corners of his mouth, but you can see the trepidation lingering beneath his smile. You do your best to soothe it away with your hands on his shoulders. 

“I want to be gentle with you,” he says.

“I bet you say that to all your victims.” 

“Sweetheart…”

“Sorry, sorry.” You’re nervous. You kiss his nose in apology. 

“If I hurt you—if you don’t like it for any reason, I want you to squeeze my shoulder. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You nod, trying to look certain. “Does it usually hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” James admits. “With animals, they don’t usually…move much after I’ve bitten them. I’m not sure if it stuns them or what.” 

“I’ll report back,” you say seriously. You glance down at the couch cushions. “Will it be messy? Should we go to the bathroom or something?” 

“No, I’m—I’ve gotten better at it. We should be fine here.” 

You smile at him, your pride genuine. “Sounds good.” 

James is starting to look worried again, so you kiss him. On the lips, as sweet as you can muster, and imagine all your love pouring through it. Then, you pull your hair to one side and bear your neck. 

His pupils splay out.

“Remember to squeeze my shoulder.” He sounds hoarse. One of his hands slips up your back to steady you beneath your shoulder blades. 

“I will,” you vow. 

James looks dazed, almost reverent. He wets his lips, and when he opens his mouth you see his tongue skim over pointed teeth. Some prey animal’s instinct sends a shiver of fear through you. Your blood hums with anticipation. But just before James’ teeth skim your neck, he pauses. 

“Jamie.” It’s soft, a murmur, a plea. “It’s okay. Do whatever you want with me.” 

He makes a quiet sound, like a sigh or a whine, and closes the gap. 

At first, it’s only like he’s kissing you. He’s exceedingly sweet about it, lips opening warmly over your skin, his tongue pressing over your artery as though testing the waters. He splays his palm wide over your back in silent warning before his teeth sink into you. 

There’s a sting, but you were ready for it. You keep yourself from wincing, from doing anything that would make James move away, and after a second the pain dulls. Everything does, except for the extraordinary feel of James’ mouth on you. 

“Oh.” Your mouth opens of its own accord, head lolling further to the side to give him better access. You want more, more of this, more of him. Your brain fuzzes and your heart pounds, every nerve in your body narrowing its focus to where James is sucking at your neck, lapping you up. 

You wind your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, and his palm coasts up your back comfortingly. You feel molten, spectacularly, transcendently languid, like you could press your fingertips to his shoulders and they’d melt right in. You don’t, not wanting him to misinterpret it as your signal and stop, but after a while James’ arms are the only thing keeping you from tipping sideways onto the couch, and he stops anyway. 

He finishes with a few chaste kisses, and you think giddily that you weren’t too far off about the romancing. 

“Y’okay, lovie?” he mumbles into your skin. 

You hum in reply. 

James presses one more sweet kiss to your neck, almost a thank-you. He seals the wound with his tongue. A giggle bubbles out of you, one shoulder coming up to ward him off. 

“Sorry,” you say to James’ surprised look. Your head is starting to clear. “That part tickled.” 

His grin splits his face, one part tentative and two parts relieved. “Yeah? Are you really okay?” 

“Super okay,” you promise him. You can’t help grinning. “You were right, it didn’t hurt. That was nice.”

James’ expression eases, some mix of relief and interest in his gaze. “Was it actually?” 

“Mhm. I would be your blood donor any time, really.” 

James scoffs, but he’s clearly elated. He strokes from your hip to your ribs with a big hand, trailing tender kisses up to your cheek. You’re thrilled to see how much more energy he already has. 

“I don’t know about that,” he says in between kisses. “I’d still rather not make you my victim if I can help it.” 

“I didn’t feel like a victim, if that helps.” Your words go mushy as he reaches your lips, but you keep talking, wanting to make your point. “I just mean, I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Maybe when you’re lacking in other options.” 

“Mm, maybe. What was it like?” 

“Like a really good kiss.” 

James backs up from you to give you a dubious look. “Better than the ones I give you normally?” 

You grin. “Maybe a little.” 

His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth drops open, curving on one side. “Oh, yeah? Bold claims.” 

“I don’t know if you can compete with whatever vampire magic that was, Jamie.”

“My kisses are very magical. It seems like I may have to remind you how good they really are, though.” 

You shrug coyly. “If you think you can top that, you’re welcome to try. I mean, you’re really only competing with your—”

James is on you before you can finish.

[ifwebefriends]

My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

[donutz]

Yandere Dogday x smiling critters cat reader

A/N|| I kind of.. Completely forgot that Dogday was supposed to be a yandere, but he really wouldn't do much as one so... I think it's okay! ^_^

Request from Wattpad—! Here you go Shaymi999 ☆

Your ‘name’ was SleepyMew. Not so good is it? Well stick with it, it’s what they named you. You had some resemblance to Catnap, you both were about sleeping, and you two were cats.

So when you arrived, the other critters were all over you, saying that you were similar to Catnap. While Catnap stared from the shadows. 

It wasn’t impossible to see him up there, cats do have night vision after all.

While almost every critter was surrounding you, Dogday stayed behind. Getting a gooood look at you. You noticed that too.

Dogday snapped out of his trance and told the other critters to not crowd you, especially since you’re new.

He asked for your name and you said, “SleepyMew, though I don’t like the name…” You rubbed your eye, because you were just sooo sleepy!

One unique thing about you is that you didn’t have a permanent smile, you could actually move your mouth. Even with your cool feature, nobody was jealous. They found it amazing!!

“Well I like the name!” Dogday exclaimed, causing the other critters to look at each other. Not curious, noooo, they think somethin new is goin on with Dogday.

“He has a crush on Mew.” KickinChicken whispered to Hoppy Hopscotch, and since dog’s have excellent hearing Dogday heard every bit of Kickin’s claim, “Hey! I do not!”

Kickin realized he was caught and said, “What? I never said that?? Man who said that…” Causing the other critters to giggle.

“... Anyways! Would you like to be shown around the place?” Dogday questioned you, still suspicious of what Kickin said.

“Uhh, yeah sure.”

“Great! Come this way!” He softly grabbed your wrist and led you towards areas of playcare.

Even Catnap was a little bit suspicious of Dogday’s feelings.

After Dogday gave you a tour around the place, you settled in and started doing what you were made for. Calming down the kids. There were a few 5-6 year olds that were too excited, and the kids needed to be more chill for the activity.

You lazily walked over to them, asking their names. The kids stated them, and you dealt with their ecstatic energy. Meanwhile, Dogday was watching you deal with them, feeling both proud and impressed at your work.

His feelings growing bigger.

After a few months of working at playcare you and Dogday were together.

You two were sitting on the couch, while Dogday was right next to you, his leg over your lap. He has his arms lightly wrapping around your neck, his head laying on your shoulder. Obviously his tail was wagging.

“Hey… You know how people get rings on their finger in shows…” Dogday said.

“Yea, but how do you know that?”

“I saw it on a show once. Anyways, do you want that to be us?” He looked to your eyes.

You looked back at him, “Yea.”

After a few days you guys actually had this marriage. You didn’t expect it to happen but that was okay.

Cutely, you guys had these little toy rings, KickinChicken was the marriage officiant, “And you may now hug each other not just the bride.”

Then you two had a big hug, with a big smile on your face. Now that was rare.

Years later, all was hell, hundreds of dreaded screams filled even the smallest cracks of Playtime co.

All critters were trying to find a way to live, except one, Catnap.

Dogday was trying his best to get people to safety, while simultaneously worrying about you. “Where’s Catnap?!”

“Catnap is one of the murderers Dogday, we need to go.”

His eyes went wide, he never knew Catnap was doing this.

“WHAT?! How do you—”

“I saw it. I saw him violently kick away the children just so he can have his fill. Catnap isn’t going to leave with us, in fact, he’s following the Prototype.”

This was so sudden for Dogday, his best friend was the cause of all of this?!

“I know a spot where we can—” Your fur stood up, your hairs itching at your toy skin. Your irises went smaller and smaller, you slowly turned your head towards him. Towards Catnap.

The much bigger Catnap.

Knowing you were in danger, you started growling(you are a cat after all), but Dogday was… surprised. What you said was true, it’s not like he didn’t believe you, it’s just he didn’t expect to see it before his eyes.

“Dogday, run.” This was a fight between two cats, it’s better not to try to stop it. It can get quite bloody.

“WHAT?! NO I CAN’T—”

“GO.”

Reluctantly, Dogday sped away.

“THE PROTOTYPE WILL SAVE US.”

“...”

Then, the cat fight started.

Dogday was helping out others get to safety, as the nice dog he is… He was waiting for you. Hoping you’d make it out alive.

An hour later, he was looking for you. He found you! And you weren’t dead! You were very bloodied up, laying on the ground.

Dogday hurried over to you, happy you’re still alive. You wanted to yell out, tell him to not come over, but he is listening. So you shook your head really hard, something you did before this all happened. Why? Because that's how you indicated to not do it, to do anything(you did it when you didn’t want to talk). 

Thankfully, Dogday was watching you and not just doing actions. So he stopped. Catnap was right there, he could strike at any moment. You didn’t want that to happen to your precious Dogday.

Even if Dogday didn’t come out of the hallway he was in, Catnap still attacked. Well tried to. Dogday dodged in time and ran over to you, picking you up and high tailing it outta there.

You two managed to get to a somewhat safe area, and Dogday had time to be alone with you. There’s some bandages and rags in the area so he could heal you up, just a little bit.

Dogday was trying to calm down, but couldn’t. As the smiling critter who’s supposed to help relax others, you took action.

“It’s okay Dogday. I won’t die.”

“...” He looked up at you, with sincerity, “I should’ve never ran away…”

You cracked a small smile, “Hey, at least I got like… 5 scratches in?” Dogday furrowed his eyebrows a little, “Mew don’t joke around right now.”

“Sorry…”

After all this time, you wondered where Dogday was. Alive, hopefully. Apparently an angel entered the building, and was able to get by all the chances of death.

You don’t know where they are now, but you hope they could save Dogday.

“Hey.. It’s… Okay it’s not alright, but try to think about the positive things..” Poppy comforted(tried to).

“I am, but it doesn’t help at all unless I know that he’s safe.” You were shivering, hoping the positive scenarios you thought of were true.

Few hours later, Poppy and Kissy found a safe place where the player, or Dogday, could be.

Though you didn’t know Dogday was going to be there.

So once you saw him, you sped over to where he was and picked him up(you were in your larger form like Dogday).

You were crying, that’s the first time you’ve cried, even when Catnap was nearly killing you.

“I miss you so much love..” … Love? That’s a new one.

“Since when did you start calling me love?” You said with a smirk.

Dogday got a little flustered, “Uhm, I remembered that you didn’t really like your name, so I just thought of it…”

“Mhm.” You looked down and saw that he had no lower half. “Oh, that’s also new. Is that why you were so light?”

“... Yes.”

“Hm, player, do you know how to put together his body?”

They nodded and they immediately started working on putting his body back together.

After an hour, he finally had his legs back, he was still shorter than you though. “Hah! I’m tallerrrr!!” You bragged.

“... Really…?” He wasn’t annoyed, in fact he was happy, that he gets to see your smile again.

Player suddenly remembered that they found a ring while ‘adventuring’.

They mentioned it and asked if that’s anyone’s ring. Yours and Dogday’s eyes went wide. “Dogday is that your—”

“MY RING!!”

The player unknowingly just caused the biggest reaction from you two, just because they wanted to search around a little more.

“Angel, where did you find this?!”

They said it was in this area with a big paw pillow in the room.

“Catnap was keeping your ring?” You questioned.

It went silent, not for too long as your cat growls slowly filled the area.

“I’m killing that stupid cat.”

“Love, don't say that!”

He was secretly hoping you’d actually do it.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

Fish guy is actually pretty much the same height as Steve when they’re sitting next to each other on the edge of the pool. Steve finally gave in, the heat of the day getting too much, and is trailing his feet in the water – fish guy doesn’t seem to care, but Steve still made sure to shower before he came out here. Next to Steve’s feet, the flat point of fish guys tail is also swirling in the water.

Fish guy loves pears. Steve’s sure they’re his new absolute favorite thing, and Steve’s watched him demolish six, cores and stalks and all, one right after the other.

He’s licking sticky juice from his fingers. Steve can’t see his eyes behind the shades; but he’s certain fish guy is watching him. Probably waiting to see if Steve will produce more food; fish guy has developed a hearty appetite, and he hasn’t put on much weight yet, but he’s not exactly what Steve would call emaciated either. A little over a week of regular food is obviously helping.

“Okay,” Steve sips on his beer, the points to himself, “Steve.”

“Steeee,” fish guy readily replies, nodding. Steve has no idea how or when he picked up the nodding and head shaking, but he uses both correctly, as far as Steve can tell, so Steve doesn’t argue.

Steve points at fish guy. Nothing, then a curious head tilt.

Steve’s starting to come to the conclusion that maybe fish guy just doesn’t have a name. Which, okay, Steve can kind of see that. He vaguely wonders if fish guy has any family; if he’d even want to go back to the Upside Down.

“Right. Should probably name you something vaguely fish related, no? Should we stay on brand?” Fish guy cocks his head the other way, like a bird. They’ve been sat here long enough that the sun has started to dry the ropey mess of hair that fish guy has; it gone kind of curly now, pinging up as it dries.

Steve really wants to comb it out, but he has no idea how fish guy will react; they’ve only just made it to sitting next to each other. Steve’s vaguely aware that combing someone else's hair is a bit...familiar, but he figures fish guy is kind of in his care or whatever.

Maybe they could build up to it.

“Fish,” Steve muses vaguely to himself, “fishing? Scales? Tails? Fishing, fisher? Fisher, Eddie, Eddie Fisher, that singer guy Mom really likes. What do you think, how does Eddie sound? Good as anything, right?”

Steve has no idea what’s going on behind the sunglasses, but fish guys head keeps cocking curiously to the side. Steve points to himself, “Steve.”

Fish guy, replies, “Steeee,” as expected, nodding.

Steve points to fish guy, and says, “Eddie.”

Fish guy points to himself cautiously, and quietly volunteers, “Edidie?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, nodding, “near enough, man. Eddie. Sounds good.”

“Good,” Eddie replies, startling Steve a bit because it’s clear as a bell.

“That’s right, good. Eddie.”

Eddie, very slowly so Steve can clearly see what he’s doing, reaches for Steve’s beer bottle. Steve’s instinct is to take it away, what if it’s poisonous or something? But then he figures Eddie’s been pretty clear about rejecting stuff so far if he doesn’t want it; plus he lived in the Upside Down for, presumably, years. If he can survive in a toxic environment like that, then surely a sip of beer won’t hurt him.

Eddie’s funny as he lifts it, sniffing cautiously before he works out the mechanics of fitting his lips around the neck of the bottle. He drinks. Seems to ponder it for a moment, and then drinks again, giving the bottle a mournful little shake when he realizes it’s empty. There wasn’t much left anyway; Steve figures he’ll be okay.

“Good,” Eddie says as he hands the bottle back, “inied.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “finished.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t have any gills?”

“You are definitely asking the wrong person here Robs,” Steve scatters another handful of peas into the water, watching as Eddie bobs along, collecting them one at a time and popping them into his mouth, “ask Dustin. He’ll produce a book. There’s literally always a book.”

��I don’t want to ask Dustin, he’ll actually try and explain it to me...I’d rather speculate emptily.”

“You do love a bit of empty speculation.”

Robin nods in agreement, “so, no gills, what do you think?”

“I think…” Steve ponders for a few seconds, filling up the dog bowl with the rest of the peas and floating that on the water, “that he can’t actually breathe underwater. He can just hold his breath for a fucking long time.”

“Nah. Boring. Plausible. Logical. Could be correct. I need something wild Steven.”

Steve thinks, but he doesn’t have much of an imagination, not like the kids or Robin. Clever people have good imaginations; Steve’s not one of them. But he does remember hearing something about bugs one time, “he breathes through his skin.”

“Fucking rad.”

“You have been spending way too much time with Argyle.”

“He has the good stuff Steve, supply and demand,” she says shrugging, and then, “why, you jealous?”

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. Because no, of course he isn’t. Much. Maybe a tiny bit. But that’s okay, Robin should have other friends and stuff he guesses. She pokes him in the ribs and he flaps at her.

It just encourages her, obviously, so he tries to ignore her which just makes her ten times worse. She pokes more, and she just knows him too well, goes for his ticklish ribs and before Steve knows what’s happening he’s on his side, trying to curl up to get away, begging for mercy and shrieking with laughter, Robin hollering “admit your jealousy Steven. Say uncle! Say iiiiiiiiiit!!”

Robin disappears suddenly with a splash and yelp. She scrambles on the grass, trying to right herself from where she was shoved, Eddie suddenly flopped half on top of Steve, his tail twisting around Steve’s middle. Robin scrambles back a few more paces, Eddie’s arms locked at the elbow to hold his torso up off the ground as far as he can, claws raking into the grass.

He’s completely silent, and Steve, shocked, just sits for a moment, looking at the back of Eddie’s soaking head. The water’s dripping from his hair in rivulets down his pale back, his shoulder blades standing out sharply, the knobs of his spine visible where his back is held in a sharp arch.

He’s puffed up like an angry cat, Steve thinks absently.

He makes eye contact with Robin over Eddie’s shoulder, and she raises her eyebrows just a teeny tiny bit, ‘what the fuck?’

Steve shrugs, ‘I don’t know.’ Then tilts his head to the house a little, ‘give us a minute.’

Robin frowns spectacularly, ‘I’m not leaving you alone with the crazy fish guy’ or words to that effect, Steve guesses.

He nods toward the house again, trying to give his best, ‘I’ll be fine,’ vibes.

She looks hugely doubtful, but does move away, all slow and careful. Eddie hand walks to keep himself between between Steve and Robin, his tail clenching around Steve as he does.

“Eddie,” Steve’s hand hovers in the air for a few seconds before he bites the bullet and lets his hand rest on Eddie’s tail. It’s surprisingly smooth. Not soft exactly, but not hard. Doesn’t even feel scaly really, just smooth and warm it doesn’t look scaly either, now that Steve can have a close up look. It’s just...black. Matt black.

Actually now that he’s here, there are some funny little slits toward the tippy bit, they kind of look like they could be openings, but he doesn’t have time to investigate because Robin’s gone, so Eddie turns to him.

Steve has no clue what to say as Eddie’s tail slowly unwraps from his middle, “Eddie,” he starts, as Eddie slips back into the water.

“Steee.”

Steve just sighs, retrieving what are now Eddie’s sunglasses from where they’ve fallen by the edge of the lawn, “what am I going to do with you?”

Eddie tips his head, listening, but Steve doesn’t have anything else to say. At a loss, he heads inside to make sure Robin is okay.

A/N I know the time line doesn't work with Argyle since this happened after starcourt but lets just all agree to ignore that. There is no tag list for this work.

Part Four

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away. 

[reverie-starlight]

this is my contribution to @tetzoro 's summer olympics collab! this is so late >.< but I can't wait to go look through all the other fics people have written for the collab!!

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff (of course). suna and aran can't stand atsumu's antics, but what else is new? atsumu misses you and he makes it everyone else's problem.

atsumu has been staring at his phone for twenty minutes.

suna makes note of this from where he's seated in the tiny living area of their shared olympic village apartment. it irritates suna, actually, because for someone who made a such big deal of their room assignments and got a bit weepy over how it reminded him of their high school days, atsumu couldn't seem to care less about his roommates right now.

aran (the third occupant of their dorm) appears in the doorway and glances between his two juniors. "is he still on that thing?" he asks, seemingly surprised by this.

suna shrugs and snaps a picture of the blonde when he smiles at his phone, quickly sending it to osamu with a message of how much of a dork his twin is.

leave him be

he replies, making suna's eyebrow raise. osamu coming to his defence? that's new.

he's got separation issues when it comes to her, I swear. he's like a puppy.

there it is. he snorts and puts his phone away, throwing a pillow at atsumu. the setter just uses it as an arm rest and continues to ignore them.

"hey, loverboy," aran calls and finally gets his attention. "we're heading down to get some lunch, ya coming?"

atsumu's eyes widen a bit. "it's that late already? yeah, I'll be down in a minute, save me a spot."

the other two look at each other knowingly and shut the door behind them.

now normally atsumu wouldn't be so glued to his screen on the first day of the olympics, but then again- last time around they were in tokyo and his girlfriend was no more than a couple hours away at any given time.

this year, he's in paris and about a 13 hour flight away with a 7 hour time difference from his fiancée. it would still be manageable for him, of course- he's not as clingy as you or his brother make him out to be, he swears- if not for the fact that your boss denied your time off and you wouldn't be in attendance at any of his games.

as soon as he's alone, he's facetiming you and the ache of not being near you is lessened by the bright smile you pop up on his screen with.

"hi 'tsum, how's it going over there?" you're cuddled up on the couch with a blanket.

he shrugs. "there's no AC. the beds are cardboard again. but I'm rooming with rin and aran, so that's nice."

"not sakusa and meian? I thought the plan was to keep the ones who played on the same league team pre-olympics in the same room?"

he shakes his head. "we got to make room requests this time. he's rooming with ushijima this time around."

you giggle and his mind goes a little fuzzy. "I'm sure after what happened in tokyo, he'd be more than happy to be rooming with anyone other than you."

atsumu rolls his eyes. "he made it seem worse than it was. we didn't even get into that much trouble, I mean, what's a little scolding from our managers?"

you raise an eyebrow. "you almost caused the entire village to evacuate."

"anyway," he transitions to another topic before he can be reminded of that night. "what are your plans for the rest the night?"

you hum thoughtfully. "I dunno, maybe I'll watch a movie... maybe I'll rewatch that clip of you almost tripping during the opening ceremonies..." your lips stretch into a playful grin as you tease him for his blunder.

"HEY, barely anyone noticed!"

you snort. "if by barely anyone, you mean everyone watching then sure, baby. oh, what time is it for you?"

he lets your comment slide for now and addresses your question instead. "just after noon, why?"

"have you eaten yet?"

"was just about to," he shrugs.

you narrow your eyes. “miya atsumu, you’d better not be skipping lunch just to talk to me.”

he’s unable keep the guilty expression off his face when you hit him with that tone. “I wasn’t-”

“don’t even think about lying to me. as soon as I hang up you’re going to go meet your teammates for lunch and make some new friends.”

he pouts, but his heart warms at the idea that you still want to take care of him all the way across the world. although he is a little offended you think he needs to make friends. “ya sound like my ma.”

“for good reason! go eat, baby, you need to stay strong and healthy for your games. plus I’d feel so guilty if you missed out on all the fun stuff with your teammates because of me.”

he sighs, finally letting himself give into his hunger and agreeing with you. you say your goodbyes and he makes his way down to the cafeteria.

the days pass and while he’s not glued to his phone at all hours of the day anymore (thanks to practices starting up again on the olympic courts), his teammates often catch him snapping as many pictures as he can, no doubt to share them with you.

they don’t know how many texts you’ve received about how amazing the chocolate muffins are, but if it’s anywhere near the number of times they’ve had to hear him mention it in a day, they feel sorry for you.

and as the day of their first game grows closer, suna and aran can tell atsumu is more on edge than usual. he’s acting like he did in high school again, and they know it’s because he’s antsy about not having his fiancée in the stands for the first time in a while.

they’ve seen him double, triple and quadruple check the time zones to make sure he didn’t misread it. “she’ll probably be asleep…” he said when aran asked him about it one night.

they were getting a bit worried. obviously they know him well enough to understand that he’ll pull himself together in time for the game- he’d never let his feelings compromise his plays- but they’d much rather play alongside him in a good mood than a bad one.

but the problem seems to fix itself when he lights up along with his phone screen just before the game begins. suna looks over the setter’s shoulder to see a picture of you, cuddled up on the couch with your dog. your cheek has a small japanese flag painted on, and you’re wearing his MSBY jersey. it must be extremely late for you, but you’re smiling wide and holding up half a heart with your hand.

underneath the picture you sent a message wishing him luck and telling him how proud you are of him, telling him to play his absolute best.

and suna misses what your next message says, but he gets a pretty good idea based on how red atsumu’s ears get. he looks over at aran with a nod and the former inarizaki players silently thank you for your actions.

atsumu definitely wouldn’t be stepping onto the court in a bad mood now.

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I feel like this could’ve been better, and it definitely didn’t turn out how I originally wanted, but I’m still happy with how it turned out :3 hope u enjoyed !!

ty again to aims for hosting this collab and allowing me to join!!!