#Do you guys ever remember when you were a little bit younger and for whatever circumstantial reason a little freer and have no idea why it

[st4rd0lly]

ＴＯＮＧＵＥＳ ＆ ＴＥＥＴＨ —

CONTENT WARNING : this fic series will contain DARK content , smut , age gap (reader is mid-late 20s while Nikolai is in his 30s) , probably inaccurate detective work descriptions , and religious themes. this does not follow canon and it is a non ability AU

chapter warnings : suggestive themes (angry sex gets mentioned once) ; firearm

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 : 𝐖𝐇𝐎 ?

A detective.

That’s what you are.

Or well, that’s what you were. You had left that life behind you, swore on it. You weren’t a terrible detective by any means, quite the opposite. You were notably the smartest detective in your city. Sharp and witty, reliable and smart. That’s what you prided yourself on. But with making bigger shoes, you made yourself nearly look like a clown when you stepped out of them. All it took was one case, one case to make you step down.

And like that, you were out of the game.

With no interest to push yourself forward in your career, you sidelined yourself much to everyone’s dismay. You had people relying on you, people who needed you. But a normal life is what you desired after what felt like an action film that lasted forever. It’s what you deserved.

You didn’t lose all that much like you expected though. People still respected you for what you did, your ex-coworkers still treated you like their own, they still come to you for advice and you gave them your best. You became a mentor for younger detectives, a rowdy but loveable group who wanted to follow your footsteps.

You were content with the life you led. All trauma considered, you’d say you’re doing pretty solid for what you’ve been through going through cases.

You were happy for once, you were content with this domestic life you’ve made for yourself. 

"Someone tells me you’re sick of old games. Let’s play a new one. =)"

You repeated the note left on your window to your ex-work partner, Mikhail, on the phone. Staring at it with furrowed brows, you cursed to yourself. "I quit this shit for a fucking reason." With a groan, you slam yourself back down on the couch. 

"Did you check security cameras?" Mikhail questioned, groaning along with you. He’s been by your side since your guys’ first day together, two peas in a pod. You still remember the days where you were just young rookies together. You guys weren’t Sherlock Holmes and Watson by any means, but some might argue that your dynamic duo could come close.

Your face fell into a deadpanned expression, "You really think I wouldn’t?"

"Hey, I’m just trying to make sure we covered all bases. But knowing you, you probably already did that so I guess it was a stupid question— which is besides the point though." You could tell that he was just at a lost as you are.

"Misha, I wanted to leave this stuff behind me." You said, a little more solemnly than you’d liked to admit. "I thought after I faded out in the system for a bit, things would be okay for me. Sure, we’ve made our enemies—"

"You especially."

"Yes, me especially. But I know that most of them are in prison and the others are respectable enough to do this stuff to my face instead of… whatever the fuck that is. I wanted out."

"And you will be out. One day, I promise you." Mikhail reassures, his usual lighthearted tone softening. "Do you think it could be the same guy from our last case together?" He asks.

And you wished you had an answer. The last case you ever took on as an official detective left you in pieces that you’re still trying to pick up to this day. There were too many missing factors but so many were coming to a horrific realization. There were no hints one moment and then the next, there were. Each step closer you thought you took, set you 10 paces back with little time to catch up. That case had flipped your life upside down and around. Like some sick cycle. 

If it was the same bastard behind that case, you were sure that the old you would’ve jumped at the chance.

But you aren’t the person you were in the past, and you haven’t been for a long time.

Maybe this was exactly what the guy wanted, what they came here for. To wait for things to get calm till they could hit hard again. Or maybe, there was a chance that this note could’ve come from a new, completely different person. Someone who wanted to take out an old big shot to make themselves look even bigger. There was just too many open spaces with a huge gap of no information. It could be anything from anyone.

"I don’t know Misha, with the little to no info right now… it literally could be anyone." You admitted, not trying to even hide the defeat in your voice. Your brain searching, scanning, and recalling for anyone that stood out to you in your life. Someone who would mess with you like this, taunting from afar. It hits you like cold water in the morning. "Oh my god. What if it’s my ex?"

"You think you got yourself caught up in like a weird crazy ex revenge situation? What was the guy’s name again?" Mikhail questioned.

"Nikolai. Nikolai Gogol." You responded, rubbing at your temple. Fuck, if it really was Nikolai…

But that was so long ago, way before your last case. And that relationship was never going to last, the both of you knew that. You wanted different things, you two were different…it wouldn’t have worked out. Maybe he wanted Bonnie and Clyde, turn you away from the so called righteousness and justice that is detective work. Live out a life of crime. You never were aware of what he did for work, you were able to tell it was dangerous. And maybe in another life, he was able make you his Bonnie. 

You made sure that this wasn’t that life.

Thinking back to all the times you’ve spent with him makes your heart has plunge into your stomach. You were aware that he wasn’t the greatest person to date. You said through heated kisses and angry sex that it was just the rush, the thrill of it all in the relationship you had with him that kept you around. Each time he could only laugh in your face. All his talk about freedom definitely added a new perspective to your life, but it was so extreme. 

And oddly enough when you wanted to end it, he was very much less than pleased even though that’s all he’s ever wanted. To be free. He’s a walking contradiction though and he left your life without a trace. You refused to look back.

It wouldn’t make sense to mess up your life now.

….

When did he ever make sense?

"I’ll check in with the database, see what I can scoop up on him." Mikhail attempts to reassure you, though it does little to soothe your thoughts. He never knew about the complexity of your relationship with Nikolai. Just that it was strange. He didn’t know how dangerous he was.

But you weren’t about to tell him right now, not while it felt like someone was watching you. "Okay…"

"Did you ask your neighbors if they saw anything? What about that one neighbor across from you?" Mikhail suggested. "Take a picture of the note and I’ll drop by with some of the team by your place so we can investigate more. Better to not tamper with evidence so just use the picture to show your neighbors."

"Okay, yeah I’ll do that." You agreed, it wasn’t a bad idea. "Thank you Misha."

"I’ll be there in about fifteen. Go chat with your neighbors. Don’t die."

"Trying not to." You chuckled, hanging up the phone. You stood back up from the couch, looking at the window with disdain. The note was still there, staring back at you. Though you knew nothing was confirmed, you tried to find any hints of Nikolai’s presence. The only thing sticking out to you was the smiley, and that wouldn’t be viable evidence of anything. You shook your head, opening the camera app on your phone and snapping a picture. 

Now  that was done and over with. Time to talk to your neighbor.

Your neighbor was a relatively tall and attractive man you would say. You’ve never talked to him before, only seeing him for a brief moment when you walk to your car or when he goes out. Your window allows you a somewhat good view outside. Though you could also say that his appearance did make him stand out too. 

Tossing on a jacket, you hoped your neighbor wouldn’t judge too hard if you were in your pajamas. It was still early in the morning when you woke up to that note. 

You bite your tongue, you shouldn’t leave the house unarmed. Taking a quick trip back to your room, you put on your belt that you wear to do your mentor work. The one that’s meant to hold your firearm. You grab your gun in your drawer to put in your holster.

You opened the door, shivering a bit as the cool air hits your skin and hugged yourself tighter. Whoever put that note there must be really motivated to mess with you because who on earth would put a stupid note on a window when it’s this cold?

Taking a couple of steps towards his door, you placed a firm knock. You really hoped he was here. It would be an even shittier day if he wasn’t and you were waiting out in the cold longer than you needed to be. But thankfully, the door opens.

"May I help you?" The rich Russian accent caught you off guard, making you blink in surprise. You weren’t sure what to expect when he did speak but it wasn’t that. 

You gave the man an apologetic smile, "Hi I’m so sorry to bother you early this morning but I was wondering if you had heard anything strange late at night or earlier in the morning? Or if you had seen anything weird?"

The man looks down at you for a moment and you could tell he was studying you. His eyes were probably the most vibrant shade of a deep purple hue that you had ever seen before. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he had a good poker face you had to admit. He only tilts his head to the side, looking concerned. "I had not heard anything out of the ordinary. I usually am not here all that often because of work, but when I am here, I like to stay in my bedroom and rest."

He sounded genuine, and he definitely looked genuine. But those years you’ve spent as a detective grew your skills, and you’ve kept them sharp. You wouldn’t have been earnestly praised highly as a detective if you weren’t good at catching onto the small things. A blessing and a curse. There was something off about this neighbor of yours that you couldn’t place your finger on.

You couldn’t let him know that though, so you only shook your head again and waved your hand. "Ah, I’m so sorry again then. There was just a note left on my window and I was just wondering if anyone saw anything. It’s okay, thank you for your time."

"That sounds terrible, forgive me if I’m overstepping but are you certain it wasn’t your roommate playing some sort of prank?"

……

You could feel the gears in your head pause abruptly. You blink at him in confusion.

Roommate? 

"I don’t have a roommate?" You clarified, raising a brow at his comment. But he only reciprocates your confused expression.

"Is that so? I was sure you did. There was this man I’ve seen at your place before quite often whenever I’m here." He tells you, and your mind goes into a frenzy. What the fuck was he talking about? Was he talking about Mikhail? 

"I’m sorry, could you explain more?" You kept your tone polite, and it was obvious you weren’t expecting this. You were too distracted by the thoughts swirling in your head that you didn’t realize that you were shaking a bit from the weather.

"Here, you should come inside. I have some tea prepared for myself but there’s enough to share. I’ll tell you what I know. Part of it is that it’s bad manners to keep a guest outside in the cold." He opens the door more, stepping out of the way. 

Jesus, you really did want to stop being dragged into these games.

[lesbiandonnanoble]

Is it off base and insane to say that text post I reblogged by carefulzombie that goes “I’m the best dog you’ll ever have, I can never be replicated” over the picture of jamie doctor who is basically the root explanation of and reason why 11 dresses in the suave cosplay version of 2’s clothes and tries by force to feel 2’s natural whimsy every day of his life and ultimately is fucked by it

[swappermanent]

Life In Retrospect

It started, like most things in my life, with a bit of harmless indulgence. I’d been out on the beach, metal detector in hand, just doing my thing. Call it a classic old guy hobby if you want—I know it sounds like one—but there’s something oddly satisfying about it. You spend your whole life accumulating things, working toward something, and yet, in your later years, you find yourself searching for what’s been left behind.

That’s when I found it. The detector beeped, low and insistent, over something solid buried in the sand. Brushing it off, I uncovered a necklace—a little tarnished but still striking. The pendant was shaped like a bird, wings spread wide, with an intricate design that caught the light just so. It looked old. And valuable, maybe. Not the kind of thing you’d expect to find washed up on a beach in a sleepy town like mine.

Being the curious sort, I took it home and started looking into it. I’m no stranger to the internet, mind you. For an old guy, I know my way around a reverse image search. After a bit of digging, I finally found a match, buried in an obscure corner of the web. Turns out, this wasn’t just any necklace. According to the article, it had magical properties—something about granting the deepest, most hidden wishes. But there was a catch: the wishes had to be subconscious. Wear it, the story claimed, and the wish would find you.

remember chuckling at the idea. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale. But then I paused, looking at the necklace in my hand, and wondered what exactly my subconscious would want, if it had the chance. Money? I wasn’t exactly rich, but I got by just fine. Love? I’d missed that boat, never found someone to share my life with. Fame? Ha, the idea made me laugh—what would an old man like me even do with fame?

I didn’t expect much from it, but it was an interesting enough piece, and it looked good against a sweater or tucked under a jacket, so I wore it. Weeks went by, and honestly, I forgot about it.

---

One day, I found myself at the gym. It was a bit of a routine for me—not the way it used to be when I was younger, of course, but I kept at it, lifting lighter weights and trying to stay active. This wasn’t just any gym, either; it had a reputation around town. People called it the “gay gym”—not officially, of course, but you could tell. The men here were fit, stylish, and, well, meticulous about their bodies in a way I could only admire from a distance. They looked like they belonged in magazines, and I’ll admit, I liked to let my eyes wander now and then.

Still, I kept to myself. At my age, I wasn’t exactly in the social scene here, and I’d long since learned to stay on the sidelines. I came, did my exercises, enjoyed the view, and went home.

But that day, for the first time, someone came up to me. His name was Mikey, and I’d noticed him before, of course. Hard not to, really. He was exactly the kind of man I might've dreamed of being, if I ever let myself dream about that sort of thing. He was young, muscular, with a powerful, chiseled build that made his plain T-shirts look sculpted onto him. His dark hair was perfectly styled, a casual yet intentional wave falling over his forehead. And that mustache—thick, neatly trimmed, lending him a rugged, almost classic appeal, like he could’ve stepped out of a 1970s action movie. He even wore glasses, tortoiseshell frames that gave him an unexpected touch of charm and sophistication. I'd managed to snap a few photos of him before at the gym when he wasn't looking.

I’d seen him around for months, usually catching glimpses of him bench-pressing absurd weights or chatting with friends, his laughter deep and easy. He looked like the kind of guy who owned his confidence, who walked through life knowing that people admired him. And, hell, I was no exception. I'd spent enough stolen moments sneaking glances at those bulging arms, that thick neck, the way his shoulders seemed to strain the fabric of whatever he wore. Every time, I felt a little flutter inside—a mix of envy and something more primal, something I barely let myself think about.

So imagine my surprise when he came up to me. Even he seemed a little surprised, his brow creasing just slightly like he didn’t quite know what had prompted him to approach. And then, he asked me about my necklace.

“Hey, where’d you get that necklace?” he said, eyes flicking from my face to the pendant hanging over my chest. “It’s… different. Kind of cool.”

I felt a little jolt of something—excitement, nerves, maybe both—at the attention. He wanted to know about my necklace? Of all things? I opened my mouth to respond, and then something strange happened. The words just… flowed. I started telling him all about it—how it had been crafted in some long-ago time by hands that shaped it with care, about the artisan who’d worked on it and how they were renowned for imbuing special powers into their pieces. I talked about the mystical properties, the magic of wishes hidden deep in one’s subconscious, waiting to be drawn out by the wearer.

Thing is, I didn’t know any of that. Not consciously. But as I spoke, it felt like I was reading from some invisible script, like the knowledge was being given to me as I said it out loud.

Mikey listened, his gaze locked onto the pendant, almost entranced. Then, he looked back up at me, that curiosity still burning in his eyes.

“Would you mind if I tried it on?” he asked, his voice a little softer, like he was almost embarrassed by the question.

Without a second thought, I nodded, slipping the necklace off and handing it over to him. He took it carefully, his fingers brushing mine—warm, rough skin, the kind that spoke of hard work and hours in the gym. He put it on, and I swear, the thing looked like it was made for him. It hung perfectly against his chest, the bird pendant resting right in the middle of that strong, solid frame.

As I watched him, something stirred in me. I felt a warmth spreading through my body, a tingling that started low and radiated outward, like a current of energy. I caught myself glancing down, noticing with a bit of embarrassment that I was half-hard. But I couldn’t help it—the sight of him, my necklace gleaming against his chest, his broad shoulders framed by that perfectly fitted T-shirt, was… well, let’s just say it was doing things to me.

“Actually,” I said, clearing my throat and giving him an appreciative once-over, “it suits you. Why don’t you keep it?”

Mikey’s eyebrows lifted, surprised but clearly pleased. “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice a little unsteady, trying to hide the flush of heat that was working its way up my neck. “Consider it a gift.”

---

That night, I felt warmer than I had in years—almost feverish, but not quite. I thought maybe I was coming down with something; I’d spent enough winters nursing colds to recognize that slight ache, the subtle throbbing behind my eyes. I drank water, tried to stay hydrated, but there was something strange about the feeling. It wasn’t just heat; it was a tingling sensation that seemed to move through my limbs, settling into every muscle and joint.

I told myself it was just exhaustion. Maybe I’d pushed myself too hard at the gym, or maybe the excitement of talking to Mikey had rattled my old bones more than I wanted to admit. Either way, I decided to call it a night, pulling the covers up and letting myself drift off to sleep.

But somewhere in the dead of night, I woke up drenched in sweat, sheets tangled around my legs. My skin felt hot, almost burning, and my heart pounded like I’d just sprinted a mile. I lay there in the dark, trying to orient myself, but nothing felt right. My arms, stretched out beside me, felt heavier, thicker somehow. I pushed up to sit, but even that felt… different.

For a moment, I thought I might be having a stroke or some other senior moment, and the thought made my stomach twist. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to shake off the dizziness, to piece together where I was and what was happening.

But as I sat up and tried to get my bearings, the space around me looked foreign. Strange shadows fell across walls I didn’t recognize. There was a faint streetlight glow filtering through blinds that weren’t mine, casting an odd light over an unfamiliar dresser, scattered clothes, and a large mirror across the room.

Where am I?

I swung my legs out of bed, almost stumbling under my own weight. The muscles in my legs tensed and shifted in a way that felt… powerful, but wrong. Instinctively, I reached for the light switch, my fingers brushing over the unfamiliar nightstand before finding it. The room flooded with light, revealing more alien surroundings. Posters on the wall. Dumbbells in the corner. This wasn’t my bedroom. I didn’t own posters. Or dumbbells.

Disoriented, I took a few steps, bare feet touching cool, unfamiliar carpet, as I wandered toward the bathroom. I had to steady myself on the doorframe—the sheer strength I felt in my grip, in the size of my hand, jolted through me. I flipped on the bathroom light and looked up, squinting against the sudden brightness.

And then I saw him. Mikey.

In the mirror was his face, his body—muscular and tanned, dark hair tousled and falling forward slightly. I could feel my heart hammering in his broad chest, watched his—my—eyes go wide as I touched my face, tracing over a jawline sharper than I’d ever had, rough stubble under my fingers.

“Oh… my god,” I whispered, hearing Mikey’s voice, deep and smooth, coming from my own mouth. The face in the mirror looked just as shocked as I felt, my hands gripping the edges of the sink to steady myself as I took in the sight of every inch of him—of me.

A thrill shot through me, warmth bubbling up from my stomach as I ran my hand over the expanse of his—my—shoulders, over the swell of the chest, down to the ridged abs, and finally feeling up his impressive package. I couldn’t stop the smirk creeping onto his—my—face, couldn’t stop the pulse of excitement thrumming through me. Holy hell. This was real. I was Mikey.

And then, with a jolt, I realized something was missing. My hand went up to my neck instinctively, searching for the familiar weight of the necklace, but my fingers brushed only bare skin. No chain. No pendant.

A part of me, somewhere deep down, was concerned—confused and alarmed, really—but right now, looking at the smirking, shirtless, muscular guy in the mirror, the overwhelming feeling was… arousal. I’d never looked like this. I’d never felt like this.

Stay Tuned For Part 2.  

[simpjaes]

Do u remember those porn videos where these guys would pick up some girl on a bus or something and bang her and it was called like bang bus😭😭😭😭

WHO IN ENHA~~~~

just kidding, unless..

enhypen hyung line + bang bus

warnings: these are with all the members separately bc i only ever watched videos where it's like just one guy and one girl SO!!!!!!!!!!

☆ jay:

the type to get on board with the idea when he's on the verge of going into debt. works out a lot beforehand and goes for the audition, which wasn't much of one considering he was the only cute, younger guy in the running and the rest were all old guys with half-limp dicks.

i think jay would be really camera shy, especially in front of a total pussy queen willing to spread that shit not only all over him, but all for a bunch of strangers to see. does his best in terms of fucking, but probably would struggle to get into it because he's shy, might even go soft a few times before eventually turning his brain off when she kisses him. idk, he'd have to pretend to make love in order to actually get off in a situation like this.

video would do numbers tho, everybody like "WHO IS HE?" bc it's his only video on the platform and he literally disappears from the porn world after that

★ jake:

always wanted to try porn, so, he does. a lot. like any time he gets a chance he's showing up at the studio or whatever like "what are we shooting today?" Im talking, gay porn, straight porn, solo, weird bizarre shit, etc. he just has a good time.

when it comes to the bang bus tho, oh maaaaaaaaaan does he love that shit. can't say no to a random girl willing to ride him in a moving vehicle, and definitely can't say no when the money flows in from each nut had to said video.

most of the girls he fucks try to get his number, but he rarely calls them back because he has too much fun fucking to actually let one of them lock him down. would probably make his own videos legit approaching random women and asking to fuck, lots of amateur vids on his own account in random public places and swingers clubs where's he's railing someone's wife lmfao

☆ sunghoon:

doesn't do it for the money, he does it bc he's desperate and really horny all the time. he puts on a show too, soft some days, super rough on others depending on the girl and her personality. like if she's loud, and tries to steal the show he's got his fingers in her mouth or pressing her face against the window so she shuts up lmfao. if she's all soft and quiet bc it's her first time doing this or something he's usually a lot nicer, and more gentle.

everybody knows he does it bc everyone he knows watches porn. his face sometimes ends up on the front page of said websites but nobody mentions it to him.

it's a known secret lmfao. makes him super popular with the ladies in his city tho.

★ heeseung:

a regular and fan favorite of the bang bus page. like he's got his own category and usually becomes the star of the show over the woman in it, which pisses the girls off sometimes bc he's a total show off and only cares about himself getting a nut. fr, if you wanna learn how to realistically fake an orgasm go ahead and approach heeseung for a collab because he'll show you just how much your clit doesn't matter to him.

always fun with a girl does cum though, turns him on craaazy and everyone can tell in the videos. a little bit of squirt will have him fucking with purpose, probably even praising rather than calling you a slut for fucking a random in a bus.

super popular with the gays btw, heeseung gets approached a lot for gay porn but he doesn't wanna be out-shined by a guy with a bigger dick lets be real.

[cheriladycl01]

Back in my Day - Fernando Alonso x AustralianOlympicBoxing! Reader

Plot: Becoming a full time paddock WAG after pregnancy and a bad boxing injury and how you wouldn’t change anything in your life!

“Do you ever miss it?” He asks as he joins you in the motor home after just going fastest in FP2. He starts to pull you into a little sweaty hug, which you don’t mind as your used to it with you both being athletes.

“Miss what?” You ask walking round cleaning up after your guys son and daughter who were currently out getting ice cream with the mechanics.

“The adrenaline of a fight, the way the gloves feel, the smell of the ring?” He asks with a distant look in his eyes.

“Of course I do, sometimes I wish I could go back just to see if I’ve still got it. But there’s more important things in my life now than boxing and … I’ve made my country proud. I want to focus on everything I missed out on when I was younger. I want to see the world with you and our kids and I want to be a present mum you know, not of fighting in a boxing ring every week” you sigh, squatting while looking up at him, half cleaning half giving him your attention.

A loud sigh comes from his as he sets himself on the sofa.

“Why what’s got you thinking about this” you ask, standing up and taking a seat next to him with a pat on his thigh.

“I just … sometimes I think back to the incident with you and how worried I was seeing you that injured. I mean … I thought you died in that ring and I know it can’t be easy to watch me in the car and I’m just thinking maybe … maybe it’s time I think about retiring?” He asks almost quietly like he’s afraid to admit what he truly had been thinking.

“Fernando it wouldn’t surprise me if your 60 and racing and scaring the living daylights out of me” you laugh looking over him.

“I’m being serious, I’ve seen how … attentive you are with the kids … and me and I think it’s time I want that life too. I’ve been playing a F1 playboy for far to long. I want to come home, wherever that is as long as I’m with you, you are my home” he smiles and tears fill your eyes.

“Fernando I love you” you kiss him.

“How do you deal with not having it in your life anymore?” He asks into your neck, making it come out a bit muffled.

“Well I have a lot of other stuff that I focus on. And I still do it, I teach it in a gym to kids and I do training in our gym so it’s not fully gone. And the feeling of winning and improving after a loss is something that is more nostalgic than anything. I don’t miss it necessarily, but it’s nice to look back on and think of what I did. Winning gold twice and silver once!” You smile, looking up in a thoughtful way.

“Hmmmmm that sounds, kind of peaceful” he offers and you laugh a little.

“Yeah I guess you could say it is. But Fernando, racing is a part of you, like boxing IS a part of me. It never really leaves you, no matter whether that’s because you continue until you physically can’t and break the record for oldest racing driver, or you own a karting track in Spain and train the next generation … or you become a manager for our son who no doubt will be a world champion with the way he looks up to you or even doing a Nico Rosberg and become a journalist… but baby, the world of F1 will never ever leave you” you assure your husband.

“You’ve made me even more confused on my deduction now” he sighs laughing and rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well whatever that decision is, I’ll be here for you” you smile.

“You know, I remember that one time, I think it was the 2012 Olympics in London, before the accident when you were so convinced you weren’t going to get gold and then you just all of a sudden had this ambition in your eyes … what was that” he asks.

“You, honesty. Your pep talk” you smile kissing his cheek.

“What do you think I should do?” He asks looking at you with the face of a lost puppy.

“That’s not a choice I can make for you my love” you smile at him patting his head leaving him to his thoughts while you go to find the kids.

Fernando stays with his own thoughts for a little before he saunters out to go find you.

As he rounds a corner he sees you messing about with the kids and Lance and it’s a sight to behold. One he can’t help but think he misses far to often.

But was he truly ready to give up his career.

“Papa” your daughter cries running over to her father the 6 year old not knowing much better than to rush off into the busy paddock lane to get to her father.

“Hello beautiful” he smiles as he picks her up, nuzzling her nose with his doing an Eskimo Kiss that they had done since she was just a baby.

Once his son came up to him, offering him an ice cream, that was starting to melt a little and starting to tell him how amazing he raced today his choice was clearer than ever.

Family came first.

y/user

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and astonmartinf1

y/user: Life Recently. Love my kids, guess the husband is okay 👍🏼

Tagged 1 Person

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astonmartinf1: MOTHER 👏🏼

fan1: omg I want her life so bad

fernandoalo_oficial: my gorgeous wife! I will ignore the caption!

-> y/user: you know I joke 🥰

fan2: her and Fernando bantering makes my life

lancestroll: when will I get to see the kids again!

-> y/user: next race my first son 🤣🫶🏼

-> fan3: Y/N and Fernandos first child Lance Alonso

hater1: gold digger

-> y/user: more like gold medalist … 🥇

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Back at it mate 🫶🏼 🇦🇺

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[carlsangel]

CRUSH

carl grimes x adhd!dixon!fem!reader

(carl loves to hear about your hyper fixation.)

tags: fluff!

masterlist here!

(this takes place in season 4 at the prison!)

Growing up, you’d gotten interested in many things. You were really educated on a lot and your dad, Daryl honestly couldn’t keep up with it. He tried his best, since he’s a pretty quiet guy he’s a great listener. Although, sometimes you wished he’d give you some sort of feedback or maybe ask you questions about whatever it was you were telling him about.

Even after the turn he never really had time to talk about anything. He was always going on runs or he went out hunting. He was really important in the way the prison ran, so he was always busy. You always felt sort of anxious about it, you could never really talk or share your thoughts or explain the interests you loved. They were especially important now as most of your hyper fixations were what was getting you through it all.

You talked, and you talked a lot and there’s nothing wrong with that. But in a world that suddenly had gone quiet, it was hard for people to listen to you considering how adapted they’d become to the silence. You were like a burst of energy that most people weren’t exactly ready for quite yet.

Except for Carl.

He always thought you were the cutest and funniest ever, even when you were younger like at the quarry or the farm. There, you never really had freedom to be yourself because the adults would always tell you to hush and be quieter. That’s why at the prison, he loved to watch you be who you truly were. He’d seen you interact with the other kids at the prison and had gotten angry at them for brushing you off when you were excited about certain things and began to ramble. So, one day at the tables outside the prison, he did something not many people did.

He asked you your favorite book series.

You were ecstatic, even though you realize this may not an invitation to explain to him every bit of lore of the story, you were happy he’d even put in the effort to ask. You tried to stay as calm as possible. “It’s called A Series of Unfortunate Events…it’s quite complicated…” You explain shyly, not having really opened up to him like that before. Sure you’d gone through a lot with him but you stayed quiet a lot of the time because of how discouraged you were by adults.

“Complicated? How so?” He questioned. Which is exactly what you wanted. Your eyes widen a bit but you try your best to stay calm so you don’t completely scare him off.

“Well how much do you wanna know, I mean it’s quite a lot it could take me hours to explain and I’d feel quite bad if you wanted like a quick synopsis and not an entire look on the lore and…” Your voice trails off when you realize you’d been rambling. He however was admiring you completely. He found you so refreshing. “I wanna hear everything.” He tells you. Again exactly what you wanted. Was he always so cute? Or is that something you’d just noticed?

“I guess I could start with the basic information, there’s three siblings right, theres Violet who’s the eldest sister and she’s an inventor, she always ties her hair up with this ribbon and that’s how you know she’s gonna make something good...” You continue to ramble and smile at little details you explain. “Then there’s the middle child, Klaus who’s a boy and he is very intelligent, he remembers basically anything ever told to him which I somewhat relate to considering I get really interested at certain things but anyway,” He giggles at you a bit, enjoying everything in front of him at the moment.

“They also have a little sister Sunny who’s just a baby but they understand everything she says and she has these teeth that are super sharp even though it’s just four but she could probably bite off a finger if she really wanted to.” His eyes widen a bit. “A finger? Wow…and only four teeth?” He inquired, very intrigued at what you’re saying.

You continue to talk to him a bit more, explaining a good amount of the plot to him and he listened intently. You’d stopped for dinner but continued to talk with him during. At some point, Daryl had to come and pry you away from him so you could actually go the hell to bed. Carl didn’t want you to go, you’d already gotten him invested and he wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing what happened next. He also wanted to just spend time with you.

“Cmon s’time for bed.” Daryl told you, you then turned to Carl and a small frown was displayed on his face. “We can talk again tomorrow morning…if you want.” He immediately nods. “Yes- yeah I’d love to.” Daryl looks between the both of you, knowing how much Carl had admired you. He also knew that if Carl was listening and wanting to know more, you’d also admire him just as much. You smile at him and nod. Daryl directs you in the way of the cells and he stays back to talk to Carl.

“You got somethin for my daughter?” He interrogated Carl for a moment. “W-what?” Daryl looks back at you to make sure you’re far enough before continuing. “Those books…she’s been dyin to talk to me about those since I found em for her. Haven’t had the time.” He explains. “No one else seems to want to hear about it. What’re you up to?” Carl tilts his head a bit. “I just wanted to know her favorite series…I suppose I enjoy hearing her talk.” He smiles.

So Daryl left him alone about it. He was glad to know you had someone to talk to while he was busy.

The next day at breakfast, you were eating while reading back at the benches. Once he gets his plate he walks over and sits across from you. His paper plate hit the table with a bit a thud and you notice, looking up from the book. “Oh…hey.” You look up at him and smile, he takes a moment to respond as he’s quite flustered to see your smile straight off the bat. “Hi…which one are you reading?” He points to your book.

“The twelfth book. I’m kinda sad about it though…” You give a small pout and he picks up a bit of bacon to take a bite. “Why, cause it’s gonna end?” He chews his food and waits for your reply. “That and I don’t have the last book.” You fold the page’s corner, sort of a way to mark your place. Carl takes note of that. He does however feel horrible that you’re missing the last book. “Oh really? I’m sorry…maybe we can make up our own ending. Once you explain the rest of it to me.” He does his best to cheer you up.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had to solve your problem. Although he was too young to go out scavenging, his best friend wasn’t. So after breakfast where you explained the second book to him, on his way to do his chores he stopped Michonne on her way out of the gate. “Do you think maybe if it’s not to big a deal you could stop at the library? I’m looking for a book.” He explains, not quite mentioning you currently. “Is this for your new old ‘friend’?” She questions, somewhat teasingly. He rolls his eyes but nods. “Yes. She’s missing the last book. The thirteenth.”

“The last book? Tragic. I know the series, I overheard your guys’ chats yesterday.” She smiles.

So she left and you didn’t see Carl till later that night in the cell block after dinner. He stopped by your cell with a small bag in his hands. He pushed the curtain open to see you lying on your stomach atop your bed, on the final pages of the twelfth book. “Almost done?” He sort of startled you but you immediately smile once you realize it’s him.

“Mhm.” His visit was rather unusual, usually you’d just talk to him during the day but not before bed. You sit up and make room for him to come sit beside you. “I got something for you.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a book, the thirteenth book. “‘The End?’ Really? How…I mean my dad’s been looking for it for me but-” You look up at him with a bright grin. You don’t really say anything before swiftly tackling him in a hug. He hugs you so tightly, all he wanted was to see you happy.

After pulling away from the hug, he reached back down into the back and pulled out a hook bookmark. It had a little arrow charm. Fitting for a Dixon to say the least.

“I mean…this makes sense.” You tell him, he laughs at your comment. “I just thought I’d have Michonne find you the last book. I’m quite invested in it myself. I love hearing you talk about it…I love hearing you talk.” He explains, sort of staring at you admiringly. You notice and look a tad skeptical, knowing there was something more appealing to him than just talking.

“I uh..I have a small crush on you…if that explains everything.” He admits, his face turning a light shade of pink.

You smile. “Yeah, I could tell.”

a/n: i thought this was quite fun to write, i love a series of unfortunate events muehehehe. anyway i hope this is what anon wanted, i did some good research for it to ensure it was okay :)) okay love u bye

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh

[paradiseprincesss]

hey, how about a drabble/short fic inspired by the song "paper bag" by fiona apple with neil lewis?

he couldn't stay | neil lewis

hi anon, absolutely. i hope you enjoy this little drabble! here's something little to hold u guys over while i work on a few other longer requests.

summary: you watch your childhood best friend who you've been in love with for years, fall for someone else.

warnings: angst of course, friends to strangers, overall sadness

word count: 720 words

masterlist

you stared at the time on your phone mindlessly, feeling like you had just hit rock bottom. you felt alone and miserable, but also numb at the same time. life was unfair. love was unfair.

3:47 AM.

another sleepless night.

neil lewis had been your best friend since childhood and you thought that would never change, but it seemed that the universe had other plans. you never wanted things to end this way, but your friendship came to a screeching halt in the last few months.

you liked neil since you were in high school. the two of you were inseparable. you thought that your relationship would turn into one of those "friends to lovers" tropes, but it never did. maybe it was his fault, maybe it was yours - i guess you'll never know now, though. you felt like maybe if you had said something before, things could've panned out the way you hoped. but now it was too late.

he was with someone else now - he was with violet.

you remembered when neil broke the news to you a few months ago, and he broke your heart at the same time. you'd gone over to his place like you always did, ever since you were younger, and you two watched a movie together. about halfway through the movie, he turned to you to tell you something important. he called your name softly, causing you to pause the movie and listen to him.

"yeah, neil?" you asked softly, smiling sweetly at him.

"i forgot to tell you," he says, "do you remember that girl i went out on a date with a few weeks back?"

your smile slowly faded, and your heart silently broke as you started to lose hope. this couldn't be happening.

"um, yeah..." you say, trying to sound at least a little bit happy for him.

"i asked her to be my girlfriend and she said yes," he beamed, "she's great. i want you to meet her soon."

you thought you were going to go crazy when he said these words to you, but you kept yourself composed even though you wanted to burst out into tears. you plastered the phoniest, fakest, most forced smile onto your face and "congratulated" him.

"wow," you say, feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces, "i'm so happy for you, neil. i'd love to meet her."

and that was the last time you two hung out - months ago. you hoped, and pleaded, and prayed that they wouldn't last, but your prayers went unanswered. they lasted, and on top of that, they were getting pretty serious. you heard from lucien that apparently neil thought she was the "love of his life."

you stopped visiting gumshoe video all together, and jonathan and lucien both texted you to see if you were okay, but after a while, you stopped responding. you started to hangout with your other friends, becoming closer to them and distancing yourself from neil, jonathan, and lucien. it hurt too much to be around neil, anyways.

as much as you tried to force yourself to get over it - you were still struggling to. it should've been you that he ended up with, not her. but you were the one who was too scared to confess your feelings to him; you knew that this wasn't really his fault because you should have said something. but now, you'll never know what could've been between the two of you because he was with someone else.

he was happier with someone else.

you stopped reaching out to him, and he stopped reaching out to you. it's not like he really tried, anyway. he was busy now - with the love of his life, or whatever. so, that was that.

maybe things were meant to fall apart so that they could fall back together again in the future, or maybe not. you hoped that one day your paths would cross again, but for now, you slowly faded into the background and became a stranger to someone you loved dearly, and he became a ghost to you.

even though they say time heals all, it seemed that all time was doing was just crushing your heart even more, along with any hope that you had of neil seeing you as anything more than just a friend.

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Reminiscing With Hunter

Hunter X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: Angst, all the feels, fluff

Word Count: 930

(A/N:) Okay I gave myself some major feels in this one. As I have gone through a lot of loss within the last 3 years this helped me heal just a little bit. I hope this helps bring a little bit of closure to the series. Though I loved the final season I was a little bit disappointed in how fast the ending came. It ended a little quickly (or I just didn't want it to end) but I'm so glad they got the ending they deserved. Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

It wasn't unusual for Hunter to disappear during the night, you had grown used to his disappearances during the waning hours of the night. As a soldier, created for one purpose in life, it wasn't unusual for his senses to overwhelm him. So in moments you would give him his space, but other times you would search for him. You had a way of telling whatever Hunter needed. As a leader, he had to be the guidance and rock of the team. Now he didn't have to worry about such things, but it had still taken it's toll over the years. This moment, finding Hunter's side cooling and him nowhere in the room and the solemnness that had overcome the tightknit family, you knew that Hunter needed you this time.

Searching for any signs of the aging clone, you noticed Batcher's absence as well. Normally the loyal creature was holed up with Omega. But even the younger girl's room was barren of her presence. That's when you knew, she was making good on her argument with her brother's this evening. You sighed deeply, breath hitching as your heart cracked. Passing by Wrecker's open door, deep snores echoing out into the hall, you knew Hunter needed you now more than ever.

Pabu was silent as the town slept on. You sat on the stairs a hot cup of caf in hand as you waited for Hunter's return. The stars above glistening brightly before a ship crossed over above your head, and you knew the blonde haired girl was making her own way in the galaxy. Batcher's padded steps alerted you to the return of Hunter. The Lurca snuffled your hand before heading inside. Though happy to see you, you could tell the creature was saddened by her body language. Hunter sighed deeply and you gave him a sad smile.

"Caf," you asked holding out the cup.

He nodded and took your offering, then took a seat as you patted the spot beside you. You had the uncanny ability to know just exactly what he needed. And caf answered a lot of life's more problematic issues. Though it warmed his body and alerted his senses, it couldn't heal the fresh wound in his heart.

"I take it she's gone," you sniffed, fighting back the tears.

"Yeah," he answered, taking another sip. "I couldn't talk her out of it. I didn't even try."

"She wouldn't have listened. That's why she try sneaking away," you replied. "She can't just sit by and do nothing while other's suffered. It's never been in her nature and," you nudged Hunter with an elbow, "she learned it from you."

"Doesn't make it any easier," he chuckled. "I still remember the first time I saw her on Kamino. I never understood why she was so drawn to us."

"It's because you guys were different," you paused. "Like her."

"Tech taught her a lot too. He was the best out of all of us."

You smiled, wiping a stray tear, "He was definitely a rebel. You probably shouldn't have let her spend so much time with him, he clearly influenced her."

Hunter nodded, grinning to himself behind the mug of caf, "I wouldn't change a thing."

"I wouldn't either," you agreed. "But you know Tech wasn't the only one she learned from. Echo had a lot to do with her to, Wrecker was a total enabler, Crosshair too when he wanted, and don't even get me started on you. You were like a father figure to her. You protected her and you taught her in your own way."

Hunter leaned his head back, taking a deep shuttering breath.

"What I'm getting to is," you grabbed his hand giving it a gentle squeeze, "she had good teachers in her brothers. In you guys. The Force is with her and her other brother is out there watching over her too. Tech is all for this and you know it. He goes with her wherever she goes and so do you, Wrecker, Echo, and Crosshair. She is a part of you and her you. It's a cycle we must live. We have them and then we have to let them go, whether that is in something they must set out to do or they end their race of life."

"That's the only reason I let her go," Hunter replied.

He finished his caf and set the empty mug aside. You held your arms out offering him the comfort he needed now more than ever. Hunter tugged you towards him setting his chin on the top of your head. His beard catching a few of your hairs. You cried softly, letting yourself free yourself from emotions, and Hunter wiped at a few stray tears. The galaxy such a vast place, you meet so many people and they make you into you. He never regretted for one moment having Omega in his life and that's why it hurt so much in letting her go. With one final squeeze Hunter let you go, wiping at wet eyes and cheeks.

You laughed wobblily, still drying tears. "Now this just raises the question. Who's going to tell Wrecker?"

Hunter shook his head, grabbing both of the empty cooling mugs, "I'm not."

"I'm not either," you argued.

He paused for one moment and you both stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Crosshair," you both said in unison making you both laugh.

With sorrowful but light hearts you both went back inside the warm home, hand in hand. Ready for whatever the galaxy threw towards your way next.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hi! Literally love all your writings🗣️🌹🌹 I was wondering if you can do something platonic with Modern!Bill with teen daughter reader and how they would be with each other (love all writings but I’m a sucker for platonic writings)

(Hello! Ty for loving my writing and aye, sure I can! I love platonic writings so I hope you enjoy!)

Being Bill Kaulitz's Daughter

Your dad could be the corniest and most embarrassing mf ever to meet on some days

He finds it so funny to embarrass you in front of your friends

But also if your friends know who he is he is like

"Yes. It is me." With his dramatic eyebrow raise and hair flip

He's still dramatic man no matter if he has you or not

Your childhood consisted a lot of being to on tour and having your uncle's do your every bidding

Tom and you are like partners in crime

After your dad of course

Georg let you sneak off with him and Gustav taught you practically everything

You were taken on stage a lot

Your dad likes to teach you anything to do with music at all

When you were a kid you would crawl into bed with Bill no matter what and you probably still do it

Your dad just lets you because he knows you still find comfort in it

You will always be his little girl no matter what

He legit struggles when he remembers your not a kid and growing up

Spoiled you no matter what

Even if he got criticism from media about how you were brought up he still did it

He dressed you just like him when you were younger

He didn't force you to dress like him though, you just found him cool

You and him match on a daily though

That father daughter duo with amazing style

You guys can never be caught wearing something that doesn't send a statement or look absolutely amazing

He is so proud your happy to be his kid

You are the best thing to happen to this man the moment he met you in the hospital

He lets you grow your own hobbies, interests and style

He doesn't make you do something you don't wanna do

Tries his best to keep paparazzi away from you growing up

Tries to keep you out of the media when you were born for as long as he could to protect your privacy

He thought you wouldn't hang out with him as you grew up bc he is a bit more on the feminine side and thought you would find that embarrassing but was glad you didn't

You and him have shopping sprees so many times of the week you guys just can't stop

You constantly bother your dad and he lets you

Buys you whatever in hell you want just because you want it

When you guys buy clothes you guys have a practical runway and fashion show and are giving each other compliments, tips and shit like that

He is a very supporting dad

Either with what you wanna do in your life, school, jobs and anything

Doesn't care if you grow up and date a woman, a man, a they, he just wanted you to be happy

Posts you literally everyday

Is almost like a Facebook mom with everything in your life

Wrote a bunch of songs about things happening in your life like milestones

You are him are very close if you couldn't tell

[n33dlew0rk]

Bad Boy Boogie

I’m thinking about how in The Dirt they depicted Vince Neil as someone who was not into the alternative scene as much as Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee were.

And I'm thinking about Steve being recruited in some glam rock band in a similar way after he’s been scraping the barrel for a few years because his poor excuse of a father kicked him out and cut him off for being queer:

He’s working dive bars, strip clubs, lame pool parties, whatever gets some food, smokes and the occasional joint on his table. He liked to sing when he was younger, but it was never something he thought would be one of his main income sources in his twenties. So it's like you know whatever, as long as it keeps him alive and kicking.

He’s not very social these days, too busy surviving the late 80’s. But someone from high school still remembers him from his King Steve days, knows what happened because of the typical small town talks + sees him kind of around the scene sometimes, between Indianapolis and Chicago, hears him sing lame slow ballads and chart stuff.

So after some laughs (he does not take the thing seriously at first) and some uncertainty (money is not guaranteed ofc), he gets recruited and slowly starts to fully embody this glam rock sexy kind of androgynous and ambiguously sensual charismatic frontman role.

They do good. Like really good. Papers talk about them, mothers pray clutching their pearls, kids go nuts. Their gigs are sweat, fishnets, smeared make-up, tall boots, short skirts, tight pants.

---

Now cut to Eddie and Corroded Coffin, still a small town band, still dreaming big. But someone in their extended friend circle, probably someone a little bit less socially awkward than them, knows someone in Indi, who knows someone in Chicago, who finally hooks them up to open for a bigger band on a small state tour. Only it's Steve's band.

Eddie is fuming.

Not only did a fucking jock got to get bigger in music faster than him, he also did it in a genre that was not popular among metalheads. Even Metallica had feuds with Mötley Crüe, after all. You know that thin veil of elitism that makes metalheads a real pain in the ass despite how intensely GAY most of Judas Priest’s lyrics are.

By the way, back to Eddie.

Fuming.

He doesn't wanna go. Pleads the guys to please have some integrity, for fuck’s sake. Tries to convince the owners of The Hideout to make them play more nights.

But when money is thrown into it, like actual money, money like a month’s worth of day jobs, he can’t really say no to the proposition.

So they go.

Eddie refuses to even listen to the other band's demos, determined to spend the entire tour playing his own set and then getting blackout drunk in the back of the van for the remainder of the night.

He manages to do just that for the first two nights, until he gets cut off from the free alcohol because the bar owner is a sad greedy bastard.

And since spending a whole evening sober inside a van is not nearly as fun as he thought, he goes back inside, searching for his bandmates, barely managing to move through waves of sweaty half naked people and groupies.

A disappointed growl leaves his throat as the lights go down while he’s still in the middle of the pit. Scorned and absolutely annoyed to the core, he turns towards the stage, fully prepared to boo his way to the side of the room.

So you can imagine how totally and utterly shocked he is when Steve fucking Harrington appears: red cowboy boots under the tightest leather pants ever created by humankind, held together by flimsy flimsy strings on the sides. A brutally ripped white tank top (more like a sad reminder of it) under a goddamned leather harness with spikes and chains, all of this on top of his hairy, toned (is that glitter??) chest. Black make-up beautifully ruined under his rich brown eyes, a shadow of red lipstick on his lips. A black bandana tied around his forehead like a crown over his messy mullet (still rich in volume, that’s a magic trick the king still brings along for the journey).

Eddie feels like a lost greek sailor hearing the sirens for the first time.

Mouth: dry.

Hands: sweaty.

Jeans: dangerously tight.

The place feels like a fucking furnace and he cannot, for the love of all things unholy, tear his gaze away from Steve’s body, his face, the way he cups the microphone, how he grinds on the mic stand, how he falls onto his knees during guitar solos panting in front of his guitarist.

Lastly, I'm thinking about when the show is over and a phantom trace of Eddie’s rationality tries to persuade him that Steve will turn back into his jock self, preppy clothes and all, like a rock'n'roll Cinderella; but instead Steve smiles big to the crowd, tears the bandana from his head, wipes away some of the sweat from his neck and then stuffs the very same black bandana right into his right back pocket.

Gareth and Jeff literally have to drag poor Eddie out of the venue because his knees are so wobbly they stopped working indefinitely.

[littleclosetofbyler]

it was me, i was mike

Hello world.

So I got around the byler rabbit hole around 13 days ago (backed up by a comment on the first byler yt video i watched, kinda crazy), and everything went downhill from there until two or three days ago when i realized something extremelly curious: I was Mike Wheeler once.

Now, you might be asking yourself "the f is this woman into" but hear me out: everyone has a past.

So I will tell you a little bit about myself and my first friend crush.

I was around 15-16 when it started, year 2005, she was two years younger than me and my best friend. We went to the same school, she was really really smart, we would hang out because we both liked anime and books and games. Basically I asked her to be my friend during recess one day, of course when you are 15 the interaction goes more like "hey i heard you like anime, me too, wanna hang out after this?"

And hang out we did. A lot.

Fast forward a few years we are in full friendship with me being around 18 and dumb as f. We would go everywhere together and all was great, until I met one of her friends, a guy who was just kind of cool, but I actually just liked his name.

I started dating him, because I had nothing better to do, and my friend and I were okay for around a week, and then this guy asked my friend how he could make me kiss him... and my friend cut me off.

Like that. No longer friends.

In january was her 16th birthday, I called her on the phone and asked why we were no longer hanging out, I told her I missed her and she gave me the answer that has been with me for over 15 years already: "Our age gap is too big".

At the moment I was sad and weirded out, we were friends, best friends, what the hell happened. Until a few weeks later I talked with another friend, a wise dumb kind of guy who told me the second answer that has been with me for years: "She liked you".

I was 19 when I understood my feelings for women were more than platonic, I was 19-20 when I had my first everything with women. I was 19-20 when i came out of the closet.

But when I was 18 and she liked me, I was just... oblivious.

I used to make jokes about gay people, I had a lot of internalized homophobia, I thought things were not very logical at all. It took me years to realize that my "looking up to X older girl" was not a common universally straight experience, not in the way I used to do it. It took me even more years to realize that my first idealization of a "wet dream" was not the man, but the woman in the blue dress and high hair.

A few years more, of should I say, many years more, is what it took me to realize a lot of other things; looking back, my relationship with her was never completely "normal", not for two girls in my country at that age in the year 2007.

Hidden messages, special presents, a folder full of drawings, german music, a little too close in all the photos, sleepless nights on her bed, ice cold tea specially for me, holding hands while watching anime in the darkness of a movie theater, almost hugging while a kiss happened in those movies, sleeping on my shoulder, except that she was never really sleeping.

We were everything and we were nothing, platonic friends only.

Today I am 34, and an openly not straight woman (lesbian? bisexual? I don't know, i don't care).

When I lost her I did not only lost my best friend, I lost so so much more, and it was probably the cathalist for everything that came after.

I miss her to this day.

So I understand the universal not straight experience of the crush on a friend as well as the being the crush of said friend, and let me tell you, I was Mike Wheeler, remember that guy I told you about? Well, I told him I loved him (can´t actually even remember if this happened exactly like this), because he insisted I never said it.

I have never been in love with a man, I am not sure I even ever feel anything for a man beyond platonic whatever.

So, whenever I see people say that Mike Wheeler just can't be gay, or be or anything... oh my sweet summer child, he can be, because I was, at the same age, in a not conservative contry, in 2008; why do you think it might be impossible in the 80's in a conservative town in a pretty conservative country?

Dunno, just asking.

[ilexdiapason]

(part one here) (part three here)

(CW: character experiences a severe derealization episode)

“D’you want me to order pizza?” Oli asks, somewhat redundantly, because Martyn is twenty-two (according to the police report) and a gamer, of course he’s not gonna turn down free pizza.

“Oh, god, yeah,” says Martyn. And, a second later - “Please.”

He fires up the Domino’s website obediently, pulls up the deals and picks one that’ll leave him some leftovers for when Martyn’s long gone tomorrow. Meateor for himself, as usual, and then he spins the laptop round on his knees to present Martyn with the options. “What are you having?”

Martyn stares at the screen, unblinking, for a few too many seconds.

“... Something wrong?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, no, just. Um. Been a while.”

“D’you just want a margherita, then? Keep it easy?”

“No, I don’t - I was -” he grimaces, shakes his head roughly, and thumbs at the fabric of his shirt where the tea stain sits “- trying to remember what I liked.”

“Vegetarian?”

“No,” Martyn responds immediately.

“Olives? Mushrooms?”

“I’m not picky -”

“Pineapple on pizza?”

Martyn snorts. “Okay, yeah, I don’t much like pineapple on anything, I’ll give you that.”

“But as a concept.”

“No problem with it.”

“Then, Marty, my friend, you’ve lost the plot.”

He sits another moment, deliberating. Then - “Sweetcorn.”

“Yeah?”

“I like sweetcorn on pizza.”

“Alright,” says Oli, and spins the laptop round again to check the options. “Vegi Supreme or Chicken Feast?”

“I’ll take the chicken,” Martyn says, resolute.

Oli sends the order through, with potato wedges on the side, because it’s his money and he’s gonna pick the extra items for the deal. Then, once the little order tracker with the fake AI has popped up and started telling him stupid jokes to amuse him for the next 25 minutes or so, he turns back to look at Martyn. “Can I ask something?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Ask what?”

“And you don’t need to tell me if it’s, like, personal or whatever, just… what were you eating? If you haven’t seen pizza in however long?”

Martyn makes a face. “Whatever, honestly. It wasn’t a big worry for me - I mean, not like I could - yeah, it was just whatever. Not dead yet, so I’m clearly not malnourished.”

Oli cocks his head. “Whatever like whatever you were given, or whatever like you were scavenging?”

“Like - uh - like - I mean, I wouldn’t say scavenging, that’s - like whatever I could find? I know I’m not explaining this very clearly, it’s -”

“No, no, I said you didn’t need to tell me! Don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” (It’s not like Oli doesn’t want to know, but he doesn’t need to know if it’s going to make Martyn uncomfortable to explain it.)

“Anyway. It wasn’t bad, it was just… y’know how Covid makes it so you can’t taste anything? Little bit like that.”

“Original Covid did. I don’t know about all the new variants.”

“Ah, yeah, heard about those! Did they ever run out of Greek letters?”

“Don’t think so, thank goodness.”

“Yeah,” Martyn nods.

Beside Oli, the little Domino’s robot lets him know that their pizzas are now going in the oven.

It feels odd, to be sitting here on the sofa, taking an extended lunch break with somebody who he’s only known from Minecraft servers and scratchy in-game prox chat. It feels odd to know that he’s doing hospitality for a man six or seven years younger than him, a friend who’s never answered out-of-character about himself before today. It feels odd to know that he’s actually looking at the real Martyn - not some rat, not some pirate, just… some guy.

Oli swallows and steels himself for what he’s about to say. “Erm - again. Don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But… besides this whole Doc thing, what was your life like? Your normal life?”

Martyn’s expression flips into something unreadable for a second, then mellows again into neutrality. “Yeah, uh - nothing special, really. Born and raised in Nottingham, did alright at school, got the grades for uni but I ended up deferring. I was trying to get a job in my gap year but I didn’t really wanna end up behind the counter at GAME or McDonald’s or anything, and nowhere else ever got back to my applications, so… spent a lot of time at home, playing video games. No girlfriend, no mates who really stuck after college; not much worth writing home about. I wasn’t much of anything, really, not then.”

Oli is, he decides, going to ignore the implications of that comment. “Family?”

“Mum, dad, sister who’s been moved out for a few years. Dog. Oh, I hope he’s still alive, that’d suck if I never see my dog again.”

“Fingers crossed,” says Oli.

“What about you? What’s the home life of OrionSound like, when he’s not at the computer?”

“Oh, Marty, my entire life is at the computer,” he quips. “I work in software development. I actually did my degree in psychology, but you’d be surprised, there’s not a lot of room in the market unless you’ve done a load of other certifications as well. I guess I could have got a therapy licence, but as it turned out, I’d spent enough time in first year making terrible visual novels that by the time I got into the workforce I technically knew how to code. AI snapping at our heels now, of course, but it’s probably gonna eat itself by Christmas, so I’m not too worried about that.”

“I dunno,” says Martyn, “I’ve seen some pretty advanced AI.”

“So, yeah. I spent a few years freelancing, contracting for one place or another - I’m quick, which people seem to like, although that’s mostly so I can get back to gaming as soon as possible. And then… like two and a bit years ago? Yeah, would’ve been two years this past July… then I got a really nice position at CHESTCorp, it’s mostly remote work, I drive down to London every few months so they can “review my performance in a controlled environment”, whatever that means, and they pay well enough that I can afford this place on my own, which is -”

Oli stops talking when he notices Martyn’s face has gone white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I knew it,” Martyn murmurs.

“What?”

“I knew it,” he says again, stronger, “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, I knew you - I thought - he told me this would happen, I’ve seen it happen, I should’ve just learned from my mistakes the fucking first time, but clearly I’m stupid.”

“Marty, what are you -”

“Didn’t wanna believe this shit could follow me out here, but evidently it - oh. Oh, no, no, you fucking - it’s not over, is it? I’m still - that’s why nobody picked up the phone, it wasn’t real, you couldn’t synthesise my mother’s voice, I’d know! You’re CHEST, of course you’re CHEST, the one person I thought - I mean, I hoped - you’re fucking cruel, is what this is, it’s cruel, and you’re not fooling me twice. Don’t know how you got the food this realistic, but -”

“Martyn,” Oli tries to interrupt, “are you okay?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Martyn says through gritted teeth. “You’ve given the game away now, CHEST agent. Should’ve known it wasn’t real. Should’ve known I couldn’t get out that easy. Or you caught up before I got out, one of you fuckers, planted something, or - I don’t know, made me think I was finally out of this stupid place. Made me think it was fine so I’d start giving up secrets. Well, you’re not getting another word out of me, you fucking idiot. Some interrogation room you’ve got here, huh? This your best simulation? Get a better model for your TV, I’ll tell you that for free, the reflection’s too smooth.”

Well. Er. “Martyn,” he tries again, “I think you might be having a flashback?”

“Nothing back about it, you bastard. Giving me false hope like that. Thank god I don’t actually know Doc’s name, or you’d have been able to track him too, wouldn’t you? Fuck you. Don’t ever bring my family into this again, any of you.”

“Okay,” Oli says slowly, rifling through his psychology knowledge for grounding techniques, “you think this isn’t real, right now?”

“I know it isn’t real,” Martyn spits, “and it’s getting worse the more I’m poking at it. See, look -” he stomps a foot at the floor “- you’re losing resolution trying to keep it running.”

The carpet, which has not changed and is certainly not lower resolution than it was when they got here, endures being scuffed at. Oli doesn’t want to actually lay a hand on Martyn right now, though; he’s got a bad feeling that’ll end in something much worse than being kicked. Instead he dips into the kitchen across the room, pops an ice cube out of the tray faster than he’s ever needed to, and brings it back over to the sofa. “Here,” he says, chucking it at Martyn’s lap, “that real enough for you?”

Martyn catches the projectile reflexively. He stills, silent, both hands cupped around the ice cube, staying in the air.

Then, gradually, his eyes unfocused… his arms lower.

He opens them and stares down at the piece of ice in his palm, and, slowly and almost imperceptibly, begins to rock forward.

The Domino’s tracker chimes again. Their food has finished cooking, and it’s being delivered by Amal. Oli almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Whatever Martyn’s running from, it must go a lot deeper than he thought.

(part five here)

[bookstantrash]

A/N: This took a while to post even though it had been written for quite some time lol sorry. It is also the last already written fic I had and the last RED TV titled one (for now, I’ll absolutely write more in the future, one day)

I have an Emerie centric fic that I hope I can finish writing soon now that I am on a break from uni, but I make no promises given my record track I also plan to start studying for my bar exam so there’s that

Anywaaaaays hope you guys enjoy some soft Nessian!

But I don't wanna dance (if I'm not dancing with you)

It had not escaped Nesta’s attention how her husband sometimes left their bed in the late nights. After their talk about his nightmares —  after how he had promised to wake her up and talk when he had a bad dream — his disappearances had become irregular and rare. But recently he had begun to take longer to go to bed, finding excuses to make her lay down before him, or even waking up before the sun had even risen. Nesta knew Cassian was used to waking up with the first rays of sunlight, while she preferred to sleep in — although the early morning training sessions with the Valkyries made her wake up a bit earlier then she would have preferred. However, now he was awake before even the sun had made an appearance and well, she would be lying if that did not bother her.

She had tried to wake up early with him to discover what he was up to, but that had proved to be impossible very quickly. She was not a morning person at all, and all it took was Cassian leaving some kisses on her neck and shoulder, whispering for her to go back to sleep and promising pancakes to make her burrow herself in the furs and mumble that “they better have chocolate chips or else”.

Nesta had also attempted to find where he disappeared to late in the night, something that was turning out to be more difficult than she had expected. Although the House was big and had more rooms than they would ever use, she had made sure to investigate each and every one of them whenever she had the time.

She found nothing. It was as if Cassian’s disappeared to a different dimension, making her reach one conclusion: the House was Cassian’s accomplice in whatever it was that he was up to.

The fact that the House —  who in nine out of ten cases sided with her — had decided to cover up whatever it was that her mate was doing left her puzzled. And, if she was being honest, a little shocked. And betrayed. But if Nesta Archeron was known for something it was for her cunning mind and ability to charmspeak her magical house with smutty books.

So she bid her time, waiting for Cassian to slip off of their bed at midnight while she pretended to be asleep, leaving a kiss on her temple. She waited for a few heartbeats, her Fae hearing making it possible to listen to his footsteps disappearing completely. When she was sure he had left, she threw back the covers and, opening her bedside table’s drawer, grabbed a wrapped package.

“I know that you and Cassian are hiding something from me” Nesta said to the House but all she got in response were the faelights flickering thrice.

“No? You don’t know what I mean?” she shrugged, waving the package around “And here I was, debating letting you read Sellyn Drake’s newest romance before me…”

That made the faelights turn on and shine brightly, and Nesta knew she had gotten Its attention. Having two younger sisters — one of them who liked to prove herself at every opportunity available  —  she knew exactly what to say to get what she wanted done. She didn’t even have to resort to the courtier techniques her awful mother had drilled into her since she learned how to talk.

Nesta could still remember when they lived at their mansion in the human lands, their mother and father gone for the weekend for some stupid engagement party of some even stupider high ranking noble family at their snobby generations old countryside manor.  By some small miracle their horrid grandmother was absent and the governess had gotten sick at the last minute, and with little time to hire someone, they had to make do with only the maids, who were less rigid and mean than what Nesta and her sisters were used to.

And they had enjoyed that weekend to the fullest. Nesta thought that had been the only time they had truly been able to be just children and enjoy themselves. And with that came a closeness and sisterly attitude that was usually lacking between the sisters.

Feyre had pulled pranks on them, hiding behind doors and jumping to scare them, or leaving fresh paint in Elain’s porcelain tea set, making her get her hands all dirty.

Elain had retaliated by baking Feyre’s favourite muffin — an indulgence reserved solely for her birthday, given that “ladies do not eat sweets all the time if they wanted to maintain a proper figure” — but using salt instead of sugar, adding a bit of some spice their father had brought back from one of his travels. Feyre had spit the muffin and chugged an entire glass of water to wash away the taste.

Nesta remembers the cook’s dejected face after seeing the mess Elain had left in his kitchen, having listened to Elain’s pleading eyes and letting her roam free in the otherwise forbidden space.

Meanwhile, Nesta had simply said to five year old Feyre that they “would play statue” and had gotten herself the rest of day to read in peace as her littlest sister was set on “winning the game”.

In conclusion, all she had to do was apply a similar tactic to the House.

“But well, if you insist that there is nothing going on…” she shrugged, opening the drawer and putting the book inside again.

Nesta was about to close the drawer when the book disappeared, the door to her room opening and the lights flashing, as if to say “follow me”.

Works every time, she thought with a sly smile, sliding her robe on as she left her room.

The House guided Nesta through the hallways, making her stop in front of an empty guest room she had previously checked.

“Are you sure Cassian’s in there?” she asked, for a second doubting whether the House knew where Cassian went or if It only wanted to read the smutty book first.

The fae lights outside flicked twice, and Nesta saw the door changing, becoming wider until it was a double door, definitely the kind that did not open to guest bedrooms.

“You glamoured yourself?” she said in disbelief, but the House merely opened a sliver of the door and flicked the fae lights again, as if to say ‘go on, I told you where your mate is now let me go back to my smutty book’.

Shaking her head, she approached the door, spying the room through that tiny crack, her eyes widening at the scene she saw.

Her husband and mate was dancing.

Nesta could see the Symphonia playing in the corner of the room while Cassian danced, stepping on glittering footsteps that showed what he should do and where he should go.

“I think I might be getting the hang of it,” he said with a small satisfied smile “But I don’t know about my arms… It is a bit weird to keep them in position without holding something…”

Pursing his lips, Cassian shook his head.

“Maybe I should have asked for a dummy to practise with…” he furrowed his brow “House, do you think you would be able to make it happen, please?”

However, the House had other plans. No sooner had Cassian spoken, the door suddenly opened all the way, making Nesta stumble into the room and come into her mate’s view.

“You little traitor!” Nesta hissed under breath.

“Nes? What are you doing here?” he arched an eyebrow “I thought the House was on my side for once, but I guess I was mistaken.”

“Well, It did end up bringing me a rehearsal partner so I suppose I am not completely upset at my surprise being ruined.” Cassian added with a lopsided smile, walking towards Nesta and grabbing her hand, bringing her closer with a slight tug on her waist.

The faelights inside the room flicked once, the door closing and the Symphonia starting a new tune. Nesta figured that was the way of the House saying ‘my job here is done, do not bother me until I am done with my book’.

With the Symphonia playing a new melody, Cassian pulled Nesta into the song with him.

“This is the first time you’ve led,” Nesta noted. Usually, she would be the one to take the lead and Cassian would follow her.

It was a bit unusual for the male partner to be the one following instead of being followed, but that had never bothered him. Cassian always let Nesta take the lead, not just when they danced. He knew her strengths and weaknesses. He knew she could take on her own fights and defend herself, but that did not mean that he left her all on her own. He was always there beside her, cheering her on, being there to support her but also give her a different perspective on things. Sure, they argued sometimes, just like every couple. However, they would not have gotten where they were and their relationship would not be what it was if they didn’t. At the end of the day, they always reached an understanding after voicing their opinions. And well, if that sometimes led to some makeup sex neither of them were complaining.

“Am I doing it well, Nes?” he asked, twirling her. 

“You are doing okay I guess,” she answered, trying not to fuel his already big ego even more. But Cassian was indeed dancing more smoothly than the other times. Now, it resembled like when he was lost in the dangerous and deadly dance of fighting he displayed in training. Like when Nesta had stood atop a little hill and watched silently as Cassian rained down upon Hybern’s armies.

“Liar,” he purred, spinning her so her back was against his chest, “I would like to think that I am doing it well after all that practising, but shadow dancing is definitely not the same when you dance properly with a partner.”

Nesta could not see his face, but she knew. She knew just from the way his voice trembled a little, some false bravado and swagger put on it. She knew from the way his end of the bond seemed to waver in uncertainty, just a bit. And she remembered the very first time they had danced together, when he had all but pushed Eris aside while asking for her next dance. At the time, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her when she saw his hand trembling slightly but maybe… maybe it had not been her imagination.

Did Cassian also practise in secret before that day? Had he been nervous that maybe it had not been enough and that he would end up embarrassing himself in front of her? Had that been why he had seemed so unsure and anxious despite the brave face he portrayed?

“You are right, it is different to dance with someone in comparison to dancing alone.” Nesta said, turning around so she could look into the hazel eyes she loved so dearly “But you are my mate, so of course you are dancing well.”

That had Cassian opening one his brightest smiles, his end of the bond singing and shining.

“But why not ask the House for a dancing partner from the start? It is not the most impossible thing for It to do” she wondered, thinking about all the things the House had made out of thin air on other occasions.

“Well, I am a mated male now,” Cassian answered, dipping her in time with the last note of the song “I was hesitant to dance with anyone else”

“Cassian, it would not be a real partner” Nesta replied, rolling her eyes fondly at him.

He brought his face closer to hers, still holding her in the dipped position. But Nesta was not worried about falling. She knew that her mate's strong arms could hold her that way all day if she asked.

And she also knew that he would break her fall if he was to lose his balance somehow.

“What can I say?” he kissed her, smiling against her mouth “I don’t want to dance with anyone apart from my wife.”

And a month later when the Night Court went to a ball being held in Winter Court to celebrate the birth of Kallias and Viviane’s daughter, Cassian showed off the results of his practice, dancing with Nesta the entire night.

•

tag list: @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @letstakethedawn @katekatpattywack @nestaarcheron @imagine-me @sv0430 @starryblueskies7 @live-the-fangirl-life @valkyriewarriors @readskk @wannawriteyouabook @imwritingthesewords @rainbowcheetah512 @moodymelanist @castielspelvis

[Reblogs/likes/comments are always welcomed!!]

[myewten]

Here's part 2 of fubu! Jake, please enjoy

Sub Jake, Dom reader, Mommy kink, bathroom sex, degrading Jake, idk what else are the tags

Jake was in disarray; all of a sudden the perfect person appeared in front of his eyes all ready for the taking, someone who he'd happily set aside his player tendencies from. And as quick as you appeared in his life, you left just as fast. Days of messaging you on bumble, insta and telegram, all being left at seen, then all just being delivered. He knows you haven't blocked him and yet you choose to ignore his relentless messages.

It was all going so smooth, you guys were seeing each other for casual sex and the moments after when he hung out in your apartment made him think that there was a connection more than sex. Those longing looks, those shared blankets, those intimate touches by your kitchen counter, those stupid moments before you kicked him out.

Did they mean nothing to you?

----

A week passed and Jake started to finally entertain the thought that maybe you weren't gonna come back to him. So he finally said yes when his friends Chan's invitation to go clubbing.

"dude, she's ghosted you for a week already. she's not gonna just appe---- wait isn't that her?"

Chan was almost worried Jake broke his neck just to check if you were really there. And low and behold, you were. Just as beautiful as the day you left...a week ago or so.

A black and red halter dress, hair and makeup all done, everything was perfect about your look for the night. It's like it was ripped right out of Jake's wettest dreams. The thing that pulled him out of his fantasies however was that you were dancing with some random tall and masculine looking chick.

He felt defeated, then he remembered "who gives a fuck, I'll just act drunk"

And so before Chan can stop his younger friend, Jake went waddling over to try and steal you from the chick that could most likely beat him up.

"mind if I steal you for a moment sweetheart?"

"and if I say no?"

"please mommy, I miss you so much"

"sit"

And Jake was sat right on the closed toilet while staring at your towering pressence. Awaiting patiently for whatever you'd give him, your attention was enough as is.

"what gave you the idea that you could grind your pathetic little dick on my ass when mommy was busy?" you were leaning on the wall in front of the toilet and slowly traced the tip of your red bottom heels on Jake's legs. Slowly ridding it up until it was pressed up on his visible hard on and slowly adding pressure while simultaneously giving Jake a wonderful view of you wearing his favorites pair of panties. It was a sight worth dying for.

All he could do was whimper at the sight and your actions almost making him finish. He hadn't touched himself since you left. "answer me, slut."

"I-i'm sorry mommy--! I miss you so much. p-please come back to me. I-i'll b-be so good for you. Just use me. P-please come back! I-i---"

You cut him off by a kiss and swallowing his moans, sitting on his lap to get comfortable for your next actions.

"if you don't make a sound, I'll make you my only slut. ok?"

All he could do was desperately nod as you already started unzipping his pants and taking out his aching dick. Even the sight of you spitting on your hand as if there wasn't enough pre-cum coming out of him to help you out made him even more turned on.

You started you pace slowly and teasing his tip as you nibbled on his Adam's apple. Jake's plump lips was most definitely bleeding from how hard he was bitting down to quiet himself. "Did you bring your car baby?"

a nod was all you got as a reply and you continued to fasten you pace and then stopping. "Good, let's continue this there. But first, let me take care of my poor little slut"

You knew him so well, all you had to do was go back to teasing his tip and he was all over your hand and whimpering ever so quietly.

he was hard almost instantly again when he saw you taste him from your hand and kissed him to make him taste his own cum. "open and swallow for me baby."

"good boy, now let's say good bye to your friend and you can taste mommy in the car ok?"

"yes, mommy"

[24hlevi]

— strawberries & cigarettes

claire redfield (resident evil) x gn!reader

summary: how it would be dating claire

warnings: language

— first of all, claire would be the best girlfriend ever, no doubt about it

— she probably asked you out first and the one to make things official between you two

— she uses strawberry chapstick and kisses you every time after she puts it on knowing how much you like it

— a fucking tease is what she is with anything involving you getting flustered because of her, will literally nudge you like “awe what? can't say anything anymore? you were so confident a second ago” with a smirk on her face

— that being said, if you were to get her flustered in any sort of way she would push you away (affectionately) and try to act like she isn't bright red in the face over what you did or said

— claire pretends like she hates matching couple items but bought you guys rings and necklaces for an anniversary or christmas

— on the topic of holidays, claire is a mess when it comes to picking out gifts for you, but whatever she gets you in the end she feels you’ll like, and you always do! she just over thinks a lot about it

— she loves every gift you give her also, and will hold them close to her and genuinely cherish each one even if it's just something small

— chris likely had a long talk with you before you and claire became official with him threatening you to not do anything to her which she just pushed him aside and told you not to worry about him as he glared at you

— claire will insist on driving you everywhere strictly to show off her motorcycle, also because she likes having your arms around her, she won't ever admit that though but it's true

— claire can cook a little bit, not big extravagant meals or anything but enough for variety and to keep you two alive, she never makes breakfast though because she is always sleeping in

— in private, claire loves cuddling with you whether it be on the couch or in bed it doesn't matter, her arms are wrapped around you and legs entangled with one another

— in public, claire is okay with PDA but keeps it to a minimum, she will hold your hand and give light pecks for kisses but nothing more or she will get embarrassed

— claire doesn't like fancy restaurants or anything like that, so for anniversaries she would much rather do something fun than just a nice dinner that you guys can hardly afford, plus she doesn't have that nice of clothes for those occasions

— at first she isn't the best at reassuring you if you're upset about something but as time progresses she gets better at it and will suggest to get food or watch a movie to get your mind off it

— if you guys ever have an argument she's very vocal while it's happening but is quiet afterwards, and she's likely the one to go to you first and admit she was wrong and you were right, it takes a lot of effort though

— sometimes she will just come up behind you and start kissing your neck, wrapping her arms around you and muttering about how much she loves you

— claire remembers pretty much everything you tell her, there are small things she forgets every now and then but otherwise she remembers

— if claire could sleep in all the time she would, unfortunately for you she doesn't let go of her grip until she wakes up so you are stuck in bed with her likely hours after you've woken up

— claire adores surprise kisses, whether she's giving them or receiving them she loves it all the same

— she's great with kids, so if you have a younger sibling they probably love her but she kinda sucks at watching her cursing so you will have to tell her about that otherwise she's great with kids

— after the bullshit of racoon city she went through, there are random intimate moments where she expresses how grateful she is for you still being here for her and that nothing bad happened to you during that time

— those times would probably be the only times claire cries in front of you, she doesn't cry a lot, but thinking that it could've gone so wrong in that one day is enough for her to start tearing up

— claire does love you a lot, and she shows it in all the possible ways she can, she may come with some trauma, but she loves you more than anything else

[idontliketomatoesleavemealone]

if it’s cringe please say so and euthanise me while you’re at it xoxo

„Freyaaaaaa……“

Freya internally cringed a little, hearing her name for the eight millionth time today. She’d gotten to the southern islands a few days ago, and Hella and Cajetan - Caj -, two of her younger cousins (which there were way too fucking many of, by the way, and she said this as one of eleven kids), had made it their life‘s mission to ask her about every single thing that she’d ever done. 

The Westergaards were… surprisingly okay, actually, at least most of them. Mikki and Tore, two boys her age, had taken to introducing her to everything, which was quite helpful even if she was pretty sure they were still confused about her choice on whom to avoid, even if they respected the decision. (Dad always said to avoid Caleb, Edvin, the twins, and Loke. That would’ve been easier had Caleb not been the king and had Loke not been Mikki, Hella, and Caj‘s dad.) 

However, being from a different background entirely apparently made her the most fascinating thing to ever walk into Hella‘s line of sight, and it was a bit hard to say no when she knew the pair was well-intentioned. Also, they’d been sneaking her slices of apple pie, and that was definitely a bonus of letting them bug her. (Bjelna, yet another cousin, had told her to tell them that she needed them to help with her baby when Freya got tired of the kids. Thank you, Bjelna.)

And so, she closed her eyes for just a second before turning to Caj, who nudged Hella to ask. 

„Why are your hands like that? You’re always, like, shaking all weird, and it looks kinda yucky.“ 

„Yucky‘s a mean word to use on someone, Hella“, someone said without stopping or looking up from their book. Freya mentally had to go through a family tree Teodor had drawn up for her to place the person, and she only managed to narrow it down to like, four people. Whatever. (Oliv? Laerke? Helle? Krista??)

„It is kinda yucky, though.“

„Those are scars, actually.“

„People still get those?!“

„…yeah?“

„Middle ages-ass explanation.“

„What does that even mean.“

„Whatever. How did you get scars? And like, on your hands? That was super stupid, you shoudlve gotten them somewhere cool instead.“

„I kinda wasn’t planning it happening, I’ll take that into consideration next time I know when I’m gonna get scarred?“ The kids were looking at her expectantly, so she decided it couldn’t harm them to know. „My dad broke a bottle on the ground when I was your age and I fell on it. …from a flight of stairs.“ (She left out the part about being pushed. It wasn’t of use to speak ill of the dead.)

She carefully trailed her fingertips over the rough surface of her palm, remembering the one between her thumb and pointer finger - „lol, see this one? I tore it up a few weeks later after getting out of the hospital and my dad insisted on stitching it up himself. Didn’t give me anything to numb it - Tonya said I was such a good, brave girl about it and I was like, fuck no I wasn’t, I was bawling the whole time! He did a pretty bad job, too. She sewed it up properly for me later, though, so it was fine. Still got the scar from his work, though.“

She looked up from her hand to see two identically blank faces. „You didn’t hear me curse, by the way. That was your imagination. Princesses don’t curse.“ Reflexively straightened up at the phrase, she was near-expecting her grandmother‘s cane to whack her for the misdemeanour. 

„…you’re joking, right? About, that part?“ 

„the part with my dad? No, I told him to just let me run to the hospital and he was like, 'nuh-uh, you’re my kid so I’m gonna do it.' Let me tell you, the guy can’t sew a button to a shirt, much less a dominant hand if you want a working thumb afterwards,“ she added brightly. „I used to be pretty decent at sewing, actually. I don’t do it much these days, cos of the shaking and stuff.“

„Freya?“

„Yeah?“

„Your dad kind of sounds like a fucking dickhead.“