#Flos Home Collection

[stillucestore]

Tobia Scarpa ha superato i confini dello spazio e del tempo.

Figlio dell’architetto Carlo Scarpa, Tobia Scarpa nasce a Venezia il 1° gennaio del 1935. Una volta laureato nel 1960 iniziano le prime collaborazioni: Gavina, Cassina, B&B Italia, che danno vita ad alcuni oggetti diventati celebri, come la poltrona “Soriana” con cui vince il “Compasso d’Oro”, la sedia “Libertà” dal design inconfondibile.

Fondamentale la collaborazione con gli architetti Castiglioni progettisti alla Flos, da cui derivano importanti creazioni: Fantasma (1962), Biagio (1968), Pierrot (1990) e Papillona (1975).

Foglio è una lampada da parete divenuta iconica dagli anni'60 (1966): il concept moderno e le superfici lucide mantengono l'estetica dell'oggetto sempre attuale.

La scocca di Foglio è costituita da una lastra in alluminio, con le estremità arrotondate ripiegate su loro stesse verso il centro della struttura.

I due lembi formano gli alloggi per le lampadine LED. L'apparecchio è dimmerabile. Disponibile in diverse finiture tra cui scegliere: Bianco, Nero, Cromo, Nickel Nero e Oro.

Lo stile inconfondibile di Tobia Scarpa abbraccia un'estetica moderna e contemporanea, sempre proiettato a coniugare il vecchio ed il nuovo, rappresentando l’arte di esprimere l’anima segreta dei materiali.

Grazie alla sinuosità semplice e lineare, il concept moderno e la superficie lucida, la lampada Foglio riesce ad essere un oggetto sempre attuale.

Foglio e tutta la collezione Flos le puoi trovare in super sconto aggiungendo HappyStore al tuo carrello. Solo fino a Domenica 3 settembre.

La Casa comincia dalla Luce.

[astonmartinii]

if you need me, let me know, gonna be around [mamma mia part seven] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso & fernando alonso

flo has finally given y/n the experience of motherhood, but she’ll never forget about her overgrown kids

MAMMA MIA MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and 1,934,033 others

tagged: jensonbutton

yourusername: venturing out from christmas hibernation and adding to the already overflowing collection of teddies. oh, and getting pics like that of jens while he's out "having a job"

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user1: i am a simple woman, i see dilf jenson, i lose all sense of reality

user2: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

jensonbutton: oh wow who is that handsome specimen on the last slide?

sebastianvettel: the man who carelessly abandoned his family !!!

fernandoalo_oficial: a man who couldn't handle that i was the best driver in the family

jensonbutton: what ???

sebastianvettel: i'm sorry... is that the ghost of the man we once knew

jensonbutton: i'm not dead

fernandoalo_oficial: to me you are

yourusername: okay guys ... the bit is up !! we do miss you jense but we're happy you're happy :)

sebastianvettel: sure.... well at least you won't try and worm your way into the crochet club

fernandoalo_oficial: as long as you still come to some of my races :)

user3: glad to see parenthood has not changed these fools

charles_leclerc: why do my selfies never make the instagram :(

yourusername: charlie, if i posted every time you sent me a picture of you crying that's all my instagram would be

charles_leclerc: but ........ i thought i was your favourite

yourusername: you know i don't have a favourite

charles_leclerc: sure if that's what you want to tell yourself

maxverstappen1: we all know you say that to not hurt charlie's feelings because i'm your favourite

fernandoalo_oficial: you people are so dramatic

maxverstappen1: says you old man, i can scroll up you know

sebastianvettel: well you're all second to flo

charles_leclerc: she's disqualified from this competition, she's your actual child you have to say she's your favourite

jensonbutton: it's more who annoys us the least

user4: 2024 and nothing has changed here

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,045,388 others

sebastianvettel: love being miles away, missing my baby and getting a running commentary of how my "grid kids" are terrorising y/n

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user7: seb is on a mission to pick up every dad hobby ever. first beekeeping and now sailing

user8: don't forget the gardening and the crochet

user9: he's collecting the infinity stones of dilfism

yourusername: a full eight hours of sleep looks so good on you

sebastianvettel: so i don't look good all the time 🤨

yourusername: of course you do handsome. me and flo miss you :((

sebastianvettel: don't say that i miss you all so much

fernandoalo_oficial: maybe that's your sign to come home?

jensonbutton: yeah i think you should listen to the universe seb, you like all that crystal and salt of the earth stuff

yourusername: sebbbbbbbbb :(((((

sebastianvettel: STOP

user10: they are so precious to me

yourusername: no but seriously if i have to teach another grid kid how to iron i might lose my mind

charles_leclerc: ummmmm stop blasting me on main?

yourusername: learn to iron then

sebastianvettel: you still don't know how to iron? i thought i taught you in 2019?

charles_leclerc: clearly not well enough !! and y/n please name and shame the others so i'm not alone

yourusername: @landonorris @logansargeant sorry

landonorris: WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU Y/N? I CALLED YOU IN CONFIDENCE

logansargeant: i don't have any excuse, thank you for the lesson y/n :)

jensonbutton: at least one of our kids is well mannered

charles_leclerc: i am well mannered, sorry i love my grid mum and her kid. i do semi-know how to iron but needed an excuse to see flo :(

user11: free my girl from these incompetent men

mickschumacher

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoao_oficial and 921,743 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: thanks nurse y/n and nurse flo for helping me - sorry about your mug

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user12: the plaster :((((((((

jensonbutton: IT WAS YOU WHO BROKE MY I <3 NASCAR DILFS MUG

mickschumacher: sorry !

jensonbutton: nuh uh mister @sebastianvettel sort your kid out

sebastianvettel: mick said he was sorry jenson, leave him be

jensonbutton: but when lando put the rubbish in the wrong recycling he had to go litter picking with you I WANT A NEW MUG

yourusername: you guys know they aren't actually your kids, you can't put them in time out

yourusername: you can barely put your own child in time out

fernandoalo_oficial: she's too cute i don't want to make her cry

landonorris: but it's fine to make me cry?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes. in fact, it's quite fun

landonorris: Y/N!!!!

yourusername: okay, babies let's all put the phones down for this evening.

user13: nooooo y/n please i could watch these idiots argue all day

yourusername: the main thing is that your finger is all okay and that you got a cute plaster out of it

mickschumacher: i very much love my lil cat finger

yourusername: so does flo, i think you might be stuck doing puppet shows for the forseeable future

mickschumacher: anything for miss flo

user14: mamma mia family dynamics you are everything to me

fernandoalo_oficial: why did mick get a kitty plaster and i got told to do it myself :(

yourusername: because you're a grown man and you injured yourself by tripping with darts in your hands

fernandoalo_oficial: mick is a grown man - HE CAN VOTE just because he needs seb's help with the paperwork does not change that

mickschumacher: you said yourself they are confusing !!

sebastianvettel: ignore him mick

fernandoalo_oficial: booooooooo

user15: i know these men provide the best entertainment for flo even if she doesn't understand a word they're saying

yourusername: she finds them very entertaining which then starts a competition to who can make her laugh the most

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,447,734

tagged: alexalbon, lilymunhe

yourusername: sometimes even my most competent grid kid needs some help, happy anniversary alex and lily x

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user16: UGH this is so cute

alexalbon: grid mum or emotional support retail assistant?

lilymunhe: so how much of the heartfelt gift was really you

alexalbon: 90% !!! i swear

yourusername: it was all alex he just needed the support (idk he said that jewellery shops are stressful)

alexalbon: they are !! i don't know how big fingers are :(

lilymunhe: thank you y/n wouldn't want the 27 year old man to get lost at the mall

yourusername: no worries, i somehow gained at least 15 extra children along with flo, i just go with it. he's less hassle than charles and max

charles_leclerc: rude.

maxverstappen1: gasp!

user17: i love how much y/n has really embraced the grid mum life

user18: i don't think she had much choice 😭

user19: the way she's like "oh i'll help you all with anything you need" and takes flo on all of these side missions and the guys just leave them to die 😭

user20: they're such dad's who don't want the cat but end up attached but don't want to show it

jensonbutton: wait which one of us claim alex? is it me? why was i not invited?

alexalbon: ur my williams dad :) and i think this trip needed a woman's touch (and flo's touch obvs)

jensonbutton: rude i give great gifts

fernandoalo_oficial: considering he's one of the least feral and has lily, i want to claim alex

sebastianvettel: i have too many kids you guys can have alex

alexalbon: sebastian! did our gardening afternoons mean nothing ?

lilymunhe: we'll take it nando

sebastianvettel: did you or did you not just make it a competition with george to see who could plant potatoes the fastest and then make a mess of my vegetable garden

georgerussell63: GUILTY

yourusername: soz but you all have to claim all of them, my rules now

user21: y/n and flo going to rule that house with an iron fist

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, jensonbutton and 1,309,244 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

fernandoalo_oficial: glad to be back on the podium, but even more proud to call you my grid kid. we all love you, especially flo :)

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user24: THEY HAVE MATCHING MIFFY PLUSHIES

user25: miffy is dutch so that might be why max got them matching ones :)

yourusername: and flo is surgically attached to her miffy (she has named her maxi, even if she can barely say it)

maxverstappen1: you are one of my heroes and it was a pleasure to share the podium with you. there's no one else in the world i'd love to dedicate my podium to than lil mia x

fernandoalo_oficial: you've got me crying again

maxverstappen1: get it all out old man

fernandoalo_oficial: already back to the old man 🤨 i guess i'll take the nice messages while i can

user26: nando getting all mushy is so cute i can't believe this is where we are

charles_leclerc: let it be known that if i had a car fast enough i would also dedicate a win to flo, but for now she'll have to settle for a song

fernandoalo_oficial: is silvia going to kill you? because seb and y/n might kill me if they get your ass over this

charles_leclerc: but it's true, no?

fernandoalo_oficial: you will not trick me into slandering my old team charlie

maxverstappen1: LOL YOU SNOOZE YOU LOSE

charles_leclerc: YOU KNEW THAT WAS MY IDEA THIEF

sebastianvettel: charles why am i getting a call from silvia?

maxverstappen1: LOL

charles_leclerc: brb just going to lourdes

jensonbutton: lol way to get outshined by your kid

fernandoalo_oficial: at least i was in the position to be outshined by my kid

jensonbutton: ERGH you know you can't bring that up

fernandoalo_oficial: you said that you couldn't wait to get away from us

jensonbutton: oop.

yourusername: my wonderful boys!

maxverstappen1: :D

fernandoalo_oficial: i love you both :)

maxverstappen1: awww thanks nando

fernandoalo_oficial: i meant y/n and flo but sure love you too buddy

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,610,449 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: maxy, this means more than you could know, flo very much enjoyed watching 'blu' go fast :)

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user27: is this family going to make me cry? maybe.

user28: side note, how many animal onesies does flo have they're so cute

user29: she's like a lil teddy bear

maxverstappen1: glad to have officially won the title of flo's favourite brother

charles_leclerc: NOT SO FAST MISTER

maxverstappen1: maybe if you were faster you would've dedicated a win to flo :P

charles_leclerc: LOW BLOW

danielricciardo: don't even get me started on the daniel ricciardo erasure

maxverstappen1: shush daniel let the problem children talk

charles_leclerc: yeah daniel, problem children only

sebastianvettel: should we intervene?

yourusername: no, i'm intrigued as to where this is going to go

jensonbutton: i for one love watching these dummies fight

fernandoalo_oficial: let me get my popcorn

maxverstappen1: are we just entertainment to you?

jensonbutton: yes!

charles_leclerc: the minute flo can talk ASK HER WHO IS HER FAVOURITE

sebastianvettel: sure?

user30: they can never ask that question, one of them might never recover

maxverstappen1: for real though, i love you guys and i love flo. i'll send nando home with the trophy as well :)

yourusername: awwww thank you maxy :) @sebastianvettel @fernandoalo_oficial @jensonbutton new shelf needed please

jensonbutton: i'll leave this one to "the woodwork king"

sebastianvettel: am i the only one who does anything in this house?

fernandoalo_oficial: you can't be called the woodwork king and not do the work

yourusername: you don't even let them help seb

sebastianvettel: UGH.

jensonbutton

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 912,774 others

tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo

jensonbutton: day 4,000+ of losing our actual girlfriend to our overgrown kids

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user31: PICTURE OF DANNY WITH FLO ALERT ALERT

yourusername: not my fault you guys picked up so many stray cats while in the sport

jensonbutton: i only claim lando and alex, the rest are the others' faults

yourusername: i know you love it really

jensonbutton: not when the little tornadoes hit our house, eat all of our food and steal my baby

danielricciardo: whoops

jensonbutton: and terrorise my pets DANIEL

danielricciardo: they terrorise each other jenson, maybe they aren't as well trained as you thought

yourusername: oh god...

jensonbutton: HOW DARE YOU !!!! BECKETT, SALMON AND CREAM CHEESE ARE VERY WELL TRAINED AND WELL BEHAVED

user32: old men are going crazy we love to see it

sebastianvettel: are we a bed and breakfast?

yourusername: i fear so. you need to run back from whatever ocean you are in we are low on staff now jenson is back racing. flo might be cute but she's a liability in the kitchen

fernandoalo_oficial: maybe we should just kick them out

yourusername: noooo :( not my babies

fernandoalo_oficial: can we at least charge them?

maxverstappen1: you people are the most stingy millionaires i have ever met

charles_leclerc: i pay you in piano sorry

yourusername: don't listen to them boys, flo and i love having you over

user33: so like is there any way we could open the mamma mia bed and breakfast to the public

fernandoalo_oficial: why do the grid kids see our family more than us?

yourusername: come home more often then :(

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm working on it the plane is delayed :(

jensonbutton: personally i would just run home but that's just me

sebastianvettel: i would simply just walk on water

fernandoalo_oficial: shut up. see you later

yourusername: yay !!!!

fin.

note: writer's block has really been beating my ass so there's always mamma mia to get it flowing again. i'm still working on requests, hopefully they'll come along a little faster now! also - i started an instagram for my small business i am opening it's @badlydrawnf1cats, feel free to follow x

edit: mamma mia will return

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa @tagteamedbitch@imagandom@mypage-myfandoms@mehrmonga@asparklysoul @unstableplant @motorsp0rt@multilovebot@lili-flower03 @its-elias-world @jolixtreesunn@nothingfuninthislife@rileynicol3@kodzuvk@mochimommy2002@fluffyspaceprincess@roseseraj@black-swan-blog27@nyrasslut@justdreamersdream@asfaraslifegets@why4anne@ineffableperson@leilanixx@lunyyx @pupbistro @gaypoetsblog@rafaaoli@champomiel@sadsierra2 @rainerax @lokietro @thecubanator2 @nzygftoji @rockyhayzkid @nmw-am @slytherheign @erikasurfer @turn-around-look-at-what-you-see @greigreyhiyyih @duck-duck-goose-18 @dark-night-sky-99 @ironcowboycopnickel @sizzlingghostoperatorbagel @2bormaybenot @42ndbrokencompass @whotfisvale @lichterfee @sticksdoesart @glitterf1 @turn-around-look-at-what-you-see @lighttsoutlewis @tagteamedbitch @glow-ish @sadg3 @kagatinkita @litoriaxu

[vivwritesfics]

Lando Norris Masterlist

All of my Lando imagines, blurbs and series can be found here

NAVIGATION

Series (I have a lot of Lando series to be written)

Rich Kids Club

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Set The World On Fire

Imagines

Petit Monstre

Lando Norris + Y/N Leclerc = In Love LandY/N + Charles Leclerc = One very angry big brother

Lando Norris HC's

Exactly what it says on the tin

Horse Girl

High school sweethearts Lando and Y/N are very in love (she also happens to be Flo's best friend and they met through their yards)

Saying Goodbye

This is another one for the horse girls. A social media AU dealing with Y/N losing her horse and the grief that follows

For You Page

Lando finds his girlfriend TikTok, it isn't what he expects

On Stream

While Lando streams, his girlfriend tries to study. Except she couldn't study, not when her boyfriend was so damn distracting (and he was really trying his best to be distracting)

Rockstar GF

lando is obsessed with his rockstar girlfriend. His rockstar girlfriend is obsessed with him

Hurry Up Little Norris

Lando and his wife are expecting

Little Pig

Lando, his girlfriend, and their unconventional pet

Three Apples Tall

Lando and the readers son is insecure about how short he is. But he got his height from his dad and it was one of the reasons reader fell in love with him.

Best Dad Ever

Lando is the best girl dad. When his little girl wants to ride horses, he makes it happen

Little Terrors

Lando Norris wants to jump his wife's bones. She has to remind him of the consequences of unprotected sex

What Could Have Been

Lando Norris is dead. He isn't human, he doesn't remember being human. Well, he didn't remember, not until he saw her. Until he saw her and her baby bump.

Rock The Ship

Pirate Captain Norris has something very special in his possession. Until its stolen from him. He'd do anything to get it back, and I mean anything

Blurbs

Heartbreak boy

Comatose P1

Comatose P2

Comparative

Smitten

Colours

Home Cooked

Had Enough (the burnt out student)

Lando and bimbo reader

Lando's too big

Lando's girlfriend has tattoos

Finger sucking with Lando

Reader Finds out she's a bet

Aftercare with dom lando

jealous lando x musician reader

best friends drunken mistakes

dom lando against his car

lando sneaking reader out of the house after one night stand

verstappen hears them fucking

there was only one bed

sex injuries

horny chocolates

migraines

Lando and his pr manager

lando x bookwork reader

lando's girlfriends have cats

Lando x sick reader

baby = papaya

First time together

magnet collecting

lando isn't aware of his own strength

hufflepuff!lando

lando + situationship

Little spoon lando

lando's girl can drive

they're defo not sleeping together who said that

drunk lando

can't fall asleep

jealous lando

period

the bracelet thing

lando x volleyball

lando x horse girl

phone sex

verstappen

Fuck everything else

Ferrari fan

throatpie

teasin'

lando win thing (fluff)

choking kink

post race blowy

moving

waking up in the same bed

supportive Lando

Little Lando Norris

demon lando

play fighting

friends to lovers

grumpy

scary dog privileges

Frat boy! lando 3+1

original frat!

nipple piercings

dick suckin'

[princessbrunette]

hai!!!! just curious, because ik everyone kinda has their own definitions when it comes to different kinds of readers, what do you describe puppy/kitty/bunny/deer!reader as? what makes them them?

anyway, luv ya n all that ya do- ,,^-^,,

ooo fun question !! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ³ ᵔ ꒱ྀིა

BUNNY:

she was born for the soft life. a highly organised system in her closet, and a whole separate closet just for shoes. she’s not bratty, she doesn’t even know what being bratty is or how to do it, but there are of course times she starts thumping her foot, whining and pulling at rafes clothes. this petulant behaviour is often solved by a stern look, a tap on the cheek or a reach under the skirt to tug at her fluffy bunny butt plug. her nose twitches when she’s upset, and has a big toothy grin when she’s happy. she leaves the glitter from her body all over rafe’s clothes, mink eyelash extensions on the sink, tubes of lipgloss in her boyfriends pockets. she’s an r&b / rap girl lover to her core, and a day isn’t complete without bouncing around her room to flo milli or saweetie. bunny doesn’t have an ounce of shame in her body— whether that’s from her skirt riding up in public (as to which rafe has to irritably tug it down again) to pawing at him, begging him for dick infront of his friends. luckily, rafe doesn’t have much shame either.

KITTY:

be careful, she bites! no really, she does — cross her and she’s squinting at you, sinking her teeth into an arm until you yelp. according to jj, anyway. she’s odd, and that’s what he likes about her— collecting horror movie memorabilia and trinkets from the thrift store she thinks might be ‘haunted’. she keeps her nails long, stiletto shaped even — whether that’s from scraping her money together for acrylics or growing them out herself. she has the craziest oral fixation, always needing something to lick, suck or chew on— that something often being her boyfriend jj. despite the black liner in her waterline, she is still a spoilt little priss who needs her pink ribbons tied round anything and everything, requiring the fluffiest of blankets and pillows for her daily nap. unlike bunny, she does work — having a little gig as a bartender/waitress at a beachside restaurant. she gets super huffy and puffy, not enjoying having to speak to so many people — but her boyfriend gaining a linecook job at the same joint makes things better. she’s deftones biggest fan, even owning a pair of panties with their album cover on the front. jj loves seeing them on the floor of his room.

PUPPY:

she’s playful, clingy, and ever so whiny. shes the most energetic of the bunch, firing off into a million topics at once, talking and talking until john b has to interrupt her to tell her to breathe or she will pass out. her signature is her big doe eyes, used as a weapon ready to fire at all times on anyone who dares to upset her. she’s not spoilt, infact she’s very humble and fairly docile unless provoked— she just requires oodles of attention and affection, pats on the head and praise are her love language! she works at the local pet store, often coming home with hilarious stories about handling animals, john b plucking hay out of her hair as she tells them. she has the energy to keep up with all the animals, running around until she arrives home to john b and passes out on his lap for a quick nap before bursting into a fit of energy once more. pup is never seen without her walkman, and can often be found dancing around the empty chateau with 80s pop blaring in her ears, or knocked out with the audio tapes john b had recorded for her to help her sleep.

DEER:

riddled with anxiety, whilst somehow being the most still and unsettling person in the room. deer!reader, much like a real deer is skittish, easily frightened, but ever so curious. she has a different view on the world to most of her peers, a master in people watching and could win any staring competition. she’s often found with her nose in a book, the topic being either of something completely fanatical, or something informative and peculiar. due to her reading habits, much like her boyfriend pope she is a whirlpool of information, constantly quietly spewing facts into his ear (which let’s be real, is practically foreplay for the two of them.) she has a tendency to get into trouble from her prying, exploring and staring — but she doesn’t mean to come across that way, she’s the picture of innocence really! she likes 50s/ 60s music, finding a charming and simple peace to the sound — and is a mass collector of callico critters, sonny angels and blythe dolls. pope finds it adorable.

[lorelune]

bathtime

|| blade x reader || M || captive reader x necrobiome blade || wc: 5.1k  || ao3 || previous + next ->

Even the best bath water will find it difficult to cleanse 'sin'.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c welcome to part 3 of the architect-verse :3cc been cooking on this one for awhile 🙏 yandere blade is such a guy and scummy manipulative mommy kafka is so fun to write :3ccc thank you for beloved @ofmermaidstories for doing a read through on this one 🥺♥!! enjoy enjoy enjoy 💓

CW: dark content, yandere blade, captive/pet reader, discussions of noncon, references to past noncon on blade while he was underage and as an adult, references to past noncon on reader, use of the word rape, violence/thoughts of violence, past yingxing/dan feng, toxic blade/kafka

It’s normal for Blade to return to the Stellaron Hunters’ main vessel covered in assorted types of gore. Scraps of rent flesh, smears of blood, bile, scales— tendons and sinew wrapped under his forearms, clinging from the pressure of impact light-years away. The smell of it clings to him, still fresh, just barely beginning to rot. He stews in it during his typical return in small, covert starships. He half-suffocates with the stench of death.  

This is typical. Blade does not carry any opinion about it. If anything, he welcomes the potential of asphyxiation, though it never comes. 

Most routinely, Kafka will greet him as he returns and take him to clean up. Occasionally, when she is indisposed, Silver Wolf will be forced to hose him down in the communal gym shower or Sam will dunk him in the bath by the scruff of his neck. Blade does not... particularly enjoy the latter two options. Though he isn't sure entirely why, and he doesn't tend to dwell on it either. 

When Kafka collects him, it is easier, if nothing else. Less fuss, less grimacing over the smell of burgeoning rot and complaining that Blade should do this prior to arriving home. Blade doesn't care about the other Stellaron Hunters’ complaints, not really, but it does make the ordeal longer than it needs to be. 

(And maybe, maybe, he does not like being drenched in bone-chilling water and soaked clothing. He hates it.) 

Kafka will lead Blade back to her own room, strip him, and give him a warm bath. Frequently, she’ll take off her own clothing and join him. She’ll hold him close, his back to her front. Kafka likes when she is able to cow him into resting against her front, cow him into resting his cheek against her breasts while she scrubs away the worst of the grime. 

Never mind that they share the same, red-tinged bathwater. 

(Occasionally, things escalate. Touch that volleys between innocent and clinical and sexual. Kafka will stroke down the planes of his body, reach for his cock, and bring him to release. It’s— it's nice. He thinks. He can't tell.) 

It's hard to tell anything in the steam of the bath. Though Kafka's presence renders his mara mute, proximity makes it writhe regardless. It is not a soundless beast, though it loses its words. Muddy feelings, rather than anything clear cut. It's a reprieve regardless. 

This is why Blade prefers to be cleaned by Kafka. 

... 

This mission, however, Blade receives a text from Kafka during his return journey that she will be out. Along with Silver Wolf. And that Sam is charging and shouldn't be disturbed.  

However— 

Kafka: 

why don't you see if our little stray is up for a bath, bladie? 

There's a thought. One Blade hadn't considered. 

(There's a whisper of a refusal in the back of his mind. 'No'. Blade is not sure why. It is quiet but sure of itself.) 

Blade: 

When will you be back. 

Kafka: 

tomorrow. don't wait up until then. listen, just ask. 

Kafka's mind weaving does not work over text. But it is, regardless, difficult to resist her command. This is habit. 

Blade idles outside of your room. He has dripped mess across the vessel and left little piles of flesh and muscle in his wake. The quiet sound of blood splattering against the floor (his, maybe, though his regeneration should be almost complete) makes him aware of this. 

It feels uncouth to enter your room like this. 

Blade shakes himself off and leaks scarlet droplets against the metal paneling. methodically, he releases the five locks on your door. Each clicks when fully disarmed, and by the time Blade enters, you're already looking up at the door, eyes wide. 

You're tucked into bed with a soft blanket over your lap. A tablet (a gift from silver wolf at Kafka's behest. For 'good behavior'. Not connected to any internet, but you've told Blade it helps pass the time.) 

The device is promptly forgotten as you push yourself out of bed, "Aeons, Blade, what happened? Are you hurt?" 

You approach him with no caution. It's reckless. It's foolish, especially with this much adrenaline tumbling around between his eyes and in his veins. He has the distinct urge to shove you away and into the floor. Compress you until you break and bleed and bleed and break. 

Blade does not. 

Instead, he lets you flit around him. He lets you draw your own conclusions. 

You are not foolish. You know he is dangerous; he knows you know this. It is your... good nature that creases the surely-soft skin between your brows. It's your kindness that has you frazzled, shaking in your hands as you hover over him. Searching for wounds that are mostly healed. 

"Blade, I said, are you hurt?" You ask, voice strained, bent at the waist while examining a slice in his pants. A lance had torn his calve wide open. It has already healed. 

"I'm fine." 

"Sure." You don't sound convinced, frowning. "You look like shit. Am I really supposed to believe that?" 

"I have already healed. my injuries are no longer a concern." 

"... Really?" 

"I am an abomination of Yaoshi. This is my nature." 

You already know this, yet you look defeated. Your jaw is tight. "Uh-huh. Alright. Fuck, do you feel alright?" 

"I'm fine. I need to be clean." 

"... Alright?" 

"I need to bathe." 

"... I see that... Do you want me to call Kafka?" 

"She's off ship." 

"Oh, fuck." you curse and shake your head. "I-is she going to be back soon?" 

"No. Help me instead." 

"M-me?" Your voice trembles and you take a fearful step back. Ever the skittish thing. something in him— sort of him— vibrates. 

"Yes." 

"Can you— not?" 

"It's cumbersome to wash on my own." 

"I see." You run a hand over your cheeks and adjust the wide collar of your shirt. It’s too big. It’s one of his— probably? A sleep shirt. One that Kafka stole from him to give to you. He knows you own several. "Alright. Okay. Fine. Fuck, I-I can help." 

You shoo him into your bathroom. 

You turn away from him almost immediately, poking around in a cabinet, plucking brightly colored products and muttering under your breath. Kafka mentioned that isolation is getting to you more than you think. She thinks it's cute. 

Blade wordlessly begins to strip. First off is his blood-soaked overcoat, shredded around his ribs and with massive gouges taken out of the back. Then his undershirt. Followed by his pants. One of his belts rings a metallic clink as he undoes it. 

You choose this moment to turn around and your eyes go wide. 

"BLADE!" You cover your eyes, dropping a bottle. "What are you— you can't just do that." 

"Do what?" 

"Get... naked?" 

"You are going to help me bathe. This is necessary." 

"I understand that." You sound exasperated. Your voice is shaky. The tone is pulling something in the back of his mind. The corners of his lips almost want to curl upwards. "But you can't just strip without warning. Aeons, have some manners." 

Blade nearly laughs— good-naturedly. The urge to is something dormant and poisonous. Seldom used. Usually it's a sharp impulse, but it's almost warm now. Tepid and pleasant.  

(All for you.) 

You cover your eyes as you fumble to turn on the tap, "At least go rinse off a little in the shower first, please?" 

Doable, albeit difficult. Blade grunts something akin to an affirmative and finds your shower. He turns the water on (hot or cold doesn't seem... relevant) and steps in. The spray pours down from the ceiling, sending the worst of the gore down the drain. 

Blade does not move for quite some time.  

"Blade?" you ask warily. "You... done in there?" 

It takes him a moment to reply. The cold spray lags him, "Yes." 

"... Can you come out? The bath is ready." 

He idles, thinking about your question. The softness of your voice. The candle that he can smell, lit on the countertop. You yourself, dressed in soft lounge clothes and covered in scars that strangers gave you. He thinks about the way skin and muscle rend under his blade. The way yours could. Under him. Under— 

"Blade." 

You open the glass shower door, worry-eyed. 

He blinks at you. 

Gently, you grab his arm. He flinches with it. Has half a mind to slam you into the tile until you pop like an perfectly ripe fruit— 

But he doesn't. 

"C’mon, bath time," you coax him out, dripping, careful to not look down. It’s a preservation of modesty. It feels useless, Blade thinks, as he pulls away to clamor into the bath. 

... There are bubbles. Fragrant and herbal, with a soft oil shimmering on the top of the water. It is the perfect temperature. It feels... good. He forgets how nice warmth is. He softens. You heave out a sigh and settle next to him, outside the bath. There's a dampened washcloth, already in your hand. 

"Is it okay if I touch you?" You ask. 

"I don't care." 

"Give me a yes or a no,” you press him, glaring a little. You roll up your sleeves and rise to your knees. 

"Yes, then." He does not care. Do you not understand? 

(You probably don't. You definitely don't.) 

Your expression is unreadable as you dunk the rag into the bathwater and begin to wash him. First his right arm, then his left. Gently rubbing him down, taking extra care with his hands. The rag is gentle over his stiff fingers. You check under each of his nails individually. 

You’re meticulous. 

You ask a question or two about how he washes himself, specifically his hair, but Blade can't give you answers. Kafka stocks his bathroom. His bottles are numbered, and he never deviates from their preassigned order. It is easier that way. Even in Kafka’s tub, she tends to use the same order of expensive-looking products that she favors.  

The treatment you’re currently giving him is not routine.  

The ends of your sleeves dip into the water as you stretch over the tub, toward his legs. Your tongue peaks out from your lips, bitten in concentration. (It’s cute.) Blade feels... compelled to assist you. He raises his leg up at the knee. Just as carefully, you scrub him down, and then focus on his other leg.  

The experience fills him with a sense of unease.  

(It’s too tender.) 

(You treat him too delicately. Even Kafka acknowledges the damage he carries, and her touch is only gentle to punctuate a roughness later on. She toys with him— it’s a farce. The way you touch him is too kind. You are too kind for him. It reminds him— makes him feel the ghost of a touch from hands more delicate and powerful than your own. From a different lifetime, blotted by Mara, corrupted and molten in his mind—) 

“Blade—?” Your voice is shaking, shattering. You’re frozen at the side of the tub.  

Blade blinks. 

He has his hand wrapped around your wrist; his grip swallowing the fragile limb. The force of it is bruising. He holds it under the water, forcing you to lean over the tub. You are submerged up to your elbow. Your expression is pinched, afraid. Your pupils pinpricked.  

An animal snared. 

His grip tightens.  

“Let go, please.” You ask, lip wobbling.  

He does not want to let go. He really does not want to let go. Blade cannot trace the feeling, it’s miasmatic. It was a bad idea to have you assist in bathing him. Mara webs itself behind his eyes. His jaw locks and breathes hard through his nose. He wants to sink his teeth into your throat. 

“Please, stop,” You whine— whimper while tugging against his hold. You are half bent over the bath. Your eyes water, all shiny.  

The tone does something to him. Many people plead around him— for their life, mercy, favor. It’s useless. He does not care. He has no reason to care. There are scripts to follow. However— there’s no script here. Just the warm suds, the blood pumping through your veins, and Blade’s tunneling vision. 

With a sharp pull, he drags you into the bath. 

You fall in headfirst. Instantly, you clamor at the side of the tub and his submerged legs to get yourself back above water. You scramble. It’s— cute. Your hair is slicked down around your face and forehead, eyes wide as you pant. His legs bracket your body. He tightens his thighs around you.  

Your thin clothes are soaked and cling to you. Fabric over curves and folds over your flesh. Blade’s half-hard and feels bad about it. 

(He can’t trace why. It’s far from the first time he’s been physically aroused in relation to you. It always makes him feel bad. Not with Mara, but something personal and sour and less mad. He hates it. He’s almost torn out a rib over the feeling.) 

You hover, frozen, between his legs. The only sounds in the bathroom are your panting breaths and the drips rolling off your body, into the bathwater. You swallow, trembling, but remaining otherwise unmoving. It occurs to Blade after a few tense moments that you are waiting for him to strike.  

Always like a little, frightened animal.  

(Something in him writhes.) 

He moves quickly, shooting a hand out to fist into your hair. His grip is unyielding, giving you no slack (though, he doesn’t yank and pull as he could. He could tear out chunks if he wanted. He just doesn’t want you to move.) He wants you closer— maybe. He wants you far away, thrown through one of the ship's thick windows and into the vacuum of space and dead. 

(Though, it wouldn’t be as satisfying for the void of space to kill you. He’d rather do it. He wants to do it, if you’re going to die.) 

You whine and paw at his wrists, babbling something.  

Blade feels disgusting as he drags your body to his, his chest to your back, and he curls over your form. His arms wind around your waist and squeeze. You scratch at him, beg maybe— he can’t tell, his ears are ringing. Your fists that slam into his shoulders and skull feel like swats from a declawed kitten. He doesn’t budge despite your protests.  

You stop fighting when you realize he isn’t hurting you. 

Blade doesn’t... want to hurt you. He thinks. Not really. Not in the way that Mara is screaming at him to. He isn’t content, you’re too warm and too alive to be this close to his body, but it's not bad. Contact both scratches an itch under his skin and aggravates a wound. It’s like a bath with Kafka, but worse— 

(Because part of him wants this.) 

Blade flinches when you go slack against him, chest heaving out breath. Even this little ‘scrap’ has tired you out. You’ve become weakened in your confined state— even if you really wanted to fight him, you don’t have the physical strength to be able to. 

You sniffle, covered in soaked clothes and soap suds. 

“Don’t cry.” Blade says without thinking. His voice is shot, dead-pan.  

Trembling, you shake your head, “I w-won’t.” 

It’s a lie. You’re already shaking in his arms. 

It’s— unfair. You’re most used to him, and less wary of him than Kafka. Part of him, a loud but small part of his mind, thinks that a bath together could be enjoyable— if he wasn’t washing blood and filth from his hair, and you weren’t shivering in your soaked day clothes. 

(‘This could be nice’, it urges.)  

His hands rub over your sides in small circles at the idea. 

You gasp and squirm, looking back at him with wild eyes, “Blade, please—” 

He stops, but his hold around your waist doesn’t waver. You sigh and lean back into his chest, deflating. Your eyes go half-lidded as you look toward the ceiling. They look— dull. Light and life drained. Like how they did when he and Kafka first collected you from that gilded planet. 

Blade knows that look— a dull mind and an active body. Your breath is still a bit too fast. Your heart is the same, running a prey-like rhythm. He assumes that you have left your body, gone elsewhere. 

“Hey.” He shakes you lightly, dragging you back to the cooling bath. “Help with my hair.” 

“... Hair?” You ask, voice soft and dreamy. “... Do you need me to wash it?” 

“Yes.” 

“... Okay.” You nod after a moment and rotate in his lap.  

Your shoulders sag forward as you fumble for shampoo and squirt a generous amount into your palm. Half of it misses and the gel sinks into the bathwater below.  

It’s unfair— part of him says again— he wants to tear it out and shred it between his teeth or under his blade. It screams that it's unfair that you dote on a creature like him. It’s unfair that you must shiver while lathering and rinsing his hair. That your pretty lips tremble with fear.  

The Mara writhes. He has not been human in so long. He does not deserve the gentleness you so often give him. Especially now, when he has dragged you closer, made you filthy with the stench of blood, and forced you so close. He wants to bite out your throat as you tip forward to grab a brightly colored bottle of oil and begin to work through the knots in his air. 

You are frowning. You are crying. 

He wants to eat you. 

Blade reaches for your chest, studying the way that the fabric clings to your skin-gone-gooseflesh. He finds the top button of your soft blouse in his own unsteady hands and undoes it. You freeze when he does, breath catching. 

You don’t breathe as he undoes another button.  

Then another. 

And another.  

You don’t breathe until the garment is nearly off. Just one button secures the fabric. He can see the peak of your breasts under the fabric, nipples pebbled in the cold. You’re so cold.  

(Blade wishes, dead Yingxing wishes, that he were warmer.) 

Your hand shoots out and wraps around his wrist, and in a small voice, you beg, “Please, d-don’t.” 

“You’re cold.” Blade says. He reaches past you, sloshing water, to turn on the spigot for hot water. “You will stay cold if you wear wet clothes.” 

You look at him strangely. At first, it’s wounded. Like you’ve been lanced through with Shard Sword, and now bear the gaping wound. It morphs to one of confusion, then you bite your lip. And grab his hands in your own and stare at them. 

“... That’s all?” You ask. 

“Mostly.” Blade replies. There’s— more. Far more. But nothing that is concrete enough, or important enough, to share with you. It would more than likely aggravate his spitting Mara.  

“Okay.” You reply, looking up from your joined hands. Your eyes are round and watery. “You’re not trying to rape me?” 

He freezes.  

The word ‘rape’ pulls something disgusting and festering up from Blade’s guts. Something he wants to purge. He has the distinct urge to lean over the side of the time and vomit, but he hasn’t eaten in the last forty-eight hours, so there’s nothing to heave up. So instead, he is still.  

It’s like he can feel the rot. He’s not sure why. He knows what the word means, he is pretty sure he has been raped. Probably. Either when he was a young child, a refugee fleeing a massacred world, or maybe when he was the bedmate to a dragon. Maybe, probably, from Kafka, any number of times. Maybe last week. His mind is cloudy.  

What constitutes rape is foggy.  

He knows it would mean that he wants to have sex with you, and you wouldn’t want to have sex with him. 

And Blade— 

(He— He— doesn’t want to have sex with you? Or he does. Maybe. He wants to be close to you, inside you. He wants to curl around you and make you swear to never leave. He wants— he wants so much. Blade is selfish. But—) 

Not like that, he doesn’t think. Others have been, he’s sure— he’s sure.  

Mara pours into his mind, and he remembers then. Pieces of times, fragments of old memories, of rape. Of violation of all kinds.  

(At the hands of borisins holding him down as he screamed and cried, his body too little to do any fighting in the jaws of an Abundance beast.) 

(A tradesman who allowed him to stowaway on a cargo ship, destined for the Luofu. ‘Payment’ — the man had called it. For safe passage and a little sack of rice.) 

(Dan Feng, during one of his draconic ruts. He was the Child of a Cosmic Horror, ultimately. That’s all Aeons are, anyways. Yingxing had been split on his cock so many times, so full, he bled for a day, even with Dan Feng fussing over him with his cloudhymns, lucid-in-mind and torn apart by so much guilt for a wildly proud man.) 

(Kafka, a few days after she first picked him up from the surface of the asteroid Jingliu had been beating him into. Kafka, a few weeks after that— in a hotel that stank of blue emory roses. Kafka, a few weeks ago, draped over his shoulders between missions. There’s more. Memories drenched in the smell of her rich perfume. They tangle in feelings of comfort and revulsion.) 

Blade doesn’t want to do any of that to you. 

(He wants something with you— but—) 

(Not like that. He doesn’t want you to hurt.) 

“I’m not going to rape you.” He tells you. He hardly sounds like himself as the Mara quiets. 

He thumbs over your lips. There’s a scar in the middle of them where they had been split, repeatedly, and then healed over. You’d told him once that one of your old keepers used to deprive you of water if he felt like it. Your breath is hot against his fingertip. 

You say nothing, but your breath is still fast and shaky. Your eyes are wide. A feral, wild animal.  

“I’m not.” Blade tries to reassure you. You flinch with the sound of his voice. “You’re freezing. The bath can be refilled with warm water. Bathe.” 

Tears break over your lower lashes as you stare at him. He stares back. 

(He wonders what you’re thinking. If you have as much trouble thinking as he does— you probably do. You’ve sustained head trauma. Traumas. You’re both torn-up wrecks, maybe. It could provide him with some solace.) 

“... Okay.” You rub your eyes with balled up hands and laugh. “Okay.” 

Blade then helps you peel off your shirt. Then your shorts and underwear. When you’re bare, Blade drains most of the water from the, leaving you both with a layer of clinging bubbles protecting the barest bits of your modesty. You cover your chest and center with your hands, keeping your head down. Hiding your throat. 

He refills the tub with more soap— too much probably. Mountains of bubbles appear as he dumps in a glug of shimmering, emerald-colored oil. It swirls into the water as it rises. You relax as it rises over your chest. Your eyelids droop. You look so tired. 

Blade washes you like you did him.  

You face each other as he does. Your gaze never leaves him, though it goes glassy again. Unfocused. Blade can feel your heartbeat through your skin, slowing more and more with each pass of the warm, soapy rag he is using. He massages products into your hair. He thinks that he may be doing so in the correct order. He hopes he is. 

This close, he can see all of you. Most of you. Feel you too. He feels ridges and bumps of scars. Chunks of flesh that have been torn from you, replaced by cicatrix, uneven and unnatural under his touch. You shudder when he touches you, shivering despite the heat of the room. You’re sensitive. He doesn’t want Kafka to know. 

You feel different like this. Blade is unable to place why. 

When he is through with you, steam and bubbles still rising from the bath, you drag him closer. Your fingers dig into his biceps, latching on and scrambling to get closer. 

“... You really mean it, don’t you?” You ask. Your eyes are still unfocused. “You’re not going to? You’re not fucking with me?” 

“... What are you talking about?”  

An unrestrained smile stretches over your face, “You do mean it. You do. You do.” 

Blade can only guess what you mean. You clearly will not (or cannot) tell him. You shiver against a full body thing against him. It makes him uneasy. He flips you by the hips, so that your back is to his chest, and he can curl over your shoulders. He cast a shadow into the water. 

Indulgently, he presses his nose into your cheek. You smell like fresh soap and skin. He thinks if he licked you, you’d taste like salt. 

He doesn’t. 

When that’s all he does, you laugh.  

It’s a belting thing, the kind of sound that’s punched from your gut with the same force that could break ribs. Blade can imagine the sound and sensation of it obliterating your insides as your laughter bounces around the tile of the bathroom. It’s manic. It’s an unwell sound. You clutch a fist over your chest as you howl.  

You don’t stop for a while. 

It’s clearly too much. Blade can feel it. The sound echoes in his chest. It must be shredding yours.  

His arm wraps around your midsection as you do, and he tries to press you closer— he thinks. He thinks it might help. Your breath starts to shake, each inhale pitching high and sharp. You’re hyperventilating around your laughter. You’re hysterical, but don’t fight his hold. Even as tears drip down your cheeks, splattering into the bathwater. 

Blade says your name— it should come out sharply. He means it to. 

However, it is gentle. His voice is hushed and rough. 

“You’re alright.” He squeezes you until the breath is forced from your lungs, and there’s no fuel for your laughter anymore. “You’re okay.” 

With a choked, quiet sob, you reply, “I know.” 

... 

It’s later— much later. Maybe the next day.  

Your room still doesn’t have any way to keep time other than your little tablet, which has been powered off and charges across the room on top of your dresser, so Blade can only guess. 

He lays beside you in bed, propped up on an elbow. You sleep next time to him, relaxed and soft-jawed. The soft duvet is pulled up to your collarbones, and you curl into Blade. He’s— warmer than the rest of your room. Even if he does run too cold to be properly alive.  

He runs the side of his index finger over your face.  

You had been so tired after leaving the bath, you’d hardly been able to dress yourself— you hadn’t been able to. Blade to pick out sleep clothes and help you get into them. He chose whatever he could find that seemed. Soft. 

(A flowing, soft teal top and white shorts with golden thread sewn in the seams.) 

You fell asleep quickly after that and have been ever since. Blade had only meant to sit on the edge of your mattress.  

That did not happen. 

Instead, he’s tucked next to you. One of your hands fists the front of his shirt, and your body is angled toward him. Seeking. Wanting. 

Blade could take. 

He recognizes that. 

It’s a thought, though, not a temptation. Not after the bath. Not after feeling the ways in which your body has been torn apart and so painstakingly put itself back together. You are not a creature of Abundance, you are not built to live forever and to repair yourself endlessly like he is. Your vitality is finite. Every scar your flesh must restitch takes something from you and it will not be replaced.  

You will end. 

Your bedroom door clicks, five times, then opens with a whoosh of air. Kafka stands in the doorframe. A sickly-sweet smile stains her mouth. Her lipstick is the is freshly applied and glossy. 

“I see you got all cleaned up, Bladie,” her voice is silken and smooth. He could drown in it. “Was our little pup helpful?” 

“... Yes.” 

“Good.” Kafka hums. Her heels click against the floor, and she takes a place next to you. Even as the mattress dips, you don’t stir. “You’re so helpful with training them. Good boy.” 

Blade pauses his petting of you to glare and grunt at Kafka. She looks delighted. 

“I wasn’t aware I was assisting with any sort of training.” 

“It’s all implicit. As long as they’re getting comfortable, that’s what counts. Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything else.” 

Blade doesn’t like that answer.  

“I don’t want to see them hurt,” Blade says. 

“That’s sweet of you.” 

“I mean it, Kafka.” 

“I know, I know.” Kafka laughs. She sighs and falls into the bed, over the cushy duvet. She spoons you, flattening herself to your back and winding her arms around your waist. Your brow wrinkles and a little whimper scratches from your throat. “I’d like to see our new puppy kept in one piece too, Bladie. I’ve grown quite fond of them. However, we are both beholden to Destiny. If one of Elio’s scripts—” 

“I know.” Blade snaps. 

He does not want to think about it. 

His hand that had been petting you winds tightly into your hair and your face scrunches up.  

“Listen, Bladie, everything’s alright. You’re okay.” Kafka soothes, dropping a kiss onto your cheek. It leaves a smear. Kafka works Blade’s hand out of your hair. “Be good and keep them company while I give Elio a mission report.” 

“That’s what I have been doing.” 

“Then, keep it up.” 

Kafka rolls out of bed with a sigh, not a hair out of place. She leaves the room almost soundlessly, the door clicking as it relocks. Five times. 

Blade does as Kafka says. He keeps you company, sinking down into the mattress beside you. He wipes away the lipstick left over your cheek and presses a kiss to the spot. He lingers there.  

Kafka can have— a lot of him. But, perhaps, he will covet you, all for himself.  

(If the Mara in his mind had not been suppressed, perhaps he would have heard: 

(FOOL FOOL FOOL! DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU COVET AND CLING? DO NOT FORGET YOUR SINS! DO NOT FORGET HIS SINS—!) 

Instead, his mind is quiet. He pulls you closer and sleeps. Space is dead around him, and you are dead to the world in his undying arms. 

Blade thinks he likes when you bathe with him.  

[isabeauwolf]

Dabi x reader: As you Wish (Period Comfort)

It was back.

Mother nature's curse, Aunt Flo, Jason, whatever the hell you wanna call it.

Your period had come.

Dammit.

You'd think I'd learn by now, but noooo. You sighed, covering your eyes with the back of your hand.

All of the signs were there: you was overly horny all week, then you wanted to cry out of nowhere and over the must dumbest shit, or was extremely moody and pissed off. You were so sleepy yesterday, even after oversleeping past your usual nap time and your breasts ached and were sensitive. Seriously, your nipples just barely grazing against your shirt made them tender and stiffen up, cut fucking diamonds.

All of this drama, only for your body to punish you for not being pregnant.

For the next seven days.

Seven days of hell.

To make things worse, Dabi was dropping by tonight.

Not that you weren't happy for your boyfriend to be coming over.

You loved seeing him. The thrill of a villain sneaking into your house without any of your neighbors noticing, or they didn't care as long as the couple wasn't too loud or disturbing the peace. It was great, one of the many perks to living in this neighborhood that was under the protection of the Shie Hassaikai, the yakuza. You paid your rent on time and were never late. Never asked questions and kept your head down whenever Mimic or one of Overhaul's eight bullets collected the months payment.

Of course, your period had to strike as you were about to take your early morning nap, as you rose to your feet you felt it.

The pool of blood staining your underwear and favorite pajama pants, dripping down your thighs, the uncomfortable dampness and stickiness.

The painful cramps in your abdomen hit, making you close your eyes harder, and focus on your breathing, simple breathing exorcises, deep inhale and exhale. In and out.

Who would have thought working as a nurses aid in training in a nursing home worked. All of the older woman teaching you tricks of the trade from their time as midwives or nurses at the local hospitals in their youth.

"Fuck," you cursed underneath your breath, making your way awkwardly towards your bathroom, waddling and shuffling without straining the floor. You felt gross already, yuck. Striping from your dirty and soiled, blood covered underwear and pants, throwing them into the hamper with a heated glare.

Opening your period drawer and checking on your supplies. Lips thinned into a firm line, clicking your tongue, and grumbling bitterly, "Of fucking course."

Your period supplies and stash was running low.

Damn near out of almost everything.

Groaning in frustration, you opened the drawer wider. Pulling out your period panties, placing a pad into it on top of the rest of your stack of clean clothes, you placed on the counter earlier after getting home. Bulky hoodie, check. Navy colored sweatpants, check. Pad and period underwear, check. Tank top and socks, check. Lazy girl outfit all here.

Turning on the shower head as hot as you could stand it, then removing the rest of your clothes as you waited, Need to wash these before they stain. thinking to yourself, inwardly sighing.

Hoping onto the shower, frowning as the water, blood and blood clots went down the drain. The heavy smell of blood and iron hit your nose making you wrinkle your nose in disgust. Closing your eyes once more, letting the warm water hit your now aching lower back as a thought came to mind. I need to tell him.

It's not the first time he's come over while you were on your period, and hopefully not the last. It's funny. You'd think that having a villain for a boyfriend, he would be a major asshole most of the time. He kept surprising you, awkwardly being kind and sweet. He grew up with a mother who birthed his dickhead of a father four kids and he had a younger sister, of course, he knows about women having their periods.

Chuckling, washing all of the iciness away with your favorite shampoo and body wash, rinsing and turning the water off.

Stepping out of the shower. Feeling like a drowned rat, slowly and still soaking wet, hesitantly and quickly, stepping down on the green furry rug, shoving your new underwear with a pad over your hips, then grabbed a blue towel, drying the rest of your body while checking to make sure bloody drops weren't running down your legs.

Sniffing and frowning, you finished getting dressed, grabbing the bottle of midol and shoved it into the front pocket of your hoodie, opening the bathroom door wearing a separate towel on your head, and walking back towards the living room. Retracing yours steps, eyes glued to the floor, thank god, there was no mess.

Standing in front of your favorite chair, opening the matching ottoman beside it, placed down a hidden pillow and red towel down as you sat back down, reaching for your favorite large fluffy blanket and phone.

Swiping your thumb over the screen, finger hovering over the message button, pushing it and waiting for it to load, then pressed Dabi's name, "alleycat" - he still snickered at the fucked up nickname you picked for him in case any dumbass tried to steal your smartphone.

"What?" You replied, giggling. "I can't put your villain name, or blue flame. That's amateur bullshit, 101." Rolling your eyes and snickered, adding, "Besides it's true, isn't it?" You teased lightly, "You are my chill and lazy alleycat." You reached over and lightly caressed and pet the top of his soft raven locks through yours fingers.

Dabi rolled his eyes, a light grin on his scarred lips. "Whatever works for you, princess."

A small smile graced your lips.

You: I'm on my cycle again, yay..... not. -_- If it's not too much trouble do you mind picking up some supplies for me?

He replied immediately.

Alleycat: Yeah, whatcha need? Send pics, I'm already at the store getting snacks anyways.

Your smile widened, you were lucky to have such an understanding boyfriend.

You: Thanks, babe~ U R the best! ;) See you soon and be safe.

Scrolling through your camera roll at the last time you forgot to write down your period shopping list, you sent them to him: pads, midol and chocolate.

Your good mood soured as another wave of cramps hit, forcing you to suck in a hissed breath. Closing yours eyes once more, trying to blink away tears spilling from the corner of your eyes, rubbing them away, burying yourself deeper into the chair, turning and laying your head against your arms, phone in your lap and spacing out.

You passed out in a matter on seconds it.

Or at least, that's what it felt like.

Your door bell ranged twice, letting you know that he was here.

Blinking and rubbing your eyes, groaning and yawning.

I don't wanna get up. You thought, blinking as a wave of tiredness and an incoming headache coming on. "I'm coming," you raised your voice slightly, licking your dry lips and rubbing the ball of your hand across your temple. The bell rang again, he must not have heard you, trying again, "hang on, hold your horses," rising once more from your comfy nest, "impatient, kitty, I swear," dragging the blanket along, unlocking it and opening the door.

As soon as you saw your villainous boyfriend, his sexy deep, heavily lidded ocean blues. Something in your overly hormonal brain flipped, like a switch: to overly painful cramps to overly horny, your drowsy eyes widened and your breath hitched. This isn't fucking fair! Down in between your legs, your traitorous clit ached, throbbed hard and painful.

Why the fuck can't your body make up its damned mind?!

Dabi leaned against the threshold of your doorjam. He titled his head, a playful smirk on his scarred face. "Special delivery." Hold two large grocery bags in his hand. "Your butt napkins and sugary snacks, my lady."

You should be pissed off, but instead a giggle slips past your lips. "My dark knight to the rescue." Rolling your eyes, opening the door wider and letting him in. "Take-out's on the way. I hope you don't mind Chinese." You mentally recomposed yourself as your cheeks heated and body grew more flushed and overly excited, "I don't feel like cooking tonight."

He walked in and waved, slipping off his boots, "Yeah, that's fine."

You watched him as you closed the door.

Dabi placed the snacks down on the coffee table. "Might have went overboard. Whatever we don't eat tonight, you can eat whenever." He shoved his hands into his pockets, watching and observing, then slowly, shrugging off his coat and lazily laying it on the side of the armrest of the couch, and beside his spot for easy access whenever he wanted his smokes.

"You didn't have to, you know." You smiled sheepishly, pulling the bottle of midol out from the pocket of your hoodie, opening it and popping two of the white and blue pills into your mouth as he opened a bottle of your favorite soda, sipping it and swallowing it down. "Thanks."

"Hush and let me spoil you a bit, yeah?" He replies, lightly pulling you into his warm chest, knowing you would enjoy the comfort of his body heat against your body. He loved whenever you were super clingy, it didn't bother him. Must be the touched-starved part of him that craved affection and attention he was denied growing up, he never said it, but somehow you knew, and you couldn't say no to him.

Closing your eyes and smiling, nuzzling into his chest and sighing in content, hugging him. "I've missed this, I've missed you," you admitted, enjoying and indulging both him and yourself.

This was nice. You needed this, your sweet and caring boyfriend.

Dabi smirking, lightly rubbing your back, and lazily trailing his hands down to your hips, and cooed gently into her neck. "Ah, my poor little ketchup packet."

And there was the asshole part of him, you didn't like that.

Mother always said every man is an asshole. Your boyfriend was no different.

Leaning away from him and gawking. "You are supposed to comfort your girlfriend, not be an asshole, jackass." Smacking his arm with tears prickling the corner of your eyes. It's stupid. You knew he was joking to try and make you laugh, but instead he had done the opposite.

Dabi's eyes widened. "Shit, sorry, m'sorry," he pulled you into a hug, holding you against him again. Resting his head against the top of your head as you buried your face into the his chest. "Please, don't cry." His voice was soft and genuine. "You know, if I didn't tease ya a little bit, then you'd think I was mad at ya."

You sniffed and muttered a soft and quiet, "I know, baby, I know." Nuzzling more into his chest, inhaling his cologne and the smell of smoke from both his flames and nicotine.

"What crappy, cheesy, romance movie do you wanna watch tonight?" He asks, picking you up, making you squeal cutely and giggle, swinging you around like a princess before plopping down on the couch and laying you sideways in his lap. He tilts your chin up, meeting his gaze as his thumb wipes your tears away. "What does my princess want?"

You hummed in though, smiling as the perfect movie came to mind. "How about The Princess Bride?"

Rising an eyebrow in amusement, "Again?"

You laughed, "C'mon you know you love it whenever Wesley beats Prince Humperdick and steals Buttercup away on their wedding night."

"Yeah, that spoiled dickhead deserved it." he agreed, smirking and nodding. "Alright, alright," He winked and kissing the top of your head. "As you wish."

Smiling you put on The Princess Bride, nibbling on some chocolate to hold you until food arrived. It didn't matter, if it was the first time or the thousand time, this movie never got old for you. A true childhood classic.

When Princess Buttercup and Wesley were entering the Fire Swamp, the food arrived as Dabi was reaching for a bag of chips.

"Perfect timing." You muttered, slipping more of your soda and paused the movie, "Gotta go to the bathroom."

"I got it, babe." He gave a small smile.

You stood up and winced, the ache in your lower back and hips were back as you slowly made your way into the bathroom, "I'll be right back, ouch."

Dabi's smile dropped, standing, walking towards the door and opened it, and looked completely bored at the young kid, holding there take-out, grabbing it and muttered, "thanks" as he lightly slammed the door in their shocked and scared face. "Punk ass," he grumbled underneath his breath, peaking into the bags, his scowl curled upward as he saw his favorite meal sitting on top.

Seriously, you spoiled him. How he was lucky enough, a bastard like him got a great girl like you he never knew, and didn't bother asking.

Grabbing some napkins from the kitchen he placed the takeout spread out onto the coffee table: dumplings, fried rice, chicken on a stick, chicken lo mein with extra chicken(his favorite), and donuts.

You came back, watching as he set everything up all nice and neatly. "Think we can eat it all?"

He turned his head, smiling smugly, "Hell yeah, we can. It's gonna get messy cuz I'm hungry."

You blinked and sat down. "Did you not eat again before you came over?"

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling you into his side. "I'm fine. We've got food, you've taken your magic pain away pills. Now, let's eat. I'm starving." Dabi hit play on the tv, then handed you a plate and chopsticks without looking away.

Complain all he wants, but you are certain that he loves this movie just as much. What's there not to like? Revenge, fighting, true love and miracles.

By the time, the movie was almost over most of the food and snacks were eaten, and what was left Dabi was sweet enough to put everything away and wash the dishes.

Of course, you cried when Prince Humperdinck pulled a jealous dick move and had the machine suck 50 years of Wesley's life away, the actors anguish cry of pain had you choked up and in tears. As Dabi pulled you into his side, pouting as he offered you comfort.

When the movie was over, both of you were quiet.

Dabi spoke first. This question had been on his mind, the whole time.

"Why do you love this movie so much?" he asks, watching the credits roll and listening to the song playing at the end, but its was just background noise. "It makes you cry every time and yet, you still watch it over and over again."

"I watched it plenty of times with my mom growing up." You said smiling, pressing into his side with your head underneath his chin. "No matter how many times, we would both laugh and cry together. I miss her and this movie like many of her favorites brings me a strange form of comfort." Blinking back more tears, you straighten and face him. "I know you haven't had the best life at home, but know that no matter... what happens you will always be my home, and I hope that I am yours, Touya."

"Of course, you are, Y/n." He whispered, cupping your face. His touch and eyes were gentle, warm and you trusted him completely. "You are my light in this fucked up world." Dabi swallows the lump in his throat as he tries to calm his breathing, bloody tears prickling his eyes, and falling. "You see the man behind the burns and the scars, a broken and insane bastard who loves you. Would burn the fucking world for you. I love you, my princess." He pulls you into a slow and tender kiss which you kiss back, holding him against you and crawling into his lap, and straddling his waist.

Panting you break the kiss first. A breathless string of giggles slips between your kiss swollen lips. "Come on, let's go to bed, my dark prince."

Dabi sniff and laughed, grinning. His turquoise gaze bright in the dark room and the moonlight. "As you wish, princess buttercup." He picks you up again into his arms, a soft smirk appearing on his red tears streaked, burned, and stapled face.

You laugh, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck. "Whatever am I going to do with you? My dark prince? More like a bratty king."

"Yes, as you are my Queen." He whispers into your ear and gently places you onto the bed with care, stealing your lips again. "Your King of hell will take no refusal, my love." He purrs, lightly nipping into the crook of your neck as you squirm against him and cackle.

"Alright, alright, you win, dammit." You pant in between fits of giggles, lightly trying to shove him away. "You Mister need to wash your face before you stain my sheets." You give a light glare, watching as Dabi pulls back, dramatically grabbing his chest.

"My Queen Buttercup, you wound me so deeply." He gasps, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "Such a heartless woman I have for a lover."

"Oh, go on you big baby, shoo, shoo," You wave him away, getting up and heading towards the bathroom, feeling his gaze on you as he follows close behind. "Besides you need to brush yours teeth."

"I'm going, I'm following." He chuckled, pulling his white shirt over his head and dropping it into the laundry basket beside yours and the rest of his clothes follow. He doesn't care that he's walking around buck naked in your place, he's confident and has no shame. Finding a pair of black sweatpants in your hall closet and puts them on, tying the drawstring around his waist, then heads back into the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth with your toothpaste.

Dabi turns the lights off in the house as he makes his way back into your bedroom, where you are already in bed, and waiting for him. "The castle is safe and your king is tired."

You snicker and pat the space beside you. "Well come on, King Touya. It's rude to keep a maiden waiting."

Without a word, he turns the light off, slowly stalking his way towards the bed and on his side. Dabi's strong hands pulled your body closer, your back against his chest, he rested an hand on your lower abdomen caressing it. "It's getting colder at night, let me help warm you up." He whispers into your ear, purring and his voice growing low and husky, dripping with dark promise. "I'll behave tonight, but no mercy tomorrow, baby."

Your breath hitches and you gasp, when he trails his over hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin and travels upwards, lightly cupping your swollen and sensitive breast. "Touya, you horn dog. Cheater." You moan and pant as you pull him into a kiss.

He smirks against your lips, chuckling. "I am behaving, honest. I've been a good boy all night," Dabi pulls his hand away as if he did nothing, and placed it behind his head underneath the pillow. "This is my reward for pampering you all day." The heat of his body hitting your lower back, leaving his other hand over your abdomen, heating up and drawing patterns with his fingers.

Calming your breathing, shifting onto your side, you close your eyes, reaching behind you, finding his free hand and squeezed it lightly, whispering. "Thank you. Good night, Touya." Sighing in content and falling asleep.

He hummed, watching as the discomfort disappeared from his girlfriends usually happy and cheerful face. He wished he could do more to help. If he needed to use his quirk to help ease his baby's suffering, then he'd do it.

For once, he was happy to be cursed with his fathers quirk. Only during times like this was he genuinely happy, holding his lover in his arms, all his, no one else's.

He decided that in the morning, he would make a light breakfast knowing that chocolate pancakes and hot chocolate always made you smile.

Scooting closer, tangling their legs together and pulling the blanket over them, he laid back down and closed his eyes. Listening to the steady breathing and light snores below him as a small smile curled against his scarred lips, kissing the top of yours head, and whispered, "Feel better soon, baby."

He fell asleep.

He didn't care, if no one in the else in the world loved him, or hated him. As long as he had you, his baby, his whole world.... his reason for living, he could live with himself, with these scars, burns and broken body.

A little period blood wasn't going to keep him away.

Not now, not ever.

Even while moody, pissy, tired and grumpy, you were still the most beautiful.

You were their for his bad days, so why shouldn't he be there for yours?

💙----------🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥-----💙

I did it! Took a minute, since I'm not used to writing in canon x reader, so please excuse the cringe! ^^

To all my fellow period buddies experiencing there cycles with me or after me! I made this for you! Wanted to spoil my peeps! I hope it showed?

Love ya'll! Plus, I wanted to throw in more Dabi fluff! He would be the sweet, but still teasing boyfriend, well, in my eyes anyways ;)

[teenwolf-theoriginals]

dad!tommy

pairing: tommy shelby x reader + dad!tommy

warning: as usual, tommy swearing

summary: a collection of short fics inspired by this fic of florence having tommy wrapped around her finger

the school bake sale

The kitchen, a mess. Flo, even more so. The school's yearly cookie stall market had arrived. Students, or rather parents, were asked to bake goods to sell. The profits would be split between upgrades and supplies for the school and the local community garden. Clapping her hands together, Florence giggled when a cloud of flour exploded. Waving it away, you wiped the excess flour from her cheek and pulled the gingerbread cookies from the oven - Flo’s favourite.

“Shall we have a little taste?”. You asked.

Eager little hands reached for the warm cookie, Florence giving a thumbs up. “I hope I sell some”. She nervously commented after finishing the other half.

“I’m sure you will, sweetheart. I’ll pack the cookies away while you go get cleaned up, and then we can go”.

Hopping off the stall, Florence ran to wash up. When she returned, each cookie had been packed away, ready for the bake sale.

Whatever nerves Flo held had tripled. Her usual bouncy demeanour barely noticeable as she made her way down the stairs. Tommy ventured from his office, briefly catching his daughter’s flat mood.

“What’s wrong with Flo?”. He whispered to you.

“Today is the school bake sale, she’s nervous. Thinks she won’t sell any cookies”.

“When’s the bake sale?”.

“1 pm”. You replied, kissing Tommy on the cheek and escorting Florence to school.

As one of the volunteers, you kept a close eye on Flo while helping set up the stalls. By early afternoon, the street was buzzing with parents, children and older folks looking to indulge their sweet tooth and help aid the education of young imaginations and their community. A few had wandered towards Florence’s stall, but only three had brought her cookies.

“Only three people brought my gingerbread cookies”. Flo said, lowering her head, and wiping the corner of her eye.

“More will too. The bake sale has only started, sweetheart”.

She sighed, her confidence draining rapidly. Your heart dropped. Flo usually enjoyed a challenge, inheriting such a trait from Tommy. But she also loved to succeed, also a trait handed down by her ambitious father. Speaking of Tommy, you noticed his car pull up further down the street. He kissed you hello, checked in on Florence and then made his way back to you.

“You did something, didn’t you?”.

Before Tommy responded, Johnny Dogs loudly declared for all the market to hear. “I have quite the appetite for some dessert. And I hear this is the place to get the most delicious gingerbread cookies!”.

Arthur and John joined him, making it known whose stall they were here for. “Buy a fucking cookie. Help the kids, eh”. They pressured, clapping several people on the back and displaying their “or else” Shelby stare at those who were hesitant to line up at Florence’s stall. Beside you Tommy continued to smoke, his other hand resting in his pocket, keeping a watchful eye on Flo whose mood had greatly improved when half her cookies had been sold.

“Tommy, I don’t think this is what the school meant when they said parents were welcome to help”.

He shrugged, squashing the cigarette underneath his shoe. “Our daughter sells her cookies and is happy, and the school gets their money. It’s a win-win”.

With John taking care of the stall, Florence ran up to Tommy, smiling wide. “Daddy! I’ve nearly sold all my cookies”.

“Good job, sweetheart”. He knelt at her level, pulling out some money. “How about you go buy a cookie for Mama?”.

She skipped away, returning with a cookie. Happily accepting, Florence disappeared again to help John. You smiled, grabbing Tommy’s hand, taking a stroll around the market. By end of the day, Florence sold all her cookies and returned home clinging onto Tommy, exhausted but happy.

like father, like daughter

Clutching Mr Giraffe, Flo carefully descended the mountainous staircase. Tommy’s office light helping guide her. Florence had turned five, six weeks ago, and with a new age came new discoveries. Her favourite discovery was finding out that Tommy was too a night owl. Flo would often let the troubles of sleep get the better of a good night's rest, opting to spend her time with Tommy in his office. Tonight was no different.

“Daddy, I can’t sleep”. She quietly spoke, altering Tommy.

He peered over the typewriter, beckoning Flo over. She smiled and climbed into his lap. They worked in unison, Tommy writing the necessary letters and signing the most important documents while Flo entertained Mr Giraffe with the various decor on the desk. Halfway through the fourth document Tommy was reading, Flo became restless, yearning for his attention.

“Daddy?”.

“Yes, sweetheart”.

Flo titled her head to get a better view of Tommy. “Why can’t you sleep?”.

“Because I have a lot of business that needs to get done”.

Fixing Mr Giraffe's blue tie, Flo frowned. “But Mama says sleep is good for us”.

He smiled at the mention of you, nodding in agreement. “She’s right”.

“Then why aren’t you asleep?”.

Tommy chuckled, his daughter ever the curious spirit. “Sometimes Daddy has trouble sleeping”.

She gasped, hugging Mr Giraffe. “Just like me!”

Bopping Flo on the nose, she giggled, averting her attention back to Mr Giraffe. For the next 20 minutes Tommy worked in silence until he noticed Flo failing to suppress a yawn.

“It’s time for bed, Flo”. Tommy instructed, delicately rubbing her back.

She shook her head, burying it in the crook of Tommy’s neck, mumbling. “No. I want to stay with you”.

“You need rest, sweetheart. Your mother won’t be too happy with me if you wake up tired tomorrow”.

“Can you tuck me in, please?”.

He smiled, kissing her forehead. “Always”.

Grabbing Mr Giraffe, Tommy climbed up the stairs and put Flo to bed. Leaving only when her blue eyes closed and finding you waiting in the hall.

“So when is it my turn to be put to bed?”. You teased.

Tommy smirked, kissing you with a passion that made your stomach flutter. “Right now, Mrs Shelby”.

You giggled when his lips showered your skin with attention. Guiding you back to the bedroom, Tommy kicked the door shut with his foot, ready for bed.

mum says no, dad says yes

Mothering four children came with its unique challenges. Ava heading into an age that craved independence. Charlie and Theo creating mischief with their pranks and cheeky attitudes. And Flo being a Daddy’s girl, which meant every time you said no, she ran to Tommy who couldn’t resist saying yes. Most times, there wasn’t any issue; an extra cookie, more time to play before bed or a trip to her favourite candy store. But today, like Flo, you became frustrated with her lack of listening.

She stomped her foot, crossing her arms to inform you of her displeasure. “I want it!”

“And I said no”.

“But why!”.

You sighed, setting down the last plate for lunch and then turning your attention to Flo. “Because you already have a dollhouse, and you’ve only played with it twice”.

“I’ll play with this one more, promise!” She pleaded, eyes watering.

On cue, Tommy walked in, handing his briefcase and coat to Frances. Upon seeing her father, Flo ran into his arms, smiling with delight that Tommy was home.

“Daddy, can I get a new dollhouse?”.

“Of course, sweetheart. After lunch, alright”.

She kissed Tommy on the cheek, running up the stairs with a revived excitement. He met your disapproved gaze, following you into the kitchen.

“I know that look. What did I do?”.

Throwing down the tea towel, you turned to face your oblivious husband. “Every time Flo doesn’t get what she wants, she runs to you. And then I end up being the unfair parent because I’m trying to set boundaries and rules for her. She has you wrapped around her little finger, Tommy".

“Just like her mother”. He smirked. You glared at him, prompting him to pull you closer. “I will talk to Florence and tell her when Mama says no, she must listen, alright?”.

Opting to get you to smile, Tommy playfully kissed you. First on the lips, then on the cheek, moving down your neck and chest, until you broke out into a smile. 

“Frances can handle lunch. Why don’t you and I go to bed, eh?”.

Running a finger down Tommy’s tie, you stopped inches away from his lips, whispering. “I’m afraid, Mama says no”.

Amused, Tommy licked his bottom lip. “In ten minutes I can have Mama screaming yes”.

“Daddy, let's go!” Florence called from the dining hall.

“Your daughter is calling you, Tommy. Wouldn’t want to break that promise you made”.

Previewing his intentions for later via a heated kiss, Tommy proudly ran his thumb over your red lips. “When I return, I intend on keeping my other promise”.

“You best go before Flo gets impatient”.

“And you best go to bed and wait for me there. I won’t be long, love”. He huskily demanded, kissing you once more.

Taking Flo’s hand, Tommy looked to you, then pointed to the bedroom. You waved him goodbye, smiling. And when Tommy returned to an empty bed, he also learned that when Mama said no, she meant it.

the one where flo runs out of paper

“Flo! Did you do this, eh?”. Tommy sternly asked, spreading out his business documents on the desk. Avoiding eye contact, she slowly shook her head. “You ruined important documents that I need for business”.

“It wasn’t me”.

"It couldn’t have been Charlie or Theo because they were outside with Mama. And Ava is upstairs in her room. So, that just leaves you”.

Through glossy blue eyes, Flo innocently glanced up. “I’m sorry, daddy! I ran out of paper and now your mad at me, and-”.

He sighed, crouching to her eye level. “Sweetheart, I’m not mad”. Tommy whispered, wiping the tears from her pale cheeks. “Don’t take any papers from my office, alright?. If you ran out, wait for Frances or Mama to get you more”.

“I will”. She quietly replied.

Tommy opened his arms for a hug and Florence immediately clutched to his embrace, leaving an apologetic kiss on his cheek. On her way to the living room, she passed you and the boys. Walking into Tommy’s office, you saw the crayon scribbled over the pages and a frustrated husband by the whiskey tray.

“Someone’s been getting creativity”.

“It was Flo. She ran out of paper”. Pouring himself a whiskey, he took a sip. “Next time, make sure she has fucking paper to draw on”.

“I’m going to give you ten seconds to adjust that attitude, Tommy”.

Exhaling, he sat at his desk, placing the whiskey beside the framed photo of you and the children. “I’m sorry, love. It’s just more work. More things I have to fucking fix”.

Rubbing his shoulders, you kissed him, settling onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Tommy exhaled once more. “Shall I call Lizzie to bring over new documents?”. You asked, running your fingers through his hair.

“No. I’ll deal with it tomorrow”.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”.

He shook his head. “You already are, love”.

Lifting his chin, you kissed him, lingering until Tommy decided to pull away. “Florence didn’t mean to ruin your documents. You know she hates upsetting you”.

“I know. I’ll check in on her later”.

Leaning into his embrace, Tommy wrapped his arms around your waist. The calm flowed like an autumn breeze, lasting only a few minutes until voices from the hall disrupted much needed peace.

“It’s my turn!” Charlie cried out.

“No, it’s mine!” Theo shouted back.

Both you and Tommy sighed.

“I got the boys, you go make sure Flo is okay”. You instructed, hopping off Tommy’s lap.

If one thing was certain, there was never a dull moment in the Shelby household.

[embrosegraves]

𝔸𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤

(request) Sebastian Vettel x Reader  Periods are the worst but Seb makes them bearable  It’s just very very sweet!

Warnings: Reader has very intense cramps but its not too detailed. Reader's gender isn't explicitly mentioned but I wrote with afab reader in mind

You had never been in so much pain in your life. And you had once broken a bone. Sure your cramps had always been bad, but this was a whole different level of painful. You had woken up this morning with intense cramping and it didn’t take you long to figure out why. 

Your period had come a day early. 

Part of you was grateful that Sebastian was scheduled to be away for another day. You didn’t want him to have to deal with you while on the first day of your period. It was always the worst day of the whole week because your body was still adjusting to the sudden pain it was enduring. 

Sebastian was always a godsend when it came to your period. He was never embarrassed to go to the store and get what products you needed. He always made sure that he stocked up on things that he knew you liked. Things like your favourite sweets, your favourite tea bags and he always always always made sure that you had hot chocolate ready to be made at a moment's notice. 

All that to say that this time around, Sebastian had wanted to surprise you by coming home from the race weekend a little earlier than initially planned. Almost as soon as the race had finished and he didn’t have any more media duties to attend to, he got on the soonest flight back home to you.

Once Sebastian had reached the airport and collected his things from baggage claim, he received a notification on his phone. 

Flo: 🩸🩸🩸 starts today! 

Once Sebastian had seen it, he adjusted his plans slightly and made sure to stop at the store on his way home so he could get you some things to hopefully relax. 

Ever since the pre-race events had started earlier that day, you had been lying on the couch, curled up in the foetal position. The pain was so intense that you had only just managed to change your clothes in the morning and make your way to the couch. You didn’t have any extra energy to shower or grab any medicine that you knew you had. There was also the fact that you were trying to convince yourself that you didn’t need any medicine. That you could soldier through your period pain and be fine. 

That was exactly how Sebastian found you when he finally walked through the front door of your house. Given the amount of pain that he could see on your face, he knew you would struggle to answer anything he asked you. He quickly put his things down in the entryway, he could deal with it all later, and made his way to the kitchen to pour you a glass of cold water and put the kettle on so that he could make you a hot drink as well. 

Grabbing the glass of water and some medicine from the cabinet, he made his way back to where you were, put the glass on the coffee table before gently helping you sit up so you could swallow the tablet without choking on it. 

Once he made sure you had swallowed it he went back to the kitchen, leaving you to slowly sip on the water. Quickly grabbing your favourite mug, he made you a hot chocolate and topped it with mini marshmallows and chocolate powder. On his way back to the living room, he grabbed the bag of snacks he had bought. Walking into the room, he set the items on the coffee table and carefully sat down next to you. 

He spent the rest of the night comforting you and making sure that you were well taken care of. He whispered sweet things in your ear, both in English and German. It made you feel incredibly loved. Whispering assurances to you, Sebastian made sure that you drank your warm drink and ate some of the things he got for you. 

Eventually he got you to the bathroom, helping you shower away the gross feeling of sweat and gently massaging the soreness from your shoulders and neck. Afterwards he dressed you in your designated period pyjamas and laid you down on the bed before going to heat up your microwave heat bag. 

Crawling into bed beside you, he gave you the heat bag and wrapped you up in his arms. You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your face to cradle it. 

“Thank you Sebby.” 

“I will always take care of you, Liebling.”

I smashed this out in one sitting. Briefly proofread but not at the same time??

Idk but I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you enjoyed reading it!!

[dead-lights]

trai-lore!

because ya know. trailers. with lore.

i'll see myself out

but! before i go - I went and compiled all of the Vampires trailers I could find! I wasn't familiar with all of the shorts and I'm not 100% sure I found them all. There are a lot of contradictions, but aside from the gameplay trailer they can mostly be stitched together.

Also, I recognize I'm trying to wring blood from a stone, reading into things that EA never intended, but ya know. That's the point of exploring lore!

this is mostly validated by werewolves - Lily's dialogue confirms that Caleb was turned by Miss Hell, and the 7 years unlucky mirror confirms that Vlad ambushed her while she was brushing her teeth.

It looks like the bar Miss Hell attacks Caleb in is supposed to be in Forgotten Hollow. There are plenty of reasons he could've been there, but to me that implies that Lilith turned first, and he was there because that's where she hangs out now.

It looks like you're supposed to be able to see the normie parts of Forgotten Hollow from that cliff with the bench, rather than just more of the mountain. There's definitely supposed to be more than just those 5 lots.

I'm not sure if the person behind Miss Hell in the bar is anyone specific? they feel slightly familiar but I might be thinking of Leila Illes from island living, which came out afterwards.

It's unclear how Caleb ended up in the bathroom or whether he asked to turn - the animation is the same either way. In game, I've had a lot of success with both bat-form bathroom ambushes and the good ol' "ask for woohoo and then cancel the order as soon as you're alone together" maneuver so either is plausible. To me, it looks like she's reenacting her transformation, with her as Vlad, so she would've wanted unwilling prey. I've generally thought that Caleb followed her into the bathroom thinking he was going to get laid, but with that in mind it does make sense that she would've just ambushed him when he got up to pee (poor humans and their bladders can't handle their nectar). @charsimsalot has a lot of interesting things to say about how being forcibly turned would have affected Miss Hell in this excellent post about the apartment they built for the rebellious vampires!

That bathroom door is on backwards. I checked - that door only has a sign on one side. Maybe they really wanted to hammer home the point that this is a bathroom? the sink and toilet do a pretty good job of that...

Caleb is not a daywalker in this trailer - since this seems to show him in his earlier days, that 100% checks out. It takes 15 skill points to become a daywalker, which... yikes.

note: I know the sims is very gay these days but do keep in mind that vampires was released January 2017. Gay marriage wasn't fully legalized in the US until June 2015. It was a big deal that Caleb suave kissed a guy in the trailer!

fun fact: the song used for this, deadly flo, seems to be either very cheap or free to license. It is used in a few episodes of the Baking Championship franchise. Y'all, that franchise got me back into baking and directly inspired GOBC. I lost my absolute shit when I heard it playing! There are also parts of Holiday Baking Championship that sound suspiciously like the sims 2 theme... I kinda wonder if there's a simmer in their sound department.

Not really that interesting - earlier versions of their outfits/vlad's dark form. Lilith cannot actually turn into a bat in-game.

vlad bloodvein can use "deprive needs" (must be a master vampire at minimum)

brandy can turn into a bat (should be a minor vampire at minimum)

based on the view outside Brandy's bedroom window, it looks like the virtuous vampires might live in an apartment in San Myshuno?

vlad uses supernatural speed to collect figurines

Not very interesting - just Brandy and Elle eating.

↓↓↓ WARNING - jumpscare below ↓↓↓

lmao what

this one doesn't even seem real, but as far as I can tell it was in fact released as a teaser for the full trailer.

This is the official trailer - it lines up reasonably well with other lore. Also the song is so fun.

Most notably: this trailer shows that Caleb is the one who turned Inna. No context is given. Other promotional material & the in-game paintings show that she was a thrall, potentially for hundreds of years before Caleb turned her.

The exterior of the house where Caleb turns Inna looks exactly like Wolfsbane Manor. However, Inna's bedroom doesn't match any room in the manor. It looks like there is a nearly identical house where Widowshild Townhouse currently is, so either Inna was in that house, or Wolfsbane Manor has since been remodeled. It would be kinda interesting if Caleb and Lilith decided to buy Inna's old house when they moved...

When Caleb turns into a bat, he's in the graveyard to the left of Vlad's house. Maybe he and Lilith lived with Vlad for a time? It kinda looks like Vlad had a lot of vampires filtering in and out of his place.

Elle real horny. I wonder what happened to that guy - he isn't a gallery vampire but he shows up in a lot of the paintings. As far as I'm aware Elle doesn't show up in any paintings.

This trailer is an absolute mess. It contradicts enough existing lore that it shouldn't be taken as any sort of canon, but it's a decent source of inspiration to fill in the gaps, and I pulled heavily from it when I was choosing powers for the gallery vampires.

Elle uses her mist form (I checked the animations) - she must be a grand master. She can use Command.

Markus Crow has supernatural speed - must be master+

Lilith is using a computer at the beginning of this, which feels weird because this is supposed to be at least 50 years ago. That said, technology doesn't advance in the sims, so, sure.

This makes it look like Vlad just broke into her house and turned her like he did with Miss Hell, but to me Lily makes it sound like Lilith was a more active participant: "I remember when my cousin, Lilith, first told me she'd met a fascinating man named Vlad. After that, she started spending a lot of time "training" with him. I thought she meant they were workout buddies. It wasn't until later that I found out she'd been lured to the dark arts."

Lilith's bed is a reward from the painter career - not sure if the implication is that she earned it herself?

I can't really see outside Lilith's windows, but it does kinda look like Forgotten Hollow? Which doesn't make a lot of sense to me - why would she and Caleb have to move to Forgotten Hollow if they already lived there? That said, that isn't Lilith. And that isn't Caleb. This was from when their names were Gina and Raylan.

Note that "Raylan" doesn't have the good vampire aspiration, and his traits are completely different. The others aren't quite the same as the gallery sims, but at least they still have the same names.

Looking out the window, it looks like the Virtuous Vampires are in Forgotten Hollow with everyone else. In one of the shorts, it looks like they live in a big city. I'm not sure which I like better!

Lilith is used as the example for supernatural strength. While she doesn't actually have that in-game, this is part of why I like to make her fitness 10 brute with vampiric might.

Elle continues to be real horny. Who is that guy? I like the implication that they had to go get it on as bats because Vlad was taking a nap and they couldn't fuck in his coffin :(

Bonus! While this isn't a trailer, exactly, it's a promotional blog post from Vlad's point of view and it is the best. Every last part of this makes me happy, from Caleb and Lilith ganging up on Vlad to Vlad referring to sparring matches as "epic duels" (or, in this particular case, what seems like a pretty good training sesh for Caleb).

Nothing about Lilith makes it seem like she doesn't feed on people except a) her household description and b) this post. That said, those two things about as primary as canon can get.

Vlad claims to own 100 gray coats

Vlad only fought Caleb. There could be so many reasons for that - was Caleb the one who made the challenge? Does Vlad not want to fight his offspring?

Vlad claims that the Encyclopedia Vampirica is mostly based on him. Make of that what you will.

Second bonus: Did you know that Vlad has a normie cousin??? There was a bit of promotional content for seasons involving the Climate family. This is that time they invited Vlad over for Harvestfest.

Please let me know if I missed anything! There's a lot of material out there, much of it no longer available on EA's site, so it's definitely possible there are things I didn't find.

[slutouttanowhere]

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Desiree Simons(oc)

a/n: This was already posted once on ao3, but I figured the non ao3 readers would prefer to have it posted here on tumblr. My oc has a mini introduction if you wanna check that out, it lined to my pinned post. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure how to go about this fic, but then Never Lose Me by Flo Milli—the inspiration—started playing and my brain instantly clicked on. Even though this is the same story still gonna tag my wonderful beta @insatiableorsmthn especially bc she’s not even a wrestling fan and put up with my man–splaining. Hope you all enjoys this, reblogs are appreciated, questions and comments are welcomed. Love ya ✨💜

Chapter 1: Never Lost You

Monday Night Raw

“Desiree, I’m serious; if you’re still not feeling 100, maybe it’s a bad idea to return early,” my dad’s worried face deepens over his end of the FaceTime call. When Hunter put together Becky, and I’s Wrestlemania match two years ago, my dad was the first person to know. To say he was happy is an understatement, that was the cause of our real first argument. My dad’s need to protect me kept clashing with not only original creativity, but also my independence. I lost count on how many times I had to tell him to stop handing me baby gloves. My vision for Wrestlemania was me finally stepping out of the shadows, proving that I have my own personality, and that I can be the main event without any help. He always supports everything I do, but he absolutely would not have it with the tables, latters, and chairs. So when I lied and told him it wouldn't be involved, I lied. Truth be told Becky didn’t want to put my knee through that chair, only after I begged, and wore her down about it she agreed to it. In the end, we were both proud of how everything turned out, that year's Wrestle Mania event sold out Madison Square Garden. I remember my dad waiting backstage that night with tears in his eyes, both tears of joy, and disappointment. From that point on my dad stopped asking about my matches, all he asks about is my health, and if I was satisfied with the outcome. However when he found out I’m returning earlier than what I was originally scheduled, that’s when he expressed true concern.

“I know, Daddy. I’ve thought about that…” I trail off for a moment as I weigh all my impossible options. My father’s Hall of Famer ring glints from the sunlight coming in from his patio window. That’s when my previous doubts about returning to the ring, got put to bed. If I want to be the greatest, better than my dad, then I can’t sit around the house all day. “I don’t have time to wait for 100 percent; you can’t become the greatest by waiting for perfection.” I caught a glimpse of the fire in my eyes from the reflective image through the phone, I can feel the way my eyebrows are pinching together, and my lips purse in resilience. The reassurance of my words were his reserve, any worries he had are long gone.

The smile on his lips shines brightly, and just then my mom pokes her head into frame. “Whatever you decide, you know we support you, baby girl.” She smiles warmly, her tone soft and loving as always. My heart aches as I start to feel homesick. I haven’t been home to Huston in god knows how long, but instead of crying about it, I suck it up so as to not make my parents worry about me.

“Alright then, you’ve put your foot down. I’ll let you go, I know you’re very busy tonight. Love you Dee.” He waved his hand, and my mom blew me a kiss. I kiss them back, and hang up the phone. I inhale deeply, collecting my thoughts; a plethora of emotions pass over me and I would like to get them all down to one constant before I step through the curtain tonight.

“I’m all done, girl.” My hair stylist, Janelle, fluffs my long curls. I look up from my phone, and into the mirror in front of me, my lips curl into a sly smirk. Everytime, she knocks it out of the park with every style I request of her. The pink highlights match my bright pink under eyeliner – not my favorite color, but I’m really trying to lean into showcasing my alternative fashion sense more on tv. I was originally opposed to a heel turn, I felt like the fans wouldn’t be into it, but I seriously underestimated them. Besides, I’m having fun pretty much getting away with being an emotionally spiraling asshole on TV. My outfit for the opening of the show is simple with a little bit of edge, but it’s still stepping on necks. You can never go wrong with all black.

“Yesss ma’am,” I dance around in a circle emphasizing my gratitude and excitement. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Thanks, Janelle – I’ll see you next month.” We hug, and kiss, then I go on about my way, making my way down the hall to catering. I pass a few people here and there waving and responding to small talk on the way by, until I spot Mercedes in the back with Becky. Upon seeing me, their faces light up, causing me to dance my way all the way to their table.

“Well aren’t you just glowing, bursting full of energy.” Mercedes slaps hands with me before I take a seat at the table. I steal a grape from her fruit salad, to which she playfully stabs me with her fork.

“Doc put me back together now I’m a real boy again.” I joke playfully, and Mercedes bumps her shoulder into mine, a sly smirk on her lips. Becky doesn’t buy what I’m selling her, so when our gazes meet, I silently beg her to leave it. She remains silent, but I know I’ll be getting an ear full later. Despite us all being booked tonight, it’s been so long since we were all in the same place at once so, we all sit around joking, chit-chatting for a bit, and it feels like picking up right where we left off before my hiatus. Time gradually begins to dwindle down for me, creeping closer to the match. Tonight is supposed to initiate a tag team with Drew and I versus Seth and Becky. I have yet to find Drew and catch up with him, though I would be saying I’m lying if I haven’t been trying to avoid him. I manage to steal another piece of fruit from Becky, and this time she doesn’t fight me on it. “Kay, this is where I leave you ladies. I’ll see you out there Becks.” I stand up from my seat, phone in hand. My eyes scan the room once to see if he was already here before I waste my time running all over the arena. I’m not surprised when I can’t spot him; Drew’s always been a chill loner type. I’ve almost never seen him hanging out with groups of people, it’s one of the things that brought my attention to him when we first met. He’s a quiet guy that lets his abilities speak for themselves, in more ways than one. A shiver runs down my spine as flashbacks detour my mind from the mission at hand. A week before my return, I had a meeting with Hunter, and Vince to figure out where the story should go once I return. We ran through a few ideas here, and there. They wanted me to go just skip ahead and go right for Rhea Rippley, but I wanted it to be as natural as possible. I felt like the previous story didn’t quite close how it was supposed to. So when I brought up Becky that’s what led to Vince’s idea of getting Seth, and Drew involved. “The ending of your story with Becky, will be the beginning of not only Drew’s story, but now the beginning of your feud with Rhea Rippley.”

I wave the girls goodbye, and set on my way once again. The amount of people in the hallways are thinner than they were a half hour ago. I pass a ref gently grab onto their shoulder, “Hey have you seen Drew.” They smile at me, no doubt happy to see me back, but when their lips tilt down in a frown, its all the answer I need. That was the fifth person that had come up empty and I was starting to think he either didn't make it to the arena, or left.

“Wassup DeeDee, lookin for your boyfriend?” Colby’s voice comes from behind, a knowing smirk plastered onto his lips when I turn to look at him. I roll my eyes deeply, ignoring the pain I cause myself, and fold my arms over my chest.

“Ha ha, have you seen him or not?” I cut to the chase. Colby is like the older brother I never wanted, always putting his big nose in business that isn’t his own. He shrugs his shoulders, a look of feign confusion etched across his face as he brings a finger to his chin tapping it. He takes his sweet time pondering, long enough that I begin to turn and walk away. Usually I’m in the mood to goof around, but there were too many things on my mind. Drew being the main one, and truth be told he’s been living rent free in my head.

“Geesh okay, okay, calm down. I think the doctor may have accidentally screwed your brain up in the process. What happened to your humor, Dee?” His frown deepens when I continue to stare him down; if my annoyance isn’t evident a moment ago, it sure is now. I shift the weight in my hips, my arms falling to my sides, and my hand coming up to pinch the bridge of my nose. I get a good glimpse at his outfit, and I won't admit to him out loud how well his new sense of fashion is working for him. He’s bringing out his Randy Savage, and Ric Flair in these outfits. I’m sort of jealous.

“It was my knee, you dumb ass, I injured my knee.” I tap my knee cap with the other hand, to which he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. His WWE Heavyweight Championship was an eyesore, and I am quite honestly tired of looking at it at the moment. It’s just a reminder of how long I’ve been gone, and just how many opportunities I’ve been missing out on because of this stupid injury.

“I’m sure you’ll find your…friend lurking in some dark corner, I passed by him like 30 minutes ago that way.” Colby jabs his thumb in the direction behind him. My heart speeds up unexpectedly, it’s been a year since I’ve seen, or even spoken to Drew.

“Thanks.” I mumble, my body already moving past Colby, he grasps me in the shoulder giving it a light squeeze, but then lets me go afterwards. I keep walking until I reach a break in the white brick walls. It's odd to place a break off hall here, but that’s why it made the perfect hiding place, I suppose. Looks like it’s used to store tools, and such. There he is, leaning against a crate with headphones over his head. His eyes are closed, and his arms crossed over his broad chest. He’s already dressed for the first segment of the night, he kept it simple in a pair of jeans, a merch t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. I don’t really want to disturb him, but I don’t really have a choice. “Stop being pussyfoot Des, and just do it.” I murmur to myself, taking a step forward. Drew’s eyes fly open, his head snapping in my direction. I squeak out of shock; his intuition is freaky and accurate. His eyes soften once he realizes who is standing before him. He pulls off his headphones and the sound of heavy rock bleeds from them piques my interest for a moment. We used to stay up all night till we fell asleep on the phone, talking about our favorite bands. Between me wanting to keep things between us private, and me letting my injury cause a wedge between us, it’s safe to say I felt responsible for ruining whatever it was we had. “Wassup Andrew, been a while, kid.” I play it off cool, I try to step away from our past, and just get through this moment. I should have known better.

He walks closer, his tall frame towering over me causing me to have to look up at him from this distance. “I would ask how’s the knee, but you seem to be just fine don’t ya, princess.” His tone is sharp and I’m thrown off by his response. Instantly, I lose my chill. My arms fold over my chest, an attempt to calm myself down, but he’s always gotten underneath my skin with ease.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I’m quickly reminded of the last argument we had, in fact all of our arguments usually start because he goads me into them. Every time, without fail, I fall into the trap. The corners of his lips pull into a smile ever so slightly. He had been waiting for this moment, to tell me off, to embarrass me. Drew didn’t care if there were five or zero people around, he’d say what he had to say.

“You had a career ending injury, you disappeared, you didn’t speak to me for what feels like an eternity, and you just pop up with a ‘Wassup’? Is that the best you got?” And there it was, the truth. He inhales deeply, his tongue sweeping across his lips to wet them. He isn’t done ripping me a new one. I deserve it, I expect nothing less, I didn't have a reason to close off all communication, I just wanted to be left alone. He can be so smothering at times, I didn't have the stamina to keep the facade up in order to spare his feelings at the time. So here I am, waiting for him to take me back in like a stray.

“I…I called you. Not once did you answer, and I know you think I want you to baby me. I don’t need that from you, I’m a grown man, I can handle rejection, but what I won’t tolerate is disrespect. So if you wanna sit here and claim that I wasn’t worth one fuckin phone call, and that all that time we spent together ment nothing to you, at least have the balls to say so.” Man that stings, I crumble under his gaze, those icy blue eyes softening, but he wasn’t backing down on his statement. I wish we could just laugh it off, and bury the hatchet, and maybe we could, but only if I’m really careful. I’m right at eye level with his chest, and I can’t help but think of how comfortable his body felt when he held me despite how muscular he is. No matter how mad he got, or how much we roughhouse, he was always very gentle with me. “Ya’aren’t even listening to me.” I’m snapped out of my day dream and back into the present, but before I knew it, he’s walking away.

“Shit” I curse to myself, and chase after him. “Hey don’t walk away from me! Drew!” He refuses to turn around which leaves me with no choice. I run and jump on his back. For once, I catch him off guard, he yelps out in shock. I manage to crawl around to his front side while hanging onto his shoulders. My legs wrap around his waist, and without hesitation, his large hands hold onto my hips, his grip tightens, and his nails lightly dig into my flesh. I bury my head in the crook of his neck, taking in his minty scent, and just hug him as tightly as I can. “They say ‘you don’t miss the water, tell the well runs dry’, and boy did I miss you the most of all, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I have so much I want to say and catch up on. If you want, can we hang out later, and I’ll answer anything you want to ask?” I unwrap myself from his torso, and slowly slide down, bringing his face with me. His thick beard feels soft in my hands. I want to kiss him so badly– anything to take me back to where we left off.

He hesitates and my stomach flutters. Finally, he says, “I’d like that.” His lips pull back slightly into a soft smile. I hold his face between my hands, not wanting the moment to end. The butterflies in the pit of my stomach refuse to settle as he leans in closer. He doesn't reject my touch, encouraging me to come closer, while I was in the mood to have him smother me with his body, I bring my arms around his torso. His long muscular arms wrap around my shoulder, and he holds me there. His chin resting on my head.

“Sorry to interrupt guys, but we gotta start walking down now.” One of the WWE officials informs us, my body jolts in surprise, I got lost in Drew, and I’s reunion that it didn’t occur to me that we actually have a job to do. I’ve never been one for PDA, and though we weren’t doing anything inappropriate, I still felt exposed. I drop my arms from Drew’s waist causing them to flop at my side, he, however, holds onto me for a second longer, and lets me go. Reluctantly, he peels his eyes away for a second to nod his head, but that intense gaze of his returns right back to me before I get a chance to exhale. He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it.

The walk from the hallway to the front of the backstage area is silent. As we get closer to the Gorilla, more people show up throughout the halls. “Alright, show time.” I sang in a melodic rhythm. As we approach the curtain, I catch a glimpse of Hunter staring at us with this expression I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“See ya out there, princess.” Drew spoke so only I could hear him. It’s not until I feel his warm hand squeeze mine did I realize we had walked all the way down here fingers interlaced.. I look over to Hunter and sure enough that was the reason for his odd reaction to us. His eyebrows pull upwards, the corner of his mouth twitches upwards into a smirk. I can feel my face getting hot. I know he won’t go blabbing to everyone what he just witnessed, but Colby knowing about Drew and I’s situationship is already one person too many.

Choosing to ignore it, I stand by the monitor and watch the events unfold. The Miz’s segment was always used as a tool to get the pot stirring between superstars, and boy is he good at stirring the pot. Colby and Drew seem to be going back and forth about whether or not Drew was worthy enough for a title shot. “You think you’re too good to face me? What, am I not cool enough for ya, Seth? I know I’m no Jey Uso, I know I don't come out here dancing every night, shaking hands, and kissing babies. So let’s get real Seth, look me in the face like a man, and just admit that you’re scared to face me. You’re scared to face me because you see how I turned your friend Roman Reigns inside out with a Claymore straight to the face!” Drew leans forward in his seat, the roar of the crowd rings throughout the whole of the arena from Drew’s call back to his match against Roman two years ago for the undisputed champion title. The tension between them is palpable, I begin to jog in place as I stand near the Gorilla, switching my weight from one foot to the other. Colby parts his lips to speak, but Beaky cuts him off, her voice coming out with a nonchalant arrogance. “Maybe you’re just not man enough.” The crowd goes crazy. I roll my eyes letting out a chuckle, Drew inhales deeply trying to retain his focus. Or rather trying to not lose his temper, and give into his anger, that’s the other side of the coin with him. He could be the sweetest, a complete gentleman, but man oh man is his patience thin. Colby cackles, throwing his head back with his mouth wide open.

Becky takes this as an opportunity to capitalize on, and really amp things up. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to be the Chosen One? And what exactly were you chosen for – to fail?” I felt second-hand embarrassment by her words, she’s really on a roll lately, and I can’t help but feel proud. She’s come such a long way, especially on the mic, and dare I say she could do this whole promo by herself ? Drew stands from his chair, Colby, and Becky follows suit. Drew throws his microphone to the ground, his composure long gone. They are beyond talking, the shouting match is now on the brink of a physical altercation. Becky pushes her way past Colby, and shoves Drew in the chest as hard as she can. Her improvisation threw them all for a surprise – Drew’s eyes widened, I wasn't sure what his next string of words were, but Colby sure as hell didn't seem to like it. By the time they hit my music, Miz had already exited the ring, and is now watching from the commentary table.

Spitbrain ft. Willow—Purge

Purge, you can't take it away

Purge, you can't take it from me

Sink into the dark, I can't seem to find myself (Oh, oh)

I tried to come back but it's so hard (Oh, oh, oh, oh)

I don't know the truth anymore, perspective shattered to the floor

Fucking up like most of the time, coming to terms with all of my lies, not taking advice (I don’t really wanna know)

Tryna find my way to the light, through traps in my mind, it's gonna be fine, it's gonna be fine

My entrance music blasts through the arena, and the crowd pops for me harder than I had expected. I dance my way to the ring, slapping hands with a few fans, and waving to some. An official sitting by ringside hands me a mic before I climb in between the ropes that Drew is kind enough to hold open for me. As I stand from my bending position, our gazes meet, his eyes are on fire. I slap him on the chest playfully, and he flexes his pectoral muscle. ‘Show off.’ I think to myself, not nearly as annoyed as I pretend to be. Instead of acknowledging Becky and Colby, I turn towards the crowd. I climb to the top turnbuckle and the audience jumps to their feet, shouting and clapping. I make sure to show the other three sides of the crowd the same love before I come to a halt between Drew, Becky, and Colby. Before speaking I revel in the reaction of the crowd for a moment longer, then bring the mic to my lips, “I guess you ran out of female competitors huh, Becks?” My face morphs into an expression of feigned confusion, and my heart thudded with an unexplainable excitement, but I pull myself back to reality before I spiral too far.

Becky smirks, “pretty much – I mean, ever since I made you tap, the competition has been slim. How’s the knee by the way? Must have been hard recovering something that's been smashed to thousands of bits by a steel chair.” She gloats haughtily, her lips turned upward into a sly smirk. My head drops; I re-enter the darkness of those twelve months. Becky’s words stung, reminding me that I let my ego get in the way, I was so desperate, I needed the fans to love me because I earned it, and not because my fathers last name is attached to the main event.

Colby could be heard from behind Becky, “Ohhhh!” Ever so quietly, I cough as an attempt to not break character, and laugh.

“Crazy, because I’ve been gone for a year, and some change. But you have not challenged Rhea for the title yet, it seems to me that it’s you that ain't man enough, Becky. Sigh, I guess you were just riding the wave till I returned so you could hop onto my coat tails, and use me for clout like you always do. I mean, when’s the last time you had an original thought? Your merch should start sayin ‘Seth’s Mini Me’, instead of ‘The Man.’” I was starting to feel that fire burning at my core, the fire that’s gotten me through some of my toughest days of recovery. “All you are is a one trick pony, and I think your show has already played its last episode!” I don't give her a chance to react, I drop the mic, and kick her in the gut. I turn to grab her head into a reverse headlock, and then drop her into a Stunner. Following my lead, Drew pushes Colby, he goes for a counter, bouncing off the ropes, but Drew catches him mid way with Glasgow Kiss straight to the skull. The sound of two skulls connecting like that is enough to make a person vomit, but I’m too lost in the moment to care. Colby drops immediately after Drew’s head butt, the crowd roars to life, and I’ve never felt more alive in my life. I snatch a mic off the floor, “If you think you still got it in you, Becky, how about the two of us duke it out for a title shot against Rhea! You know where to find me when you regain consciousness.” I threw the mic down, and look out into the crowd. My music plays, Becky musters the strength she has left to pull Colby out the ring, and they both stumble up the ramp. I turn to see Drew’s forehead is bleeding, I’m a little worried at first, but he’s already enveloping me into a bear hug lifting me up off my feet. Still bleeding, Drew held the ropes open for me again, and we made our way up the ramp. His harm is long enough to wrap around me twice.

When we make it back behind the curtain, the medical team is waiting with all types of tools to put Drew back together. I stand to the side for a moment to let them work, but I start to feel awkward being of no help, so I turn to leave. I don't get far before his hand reaches out and grabs my wrist. He holds me in a firm grip, and with one eye open he says, “Come find me.” He doesn't let me go till I nod my head confirming that I indeed hear him, and promise to find him after all the hype has calmed down. He slowly let me go. Our fingertips graze each other, the electricity that sparks between us sends a shiver down my spine right between my thighs. Even if my mind has forgotten Drew, my body hasn’t.

I finally made it to the locker room to prepare for our tag match later tonight. Becky is already ahead of me as she stands in front of her locker half dressed. There’s quite a few other women scattered throughout, but they all seem to be in the zone so to speak. Bayley nods her head in my direction but nothing more, so I respect her space and throw her a smile from a distance. “How you feelin’?” Becky turns to me, a soft smile on her lips, I want to answer honestly, but I’m not in the mood to make a display of myself while everyone is around to listen.

“Feelin’ like money, as always. The boys looked good out there, especially Colby, you gotta get me in contact with his stylist.” Swiftly, I change topics. I know she’d ask me for a third time later, so I decide to save it till then. Taking the hint thankfully, Becky’s can-do attitude amps back up and the mischievous smirk from earlier is back. She bounces on her tiptoes, then beats her chest before responding.

“Yeah we’ll see about that, DeeDee, all money on me tonight.” She laughs with her mouth open, and head thrown back. My heart flutters with joy knowing our dynamic is the same as it was before I left. I had put her in a tough spot with that whole WrestleMania ruse. I stride over to my duffle bag to pull out my ring gear, smiling to myself, proud that it came out exactly how I drew it. I sort of got inspiration from Mugler, and just ran with it. An all black leotard, with leather, and sequence detailing. I step my legs through my tights carefully so as not to rip them, then I pull on my gear over that, and sure enough it fits like a glove. The sleeves are made of mesh with sequins, that I glued on one by one throughout the entire sleeve. I top it off with a pair of black Jordan 11. Now that I’m finally suited up, I feel like I’m officially back, and I take a moment to bask in it. My phone suddenly buzzes from inside my bag, when I see who’s texting me it’s Drew. My breath hitches, seeing his name flash across my screen, made my face heat up, and the good memories outweighs the guilt of me ignoring all his calls last year. I shake my head to clear the impending depression, and tap on his text.

Drew🧸: Where are you?

I quickly shoot him a text that I just got done getting ready, a moment passes before he replies.

Drew🧸: Come find me when you’re done getting ready.

I can’t hold back the smile when I see his reply, his voice in my head as I reread it. Knowing him, he's exactly where I found him before– he takes his pregame very seriously, and doesn’t like to be bothered. Fortunately for me, I'm an exception to that rule. It was a little tricky finding that same hidden hallway seeing as my starting point is from a different side of the arena. After walking around aimlessly for a little bit I finally find him on his own, with his headphones over his head. He’s doing wall push ups. Slowly approaching him, I just stand and admire for a while. The way his arm muscles flexes as he pushes himself off the wall reminds me of the way he used to use my body as weights for fun, our unhinged version of foreplay because workouts always led to sex. I get lost in the memories for a moment, then, “You’re going to have to stop biting your lip like that.” Drew’s soft, yet deep voice pulls me back to reality in time to notice how much closer he’s gotten to me. No matter how long we’ve known each other, I still haven't quite gotten over his size, 6 '5, 275lb, I’m always having to look up at him when we're this close. ‘They don't build ’em like this in America.’ I think to myself. He flexes his pectoral muscles as he takes a few more steps towards me, I drop my head, suddenly feeling embarrassed for drooling. He reaches out to grab my chin gingerly, as if he might break me if he’s any rougher.

“Don’t look away from me.” He demands softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his resolve is one of the things that caught my attention. For such a large man, he can be incredibly tender and I don't know what is about that that turns me on so much.

“How do I look?” I ask awkwardly, he doesn't break his intense gaze as he quickly gives me a once over, then he steps back for a moment. I felt naked, and on display, his eyes slid over each detail. He slows to a temporary stop at my chest, you couldn’t see much of anything with the way the designs cover me, but the size of my breast is prominent. His gaze lingers before he continues to move down my body, he tilts his head to the side, a pensive expression passes over his face, and at this point I wasn’t sure if he was still present. I jolt a little at the sound of him suddenly speaking.

He twirls his index finger, “Give me a 360.” On cue, I slowly turn, giving him the full display of my gear. I feel his eyes taking me in from head to toe, one hand on his hip, and the other on his chin, scratching his beard. I bring my leg out and lift my foot up for him to see my shoes. He nods his head, and a look of impression crosses his face.

“Oh, nice touch with the Jordan’s. You look great, Rey, absolutely gorgeous.” He compliments me, and I come in closer, my hands pressing to his chest, and slowly sliding up to his neck. Or at least as far as I can reach. His arms wrap around my waist, and his hands slide up my back before coming to a rest on my lower back. I originally came here to talk, but as usual, my mind and my body are not on the same page. “We could pick up right where we left off, but I think we’re going to have to work at it very slowly, is that okay with you?”

Like an idiot, I moan in response. I’m at a loss for words; the only thing I can compute is how his hands feel on body. He finds a tiny opening of skin on the back of my neck where the zipper to my outfit stops. He takes my response as a sign to keep going, pressing his lips to my neck, and I don’t protest. Instead, I tilt my head back, giving him the space he needs. I feel him kiss the shell of my ear; Drew inhales my scent deeply, “You’re such a good girl, that’s why you always get so much attention from me, even if you made me wait a whole year before I could see you again.” His hand slides between my thighs, caressing me over the fabric of my gear, and I’ve never wanted to rip off my clothes for a man so badly in my life. “Which means, it’s only fair that I do the same.” The meaning of his words don't hit me until he fully steps away, withdrawing his hand and everything. As if I could look any more dumb than I do right now, he boops me on the nose, and walks away with a devious smirk on his face. Leaving me to simmer in my own juices.

[f1-disaster-bi]

I love it 🥰 lando teaching art to children is so cute 💖 and George being able to be georgie again with lando and charles 🥹 it's a great new au 🫶🏼

-💖

Yes!

Lando loves working with the kids. He has a collection of t-shirts covered in little colourful hand prints from all the classes he has taught so far. He has shelves lined with little clay creations or little picture frames and little projects that were gifted to him. He adores them so much.

He loves his photography too. He loves working with Charles to bring Charles's designs to life and helping Charles's business take off, but all of that is behaviour that George's ex considers 'beneath' Lando since he's from a 'good family'.

Jokes on her because Lando's parents are happy Lando is following his dreams and they love his little collection of art and that he's living life how he wants to. He might not have gone into a business like his brother or into zoology like Flo or medicine like Cisca, but he's happy and has a life that he finds fulfilling.

George missed Lando like a limb when he isolated from everyone but her family and friends. Lando's apartment that she complained about as being 'cluttered' and 'distasteful', was like a place of safety for George. He didn't need to wear stuffy shirts or cuits there because Lando only ever wears comfy clothes at home and always had some that George could wear (even though George never left clothes there, Lando always had something in his size and his favourite snacks)

So reconnecting with Lando is like coming back to himself, even if he's piecing the parts of himself back together after everything

[gigawatt-smile]

What is your favorite headcanon about Lucy?

It's a little convoluted and long and technically multiple but it all fulls under one basic thing:

What Lucy is like outside of her ghost hunting.

(This is mainly book adjacent because this is how i imagined it as I was reading it)

I think Lucy's room is something very personal to her especially as she started to feel more at home after TSS. I always imagined the roof to have a slant over where her bed was with a large window next to it where the skull would be sat on the far end. Her closet is on the other side of that and beside her bed is a tiny beside table which she uses the top draw to hold her very personal items (her sketchbook, her watercolour palette and some photos of her life before L&Co).

It's barebones at first but she'd add to it over time. She set up fairy lights around her bed on the slant with pushpins with the battery control blue tacked to the wall (when she left, she found that it had stained). She has polaroids and other photos of her, George and Lockwood (later, Holly, Kipps and Flo) on the ceiling above her bed. She would have her favourite band posters also on the wall, almost floor to ceiling.

You can almost always find her with music on, and given that it's the top room of the house, she can get away with having CDs blasting with little consequence. She added a CD rack as she collected more because she would frequent music stores and she would also probably get them from the people at Portland Row too.

It also helps because she never had this back up north, it was always sharing a room or being told off for having any music on. It's getting to live as herself with people who love her back.

I dunno man, she gets me really emotional

EDIT:

Whipped up a drawing of it

[swanmaids]

tag memes

thank you for tagging me in both of these, @elevenelvenswords!!

no pressure tags for @meadowlarkx @imakemywings @theghostinthemargins @jouissants @welcomingdisaster. do either or both or neither!

meme #1

Favourite colour: Pink! I even have in my tinder bio that whoever matches me better be cool with my pink obsession hahaha

Last song: Walk Like This by FLO (eleven, this is like the ultimate celegorome song to me hahaha... if you listen you'll see why :'))

Last movie/TV show: I'm partway through Princess Kaguya

Next on my watch list: Azur and Asmar, it looks so pretty!

Last game: I don't play video games :(

Sweet/savoury/spicy: These questions are hard for me because I don't think you can have any without the other, a balance of all three is ideal

Relationship status: Single, online dating casually

Last online search: Chappell Roan vinyl. It was sold out :(

Current obsession: Pole is definitely taking over my life a bit atm. I really want to find the time to learn aerial hoop too.

Greatest flaw: I have a very addictive and obsessive personality. Right now I'm basically constantly tightrope walking being a workaholic and a shopaholic at the same time :')

~~~

meme #2

Are you named after anyone?

My middle name is the name of the woman who set my parents up on a blind date!

2. When was the last time you cried?

Can't remember! I'm feeling pretty good lately.

3. Do you have kids?

No, but I'd like to.

4. What sports do you play/have played?

I'm an intermediate-level pole dancer right now and I want to try out more aerial arts, it's just a matter of finding the time.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Daily.

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Their attitude.

7. What's your eye colour?

Brown.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

It really depends what I'm feeling at the time tbh! Though I have to be in a certain mood for totally tragic endings.

9. Any talents?

People tell me I'm a lot physically stronger than I look. Also dancing in heels.

10. Where were you born?

North of England. Related to the "use sarcasm every day" point above.

11. What are your hobbies?

Pole dancing as mentioned, flexibility, reading, writing (when I can...), vinyl collecting, cooking and baking, konmari, doing those adult therapeutic colouring books. Also certain reddit snark subs.

12. Do you have any pets?

My parents have a dog back at home. She might be the dumbest animal in the universe but we love her.

13. How tall are you?

166 cm / 5'5 ft

14. Favourite subject(s) in school?

I despised school lmao. But I liked geography and sociology.

15. Dream job?

We said dream, so professional pole performer or conflict journalist.

[antilocaprine]

Kiss prompt 25 frenreylatta please

Well, since you asked so nicely...!

(Kiss Prompt List) (AO3 collection)

25: ...as a 'yes.'

“No.”

“But - Gordon, look at - at Sunkist! She wants to -”

“Absolutely not.”

“bro, that’s not very chill of you…”

“I don’t care. No.” Gordon crossed his arms and glared at Benrey, then at Tommy, then looked slightly down and glared at Sunkist for good measure. “We are NOT getting a puppy.”

“c’moooooooon,” Benrey whined, leaning against Gordon’s shoulder. Gordon braced his feet and refused to budge.

“Nope.”

“But we - we already have Sunkist, and she’s not - she’s the perfect dog!” Tommy buried his hand in Sunkist’s ruff, which was at hip height even with her crouching down.

“Tommy, I’m still not convinced Sunkist is a real dog,” Gordon told him. “And a puppy is totally different from an…immortal, perfect dog. Puppies are the opposite of perfect -”

Both Tommy and Benrey gasped, and Tommy dropped both hands to cover Sunkist’s ears.

“Mr. Freeman!” Tommy exclaimed in a scandalized voice.

Gordon sighed and pinched his nose. He hadn’t been prepared for this. He’d just planned on having a nice day out with his boyfriends exploring the pop-up street fair in a local park, but the county shelter had brought a van with cat cages and a pen with several roly-poly puppies of an indeterminate breed, and now Gordon was locked in a standoff.

“Guys, no. We’re not home during the day, we couldn’t -”

“Benrey works from home,” Tommy chirped. “He’s there all the time!”

Gordon wiggled his hand in a so-so gesture. “Okay, yeah, Benrey streams from home - but remember the last time we had to interrupt his game?”

Tommy made a face. “I’m sure he’s not -” he turned to Benrey. “You wouldn’t do that to a puppy, would you?”

Benrey huffed. “uh, no? of course not?”

“There you go!” Tommy smiled at Gordon, who sighed again.

“That’s not - Benrey, do you even know what goes into taking care of a puppy? You gotta potty train them, and keep them entertained, and not let them chew on anything or get into the trash or -”

“that’s, uh, a lotta rules,” Benrey interrupted. “but look - Sunkist’s already picked one out, so, uh…”

Gordon’s gaze followed his pointing finger to see Sunkist with her nose pressed against the fence that she could probably step over, her tail wagging slowly as one of the puppies wiggled against the wire and licked her nose ecstatically. The other puppies were still sizing her up from the other side of the pen, and the volunteer sitting inside the enclosure was staring at Sunkist with a similar expression of apprehension to her charges.

“What…breed is that?” Another volunteer said slowly, leaning around the van to get a better look.

Tommy opened his mouth, but Gordon spoke over him. “She’s a golden,” he said quickly. 

“A golden what? Moose? Ouch!” The puppy-sitting volunteer had reached up and smacked his knee.

“Sunkist is the perfect dog,” Tommy replied calmly.

“Yeah, she is, which is why we don’t need another dog,” Gordon grated out, holding out an arm in an attempt to herd Tommy away from the puppy pen.

“But - but Gordon, even the perfect dog can get lonely!”

On cue, Sunkist swung her immense head up and gazed soulfully at Gordon with her big brown eyes. He glared at her and shook his head, and she huffed and dropped her nose back to sniff at the puppy through the wire again.

“a puppy would be nice,” Benrey said pensively. “might liven the place up. be more interesting than, uh, than you.”

“Oh, thanks,” Gordon growled. Tommy was on his heels next to Sunkist, poking his fingers through the cage. The puppy wriggled against his hand too, and he looked up with stars in his eyes. Gordon gritted his teeth.

“look at that,” Benrey hummed. “isn’t that cute?”

Gordon wasn’t sure if he was talking about the puppy or Tommy, or even Sunkist. The giant dog had laid down and was half on her back, pawing gently at the wire. The other puppies were slowly making their way across the green grass, stiff-legged and cautious, but Sunkist just flopped further over on her side in an unmistakably encouraging manner.

“She’s really good with them,” the puppy volunteer hazarded. 

“See, Gordon?” Tommy said, now cross-legged with his knees resting against the wire pen.

“Yeah - yep, I see,” Gordon said, looking around in hopes of another booth catching his eye. If he could distract Tommy and Benrey for five minutes, he was pretty sure he could get them to drop the puppy thing.

And speaking of Benrey, where had he gone? He was no longer pressed up against Gordon’s side, and he wasn’t next to the puppy pen. If he’d already gotten distracted on his own and wandered off, that would make Gordon’s life much easier.

“yo, look at this.”

Gordon blinked at the brightly-colored pamphlet that was shoved under his nose, then reached up and grabbed Benrey’s wrist, pulling his hand back so Gordon could at least read the words.

“What is this - fostering? Oh, no, no, no, that’s even worse -”

“okay, cool, so we’ll just take the one puppy, then.”

“Fu- no, we absolutely will not!” Gordon snapped, suddenly mindful of the various children nearby. It was probably best to not be yelling swearwords in the middle of the park.

But Tommy was already reaching over the fence, and the volunteer was handing the adventurous puppy over. “Don’t put her down,” she cautioned. “They’re devils for taking off.”

Tommy curled around the puppy, who immediately set herself to licking every inch of skin she could reach. Tommy laughed brightly, rocking back a little, and Gordon glanced over to see Benrey watching him with a soft smile. 

“Benrey…” Gordon said quietly, and Benrey’s expression shuttered into his default blank public facade as he looked up. “Tommy already has a dog, and a puppy is a lot of responsibility.”

“there’s three of us,” Benrey shrugged. “and if, uh, if Sunkist is Tommy’s dog, then maybe - this one could be ours.” One of his hands was in the pocket of his hoodie, but he reached out and tangled the fingers of his other hand with Gordon’s, and Gordon took a deep breath.

“You would be the one taking care of it during the day. Are you up to that? You won’t get bored or upset with it, even if it’s yappy when you’re streaming, or if it makes a mess?”

Benrey smirked up at him. “you two are already yappy an’ messy enough, so, yeah, should be fine. i can get my chat to help with a, uh, puppy progress bar for training. nintendogs…speedrun. real-time speedrun.”

“Real-time speedrun?” Gordon snorted. “That’s just playing the game, man.”

Before Benrey could reply, Tommy stood up and plopped the puppy into Gordon’s arms. He was startled, but he scooped it up easily, holding it away from his face for a moment as he looked between Benrey and Tommy, who were wearing identical angelic expressions.

“You’re really set on this, aren’t you? It’s a serious commitment, and we shouldn’t just decide on a whim.”

“i mean…” Benrey glanced up at Tommy. “we’ve been here for like an hour…”

“We’ve been at the park for twenty minutes, tops,” Gordon said. “We’ve been looking at the puppies for five minutes. That is a whim. That’s whimsical.”

“That’s not what whimsical means,” Tommy sighed. “Now, could - why don’t - um, just look at the puppy.”

Gordon dropped his chin and looked at the puppy. She really was adorable, a mix of brown, cream, and gray, with two white feet and baby blue eyes. Her ears were floppy, and she had a decent amount of fluff which could be either puppy fuzz or the beginnings of a long coat. She wriggled in his arms, stretching up to try to reach his face, but she didn’t yip or whine.

Something nudged his arm, and Gordon looked down to see Sunkist’s nose at his elbow. Her ears were perked and she looked from the puppy to Gordon’s face and back again, obviously having figured out that he was the sticking point.

Benrey and Tommy had linked arms and were watching Gordon. Even the volunteer in the puppy enclosure was looking, but that may have been more her keeping an eye on her charge than looking at him.

Gordon hefted the puppy up in his arms and she took advantage of the movement to stretch her neck out and lick him on the nose, just once. Then she tucked her head under his chin and nuzzled herself up against his neck, and Gordon felt his resolve crack. 

He made some quick mental calculations. Between Sunkist and Benrey, a puppy would probably actually be well taken care of during the workday, and with three of them, taking care of her the rest of the time would be easier. They had plenty of space, and Gordon’s family had raised two puppies when he was a kid, so he was confident in getting her trained. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Gordon’s shoulders rose and fell as he sighed, then he tipped his chin down and, breathing in the warm milk smell inherent in so many baby animals, kissed the puppy on top of her soft head.

Tommy and Benrey cheered, and Gordon shook his head, grinning softly. He didn’t even have to say anything, and they knew. Sunkist boofed, and the puppy wriggled in Gordon’s grip to touch her nose to Sunkist’s snout.

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” Gordon said. “Tommy, you get to fill out the paperwork, you’re good at that.”

The volunteers bustled into action, pulling out pamphlets on housetraining and schedules for continuing the puppy’s shots, as well as recommendations for local vets. 

“what’re we gonna call her?” Benrey asked, wiggling his fingers in front of the puppy’s face as she mouthed at them with sharp milk teeth.

“Will we stick with the soda theme?” Gordon tilted his head and nodded at Sunkist.

“mmm…uh, baja blast,” Benrey said. 

“No,” Gordon replied. “We are not naming a dog Baja Blast.”

“Sprite?” Tommy suggested.

“pepsi,” Benrey said, at almost the same time, then added, “sprite pepsi.”

Gordon sighed. “We are also not naming a dog Sprite Pepsi. C’mon, guys.”

“pilk,” Benrey said.

“I don’t even know what that is, and I don’t want to know.” Gordon glared at Benrey. “Please don’t tell me.”

Benrey grinned at him and made a lip zipping motion.

“What about Fanta?” Tommy asked, and Gordon and Benrey exchanged glances.

“Yeah,” Gordon mused, peering down at the puppy. “That might work.”

Tommy was asking rapid-fire questions that the volunteers seemed very pleased to hear, so Gordon figured he had the details covered. Benrey’s head was on Gordon’s shoulder as the puppy licked at his cheek, and in the shadow of Gordon’s body, Benrey opened two more eyes and another mouth on his face. The puppy jerked away, then perked her ears up and tilted her head first one way, then the other. Benrey’s grip tightened on Gordon’s back, and Gordon watched carefully. If the puppy freaked out and got scared, he wasn’t sure what they would do - but then she lunged forward and stuck her tongue into Benrey’s new mouth, and he pulled back, sputtering.

One of the volunteers looked up. “Ah, did she getcha? I swear, they always try to find a way to get their tongue in either your mouth or your nostril…” Then Tommy asked her something about fleas and she turned her attention away.

Gordon grinned down at Benrey. “She pass the test?”

Benrey wiped at the cheek where his second mouth had been. “yeah, vibe check’s…good. i guess we can keep her.”

“I’m just glad we’re naming her now, before your chat gets a chance to,” Gordon said. “Didn’t someone end up with a cat named after a printer?”

“HP OfficeJet Pro 6978 Wireless All-In-One Instant Ink Ready Printer,” Benrey nodded. “s’a good name. lots of, uh, nickname potential.”

“If you say so,” Gordon chuckled. Tommy shook someone’s hand and turned to trot over to them, an orange folder in one hand and a bag of puppy chow in the other.

“I told them we’ve got dog things at home,” he said, “but we should get, um, go shopping tomorrow for a smaller bed and crate and stuff.”

“Tomorrow?” Gordon asked. “You don’t want to go today?”

“I want her to, um, to see the house and then we, um, we can decide what we need,” Tommy said. 

“real-time speedrun,” Benrey muttered.

Gordon quirked an eyebrow at him as they started walking. “Again, that is just playing the game at normal speed.”

“yeah?” Benrey slung an arm around Gordon’s hips, and Tommy handed the puppy food bag down to Sunkist so he could do the same from the other side, twining his fingers through Benrey’s as he did. “so…let’s play the game.”

“All right,” Gordon said, smiling into the afternoon sun. “Okay. Let’s play the game.”

In his arms, Fanta sat with her floppy ears perked, watching the world go by as she was carried gently into her future.

[yikes-em]

Not All The Love

For @astrangersummer week 5: Fireflies

steddie | 701 words | major character has dementia | see tags below or on ao3

Hopper's mental state is deteriorating fast, this is one last night in the family home.

Read also on ao3

It was a quiet evening. Steve expected as much. There was dinner that Joyce had loved into existence and served with a tight smile and music that came from Hopper’s record collection that was always playing. Nancy and Jonathan’s little girls were still collecting fireflies and jarring them up for a grand release. 

It was almost too soft, too calm before the storm   for him. Though if Joyce would have anything to do with it there likely would be no storm. Steve props himself against the back porch doorway and watches the scene on the lawn; the gaggle of kids who’d dragged him through hell and back spread out on the grass helping the two young Byers girls fill their jars. Robin’s out there with them too, taking a tumble when she over-extends herself and cackling on the way down. 

Hopper settled into the rocker by his side before Steve noticed, startling him with the flick of his lighter. He could hear Nancy and Joyce laughing at something Eddie had said deep in the house.

“Sorry, kid,” he chuckled. He offered up a cigarette. Hopper was supposed to quit long ago, Steve did just four years ago. But he still took the smoke and leaned down to the lighter Hopper’s holding.

“Thanks,” Steve coughed, which made Hopper laugh. Steve will never know if Hop remembering him all the way makes it easier or not. He’d already forgotten Joyce’s boys and God knows he never had a chance to know his granddaughters. Joyce would occasionally slip his mind, and there was once he couldn’t recognize even El. Steve spent that night on the phone with her till she’d cried herself out. 

But Hopper always remembered Steve. 

“So how’s the station?” 

“It is what it is,” Steve shrugged. “The team misses you. Flo always asks after you.”

“Ah, she’s still there? I knew she’d outlast us all.”

“She’ll outlast me, that's for damn sure.” Steve marveled at the laugh that pulled from him. He’d taken over the position of chief of police when Hopper retired and therefore adopted Flo too. 

“I’m grateful for you keeping them honest.”

“I try my best.” 

“You do a damned good job, son,” Hopper said. Steve’s heart clenches. Tomorrow he and everyone else would be forcibly, and she’d warned them how upset Hopper could become for it, moving Hopper out of his home that Joyce had to sell to support his memory care. Tomorrow Hopper and Joyce would be sleeping in a small studio apartment in an assisted living community. Tomorrow the world would cave in around them all, but that night Hopper was as he’d always been: gruff, and short, and ten times the father Steve’s own had been. “I appreciate what you’ve done.”

“I haven’t changed too much around-”

“For our family, Steve.” They make eye contact as Steve finishes up his cigarette and Hopper starts another. “The kids, Will, my girl. I’ve never been comfortable giving up control, but there’s no one I would rather leave the safety of my family to.”

Tears jumped to Steve’s eyes. 

“Hey, kid, did you see the series last week?” 

And just like that the lucidity was gone and it was 2005 again and the White Sox had won the World Series. Nancy drifted from the house to her husband and daughters, and as if on cue Joyce and Eddie sidled up to their corresponding partners. Joyce petted a hand through Hopper’s hair that he instinctively leaned into. Eddie slipped his hand into Steve’s back pocket with a crooked brow. Steve shrugged in response and kissed his cheek. Dustin helped one of the young girls twist the lid of her jar off, then the other, and shouted out.  Steve leaned further into Eddie and closed his eyes to burn the innocent image of fireflies dancing up through the night sky to join the stars in lighting it up. The kids shrieked and giggled, El and Max and Lucas danced circles around them. Hopper laughed at something Joyce whispered in his ear as she took place on his lap. Not all the love in the world could save them from the next day, but it could protect this last night.

[wexhappyxfew]

shannon! hello! i was looking at your pinterest boards again (they're so aesthetic i love it!) and marty's really stood out to me! so i wanted to ask, what's his story like? any fun things about him? :)

OMG blu!!! ( @xxluckystrike ) hello!! :D i hope you're doing well! <3 (and thanks so much for stopping by the askbox!) AWWWWE thanks so much!!! :') that means so much to me omggg, my pinterest boards for my OCs are truly some of my favorite things to collect and put together - it just helps so much with writing, the vibes i try to go for, the aesthetic of course, quotes, face claims, scene inspo for them.....i could go on haha! it truly helps so so much for me, so i appreciate it SO much!! :)

my sweet bean marty!!! you can absolutely ask about him (and i am beyond happy to talk about him!) and i've been working with writing him a bit more for the fic and just !!!!! i love him so so much! :)

SO!!!! Marty - or to others Martin Armstrong, or to Esther, her little brother by about 14 months haha! In the story, we won't really see a *whole* lot about Marty face-to-face, but Esther thinks about him a lot and does mention him throughout the story when thinking about home and her childhood (two major things that hang off of her like a comfy cardigan). My best way to describe Marty is that not only is he Esther's brother, but he's tough as nails, intelligent, charming, resourceful, loyal, a ride-or-die type of friend, and one helluva medic out in the Pacific (corpsmen, he's in the Marines, but for sake of better word)!

Marty worked at the nearby Navy Yard, with a few school friends, but once Esther went to school and war rumblings crossed the Atlantic, he decided to sign up for the Marines - he wanted to be with the best of the best, and with Dad as a Marine, he wanted to follow in his footsteps. So when Esther went to work at Fort Bragg with W-Sector, Marty was sent to Parris Island, South Carolina where he underwent his training before being sent to the Pacific.

He gets close with a group of guys in the Marines his age - Charlie Godfrey (his closest friend in the platoon) along with Joey Merrie, Calvin Hindton, Glenn Jercovic, Roger Kaplan and Warren Whitwatcher. Fun fact: Charlie Godfrey's little sister, Flo, is on a certain base in Europe, working as a mechanic on the ‘Flying Fortresses’ throughout 1943, helping take care of a dog named Meatball (lol!).

Marty’s role in the story is really this enigma of being Esther’s brother and someone consistently important to her life (to then parallel another OC, Jeannie, the tragic story of her and her brother, Fitzgerald, but more on that another time).

Him being a medic is one of the things that really defines his character, especially being out in the pacific, and I purposely write some of his letters to Esther where he describes what that experience is like and what he goes through to further exemplify his character and his inherent need to help people. From the way Esther talks about him early on in the fic, you wouldn’t really *guess* that about him but the more we hear and see of him, and once he starts mentioning it, we see where that makes sense.

And if anything, Marty is VERY proud of his sister! :) [#1 supportive lil brother truly]

SO NOW…..a I have a moodboard and a snippet for you as a thank you for asking about him! :) ENJOYYYYY!!!!! He truly is one of my favorites and such a good person! <3

Another fun fact: Esther has brought up Marty 71 times and I only have 23 chapters written! Lol!

Everywhere she looked, she saw her brother; she saw Marty in the doorway to their home, with his backpack and long socks on his first day of 1st grade. She saw Marty at the kitchen table, his usual spot left open for him ever since that day he left. She saw him in the family room, not only in a few notable pictures, but in his usual slightly dented spot on the couch that the majority of people left open. Half the time it still felt like Marty was there.

-> excerpt from Chapter 14 of And Then The Dawn Came