#I wrote this when I was having a bit of an off day and it really helped tbh because how CAN YOU BE SAD OR MELANCHOLY WHEN YOU WRITE THIS

[postracehair]

fracture

max verstappen x reader | 3.5k

max breaks his wrist during the first week of the off-season.

cw: max breaks his arm, r is a bit rattled, some blood, a naked shower, intimacy, mentions of sex

a/n: c'mon. you know he'd be so annoying. good thing we love him. [i wrote this before the season ended and then...never posted it. so, here, have it before we start all this shit over again in a few weeks.]

__

You are not there when it happens.

You're asleep, actually, curled up on Max's couch with the cats while he enjoys the first week of the off-season. The celebrations have ended and there is a great deal of work to be done in the next few months, but everyone gets a little bit of respite.

Vacation will come after the holidays. That's the plan, anyway. The last few days have seen you in Monaco, mostly inside Max's place. Just spending time together, relaxing, watching movies, rumpling his sheets. Today, though, he and Danny decided to go on a world-class-athlete-level bike ride.

Which is why you're on the couch. They've been gone all day and you don't expect Max to get home until later. You ran errands, cleaned a little, and then took an afternoon nap.

As you rouse from it, you fumble for your phone to check the time. The screen lights up and you're greeted with --

35 texts. 4 missed calls.

"What the hell?" you mutter, sitting up and opening everything.

DR: sorry for the three calls don't freak out but i think max broke his arm

DR: he says you're probably napping but i'm going to document this for when you wake up

DR: he's fine but yeah that shit is fucked

DR: he says not to tell you he fell off his bike but he fell off his bike

DR: he braked for some animal in the road and went over his handlebars

DR: oh he also scraped his face but he's still pretty, don't worry

DR: his palms are fucked though which is why he's not texting you

DR: we're on the way to the hospital, btw

DR: you're gonna be so pissed when you wake up

It goes on like that. Daniel, to his credit, has given you a play-by-play of the whole situation. You've only been asleep for about an hour and based on the time stamps this started right after you fell asleep.

You get up as you read, grabbing your things and trying to find your shoes as you read. You need to -- you need to go and be wherever they are. You need to help. Heart racing, chest tight, you need to be near Max as soon as possible, even though Danny said he's okay. If this was you, Max would already be there. God, why did you take a nap?

According to the texts, they got to the hospital and he was seen immedietly, x-rayed, and bandaged up. Broken right wrist, Danny had said. He's pissed more than anything.

You're about to call him back when your phone rings in your hands.

"Danny," you say as soon as you accept it.

"Oh, thank fuck," Daniel exclaims. "I thought I was going to have to surprise you in person with the whole thing."

"I'm about to leave, just give me 15 minutes to get there--"

"No, no, no," he interrupts you. "He just got discharged. I'm bringing him home."

You stop in your tracks, one foot shoved halfway into your sneaker. "Really?"

"Yeah, we'll be there in like, 20 minutes?" You can hear Max saying something in the background. "He wants to talk to you," Danny sighs. "Mate, you'll see her soon--"

He's cut off and there's some muffled noises and then Max is saying your name.

"I'm fine," he says. "I only made him tell you so it wasn't a surprise when I came home."

"Max," you sigh, shoulders creeping away from your ears at the sound of his voice. "I'm so sorry, I was asleep!"

He laughs. You feel a bit weepy, which is both an overreaction and cathartic. "Good," he says. "The whole experience has been a pain in the ass."

"You're coming home now? Are you in pain?"

"Eh," he says, dragging out the sound. "They gave me something while they set it so I don't feel it much. Daniel says we'll be home soon. Oh, hold on --" There is some muttering, Danny's voice in the background. "Okay, I'm going to give you back. See you soon, liefje."

"Okay," you say softly.

"Be there in a flash!" Danny says brightly. "Seriously, don't worry."

You hang up and just stand in the hallway, at a loss. Something bad happened to Max and you weren't there. It feels wrong. Not that he's in poor hands with Danny -- quite the opposite. He's probably the only person aside from yourself that you'd want there for Max in a crisis. But, god. You wish you had been there.

The cats weave around your ankles as you pace, waiting for Danny to call or for the door to open or, anything at all to happen. Your mind is running a million miles a minute. Objectively, it's the best time for Max to break something. There isn't even a car for him to test right now and he had at least another week of time off before needing to go back to Milton Keynes. This might throw a wrench in your holiday plans but you couldn't care less about that. How long will he be in a cast? You assume he's in a cast. What kind of help will he need? Will you be enough to provide it? What if he --

Noises in the hall make you freeze and then you hear Danny's voice. You bolt to the door, unlatching the locks and pulling it open. You're greeted with the sight of the two of them -- Danny looking down at Max's keys in his hands, both of their backpacks on his back. They've both changed out of whatever ridiculous bike outfit they must have been wearing for the ride, but you devote your attention to your boyfriend.

You can see the bandages on Max's knees and forearms where he must have scraped himself up on the road. His wrist -- it's in a black cast that runs the length of his forearm. He cradles it to his chest in a sling they must have given him and then you make your way to his face. A few scratches along one cheek, hair a mess, mouth drawn into a frown. A frown that relaxes slightly when you meet his gaze. Your eyes well with tears.

"Max," you breathe. He steps in front of Danny and meets you in the doorway, his cast-free hand cupping your face through the bandages on his palm.

"I'm fine," he says. "You're looking at me like I'm in a coma."

"Sorry," you whisper. "I just --"

He tugs you to him gently, pressing your face into his neck and rubbing your back. You try to be careful of his arm as you breathe deep and will yourself not to actually lose it.

"Guys, can we at least go inside?" Danny asks.

Max huffs and you pull away. He drags his thumb under both of your eyes but doesn't comment on the dampness he finds there. "Inside, liefje."

Danny drops Max's stuff and passes along the documents from the hospital. He's quite the personality but he's all business when he needs to be. "Pain killers in his bag. Call me if you need anything, guys."

You step away from Max long enough to throw your arms around Danny. "Thank you," you whisper. "For looking after him." For calling. For bringing him back to me. For doing what I should have been there for.

He chuckles. "Alright," he says. "Max should break something more often."

Once Danny leaves, it's just the two of you. Max has settled on the couch, head leaning back into the cushions.

"Come sit with me," Max calls. "God, I forgot how much I hate hospitals."

His eyes are closed and he holds his arm gingerly. It's not the first time you've seen him injured -- you've been at his side in the medical tent before after watching him careen into a wall at 190mph. And yet, right now, you're still so upset.

You settle into the cushions on his left side and just watch him.

"I'm sorry," you say again. Max's eyes open. "I can't believe I was asleep when Danny called."

Max shakes his head. "What would you have done?"

"I could have come to get you and take you to the hospital, or just met you there, or--"

He puts his hand on your knee. "Come on," he says. "Don't be silly."

How do you explain it to him? How do you tell him that something happening to him feels like it happened to you? That not being there feels like a personal failing?

"Will you tell me what happened?"

He sighs and you pull his palm from your leg to hold it in your hands.

"It's stupid," he grimaces. "You don't need the details."

"Max."

He folds. Other people in his life have called this your superpower -- Max's will is iron clad. It is very difficult to get him to do something he does not want to do. But one word from you, one soft look, one gentle touch, and he often relents. It's like you can peel back that layer of him that has hardened out of necessity. To protect himself and his heart, to make sure he's taken seriously, to stop things from hurting.

It's like you remind him that it's okay to feel, even when it's hard.

"Daniel summed it up," he grumbles. "We were biking down a hill outside the city and something ran out into the road in front of me. I stopped. Or tried to, at least." He mimes squeezing the breaks, fingers curling in towards his bandaged palms. You stroke his unbroken wrist with your thumb.

"And you went over," you finish.

"And I went over. Got my knees, my forearms, my hands. My wrist, obviously. Just landed badly."

You reach for his face ever so gently, dragging the pad of your thumb over the shallow scrapes on his chin, his cheek. He allows it, knowing that you need to touch him to be sure he's okay. Whenever he has a crash on track you have trouble letting him out of your sight for hours. You just need to look at him, feel him warm and alive under your hands.

"I'm going to write a letter to your helmet manufacturer," you say, not entirely kidding. You slide your hand over his temple and into his hair. It's dirty, you can feel it, but you cradle his skull all the same. "Thank them."

He laughs once, amused with your sincerity. "I need to shower," he says. "But I can't get this wet." You finally direct your attention to his broken wrist, the entirety of his forearm and hand encased in the cast under the sling.

"Does it hurt?" you ask again. Max would tell anyone else off for badgering him so, but he keeps his face soft and reassures you.

"It's strange," he says. "I'm sure I'll feel it later."

"Did it hurt?" you whisper. "When you broke it?"

You know that Max has felt a great deal of pain in his life. His day job requires it -- physical, mental, emotional. He knows how to handle it and get over it. But he's also honest with you, always.

He wrinkles his nose. "It wasn't nice," he confesses. "I knew right away."

You grimace. In the silence, you match your breaths to his and just sit together for a little while.

And then Max's stomach growls.

"Whoops," he says, grinning crookedly. Still an athlete, still a boy with a fast metabolism. You can't help but laugh.

"How about this," you begin, unfolding yourself from the couch and standing in front of him, hands on your hips. Max looks up at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen. "I order some food and then we get you showered while we wait for it. Let the scrapes breathe and keep your cast dry, then we eat and watch a movie and go to bed. Okay?"

"We get me showered?" He sounds skeptical.

"You think you can wash your hair on your own?"

He smirks. "I can do a lot with one hand."

You roll your eyes. "So you're turning down an opportunity to shower with me, is what I'm hearing."

Max gets himself off the couch and rests his palm on your hip. "No," he says softly. "I'm not that stupid."

He kisses you lightly and heads for the bathroom.

"I guess we can wrap it in a plastic bag, or something?" you call after him. It takes a few minutes of opening and closing cabinets for you to find one. You put in a delivery order and make your way to the bathroom. Max has already turned on the shower and you find him shirtless and peeling off his bandages in in front of the mirror.

"Let me do that." He doesn't put up much of a fight, not even wincing when the tape pull at his skin. You see the gashes on his forearm, the raw skin of his palms. "Arm, please." The plastic bag goes around his cast and you tie it at his elbow.

"You planning to wash my hair while wearing your clothes?" Max asks with a straight face.

You stare at him, trying to seem unimpressed. He breaks first, mouth pulling up at one corner before he shucks off his soft shorts and briefs in one go. He pecks you on the cheek and gets in the shower, still smirking at you through the glass door.

"Alright, alright," you mutter. "So dramatic."

You feel Max's eyes on you as you undress, leaving your clothes on a pile on the floor.

The shower is unnecessarily big but Max does not give you much space. The hot spray is at his back and he keeps his plastic bag-clad arm mostly out of the way.

"Feel good?" you ask. Max sighs but nods. You'll bet he's aching but hasn't admitted it. He turns to the side so you can catch some of the spray, too, fighting off the chill outside the warm water.

"I might fall asleep in here," he mutters.

"That'll be the painkillers, darling," you tell him. "C'mon, get your hair wet."

Max tips his head back. You readjust so that you can card your hands through it. You shampoo him gently, taking your time and massaging his scalp. It's a miracle he stays on his feet, but he does. You hum as you work and Max's breaths get deeper, slower.

"Head back," you say softly. He obeys. You do the same with some of your conditioner because you know he likes how it smells.

This shower feels more intimate than the countless hours you've spend in his bed, tangled up in one another. He's been inside you and yet this feels more vulnerable. He's totally ceding control, trusting you to take care of him. You're naked, slick bodies brushing, always touching whether it's your hands in his hair or Max's own fingers reaching for your skin just to feel.

One time, when you were sick, you couldn't muster the energy to take a shower. Max ran you a bath and washed your hair for you, talking all the while because you asked to hear his voice. It's obvious that you'd do the same for him, as you're doing now. It's just how you love each other -- all the way, all the time. When it's easy and when it's hard.

"Danny was right," Max says, words slurring half from bliss and half the fatigue of the day catching up to him. "I should break bones more often."

You finish rinsing him and just stand there in the spray for a few moments.

"Please, no," you groan, brushing wet strands back from his forehead. "If you want me to wash your hair I will, Max. You don't need to break anything."

His eyes flutter open and find yours. He smiles lazily and you turn off the shower.

"If you say so," he says. "Can we take this off, now?"

Bag removed, skin patted dry, comifes on. The food comes when you're settling Max on the couch with a pillow for his arm. In all likelihood he'll manage a few bites of take out and fall asleep 15 minutes into the movie. But he needs the rest, you think. And besides, he'll have you to watch over him.

__

It becomes clear remarkably quickly that Max is an awful patient. You sort of knew this -- he's been sick a few times when you're around, but you figured that was just man-disease. Whining, refusing to sit still. This is 10x worse. He won't let you do anything for him until he's proven that he can't do it himself. You consider locking him in your bedroom to keep him from trying to do things he shouldn't do.

Max just wasn't made to sit still.

But you can empathize -- it's frustrating to not be able to do any of the things he really likes to do. Drive, use his sim, even play regular video games. It's a lot of movies and long walks and leg days with his trainer.

And then there's the way he just won't ask for help. That's a Max Verstappen original and you know it gets worse when he's frustrated. You do it too -- everyone does. But Max wants to do everything himself, wants to prove that he can.

You try to sit back and let him work it out. About a week after he comes home with his arm in a cast, he calls your name. You're in the kitchen, staring into the open fridge and wondering if you should order more groceries or just go to the shops yourself.

"You okay?" you call back. "Where are you?"

"Bathroom,"he shouts.

Ah, you think. Here we go.

He hasn't shaved yet. You've always loved when he keeps his facial hair a little longer. You love the feel of it on your skin and how it lightens along with his hair when you're on holiday somewhere nice. It's more likely that he keep it long in the off-season. Hot races are a nightmare with a beard, he's said. It itches like mad.

"Coming," you call.

Sure enough, you find him in front of the sink, razor in hand and frown firmly in place. He makes eye contact with you in the mirror and even though you can feel his annoyance from here, the set of his jaw softens.

"Do you think you could help me shave?" he asks. No lead up, no hem and haw.

"Of course, Max."

You quickly work out that sitting on the counter next to the sink while he stands between your knees works best. His broken wrist hangs at his side, the other hand resting on the counter next to your leg.

You lather him up, carefully applying the white foam of his shaving cream on his cheeks, his chin, his neck. He's got a fancy razor, one that will probably make it hard to cut him. Still, you feel the way he's basically handed you a blade and asked you to use it on him. In so many ways it's one of the most intimate things you've ever done. Even more than the showers you've had this week, just chatting and washing his hair.

"I'll be careful," you say softly.

"I know." He tilts his chin up, showing you his neck. "Go on, then."

It's quiet work. You're focusing hard and Max seems content to allow you. Stroke after stroke, rinsing the razor in the sink. You keep one hand at the base of this throat as the other works, gliding it over his skin. Cheeks, jaw, upper lip. Chin, neck.

"I like your beard, you know," you say when you're almost done. He waits until you're rinsing the razor again to reply.

"I do," he says, smirking. "You aren't quiet about it."

The last patch comes off as easily as the rest and you grab a damp towel to clean the rest of the shaving cream. Max appears to have relaxed enough to become pliant, leaning into your touch as you finish. He lets you rub moisturizer into his cheeks, eyes fluttering closed. His hand ends up on your leg, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh.

"Cheeky," you mutter. He smiles, boyish and easy. You take your time, pleased that he's letting you, but also because you could touch him forever. "Schatje," you whisper, trying to make it sound like it does from his lips. "All done."

Max doesn't move. You frame his face with your hands and lean in until your lips touch. You feel his smile against yours, but he dutifully tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His freshly shaved skin is so soft. You've kissed thousands of times by now, but you can never get enough of him. The way he responds to your every move, meeting your pressure with some of his own. Your tongue with his, swallowing your moans and giving you his own like a gift.

It's Max who pulls away, dragging his lips over your cheek.

"Dankje," he whispers. It means more than that, you know. From Max, it means thank you for dealing with me, for taking care of me, for loving me.

He doesn't think any of that is easy for you. But he's wrong. It's the easiest thing in the world.

[thatsmistertoyou]

maybe a hot take idk

look I know many people are upset about the pricing/fee situation of the TIT livestream (me included, I was pissed as hell that I got a large surprise fee), and I hope everything gets sorted out. I’m proud of the phandom for being loud and demanding fairness from the platform. you will not get shit past us.

I understand that. however, I completely disagree with some opinions I’ve seen (mainly on twitter but whatever) that charging for the stream at all is greedy, especially for people who have already paid to see the show. this is a weird take imo because this stream is supposed to be an opportunity for people who didn’t get to go to see it with an audience as a communal experience. but if you already spent money and don’t want to spend more, don’t!

and I don’t know anything about anything but based on the very little information dnp have provided about the cost of touring, I really don’t think they have the option to just do the stream for free. this is just my opinion, but based on how dan said he lost money touring WAD, i would not be surprised if the livestream paid for the rights he needed to release it for free on YouTube (and the extremely important rights to play All Star in the credits). just because he wrote and performed it doesn’t mean he owned it. it would not surprise me at all if the profits from the stream don’t go to dnp only.

and also, Things Cost Money, including livestreams. I think the platform has really showed their ass, but if we remove them from the equation for a second - everyone who put on TIT, including Dan and Phil, deserve to be compensated for their work. I don’t expect them to bleed money into this project forever just because it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m sure they’re doing just fine financially, but they are not and never have asked anyone to take food off their table to support them.

I actually find it really disheartening to see just how many people were like, legitimately, personally angry with dnp before they had even had a chance to respond to our concerns. I’ve been around long enough to remember when they announced TABINOF, there was an uproar about how they were sellouts because they were writing a book just like every other youtuber, making a shitty cashgrab when they had nothing to say. in the 2 days before we knew what the book would even be about, the Discourse had never been more annoying or mean spirited.

and it made me wonder, what are yall doing here if you assume the worst like that? have you just been waiting for the masks to slip? are you appalled that they participate in the heinous capitalistic act of selling their labor like everyone else? have your years of support not earned a little bit of grace when there’s a miscommunication?

I’m not saying approach everything like ‘they’ve never done anything wrong once in their whole lives and never will’, but the vitriol that seems to come out at minor fuck ups is alarming. some of yall do not like them and it shows. (I am looking directly at twitter dot com now)

I find that attitude really sad. after the TABINOF drama, I promised myself I’d never lose sleep over phandom nonsense again, so I’m going to bed, just had to get some thoughts out there. 💙

[cherie-doll]

hello again!! i just wanted to askk, could i possibly request how the cod men would be with a self-conscious reader? :3 thank you for the curly-haired!reader hcs btw those were so cutesy!!

I hope u have a nice day/night <3 - 🦇

lol im back and yea ofc! (omg i finally wrote and posted something, EVERYONE CLAP)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Being Self-Conscious Around Them

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He notices that anytime you're out, you glance at your reflection in every mirror or window you appear in, you always regret doing it, and he notices it when you fix your hair to cover your face a little more, or bringing your hoodie over your head

He switches the shopping bags he was using both hands to carry to only one hand, with his now free hand he brings an arm over you and pulls you into him, tucking you into his side

And when you look up at him, a soft breath condensing in the cold air as it escapes your lips, he just smiles warmly and reassuringly at you

His voice, low but thickly as he says your name, wanting your utmost attention, and your eyes find his, in the quietude of the street on that evening you did not turn to glance at your reflection again

It is easy to worry endlessly, to get lost in your thoughts of how people see you, of being aware of every flaw someone could see in you, but you're once again reminded why for one person in the world who's always by your side sees past them

Ghost

Sometimes it is very subtle things you don't like about yourself, not always easy to perceive or notice, but he notices how you feel, the way you carry yourself is different, maybe your shoulders a little more hunched as you try to hide

He doesn't say anything, but he knows something like holding your hand extra tight will have your spinning mind grounded again when you're in public

A chaste but rare peck on your forehead when you get home as he detangles from your fingers and walks off, leaving you surprised but feeling warm inside for it

He knows he's not the best at providing comfort, the man himself uses a balaclava every time he goes out, the real reason for wearing it still unknown but you could say he's just gotten used to not showing his face, so he can't exactly tell you to not hide or turn away if he himself does it

Still, he wanted to give you something to lean on, anything to give you a little bit of reassurance

Soap

He doesn't see why you would be so self-conscious, he loves everything about you, why wouldn't you too?

To be honest, he's never cared that much about his appearance, and he may not exactly be the best when it comes to words, but he's trying

He wants to show you that you shouldn't shy away from him, that he will continue to show you love even if you're hesitant and overly aware of yourself, to not let it get to you or affect how you treat one another

He hates hearing you say negative things about yourself, even if you're just pointing them out, because he truly doesn't see the flaws you think are there, he looks up at you endearingly as he kneels down, his hands on your hips as he tells you about how he first fell for you

And God, you can't get him to shut up once he starts, you'll be laughing and telling him he can stop now, that you get the point he's trying to make, but he refuses to stop talking, you will listen to hear him go on for at least another 30 minutes

Gaz

Those days where your self confidence isn't the best suck :(, especially if you feel like nothing else is really going right and on top of that you just don't feel your best

Kyle would just sense that something is off when you walk through the door, he looks up from where he's sitting and just the sight of him makes you rush into his arms the moment he opens them for you

He'd hold you as he gently strokes your hair, which has a most calming effect on you, making your brain go quiet, feeling how soft his fingertips are against your scalp as they gently caress between strands of hair, it is during this that he asks if there's anything bothering you, since it's been a while since you've had a deep conversation

Feeling like nothing can hold you back, the streams of words just flows, and he's there to only nod and listen as he wishes he could clutch you tighter to his chest and heal everything inside of you, it hurts him to see you like this

But after you've poured everything out to him, he hums quietly and parts from you a little, you raise your head to meet his eyes in confusion

"You really think that?" and he gives the most loving and adoring look you've ever seen him give you it just melts you from the inside

Roach

Honestly, he'd sulk noticing how much it affects you, because he loves the confident you, how charming you are when you hold your head high not letting the thoughts swarming in the murky waters of your mind get to you

He knows he might not be able to change how you perceive yourself, but he can try his best to offer his comfort, maybe you're lying in bed, trying to make peace with the thoughts inside your head, and here comes your boyfriend/husband to climb into bed with you

Slowing making his way towards you like a cat seeking attention, resting his head on your lap as he stares up at you with dreamy eyes admiring you, and you can't ignore him, you take his face in your hands and feel the urge to aggressively love him

His soft smile reminding you of how much he loves you, it momentarily makes you forget about everything, you've been too engrossed in your thoughts you forgot about the person who could erase your doubts even if it was for a moment

The tenderness in his eyes when he murmurs "I love you"

Alejandro

Alejandro is the best at excessive flattery, he does not pass up a moment to tell you how good you look, the problem is that's what he thinks, you're more worried about what your mind has to say and what others might think too

No matter how far down you try to push your thoughts, they just keep finding a way to resurface and make you feel awful, why do you even care so much? It feels like you should, everyone else feels so natural, you want to feel normal for once

Seeing how distressing it can be for you to the point you avoid certain things, Alejandro decides to take matters into his own hands

Telling you, "Who cares what anyone else thinks? It's what you and I think, and no matter what, I still feel the same way", you already know he'd go through extreme measures just to have you feeling like the luckiest person alive, everyone should be envying you for having what you have and you should look and feel it too

Rudy

You're always asking him, "How do I look?" and he will always answer with a smile and "You're beautiful cariño" except you don't believe it, especially when you asked for his jacket, you're not even cold but suddenly you don't like how you feel in your outfit, maybe the people passing by are snickering or laughing or noticing that there is something wrong with you

You just want to turn around and go back home where you can be at peace without the fear of judgement, but Rudy stops for a moment, sensing right away how you feel and asking if you really want to, he could take you back home and instead choose to do something else for the night

You nod yes and he doesn't hesitate in rearranging his plans, he centers his life around you anyways, and he'd rather take a raincheck for any other night than make you feel uncomfortable, he just cares endlessly about you

But he wishes he could find a way to make you see you like he does

Phillip Graves

Waiiitt I've literally entertained the idea of this with him before ;)

You staring into the mirror, unsatisfied with yourself until you're approached by Phillip from behind, him wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his head onto your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you laugh softly

But he notices that sad look behind your eyes, your furrowed brows

No matter how much you try to bring it up to him, he will not let you get more than a sentence in before shaking his head, he doesn't want you to express anymore of those negative feelings, knowing that if you started you'd just go on until you started crying

He'd have you meet his gaze through the mirror, making you stare deep into his beautiful blue eyes asking if you truly trust him, if you nod yes, he'll tell you how he truthfully finds every part of you attractive, how alluring you've been from the first moment he laid eyes on you and how you should discard other people's thoughts

"You truly are the most stunning thing I've ever seen"

Makarov

He did find it strange how you'd gradually become quiet the longer you were around people, and then when you came back home you'd immediately go to the mirror and smile and practice different facial expressions in front of it

When he asks you what you're doing, you simply wave him away, you're only trying to see what you looked like when you were talking to people, did you really look like that? And suddenly you notice other things

Until you're convinced you shouldn't really smile so wide or talk so much, but all it takes is Makarov and his rare tenderness to make you forget about it and feeling good again

He sees no blemishes on you, and you allow yourself to tell you whatever he wants as he drags you away from the mirror and pulling you into bed with him, spooning you, whispering into your ear how you're better than all those insufferable leeches anyways

And for the next time you're getting ready, you receive a questionable amount of compliments from the help Makarov keeps around the house, did he tell them to do that?

Keegan

Keegan wouldn't have known you were being self-conscious around him if it weren't for the fact that you started changing when you were alone, you no longer let him stare at you too long, afraid he'd see something he wouldn't like

You were always trying to turn away or cover yourself if he came into a room when you weren't dressed, yelling at him to get out, except he doesn't care and ignores you anyways as he settles into bed or he holds your hands so you can't cover your face when he leans in closer to get a look at your face

"Hey, don't hide from me" as he turns you to face him, his eyes impossible to part from as he stares deeply into yours, trying to find that fear so deeply rooted in you and pull it out, no one should reach this low, and he'd be a damn fool to let it get to you

He wouldn't want to lose you to this disquietude

König

He very much understands and notices when you're feeling self-conscious, he often feels it too, awkward and unsure of himself when around others, with you though, he forgets about that feeling entirely

Obviously, he's going to do something when you're starting to feel like that, first thing is searching for a place where there is less people, the air gets heavy rather quickly when there are too many people which only makes things worse especially if there's a crowd of people

Doesn't really say much as you both settle into a bench, he's not even sure you noticed that he did it intentionally, he kind of fiddles with his hands nervously but he sits there for a moment, watching the scenery with you, until you lean into him

He's surprised but welcomes it, bringing an arm around your shoulder, "König?" and he responds with a hum, "Do you think... other people think I'm weird?"

Seriously? That's what you were worried about? As if his entire being hasn't always been clumsy and sheepish when around others, yet he still somehow managed to bag you, he snorts, if you're weird he can't imagine what word would be used to describe him

Horangi

He might not fully understand the anxiety that comes with feeling like everyone is constantly watching and judging everything you do or how you look, if anything he quite enjoys the feeling of having eyes on him, especially yours

But he notices how whenever he stares at you a little too long to the point you notice, your reaction gradually shifts from giving a timid and bashful smile to full on embarrassed, he doesn't understand, you're deserving of attention, so why don't you enjoy it?

You do end up explaining how much it bothers you, but there's a long list of things you're always taking notice of, isn't it weird how you walk? Don't you tend to look around too much at people? Is it only you who has an awkward interaction with someone every single time you go out? It's only you, right?

Again, he had never taken notice of these things, seeing as he's learned to take pride in how he carries himself and how he does things, he tells you people don't actually care, no one pays attention long enough to notice

Which is unfortunate really, why doesn't anyone else ever notice that spark in your eye, or that distinctive mark on you? Such a pity no one will ever get to look at you like how he does, maybe he's lucky because he has you all to himself

Nikto

He doesn't even notice what you're constantly worrying about, you've overlooked every scar of his, so why would you ever feel the need to worry about how others perceive you? Especially when it comes to him? It's not unusual of him anyways, you have to point things out for this guy to even take notice of

He sees you staring into the mirror and thinks nothing of it, sees you pull your shirt down every time you sit and again dismisses it, sees you looking uncomfortable when pictures are being taken, fine with him he hates them too

Until you're up at night thinking and he's in bed next to you ready to rest until your voice comes out shaky, frail as if on the verge of tears asking if he really even likes you

Needless to say, he's confused, tired and only grunts in response as he pulls you, snaking an arm around your waist and trapping you in his arms, when you try to move he just shushes you and tells you to sleep

You go to sleep not knowing he's still awake, staring gently at you as he caresses your hair

[shehungers]

CRACKS KNUCKLES let's get to business, Kiri

I want to say that this was SO MUCH FUCKING FUN to read! I'm not much of a superhero-loving gal, but spider-man is one of those heroes that is much more approachable and likeable than a lot of other ones. you "friendly neighborhood spider-man" after all. so, I'm glad that you chose that to go with and that you used Caleb as the hero because it just fucking fits so well!

before I dig in, just know that I haven't played LADS for a long time and certainly haven't played any of Caleb's storyline. so, I can't really make any comment on characterization besides what exists about him in the early parts of the game. if we're going based off of that, this feels very authentic and loyal to his character.

going off of my opinion of how you wrote a character like him: exquisite. you gave me the impression of a responsible older sibling or caretake with a mischievous streak. particularly in regards to the playful banter they share throughout the story, which is equal parts so bratty and caring and sweet that I love, love, love it!!!

a lot of the details you used to describe their relationship: Caleb usually does the cooking, but they dutifully split chores, eat together, consistently yapping with each other throughout the day, that worrying "stay safe" "be home before curfew" "I'll be home for dinner" stuff is just so domestic and ordinary, but something about how you used it in this fic is just so comforting to me; their normalcy is cozy and familiar and loving and lifelong and you did it SO well!!!

one thing I'll mention before I forget is when you were talking about jumping ahead/around w/o dividers or a time skip and having worries about it: don't be. I was purposefully searching for an, ah, rough division in the fic so I could maybe offer a suggestion on improvement. If you did do that, it's nothing so obvious that I noticed it at all!!! I think what "jumps" you did made sense for the narrative and were well-placed, so great work there!!!

what I will get out of the way in terms of a critique, but it's a light one: the length of some paragraphs did become a bit tedious here and there to get through. it's not always easy to figure out how to split up massive thoughts like that bc it all feels relevant to fit into one place, but it makes for more approachable readability to break them down a bit. and I'm saying this as someone who has tendencies to do exactly the same thing.

my proofreaders will tell me to dial it back or split things up sometimes bc I can get so, ah, wordy.

however, I'm also giving you credit here that your readability and flow is excellent! for the most part, I was able to keep scrolling down on my phone without experiencing any hangups, any awkwardness in phrasing or reading. so, truly, wonderful work with that bc achieving good flow can be a difficult task.

okay, that's all I can think of off the top of my head, so I'm dropping screenshots of stuff to yap about:

so fucking same oh my god. I feel this so bad and would've done exactly the same.

there is just something so particularly human and sweet about this paragraph that I just really adore. It does sort of give that childlike idolization where we mimicked people we admired, were inspired by the things they did. But, I love this in the context of mc being an adult and using it as motivation to overcome life challenges. idk idk I just love it

oh my GOD—same. thief running off with my shit? but the crosswalk has 10 more seconds 😫😫😫😫😫 so fucking real. mc is so real for this.

okay, now we're getting into the stuff that I live for when it comes to writing nuanced or small details. agitation causing sleeplessness; overstimulation by way of hyper vigilance, clothes feeling rough? these are excellent little details that can really bring depth into pieces. these are the sort of details that people can feel. the rough clothes are coarse and itch, y'know?

there wasn't much conflict in this fic, which is a-okay, but one thing that I particularly liked was mc's borderline paranoia and hang-up over the fact that he had kept secrets and lied to mc, which I think leans really well into their bond and sort of dynamic that they have. this little passage really stood out to me and was quite potent.

and, the last one:

I also like that in this fic, it was less an issue of caleb's dual-idenities vs MC and more mc vs MC, bc I feel like this entire section you wrote was basically mc internally warring with their own insecurities and fears, rather than having any true issues with Caleb. You present Caleb as surefooted—he knows what he wants, what he's doing, what he's committed to. he is unwavering, he is a solid force and doesn't budge once. that includes his dedication to mc.

MC is the one who wavers and worries and frets and withdraws because it takes them a long time to come to terms with the change and how their lives were going to be inevitably altered forever. and I REALLY love that that's the vibe I got from everything bc sometimes the war within yourself is worse than exists against others, y'know?

I think you did really well exploring all of that!

overall, kiri, I can see all of the heart and work you've put into this piece and I'm so proud of you that you saw it until the end. you have every right to be excited over this piece bc you did the concept justice and executed it beautifully!!!!!!!!

Homecoming

You’re a casual fan, you think. Spider-Man is cool, and you just really like him. That’s all... until you learn that the friendly neighbourhood web-slinger is so much closer than you think.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | superhero AU & Spider-Man Caleb | descriptions of anxiety, fluff, happy ending, mentions of blood and bruises, secrets, slice-of-life (as much as it can possibly be), some angst and hurt/comfort | ~7,6k words

A/N.⠀I really said "I'm going on a writing hiatus" and "I'm gonna lock in" with my whole chest knowing damn well I'm a liar ... anyway yeah this fic was inspired by this Spider-Man Caleb fanart... it made me go crazy.... I hope you enjoy!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

@hunters-association @theseabreezestreet

You were on the verge of a breakthrough. You just knew it.

You were absentmindedly swinging your legs back and forth as you sat at the table. Your laptop was open and displaying several windows—some were images of Spider-Man, some were news articles. Your tablet, and in turn, your notes, had gone completely forgotten. Spending time passively scrolling social media was far from productive, but compared to what you were reading, exam revision was totally dull.

Developing an interest in Spider-Man had been unintentional. You saw him mentioned in the news. Out of curiosity, you looked him up, and all of a sudden, you found yourself deep in the rabbit hole. Before long, you were up-to-date with daily news, keeping up with his movements and making friends with fellow Spider-Man fans. It was swift and unexpected, but you found it more fun than whatever you were previously doing.

He was far from the first superhero Linkon City had seen. There used to be rumours about the God of the Tides and how he ruled the seas for centuries before he found the love of his life. There was also Lumière of the N109 zone, a vigilante who suddenly stopped being active about fourteen years ago. Legends of the Abysm Sovereign and the Foreseer were passed down through generations. No one had proof they existed, only the product of their labour. It was as if they didn’t want to be seen. Still, that didn’t stop your interest from getting piqued.

The difference between Spider-Man and the past legends of Linkon City was that Spider-Man was still active. A web-slinging genius with a no-kill rule, he made the streets significantly safer. Photos and surveillance footage of him were constantly shared, but no one had any luck finding his identity yet. You weren’t investigating him for malicious reasons. You were just, for the lack of a better word, nosy. You wanted to know the man behind the mask instead of the neighbourhood guardian the news always talks about.

You looked at your screen. There was a rough timeline of his appearances the past week. He was in different parts of the city, catching robbers and other criminals with his presumably handmade technology. There wasn’t a strict pattern to how he operated. It seemed that he liked to lurk before making a move. It was how he brought down the corrupted colonels of the Farspace Fleet. Fighting crime appeared to be easy for him, and he wasn’t as destructive as some were. It was impressive. Everything he did had you in awe. His dexterity and swiftness, his strength and courage—he was just what Linkon City needed, you thought.

Just as you were about to go into another deep dive, a hand pushed your laptop shut. Caleb was towering over you when you snapped your gaze to him, brows furrowed as you gave him an offended look. He lightly jabbed your forehead and only smiled in response, seemingly pleased with your reaction.

“You’re supposed to be studying.”

You sputtered. “I was studying!”

“No, you weren’t. You were looking at Spider-Man again.” He tapped his fingers on your tablet, reilluminating the screen once more. “Your exams are next week. You need to focus.”

“I can multitask,” you argued half-heartedly. “And, I’ve never let you down, have I?”

Caleb took the seat across from you with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess not.”

“Why do you hate Spider-Man so bad anyway?” You frowned, trying to move his hand away. He didn’t budge. “He’s keeping the city safe. That’s a good thing!”

“I don’t hate him, but you’ve been distracted. I’m trying to help you.”

“You sound jealous,” you joked. Resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Are you sad I’m not giving you enough attention?”

He pursed his lips, visibly unimpressed. “Set the table. Dinner’s ready.”

“You’re no fun!” you whined. “It’s not my fault there’s finally something interesting!”

You begrudgingly moved your items to the side and got up to make your way to the kitchen, slippers sliding against the floor. The savoury aroma swirled into the air, making your stomach growl involuntarily. Your irritation now forgotten, you made quick work of setting the table and pouring two glasses of water. With your job finished, you waited at the table, eyes drifting over to the TV on the wall. The screen displayed two reporters behind a desk beginning the evening segment. It faded into a clip of men webbed stuck to a lamppost, undoubtedly the work of Spider-Man himself. They were looking to rob an innocent passerby before the webslinger caught them red-handed.

“Huh. That’s where we live,” you spoke up after rereading the headline.

Caleb placed the plates on the table. “That’s why I always tell you to be home before curfew.”

“It’s not like I break curfew anyway,” you grumbled. “You know I hate being out when it’s dark.”

Distracted, you kept your eyes on the screen. The public had mixed opinions about Spider-Man himself. You, along with your circle of friends, thought of him as a hero, feeling safer knowing that he was out there protecting innocent people. From helping an old woman cross the street to busting evil plans, he was using his talents and intelligence for good. He worked tirelessly every day to keep the streets pristine and harmless. The police, on the other hand, weren’t as fond of him. The LCPD openly expressed their distaste for Spider-Man, citing that he was an obstacle in their investigations. Some people thought he was just another guy with a gimmick. These criticisms didn’t seem to bother him at all. If anything, every time someone said anything negative about him, he’d work even harder just to prove them wrong.

You knew it was far from wise to idolise a public figure, but with Spider-Man, he inspired you to do your best every day. You liked to imagine he’d be proud of you if he knew you. You worked hard and powered through no matter how many setbacks you had. As silly and childish as it sounded, he made for great motivation. He was a good guy, he was cool, and—

Caleb waved his hand in front of your face, a warning tone in his voice. “Pipsqueak.”

You jolted, snapping back to the present. “Sorry!”

“Why do you like Spider-Man so much?” he asked, poking at his food. “You got a crush on him?”

You sputtered. “What? No!”

He gave you a look that urged you to continue. Heat rose to your face as you felt a spotlight shining down upon you, giving you the floor. It was hard not to feel embarrassed about something that felt so childish. You hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of words to say. Knowing you were going to sound like a child regardless, you sulked, defeated, and finally gave him a response.

“It’s just… I really like superheroes,” you mumbled timidly, fiddling with your fingers. “I admire people who use their strength for good. Like you!”

The corners of his lips twitched. He seemed pleased. “So do you like me or Spider-Man more?”

“You are jealous!” you said with an accusatory tone. “Caleb, it’s not like that! It’s like… You know when you have a favourite celebrity? That’s what Spider-Man is to me.”

He made a face, though he ended up relenting. “Okay. I get it.”

“Yeah! It’s kinda like how you used to like—”

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” he interrupted, flustered. “I put all my effort into making your favourite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Fine,” you drawled out, unable to hold back the smile from stretching across your lips.

Spider-Man eventually faded to the back of your mind throughout dinnertime. You found yourself engrossed in conversation with Caleb, slipping into the normal banter and routine with ease. Somewhere in between, he changed the channel to natural documentaries instead. When you gave him a questioning look, he just shrugged and said that you should take a break with him. Not one to deny his requests, your laptop went forgotten as you spent the remainder of the night on the couch with him.

It was nearing midnight, and from the way that you yawned, you were nearing your limit as well. The documentary was long finished; the past few minutes were just advertisement after advertisement, regular products with unnecessarily catchy jingles. You glanced over at him, suddenly curious. Unlike you, he didn’t seem to be tired at all. If you were more awake, you’d notice the anxious bouncing of his leg or the worried furrow in his brow, but fatigue was catching up to you fast. With another yawn, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking the throw blanket with you.

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

He smiled at you. “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fully sated and worn out, sleep came as easily as breathing. Images flickered behind your eyes, displaying dreams and vignettes in film reels. You dreamt of endless summers and sweetness, of growing up and exploring the world. When you woke up the next day, only a fragment of those memories remained. Caleb was already gone when you left your room. He left a note saying he’d left early and that breakfast was in the fridge. After treating yourself to his homemade cooking, you set off for classes and got the day started. It wasn’t very eventful. Classes weren’t particularly interesting. Lectures were about things you already knew, and a majority of your classmates were absent, leading to little to no conversation. Before long, the academic day was over, and it was time to return home.

The streets were bustling with activity as you waded through the crowd. Clamour and chatter were more than loud, people surrounded you, and the scent of car fumes mixed with savoury food bombarded all of your senses. You were starting to see now why people liked to say that Linkon City never sleeps. With everyone getting off work, the city was beyond crowded. Restaurants were fully seated, as were the cafés. Traffic went by incredibly slowly. Dogs barked to the sound of car horns and people were emerging from the train station in groups. You gripped your bag tightly, anxiety clawing at the back of your mind. News and posters about pickpockets were nearly a regular occurrence; it was better to be safe than sorry.

You managed to make it to a street where there were less people. You recognised some of the vendors out and about, offering them warm smiles as you walked past. Occasionally, you stopped by and bought a few snacks to take home. Now having your hands full, you were more than ready to go home and unwind. You hummed a catchy pop tune under your breath, leisurely walking down the path when the TV screens in the electronic stores came alive. You came to a stop, standing in front of the clear glass. It was a news segment. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the screen displaying surveillance of Spider-Man was context enough.

He single-handedly stopped a burglary, moving with inhuman agility and fighting with incredible strength. It showed a group of men bound together by his webs, cursing and fruitlessly struggling to break free. It took a few seconds before the familiarity of the background sank in. The convenience store, the townhouses and the DVD store… The incident happened not too far from home. A frown overtook your features. Despite the crime rate being significantly lower thanks to Spider-Man’s efforts, the curfew was still in place, and the unrest remained. It was not any different for you.

As you made a move to continue your walk, you felt something being snatched from your grasp—your bag. The thief ran at full speed, deftly navigating through the crowd as you yelled for help and followed him, aggressive footfalls slapping against the concrete. Absentminded apologies left your lips whenever a complaint was heard from a passerby. Your chest was beginning to ache, but you needed it back. It had everything. Your phone, your wallet, your house keys with the chain Caleb bought for you. You couldn’t afford to lose it.

The traffic light turned red just as the thief crossed to the other side. You contemplated just dashing through, but anxiety kept you rooted to your spot. They were going further into the distance. You bounced on your heels nervously, eyes glaring at the timer. 40, 39, 38…

It was now or never.

Cars honked at you as you ran to the other side, the combination of noise nearly sending you jumping out of your skin. You pushed through your fatigue and kept running until you tripped over your shoelaces, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud. You hopelessly reached out, watching the thief’s silhouette disappear into the distance. Tears of frustration sprang up to your eyes and you buried your face in your hands, uncaring of how you looked to other people. You weren’t fast enough. All your important things were gone, about to be left somewhere you could never find, and your information would be stolen—

“This yours?”

Your bag was dangling in front of you. Were you so distraught that you were hallucinating having someone come to your aid? You blinked and stared at it dumbly, your mind trying to grapple with the situation. The person crouched down to your level, and Spider-Man’s face came into view.

Wait…

You screamed in surprise, frantically pushing yourself away from him. “What—”

“Hey, hey, It’s okay. It’s just me. I webbed him. He’ll be stuck there for another three hours,” he said casually, speaking as though he was just another regular pedestrian and not the famed vigilante of Linkon City. “I had to look at your ID card to make sure it was you, but I’m glad I got to you in time. Here, take it.”

You barely managed to catch the bag as you were still gawking at him. What felt like a thousand questions were popping up rapidly in your head. How did he know? When did he get here? What was going on? How was he so fast? Caught off guard by your stunned silence, he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, feeling awkward under your stare.

“Everything okay?” Spider-Man asked tentatively, waving a hand in front of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, your reaction slightly delayed. “N-No.”

“Listen, I have to go. There’s gonna be a robbery on Ninth Street.” He helped you get on your feet, carefully making sure you had your balance. “Get home safe, okay? And don’t leave past curfew.”

“Okay,” you said, dumbfounded. It didn’t take long before you managed to snap yourself back to awareness. “Yeah, okay. Thank you for getting this back to me.”

He did a casual salute before aiming his web shooter at a building, swinging away with ease. Digging through your bag, you were relieved to find that everything was intact. Once the confusion went away, excitement came rushing in. You hastily grabbed your phone and dialled Caleb’s number, lips curling into a grin. He picked up after the first ring.

“What’s up?”

“You will not believe what just happened to me,” you said in one breath. “I just met Spider-Man.”

A loud crash was heard in the background.

You hesitated. “Are you busy? It sounds like you’re in the middle of something…”

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it. So, you met Spider-Man?”

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you.

“Uh, pipsqueak?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I did! I’m walking home right now. Someone tried to steal my wallet and I couldn’t catch them, but Spider-Man did and he got it back for me. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Someone tried to rob you?” You could practically hear the frown in his voice. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You blinked. “You’re at work. What were you gonna do?”

He fell silent. It took a couple of beats before he spoke up again.

“Well, I’m glad you got your stuff back. Just make sure to be home before sundown. Tell me when you’re back, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back in time for dinner, I promise.”

“It’s okay! Take your time,” you reassured him. “I’m heading home now. See you.”

You had a pep in your step for the rest of the way, feeling in high spirits after the encounter. The weight on your shoulders was lifted, leaving you feeling lighter. You didn’t realise how much you needed to breathe. Relieved would be an understatement—it was as if everything fixed itself in front of you. You didn’t generally consider yourself a lucky person, but today, you had won. The encounter with Spider-Man replayed itself in your mind, echoing his voice, reminding you of the proximity you shared.

After sending Caleb a quick text to let him know you got back safely, you began to cool down from the day. You tossed your keys on the counter and went straight for your room, determined to change out of your sweaty clothes. Since he was normally the one to cook dinner, you didn’t have to do much preparation in the kitchen. You put away the clean dishes, washed the leftover ones in the sink, and decided to tidy up a little. With your tasks done, you returned to the living room and flopped down onto the couch with a groan. Though you didn’t hold high expectations for what was on TV, you turned it on for background noise anyway, half-listening to the dialogue in the show that was playing.

The clock on the wall continued to tick. Caleb would get off work soon. You ended up smiling to yourself, excited to tell him about your day. Lying comfortably on the couch, you continued to passively scroll through social media to kill time. You were beginning to hear the telltale sounds of people returning home. The sound of a car door closing, your neighbour’s doorbell ringing, eager dogs overjoyed to see their owner home. Considering the traffic you’d seen earlier, Caleb returning a little later than usual wouldn’t be that irregular.

With that in mind, your worries were eased a little. But as minutes faded into hours, nighttime came, and not a single call or message from Caleb was seen. Worried, you sent him a text, only for them to be left on delivered. Calling him led straight to voicemail. Growing increasingly agitated, you called him again and again, only to achieve the same result. He always told you if he was going to be late. He always picked up after the first ring. But your attempts to get through to him went unseen, and it was getting harder trying not to sink into your anxiety the longer his silence went.

You paced around the room, fingers clutching your phone as the call went to voicemail again. Your eagerness for dinner had long dissipated and was replaced by immense dread. Worst-case scenarios were starting to appear in your mind, fuelling your panic with its increasingly violent visions. You chewed on your nail as you paced back and forth, trying to reach Caleb to no avail. The situation was growing more dire with each passing second.

You glanced at the time. It was three in the morning. You were wide awake on pure adrenaline and distress. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel tired. It was as though all of your senses were on high alert. Everything was too loud, too much, and your clothes felt rough against your skin. Instinctively, you made your way into his room and crawled into his bed, hugging his pillow and rocking back and forth. The smell of his detergent and perfume soothed you enough to have you breathing normally again. Your fingertips dug into the material, knuckles going white and shaking from how rigid your grip was.

The world started to feel less daunting when you finally calmed down. You felt exhausted, completely boneless. Your eyelids were getting heavier, and as you lay there surrounded by everything he owned, you found yourself falling slowly. The room is dim with only the city lights outside peeking in through the curtains. You felt a cold draft coming through the window, sending shivers running down your spine. Fabric rustled and you felt the mattress dip, immediately jolting you awake. A mixture of relief and fury washed over you.

“Caleb?”

His breath hitched.

You blindly patted the nightstand in search of the lamp switch. Once the room was illuminated, you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” you asked groggily. “I’ve been—”

Your eyes dropped to his outfit. It was the same suit that Spider-Man wore, although more torn and worn down. Whatever tiredness was left in your system dissipated when you saw him. You sat still for a few moments, trying to contemplate whether you were imagining things or if this was real. You didn’t know where to begin. It was as if time stopped. There he was, the person you had been waiting for, standing at the foot of the bed like a deer caught in the headlights. You stared at him with your mouth agape, your mind struggling to put the pieces together despite the obviousness in front of you.

You didn’t know where to begin. Did he always sneak back home like this? What happened to him? In the end, you settled for the most urgent one in your mind—

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

He forced a smile, the gesture awkward and tense. “A couple of months.”

“Months?” you asked, voice rising in volume. “You’ve been—you—god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry.”

You pursed your lips. “Come here.”

He tentatively complied, sitting down in the spot next to you. Your hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing over the bruises and making him grimace slightly. He didn’t say a single word. It was as if he was also dumbfounded himself. You were still upset, but the longer you looked at him, the more the anger faded. At least he was home. Injured, but still home in one piece. It was leagues better than the thousands of scenarios your mind was conjuring up earlier.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically meek. It was unlike the Caleb you grew up with.

“But it can wait,” you said, pulling him into a hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”

His arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he held you close to him, a shaky breath escaping his lips. He held onto you with a desperation you’d never seen before. He relaxed into your touch just the slightest, reassured by feeling your warm body against his. You pressed your cheek to where his heart would be, feeling its steady rhythm remind you that he was here—that he was home.

Your voice was meek when you spoke. “I thought you left me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you decided with radio silence?” you snarked back. Something in his expression flickered, making you calm down once again. You frowned at the amount of bruises visible on his face and the dried blood on his split lip. Softening, you told him, “Go take a shower and get changed. I’ll patch you up.”

He didn’t argue. He only nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, walking sluggishly. The sound of running water filled the stifling stillness as you took a proper glance around the room. There was an evidence board, several open books, and a well-used first aid kit on the desk. Your heart sank. Just how long had he been doing this, getting himself hurt and having to mend himself? Didn’t he trust you? Why did he keep this a secret from you? You heaved out a sigh and hid your face in your hands, frustration and sadness simmering beneath the surface.

There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the right time. Right now, all you could do was be there for him.

He emerged a handful of minutes later, dressed in comfortable clothes. You scooted over and patted the space next to you, lips pressed in a taut frown. Now that the suit was off, you could see the hits he’d taken more clearly. Splashes of blue and purple were scattered across his skin, some big and some small. There were a couple of cuts and scrapes close by, both old and new. It was the worst you’d ever seen him.

“Sit,” you urged timidly. You gingerly applied the ointment on his bruises, careful not to hurt him as he stared up at you. He looked so vulnerable and so fragile that it made you feel like your heart was going to burst out of its confines. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It was Gran,” he said. “She made a serum. I didn’t know it until a few days later. I was stronger, faster… I could hear everything. I could feel everything.”

“How come I never knew this?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m supposed to be your hero, remember?” He laughed in a self-deprecating way, avoiding your gaze. “I had to stay strong. Figure things out, get stronger… Make sure you’d always be safe.”

Setting the first aid kit aside, you pulled him into your arms once again. He held onto you tightly, fingers grabbing the fabric of your shirt so tightly that his hands were trembling. You raked your fingers through his hair and brushed them back, keeping them away from the wounds on his face. For a moment, it felt like there were only the two of you in the world. All you could hear was his quiet breathing as he latched onto you, unwilling to let go.

It broke your heart to see him this way.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t rely on me.”

“No, that’s not it,” he sighed. “I’d go through anything for you. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t keep any secrets from me anymore.” You pulled away. He looked up at you with a pained expression, years of secrecy and isolation making themselves known in his glossy eyes, the quiver of his bottom lip. “Can you do that for me?”

He nodded weakly.

“I need words, Caleb,” you said, your voice firmer than intended. You cupped the side of his face, feeling him clasp your hand with his own, warm and calloused. “Can you promise me that?”

“I can,” he exhaled shakily. “I promise.”

The tears you were holding back brimmed at the corners of your eyes, small droplets sliding down the sides of your face. A hushed whimper broke out of you. Caleb held on to you like you were his lifeline, refusing to let go for even a split second. The gravity of his words weighed heavy, as did him baring his heart. He melted in your embrace, sinking deep into your comfort as you gently scratched his scalp, easing every worry he was holding.

“Don’t lie to me again, okay?” you murmured into his ear.

“I won’t anymore. I swear.”

—

Though months seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye, the emotional turmoil stayed deep in your heart the entire time.

Life had turned completely upside down. With the new knowledge of him being Spider-Man looming over you, you were having trouble placing yourself. Some days, you felt excited and happy for him. He was more open with you when it came to his successes. He’d tell you about the petty criminals he caught or the passersby he helped while swinging through the city. He was passionate about his identity as Spider-Man, and he was committed. You wanted to support him in every step of the way. Some days, you’d feel like you were sinking. You previously didn’t worry all too much when Caleb returned home late, but since that day, fear and anxiety kept you company on lonely nights.

He didn’t always return looking completely beat up. Sometimes he was unscathed. Sometimes it was just a couple of bruises. But you hated being home alone, especially in the dark where everything seemed to get much worse. You were losing sleep because you’d stay up to wait for him to come home. You needed to see him with your own eyes, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep in peace. He tried to give you estimated times to soothe you, but it didn’t always work. You’d wait in the living room, rock yourself back and forth as you wondered if he was coming home.

Your mind wouldn’t let you forget that he lied, either. You already forgave him a long time ago, but you remembered. You’d question yourself, question him, and what would come after was an overwhelming sense of guilt. He was trying. He was more open. He was showing you an important part of himself, bringing you along with him on his journey, yet doubts still lingered in your mind. He kept his cheerful disposition, constantly reassuring you that everything was going to be fine, but your mind was filled with what-ifs. What if he was hiding more from you? What if he was lying? What if he thought of you as a burden?

It was irrational to feel this way. You knew that very well, and yet, you still felt like you were fading out of his life. You talked to Caleb normally, interacted with him like you always did, but something felt different. It was as if he was drifting further and further away from you. Your outstretched hand, desperately trying to reach him, and his fading silhouette. Everything had changed. You felt like you were losing him in real time and there was nothing you could do about it. Everything had changed, yet it was all the same. You still had breakfast together. He still picked up the phone after the first ring. He still smiled at you, looked at you like you were his whole world. You were teetering between security and uncertainty. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you were helpless. These feelings came by themselves, and the more time you spent alone, the more difficult it became to ignore them.

Your sentiments towards Spider-Man had only grown stronger with the knowledge that Caleb was him. His name was more well-known in the city, growing popular among kids and women, and he was constantly being praised by the press. You supported him. You had total faith in him, trusted in him and his strength. But sometimes you’d stay awake stressing about how safe things truly were. More fame meant more notoriety among criminals, and you’d often wonder how long it would be before something drastic happened. You wanted the best for him, you really did, but something guttural gnawed at you. The desire to keep him to yourself, the need to protect him. You wanted to sink your teeth into his flesh, to keep him in your maw. You wanted to hide him away somewhere only you knew.

You dreamt of it sometimes—of risking your life for him just to keep him safe. You constantly wondered if things would be easier for him if you left. You knew there was much that he wasn’t sharing with you yet. You knew it would take time regardless of how much he trusted you, Still, you felt as though you were being kept in the dark. Being Spider-Man seemed to be so easy for him. It suited him, even. You couldn’t see anyone else doing the same thing that he did. But you didn’t know what you were meant to be. You felt for him very deeply, as did he, but the vagueness in the air bothered you more and more every day.

Were you only being selfish?

You thought back on one of the mornings you spent with him. A full spread of breakfast lay across the table and the news played in the background. The sun was shining bright, peeking through the gap between the curtains, and the weather was good. But there was a sense of foreboding that loomed over you, one that you couldn’t keep to yourself. You called his name softly, leading him to look away from the screen.

“Are you okay?” you asked. He blinked at you, confused by the question.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t know.

“I’m good. Sorry, I just thought you looked a little distracted.”

The lie slipped out of you with ease. You felt childish. You felt burdensome for needing reassurance from him that he wasn’t going to leave you behind, but you could never bring yourself to say it. Between your pride and the overwhelming fear of rejection, the words you desperately wanted to stay would remain within the confines of your mind. He didn’t seem to be convinced by any means, but he didn’t push the matter. A part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t a fight. There was nothing wrong. Even when he returned home blood and bruised, exhausted out of his mind, you took care of him with love and care. It didn’t matter that you didn’t understand why he was risking his life. Caleb never broke his promises or broke away from the path to his goals. He wasn’t about to let you stop him. With great power comes great responsibility, he said. But was this responsibility thrust upon him, or was he doing it out of his volition?

You hated feeling helpless. You knew he didn’t need you to do anything, but you felt like you weren’t an integral part of his life anymore. You felt like a bystander, like someone he was slowly forgetting. You shouldn’t feel this way. You should feel happy that he still cared about you, that he cared about the city to give his all into protecting it, yet your mind just wouldn’t let you. Your thoughts on Caleb hadn’t changed. You still thought he was the most important person to you, but what used to be admiration and even love for Spider-Man was turning into resentment little by little.

Some days, you hated him. You felt like a little kid without her favourite toy. You felt like a lonely child in a class full of people. You knew it was useless to dwell on these things, so you tried to occupy yourself. You put all your effort into your studies. You kept yourself busy doing chores even on the days when it was his turn. You didn’t wait to eat dinner with him; you went out for food and drinks with your friends, came back a bit later than the sunset. It wasn’t as if he’d notice. He wasn’t home when you needed him to be.

His name was constantly trending on social media. Spider-Man rescues bus from hijackers. Spider-Man stops bank robbery. Spider-Man comics and merchandise releasing. His name became the talk of the town, earning the attention of the rest of the country. The newfound fame kept him even busier to the point where people were starting to dig deeper into his true identity, leading fans and investigators to wait outside your home. You kept ignoring them, but they were persistent. Your declining of their questions only made them more curious. Not only did you feel like he was slipping out of your grasp, but also like the safety of home was in jeopardy.

It wasn’t his fault. You couldn’t blame him for it. But sometimes you wondered if he knew just how much this was affecting you, as self-centred as it seemed. The satisfaction you expected from uncovering the truth about Spider-Man never came. The final piece of the puzzle was right in front of you, living and breathing under the same roof as you were, and all you could harbour was disappointment.

What Caleb was doing was major. He was keeping the city safe—keeping his home safe, for you and everyone. You found yourself sinking further into guilt and bitterness, the light at the surface growing smaller as you fell deeper and deeper. It was childish of you to be throwing a tantrum over something like this. So, you decided to grin and bear it. He understood you like the back of his hand; doing the same to him was the very least you could do. You pestered him less about his missions, stopped trying to call again and again when he didn’t respond. He’d always come home, even if it took days. He never broke promises. He promised he wouldn’t.

If he noticed the change in you, he didn’t mention it. His actions, however, said otherwise. He did his best to pay more attention to you. He tried to spend as much time with you as he could despite your conflicting schedules. He listened to everything you spoke about, promised you to be careful when you asked, and continued to protect you in his own way. You didn’t know exactly what it was that seemed to switch the dynamic completely, but at a certain point, you were no longer drowning in the pool of negativity. The sun seemed to shine brighter, the flowers in full bloom, and your cheeks ached from how much you’d been smiling. The lingering sense of foreboding faded into nothingness, replaced by pure optimism and trust. The future didn’t feel so glum anymore.

You supposed all you needed was time.

Time to heal, time to process everything. Time had a way of turning wounds into scars, healing phantom pains into a comfortable stillness. The claws that had your heart in a death grip had loosened, letting go of the chains they wrapped around it. You felt lighter, happier. Some semblance of normalcy had returned—as normal as it could be considering his dual life, but you weren’t going to take it for granted. You felt like you could finally breathe after being underwater for so long. Even here, where you were alone in the apartment, you didn’t feel lonely. It was… normal. A relief. It didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It was quiet save for the sound of your nails tapping against the keyboard. It was a sunny afternoon. Having had a productive morning, you aimed to finish the rest of the day in the same way. You were focused and determined to finish the essay quickly so you had more free time. But as the hours went by, that determination waned, and you found yourself at a dead end. You blankly stared at the blinking cursor on the word document. It almost felt like the thing was mocking you. Fatigue and boredom were catching up to you increasingly quickly. You knew the material by heart. You knew what you wanted to talk about. Yet no words came to mind—you were drawing a blank, and the thoughts in your mind were already drifting off elsewhere.

The counter was littered with snacks, surely something Caleb would chide you for. Your tumbler was long empty, left with nothing but melted ice cubes at the bottom. The dishes awaited cleaning in the sink and the TV remained turned on, playing a rerun of some generic soap opera. Defeated, you closed the word document, eyes drifting to the window beside you.

Outside, the skyline was painted in hues of orange and blue. Birds flew over the horizon, ready to migrate elsewhere for the upcoming spring. Your chest rose and fell with your exhale as you let your mind wander. You used up your creativity for the day, you thought. You haven’t made significant progress on the essay since you started it a few hours ago. Before you could beat yourself up about it, three loud knocks were heard from the window. Caleb’s masked face peeked over the wall as he gave you a gentle wave. Giddy, you got off your chair and skipped over, fingers deftly undoing the lock on its doors. You slid it open, allowing him to crawl in.

“I thought you were busy fighting crime,” you teased, watching as he took the mask off. His hair was tousled and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. “Are you slacking off?”

He huffed, amused. “I can multitask.”

He unhid his hand from his back and handed you a large bouquet of sunflowers, the gesture immediately making you melt. Flowers weren’t that out of the ordinary. Caleb liked bringing you gifts and trinkets he thinks you’d like. You got an equally large bouquet during your high school graduation and another one when you were accepted into university. You took it with a smile, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ and curiously looking at him. He bounced on the heels of his feet, seemingly nervous about something. His brows knitted together.

“You okay?”

He met your gaze. “Do you still think Spider-Man is better than me?”

You blinked a few times, confused. From the way he said it, it appeared that it wasn’t the first time he thought of something like this. You chuckled and crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to the other leg.

“Getting jealous of yourself, Caleb?” It was your turn to be amused. “I never said he was my number one hero.”

“You never said I was your number one hero either.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Why is this important? You’re the same person.”

“I just wanna know,” he said, uncharacteristically sheepish.

“First of all, that happened once,” you corrected, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Second of all, I love you. Spider-Man or not.”

His lips curled into a smile. “You love me?”

Warmth blossomed across your chest, rising all the way up to your cheeks as your lips parted in surprise, sputtering incoherent syllables. You awkwardly turned your head away, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Love had never been discussed, not really. It just felt like an unspoken commitment since you were children. He was the most important person to you, and you were the most important person to him. You never really thought about labelling your relationship.

Your eyes widened when you remembered you always referred to him as your partner whenever you spoke of him to your friends. You already gave it a label without realising it. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish, struggling to come up with a reply. You could feel his gaze on you, hear the satisfaction and mischief in his words. Clearing your throat, you tried to compose yourself and decided to follow through. You couldn’t take it back anyway, and even if you could, you didn’t want to.

“Yeah. I do,” you said, feigning indifference. “I thought you knew that.”

He couldn’t stop the smile from expanding into a grin. A breathless chuckle left him. His cheeks seemed to be getting even pinker as he fidgeted in his spot. He scratched the back of his head with flustered giddiness, struggling to keep eye contact with you. You didn’t think you ever saw him this shy. He was always your brave hero Caleb, the same boy who held you when you had nightmares, the same boy who held your hand when the thunderstorms got too loud. He was the same boy who defended you from bullies and got into trouble for getting into a fight with them. He was the same man who held nothing but affection in his words for you, the same man who would fall into playful banter with you.

You sighed softly, the corners of your lips twitching up. “You’re not gonna say it back?”

Though he didn’t need to, there was still a hint of insecurity in your tone. You looked at him expectantly, still watching as he tried to maintain composure. You weren’t used to seeing him this way, but you thought you could learn to do it. It made for a rather nice sight.

“I love you too, pipsqueak,” he finally said.

You beamed at him, placing the bouquet on the counter before leaping into his arms, delightfully laughing when he caught you effortlessly. You looped your arms around his neck and hooked your chin on his shoulder. Your legs were wrapped around him, your body supported by his arms around your waist. He held you as if you were as light as a feather. He nuzzled into your hair, letting out a content sigh. The air felt so light, so carefree. The remnants of your worries disappeared into the air, replaced by pure joy and unbridled affection.

“So… What’s the plan? Are you done with the day?”

“I’m going back to work. They need me,” he replied. With a jovial tone, he continued. “But I’ll be back for dinner.”

“You mean it this time?” You pulled away, searching into his eyes for honesty. You were still prone to worrying. His vigilante lifestyle was full of unpredictable moments, so it consistently kept you on your toes, leaving you unaware of what to expect. You were desperate for his words to be true. You felt as though you’ve been away from him for way too long. You craved his presence, his warmth—you craved him.

He gave you a boyish smile. “Yeah. I do.”

And that was a promise.

[coyle-and-co]

Do you have any headcanons about Franco?

i wrote a whole thing and tumblr shit the bed and didn’t save them omg

second times the charm! but yes i do have some franco headcanons i never stop thinking about him ever

HATES the taste of anything sour/bitter, can’t stand food that isn’t sweet. Trying to get him to eat anything with vegetables in it is a down hill battle at best, if you blend them up and into food he’ll still find away to pick them out

Medical time! Franco’s probably got bilateral exophthalmos which is why both his eyes wig out of his skull like that, and why he has a misalignment in his left eye, however that’ll probably also be because of the shotgun recoil he took to the face when he was 10

He has Hydrocephalus, which causes his head to be so large! how he’s up right i have no idea, but he’s also got pretty chronic headaches and eye strain because of it

Intelligent, yeah it’s fun to think he’s a bit stupid, but he’s probably amazing with numbers due to being a drug lord

As we know he can speak Italian, but he’s probably also fluent in French (growing up in new orleans), and Spanish due to being “stationed” in Cuba for a while, he probably uses this to piss off Coyle

Speaking of Coyle, Franco obviously dislikes him for being a cop, but he probably sees some of Salvatore in Coyle, since he’s a disciplinary figure who’s a big macho man. Everything Franco isn’t at his core

Even if people think his baby thing is weird, he’s well respected for how lethal his aim with Lupara is, if Franco sees you better say your prayers because you’re gonna meet whoever you believe in soon!

Despite this, i do think he’s probably got mild vision and hearing issues, that’s why he is so quick to shoot, kill first ask questions later

Strong as hell, this guy can one tap barricades down and swing grown men over his arm like they’re a stuff animal, even without Lupara he’s probably good with hand to hand combat and could rip a dudes jaw off if he really wanted to

His Hydrocephalus also causes pretty bad mood swings, which is why his attitude is so flippant (thank you @wendigoruble for this factoid!)

Sometimes you can genuinely have a completely normal conversation with him, like no mobster related shit and no baby talk, and oddly it’s eerie as hell because he’s not supposed to do that 😭

Short, i don’t care if the wiki says he’s 5’9-5’10, he’s at MAX maybe 5’5, personally my version is 5ft on a good day

Rejection sensitive as hell, if you tell him no he’ll loose his mind completely and throw the biggest tantrum, even over small things

Can’t handle certain textures because of his teeth rotting, and can’t have metal cutlery because it hurts, mainly eats with plastic utensils except for a metal knife for cutting things

Collection of the same suit all in different colors, with matching bow ties and pacifiers

He would wear jewelry in my mind, gold rings and chains, but never anything too flashy because he thinks it’s gaudy. He might be dramatic but he’s got some class

Closeted bisexual disaster, i speak no further on this

That’s pretty much all i have!!! there are nsfw ones but since this was asked on main they’d have to wait, HAHA

but hope these suffice! <3

[your-favourite-yapper]

plspslpslpslsplsplspls kidnapped sirius

Oh Fatima the things I do 4 u

bacstory : umm adding this after I wrote th bullet points bc I realize this doesn't make sense but assume remus and sirius are sorta close friends and Remus is convinced sirius is in love w him but siirus acc is dating james and this makes remus mad bc ?? Remus has been waiting 4 sirisus love 4 so long ?? So he kidnaps him (for sake of simpkicity pls pretend james wouldnt IMM kno smth is wrong)

Ok now it's time 4 the acc thing

1st of all let’s get one thing straight

This is not kidnapping!!! this is just. an extended sleepover.

W like a teensy bit of restraints

And like a teensy weensy bit of isolation

A romantic getaway even !!

Totally normal bsf behavior. 😃 ↕️😃↕️😃

Sirius just doesn’t understand yet. But that’s fine!!!

That’s fine. Remus is patient

He always has been. 🥰

And b4 u start coming at him Remus had to do this btw what else was he supposed to do??

Let sirius leave him????

Go run off into the sunset with jamesother people????

Absolutely not!!

no no no.

He is protecting sirius. 1!1!!1

From the outside world Rrom people who don’t understand him like remus does.

Sirius should be grateful!

And ok fine

Maybe the 1st few days are a little rough.

Maybe sirius screams a little.

Maybe he throws things.

Maybe he bites (and maybe remus likes that)

Maybe remus has 2 lock the doors

And maybe Sirius throws things

And spits curses at him

And tries to escape exactly 12 times

But listen this is just a phase!!!!

Lobe takes time!!!!!

He’ll settle down!!!

Except.

Oh.

Sirius is not coming around???in fact he is doubling down???

Full-on feral mode. Gnawing on the chair leg like a rabid animal

Calling remus things like fucking psycho and deranged creep (but rjl has degradation kink so he thinks this is hot)

But hllo?

Where is the gratitude?

The love?

THE MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING?????

BUT !!1

That’s fine.

Remus can fix this

All relationships take work!! he just has to be patient nd Gentle.

Maybe if he just explains it right sirius will understand. he’ll see how perfect this is how right it feels.

And so he explains how acc this is a good thing !! and thsn sirius yells at him so remus takes away his speaking priveleges (remus does miss the sound of sirius’s voice but if he keeps saying mean things then he has to deal with the consequences of his actions.

Actions meet consequences consequences meet actions)

And it’s not like he’s suffering!!1!!1!

Remus would never let him suffer. sirius gets everything he wants. Jis favorite foods. His favorite books.

Anything he even looks at for too long.

And remus loves him. so much.

So much. more than anything. more than his own life.

And isn’t that what sirius always wanted? to be loved? to be taken care of?

So really.if u rlly think abt it remus is acc a VERY morally correct person

And is giving him everything he ever needed.!!

But then suddenly siriuss smiling.

Suddenly he’s laughing at remus’s jokes.

Making his own jokes just like the old days

Suddenly he’s curling up against him on the couch like true lovers

And rjl is like yayyyy 🥰🥰I've won!!

Eexcpet maybe remus isnt the only manipulative 1 here

Maybe sirius is kissing him and whispering sweet things in his ear and maybe remus is eating that shit up a bit too much bc he wants smth and realizes the pwr he has over remus

(Mayberemus should have realized when sirius started asking questions about the locks.

Maybe he should have noticed the way sirius’s fingers lingered on the window latch.

Maybe he should have known when sirius stopped fighting back that he was just waiting.

Waiting. waiting.)

But that’s fine. because remus has always been very, very good at waiting too!!😊😊😊

But even so

How could he say no 2 sirius?

So he gets careless w the locks

And doesnt double enforce his windows

and then one night remus wakes up to an empty bed and an open door and suddenly he can’t breathe bc. oh.

Oh.

he’s gone. gone gone gone gonegone GONE GONE GoNE

BUT it’s fine. it’s fine. he’ll come back. he’ll come back.

He just has to give him a little space. after all.

Tey say if you love someone let them go.

If they come back it’s meant to be.

And if he doesn’t?

Well. remus has always been very good at finding things. 😊😊

After a bit tho he does get murdered by Sirius and james and they makeout on his grave bc yeah

[anotherjheastan]

This Will Be Our Year - A Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley FanFic

CW: none (let me know if I missed any)

Chapter 4 | Chapter List

Chapter 5: Reincarnate

Thursday, August 29, 2024

Rhea woke up to a text from Jey wishing her safe travels. She smiled. She wished him safe travels as well knowing he would be going to his uncle’s funeral this weekend. They were on the phone the other day talking about loss. She gave him her condolences and she talked about how hard it was losing her grandmother. Jey said he had been putting off feeling sad and that he was gonna have to let himself be sad this weekend. It reminded Rhea on the journey she was on. She had let the short week and busyness distract her from processing what she hoped would be the last of her feelings about Dom and her break up. But she also realized that it might not be the last of her feelings. Her and Dom had been together for two years. They had fought together and she had stuck her neck out for him plenty of times. Judgment Day wasn’t just a faction. It was a family. She realized that she also had to process her feelings about Finn and JD’s betrayal. 

Rhea brought her journal to write in for the long flight. She sipped her coffee as she waited by the gate. She had on her sunglasses and headphones. A few other superstars were at the gate with her. She wished her and Damian were flying together, but she knew they would be together soon.

After the plane reached the altitude where they were free to roam about the cabin, she pulled out her journal and pen. She sighed, not really wanting to do the work. But she thought of Jey. The more they talked, the closer they grew. And Rhea didn’t want to mess whatever they had going up. Even if they just ended up being friends, she knew she wanted to be a good friend to him. And knew holding onto hurt and anger wasn’t good for any relationship.

She started slowly, scribbling about how this was stupid and that she deserved to be angry. But things shifted when she wrote that she didn’t deserve to hold in the anger. And she poured her emotions on the page. Tears fell from her eyes and she was relieved she had worn sunglasses. She wrote for about 20 minutes. And she actually felt a lot better. She put away her journal and treated herself to a movie. When the end credits started rolling, she drifted off to sleep. 

She was awakened for lunch - a pasta dish with a brownie for dessert. It was pretty good. She put on something else to watch. Rhea thought about breaking out her cuss word coloring book next, glad that she didn’t have any kids around her. 

Rhea had a layover in Frankfurt. She firmly stayed in the airport, happily snacking on chocolate. Then she hopped on her next flight. She was so happy when they touched down in Berlin. 

***

Friday, August 30, 2024

After she and Damian hit the gym, they tagged along with the other superstars to do some stuff WWE had planned for them. They had a good time. Rhea didn’t even gag when she saw Dom and Liv together. She was looking forward to beating them both up tomorrow. 

***

Saturday, August 31, 2024

Rhea and Damian were victorious and Rhea was still reveling at the hotel. She was happy she had gotten some extra hits on Dom. She did a celebratory shot with Damian, her first bit of alcohol in a week or two. She hadn’t missed it. And she would continue her break from it. 

“So are you ever gonna tell me what’s going on with you and Kayden?” Rhea asked. 

Damian smiled. “We’re…getting to know each other.”

“It’s been months. Y’all aren’t familiar by now?” Rhea asked.

“We don’t want to put a label on it,” Damian said, shrugging. “We’re having fun. You and Uso on the other hand…”

“What?” Rhea asked.

“Y’all seem a little intense,” Damian said. 

“No, we don’t. We’re getting to know each other.”

“When one of you is next to the other, the energy shifts,” Damian said. “Doesn’t matter if it’s only 30 seconds.” 

“I don’t see it,” Rhea said. 

“That’s cuz you’re in it,” he replied. 

Rhea shrugged. “Jey’s…special. There’s just something about him.” 

“Still…be careful,” Damian said. 

“I will,” Rhea replied.

***

Sunday, September 1, 2024

Rhea thought about her conversation with Damian on the way back to Orlando. She journaled about Jey. Because like she had mentioned, there was something about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She couldn’t really find the right words to describe it. She felt drawn to him. It wasn’t just his confidence or personality. It was all of him. She licked her lips, thinking about their kiss. He was a great kisser. She liked how cautious he was, but she was looking forward to when he would be less cautious with her. She shook her head, not letting herself fantasize. It was still too early? Right? It had been two months since the last time she had sex. Her body was telling her it was, in fact, not too early, but she knew she shouldn’t rush into that part of their relationship. She shifted back to writing about the Judgment Day. There was less anger this time, more sadness. She missed goofing around with all her boys. She also missed traveling together. She would have to ask Damian about traveling together next time. It was hard with Damian being based in New York. And now Kayden was accompanying him every so often. She was happy for him though. 

Before she knew it, she was back home, snuggling with her dogs, Barry and Bella. She had texted Jey before she drifted off to sleep. She woke up a couple of hours later. She checked her phone. She had thought she had texted him that she made it back home. But she had sent ‘Miss you.’ He replied, ‘Miss you too. See you tomorrow.’

Rhea smiled and gathered up her stuff to get ready to head out again.

Previous Chapter

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

Blurb Countdown To Daredevil: Born Again

2 Days: Dress - Taylor Swift "say my name and everything just stops/i don't want you like a best friend/only bought this dress so you could take it off."' NSFW You pick out a dress just for Matt. note: okay i was worried about this but i actually really like the way it came out, and its an epilogue ish of this other fic i wrote, also called dress, BUT you dont have to read it to enjoy this one! ya hooked up at foggys wedding thats all the background ya need okay sorry im gonna stop yapping now countdown masterlist

It’s been over a year since you slept with your boss at Foggy’s wedding.

You’ve learned a lot since then.

You’ve learned how difficult it is to be with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, how many sleepless nights it comes with, how many arguments it comes with, how much anxiety it comes with.

You’ve learned how good Matt is at eating you out.

You’ve learned how easy it is to love him.

You've learned how easy it is to be loved by him.

And on the first spring day in New York, you put on the dress that you accredit your relationship to, and the two of you go out for a romantic dinner, enjoying champagne and relaxing together.

But when you get to his apartment afterwards, Matt’s lips do not leave your skin, and his hands roam your—Well, I could lie and tell you his hands roam your skin, but Matthew is obsessed with this dress.

He had been ever since it destroyed the last bit of his willpower.

“I’m gonna fuck you in this dress,” He mumbles against your skin. You let out a giggle as your fingers tangle in his hair.

“What?”

“I changed my mind,” His mouth finally pulls away from your skin, so his forehead can rest against yours, “I’m going to make love to you while you wear this dress. I’m going to fill you with my cock, ruin that pretty makeup and make you cry with this dress on,”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

He chuckles.

“Devil got your tongue, sweetheart?”

Then, before you can respond, Matt picks you up by the back of your thighs, your arms wrapped around his neck. He gets to your bed and sits you down on it, and his lips are immediately back on your skin, pulling you in for a deep kiss.

He inhales deeply, his tongue slipping past your mouth. He has this moment of Déjà vu, of this exact situation in this exact dress. And he remembers what happened that night, so he pushes his tongue further into your mouth, exploring every crevice he can—Like he’s mapping it out, memorizing it.

His hands wander up your thighs as his kisses grow sloppy, his hands dipping under the silk fabric. He’s pulling your panties down, and he stretches them right over your heels.

Here’s something else you’ve learned in the past year or so: When Matthew decides what he wants, he doesn’t stop until he gets it.

“Are you going to be good for me and let me fuck you?”

Now here’s something Matt learned in the past year or so: You love to have the last word. You love being the one who wins an argument. You love being right.

“I thought you were going to ‘make love’ to me.” He shakes his head, before dropping your legs to start to unbuckle his belt, but you quickly sit up and begin to do it for him. He smiles once he realizes what you’re doing. You tug his belt away and throw it somewhere across the room.

But before you can unbutton his pants, Matt tilts your head up, cupping your cheeks. Your eyes stare up at the face you fell in love with much longer than just over a year.

“Can I ask you something?”

His voice is raw. Tender. You sense this is a moment separate from the one you were just in.

“Anything.”

And he knows you mean it.

“You can’t say yes just because we were about to fuck,” He says softly.

You smirk.

Your need to be right has followed you into this next moment.

He smiles and rips off his glasses, not feeling the need to hide from you, across the room somewhere.

“Right. But promise?”

“Promise.”

“Would you marry me?” He wonders.

You blink.

“What?”

“Would you? If I asked?”

“You want to marry me?”

“Do I want to marry you?” He then falls to his knees, his hands curled around yours. You tilt his head up to look at you. “I don’t just want to marry you,” He starts, “I want to make you breakfast every morning, I want to fuck you in a house we own, I want to spend my life with you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I promise I’ll say yes.” You grin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Matt brings your hand to his chest. You giggle gently.

“Your heart is beating so fast.”

“That’s how badly I want to spend my life with you.” You grin, pulling him in for another kiss. You only deepen it, sinking deeper and deeper into him as his hands finds your thighs, sneaking their way up, when he pulls away, “So you’ll say yes?”

“Yes!” You laugh, “Swear to god, hope to die!” You beg.

“Good.” And he kisses you again, just to make sure.

[fall0utmind]

Pretty please with a cherry on top can you tell us about the Marc starting to nest again? I'd live to know your ideas on that <3

I am LIVING for this au I'm so so excited for the fic if/when you decide to write it!!

Hi anon,

I've been saving this one because I'm so excited about it haha

^^^ wrote this like 2 days ago and now I'm tipsy and ready to actually write a response.

OKAY SO. I wrote a lol bit about this in another ask (here) - basically talking about who marc might nest with and how he will react

As I spoke about in the previous ask, I think the first time, marc nests is alone/ just with Alex and is a slightly sad nest. Because it's been like 7 years since marc nested at all or with a pack. He wants a nice nest but has no ones clothes, nor any materials. It's all very sad and melodramatic. His omega so badly wamts to be free, to be allowed out. But marc is so scared to give into it. After years of repression, he doesn't want to lose control. (More on that later)

Now I'm gonna break it down into packs to make life easier. Idk what would come first, whether he would nest with the motogp pack, the VR46 packz his pack of adopted youngsters from other series - what are your preferences. Either way, here's my thoughts.

Thinking about VR46, the first time they nest with marc, Bez ropes him into building it. He's trying so fucking hard to make it fun, not sad at all, like daring each other to go nick people's clothes - Pecci loses a jumper on a race weekend (Marc), Vale keeps losing t shirts (also Marc), Celin actually keeps misplacing things, thinks he's going insane - it's actually just bez constantly stealing his stuff to wear/ use for nests lol. Anyways, basically, they go hunting for stuff and bring it all back to the ranch the first time that Marc joins a pack weekend. Marc hasn't been building his nests again for long and is consequently still a bit stiff. It should come naturally to him, but he's been repressing his omega for ao many years that hes so scared of letting it out, so scared of fucking it up. Because what if he puts the hoodie in the wrong place, fucks it all up and everyone hates him again. So bez helps him, kicking out all the alphas until they're happy with it. He chucks one of his own hoodies are Marc's face, tells him to put it on so Marc is surrounded by Bez's comforting, sweet scent

I think bez actually has a bit of a role in his recovery as an omega. He pulls marc into the nest before the others are allowed in, instantly shoving his nose in marcs neck, making the older tense. Until slowly, slowly, he relaxes. Like everything in recovery, it takes time, Marc beginning to get used to being in a pack again, to being an omega again. Because it's been so long... (Vale, when i catch you🔫)

At first, when they start to touch him, to initiate that contact, scenting him, etc, he just freezes, tenses up, and doesn't know what to do. (Again, it's been so long) So when the boys join the nest - pecco first (closest to marc), before the others slowly filter in - Marc is nervous. Bez doesn't leave his side, wrapped half around him, scenting him carefully, filling the air with him sweet scent to calm everyone. Pecco joins first, scenting marc himself, before slotting himself next to marc, too. The others join slowly, slipping around each other, each scenting marc as the join. Everytime they scent him, marc slowly melts into the bed, his scent getting stronger in the air.

Is now a good time to mention that bez and Vale have slowly been able to coaxed marc into stopping the scent blockers. This weekend, marc had turned up sheepish, still wearing some, and bez had led him to the bathroom, gently rubbing it off (with marc's permission).

Also, the others are absolutely gone for it, so obsessed with Marc's smell, calmed by it ( can i test the waters and say ever so slightly into it...but of a turn on)

Finally, when all the boys are there, Marc a puddle in the centre, and Vale joins them. He smiles softly at the scene, marc's eyes half lidded as he loses himself to the feeling of being in a pack, his omega beginning to take over.

And i think that's the crux of it. The nesting is the first time marc's omega side is fully let out in YEARS. So he's completely gone it it, beginning to purr as Vale joins, nudging Bez into Cele, so he can wrap himself around marc, breathing in the scent of content omega. Marc is half conscious, recognising sounds coming from his throat, but so shocked and confused because he doesn't remember purring, doesn't even know how to do it. So it's bitter sweet, there's marc fucked out, half lidded, letting himself sink into PACk, his instincts take over, but also the sadness, the fear of his omega taking hold because what if he never gets it again, what if he can never go back to the balance of his secondary gender and just being MARC.

So very much sweet, loving, everyone trying to be as close to marc as possible. Touching him, a hand on his shin, his hair. Every time anyone comes or goes, they scent him and Vale, and marc just completely lost to it. It worries vale, how out of it marc becomes, barely responding, his eyes cloudy. It's only after a few times that he kind of becomes normal again. Is able to operate.

But also i think that first time, the panic of his omega finally being in control, or at least not suppressed, as well as the fear of losing eveyrhting (his pack) and being repressed again... I think all of that means that it triggers a bit of a stress heat?? Very good excuse to write that, i think. It would be a fucking mess.

I love it, might do a separate post on it, if people want!!

Motogp

This is much a less structured first nest once Marc is reintroduced into the pack. I feel like most people in the paddock don't know marc was banned from the pack. There are rumours, of course, but nothing is confirmed. Marc doesn't want to go there. he doesn't want to make people pity him. Or hate valentino. So he says nothing.

Anyways. The first time he walks into the pack room again is in early 2026, hounded by his little pack of boys from younger categories until he finally sheepishly walks in. Obviously, the room freezes. It's actually pretty busy when he first enters. So Marc freaks. Because what if they don't accept him. What if it all goes to shit immediately. He defo tries to leave, maybe he does just flee?

Either way, when he is eventually coaxed into the pack, it's like coming home. It is important to remember that Marc is actually pack omega, and that 90% if the riders don't know this/ have never smelt Marc. So he comes in with his fucking perfect scent, all citrus and fresh summer breeze with a hint of Motor oil (of course) and the pack finally feels complete. Because Marc should have been there all along (thanks, Vale 🤨🤨🤨)

So, of course, people kinda freak a bit, like um I need to get as close to him as i can. It's one of the boys (his boys) who pulls him down into the pre built nest, immediately clambering practically on top of him as the others crowd in. And people don't really hesitate, clambering into a nest, finally reunited with the pack omega. I imagine that Marc being there is so calming for them, like his energy bring peace and a firm but loving atmosphere. Nobody would dare to fuck with him because in this world pack omegas are VERY important!

Marc is stiff at first, unused to such big nests (a bit like with the VR46 too), unused to people touching him, gentle hands against his hair, his legs, whatever they can reach. David (alonso) has instantly glued himself to marc, nose pressed in his neck, the vr46 boys are closest, wrapped around Marc, staying close in case he freaks. Alex is there too, right beside Marc. He slowly begins to relax, a weird nose building at that pack of his throat, purring still feeling unnatural, but making the alphas in the room glow with pride, the other betas and omegas settle into the comfort. Happiness permeates the air, scents pleased, and content.

This is post reconcilliation, when marc and Vale have sorted themselves out.

So Valentino definitely walks into this after finishing up with the team. Seeing his omega and his packs all together. It settles something in him. Something he didn't even know needed to be settled , a bit like how marcs gaping emptiness is finally, finally gone.

I like the idea of one of the youngsters (maybe David, or Maximo?) growling at Vale, still upset by everything. A couple of people tensing in the pack, until Marc hushes them, let's Vale join.

IMO I think that the motogp pack is simulatenosuly more and less important than the VR46 one. More because he always belonged there, and it was unfair for Vale to keep him away when he was part of the sport. Less because it has less sentimental value to marc, it's not the same as mourning a pack bond like the VR46, where they are a family.

It is very important for me to note that the motogp pack is not a romantic or sexual pack, just platonic. Of course, there's overlap of those kinds of relationships within the pack, but it's not the purpose!!!!

Also, this pack is not as rigid as others (because of the nature of it), but there's still a lot of respect for Vale and Marc!!

Anyways, what are your thoughts.

Sorry it's taken me so long. I hope you like it 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

[cringe-culture-is-dead-99]

I actually????????? wrote something????????????for the first time ever????

“What the fuck are you talking about, Henderson.”

It’s more of a statement than a question at this point, if only because Eddie knows that there’s nothing much that can stop Dustin when he starts his rambling, usually about some scienc-ey thing that Eddie doesn’t particularly care to understand.

Well, except… this isn’t his usual spiel about radio waves or electromagnetism.

“You need to get a girlfriend or somthing! Or at least, you know, go outside? You haven’t left this trailer in months other than to go to Steve’s. Which, is also another reason you don’t have a girlfriend. And why I’m your only friend. Other than Steve, I guess–”

He’s definitely still talking, Eddie thinks through the pounding in his head- a little gift from himself from last night who thought it would be a good idea to drink alone. Eddie really only comprehends every third word from Dustin’s mouth. But, given the sheer amount of them, he could pretty easily figure out what he was saying.

“Dude,” he interrupts, “you gotta just let it go. I’m fine! Great! Excellent, even! And Steve isn’t my only friend. I have the band! And you, my dear sheepies. How ever could a shepard abandon his flock to seek comfort in the arms of a stranger? I would not dare.”

Dustin DEFINITELY doesn’t need to know that Eddie is as gay as the day is long. The last thing he needs is the kid running off and accidentally telling half the town he’s a queer–or, even worse– telling Steve.

Eddie knew Dustin wouldn’t care if he knew Eddie was gay. He’d be a bit shocked, sure, but pretty soon he’d just start pressuring Eddie to get a boyfriend, instead, and finding new and creative ways to ask uncomfortable questions. He’s a good kid, Eddie thought. He wouldn’t take it badly. 

Probably. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please give me constructive criticism! This is my first 300 words or so of fanfic that ive ever written but im excited about it!!!

@nafroteil thank you for encouraging me !!

[singemall-stayallnight]

Led Zeppelin's Performance at Seattle's Unusual Green Lake Aqua Theatre

Led Zeppelin at the Green Lake Aqua Theatre, 11 May 1969.

Bonus offstage shot of Robert Plant.

The following excerpts are from an essay on this concert:

It was Led Zeppelin's turn. A supergroup that had risen from the ashes of England's esteemed psychedelic blues-rockers the Yardbirds, Led Zeppelin had actually already played the Seattle Center Arena (on December 27, 1968, albeit in an unadvertised opening role for Vanilla Fudge). But since the January 12, 1969, release of their earth-shattering eponymous debut album, Led Zep's popularity had skyrocketed.

Among those fans who'd opted to watch the show from a watercraft were Mick Flynn -- a guitarist with the local band Meatball and one of Seattle's first vintage gear experts -- and his pal and housemate, Richard Green. "We rowed across the lake and watched the show from the back of the stage -- which was pretty cool! We were probably within six feet of the amps so we had a really good view of the band."

"There was three or four of us in the rowboat," adds Green, "and we rowed over to the Aqua Theatre. It was a beautiful sunny day in the afternoon. We floated up to the dock which was the backstage area and there was actually a fence around the back of the dock and we held onto the fence with our fingers so we wouldn't drift away. And from our position we could see the amplifiers and people milling around backstage. So Led Zeppelin came on and from our position we could look through the stacks of amplifiers and see Robert Plant and Jimmy Page onstage playin' their guts out. And I remember Robert Plant's hair blowin' in the wind. It was such a thrill to be there."

The show began, as Green recalls, with guitarist Jimmy Page running onstage wearing a hip black leather motorcycle jacket and hammering out the riffs to the old Yardbirds classic, "Train Kept a Rollin'," before the rest of Led Zep joined him. "The Green Lake show was pretty cool 'cause they were doing the first album," says Flynn, "and that's what they sounded like."

Some in the audience had, presumably, not yet been exposed the Led Zeppelin album and came wanting to hear the AM radio hit, "Good Times Bad Times." But the band was first going to play that single's flipside and their crowd reportedly responded with some disappointment: "I remember," another fan wrote years after the fact, "Robert Plant saying to the audience that they were going to play the single 'Communication Breakdown,' to a light smattering of boos and requests for 'Good Times Bad Times,' which is what the local stations were playing more often."

Meanwhile, at mid-set -- "when Page was out doin' his solo bit," as Flynn recalls, "Robert Plant and John Paul Jones came back to where we were and we partaked in some weed with them. That was kinda cool. They came over and chatted with us." "I remember that at some point," Green adds, "Robert Plant was milling around behind the amplifiers and I said somethin' to him and he walked over towards us. We had some small talk back and forth and we happened to have a joint lit at the time -- I remember it being Panama Red! -- and so we handed him the joint, he took a couple hits off of it and handed it back and thanked us for coming. He said 'I hope you enjoy the show' and that was it" [laughter].

Like many fans, Flynn and Green loved the show, and later even got a chance to chat with Led Zep's star guitarist: "Page came over," says Flynn, "and we talked for a moment. [I] said somethin' about his guitar. 'Cause I was always interested in checking out the gear -- a lot of that stuff you just didn't see 'til these guys came through: twin Marshalls and stuff."

From all accounts, Led Zeppelin shook the theater to its very foundations -- along with surrounding neighborhoods. One can only have sympathy for all of the traumatized animals in the adjacent Woodland Park Zoo. Not to mention for poor Three Dog Night, who faced the daunting task of following Led Zep onto that stage.

[antimony-medusa]

Good morning it is the final 24 hours of Fandom Trumps Hate, and auctions close at 8:00PM EST on the 1st! As I write this the evening before close my auction still sits at 30 dollars, but for reasons that may or not be related to getting push notifications on my phone for the news, I am SUPER INTO getting people to donate money to these charities. Weird, huh.

Also number go up = good.

So! I am here to dance my dance again and remind you that I have a fic on offer for you! Minimum of 5k but let's be honest— we've all seen how my fics expand in size. I will write a variety of servers and characters and dynamics, I will strap in and make your prompt happen.

And my friends told me to get really hubris-tactic with this, so it's time to delve into my comments. Have you written fics to prompts before? Why yes I have, and some testimonials from people I've written for before:

First of all, one thing to note is that I have read this (if my ao3 history page is factual enough to go off of) 16 times since it has been posted, and that count might not even be high enough. I am OBSESSED with this fic. 

On my Bagina hurt/comfort: I'm Ready To Shake Things Up (Dear God)

this was WONDERFUL, the character voices are SPOT ON, the balance of them being really funny with the hints of tragedy and with Tommy having a generally very rough time and!!! i cannot compliment the character voices enough, you do such a good Tommy but also such a good Techno and Ghostbur and! everyone! I could read the whole thing in their voices, including the narration-- it was DELIGHTFUL :D i was so excited when i woke up and saw that you wrote me bedrock bros-era tommy fic and it 1000% lived up to it, this is incredible

On canon-compliant bedrock bros: What's A Man Gotta Do Around Here To Get His Manly Hands On Some Gapples?

Wow. This is amazing! I love literally every bit of it. Every individual word! The flow of the story is wonderful and it reads like a published short story (seriously, your writing is amazing). I love how the stakes are set from the very first sentence. And the attention to detail! The science fiction elements! The way you implemented Minecraft mechanics! The LORE!

on Emduo Wilderness Survival Hurt/Comfort: Silhouette Figure In The Smoke

i love the mix of banter and sincerity in their dialogue—from phil teasing techno about being slow to it being turned back on him when /he’s/ the one who gets soaked, old man too slow to outrun some raindrops. and that phil is damp with big wet wings taking up the cabin the whole time. he should shake them out and pass the dampness on to techno as payment for the old jokes. i love their comfort around each other, too—the hugs, the sharing the couch.

on Emduo QPR proposal: Things Could Be So Easy (If You Let Them)

—> and in summary: okay I have such a weakness for bravery in horrible situations and interiority and wild fight scenes and ambiguously happy/worrying endings where the future can’t be set and is possibly terrible but *not yet* and just. my gosh. thank you this is super great. the bee has a HUMAN HEAD

On ranboo-centric syndicate body horror superhero au: The Pros And Cons Of Digging Your Own Grave

The last scenes were so good too? And the number-discord exchange? I'm screaming (inside, as it's past midnight in my timezone). But I know I will be thinking about this fic a lot in the next days and in random moments in the future! It's amazing! It has so many things I adore! It's so well written! Thank you so much for writing this story and sharing it and for gifting it to me! I feel honored and almost crying and laughing, I'm so happy I got to read it ♡ Thank you!!! Thank you!! Edit: it's morning, I'm still thinking about the fic :D thank you again!!

On my Original Work Barista Supervillain/Superhero With A Caffeine Addiction: A World Away (A Step Apart)

Make me dance to your tune! Bid today!

Or! I'm out of your price range or not offering your cubitos, but you still want to give money to charity? I have been the recipient of some incredible spreadsheeting which I have filled into this live-updating spreadsheet of everyone who's offering MCYT!

The notes are just notes to myself to remember which auction it is, but feel free to make a copy and make your own notes! Marvel at the code someone made happen!

Have a good last day of auction, everybody. Let's startle and amaze the charities at how much money we're donating to them.

Let the Auctions Begin

And the FTH auctions have just opened! (How did you post this so early in your morning, Medusa, don't you sleep until noon? Scheduled posts, my friend.)

I would say take a look at the whole selection of MCYT on offer, or cruise through the entire 600 tags of different fandoms, but I am here specifically to point to my auction! Don't you want to donate money to charity and get me to make your prompt a reality? I said any charity would work, so you can choose from the entire list.

I will write: DSMP, QSMP, Origins SMP, SMPEarth, or Original Work! If you've been on this page you know what characters I specialize in (it's emduo, I know this is a shock to us all), but I'm pretty confident that I can take either side of emduo and pair them with any other character, and I could write that. BBH and Technoblade are the light of my life for the duration of the time it takes to write the fic. However, if you look at my Ao3 and say "what I dearly want is for Medusa to write me awesamponk", I'd be fascinated to know if you've been hoping for that the whole time I keep uploading more syndicate (heartbreaking), but also I will give that an honest shot if you win my auction. And I love original work! Make me make up new blorbos that will live in my head forever!

Again, if you've seen my Ao3 then knowing that what I listed as my strengths are: friendship, queerplatonic relationships, hurt/comfort, minecraft worldbuilding, canonical family (qsmp), and humour. I've got that in the bag and I've done that for exchanges and for Voices for the Blade prompt fest. Got a set of blorbos or an original work prompt in that niche? I can make that happen for you with great emphasis. Want the characters to be neurodivergent and disabled? In a relationship that's a secret third thing between friendship and romance? Banter? I got you.

But for this I will also write ship/smut! Again, if you check my page, this isn't my most experienced section, but I have written it before (mostly Original Work), and for charity I will absolutely make your blorbos kiss. Because I was offering Original Work I felt like saying I'd only do gen OW was kind of like not really offering OW as an option, so— gates wide open. Hit me. If you are over 18 and you are donating to charity for this, the sky's the limit. (Note: the sky is not ACTUALLY the limit, I do have a DNW in place about stuff that I'm not gonna be a great fit for, but mostly I deliberately wanted to leave myself as open as possible because it's for charity!)

And in the complete other direction: I will write non-canon family dynamic for this! You really want Technoblade to be a baby being adopted by dadinnit? For You. For Charity. I Will Make This Happen. Tickled by my sense of humour but you wish they were actually family? 🥺 Here's your chance to send money to charity and make a family of your dreams a reality!

A note on Original Work: this doesn't mean that I'll write your OCs, I cannot promise to reliably do that. What it means is that you give me a prompt like "Teenage Girl Turning Into A Werewolf & Her Sister" or "Retired General/His Arranged Marriage Husband Formerly Enemy General" or "Witch of the Woods/Animal Shifter Stealing From Her House" and I will write you an original story following those prompts with characters I make up from scratch. You can check my series on Ao3 to see examples of Original Work I've published in the past! And here is a tag set of hundreds of original work prompts from the Original 5k exchange!

I think that's everything. Send me an ask or shoot me a message if you have any questions! Five and a half days of auctions, let's see if we can get some money raised for charity!

[cent-scratchnsniff]

dont go looking for me

[youchangedmedestiel]

I have 5 different fic ideas writing down in my phone memo. They all came to me in the space of a week.

I think I'm cursed with ideas and no time to explore them.

[overnightheartbeats]

Somewhere in her sleepy daze, she edged closer to his open arms, "I agree," she admitted with a sigh. "We can do it." After tonight, surely they could do anything. He kept it vague, so did she. The omission of their previous relationship spoke volumes. If there was anything salvageable here, it was their friendship. Nothing more. At the end of the day, his mom had been right. She was not the one for him. It seemed he knew that now too. Blame it on the cold or on her feeble heart, but in the middle of the night, she snuggled closer to him.

Sunlight began creeping into the room, and it was a wonderful way to wake up, except for the fact that she wasn't ready to start the day. Ivette felt her head pounding, just a dull pain in the background. Beginnings of a hangover, but nothing crazy, thankfully. As her eyes fluttered open and she adjusted to the brightness of the room, she quickly looked to her side, memories of last night rushing in. Right. But, he wasn't here anymore. So, she was right about the one night stand. Makes sense. But, she swore she felt his warmth all night? Probably part of her dream, that she did remember a bit. The one place she could be truthful about her feelings.

It wasn't long before she got up and snuck upstairs to her room to shower and put on some fresh clothes. Ivette's curiosity was piqued - Nate had run off sure, but where? Maybe back to his room. Probably washing away any trace of their encounter last night.

Before anything else, she sat on her bed and began typing up her message to Javi. He could help her make sense of all of this, or give her the advice she sought to snap her out of it.

You were sort of right about returning home. I did miss it a lot, but I also made a mistake. I wrote to you that first time, asking for advice on how to get over someone. Instead, I fell back into his arms. You know that I missed him, I mean how many letters and messages have I sent saying the same things...and I haven't told him anything about that. Yesterday, I got so close. So badly, I wanted to tell him everything I have felt for years. Forgetting the abandonement, I just needed him to know. But (and you won't be proud of me), but it was just a one-time thing. Thankfully I didn't spill anything, but these feelings are consuming me. it's even harder knowing I'll continue seeing him after today. You any closer to discovering that elixir to getting over someone? Need it more than ever!!

Hope you're having a great day!

With that, she signed off her email and sent it off. She hoped that amidst her admitting last night's actions, he'd find their inside joke amusing. The elixir to getting over someone, something they both desperately needed. After sending the message, Ivette made her way downstairs and out to the back of the hacienda. She needed fresh air to clear her mind, taking a seat on one of the chairs to look down at her phone, hopeful he had replied. Instead, when she looked up, she saw Nate putting items in trash bags. Stuff from last night's event. It wasn't smart, but he'd see her in a matter of seconds anyway. Besides, hadn't she suggested that clean start? "Did the cleaning crew leave you hanging this morning?" She called out to him as she stood up from the chair to walk in his direction.

His arms opened enough to welcome her to the shared space and smiled. He had gotten his pants back on in the meantime and grabbed the extra pillow off the back to give to her. "I want us to be in a better place. We've known each other for so long." A diplomatic answer he knew that but he couldn't actually tell her what it was that he wanted. Not when he was afraid of her answer.

He'd felt his phone vibrate effectively waking him up. Not giving him a chance to truly process her i love you he had heard in his sleep. Something that made him want to believe was in response to his own he let out last night.

He turned to look at her sleeping form and took a mental picture. This would have to suffice for him to survive the month seeing her in the hacienda. As his eyes adjusted to the small light coming in from the window, he leaned over and covered Ivette's body with a second blanket. His hand caressed her hair and pressed a small kiss to her forehead before he got up slowly and got dressed to go out into the hallway. Closing the door gently he made his way out and up to his room.

His room that had been decorated to resemble his flat in Miami. Books surrounded the shelves and there in the corner laid his computer. The thing that kept his second job active. He quickly got a shower and changed into his sweats and flannel. He took his glasses and put them on. Freshed faced he was ready to work. Taking his keys with him he went downstairs still noting everyone was still asleep.

His first pit stop was the stables, he opened the stalls up to get the horses to come to the edge ready to feed them. Then went to get the rest of the gates unlocked. Four in the morning gave him peace being the first one to see the sunrise over the horizon. It was the first time he had loved waking up in the hacienda. As he left the food out for the animals, he went toward the front of the hacienda where bottles and trash had been left.

He began with the edges and started cleaning up the area, black trash bag on his side as he added plates and bottles to it. Time had sped on as he worked on cleaning his home up. After a while, he had started seeing the cherry pickers walk inside from the front. With a smile and a wave he laughed as they greeted him as Chavo. It was normal for them to see the crowned prince around mucking stalls or helping with more than just the oversight.

[averlym]

pleaaase may i have 28 and 29 aramour angst ✨ i crave it

28: “Move out of my way before I make you.” // 29: “You deserve better.” (prompt list here)

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