#I’m so tired bruv

[kiingbiing]

-

[timidewe]

got into a car wreck yesterday and ohmyfuck I am in so much pain

[sharlsworld]

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆ baby love - 𝐋𝐍𝟒 𖤓

（ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ）𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗑 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗓 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾，𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ✫ 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗓𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗌 𝗂’𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝗂 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖽

🝮

yn

liked by pierregasly and 3,972,561 others

yn the past 2 days

landonorris baby love my baby love

⤷ yn i need ya, oh how i need ya

⤷ alex_albon just date already please

⤷ georgerussell63 Seriously, it’s getting old at this point

⤷ carlossainz55 Seriously, it’s seriously getting old. Seriously Lando. Seriously.

⤷ landonorris 😏

⤷ yn not yet

⤷ landonorris 😔

sharls.eclair carlos telling lando to date his BABY SISTER is another level of approval

landolovesyn lando norris don’t know what to do with allat

⤷ landonorris instagram should make a dislike button

⤷ yn bruv

francisca.cgomes is that another lando shopping spree i see?? 👀

⤷ yn yurppp

carlossainz55 Brat baby

⤷ yn stay mad

alexandrasaintmleux Pretty baby

⤷ lordperceval i love how a lot of her nicknames have baby in them 😭

maxfewtrell Why’s bro hanging out of the golf cart

⤷ yn fattie almost tipped us over

♥︎ by landonorris

🝮

landonorris

liked by judebellingham and 1,138,642 others

landonorris supposed to be in a meeting but my baby love got bored

mclaren The meeting is about you Lando, please join immediately

⤷ landonorris no hablo inglés

judebellingham 😍😍

⤷ landonorris brah 😐

carlossainz55 Please return my baby sister unharmed and in one piece please

lilymhe Cutie pie 💘💘

⤷ yn you’re the reason why 😉

alex_albon My invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail or something

⤷ georgerussell63 Mine too

⤷ yn or something

maxfewtrell Why don’t you skip meetings for me lando norris?

estiebestie ‘my baby love’ will never get tired of hearing him call her that 🥹

oscarpiastri Yeah mate I just got a ass chewing for you being so down bad

⤷ danielricciardo So down bad for a girl you’re not even dating

⤷ landonorris Alright bro who asked you??

charles_leclerc I know that smile, she just got her fries and milkshake delivered

⤷ landonorris whatever dude. what. ever.

🝮

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo and 1,211,874 others

landonorris heaven on earth

yn awhh lan you sweet talker

alexandrasaintmleux Correct 😍❤️

charles_leclerc “Did you take it?”

⤷ arthur_leclerc “Does it look candid?”

⤷ yn it’s like you guys are praying on my downfall idk

oscarpiastri I’m afraid she had you wrapped around her finger mate

⤷ carlossainz55 Like a puddle in the palm of her hand

⤷ sainzpoet hello??

lilymhe Sooo pretty I’m in love 💕

⤷ landonorris no I’M in love not you lily

alex_albon Petition for lando and y/n to start dating already

⤷ landonorris i’ll be waiting for whenever she’s ready

⤷ yn grwm

♥︎ by landonorris and 628,139 others

francisca.cgomes giving mermaid 🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️

logansargeant Is that my paddle board?

⤷ yn of course not why would you think such a thing logan…

🝮

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55 and 3,816,922 others

landonorris first date kinda nervousss

carlossainz55 And we all clapped

alexandrasaintmleux The sigh I just sighed

maxfewtrell Oooh going for the elegant look I see 😉

landoonewin SCREAMINGRIGHTNOW

georgerussell63 Looking like a million bucks

charles_leclerc Cheeee lookin snazzy

francisca.cgomes for sure giving old money

alex_albon someone cleans up nice

oscarpiastri Bro manifested this

estiebestie i love that everyone is freaking out because lando wore a suit 😭😭

carmenmmundt Can’t wait to hear all about it from my babayyy

yn 🙉🙉 i got ready guys

pierregasly Don’t forget deodorant

landonorris why is everyone acting like this is my first time taking a girl out

⤷ carlossainz55 This is your first time taking THE girl out

⤷ landonorris you right

🝮

yn

liked by madisonbeer and 5,518,690 others

yn first & last boyfriend

landonorris DAMN STRAIGHT

landonorris LANDO NORIZZ WHO? I DONT KNOW RHAY GUY

landonorris ON TOP OF THE WORLD RIGHT NOW YOU GUYS DONT UNDERSTAND

carlossainz55 ❤️❤️❤️

alexandrasaintmleux Yess babyyy so so happy for you love 💞

alexandrasaintmleux Leo is very happy too

⤷ yn awhhh stop i miss you two

carmenmmundt Proud to say that I’ve been here since day 1❣️

francisca.cgomes an official wag instead of an honorary one now!!!

lilymhe I guess it’s okay only because he’s been dedicated forever

lilyzneimer 🩵🩵

alex_albon lando’s having a field day

🝮

landonorris

liked by yukitsunoda0511 and 4,126,255 others

landonorris i’d wait a million more lifetimes for you baby love 🤍

georgerussell63 Crazy son of a bitch did it

carlossainz55 But why is that picture in your camera roll Lando Norris?

⤷ landonorris april fools!!! hahaha!!! 😥

charles_leclerc Got the girl

maxfewtrell Let’s go boys 🙌🏽🥇

mclaren We love to see the progress of this beautiful love story 🧡

alexandrasaintmleux This is so cute

alex_albon Finally got wifed up 🥳🥳

scuderiaferrari Our favorite love story 🫣

lewishamilton Young love

fernandoalo_oficial Crazy kids

danielricciardo At last

yn of course 💓

carlossainz55 And they lived happily ever after

[mzcain27]

Feel like the battery on my phone has gotten really bad over just the past week and according to the phone the battery health is “significantly degraded” so I looked at replacing it and it’s gonna cost like $145 to get it done??? Like bro just give me the battery and YouTube and I’ll do it myself

[katsumiiii]

hobie x fem! reader

thinking of hobie brown rn…!

hobie who knows you love the height difference between you two and uses it to his advantage. is constantly angling his head upwards, which causes him to purposely peer down at you through his thick eyelashes. you always get flustered each time he narrows his eyes and tilts his chin, and him being the ever so perceptive spider he is, takes notice of your heated cheeks and continues to do so.

whenever he’s near a doorway or a thick frame he lovesss to lay a palm on the top of it, trapping your body beneath his as you ramble on about whatever it is you’re rambling about. he makes sure to nod along while effectively moving a hand towards your plush waist, bringing your figure flush against his own. he plays with the seam of your shirt, and urges you to keep going when you stutter from the sudden change in position.

hobie who loves to annoy you with his British slang. it’s not necessarily because he uses it often that irks you, it’s the fact that you have no idea what he’s saying and he never makes an effort to help you understand. (he actually finds it amusing each time you attempt to guess what he means and is completely off base every single time).

“babe, I’d love ta get ya that shirt you’ve been beggin’ for, but I’m skint right now. try me next week, yeah?” he hummed, kicking his feet up on the railing next to your bed.

“skint? I feel like you’ve used that one before..” you muttered, huffing in irritation by the smug look on hobie’s face, his lips quirked in amusement.

“told ya what it meant last week. thought ya said you could ‘se context clues?”

“whatever bee, maybe you should speak english.”

“‘aint that what ‘m doin’?”

hobie who always has a blunt neatly rolled on his dresser, his ash tray placed gently to the left of it. he often smoked before running off to whatever it is he did when he wasn’t home (he was very unpredictable as he switched it up weekly to “fuck up consistency” whatever the hell that meant).

hobie inhaled gingerly before tilting his head towards his peeling painted ceiling, his fingers lingered tightly on the wood before lifting it to your lips, “want a go?”

you shook your head, nuzzling further into his shoulder, “mhm no, too tired.” hobie chuckled before greedily puffing the joint, shuttering at the burning feeling it left.

“suit yourself love, more for me.”

hobie who you introduce differently to your friends each time you bring him up. one day he’s your boyfriend, the next he’s your significant other, and the next he’s your ‘close friend’. they always question the constant switch ups, but you don’t ever seem to mind. you know where you stand with the man, and to him that’s all that matters.

“so what’s up with you and…..” your friend trailed off, stirring the ice in her drink.

“hobie?” you questioned.

“yeah him, so is he your boyfriend or what?”

“it’s complicated, he hates labels, makes him feel confined.” you replied, shrugging your shoulders as you lay your head on your palm.

“that doesn’t bother you? is he like scared of commitment or something?”

you scoff, lightly shaking your head, “no, he just doesn’t want to contribute to the system.” you answered bluntly, taking another sip of your lemonade.

“the system?” your friend asked, eyebrow raised at the quip.

“nevermind, don’t worry about it.”

hobie who subtly brags about you to his people. loves to show you off, and has no problem admitting he does.

“yeah bruv, my girl jus’ got into her dream fuckin’ college. been workin’ hard for that shit all year, man.” hobie boasted, pushing his hands out in order to bounce off the wall next to him.

“oh my goodness how wonderful! when do we get to meet this companion of yours?” pavitr questioned, flinging his body upwards to keep up with the male to his right.

“eh, don’t know yet, when I feel like it, yeah?”

all in all hobie is so cute and I literally am in love with him!!

[clockwayswrites]

(Now) Tired Dads- John meets Danny

John stared, betrayed, at the armchair that he had just stubbed his toe on. Yes, it was only nine in the morning and yes he had only gone to bed at four in the morning after being up for nearly thirty-seven… nine, what-the-fuck-ever hours, but that was fine. That was normal. The armchair being in his way was not.

He’d wandered the House of Mystery plenty of times when half asleep or with his face in a book or bleeding out… whichever of those. Point was, he never stubbed his toe on any of the furniture in any of those states. Him and the House got along pretty well these days. Sure it was a little rough in the start, but now the House looked out for him just like he looked out for it.

That meant that if he stubbed his toe— if the House let him stub his toe— then the House was trying to get his attention about something.

And that was never good.

John rubbed at his face as he spent a moment considering just going back to bed. He was trapped, drained, spent, out of everything. He’d be no good if it was something actually dangerous. But if it was actually something dangerous, the House would have (or should have) done more than just stub a toe. Maybe it was just a clogged pipe or some shit like that and the house was feeling bitchy.

“Right then House, lead the way, show me what you're having a mare about ” John said with a sigh and headed for the closest doorway. He trusted the House to put him in the rooms that it wanted him in.

It was concerning, then, when John had moved through a few rooms without anything of note. If it got to several rooms he was backing out until he had more sleep. Anything that could confuse the House like this was dangerous.

“Fucking— really?” John asked towards the ceiling as he was looped through the kitchen after having just left the kitchen.

A cabinet slammed into the back of his knee, right into the bend. Clutching at the spot, John hobbled out of reach with a string of curses and a glare at the door.

It hung open with a pointed little creak.

“Right, fine, kitchen it is. Gonna be any help with that, mate? Any hints?” John asked as he started opening cabinets. “Clogged sink? Burner out? Something rank in the back of the fridge? Small child hiding in one of your cabinets?”

The small child’s face scrunched up in a scowl. “I’m not small.”

“You’re in cabinet, bruv.”

“I just squish well!”

“… yeah, that isn’t better than being small, Tiny,” John said.

“Tiny?! I’m, like, fifteen!”

John thought the tiny kid might be actually offended, not that John cared. He backed up a step and crossed his arms. “And yet still inside a cabinet. Get the fuck out of there.”

The child— seriously fucking what— glared at John before they finally moved to get out of the cabinet. The stacked saucers and tea cups rattled as they pulled out of the fucking kid’s body as the kid moved to sit on the counter in a huff.

John would so be washing everything in that cabinet before next tea time.

If he remembered.

Maybe.

“Okay Tiny, what the fuck—”

“You can’t kick me out!”

John paused, just for a moment, but quickly got his feet under him and asked, “Yeah? Why not?”

“Because the House let me in! It says I can stay so I can stay and you can’t kick me out,” Tiny said in a rush.

John was pretty sure if the kid was breathing, they would be hyperventilating.

Wait.

What?

---

AN: This used to be possibly black smoke custody, but I went back to it (only had the first few paragraphs) and this is much, much more Tired Dads energy. Poor Danny, stuck being called Tiny.

[skitchune]

Wellll here he is! @skyeee to TWINK death 🥂

I guess I’m just happy that I finally ‘found’ his face in my style. I was just sketching around but I ended up wanting to ink it and I’m happy with how the inking turned out. I really like designing prints on clothes but I got tired adding the finishing touches hahahaha but next time, I wanna make my own prints to put their shirts UWU. Also sorry fucked up the tattoos too…OOOPS.

The highlights are overdone but I wanted to experiment with like extremely shiny, greased up skin look just because I’m normally very averse to spec light but I sorta chose to lean into…idk why. It’s not ‘correct’ but I like the effect.

Also, this was just an excuse to draw his face, more muscles, and armpit hair. It may seem so fucking weird but I promise, it’s just because I’ve been trying to stylize approach to body hair and I’m liking the “one big graphic swath of color” more than “repeat strands,” it fits the overall style.

Anyway, Arthur is a punk gym rat but he’s far from an asshole, he’s mischievous but being Punk has nothing to do with his manners. He’s big for his size but, of course, there are bigger buggers around in my AU. He’s definitely more of a ‘bruv’ than ‘chap’ kind of gent, has a tea shop/bookstore south of London with an Adult Section behind beaded curtains. He does ballroom at the local gay club, probably joins the body category.

More versions under cut! (No spec light/ Lineart only)

[girlfailuresrants]

Okay I’m not like an official COD writer at all, my blog isn’t even related to it (besides the creators whom I interact with). But like give me a Simon Riley with a partner his age, as much as I love the self indulgent age gap with a younger partner (in most cases women but like, who knows he might be fruity, give him a man idk) anyway like, I think a man who has lived so many horrors wouldn’t really like a soft, pliant person who still has much to learn, it’d become a drag really. Give me a Simon Riley who has a partner who’s just as stubborn, who’s seen the (normal civilian) horrors, who knows grief and loss, no one will know the things he has gone through unless they go through those things themselves, but an older adult, someone his age or maybe even older is just fitting sometimes. Someone who’s tired, someone who has it together, or doesn’t, who’s lived enough to be as scared of he is of intimacy, or love or someone who’s just disillusioned with the world, hell maybe someone bitter while we’re at it. Who got cheated on or even cheated on their last partner. Simon Riley with a partner who’s thrice divorced, who has children (maybe grandchildren while we’re at it). Maybe give him an alcoholic who’s been sober for twenty plus years (to see the other side of alcoholism, after recovery, what happens and what causes someone to get better). Maybe give him someone who’s ex took everything away from them, who doesn’t like parties, who actually condemns the work he does. There’s so many possibilities than just “perfect, sweet young thing who sees him as perfect and who he sees as perfect” noooooo make him annoyed by the habits they’ve got, make him work for it!!!!! Make him see this person and be like “damn wtf bruv why are you like this” it doesn’t have to be toxic, just a little more wonky, annoying, realistic, both of them shutting down and staying quiet, someone prideful. Someone who actually can’t stand the radio silence when he goes on missions, who makes him choose “the world or me”, someone who doesn’t want children, someone who hates pets because of the high maintenance, someone who’s just as a workaholic as he is, someone who’s lived. The possibilities are endless mmfmdndgghh

[coleskingdom]

Hall Pass

Jay White x Female Reader

NSFW Minors DNI 18+

@midwestmade29

You need these” Jay handing me his sunglasses even though we were just sitting down for lunch in catering. “What? Why?” my attention drawn elsewhere. “If you’re going to stare at golden boys ass like that, at least do it from behind the glasses.” there was no humor in his tone. Just then Mariah walked in Jay reached back for the glasses putting them on as his head slightly followed her across the room.

I roll my eyes dramatically at him “I’ve lost my appetite.” pushing back from the table. “Sit, Sweetheart. If I didn’t eat every time you stared at golden boy , I would’ve starved to death by now.” he growled only low of enough for me to hear. I glared at him, as I took a bite. “A lesser man would’ve left you for your disrespectful eye fucking of golden boy. I however am not a lesser man. In fact from what I hear a romp with him isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” his wink and smirk had me wanting to stab him with my fork.

“ Why are you so ruffled? I saw that flash in your eyes. I’m a fair man, if you want a night of being pounded in to and being called Bruv, I’ll say yes, but you’ll have to say yes to me taking Mariah back to the hotel, but I know what I’m getting into. Those stardom girls are something different all together.”he made the chefs kiss motion. “I’m done here.” pushing back from the table and walking out of the room I heard his laugh as I left , Mariah taking a seat next to him as I glanced back.

“Ugh, I fucking hate him” slamming the door behind me entering into the Bullet Club Gold locker room. “ Who do you hate?” the unmistakable voice of Skye asked sitting up from the couch in the room. “What the fuck?”completely caught off guard staring at her. “ Hey now, Jay said I could lay down in here. He’s a real sweetheart. Seriously though, are you okay?” as she made room on the couch. “ No, yes, maybe. Jays the nod infuriating man I’ve ever met.” Sitting down “ But what did you do?” Nudging my shoulder playfully. “ Apparently I was staring at Wills ass.” she laughed “Its not funny. He then started staring at Mariah. Who the hell can compete with that and she just sat down with him as I left.” I put my head in my hands. “ It’s funny I got in the same situation twice with Kyle. Once for Will and once for Jay.” I looked at my jaw dropped .”Come on, look at him, he’s all abs and attitude. You know what you have. Don’t act shocked that I looked at him.” Smirking at me. “So why Will? Aside from his God like body. I get to say that because I’m sharing an apartment with him and Kyle. What is that keeps pulling your attention away?.” I hesitated “I’m your best friend just tell me.” Her hand taking mine. “ You’re right about abs and attitude with Jay. I don’t know he’s like that golden retriever puppy he’s just so fucking happy and nice. I’ll be fine and I’m gonna stop looking at Will. Jay thinks it’s all about that and I quote be pounded and called bruv. When it’s more like I want to have a burger and a laugh.” I sighed “ I trust Jay implicitly and I get why he did what he did, but he offered me a hall pass for Will if he could have one with her.” looking at my bestie “ Holy shit what did you say? Is Jay really okay with that ?Everyone knows he’s batshit crazy over you.” I got up and began to pace “ I didn’t say anything what the hell could I say, I was pissed and hurt that he’d actually say that. Maybe he’s tired of me, maybe it’s closer to being over than it is for forever. Fuck if I know. I’ve got to get out of here before he comes in here.” moving toward my bag. “Want my opinion I think you are handling too much of his shit? But I’m gonna say this because I love all three of you. Don’t take the hall pass and don’t give him one either. Will’s not for you, but if you want that burger and a laugh come out with me and Kyle, Will, and Mark I can make that happen.” She stood and hugged me. “I’m gonna head out I think you and Jay have some shit to talk about.” she left just as I was debating about following her.

“Sweetheart where are you headed?” Jay’s mocking tone filling the room as he and Skye passed each other. “ None of your fucking business.” walking towards him. “ Tsk tsk you know our rule we don’t leave each other mad. Besides the best part of fighting is the fucking afterwards.” he stalked me till my back was up against the wall. “ So are we done fighting?” his hand tracing my face the other one finding my hip.

“ Mariah not available?” I seethe but my body craves his touch. “You’d look so pretty wearing my hand as a necklace “ his fingers tracing the side of my neck his thumb pressing lightly causing me to gasp. “Sweetheart, there’s no one, that I want or need more than you.” his kiss sure and deep, his hand keeping my focus only on him. “ Keep looking at me like you want to fuck me but you also want to kill me." His hands thread in my hair, as he continues to kiss me. His hips move and he growls a bit of delight in the back of his throat. His hand pulls my hair harder, and it's like I'm completely swallowed by him.

I fall into that kiss, tumbling deep into this moment, forgetting about everything.

His fingers keep dip below my waistband stroking my pussy over my panties, the other hand gripping my ass. His hard body pins me against the wall and I wrap my arms around his neck, going insane with bliss. "You're fucking soaked," Jay’s voice amused. “You're touching me of course I am.” His mouth buries mine, hungry now, and his fingers slip underneath and tease up and down my slit. I'm moaning into his tongue and I don't care anymore as his fingers slide inside of me, fucking me nice and deep. Oh my god, he presses against that spot inside me . My knees go limp and he's supporting my weight as his fingers stroke in and out, hitting the spot over and over. My eyes roll back, l'm moaning, mindless, insane with pleasure, and he's not stopping.

He bites my lower lip and whispers, "Come for me, sweetheart, come on, you need it, don't you?"

"Yes," | gasp, shaking as I shatter on his hand. I come in a sudden rush, my fingers digging into his back, my cheeks tingling. "Good girl”he whispers my head resting on his shoulder.

“Jay, I’m…” his finger on my lips silenced me. “ I took it to far I’m sorry.” kissing my forehead. “Just the idea of you..” I put my finger on his lips this time.

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 14: The Truth About Steven

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @whatthefishh

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary

The boys finally come clean about their past, and their disorder. You take it as well as could be expected.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu (as a deity), talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded, minor mentions of alcohol addiction and depression.

Word Count: 2.4k

----

You knocked on Steven’s apartment door, and you could’ve sworn you heard him in there talking to someone before he answered it. Once again he looked different than the man who’d left you sitting in the library just a couple of hours ago. You narrowed your eyes. He didn’t look like the man you’d been meeting late at night outside of your dorm building either. Now his hair was slicked back, face more serious than you’d ever seen it look before.

You’d contemplated whether or not you actually wanted to give him the time of day. After your mental pep-talk, just before Steven had interrupted while you sat at the library, you were ready to let him go. You still thought that might be the outcome, but after everything you’d been through with him, you felt like you had to see it through. You pushed past him in a huff, walking into his apartment like you owned the place.

“For someone who doesn’t care about this girl, you’re wearing an awful lot of cologne compadre,” Jake commented as Marc watched you step inside.

“Have a seat,” he pointed to a chair at the kitchen table, ignoring Jake completely.

Immediately you noticed the distinct difference in accent. You felt a lump in your throat, and you fight or flight kicked in. This was the time to run if you were going to do it, but you decided to stay firmly in place. You held onto the strap of your bag like it would save your life if things went south. Steven had mentioned having brothers, but he’d also mentioned having a bad relationship with them. If this was one of them, you couldn’t be certain you were in a safe situation.

You shook your head, “no, I’m good to stand right here,” you said firmly.

Marc pressed his lips together tightly, “alright…can I get you a coffee or–”

“Can you just tell me what the fuck is going on already, Steven? I’m sick and tired of getting treated like this,” you damned your bottom lip for quivering. You wanted to look strong. “You took my virginity, then you broke up with me, and then you kept sleeping with me at night, now you don’t even sound the same?! Who are you?!”

“I’m not Steven,” Marc said bluntly, keeping his expression stoic.

You stepped back, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. Your breathing became shallow.

“Then y-you’re his…his brother?”

“No,” Marc looked away from you.

This was the time that he’d normally retreat, letting Jake handle the tough situation, but he knew that this had to come from him. Marc ran his hands over his face and then looked back at you again. You were terrified, despite your attempt to keep a strong expression. He could see the way your bottom lip trembled, and the way your chest was heaving.

“You’re really blowing this bruv, are you sure you don’t want me–”

“My name is Marc Spector,” he started, eyes scanning your face to watch for any change in your expression. “I’m not sure how to tell this story so…I guess I’ll start from the beginning.”

Now you sat down, realizing that this ‘Marc’ person wasn’t a direct threat. You put your bag on the floor next to you before crossing your arms, waiting for him to continue. Though you weren’t sure you wanted him to continue. Part of you wanted to tell him to fuck off right then and there and leave the apartment, but you stayed. Love really was a funny thing, forcing people to make the dumbest choices. You felt like you couldn’t go anywhere until you knew what had happened to Steven; your Steven.

“When we were young, we had a little brother. His name was Randall,” Marc started, walking over and sitting in the chair across the table from you. He looked down at his hands. “Ro was…he was the best kind of person; kind, loving,” Marc sniffed out a laugh as he remembered his younger brother, “everything I’m not.”

He looked at you again, you noticed the sorrow etched in his eyes, now glossy with tears. Despite your frustration with Steven and this entire situation, you felt some level of empathy for the man, his expression tugging heavily at your heartstrings. He looked back down at his hands while he continued his story.

“I got him killed–”

“We talked about this hermano,” Jake muttered.

“Jake’s right, you know that’s not true Marc, try again.”

Marc sighed, “we were kids, playing in the rain and we got stuck in a cave. I made it out, Ro didn’t. I was only ten, he was eight.”

“That’s better,” Jake said.

“Our mother, Wendy…” Marc heard Jake grunt at the mention of her name, “she was heartbroken, as any mother would be at the loss of a child,” he let out a deep exhale, “but she blamed me for all of it, ‘you should’ve been watching him, this is all your fault’, she’d say while she…” his voice wavered.

“While she what?” You asked, finding yourself invested in the tale, despite how disturbing it might have been.

“While she beat me with a leather belt,” Marc’s face got even more serious somehow, and you felt a silence lingering in the air with the weight of his words.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, regretting pushing him to finish his sentence.

“It was a long time ago,” he grumbled, looking back down at his hands again, “but I developed what’s called dissociative identity disorder. I guess it was how my mind dealt with the loss of my brother, finding a way to let him ‘live on’ even after he was gone. Taking all the guilt and creating someone within myself that resembled him in so many ways, while still being so unique and not really the same as Ro at all.”

The apartment was quiet again. Marc could tell you were being compassionate by listening, but he could also tell that you were ready for him to get to the punchline. How did this affect you? What did this have to do with Steven? Why the hell had you come there in the first place to listen to some thirty-eight year old man ramble on about his mental health issues?

“Steven Grant is that someone. He’s what you’d call an ‘alter’,” he watched you shift uncomfortably, “when DID was called ‘multiple personality syndrome’, he would’ve been called one of my personalities.”

“Are you serious?”

You dropped your arms down from where they were crossed and rested your hands on your thighs. If you were hearing him correctly, this man, Marc, was trying to tell you that he and Steven were the same. That all this time, you’d thought you were with one man, but really you were with someone else. He was a conman, and you’d never felt like such a damn fool.

“S-so what you go around roleplaying as a British college professor and preying on students just for a fucking laugh?” You felt yourself getting upset at the prospect.

Marc sighed in frustration, “no, it’s not like that, weren’t you listening to me at all?” You could hear the distinct Chicago accent coming out in his frustrated tone now, “I have a mental disorder, Steven is a real person, he is British, he is a college professor…your college professor and the way he feels about you is real.”

“Then what is all this? Hm? Why did he break up with me instead of just telling me the truth?” You stood up, feeling tears threatening to fall. “Why didn’t you just say ‘hey, I’m a fuckin’ nut job who likes taking advantage of stupid girls in my class’?”

“What in the hell is your problem? Huh? I’m trying to open up to you here, which let me tell you little girl, isn’t something I do often.” Marc stood up now, brow furrowed while he stepped closer to you. “After Steven broke up with you, I thought everything was going to just go away quietly, but you just had to keep it going didn’t you?!”

“I missed him!” You said in your defense.

The tears started coming down then, trickling over your cheeks. You felt embarrassed.

“No, you fucked your professor like an idiot, and didn’t think about the fuckin’ consequences because you’re young and naive,” Marc got closer to you, and with every step he took, you took a one back.

“Stop talking to me like I’m a kid, I know I made a mistake, alright? But that doesn’t change the fact that you could’ve, or Steven or…” you grumbled, “whoever the hell could’ve just stopped! If you didn’t want it that bad then you could’ve just stopped!”

Marc formed a hard line with his mouth in his aggravation.

“I tried to stop them, but Jake and Steven just had to have you. They couldn’t just leave you well enough alone. I didn’t even want to have this conversation with you but they insisted!”

Your heart stopped, and your voice got quiet again, “Jake? Who the fuck is Jake?”

To hear you talk about him like you had no idea who he was hurt Jake’s feelings, if he was being honest. It wasn’t surprising, of course, there was no way you could’ve known who he was, but it stung nonetheless. Marc had wanted to tell you about Jake in a calmer way, when you weren’t both throwing jabs at each other in your mutual anger, but it was out now, and he had to work with it.

“Jake is the other one,” Marc said in a slightly more collected tone than before, “he came about during my time in the marines.”

“You said you ‘tried to stop them,’…” you gulped, “what the hell do you mean by that?”

“I tried to stop Steven from seeing you which was…obviously unsuccessful, and Jake…I didn’t even know he was…” Marc couldn’t bring himself to say it. He looked at the empty water glass on the table next to the lounge chair, “Steven, please…”

“On it…”

You watched in disbelief as Marc’s entire body shifted, posture slouching a bit and his expression changing before your eyes. His brow went from furrowed in frustration to being turned up in concern. Either he was an incredible actor, or you were a fool.

“Love, I’m so sorry, I know this is a lot but, it really wasn’t my story to tell. I wasn’t there f’most of our life, neither was Jake so you see–”

“What did you do to me?” You looked at him, trying to decipher how much of what he was saying was real, and how much of it was a lie.

What a convenient excuse it would be to say that he had a mental illness, and that’s why he had to break things off with you. He could blame it on some disorder and make you feel bad for him, maybe even make you fall back into his arms like a pathetic and desperate little girl. If he was a good enough actor, surely he could put on a fake accent and slouch his shoulders a bit.

The other part of you, the part that still loved Steven so much that you wanted to kiss him until your lips went numb, that part believed him. That part believed that there was this man with a mental disorder who was struggling to navigate through his life and somehow you managed to get caught up in it, and he was just as confused as you were in that moment. You weren’t going to let yourself be fooled though…not again.

“Well remember love, it wasn’t me.” He cleared his throat, “right so Jake said that he saved you twice, once at the art gallery when you nearly fell on the steps, and again when you were in the bar alleyway and someone tried to take advantage of you.” Steven scanned your eyes to find the truth in his statement, “did that really happen, love? You must’ve been so scared I…I’m sorry–”

“Keep going,” you cut him off, not wanting any of his sympathy, not after he was the reason you were in that situation in the first place, and not when you were still unsure if he was being honest with you about this disorder.

“Y-yeah, right, well…” he cleared his throat, “J-Jake says he was really only going to give you a ride home but then, you kissed him and…and he tried to say no, but then you just kept pushing and he couldn’t help himself.”

You huffed out a laugh in frustration, “so if what you’re saying is true, Marc is a filthy old man with two ‘alters’ who just can’t manage to keep their fucking hands off a college student who is young enough to be their daughter, is that it?”

“W-well I mean, technically yes, but I wouldn’t put it like tha–”

The tears were freeflowing now, “and I’m just supposed to believe that you, Steven, aren’t just some creepy man who likes to play pretend and fuck his students and that this isn’t some sick and twisted game you’re playing? Hm?”

“Well, darling that’s not really nice to–”

“No, you know what Steven? You can have fun with whatever this is,” you gestured to his body, “I’m done for good. I was going to text ‘Jake’ that anyway, you know, when I thought he was you? I was gonna tell him that I was calling it off because the sneaking around was getting to be too much for me, but this is a whole other mess that I don’t want to be a part of.”

You grabbed your bag off the floor and went for the door while Steven was still stammering over his words.

“Goodbye Steven, or Marc, or whoever the fuck you are.”

Steven stood there as you slammed the door to the flat and left, taking a piece of his heart with you. He let out a heavy breath, clutching his chest tightly.

“Well there you go guys,” Marc’s tone was laced in sarcasm, “still glad we decided to have a chat with her? Hm?”

“Shut up puto…she’ll be back…”

----

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[ditttiii]

omg I’m in love with your writing 🥰 can you maybe write a singer!reader with Charles or Max where he goes to her concert for the first time and is mesmerized by her??

MAX VERSTAPPEN X FEMALE READER

summary: she is beautiful in a quiet sort of way. Hair unbound and flowing with the night’s breeze, her skin shimmers under the light, glitters like a thousand stars have scrambled down to adorn her.

a/n: this fic and all future f1 updates will be posted onto my side account @rosegasly only.

The season was over another championship in the metaphorical bag for Max and a champions trophy for Redbull. After the worst possible start, things had really picked up for the team. Post sleepless nights and long hours put in by everyone on track as well as back in Milton Keynes, it had been a double landslide win. 

When finally, after what may very well have been the best season of his motor racing career, his friend and fellow Dutch musician had proposed joining him for a three-day music festival, well agreeing was a no-brainer for Max. 

He is weaving through the sparse but busy crowd backstage, a VIP pass hanging from his neck, letting him through uninterrupted. Contrary to the image the media had painted of him, Max was pretty outgoing. He didn’t spend time with the drivers off track as much as maybe Pierre or Charles did, but it was all because of the complicated and competitive nature of the sport and not at all because he didn’t enjoy being around people or as the media was fond of portraying–a surly grump. 

Max is straightforward, sometimes abrupt, and while he leaves most of those heated feelings back on track, he isn’t quite comfortable enough to play jolly best pals with the other drivers, either. 

“Max!” 

He swivels, eyes roving over the people until he finally spots the Dutch DJ and nods, making his way over. 

“Hey man, glad to see you are up. Didn’t think you would be after last night.” 

Max decides not to mention the persistent pounding hurting the left side of his face and jaw. He’s felt worse over the years training for races. 

“Yeah, just a little tired. When’s your set?” 

“It’s the last one bruv. Not for a while.”

He absently nods and with a promise to catch said man later disperses back into the crowd. 

It’s a few hours later when it’s dark out and he’s walking back with a drink from the food stalls built further away from the stage that he sees her. Max doesn’t recognise her, can’t even see her clearly from how far back he is, but he hears her voice, that raspy, low undertone, the slow, gentle sway of her hips as she sings and it captivates him. Something about her, the way she sings, her tone, the words, so vulnerable with her voice stripped bare. She is talking to him, spilling all her secrets in confidence under the hush of the night and not in front of thousands of people amidst the loud yells and cheers. 

Max walks closer and looks for a screen because he knows there isn’t a way he can push past the screaming crowd. He wouldn’t budge if he was in the front too, and it’s easy to get lost again now that he can see her clearly. 

She is beautiful in a quiet sort of way. Hair unbound and flowing with the night’s breeze, her skin shimmers under the light, glitters like a thousand stars have scrambled down to adorn her. It’s a sad song. She is talking of heartbreak and wanting to let go, being unable to and her voice dips, grows raspier, like she wants to cry, is on the verge of before it lifts, becomes crisp and clear and so so sweet. 

He doesn’t know her name, still can’t recognise her, but when she opens her eyes, his breath seizes. Twin pools of midnight skies gaze back at him through the screen and he feels naked. Like a word from her would crumble all his walls, the stranger in the gray bar whom he’d tell all of his world to, the fears that keep him from sleeping, the things that make him happy, the parts of him he is ashamed of, the ones he has worked years to build. 

The song ends, the cheers grow louder and so does her set because she goes back in and doesn’t come out, though he stays rooted where he is. Breathless, his pulse races under his skin with an itch to be closer to her. He wants to know her, touch her, bury her under thoughts of him as she has and be her muse. 

If his friend notices the slightly crazed look in his eyes when he asks him to introduce her, he is kind enough not to say anything. 

Max waits, impatient in a way he has never been. He isn’t used to falling apart like this. He is usually steel and calm, forged under the relentless rain of his hometown, aged on the racing track where a possible death lurks at every corner, every wrong inch of a move, yet here he is, tripping over his own feet, anxious over a girl. He doesn’t need his father to be a witness to feel his disapproval. 

 She comes out of her room backstage, ironically enough, tripping on her own feet and if anyone asks, he would chop it up to the years of developed reflexes but he feels the truth in his gut. Even if he weren’t an f1 driver, he would still have felt her losing her footing before anyone else. 

She lands in his arms and the way his hands clench around her waist tighter is entirely unconscious. She breathes an embarrassed laugh near his ear and he suppresses the shiver that wants to wrack his whole frame when it washes over him. She smells of mint and sugar, like the sweetest of things and he aches to have this woman he barely knows. 

Jokingly she wraps her arms around him too, making a pun about this being how she meets new people and introduces herself and Max feels her touch more acutely than he feels his car midrace, senses attuned to every bit that is she. Soaking all the words and breaths and glances like a man parched. 

He doesn’t remember introducing himself, unsure if he even said anything but soon she is ushering them into her room and he tails behind her, still spellbound like a child, amazed by her zest for her craft as she discusses her performance with his friend. It’s a foreign feeling, rare, the way he feels right now. Almost undeserving of her attention since he didn’t know who she was before, hasn’t heard her music, doesn’t know what’s the right thing to say. 

Max is all sharp edges and brusque words and is afraid to say the wrong thing. Come across as harsh and inadvertently drive her away. He feels no parts a two-time world champion and all parts an awkward teenager tongue-tied in front of his first real crush. But then she turns around, looks at him and smiles, cracks a joke, leans over at some point to lightly grab his arm, like she is letting him on a secret, including him in her own little bubble, and there’s nothing he can do to stop the joy from bubbling over in his heart.

a/n: all my f1 fanfics have been moved onto here 💕

here's to hoping ferrari can catch up this weekend and I ll have more people than just max to write for 🤌😩

thankyou to the anon for sending in the prompt and aww I m so happy to hear u like my writing 🥰🥰 happy reading 💕

[drrobobitch]

I’m gonna do a little rant about ToA so get fuckin ready bro 💀🙏

Btw this is not a professional rant but you get my point bro and also don’t attack me please 💗🐺

Okay so Ik a lot of people in the ToA fandom, especially 3below fans (i love that show dearly) ship a lot of ppl with krel…and honestly some (one 💀) I don’t have a problem with because it’s not a fucking proship/comship 💀💀. Okay so let’s just get this out the way krel x douxie is literally a comship idk how tf y’all haven’t realized this 💀😭, doux has literally said he was like 900 years old or something and krel is in high school- AND BEFORE ANY OF YALL FUCKING SAY THAT “Oh well krels parents were actually on earth a thousand years ago so he’s probably just as old-“ nigga shut ur fucking mouth 💀 krel is from an entirely different side of the universe obviously time would work different there, and besides why tf wouldn’t mother (the mothership) give them a form of an adult if they’d be considered adults or of adults unless they weren’t of literal high school age 😭💀 I’m not even trying to be rude I’m tired of seeing shit like this so normalized💀💀 like we’re all clear that Claire x doux is bad why’s no one seeing it’s that way with krel x doux like… 💀💀 And I’m sorry some ppl only ship them cuz they both like music 😭 they don’t even have a developed bond bro 💀😭 they damn near just met OKAY NOW SORRY ABT THAT MOVING TF ON TO SEAMUS X KREL OMFG I HATE THIS SHIT SM WHY DO YALL DO THIS TO KREL BRUV- OKAY SO LETS JUST GET THIS OUT THE WAY MAN- seamus’ father is racist asf to krel and probably everyone 💀 meaning Seamus is likely racist too and besides who tf did you think told Seamus’ father about krel 💀😭 it was so obviously him nigga and that he was likely being racist 💀 cuz if I’m assuming correctly his dad was already spouting racist shit before he even walked through the door, Ik his dad didn’t automatically assume he was Latino so 💀💀😭 y’all gotta use context clues man- ALSO THESE TWO EPISODES ACTUALLY FUCKING KILLED ME ITS THE WAY SEAMUS BASICALLY SAID HE WAS ONE OF THE GOOD ONES LIKE BRO 💀🙏 please pray for my soul. I’m not even saying ur a bad person if you ship Seamus x Krel but like in your au or story give Seamus a fucking redemption arc if you can please because saying “hey ur alright” is not a fucking apology especially not for my pookie bear krel 🐺💗 Dw krel the alpha will protect you

[random-fandom-chaos]

INTRO POST??

Y’all I feel like I should honestly have one I never made one LMFAOOO (idk how to make one-)

Anyways! Hi! This is me! @random-fandom-chaos

and welcome to my blog! I want to write fanfics and one shots but I’m never asked sadly :,( so I will update that and REALLY hope people ask- (I’ll give it a month but honestly I kinda gave up cause no one asked two people have and that made me haupi) But yeah!

I’m a MINOR!!! (Call me Roi, Vin, or Chaos (mainly Roi)

YES. Two people use my blog but mostly the MINOR is online so please don’t ask me weird questions if your like idk 44- I’m not a teenager yet- but I’m mature enough to know what many things are.

KAI! Is 22 she is an adult! She manages the ADULT stuff. Though they don’t live with me so they are rarely Online sadly-

But anyways!

Me (Roi) is always welcome to nicknames and rambles of fandoms or asks for oneshots! I’m really happy to be here!

Side blogs run my me and @/Afunky_Jester: @ask-mother-city-spies

check out my friends blogs! (If u mess with them I will bite ur kneecaps off) :

@hammyham-o-o

@celestialweedo

@luminarycomet

@kat-scribbles

@harvest-is-tired

@jadelemonadee

@thea-lynn

@afunky-jester

@tea-bruv

@crumpet-doodles

@afunky-jester

@glorious-owl

@achickennamedcheese

@needlesandnilbogs

@librarian-computer

@valenmakesthings

@stellrsjay

@magic-sch00lbus-dr0p0ut

@artistwithnopurpose

—

Online parents [my mom’s] and sibling :

Parents:

@scally-wiggles716

@countingthestarsthings

—-

separate parents:

@dinosaurthecaliforniagirlanon

another seperate parent:

@crumpet-doodles

and another:

@apollo-is-somthing

and another (I have a lot of parents)

@livingwrite-andrepeat

siblings:

@jack-o-moon-askblog

@im-jesus

IRL friends:

@vincent-charlie

@i-v0mit-rainb0w

@himikoslovrr

REALLY REALLY CLOSE ONLINE FRIENDS (pls don’t be offended if ur not on the list, ur still close friends but I’ve talked to these wonderful people a lot:)

@crumpet-doodles

@afunky-jester

@hammyham-o-o

@celestialweedo

@stellrsjay

@needlesandnilbogs

@fishyupmywishy

@artistwithnopurpose

@magic-sch00lbus-dr0p0ut

@heretoreadheadcanons

Here’s the ONE SHOT post and I WILL be updating it!

https://www.tumblr.com/a-corrupted-light-improv/773316006028443648/please-see-this?source=share Also extra:

SIDE BLOGS!!!

@ask-mother-city-spies

@city-spies-incorrect-quotes

@ask-the-cryptography-genius

@el-salvador-america-central

@a-corrupted-light-improv

[purplemarshal]

Pretty Boy

Bruv, I am sleeping over at a friends house tonight, and I pulled this out of my ass. Legit 967 words, the last one was over 700 and I told myself that I didn't want to go more than that but here we are.

T.W. Angst , swearing, and Scream.

Donnie P.O.V.

As the night drew on, my family gradually retreated to their rooms. Starting with Splinter, we don’t know when he left, but he did. Next was Leo, she was worried about how everyone would act tomorrow and convinced Mikey to also go around 10pm. Raph stayed until 12ish.

Leaving me with the one and only Casey Jones.

The only light in the lair was the T.V. playing some horror movie that we had seen several times already, in all honesty I think that Casey fell asleep awhile ago from how still and quiet he was. 

“So, you got a boyfriend?”

“Why? You wanna ask me out?”

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

I sigh, no matter how many times I see this movie I can’t get over the fact that she lied about not having a boyfriend and then he got killed like, instantly.

“You never told me your name.”

“Why do you want to know my name?”

“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.”

“What did you say?”

“I want to know who I'm talking to.”

“That's not what you said.”

“What do you think I said?” 

Click.

The room turned pitch black as the only source of light went out, so did the sounds of the 1996 horror movie, leaving me with the dripping water and sounds of cars above ground. 

“Casey?” I whispered harshly only to get a small “hm” in response.

“Dumb ass, get up, I think someone cut the power or something.” I nudged the lump of blankets as I stood up, my knees popping from sitting on the floor for so long. Casey however didn’t make any attempts to move. 

So I figured that it would be alright if I took things into my own hands, literally picking him up and placing him in front of me. Only for him to hit the ground with a loud thump.

“Dee?” He muttered, sleep still apparent in his voice. “Wait, why is it so dark?”

I heard him shuffle from his blankets that stayed on top of him even on the floor. 

“Something happened to the power.” I explained as Casey stood up fully, “we need to find out what’s up with it.”

The human snickered, “got too scared to go alone huh Don? Needed big ol’ Casey Jones to help ya?” 

He reached his arm forward a few times before it made contact with me, when it did he pulled the rest of himself to close the gap, leaning most of his weight on me. His hands were soft. How did he keep his hands so soft? He went on patrol and trained with us while still juggling hockey and basically caring for his little sister.

“Riiight.” I said sarcastically. I had forgotten how he asks when tired, extra. Extra everything. “Let’s get to my lab, then we should be able to see what’s up.” I started walking with my muscle memory guiding the two of us to the place that I spent most of my time.

The door slightly creaked as I pushed it open, I smiled at the familiar smell of my lab. Luckily some of my projects offered an ethereal light to the room and its belongings. Not so luckily however, there was a thin layer of smoke that surrounded the desk with all of my chemicals.

“Sorry Casey, I’ve been working on this project for a few days and-” I looked at the limp boy still wrapped around me. “-And you're asleep. Wonderful. Idiot.” I whispered as I set him down in one of my spare chairs before walking away to go to the breaker.

A few minutes passed with me trying to figure out what was going on before the almost silence was broken.

“Do you really mean it?” Casey’s voice was still exhausted, but now there was something else in it. It sounded raw and harsh, but there was still something softer than normal. 

“Idiot, you will have to be more specific.”

“That.” His voice broke. “Do you really think that I’m an idiot?”

I looked in his direction, his face looked softer through the smoke even if it was now red and his eyes were puffy.

“Jones.”

“I don’t mean it whenever I say it, you're really smart and strong and, and-” His voice broke as the unwelcomed tears started flowing. “Do you remember what I said the other day?” A sniff. “During patrol?” He sounded hopeless, told you he was extra when he was tired.

I took a deep breath as I walked closer but stopped to take a sip of coffee that I had left out earlier, it was cold now but still tasted good enough. 

“Casey, I think you should go back to sleep.”

“Donnie.” He begged.

My body moved on its own and pulled him into a hug, of which he accepted immediately, holding me tight and stuffing his face into the crook of my neck as he continued to cry. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know what I was doing.

The teen kept crying as I started to run my fingers through his hair, but slowed down as I started the sing. I knew he liked the song but I didn't have the words memorized so I mainly mumbled it. 

Leo used to do this for me, but lately she didn’t have the time.  

His breathing slowed and I realized he had fallen back asleep. I wanted to get off of the chair to leave him alone but his arms remained tight on me. So, rather than bothering Casey I opted to stay with him, for his comfort of course! Not because he was warm, and I didn’t have enough strength to get up. Of course not.

God, I hate Pretty boys.

Like I said, I pulled this out of my ass at 10pm last night, my laptop was like 9% and we were watching Be Cool Scooby Doo. Still hope you enjoyed it, there will be even spookier chapters soon. Excpect a short chapter next though.

[forsakenmissives]

inspired by @izzyspussy’s prompt. hope u dont mind?? lol also tw for mention of james tartt. yknow how it is — also im thinking this takes place around the start of the season after the show ends 💚 but also (thanks nonny!) just pretend eras tour came out 2021 and barbie came out 2022 and not. now LOL

It starts as less than a handful of Tweets. Honestly, Jamie laughs at the first one, then scrolls by and completely misses the rest. And then he sees a group of lads donning West Ham merch pointing at him while on his morning run (sans Roy, who had to bow out due to a cold, the dick . . . Jamie's planning on picking him up breakfast) and whispering — but not quiet enough — that the Barbie has escaped his box. The Tweets (and comments and replies and DMs) appear more frequently after that.

The pictures of him in his pink tracksuit, tied to Roy’s bike, are passed around again. This time not by his loyal fans who begged for proper HD pics from him and thought he looked good as hell, but by the ones who call him Barbie and think his hair is blond and dumb and that he is just a dumb blond who isn’t even that good at football. At least that last bit could be easily refuted by his stats. He’s damn good at his job, and he knows it.

He doesn’t say anything about it, however, until they’re in the locker room after training, and Isaac huffs at something while looking at his phone. Jamie glances over to see him angling the screen toward him. “They’re callin’ you Barbie, bruv.”

Isaac is a really good friend, like, the best a guy could ask for. But Jamie kind of doesn’t want to think about this. “Yeah, I saw. It’s a compliment, innit? And kind of fittin’. I’m perfect, I’m everything. I am Barbie, ain’t I?”

At his easy dismissal, Isaac brightens up, grinning, and Jamie grins back. He finds the Tweet he was shown and posts a good selfie he took a few days ago, captioning it, I am everything. You wanna be Ken? It’s a bit stupid, but the insult is stupid too, so he thinks he’s allowed it.

The thing is — he wants to be unbothered by the nickname. The Barbie movie was fucking awesome, and though he’s still on thin ice with Keeley, even after their strictly-business trip to Brazil, they put aside their differences . . . that is, they put aside Jamie’s fuck-up to go and watch one of the screenings together. Yeah. It was fucking awesome. And he loves women. Like, major respect.

But the condemnations of the word are a knife’s edge away from a whiskey-tinged voice hissing soft and little bitch in his ear, and Jamie really can’t fucking deal with that right now. And he had gone and seen James in rehab, just for a couple hours, and he doesn’t regret going and seeing him, and he actually thinks it’s fucking mint the man’s getting help. He even enjoyed going through the old photos of his grandparents and James as a baby and even some of his own photos, when his mum looked a little less tired and he wasn’t afraid to smile too brightly. And in rehab, James is given limited Internet time, so the chances of him seeing the insults, seeing Jamie being called a girls’ toy, something pretty and pink, are small, and even if he does see, what can he do? They won’t just let him leave while obviously on some rampage.

It’s not like Jamie plans on going back to the man any time soon anyway. He’s not James Tartt’s anything. They just share a name. So what?

Jamie jumps at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. He pockets his phone (his Quote Tweet is now at twenty thousand likes and counting), and when he turns, it’s Roy, staring at him with those impossibly dark eyes and wild brows that make them even darker.

“Hi, coach,” he says with a grin.

Roy grunts back.

Jamie stays still for another second before blinking. “Got any wisdom for me?”

The other guys have begun to clear out, and now it’s just them and Beard still in the coaches’ office. And Will, who seems to be some metaphor for God, the way he’s always around, not even lurking, just . . . around.

Finally, Roy says, “Good pass. Don’t be late tomorrow.”

It’s so unbearably Roy that it makes Jamie sick. It also suggests there’s more he’s not saying, but Jamie isn’t sure what. He doesn’t push, however, just salutes him. “‘Course, coach,” he leans back on his heels, “dark and early, yeah?”

Roy nods, then pivots and mechanically goes back to the office. Jamie watches him go before turning and gathering his things. As he packs, he can practically feel Roy’s eyes on his back, but he knows when he turns, both him and Beard will be staring down at things on their desks. Whatever.

Jamie doesn’t run into anyone on his way out, and he’s grateful, taking a breath when he gets in his car then speeding off. He feels itchy under his skin, like when his foot falls asleep but the sensation is all over his body, and he kind of regrets leaving Nelson Road because he thinks running a few extra laps up and down the pitch would soothe him, if only a little bit. Despite this, when he gets home, he just gets out of his car and goes inside. It’s not that he’s worried about a repeat of his solo jog that one morning. It’s just really hot outside, what with it being late July and all, and he just showered, like, thirty minutes ago.

Every time a notification goes off on his phone, his stomach flips in a really awful way. Jamie turns off his phone.

Maybe now that he’s said something, it’ll die down. Since he’s made it clear he’s not bothered by it, that he can take whatever they give, they’ll stop.

And then, the first match of the season, Jamie walks onto the pitch, and a familiar song starts up. It’s not his song — but it’s certainly for him.

“Are they singing . . . ‘Barbie Girl’?” Colin asks from behind him.

“And changing the pronoun to ‘he’,” Jan adds, helpful as ever.

Jamie catches sight of one of the cameras recording the match, grins and sticks out his tongue, and when he looks to the opposing fans’ side, he even gives a little bow. Just for them. He thinks about something Lasso said to him once about bullying, after he stopped being a dick to Nate and asked why Ted never stepped in. Acknowledging it almost always makes it worse. Sorry that Jamie had believed in the ‘almost’.

;

After getting booted from Keeley’s and after a dinner at a kebab place that Jamie knows is good because Roy didn’t actually make him sit and watch — he picked bits of lamb from the skewer and placed them on the napkin i​​n front of Jamie without a word — it’s not unusual for him and Roy to get dinner together. Sometimes it’s just them at Roy’s, who’s a better cook than his mum but not better than Simon, and sometimes it’ll be at a pub, and sometimes they’ll go to a restaurant. It was with ruddy cheeks that Roy admitted the kebab shop was like his church, but Jamie wasn’t judging. He thinks he understood the ecstasy of St Theresa after a bite of that lamb.

Tonight, however, Roy drops Jamie off at his place, and then parks the car and follows him in.

“Uh,” Jamie says when Roy stands in the entryway, a hand behind his back, posture stiff, “can I help you?”

“Go to your room,” Roy replies, and Jamie’s eyes go wide, and he says, “O-kay, Daddy,” before he backtracks, but Roy is backtracking too. “I mean, go somewhere that isn’t behind me or the kitchen.”

Jamie’s mouth drops into an ‘o’. “Right. Okay. I’ll just go to the living room, then.”

Roy nods, and Jamie walks slowly to the couch, backwards so he can watch Roy watching him.

He manages to sit still on his couch for a good two minutes, listening to Roy clattering about his kitchen, before he hops up and goes to sit at his dining table instead. It’s there that he sees a paper bag, and it takes everything in him not to peek into it. At the sound of the chair scraping against the floor, Roy leans back from where he’d had his head stuck in Jamie’s fridge, and he turns to look back at Jamie, who smiles innocently at him. He even waggles his fingers in a wave for good measure.

Roy rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, so Jamie thinks it’s fine, and he doesn’t think about how good it feels to be the one behind Roy Kent’s smile. Roy goes back to rummaging through the fridge.

Eventually, Jamie gets roped into helping out, but all his complaints are customary, and he thinks if he had allowed himself — if he had been allowed — to dream about domesticity, this is exactly how it would’ve been. Right down to the celebrity footballer. It’s kind of perfect.

Then, Jamie’s phone goes off.

It’s his news app, which he keeps forgetting to turn off the notifications for, and it irritates him every time, but especially when he actually clicks the notification ‘cause the story looks interesting, only to find out he’s somehow already used up his articles for the month, and would he please be willing to spare a few pounds every month for more? In theory, yes, he is willing. In practice . . . he has other places to put his money.

That being said, the irritation he feels then is nothing compared to the humiliation he feels now, reading the headline: This Barbie is a Footballer: AFC Richmond Jamie Tartt’s new song.

Roy is turned the other way, so luckily, he can’t see the way Jamie’s smile immediately drops from his face. This shit isn’t even important! It’s just some stupid fan war mess, the opponents’ fans trying to get in his head, and it’s not fucking working, alright? He doesn’t care. He’s just embarrassed that it’s apparently made the news. It’s really not a big deal.

When he looks up from his phone, Roy is looking at him. Jamie swallows.

“It’s nothin’,” he tells him. “Just some politician, saying some stupid thing. Sam sent it to me to rant.”

Roy nods, but he looks like he doesn’t believe him. Jamie’s voice had wavered in the middle, so he doesn’t believe himself either. But he still doesn’t budge, just leans back against the counter and waits for Roy to either turn away or say something in return. Roy turns away. Over his shoulder, he says, “I have something for you after we eat.”

“Whatever’s in the bag?” Jamie asks. Roy grunts. “Is it concert tickets? Am I goin’ to see Taylor fucking Swift? The bag’s just to throw me off, obviously.”

“Fuck no,” Roy’s response is, pun intended, swift and immediate. Jamie grins. “You’ll see later. Just . . . wait.”

Jamie groans. “Fine. But it better be good, since you got me all excited for the concert.”

Roy gives him a stern glare. Jamie puts his hands up, then gets back to washing the dishes they’re done using.

All throughout their meal, Jamie struggles to sit still, and his eyes, without fail, return to the bag. It becomes enough of a problem that Roy takes the bag and hides it in his lap, but Jamie’s no coward, so his gaze still wanders to — well.

“The quicker you finish eating, the sooner you get to see it,” Roy growls out around his own mouthful of salmon and quinoa (Jamie was surprised he had those things in his freezer and cupboard too, but it made a damn good meal, so he’s not complaining).

Jamie grows a lot more focussed after that, and he’s done within minutes — nay, seconds. Roy raises his eyebrows in approval. Jamie licks the leftover glaze for the salmon off his fork for good measure. Roy looks down at his plate.

Once Roy finishes eating, the paper bag makes its triumphant return, Roy setting it between them. He nods his head at it, and Jamie takes it quickly, before the other can change his mind and take it back.

He doesn’t expect what he pulls out, but he feels like he should. He looks between the Barbie and Roy, who’s staring at Jamie with a gaze so intense Jamie worries he might burn up from it. If this had been bestowed to him any time the year before, especially from Roy, he’d think it a continuation of the insult. But all he feels right now is laughter, the weight in his stomach turning into something bubbly and light that works its way up his throat and past his lips. Slowly — because he’s out of practice, the old fart — Roy begins to smile back.

The stupid fucking made-to-move soccer Barbie is even wearing an England kit, and when Jamie turns her around, he grins at the number and name on the back.

“You fucking dick,” he says, the words coming out as a hiss through his teeth, that’s how hard he’s grinning.

“You’re Jamie fucking Tartt,” Roy replies, and Jamie wishes he had a word to describe the look the other was sending him, but the best he can do is say how it makes him feel — really fucking good; like nothing could ever hurt him; like there is no one else in the world but the two of them; like he could go win the World Cup, the FA Cup, all the Leagues, every award in the football world, and not break a single sweat. It makes him feel a lot like he’s in love.

Roy’s not done: “You are everything. Who gives a shit if some pricks call you Barbie? You fucking own it, Jamie. You are every-fucking-thing, and they’re not even Ken.”

And Jamie will make fun of him for it later, that he’s more than aware of the movie’s tagline, but at the moment, he’s clutching the Barbie to his chest like a lifeline, and he feels a sting behind his eyes, like tears are threatening to spill, and his cheeks hurt with how hard he’s smiling.

Roy clears his throat. “Phoebe said there are ways you can change the hair, but . . . don’t use heat. It’s plastic. You can cut it or dye it fucking . . . walnut haze or whatever.”

Jamie doesn’t even correct him that it’s walnut mist. He’s close enough.

He gives the doll one last squeeze. “Thanks, Roy, I mean it.”

Roy doesn’t reply, just gives a grunt and nods his head. That’s alright too. Jamie looks down at the doll again, then leans back in his seat. He holds it up to his face, angles her head so they’re cheek-to-cheek more or less.

“Like twins, ain’t we?”

And Jamie wonders if maybe there were something in the food, or maybe in their drinks, because it seems like Roy can’t stop smiling either.

;

The opposing fans are at it again. Jamie sees Roy glance back at him and grins. He considers mouthing all good, coach, but he’s more interested in using one arm to wave and the other to hold his Barbie up the same way he had when it was just him and Roy, teeth bared all the while. The crowd goes wild, of course.

He’s Jamie fucking Tartt. He’s everything. Of course no one is going to think of him as just Ken — that’s just ridiculous.

in case you can’t tell “condemnations” is supposed to be “connotations”. ily jamieisms 💚 also i wrote this rly fast on my phone so sorry & now on ao3 if u'd prefer to read it there ✌️

[dracomysthical]

no longer describing my day as “kind of bad” or “horrible” or “i don’t know how i got through that” from now on I’m rating my day with the ten plagues. so far i had a pretty good day but a little tired from sleep deprivation, that’s blood in the water bruv. last night was a solid lice, maybe frogs sort of night, couldn’t sleep at all from rage. if I suddenly go completely off the radar and you know I’m still alive that means I’m having a darkness moment. stub my toe and its death of the firstborn etc etc etc