#I'll probably go over this in the morning and tidy it up a little

[masquenoire]

@riddleroyalty​ made a really good post about how their Riddler views his fellow villains so I thought I might try and do something similar with Roman. Enjoy!

The Joker - Roman absolutely fucking DETESTS the Joker. Their first meeting did not go well at all, with the Joker having killed his girlfriend, getting the better of him during a physical altercation and usurping his identity during the events of Arkham Origins. It’s a bitter, bitter memory for Roman and an experience that made him regress considerably, becoming much more paranoid and aggressive due to how the Joker so effortlessly caused so much damage in one night and for what? To get Batman’s attention?? Roman would dearly love to put a bullet between the clown’s eyes but his madness and unpredictability only serves to warn Black Mask against interacting with him at all unless his hand’s been forced. The Riddler - Roman does not like Edward. It’s not because the man’s wronged him exactly... Edward just rubs him the wrong way and the mindgames don’t help. Roman is a bully and likes being direct whereas Edward beats around the bush, wasting time with convoluted schemes just to prove his smarts. Unfortunately this means he’s too crafty to be manipulated so easily, even if Roman felt inclined to try. Roman might be a tiger in comparison but Edward is the monkey who’ll yank his tail and disappear into the treetops before he’s able to retaliate. Fortunately their interests are too different for them to interact often but whenever they do cross paths? Neither man will have a good time.

@deciphertheriddler​’s Edward is a slight exception, with Roman having developed a marginally more positive opinion of. His unassuming looks, acts of extreme violence towards corrupt policitians and imposing mask that inspired terror across Gotham has intrigued Roman, though he knows not to underestimate Edward despite his ‘harmless’ appearance. Tries not to give him a hard time.

Scarecrow - In spite of the Good Doctor’s intelligence, there’s something about Jonathan Crane that Roman can’t bring himself to fully respect. It might be that skinny body or reliance on fear toxins that makes his lip curl, thinking that a truly frightening person doesn’t need to rely on drugs to incite terror. Roman thinks it’s cheap using chemicals to do the job for him though he rarely voices this opinion out loud as he doesn’t want to know what getting a full dosage of fear juice must feel like. Jonathan is smart but his obsession with fear and all it entails isn’t something Roman cares much for.

@arkhampsych​’s Dr. Crane is regarded as ‘positively’ as Roman can towards an employee of Arkham Asylum. He doesn’t feel as though Jonathan pretends to care unlike other psychiatrists working there, keeping their sessions professional and straight to the point. Jonathan’s lack of ‘phoney’ airs has Roman more willing to talk and engage, and the topic of masks between them can get particularly deep.

Mad Hatter - Roman has no idea what to think when it coms to Jervis Tetch. Seriously, Alice in fucking Wonderland? It’s a children’s book for crying out loud and an old one at that too, though Roman doesn’t disapprove of the Mad Hatter’s dedication to his work. Those rabbit masks? Top notch. That technology to brainwash and control people? Roman might consider investing in said tech were Jervis a more... lucid person. He’s not accepting any invitations to a tea party anytime soon but Roman considers the Mad Hatter a clever, if somewhat disturbing little man. Victor Zsasz - Somebody Roman finds to be most interesting. Zsasz is feared and for good reason, being a serial killer who mutilates his own body to commemorate his kills and on a strange level, Roman has mad respect for how far the other is willing to go for that goal. Pain is something many people are afraid of and shy away from at all costs but much like Roman, Zsasz is not only willing to embrace pain but invites her veritably, dedicating his own body as a temple. It’s truly mask off behaviour, so raw and open that Roman can’t bring himself to look away, wondering what grisly tale each and every scar holds. Two Face - There are few things Roman hates more than a ‘two-faced’ person and Harvey Dent embodies that term perfectly. Being two sides of the same coin, Harvey and ‘Harv’ are a tough read, both equally challenging and too vicious for Black Mask to chase off so easily. Similar interests in territory, wealth and power through similar means (i.e: drugs, weapons, ect.) makes him a most unwelcome rival in Gotham and an especially hard nut for Roman to crack. Penguin - Of all the ‘mafia’ type rogues, Roman loathes Oswald Cobblepot the most. He’s such a short, pompous little man and Roman would love nothing more than to punt him across his own Iceberg Lounge and sit in his chair. Unfortunately Penguin is a canny bird with a sharp beak and an equally sharp tongue, and his more ‘subtle’ doings are nothing short of vexing for Roman. That gentlemanly act? Cut the crap, Cobblepot. Roman can see right through that shit and he’s not impresssed. Scarface - Freaky little man with a freaky little doll. He’s a good ventriloquist, Roman will give Arnold that but it’s hard to imagine that simpering little coward having the mind to pull off such a convincing act through Scarface. Roman’s sure Arnold’s just as nuts as everybody else is in Gotham but the opposing personalities, the difference between them makes it really hard to tell. Doesn’t like Scarface at all, seeing him as another rival on his turf. Bane - Roman prefers to give Bane a wide berth, both figuratively and literally. Somebody who can break Batman’s spine is NOT one to aggravate and despite his looks, Bane is no slouch in the mental department either. What makes Roman even warier is how calm and collected Bane seems to be, clearly thinking ahead and evaluating his actions. It’s not a feeling Roman enjoys at all, knowing he’s outclassed physically, mentally and emotionally all at once. Fortunately much like with Edward, Bane and Roman rarely have reason to cross paths and he greatly prefers leaving the juggernaught to his own business. Killer Croc - Waylon Jones is also given a wide berth for similar reasons to Bane but Roman won’t hestitate to contact the man if he wants a certain type of ‘muscle’ for a job. Killer Croc has been treated as an outcast his whole life due to his reptilian appearance but Roman honestly couldn’t care less about how he looks, liking the other man’s similarly honest and direct nature. If and when they do end up working together, Roman makes sure Waylon gets paid and treated fairly... those rumours about Killer Croc eating people isn’t something he wants to test on the offchance they are true. Clayface - A bit of an enigma. Roman doesn’t really know what to think of Clayface other than the man is an incredible actor and is impressive with how effortlessly he can take on the looks and personality of another. It’s a bit disconcerting really, especially with how convincing Basil can be and Roman would be lying if he wasn’t *slightly* jealous about it. He’s content having a body consisting of actual flesh and blood though. Harley Quinn - Really doesn’t like her, due to her personality and her links to the Joker. Individually he can handle her in small doses but somehow the clown always finds a way to push every one of his buttons like a kid in an elevator, every word and action finding ways to get under his skin. It’s a grating experience whenever Harley’s around and after she’s gone, Roman quickly finds himself needing a hard drink. How can one woman push so many of his triggers in such a short amount of time? Nobody knows, but @quinnzelles​ spoiled almost as many movies as he’s downed shots of booze. Poison Ivy - Pam is hot. Scary but hot. Unfortunately she doesn’t seem to care much for Roman and he’d rather avoid ending up as plant fertilizer or brainwashed due to spores... or pheromones, or whatever the hell she’s capable of producing. Treats her much like a very dangerous plant cordoned off in a private exhibit, something to admire from a distance and not approach no matter how tempting it is to do so. Catwoman - Roman both hates and fixates on her, formerly for her close ties to Batman and secondly for her occupation as a thief. Roman is paranoid she’ll come slinking through his windows some dark night to make off with his things - his money, his masks, he’s certain she’s going to pull something some day and he just can’t have that waiting to be a problem now, can he? Unfortunately there is some twisted infatuation held in regards to Selina Kyle due to her vivaciousness and aggression, wondering what exactly it is about her that has captivated his interest so. Mr. Freeze - These two have very little to do with one another, if they ever did. Victor Fries is an oddity in Gotham, causing crime not to enrich himself or to exact revenge against another but to save his wife and ensure she has a healthy future. It’s admirable, especially as Roman once lost somebody he cared about and loved very deeply so the lengths that Victor goes to is nothing short of impressive. Other than that, they share absolutely nothing in common and Victor probably doesn’t feel as kindly towards Roman as Roman does in turn.

[bee-wg]

PROLOGUE:

Our family isn’t too big. Ever since my grandparents moved to their cottage by the lake, It's just been the three of us. I don't even bring my teammates or friends home. And all the peacefulness is about to change. 

“Ahh Shit- Sorry!” the fumbling buffoon said. 

“Language, sweetheart. David! Could you help him pick it up? I'm tidying up the kitchen,” My mom replied. 

“Coming!” My dad sprints down the stairs. 

“Oh, Pumpkin, you're all grown up! Are you prepared for the semester?” Dad gestured to the culinary tools scattered across the floor. 

“Yes, of course. Sorry about the mess,” he replied. The “Pumpkin” in question is my cousin, Theo. He's about to attend a college in the city to study culinary arts… or something. And, of course, he’s sharing the room with me. Not for long, though. I have a few buddies who have invited me to share a room with them. They reek, but it's a necessary evil. 

“Jay,” my dad asked, nudging me, “Remember when you guys used to play house together every summer?” 

“Yes, then he bit me and we never talked again,” I deadpanned. 

“Oh come on, he was just a kid,” Dad retorted. 

No, he wasn't. He was a little demon that stole my pretend credit card. My hand still itches thinking about that vicious attack. 

I put down Theo’s luggage and bit back the argument. “I'll go back to the car to see what’s left.” 

“Alright bud, thanks for the help.”

“No problem.” He could probably thank me by asking what happened at football camp, but what do I know? It's not like we haven't talked about football the entire summer. We could be doing that right now, on the deck with some ice-cold beer. But the twinky little “Pumpkin” needs help, and I have the muscle for it. 

God, I wish the summer was over already.

***

“Hahahaha Exactly! I have never seen Chloé like that before.” Dad laughed.

“Right? Who knew mom had sass in her.”

Mom's competitiveness was kicked off by Theo's presence. The kitchen has basically been a war zone for the past two weeks.

Looking down at my watch, the light flashes on.

6 kilometres down, 5 more to go.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a good morning run with Dad like this one. The ocean breeze flowing past my hair and the faint rays of sunrise brought back some old memories. 

Regulating my breathing, we slowed down for a second.

“Damn, son - your stamina has gotten so much better this past year.”

“The football camp really made you put up 20 pounds of pure muscles too, I’m glad I recommended you there.” Dad beamed proudly at me.

“You’re not too bad yourself, for an aging old man.”

I still get the same rush every time he compliments me. It’s like a reassurance that I’m doing something right.

“Hahahaha, you won’t be saying that when you’re one foot in your 40s; it’s basically death by fossilization.”

Dad has always been modest with his body, but everyone who knows him either admires his body, wants him, or is jealous of him and I am the same. Ever since high school I’ve been inspired to be like him. Even with the 15 pounds of muscle I have over him, I’m still lacking in so many ways. He just has the confidence to own it.

“Want some water?”

“Oh, right, of course. Thanks.” I took over the ice-cold bottle.

“About that training camp, I should request the school board to have the team register next summer for the training course. High school kids these days don't care about sports as much no more.” Dad said

“Speaking of which, remember your friend Lancaster who got held back for two years?”

“Yeah, Avery. He used to scold me when I didn’t take the nutrition classes with him. Haven’t hung with him in a while though.”

“Well, he probably won’t scold anymore. The kid got too cocky after getting a full sports scholarship and gained 70 pounds of fat in the summer. The university probably revoked the funds. Hope he didn't take it too hard.”

“Shit, that’s awful. I didn’t expect it to be him out of anyone. He was a damn good receiver.”

We resumed the pace, avoiding some rogue cyclists on the way.

Crazy to think the weight could creep up on Avery Lancaster of all people. I should watch out for myself too. I have good genes from dad so it probably will never happen, but the new influx of delicious food from Theo and my mom’s little competition definitely doesn’t help. At least it keeps the brat out of my room.

“Dad, I think I’m not going to move in with Brad and the guys.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” 

“Well first of all, as much as I love them, the guys stinks. Second of all, Theo is not as much of a blood-sucking gremlin as he was before. And I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye to you guys.”

“Plus, How can I leave when the thing with mom just got interesting.”

“Staying for the family drama, huh?” He chuckled.

“We’re happy to have you for as long as you want, Jay. Truth be told, your mom has been crying about it for weeks. We’re both not ready to say goodbye too.”

“Tell you what, Chloe and Theo probably have some fancy lasagnas waiting for us back home; let's cut through the forest and head back early to celebrate.” He said, practically drooling.

“Lasagnas for breakfast?”

“Wait, You just want the Lasagnas. Don’t you?”

“Hahaha, Maybe.”

“Well, don’t get too drawn in, or you’ll end up as Hansel in the candy house.” 

He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

That would be funny to imagine though, cause Dad is anything but a glutton.

Chapter 1 ->

[bahrtofane]

kylians sick, and only you can make him feel better

word count - 1.1 k+

watch it - pure fluff ^^

-----

kylian feels like shit. a pile of straight garbage. what he thought was a small headache and stuffy nose has snowballed full force into the worst cold he’s had since he was like 5. at least he hopes it’s just a cold. 

his eyes droop wet and cloudy with the tears that he keeps blinking away. he desperately wants to go to sleep but the constant leaking of his nose and the feeling of being permanently submerged in water from his ears down is making that impossible. his left ear hurts with each movement of his head, god forbid he yaws, not only does it send a shock wave of pain to his ear but also makes the swelling of his sore throat that much more apparent. 

his head pounds, phone long forgotten somewhere tossed on the floor. and to top it all off he thinks he’s running a fever. it’s so cold, no matter how hard he tries to sink deeper into his mattress, hugging his comforter tighter, he can’t fight the constant chill that creeps up his spine. 

it’s around 2 am last time he checked. god fucking dammit he just needs to go to bed. he so desperately wishes you were here, to kiss away his frustrated tears, tuck him into bed properly, make him feel better. but he doesn’t want to bother you. especially not at this time. he can power through this, he knows he can.

hours pass by in agony. the sweat has pooled in his sheets, sticking it to him and permanently settling in a cold he can’t shake off. it’s shit. he feels like shit. he probably smells like it too. And to make everything so much fucking better training is first thing tomorrow morning. Shit shit shit shit. 

why does this always happen to him at the most inconvenient of times. what it the hair he didn’t dry off before bed 2 days ago? the coat he didn’t wear when taking the trash out? ice water he drank after practice? holy fucking shit, he writhes in his sheets and comforters again, silently praying to any entity out there to end this suffering. 

the pain and exhaustion is what knocks him out. for better or worse. 

——-

kylian eyes open blearily, blinking away harsh rays of sunlight and crusties from the restless night. when he wakes he realizes one of two things, 1) it’s way, way, past training, and 2) he feels impossibly worse. 

he doesn’t get out of bed, mainly because he just can’t. the pain has immobilized him, fearing if he so much as moves an inch it’ll sink him further into helpless suffering. 

so he whines pitifully and closes his eyes tight. 

——-

he’s woken up again, but not by the sun, or pain. it’s the sound of his door opening that startles him awake. lovely, absolutely marvelous. he’s fucking bed ridden and about to be robbed. what a time to be alive. 

the footsteps don’t sound like an intruders, soft and gentle as they pad around his apartment. kylian waits in silence. what if it’s someone sent to check on him? hakimi most likely.

when the door to his room opens he’s never been happier to be wrong. 

it’s you, standing in his hoodie, wrapped in one of the blankets he leaves on the couch. a god send. 

you take one look at his feeble state and frown. 

“kyky?” 

all he can do is manage a garbled response, more of a pitiful whine. 

you rush over, kicking the blanket off and rushing up to cup his face in your hands. 

“my sweet baby, are you sick?” you murmur. 

a weak nod. 

“shit you're burning up, hold on.”  

you come back with a thermometer, gently opening his mouth and setting it under his tongue. 

“hold still baby.” you whisper, hand holding his jaw in place, he almost melts into your touch.

he waits for what feels like hours, till the little beeps go off and you gently remove the plastic from his mouth. 

“you have a fever all right. i prescribe to you bed rest, lots of fluids, and tylenol for the pain. “ 

he blinks sleepy and you take that as an answer. 

you get to work tidying up his room for him while he blinky sleepily as you.

"just rest, I'll call the team for you."

he goes back to the safety of sleep the moment you finish your sentence. 

—--

when he wakes out yet again, its to you at the foot of his bed, and a bowl of spoop in hand.

he grimaces at the thought but you shake your head, "you gotta eat baby."

he all but sobs trying to get up to eat properly, but you make it work. gently spooning the hot soup into his mouth. 

it takes a little while but the soup is half done when he calls it quits. flopping back into his expanse of pillows and blankets. 

he makes a noise and you feel his hand desperately reaching for you, as meek as can be. you give it to him, gently swiping your thumb over his. 

bed time proves to be a hassle as all he can do is groan in pain, begging for you to join him in the very few words he can croak out. 

“if i get sick, who will take care of you? “ 

he stays silent, out of spite or inability remains a mystery as you tuck him into bed properly and take your things to the guest room. 

——-

thankfully, it is just a cold and he’s back to his usual self in no more than 3 days. all thanks to you. 

he’s a quiet type of thanker, thanks lies in his actions and eyes rather than words. 

the gentle hand that rests on the small of your back, picking you up even if its just a 5 minute drive. he gets you flowers, and even takes you out to dinner. 

your smiles the whole way and it makes him beyond happy.

he finally gets those kisses he wanted to bad, easy and smooth against his skin.

"thank you darling." he hums, hands on your waist, bringing you close. 

you smile against his lips, melting into them once more. you sit on his lap at the edge of his bed. at the edge of the world you feel sometimes.

"come to the match?" he almost begs.

"always."

"I have a jersey I want to see you in." he plays with the hem of your shirt.

"when do you not want to see me in your jersey?" you playfully roll your eyes. 

he snorts, flipping you into your back, mercilessly attacking your sides with tickles as you burst at the seams.

you laugh till you cant breath, and he's enjoying this all too much. collapsing into you when he's had enough. 

"your heavy." you squeak.

he pretends not to listen, you resort to kicking him off.

"wheres this jersey ?" 

he immediately jumps at this, taking your hand in his to lead you to your 50th jersey of his at this point. you don't mind, if anything it fills you with pride and joy to wear his jerseys. always his.

[mopopshop]

wait i sent a request like two days go where reader had a kid from a previous relationship would u mind writing it with Paige instead 😭

Found Family (Paige Bueckers x OC)

summary: At 21, You are balancing motherhood and new love. After getting pregnant at 17, you co-parent with Caleb, Rya's mostly absent father. Now dating college basketball star Paige Bueckers, Paige steps up as a mother figure to Rya. 

might make this a series 🫣 like an assortment of little fics and blurbs from their life, i’d love for yall to give me requests about this family and like situations for me to write but just lmk🫶🏾

hope you guys enjoy!!

It's a warm Saturday morning, and the sun is filtering through the curtains, casting a golden hue on the bedroom walls. You can hear the faint sounds of Rya giggling down the hall, probably escaping from her room to grab her tablet. Beside you, Paige stirs, her arm instinctively wrapping around your waist.

"Morning," she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep.

You turn to face her, smiling softly. "Morning."

Paige stretches, her blonde hair a mess from sleep, and you can't help but think how beautiful she looks, even in these quiet, unguarded moments. She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before sitting up. "I'll go check on Rya."

You watch her leave the room, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. Paige has been a rock in your life, not just for you but for Rya too. At 21, you never imagined your life would look like this, but with Paige, it's better than you ever could have hoped for.

After a few moments, you decide to join them. The smell of pancakes fills the air as you make your way to the kitchen. Rya is sitting at the table, her eyes glued to her tablet screen, a half-eaten pancake on her plate. Paige is at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.

"Mommy!" Rya's face lights up when she sees you, and you can't help but smile. Her happiness is infectious.

"Hey, baby," you say, giving her a quick hug before moving to Paige's side. "Need any help?"

Paige shakes her head. "I've got it. Just sit and relax."

You do as she says, pouring yourself a cup of coffee and watching the two of them interact. Paige is so natural with Rya, so loving and patient. It's something Caleb never quite managed, he and you had a coparenting agreement, but his presence in Rya's life has been sporadic at best.

"Paigey, can we go to the park today?" Rya asks, her eyes wide with excitement.

Paige looks at you, a silent question in her eyes. You nod, and she turns back to Rya. "Of course, we can, kiddo. After breakfast, we'll get ready and head out."

Rya claps her hands, beaming with joy. You can't help but feel a pang of guilt. You wish Caleb could see this, could be a part of these moments and be a dad to Rya. But then you look at Paige, and the guilt fades. She's stepped up in ways you never expected, becoming an additional mother figure to Rya without hesitation.

After breakfast, the three of you begin to get ready for the park. Rya dashes to her room to brush her teeth and find her favorite sneakers, while you and Paige tidy up the kitchen. You rinse the last of the dishes as Paige sneaks up behind you, hooking her chin over her shoulder and wrapping her arms around your waist. 

"Ready for a fun day?" she asks, her breath warm against your neck.

You lean back into her embrace, a smile spreading across your face. "I guess, it’s hot as hell out there though."

Paige chuckles, kissing your cheek before letting go. "Cheer up, it’ll be fun. I’m gonna go help Rya with her outfit," she says, heading down the hall. 

Once the kitchen is clean, you go to your bedroom to change. Opting for a cute Skims athletic set and after you head to Rya's room to grab her. 

Paige is in her room, seated on her bed and sporting a basic t-shirt with basketball shorts while Rya’s dancing around the room. She's already picked out her outfit—a bright pink dress and her favorite sneakers. She looks up at you with a toothy grin. "I'm ready, Mommy!"

"Almost, sweetheart. Lemme brush your hair first," you say, grabbing a brush and gently working through her tangles. 

Once you finish Rya bolts from her room to the front door, bouncing on her toes, her excitement palpable. "Let's go, let's go!"

You grab your bag, making sure you have everything you need—snacks, water, sunscreen. Paige helps Rya with her small backpack, and you all head out the door. The walk to the park is filled with chatter and laughter, Rya skipping ahead and pointing out every interesting thing she sees.

"Look, Mommy! A butterfly!" Rya exclaims, chasing after it with her arms outstretched.

You smile, watching her with amusement. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Paige chuckles beside you as Rya stops suddenly, bending down to pick a small flower. She runs back to you, holding it up proudly. "For you, Mommy!"

"Thank you, baby," you say, taking the flower and tucking it behind your ear.

Paige grins, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "You look even more beautiful now."

You laugh, nudging her playfully. "You’re so corny"

Rya resumes her skipping, pointing out a bird perched on a tree branch. "Paigey, look! A bird!"

Paige nods, waving at the bird. "Hi, Mr. Bird!"

Rya giggles, imitating Paige. "Hi, Mr. Bird!"

At the park, Rya takes off towards the playground, her joy uncontainable. You find a shady spot under a tree and take a seat on the bench. Paige sits beside you, her hand finding yours, fingers intertwining.

"This is nice," you say, leaning your head on her shoulder.

Paige kisses the top of your head. "It is. We need to do it more often, i’ll start begging Coach to give us more days off”

You laugh softly. "Good luck with that."

Paige smirks. "I have my ways."

You watch Rya climb the jungle gym, her laughter ringing out as she makes a new friend. After a while, Rya runs back to the blanket, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Mommy, Paige! I made a new friend! Can we have a picnic now?"

Paige smiles, opening the picnic basket. "Absolutely. Let's spread out the food."

You help Rya sit down, and she starts excitedly unpacking the snacks. "Look, Mommy! I brought my favorite cookies!"

You laugh, feeling the warmth of the moment. "Good job, baby."

The three of you enjoy the assortment of snacks, sharing stories and laughter. Rya munches on her cookies, happily chattering.

"Mommy, guess what?" Rya says between bites of her cookie. "My new friend likes the swings too! We took turns pushing each other."

You smile, nodding. "That's great, Ry. Did you have fun?"

Rya nods enthusiastically. "So much fun! And she said I can play with her again next time."

Paige chuckles, taking a sip of water. "Sounds like you made a good friend, Rya."

Rya looks up at Paige with wide eyes. "Paigey, can we come back to the park tomorrow?"

"We'll see, kiddo," Paige replies with a grin. "Maybe if we get all our chores done."

Rya pouts playfully. "Okay, I'll be super helpful!"

You laugh, reaching over to ruffle Rya's hair. "I have no doubt about that."

Paige shifts the conversation. "Man, I forgot we still have that paper to finish for US Lit”

You sigh, nodding. "I know, I've been dreading it. I haven't even started the conclusion yet."

Rya looks between the two of you, curiosity evident on her face. "What's a paper?"

You explain, "It's something we have to write for school, like a long story about a certain topic."

"Oh," Rya says, thoughtfully munching on another cookie. "Can I read it when you're done?"

Paige laughs. "Maybe when you're a bit older, Ry."

The conversation flows easily and eventually, the snacks are gone, you all start packing up. Rya helps by collecting the wrappers and putting them in the trash bag.

After the picnic, you decide it's time to head home. Rya's energy starts to wane as you walk back, and she holds onto Paige's hand, yawning.

"Think someone needs a nap," Paige says with a knowing smile.

Back home, you tuck Rya into her bed, brushing a kiss on her forehead.  Rya mumbles sleepily, "Love you, Mommy. Love you, Paigey."

"Love you too, babes," you both reply in unison.

With Rya down for her nap, you and Paige retreat to the living room. You both have coursework from the university to catch up on. Paige grabs her laptop, settling on the couch, while you take a seat at the dining table with your textbooks.

"How's that paper going baby?" Paige asks, glancing up from her screen.

"Slowly," you admit with a sigh “It’s just so.. goddamn boring”

“Need me to come over there and entertain you?” Paige says mischievously

“No you horndog, do your work”

Paige laughs, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. But I'm here if you need a break."

The next couple of hours pass in a comfortable silence, the soft sound of typing filling the room. When you both finish your work, Paige stands up, stretching her arms. "I'm gonna  start dinner. Any requests?"

You smile, feeling a wave of gratitude. "Whatever you feel like is fine."

Paige grins and heads to the kitchen. You tidy up your study materials and join her, helping with the prep. The kitchen fills with the delicious aroma of spices and home-cooked food. 

Dinner is a relaxed affair, the three of you sharing the meal and talking about the day. Rya, now well-rested, is full of energy and stories. After dinner, you go through your nightly routine. Paige handles the dishes while you give Rya a bath.

Rya giggles as you wash her hair, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Mommy, can I have a bedtime story tonight?"

"Of course," you say, wrapping her in a fluffy towel and carrying her to her room. Paige joins you, sitting on the edge of Rya's bed as you read her favorite storybook. Rya listens intently, her eyelids growing heavy.

When the story ends, you kiss her goodnight. "Sleep tight, baby."

Paige leans in, adding her own goodnight kiss. "Sweet dreams, Ry."

 With Rya asleep, you and Paige retreat to your room. Showering before you change into comfortable pajamas, the day's events catching up with you. Paige pulls you into her arms, and you nestle against her, feeling safe and loved.

"Today was perfect," you whisper.

Paige kisses your forehead. "Every day with you and Rya is perfect."

With that you drift off to sleep, your heart full.

———

[bloodykora]

Orange Tainted Fingers

MDNI! THIS IS 18 PLUSSS

This was very much influenced by @ilovemycatkafir comment on my Scrapped Knees. So big thanks to her!

I would recommend reading Just a Little Gift which sets up this premise which you can read here. If you decide not to then its basically stalker mc with stalker Sol. Hope yall enjoy!!!

TW: end of day 2 spoilers, aka B+E, attempted drugging, stalking/yandere behaviours

There was always a craving of fresh orange juice, one of the best parts of being raised on a farm. A nice cold cup of OJ in the morning instead of the over sugared and weirdly pulped store stuff.

It was a habit that followed you to school, first getting the jugs of OJ before you went back to buying oranges to juice on the weekends. Weekly routine which somewhat soothed you on the days you were most stressed. And on the worst days it was right under desperately wanting to crawl into bed.

It had been a hectic day, studies on top of going out with Hyugo and Sol after classes. Hyugo not wanting to run errands by himself and Sol agreeing after you had decided to go. All you could fantasize now was stripping off your socks and having a seat.

Your door lock clicks as you take your keys out of it, opening and stepping in your apartment. Closing and locking it behind you, dropping your bag, chucking off your shoes and flopping on the sofa. Taking a deep breath in as you adjust to the now quietness of the house.

You slide into your usual routine, already had eaten so you didn't need to do dishes however there was laundry to pick up off the floor of your room. Tidying and sweeping the kitchen and bathroom, general cleaning. You glance at the clock on the stove, its vibrant green light reading to be past 9. Deciding its time to head to bed.

You open the fridge and pull out a spoon, setting the jug on the counter while you grab a small glass. Ready to stir and have a cup before going to bed. You take the wrap off the top before pausing, there was no separation. There was nothing to stir, which was off considering it had been probably 12 hours since you last touched it.

You pause and think, what or who did it and why? No sign of forced entry, no broken front lock or kicked in door and nothing stolen. So how? You pour it into the cup, your back out to the rest of the apartment and lifting the cup to your face. Then reaching down and pouring it in the sink quietly, rinsing out the cup and the juice.

Making sure if there was someone watching, they thought you had taken a sip of it at least. You calm your breath, not wanting to panic. You continue your routine, turning off the lights and going to burst your teeth. Heart pounding into your ears, adrenaline now overtaking any fear you may have had.

Snuggling into bed, having your phone under the pillow in case anything happened and your hand clutched around the pink frog plush for comfort.

You close your eyes and listen, tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity. Laying still as you could be, crickets and the wind would be almost lullabyic if it wasn't for the situation. Finally, a click from the window makes your face scrunch. Thankful but nervous your back was to it.

Your eyes open slightly as a pair of shoes hit the floor, your eyes adjusted to the darkness so you could see perfectly. You still your breathing again, shutting your eyes and tensing every muscle to not shake. Your arms clutch each other, the frog still in between them.

The stranger's feet carry themselves around the bed, a hand going to reach out to graze your legs. A hummed breath coming out as they admire your sleeping beauty.

Sol recognizes the small trembling in your body, a small frown appearing on his face as he squats down to look at your face. Your face slightly twitching as his hand touches your temple.

"Oh are you having a nightmare?" He pauses, his voice finally pierces your ears. "I'll chase all your monsters away pumpkin." Realization creeps up your ears and face, along with his hand. The man you had been obsessed with was now in your room, staring while you 'slept' and caressing you.

Your heart quickens but not out of fear anymore, in adoration. Planning in your head to now accept all the attention Sol wanted to give you but was just too nervous to while you were awake.

"Hmm, that seemed to have work. You've calmed right down just from me touching you. That's so cute." His voice was so delicate, not wanting to stir you from your slumber at all. You bit your tongue, yearning to just clamp your hand around his.

He takes your right arm, closing his eyes and putting your palm to his face. Relaxing in your touch, rubbing your hand with his thumb. You decided to peek open your eyes, taking the risk in benefit of seeing his peaceful face in your hand.

His hair felt so soft, it being out of his normal half up half down style. A black face mask pull down over his chin, very about break and enter kind of outfit. You closed your eyes again, a smile resting on your face.

Sol makes a comment about how soft your skin is, and how he should paint your nails to match his. You feel like you're being baked in the most pleasant ray of sun, his attention fuelling you for the whole next day ahead. You can his muttering, his usual small comments he thought you couldn't hear.

"I could just wrap in your scent til the end of time, staying in your arms so no one else ma-" He stops in the middle of his sentence, a thing he had never done since you'd known him. His hands withdraw from you, your concerns now growing.

"Frog, the frog. No, no it can't be." You barely make out his words, immediately realizing he's talking about the stuffie in your grasp. It now being more easily to see after he had taken your arm. The same frog that had matched his.

The one you had left on his bed.

Your bedroom stays quiet again, you could almost hear his mind running. Anxiety and dread filling the space between belly and chest again as you wondered if he'd run.

'He can't run, no. Don't want to scare him, but he can't run.' Your mind now running along with his, planning what would happen if he did book it. It didn't take much time for the both of you to make up your mind.

Sol's feet leaning back on the wood of the floor, a creaking escaping into the room. Arguably the loudest thing you've heard all night, all your life. Your right arm moves on instinct, reaching out and gripping the sweater he had on.

His crimson eyes shoot to yours, a look now lingering on your face that he had never seen before. Yet seemed so familiar.

Your eyes wide open in a dead stare, very clearly not sleeping and staring into his soul.

[sweetpiccolo-blog]

To take care of you... (SMUT)

Oscar Piastri x Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ! ONLY 18+

A/N: This was such an impulsive activity but worth it. This is what I produced. Hope you like it. Warnings: SMUT, and a tiny bit of fluff

Words: 1,8k

Summer holiday has started and somehow you were stuck on track. Well not somehow, some tests were being run. In scorching sun, the guys from McLaren were making one fastest lap after another one, testing the tires, new upgrades, anything and everything.

The only time they were not in their cars was during lunch and at the end in the evening. The sun was starting to set and everyone was running around the garage to tidy everything up ASAP so they could go home. Lando and Oscar went into their rooms to get out of the drenched suits. 

You were Oscar's right hand so you tried to give him some time to get ready to leave, while you tried to get some data for him before he sees them in the team meeting. 

You were chatting with some engineers, when you realized that Oscar is probably waiting for you all cleaned up and ready to go. You excuse yourself and head for the Australian´s room. You knock and get back a soft Come in ! .

You enter and what you see makes you soften your gaze.

Oscar is laying on the couch, sprawled all over, still sweaty and half asleep. What makes you quickly worried is the A/C turned on to maximum blowing straight at him.

“Oscar! Get up. You can't be laying completely drenched under the cold air. You'll get sick! Is that what you want?”

He softly groans and stirs awake. You decided to have none of this so you pull him up and into the bathroom, not caring if he is awake. You helped him out of his shoes and suit, leaving him sitting on the floor in the fireproof white shirt and pants. “Okay mate, you'll have to do the rest. I give you 10 minutes, then we are leaving.” You close the door, not giving him a chance to complain. 

You smile to yourself as this reminds you of his good old F2 times. Oscar was never a drinker, but once he was celebrating his victory with his friends and overdid it. Luckily you were there to save him and get him into bed safely. The only differences are that he isn't drunk now and you work for him.

After a while he comes out, wrapped in a towel, looking like he is more awake. “Good morning sleepyhead. C´mon get dressed and I will wait for you in the car.” , you tease him with a smile. “I know you want to get to the hotel quickly, but you are quite bossy. I hope I'm still sleeping and you aren't this rude to me in reality.”, replies Oscar jokingly, faking a frown. “Can't we stay here for a little bit? Just a quick nap. Then I'll drive to the hotel.”, he tries offering. “Osi, no. Get dressed or I'm leaving you here.”

He sighs: “Yes chef.” 

You go gather his belongings, taking them to the car and saying your farewell to the team for the day, learning that Lando has already left. Oscar gets to you and together you walk towards the car. “You have a lot to learn as a rookie from your teammate.” He looks at you confused: ”What do you mean?”

“Well, he is already on his way, wasting no time…” “Oh cmon, give me a break…” 

“Not yet, gotta get you to your room.” “I'm not a kid anymore and you know me since childhood.” he whines.

“Exactly, I know you enough to know you need to be taken care of 24/7.” you smirk his way as you put the bags into the car. “Osi, I know you are exhausted but just cooperate with me for a few more minutes. I know you can.”

The ride to the hotel was a bit different than you thought. You expected Oscar to fall asleep, instead he was very responsive and talkative. Not like you didn't enjoy it, you just didn't expect it. Finally you arrived at your destination and got out. It was kinda early for you to go eat dinner so you went straight for the rooms. As your trusty friend unlocks the door for you he helps you with some bags and lays on the bed. You look at him: “Alright, I will leave you now. See you tomorrow morning Osi-”

He sits up suddenly. “Hold on! Can you stay the night here? You will just get the stuff you need from your room and come back. We can have a sleepover! Like old times.” he blurs out with hope in his eyes. You laugh at his eagerness and sit next to him : “Well if that's what you want… we can, but if you snore, I'm kicking you out on the balcony.” you joke. “Hey! This is my room. I'm the boss here, your rules don't work on me here.” You look at him with a glint in your eyes. “Oh really?” You were feeling a little bolder today so you decided to play with him a bit. You stood up and climbed onto him so your legs were beside his thighs and you hugged him around his shoulders. Eyes looking at his reddening face and inching closer. “ Someone is feeling themselves after nearly winning a race. Isn't that right?” He was too stunned to say anything. When he finally realized he had you like that, nearly sitting in his lap he woke up from his day dream and put his hands on your hips. It felt so so much better than you thought, to have his palms touch you and warm you up. But you weren't letting him have you. “Well then thanks for letting me stay here for the night Osi. I'll go get my stuff and get right back here.” you ruffled his soft locks and left to go for your pjs. But you didn't get far because the racing driver caught your wrist thanks to his quick reflexes. Under his breath he says: “Where do you think you're going.” You got caught off guard. That didn't sound like a question at all. Oscar stood up and towered over you. “I don't think I am the one feeling them-self in here. You are not going anywhere until we get that attitude out of you.” You are now the shocked one. You are about to say something but he pulls you towards him so your palms are on his chest. “You got to tell me what to do since Thursday. Now it's my turn and you are going to listen, understand sweetie?”

This Oscar was so hot. Not that he isn't usually hot but now he wasn't goofy hot. Just HOT.

“Yes-”

“There we go, I knew you could behave well.” he smiled “Is it okay if I kiss you?”. You stare at him for a moment and smash your lips together. You two get into a rhythm and just go for it. It's messy, it's hot but absolutely amazing. He is holding you by your hips, your hands are on the sides of his head. When you separate to breathe, you simultaneously decide to get rid of your clothes. You climb on the bed in your bra and panties as he stumbles out of his pants and climbs on top of you. You kiss yet again but now with more touching. He pets your stomach and touches around your thighs. You caress his neck and trace his chest with your fingers. Soft touches are everywhere. He pulls away : “God…you are stunning”. He takes your hand and puts a little kiss on your palm. Then he intertwines your and his hand as he squeezes it. You realize how much he loves you. He loves you and knows you care about him. You look into his eyes and nod at him. A silent signal of trust. 

“Climb on top of me…” he orders softly. You sit up and move to hover above his thighs. You guide his hands to the back of your bra and he understands what must be done. He frees your chest and lets his hands do the work. You sigh in comfort and get your fingers in his brown locks. He is so gentle, yet he knows what he wants and you love it. The kisses around your shoulders, chest, upper arms, ribs, just everywhere. It is his and you let him claim it. 

“Osi… don't tease” you whine. “Don't. I want to explore you. Don't be so tense, let me spread my love everywhere…” he speaks against your skin. “Your skin's so soft... so smooth... so warm.”

You let him do what he wants and then it's time to get rid of the last piece of clothing on both of you. He grabs a spare condom from his wallet and puts it on. You would ask him jokingly where he got it from but you don't want to ruin the mood, so you climb on top of him once again. You put your hands on his shoulders and kiss him deeply one last time before hovering over him and slowly sinking down. Your quiet moan turns into a louder one as Oscar helps you go further down. “Shh, you can take it.” You hide your face in his neck and breathe in his scent. He smells so familiar. Like home. "You're doing so well for me love."

Slowly he starts moving your hips, breathing out softly. You start lifting yourself up and down again and again. A steady pace is set and you both enjoy the feeling. “You were made for me…” escapes from Oscar's mouth in a small moan. You look down at him, at his pleasured gaze and kiss his cheek. This nice and calm rocking suddenly turns into you being handled by Oscar as you repeat his name like a mantra. “Say it louder. I need to remember you saying my name like this.” You were slowly starting to lose control over your body and just let Oscar do what he wanted. His name left your lips in shorter and louder yelps. He loved it. He brought you to this state. And you let him. The trust he was given fueled his hips to meet yours in the middle. Your muscles were like enchanted, contorting in pleasure.

Oscar laid you down and took over completely. He will bring you two to the oh so desired state as if his life depended on it. His lips worked on marking your chest and his hips hammered into you like no tomorrow. You felt him everywhere, he overtook all of your senses and clouded your mind. The hand on your belly and the other one on your sensitive nerve sent you over and you yelling out Oscar´s name helped him reach his seventh heaven.

And just like that it was over. Oscar composed himself, threw away the condom and went into the bathroom. Soon he returned with a wet cloth and a cup of water as you leaned on your elbows. “Now let me take care of you baby…” he said with a smile and you returned it. 

[chrysoula]

Albedo spent sixty years rescuing Nahida from her cage, because he was looking for a challenge to test himself against. He didn't spend much time thinking about how, after the rush of satisfaction had faded, he would be in possession of a newborn god of wisdom who was so lost she tried to go back into her cage.

"Why are you here?" she asked, puzzled, as soon as the door to her cage opened. "There's so much-- You did so much, so why are you here?"

He stared at her as all of his sense of accomplishment washed away.

She began to gabble. "I knew something was happening, I could see your echoes, the ripples like a fish underwater, and I didn't know what you could want but I helped you when I could, because I wanted to see them beaten so why are you here?"

Because this is the finish line. But he knew better than to say that. Instead, he ran a rapid post-mortem on his plans over the last sixty years. When had the flaw been introduced, and how could he compensate for it?

"Okay," she said into the silence. "Now what?" Her eyes reminded him of glass marbles.

"I don't know what you want me to do," she said bitterly after a moment. "There's nothing I can do."

It was a worldview alien to Albedo. Ever since his mother abandoned him, he'd practiced turning his knowledge into power over the world around him. Before they called him a mastermind, they called him a meddler, and usually he didn't bother tidying up when he was done. 

"Oh. I see," she said, drawing her own conclusion and dropping her gaze. "You didn't come for me after all. How stupid I am." 

And even then, he struggled. He could see the potential shapes of the consequence he'd created and he didn't like them. He'd done something terrible and he had to repair it, but how--??

Tears began to spill from those green eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just not good enough yet. I shouldn't... I shouldn't get involved." And, wiping her eyes, she'd turned to step back into the cage.

That, at least, he could respond to. "No, don't do that. It would only make things worse."

"What?" She half-turned, her mouth open in surprise.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?" That was probably a safe thing to ask in the situation. The government imprisoning her had been thoroughly disabled that morning. And newborns were often hungry.

"What?" she repeated, and then ran over to him. "Did you change your mind?"

Pleasantly, he said, "I think you did, but that's not an important detail at the moment. Why don't we sit down and talk about a few things?"

She promptly sat down, looking up at him with clear curiosity. He sat down on the ground too, refining his evaluation of her. "First of all, do you have a name of your own? One that doesn't belong to the Archon?"

"Nahida," she said, possibly for the first time. She looked a little surprised, in any case.

"I'm happy to meet you, Nahida. My name is Albedo." He gave her a friendly smile, and she stared at him like she was decoding his face. "Let's try to figure out what you'd like to do now."

"May I ask a question first?" She spoke with a respectfulness he didn't deserve. Not from her, anyhow. He'd have to earn it first.

"Please do. I'll do my best to answer it." While she formulated her thoughts, he began to synthesize some fish snacks he hoped she'd find palatable.

"Beyond your name, who are you?" It was a question carefully considered, and not the one he expected. But her earnest gaze remained fixed on him.

He considered his own response. It wasn't a question he was in the habit of answering. "Mostly, I plan things for other people. I'm quite clever and I've lived a long time compared to most, so I have certain advantages I enjoy sharing. In quite a few places, I'm considered a criminal, because what I help people do is often illegal. " He offered her the fish snacks. "I also engage in projects of my own, like this one."

She accepted one and nibbled on it. He observed as her eyes widened and she nibbled a bit more before finally making a face and putting it down. "I don't know how to taste it right. I'll work on it later."

"Is that what you want to do?" He saw this as a natural way of leading back to the core topic, but when she flinched, admitted to himself that such directness might have been a little cruel after already thrusting so much change on her unannounced.

"Do you think it tastes good?" she asked him uncertainly.

"Yes, I do."

She thought for a moment. "I'd like to learn to like it too, then. And I want to stay with you, please."

Did gods imprint? He'd never looked into the question. But the truth remained: she might be the god of wisdom, but she was also a powerful and traumatized child. If he walked away now, one way or another, she'd show up in his life again, the worse for it.

Calmly, he said, "Yes, I thought you might say that. Do you also want to rule Sumeru?"

She shrugged, curled up in a ball, rocked back and forth. "Sumeru is a dream to me, a world on the other side of pages and glass." Then she sat up again. "But you are somebody I never imagined existed. That seems more interesting than governing a country that doesn't want me to exist, all by myself."

"I agree," he said. "Still, having Sumeru on a stable footing may be useful in the future, so we should probably sort out the knot I made before we go on our way."

[ellieromanov]

Moments in between

Pairings: Natasha x reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: angst

Warnings: toxic relationships (toxic Nat) manipulation, brief Smut

(Ngl, This wasn’t my best work, don’t love it but I needed to post something lol)

Y/n’s point of view

Natty❤️

Hey, the mission was canceled, I'll be home around 7-7:30 give or take. So I'll see you soon! Btw I'm starving! xx

Me

That's great! I can't wait!! I'll have dinner ready! Love you!!! xx

Despite her lack of response, I immediately set to work, tidying the house so she wouldn't have to worry about it when she returned.

By 6:20, dinner was in progress—her favorite, a small effort to make our evening special. As it cooked, I chose a cute dress, styled my hair, and applied makeup. Nights like these were extremely rare lately, and Nat and I were feeling the strain so I might as well put details into the little things when I can.

She's always busy with work, I mean of course she is, she's an avenger. But when I go weeks at a time without seeing her it gets hard. It feels like half the time shes avoiding being around me. It feels like she often looks for extra tasks. It might all be in my head but I mean Hell I can't even remember the last time we ate and had a conversation together, so I want tonight to be perfect.

As the clock ticked past 7:20, dinner sat ready on the stove, the aroma of her favorite dish filling the air. I hesitated, torn between plating her food or waiting for her call. At 7:40, I finally dialed her number, but the call went unanswered, sending me straight to  voicemail. I decided to wait before serving the meal, hoping it wouldn't lose its warmth.

8:00 nothing, she hasn't called back or texted. But that's alright maybe she needed to get a few things done.

8:30 nothing. Maybe traffic?

9:00 nothing. Maybe there was an emergency

9:30 not a word. Something probably came up.

By 10:00 I gave up. I put away the left overs and cleaned up the kitchen. I put Natasha's plate in the fridge, turned off the music and blew out the candles.

In the bathroom, I unwound my efforts, removing my makeup and undoing my hair before stepping into the shower.

I went to sleep alone that night. Natasha finally came home just past 2 in the morning. Her footsteps were loud enough to wake me up. Though I heard her entrance, I chose not to acknowledge her. She joined me in bed, and when she realized I was awake she wrapped her arms around me and whispered apologies and showered kisses on my bare shoulder.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled between kisses. She kissed from my cheek to my neck, then finally my collarbone. "Let me make it up to you gorgeous."

When she kissed my lips I could taste the whiskey on her.

I remained silent, unsure whether to accept her apologies or express the disappointment that lingered. Natasha's tender kisses continued, and her warmth beside me begged for acknowledgment.

I didn't say anything. "Please baby, let me make you feel good, let me make it better." She pleaded as she sucked marks into my neck. I was so overwhelmed with emotions and I was mad and disappointed but I couldn't convey any of my feelings. I couldn't speak so I just nodded my head as tears started to stream down my cheeks. I don't know why I was crying but I couldn't help it. Once the tears started they couldn't stop. Natasha got on top of me, straddling my hips as she kissed my neck. I just wrapped my arms around her and buried my hands in her hair as I cried.

"I promise to make it up to you." She whispered for the hundredth time as she kissed my bare skin. She took my hoodie off first then went lower, leaving her trail of marks as she went.

Moments later I was completely bare under her and had no control. I know if I told her to stop she would. I know that. But then what. We'd fight and she'd sleep in the guest room? I just want things to go back to the way they were.

With every thrust I just held onto her tighter and closed my eyes to stop the tears and try to enjoy the moment with her but there was no enjoyment to be found.

Just tell her to stop.

Tell her later.

Tell her you're tired.

I didn't say anything. I tried to react as much as I could when she wanted me too. Gasped when she went faster, moaned when she did something different, just keep her satisfied.

"God baby, you're so fucking perfect." She grunted.

Just nod.

"Such a good girl"

React.

"I love your tight little pussy so much. I love you, so much detka"

Tell her you love her.

...

She eventually got the release she was looking for and went to sleep not long after. But I couldn't. I stayed awake next to her and cried. I curled up in a ball with me knees tucked under my chin and cried. My whole body was shaking from my silent sobs. It wasn't that she touched me, it wasn't that she didn't show up for dinner, it wasn't that she didn't take care of me, it was the fact that things used to be different. It was the realization that I was losing her.

She used to get home from missions early to come home and cook with me, we'd dance in the kitchen together and we'd laugh until we couldn't breath and it physically hurt, we used to talk for hours on end, we used play games together and watch movies, we used to make love, and we used to read, and paint, play music, go on walks, we used to do everything together. Because we loved each other...

But now... I don't think she loves me anymore. She doesn't look at me the same. She used to look at me like I was the only girl in the world, but she doesn't have that same spark in her eyes anymore. She doesn't talk to me anymore, she doesn't watch movies with me, or go on walks. Let alone laugh or dance with me. I haven't heard her say she loves me before tonight in months. I think she's done with me...

When I was younger I remember thinking that I'd refuse to stay with someone who doesn't see me for all my worth. How naïve.

_____

When the sun came up in the morning I was alone again. She left without a goodbye, without a kiss on top of my head, without a touch. without a simple acknowledgment.

When I went to the bathroom to shower I saw how red and puffy my eyes were from crying last night. Seeing myself like that confirmed my thoughts that Natasha was in fact done with me. No loving caring partner would let this happen. They wouldn't let their person cry themselves to sleep after an intimate moment. They wouldn't miss a dinner after saying they would be there and they wouldn't use sex as a way to make it up to them. That's not how a healthy functioning relationship works. It's just not.

That afternoon so many thoughts ran through my head, because even though she didn't love me anymore, I loved her with all I had. And if she didn't want me to leave then I wouldn't, I'd stay and I'd give her my entire being until I had nothing left to give and even then I'd stay. I'd stay because I'd have no where else to go, I'd have no one. I'd have nothing. And Id always love her.

I texted her that afternoon asking to talk when she got home.

Me

I Hope you are having a good day. I want to talk to you when you get home if that's okay. Stay safe.

I love you.

She didn't respond, she never does.

As the hours passed by I distracted myself with cleaning, cooking, painting and reading, and with each activity my concern only grew. the sun set and the only thing that brought light to the apartment was the television.

when 10 o'clock passed by I started crying again. I wondered if tonight would be another night on my own or if she'd decide to come home at some point. My heart felt heavy with anxiety and mourning. I wish I had never made the realization that she was moving on from me, I wish that I could have stayed in my denial.

The more minutes that went by the more tears I shed. I tried calling her and I tried texting her, but every message went unanswered. I tried to check her location but she turned it off. I finally had enough and decided to text the one person who always knew of Natasha's whereabouts.

Me

Hey Barton. It's Y/n, I don't know if you had my number saved. I was just texting to ask if Natasha was still at the compound?  Or if she was sent on a mission. She stopped sharing her location with me and won't respond to any of my text. I'm just starting to get worried so if you could just let me know that would be great.

It didn't take him long to respond.

Clint 🏹

Hey Y/n. Natasha went out with Maria and a few other agents. They said they were just going out for a quick drink. Is she not responding to your calls either?

Me

She hasn't responded to anything, text or call. Thanks for letting me know.

Clint🏹

Do you want me to try calling her? Try to knock some since into her?

Me

If you could try calling her I'd really appreciate it. I Just want to make sure she's okay. If she answers tell her I need to talk to her.

Clint🏹

Of course Y/n. I'll let you know if she picks up. If not I'll call Maria.

Me

Thank you Clint, I really appreciate it.

As I sat on the sofa with tear stained cheeks I finally got a message from Natasha.

Natty❤️

What?

Me

Are you serious?

Natty❤️

What do you mean am I serious?

Me

I've been trying to call you and text you for the past four hours Natasha.

Natty❤️

I'm sorry. I didn't see them.

Me

but when Barton is the one who's calling all the sudden you see it.

It took her a few minutes to respond to the message. The text bubbles kept disappearing and appearing again. But Finally she responds.

Natty❤️

I'm sorry. You're right, I should have answered you, I've just been busy. Is everything okay?

Me

Im just hurting. I really want you to come home to me Natasha.

Please just come home.

When the text bubbles disappeared my heart sank even more. I couldn't help the sobs and whimpers as I curled up on the couch.

_____

Natasha's point of view

The bar was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses. I sat at a corner table, nursing a drink that I ordered half an hour ago. I stare off as I half-listen to Maria rant about her latest assignment from Fury. But truth be told, my mind was elsewhere,  the guilt sitting in.

I glance down at my phone for every new string of unanswered messages and missed calls from Y/n. I continue to Ignore them as they keep poring in. I take another sip of the aged whiskey, as I try to participate in the conversation and ignore my buzzing phone. Finally, well past midnight, I decide to head home, my mind clouded with the alcohol's numbness. The walk through the Crisp winter air helped me sober up and cleared my head as I walked.

Finally getting to our townhouse I unlock and open the door. As I climb the stairs to the main floor I notice the lights are off so I simply assume she has gone off to bed. Perfect, that means no fighting. But when I reach the final step leading to the living room I find Y/n on the couch, tear-stained and defeated, wrapped up in a blanket, half asleep. I walk towards her, every step echoing in the stillness of our home.

I wordlessly scoop her up into my arms, I can see the hurt on her face as I hold her against me. She wakes up enough to wrap her arms around me as I take her to our room.

"I'm tired Tasha." She mumbles against my neck, she's hardly audible but I could hear her. "I know. I'm here now, we can sleep." I tell her as we enter our room.

I Gently place Y/n on the bed, I couldn't meet her eyes. There was a weariness in her voice as she again murmured, "No, Nat. I'm tired." I couldn't help the sigh that escaped me as I replied, "Just go to sleep, Y/n." The weight of my own exhaustion mingled with the my guilt.

I walk off to the closet to change into comfortable clothes and when I walk back to the bed Y/n is sat crisscrossed in her oversized hoodie with tears streaming down her face again. a knot of frustration tightened in me.

"Y/n stop it. It's late. I'm not dealing with this right now."  I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose, my impatience slipping into my tone. But then she looks at me. "No Nat. Im so tired, im tired of being so lonely..." her voice shakes. "I miss you so much. Is it to much to ask you come back to me at the end of a day? I'm hurting so much." She stifles her cry.

I sit next to her and grab her hands. "Baby please. Let's not do this right now. We are both tired so can we please go to sleep and talk about this tomorrow?" I try to negotiate with her.

"No because I might not see you tomorrow, I hardly ever see you anymore Natasha, that's the problem. The past few months you haven't been here... you'd rather stay out till god who knows how late rather then to come home to me..." she pauses for a moment before beginning again. "Natasha I love you so much. And I want you to be happy. So I need to know now. Do you still want to be here?-"

"of course I still want-"

"No Nat, let me speak. I Will not be the reason you are unhappy. I won't, I won't do that. I will not be the reason you miss out on the life you are wanting so I need to now right now. If you are done I need you to tell me- because I can't let go of you by myself, I love you to much to willingly walk away, so I need to hear you say it. If it's time for me to let you go I need you to tell me that, i need you to tell me to let you go. You have to do that for me..."

As she spoke something finally registered with me, something I've known for a long time but never wanted to admit. Y/n has always been a backup plan for me. If any aspect of my life were to go south I could always come back home and she'd be here waiting. She's a safety net, a lifeline, she's the plan B. And I don't want to let that go. If I let her go then that means I have no one to fall back on.

She deserves so much more then me, she deserves someone worthy of her, to give her love and affection, and someone who will show up for her when she cooks dinner, and be there for her when she needs a shoulder to cry on, I know this. I've always known.

She will always be second in my life, she'll be second to my career, to my wants and needs. But that selfish part of me won't let her go. I won't let her go even though I know it's time.

As the room hung in silence, Y/n's  tear-streaked eyes searched mine for a response. For an acknowledgment. The tension between us only thickened. Her eyes begging for an answer of some sort.

"I..." The words lingered on my tongue. My gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding her pleading eyes. I know it's selfish, I know I should do what's best for her because I do want to see her happy but I can't loose her.

"I can't let you leave, Y/n..." I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Y/n's eyes glistened with a mix of relief and sorrow. She heard the words she was hoping for, but I could tell she was hoping for more. For an expression of love and need, she wanted to feel the truth of my words but she couldn't find any. But I will say what I need to to make sure she doesn't leave. If she needs to hear me say I love her then I will tell her every day, if she needs to hear me say I need her, then I won't stop telling her until she gets sick of it. It's all about playing the right cards.

"I know I haven't been here for you as I should be, I'm sorry you felt neglected, but I need you to know how much I need you, and want you. I can't do this without you."

A heavy silence settled between us as the gravity of my decision sunk in. Y/n, still wrapped in the blanket of my selfishness. she clung to the hope that things might change, that our love will come back.

I reached out, hesitantly brushing a strand of hair from her tear-stained face as an attempt to comfort her. Her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her eyes have always been a beauty. Pools of color I could always get lost in. I hold both sides of her face and wipe away the tears.

"I love you. I need you to stop doubting me. Do you understand?" I ask. She only nods and leans further into my hands. "Good girl. Now Can we keep talking in the morning? You're exhausted." She again only nods her head. I lean in to kiss her forehead before getting up to my side of the bed.

We get under the covers and it takes no time at all before Y/n is pressed against me, I instinctively wrap my arms around her.

When we first met, I really did love her, or the closest thing to love I could feel. She used to make me laugh and smile, she made me feel comforted, she made me feel safe. I don't know when that stopped. I just hope the feeling might come back if I put in the effort.

As my thoughts continue to race, she eventually falls asleep. She sniffles and whimpers in her sleep, just like she has been these last few months. Even in her sleep she can't seem to catch a break. My heart is heavy, I know I don't love her as I should. I just don't know what I'm meant to do. I was never made to love. It's not apart of my nature. I'll continue to be selfish and hold on to her as a life line for as long as I can. Maybe one day she'll be strong enough to walk away by herself.

[edutainer2022]

So it's done! The little story that tidied me over this week of missile hellfire and long stretches of power outages. Jeff is back from Oort Cloud and is forced to question his strengths and aptitudes when things go unexpectedly very, very wrong very fast. All boys get to feature, eventually, but Scotty is having the worst time of all. Many thanks to @janetm74 for cheering me on through brief patches of power going up.

GRAVITY

Some days were worse than others. Some days the heady rush of pure JOY and BLISS of being back with his beloved boys, his Ma, in his own home, back on his own PLANET, beneath the blue skies, breathing unprocessed air... were not enough to tide him over the bone deep weariness. Days, when the bustling world around was suddenly too much effort. Too much, period.

That morning he woke up, gruff and bleary, feeling every ounce of gravity amplified weight down to his marrow. He didn't remember sleeping a wink, but he knew he was late. The corner of the blanket peeled away, catching on his stubble, revealed a silhouette perched on the side of his bed. Scott. Already dressed to the nines in a suit that looked like it was shipped straight from the Milan runway. It probably had been. His son's aftershave was fancier and more expensive than he could ever afford or had any clue to choose at that same age. Predawn light was casting a grey hue over Scott's features, gleaming in silver highlights, making him look older. Tired. His eldest looked hauntingly like Jeff felt, sagging under the crashing weight, stretched thin, even put together all sharp like that, bright and early. The sudden heartache of that thought came out as a hoarse groan.

They were supposed to meet several executives first thing in the morning to get Jeff up to speed a bit more. To get the company brass reacquainted with the Tracy Patriarch too. There had been many new promotions and appointments over the past eight years. But Jeff could barely keep his eyes open. The thought of getting up and moving gave him a shiver, which, in turn, deepened the worried frown on Scott's face. The taut lines in the corners of his son's eyes and mouth became prominent. Much as the pallor and dark circles, belying a sleepless night. Scott took a call out in One, right off the roof of Tracy Tower. It was the fastest and most expedient option, regardless of Virgil's protests. That's how Jeff remembered most of his sleep being drained by nightmares - One screeching off and him spending eight endless years calculating and hoping (praying) the rocket plane made it out of the Zero-X launch blast radius in time, taking his son to safely far enough. He winced at the memory and squinted against a nauseating headache. Scott's worry was obviously reaching the red zone.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder, then moved to press for the pulse. His boy's fingers were uncharacteristically cold, but maybe Jeff was just catching space chills.

"Dad, are you alright? I will cancel the morning! I'll get you to the hospital right now, then Virgil will fly Grandma in!"

The on the go plan was all IR Commander, but blue eyes blown up twice the usual size in panic was Scotty at any given time Dad was about to disappear. Again. He hated the treacherous frailty that got his unwavering boy so scared. As much as he hated the very idea of hospitals, enthusiastically shared by all his children.

"It's okay, Bluejay! No need to worry! Just one of those days. I'll sleep it off. You go ahead with the meeting and I'll rise and shine to have brunch with you, deal?"

Between the Zero-XL assembly under wraps, the possibly one-way mission to the middle of the galactic nowhere, and Jeff's subsequent laborious rehabilitation, the Tracy Industries senior executives really needed some quality face time with the Tracy-in-charge. So they would have it. Jeff was under no illusion he was in any shape to be that, anymore. Scott was, still. But that would have to change maybe sooner, than they both wished, if mornings like that became a recurrent thing.

Scott didn't appear entirely convinced and there was definitely a ping being sent up to Five to monitor Jeff's space-addled sleeping hunk extra closely. However, the anxious scowl softened into warm mirth as Scott smiled down at Dad's rugged face. Cool fingers moved from the pulse point to brush away the matted grey curls from Jeff's forehead. The gesture was definitely well practiced on any and all of the younger brothers, but in that moment all Jeff could see in the slight tilt of the head and a special, radiant fondness in the blue gaze, was the boys' mother. He nearly choked on a sob and covered his eyes, feigning a fit of cough. Scott moved immediately to give him a glass of water from the bedside table. Once done blinking away the stinging moisture, Jeff caught the tail end of a hastily covered wince in the boy's features. If he were operating at full capacity, he would have probably dug to the bottom of it with proper insistence. As it were, Jeff settled for a squeeze of the premium wool clad bicep:

"How're you holding up, son? Tough night?"

"I'm okay, Dad! You don't need to worry! A couple of bruises here and there. Mostly my ego, as I landed in a heap when the jetpack gave out. I'll never hear the end of it from everyone!"

The edges of Scott's "cheeky flyboy" smile were tighter than Jeff should have been placated with. But gravity was already pulling his lids down.

***

He marginally remembered a quick tender peck on his forehead, or maybe he dreamt it up, conflating the endless years of longing for his mother and for his wife even before that. The scent of his eldest's aftershave, laced with a familiar wiff of One's fumes, lingered and calmed him down. He came to think of it as home and hope over the past months. Jeff next woke up to an anxious face of a different son.

John's hologram practically vibrated with anguish, bouncing on the bedside comm unit. Eyes wide and wild, John looked all too much like an Alan Jeff last remembered - eight years old and left at the Warton boarding school for the very first time.

"Dad!!! What's going on!?!! Are you alright?!!!"

Jeff's headache still didn't agree with the yell, audible practically from orbit. He didn't master much but an incoherent grumble to that.

"Somebody called 911 to the TI Conference Room for Mr. Tracy! I can't get through to Scott's comm! You were supposed to have a meeting first thing today! Are you okay!?"

Words rushed and stumbled one over the other, so unlike John's usually impeccable, professionally honed articulation. It took an extra moment for John to compute Dad's state of underdress - a testament in and of itself of the ginger's distress.

"Dad? Are you still in bed?"

Awareness was catching up with him and with it the heavy drag of gravity and dread. His ginger spaceman was still faster on the uptake, his own overwhelming horror finally pinned on a name:

"SCOTT!!!"

The only Mr. Tracy at the TI Conference room at that moment. It all was coming to Jeff in bits of a disjointed puzzle - the overnight rescue, Scott's ashen paleness he chalked up to lack of sleep, the stifled painful grimace his son wasn't quick enough to hide. And Jeff wasn't there for him!

***

If the younger employees of Tracy Tower were secretly looking forward to meeting the Resurrected Space Outcast, Founder of Tracy Industries and International Rescue, Hero of the Century and a Living Legend - Jeff Tracy - it was probably not barefoot and clad in pink flamingo print pijamas, sporting a bedhead and an overnight shadow, stumbling his way down the hallway at an alarming speed with a formidable assistance of the wall and an occasional doorknob. Jeff practically flung himself into the Conference room and nearly toppled over several people in expensive suits, crowded over a prone body on the floor. He shoved somebody's shoulder aside with enough force and less ceremony than was maybe appropriate.

His knees hitting the floor gave a jaw-jiggling rattle and it remained to be seen if he'd be able to make it back up unassisted, but he didn't give a damn. Scott was still and sheet white against the navy blue of the carpeting. Somebody had the presence of mind to loosen his tie and unbutton the shirt. Scott's face and chest were wet as someone apparently tried to sprinkle water on him to ease the fainting. To obviously no effect. Jeff might have noticed a shadow of bruising on the toned torso, but his eyes were on the beloved yet lifeless waxy face. He cupped Scott's cheek and shifted the other hand to rub his sternum forcefully .

"C'mon, Bluejay! Give me those eyes! Time to wake up!"

Either the father's voice or the strenal rub had the effect - Scott eyelashes fluttered and a sliver of blue became visible. Jeff felt encouraged, thankful the baffled and paniced executives were giving him a wide berth.

"There you go, Scotty! Open them up for me, eh? Dad is here, Bluejay!"

Jeff moved his palm from Scott's chest to grab a cold limp hand and squeeze. His other hand never left the son's cheek, the thumb caressing cool clammy skin carefully. Give the boy a sensory anchor.

"Stay with me, kiddo! It's alright!"

Blue eyes were still cloudy and unfocused, eyelids heavy. Scott seemed to have just then noticed Dad's presence.

"Dad? Yu'came?"

Jeff's chest constricted. Of course, they were supposed to be in that meeting together. But Jeff succumbed to weakness and left Scott alone. Again.

"I'm right here, Bluejay! Dad is here!"

The pained, far-away gaze still didn't land on him.

"Yu'never come... Only Mom comes... I call'n'call an'yu'never come..."

He was feeling cold sweat and shivers raking his own body, his head was swimming from strain and fear, but he had to keep Scott conscious and talking.

"Dad is right here! I'm with you, Scotty! Just look at me! Can you do that for Dad?"

Scott seemed to have made an effort to look at him, the brilliant blue almost black with strain.

"Yu'never come when I'm dying..."

With that Scott's eyes rolled back into his head and a thin rivulet of blood trickled down the corner of his lips. Jeff couldn't tell if his son's skin went colder to his touch as his own hands went icy numb. There was a distant sound coming through the pounding in his ears - an animal-like wail of Scott's name in a voice Jeff didn't recognize as his own. Space shifted around him, bodies shuffling urgently as more people entered the room. Multiple hands were prying him away from Scott's unmoving body, but they would need a crowbar. Jeff was putting up a fight to stay latched to his son, or so he thought. In the middle of a vicious flail he was suddenly tipping sideways some distance away, Scott completely obscured from view by a wall off luminicent lined uniforms of paramedics. And Jeff's world went black.

***

[Lucy, please! I know you miss him, love! Oh my God, I KNOW, baby! I know you're all alone there! Please, don't take him! PLEASE! He hasn't lived yet! Our boy, Luce! I let him down so much! I'm so sorry! I asked so much of him, and he gave up everything! I screwed up! Take me, hon! If you absolutely must, take me instead! I'll watch over them all with you, dear! But you can't take him! You won't! I know you won't let him! He needs to live! Please, don't let him stay with you, Lucy! PLEASE!]

***

He started awake yet again with his eldest son's name on his lips, voice hoarse like he'd been shouting over the ocean surf, crashing on the island shore. Caramel eyes were startled by his roar that time. Gordon was quick to collect himself and put on a smile.

"Hey, Dad! You're awake!"

Not unlike Scott's early that morning (was it still the same day?), Gordon's grin was thin, taut, not bright enough to cover the shadows visible on tanned skin. Jeff tried again, putting a worth of questions into the name:

"Scott?"

Gordon's smile faltered and Jeff felt the heady rush of weightlessness, his mind slipping away from the tether of sanity.

"Scotty's in surgery, Dad! There was internal bleeding and he crashed in the Conference room. The paramedics said he coded there, but they got him to the hospital on time! They're working on him now!"

Coded. Scott died on his watch. Because Jeff wasn't there. He took a breather, let his boy take over his slack and his duty. Again. Scott was paying with his life when Jeff was unfit to deal. Again.

He shifted in what appeared to be a hospital bed, but the range of his movement was limited by the IV line, now pulling at his hand. Gordon stopped him from getting up, hands, weighing his shoulders back on the mattress, a lot stronger than he remembered.

"Whoa, Dad! Nah-uh! Stay put! Your BP tanked and you blacked out there too!"

That probably explained the dizziness and the hospital ward spinning slowly around him. Jeff took a cautious look around the room, but for the monitor tracing his vitals it was empty. Gordon read the question in his gaze.

"Allie got so worked up with worry - he threw up. John's with him, helping to clean up. Grandma's watching the surgery and consulting in the OR gallery. They actually let Virgil in the OR! Those puppy eyes are a menace! Or maybe Johnny-boy donated the hospital a research lab or something. Anyhow, they let him stay with the anesthesiologist - you know how Scooter's body eats through painkillers! Freakish metabolism and all! So they wouldn't want him wake up mid surgery,  and Virgie knows the dosage and his stats by heart. It's good, right? Scotty's not all alone in there!"

Gordon was rambling, not pausing for air, and Jeff knew that to be the boy's primary tell for intense anxiety. He reached for his second youngest hand to ground himself as much as to offer comfort.

The door hissed open and Alan waded in, followed by a mile of ginger topped blue. Allie's face was blotchy and ashen, fresh tear tracks marking the skin. John was gripping the boy's shoulder with one hand. He had a tablet clutched to his chest with the other.

"Dad!"

Alan sounded so young Jeff's heart ached. He lifted the IV bound arm and Alan was quick to tuck himself to Dad's side, lanky teen limbs curled into a ball. The boy was not bothering to be discrete about crying again. Gordon flopped over Jeff's legs, uncharacteristically lost for words and craving contact too. Jeff waited till John walked around and perched by his shoulder. The ginger was engrossed by the video feed on his tablet. The live stream from the OR Jeff was not sure the hospital authorized or even knew about. He didn't care. He was dying to ask how the surgery was going, for how long, but Jeff wasn't sure how much John had clued the Tinies in. So he craned his neck to better see the screen and waited. Silence stretched. Virgil's massive form in sterile scrubs, cap and mask was visible, hunched over Scott's face, his fingers drumming lightly over the brother's bare shoulder. Jeff couldn't tell if Virgil was tapping in Morse code or playing out a mute tune. Either way it was definitely a way to reach through to big brother and not to disrupt the doctors. The surgery site was a hustle of frantic activity Jeff didn't dare follow too closely. At some point John's eyes went almost sea-green dark and the grip on the tablet turned his knuckles white. Jeff squeezed his shut, hugging Alan's trembling shoulder closer.

[Please, Lucy! No! Please!]

Time stretched further without meaning in perfect silence. John finally shifted to get up and announced:

"They closed him up! He'll be wheeled to Critical Care now."

Turquoise met caramel across the ward and it occurred to Jeff the statement was addressed more Gordon's way, as the blond was on his feet immediately. There was a LOT of communication between his family going right over his head. Maybe they didn't trust his strength that day. Or maybe they were just too used to not factor him into the synergy of their tightly knit world. Either way, it hurt more than he could ever let them know.

Gordon got his cue and was peeling Alan up and away from Jeff's side.

"C'mon, Al! Let's go find Grandma before she instills fear of hell into the nurses! And maybe grab some snacks for everyone! On my word, Dad DOESN'T want the local variety of green jell-o!"

Alan, as well as everyone else in the room, knew it for what it was worth - a diversion tactics to get him away. Allie could be stubborn with the best of them, and he wasn't a kid anymore, despite a widely acknowledged belief, but he knew there would be no real talk of Scott's post op prospects with him around. Not right then at least. Besides, the boy looked veritably drained by fear and all the uncertainty, and could use a change of scenery.

Shortly after Gordon chaperoned Alan out the doors to Jeff's ward hissed again. Virgil appeared like a giant ghost, swaying on his feet. He shed the surgical mask, gloves and cap, but was still in the OR scrubs. Drenched through with sweat. John was by his brother's side in one long stride. The boys leaned into each other for a long moment, their foreheads touching. Jeff longed to envelope his sons into a massive hug and let them draw strength from their father, as should be. He longed to rush to Scott's side and hold on to him as tightly as he knew how, not letting the boy slip away. He longed to console the Tinies and shoo away the haunted desperation from their eyes. He longed to ascertain them all they were not loosing Scott. Because they couldn't. HE couldn't. But he was marooned by the stupid IV, bedridden by gravity, exhausted by dread and guilt, eating him alive. Not for the first time that day Jeff felt redundant and useless, a fragile husk rolling around, causing mere nuisance.

Virgil heaved a breath to center himself and John stepped around him to head out. But not before giving his brother another quick fierce hug. Virgil seemed to be gathering his bearings, his mind booting up, previously lost in whatever he saw and felt going on in that OR.

"John, wait! Scott is critical. They won't let you in!"

John's face was a chiseled mask, a shade paler yet, if it were at all possible.

"I just bought this hospital equipment enough to research immortality. I'm going to be with my brother!"

With that he was gone through the door. Virgil seemed lost for a moment, lonely in the middle of the room. Chocolate eyes landed on Dad and just like that - the dam broke. The tidal wave of years worth of fear and pain, and toll of anticipatory grief as well as the actual one, for reasons Jeff only began to piece together, breached through defenses and Virgil collapsed into his father's eager arms, sobbing.

***

Maybe it was fitting he only got to do his vigil bid by Scott's side after all his kids, and his Ma, had exhausted themselves. Maybe it was his turn to step up, finally. Or maybe he wasn't ready before. How could he be? No amount of bracing himself could prepare Jeff for seeing Scott in the Critical Care unit - translucent and perfectly still - machines doing breathing for him, pumping blood for him, doing all the living for him. Even after That Place there was more life in his son's body, more tangible reality beneath the gossamer skin. His son's spirit was nearly unmoored, yet Jeff felt like he was the one needing life support. A lifeline. So he reached for the one that had yanked him from the brink more than once, led him out of cosmic limbo, sure and true - his son's hand. And held fast.

***

[I'm right here, Bluejay! Dad is here! I never come when you're dying, because you're NOT! I'm right beside you! Mom will show you the way home! I'll be waiting right here, son! I'm not going anywhere, I promise!]

[toomuchracket]

black cat (dad!ross x reader fluff)

day 28 of promptober, the penultimate fic for me, and the return of dad!ross in fic form!! i like this one a lot. basically... you come home from work, and there's a cat in your gaff. cute! hope you enjoy <3

the first thing you see when you get home is your three year old son sat on the stairs by himself. keir is engrossed in one of the little thomas the tank engine picture books he loves so much, so engrossed that he doesn't even register the door opening, or the rush of cold air into the house that follows.

only when he hears the door close does keir look up. his little face lights up when he sees you, and he slowly sit-shuffles down, a stair at a time, before running to you and wrapping his entire little body around your leg. "hi mummy."

"hi baby," you lean down (with more difficulty than you'd care to admit) and kiss your son's head, shrugging your jacket off as you do. "how are you?"

"sleepy."

"me too, sweetheart," you hang your jacket on the coat stand. "you want up?"

keir nods, raising his arms. with a bit of effort, you scoop him up into your own - it's not that he's too heavy to lift, he's just so long-limbed (a trait he did not inherit from you) that manoeuvring him always takes a second. but it's worth it for the way he snuggles into you and faffs about with the string on your - well, ross's - hoodie.

speaking of ross - "where's dad, keir?"

"kitchen," comes the response, muffled by your jumper. "with eils."

"oh, ok. let's go and find them, yeah?"

keir nods sleepily into your neck, cuddling into you as you wander through the house. the incredibly tidy house, far neater than it was when you left this morning. there isn't a stray piece of lego anywhere, for once, and the carpets, you notice as you pad over them in your socks, have all been vacuumed to perfection. even the mess of blankets on the sofas have been folded - that never happens.

hmmmmm. interesting.

"what did you get up to today, then, baby? did you go to the park?" you nudge keir slightly when you see his eyelids fluttering closed. he's only just gotten past the napping phase, and you and ross are determined not to let him slip back into it.

your son brightens up immediately, and you know exactly what he's about to say. "yeah! me and dad played football. eilidh did cartwheels."

"who won the game?"

keir smiles smugly. "me."

"that's my boy!" you kiss his cheek.

he giggles. it makes your heart happy. "what did you do today, mummy? was your day good?"

oh, bless him. "it was, baby, thank you," you smile. "went to do some planning for when dad goes back to work. saw your auntie - she told me to give you a big hug from her, by the way - and cuddled lyla for a while."

"is the new baby here yet?"

"no, not yet. he will be soon, though."

(imminently, most likely - your friend is extremely, extremely pregnant. like, to the point that you were genuinely concerned about her leaving the house to hang out in a café with you. but she insisted, with an "i had to get out of there. matty's driving me up the fucking wall"; a statement you have also personally related to in life.)

keir hums. "and then he can play football with me."

"well, he won't be able to, for a while," you giggle, lightly poking your son's stomach. "he needs to learn how to walk first, remember."

"oh, yeah," he nods seriously. "maybe we can still get him a kit, though? just so he's ready?"

"i think your auntie and uncle will probably want to buy him his first one, but i'll ask them," you make a mental note to text after dinner. "sound good?"

keir nods again. he smiles, eyes crinkling really cutely, as you kiss his head and continue towards the kitchen. you can smell garlic and herbs and something rich that you can't quite name, wafting through the house quite deliciously; your stomach rumbles at the smell, but your eyes narrow. clean house, dinner on… ross is up to something.

as you near the kitchen, you can hear ross and eilidh whispering to each other through the half-open door. it's difficult to make out what exactly they're saying, over the sound of something bubbling on the stovetop, but they both sound fairly animated. 

their backs come into view when you slowly nudge the door open with your hip, and find the two of them standing in front of the sink, bunned heads looking down at something in the basin. that image only lasts a split second, mind you; as soon as they hear the creak of the door (ross didn't fix that today like he's been promising to do for a week, apparently), the two of them spin round to face you so quickly that eilidh nearly falls off her ikea kids stepstool.

her eyes are wide, but ross smiles sweetly at you. "hi, my love. didn't hear you come in. you must've been really quiet."

to the untrained eye and ear, ross would seem completely unfazed right now. but to you, the person who knows him best in the world, his smile is slightly too fixed to be natural, and there's a tiny tremor to his voice… he's freaking out about something. what?

before you can question, though, keir speaks. "yeah, dad, she was quiet. i didn't notice she was there. and then the door closed and i knew."

"keir!" eilidh wails. "you were meant to notice! that was your job! you were on mummy lookout, stupid!"

"eilidh macdonald! don't be so rude to your brother!" you say sternly, at the same time keir buries his head in your neck, and ross turns to your five year old and just raises his eyebrows. it's quite impressive how quickly he can shut anyone up with that look - even you aren't immune, and that's saying something.

your eldest looks at her dad, then you, then at keir and his quivering lip, then at the floor. "sorry. please don't cry, keir, i didn't really mean it."

too late. you can feel both hot tears hitting off your bare neck and your son's shoulders rising and falling as he sniffles. ross nudges eilidh forward, and you don't miss the way he steps to the side so the sink is blocked from your line of vision; she tentatively puts a hand on her brother's arm and speaks. "really didn't mean what i said, keir, i'm really really sorry. please can we be friends again?"

keir turns to look at her with an expression of complete and utter betrayal. "you promise you didn't mean it?"

eilidh nods sincerely.

"'kay," keir sniffles. "but i get to tell mum the secret."

"deal."

"tell mum what secret?" you question, eyes flicking to meet your husband's. "has it got something to do with the suddenly very tidy house, and the dinner you're currently making? which, off topic, smells incredible. but yes. i would like to know what's going on."

"oh, you noticed the living room. nice," ross says, his face indicating the opposite.

"ross, babe, why are you freaking out?"

"i'm not! well - ok, fine," your husband sighs. "kids, you need to take over. it's better if it comes from you. you're cuter."

"aha! you are trying to butter me up," you point at ross, who just shrugs, and then look at keir. "ok, baby, tell me the secret."

"know how i said we went to the park and me and dad played football and i won and eilidh did cartwheels?"

you bite back a laugh. god, your little boy really is just so adorable. "yeah���"

"and when we were walking back home there was a cat."

he stops there. you wait for a beat and then talk. "ok…?"

ross interjects, hands on eilidh's shoulders to stop her from jumping in. "and what did the cat do, mate?"

keir has to think for a second; he grins when the penny drops. "oh! it followed us home."

the penny is also beginning its descent to the ground for you, now. "a cat followed you home…"

"...and now it's in the sink," keir finishes the sentence for you.

for fuck's sake.

"ross, can i talk to you in the hall for a second?" with great effort, you keep your voice steady, despite the fact you're screaming on the inside.

your husband sees that, though, of course he does. gulping almost imperceptibly, he nods. "kids, keep an eye on our guest, yeah? hands off, though. and no touching the cooker either."

"ok, dad," eilidh kindly runs to get her brother's stepstool and put it next to her own. "keir, come and see!"

you put your son down, and he runs to join his sister. she wraps her arm around his shoulders, and you allow yourself a second of smiling at how cute they are before you pull ross through the doorway and let your anger take over.

as soon as he closes the door behind him, you let rip. "you let our children bring an alley cat into my house?! just picked up a random creature off the street and brought it in? what if it's feral? or it has fleas? the last thing we need right now is it scratching someone's eye out. or an infestation, my god. wait, what if it's already got a home, and you've just stolen someone's pet? jesus christ, we could be criminals! i can't believe this. i need to sit down."

"love…" ross begins, tugging you into him in lieu of you sliding down the wall onto the parquet floor. something about the familiarity of his arms and aftershave enveloping you makes you teary, and he patiently rubs your back.

"what are we going to tell the kids?" you sniffle into ross's chest, not unlike the way your son was sniffling into your neck a moment ago. "when it turns out we can't keep it because it needs to be sheltered or it already lives somewhere else? they'll be distraught, babe! i can't do that to our babies."

ross unwraps his arms from your waist. your lips start to tremble as soon as he lets go, but you're appeased when he cups your face in his big hands instead. "listen to me, my love. please," he says firmly, but not unkindly. "d'you really think i'm daft enough to let our kids bring home a cat that i thought would ever hurt them, or you, or me?"

"no, but-"

"and don't you think i've checked with the neighbours to see if anyone's missing a cat? because i have. even spoke to scary margaret."

you giggle. "is she as terrifying up close?"

"worse. don't wanna talk about it," ross smiles, and you get the sense that everything will be alright. "popped into the vet on the corner to get our new friend checked, too. no microchip, no fleas - and i gave it a bath, too, just in case, did the fairy liquid trick and everything…"

"how the fuck did you know about that trick?"

ross sighs. "tiktok, but, love, it's really alright," he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. "it's just… a random nice cat, who really likes our kids."

"you're sure?" you ask, still giggling sporadically at the way he defeatedly admitted to watching cat care tiktoks.

"positive."

"alright," another thought crosses your mind; you squint suspiciously at ross. "and what about the tidying, and the dinner? were you genuinely trying to butter me up?"

ross's cheeks go pink. it's adorable. "a little bit…"

"i knew it!"

"...but we also thought that it would be nice for the cat to see its new home in the best circumstances."

you loop your arms around the back of your husband's neck, grinning. "you're so sure i'll approve of this new addition to the household?"

"once the two of you finally meet, yeah," ross pecks your lips. "come on, love. before the dinner gets burnt and the kids start crying again."

shaking your head as you huff out a laugh, you take ross's hand and lead him back into the kitchen. he immediately heads towards the cooker, while you lean against the doorframe for a moment to watch eilidh and keir watch their new friend, still obscured from your line of sight. in spite of your inhibitions towards the whole situation, your babies' joy is undeniable, and you feel a proper fuzzy sense of love looking at them.

keir looks over his shoulder, beaming; dear god, he really is just ross's mini-me. "mummy, come and meet him!"

"him?" you raise your eyebrows as you pad over slowly. "you know he's a him?"

"we saw when we were washing him," eilidh doesn't look up from the sink, too fixated on her new furry friend. "well, me and keir didn't. but dad says he's a boy."

you look briefly over at ross, who nods in confirmation, before patting your daughter's head. "well, i guess we're outnumbered, bean. you cool with that?"

eilidh nods. "he's so cute i don't care. look, mum!"

you do as requested, and your jaw drops. lying half-wrapped in a soft old baby towel you had no idea you still had, sat in the belfast sink, is the cutest little kitten you think you've ever seen; almost pure black, with a tiny little white patch of fur on the top of its head and the biggest green eyes you know you've ever seen on a cat. it looks fairly healthy, if slightly on the thinner side, and content to be in the warmth of your kitchen and be gawked at by your kids. 

experimentally, you rest your hand just so on the rim of the sink, so your fingers almost dangle down; the cat stretches and stands, then wanders over to you and gently nuzzles into the digits. he purrs as he does, and any and all reservations you had about keeping him dissipate completely.

"hi, darling," you coo, gently picking the cat up and cradling him. he lets you do so with absolutely no resistance, purring the whole time as you scratch at his stomach. "oh, you're just the loveliest, aren't you? would you like to stay here with us? yeah? we would like that too - wouldn't we, kids?"

eilidh and keir answer in hushed tones, taking it in turns to carefully pet their new friend. ross wanders over, smiling, and kisses your head. "guess we'll need to name him now, yeah?"

you nod. "what do you think, kids?"

"salem," eilidh answers immediately.

ross squints. "have you been watching sabrina the teenage witch?"

"yeah."

"i mean, great show, but where, baby?" you ask.

"at lyla's."

"oh, ok," ross nods, then leans down to whisper in your ear. "how upset d'you reckon matty'll be when i tell him he's been replaced as eilidh's favourite?"

"oof," you wince. "heartbroken. anyway," you shift your attention back to the kids. "what's your choice, keir?"

your youngest ponders for a moment, looking intently at the cat. "he kinda looks like toothless. maybe that?"

ross pouts, like the cuteness is too much for him. "he does look like toothless the dragon! that's better than my choice, keir - i was going to say guinness, because of his head."

you scoff - typical ross - while eilidh's brow furrows. "i don't get it."

"and that's why we shouldn't call him that," you say, stroking the cat's little head. "we can have a think during dinner and decide later. i'll hang onto him; i think i need to get to know him better before i make any name choices."

ross smirks. "alright, love."

true to your word, the cat genuinely does not leave you the whole night, except to take food and water breaks - you continue to hold him while ross dishes up the pasta he made, he naps as you eat dinner, and he curls up contentedly on your lap as you watch tv with a cuppa later in the evening.

and yet… you still can't think of a name for him. the process of coming up with one becomes so tortuous that you have to text the friend you saw earlier in the day:

you: hi babe, hope you're having a good night! would either you or matty be able to drop off that baby-name book i loaned you tomorrow? i unexpectedly need it back lol x

bff: WHAT

bff: of course i'll drop it off but OMFG ARE YOU PREGNANT AGAIN

you: omg haha no

you: sorry i kinda implied that didn't i x

another text interrupts your convo:

shortarse: fucksake can you not stress us out like that please

shortarse: she genuinely got so excited about the thought of another baby macdonald that i honestly thought she was going to go into labour

shortarse: tf do you need the book for then

you: came home to find ross and the kids had brought home a cat lol

shortarse: fuck off

shortarse: send pics

shortarse: wait no ew that sounds weird nvm

shortarse: can we come over and meet it lol

you: drop the book off tomorrow and i'll consider it

you: also keir wants to buy the baby a football kit lol can we? nufc obv

shortarse: sound

shortarse: aww i love that kid

shortarse: of course he can get a kit

shortarse: also my girl says you should have another baby and it can be best friends with our baby lol

shortarse: i mean it's not like our kids won't be best friends anyway

shortarse: but you get the point

shortarse: i think it would be cute tbh

shortarse: anyway i'm off to go and calm her down before our son makes his debut appearance on the carpet

shortarse: byeeeeeeee we love you all we'll see you tomorrow

you: we love you too!

chuckling, you click your phone off and throw it to the side of the couch. ross lifts his head from your chest as you do. "what are you giggling at, love?"

"i just asked if someone from the healy household could drop the baby-name book off, because i genuinely have no idea what to name our new friend…"

"...and they thought we were having another baby?" ross smiles, kissing your cheek.

"there was so much excitement that the new baby almost made an appearance, apparently," you smile as ross throws his head back laughing. "but i explained that you and the kids had been adopted by a cat…"

"...and matty insisted on dropping the book off tomorrow so he could meet it?"

"god, you're good at this game. he did, after asking me to, and i quote, send pics. of the cat, obv," you shake your head. "i was spared a pussy pics joke, thankfully."

ross snorts. "well, he has got baby brain."

"i'll say. he and the missus tried to convince me that us having a third kid would be cute."

your husband smiles, softly caressing the sleeping cat and trailing his hand up your arm. "well, i wouldn't be opposed to it."

"really?" you gently turn his head so he's looking at you - there's not a shred of insincerity in those lovely eyes of his. "you're not just saying that to further fulfil your dream of shagging a milf?"

"no, love," ross giggles, and your heart skips a beat. "i'm just saying, i wouldn't mind having another baby with you. but i think we should probably at least name the fluffy one on your lap first."

"yeah. and sort out litter trays and all that," you scratch the cat between the ears, and savour the purring that he emits. it's a perfect little domestic tableau you've got going on, what with you snuggled into ross with the cat asleep on your lap, and eilidh and keir sat on the floor against ross's legs, happily watching bluey; a baby would slot in perfectly. "i'm up for it too, though. i love our family. i love you. and i think we should at least consider a third kid."

"i love you too," ross leans in to kiss you sweetly. "fourth, though."

"hmm?"

"the cat. our third kid. a baby would be the fourth."

you smile. "i suppose you're right. ok, let's give our third kid some time to settle in and get used to the house - which, by the way, i expect to be this tidy all the time from now on - and then we'll discuss a fourth. sound good?"

ross kisses you again. "sounds great."

[roosterforme]

Sounds Ideal | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Having you in his living space makes everything seem better and brighter to Bradley. 

Warnings: Fluff and smut, lots of sex and sweet lovin'

Length: 1400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You?

Check my masterlist.

Bradley noticed how much the house had changed over the weekend, and it thrilled him. Friday morning he looked around at his sparse belongings; his whole one drawer of clothing in the massive dresser, his row of Hawaiian shirts in the closet. 

Then you came in and filled the space. He reassembled your bed frame in the master bedroom while you hung dress after dress next to his shirts. His shoes even looked better with your much smaller ones next to them. The room finally felt like somewhere he wanted to spend some time. Mostly because you were there, with your voice and your smile and your laugh.

The kitchen drawer of takeout menus and the freezer full of microwave dinners were unrecognizable by Friday evening. You had unpacked real pots and pans into the space, and you had all these cool kitchen gadgets that he didn't know the purpose of. But he loved them all. 

Even the bathroom had taken on a new life with your fluffy yellow towels hanging along the wall next to the shower. When you asked him on Friday night which side of the bathroom sink he wanted, he almost laughed. He didn't need a side, he only needed about six square inches for his toothbrush and toothpaste.

"Sweetheart, you can take up as much space in this house as you want to. Go wild. Make a mess."

"But Bradley, it's your house-"

"Y/N, please stop saying that. It's your house too. I invited you to be here with me. I want you here. I want all your stuff everywhere. Everything is already better with you around, and you've only been living here for three hours."

You licked your lips and climbed into his arms. And that's how you ended up having sex for the first time on Friday night on the bathroom floor. It was really kind of sweet too, the way you straddled his lap while he sat with his back against the sink vanity, whispering how much you loved him while you rode him. And that was the thing that always tugged at Bradley's mind and heart; even when the sex was dirty or you were arguing with each other or you made each other mad, there was always a fundamental undercurrent of sweetness in everything. And he needed that forever. 

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

Bradley woke up to an empty bed on Saturday morning, but he could smell something delicious cooking.

He hopped out of bed and made his way into the main living area, past what was left of your unpacked boxes and bins. He found you cooking an omelet in one of his oversized tees while you talked on the phone. A little trail of hot sauce bottles was lined up along the counter, and he smiled fondly at them.

He stood still in the doorway, your back turned to him as you said, "I probably sound happy, because I am happy, mom..... Yeah, all my stuff is moved in, I just need to unpack today and tomorrow..... Maria's new roommate is moving in today, so Bradley and I had to move fast last night..... Yeah, he's great, mom. The house is so tidy, I feel bad messing it up!... Mmhmm, we're still coming for Christmas. I just bought the tickets. I'll email you the info so dad can pick us up from the airport..... I don't know what to tell you to get him for Christmas. I don't even know what I should get him!"

You turned and jumped a bit when you saw him standing there before you shuffled over and leaned against his chest. "Yeah, mom, sounds good. I'll call back tomorrow when dad's home, okay? Love you."

"Morning, Sweetheart."

"Were you eavesdropping, Roo? Trying to figure out what I'm getting you for Christmas?"

Bradley pulled you into his arms. "While I must admit I am curious about that, I woke up and you weren't in bed and I missed you."

You smiled brightly up at him. "I'm making you breakfast. You need to stop eating those frozen meals and picking up takeout all the time."

He leaned down and kissed you softly. "If you cook me something, I will eat it, no questions asked. I love everything you make. And I will clean up the kitchen every time."

"Jesus, Roo, that's some panty dropping shit right there," you groaned. "I love watching you clean the kitchen, it's so fucking sexy, I could get off to it."

Bradley's head tipped back and he laughed, holding you against him.

"I'm not even kidding, because half the time you do it in just your underwear. It's hot as hell."

He looked down at you and smiled. "Let's eat, Sweetheart. Then you can watch me clean up, and then we can see how sturdy the new table is."

Turns out, the table was very sturdy. Bradley picked it out, in part, because it looked like it could take a bit of a beating. He had you splayed out naked on your back, with your ankles on his shoulders. You were shaking your head back and forth, moaning his name over and over as he stroked your clit with his thumb. He hadn't even entered you yet, and you were soaking wet and ready to come for him. God, you looked so fucking pretty as he slipped his fingers inside you and bent them at just the right angle before fucking you with them. 

Your hands went to your breasts, and he was mesmerized as you squeezed and fondled yourself, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you arched your back. "Bradley," you whined. "Fuck me."

This couldn't really be his life. There was no way. Homemade breakfast? Cooked by a sinfully hot woman wearing just his shirt? And then sex on the dining room table? He loved this, loved you. 

"Bradley! Please! I want you to fuck me," you literally begged as you looked up at him and bit your lip.

"I'll never get tired of hearing you say that, Baby Girl," he whispered, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips before he fucked you until you screamed.

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

You had him completely sidetracked again. He was supposed to be putting a coffee table together, but you had lured him into the shower with you. He was helpless to turn you down, especially when you offered to wash his hair for him. 

"We should make a grocery list. And later, after we finish shopping, I'm going to let you help me cook Marry Me Rooster for dinner."

"Sounds ideal, Sweetheart" he agreed, practically panting as you ran your shampoo covered fingers slowly through his hair and pressed little kisses to his collarbone. 

"It will be. And don't forget, you agreed to let me pay for all of our groceries while I'm living here."

Bradley's brow scrunched up. "I don't remember agreeing to that."

"Well you sure did, Roo. You agreed with me when I mentioned it directly after I gave you a blowjob last weekend."

Bradley met your smirking gaze and gulped as he thought back to that particular encounter. "Are you referring to the blowjob you gave me where I titty fucked you halfway through before you finished me off with your mouth?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, rinsing the shampoo from his hair and trailing your fingers down the back of his neck. "Pretty sure I could have made you agree to anything in that moment, so be thankful it's just the groceries, yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed, knowing he'd been beaten on this particular topic. 

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

On Sunday night, when you had finished reheating the leftover Marry Me Rooster for dinner, Bradley was standing behind you kissing your exposed neck.

"I'm so happy you're here, Sweetheart."

"Me too, Roo," you told him, taking his hand in yours and leading him toward the table that he would always associate with making love to you.

"I'm gonna love you forever. You know that, right?" he whispered, pulling you into his arms. 

You snuggled against his chest and smiled up at him. "Yeah, I know."

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

Thanks for reading along! Several more one-shots of these two beauties, and then another series filled with smut, fluff and angst.

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[ccghastly]

hello i absolutely love your sleeping headcanons they're so cuuute!!! may i request some sleeping headcanons for javier? i know he's been mentioned a bit but i would love to know more he's my precious meow meow 💕

Javier and Sleep

A fourth installment of Headcanons 

I’m impossibly happy that you folks are enjoying these!

Howdy Anon! 💝

I really don't know if I've the best grasp on Javier's character, so you're really challenging me on this one, but I'll still try my best!! 

Hope you like it!

One of the few members of camp that actually has a nighttime routine

Washing his face, cleaning his teeth, changing out of his day clothes so his bedroll stays tidy, etc.

Some nights he likes to treat himself to a cup of this herbal tea that Hosea’s got him hooked on, but he’s always worried about running through it too fast. At the rate he’d like to drink it, he'd be begging more off of Hosea every three days, and that's an embarrassing enough thought to keep a lid on his budding addiction.

(Please note that Hosea restocks him every two weeks or so, and absolutely would not mind doing so more often. Would probably be very flattered that Javier likes it that much, but alas, we must leave Javier his pride)

Javier hates it when people wearing their day clothes sit or lay on his bedroll, it makes him feel uncomfortable and unclean everytime he then has to use his bedroll, until he can find the time to go through the bother of cleaning it. 

And yes he cleans it himself. He has a nice bedroll, and he’s seen what the Ladies are used to having to do to get the other men’s bedrolls clean. He's not risking it. 

Javier really only gets overly hot or cold if the weather is being problematic, he typically sleeps fine no matter how hot it is, but when it gets too cold he starts getting a little desperate.

How can anyone expect him to sleep while his teeth are chattering so hard he’s going to have less teeth than uncle come morning.

Discovering that Arthur is a snoring furnace was a glorious day.

The first time it happened was genuinely an accident. Javier and Arthur had been ironing out the issues on a few plans in Arthur's tent and only when Abigail shooed Jack into Arthur’s tent for bedtime did they realize how late it had gotten, and Arthur invited Javier to just stay the night instead of slogging back through the snow for his own bedroll.

That perfect night of finally getting to be warm awoke a horribly greedy beast within Javier. He was thenceforth determined to sleep in proximity to Arthur until either it stopped snowing or he dropped dead. Fully willing to lie, cheat, swindle, beg, and kill to ensure it.

He shared a roof and a mattress with innumerable cousins when he was younger and still finds the sounds of others snoozing nearby to be very soothing.

Is also used to fighting for the blankets and has an undefeated claw grip on any and every blanket he can get his unconscious little fingers around. Be very wary of getting any blanket too close to a sleepy Javier, 9/10 chance you will lose it.

Pretty easy to wake, but be warned that you will not get a single coherent sentence until he’s had the time to properly wake himself up. (he honestly might be speaking Spanish, but no one can really tell with how mumbled and slurred it is.)

Likes chewing mint leaves to get the taste of morning breath out of his mouth.

Very cuddly while he's groggy.

Charles has been startled so many times by a sleepy Javier just flopping onto him.

Javier draping over his back while he’s sat drinking his coffee, Javier using him as a leaning post while he’s stood watching the sun kiss the horizon, Javier dropping his face into Charles' belly to hide while Charles was laid dozing. 

The amount of times that Javier nearly got shanked before Charles got used to him is a truly alarming number.

Nowadays Charles is very used to Javier's tactile inclinations, and he quite likes getting to spend this quiet time with the other man. Finds it a bit adorable tbh. 

Javier is only blearily aware of these occurrences, but he’s very grateful for Charles’ unjudging indulgence of his peculiarities. He likes to do Charles simple favors and give him little trinkets as thanks.

(Wow, this got way longer than I thought it would)

Links to the rest of this series ↓

Arthur and Sleep

John and Sleep

Charles and Sleep

[lucy90712]

Road to recovery- Part 6

masterlist After going to Pablo's place last week he's been really busy with physio at the club so we haven't talked quite as much which has been kind of a good thing as it has allowed me to process what happened when I left his. Sure a kiss on the cheek is probably normal to some people but with Pablo it really threw me off as I've realised that I have feelings for him but of course we are just friends so all of the things that the kiss made me feel I need to bury them deep down and forget about them. Having a few days with less contact has helped me to push away my feelings as I'm not being reminded of them as often. Today however Pablo is coming over to my place as it's on his way home and don't get me wrong I'm happy to see him but I'm a bit nervous as I don't know if I'll make things awkward. 

Last night I made my brother help me tidy my apartment as I have been slacking a bit with cleaning as its quite hard for me to run the hoover around and reach certain shelves to put things back or dust. The place definitely isn't fully clean but it's better than it was and I know Pablo won't really care it was more just for me. This morning I also realised I don't have much food or at least not healthy food so I had to drag myself to the nearest store to get some things which was more difficult than I anticipated but I made it home in one piece eventually. By the time I got home I was already exhausted as it takes a lot of effort to walk anywhere now and because I'm not training everyday I'm not as fit as I was a few months ago. 

Before Pablo arrived I took some time to lay down but I didn't get long as it took me so long to get to and from the store. I had about 15 minutes before the buzzer to my apartment went off and I allowed Pablo in before texting him to tell him I'd come down and meet him as my apartment isn't the easiest to find. When I made it to the lobby Pablo was waiting for me with a big smile on his face and something in his hand which he handed to me telling me it was a smoothie from this place he likes to go to sometimes after training. I thanked him and after I tasted the smoothie per his request we made our way up to my apartment.

As we walked in I locked the door behind us but when I turned round Pablo had disappeared from my sight. It didn't take me long to find him though because as soon as I turned the corner into the living room he was stood looking at some of the pictures I have hanging up. He was looking at the collage of pictures I have up which has a mixture of pictures of me with my friends and family and some of me from competitions mostly from when I was younger. I don't look at the pictures that much as I'm used to them being here so I forget that other people find it interesting to look at childhood photos. 

"How old were you in this picture?" Pablo asked looking at a picture of me receiving a medal at a competition while being surrounded by girls much taller than me

"I think I was 9 or maybe just turned 10 but the other girls were mostly 12 or 13" I said 

"Wow and you beat them all" he commented 

"Yeah pretty much since I started gymnastics I've been competing against girls much older than me" I explained 

"Thats so amazing you'll have to show me some videos of you doing gymnastics" he said 

"I can do that I have loads of videos on my laptop as I always have to analyse my performances afterwards" I said 

He looked at a few other pictures and made fun of how I would have my hair in two little pigtails pretty much at all times when I was little even when I didn't have much hair to put up. After he was done laughing at me I grabbed my laptop and let him pick some videos of my recent competitions for us to watch. He was so enthralled by all of the videos after every one he asked me to tell him what I was doing as we watched it again. I loved that he was taking such an interest as I know he doesn't really know anything about gymnastics but he was making an effort to learn and that means a lot as most people I meet don't seem to care at all. He wanted to know all about what it's like at a competition and how the scoring works so he could get as much of a full experience as possible without actually going to a competition. 

Since we've met I've been watching a lot more football and I've watched some compilations of Pablo playing too because I felt like I should know more and I was curious. I must say despite my lack of knowledge Pablo seems like an excellent player and hopefully one day I can see him play in person. I have never been into football or really watched much as I have always training or at competitions on weekend and when I wasn't I was always at my brothers races so it's never something that crossed my mind. While watching I tried to make sense of the rules but there were just some things that made no sense to me so I asked Pablo while we were talking about our sports. He did his best to explain everything and he told me more about his team so I knew who everyone was for when I next watch a game. 

We did other things for a while until Pablo told me that Barcelona were playing in the champions league so we put the game on and started watching it together. It didn't take long before I saw how truly passionate about football Pablo is because straight away he was shouting at the team and he got so annoyed when they conceded. I tried my best to offer a more positive outlook as Pablo kept saying the team were going to lose but it didn't help so I just watched. As the match progressed I got increasingly tired but I wanted to stay awake and watch the game; Pablo must've noticed this as he pulled me into his side and leaned my head against his shoulder to allow me to rest a bit. As we kept watching I rested my eyes a few times but I was always woken up again by Pablo but it was ok because the entire time he was tracing shapes on my side which was really relaxing.

The match eventually ended with a loss for Barcelona so Pablo wasn't happy but I tried my best to cheer him up and eventually I got him smiling and laughing again. Once he was happy we avoided talking about sports for a while instead we watched tiktoks until we were both laughing our asses off which really lightened the mood. Pablo's laugh is so infectious that once he started laughing I couldn't help myself and then we were done for we didn't stop laughing for a good 10 minutes. When we finally stopped we had to take a few minutes to each catch our breath and just calm down. 

"Have you ever been to a football match?" Pablo asked breaking the silence 

"No I haven't" I replied 

"Well I was going to watch the teams next home game this weekend would you want to come with me?" He asked 

"I'd love to but only if it's not a problem and you want me to" I said 

"Of course I want you there it will be fun I want to bring you to your first football game" he said 

"I suppose if I'm going to attend a football match it might as well be with a professional player" I laughed 

"Good I'll come and pick you up before the match and we'll go together and you can meet the rest of the boys" he said 

The thought of meeting the rest of Pablo's teammates is already making me anxious but I'm excited to go to a game in person and with Pablo who I know is dying to go and be with his friends it should be a fun night. 

[watercolor-hearts]

For the ship ask George and Logan. You may not know much but I literally just got to shipping them and saw you do too!!

I do, I do, but it's a pretty "private" (not the best word for it, sorry) thing for me because it started as a story idea/role play with my friend, so not in a way that I saw a pic of them or something and I started shipping them. So most of my George/Logan ideas are in the same universe, which is a mix of the universe of this drawing and the one we made with my friend (where Logan is first in a really strong and special platonic relationship with George and Alex (who are already a couple) and later he falls in love with them and they become a polyam relationship). I'm happy to talk about this universe or my George/Logan(/Alex) ideas, feel free to send an ask if you're interested. 😊 Mentions of heart things/cardiophilia below!

George/Logan

who hogs the duvet

I think they both do. 😃 They pull it off each other during the night and groan when the other does it so they end up cuddling to be close to each other because then they both can have the duvet at the same time. But they still try to have it only for themselves.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

George texts the most to make sure Logan's okay, but sometimes Logan also texts him.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

Not really a creative gift example but in the Logan/George/Alex universe George and Alex gifted a stethoscope to Logan on his birthday because they knew how much it'd mean to him and they made him really happy with it. So yeah, George is pretty good at finding the perfect gift.

who gets up first in the morning

In my universe it really depends on how Logan is, because if he's really tired/exhausted, then George is the one that wakes up first in the morning, but if Logan can't really sleep (or could sleep really well) then he's the one that gets up first.

who suggests new things in bed

I don't really think about bed things when it comes to them because the comfort side of the things is more important to me. But I think once they get comfortable, both of them start suggesting things to try. But maybe George would start it because Logan would be too shy.

who cries at movies

Is this even a question? George.

who gives unprompted massages

George, especially after crashes or difficult races.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

George, because he likes to take care of people and be there for them when they need him.

who gets jealous easiest

I think Logan but he tries not to get jealous because he knows he has no reason for it. He just wants to be loved and scared of losing people who love him.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

who collects something unusual

Well, this is going to be pretty niche but in the Logan/George/Alex universe Logan collects recordings of George's heartbeat that Alex and George make for him. (It's a comfort thing for him when he leaves F1 and he can't always be close to George and hug/snuggle him because he's racing in America while George is still in F1. I don't want to start telling the whole thing here, but if anybody's interested in it, send me an ask and I'll tell you.)

who takes the longest to get ready

George, probably. Gotta style the hair, you know. 😃

who is the most tidy and organised

I think they're both pretty organized.

who gets most excited about the holidays

Both of them, but especially Logan when he gets to celebrate Thanksgiving with his family after years of not being able to.

who is the big spoon/little spoon

Logan is the little spoon, George is the big spoon, because Logan likes the safety George's hugs give.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

Logan, especially when it comes to palying games.

who starts the most arguments

They don't argue and that's what makes their relationship so special. George taught Logan how to open up and talk about everything with him so they can communicate pretty well. There are some difficult moments sometimes but there aren't really any arguments.

who suggests that they buy a pet

I don't think they'd want a pet because they can't be at home enough to take care of it responsibly.

what couple traditions they have

This is something I've been daydreaming of since I finished the Logan drawing I linked above. I don't really know if it counts as a couple tradition, but I think after George gets to know that Logan likes putting his hand on his heart/chest because it's a comfort thing for him, George tarts doing it when he notices that Logan's stressing or panicking. He puts his big hand on Logan's chest, over his heart and tells him everything's going to be okay and talks about his heart to him because he knows about the special relationship Logan has with his heart (you can read about it in the drawing post linked above). But George sometimes does this even when everything's fine and they're lying on the bed, George's hand is resting over Logan's heart and he says sweet things about his heart to make Logan blush.

what tv shows they watch together

I think George is the type to watch something like Drive to Survive but in tennis version. I think there's a series like that but I don't know the name of it. (Edit: It's called Break Point) Logan would join sometimes but after a while he'd start scrolling on his phone.

what other couple they hang out with

I think they sometimes hang out with other F1 couples, especially if there's something sport-related going on, like paddle.

how they spend time together as a couple

They spend time with using the stethoscope Logan got from George and Alex. 😃 Alex teaches Logan how to use it on George and himself and then they do stething sessions which is a good way of relaxation for Logan. But they like to do "normal" couple things, too, like going on dates or go to the gym/to run together and everything like that.

who made the first move

George, when he asked Alex how Logan was after a bad race and told Alex he wants to go and check on him. That's how the platonic part of the Logan/George/Alex polyam relationship started.

who brings flowers home

I don't think they're that big of flower boys, maybe only on special occasions but then they both buy some.

who is the best cook

I think George can cook if he really wants to but I'm not really sure about Logan. Maybe ha can make some easy dishes like scrambled egg or something. 😃

[tia-amorosa]

🌴Lucky Palms🌴

Marisol - Calm before the storm

Saturday morning, 7:43 am. It was an unpleasant night for Marisol. Wistfulness and a certain heaviness lay on her soul, at least that's how she felt. Again and again, it was Clark who woke her from her sleep. She saw him, heard his voice, but when she reached out for him, he disappeared again.

"He's been planning the tour for so long… He's looking forward to it… I won't stand in his way, but… I'm going to miss him so terribly. I'll probably raise the child alone… It would just be nice if he was there… to see how she or he develops…hh"

Later. Marisol searched through her closet for something summery to wear to the party. She found a pretty, light green dress. After getting dressed, she tidied up a bit and set off. But not to the party location. "The party doesn't start until 6pm in the warehouse over there…I'm going to the beach for a bit, I'm just too nervous and restless at home". Besides, it's nice weather today.

Just as Marisol arrived at the beach, her cell phone rang. When she saw the caller's name, her heart suddenly beat a little faster. After it had rung for the fourth time, she answered it. "Hey…"/ "Yes, hi sweetie…"/ "Are you all right?"/ "Yes, yes. I just wanted to make sure again whether you were coming today or not…"/ "I said I would, Clark…"/ "Yes… You did, I know…".

"Are you afraid I won't come? I've always… been to your farewell parties before you go on tour with the boys…" … "Yes, why do I ask, haha…". His voice sounded strange, somehow it all came across as a little artificial. But she ignored that… "you'd better tell me what to wear, extra chic or normal bourgeois?".

"stupid question, just normal of course, I've never done a theme party or anything like that. … Besides, you look good in everything you wear". She felt very flattered for a moment and her thoughts wandered a little. / "Are you still there?"/ "Yes, I, …sorry…"/ "hmm?"/ "Oh nothing, Clark… I'll see you later…"

Once the conversation was over, Marisol sat down on one of the sisal mats lying on the beach. "I know Clark. And the way he sounded on the phone… it was kind of weird. I know he's been looking forward to this tour for a long time… But somehow… I don't know." (I like her cute little halo, but it was inevitable that it would show up at that moment^^)

"On the way here, I tried to call Don with the hands-free system in the car…. It rang for ages, and at some point it just went to voicemail. But I didn't say anything on it… If he wants to be with me so much, why doesn't he answer the phone or call me? I think I already know why. Who knows who he's hanging out with again right now.no matter… That just shows me clearly what he's like".

"When I arrived here in the city back then, he was the first person who caught my eye. A handsome policeman in uniform, friendly, charming… I only found out about his penchant for beautiful women gradually. I thought it might change if… But he'll probably never change… Or will he? I'm going to dip my feet in the water for a while". . Marisol enjoyed the cool water so she passed the time until she made her way to the party.

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End of this Part

@cozygirlsimmer💗 Note (or rather a question): who actually always reads the entire texts until the end (or reads it at all)? I know that you often don't have much time to follow everything😊 ... I'm just asking out of interest🥰

[gillianthecat]

Books Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @littleragondin! I've actually been reading books again these past few weeks so I have answers now lol

hardcover or *paperback* (i am but a weak little woman and those hardcovers are heavy) // bookstore or *library* (probably I would usually say bookstore but I was going to many different libraries to study at towards the end of the semester) // standalone or *series* (really depends on my mood, but the most recent books were a series) // nonfiction or *fiction* (fiction is an indulgence, and while I'm interested in a lot of non-fiction, reading it usually feels more like work) // thriller or *fantasy* (I've never been into scary stuff) // under 300 pages or *over 300 pages* (otherwise it goes by too quickly!) // children's or *ya* (i have not connected with the YA I've read in recent years but at times I have devoured it) // friends to lovers or *enemies to lovers* (there are some amazing friends-to-lovers I adore, but I'm compelled by even mediocre enemies-to-lovers) // *read in bed* or read on the couch (either but recently it's been all in bed) // *read at night* or read in the morning (through the night and into the next morning) // *keep pristine* or markup (I don't try to actually keep books pristine, but I also never bother to mark up anything but textbooks) // *cracked spine* or dog ear (historically I read most books on one sitting, but if not I'd just search for the page again/use a random receipt as a bookmark)

Currently Reading:

I'm not in the middle of anything, but I've read more in recent weeks than I have in a long time. (Well, technically I'm in the middle of Solomon's Ransom by Corey Kerr, because I read the sample and now am waiting for the book to be released in a few weeks.)

Several months ago I got from the (physical!) library a (physical!) copy of She Who Became the Sun by Shelly Parker-Chan, and I finally finished after the semester ended, and then found an ebook of the sequel, He Who Drowned the World. (Compelling, though I think the ambitiousness of the project inevitably meant that parts of it didn't quite work.)

Then I read a bunch of romance ebooks, and even found a m/f one that I liked! Jodi McAlister's Not Here To Make Friends. (It was also the reality dating show romance I had been low-key hoping would exist.)

I also read RF Kuang's Babel: An Arcane History (which I appreciated and was provoked by, but didn't exactly love), and then read that she was inspired by/responding to Donna Tartt's The Secret History, so I reread that. (When I read it years ago my reaction was, I'm too old for this. It felt like a book you need to read in your teens or early twenties to get swept up into. My thoughts this go around were pretty much the same.) Then Kuang's Yellowface, which was also compelling.

Speaking of enemies to lovers, quite enjoyed The Sorcerer's Omega, also by Corey Kerr, which is why I'm awaiting her latest release. (The other two books in that world are also good, just not catnip for my tastes in the same way.)

And your post reminded me—I too read Love in the Big City, which was good and also unsettling in that way of most autobiographical novels about the authors fucked up twenties. Now I can go and unblock the tag and see all the fascinating discussions y'all had in your book club.

I have no idea how they'll manage to turn it into a BL (which is what I think I read is happening?). Although it's about relationships it's very much not a romance. Are they just pulling out some random plot points and building a whole new story around them? I hope they don't try to smush it into BL shape at all, and just tell the narrator's melancholy story as written.

(Oh, technically I'm in the middle of Mari Kondo's The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up, but I'm not sure if I'll read any more. Other people's advice can be counterproductive at times.)

(Most most recently was a bunch of Untamed and Drarry fanfic, but I'm not counting that.)

I'm not sure who's done this already, but I'll tag @lelephantsnail, @petrichoraline and @tungtung-thanawat.