#LIKE ITS ANOTHER FUCKIN TUESDAY FOR HIM

[bigbuffjoonie]

I AM REEEEEEEELING. REELING I TELL YOU!!

Versus | MYG, JHS - Chapter 5

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, crack, enemies to lovers, Villains!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of weapons - blades, use of restraints - chains and straitjacket, implied threat of death by mauling, fighting, mentions of blood, Yoongi confirmed cat owner, Hobi's fuse is getting shorter by the minute

Word Count: 2.5k

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Supervillain exes Yoongi and Hoseok are sick and tired of having their plans for world domination wrecked by you, aka Vitality, the world’s most powerful superhero. When fellow villain Jimin suggests a little competition to see who can bring you to your knees, they both eagerly accept. Now the battle is on as both men engage you in fight after fight to see who will conquer you first. Will you finally defeat these two, or will they destroy you - and possibly take each other out in the process?

A/N: And we're back in the ring again, for another round of fights! Things are really heating up. Time for our villains to decide if they're gonna put out the fire, or burn even brighter, as Hobi himself would say.

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Chapter Four ✨ Series Masterlist ✨ Chapter Six

Chapter Five: Back in the Ring

Yoongi would really love to hear Jimin announce his name as the winner, but the way you’re moving in that straitjacket right now has him doubting today’s his lucky day.

You’re also questioning your luck as you attempt to free yourself from the tight black garment. One moment, you were seconds away from defeating Yoongi again, shooting his daggers out of the sky and aiming for him next, when suddenly you felt that familiar invisible wave pulsate through you, and you fainted.

You, Vitality, the most powerful creature on the fucking planet, swooned like some lady in a romance novel whose stays were tied too tight. You passed the fuck out in the middle of a fight, and woke up wearing a straitjacket, suspended by chains dangling from the ceiling in… well, you don’t know where the fuck you are. He must’ve dragged you back to one of the many safehouses he has scattered across the globe. And your fucking powers are on the fritz again, just like the last time you’d fought Yoongi and ended up strung up on the wall. 

You. Are. Pissed.

“Where the fuck are we, you ginger psycho?!” you shriek, swinging back and forth as you shift your shoulders, trying to loosen the jacket’s stranglehold. “And why the fuck do you even have a straitjacket??”

Yoongi merely cackles, stroking your nose with the tip of his dagger, trying to maintain his relaxed air. The plan is to dangle you over the cage where Moonlight, his beloved snow leopard, is waiting impatiently for her dinner. But the elaborate rope and pulley system Taehyung designed is… well, it’s stuck, the gears refusing to turn, so now Yoongi’s stalling for time while Taehyung searches for his oil. 

Yoongi makes a note to discuss proper lubrication techniques with his confidant once Moonlight’s been fed. 

The power disrupters seem to be working perfectly for once, thankfully. However, you’re bouncing so wildly that Yoongi’s starting to suspect he’s made a bad decision here with his choice of constraint. That damn jacket. Why not use his standard restraints? There are no points here for showmanship. 

Sometimes he just can’t help himself. He’s a natural born showman. 

An agitated growl brings his wandering thoughts back to heel. 

“Patience, darling,” Yoongi calls out to his pet. He taps his dagger against your cheek. “Any last requests?”

“Yeah, why don’t you kiss my ass, motherfucker?” you spit, feeling your left arm starting to slip. Shit, you really hate this part.

Yoongi sheaths his dagger as he roughly grips your face with one leather-gloved hand. “That can be arranged, if you’d like. I told you before, I am open to suggestions.”

“I suggest you go fuck yourself, you fucking cockwaffle!”

He barely blinks at your spite. “For a superhero, you have such a filthy mouth,” he murmurs, running a thumb over your bottom lip. “Want me to put it to good use one last time?”

“Whatever you’re about to say, just shove–“ 

“Always so vulgar,” Yoongi interrupts you smoothly, fingers still grasping your cheeks. He needs to divert your attention long enough for Taehyung to figure out the gears, or this is going to end very badly for him. Again. “It’s almost a shame that I have to get rid of you, pretty bird. We could have such fun together.”

Your shoulder loosens. Finally. 

“I highly fucking doubt that, you homicidal maniac.” But you recognize the glint in his eyes, and your swinging stops for a moment as you find yourself lost in it. 

“Come now. Your time is growing short. There’s no need to pretend with me. How long have we been fighting now? How many battles? I can read you so clearly, after all this time. I know you want to know.” He tilts his face, mouth close enough to yours that you can feel his warm breath on your lips. It’s enough to make you lose focus for a moment, chest hitching as soft fingertips ghost over your chin. 

The shift from cruel to gentle is whiplash-inducing. And strangely alluring. But you need to stay sharp. Concentrate. 

Distract him. 

“Know what?” you ask. Scarlet shimmers around him as he steps closer, hands cradling your head. “What could you possibly think you know about me?”

“I know that you’re frustrated.”

“Obviously!”

“I don’t mean with the current circumstances, pretty bird. I know you’re frustrated with the way your company just can’t seem to keep its hands on me.” The corner of his mouth curls in a self-satisfied smirk. “And you’re shouldering all that blame yourself, aren’t you? No matter how much you do for them, it’s just not enough, is it?”

You blink, trying not to show how rattled you are by his words. It’s like he can see directly into your mind. How the fuck does he do that? “You just think you know everything, don’t you?” 

Yoongi laughs, a low chuckle that tickles your cheek. He adjusts his grip, one hand on either side of your face, eyes darkening as they gaze into yours. 

“It’s true, pretty bird, that there is so much I know. So much that you’re not even aware of. But I will admit now, knowing you’ll take this secret to your grave, that there’s something I’ve always longed to know.”

Something he remembers, one very drunken evening, talking to someone else about. He also remembers the way the other man had glanced at him like he was mad. 

He always loathed that look. 

“What?” The question tumbles from your mouth before you can stop it. This is your chance - don’t let yourself get distracted now!

Focus. 

“What it would be like,” he whispers into your mouth, “if we….” 

One second, you’re both waiting, and then you’re both moving, crossing the space between you. The invisible line. 

The kiss is surprisingly tender. Yoongi moves delicately against your mouth, but the way you softly sigh and part your lips for him turns him feral, and soon you’re both gasping for air.

Yoongi breaks away first, shaking his head, trying to clear the fog of arousal that suddenly clouds his mind. The last thing he wants is Hobi mocking him for thinking with his dick again. 

He’s given him more than enough to laugh at over the years.

“Holy shit,” you pant, staring at him. “Did you… did you feel…?”

Yoongi nods, still hazy. He did feel something. Like sparks. Shooting up his arm. They’re still going, actually.

Oh, shit. Those fucking wonky power disrupters.

ZAP! 

Yoongi’s blasted off his feet. White beams crackle from the fingertips of the hand you’ve managed to free thanks to your dislocated shoulder. With a grin, you zap him again, hard enough to stun, and shake yourself free of the jacket. Another few zaps at your chains and you’re back on your feet just as Taehyung rushes through the door with a can of oil. 

“Found it, hyung!” he yells triumphantly, stopping short at the sight of Yoongi lying on the ground while you tower over him. “Oh. Shit.” 

The can goes flying as Taehyung hits the ground. Yoongi peers up at you blearily, still reeling from your attack. A halo of bright energy flows around your body as you gaze down at him, giving you an ethereal glow. His dazed mind thinks you look like an angel of death. A valkyrie, come to claim him at last.

He sighs as darkness steals him away. 

“Thank you for joining me today, hyungs. Sorry we couldn’t do this in my office, but it’s out of commission at the moment.” Jimin’s smile drips with charm as his holographic image flickers on Hobi’s console. 

“Still can’t get the blood stains out, huh?” Yoongi drawls through the speakers. He’d opted out of using Hobi’s holo-tech for today’s meeting. Typical analog Yoongi. Hobi leans back, letting his legs rest on the table in front of him in his command center. 

Jimin’s smile tightens at Yoongi’s question. “The rug’s just fine, thanks for asking, hyung. Anyway, I thought it was time to check in on your challenge and see how things are going. We should - will you please stop fiddling with that?”

The image of the handsome man in the three-piece suit stabilizes as he glares at someone out of view. “Sorry, Jimin-ssi,” a contrite voice apologizes.

“Hey Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi greets the younger man.

“Hi Yoongi-hyung!” Jungkook trills merrily from somewhere off-screen beside Jimin.

“Quit fucking with my tech, Jungkook-ah,” Hobi growls in lieu of pleasantries. 

“Sorry, Hobi-hyung!” 

Jimin pinches his nose. “If you’re done, Jungkook, I’d like to get back to my meeting now?” 

“Yeah, can we please get on with this?” Yoongi replies agitatedly. Hobi’s not sure what’s more irritating, Yoongi’s voice or the meeting itself. 

He drums his fingers on the console, itching to get this over with. Vitality’s been a thorn in his side since the day she debuted as the Bureau of Technology and Superheroes’s latest super do-gooder. He should be plotting his next move against her. Instead, he’s stuck in this meeting. His mind wanders to his last attempt to defeat her, when she’d literally flipped the balance and taken him down so swiftly. He can still feel the heat of her thighs squeezing him as she’d rolled them over.…

“Hobi-hyung?”

Several seconds pass before Hobi realizes that Jimin’s image is staring at him. “Fuck, sorry, what was that?”

“I asked if you agree.”

“Right. With…?”

“Jesus, will you stop playing with your gadgets and pay attention? Can’t you keep your hands off your toys for five fucking seconds?” Yoongi’s annoyed voice hisses over the comms. 

“Fuck off,” Hobi replies evenly. “I’m not playing with anything, I just drifted off while Jimin was nattering on.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jimin’s smile finally slips from his face as he scowls into the holo-cam. “Anyway, if you’ll just pull up the Powerpoint presentation I emailed to you, we can continue.” 

Hobi raises a finger and Jin automatically loads the presentation on the main monitor of the command center. An image of Hobi and Yoongi glaring at each other fills the screen, along with the title “Dark Hobi vs Evil Yoongi: Progress Report.” 

“Oh god. Comic Sans? Really, Jimin?” 

Jimin ignores Hobi, clearing his throat officiously. “If you scroll to the first slide, you’ll see…” 

Jimin’s blathering fades into the background as Hobi swipes his finger in the air. Jin follows his movements, scrolling through the slides quickly. There are images of his last battle along with Yoongi’s in here. Each slide also contains Jimin's pompous commentary. Hobi rolls his eyes, flipping through faster. His friend is really milking this competition. 

Whatever keeps him out of Hobi’s hair is fine with him. 

Then he reaches the final slide. 

“What the fuck, Jimin?” 

Jimin breaks off, glancing into the holo-cam. “Hyung, what is it? I was in the middle of discussing - “

“I don’t care. You’re declaring Yoongi the winner so far?”

“Well, look at that.” Hobi’s eye twitches at how pleased Yoongi sounds.

“Hyung! Are you scrolling ahead?” Jimin’s hologram pouts. “You’re supposed to be following along with us. Do you have any idea how long it took me to put this together??”

“Two weeks,” Jungkook pipes up helpfully.

“KOOK-AH!” 

Hobi rubs his face. “Jimin-ah! I don’t care! I just don’t understand how you can say Yoongi’s in the lead. The winner’s the one who kills Vitality. Either she’s alive or she’s dead, there’s no in-between. So how can he be ahead if she’s still breathing?” 

“Well, hyung, if you had bothered to pay attention, I would’ve answered that for you on slide number 34, where I introduce the point system that I’ve - “

“Point system!” Hobi’s changed his mind. Jimin’s doing too much. “Are you serious? This is absolutely ridiculous, Jimin.” He rises to his feet and starts to pace, knowing the holo-cam will track the motion. “Powerpoint presentations and check-ins and now point systems? What a waste of time! I should be attacking Vitality right now!” 

“Excuse me? A waste of time?? How dare - “ 

“Then go.” 

Yoongi’s calm voice cuts into Jimin’s sputtering. He sounds completely unbothered.

Hobi stops pacing, peering into the cam as if it would show him Yoongi. “What did you say?” 

“I said, then go. Go fight Vitality again. No one cares what you do.” 

Red flashes across Hobi’s vision. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he seethes through his teeth, grinding them together. “I was talking to Jimin.” 

“On a conference call. So I’m here too, dipshit.” Yoongi’s voice is a little tighter now. He’s trying to maintain control. It only makes Hobi want to rip into him more. 

“I know you are, asshole, but I was clearly only addressing Jimin, so I don’t need to hear your opinion on the matter! So just shut the fuck up!” 

“Hyungs, can we please - “

“No, you shut the fuck up! Stop complaining and leave already, if this whole meeting is beneath you!” 

“There’s no need for the two of you - “

“I never said it was beneath me!“ 

“You didn’t have to say it, it was implied in your tone! It’s always implied in your tone, you always act like you’re superior to everyone else!” Yoongi’s yelling now, practically roaring over the comms. 

“I do not - “

“Yes you do! Look at the way you’re talking to Jimin! Fuck, look at the way you used to talk to me!”

“Fuck you!” Hobi slams his hands on the table. There’s a replying bang on the other end, like Yoongi’s also taking his anger out on something around him. “I never treated you badly! Never!” 

Jimin silently gazes into the holo-cam, eyes wide as he listens to both men panting. Hobi leans against the wall behind the table, head down as he closes his eyes. Yoongi’s fucking inferiority complex drove him crazy when they were together and it angers him even more now. He never understood how amazing he is. 

Was. How amazing he was. Now, he’s just another thorn in Hobi’s side. 

He really needs to do some pruning.

Jimin clears his throat again. “If the two of you are done…”

“Yeah. We’re done.” Yoongi spits. 

“Finished,” Hobi agrees with a sneer. “As is this conversation. Jimin, don’t waste another two weeks on more of this Powerpoint bullshit.” Jimin lets out a tiny ‘hey’ as Hobi raises his hand. “And don’t send me any more meeting invites. We’ll talk again when I’ve won.” He makes a fist, and Jin cuts the connection. Jimin’s hologram disappears. 

There’s a beat, and then Jin says, “So, that went well.”

“Shut it, Jin.” Hobi slums back into his chair. “Pull up the schematics for file #218. Let’s finalize this. I want to mobilize as soon as possible.” 

“Yes, sir.” Hobi appreciates the lack of pet names as his newest project loads on the monitor. Taking a deep breath, he forces his pulse to slow, trying his damnedest to push that meeting out of his thoughts. But no matter what he does, Yoongi’s mocking tone just keeps echoing in his ear. It’s still there two days later when Hobi boards his jet, on his way to enact his latest plan.

“No one cares what you do.”

He’ll fucking show him. Hobi’ll make Yoongi care, when he wins. Then he’ll make him pay.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

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[lupeloto]

wallet headcanon ficlet

so i wrote a fic about mickey finding out ian keeps a picture of him in his wallet (the exact picture attached)

— — —

It was their Tuesday night tradition of lounging on the couch with their legs intertwined and watching whatever shitty reality shows that TLC was airing. They had an addiction yet complete disdain towards any about rich people doing stupid shit or rich people complaining. It makes them absolutely irate but unable to tear their eyes away through very vocal commentary regarding the stupidity of it all. The sun was settling down, peeking just above the horizon and casting a warm yellow across their living room…and a glare on the TV that Ian gets to hear about until it settles.

“Oh the fuckin-” Mickey grumbles, shuffling around in an attempt to block it from his sight, “swear to god this shit wasn’t this bright on the southside.”

Ian sighs, shooting Mickey a glare and preparing to express his irritation but instead melted at the sight of warm light on his face, illuminating his freckles and his sour expression. His chest fluttered, rendering him entirely unable to say a crossword, instead finding himself unable to look away.

“Jesus christ, Gallagher, you wanna take a picture, keep it in your pocket,” a now settled Mickey smirks, “it’ll last longer,” he shoots Ian a quick glance before turning his attention back to the tv.

“Already done,” Ian says casually with enchanted eyes.

Mickey grins, keeping his gaze forward, “Yeah sure,” he scuffs, taking a swig of his beer.

Ian turns, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“What, ya saying you keep a picture of me in your wallet, Gallagher?” Mickey mocks, demeanor like he wouldn’t believe it for a second.

Ian smirks, tackling on top of Mickey, their hungry eyes locking, “Calling me a liar?” Ian reaches into his back pocket, whipping out his wallet and the polaroid of Mickey to go along with it. He looks at him himself, heart filled with a familiar warmth that manages to ground him whenever he needs, before whipping it around to Mickey with a proud expression.

It’s one of Ian’s favorite pictures of Mickey. It was taken on this polaroid that Debbie and Sandy got, Mickey leaning against the dresser in her room. The moment Debie showed it to him, he immediately snatched it for himself, gawking over his husband for the next five minutes as Debbie and Sandy pretended to listen.

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey fails to mask the massive grin that tugs at his mouth, “This is the gayest shit you’ve ever done, and that’s sayin a lot.”

“Whatever, man. I like what I like,” Ian shrugs, still straddling him, “Like having you with me.”

“And you couldnt just use your phone like a normal fucking person ,” Mickey scratches the top of Ian’s head, giving him a couple squeezes. He teases, pretending his heart didn’t skip a beat and his entire being hadn’t melted at the thought of the gesture.

“Guess not,” he shrugs, placing a soft kiss on his neck, “like showing you off when I can,” another peck.

Mickey leans into the kiss, head tilting back, “Jesus you’re one sappy motherfucker.”

“Mhm, love you too,” Ian says through bated breaths, preparing to drag his husband straight to the bedroom. He plucks the picture from its place on Mickey’s chest, poppin back into its rightful pocket in his wallet before practically yanking Mickey into the other room, their bodies pressed close together, stealing a kiss with every step.

Ian grips the back of his head with a vigor, clumps of black hair tangled in his freckled hand. Mickey returns the gesture, taking a handful of Ian’s bicep with him as they stumble into the bedroom.

The sun has completely set, the stars particularly illuminate on this night, as if they were begging for the attention of anyone who’s eye caught them… but just a mere blurred background to Mickey. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from much more compelling constellation of freckles scattered across the face of the red-head that lies opposite him on the bed. His eyes are shut, meaning Mickey has complete access to every inch of his face, even the light dusting across his eyelids. His finger traces his exposed arm lightly, “Must think i’m real handsome,” he whispers, “keepin a picture of me like that all the time.”

“Says the one who hasn’t stopped staring for the last ten minutes,” Ian smirks, blinking his eyes open to catch Mickey’s gaze. They hold a softness that melts Mickey the moment they make contact, sending a familiar warmth throughout his body. He scoots in closer.

“I like what I like,” his go soft too, “don't make me a bitch.”

“Well,” Ian leans in, “Kinda makes you my bitch.”

“Watch it, Gallagher.”

They continue like that for a while, whispering sweet nothings between small laughter, the stars still shine brighter than ever, seeking attention behind the boy that somehow shines brighter. Mickey never looks away.

[ashton-glover]

From: adg665@qmail.com To: angelsonata@qmail.com

A— ...

Ashton stared at his phone, stuck, again. This must be the millionth time he was attempting to email his sister, and sorely failing.

What could he write that hasn't already been said? That won't come back undelivered? Had she changed her e-mail address like she did her phone number? Did she do it or did their parents make her do it? Do they know he'd been trying to contact her since they shipped him off to America? Is that why he couldn't get a hold of her?

In great frustration, Ashton shoved his phone at the back of his jeans, withdrawing an emptying pack of cigarettes. Or rather, cigarette. The very last. And a broken one at that. Just his fuckin' luck. He left the broken piece in the pack, wanting to make good use of it later, and lit the remaining half.

It was Tuesday evening, and Ashton was at the back alley behind the little restaurant where he worked. With Blake and Ridley busy inside, he took this time to have his fifteen-minute break before the dinner crowd rushed in. Desperate for a smoke, he didn't think he could wait until Blake's break to inhale the nicotine deep in his lungs.

Taking another drag, the tiny specks of brilliant amber crawled up the length of his cigarette, burning paper on its way, but gave him no relief to exhale. His thoughts were too disorganised, too jumbled like an itch he couldn't scratch; and the voices didn't help, either. They never help...

"Ashton! Ashton, no!!!"

The moment Ashton closed his eyes, his sister's screaming amplified in his head, instantly bringing him back to five years ago. She had sounded so terrified then, and the desperation in her voice and in her blue eyes haunted him in his sleep, even to this day.

"What have you done?! Are you alright? Ash, look at me! Are you hurt? Ashton? Ashton!!"

"Ashton..." A familiar voice echoed closer to home. "Ash!" The worry in her voice sounded too real that it snapped Ashton back to reality where he found himself facing his girlfriend, Blake, who looked horror-stricken.

"Wha—?" He heard his voice come out of his mouth but couldn't remember saying the word itself.

"What do you mean 'what'?!" Blake's emerald green eyes looked up at him in terror. "Your hand!"

Ashton looked down at his hand, and immediately understood. While there were deep crescents made against his pale palm, it was nothing compared to the fresh blood dripping from his battered knuckles. It seemed he had been punching the brick alley wall without him realising it.

Ashton blinked and saw that a couple of waitresses from the restaurant had come to peek behind the back door. They must've been on their break and saw him in his manic state. He wouldn't be surprised if they were the very same ones to call Blake for help.

"Let's get you inside and—..."

One look was all it took for Blake to understand that Ashton was in no state to work for the rest of the night.

"Okay, okay," she murmured softly, wrapping his bloodied hand with the bandana he wore. "Wait for me here, I'll tell Ben you're not well and we'll get you home, okay?"

All Ashton could do was nod, slumping onto an empty crate to sit and wait for his girlfriend. The other waitresses had left, clearly afraid of what he might do next. And while the screaming in his head never quite ceased, it dulled enough for him to calm down, enough to notice his last cigarette as it laid there on the cold, wet street, burned, crumpled, and blood-stained like the rest of him.

[hypnotisedfireflies]

Tommy and the Babysitter

The second advent reject from Cloud Nine & Other Stories. Set later in 2024 than the first reject and the eventual story, Luke is six months old.

“Tommy, baby, I love this kid, but we need a night off.”                

Tommy looked up from where he was wrist-deep in pairing tiny socks.  Maria was in the doorway, lightly bouncing a fussy six-month-old in her arms.  The baby in question had a mouthful of her hair and from this angle, it kind of looked like he was sporting a dramatic moustache.

There were any number of appropriate babysitters in Jackson who could help the Millers out.  The most promising was the one right across the street.  Tommy knew how good his brother was with kids and Maria was kind of starstruck by Joel’s affinity for it, repressed for over twenty years, but comfortably finding its way back into Joel’s psyche.

“He’s always looked after someone,” Tommy explained later as they packed Luke a big bag.  He would not be staying overnight – Maria didn’t feel ready for that – but it was a long enough time that Tommy felt the need to arm Luke with his own supplies in the case of any eventuality.  “First it was me, then it was Emma, then it was Sarah – ”

He paused, then drew the zip decisively along its track.

“Then Tess, then Ellie.  He can’t help it.  He’s just hardwired that way.”

“Is Tess okay with this?” Maria passed him another hat, just in case the first vanished into thin air.  “She’s – a bit less …”

“Tess and Ellie are goin’ round to Lachie’s.”

“And was that before or after Tess heard Joel was babysitting Luke?”

“I don’t know.”  Tommy shrugged.  Then, sensing Maria’s eyes still on him, he hoisted the bag on his shoulder and looked at her.  “Don’t worry.  We haven’t chased her out of home.  Joel don’t do anything she’s not okay with, not even for me.  And Tess has always been … Tess has always been …”

“What?”

“Particular about not comin’ between Joel and me.”

“If anything happens to her, it’s on you.”

Joel had threatened him with that two decades ago, when they left the mountains of Tennessee.  And something had happened to Tess in Indianapolis, and Tommy had never quite been able to shake a sense of responsibility for it, even though Joel had never once used that warning against him. 

“But did she?”

“What?”

“Come between you.”

Tommy lifted the bag over one shoulder.  He thought about it for a moment.  “No.  There are a lot of  things I can blame on Tess, but that ain’t one of them.  And I would’ve been fuckin’ blind to ever think it could’ve been any different.  Them two were meant for each other, right from the start.  Anyone could see that.”

Maria raised her eyebrows, amused.  “You liked Tess?”

“Am I in trouble, ma’am?”

She grinned.  “No.”

“No,” he said, pretty sure that was true.  It was a long time ago, after all.  “People either loved Tess or hated Tess. She can be kind of divisive like that.  I was one of the few inbetweeners.”

“Uh huh,” Maria gave him that irritating, knowing smile she wore when she thought she knew best. 

Tommy rolled his eyes.  She hadn’t been there, and she didn’t know.  It was complicated back then.  They were so young.  The Outbreak was still with them, so fresh, and there was so much they still didn’t know about the fungus, each other, and most of all, themselves. 

The truth was Tommy sometimes had difficulty connecting up the man he’d been then with the one he was now.  He talked about it in the sessions he attended on Tuesday nights, a group of men around about his age.  None of their experiences were identical but there were common themes across all their pathways.  It was reassuring to be heard.  It was easier to relate to pre-Outbreak Tommy Miller than it was with the man he’d become between about 2008 to 2018.  That was surprisingly common amongst the men in his group.  Stormin’ Norman called it the “do or die” time.  It was the point where everyone lost themselves, tried different ways to make it, then found themselves on the other side trying to reconcile with all the things they’d done. 

He wished Joel would go with him just once.  Even if he didn’t talk.  Just go once and listen.

“You right to go?”  Tommy asked.

Maria nodded.  She was already rugged up – scarfed and zippered and booted and behatted – ready for their precious few hours to themselves. 

Joel met them at the front door, rubbing his hands together and turning his head from side to side to squint at the gently falling snow. 

“Are you sure this is okay?”  Maria asked. 

Tommy could hear the slight catch in her voice.  All her reservations about Joel were far from resolved.  She was choosing to trust Tommy over her own instincts. 

“I’ve got him,” Joel said, gently lifting Luke into his arms.  “We’ll have fun.”

“Yeah, he’s a fuckin’ hoot,” Tommy commented as he eased the bag on to Joel’s shoulder. 

He stepped back with a thank you on his lips and paused.  Joel just standing there, looking down at the new, tiny baby in his arms.  It could’ve been 1989.  Tommy swallowed his words instead and backed away, nodding.  His gloved hands found Maria’s.

Tommy and his wife headed down the road.  Their breath escaped in warm puffs before them, caught in the twinkling lights.  Fairy and streetlights were strung up all over, the network expanding further than it had the previous year as more neighbourhoods within Jackson opened up.  Their population growth was slow and controlled.  They had lost more people during the year than they had gained.  But it was exciting to see the Jackson experiment was working. 

“What are you thinking about?”  Maria asked.

“Just – naw, it’s nothin’,” he answered, shying away from it.  He nodded to the towering Christmas tree.  “Every time I see that, I think I’m in a fuckin’ Hallmark movie.”

“Nothing wrong with one of those,” Maria replied, glancing over their shoulder to the blue house.  “I used to look forward to curling up with one of those and a glass of wine.”

“I thought you liked those shitty action flicks.”

“I can like both,” she reminded him.

(I think the point of this was Tommy talking about finding something that worked for him, finally being part of something bigger, which was his core drive throughout Driftersverse but idk).

[siren--squid]

Something I love about NRFTI is that the presumably normal human main character meets up with his online friend and one of them has animal ears and a tail and he's like super chill with that like it's completely normal. And the other friend has a body temperature that should definitely be concerning like the dude is running a constant fever and feels like a stove-top and that also just normal to Adam, his friend is a personal space heater and that's not concerning. That other guy is half animal and that's totally chill and cool, no pun intended as that guy's body temp is like pure fucking ice constantly

And then he meets back up with his childhood best friend and previous partner... and it's completely and totally not weird that they're now a fuckin catboy. They have cat ears and a tail and in fact.. That is so perfectly fine with Adam that they're back together and implied to have.. literally fucked.

AND THEN.

He meets two more online friends.

And..

One of them is a whole ass half human half... dragon.

A DRAGON HUMAN HYBRID

And that's normal enough for him to just get in the busted up old creepy white van with the... dragon

And the other guy, the one driving, is apparently half fish

And its,...,,,,,, just another Tuesday

[ginkgo-phyta]

can i rant on the fan fiction blog real quick lolol i need to get this off my chest but i dont wanna tell my friends...even tho its rlly not even that serious

been talking to this guy for weeks, and we had a date planned for the 24th since like two weeks ago. we were literally planning it more and talkin about it last night. today he texts me like "oh when are u free next week, i have the whole week off" and im like "oh for weekdays idk maybe like after tuesday" then he goes "hmm we can play it by ear" and im like "play what by ear" bc what are u saying rn say it with your chest but he ignores the question and just goes "maybe wednesday would work? im goin outta town on the 23rd" and EVEN when i ask "oh so ur not gonna be here the 24th?" he still doesn't even acknowledge the fact that he's missing our first date? im just flabbergasted like not even an apology??? he couldnt have been like "omg im sorry my friend's planning this last minute bday trip for the weekend of our first date, i still really want to see you though i'd love to move it up to whenever youre free next week" or SUMN and idk the whole way he went about trying to reschedule just put me off soo bad. and he couldnt even give me a half ass apology? DO I NOT EVEN DESERVE THAT?? ik ik im bein hella dramatic but i dont even wanna talk to him anymore LMAOO like im not trynna teach another fuckin man how to be a decent partner and communicate properly

part of me wants to just be like "ya this isnt gonna work out" while another part just wants to ghost him oopsies

okay rant over thanks for reading if you did pls leave your thoughts 😭

[all-about-kyu]

𝑵𝑪𝑻 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕

Warnings: mentions of being high/ drinking, language

This is all jokes, guys!! I know there are mentions of being high and drinking, but I promise my orchestra prof is amazing, and these are all things she’s said out of context. Please don’t take it the wrong way :) Lucas is included in this. If you don’t want to interact with this post because of it, that’s fine. Do not attack me for including him.

Johnny: designing marching band uniforms “So up close it looks like feathers cause you know... we’re the Profs (they’re owls if you didn’t know) but from far away it’s just a ✨pop of color✨”

Taeyong: “YOU NEED TO GRAB THIS PIECE BY THE HORNS AND GO ‘YOU’RE MY BITCH NOW’ ….. Sorry French Horns no offense”

Yuta: “Do you ever see the colors of music in front of you like it’s a visual experience?” // “are you high?” // “NO! I’M DEAD SERIOUS AND VERY FAR FROM HIGH”

Kun: “yeah, I studied music, but I also was an athlete, and in this club, and-”

Doyoung: “Y’all… let me just say being the most sane one in the room is so hard sometimes…”

Ten: chucks a drumstick across the concert hall

Jaehyun: is being dead serious rehearsing a piece “Okay… fuck that we’ll figure that out another time… just… do it.”

Winwin: smacks music on the podium “Happy fuckin’ Tuesday everyone.”

Jungwoo: “CAN YOU GUYS HEAR ME OVER THERE??? YOU’RE REALLY FAR AWAY” // “we’re just on the other side of the room…”

Mark: giggling about a footnote in the music score “guys- I- AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

Hendery: “I was scared to tell my lesson professor I broke my wrist (especially as a percussionist), so I popped a few pills the hospital gave me and told him… he went, ‘are you high right now?’ and I went ‘........no?’”

Xiaojun: “You guys are like dementors trying to suck people!” // “.......” // “WAIT!! I MEANT SUCK SOULS”

Renjun: “ya know… don’t be a shithead… it’s fun sometimes”

Jeno: pressing things on the soundboard “I have no idea what I’m doing……”

Haechan: belts out the upper woodwind part just because

Jaemin: “WOOOOO WE ARE CAFFEINATED TODAY MY FRIENDS LETS RUN THIS PIECE AT 200 BPM” // “[insert prof name here] no…” // “[prof name here] YES”

Yangyang: “sometimes you just need to punch a tuba in the face” // “tubas don’t have faces…” // “Yes. They do.”

Shotaro: “Okay, okay. Serious university professor time…” proceeds to start giggling at a TikTok

Chenle: “guys… I’m wearing a hippo costume for the last piece of the winter concert. No one’s stopping me.” (yes my prof actually did it)

Sungchan: “[insert music librarian’s name here] HUMAN WE NEED HELP SEND BACK UP NOW THE SHIP IS TAKING WATER FAST” // sighs “You could’ve just asked me to help out in the flute section normally…” // “No :D”

Jisung: “My dad is coming to watch you guys rehearse! :D …….. Please don’t embarrass me…”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Tag List: @jaehunnyy​ @its-taeil-time​ @brattybunfornct​ @notbeforelong​ @spiderrenjunfics​ @umbralhelwolf​ @ericssmile​ @honeyhuii​

[autistic-fandom-trash]

jongerrymichaelmartimsasha, a ship with so many characters that it probably only exists in my brain: incorrect quotes edition!

Martin, standing at the top of the staircase: What are you guys doing at the bottom of the stairs? Tim: I accidentally fell down. Gerry: MICHAEL PUSHED ME DOWN THE STAIRS BECAUSE I REFUSE TO PAY ITS PART OF OUR RENT! Sasha: Tim bet me fifty bucks that I couldn't reach the bottom of the stairs faster than he did falling down it, so I slid down the banister to get my money. Jon: I don't know how I got here. One moment, I was sleeping in my bed, three floors up, and then suddenly I was waking up here, just in time to get crushed by Sasha. ----- Tim: *Posts an extremely low-quality image to the gourpchat* Gerry: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I'd have $0.15. Tim: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you. Jon: Actually, I did the math, Gerry would have $225, not $0.15. Gerry: Fam, I'm right here... Martin: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :) Tim: Can you buy me an apply juice while you're there? Martin: Sorry, I only have a dollar. Tim: :( Jon: Hey I just realized my friend is right, Gerry would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent. Martin: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice. Jon: You could buy anything you want with &22,500. Sasha: Yeah and he wants soda and apply juice. Jon: Apply juice to what? Michael: Directly to the forehead. Gerry: Great chat everyone. ----- Sasha: What did you get Jon for his birthday? Tim: I got him a cat. Sasha: Really? Me too! Michael: I also got him a cat. Martin: Looks like we had the same idea. Tim: Gerry, please tell me you didn't also get him a cat. Gerry:...I got him a cat. *Later* Jon, crying, surround by cats: This is the best birthday ever! ----- Tim: We have a problem. Jon: Let me guess, you caused it? Gerry: Gimme a sec, I'm not drunk enough to listen to this bullshit yet. Martin: And it's another Tuesday, your point? Sasha: Would killing you solve this problem? Michael: If you mean the fire, that's our solution to last week's problem. ----- Tim: Every time I hear someone talking about updog, I’m torn between not wanting to fall for it and wanting to help them complete their joke. Jon: Okay, but what is updog? Michael: Updog is a long sausage in a bun, often served with ketchup, mustard, onions, and/or relish. Sasha: No, that’s a hot dog. An updog is when a new version or patch of an application is released. Gerry: No, that's an update. You’re thinking of the fourth largest city in Sweden. Martin: Surely, that’s Uppsala, whereas updog is the giant spider in Harry Potter. Tim: That’s Aragog. Updog is a symbol conventionally used for an arbitrarily small number in analysis proofs. Sasha: You’re thinking of epsilon. Updog is an upward-moving air current. Michael: No, that’s an updraft. An updog is the modern version of a henway. Jon: What's a henway? Tim: Oh, about five pounds. ----- Martin: Croissants: dropped. Sasha: Road: works ahead. Tim: BBQ sauce: on my titties. Michael: Shavacado: fre. Gerry: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead. Jon:...I don't understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

[onedayatatime-please]

Tuesday, Aug. 13, 2024. 9:23 pm

I had another lucid dream last night and woke up exhausted. I can't remember exactly what happened in the dream but there were many people I know involved in trying to solve some problem. Either way I was so tired this morning I could not get out of bed. My brain does this wonderful thing where being over tired makes me depressed and being depressed makes me tired. Good job, brain. All things considered (npr reference), this was a good day. I was in my body and listened to good music. I also was productive today, I filled out a bunch of intake forms for my new therapist. Then I made dinner for my family, spaghetti bolognese. It was really good spaghetti bolognese, some of my best I think.

The intake forms were a bit weird to fill out. They were very basic "Yes/No/Sometimes" questions about depression and anxiety, and its the kind of form I have had to fill out a million times. Although, when i was first being put into therapy when I was twelve, I did lie on these forms a lot. I didn't want to say how depressed or how suicidal I was because I didn't want to be sent to an inpatient program, and I didn't trust my therapist to keep it private from my parents. Now, as an adult, who is actually seeking help on my own terms, it's bizarre to answer truthfully when my brain's knee jerk reaction is to lie. I know how important it is for me to tell the truth and I want to do this right and get the help I need. That being said, it's kind of a punch to the gut to click "Every Day" on a fuckin google form asking "how often do you think you would be better off harming or killing yourself." I've been realizing over the past few months that even though I tell myself that I have come to terms with my mental health, the more I lie to the people around me, the easier it is for me to ignore the fact that I need help. That might sound like a really "duh, obviously" kind of revelation, but throughout the past decade I have essentially never been honest with anyone, including medical professionals, about my mental health. It was usually out of the need for self preservation or just complete lack of trust . So now, no matter how much I know I want to do this right, I'm still finding it hard to kick the habit.

Nevertheless, Im excited for therapy. His bio says hes an art therapist so Im hoping that I can show him some of my art and let that do a lot of the talking as I tend to have a hard time fully explaining how im feeling in words. Im also thinking of making a playlist of songs to show him if the intake goes well. If im gonna be re-contextualizing my trauma I might as well have fun with it.

I'm not dead yet, and I'm gonna do my best to keep it that way.

[audible--silence]

I feel more nervous about money than i do about paragliding

Mierenneuker - ant fucker: someone too focused on small insignificant details

Mela pela - no fucks given

El que tenga miedo que no nazca - if you’re scared to die, dont be born

“She’s more the heart and im more the brain”

“People are like shooting stars while traveling, they shine brightly past you and then they’re gone”

“I dont think I’d be able to make sense of the things that i see and experience without writing and shooting”

“PLEASE someone put a banana in me…

- on the topic of fried plantains

“I think its quite cute. I find myself cute”

“Turns out you actually have to search for the people you like”

“Dumb and dumber but we’re just taking turns swapping who’s who

I hope i dont get used to it all

None of the best times of my life have ever come without doubts and regrets. The hindsight is always positive on those memories while the future is still bright

“Yeah some people are definitely profiting off of second wave feminism”

“Like trans men”

“French men?”

“TRANS MEN. But probably Frenchmen too”

Anyone with a head on their shoulders and a heart in their chest will agree that meeting someone on the same wavelength as you is a feeling that is very hard to beat.

Today consisted of finding a bus that wasn’t on google, crossing a border with no idea what legality was require, subsequently received no stamp in my passport which I suspect will eventually be a problem, no actual currency for the new country, no sim card and no idea how to find a place to stay, eventually borrowing some lads phone to maps myself to a hostel, walking there from memory, got circled and nearly attacked by dogs on a back alley dirt road then arriving at the hostel to discover some friends from Guat here.

And now, tomorrow I am apparently riding on the back of a motorbike with a british girl who’s never ridden a motorbike before and also never driven on the wrong side of the road before going to hike up a waterfall.

Another day in the fuckin life hey

How do you go back to reality after charming taco stands at 1am on a Tuesday with strangers, hammocks on a remote beach and surfing till your shorts tear, strange small towns on the way to somewhere else and big fuckoff cities full of class and grandeur, a volcano erupting during a lightning storm, people you share years of experience with but have known for a week and fighting off dogs to get to the home you’ve never been and everything else that happens in a day away from what you thought you knew.

“My bank wouldn’t give me a new card so I joined the cartel���

“Jacque really taught me that wisdom is knowing when to break the rules”

“Just dootdododootdoing my way down the continent!”

“Thank Something” - when ur not sure what god looks like

You just learn things you didn’t know you had to learn

Things you didn’t know you needed to know

My vans be lookin a lil worse for wear these days but i know they smilin.

And so am i.

We seen some shit together.

“Oh i love Tim! He made me smoke human ashes!

It was his best mate and we smoked him”

“You speak dutch?”

“Sweetie im from belgium”

“Why dont you speak waffle then”

If you know three languages its because you have to swear in a lot of them

“Yeah whenever i feel shit while traveling i just call home and that reminds me how good I’ve got it. It feels very weird to feel shit about nothing but thats sometimes good to remind yourself of it”

“If you cut me open and took a pint of my blood, id probably still drink it because it’s a pint”

“I need to move out here! Everyone just vibin!”

“Do you reckon it ever packs out?”

“Maybe on weekends?”

“It’s Saturday…”

“I find you a bit annoying”

“Thats ok. I really dont give a fuck”

“I want sticky pants” - on chasing surf

“The coke can of the energy levels has been open a lil too long”

Whats the difference between god and a surgeon?

God knows he’s not a surgeon

[i-have-bees-in-my-brain]

Personal rant or some shit bc i just wanna get this out rn. yeeeee this will be long

So today i had a vit of a stressful day with uni n all bc ive been sick and admittedly lazy over the last week up til like tuesday and i had to turn in an Interpretation/essay tonight and prepare a group presentation for tmr (saturday seminars should b illegal but ok i literally chose this). N e way so ive been procrastinating like hell up until this morning so i didnt rly eat before showing up to seminar at 12am and afterwards i had to check with my one remaining presentation groupmember and finish the interpretation and tgen i had swordfighting class at 5. I didnt Really gave time for it but its fun and im very behind bc i misses several lessons already and am generally. Not good at it lol. n e way i turn up to swords and we peactice some routines ig and heres where the peoblem rly starts. Basically i am a huge crybaby, always have been (im older than firestar btw for context), esp when i feel criticized or yknow. Make mistakes or anything and since i was a sports h8er with 2 left feet n hands all my life n cried often during school pe bc i kept messing up n git embarrassed, it was an important step for me to sign up for this uni extracurricular swords class bc. Doing sth sporty in front of others tgat. Isnt very easy and i gotta learn from scratch is a bit out of my comfort zone. But normally its all v fun, im not good/easily the worst in class but thats ok i learn and move my body and talk to ppl! Proud of myself! Well today not so kuch, i noticed i was getting tense bc of not understanding how to do a movement and everyone (3 experienced fighters bc the main teacher was sick plus 2 other beginners that r learning faster than me) lookimg at me and trying to give helpful pointers and me still doing it wrong... H8 dis feeling bc i kinda freeze up instead of being able to take the tips n try again. Its hard for me to translate input like verbal instructions and demonstsations into my own movements as is. In this state i cant do anything properly and i feel the cryings abt to start while wanting nothing more than to MOVE ON NORMALLY. Well my eye started to get itxhy n teary so i excused myself to "take care of my contacts" (lie) (why am i even so ashamed that i feel i have to lie/make up excuses?? Bro???? That just made the situation Actually cringe?????? Im normally not an ashamed person and cryings just a state/expression but idk) so it was better for a bit until it wasnt. Then i full on cried in class while 2 ppl were actively showing me things/helping me do em right n everyone else kimda watched, kimda practiced. They did ask if i was ok and i said yes like a liar. So at the end of class i normally take the bus home with one of the other new guys but i today just didnt feel able to keep talking to him. So he also asked if i was ok/why i cried and i said i just do that under stress and why i am stressed (uni) so that was also a bit of a lie but only kinda. I said i was gonna go to the livrary instead (another lie, was gonna call my bf to calm me down abit n then take the next bus) so i did tgat n it kinda worked and this genius asked if i had eaten. Bruhhh of fuckin course im sensitive ive only had 3 baked goods all day and hadnt even noticed!!!!!! So then it all made sense, mans gotta get some freakin noursishment to keep their composure in swords class! So i went to another bus stop than normally bc i needed sth from the store and bruh the guy i normally take a DIFFERENT bus with is there (awkwardly votta tell hik i changed my mimd abt the library) and we talk a bit (i feel like i talk to him wayy too much in comparison to him, like we dont know each other that well at all, idek his real name and yknow. If he actually enjoys talking to me) and yea

So now everyone in the 14th century peasant larp class knows my terrible terrible secret:))):)

[general-kalani]

"And yet, you didn't pay enough attention to her. You opened a door for her to seduce a man right into your very own bed and you took it out on the man who had no idea she was married. She'd lied right until you walked into the room. Remember her face, that night? How she was so pleased with herself? Yet terror only laid on Sylvester's. How he apologies. Tried to explain himself."

A sigh. Still calm, relaxed. As if all of this was just another Tuesday morning.

"You took the wrong person in. You can claim love stopped you from doing it to her... But the truth is you never knew she was the one to do it."

~`~

"Jesus fuck- MOVE THE HELI NOW!" He'd been lucky he'd seen it early enough in the scope with whatever the fuck that was coming at them.

"Move us back out of range that thing's comin' in fast! Where's the support?! I want rockets, mortars- anything we can get our fuckin' hands on t'do damage! Support helis I want missiling and blasting the shit out of it with miniguns."

"Support's coming in ee-tee-ay two minutes. Should we radio for more?"

"This whole fuckin' place is a warzone get more now! I'll see what damage these rounds can do against this thing."

Time to switch targets.

"Don't worry about keepin' the bird still just avoid its attacks I'll say when."

"Yes, sir!"

"God keep an eye on Joseph we're gon' fuckin' lose him... Get John and his planes out here! Radio them in while you're at it!" It was like calling in the entire military.

Just minus the tanks. But he at least took a shot towards one of the creatures eyes. If he could at least blind it, the damn thing could be unusable by the enemy. That was hoping the armour piercing even did anything in the first place.

Achim’s eye went wide for a split second before his brow furrowed and his glare, ice cold. His non metal hand began to clench, violently shaking. How dare Joseph dig up the past in such a way. “I worked to provide everything she could have ever wanted.” His voice had lost that smug tone, now replaced with pure anger.

Droplets of crimson hit the black metal at his feet. Joseph witnessed bone like quills growing slowly out from his shoulder, clicking together to create a sound very similar to a rattlesnake. The gunfire coming from outside became nothing more than a distant sound as the scientist’s pupil narrowed.

“He took her from me.”

-

As the soldiers were clashing with the faithful, a car was thrown towards the helicopter that housed the man holding the smoking gun. Approaching from several meters away was a monster, rather large in size and structure. Almost looking like a cross between a turtle and a dinosaur.

It was alarmingly fast for its size and with the flames dancing around its mouth… it was ready to kill.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

[runnning-outof-time]

Love, I Just Need to See | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: In which Tommy needs glasses and (Y/N) has an opinion about every type of frame that's offered.

Warnings: language, smoking

Word Count: 2281

A/N: this was just a fun request to write...I think it’s one of my favorite stories of mine. Oh to be doing domestic things with Tommy Shelby *sigh*. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories that are similar to this one!

(Y/N) was able to hear the sounds of frustrated mumbling coming from inside Tommy's office as she walked past its slightly ajar door. "Tom?" she questioned as she peered her head in. Squinting her eyes to try to get them to adjust to the dim lighting of the room, she was able to make out that he was sitting at his desk.

"Yes?" he asked as he looked up from his papers, surprise clear on his face. He wasn't expecting her to be at his door.

"Everything ok?" she asked, taking his response as her ok to enter the room. If he hadn't wanted her in there, he would have told her to leave.

"Yes. I, uh..." he paused, his eyes glancing around his desk as he tried to find what he was looking for, "I'm just having a hard time balancing the logs is all," he admitted to her.

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows as she walked even further into the room. Once at his desk, she extended her hand and waved her fingers at him, her nonverbal way of asking him for what he was working on. He understood and neatly compiled the papers before handing them over to her. "Doctor said that you shouldn't be overworking yourself like this," she commented as she looked over the work he'd done so far.

"Yeah? Well fuck what the doctor says," Tommy grumbled, focusing himself on lighting a cigarette before he looked at her once more. (Y/N) sighed at his response, knowing that she should've expected something along those lines. But she tried anyway, wanting the best for her husband and his health.

"I think I know what your problem is," she announced after a few minutes had passed.

"What's that?" he inquired, his eyebrows raised.

"Your numbers are wrong," she told him, glancing up in time to see his face fill with confusion.

"That's impossible," Tommy shook his head, not wanting to believe that something like that would be the cause of the error.

"It's what's wrong," (Y/N) insisted as she moved around the desk so that she could be standing right next to his chair. "See, lookit...you've got 119 pounds listed here on the intake and then, for the same day's totals, you've written 109 pounds. You're never going to get the correct numbers if you don't have them consistent everywhere," she explained, glancing over at him before she trained her eyes on the books once more. "Do you have the initial papers you've copied this off of?" she asked then. Tommy nodded his head. "Can I see them?" was her next request. Silently, he grabbed them from his pile and handed them to her. It only took her a few moments to find yet another problem: "these aren't even the correct numbers, Tommy."

"What do you mean?" he questioned, his brows deeply furrowed as he took the paper back from her and then looked between it and the log on his desk.

"What day are you doing the totals for?" she asked him.

"Thursday."

"And what day does that say on the paper?" was her next question.

"Thursday," he responded with confidence, but (Y/N) shook her head.

"That says Tuesday, love," she corrected him before pointing to the paper in his hands, "see? T-U-E-S..."

"I know how to fuckin' spell, alright?" he cut her off with aggrivation in his tone.

"Then why don't you have the days right?" she asked him, not realizing how accusatory her question sounded until she said it.

Tommy inhaled deeply and then exhaled his breath in a long sigh. "It's because the words are blurry," he answered, his voice coming out in a low mumble.

"What's that?" she asked for him to repeat what he'd said.

"I can't tell what's what because the words on the fucking paper are blurry, ok?" he repeated himself, his words stressed and his agitation evident.

"Ok," she nodded, agreeing with him in a soft voice. She wanted to say that she was shocked by his admission, but honestly, she was expecting something like this to happen. He did just come back from his extended hospital stay, where he suffered a cracked skull and internal bleeding around his brain, among other injuries. The fact that he didn’t have many lingering effects or problems from it surprised her greatly.

Tommy sighed again and dropped the paper onto the desk before he ran his hands through his hair. He then dropped his face into his hands as his elbows rested on the desktop. "What am I supposed to do now, eh?" he finally questioned after a few moments of silence had passed. He then looked up at (Y/N) with an expression on his face that gripped at her heart. She'd only seen Tommy Shelby's desperation a handful of times, and a similar reaction was elicited from each.

"Well..." she trailed off as she sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, "I suppose we should take a trip to an optometrist," she suggested.

Tommy nodded silently as he took in what she had to say. It was pretty obvious to him that he needed to seek help with his vision problem. It was impeding on his ability, which in turn made him extremely frustrated. "Ok," he agreed with her, nodding once more, "I know someone who probably has a person he goes to. I can ask him who he'd recommend for me," he then laid out his plan for getting this problem fixed.

"Good. I suggest that you get it done as soon as possible," (Y/N) was happy to hear that he was willing to get some help with this issue.

"I will," he assured her, "but for now, can you help me with these logs so that I can get them finished for tonight?"

She agreed to his request within seconds. "Of course, Tom. I'd be happy to help," she answered with a smile before she managed to drag one of the empty chairs over to his desk so that she could sit and help him finish his work.

"I've got that appointment today," Tommy mentioned as he entered the sitting room (Y/N) was occupying.

"For your eyes?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Yes," he nodded, chuckling slightly at her obvious intrigue.

"Oh, that's great," (Y/N) said with a smile before an idea came to mind. "Say, can I come with you, Tommy?"

"For what?" he was confused. In his mind, a trip to a doctor's office seemed like a bore.

“Because I want to be there when you pick out your glasses,” a smile formed on her face as she spoke.

“And you’re so sure that I’ll need glasses?” Tommy shot back.

She sent him an ‘are you serious?’ look as an initial response to his question. “I think that was made pretty obvious the other day,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Tommy shook his head as he tried to stop the smile from forming on his face. “Can I, Tommy...please?” she asked him again, putting on her best ‘puppy dog pout’.

“Fine,” he agreed to her ask after taking less than a minute to contemplate it. What bad could come out of his wife attending his appointment with him?

(Y/N) jumped off of the couch with a newfound excitement, and she quickly ran into the foyer to ask Mary to grab her coat and purse. Soon enough, she was ready to go, and Tommy had met her outside in the car that he brought around.

Tommy quickly realized that something bad could come from his wife attending his appointment.

“What about these frames, Mrs. Shelby?” the doctor asked as he came in with yet another option to look at. After about the fourth time, he stopped asking Tommy and decided to begin appeasing the woman in the room.

(Y/N) pursed her lips as she examined the thicker-framed glasses that held an oval-shaped lens in the middle. She then held them up to Tommy, who wordlessly tried them on without having to be asked to. She then tapped her chin as she stared at him for a few moments. “I don’t like these either. They’re too bulky,” she finally gave her opinion, her words simultaneously making Tommy sigh and the doctor nod profusely.

“That’s just what I was thinking...I couldn’t see such a stately man wearing lenses like these. I’ll go see what else I have in stock,” the doctor was quick to agree with the woman, and Tommy silently cursed him for egging her on. He then quickly hurried out of the room to get another pair. Soon enough, he was back with more options. This time he held two in his hands. “I brought both sizes of these. Let’s see what you think,” he said as he sat them down on the desk.

(Y/N) grabbed the first pair and looked them over. The frame was thin and gold and it once again held ovalic lenses. “Try these on,” she told Tommy before handing them over to him. Tommy nodded and went through the motions of placing the glasses on his face. Once again, (Y/N) pursed her lips as she took in his appearance. “No...I think they make you look like Scrooge from that one Christmas book,” she gave her opinion on it, her words making Tommy sigh.

“I don’t care about what they look like on me, love, I just need to see,” he finally voiced his exasperation, effectively showing her that his patience was running thin.

“I’m the one who’s gotta look at you though, so I’d at least like to find something that suits you well,” she challenged his statement, her words making him exhale a sigh. He knew that this would be a losing battle for him, so he just kept his mouth shut. “Try these on,” she told him then, raising a pair that looked almost identical to the last up for him to look at. The only thing that had been changed was that the lenses were smaller and circular.

“How are they, Mrs. Shelby?” the doctor then asked after it’d been quiet for a few moments. He was eagerly awaiting her opinion on the frames.

“I like these,” she said, nodding her head slightly before she doubled down on her statement: “yes. These are the ones you should get, Tommy.”

“Finally,” Tommy let out a breath of relief at the fact that the trying-on portion of the appointment was over before he turned to the doctor, “I’ll take these.”

“Very good choice, Mr. Shelby. I’ll have those made in the proper specifications as soon as possible for you,” the doctor nodded his head, a pleased smile on his face. “You’re free to go now,” he then told the couple before he stood from his chair and shook both of their hands.

The rest of the day passed by without further talk of the glasses that Tommy would now be using. It wasn’t until he entered their bedroom for the night that (Y/N) decided to bring them up once more.

“Are you excited about your new glasses?” she asked him from behind her book as he got himself changed into what he’d be wearing to bed.

“What kind of question is that?” he responded with a question of his own, his words holding no malice or condescending tone, “of course I’m excited to be able to read properly again,” he blatantly stated, his vocal tone making (Y/N) giggle.

“No, I mean are you excited about how they look?” she specified her question once her giggles had subsided.

“I honestly don’t care what they look like, love,” he gave her his honest response as he got into his side of the bed, “I just needed to be able to see.”

(Y/N) frowned slightly at the absence of desire he had to talk about the topic. She leaned over and set her book down on the nightstand before looking back at him again. “I think you looked really good with the glasses on,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone as a grin formed on her lips. “I didn’t think that anyone would be able to make frames like that look attractive, but you certainly did.”

“Yeah?” he asked, certainly amused by her sudden statements.

“Oh yes,” she answered, then rolling onto her side so that she’d be closer to him. “You made all of those frames look attractive, but this pair....this pair is special.”

“Well I’m glad that you think that,” he grinned at her as his arm wrapped around her from underneath, making her move even closer to his chest.

“And just when I thought that you couldn’t get any more perfect...” she trailed off, placing her hand flat against his chest so that she could sit up slightly. Her grin widened as she leaned down so that her face was closer to his, “I can’t wait until you get them delivered so that I get to see them on your handsome face again,” she whispered against his lips before she closed the gap and kissed them.

Tommy only exuded a chuckle in between the kisses she was giving him. He had a quick-witted, cheeky comeback prepared to give her, but it got lost in the feeling of her lips dancing across the skin of his jawline. So he decided to let her keep going, already knowing that her affection towards him would be increasing tenfold the moment that he was wearing those glasses again.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicallovdrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @easilyobessedbutflighty @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75

MASTERLIST

[vintageaustin]

Baby fever part 3

Austin!Elvis x reader;

Summary: you and Elvis have been married

For about 3 years now and he thinks its time for a baby

Tw/mentions: pregnancy cursing slight abuse alcohol  (not by Austin)

You were about 6 months pregnant now. And it was taking a toll on you and Elvis mostly because of you’re health. That seemed to be going up and down like a roller coaster. It made you’re husband worry sick about you.

 And his job wasn’t making it any easier as you’re house was surrounded by press and fans half of the time. And the other half of the pregnancy he wasn’t really there cause of work.

It was a Tuesday night as you heard the door open.  The familiar sound of you’re husband his voice. And some laughter you walked towards the end of the hall way.

 Watching you’re husband laugh with the usual friends and the colonel he brought home for a drink. You smiled slightly as he walked towards you kissing. You on the lips as the smell of alcohol lingered around him.

Usually you could handle that smell pretty well but since you were pregnant it made. You feel sick you smiled softly. He slurred an “there’s my beautiful girl..why are you awake shouldn’t you sleep it’s good for the baby” he said bending down to kiss you’re growing bump .

You chuckled and stroked his hair softly before speaking “well yea…but you woke me up…you’re kinda loud babe” you giggled. As you looked behind Elvis seeing everyone slowly move into the living room before capturing the special moment you two shared with you’re unborn child. “oh I’m sorry darlin” he said still kissing you’re bump. Southern drawl thick as ever.

You felt a kick right at this very moment.  As Elvis gasped loudly you giggled seeing he never. Felt you’re unborn child kick he was either at work or the baby simply wouldn’t kick.

No matter how much you’re husband talked and sang to them. “w-was that?” he asked dumbstruck. As everyone who tagged along watched you in awe.

You nodded you’re head excitedly as you looked at everyone’s. faces everyone looked genuinely happy. For the two of you except one person who thought Elvis was more a walking sloth machine than. A man neither you or the colonel could stand each other and he made that very clear.

 Elvis looked up at you then looked back at you’re stomach. “can you do that again for daddy lil’ one? Pretty please..”. he mumbled to you’re stomach but sadly you’re baby had already settled down.

As Elvis and the others sat outside in the garden seeing the weather was surprisingly. Nice you sat inside in the nursery slowly rocking the chair back and forth. As you  were knitting another little sweater seeing you. Were due in February but little did you know  in the garden. Elvis and the colonel were having quite the heavy conversation.

“she’ll only get in the way of you my boy…besides she has workers here maids an her family..she’ll be fine without you here besides don’t you want to put some money on the table before you’re little wonder arrives” the colonel said. Starring intensively back at you’re husband.

 Elvis shook his head “absolutely not. she’s comin’ along with us to Hollywood I ain’t leaving my pregnant wife behind I’ll be damned and it’s definitely ain’t going to fuckin happen i don’t care what you think in this matter.” Elvis snapped at the colonel as he took another swing of his beer.

The colonel nodded his head and excused himself. Going upstairs to use the bathroom. As he came back from his toilet visit he saw you. Slowly making you’re way to your bedroom. He roughly grabbed you’re wrist pulling you aside you groaned loudly “what the hell!! “ you yelled as he. Squeezed you’re wrist harder almost breaking it in the process before speaking.

“listen and listen very carefully to what ‘m bout to say little girl. You’re gonna tell you’re husband that you don’t want to come to Hollywood with him. You’re just useless anyway you’ll only get in-“ he was about to finish his sentence. As you got pulled away in the familiar arms of you’re husband.  “get out. Get the fuck out!” Elvis said his smooth voice filled with anger. “but mr Presley we-“ the colonel was about to speak but before.

He could Elvis cut him off “I SAID GET OUT!” Elvis yelled making you jump a bit. “you don’t come into my damn house and treat MY PREGNANT wife in anyway how dare you even touch her now leave we’ll talk later.” He said you could hear how hurt he was but also how angry. The colonel just nodded and left.

Elvis looked at you his face turned from anger to worry “are you okay darlin’ how’s the little one god you’re shakin like a leave did he hurt you badly?”. He asked cupping you’re face into his hands. You looked at him tears streaming down you’re face.

“n-no we’re okay” you stuttered avoiding eye contact. With you’re husband whatsoever “a-am I really just a bother to you?” you asked sadness filling you’re voice.

 Elvis looked t you eyes wide as he frowned “what of course not darlin’ you two are the best that have ever happened to me. Better than all the fame the money the fans. If I didn’t have you and our little wonder I don’t know who I’d be darlin’ I married you because you bring the best out of me I wouldn’t know what to do without you…. you are my world.”

he said as he pulled you into a hug “now let’s get ready for bed ye? The others already left anyway”. You nodded you’re head a you made you’re way to your bedroom

Elvis knew that the next four months were gonna be rough for both of you. But he was sure as hell gonna make it work cus no one was gonna take either of his babies away from. Not his fans , not his dad and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let the colonel get any closer to you or you’re unborn child in any damned way.

tag list:

@thecosmoscollectivee @alligator-person @carolinecakes

Hi creator here this is part 3 of baby fever I might make a part 4 depending on how well part 2 does I hope you guys like it feedback is always welcome requests are open and pls let me know if I missed triggers or grammar mistakes

[prettyboykatsuki]

My legs are shaking pain slut Bakugou agenda comes into your tattoo shop like I want a face tat. And you're like... "That's a lot of pain for you pretty boy." And he's just smirking at you "That's kinda the point ma." Excuse me while I pass away

cw ;; ari's sadist agenda <3, bkg being a painslut, sub!bkg bc its my blog, not explicit nsfw but bkg gets hard, bkg calls u ma!

a/n ;; sefira u can't just send me an ask like this and expect me to survive. i almost came on the spot.... ohmykjgfdbklsgk

bakugou is not your client.

he's seros - your coworkers and long time friend. this is an important distinction to make because you don't have much experience with the blonde. you know he's loud, a little rambunctious, and a lot mean.

all of that in combination, you don't really know a lot about him. when he struts into the shop one afternoon, on tuesdays when you take walk-ins, you can't help but give him a confused little stare. he knows when sero works but maybe he forgot.

"hantas' out today, you might wanna come in next week,"

"i know that, dumbass. im not here for him,"

another thing bakugou about bakugou is that he's attractive. insanely so. he's got this build to him, strong but lean - pretty. that gives you a half a mind to ask for his number. for the sake of professionalism, you never let your mind wander. but for now - it's just you in the shop. big open lights, dark decor, and bakugou who leans on the piercing counter staring at you from across the way.

you look at him.

"you're here.. for me then?"

he rolls his eyes but nods, ultimately. and you can't help but be curious. he seems agitated that he has to explain himself.

"i want a face tattoo. my first one but you know hanta doesn't do that. you do though, right? give me a face tat,"

you give him a look and he gives you one back and you know he's not gonna budge so you just sigh, nod your head to a chair to which he promptly drags himself over. he's 26 - a popular musician but he looks like a fuckin deliquent. his ass hangs out from where his pants are sagged, all ripped jeans and doc martens.

he's so hot it kind of makes you sick. there's just something about him that gets under your skin but you kind of like it. just a little.

he sits in your chair and leans his head back a little. you can feel his eyes boring into you as you walk around to put some stuff away, mostly supplies. when you walk over and take a seat - he gives you a shit eating grin that you decide would be best to ignore.

"what'd you have in mind"

"nothin' crazy. a snake tattoo right on my sideburn:

he points to it - you can tell the hair was shaved off about a day a go. you look down at him, red eyes shimmering with mischief.

"that's a lot of pain for you, pretty boy. it's your first face tattoo, right on the bone. can you take it?"

the last words of your sentence makes his spine tingle. you know he's a menace - have known that for a long time. but the way you looks at you has you feeling like you're swallowing swords.

"that's the point ma," he leans back comfortably and gets in position "don't think too hard about it"

you don't want too, so you scoot over and sketch out a little snake on paper before transferring. bakugou only gives you a nod of approval when you show him so you proceed. it's quiet as you wipe down the area with alcohol before pressing the paper to his skin.

you put your gloves on and set up the machine, all black ink per request - just linework for now. you tell him to take a deep breath, do a whole countdown for him and then you start.

and you swear you hear a moan. it startles you so much you almost stop but when you look at him - his expression isn't indicating anything at all. a little wince of pain here or there but theres.. something else. something you shouldn't be seeing, maybe.

you keep going away and inbetween each second - you hear him. a little curse under his breath or a little fidgety noise. you know and he knows you know but you keep going. it's too far to go back now and even with the heat rising in your skin, you don't feel like stopping.

"aah, fuck,"

this time you take a second to look down and he's hard. stiff as bricks and stacked up right in your chair. it makes your heart race a little, more than that and when you look at him he's got a glassy look in his eyes

"i knew it wasn't gonna feel good," he shudders between breaths "but i didn't think it'd be that good,"