#You're GOD. you can MAKE a better detergent.

[lovelylovelyartist]

I saw a video of a painting of Mary being restored, recently. I'm not, nor have I ever been a religious person, but it got me thinking- Why have I never seen Mother Mary grieve like a mother after the Crucifixion?

I've seen plenty of art of Mary holding Jesus after he'd been taken off the cross. But in those, The Virgin Mary feels so, idk, detached. She looks sad, but she's also accepted it. She is serene in her grief, heavenly and beautiful.

To me, Mother Mary is that. She's a Mother.

She held her baby. Raised him with a husband that loved them. Kissed his wounds and wrapped him in hugs when Christ- he was human, so he had to be a child- had a fall. She taught him about his Father, and the future God had prepared for him.

Did she know? She knew she would be pregnant with God's child, the angel told her she would bear the savior to humanity, but did she know how he would die? Did she know that he would be flogged viciously, his beard pulled out, made to wear a crown of thorns, then forced to carry his execution method over nearly a half a mile? Did her heart not break, hearing her son cry out his dying words, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

And even if she did know, would that have made it hurt any less?

IDK, I'm no religious scholar, I'm not even christian/catholic/whatever. I'm thinking of the Jesus documented in history, and the people in his life. but even if I was religious, I'd feel sad, maybe even a little angry for Mary. That she's not allowed grief, that in art she's not allowed to be anything other than the beautiful, serene, loving Virgin Mary.

(zoom for better quality, tumblr is a dumpster fire. I'm pretty happy with this, i tried using digital acrylics in Rebelle instead of watercolors like I usually do. added with the canvas texture, it makes for a cool look)

[cosmal]

hi!! i’m pretty bad at requesting stuff but i was thinking about hurt/comfort with matt murdock or tasm!peter where fem!reader disassociates after being triggered by smth and he helps bring her back & comfort her. love ur work & no pressure<3

theatre

summary peter helps you when you disassociate at the movies.

content tasm!peterparker x fem!reader, disassociation

note I did my best I know it’s different for everyone x

The movie on the screen in front of you is suddenly loud. Crashing sounds and music that builds. You close your eyes for a moment and tense up in your seat.

Light splashes behind your eyelids in a flurry of blinding colours and you're not sure it's helping. You can feel yourself slipping.

When the music has stopped, you open your eyes and try your best to remember where you are. The film in front of you turns into a gaussian blur of dull colour that splashes down over your thighs and arms. You stare at your hands where you've got them fisted up in your lap. All things blue and green, dark where it disappears over the ligaments of your wrists.

Their voices come out all mumbled and quiet, like you've been submerged underwater. Words that stick together and sound like nonsense. You try your best to focus on them and it frustrates you that you can't understand anything. You can't break the surface to breathe.

You remember Peter's sitting next to you.

You turn and try for his arm. You rub your hand up and down the bare expanse of his skin — try to feel his hair and muscles. It might as well be someone else’s arm.

You feel him shift beside you. His voice comes in quick and unrecognisable. You can’t understand what he’s saying to you. His mouth a heat against your ear.

"Hey, you're okay," he breaks through and you bite down on your lip until it stings. He sounds like he's got his mouth stuffed with cotton.

You don't say anything and you don't think you can. Opening your mouth feels like an impossible task. Your tongue feels heavy, sticky with a dryness.

Peter tries for your hand and squeezes. It's a familiar strength that you lack. He's almost cruel about it.

You don't remember moving.

Suddenly the itchy seat is replaced by sturdy wood. Peter's hands are firm where he's got them on your shoulders. This time you think you know they're his hands.

"You're all right," he says and he's clearing up. "Come back to me."

You blink around and notice you're in the foyer. It's quieter, though that's not hard, the theatre was a cacophony of sounds that had you feeling dizzy. There are no flashing, burning lights. You focus on the sunlight that bleeds in through the door behind Peter, where it catches his locks of hair and makes him glow.

You try for familiar things. Like his hands on your shoulders, firm and heavy as he tries to ease you back into it. His cologne, the strong scent of cedarwood and clementines. The detergent on his sweater that you think might be yours.

You look down at his beat-up Converse and sigh. "Shit."

Peter knocks your chin with his knuckle to get you to look at him. He looks worried. Brows pinched and mouth downturned. He looks like he's chewed his bottom lip raw.

"That's it." His encouragement means more than he knows. It helps. A tether you find easy to grab onto.

You grab his wrist where he's still got his arms up at your shoulders and squeeze it roughly. You hope he doesn't mind it. "Sorry, god."

Peter frowns and holds your face. Each time he touches you it eases the numbness from your skin. Your face prickles with heat. "You're okay?" He ignores your apology and you don't blame him.

You laugh wetly and stand up on wobbly legs to get yourself in between his thighs. He worries for you for a moment but feels better when you lean all your weight into him and tuck your face into his neck, breathing him in.

He rubs and rubs and rubs up and down your back, all rumpled fabrics and warmth against your skin. "I'm okay," you tell him and only half believe it. You really only say it just to put him at ease,

You don't think he believes you. "You good to go home? Want me to order an Uber?"

You press your nose into the column of his throat. "Can we walk? Some fresh air might be nice."

"You sure?"

You pull back and look him in the face. Soft eyes and even softer smile. "Yeah."

Peter stands and takes your hand. You only feel mildly put out for missing the movie when he kisses the back of it. "Okay. Let me know if you're not up for it and I'll swing us home."

"I think if you swing me home I'll throw up."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You lead him towards the exit, finally smiling. "You're a rough ride, Peter."

Peter laughs. "Don't you know it."

He's awful. You love him.

[mrs-kodzuken]

Cherry pop tarts & dyed hair ♡

Pairing: Aged up!Yūji Terushima x fem!reader

WC: 1k

Genre: fluff

CW: fem!reader, fluff so much fluff it’s gross, baby boy yūji

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"Babe, I'm going to go use the bathroom." Yūji said from  beside me, letting go of my hand.

"Alright," I stared down at my phone, making a list of the things we needed to get. Which I probably should've done before we even arrive at the store to be honest.

Yūji wanted to go grocery shopping, and knowing him, he would most likely get lots of sweets instead of actual food that we needed.

I added Poptarts to the list so I could get his and my favorites. I looked back at the men's bathroom door; it wouldn't hurt to leave him there, right?

Shrugging to myself, I grabbed a grocery basket and made my way towards the food aisles. He's a grown man after all.

I had been mindlessly walking around, adding things we needed to the basket like eggs, milk, and such.

My phone had died a couple minutes ago, so I was just trying to remember what we needed by memory.

I hadn't brought my charger with me because it's a grocery store. Let's just hope my mom doesn't call; I'll definitely get an earful if I don't pick up that phone call.

I recited what we needed from memory which lead me to absentmindedly walk through the aisles looking for something that we might need.

One thing I do remember is that I wanted to get poptarts. I headed towards the breakfast aisle and started my walk to our favorites.

Looking at the boxes, I decided to get cherry for me and cinnamon for Yūji. We both swore to never eat each other's poptarts; that was forbidden in our house.

Being in a relationship with Yūji was pretty amazing actually. He wasn't a player, as most people say because I've heard lots of rumors about that.

He's actually really sweet and childish but it can be cute sometimes.

I set the boxes in my basket and continued walking down the aisles to see if any of the foods jogged my memory.

Something I did remember was that we were running low on popcorn and ice cream due to our excessive movie nights.

Even though I wasn't much better than him when it came to sweets, I knew how to control myself.

I placed a big box of popcorn in the basket and mint ice cream in it as well.

Suddenly the intercom broke from the music, "(Y/n) (L/n), your child is at register three."

I furrowed my brows, I'm definitely sure I don't have a child. It could possibly be a different (Y/n) (L/n)? But most likely not, not with the name I have.

I took my sweet time to get there, I was met with Yūji pouting on a bench.

I smiled really big, rolling my eyes while walking over to him.

"Hi, baby," I said, pressing my lips against his forehead.

"You left me," he whined, looking up at me. God, he is such a child sometimes.

I chuckled, "You said you had to use the bathroom; you didn't tell me to wait." I pointed out to him taking his hand in mine.

I heard him groan at me, "Oh hush, you're like a big baby sometimes, Yūji." I smirked, knowing that that would make things straighten up.

It always did. But this time it seems as if he was whiner than ever. "You can't say anything because I'm your baby."

He wrapped his arms around my waist while I continued walking. He squeezed me a bit, and I lightly slapped his arm.

"No, PDA, there could be children, Yūji." I warned him as he released his arms from my waist and held my hand.

"Is this better?"

"Why yes, yes it is."

I could feel his gaze on me as we walked together.

"Yes, Yūji?" I asked, wondering if we needed laundry detergent or not.

"You're so pretty." I looked at him as if he were out of his mind. He would compliment me every day, but it seems today was an extra-complimentary one.

"Are you feeling okay today, babe?" I raised my hand up to feel his forehead. He leaned in and nuzzled his face into my hand.

"I just love you so much." He pulled me towards him, and I heard the erratic beating of his heart.

Luckily, I didn't see anyone else in the aisle with us.

"I love you too, Yūji." smiling into his chest; he was definitely extra loving today.

"Can we cuddle when we get home?" His voice was muffled since his head was buried in my neck. I shivered at the feeling.

"Oh crap, I just remembered. My phone is dead. I need to charge it. Do you want to check out now so we can cuddle later?" He nodded furiously, and I chuckled. How adorable he is sometimes.

"You're such a baby, Yūji." Before he could complain, I finished my sentence, "But you're my baby, so it's okay."

Yūji smiled brightly and held onto my hand as we walked out of the store after finishing bagging our groceries. I always loved when he was like this.

I set the bags down and started putting everything away in our cupboards. I had asked him to set up a fort and movie so I could get the food ready.

Yet again, we are having another movie night. I grabbed the hot bag of popcorn from the microwave and added it to a bowl.

Then I took the tub of ice cream with a spoon and headed into the living room.

"Are you ready?" I smiled as I climbed it, setting the food down.

"Obviously."

He played the movie while I fed him ice cream. I saw some of the flavored ice cream lightly dripping from his mouth.

Acting on instinct, I leaned forward and licked his lips.

Yūji's face was priceless; he'd be the one who'd always do something like that.

"What? You had ice cream on your lips." I shrugged and paid attention to the movie, ignoring him.

"Yeah, but I wanted to lick it off."

I rolled my eyes and then purposely and messily ate a spoonful of ice cream. Glancing towards him, I watched him watch me.

He leaned in and licked my lips back, "So sweet," he mumbled when he was done.

"Well, obviously it's ice cream." I smiled and leaned into him, focusing on the movie as he played with my hair.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my book “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” on Wattpad! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you want more!

the header is from haN ` ` on Pinterest

[delopsia]

There are just some days when driving down your driveway feels impossible. 

Long, winding, as are most driveways in Wabang. This had been the main selling point when you bought this house. Twisting through the landscape and gently bringing you up to your humble little home. Usually pleasant to drive down.

Today, even the picturesque view of the Teton mountain ranges can make the drive worthwhile. Your eyelids heavy as you try to focus on the dirt road. Hands full of lead, fighting to lift them enough to turn the steering wheel. The longer you drive, the longer the road becomes. A permanent circuit that you've become trapped on.

The garage door doesn't lift when you press the button. 

You can't be brought to press it again. Parking the car in front of the door and stumbling toward the house with nothing but your keys and your phone. Lunch box, work bag, wallet, and everything else be damned. 

You don't remember if you locked the car. But if someone out there has the energy to drive all the way up here to steal from you, they can have whatever the hell they want. So long as they don't bother you. 

All you can think about is your bed. Quiet. Soft. Secluded. Where nobody can barge in and force you to listen to their daily gripes and needless gripings about the short skirt your coworker is wearing. Free of mindless drivers who pull out in front of you rather than waiting a few seconds longer. Away from bouncing deer who meander into the road and dare you to hit them. 

The sheets aren't on the bed. 

Right. Right. You put them in the wash this morning. They should be dry and ready to be put on the bed by now; the fitted sheet is all you want to grab. Blankets from the couch will suffice until you feel like making the bed properly.

But the dryer is empty.

And the washer is full of dry, unwashed sheets, still soaked by the detergent you poured in there before you left. How on gods green earth did you forget to turn the washer on, and why did it have to happen today?

The sound of running water is the only reason you remember turning the machine on. Echoing down the hall as you stumble over heavy feet that refuse to function like you want them to. Tripping on the edge of the rug that you know is there because, like most things today, nothing can go right. 

You'd pour yourself a drink, but with your luck, the damn glass would break the moment it's full. 

The couch squeaks as you all but fall onto it. Head hitting the pillow without a second thought while your hand reaches for a blanket, yanking it overtop of yourself. Five in the afternoon is too early to be going to bed, much less on a couch, but you can't bring yourself to give a damn. 

And you must fall asleep because, after a long silence, you think you hear the distant groan of the garage door opening and the muffled rumble of your car as it's moved inside. More silence, and then the dryer is humming down the hallway. 

Something clicks on the table, a glass of some sort placed upon it. The only indication you have that you're not alone. Before you're feeling lips against your forehead and the gentle caress of a calloused hand against your cheek. 

Your eyes feel as if they've been glued shut. Heavy, difficult to pry open, and when they do finally lift, your vision is blurry. But you recognize this figure, with their black t-shirt and dark brown hair. 

"Bad day?" Rhett hums, his lips not quite leaving your skin. 

It takes you a moment to find your voice. Feels like there's a rock lodged in your throat as you open your mouth, "horrible." 

And Rhett doesn't ask you to talk about it. Doesn't pry for details you'd rather not relive. Or pressure you into talking so that he can feel better about seeing you moping on the living room couch. No, he doesn't do that at all. He's only got one question. 

"Care for some company?" 

Your response comes in the form of you squirming backward. Creating space for him to squeeze into. It's just enough. His legs tangle with yours as a strong arm curls around your waist, drawing you to his warm chest. Where his heart thumps quietly, a dull pitter-patter that has your eyes feeling heavy once more. 

His face holds a million questions, but he doesn't say another word. Content to press another kiss to your forehead and close his eyes when you close yours. 

And as your consciousness begins to slip away once more, you wonder if his day has been similar to yours. Because there's a darkness beneath his eyes that wasn't there when he left at dawn. Still hums as you drift off, his hand stroking invisible shapes into your back, but it falls into a quiet stillness sooner than usual. 

"Turn your noggin' off 'n sleep," that deep voice grumbles against you. 

Even after a long day where everything has gone wrong, Rhett's still the one thing that always goes right. 

[p0orbaby]

Ice Skating

summary: nothing says Christmas like a date on the ice

a/n: oh to be young and in love

warnings: none! It’s fluff city over here for a change

word count: 900

-

“I’ve never actually been ice skating before”

Wanda’s confession was almost a whisper next to you whilst the pair of you sat on a bench and fastened the laces on your skates.

“No? That’s alright, I can teach you. Gives me an excuse to hold your hand for longer”

Despite your girlfriend's blush, you could tell she was nervous about something. Her eyes darting around until she landed on something over your shoulder. You turned around to get a better look at was had her so worried to find you mother mid laugh with her date at a picnic table near the rink.

“Don’t be embarrassed that she’s here. I know it’s not ideal but she’s a little preoccupied with Bucky to even think about bothering us”

“It’s not that. It’s cute your mom has a date. It’s just-, I don’t want her to think I’m holding you back. She already has reason to not like me, this could just make everything worse”

“Do you really think my mom is going to like you less for not being able to ice skate?”

“Yes, no. I don’t know. You two are so good at everything. What if she sees how bad I am and thinks I’m not good enough for you? God, I sound so stupid”

“Hey, don’t say that” you grabbed her hands that looked to be picking at a loose thread on her gloves. “Sure, my mom took a while to come around to the idea of me and you together. But she loves you now”. Wanda quietly scoffed at you and shook her head. “Seriously. Sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me”

“Don’t be ridiculous”

“Y/N, ridiculous? Surely not?”

The pair of you looked up to find Natasha and Bucky looking down at you. A smirk on both of their faces.

“Ha ha, very funny mom. Your date was short, I knew Bucky wasn't good enough for you”

“Actually, he’s been so good that we’re going to take a romantic walk around the park. We just wanted to let you know before we left”

“First of all, ew. But at least we’ll finally get some good old fashioned personal space” you winked at Wanda before your mom and Bucky said their good eyes and walked towards the park.

-

“You’ve totally got this now! Look at you go!”

“No, don't let go of my hand. I’ll fall”

“You won't, I promise. Hold onto the side while I go over there” you pointed about ten feet in front of you where there was an empty space from lack of skaters. “Two big pushes and you’ll be back in my arms, okay?”

“Ugh this is the worst” Wanda said under her breath as you turned and glided away from her. She missed your warmth and your stability.

“Two big pushes, remember?”

“Two big pushes”. She said it like a mantra. It was only ten feet. The momentum would carry her the majority of the way. She wobbled slightly as she let go of the side of the rink, but pushed off nonetheless. If her brother could see her now. All squeals and unbalance. He’d laugh and her and tell her to get on with it.

“There you go! Yep, perfect. Almost there Wands”

When wanda collided gently with your body, she held you so tight she thought she’d melt right into you if she stayed there long enough.

“I told you you could do it” you praised her into her wooly hat. It smelt like fresh air and detergent and something so distinctly her.

“And I thought you wanted to hold hands for longer?”

“Well maybe I thought getting to hold you like this was way better”

-

“They seem good for eachother” Bucky assessed as he leant forward against the glass of the rink. Natasha beside him, you and Wanda blissfully unaware of their return.

“They are. Wanda is a great kid.”

“So is Y/N. You raised a good one Nat. Honestly”

“It's just so crazy to see them grow up, you know? They’re so small and can fit perfectly in your arms and they depend on you for everything. Then the next minute they’re going on dates and getting embarrassed when you hug them in public”

“She’ll always need you, you're her mom. But her getting older also means you can live a new life. Perhaps one you’ve waited a long time to have”

“Barnes, is this your way of asking me out on another date?”

“Is that what you want?”

Natasha looked over at you laughing with Wanda as you dragged her around the ice another time. As much as she wanted to keep you to herself forever, you were old enough to pave your own path now.

“I still get to embarrass her right?”

“Oh yeah. Isn’t that a parent's privilege?”

A little glint appeared in her eye at his words and he knew she was up to something.

“C’mon guys” she shouted over to you and Wanda. Both of you looking up from where you were still staring into eachothers eyes. “I wanna go make out with Bucky on the couch so we’ve gotta leave, pronto”

Natasha could practically hear your eyes roll and your lip turn up in disgust. It made her chuckle slightly as you buried your head into Wanda’s neck to hide. Balance has most definitely been restored.

[getitfrenchship]

Hello, friends! Hope you're all doing well. In fact, I'd like to know what you're all up to so I can reconnect with friends again. What things are you watching/playing/doing now? Any new things in life you'd like to discuss?

Below the cut I'll say what I've been up to!

Just got back from my local con today and while I did spend a lot on game collecting + VA stuff, I'm glad I went. Thankfully I got paid Friday (though that means I'll have to wait to get paid again in 2 weeks) and my financial situation isn't dire. It's kinda like when you go to Disneyland and get caught up in the spectacle of things. Oh yeah, an IRL friend from high school helped me with a lot of the VA stuff since she had a VIP pass & could skip long lines. (On that note FUCK F//UNKO SCALPERS FOR HOGGING LINES AND MAKING ME WAIT 2 HOURS FOR ONE VA AAAAAAAAAA)

Thankfully, no insurance adjuster lady to drive me up the wall this past month at work. A few eh client encounters but overall it's been way more pleasant than it was a few months ago. ...Might still need to figure out vacation time just so I can take a longer break (and maybe find a government job if I'm able to find something so I have guaranteed holidays).

That being said, S//aimon's series is starting to see a spike of discourse and one of the servers I'm in keeps talking about it. It's making me feel bad as a result. Thankfully, none of the people in it are starting the discourse, but they tend to go "getaloadofthisguy" a lot. Along with usual self ship discourse that I see on my dash (that again thankfully neither friends nor I directly participate in), it kinda just drains me.

Seasonal anime I'm watching are Detergent (hopefully one of Shitsui's big scenes will happen next week; they took a break this week), Und//ead Mur//der Far//ce, Hel//ck (though I'm admittedly not really paying attention to this one), Happy Marriage, J J K season 2 (i am not ready for this arc AAAAAAAAA), and Z//om 100. When there isn't a seasonal anime for me to watch at work, there's Sai//ki K (I think watching Bla//ck Lag//oon kinda helped make me more bitter at work, but I'm feeling better now that I'm watching Sai//ki). Oh, I might check out OPLA since I hear it's an actual good adaptation. Aaaand F//ionna and C//ake too! God, I went "kindred spriits" with Simon's episode

Currently I'm playing Se//a of St//ars and I really like how it looks & plays so far! (Of course, I loved Chr//ono Trig//ger, so the gameplay feels right at home). I wooould continue Gh//ost Tri//ck, but I'm at a stealth section and like I expected, I'm looking up a lot of the puzzle solutions online instead of figuring it out for myself. Curse you, time limits!!! (And for Bom//b R//ush, I feel like I need to play with music, but I keep forgetting to bring my wired headphones. Bluetooth is for my phone mainly due to personal preference). I also watched the endings for OT2 and AUGH I LOVE THIS GAME SO MUCH!!!

Oh, a new manga I found called "Inv//isible Man & his soon to be bride" is cute so far.

someday i will find balam merch. somedaaaay

I might do a separate post showing my current ideas for S/I's/OCs, but hhhh I'm hesitant. Right now I just know for a P3 OC he takes inspiration from "The Stranger"

boy howdy i sure hope bluesky finally makes my account or i can get an invite because i really want tweetor to die. ...though i'd miss posting switch screenshots directly

[makangerous]

Fukuya Rank 5 (Temperance Confidant)

TW: addiction

You receive a text message from Fukuya.

Emi, tonight… Can you come over to my place? If not tonight, sometime soon, please. I'm not getting better. I need that sincere help of yours really badly. I'm sorry.

(His place? I should call him as soon as I have time to head over.)

You call Fukuya.

Emi, thank God you called. I'm ashamed I need to ask this of you. I need someone to stay at my house with me and watch over me until I fall asleep. I'm not asking for any kind of intimacy. Bring your homework, or video games, or whatever. You're the only one who can do me this favor. I'll text you my address.

He hangs up abruptly, before you can say anything. You pack a bag and travel to the address he sent. You ring the doorbell, and he answers.

You showed… The worst is over, Fukuya. You can make it through the night. Oh, come in. My parents aren't here. My dad's overseas for work, and my mom's at some seminar thing with my uncle. I usually have the house to myself. You can set up in the living room. I'm going to be functionally useless, so don't feel like you have to include me in your activities. All I ask is you don't let me go into my bedroom. Do NOT let me touch my chemistry set. If that happens, I WILL relapse.

>Fukuya, you're shaking.

Of course I am. That's a withdrawal symptom. Every fiber of my body is screaming at me, demanding more than I can handle. I can synthesize a near facsimile of what I need almost immediately, and that knowledge is driving me insane. It's so frustrating, when I have such a short time to go…

This is entirely my own fault. As much as I'm begging you to assist me, if you turn around and walk out the door, I understand. You see, I don't have a virus, or a disease, or anything like that. I'm recovering from an addiction. An addiction to something I created with my own two hands. You could call it an energy drink, and I naively did, but really, it's a drug.

When I discovered I could use my chemicals to punch up my coffee, I considered whether coffee was really the best medium for the energy density I needed. Back then, I had to maintain the best grades in the whole school, lead the science club, cook myself dinner, run a bunch of back-to-back tutoring sessions, and help all my friends with homework. Yeah, I used to have a lot of friends. Isn't that crazy? I was cracking under the stress of cramming all those tasks into 24 hours a day. So I got a bunch of stimulants, some of them illegally, and whipped them into a cocktail. I nicknamed it Resurr-EX. I drank it every day. For a while, my efficiency peaked. Everything felt like it took no time at all. But it took more and more Resurr-EX to maintain the same effect. Eventually, I drank so much of it in one sitting, I wound up in the hospital in excruciating pain. I had a heart attack… I almost died.

>Why didn't you ask for help?

I couldn't. I felt like if I dropped a single one of those tasks from my pile, I'd be a failure. And could you imagine what would happen if my parents found out I gave myself an addiction? Of course, you've never met them, but you can imagine. I'd never be allowed to touch chemicals again.

Since then, I've been recovering from my addiction. You're not really supposed to quit cold turkey, but… It's not like I had anyone to control my doses. And clearly, I can't trust myself. The withdrawal symptoms were godawful the first few weeks. Then they faded for a while. You got to know me during that period. But now, so close to when I calculated the finish line to be, they're worse than ever.

I know there's a simple solution to this. I should throw away my chemistry set. I already disposed of the illegal substances. But I can't bring myself to. Experimenting makes me feel more alive than anything else. I still believe I can create something useful to people. I have to.

>You already have.

Are you talking about the coffee and detergent I showed you? That's good to hear. I've considered starting a company and selling them. That's far too much of a hassle to do anytime soon, though.

Saying this aloud… I think it's renewing my resolve. I'll come up with something for us to do! I refuse to sit around and be useless, even if my own body's fighting me. Emi, do you like video games? Normally, I detest co-op, but the partner AI's so stupid in this one boss fight, I can't beat it alone. Want to give it a shot? You'll outplay my trembling fingers for sure.

You play video games with Fukuya and manage to beat the boss. After an elaborate death cutscene, you look over and see Fukuya fast asleep on the couch. You'd better get back to Leblanc…

[tsu-kitty]

𝒷𝓁𝓸𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝓮𝒶𝓇𝓉 ❦︎ 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝓌𝓸

♡ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 › 1.5k

♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 › tsukishima x reader, fem!reader, tall!reader cause she's a middle blocker, reader is a nervous clutz with a fat crush on tsuki. kinda slowburn-ish. very fluffy.

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 › you're a clumsy middle blocker and tsukishima is a coordinated middle blocker who seems to always be there to save you. after quite literally running into tsukishima (again), your pre-existing crush starts to grow even bigger.

♡ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 › second part, woohoo! lowkey can be read as a stand alone, but part one provides a bit more context.

“Time really flies, doesn’t it?” Yachi said as the two of you walked down the stairs on the way out of school. As a reward for completing the first day, the two of you were going to treat yourselves to ice cream. “I can’t believe we’re already second years!”

“It’s crazy, right?”  you agreed. “Are you going to stay on as the boy’s manager?”

“Yes! I had an anxious nightmare about it last night. All the rivals teams were after me. It was so scary.”

You laughed at her story.

“But I’m still going to do it. I promised Kiyoko, and I can’t let her down.” She pumped her fist in the air.

“You’re so funny, Ya—ah!” Your heart dropped to your stomach. Misjudging how close you were to the landing, your foot missed a step and suddenly you were falling. Your arms flew up to shield your face, your eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the impact of the solid ground. Why you? Why on your first day of second year? Did you not pray hard enough at the shrine this morning? Were the gods unsatified with your offering?

The sensation of hitting the floor never came, though. Instead, the sensation was warm and oddly soft and smelled like fresh lemon laundry detergent, though there was a hint of vanilla tucked beneath it. Peaking one eye open, you were horrified to find Tsukishima was the person who had caught you. Not again.

Off to the side, Yamaguchi (who had been walking up the stairs with Tsukishima) cheered. “Wow, Tsuki! Awesome reflexes!”

Tsukishima ignored him, choosing to address you instead, a shadow of a smirk on his lips. “Please don’t make a habit out of this.”

You died a little on the inside, cringing at the fact that he remembered a year ago when you crash into him on the first day of school. Heat was creeping up your neck. Had he gotten more handsome over the spring break? Or was the shock of the fall making you delusional? No, you’d always thought Tsukishima was cute. Although now, maybe handsome was a better way to describe him. He was taller, his shoulders broader and his jaw more defined. His hair was longer, long enough to curl at the nape of his neck and behind his ears. A few stray waves poked out from the top of his head. When he wasn’t sneering or glaring, he looked almost angelic. It was all over for you…

Regaining your footing, you pulled out of his grip and bowed your head. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Too flustered to wait for a reply, you grabbed Yachi’s hand and took off down the stairs, taking extra care as you hopped down the steps. You didn’t stop until you were out of the building, where you immediately threw yourself again the wall and slid down to the dirt, hands covering your red face.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Yachi shrieked, dropping down to fret over you. “Are you hurt? Tell me where it hurts.”

“My pride,” you mumbled from behind your hands.

“Oh gosh, that’s serious! We have to get you to the nurse! Wait… your pride?”

You nodded.

Yachi paused. “I’m confused.”

“He’s so pretty,” you whispered. “Has he always been this pretty?”

“Say again? I didn’t catch that.”

“Yachi,” you whined, lowering your hands. “I think I have a crush on Tsukishima.”

“WHAT?”

“Chance ball!”

Watching Tsukishima play didn’t help your situation at all. His play style fascinated you. The way his eyes followed the ball, narrowing ever so slightly in concentration. And the way his lips quirked up when he successfully shut down a spike had you weak in the knees. 

“Follow up! Tanaka!”

This early morning scrimmage between the girl’s and boy’s volleyball teams was a lot tougher than you had expected. Logically, you knew the boy’s were good—they had made it to Nationals after all—but considering two of their previous starters had graduated, you’d figured they’d have a few growing pains. This was only somewhat true, however. Whilst their receiving ability relied heavily on the libero and only one of them had a particularly strong serve, their blocks and spikes were deadly.

“Now!” Suzuki called. 

Following her lead, you leaped into the air, arms flying up to block the spike. Meeting the height of Tanaka’s block was hardly a concern considering you measured almost the same as him. His strength, on the other hand, sent an icy fear through your veins. Yachi had mentioned something about Tanaka working out a lot recently. Something to do with living up to the ace name.

Arms straight, arms strong, don’t let him through.

The ball catapulted through the air, aiming slightly left of your block. Reflexes kicking in, you shifted your hand. You couldn’t let it through untouched. Slowing the momentum by a fraction of a second was better than nothing.

Smack!

“Ngh,” you grunted, a pang of pain slithering from your fingers up to your shoulder. You don’t stop, though. “One touch!”

It wasn’t until the boys had you beaten two sets to one and cleaning began did you notice the tingling in your right pinky. Comparing it to the other, it was definitely a little swollen. Not a lot, but enough to make you wonder if you should see the school nurse. If it still didn’t feel okay by lunch, you would see her, you decided. No need to overreact, it was probably just sore from when you blocked Tanaka’s spike. His hitting power was really something else.

Hours later, when the jingled of the lunch bell filled the halls, your pinky was still tingling. Inspecting it’s appearance in comparison to the other again as you walked, you concluded that it wasn’t anymore swollen then the morning. Still, it’d be best—

You hit a hard body. Again? Really? The force of the collision bounced you back, but a hand hooked around your elbow before gravity could yank you to the ground. 

“Pardon me,” you said, bowing at the waist. “Sorry for running into you.”

“I thought you said this wouldn’t happen again.”

Kill me now. You straightened. “Tsukishima.”

A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “So, are you vision impaired or just an airhead?”

“No,” you pouted, avoiding his eyes in the hopes your cheeks would stop boiling. “I’m just… clumsy, I guess.”

“I see.” He tilted his head curiously. “So where are you going that requires you to not look at your surroundings?”

It was impressive how he managed to turn every statement and question into some form of insult or quip. 

“I was going to the nurse,” you told him. “I hurt my finger this morning playing against you all.”

Glancing down at the hand you were nursing against your chest, Tsukishima’s brow furrowed. “It looks fine.”

“I know, but I was going to ask the nurse to tape it, just to be safe.”

He gave you judgemental look. “Are you saying you don’t know how to do it yourself?”

Face burning, you shook your head.

“Tch, what kind of middle blocker doesn’t know how to tape their fingers?”

“The me kind, it seems,” you mumbled.

“Come with me, I’ll teach you,” he said, walking away before the thought of protesting could even cross your mind. 

You followed obediently as he lead you into his classroom and towards his desk where he told you to sit. Taking a seat at the desk in front of his, he dug through his book bag. It was hard to pinpoint exactly why, but being in Tskuishima’s class room and sitting at his desk felt oddly intimate. Maybe it was the simple fact that these things were associated with him and all his sour-attituded, smart-mouthed, angel-faced attitude. Oh, you so had a crush on him. 

Tsukishima secured the roll of  white tape. “Hand out.”

Heart skipping multiple beats, you layed the hand with the sore finger out, skin tingling with anticipation.

Tsukishima ripped two long strips of tape from the roll. Flipping your hand palm-up, he held your pink against your ring finger with a gentle pressure and started taping. Your heart wanted to jump out of your chest. His hands were so strong and warm, slightly calloused from volleyball, and his fingers were long and slender.

“So you wrap one strip around the base of your fingers,” he said. “And one at the top. Then you wrap them all the way around from the bottom to the top.” He picked up the roll again, circling it around your hand as he mummified your fingers. “It’s so easy, Hinata could do it.”

You knew just enough about the infamous Hinata to find the snide remark funny. “Thank you for teaching me, Tsukishima. I appreciate it.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, tearing the roll off and tucking it back in his bag. “Just don’t forget how to do it, airhead.” He stood up, lightly brushing his hand over your head as he walked away, completely unaware of the effect he had on you.

[bowandcurtsey]

When y/n is unwell (haikyuu) 

Been watching the Haikyuu Anime again because I've been back to playing leisure volley. hehe. Also it's the le kuroo hubby's birthday in a week's time! yay!

Kuroo | Tsukishima | Akaashi | Atsumu x f! reader

Post timeskip

Kuroo Tetsuro

Suddenly becomes the househusband and does everything in the house. Well he's not superb at everything but he makes sure that everything still runs smoothly. or Kinda.

There is a possibility that he'll use the wrong bowl for the cat. Or he may mistake the softener as detergent.. But it wouldn't be anything major.

He'll make sure you're tucked in nice and snug and if you're cold he'll put on them night socks for you. If your temperature gets too high he'll grab a towel and do a cold compression for you.

He gets kinda worried actually seeing how fragile and unwell you are. And when you start muttering nonsense like "am I going to die.." He'll shush you and give you extra kisses on your forehead.

he'll pat you to sleep before he carries on doing other things. Yes he'll slack off a little and watch some volleyball vids on youtube or social media.

He'll buy you some soupy meal because god bless, this man can not cook that well. He'll feed you of course, very gently and blowing at your food before putting it to your mouth because you're his queen.

Well, when you're finally feeling slightly better and you find the strength to get out of bed, you creep out to your living room to find your hubby napping on the couch with the animals. awww.

Tsukishima Kei

He doesn't really know what to do actually. You seldom fall sick and are usually independent so it's really a rare sight for him to see you vulnerable like this.

He even took a day's leave from divisional training just to take care of you.

"Am I dying?"

"Well at least you have the strength to make dumb jokes like that." your husband is as savage as ever.

He disappears for awhile and then he'll come over with some warm water and some asprin. He'll help you get up to take your meds before tucking you in again.

You'll wake up and find those cooling patch pasted on your forehead and water right beside your bed. He came in to take your temperature.

"Good. Your fever went down. Are you feeling better?"

Whether you said yes or no, he'll bring you to see the doctors, to be safe. He was actually really worried about you, while you were sleeping, he constantly came in to check on you, stroked your hair and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

And when you were feeling much better, he would definitely tease you about it.

"Maybe you should fall sick once in awhile, you're more sweeter and less naggy."

Of course you knew he was kidding.

Akaashi Keiji

Your Akaashi was Mr perfect husband. He knew exactly how to take care of you. He would totally apply to work from home and take care of all your needs.

From cooking some hot soup or porridge, to making sure you were properly tucked in, Akaashi took care of you well.

He made sure you always had warm water to drink and he gave you a water bottle with a straw so you could drink without using much effort.

He constantly changed your cooling patch on your forehead and sponged your body with a cold towel to keep your temperature down.

Bokuto was banned from coming over because he was "too noisy and would disturb your rest"

When you took your meds, he would bring in some gummy so that the meds weren't too bitter for you.

He would also make you something yummy and healthy at the same time, like a berry smoothie so that not all your food were too bland. He would let you cheat a little and eat some ice cream too, because a happy mindset keeps the body healthy as well.

Would keep you in his sight 24/7, works in the same room as you with a mask on and a tiny lamp turned on while you were resting.

You should also take this time to ask your husband for anything you want, he'll probably agree because you looked so vulnerable and sad, he'll do anything to make you feel better.

Miya Atsumu

Actually, He's probably sick together with you. But hey in the case that he isn't, he's panicking.

He calls everyone. Osamu, his mom, Sakusa... Even Bokuto and Hinata. Well, initially you had doubts when he called Bokuto but he was the only one that suggested ice cream so you were glad he did.

Well he runs out to the supermarket after leaving an ice pack over your head.

He comes home with BAGS of stuff. Different types of medicine, more ice packs, all kinds of healthy food- fruits and vegetables, and yes, ice cream.

He feeds you some medicine and pastes the cooling patch on your body as well.

He then proceeds to make a lot of noise in the kitchen and tries to make you some fruit salad or some sorts and some miso soup or something that has chunks of fish and chicken inside.

When your fever does not go down by the end of the day, your husband calls 911. Yeap. He tells the person that it's an emergency..

You had to drag you sick ass to your husband and grab the phone telling the person over the phone that you're okay and that your husband is just a little panicky.

You end up telling him to just bring you to see a doctor.

"Oh yeah baby! why didn't I think of the doctor!"

[hotpotbrothvatenjoyer]

as a fellow ebay and thrift store shopper these god damn chemicals are the bane of my existence. i've been dealing with some new clothes from ebay all weekend so let me share my tips on safely and efficiently removing VOCs from used clothes. i also do this on new clothes sometimes because these days shit comes presoaked in god knows what nasty chemicals. anyways, this applies to pretty much any weird smelling chemicals on clothes, whether it's mothballs or dryer sheet residue or factory slime.

first the don'ts:

before you have removed the VOCs, keep clothes away from other fabrics (carpet, furniture, other clothes). ideally keep them in a sealed bag or hang them outside so the fumes aren't in your house

do NOT wash the smelly VOC clothes with other clothes under any circumstances, you WILL spread the chemicals around and now you have 20 items to deal with instead of 2

DO NOT USE HEAT until you are 110% sure the VOCs are gone. heat causes fibers to expand and contract, trapping chemicals inside and making cleaning them out way more difficult

now the actual removal method:

wash with (or better yet, soak in) diluted white vinegar* and COLD water (see above). the stronger the smell, the more you need/the longer it should soak

wash with detergent (cold!!!)

check for a smell. if you're unsure, get right up in there and sniff the fabric. if there's only a little left, I can feel the chemicals irritating my sinuses but can't actually smell them (nasty). return to step 1 if necessary.

hang dry or dry with air only. hanging outside is ideal in case there are still gasses being released, but you can mitigate/capture most of the dangerous gasses indoors with an air purifier that has an activated carbon filter. hanging outside is probably a solid replacement for step 1 if you can wait several days but i haven't done this myself

*you can get extra concentrated non-food grade white vinegar by the gallon at the hardware store, it's much cheaper than food grade and i highly recommend having it on hand for cleaning all kinds of stuff

man speaking of environmental pollutants it's concerning when I have to wash secondhand clothing four times to get the dryer sheet stink off it. everyone please chill out with the VOCs, buy unscented laundry and dish soap, don't use dryer sheets at all (get some wool dryer balls and if you have pet hair to remove, use long dries with low or no heat and maybe some hand towels that are dampened with vinegar+hair conditioner [this works although I have no studies on the relative safety of aerosolized hair conditioner vs dryer sheets so who knows], I know this isn't possible without a home washer setup though) that stuff is going to be what everyone is clucking and shaking their heads about in ten years the way we do with asbestos and lead and arsenic right now. well that and plastic but thats already hitting conversation points and goes without saying

[familyvideostevie]

Can you write about a reader being a dice goblin. after the reader and eddie had a huge argument and he apologises to reader with some pretty dice.

thank you for the request! i did some googling bc i don't play ttrpg, so i hope this makes sense! let me know <3 | 0.9k, fem!reader, fluff after a fight

The dice click in your hand as you turn them over in your fingers. You've almost finished organizing your collection, an effort that you began to keep your mind off of the fact that you haven't spoken to Eddie in four days. Honestly, you don't even remember what you were so mad about, or how the fight started, only that it ended in tears and he dropped you off and drove away and neither of you have cracked yet. But you know that even though you were angry and you know it was a real fight, you figure if you can't recall what caused it then it shouldn't keep you apart.

Plus, you miss him. You miss his voice, his smell, his hugs. You miss talking games with him, planning campaigns, just looking at him. So, you decide enough is enough. It's time to see your boyfriend. You return your seemingly endless number of pouches of dice to your desk drawer and set off for his trailer. The sun has just started to set and it's not a far walk, though you could use the time to figure out what you're going to say.

Your shoes have just started to crunch on the gravel of his part of the park when the door to Eddie's trailer flies open. Eddie himself stumbles out, running his hands through his hair and muttering something and checking all of his pockets like he's carrying precious cargo somewhere. He looks as exhausted as you feel. He makes his way to his van and he's so distracted you don't know if he'll see you, so you call his name.

"Eddie," you say, though it comes out softer than you'd like. Even so, he looks up sharply and catches sight of you, blinking like he can't believe what he's seeing.

"Sweetheart?" he says. "Is that you?"

"Course it is." You frown, a little confused that he's even asking. God, you just want to touch him. He looks at his van and then back at you.

"It's just...I was on my way to see you and here you are." His cheek twitches like he wants to smile but doesn't know if he's allowed to.

"Magic," you tease, giving him a small smile of your own.

"Magic," he agrees. He shoves his hands into his vest pockets do he doesn't reach for you. That won't do.

"Can we hug?" you blurt out. Eddie exhales with his whole body before you meet in the middle and he engulfs you in his arms. You slide your hands around him under his vest and breathe that scent you've missed so much. Detergent, cigarettes, a little bit of weed. Why did you stay away for so long?

"I'm so fucking sorry, baby --"

"I don't even remember what we fought about --"

"-- I almost called you every day this week, like every hour --"

"--but I'm sorry for avoiding you --"

"I love you," you say at the same time. You pull away from him just a little and he looks so relieved that you both burst into laughter.

"Why were you coming to see me?" you ask him. He hasn't totally let go of you, so your words are directed at his jaw more than anything else.

"Was gonna apologize," he says. "And uh, give you something."

"Oh?" You can't stop smiling, your eyes crinkling at the edges. You feel so much better with Eddie close to you.

"Yeah." He flushes. "Wanna see?" You nod. Eddie has never failed to make you feel special, picking up trinkets he thinks you'll like, or just giving you his own stuff. You always tell him you'd be happy with just you, baby, but he never listens. He pulls one arm back from around you and digs into his jean pocket, producing a black velvet pouch.

"Eddie," you gasp, "are those--"

"Dice? Course they are. Pretty dice for my pretty girl." You hold out your hand and he cups it with his own, gently pouring the contents of the pouch into your palm.

"I know you already have lots of sets, so if you have one like this already let me know --" You gasp when you see them.

"Oh my god, Eddie!" you squeal. They're purple but in a way where they look like small crystals shimmering in your hand as you roll them around. The numbers are gold and they glow like there's a tiny ember in the center of each one. They are the prettiest dice you've ever seen.

"Reminded me of you," he says softly. You look at him, faces still close enough that you can feel his breath.

"They're beautiful," you say. "My new favorites." You surge forward and plant a short, happy kiss on his mouth. He whines when you pull away.

"Worth the fight?" he teases, payback for you not kissing him properly. You just glare. "Kidding! Kidding, honestly. Please can we never do that again?"

"Deal," you assure him. "I really love them, Eddie. Thank you." He kisses your forehead, rubbing your back with one hand.

"Shall we take them for a spin?" You nod, happy to do anything so long as you're with him while you do it. He tucks his palm into your back pocket and pulls you into his side before leading you back to his trailer.

tags (i've started to tag for ask fics, let me know if you'd like to be taken off!): @sunshinehollandd @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @katsukis1wife @ruinedbythehobbit @imherefortea @superflannel

want to be added to my tag list? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both!

reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

[sungie]

BELOW OUR KITCHEN LIGHTS: MATSUNO CHIFUYU X GN!READER

a/n: i love chifuyu <333

trope: hurt/comfort

masterlist

The mug of tea in your hand clatters against the table as Chifuyu wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head in the crook of your neck. He presses a kiss to your shoulder in silent apology. “I missed you. What're you making so late?" 

"Tea. Want some?"

He’s just taken a shower. Damp hair brushes against your skin as he shakes his head. He smells like that expensive bottle of coconut showergel you brought over for nights spent at his place – the cheek pressed against your skin feels so soft you don’t have the heart to tell him off. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, as if he can read your mind, “I used your body wash. It smells nice.”

“I don’t mind if it’s you.” 

Chifuyu chuckles softly. “Yeah, yeah. I know you don’t like sharing.” He tilts his head to press a kiss beneath your jaw. “Don’t worry, I’ll buy you more. Let’s go shopping tomorrow. My treat.”  

“Chifuyu?” 

He perks up slightly. “Yeah?” 

“Go to sleep.” 

Chifuyu deflates. His chin slumps against your shoulder. “I never see you anymore.”

His arms unconsciously tighten, almost as if he’s terrified you’ll pull away without him even noticing. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

His words hit you right in the gut. He’s right.

Work sends you home late, pushes Chifuyu out the door before you even wake up. Late night take-out in the fridge with post-it notes on the counter:

Got you some katsu – warm it up in the microwave <3 Love you. Psst there’s my left-over tempura in the fridge if you want (probably soggy tho >.<)

Flowers delivered to his office with notes sent up by the doorman–sorry i missed you last night, ‘fuyu. thanks for the katsu, let’s eat together next time. ilys–matched with a text appearing an hour later–and chifuyu! i love you <3 not sure when you’ll get it, but i maxed the character limit on the flowers

He must misinterpret your silence. "(Y/N)? What’s wrong?"

“Chifuyu,” you murmur. 

“I know it’s hard, but give me one more chance. I’ll do better.” 

“What?” 

“Don’t break up with me,” Chifuyu whispers. “I can’t do this without you.”

As soon as the words form, he sighs, shaking his head as if in trance. "Oh god. That sounds so shitty. I mean, we can. But let’s do it tomorrow. Not right now."

Break up with him?

“What? No, Chifuyu, that's not–” You face him, voice softening. “Hey. Look at me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You're not?” His voice lilts with confusion, relief, and above all, overwhelming exhaustion.

It suddenly occurs to you that Chifuyu normally takes morning showers. Did he take that night-shower to stay awake for you? 

“I love you, ‘fuyu.” You say gently. “I'm sorry for being upset lately. I am, but it's not you. Just ... a lot of work and a crappy boss."

Chifuyu leans into your hand. He nods, a breath he'd been holding finally escaping his lips. "Oh. That makes two of us."

"You make me happy. Really. I’m not going anywhere.”

At the pained look in his eyes, you continue. “Home’s with you.”

“I,” Chifuyu whispers, “I needed to hear that.” He blinks, then presses a hand to his forehead. "I'm not ... thinking straight. Toman's going through it, and Takemichi’s not making things any less difficult."

You press a kiss to his forehead. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” 

With the lights out and Chifuyu’s back pressed to your chest, you press your lips to the back of his neck. “Get some sleep, okay? We'll talk more later."

"I'll be at a dinner party tomorrow night, but I'm staying home all until then. Taking you out, remember? And then we have the weekend." Chifuyu thumbs little circles into your arms wrapped around his waist. “I love you,” he whispers. “You know that, right?” 

"Yeah." You breathe into his oversized t-shirt. Traces of catnip linger among the detergent and coconut showergel. Your coconut bodywash. Him and you. "Yeah, I know."

[traumxrei-archive]

Aaaah! I didn't expect that kind of reply to my ask!!! Thank you!!! You sent my heart into overdrive with how you elaborated on the idea lol. And hey, you can still be a Jamil lover without being a Jamil simp, right?.....r-right? 😳

I hope you don't mind if I chat with you some more! Another thing I was thinking about with Jamil- giving him presents. It doesn't even have to be with romantic intent but I think it would be hard to give him gifts (oh, I haven't read any of his birthday stories so I don't know if they go into the topic). You could give him gifts that would help him with all his servant responsibilities- a super good scrubber or super Azul detergent or...just things to make his life easier. But he could misinterpret our intention of making things easier for him as "oh, you are just a servant so here are some servant things so you'll keep doing your job. We couldn't think of any other gifts."

And what about interests that may overlap? We know he's a great cook- it's his talent and we know how it's a duty to cook for Kalim - but does he enjoy cooking? Would he do it in his free time (I'm a clown if all this has been gone through in the game already and I haven't seen it 🤡)? Would cooking related gifts be appreciated or be seen as a servant's gift? And- And what about non-physical gifts? Like lending him your time or helping him with stuff?? Like with the coupons, he'd totally say no 😮‍💨

I guess the best thing would be to get his something that might not overlap with any retainer responsibilities, like something dance or basketball related. Or maybe something for school (if he doesn't take it as an insult)? Like---- broom stick polish...or....s-sports drinks? Cash? Would cash or gift cards be better lol? Being his servant/assistant for a day? I'm putting too much thought into this lol

From, the Jamil Lover

hello again :DDD !

ashjfhdjf i'm sorry !! i kinda went overboard bc your idea was so cuteeee aaaa <33 i really enjoy making drabbles like that, with like. ideas for fics i'd almost never write bc i got too many ideas :'))) so it was p enjoyable for me to do !

and maybe you're right...just bc i'm not a jamil simp doesn't mean i can't be a jamil lover.... n i'd love to chat more ! it's so interesting to see what other ppl think of when they see these chars so by all means, keep goingg :D

but my god you're right. imagine trying to give this man a gift T^T almost as difficult as getting kalim to focus on his studies- like cleaning supplies in his mind would translate to someone patronizing him. like you said "you're just a servant, here have some more servant things to clean with" so he would...appreciate it. but also he would misinterpret it big time. he doesn't like being seen as subservient, so giving him things that remind him of the inevitability of his role isn't recommended.

and honestly with the cooking...i don't think he enjoys it that much. like he cooks as a necessity, he was kinda forced into learning it BECAUSE of kalim.

[ very light jamil's past spoilers + character analysis n ballroom dancing drabbles below the cut ]

i won't spoil stuff in book 4 but when we do see his backstory, a lot of things he took up was because kalim liked it and wanted to do it. and cooking i imagine was the same, the al-asims needed a trusted person to cook for their eldest son so he isn't poisoned, so who better than his retainer; a member of the loyal viper family?

that's not to say he might not enjoy cooking itself. maybe he does find enjoyment in it, and maybe he enjoys the process of it as well. he sure as hell cooks for himself sometimes. but a lotta the time he's always cooking for kalim and his banquets. i'm sure there isn't a fully negative connotation, but it's not something he absolutely loves doing without a doubt. it's a different passion than trey and his baking for sure.

in terms of non-physical gifts, i think he would appreciate those the best. physical gifts are kind of a reminder of a debt to someone, something that looks him in the face and says "hey, you owe this person for getting you this" though he doesn't have azul-level avoidance of debt, he probably appreciates favors above all else. so an offer to help clean up the scarabia lounge area, or one to help wash the dishes are probably something he would genuinely appreciate. (though probably not all the time...or else he'd get suspicious if you don't express your intent correctly)

i think the best gift you could give jamil is one of two things: either a favor on something that he's currently working on like mentioned above, or something related to his real hobbies.

for example, he loves to dance. despite what he might say and how hard he denies it, i think dancing was the one thing that kalim dragged him into that he fully enjoys and he fully can make his own; instead of it being another kalim-learnt-skill.

i'm like. 80% positive that he would love it if you gave him a ticket to see a street dance competition. or an invite to a dance class. actually, following up with the dance class thing:

"a dance class?"

"mhm."

"for couples dancing."

"yes."

"and you want us," jamil points the sheet at you and then back at him. "to join it?"

"how many more times do i have to explain it?" you sigh before folding your arms. "look, i need some extra class credits for this year and it's either this weekly dance class or two extra hours each week of trein's history of transmutational magic classes."

jamil's brow furrowed, "and this is an actual class nrc is hosting..?"

"it says 'bring a friend' and i can think of no one but you."

"what about kalim?" jamil asked, handing the paper back to you. "he'll probably be more...enthused about this."

"i don't think he needs an extra dance class to focus on when he has to work on his extended potionology grades. and besides," you give him a small smile. "i wanted to do this with you."

"and why is that?" though you're sure he already knows the answer, with how his hands subconsciously tug at his hood to hide himself.

"you'd be a great dance partner," you reach for one of his braids, giving it a light tug. "you also enjoy dancing. i've seen you dance, and you're absolutely great at it. and extra credits would look good on your record, so why not?"

you're almost convinced that jamil won't do it. he stayed silent for so long that you already turn around before he finally says, "wait. fine, i'll do it with you."

you cheer and he holds up a hand, "but only for this semester. don't ask me to do it again."

anon i'm sobbing T^T now i'm just imagining dancing with jamil viper. learning how to do waltz and the tango and him just patiently guiding us through the steps. (ok maybe not patiently, he's the type to tease with a straight face, so he'll probably do that. and he might just call you hopeless if you're struggling really hard bc. he's mean. sometimes.)

ohHHHhHh wwwwaIITTT I'M GONNA GO INTO CARDIAC ARRESTTTT BALLROOM DANCING WITH JAMIL- JAMIL IN A SUITTTT SUHFDUHFSJKF JAMIL, DIPPING YOU WHEN YOU TRIP. AND JUST. STARING AT YOU BLANKLY FOR A MOMENT BEFORE PULLING YOU UP (when you look away he's blushing as he coughs into his hand, the tips of his ears turning red-)

n e ways i hope that was. enjoyable to read. and somewhat coherent bc i swear to god i probably wasn't making much sense- thank you again for chatting with me, jamil lover anon ! hopefully this fulfills your daily jamil needs hehe <333

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing iv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 105

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a glimpse into the past

Jungkook’s been to a total of two graduations his entire life—one was his middle school’s graduation that seemed more like a farewell party and his older brother’s college one. Now, he can say that he’s attended three. But he’s never felt like this—never felt dread to say a temporary goodbye to a face he’s been so accustomed to seeing.

Maybe that’s why he’s in such a sour mood as his peers hugged their seniors' goodbyes, smiles on their face while they engaged in chatter about the future. Jungkook’s always been hard on parting and today is no different. Especially with the constant reminders at every corner of the hallways, streams of red and blue painting the ceilings with a big fat ‘happy graduation to the seniors!’ Mocking him on his journey to his classes.

He almost wants to slap some sense into himself. Because why was he terrified for the beginning of a new chapter that wasn’t his story to tell? Why was he dreading the moment that the seniors collected their diplomas and walked off the stage; and out of his life?

But he doesn’t do that; because the fear is as addictive as the excitement he feels when he thinks of you. A conflicting and tortuous juxtaposition of the beautiful day for a valedictorian and her younger friend.

“Jungkook!” A voice calls, and when he turns he sees Taehyung barrelling towards him with two people trailing closely behind.

When Taehyung plummets into Jungkook’s chest with an oof, but all Jungkook can focus on; despite the ache in his chest, is you.

You’re so pretty. But that’s nothing new for Jungkook. However, you were smiling, soft and sweet like the person who stayed up during her finals to tutor Jungkook on math concepts and the same girl who supported him through his football trials in junior year.

But you were grown, and the robe was the testimony of your age and maturity—the level of intelligence that you possess only grew with time and now you were walking towards him with a sense of quiet assuredness that he’s always admired you for.

Jungkook’s sure he’s gaping but he’s never been able to control himself around you.

“Can you stop gawking at her already?” Taehyung complains, twisting the skin between Jungkook’s armpit in retaliation.

Jungkook burns but scowls at the older boy who simply snickers in response.

“I’m so glad you’re graduating.” Jungkook snaps.

Taehyung snorts, “If I go she goes.”

Jungkook purses his lips as he readies himself for another retort, but you arrive and the first thing he notices is how gentle you smell. His favourite scent in principle, a whiff of laundry detergent accompanied with the light floral perfume he remembers his mother gifting you for your birthday.

“You’re gonna miss us, aren’t you?” Is the first thing Jimin says when he greets the younger boy with a ruffle to his head.

Jungkook glowers in embarrassment as he tries to fight him off, and despite his shorter stature in height—Jimin was in fact, quite strong.

Regardless of his flustered state, you smile at him warmly and perhaps Jungkook is biased when it comes to you because he’s sure you’ve always smiled the same, but every tilt of your lips evoke an array of different feelings in Jungkook’s chest.

“The two of you are like dumb and dumber so no—not really. God knows he’s finally granted my wish for emancipation.” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung feigns offence with a hand to his chest, leaning his head against Jungkook’s shoulders while he rolls his eyes.

Then he remembers you, the girl who just smiles as the world will always do her good.

“But I’ll miss Noona, though.” He says, and he hopes the shakiness of his voice isn’t obvious. “She’s the only one that doesn’t tease me.”

You grin up at Jungkook, giggling when Jimin and Taehyung gape at the younger boy’s audacity.

“Yah. You call her Noona and not us Hyung?!” Taehyung screeches were loud enough for the group of you to wince at his loudness.

“Don’t forget that you would have never have met her if it weren’t for us, you brat.” Jimin reminds, though not maliciously.

Jungkook does thank the stars for them introducing him to you. Because he doubts otherwise you’d ever interact with him. You were always in your own bubble, tucked away in a safe space filled with your own sense of solace and comfort. And Jungkook admired that.

He liked being alone, but he never wanted to be lonely. You were a breath of fresh air when you taught him the lines between loneliness and being physically alone; and how you learnt to never conflate the two. You were independent and bright, but warm and welcoming—and Jungkook remembers that these feelings weren’t just a floor away anymore.

“Ignore them, Kook.” You sigh. “Gonna miss you too.”

Jungkook feels himself melt because you say it so sweetly and sincerely.

Taehyung and Jimin ruin his love-blurred lenses by gagging at your blatant display of affection towards the younger boy.

“The two of you are so gross.” Jimin groans, earning a nod from his other half.

You roll your eyes when all Jungkook does is flush at the insinuation.

“Unlike the two of you, we make the better and more rational pair.” You chastise. “Don’t we, Kook?”

And the nickname he’s grown to love though he has a love-hate relationship with it slips off your tongue and he finds himself agreeing with you.

“These two idiots are a quarter of a brain-cell combined on a good day,” Jungkook mutters.

You burst out into laughter, rubbing a calming hand onto his shoulder and he feels the dread come in. Because this was no longer something he could reach out to when you went to college.

“Whatever.” Jimin scoffs.

Then the PA system sounds, and the principal calls for the graduates to gather at the hall. And it represents all of Jungkook’s worries in an announcement and he’s not ready to let you go yet.

“That’s our call.” You declare, eyes darting to the other seniors who pull apart from their juniors to rush to the hall.

Jungkook’s eyes widen one last time before Jimin and Taehyung both wrap their arms around Jungkook tightly, murmuring a much more sincere and grateful remark than their previous chides. And he feels slightly bad that he can’t respond because his brain is far more focused on your lone figure, who eyes him with sad yet gentle eyes.

“You’ll come to our role call, right?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook gulps because all he can focus on is your face.

“Y-yeah. Course’.” He mumbles. He feels the need to say something—do something before people crowd you after it’s over. Jungkook would never stand a chance.

He seems rooted in his feet, Jimin and Taehyung already trailing off with their arms around each other and words of their future in the air. You smile at Jungkook—and it’s the same—but his hands reach out before he can think twice.

Jungkook grabs your wrist before you can leave, gulping to himself when you stare at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” You ask softly.

No, he’s not, because his heart is beating so fast and he doesn’t want this day to come to an end.

“I-I’m okay.” He chokes, “I just—don’t you have a parting gift for me?” Jungkook blurts before he can rationalise what the fuck did he even mean.

But Jungkook just stares at you like a deer caught in the headlights while you tilt your head at him endearingly. He hopes that his pulse doesn’t emanate from his grasp, but your wrist is small, and it feels just right in his palm.

Your lips are twitching as a grin threatens itself on your expression, and he sees the mischief in your eyes that come out every once in a while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving me a gift, Jeon?” You tease, and Jungkook is so soft.

He snorts, a little glad that you didn’t point out his sudden grip on your wrist.

“But you’re leaving me.” He pouts.

You roll your eyes and take a step closer to him until you’re directly in front of him. And he sees your features up close and God—did he say you were pretty?—well because you’re even prettier up close and he loses all sense of thought when you’re smiling up at him with bright eyes.

“I’m always a call away.” You say softly, gently tugging at his hand; and it’s crazy to think that you were the same older girl that was usually timid reaching out to him in a way that was shy but so you.

Even with the chattering of other students, Jungkook only hears your subdued voice.

“It’s not the same.” Jungkook sighs, and he’s slightly aware that he was whining. But you don’t seem to be bothered.

“You’re probably going to forget about me.” You scoff and it’s light, but he can see the slight furrow of your brows. “You’re Jeon Jungkook. You’ll do great.” You add softly.

Jungkook purses his lips and wants to tell you that it wasn’t possible. You took up space in his life, both in school (well, not anymore) and in his mind. You and your wonderful mind.

“Says the valedictorian.” Jungkook huffs.

You pout, “You know that isn’t long-term. What if I just peak in high school and … you know …” You sigh, shaking your head, “I’m not outgoing like Jimin or a social butterfly like Taehyung. Neither am I as friendly and likeable like you are, Jungkook. I’m just … boring.”

Jungkook freezes because while he knew you were on the shier side; the louder than life tendencies you had were small but abundant. You didn’t need to speak louder than anyone in a room to get your points across, you were soft and empathetic and led people in organisations to see the good in the work they did.

Your genuine nature drew people in, even though you’d flush under attention and praise—and if Jungkook could—he’d scream it out to the world. But you were in front of him, and he figured that was enough.

“Don’t say that.” Jungkook snaps and his tone causes you to flinch as you stare at him with wide eyes, “Don’t … put yourself down like that. You’re great, _____. You’re intelligent and kind. Just because you’re different doesn’t mean you’re boring. There are situations in this world that need people like you. There are people that find comfort in a quiet soul because you’re introspective and thoughtful. People like …”

Jungkook exhales when you stare at him so earnestly, and his ears turn red. “People like me. We need people like you in our lives.”

Your mouth falls open as you blatantly stare at Jungkook with wide eyes; he’s on the border of being absolutely mortified and running away so he wouldn’t be the subject of your obvious ogling.

But then a soft smile makes its way onto your face, and you’re tugging Jungkook by the hand and into a warm hug.

Despite him being younger than you, he’s always been taller and bigger than you were. And it was a sense of security he felt in your presence rather than your physical entity that would never be replaced with anything else.

“You really grew up, huh?” You say, a giggle in your chest.

Jungkook rolls his eyes but accepts the way you rest your head on his chest. He’s never had you this close before, and he hates that it’s on the day he needs to say goodbye.

“I’ve always been this way.” Jungkook answers. He also thinks: I’ve always been here. For you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You say softly, pulling away even though Jungkook wants to keep you close.

“Anytime.” He smiles widely at you, and a classmate of yours calls your name as you turn to give them a nod of acknowledgement before you’re turning back to Jungkook with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Here’s your gift.” You inform him.

“I was kidding—”

And before you can respond, you’re placing both hands on his shoulder and on your tippy-toes to deliver a kiss to his cheek.

Jungkook is stunned and he isn’t able to process it fast enough. But you’re already offering him an equally flustered smile with the tip of your ears turning red before you’re waving shyly and tittering off to the hall.

Jungkook blinks, and a hand reaches to touch his cheek.

He looks up, and groans—because how the hell was he going to survive high school now?

[bibblelevi]

Levi as your sullen roommate who hides all the vibrators and toys in your room when you're out for lunch with your friends, he just loathes hearing you get off to something that doesn't even compare to him every night.

at first you think you're going crazy, and then you make plans to save up and buy new ones eventually. But staring at your roommate walk around in a tank top with bed head in the morning, or in his nice slacks and coat, reprimanding voice scolding you for leaving your groceries out eventually takes a toll on you- and the wet mess between your legs. but how are you supposed to get off without all your lovely little toys helping you?

Levi isn't surprised when he finds you desperate and blushing outside his room one night, and how could he deny someone so helpless who's just begging for his attention?

Of course he'll help sweet little you out.

cw: a single word of degradation

Oh fuck Levi who just leans against the door frame, brow quirked as he takes in your appearance. Your shirt is all rumpled and otherwise you’re only wearing a tiny pair of panties. God, he can practically smell the arousal from you. He can see it in your blown pupils and the static in your hair and that shy expression on your face.

He just murmurs, “Shit, you look fuckin’ pathetic. Get in here now.”

You just tug on the hem of his shirt and bury your face in his warm chest, inhaling laundry detergent and something woodsy — probably the last of Levi’s cologne from the day.

“Touch me,” you whimper. “Please. I can’t take it.”

He would smooth down your hair before taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, squishing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “Touch you?” he asks. “Is that all you want?”

You close your eyes. “‘want you to make me come.”

He snorts in your fucking face then shoves his thumb into your mouth. “Isn’t that what your pillow are for? What about all your stupid fuckin’ toys? The walls here are thin enough.”

Your entire body is burning hot. “Don’t know,” your words are all garbled as he jams his thumb around your tongue, “Can’t find them. And I tried the pillow. ‘S too hard. Please, Levi. Please.”

“You dirty slut,” he tuts. “Take of your clothes and get on the damn bed. I’ll make you come better than any toy or pillow that you’ll be crawling back by tomorrow afternoon.”

You crawl back a little earlier than that…

[apocalypticgargoyle]

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

I've heard that on TV shows all the time, but hearing it with my own ears is new. I'm scared.

"Hello, hi, uhm." What do I say? How do I do this? "I'm on interstate four, right by the exit to route 408 and I just watched a car go over the side." It feels not real, feels like I'm watching an action movie or one of those dashcam tiktoks that find their way onto my for you page from time to time.

"What interstate four, northbound or south?"

I look to the sign, forgetting that I've driven on this road a million times, still reeling. "North- northbound on four."

"I've dispatched emergency services to you. Can you see the driver?"

I can't even see the car, just the chunks taken out of the concrete barrier where the car hopped it, can see the brake lights still though. "Not where I am but I'm- I pulled off to the shoulder, I can get out and go see if they're okay."

"You don't have to do that, ma'am." A million things are running through my mind, but one sticks out.

"I'm, uh, I'm first aid trained, and I took an EMT class for extra credit in college, I might be able to help?" I turn my keys in the ignition, make sure to keep my hazards on and pocket them, dig through my glove box for the bare bones first aid kit I got when I got the car last year.

"Emergency services are 5 minutes out. I can walk you through helping and give them a better picture if you go over there, but you don't have to. Help is on the way."

"I'm going to see if I can help." Opening the driver's side door seems much too scary, with cars whizzing past going well over the 65 miles per hour speed limit. It's 3 in the morning, and there are no speed traps on this stretch of the interstate. People speed, and they go way over. Instead, I opt to climb over to the passenger seat, careful not to accidentally turn off my hazards, and start over to the crumbled concrete and brake lights. I can hear the driver before I see him, yelling for help. I call out to him.

"Thank god, can you call 911?" He yells, and then I see him. He's laid up between the dash and a cracked but not shattered windshield, curled to see me through the passenger side window, which is gone.

"I'm on the phone with them now, they're, how many minutes is it, 911 lady?"

"Gigi, two minutes out. Can you see the driver? Does he have any visible injuries?"

"Two minutes out, yeah, he's got cuts on his face and his arms, and-" It registers then, that I can see the bones of his arm jutting out of his elbow, and his leg is bent at an impossible angle, and his nose is much too bloody to still be intact. "I think a couple broken bones, too." It's then that I hear the sirens, loud honking, and look to see flashing lights moving down the road. "They're almost here, dude, just keep hanging out."

There's really not all that much distance between where he went over and the ground, so it's easy to clear the wall and land on the ground. Up closer, I can see the puddle of blood he's laying in, bubbling steady out of a large cut in his leg. A flash of my EMT class comes through, it's an artery, somewhere in his leg, and you need to tourniquet it, like ASAP. The truck is still honking, backed up in the saturday night orlando traffic and people pulling to the side to let them through and while I can see and hear it, there's a good half mile wall of bumper to bumper pulling off to give space. No clear path.

"Hey, are you, how do you feel?"

"I feel like shit for crashing my buddy's car, but that's about it right now. Why?" Asking that after you hopped an embankment crashing a car seems kinda weird, but ok?

"I think I need to, like, help you with your leg? Can I?" He nods. I close the distance between me and his car door and manage to open it enough so I can get in the car. It's awkward and there's no real good footing, but I manage to wedge myself in enough to get in a stable spot. "Let's see if I can remember how to do this. I need-"

Ever the helpful phone call, Gigi reminds me. "You need to tie something just above where he's bleeding, tight as you can. A cut seatbelt, a t shirt, something like that." There is nothing like that in my immediate vicinity except for my own shirt, which, I can give up my shirt for this guy, there's another one shoved somewhere in my trunk. It gets stripped off quickly and Gigi helps with directions all the way through. My hands shake vigorously, but I manage to get it to the point where I can't visibly see volumes of blood pour out of him, so I count it as a win.

I look at the truck, still pretty stuck where it is, but the ambulance is getting through, still huge but better able to work through the gaps between the large quantity of cars.

"Am I going to die? Is that why you keep looking to see where they are? Cause I'm going to die?"

"No." I speak firmly despite the panic coursing through my veins, the fear that I might be lying right to his face. "No. The paramedics are almost here and they're gonna help you and get you to the hospital and all that. You're not gonna die." I read somewhere once that in that situation you have to reassure people. They don't fight to live if they think they might die.

The stretch of time that passes before there's an EMT in front of me feels like a lifetime, even if it's only a couple of minutes. And the first thing I notice is that his gaze travels down my body, catching at my chest and oh, yeah, I gave my shirt to the bleeding guy and should probably get out of the paramedic's way. I make to go back and get the extra shirt I know I have in my backseat but I get stopped on my way by another EMT who wants to check and make sure I'm okay.

"I wasn't in the car, I called it in." I wave my phone, which still has 911 on the line, but the paramedic insists, points to a cut on my arm I hadn't realized I'd gotten. I get led to sit on the tailgate of an ambulance, watching firefighters run past from the truck that finally got through carrying loads of stuff, heavy equipment with ease. Nimble fingers clean out the cut before deciding it's not deep enough for stitches, just using steri-strips and wrapping it in gauze with gentle hands and a reserved smile.

"Jade, we need to get going with him!" The first EMT I saw calls while running with a gurney, the guy from the accident strapped against a yellow board with my work shirt still tied around his leg. The paramedic helping me jumps into action, ushers me into the ambulance and helps the guy get the gurney in.

"Sit down, buckle up." He says, looking at me. Jade turns and gives me a bit of a sympathetic look.

"He's always like this. You have to get that checked in the ER still." Oh. Okay. I sit down, strap into the seat, and the ambulance starts moving before the doors are fully closed. They get the car guy all hooked up to all kinds of machines and fuss over him, till the monitor beeping with what I assume is his heart rate steadies, and then the EMT guy visibly relaxes, eyes landing on me again. I cross my arms over my chest, much more self conscious of my state of dress with his gaze on me. He's, unfairly attractive, wavy blonde hair and toned skin, wrapped in an unbelievably tight uniform.

"D'you- here." And then he starts unbuttoning his uniform shirt, and I'm sure my eyes go wide. There's another shirt on under, just as tight with the fire department logo emblazoned on the chest of it. He shrugs off the button down and pulls the t shirt over his head and dear lord, why the hell do men feel so called to wear wife beaters under their clothes, I wanna see how fucking hot he is. The t shirt gets tossed into my lap. He really just- gave me the shirt off his back. My gaze locks on to it, only being torn away from the offending garment when he clears his throat and I snap back up to see him, button up back on his shoulders but undone, face sheepish and what I'd guess to be a blush tinting his skin further in the half dark of the ambulance. "You looked uncomfortable."

It's my turn to go red, flush covering most of my skin and incredibly visible. "Thanks." It takes a moment of maneuvering to get the shirt on with the seatbelt, but it's warm and smells of laundry detergent and a hint of cologne.

"Dream, only fuckin' you." His head whips to the other EMT.

"Only fuckin' me what? Huh?" Jade just laughs, head shaking from side to side.

"Only fuckin' you would give the first girl your age on a call the shirt off your damn back." If he wasn't blushing before, he is now, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Sorry if that's weird."

"No, it's- I appreciate it." I do.

"Good work, with the tourniquet. He'd be dead by now without it." Is that really the best thing to say while the guy can hear us? Maybe not. Speaking of the guy,

"Is his leg supposed to turn blue like that?" The relaxation in his face vanishes that instant as he hauls up, moves to where he can look up close at the leg, tearing up the leg of the guy's pants.

"Jade, I need to set it so he can keep the leg, can you keep him still?" A distinct yes, and then I get to watch as his muscles flex, hands gripping tight to the broken leg of this guy, and then an audible crack resounds through the small space of the ambulance as he pushes his body forward. The car guy's closed eyes shoot open, mouth gaping in a yell of pain underneath of an oxygen mask. I'm sure that probably hurts like a bitch, and suddenly I am very grateful that I've never broken a bone.

There's not much left in the ride. The two EMTs, Jade and Dream, mainly continuing to work on keeping his monitor from making the erratic beeping it has been letting out from time to time. The ER is a blur of people bustling around the guy, but I get led from the ambulance by a doctor to check the cut on my arm before he comes to the same conclusion that no, I do not need stitches, but that I do need to change the dressing once a day and gives me some disinfectant cream to put on it when I do. While he cleans the wound out, he asks in a lilted british accent. "Did you really tourniquet the guy with your shirt?"

"Yeah, I did. The one thing I remembered from my EMT class, really came in handy." I joke, and he laughs.

"Well the guy is lucky you did. You're an EMT?" I shake my head, and wince a bit when he presses a bit too hard.

"Nah, I wait tables at the Waterfront in South Orange. Took an EMT class for a summer course cause I thought it'd be fun." He hums, turning to grab more bandages to rewrap my forearm.

"Well maybe you should look into it. Quick thinking like that would get you far there."

"I might." It's a real possibility. My accounting major proved to get me the single most boring desk job ever, and I've been looking into other career paths recently. He smiles at me when he finishes wrapping, pulls a card out of his pocket and a pen, scribbles something on the back of it.

"Put me as a reference if you decide you want to." That's, incredibly nice.

"I will, thank you, uhm," The name stitched into his coat is hard to make out. "Doctor Davidson?"

"George. You're good to go, just need to fill out a little paperwork and then you can leave." He walks over to grab a clipboard and a form, brings it back to me, and then heads over to another bed with a little girl in it, pulling a curtain closed behind him.

A week later, I find myself outside of the massive firehouse on Central Boulevard. There's a couple guys in shirts that match the one in my hand outside washing a firetruck, and one notices me and comes over. He's cute. Dark hair that's a little longer than a boys regular, scraps of facial hair on his cheeks, and brown eyes that crinkle at the edges when he smiles.

"Y'need help with something?" His voice confirms the fact that he's young, and it takes me a minute to pull my eyes away from the way his sleeves are tight around the muscle of his arms.

"Uh, yeah, I'm looking for Dream?" I hold up the shirt and the brownies I made as a last minute addition for the firehouse.

"Ahh, shirt girl. Follow me." He heads into the building through one of the massive garage doors, and it is remarkably clean inside. He heads up some stairs to a balcony that overlooks the firetrucks, and both of the paramedics who had helped me are sitting there, talking over plates of pasta. The guy leading me clears his throat and they both look up.

"Hi." I say awkwardly with a small wave. "I brought your shirt back." Dream flusters, standing up to take the shirt from my hands with a thank you and I give him the brownies, too.

"Dream, cough them up, I want one."

"Sap, shut the hell up, here." He places them gently on the table.

"Okay, what's with your guy's names? No way his name is Sap." All three of them laugh.

"They're nicknames." Dream laughs. "My real name is Clay, and his is Nick. Jade is just Jade though, haven't gotten a nickname for them yet." He looks over his shoulder back at his coworker. "Coward." I feel like there's a story here that I don't know, but I don't press for it.

"I mean, I told you my last station called me Storm, so unless you can top that you can call me Jade and nothing else." I like Jade. Jade's funny.

Clay just rolls his eyes, no real malice behind it. "It's gotta be one we give to you. I'm thinking something about you being our getaway driver."

"Dream if you make a baby driver joke right now I swear you will not live to see tomorrow." He laughs, hard and wheezing, sounding nearly painful.

"Fine, fine." He turns to me. "Thank you for returning this." There's a distinct red flush creeping up his neck, but his smile is genuine, green eyes bright with it. Shit. Why do they have to be unfairly attractive? Who's idea was it? Huh? "I'll walk you out."

He walks me all the way to my car, standing awkwardly next to the door of my car.

"Well, I'll let you get back to work. You got lives to save."

"Wait," He says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I'm sorry if this is too forward, but could I get your number?" Oh. Oh.

"Yeah, of course." He hands me his phone and I punch in my contact, handing his phone back to him. "You should text me so I have yours."

The smile on his face is fitting, full of white teeth and bright happiness. "I will."

I don't think I put my phone down for a week. Clay and I text nearly non stop, and I learn a lot about him in the process. He has a cat (a beautiful tabby named patches who purrs very loudly), he's from Orlando (born and raised, baby.), he wanted to be a firefighter because his dad was one, but his mom who's a nurse had him take EMT training instead (I owe her everything for that), and that he's off work this Friday and wants to head out for drinks with a couple of his fire station buddies and me. I also start getting snapchats from that cute coworker of his, Nick.

I can't tell if Nick intends to be flirting with me or is just trying to get to know the girl his "best fucking friend" is talking to, but... I am definitely feeling some type of way about both of them. It's great, the attention is nice, until Nick invites me out to drinks with them on Friday night not three hours after Clay does.

I feel like my best bet is to be honest with them. I'm not one for lying. And then a new groupchat shows up on my phone. It's got Clay and a number I don't have saved in my phone, and there's a message sent, and then another. I'm scared to open it.

I expect it to be both of them mad that I'm talking to the other and instead it's not? There's a message from Clay and it's-

Dreamie

Hey, I just talked to Nick and wanted to make this groupchat with the three of us. I'm not mad you're talking with him, and he's not mad you're talking to me. We both really like you, and are open to letting you make the decision for yourself if you end up with one of us. Just wanted to communicate that with you :)

And another from who I'm assuming is Nick that says:

Unknown Number

its up to you what happens and if your not ok with this then just tell us and we'll back off.

It's not something I've experienced before talking with two guys at once. Talking with two guys at once that know and work with each other with their consent? Never would have imagined it in a million years. But this is probably the best way to go about it.

Three more days pass before I see either of them in person, still having plans to go out for drinks with Clay on Friday. I end up sandwiched in between the two of them in a both of some firefighter bar on the south side of the city. I feel awkward tucked between them until I get a bit of alcohol flowing through my veins, and then conversation comes like second nature. It's not crazy eventful, feels like I'm hanging out with close friends rather than basically strangers, and it's nice.

The night passes quick, but it's still fun, especially when Clay drives me home and drops me at the bottom of my apartment building with a promise of more plans and a quick kiss that leaves him blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

In the morning, I wake up to go into work and see a text from Nick, inviting me to dinner with him tonight. I shoot back with a sure, I'd love to. Getting off work at four so that's perfect. and he just sends back a :) and an "I'll pick you up at 7." that makes my shift drag on and on. True to his word, he's outside my apartment building at 7 pm sharp in a button down with his hair brushed neatly behind the wheel of a toyota corolla.

"Where are we even going for dinner?" Nick just shoots me a smile and fucking winks at me.

"You'll see. It's a surprise."

It ends up being some hole in the wall chinese restaurant with what Nick claims is "the best moo goo gai pan in the city". It's fucking amazing, that's for sure, a steaming wok full of it in front of the two of us with plates of fried rice to go with it. It's not an experience I've had at a restaurant before and it's insanely fun. Nick pokes fun at my inability to use chopsticks, tells stories about his friend making fun of him for not being able to use them and learning how at three o'clock in the morning. We're constantly laughing between bites of amazing food, and this easily makes my top three first dates of all time. He refuses to let me pay for my half, but he does let me get the tip after I insist several times that its the least I could do. 

We're halfway through a really good conversation about something that doesn't matter when he pulls up to my apartment, and, not wanting that to end, I invite him upstairs with me. 

"Oh? It's my turn to come up with you?" He teases, and I'm confused for a second before I realize, oh yeah, I'm essentially talking with him and his best friend. 

"What do you mean turn? Clay didn't come up with me, he-" It's probably not the best idea to say he kissed me, I don't want to make Nick jealous. "He dropped me off at the door and he said goodbye." It's not- a lie, per say, but the second it passes my lips I feel guilty, knowing that we need to be honest for this to even have a shot at working. "He kissed me goodbye though." Honesty. We need honesty.

I don't really know what to expect as a reaction from him, but it's not a smile, cocky as ever. 

"Does that mean if I go up with you that I get a kiss too?" Nice, easy, no drama with honesty. 

"Maybe. You'd have to come find out." The grin he's got stays plastered to his face the whole time we're in the elevator, the whole time he's talking mindlessly about the distinct lack of fire safety in the building, the whole time I'm fighting with the works half the time lock on my door. "It's probably too late for coffee, but I have tea in the fridge or coke, or water if you want it." I say, turning to close the door behind us. 

"I'm all good, thank you though." The smile's still there, crinkling his eyes and baring white teeth. "Could go for a kiss, now that I think about it." I shake my head, but still, I laugh. 

"What is it that they call it?"

"Kissing? Lip locking? Smooching?"

"One track mind." That one earns a laugh, a hearty one from deep in his throat.

"You're funny." He says, grabbing my hand and gently tugging me to come sit on the couch with him. "And cute." He sits, pulls me with him so I end up sideways in his lap. The hand he led me over with comes up to brush some of the hair out of my face. "And unbelievably pretty. How could I think about anything else?" 

Smooth. Smooth as fucking butter. Smooth enough for him to earn a quick press of my lips to his own. I can feel him smiling before I pull back, but he chases, returning with a kiss just as chaste before leaning back into the couch, looking like the cat who got the cream.

"I'm winning. I got two kisses." I roll my eyes.

"Isn't it quality over quantity?" He hums, eyes playing from my lips to my own. 

"Why not both?"

"Haha, funny." They're playful, his eyes, as we talk. His bottom lip juts out in a joking pout, and I lean in to kiss at it. He moves at the last second, though, closes the last little bit of space between us when he moves forward to kiss me, soft and slow. His lips are slightly chapped, ever so gentle as the press against mine. My hands press into his thighs to keep me up as his hands come to wrap loosely around my shoulders and he pushes further into the kiss before pulling back. 

"Quality?" 

"Need more data." I say before our lips meet again. He's sweet with it, the way he kisses me. It's nice, easy, feels familiar even though it isn't, not yet. One of his hands moves to rub soft at the nape of my neck. 

I'm just getting comfortable in it when he deepens the kiss, tongue soft against the seam of my lips. It draws a gasp, just what he needs to push further, licking into my mouth before catching my bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at it. He's a good fucking kisser, hahh's into my mouth when I bring my hands up to tug at the dark strands of hair on the back of his head. 

But like all good things, it must come to an end. Unfortunately, that end is when my phone starts blaring the insanely annoying ringtone my friend set it as that I don't know how to change. 

"Nick, I gotta-" 

"Yeah." His arms drop, letting me stand so I can grab my phone and answer whoever is calling. 

"Hello?" 

"We have new information regarding student loan repayment in your area." Is loud in my ear, so I just pull back and press the red end call button.

Nick laughs a little. "Not important?"

"Spam call. Can't be assed to get put on the do not call list right now. I was doing research."

"Yeah? You happy with the results you're getting?" 

This motherfucker I swear.

"This motherfucker I swear." Is also the first thing I say in the morning when I wake up for work and there's a fat hickey on the side of my neck, dark purple and blatantly obvious. I send him a snap of it, just saying really? and he sends back a picture of himself and Clay sitting on the tailgate of a ladder truck with a :) and I am instantly worried that one, Clay saw the snap I sent him and two, that I won't be able to cover it for work. Pushing the first thought out of my mind to focus on the second, I try to get it as normal looking as I can before my shift. It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but it's good enough.

I'm riding the high of not getting comments on it at work when that first thought comes back, catalysted by a snapchat from Clay, a picture barely of his hair with the geotag from the gym down the street from the firehouse with text across it that says "purple looks good on you." I don't know how to respond to that, just send back the floor in front of me. oh come on now  pops up in the chat, and he's still typing. not mad. excited for my turn.  Right.

sorry  I shoot back. this is all pretty new to me

trying to be careful cause i dont wanna mess this up

The little bitmoji he has attached to his account pops up in the corner, lurking for a moment before he starts typing

having these chats is what makes it work. I don't go bragging to Nick about what you and I do, and he doesn't do that to me, but we don't lie about what happens. 

its alot, and none of us have done this before

but keeping communication open and honest is how it works

and that means feelings talks 

He's right. 

youre right

He is. I don't want to make them jealous of each other and that's probably the best way to combat that.

we also have to keep things fair ;) so i get a date too

That has me smiling like an idiot at my phone.

yeah? you got one planned?

not exactly. you doing anything rn though?

I was going to make a sandwich and watch She's the Man for the third time this month.

was gonna watch a movie if you wanna join?

I get a sure, would love to  and a could i trouble you for a pick up from the station?  that has me grabbing my keys and jogging to the elevator faster than I would like to admit.

When I get there, I head inside to say hi to Nick and collect Clay after both of them have assured me that I'm allowed to do so. I don't see Nick when I first walk in, but I do see Clay and jesus, mary, and joseph his hands. He's working over a slab of what seems to be silicon with those massive fingers moving with the utmost precision. When I get a little closer I can see that he's making sutures to close gashes and holes in the mat. I'm impressed with how uniform they are, each a perfect match of the one before it, and with the speed that his hands were moving, I'd say its even more impressive. I'm- not a perfect person, and the thought of what those hands could do to me has me flushing. 

He's pretty wrapped up in what he's doing so I don't want to bother him, but I'm watching so intently that I don't notice Nick come up to me until he hugs me from behind. It makes me jump.

“Shit, Nick, you scared me.”

-gg w the 911 au update

Gg I'm 😩😩😩 you are an amazing writer 🛐 teach me