#don't break the equipment big kid

[endlich-allein]

Puppe cam 🤣 Wörthersee Stadion, Klagenfurt, 17-07-2024 @ lukas.scharp

[zincbot]

(insert another nothing post abt how good in stars and time is)

[bunnys-kisses]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ i like my men older - simon riley♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

you knew that your friends from school raised an eyebrow when you told them that you were dating a man almost double your age. you were in your twenties, while this 'simon' guy was close to fifty. you told them that he was an army man who had a gooey center for you.

your friends could see the upgrade in your laptop and the new knapsack with a logo that proclaimed it was expensive. the small chain around your neck with a 's' on it that you toyed with when they asked questions about him.

you looked happy, healthier even! you weren't eating minute meals and surviving off of black coffee. there was a little roundness to your cheeks now and you looked more alive. a glow to you that wasn't that while you trudged through your graduate program. so honestly, how could they complain?

if you had a glow to you, it was because you were often fucked out. most women your age through that dating an older man would mean having to go slow. be patient about technical difficulties regarding their cocks. that was what you expected from a man that old. especially one with aches and pains like simon. your poor si, he had been in the military his entire life. barely had the touch of a woman during that time! poor guy! of course you'll teach him all the ways a woman should please a man. the first time you ran your tongue on the underside of his cock he cam all over your head, and while you whined. it made you crazy hot. fucking simon was like fucking a live wire. he hadn't slowed down with age. he fucked like a stallion in breeding season. and he loved when he pulled his heavy cock into you. you once told him that he could be a cervix breaker. and he simply said, "well, if i break it... i can't breed it." which made you go slack jaw for a moment before he continued to rut up against you. you didn't expect a man of his age to have a breeding kink.

you practically begged your doctor to give you birth control, because he was not buying condoms. "don't fit in 'em, lovie." he said as he patted his clothed cock when you started dating. you knew that was impossible, condoms could fit a lot of things and while simon was fairly big. he could fit in a condom. but, no. when you tried to put them on yourself, he simply took it off, tossed it to the side and pinned you under his heavy weight. legs in the air as he rutted against you like a hungry animal.

he was so much bigger than you. wide shoulders, strong thighs and a bit of a gut to keep you folded under him. there was a masculine heft to him. he was strong, picking you up was easy to him even when you tried to tell him your weight. one time he gripped you by the waist with one arm and moved you out of the way. you kicked and squeaked as you were moved. but to simon it was easy as lifting heavy equipment. but that softness to some of his muscles really got you hot all over. it didn't help that part of your role as his girlfriend was to make sure that your man was fed. you cooked him meals and he over devoured in your sweet dessert. he loved you in an apron. all domestic and sweet for him. you were real wifey material. could easily be cooking meals for him and the kids in a few years. you can have a graduate degree and a few riley babies. "look good cookin' for me, darlin'. know how to make a proper meal for your man." you wouldn't admit but his words excited you.

simon can be a little... chauvinistic. it was just his age. while he respected female colleagues in the military and was beyond happy that you were getting your degree. he'd do things for you that you could clearly do on your own. like when you tried to fix the leaky tap in your flat. or when you try to carry all the groceries inside. yes, darling, you're a strong woman. but let him take over. take care of you. that was what a man did right? he'll cut the onions for you and try to fix your buggy wi-fi connection. he's pay for dinner every time and even get you dessert after. he'd wipe your face clear of the sweet treat you'd have. "don't ask her anything too difficult, johnny. she doesn't need to be thinkin' too hard." he once said with his hands over your ears and glared at his teammate. which only made the scotsman laugh. simon didn't mind if he had to take over. he'd never pull the rug out from under you, even when you were under him. you looked prettier under him, letting him take charge of your fucking. he took care of his girl, even when you whined and told him you were capable. there was no need to whine. simon needed to take care of his much smaller, much weaker baby girl. no need to break a nail trying to do stuff that simon could easily do for you.

even with the grey in his blond hair, he still kept up to you. there were times that you were too exhausted from day-to-day that you let simon rut between your thighs until he covered your round ass with his hot cum. you'd whimper which would turn into a yelp when he easily slipped his heavy cock into your sweet pussy. where it belonged. he fucked you heavily as his cum coated your behind, even trailing down your sloped back as you had your head in the covers.

"don't spill a drop off that pretty ass, baby girl. or else i'd might have to mark you again." thank god you liked your men older. <3

[sports-on-sundays]

people change / CL16 / Part 1

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - You wish you could just forget about the relationship. It's hard when you had a son together.

Warnings: 'Y/s/n' means 'your son's name', you are free to imagine the son as whatever age he acts because I leave that unspecified, mention of breaking up/divorce, broken family, censored cussing, getting drunk, toxic relationship, me sucking at writing kids (how do they even act???)

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: This was heavily inspired by the song People Change by for KING & COUNTRY at the end there especially. I listened to it while writing. So you're free to look that up and have a listen. Link to part 2 / Link to part 3

"Hey, sweetie," you say as you buckle your son into the car. "How was your day at school?"

"Fun... But Mama, I didn't know what to do."

"Hm? When didn't you know what to, love?" you ask, concerned.

"Well, we did papers and pictures about our mommies and daddies and our houses and stuff and I didn't know, Mama..."

You stop after he says this, pulling your hands away as they tremble. Your heart, at those words from your son, feels like it's being wrenched out of your chest, and you cough into your arm. "O- Oh, sweetheart..." you clear your throat. "Well, why don't you first draw pictures and write about me and my house, and then you write and draw about your daddy and his house..."

Your son does a pouting face at this. "Mama..." he complains. "Why can't you and Daddy be like other kids' mommies and daddies?"

"Love, I don't think this is the time to be talking about this. Let's just get driving home now." You hate to shut him down, but he's asking too many questions that you just can't answer.

He's asking too many questions that are making you feel too confused and guilty.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?" you smile as you get out of the car to help your son pack his bags into the trunk, and then get in the backseat. You're doing this right outside Charles' house. You're picking him up from his weekend with his dad.

The little boy shrugs as you buckle him in. "I want my grey bag, Mama! Daddy gave me some food for the ride."

"What do you say?"

"Please!" he pouts.

You nod, and give him his bag. Charles is always sure to equip Y/s/n with a bagful of healthy snacks for the hour and forty-five minute drive back home.

The whole ride, Y/s/n is unusually quiet. Even when you try talking to him, he gives short answers and makes no effort to continue the conversation. Which is very unusual from the usually frisky and excitable little boy.

When you get home and go inside, he immediately goes to his room, still not saying anything.

You sigh, feeling worried.

Did...

Did Charles do something?

Even though the two of you separated for big reasons, you've never felt too worried about Y/s/n going to see him every other weekend, except for maybe at the beginning. Over the years, you're pretty sure that Charles has gotten more responsible than how he once was.

"Dinnertime, love!"

Silence.

"Love?"

"I'm not hungry!"

You sigh, the worry sinking deeper. "You should have saved some of your dad's snack for later, then! I made dinner for you!"

Silence. Again.

You walk down the hall and knock on his bedroom door, before gently pushing it open. The little boy is sitting on his red bed. In his hand is his Ferrari hat. He's blankly staring at it.

Oh God no. What did Charles do? What did Charles say? Doesn't he understand the unspoken boundaries about this?

"Y/s/n?" you say gently, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong, sweetie? You know you can tell me. I'm listening."

The boy looks older than he is right now. You feel a sharp pang in your chest as he murmurs, "Why do you and daddy live in different countries? How come I have two houses, two bedrooms... two everything? How come, Mama?"

It takes all you have to not tear up. You wrap your arms tightly around him at this. He leans against you, hugging you back.

"Andre and Alex have a mommy and daddy who live in the same house. How come you and Daddy don't?"

"Y/s/n, it's really complicated, love. But, can I ask... What has got you thinking of all of this, love? What has got this on your mind?" You speak in a very gentle tone, rubbing his back. Obviously, this is upsetting him. Really, though, what kid wouldn't be upset?

Your son looks at you in hesitation. "I'm not allowed to say..."

You feel another pang of worry. "Love, it's okay. You can tell your mama anything."

"But Daddy told me not to."

You swallow nervously. "You're not doing anything wrong by telling me. I'm giving you permission. I can't have you feeling this upset, love. You can tell me anything that's bothering you, even if your father told you not to." Y/s/n is too much of a good kid. You don't know where he gets it from.

You wipe your son's watering eyes, trying to reassure him. He sniffs, before saying, "You won't tell Daddy?"

"Tell Daddy what?"

"What I'm gonna tell you."

You bite your lip. "Of course not, love. I won't tell your daddy."

He nods, before saying, as he starts to really cry, "Daddy cried, Mommy... I wasn't allowed to know but I couldn't sleep because Daddy forgot to read me my story. So I was going in to tell him to snuggle me... because I couldn't sleep. But Daddy was crying..." Y/s/n sniffs, and continues blubbering, "Daddy was talking to someone on the phone and he was really sad... I don't know why Daddy was crying, Mama. He said he was sad because he missed you and me to the person on the phone. Daddy was so sad so I don't know why we don't make Daddy happy and why can't my mommy and daddy be like my friends' mommies and daddies?" He lets out a sob, snuggling into you. You're speechless as your son continues, "I went and gave Daddy a hug because he was sad. He said he missed you. He asked me why I was up and said I was in trouble and said I wasn't allowed to tell you he was sad and crying. He said even daddies cry sometimes," he sniffs and lets out another sob. You hold him tight, eyes wide. "I asked him how come he was sad and he said he didn't know and he loved me and then we went to bed. I don't get it, Mama."

You try not to tremble.

Fighting off tears, because the last thing Y/s/n needs is to see his mom cry on top of it all. Not sad tears, though. Angry tears.

Why can't Charles just let go? He's so possessive and obsessive. F*ck him and his Monaco flat and his boat and his Ferrari and everything f*cking else. Why would he let his son see him so vulnerable. Doesn't he care? F*ck him.

Why can't he just let go?

You walk down the hall of the mall, your son's little hand in yours, heading to the food court because eventually, Y/s/n's complaining about how 'I'm hungryyyyy!' got too annoying, and you gave in.

Suddenly, though, his little hand slips out of yours. You look down at him in confusion, starting to say his name. He starts running away. You're about to go after him, but suddenly freeze when the little boy shouts, "Look, Mama, look! It's Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Hiiiii!"

And sure enough, Charles Leclerc stops as soon as he sees his son, a grin spreading across his face. He adjusted his cap to be lower on his forehead, clearly trying to go incognito here. But he bends down, and the moment little Y/s/n reaches Charles, his father scoops him up into his arms, standing up with an, "Auwgh," noise, as if it were really hard for the strong man to pick up his light son. Charles holds him tight, in an embrace, before saying, "What's up, buddy? Where's your mama?" Y/s/n points, and Charles looks up.

Your eyes meet. And everything stops. The voices, the music, the whir of the escalators, the lights, heating, and air conditioning all making their own sounds, the people walking past- everyone else living their own lives disappear.

And it's just you and Charles, eyes locked, staring at each other.

Heartbeats or seconds or minutes, you don't know. You feel a certain electricity that hurts. Shocks you. Maybe Charles likes how it feels though. Maybe he loves that, with his adrenaline seeking lifestyle. Because, after all, he doesn't look away.

But in the same way, you don't either.

Finally, it's your son that breaks the trance you seemed to go into with your ex-husband, by saying suddenly words that stress you out and tear you apart at the same time: "See, Daddy?" He pats his father's cheek, which has a little bit of facial hair. "You don't have to cry anymore... You don't..." Suddenly, he looks a little scared, realizing he wasn't supposed to say that, but finishes softly with, "You don't have to miss Mama anymore, Daddy, because she's right here..."

There's almost a pleading in your son's eyes. A longing. You feel yourself start to tear up, but you strive to hold them back. Y/s/n. He loves us. He loves his parents so much. He just wishes they would love each other.

Charles shakes his head in surprise, stroking Y/s/n's hair, "Buddy, it's okay. Don't worry. I'm okay. I don't-" he falters for just a moment before finishing quickly, glancing to you nervously, "I don't miss Mama anymore. Don't worry."

"But I miss Mama." At this, both of you look at your son in confusion.

"But Y/s/n, Mama is right here," Charles says carefully, taking more steps closer to you. "See? Do you want to go with M-"

"No!" your son suddenly snaps, and says as if it is the most obviously thing on earth, "When I'm with Daddy, I miss Mama. When I'm with Mama, I miss Daddy. I don't wanna miss you guys!"

All the sudden, it's too much for you. All of it. Before Charles can do anything else you say quickly, your voice obviously cracking and your breath shaky, "Charles, can you take him home today? I'm sorry-"

"Of course, Y/n. I-"

You turns, jogging away. You need to get out of there.

But as you run out, you hear Charles call after you, "Y/n! Y/n, wait! Y/n, we're going to talk on the phone tonight, okay? There's things we still need to go over!"

At around 3:00 A.M., Charles calls. While you're worried to answer, you're also relieved. The fact that you're still awake at 3:00 A.M. shows how much anxiety you've been feeling about getting this call from Charles.

When you pick up, you murmur softly, "Hey, Charles."

"Sorry I'm calling at this hour. God. I just had to make sure Y/s/n was sound asleep. I'm, uhm," he pauses to clear his throat awkwardly, and continues in a softer, more delicate voice, "I'm sure Y/s/n told you about the phone call the other weekend..."

"Y- Yeah, he did. What did you do? Did you scare him into not telling me? He was crying," you say, your voice becoming harder and harder as you speak.

"What?! No! I just asked him please not to tell you. That was it. Maybe he was crying because..." Charles trails off.

"Because why?" you snap, although the sinking feeling within tells you exactly why.

"Y/n..." he sighs loudly. "Because our son loves us and doesn't get why... w- we... don't- don't, uhm.... love each other." The facts that he falters so much on that last phrase, that it's so hard for him to get out, sends a pit in your stomach. Of dread, and anger.

And without another hesitation, you just say it. "Charles... you still love me, don't you?"

There's silence over the phone. Sickly, disgusting, terrible silence. The anger rises up in you higher and higher, like a pressure, trying to push you on your tipping point. So finally you snap, probably way too loud, "Charles, what the hell! F*ck you. I hate you, you f*cking asshole. You're too much of a f*cking coward to even say it! Just like you've always been!" Your voice gets louder and louder. "Just like you've always been! Too much of a f*cking coward to admit anything! You tricked me! You had me thinking everything was peaches and cream, but it wasn't! You were being a terrible person and played innocent, and whenever I asked you anything, you did the same exact thing you still do. You just keep silent. Charles, I know you'll never grow, I hate that my son has to see your sorry ass every other weekend, and if I knew it wouldn't break his sweet little heart, I would wish your pathetic silent self would just fall off the face of the earth so I didn't have to ever have to listen to your stupid, pathetic silence ever again."

"Y/n, I-" You hang up. Charles doesn't try to call back.

Years ago.

Charles came in and stumbled into your arms, as if you were the one that needed to take care of him. You were tired, having stayed up with your fussy baby boy nearly all night, with no help, and you wanted to cry. You didn't want Charles to stumble in, drunk, right into your arms, as if he was the one who needed help. No. He was the one causing the problem. He had reeked of alcohol. He didn't get drunk this often, and you knew exactly why he was doing it now, although he'd been too scared while sober to admit it to you. It was the argument you'd had, and his way of coping was going out, getting drunk, and coming home to his wife and baby at three in the morning, wasted. Now, while drunk out of his mind, he was able to murmur, his words slurred tremendously, "Y/n... I'm sorry, love... You should've come with me tonight. I had fun... We could... make up for that argument..." He had a sickly seductive tone in his voice.

You felt rage fill up in you. Did you forget about your son? The son that you and I created together? Did you forget about that? Instead of letting any of that rage escape you, you just brought him to the bedroom and helped him into bed. You left him, walked to the living room, sat down on the couch, and held your aching, tired head, pulling at your hair, as tears escaped your closed eyelids.

Your world was spinning. Everything was wrong.

The argument. You had started it. And yelled at him. About how he was a coward and never told the truth. Even though you loved him. You thought. You must've. You... You had a son together. You yelled at him for telling you he was working when he wasn't. You yelled at him that he wasn't helping you at all and that you were going out of your mind. You said you felt like a single mom because he was never around, never helped, and never tried to. He lied and told you that an event he had mentioned that you were excited for was cancelled because he had found out more things about the event that he didn't want to deal with himself. He was becoming more and more selfish, showing who he really was more and more every single day. It just made you think- what is he doing when he gets drunk? What else is he being dishonest about?

Eventually you stopped loving him. You loved your son much more, so you broke it off. The final tipping point was when you suspected he had cheated, although nothing had ever proved that. But that was when you finally broke it off.

He was heartbroken. He held onto you. No, Y/n, please don't do this. I'll try better. I'll try better. You had told him that he had been saying he'd try better for the past year.

He had cried. Maybe even sobbed. You only saw him sob twice. Once was one time when he was drunk out of his mind, and the other one was that night when you told him you were breaking it off. I guess Y/s/n has seen him sob a third time, though.

He had said to you that he still loved you. You had said if you loved me, you wouldn't have done this. And that was the end of it.

Or so you thought.

You can't believe you're here. You can't believe he convinced you. You set up for your mother to watch Y/s/n while you drive into Monaco and.

Well, yeah. Go to Charles' God-forsaken house. To meet with him. 'Have a talk' as he put it. 'In real life.' So he can 'see your face and expressions.' And 'understand better.'

Charles opens the door. He's wearing a black t-shirt, grey jeans, and has his usual assortment of different bracelets on his wrists. And a disgustingly expensive watch. As you walk into his (beautiful) flat, you see that it hasn't changed much since you left and moved a couple hours closer to home, back in France. Just a little cleaner. But just like how it was when you lived here, there's still a stray toy on the floor here and there. As if reading your mind, he bends down, picking up a few of them, before putting them in a basket in the corner of the room. He runs his hand through his messy, wavy brown hair, looking a little awkward. "Why don't you sit down?" he asks softly, gesturing to the couch by a nod of his head. "Make yourself... comfortable... Uh... I made some cookies. Consider it a peace offering. And I... I really tried to make them good, too. I'm just going to go grab them." And before you can think or react, he's walking out of the room to grab them.

When he returns with the cookies, he sits down next to you, holding the little plate out to you. You hesitantly take one, nibbling off a little bite, nervously glancing to Charles. "It's fine..." you say. In your taste, too sweet (and slightly gooey) but besides that, alright. "But I just want to get this over with, okay? Charles can we just... have this talk? So I can go?"

Your ex husband stared down, before nodding slowly. "Yeah... Of course." He falters, before murmuring, "I love our son just as much as you do. And it hurts me to see him-"

"My God, Charles, shut up. I know what this is about. It's about you being selfish," the bitterness in your voice surprised even yourself, "You're being selfish because for some twisted reason, you still want to be with me, and you're using my son's pain as an excuse. You're just as you've always been- selfish, lying, and making excuses."

"Y/n, no it's not!" he snaps, his eyes pleading. "I- I- I want the best for our son."

"Charles, do you still love me?"

He stares at you. Hesitates. Falters. He inhales a shaky breath, before looking down at his hands in his lap. "All these years I've never dated another woman. All these years the guilt has crushed me."

"Shut up!" you spit. "It's not guilt, Charles, of hurting me your or son. It's guilt because you wouldn't wanted to be with me longer. It's selfish. You're f*cking selfish!"

He practically begs, "Please, babe, just listen-"

"What did you just call me?"

He stares in surprise at what he just said. He swallows. "I'm sorry- It- It just came out..."

You glare, and shout, "You still love me, you dick! I hate you! You- You cheated on me!"

He cuts you off by grabbing your arm suddenly. There's a desperate look in his eyes. "Y/n... No, I didn't... I swear it on my life.. On my job, on everything I love... I would..." You're shocked to watch as a singular tear gently rolls down one of his cheeks. He's holding back more. The salty, warm tear drops right onto your palm. You wipe it off. Charles eyes plead with you as he murmurs, his voice cracking, "I would never cheat on you..."

You stare, trying to form more words, not knowing what to say.

But Charles continues, "I don't know where you got the idea I cheated on you... I know it was hard and I was being..." Suddenly there is guilt and grief openly painted all across his face. "I was being a terrible person... Giving up the most lovely, sweet wife and baby I could've ever asked for... I was young and stupid, Y/n...Y/n... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I swear I mean it...

"I would do anything for this to work."

Another tear falls.

"Y/n... just listen... I need you to hear me out..."

He sniffs. He seems so broken. Vulnerable. Honest.

"It's all my fault, Y/n. I know. I know. I'm sorry. And I get if you're afraid... I would be, too... but, Y/n... I wish you could just understand that... that...

"Y/n, people change."

Author's Note- Just wanted to say if you guys liked this and want a part two, I'm totally open to writing that! Let me know if you want a part two, and if you have any ideas, shoot! Like should I end this happy? Or not...? And in what way? If no one gives me ideas, I'll just come up with it, but you guys are extremely welcome to let me know!!! Thank you! <3

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[disneyprincemuke]

"wanna hang out?" * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver

notes: also nothing to do with vr, but ON GOD I'VE GOT SOMETHING PLANNED WITH THEM I- i am also making this a mini series, because i cant physically sit down and write anything too long because this ask was very long and i simply can't not break it down into parts im sorry anon i love you

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

"mate, just go up and him and say 'hi'. it's not that hard."

"i know, but i'm scared."

"scared? he's a 22-year-old. he won't bite you."

"you don't know that!"

"he's a really nice kid. just go up to him and ask him if he wants to hang out."

"okay, but only if you come with me?"

"you're a fully grown adult! you don't need me with you to play matchmaker to get a new friend."

"please, george? i'm asking you this one favour."

"no can do. look! there he is! go!"

that's the last thing you hear before you are rudely shoved out of alex's driver's room. you press your lips together into a thin line, fists balled by your side as you hear george close the door behind you. you knew hanging out with george in alex's room without alex is stupid.

you had simply noticed the american rookie quietly following the thai driver around, not making many conversations with other drivers during the pre-season test a couple of weeks ago. while you're very well equipped with making friends and incorporating yourself with the rest of your colleagues, logan seemed to be one of the people you found quite difficult to approach.

not because he's unapproachable. simply because he is also very quiet and reserved on his own. once upon a time, when you first joined formula 1 as the only woman on the grid, you were good friends with charles. that was before you had drifted apart amidst all the outright comparisons everyone would make, and eventually, you had fallen into his shadow while he achieved greater things in the sport.

you had learned to find solace in your own company for about a year or so, only speaking to whoever spoke to you. it wasn't until things started falling into place when toto wolff had picked you to race with mercedes, following lewis hamilton's retirement in 2021 after failing to secure himself a championship.

logan, who has just finished his climb up the stairs, flashes you a friendly smile as he fiddles with his keys. "hey," he greets you, before abruptly turning to unlock the door to his driver's room.

"hi," you smile, awkwardly wiping your palms against the material of your shorts. "i haven't had the chance to properly introduce myself to you. i'm (y/n)."

he pushes his door open, craning his neck to acknowledge you. "i know. i've been a big fan since you joined the sport," he glances elsewhere before meeting your eyes again, "i'm logan?"

"right, we already know that," you sigh, shaking your head. you take a step forward, maintaining your distance from the entrance of his driver's room. you don't want to wind up overstepping your welcome. "um, well, welcome to formula 1."

he smiles at you, slightly more genuine this time. you watch as he puts his bag down by the door. "thank you."

"no problem." you bite on the inside of your cheek, turning around to open the door to alex's driver's room. you hear the door creaking behind you, and you vaguely remember that all this awkward conversation wasn't initiated for nothing.

you turn back around and try to hold the door open. your palm meets the door, logan flinching back in surprise as you tilt your head to peek up at him. "have you had your lunch yet?"

he shakes his head. "why?"

"george and i are waiting for alex to finish his meeting with james before we go and grab lunch somewhere in the paddocks," you smile. "wanna hang out?"

[sixstepsaway]

so here's the thing

i've seen a bunch of people say on twitter and stuff how... ed's behavior is very abusive and his anger is dangerous and he isn't romantic lead material because of it

and i get where they're coming from

but to me the main issue isn't putting ed in the position of a romantic lead, but not crafting the narrative around his characterization so that it allows for a spicy romantic pirates-in-love narrative instead of...whatever this is.

i'm going to try and explain this. idk if i'll do well but i'll try

the way she show presents stede is as an innocent baby who isn't really equipped for pirate life. he goes into a fugue/disassociative state whenever there's any real violence, apparently, and needs protecting by other characters when things get too rough - for example when ed is telling ned lowe not to take the poker to stede.

that's fine! it's honestly adorable to see a masc character being so soft around the edges and being protected by other characters this way.

(i'm not going to touch on stede's... eh... not great characterization this season rn)

then there's izzy, who is shown as a bit violent, a bit rough around the edges. he's more likely to draw a sword or throw a punch or hit someone with a chair or take a punch like a champ. violence is just part of life for him and that's okay, it just Is, from small things like smacking stede on the ass to bigger things like being wall slammed, it's not all that big or bad for violence to happen around and with him, he tends to give as good as he gets (there's some nuance here but i'm talking the macro themes not the micro of what izzy does vs is done to him)

and finally there's ed

ed is presented as violent (stabbing knives at guys, telling fang to use the snail fork etc) and used to a life of violence, and then in season 2 he's presented as really violent, his anger coming out in dangerous and terrifying ways

and frankly, i'd be super into it if he and izzy were the main ship and that twisted dynamic from the first two episodes of s2 was explored and fleshed out into something deeper

friends to enemies to lovers who fight and fuck. angry pirates who lay hands on each other, who break the whole ship with each other in the heat of passion.

except instead, s2 gives us... abuse. it gives us izzy cringing and lowering his head and trying to protect the kids crew from ed's angry outbursts.

so when stede comes back and he's still soft around the edges and ed headbutts him and it's deliberate, it's... not a great look, and the vibes are a bit skewed

if stede fought back, if when ed struck out at him he struck back, if they fought rather than it being one-sided, if it was friends to enemies to lovers and not presented as healthy, but maybe they can work their way there, who knows, maybe even more like anne bonnie and mary read because hey, they were doing something very similar?

except they were both into it. they were both enjoying the fighting and the fucking and the burning down the house.

stede's not enjoying it.

i cannot describe how much i hate this sequence just because of the way stede flinches

anne and mary don't!! mary jumps at the unexpected bang but she doesnt flinch, she doesn't cover her face like she thinks the vase will be coming for her not the wall and anne? looks so into it

and the thing is that in real life, no, you don't want to date someone who throws shit around, or headbutts you

but in fiction when it's two fucked up people doing this shit together like anne and mary?

that can be fun.

but instead what we've been given is stede flinching and apologizing to ed and then all of ed's...what, semi-redemption???? is done away from the other collection of people he abused, and then he spends some time on a fishing boat wearing a dog collar and everything is fine because he's good now and won't be doing anything bad ever again

and it's just... poor writing. the vibes are rancid.

i spent a really big chunk of time between s1 and s2 defending ed. i kept saying how what he did to izzy by making him eat his toe wasn't abuse, it was a one-off and abuse isn't a one-off thing it's a pattern, and then s2 made it a pattern.

explicitly. explicitly a pattern.

not just one toe but three.

jim saying "you're in an unhealthy relationship with blackbeard"

and all ed offered izzy was a "sorry about your leg" which might've been fine if izzy survived and they could work on this more, but instead that's all the apology and closure izzy will ever get

ed threw a chair and a vase and made stede flinch in fear and stede was right to do that. what part of any of this implies this will never happen again? that stede won't press the wrong button at some point and be on the receiving end? none of it

and if we'd been presented with a s2 stede bonnet who could handle himself and stand up for himself and fight back, then maybe i could imagine that turning into a weird sexy fucked up anne/mary like thing and maybe that could be why they put that episode in, but instead it feels like that episode was going, "look, see, ed's violence is fine because these two are fine with it with each other"

but stede isn't

ed and izzy or ed and stede in an unhealthy battle of a relationship could be such a fun, interesting and downright sexy thing to watch unfold on tv, and could honestly end somewhere far more down the chill end of the spectrum, but that's not what we've been given here

i cannot argue that ed isn't an abuser anymore, and not just of izzy but of the whole crew. he terrified frenchie.

it's not good writing to try and lean into the idea that ed and the pirates are violent and live a life of violence, so it's okay that ed's been violent, while simultaneously presenting his violence as traumatic and abusive, and then less than three episodes later saying oh it's fine now, he's just a little meow meow who can do no wrong, see?

especially considering they had him murdering people at the end of the season. and sure, you can say the english are just cannon fodder and they dont 'count', but they did before. ed explicitly did not kill before, and that included the english, or the spanish, or anyone else. so either they count or they don't, but flipping him on a dime makes no sense.

ALSO

having ed be the son of an abusive man who threw plates at his mother and made her cringe and then having ed kill his father to protect his mother and then a season later having ed become the kind of man who throws chairs and vases and makes his love interest cringe is, again, not bloody optimal

i want to say again i dont CARE about tv always presenting healthy relationships or tv always giving us aspirational goals. i want messy fucked up dynamics and terrible people making terrible choices, and still, to this day, i fucking love ed teach. i would honestly love to have seen them continue with ed's darkness and bring stede into it and see where they went with that, to have stede kill ned lowe and not just bury his feelings in ed but get off on it, enjoy the violence, and see where that led, but no

and so instead all we end up with is a protagonist who is being set up for a lifetime of abuse from an intimate partner, and a romantic lead who abuses his love interests (and yes. izzy is a love interest, he is set up like one and positioned like one and treated like one), frightens his love interests with his violence, is erratic and most of all inconsistently written. he was so sorry about scaring fang as though he hadn't been deliberately terrifying the whole crew for fuck knows how long? what?!

the whole fandom has spent so long saying, "no no, i know stede bonnet irl was a slave owner, but ofmd is using the names and not any real piracy, it's more disney piracy, you know? so that kind of stuff doesnt exist!" and then they flipped around and went "blackbeard is blackbeard and so he is evil and does all these horrible things" and i dont know how to rationalize the two sides of that because it feels so out of place

i'm getting rambly, this isnt a particularly well constructed thought process, i just feel like we were robbed both of a toxic, violent relationship that could be fun to see explored on tv and a soft and sweet love story between two middle aged men exploring their first loves in one fell swoop and there's no way for s3 to bring either of those things back because they got utterly torpedoed by making ed a horrible person

ugh

[lunaekalenda]

"We're going to daddy's work!" the kids sing on the back part of your familiar car as you keep driving through the busy Tokyo streets, searching for the Japan Volleyball Association's offices building. You debated with Tetsuro yesterday about if it was a good idea to bring the kids on the "take our children to work" day on his office. They're little, and especially frets, restless and rascals. Tetsuro's position on the association is way too important to have two tiny kids running around his office, but still, he was excited for today - even more than the kids. - since it's the first time they're celebrating this kind of day.

A call enters on the free hands of the car, your older son getting to read the name on the little screen before sharing what he saw with his sister. "Is dad, is dad!" You answer the call hearing your children's whispers behind.

"Love?" Tetsuro's voice sounds around the car, making you smile softly. "Did you find the office?" he asks. You take a quick look to the signals in front of you, unable to find anything that gives you a clue about your husband's workplace.

"I think we're lost." you admit. Tetsuro laughs softly. You used to drop by his office when you didn't had the kids and your way of moving around was walking. Your first work used to be pretty near to his, but getting to it by foot from the subway stop was way easier than getting there by car. Taking the right lanes, the right positions on traffic lights and avoiding passing the intersection.

"We're near a sports center." You keep explaining him what you can see, as he gets an idea of where you are, getting the exact point shortly after. He guides you through your phone, helping you to get the right directions and keeping a background conversation with your kids. Once you arrive to the building, a well-dressed Tetsuro is waiting outside, phone on his ear and all his height escaping from the sun under a tree. He waves your hands towards the car as soon as he sees you, making your children shout with happiness while you park. Tetsuro opens their car door once you shut off the engine, taking your soon to the pavement and unbuckling your daughter's chair straps, carefully taking her out of the car. He looks at both of them before his cheeks blush.

"They insisted to use this." You say, smiling, as you walk around the car to stand next to him. The kids smile showing their t-shirts, both having their surname on their backs and the characteristic color of his dad's volley equipment. Tetsuro's eyes scan softly his children, and a subtle shine appears on his eyes. Taking your phone, you kiss his cheek before pushing him softly towards them.

"Go, go. I'll take a pic of the three of you."

Tetsuro takes your face on his habds before pecking your lips sweetly, leaving towards your kids with big steps and keeling berween both of them. Your daughter gets her little arma tangled around his neck and your son sits on his knee. The three of them smile while you take the pic, smiling to yourself, feeling way too lucky to be part of this family. Tersuro stands up and calls you. "Come, we'll take a pic." You follow your husband's voice and, giving the phone to him, you take your youngest between your arms. Tetsuro picks up your older soon while he tries to get the four of you on the frame, clicking the camera button when all of you smile. "Done!" looking at the clock on his wrist, he sighs. "I'm sorry, love, but we have to go back inside. My break is over."

You kneel near your kids, arranging their backpacks and their clothes, and whispering softly some instructions.

"Don't bother daddy when he's talking with other people, and ask nicely for things. Don't leave his office without him and don't paint on papers you didn't ask for. Have a good day and make sure dad eats all his meal!"

The children laugh and hug you, giving kisses to your cheeks and assuring they will be good at dad's work.

Standing up, Tetsuro gets close to you, tangling his arms on your waist and kissing your lips. "Take care of them, and if you need anything..

"

"Call." he finishes, against your lips again. He gives a new kiss to you, before letting you go sadly. "I'll see you in a few hours." He parts sweetly before reuniting with his kids again.

He takes the children's hands on his own, walking with them towards the office, and you can't help but take a pic of the three, holding hands, giving their back to you and talking while they disappear inside the building. Your new wallpaper welcomes you when your phone gets a notification from Tetsu.

"They should invent the Lover at Work day :("

[starlightshadowsworld]

Thinking about Tachihara in the Port Mafia who hides his injuries behind nonchalance. And than bandages his wounds in his flat alone.

No matter how bad they are. Tachihara never gets medical attention. He tells himself its too keep his cover but all his scars are hidden.

Like the government would let their shiny new toy have so much as a scratch. (He tries not to think about how pissed they'll be because he's definitely got scars from these fights.)

"Tachihara, stop you're going to aggravate your wounds" snapped Akutugawa, hiding his own concern.

"I'm fine big bro, a little stab never hurt anyone." Said Tachihara, a lazy smile on his face.

Like this was any other day and he wasn't currently being held up by Hirotsu and Gin. A hand pressing against said wound.

"I called the nearest medics, they're prepared for our arrival." Said Higuchi, rushing back over to join them all. Akutugawa nods in acknowledgement, about to rely the news.

And pauses seeing the look on Tachihara's face. His smile is gone and he shuffles away from a now concerned Hirotsu and Gin.

"No... No..." He shakes his head, growing pale and it had nothing to do with the wound.

"Kid, it's okay." Hirotsu's calm words don't reach him. Tachihara shakes his head, more aggressively this time. "No... No... You can't, I won't... It's not time... You can't make me."

They all guessed Tachihara was afraid of hospitals given his aversion to them. But this... This pure terror.

Gin thinks back to when the Boss has his scalpel out. How Tachihara looks like he's listening, but his gaze seems to lock onto it.

As if it were a gun pointed at him.

Gin frowns, exchanging a look with her brother, Higuchi and Hirotsu. A silent conversation seems to pass through them all.

Something that only works because of how close they are. "Okay" Says Hirotsu, his voice not wavering from it's calm.

Tachihara looks up at at him, confusion breaking through the panic.

"I'll get the equipment delivered, we're not too far from the nearest safe house" Said Higuchi, Akutugawa nods. "I'll intercept it with you, call the team."

He faces Tachihara "no hospital" he says clearly and carefully. The look Tachihara gives him makes Akutugawa want to kill someone.

Because no one, no one should look that afraid and hopeful at not being given professional aid.

Some medical personal must've hurt Tachihara. And by the looks of him, it wasn't just once.

Akutagawa can see the anger in everyone else. Higuchi's grip on her phone tightens, there's a darkness to Hirotsu's eyes.

And for but a second Gin looks downright murderous before silently comforting Tachihara.

"No... No hospitals" repeats Tachihara, he looks so utterly small and frail. He nods slowly, letting himself lean against Hirotsu.

Hirotsu who holds him just that bit closer and firmer. "No hospitals" repeats Hirotsu, gently guiding him and Gin to the safe house.

Higuchi calls, Akutugawa gives some very encouraging threats. And before they know it Tachihara has been bandaged up and is snoozing peacefully.

Using Akutugawa's coat as a blanket.

The stabber would get whats coming to them. As would the one who instilled such a fear in Tachihara. No one hurt one of they're own and got away with it.

[elkian]

In Stars And Time (and its predecessor Start Again to a degree) did something really impressive in a video game: making a non-combatant child character not only likeable, but critical to the fabric of the story. Notably, the Kid is not a primary story character. They represent the common folk of the endangered fantasy land; someone whose home and family was taken by the Big Bad, leaving them stranded.

In the core party, we have the Housemaiden, blessed, immune to the worst status effect, bearing a unique elemental type, etc. It's actually very amusing that she is blatantly The Main Character of this story, because she isn't the POV character.

With her we have the Fighter, a good-hearted tank who worked as a Defender in the homeland of the first three; the Researcher, a foreigner traveling the land, who's book-smart and has a wide array of spells, the wizard type.

And then we have the POV character, Siffrin, a classic Improbably Good-Natured Wandering Rogue archetype. You know, the classic shifty thief-type and troublemaker who nonetheless aids the party without thought of reward and isn't actually a criminal despite the vibes? That kind of rogue.

The Kid isn't a playable character. They can contribute to combat, but it's randomized. The most you can do is equip them with gear and skills that affect the frequency of their input, and ask them to feed the party heals (and possibly feed the final boss a bomb).

What the Kid is, what they represent, is in many ways the emotional core of the party (as the party knows it; Siffrin might develop different ideas, but, notably, still cares deeply for the Kid's wellbeing).

The Kid provides snacks, which is partly about their heals-carrying role, but it has a broader application. Between each level in the main dungeon, there's a snack break with three options. As you play the game, looping over and over, choosing different snacks can be the most you can break out at times. Snacktime also creates a narrative and gameplay break, a time to chat with the party one-on-one.

The Kid is the moral support and backbone of the party; it's possible to tell this story without them, but it would, frankly speaking, be a less emotional, less interesting story, with lower stakes. The Kid is at risk when you fight; the adults team up and agree to protect them no matter the cost, and this is not a throwaway line. This has consequences. This creates texture.

Late in the game, Siffrin develops the option to do Party Member Personal Quests, and despite being a noncombatant, the Kid is one of them. All of these Quests are meaningful and important in their way, but the things we learn in the Kid's Quest are extremely important to understanding Siffrin. The other Quests have personal elements that Siffrin relates to, but this one is about him in a very specific way, that could not be fully replicated by mirroring the events referenced onto one of the adults. This Quest pans out the way it does because the Kid is a kid.

It's hard for me to put into exact words, especially when I don't want to spoil things, but there's even more specific details that make them important to the narrative progression, again, without being an "important" person in the context of the game world. By being important to Siffrin and the rest of the party, by having their narrative wound in with the others, the Kid is as integral to the story as any other character.

Kid characters like this in video games aren't often well-respected, and that tends to be for good reason - they tend to represent ludonarrative dissonance, be annoying, or be the product of overcompensation and have their importance rubbed into the player's face. Many of them could be extracted from the narrative without having a significant effect on the outcome, or would destroy the narrative because they're the focus character, borderline Morality Pets for protagonists. The Kid in ISAT and SA fascinates me, because I came to care about them in a very natural manner, not just because their personality and interactions are endearing, but because the way they and the other party members relate to each other has a tangible impact on the story and emotional core of the game.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

orphaned cannibal adoption AU- Charlie BURSTING in the hotel front doors, striking the iconic lion king pose, and proudly presenting the cannibal kid to the other hotel denizens

Charlie: "GUYS OH MY GOSH LOOK LOOK LOOK!" (waggles the kid happily) "A KID!!!!!!!!! Kid, say hi!"

Cannibal Kid: “Hi…”

Husk: "What the fuck is this? Child labor??"

Vaggie: "No."

Cannibal Kid: (dangling in Charlie’s grip) "I'm VERY high up right now."

Charlie: "Do you like it? The hotel? The high up-ness? The other people living here? We can change ANYTHING you like! You are my child now, and I'm melting like silly putty in your tiny, tiny hands!"

Angel Dust: "Thrillin', toots. Who carried."

Cannibal Kid: "Small hands are useful for getting things out of tight spaces."

Charlie: "I did!"

Vaggie: "Do I wanna know what kinds of things you usually get from what kinds of spaces?"

Angel Dust: "Huh. Would'a thought it'd be Vaginal Area over here."

Cannibal Kid: "Internal organs. From still warm bodies."

Vaggie: "Great."

Charlie: "I carried our new kid here ALLLLLLL the way from Cannibal Town! On my shoulders! Just like how my dad used to do with me!! Only I didn’t turn into a horse or a kangaroo or-"

Niffty: "Aww, that's a long way to walk!" (raises hand) "THEY CAN SNACK ON MY HAND IF THEY'RE HUNGRY!"

Vaggie: "Niffty, Rosie packed a lunch."

Niffty: "NOOOOOOOO...!!!"

Vaggie: "And it's adoption, Angel Dust you asshole. Also try keeping the swearing to a G rating okay."

Husk: "You fucking first."

Vaggie: "Fuck."

Cannibal Kid: "Don't worry. Auntie Rosie taught me to only put nice things in my mouth."

Charlie: "Ooooh like candy?!" (realizing cannibal) "Or, wait-"

Cannibal Kid: "Like eyeballs."

Husk: (SNORTS)

Angel Dust: "Ouchie~"

Vaggie: "What? What? Wanna share something with the room, dingbat!?"

Angel Dust: "I meannnnnn- 's not like you're exactly well equipped to feed your new kid, are ya Vagginator? That's kinda... EYE-ronic."

Husk: (snorts so hard his fur fluffs up)

Niffty: "I have an eye I HAVE AN EYE!!! It's BIG and ROUND and-"

Vaggie: "No."

Cannibal Kid: "Aw."

Niffty: "MOTHERFUCKING DAMNIT!!!!!"

Vaggie: "Oh for- Husk, just, break a bottle and let Niffty have the glass or something. This is too much sudden family bonding happening right now."

Husk: "Let me fucking empty one first." (starts chugging)

Vaggie: (SIGHS)

Charlie: "Right." (lowers kid to eye level) (her eye level, not vaggie’s) "Have you ever heard... of gummy worms?"

Cannibal Kid: "No. But I ate someone named Gary Wormwood once."

Charlie: "That's pretty close!"

Vaggie: "Sweetie, no it's not."

Charlie: "Vaggie, as the mothers, our kid's 'best so far' is always more than good enough for us, it's AMAZING."

Cannibal Kid: "He wasn't that great."

Angel Dust: "Leavin' totally mid Gary to rot somewhere back in creepy Cannibal Town, what's the name of your own sweet little murder baby?"

Vaggie: "..."

Charlie: "...."

Vaggie: "Uh.... Charlie, are you gonna...?"

Charlie: "I mean you're the one who clicked with them, I thought you'd be doing the big introductions!"

Vaggie: "I'd love too, sweetie, but I don't actually... y'know."

Charlie: "What?"

Vaggie: “…um.”

Angel Dust: "...you don't know their fuckin' name, do ya?"

Charlie: "WHAT!?"

Vaggie: "It, it never came up! I thought I'd find out when you said it!"

Charlie: "I THOUGHT I'D FIND OUT WHEN YOU SAID IT, TOO!!!"

Angel Dust: "Oh fuck me with a plastic dick- Neither of ya's gay morons know's the kid's name???"

Cannibal Kid: "It's Annie."

Charlie: "!! ANNIE IM SO SORRY MOM WILL NEVER NOT KNOW YOUR NAME EVER AGAIN-"

Annie: "Short for Annabelle."

Hotel Crew: “……”

Vaggie: "....like, Annabelle the… cannibal?"

Annie: "Tragically."

Charlie: "Oh but that's. A. Lovely name."

Annie: "My dead parents thought they were both really funny." (flat stare) "They weren't."

Angel Dust: “Sucks to be you, kid. Sorry ‘bout your old man and lady.”

Annie: “It’s okay. They didn’t own a hotel.”

Charlie: “Ahhaha! This is a horrible thing to say, but- I feel like your FIRST life changing experience with us will be learning the true meaning of family!”

Annie: “Since you’re the princess of hell, what does that make me?”

Vaggie: “A normal kid who’s mom is princess of hell.”

Annie: “Dang.”

Angel Dust: “Oh I’m gonna LOVE bein’ your uncle! You’ve got piz-zazz don’t ya~?”

Annie: “No.” (pulls Razzle out from under their coat) “His name’s Razzle.”

Angel Dust: “That ain’t exactly what I meant-”

Annie: “I know. I was just being funnier than you.”

Husk: “Ha! Now this is MY kinda kid!”

Angel Dust: “Yeah sure whatever, I’m still gonna be a waaay cooler uncle than you, so… uhhh… Vaggie-boner, why’s your girlfriend making that noise?”

Vaggie: “The ‘eeeeee’ing?”

Angel Dust: “Yeah.”

Vaggie: “It’s one of her happy sounds.”

Angel Dust: “What the fuck is she so happy about. Didn’t she get over the whole burst of motherly endorphins thing while signin’ adoption papers over in Eats-your-face-burg?”

Vaggie: “I mean, you did kinda just make it sound like you think of her as family.”

Angel Dust: “Of course you gays are family! What the fuck???”

Husk: “….you fucking idiot. Now you’ve made them both cry.”

Niffty: “I wish that was meeee…”

Annie: “I think they’re tears of joy." (dabs tear on finger and tries it) "Tastes like it, anyway. Too sweet.” (pulls face) "Blegh."

Niffty: “Emotional pain from the AGONIZING realization of everything that’d been CUT AWAY FROM YOU LIKE A KNIFE TO YOUR HEART at the same moment someone VIOLENTLY SHOVES a brand new PAINFULLY BEATING HEART into the EMPTY CAVITY that used to hold your BRUTALLY CRUSHED DREAMS… can be fun too…”

Angel Dust: “….”

Husk: “….”

Annie: “Aunt Niffty, you’re so cool.”

Niffty: “Really!? I’m also gonna let you play with KNIVES!!!”

Angel Dust: “-no, no you won’t. No. Both of ya’s listen carefully- the word of the day is ‘N’… ‘O’.”

Annie: “Knife starts with a ‘K’.”

Husk: “He wasn’t spelling knife.”

Annie: “He could've been if he’d started it with a ‘K’.”

Charlie: “YOU ALL ALREADY S-SOUND JUST LIKE A FAMILY WAAAAAGH!!!”

Annie: "So is this the true meaning of family?"

Vaggie: "It's....close enough."

Annie: “Okay. I like it here, tall mom. It’s soggy, because you’re crying on me, but it’s nice.”

Charlie: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- YOU CALLED ME M-MOM-”

Vaggie: “There-there, sweetie. Maybe try to not break our kid’s eardrums on the first day?”

Husk: “You’re still crying out of your one fucking eye-”

Vaggie: “Shut up.”

[literaryavenger]

Captain America: Civil War - 5

Summary: Team Cap gets taken to the Raft.

Pairing: Avengers x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries. Language. Mentions of Y/N. A little angst if you squint. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Thank god it took me very little to finish this one! Hope you like it!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The Raft.

That’s where they sent you after they arrested you in Germany. The fucking Raft.

You haven’t even seen Wanda since you were handed your very unstylish new clothes and they made you change.

You got separated from her when they took you to your cell between Scott's and Sam's. You dread what they're going to do to her, but you're powerless to stop them.

You sit on the ground of your cell and don’t move from there, barely registering what happens around you until the sound of clapping snaps you out of your trance. 

“The Futurist, gentlemen!” Clint shouts but you still don’t move, just listening to the scene. “The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not.”

“Give me a break, Barton.” You hear Tony say and almost show some emotion, but stop yourself. “I had no idea they'd put you here. Come on.”

You hear Clint spit and then say “Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey. You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint interrupts him. “Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for. Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam, or Y/N, or Wanda. But here we are.”

“Because you broke the law.” Tony says.

“Yeah.” Clint says back and starts chanting “La la la la la” while Tony talks, making you grin slightly.

“I didn't make you. You read it, you broke it.” Tony keeps talking. “Alright, you're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side.” he says and your face falls again immediately, knowing Tony went too far.

“You gotta watch your back with this guy.” Clint says before slamming his hands on the bars angrily. “There's a chance he's gonna break it!”

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark.” You hear Scott say from the cell on your right.

“Who are you?” Tony says, his voice closer to you than before, and you can hear Scott mumbling “Come on, man.”

Tony gets to your cell and sees you sitting on the ground, hugging your knees tight to your chest, your head resting back on the wall while you look straight ahead.

Tony is nothing short of shocked when he sees your face all beat up and bruised, your arm bandaged with blood seeping through it showing just how big and deep the cut is, all courtesy of Ayo.

“I never wanted to see you like this...” Tony says softly but you don’t even react to his words.

He’s standing in front of you but it’s like he’s not even there, like you’re looking right through him to something more interesting behind him.

Tony sighs and shakes his head before moving to Sam’s cell.

“How's Rhodes?” Sam asks right away.

“They're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So… fingers cross.” Tony answers and you close your eyes, grateful that he’s still alive at least. “What do you need? They feed you yet?”

“You're the good cop now?” Sam asks almost in disbelief.

“I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.” Tony answers calmly.

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

“Oh, I just knocked the 'A' out of their 'AV'.” Tony says, much too playfully for your taste. “We got about 30 seconds before they realize it's not their equipment.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his next sentence. “Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

Your eyes snap open at his apology and, even though you can’t see either of them, you know Sam’s feeling the same way as you, which is confirmed by his next sentence. “That's a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well. You don't have to-”

“Hey, it's alright.” Sam interrupts him, then you hear him sigh and after a little pause he says “Look, I'll tell you… but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.” Tony says and Sam proceeds to tell him all about the Hydra base in Siberia and the other supersoldiers.

When Tony leaves, Sam once again tries to make sure you’re okay even if he hasn’t had luck at getting an answer out of you since you got here.

He knocks twice on the wall between you two then pauses and then knocks three more times fast before talking, a thing you two started doing since you both moved into the Avengers Compound so you would know it was the other knocking right away. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer him and can hear him sighing before continuing talking.

“Look, I’m sorry you got caught up in this and-”

“I don’t regret the choice I made, Sam.” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence, speaking up for the first time since you got arrested at the airport. “As much as this sucks, it was the right thing to do. I know it was.”

You don’t say anything else. Sam can tell you mean it and he knows better than to push you.

“They’ll be okay.” He says after a moment of silence and then lets you be.

You know he means Steve, Bucky and Tony but you can’t help but think he’s trying to reassure you that Bucky’s gonna be fine.

And you can only hope that he’s right.

-

A couple of weeks after Tony’s visit there’s a commotion in the prison.

You haven’t so much as made a sound since that day, aside from your daily knock on the wall between you and Sam so he can make sure you’re okay, knowing you well enough to know you don’t want to talk but still wanting to check in.

But you can’t help but let out a loud gasp when you see Steve just standing in front of your cells.

You look around when the cell doors open and you hesitantly get up from the floor and walk towards Steve. He hugs Sam, then you, then Clint and then pats Scott on the back, but doesn’t linger long before he’s guiding you towards another level where Wanda is.

You get to her just as the door to her cell opens and you rush inside with Clint to take off her collar while he takes off her straightjacket. You hug her tightly and wrap your arm around her with Clint to help her move you since she looks a little worse for wear.

You manage to move through the prison without problems. You have to hand it to Steve, he’s a hell of a criminal.

When you get to the landing pad you see the Quinjet ready for take off and you all rush inside just to see Bucky at the commands and you smile brightly at the sight.

You have no time to comment, though, as Sam shouts “What are you waiting for?! Go!”

Bucky rolls his eyes but calmly says “We have one more coming.”

You frown. One more? You turn to Steve confusedly but before you can ask anything you can see blond hair darting into the Quinjet and then Natasha’s there.

Bucky instantly takes off and you all take seats and buckle up.

There’s a moment of silence while everyone processes what just happened, but you break it while looking at Natasha that’s sitting directly in front of you.

“Are we gonna talk about the hair?” You ask arching your eyebrow with a smirk.

She groans in annoyance and you can hear the others chuckling while she says “We are not.”

-

After a few hours you all get to a safehouse and Steve ushers you in before showing you around.

It’s not bad: a secluded cabin with three bedrooms, not too big but Steve assured you you wouldn’t be staying there long anyway. Which makes sense, you're on the run now so this is just temporary.

After the tour Bucky approaches you in the living room and only then you notice he’s missing his metal arm.

“You flew the jet with only one arm? That’s impressive…” You can’t help yourself as you reach to touch his left shoulder, your eyes fixated on it. But stop on your tracks when you feel his right hand carefully cupping your cheek.

Your eyes snap up to his and you can see him thoroughly inspecting the wounds in your face that are still healing a little. He grimaces when he looks down at your bandaged arm and whispers “I’m sorry…”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sergeant.” You smile softly at him and put your hand over his still on your cheek, trying to reassure him that you’re fine.

“I bet you can, doll.” He chuckles.

You’re too busy staring at each other to notice everyone’s attention is on you until Steve clears his throat with an apologetic look on his face.

“We need to go, Buck.” He says and you look confusedly between the two men.

“I’m going back into cryo.” Bucky clarifies for you.

“Oh.” Is all you can say and your eyes widen for a second before you force yourself to put on a more neutral face.

“It’s okay.” He smiles at you, but you feel like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, doll.”

You try your best to smile and not look too bummed out. “I bet you can, Sergeant.”

You hesitate for a moment before surprising him, the others and even yourself by giving him a hug. He hesitates too before delicately hugging you back and, after a moment, you pull away. 

He smiles at you with a faint blush and you smile back, watching him walk to the door.

Steve passes you on his way to the door and kisses your forehead, whispering “He’ll be okay” before saying goodbye to the rest of the team, assuring you that he’ll be back soon. Then he also goes through the door and soon both the supersoldiers are gone.

You turn around with a sigh and see Sam, Natasha and Clint standing there, grinning at you, Wanda and Scott looking more compassionate than teasing.

You narrow your eyes at the first three and say sternly “Not. A. Word.” punctuating every word by pointing threateningly at each of them.

They raise their hands in mock surrender while snickering but thankfully don’t say anything and everyone just scatters around the safehouse.

You see the Quinjet depart from the window and try your best to look at the bright side: This isn’t forever, you’ll see him again.

Right?

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham @mary-jinx @abbyyourlocalmilf @selcouthial @esposadomd @americaarse

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐈'𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Erwin Smith x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Soooo this is an oldie from 2021. I only did some light editing so if this fic has an amateur hour feel... that's because it does. [ SYNOPSIS ] A solo training session goes to shit when you get stuck in a tree. [ WORD COUNT ] 1.6k [ CONTENT ] PWP in the purest sense, stuckage, dubcon, y/n gets her ass ate, Erwin kisses you post-ass eating, dumbification (Erwin), knife play, size kink, creampie, I don't even know how this whole situation would work physically so just enjoy the ride.

“Shit!”

Launching yourself into a tree was never on your list of things you were desperate to experience. That list was reserved for things like outdrinking Moblit, slaying 100 titans unassisted, and planting a big wet kiss on your comrade Erwin. Nowhere on this hypothetical list was such a sad spectacle.

At least you were training, it's not like you were outside the walls where this would be a deadly issue. No, this was just woefully embarrassing.

“Damn.”

You tugged at your equipment and came to the crippling realization that you were totally stuck.

“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered. “This is great. I love this for me.”

Shimmying around didn’t help and using the tree as leverage and kicking yourself backwards just slammed you back into the tree. Blood dripped from your nose as you tried to rub the pain away.

At least you were upright.

“Come on, come the fuck on,” you whined, bouncing up and down.

You were hovering just above the ground, it wouldn’t be that bad of a drop. Sure you’d bruise your ass and walk around funny for a day or two, but it beat swinging around in a tree hoping someone would come by and rescue you.

You continued to bounce but it was no use. Your harness might as well have been one with the tree.

“So… This is it. This is how I die.”

Your legs dangled in the air. You tried one last time to break the branch by bouncing, but nothing came of it.

“Everything okay over there?”

You perked up at the sound of a deep, silky voice in the distance. Erwin crested over the hill, your predicament on full display.

“Hi,” you said, waving pathetically. “I’m, uh, just hanging.”

“I can see that,” he said, making his way over to you. “Dare I ask how this happened?”

“I was training too vigorously obviously.”

He gave you a warm laugh. “I can see that. I’m sure the Commander will be proud.”

You held your hands to your cheeks with mock surprise.

“You think so?!”

Erwin smiled and patted your leg. He was eye level with your crotch. Something in his expression was unsettling. You were never great at reading Erwin, but this was a look you were completely unfamiliar with.

“I’m certain,” he said, letting his hand linger on your thigh.

You jerked your leg out of reach but you ended up swinging back towards him despite this. Erwin grabbed you by the ankle.

“You gonna help me or what? I’m getting hungry.”

You tacked on a nervous laugh and nudged him with your knee.

“I’ll help you, but there will be a price,” he said coyly.

You gulped. You just knew he was going to ask for access to your secret coffee rations.

“I keep it under my bed!” you blurted out.

Erwin raised an eyebrow and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

As you went to speak he interrupted you.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he purred. “You’re not very good at hiding your feelings.”

You wriggled around, but Erwin gripped your hips holding you in place.

“Whatever. Yes, I have a crush on you. Big deal. So does everyone else.”

He chuckled. “I’m not nearly as popular as you think I am, but I appreciate that you hold me in such high regard.”

“Don’t give me that fake humble shit. Just wait and help me. We can talk about my repayment later.”

“I can’t wait.”

You gulped again. While it was true you had a sick crush on Erwin you weren’t exactly comfortable with his actions. You desperately wanted to feel the ground beneath your feet. You weren’t a fucking bird just because you had the wings of freedom on your uniform.

“Erwin, please.”

“I already told you I can’t wait.”

“Erwin. Seriously. Come on.”

“We’re through talking about this.”

Erwin took out a small utility knife and carefully slit a hole in your pants.

“Wait!”

He smirked and said calmly, “Don’t be scared.”

“You have a very sharp blade near my—”

“Hush, I know what I’m doing. Don’t you trust me?”

He spun you around so that your ass was facing him. His hands wandered down the inside of your thighs, lightly pinching the flesh. He pried apart the slit he made in your pants and ripped the hole open. As his knuckles grazed your folds you let out a quiet moan.

Your underwear were ripped apart with ease. You thought about how awkward it was going to be walking back to the barracks. There was no way you could slyly hide the gaping hole in your pants. You shook your head, trying to force the thoughts from your mind. After all, you had always wanted something like this to happen. So many nights you spent fingering yourself pretending it was Erwin’s rough hands delving into you. So many nights you moaned his name, praying no one could hear how debauched you sounded.

“Be gentle.”

“I’ll certainly try, but I can make no promises,” he said, spanking your ass with his weighty hand.

You felt Erwin’s hot breath against your cunt. He gripped your hips and pulled your ass close to his face and buried it in between your cheeks. His tongue prodded your hole.

“Whoa! Hey!”

Erwin hummed in response, you could tell he thought this was all rather hilarious.

“What would you do if someone caught us?”

“Cry. Scream. Beg for help or a piece of bread. I’m so hungry,” you whined.

“And you think I’m not?”

He continued to eat your ass, using his rough calloused hands to spread your cheeks. His nose drifted along your crack as his tongue worked its way around your hole.

“Fu—fuck. That feels so good,” you choked out.

Your hand trailed down to your crotch and you rubbed at your clit. You were overcome with pleasure. Even the potential of getting caught drove you wild. If someone were to see you like this you could have bragging rights. I mean it’s not like many people had their ass eaten by Erwin.

Erwin moaned as he undid his pants, pulling out his fully erect cock. Little pearls of precum dribbled from the tip. He stroked his cock furiously as he drove his tongue into your ass.

“Ah, shit. Erwin, f—fuck.”

Coherent thoughts were out of the question. You were thankful Erwin had his face buried in your ass so he couldn’t probe you with questions. He looked like a talker.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, voice dripping with ardor.

He spun you around, giving you a full view of his raging erection.

“Y—yes,” you said through gritted teeth.

You could taste your orgasm, see it over the horizon. Your hand continued to encircle your clit, picking up the pace as Erwin choked his cock with his fist. He was blushing like crazy. You had never seen Erwin look so boyish. He was practically coming apart at the seams. His flaxen hair, usually so perfect, was a mess and hung in his face. There was a level of power you felt that was pure ecstasy. You never imagined you could make your comrade feel quite like this.

“You seem to be having a good time,” you said, applying more pressure to your clit.

“Did you think I wouldn’t? Do you realize how badly I’ve wanted to do something like this with you?”

“Seriously?” you said, driving your fingers into your wet cunt.

Erwin nodded and grabbed the knife he had chucked on the ground. He swung it upwards and nicked the part of your gear that was snagged on the tree branch. He caught you with his free arm. He laid you on the ground, your body in the shadow of his.

“May I?” he asked, stroking his cock.

A quiet “mhm” was all you could get out.

He slid himself inside you and thrusted away. Your cunt welcomed his thick cock; you clenched around his length. Erwin’s name lilted off your lips.

“Keep saying my name,” he grunted, his rough thumb now gliding along your clit.

You were happy to oblige.

Erwin drove his cock further inside you, cupping your face with his free hand. He looked into your eyes; there was nothing going on in that big brain of his. He was positively fucked out as his balls slapped up against your taint.

“Er—Erwin, fuck, I’m so close.”

He pounded his cock into you; you felt as though he’d split you in two. He stroked your lip with his thumb and kissed you. His tongue dived into your mouth, rolling against yours. He moaned through the kiss as he pumped you full of his cum, slamming his cock into your cervix.

Breaking the kiss he said, “Are you gonna cum like a good girl?”

You gazed up at him starry-eyed and nodded quickly. He pressed his lips against your neck and started to suck. You wrapped your arms around him and clung to him as your orgasm crescendoed. Nothing could beat this feeling, not even killing every titan outside the walls single-handedly could compare.

You tried to catch your breath and Erwin pulled his cock out of you. He marveled at his cum leaking from your puffy, throbbing cunt. He looked so proud.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked sheepishly.

You smiled and nodded with a level of enthusiasm you never gifted anyone.

“Yes… Maybe next time I can not be stuck in a tree…”

Erwin laughed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Of course,” he said, panting. “Anything for you.”

He kissed your forehead and helped you up. He whipped off his cape and wrapped it around you, hiding the giant rip in your pants.

“Are you still hungry? I really do owe you dinner.”

You’d never seen your comrade like this. You were used to prim and proper Erwin who begrudgingly laughed at your dick jokes, not this embarrassed young man who was enamored with you.

“I would love that. I need bread. And maybe a nap.”

[crowfeatherquill]

The Joker is a Shitty Clown

Honestly, this one's just a bit of fun. There's a post floating around somewhere about the Joker getting chased down by a bunch of professional clowns wearing his makeup because he never submitted an egg to the...clown...council (I don't know that it's actually called the clown council). This is semi-related to that.

--

“The Joker is a shitty clown.”

When he says it, the room falls silent. Deathly, even, by some estimates, although those could be classified as a tad dramatic. Jason stares, speechless. Damian does not appear to have noticed that anything is wrong. Tim is the first to speak.

“Do...you want to elaborate on that?”

Dick seems to realize in that moment that the non-sequitur has landed him right at the center of a very dense emotional minefield. He considers that acrobatics run in his family. He considers further that so do unfortunate acrobatic accidents. He chooses his next words carefully.

“I mean first of all he’s not even funny, and that’s, like. Rule one. No clown I ever met had to drug people to get them to laugh at their jokes.”

Realization dawns over Jason’s face like a storm breaking and Tim, diplomatically, chooses not to comment on the way he bites the inside of his cheek to try and fight a smile. He figures it’s fine to let Dick sweat a little over this particular topic -- after all, the Joker is a pretty big sore spot for about half the room, and Dick is not generally so quick to shove his foot all the way down his own throat.

Unsure of his standing and desperate not to lose it, Dick presses on.

“And beyond that, he doesn’t have a gimmick. He doesn’t have a character. There’s no consistency, it’s just...chaos. Which I’ve only seen done well maybe once and to be honest it’s so much extra work and for a beginner, I just- I dunno, it seems like a bad move-”

Jason can’t quite keep back a snort. He tries to cover it with a cough, but Dick knows exactly what the sound means. Jason, smartly, does not attempt eye contact. He prefers to leave the manor on his own terms, and with some of his pride still intact.

“Beginner. Unbelievable…” Tim mutters, but even so he finds himself intrigued. He hadn’t realized Dick had such strong opinions about clowns, although he’s not sure why he’s surprised, given the whole circus-kid thing.

Dick, sensing victory is close at hand, leans forward to deliver what he hopes will be the final blow.

“I’ll bet he doesn’t even know about clown college.”

This is not quite enough to break Jason’s iron will, but it’s a close thing, and Tim affords himself a wry smile. He’s always been the easier of the two of them when it comes to Dick’s antics. 

Dick preens in that self-satisfied big brother way that only he can ever seem to pull off and leans back in his chair.

“Once. Just once I’d like to see that hack do an actual routine.”

“For all his glaring faults, I am forced to concede that the howling menace does appear to have grasped one pillar of the art,” Damian says, primly, looking up from what he’s reading.

Tim raises a questioning eyebrow, and Dick tilts his head, taking on the humor-them expression he wears when he thinks he knows better than his younger siblings. Jason still looks inches away from another untimely death and is therefore ill-equipped to respond in any way that isn’t rigid denial of the near convulsive way his shoulders are shaking.

“Oh? And what’s that, Dami,” Dick prompts, and if he wasn’t so sickenly good-hearted it would almost sound patronizing.

Damian looks at Jason, eyes boring into him like little green needles until Jason meets his gaze. His expression does not change when he speaks.

“Slapstick.”

There is a moment of silence so complete you could hear a pin drop from the other side of the manor. And then Jason is howling with laughter, and Tim can’t help but laugh too because holy shit, and Dick is sitting dumbfounded in his chair, gaping at their youngest brother, who merely gives an imperceptible twitch of the corner of his mouth and returns to his book.

[falling-star-cygnus]

Shaking the fandom by the shoulders WHERE ARE THE CAESAR AND BILLY SIBLING FICS!? THEY ARE STATED TO BE SIBLINGS! BILLY GAVE CAESAR ONE OF HIS ARMS! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH POTENTIAL THERE IS WITH THESE TWO?!

((Sorry for the excitement. I was really looking forward for some caesar and Billy wholesomeness from the fandom, after chapter 4. And I found...well, that one angst fic of Billy losing his memories from you and that was before she released! Seriously, we need more big sibling lil sibling dynamic with Caesar and Billy!

LOUDERRRRR -> the billy kid & caesar king tag doesn't even exist on ao3 yet 😭

which is CRAZY, bc- they're so sweet?? like Caesar clearly cares so much about him [i have one more Caesar post that's only on here, and in my Hare Headcanons Incorrect Quotes fic, in case you didn't see it :D]

sooo anydoodle, here's Caesar and Lighter's reaction to Dismemberment! enjoyyy~ i hope

"BILLY KID."

....oooh, boy.

It had been a while since the android had heard that tone. A nice while. A good while.

He should run.

"GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE. RIGHT NOW."

He should definitely run.

As quietly, and as quickly, as Billy could possibly manage- he crept off the couch and towards the door. Caesar had swung by on one of her rare trips to Sixth Street, Lighter in tow, to say hi. And to catch up, of course, as the two had been immediately roped into conversation by the girls. With pictures.

He was going to find Burnice's stash and burn it one of these days...

The android crept another step.

Then another.

Annnnd one more.

Freedom was within his grasp..

"Going somewhere, brother?"

A familiar hand, equipped with a gaudy gauntlet he'd say, latches onto the back of his collar to haul him up to his feet like the android was a particularly feisty alley cat.

"Damnit, Lighter, when did you get so strong!?" Billy yelps, despaired that his exit has been cut off, "What did I do?"

"What didn't you do, Billy?" Caesar cuts in, arms crossed in that scolding Big Sister way that still terrifies him.

"Uh, huh-!? I don't know- Did I forget to take the trash out? Or send a letter? What did I do!?"

Nicole peeks out of the kitchen, vaguely apologetic as she watches the scene play out. 'Sorry' she mouths at him. And then flees.

Like a traitor.

Billy doesn't even notice that Caesar and Lighter are examining his limbs until his Big Sis is snapping in front of his face. With..

Ohhhh.

"You didn't think it was important to tell us you had been stripped for parts?" The leading lady of the Sons barks, pinching some of the hair behind his audio processors to tug.

"Obviously it didn't stick."

"Don't sass your big sister," Lighter tugs him into a loose chokehold to knuckle into his hair, "We had to find out from your boss!"

A traitor!

"I didn't want to worry you! I got better-"

Billy is suddenly struck with the images of Piper and Lucy, what they'd look like if they found out what happened to him. How it would effect Piper's sleep, which was so easily influenced by the sounds around her. Or Lucy's already low trust in strangers.

The android is wrenching himself out of Lighter's hold before he even realizes, clutching onto his arm and to Caesar's elbow.

"You can't tell the others," he pleads, careful to keep his grip loose enough not to break the fragile human bones, "Lucy- Piper, please Big Sis- don't tell them."

"Starlight..."

Caesar carefully removes herself from the marksmen's hold to cup his face plate and knock her forehead into his. Which can't feel good, considering the pointed appendages on his forehead.

But, of course, the leading lady doesn't even flinch.

"When I lost my arm, you gave me one of your spares without even thinking about it. It pisses me off that someone took that choice from you."

Her grip shifts from Billy's face to his neck, and she guides the android into a... sort of awkward hug. Billy was just this side of too tall to comfortably burrow into her neck standing up.

"You're allowed to be upset about it too, little bro."

"When are you gonna get it through your thick skull that we care about you," Lighter tacks on, shifting his grip to the android's shoulder, "You weren't just a weapon, or my predecessor. You're our brother, Kid."

He continues before Billy can even stumble out a response.

"So- please.."

"...tell us these things," Caesar finishes, "We'll understand."

bonus: Caesar, pulling back: Now. Billy: ...? Caesar: Is that motherfucker still alive? *the android sputters, but can't exactly flee or deflect in his current position* Anby, behind Caesar: o-o7 Lighter: ....ȏvō7

[docholligay]

I’m still fascinated that I now feel less equipped to explain what Digimon is than I did before seeing the film

One of the best and most difficult books I've ever read is House of Leaves. House of Leaves, fairly uniquely among horror books, and I say this as someone who reads a lot of horror books, really replicates the feeling of going crazy. Of not being able to trust yourself, of not being able to trust the narrative in front of you, of a screaming doubt in the back of your mind. I actually took a year to read it--I found it so emotionally taxing to read that I had to take frequent breaks.

I wouldn't have guessed that there was something called, "All the disorientation of House of Leaves, but for children, and also bad" but there was the Digimon movie for me!

I sat and watched 90 minutes of digimon content and I feel less qualified than ever to even tell you what is a digimon. They live in the computer unless they don't, they can transform into different power levels but they can go back at the snap of a finger so I'm not sure why they don't immediately transform into SuperMegaUltimate form as soon as a conflict occurs, but there we are.

The bad digimon can also control nuclear weapons, it seems like, if they hack into it? Which was used once and then forgotten about, but seems reasonably relevant to me. Also everyone seems to know Digimon exist while living in what is more or less our world, and so I wonder, why has no one pushed for military operations, at the very least, to be completely analog? I mean, I am dumb as dogshit and not making a franchise, and my first thought with Tracer's CA was that it had to be electronic in the way a clock radio is for safety reasons. I know I'm asking a lot of kids' movie here, to think about literally any detail, but in fairness, they brought it up! It's not like NastyDevilMon got into, I don't know, the school database and ruined the big carnival, so I'm extrapolating of that, no, I need you to know, THE DIGIMON CONTROLLED THE NUCLEAR WARHEADS AND TRIED TO BLOW UP JAPAN.

But by the second act of the movie, we had sort of just, forgotten about that, and instead had a major fight in a national forest that destroyed something that looks like it might be Royal Gorge or one of the other uppers canyons of the Colorado river, because we are in Colorado for the second part, on a road trip.

None of which prepared me for when the digimon transformed into humanoid angels, notably called, Angelman and Angelwoman, boy I wish I was not making this up and was taking a humorous dig at this movie, I don't need to, it digs at itself.

Weirdly, for all of this, it was also boring! It was like wandering an endless mirror maze, which seems disorienting and almost funny but by minute 60 all you can think of is, "When is this thing going to fucking end?" For 90 minutes of run time, maybe 45 minutes of things occur. That's a high level of generosity on my behalf.

The only saving grace of the movie was that it used late 90s American music in the dub, and I have decided no dub is ever allowed to be made now without inserting contemporary American music of the time period, so that when we watch it later everyone can go, 'Oh my god!"

Anyway, Pokemon is not for me and I ahve no fondness for it, but at the very least, I could explain to you what the basic principles of it are and why I assume people like it. No such luck here!