#i hate not not knowing what being normal or happy feels like

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

a little note: this was one of the most enjoyable headcanons i've written. if gege can't give toji a happy ending, then we will! hehe, i hope you like it! normally, sukuna was next on the list, but since i've already mentioned toji’s best friend, it wouldn’t feel right to not write about him next. so, up next is ufc’s bloody monster shiu ;) watching shiu fight, all sweaty in the ring, is probably everyone’s dream here, don’t you think?

.ᐟ check Champions League's Masterlist to meet the other champions

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who earned his nickname for his ruthless and rule-breaking style of play.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who is considered the greatest tight end of all time. This man was practically built to dominate this position with his size, strength, and speed.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who, despite his dirty plays, loves being called “The Bulldozer,” especially when it comes from his female fans. He enjoys knowing how manly they think he is.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who constantly mocks MLB’s best player, Gojo, in interviews because Toji has way more thirst-trap edits. “Oh, you’re talking about that scrawny guy? Of course they’re going to make more edits of a real man like me.”

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who posted a photo with Stephen Curry after a basketball game (the second post on his barely-used Instagram) with the caption, “After f*cking Suguru Geto :)” and gained a million likes in under 20 minutes. (Not to mention, he absolutely despises the NBA star Geto.)

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji whose only trusted friend is his best buddy, the famous boxer Shiu Kong.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who grew up in a terrible household where his family despised him.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who got the scar near his lip during a violent fight with his brother.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!toji who hates that scar because it reminds him of the disgusting family that never loved him.

nfl'sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji whose jersey number is 22 (the day his son was born).

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who, despite wanting to spend time with his son, reluctantly agrees to hire a babysitter because of his demanding job.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who is extremely picky about babysitters and has already rejected over 100 candidates.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji whose eyes widen in shock when he sees your name among the applicants—what the hell is the coach’s precious, ten-years-younger daughter doing here?

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who calls you for an interview, pretending he doesn’t know you’re the coach’s daughter. He’s stunned when you greet him casually (as if the man standing in front of you wasn’t a player on the team your father coaches.) and somehow manage to bond with his grumpy son, Megumi, in a way he never thought possible.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who growls in displeasure when he learns you’ve been secretly saving money from your dad to move abroad. But when you promise to keep everything confidential if he hires you, he reluctantly agrees—Megumi’s already won over by you.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who comes home exhausted from practice, seeking silence and peace, only to find you in the kitchen with Megumi, decorating cupcakes and singing loudly. He grits his teeth in frustration and retreats to his room, though he secretly marvels at how his son, who rarely cares about anyone, listens to you intently.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who ends up eating those cupcakes late at night and, despite himself, admits they’re the best he’s ever had.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who rolls his eyes when Megumi talks about how beautiful, fun, and silly you are, even though he thinks the same things himself.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who secretly feels happy when you invite him to your park day with Megumi. He acts disinterested but can’t help smiling when he sees you and Megumi playing football on the grass. He eventually joins your game just to make you lose (not because he’s eager to play with you or anything, of course).

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who carries a sleeping Megumi home after the park and, when you say you should leave, grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to invite you to stay for a drink.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who sits on the couch in his massive living room, hesitant to start a conversation with you. When he finally manages to say, “Thank you,” and you respond with a warm smile, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst out of his chest. This is not a good sign—he’s starting to fall for the one person he absolutely shouldn’t.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who drops everything during practice when he gets a call from Megumi’s preschool saying his son was in a fight.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who is relieved to find that Megumi wasn’t hurt but becomes enraged when he learns the fight started because another child called him a motherless bastard.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who calls you at Megumi’s request. When you show up 10 minutes later to comfort his upset son, all his anger dissipates. Even though he had explained part of the fight over the phone, seeing the worried and frustrated expression on your face makes him realize he chose the right person for this job. His heart knows it.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who grumbles when Megumi asks if you can sleep with him for the night but eventually agrees when you and Megumi give him those sad, pleading looks. He’s surprised to see you upset and can’t help but wonder if you might have some feelings for him.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who watches both his son and you sleep that night. His fingers lightly brush your cheek, and he curses himself, knowing someone as broken and ugly as him could never be loved by you.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who is stunned the next day when he goes to pick up his son from school and the boy Megumi fought with nervously apologizes, claiming he met Megumi’s mom.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who can’t sleep that night, replaying the boy’s words because his son didn’t have a mother. She left them. Instead of calling Shiu, he calls you in the middle of the night and, after hesitating, tells you everything that happened today.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who is shocked when you admit that after dropping Megumi off at school that morning, you confronted the boy (or rather, likely threatened him) and told him to stay away from Megumi. You also made it clear that he owed both Megumi and him an apology and told him to stop talking nonsense by saying you were Megumi’s mother. There’s a brief silence on the line after that. When Toji finally speaks, it’s only to say, “Don’t ever lie like that again,” before hanging up. That night, he decides he needs to drink until he forgets everything.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who, no matter how much he drinks, can never get what happened or what was said out of his mind.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who shows up at your apartment the next day after dropping Megumi off with Shiu. He storms in without waiting for an invitation, frustrated and angry.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who, with anger in his voice, tells you that getting so close to him and Megumi wasn’t a good idea, that you haven’t considered the heartbreak you’ll leave behind when you move abroad, and how unfair it is that you’ve made them love you so deeply. But the moment he sees tears streaming down your face, he realizes he’s completely ruined everything.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who, feels the sting of every punch you land on his chest in response to his words.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who, after hearing you say, “Don’t you understand, you idiot? I can’t leave you. I can’t be happy for even a single second without seeing you and Megumi. Ever since you let me into your little world, I’ve never wanted to leave. I-I don’t want to be without you, Toji. I want to be part of your small, beautiful family,” doesn’t hesitate for even a moment before crashing his lips onto yours. As he pulls back to catch his breath, he leans close to your ear and whispers, “I don’t think we could ever let you go, love. You’ve already become part of that small, beautiful family you wanted so much.” Then, he kisses you again, deeper this time.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!singledad!toji who lies in your too-small bed, watching you sleep, realizing he’s the luckiest man alive.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, during practice, confessed to his coach (and future father-in-law) that he was in love with his daughter and that you had been looking after his child for a long time, only to get beaten to a pulp right then and there. He didn’t regret a single second of it.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, after practice, walked into the house with your father, battered and bruised, only to find you and Megumi waiting inside. When your father demanded you say it was all a joke, you simply replied, “I’m in love with the man whose face you just wrecked.” That earned Toji another punch from your father, but when your father saw the tears streaming down your face and realized how much you cared, he swore that if Toji ever hurt you, he’d kill him—no matter if he was the best player on the team.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, while cleaning his wounds, noticed your puffy, tear-swollen eyes. His lips curled into a smirk as he was about to tease you, but before he could, his son asked, “Are you guys dating?” Unsure of how to respond, he finally blurted out, “Yeah. I’m dating your mom, kid.”

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, for the first time, trusts someone other than his best friend—his future wife, you.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, every time you kiss the scar on his lip that he hates—the one that reminds him of his horrible family—can’t help but wonder what he did to deserve someone like you.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfboyfriend!toji who, at every game, watches you and Megumi cheering from the front row and silently vows never to lose—on the field or in life.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfhusband!toji who finally made you officially Megumi’s mother and his wife.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfhusband!toji who posts the third photo on his Instagram, and it’s a picture from your wedding with you and Megumi.

nfl’sdirtyplayer!dilfhusband!toji who, during your first family vacation at the end of the season, watches you and Megumi playing in the ocean and realizes he’s no longer haunted by his past. All he sees now is the perfect family he’s built.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

toji art by @sso_s_

divider by @cafekitsune

[ladykailitha]

Spellbound Part 4

Normally I would go back and forth between the two stories, but this one had more chapters backlogged, so it gets to go again.

Just a reminder, starting next week, I'll be taking a break from posting. I'm recovering from all the crazy writing I did this month. 12 ficlets, 1 multi-chaptered Christmas story, and a shorter one-shot of one of the ficlets. All total roughly 30k words in a month. So... yeah. I'm taking a well deserved break.

In this we have Dustin and Mike being teenagers, Robin spots a rogue Chrissy, and Steve has to deal with a very angry brownie (fae, not food).

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

~

A curly haired boy came bursting through the front door and Steve glared at him. “Dustin, how many times do I have to tell you to not just barge in?””

Dustin skidded to a stop and looked up at Steve like he didn’t know his ass from his elbow.

“Bav lets me,” he said smugly crossing his arms and grinning with that stupid gap-tooth grin of his.

Steve put his hands on his hip and sighed. He looked up at the roof, pursing his lips as he fought back the angry response. “Bav is not the only being with thoughts and feelings and while she ‘lets’ you it doesn’t mean you should. Because I sometimes work on dangerous things and if you come barging in, you might get hurt.”

Dustin scoffed. “Like she would let me in if you were doing something dangerous or whatever.”

The walls seemed annoyingly smug and tinted a shimmering grey-green.

“If these walls could talk,” Dustin continued with a smirk, “she would be agreeing with me.”

Steve pinched the the bridge of his nose and sighed. The truth was, he didn’t want Dustin bursting in because he was trying to find a ‘don’t hate me’ spell or charm to get Eddie to ease up off him a bit. But while there were friendship charms and love potions, neither really fit what he was looking for.

“What did you need?” he asked instead. “Or are you here to harass me?”

Dustin put his hands over his heart. “Ah! I’m offended that you think the only two reasons I would come visit are harassing you or wanting something from you.”

“There is another reason you come over?” Steve asked with a huff. He walked over to the bookshelf and began skimming the titles. He pulled out a large blue tome and flipped to a specific page as Dustin watched with suspicion. “How quickly do you think I could brew a truth potion and slip it in your tea?”

Dustin held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. All right. Sheesh. I wanted to beat Mike to the deliveries today because Mr. Jenner is making his apple cider and he always pours a glass for the one who delivers your asthma medicine.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. “Mike beat you by twenty minutes, man. In fact he should be back here in about five minutes.”

“Nooooo...” Dustin wailed, “that’s so not fair!”

The walls drooped and turned a pale blue. Steve shook his head. “It’s good thing I love you both,” he huffed stomping over to the icebox.

He pulled out an earthenware jug and took down two glasses. He filled both of them with a cool amber liquid and handed one glass to Dustin and then poured the other glass out the window and on to the foundation.

Dustin looked down at the cup and took a cautious sip and then a more enthusiastic gulp. “When did you get this?” He shook his head. “Wait before you answer that, did you just pour out a perfectly good cup of Mr. Jenner’s cider out onto the ground?”

Steve stroked the door frame to the back garden. “Sure, Bav deserves some too.”

The house seemed to get a little bit bigger as the walls turned a pretty, happy dusky pink.

Dustin blinked a moment before he finished the rest of his cider. “Seriously, though. I thought Mr. Jenner doesn’t make the cider until the afternoon.”

“The perks of being the town witch,” Steve said sagely. “People are very superstitious and I’ll often get the first wool or the first bag of flour. In this case, the first jug of cider.”

Dustin looked down at his empty cup and then up at Steve. “That’s actually kinda badass, you know?”

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I was about to make lunch if you would like to stay. Mike will be joining us...just...about...now.”

There was a knock on the door and Dustin went to go answer it. Sure enough on the other side of the door was Mike Wheeler.

Dustin looked back at Steve in shock. “How did you know it was Mike? Did Bav tell you? Can you see through walls?”

Mike just shoulder past him to get into the house, greeting Bav briefly before sitting down at the tea table.

“None of the above,” Steve said placing the cold meat sandwiches on the table. He pointed to the window. “I know how long each of you take on your runs and when I looked out the window, he had just passed in front. No sit down and eat your sandwich.”

Dustin grumbled but did as he was told. He took a big bite and hummed happily around his bite of food. “You make the best sandwiches, Steve.”

Mike nodded. “Thanks for the food. I just get so hungry these days and my mom keeps threatening to rehome me because I eat so much.”

Steve chuckled and sat down with his own plate of food. It was actually a normal amount because he hadn’t used magic today. “I remember what that was like, I’m not much older than you two, so I don’t mind sharing a meal or two to take the burden off your parents a little.”

“I think that’s why Ma doesn’t mind me hanging out over here,” Dustin said around a bite. “She knows you’ll take care of me.”

Steve smiled and shook his head, taking a bite of his food. Claudia Henderson was notoriously protective of her son. She wouldn’t trust the Pope with Dustin and she was Catholic. But somehow, someway she trusted Steve to take care of her Dusty.

He sent them off with full stomachs and cakes for their moms. They didn’t need to know that the cakes, which he was with absolute certainty never actually made it home, were just little charms of be nice to your mom magic. Karen Wheeler and Claudia Henderson deserved a day of their sons being so sweet to them.

Which was the real reason their moms were okay with Steve. Because they were always so nice when they came home from spending time with him. Or on the off chance the cakes did make it home, they had a nice cake to eat and were nicer to their families afterwards. All in all, win/win for everyone.

Robin chose that moment to come home. “I’m in love with your house, Steve. She made the journey home take a little bit longer so I could avoid the buttheads.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, she’s great like that.”

“So guess who I saw coming out of the Munsons’ house on the way home?” she said, putting away the groceries she had into town for.

Steve paused his clearing of the lunch mess and straightened up. “No...really?”

Robin pursed her lips and nodded. “Apparently Chrissy Cunningham is branching out since her dramatic break up with Jason Carver.”

Steve finished the dishes with a sigh. “It’s no surprise that his confrontation with Eddie and Bav was public knowledge by breakfast the next day, but even I think visiting another man so soon after your ex went insane and tried to break into someone’s house is little reckless, honestly.”

Robin winced. “Ooh, yeah. I didn’t even think about the crazy ex. Yeah. Ooh. Maybe she was trying to come here and, I don’t know, apologize?”

“I don’t put the ‘no return’ spell on the love charms,” Steve said, drying his hands. “I like it when they find their truelove and they come back all happy and smiles. If she was looking for me, she missed the mark a second time.”

Robin spun around. “Wait is that why?” Steve nodded. “Are there other charms you don’t put your ‘no return’ spell on? Or is it just that one?”

Steve just shrugged. “My medicines, I guess. That’s where I make the most money or get the best trades. But as for the other things, I saw what happens when you don’t set a boundary with people asking for charms. They’ll start asking for charms for everything. They’ll want to be cured of every ill, want everything handed to them, so I created the spell myself. It’s unique in all the world.”

“I didn’t know that,” Robin said softly. “About...well any of that I guess. You really don’t talk about your past. Of your life before Hawkins.”

Steve sat down at the table and placed his hands palm down on it. “Look, I don’t talk about it because for the large part, other than a couple of years apprenticing in her shop in the city, I grew up in a town of witches.”

Robin’s eyes went wide and she sat down next to him. “So you can’t talk about it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if I would say can’t talk about. But it’s hard sometimes when I say something and everyone stares at me blankly, like I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“And with each look and with each comment about how weird you are,” she said softly, taking his hand, “the less you want to bring it up. I’m sorry, Steve.”

“And with there being trouble in town with the whole Chrissy situation...” He sighed. “I’m think starting to wonder if Bav sensed something about her and tried to keep her away.”

The house seemed to shrink on itself a little and the walls turned a light grey.

Steve looked up at the ceiling and cooed, “I’m not blaming you, Bav, I’m blaming myself for not taking in everyone’s advice and giving it to her. Merlin and Circe didn’t like her either. Especially Merlin.”

Robin nodded. “As my familiar I should I have listened to him, too. He’s been giving me the cold shoulder ever since she showed up, as well. It’s a whole mess.”

Just then Circe came bursting through the window cawing angrily.

Steve buried his head in his hands. “Fucking hell! As if this day couldn’t get any worse.” He sighed heavily. “Tell Dustin to keep his shirt on and I’ll be right there.”

Robin sighed dramatically, throwing her head back. “Who would have thought that a Roman Catholic would even have a house elf to anger? Scratch that, who would have thought that house elves even existed?!”

Steve stopped half way to rising. “Like everyone knows that house elves exist. We don’t have any because Bav thinks they’re pests, but like even my dad knew better than to insult Mom’s house elf. Her name was Nora and best seamstress I’ve ever met.”

Robin stared at him blankly. “You want to run that past me again?”

Steve just rolled his eyes and got out a cup of milk and a little bowl of sugar, setting them carefully in a basket. Then he added honey, walnuts, and mint. He wanted to cover all his bases he didn’t know what this elf favored and wanted to make sure they weren’t offended further.

Then he went over to the bookshelf and after skimming the titles for a moment, he pulled out a small green book. He handed it to her. “Read that while I’m gone. The whole thing is useful, but I’d start with page eighty-six. The chapter on house elves.”

Then before Robin could even squawk a protest, Steve was out the door following Circe at speed, running to keep up.

He skidded to a stop in front of the Hendersons’ door to find that Dustin and Walter had been locked out of the house while screams could be heard from inside.

It didn’t sounded pained, it sounded indignant.

“Stand aside please,” Steve said sternly. Dustin and Walter looked back at Steve, thinking he meant them, but suddenly the screaming inside stopped and the door opened. “Thank you.” He turned back to the Henderson men. “Please wait here.”

But before either one of them could protest, Steve had already walked into the house and closed it tightly behind him.

He surveyed the damage. Claudia Henderson stood on the kitchen table battling a broom with her rolling pin. It was worse than he feared. He set his load down on the counter and began unpacking his treats.

The broom stopped moving, and then was slowly, cautiously put down. Once Steve had finished unpacking the honey, suddenly there was a little round faced woman about the size of Steve’s palm standing next to his basket with a red flower as a hat and bright clothes.

“What is that?” Claudia hissed, jumping down from the table.

“You’ll excuse her manners, little one,” Steve murmured, “it appears that she’s never heard of house elves before.”

The elf glared Claudia over her shoulder and then turned back to paw over Steve’s prizes.

“I didn’t have any cream,” he continued. “So I hope the milk is fine.”

The elf put her little hand in the milk and then stuck her hand in her mouth. “It’s good milk. You do your mother proud.”

Steve grinned at that. “So I take it you know Nora then?”

“Who’s Nora?” Claudia asked drawing closer to the two of them at the counter.

“Of course I know my own sister!” the little squeaked. “I’m Nona by the way. Please to meet you, Stevie.”

Claudia stopped dead in her tracks as she realized what was going on. She turned on her heel and began rummaging around in her ice box. “Eureka!” she cried.

She brought over a bowl and set down on the counter next to Nona. “I’m sorry little one. I wasn’t raised with knowledge of your people. I’m new to this town and was not aware of its different ways.”

Nona turned around and sniffed at the bowl cautiously. She looked up at Claudia in awe. “Clotted cream!” She put her hand in and pulled out a handful of the cream. She shoved it in her face with a contented hum.

“I didn’t know your family wasn’t from Hawkins,” Steve murmured. But he turned to Nona. “Would you please let the boys in, they must be so worried about Claudia.”

Nona looked up from her feast in wide eyed shock. “Oops!” She snapped her fingers and suddenly both Dustin and Walter spilled out on the ground as the door opened under their weight.

Steve went over and helped them to their feet. “Sorry about Nona, she didn’t know you weren’t familiar with house elves and thought you were actively insulting her.”

Dustin and Walter shared a shocked glance then looked over at the little woman eating their clotted cream.

“This is a house elf,” Steve said as Nona curtsied. “Her name is Nona and she helps out around the house. This has been her home for longer than this particular building has stood here. She will do the laundry or any chores left over the night. All she asks in return is a treat of her choice.”

“Does it have to be clotted cream every time?” Dustin asked as she wiped the mess of cream from her face with her apron.

“No,” Nona said. “But it was nice apology, though. I like honey and milk. So as long as you keep a bowl of of one of the two out, your food will never spoil and I will help out around the house.”

The Hendersons all exchanged glances and then Claudia nodded.

Walter stuck out his finger for her to shake. “Welcome to the family, Nona.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @wheneverfeasible @micheledawn1975 @gloomysoup @dotdot-wierdlife @tartarusknight

10- @ollyxar @yesdangerpls @two-vampires-kissing @themoonagainstmers @estrellami-1

[kathlare]

distant glow

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amid a snowy retreat in the French Alps with friends, Lando finds himself distracted by thoughts of Amelie, who's attending the premiere of her latest film in Mexico.

Wordcount: 1.0 k

Warnings: just fluff

December 18th, 2024 - French Alpes, France

Lando adjusted his goggles as the icy wind whipped against his face, standing at the edge of the slope with Max, Pietra, Martin, and a couple of other friends. The trip to the Alps had been Max’s idea, a pre-Christmas getaway to decompress before the holidays. Normally, Lando loved the thrill of skiing—his competitive streak made him race down the slopes faster than anyone else. But today, his mind was somewhere far away, thousands of miles south, in Mexico.

Max, gliding effortlessly next to Pietra, was chatting animatedly with her, their laughter echoing through the crisp mountain air. Lando couldn’t help but notice how Max reached out to adjust Pietra’s scarf or how she leaned into him with ease, as if the whole world existed only for them.

It wasn’t that Lando was jealous, he was happy for his best mate, but watching them stirred an ache in his chest. He missed her.

He missed the way Amelie would tease him relentlessly for his shit Spanish, her fingers absentmindedly brushing his as they walked. He missed the softness in her voice when she called him "Lan" and the way her laugh made his chest tighten in the best possible way. Hell, he even missed the way she bossed him around when they were deciding where to eat.

And now, he couldn’t stop picturing her on that yellow carpet, dazzling in whatever gown she had picked for the Wicked premiere. He had seen her walk a dozen carpets before, but there was something different about this one. It wasn’t just a movie—it was her movie, her moment.

—Mate, you coming, or are you just gonna stand there looking moody?— Max called, breaking Lando out of his thoughts.

—I’ll meet you guys down there,— Lando replied, tugging his goggles off and waving them on. —I’m starving anyway.—

Max shot him a knowing look but didn’t push. Lando had been acting like this all week, and everyone in their little group knew why. They might not have said it outright, but the way they kept glancing at him every time someone mentioned Amelie was enough.

Back at the chalet, Lando collapsed onto the couch as Martin turned on the massive TV for their lunch break. A tray of steaming pasta and bread sat in front of them, but Lando barely touched it, his eyes glued to his phone.

—Are you watching that livestream?— Pietra asked, settling next to Max with a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

—Yeah,— Lando admitted, not even looking up. On the screen, Amelie stood outside the theater, beaming as she greeted fans and signed autographs. She was glowing in a floor-length, pale pink gown, her blonde hair styled in loose waves that reminded him of the day they’d spent at the beach back in August. The press cameras flashed relentlessly, capturing every inch of her. She looked like an actual goddess.

—Fucking hell,— Lando muttered, more to himself than anyone else. —She’s unreal.—

—She really is,— Max chimed in with a smirk. —Don’t tell me you’re getting all sappy again, mate.—

—Shut up,— Lando shot back, but there was no venom in his voice. —I can’t help it. Look at her!— He gestured at his phone like it explained everything.

—You’re so dramatic,— Pietra teased, laughing. —We get it, you’re in love.—

—Yeah, well,— Lando said, shrugging. —Wouldn’t you be if your girlfriend was Amelie fucking Dayman?— He tossed his phone onto the coffee table, slumping back against the cushions. —It’s just... I miss her, okay? We’ve been apart for, what, four days? And it feels like a goddamn eternity.—

Martin chuckled. —You two literally spent a month glued to each other. You’re worse than a clingy teenager.—

—Yeah, but still,— Lando argued, rubbing the back of his neck. —I hate being apart. And don’t even get me started on how busy she’s been. I barely saw her in the weeks leading up to this trip because of the press tour. It’s like we’re finally together, but there’s always something keeping us apart.—

—Yet you make it work,— Pietra said, her tone softer now.

—Yeah,— Lando admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. —We do. Somehow, we always figure it out. She’s... she’s worth it, you know?—

Max leaned forward, smirking. —You’re so whipped, mate.—

—Yeah, I am,— Lando said, not even trying to deny it. —But she’s whipped for me too, so it’s fair.— He grinned, thinking about the way Amelie would melt whenever he called her "Ames" or kissed the top of her head when they cuddled.

—Seriously though,— he continued, his voice dropping to something more genuine, —we’ve come a long way since... you know, the first time we tried this.—

The room grew quieter. Everyone knew about their rocky history, the messy situationship that ended in heartbreak for both of them.

—But this time’s different,— Lando said, more to himself than anyone else. —We’ve grown up. We understand that we’ve got our own lives and schedules and friends. And yeah, it sucks sometimes... being apart like this, but I know we’re solid. She makes me feel like... like I’m enough, you know? Even when I’m halfway across the world.—

Pietra smiled at him, her expression warm. —That’s love, Lando.—

—Yeah,— he murmured, glancing back at the stream. Amelie was still on the yellow carpet, laughing at something Kit Connor had said. He couldn’t wait to tell her how breathtaking she looked, how proud he was of her.

And in just four days, he’d get to hold her again. December 22nd couldn’t come fast enough.

[blitzsicedcoffee]

Post Sinsmas Ficlet- Happy New Year Part 1

About time I post one of my ficlets at 2 in the morning. Enjoy and happy Sinsmas to you and yours.

"What do you mean you, 'celebrate the new year?'" Stolas asks, arms crossed. Blitz just blinks.

"You gotta be kidding me. You study fucking space and you don't celebrate the turning of a new year?!" He asks, face contorted in confusion.

Stolas looks away, eyes cast, "Well I-dont celebrate much of anything. There was...birthdays for Via and Fathers day. That's...about it".

Blitz winces and grabs his hand, "Well, more new things then! Exciting. Loony and I usually go to Wrath to watch the fireworks with M&M. Since it's such a wide open space. Would you wanna come with?" He asks, looking up at him. Stolas hesitates then looks down at Blitz's genuine smile. He can't say no to that face.

"I suppose...I don't really feel good about going back to Wrath though without my powers. They already hated me as I was before", he says nervously, writhing his hands.

Blitz leans on him, "Don't worry, we'll be with Millies family and they love me! We all won't let anything happen to ya". Stolas smiles, "Okay".

"Now, wanna get a new outfit for the occasion? Something more...country?" Blitz asks with excited eyes and Stolas rolls his own.

"I suppose. I do love shopping", he smiles and Blitz nods, "Don't I know it. Gone through about three of mah paychecks for it!"

Stolas frowns, "I'm sorry is...that too much? I dont-you offered". Blitz widens his eyes, "No no I'm sorry I uh, just something us commoners so sometimes. Complain about not having money".

Stolas looks to the ground when Blitz interrupts his steady dissociation.

"I promise, it's fine", Blitz reassures and Stolas gives a small smile, taking his hand.

They go shopping for clothing again in Pride, this time to a wooden building with a cowboy hat on the sign. Walking in it smells like tobacco and polished wood. It's much more casual than the place they'd been before, with racks upon racks and only one changing room.

Blitz smiles, holding up a brown vest with dangling pieces off the bottom.

"Watcha think? Would I be a tootin cowboy or a tootin cowboy?" He chuckles and tries on the vest. But before Stolas can response, the man behind the counter pipes up.

"Hey! You try it, you buy it", he says in a gruff voice. Blitz sighs, "Fuckin ripoff. You're lucky it looks good on me mister", he points to the cashier, slamming down a 20. The man could give no fucks, just grabbing the bill and looking off again into the distance.

"I don't know uhm, if I'm going to find something here without trying it on", Stolas says meagerly, flipping through the myriad of button down plaid shirts.

Blitz ponders, "Hmmm. I think this one would look cute", he holds up a purple plaid shirt to him and Stolas blushes, "Really? The pattern is rather bold".

"Aww come on you're in Pride, Stolas! Amongst the people! You gotta be bold in this world", Blitz comments and hands him the Purple button down. Stolas smiles, "Okay fine", and tries it on. To his surprise, Blitz knew his exact size. As soon as he tries it on the man stands up to speak again and Blitz slams down another 20. The man sits back down.

He looks over Stolas in the shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His face must look love drunk but he can't help it. Stolas looks amazing in anything.

"You like it that much, hmm?" Stolas asks, still skeptical. Blitz pulls him in closer, holding his waist.

"You're just so sexy in anything you wear, Stols", he quips and Stolas's face burns red. Becoming flustered, he pulls the shirt off, "W-well, we'll take it then". Blitz chuckles, "Already paid". Stolas blinks, "Oh! Well, let's go then".

Ever since being back on his meds for a few days he feels a little more normal. The fog slowly lifting from his head. He's been clearer headed, and starts wishing for idle things to do with his hands, besides writing in his diary. Being a secretary at IMP is an easy job and all, but he finds himself craving more to do. Which he can't believe he'd ever say.

"So uhm, what are we going to Wrath for again? A party?" He asks Blitz as he comes out of the bathroom from getting ready. "Uh do ya mind?" He asks and Stolas widens his eyes, "Oh. Yes of course", and turns his body away so he can't see as Blitz gets dressed. He forgot however, about the mirror on the other side of the room. A tall one Blitz bought so Stolas could see his whole self. And apparently all of Blitz as well.

His face blushes again and he almost doesn't pay attention when Blitz finally answers him.

"For fireworks silly! Big bang light shows. You'll love it. Like what we saw in the human world. Member?"

Stolas hears about half of that, watching Blitz pull up his jeans over the bulge and buttoning. Then as he pulls his shirt over his head, Stolas is lost in that chest.

"Stolas? You...listening?" Blitz asks, pulling the shirt down and grabbing the new vest. Stolas panics, "Uh yes. Yes! Of course. Light show. Sounds great".

"Uh huh...", Blitz narrows his eyes then throws Stolas his new purple button down, "Then get dressed silly! We got a little ways to go to get to Wrath in the van".

Stolas quickly grabs the shirt with one hand, holding it at his chest for a moment. Then when Blitz goes back into the restroom, he screams into it a little. Having restraint might be harder than he thought.

[funky-lizard-imp]

SINSMAS MAJOR SPOILERS!

I haven't seen too much of it on here but I've seen a lot of it on Tik Tok so I wanna fucking say something about it.

People are saying that Millie cheated on Moxxie and that's why she was panicking and didn't tell him right away when she found out and I am willing to bet everything I have that is not what happened.

People's arguments are that she called Sallie May first and was freaking out like she's realising she can't hide it anymore, but that's not what I got from her reaction at all. It is very normal for people to freak out and panic during first time pregnancies, especially if it was unplanned which I'm willing to bet that this is. And I also think it's pretty normal to first tell someone that you're close with, but isn't very directly involved, like a friend, or in this case, her sister.

Millie might not know how Moxxie is going to react, because even though I think he'd be very supportive and happy and be a great dad, having your own kid can be different, and telling someone literal life changing news like this for the first time can be scary even if you think they would be happy so I think its reasonable that Millie talked to Sallie first.

There are also other reasons why Millie could have been panicking about having a baby, and the one I'm seeing the most is their job. Raising a baby or being pregnant while being a literal assassin can be very dangerous, and Millie might not want to give up her job for the baby and I swear to god if I see anyone calling her selfish for that you're getting blocked instantly because shut the actual fuck up that's also pretty normal. I don't think anyone would say that but just making sure.

Millie also might not be ready to be a mother. Again, a pretty common thing and a pretty normal reaction in that situation.

So my money is on Millie is just scared and nervous because it was unplanned, its new, and she might possibly be scared of raising a kid in a very dangerous business. She's scared herself and still coming to terms with it so she might not be in the right head space to tell Moxxie immediately, but I bet when she does, he is going to be very supportive and happy, and reassure her that everything will be fine. He might even freak out a bit himself, but like I said, that's pretty normal. And I bet they would be great parents and Blitz and Stolas would be great babysitters.

Also, I feel like if she did cheat, there would be a bit more proof and foreshadowing. I know you don't usually recognise foreshadowing until after watching something and going back, but hear me out. When that demon lady was talking about her husband cheating, Stolas was really guilty. I feel like if Millie cheated, they would put more signs, and I feel like they would have her in the background looking very slightly guilty at the moment as well. It's kinda nonsense but at the same time it also makes sense because most plot twists have subtle hints of it before hand so it doesn't completely come out of the blue and people can spot all the signs on a rewatch. I think if Millie cheated, some good foreshadowing would be that and that wasn't there. Again, it's nonsense, but it's part of my defense.

So, in conclusion, I don't think Millie cheated, and stop finding reasons to hate her because I'm convinced that's what some of these people are doing. Her reaction and calling Sallie May is very reasonable and normal when you put more than one ounce of thought into it, and I can't believe I even had to say all this in the first place.

Good day.

[old-fandom]

For those wondering, no, I have no read the Book of Bill yet even though I have both versions on my shelf. So, I'm going off of what I know from other people but it shouldn't be that big of an issue for the scene I'm trying to write. Anyway.

__________

Stancest on the Stan o' War II, fully in a domestic relationship. One night before dinner, they get a knock on the door. Who could it be? The god damn Axolotl. He's like, "Hey listen, your archnemesis never actually died and has actually been going through therapy this whole time. I was wondering if I could put him down here for the night so that he can confront some of his lingering feelings that you, Stanford, may still be into him. Maybe some him what real love looks like?" And before he can tell that pink bastard fuck no, he leaves, and the Stans are stuck with a depowered Bill, unable to harm them on any plane.

They're obviously pissed. Ford and Stan tie him up and plop him in a chair across from their dinner table. Bill is being his usual self, maybe a little more obnoxious and angry, but with no real powers, it means nothing. And Ford is incredibly irritated by this because not only has the one being who has ruined not only his life but the life of his family, his brother, and the people of Gravity Falls on his ship, but it ruins his plans of having hankey panky with Stan.

But then he remembers that the Axolotl asked him to show Bill how he has moved on from him and if he can show that he has, he might move on from Ford. So after dinner, with lots of bickering back and forth, Ford cups Stans face softly and kisses him tendering, thanking him for a wonderful dinner. While they are normally affectionate people to one another now, Ford amps it up, draping himself on top of Stan and holding him close and peppering his face with kisses, and thanking him over and over again for dinner and how he always taking care of him and how grateful he is for him and how much he loves him. Stan ends up being super bashful from it, never fully used to such praise, and especially not in front of company.

Company who is trying everything in the book to grab Ford's attention. Insults, threats, yelling, singing, horrific prophecies to come, embarrassing moments from their time together. Ford's not listening. He decides he's going to go through with his plans after all and really show Bill just how much happier he is without him. Stan slowly gets the picture after Ford wouldn't keep his hands off of him while doing the dishes and instead pushing him up against the fridge to kiss.

They later take it to the bedroom, where they place Bill on a chair. Their bathroom is connected, and Ford wants to shower before they have sex. So, out of view but with the door open, Bill is forced to watch as clothes fly out of the bathroom, the two men giggling and kissing, and eventually getting in the shower. Bill is yelling, talking to himself, firing back insult and injury as he hears them moan in the shower. Finally they come out, naked and clean. Bill, more than ever from being ignored, is fuming. They should be HIM making moan, making him blush, making him feel good. NOT STAN!

Bill is forced to watch as Stan makes love to Ford on their bed. Stan's putting in the work to make this feel good for him, and making it last as long as he can try. Bill starts threatening Stan with bodily harm if he doesn't stop, if he doesn't let him touch Ford, then he begins to beg then whine then finally fall silent. The night ends with them both getting off, and Stan putting Bill, still tied to the chair, outside on the main deck. Stan can't help but tease Bill before leaving him. The next morning, the Axolotl comes to take him away, and Ford is graciously and wickedly happy for doing that last night.

Is this cuck!Bill with Stancest? Yes. Why? Because I hate that yellow triangle son of a bitch and I wanna torture him.

[crownedwille]

.

[toddtakefive]

btw todd’s reluctance to join the dps because he doesn’t want to read (which is then accommodated for) and is scared to put himself out there (which is also worked through) being read as todd not wanting to go AT ALL, and thus neil making the proper accommodations (“todd anderson, who prefers not to read, will keep the minutes of the meetings”) and encouraging him to step out of the box that stifles him being seen as ‘forceful’ or like he can’t take no for an answer makes me insane with rage

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[evermoredeluxe]

.

[toughtttz]

Hey, please take care of yourself. You deserve love and to be happy. I'm sorry that you're going through a really tough time but please listen to me when I say that things will look better and get better, too.

Stay strong, and please eat some crackers or drink water(I know how hard it is to eat when everything repulses you :()

Gee thanks I think I just feel all better now

[pleasedontcareaboutme]

I don't care when people don't include me in stuff, I'm used to it but-----

my own family going on a trip w/o even asking me kinda felt

shit 🫠

[elytrafemme]

feel like a dick for not wanting to talk to my ex because we did agree to end our relationship as friends and we've been like cordially whenever we do talk but also like... i don't. like. like i know communication is the answer to everything etc etc but i feel like given the fucking everything going on during our relationship if she even noticed the half of it she should kind of intuit that i don't really want to talk about my feelings with her right now.

[reserwrekt]

I do not have to tolerate people's toxicity, how are we back to trying to normalize that?

[sovaharbor]

my dad totally has a stomach bug and just got a call from his doctor he needs to take antibiotics for a couple days to see if that finally nips it in the bud for him because apparently this has been Ongoing for a bit and i'm being really not normal about this, thanks