#idk what’s wrong with me; maybe i need to eat better but it just makes me feel bad :(

[telesodalite]

Thinking about KrokFire...

Thinking about them sparring in the cargohold, because it's a long trip, and cabin fever is setting in, and Misfire is gonna pop a gasket if he doesn't do something about it soon, since flying in open space gets real boring real fast, and it's making everyone a little nervous, but Krok has time to kill, and maybe, quietly, he's also two steps away from doing something stupid just to feel alive again after cruising around pointlessly, mindlessly, endlessly, for so so long... (It's barely been a month)

And sure, Misfire is a terrible sparring partner. He has no technique, no concept of proper balance, or an inkling of how to use the weight of his own frame. He rushes headfirst like he's more bull than fighter jet, he talks too much, he spits, he bites, and he can't stand losing. But, in a roundabout way, it almost makes him the perfect partner in Krok's eyes.

Crankcase won't spar, "can't" he claims flatly, gesturing at the gaping hole in his helm, but Krok can respect his want for distance. That occasional flash of fear and frozen unease in Crankcase's visor in close combat doesn't go over his head. He knows that look. He gets it. He won't push.

Fulcrum... well, a streetlight might be a tougher fight, or at least it would stay up longer and complain less. So much for a once respectable officer of the empire. What was Deathsaurus' command thinking promoting anyone without any actual combat training? It would almost be pathetic if Fulcrum didn't find a way to put the vitriol of thrown fists into his words instead. Now there was some swears Krok hadn't heard in a couple millennia, it would be inspiring if it wasn't his own spark Fulcrum had been damning to the pits and back through a bloody nose.

Spinister? Now Spinister was a good fighter, a better fighter, Krok wasn't so prideful to deny that truth. He'd tasted the dust of the cargohold floor enough to know it was a definitive fact. But Spinister held back, he was careful, he matched Krok's pace, his movements, he held himself defensively, any attack was quick, simple, and merely restraining. It was less a fight, and more a waiting game until Krok finally gave up, and that... well, that did sting a bit.

But Misfire? Misfire was a different beast all together. Sure Krok could dance circles around the flier all day, but it wasn't totally effortless work, he had to stay sharp, Misfire was so predictably unpredictable, he kept him thinking, moving, on his toes, and maybe it felt good to sidestep another stupid headfirst charge, easily grabbing and swinging Misfire around by his arm, so unbalanced all Krok had to do was let him go, and the weight of his own frame would send him careening into the crates stacked around them.

Most days, Misfire would give up by then, pull himself off the pile of overturned cargo with no small amount of burning shame and frustration, as he avoided Krok's optics and stormed off into the bowels of the ship before Krok could say something to ease the sting of losing again and again. Misfire didn't want his apologies though, and even as a pang of guilt ate at him over it, Krok knew he'd be back eventually.

But today, too pent-up and bored to quit now, Misfire pushed himself back onto his feet and charged back in again, and again, and again.

And Krok moved with him again, and again, and again. It was almost repetitive, but lively enough that he could feel the energon pumping through his head, a thrumming beat in his audials that reminds him of deafening battlefields and roaring stadiums, and oh, he'd missed this feeling, the adrenaline, the movement, more so than he thought he did.

Maybe it's the overconfidence that gets him then, or the memories pulling him out of the present, but Misfire's fist suddenly comes slamming down into his mask, and for a moment everything becomes a blur, until he finds himself on the floor, clutching at the shattered metal falling from his face in disbelief.

Faintly he can feel the twinge of broken mesh, of pain pinching dully across scarred flickering sensors, and maybe it's the adrenaline that pulls a suprised and breathy laugh out of him as he stares down at the pieces in his hand.

Maybe it's also the disbelief, the sudden shock at being struck hard enough to break his mask, by Misfire of all mechs. Or maybe he's cracked his helm, finally snapping something important deep in his processor, some vital function that kept him sane all these years.

Either way, an old familiar buzz of heady energy fills his chest, loosening his joints and straightening his struts as he stands back up, brushing off the broken remains of his mask as he stares back at Misfire, barefaced and bleeding and amused as the flier's optics go bright and wide.

And all Misfire can do for a moment is stand there, wide-eyed and breathless, his own adrenaline filled frame and hammering processor still trying to make sense of the broken plating of his knuckles and the energon trickling down Krok's scarred lips.

But connections are made, and it's a panicked realization at first, a cold dread, a 'ohhhhh fuck oh primus I fucked up I'm dead I'm so fucking dead-!' sort of feeling, as Krok's marred face breaks into an energon stained grin. But then there's another feeling, growing somewhere underneath the panic, a sudden curl of heat in his chest, a flush of pride, conviction, a sort of frenzied joy at the sight of broken mesh and fresh energon, and another rush of hot anticipation as Krok began to move again, circling, waiting, an unspoken question in the air as he rolls his shoulders back and flexes his hands.

And Misfire answers eagerly, suprising himself almost as he charges foward again, wanting more of that feeling, wanting to win again.

It's not really sparring past this point, and somewhere in the back of their minds they both know that. Every strike, every kick, every punch, it's all thoughtless instinct, each clash of plating, and bite of denta, and scrape of fingertips, is part of a mad dash for victory in the gladiator pit of scrap and debris they've built around themselves.

Of course, it can't last forever. They're no real gladiators, no phase-sixers, no primes, and movements get sluggish, vents rattle and wheeze as coolant pumps reach their limits, and building condensation slides powerless punches right off of scuffed metal and mesh.

Even like this though, worn out and bleeding from more scrapes than he had half a mind to count, Krok is still better, and Misfire is still predictable, and it's no great feat to sweep his legs out from beneath him, landing him flat on the floor, wings spread out and chestplate heaving.

Overworked joints sharply protest as he goes to pin the flier down bodily, and finally Krok faces the fact he has to consider how to end this, so he might let his own beaten frame finally still for a moment to breathe.

But as Krok catches one flailing arm in his grip, scoffing at the desperation, still goading Misfire on even as he tries to end this, a hand stubbornly catches his throat, but stops before it can truly squeeze.

And once more they're not really moving, just staring, watching, but it's less wired and tense now, rather, its shaky, a little unfocused, as exhaustion filters out in heaving puffs of hot air between their frames.

Someone's plating is rattling, Krok isn't sure if it's his own or Misfire's, but the cost of adrenaline is painfully noticeable now. His grip loosens on Misfire's arms, and the idea of total victory is less sweet as his cables begin to ache throughout his inner-framework.

But Misfire's hand slides up to catch his jaw before he can lean back and relent to a truce, and he's pulling him closer, and Krok starts to push him off, call it quits before either of them breaks something past repair, but a flash of energon on Misfire lips catches his eye, and that hadn't been there a moment ago?

Before he can even begin to ask what that was supposed to mean, Misfire is pulling him down again, angling his helm upwards to feverishly meet his lips half-way.

Although the mesh of Misfire's face was throughly bruised and scuffed, Krok had frustratingly failed to return the favor of a busted lip. So, it had to be his own, smeared across Misfire's face at some point in the scuffle, it shouldn't have been interesting in the slightest, but Krok's processor was hazy, slow, and his optics trailed Misfire's glossa as he licked his lips and made an odd curious sound.

And maybe it was a stupid move to make so impulsively, one he'd regret making probably, but still too caught up in the waning heated high of the fight, Misfire figured he could worry about losing such a hard-earned battle later. Right now, this seemed far better than actually winning, and the taste of Krok's energon felt like a victory and reward nonetheless.

Bracing himself as Misfire wriggled his other hand free to splay out over his thigh, holding him desperately against his frame as he tried pulling him even closer, Krok considered the heat dispersion warnings flickering distractingly in his peripheral, and the very noticeable strain on his back and legs, even his arms.

It's not a great position to be in right now, after all they've done already. He'll regret it, he knows he will, his body will make sure of it, if Spinister doesn't first.

But then Misfire's glossa is sliding against the jagged edges of his teeth, and he's making hoarse little pathetic noises into Krok's mouth that stoke some sort of ego at having the flier so desperate beneath him, and Misfire's hands are warm and heavy over aching plating and seams, and really, on second thought, after weeks of boredom, why the hell not?

They've got nowhere to be.

[deus-ex-mona]

ok yk what. now that i’ve had some time to process nghy canon, considering the current pacing of gen retcon, i think their next step is as ✨clear as day✨

i really like seeing them happy together, but i truly do think that they should divorce and either live the rest of their lives as single besties; partners in hero/heroine-isms, but better off as just friends, or go their separate ways for a bit and get back together when they’re a little older and wiser, staying together for good this time around, as each other’s first and last boyfriend/girlfriend

[connormoving]

how it feels to randomly get rly overwhelmed and frustrated and bitchy and feel like youre going insane

[sketchtastrophee]

old art again!! this time a rough animation of sawyer and yarnaby 😎 (looks better if u click to view 😭)

im working on a short ppt animation rn. im thinking i should post it to my youtube channel, though im not sure if people here would see it. i think i can link videos on here?? idk

okay I'm gonna talk abt more chapter 4 stuff.. this time about prototype's previous identity.. ch4 spoilers and also a theory below..

hiding the solo yarnaby under here LOL

people theorized 1006 was elliot, which was recently disproven in the chapter 4 tape where poppy refers to elliot as her dad and wishes he were there. in the same tape she addresses prototype as a completely different person. also recall that elliot died in the 90s, meanwhile prototype met theo in 1989. so yeah, they aren't the same person

I've also seen people say rich is prototype, which cannot be true either. in a ch4 tape he speaks to one of the employees under his supervision. the kid mentions his coworkers joking about him going missing. before the bbi, it would not make sense for this to be a common rumor at the company, which means this tape had to happen after harley was hired in 1990; at a time when the company would have a reason to silence people

prototype existed in 1989 at the minimum, but considering he says "it's always been about you and me" to poppy, he's likely the prototype of HER. she's elliots daughter, she died in the 60s, meaning prototype was probably created around that time as well.

this means that rich can't be the prototype because he was human long after prototype was made

if you want my take on who prototype truly is, i'd say his identity doesn't necessarily matter. i don't mean to say his origins aren't important, just that his name and specific role in the past probably doesn't mean anything in the long run. i've never believed he was elliot or rich, and maybe in the future i'll be proven wrong but for now i'll tell you the theory i've had since june of last year

elliot's daughter dies in the 60s. he divorced his wife in 1930, so his daughter is probably in her 30s when she dies. she gets sick or injured, maybe she's actively dying or already dead by the time elliot begins his research. he looks for ways to bring her back, but it doesn't work on the rats (as he mentioned a note in the 2nd chapter)

so what does he do? he tries it on something bigger as he said he would: a human. of course he's not going to try this experimental method on his own daughter, even if she's already dead, so he finds someone else to use it on. we know that elliot wasn't evil or anything, so it's unlikely he killed anybody to use for the experiment. considering the orphanage isn't open yet (it opened in the 70s, not the 60s), prototype probably wasn't an orphan child either. if i run with my simple version of the theory, elliot may have dug up a body in a graveyard and used that. maybe a fresh one, who knows. he tried it, it worked, then he revived his daughter with the same method.

this is likely what harley wanted to know about in the chapter 3 tape (the "i learn something new about you every day" one), and also what prototype is asking harley to figure out in the ch4 tape they're both in. in that case, sawyer never actually figured out how to revive people with the poppy substance. sure, he can transfer people into the toys, but he can't bring anybody back to life

more reason to believe prototype and poppy are of the same "batch" is because it seems they are the only two who don't need food. it's outright stated about him in the ch1 trailer, and insinuated with her saying the "toys will starve otherwise" when she's talking about how nasty them eating humans is. she refers to them, not herself. her and prototype are probably the only 2 who were ever brought back from the dead, which circles back around to his monologue and gives meaning to the "it's always been about you and me, poppy. what we are". when i heard him say that i felt like my theory was lowk confirmed 😭😭

no guarantee this is right, but it's been my guess for a long time

[harmoonix]

Tales of the white fox

🌸 (Astrology Observations) 🌸

~We are here, we're all alone in our own universe~

──────────────────────

🌸 Jupiter in Aquarius/Jupiter in the 11th house, Jupiter finds joy among the friends here, if you are attracted to men this placement can indicate a very friendly spouse/boyfriend

🌸 Uranus square the Midheaven (MC), was raised to be rebellious, unique, having an eccentric nature, this placement can make you independent in your career

🌸 Out of all the signs and based on my experience Cancer, Pisces, Libra and Scorpio placements need the most reassurance to feel better

🌸 Leo Moon (Moon in Leo Degrees 5°, 17°, 29°), what I honestly appreciate about them is their self worth, these natives appreciate themselves so much

🌸 Neptune/Moon/Pluto/Sun in the 1st house are sensitive planets to have, mostly because can make the native's body to be more sensbile than the rest, they can have sensitive skin/hair/can get allergies fast and can be prone to acne sometimes

🌸 Mars in the 5th house natives are those type of people who invite you at the party and get the most drunk out of it, when they say they enjoy life, trust them

🌸 Mars in the 11th house or in Aquarius (Mars at 11° 23° degrees) there can be some sexual tendencies between them and their friends, sometimes even flirt or just friends to lovers

🌸 Moon in the 10th house natives weakness can be that they expose their sensitive energy to others, sometimes without knowing

🌸 When you have South Node aspecting Saturn and someone did you wrong in a past life they can backfire by him in this lifetime (Not sure 100% of this obvs yet)

🌸 Sun aspecting the ascendant can make you to be open communicative/open minded/open at the heart, gives people a good energy when they're around you

🌸 South Node in the 9th house could've possibly have studied or practiced occult or witchcraft in a past life

🌸 Venus in the 8th house on Venus in Scorpio at their worst can steal other people's energy, to be like a energetic vampire especially when it comes to seducing

🌸 Eros (433)/Juno (3)/Groom (5129/ in the 2nd house can get spoiled by their hubbies, but also they can have this type of bf who can cook for them

🌸 Eros (433) in Libra/Scorpio/Pisces/Aries > Roses on the bed 🛏️, maybe with the text "I want to make out with you" is definitely their thing

🌸 Moon aspecting the ascendant, this beautiful aspect makes the native to have beautiful eyes, maybe a lot of people have told you this too

🌸 Uranus in the 9H/11H their friends group can be a combination of everything, every nation, every ethnicity, every race, are in their friend group

──────────────────────

Forever and ever together, we sail into infinity

─────────────────────

🌸 Sagittarius Risings have their 8th house in Cancer which indicates that they seek for nurturing and a safe place/security in bed, I'm not a Sag Rising but I love this energy period.

🌸 12th house placements love sleeping especially Sun/Moon/Neptune and Saturn!! Sleeping is their hobby I swearrrr (Cannot relate I have insomnia with a 12H Sun😭)

🌸 Mars or Aries in the 6th house can practice a lot of sports! Idk but they need a lot of movement and stimulation and they love to compete with others

🌸 The 6th house in your chart can also tell you about how you are with the plants/nature and their energy

🌸 fire sign or mars in the 2nd house can be prone to eating fast, you see them eating a soup and it the next 2 minutes the soup is gone.

🌸 Virgo in the 2nd house/Earth Sign in the 2nd house, you cannot tell me that they're not eating something healthy or something that contains some vitamins/protein

🌸 Moon or Venus in the 2nd house or Taurus/Capricorn can have gifting as a love sign, they love buying things for their loved ones

🌸 Sun in the 3rd house/Gemini makes the native to be really a curious one, like they be the one telling "What's this for" "What does this thing do" etc + they can also put a lot of questions they're adorable imo

🌸 Venus in Cancer/Venus in Cancer Degrees 4°, 16°, 28°, for some reason I thought of an angel while writing this, definitely the vibe of "the mom of the group" they take care of everyone!!

🌸 Ascendant at 11°, 23° degrees can make the native taller/slimmer/skinny (Aquarius Degrees)

🌸 Mars in Virgo/at Virgo Degrees 6°, 18° there is something so sensual about their waist?? Is definitely something seductive

🌸 Jupiter in the 9th house, I see people saying they gonna travel a lot with their hubbies but this placement can also indicate meeting your bf/spouse in school/highschool/university etc

🌸 Moon in Sagittarius (Sagittarius Degrees 9°,21°) somehow their outstanding energy makes them to get along with everyone in general these natives are pretty known for having large groups of friends

🌸 Pluto aspecting Mercury natives can tell when they're being lied at, don't try to lie or hide things from them, first because is very dissrespectful and second because they're gonna get hurt

──────────────────────

Tonight, tonight eternity's an open door

No, don't ever stop doing the things you do

Don't go, in every breath I take I'm breathing you

──────────────────────

🌸 Moon conjunct/sextile/trine Venus, these natives are genuinely loving, you fall in love when you're with them, they're also kind and that makes them adorable

🌸 Your Saturn placement can also tell things about your dad some examples here:

Leo Saturn - Prideful Dad, can put themselves into the spotlight/attention but also confident

Virgo Saturn - Analytical dad, a dad who thinks about all the situations and circumstances

Scorpio Saturn - The dad can be very changing in his mood, dad went through a lot when he was young and very defensive towards his loved ones

Aries Saturn - This gives me the cool dad vibe but somehow the dad with anger issues, bold but easily getting angry

Cancer Saturn - Nurturing dad, they can be sensible to your needs and often wanting to make you feel better

🌸 "Quincunx" aspects can sometimes have a more challenging energy than squares or oppositions!

🌸 Aquarius Risings are bold when it comes to fashion take Zendaya as an example, she always wears very attractive clothes!! They can also have a unique way of styling themselves

🌸 A lot of gamers can have their 11th house prominent or prominent Aquarius energy in their house aswell as Gemini or Virgo!!

🌸 Capricorn/Libra/Scorpio/Aries Men give dominant energy!! Especially if they share common things between eachother in the natal chart

🌸 Asteroid Ceres (1) aspecting the ascendant indicates the native needs nurturing, maybe their body/mind/soul/heart, maybe a little self love..would help you so much!❤️

🌸 Ceres aspecting the Moon (in positive aspects) this placement can mean having a nurturing mom, and that you tend to be nurturing with most people in your life

🌸 Jupiter in Libra or at Libra Degrees 7°, 19°, > Is not always about your spouse girly..😍 this placement often shares loves/compassion and kindness towards you, but you definitely look after a relationship...Like Jupiter expands this side of you anyway🤣

🌸 Scorpio/Aries/Capricorn and Gemini in the 3rd house can indicate talking dirty a lot of cussing/cursing its becoming a habit..

🌸 Aquarius and Sagittarius in the 3rd house LOVE to be sarcastic when they talk I swear, they're like "Let me tell you something ************" and "ARE YOU SERIOUS?? ..after they say "I'm just sarcastic 🤌🏼"

🌸 SUN or MOON in the 9th house makes the native to be drawn toward other cultures and traditions, but in the same time they are abundent in theirs. Embrace your culture!!🌸

🌸 Venus/Sun or Mercury in the 5th house can have multiple talents/passions they're extremely creative esp if you have these plantes in a air or water sign

~ A new week today, that means a new post for youuuu so here we go y'all! Enjoy! Also have a great start of the week everybody! 🌸🌸🌸

Har🌸🌸nix

[bbyobbyo]

[12:44]

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, body insecurity, dk must be protected

wc: 665

note: idk this is what i get for watching dk make one too many tummy jokes on gose (seungkwan ur on thin ice) im sorry everyone good night

You come home to see your boyfriend in front of the mirror.

“Hey babe,” you shout from the door. “How long have you been home? Did you eat yet?”

“I just got back from the gym with Jihoon and Mingyu and they were giving me all these tips but to be honest, I could barely keep up.”

“I'm pretty sure those two are aliens and do nothing but work out and dance” you laugh from the other room as you put down your stuff. “Maybe you should try working out with Vernon next time.”

What you thought was a lighthearted joke turns into something much more serious when you find your words met with a low hum instead of the beautiful chuckle you expected.

You knew this was a point of insecurity for him, you figured as much when he insists on keeping a shirt on at the pool or on the beach. Or when he shys away from you when changing, despite you having seen him naked many many times already.

But what you didn't realize how deep it cut on the days he couldn't make a joke about it and turn himself into the fool as he often does to lift everyone's mood.

You immediately drop everything you're doing and join your boyfriend in front of the mirror, hands wrapping around his middle as you nuzzle into his side.

“Tell me what's wrong, honey.”

There's a shallow sigh before he's able to speak, and you swallow in anticipation as you stare at him through the reflection of both of you.

He briefly flashes you one of his bright smiles in the mirror, the ones he knows you love so much, but this one doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“I know I don't have rock hard abs like Jihoon or Mingyu, but I'm working on it.”

You can hear your heart breaking in your chest as your boyfriend spills out his confession.

He's so strong, you think. Stronger than anyone you know. The type of man who wears his weaknesses proudly and has no problem taking the fall for others, yet stays optimistic in every breath, uplifting those who need it regardless if his own tank is filled.

“What are you even talking about, baby? I love your tummy.”

“I- I don't know… I just thought— because,”

His gaze lowers to his fingers intertwined and fidgeting as he struggles to find the words. He lightly gnaws on his bottom lip as he shakily continues, “You really liked when I was building my arm muscles and you were complimenting me on getting stronger so I just assumed that you wanted me to—”

He's hushed by your gentle palm cupping his jaw, lifting his eyes to meet yours.

“Oh darling,” your eyes swimming with emotion, “no, I never meant it like that,” you breathe out in an almost whisper.

“Yes, I love that you were getting stronger but that doesn't mean I don't think you're absolutely perfect the way you are.”

You see his pupils widen as he stares back at you, expression unreadable as he seemingly tries to process whether or not to believe your words.

“I can't expect you to stay the same, that would be selfish of me. People change all the time, and hopefully it's for the better. But no matter what you look like I will always, always, love you for you Seokmin. Don't ever assume for a second that my love for you depends on whether or not you look like Mingyu, alright?”

You catch a tear that slips down his cheek with the pad of your thumb. Although his sparkling brown eyes threaten to open the floodgates, his widening smile that replaces his earlier tight-lipped expression assures you that his mind is much clearer than before.

“And for what it's worth, I love kissing your tummy and I will likely be devastated even if it's replaced by a six pack.”

“Alright, I'll tell Jihoon no more ab exercises then.”

[redsrooftopprincess]

Gravity (Part 3)

Last chapter? Idk. Taking suggestions on what to call this.

Asks are open, but I don't have a lot of free time and I'm new at this so be gentle. 😅

Okay, let's face it, you're not here for me. On with the show.

Warnings: alcohol, hypothermia

chai-tea level spice.

gn (w/ longish hair) reader x Raphael

Page 1 Page 2

You're anxious tonight. You aren't sure why. Maybe it's the weather. You hate when the boys are out on nights like this. Another rumble of thunder shakes the near empty glass of wine on the coffee table, and you glance at the window which offers nothing more than a void. Unhelpful.

You'd drifted through the week, distracted. That night, and his words, echoing your head. Even April had noticed. Eyeing you one morning while sipping her coffee.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Huh?" You looked up from the cereal you were supposed to be eating. By now, the marshmallows had half dissolved.

"I said... What's wrong with you?" April asked, sitting down at the table across from you and looking you up and down.

"Nothing," you reassured unconvincingly, your eyes darting back down to the generic cereal, which was pretty swiftly becoming a thick sugary soup. You poked at it a few times with your spoon.

She'd let it go, but you caught her watching you closely a few times. Screw her and her journalism instincts.

You and Raphael had always been close. He'd been standoffish at first, acting in his self-appointed role of family guardian, but it didn't take long before you were endeared to him, and not long after that you were spending nearly all your free time together.

More than a few times you've gotten sideways glances from his family. You're so in-sync that you almost seem like a couple at times. You laugh and cry together, and talk deep into the night about things you just can't tell anyone else. He's become your person, and you his.

The last few weeks have been hard on the both of you, and the last week has been the hardest. You dont want to push, especially not right now, nothing important should be discussed right now, but you don't know where his head is at and you're worried.

You frown at the television, readjusting your position on the couch and scrolling to find something to watch. You are attempting to settle in to some exceptionally stupid movie (this way, when April asks what you did tonight, you don't have to lie) when you hear something heavy hit the roof.

He didn't make a sound if he didn't want to. Usually he would land just hard enough that you would know he was there. They all did, out of courtesy. Like a knock at the door. But this was different. Clumsy.

You stare out into the pitch black, grabbing your phone and sending the call. It goes to voicemail.

Raph was always encouraging you to trust your instincts and right now, your instincts were screaming that something was very *very* wrong.

You toss your phone on the couch and are out the window and halfway up the fire escape without a second thought. You're soaked through in seconds and shivering, but you slow before you crest the roof. You shout into the squall.

"Listen Red, I know you don't want to see me right now, but you're not answering your phone and I need to know that you're okay. Okay?"

You wait for a response and there is none, which doesn't make you feel better. You finally reach the roof, and suddenly neither the cold, nor the rain matter.

Sheets of rain and sleet crash over his fallen form like waves, and you run to him. He's freezing cold. Damn it. He'd promised you he'd gotten that fixed. You don't bother checking for a pulse. Your hands are borderline numb, and you probably wouldn't be able to feel it, anyway.

You call his name and make a valiant attempt at shaking him awake.

Somewhere in the depths of unconsciousness he hears you, but he fights it. He wants to stay. He likes it here. It's soft and warm and safe. The world behind him is cold and hard, full of pain and longing. He wants this. He wants this peace.

Then he hears you call his name again, and there's no contest.

He stirs and it's raining so hard that the only way you can tell you're crying is the warmth on your cheeks. You hear him groan weakly. You need to get him inside.

You know you can't physically help him in any way, but you make the attempt. You know it's not going to work, but at least now you can say you tried. He could feel free to laugh at you later.

After very much not budging your beloved behemoth so much as an inch, you lean down next to him.

"I'm gonna need your help here, Bruiser, you know I can't carry you."

A Herculean feat, but he manages to pull himself to near standing. You help him as best you can down the fire escape. It's slow going and he nearly passes out twice, but eventually you make it inside.

He doesn't make it to the couch, but collapses in front of it, sitting on the floor and leaning back against it. His eyes are closed and his breathing slow, you snatch your phone from the cushion behind him and call Donnie.

He doesn't pick up.

You call again.

"Yes. What. Do you need something?" He snaps, exasperated, as if you interrupted a hyperfocus (which, let's face it, you probably did).

"Raph is soaked and freezing and in my apartment. Get the fuck over here and fix your damn tech." You end the call and toss the phone on the couch.

You could apologize later.

You sprint to the linen closet and grab a stack of towels, tossing them into the dryer and turning it on. You quickly change into something dry, before running back to the reptile. You thank whatever god of foresight made you force Raphael teach you how to remove his gear just in case, and get to work.

Your hands don't want to cooperate at first, but adrenaline is one hell of a drug, and you have his waterlogged equipment off in record time. You retrieve the now warmed towels from the dryer and return to him. You lay a couple over his carapace, and use the others to start drying him off.

By the time you finish toweling off his extremities, he is once again beginning to stir. You step over his legs, straddling him while standing to better reach behind his head, and as you lean against him your warmth radiates through his plastron like a sun.

Almost involuntarily, his hands raise to rest at your lower back, pressing you gently against his chest.

You gasp as his hands slide under the back of your shirt, searching for warmth. His hands are still freezing cold, but you're pretty sure the gooseflesh rippling over your skin is unrelated.

You finish toweling off just under his shell, behind his head, and pull back, bracing a hand on his shoulder. As you do, his hands move to your waist and you try to ignore how they nearly envelope you.

You look down at him as his eyes slowly open and smile softly. It's obvious he's still pretty out of it.

Wreathed in warm lamplight, you look ethereal, and when his eyes finally focus on you, he thinks he's either dreaming, or dead (with his luck, probably the latter). The moment you place a warm hand against his face he decides he doesn't care.

"Hey Bruiser," you say quietly, smiling softly as your thumb wipes a drop of water from his cheek, "you're safe, the boys are on their way." The sound of your voice pours into him like warm honey and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

Reaching up to the back of your head, he pulls you gently toward him to rest your forehead against his. It was something you started doing to him not long after you became close, whenever he would get really worked up. You weren't sure if it was the physical proximity or the emotional comfort, but it seemed to help ground him. In reality, it's the closest he would ever allow himself to kissing you, and that thought by itself was very, very grounding.

But he is still warming up, still half conscious. You are filling his senses and it's overwhelming. The curtain of your hair falls around his face, and he feels drunk on your scent. You're so soft beneath his hands and the one around your waist tightens gently.

There is only about two more weeks left in the season, but it's by no means over, and something old and primal stirs in his DNA. He presses your head more firmly against his as intelligence and instinct battle within him for control.

You are his *mate*. And it is *time*. And you are *right here*.

Besides, regardless of whether he's dreaming or dead, it doesn't ultimately matter. He can't hurt you if you aren't real.

He lifts his chin, brushing his lips softly against yours. When you don't pull away in disgust he grows a little more bold, and kisses you in earnest.

It would be a lie to say that you hadn't been thinking about it more-or-less from the beginning, how different it would feel than kissing a human. Admittedly, you'd been a little worried about the mechanics, but any concerns you had dissolve when his mouth fits so perfectly against yours.

His body still feels like lead, but his mind is growing sharper, and about the time you are kissing him back he realizes how very real this is. Unfortunately, his reptile brain realizes it first.

His hand grips your waist as his kiss deepens, and there is a deep rumble within his chest that you can feel inside your own. When his thumb brushes over your abdomen you can't help the involuntary sound that escapes you.

The sound is like a starting pistol and suddenly you're flush against him and his mouth is on your throat, pressing open mouthed kisses along your jawline, blood burning in his veins at the way your heartbeat quickens under his tongue.

You had to stop this. If this was going to happen it shouldn't be like this. Right now he's borderline drugged, and if you let this happen and he later thought you didn't actually want it? You can't imagine the fallout.

But you'd had a few glasses of wine this evening, and Gods, he felt *so* good.

When his teeth graze your pulse point your attempt at a deep breath becomes a gasp, and you close your eyes to steady yourself. You had to get his attention.

You attempt to say his name, but it tumbles out of your mouth as a sigh.

"... want you..." He murmurs into your shoulder. The way his breath scatters over your skin like a shower of sparks is doing nothing to help you regain control of yourself or the situation.

He begins kissing down to your clavicle, both hands now at your waist, and despite knowing what this is, where it's going, and why it needs to stop, you can't help placing a hand on the back of his head to pull him closer.

"Sweetheart, we should really talk about this first..." you attempt again, but the tremor in your voice is the only thing that seems to register.

He holds onto you like a lifeline, as if he was drowning and you were his only oxygen. When he grips you tighter and his thumb presses into the hollow of your hip, you almost buckle. A moan escapes, despite your best efforts, and your nails scrape against the back of his neck.

The rumble in his chest grows deeper and he shifts beneath you, movement becoming easier as his temperature rises.

The sound of three very heavy things landing very softly comes from overhead.

The two of you break apart, flushed and breathless, and look at each other in shock.

You glance at the fire escape when you hear the metal rattle outside, before looking back into bewildered amber eyes.

"We're gonna talk about this," you say. He looks at you as if he doesn't understand. "When this is all over, and your brain is no longer swimming in hormone soup... We're gonna talk about this..."

He blinks up at you, a hesitant hope blossoming behind his eyes as you smile down at him, "... because I'm tired of not talking about it."

(Fin)

[cute-sucker]

note: im begging for requests for this au!!! i'm sobbing, idk what character it is <3

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

jonbee taking care of you during an apocalypse and you're in near tears begging him to kiss you. it happens all the time, the casual way that he's dominant over you. if it's the way that he's so much taller, the way his rough hands feel on yours. he always drops a kiss on your forehead before serving you french toast.

you love the normality of it all. the way he's humming the song on the radio, and you're bobbing your head to it. ivy is growing in the trailer park, and the shorts you have on have dirt smudges all over it when the two of you were running.

yet john b is giving you everything he can to serve you a normal lifestyle. he's trying everything to make you feel better, tucking back your hair, and coaxing you to eat. he's even found an old apron that has, 'kiss the chef,' on it, and suddenly your tearing up, holding up your brittle knife and fork.

hot tears drip down your face, as you sniffle quietly nudging at the food on your plate. almost immediately john b turns around, eyes full of concern.

"hey? hey, what's wrong?" he murmers, dropping down to your level. his hat is on backwards, and you fight the urge to turn it the other way. "don't cry pup," he cooes, grazing your wet cheeks, and you fight the urge of jumping into his arms, or asking to sit on his lap. after all, the two of you are platonic anyways. that's clear to tell.

you choke on your sob, "iono, just feel this pressure on my chest. i really need to be close to someone." even as you say this, your eyes are wide ready to be rejected, but john be is always there for you, as his hands snake up your sides, and sits you down on his lap.

"alright now. let's eat something now. maybe that'll make the ache go away."

you nodd at his soft words. he's right, he's always right. the two of you could barley find normal food now, always preservatives, or food that makes you hurt. you like it when he embraces you like this, his big arms around your waist, as you feel like a kid swinging your legs. and yet here you are crying the one day that there is good food.

suddenly you feel worse. the world is ending, and you'll be dead soon, and john be will never be with you, and you will have never kissed anyone. you'll never be a librarian in a niche town with a husband who would kiss you off your feet. no, you will have never kissed someone! what a tragedy to love someone so deeply yet never touch their soothing lips. maybe john b's lips on yours would fix everything.

you feel so stupid.

finally, john b puts the fork down, warm breath on your neck, and he sets you off his lap to look you in the eye.

"i need you to tell me what's wrong, and so i can fix it." he whispers to you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. you shake your head, feeling the pounding feeling in your chest, as if you were going to vomit but your stomach was empty.

john b sighs, his voice firm now, "this won't go away. show me where it hurts. do you feel sick?" he murmurs to you, giving you his hand to guide, and you tentivally take it to place it on your heart.

"here," you croak, "it hurts here."

he looks surprised, yet his eyes are warm as he speaks in his soothing tone, his words practically melting in your mouth, "why does it hurt pup?"

"i need you to kiss me," you blurt out, and let go of his hand, "so it can stop."

he tilts his head almost amused, "yea? you need me to kiss you, so your heart can stop hurting."

you hate the way he's teasing you, a soft lint in his tone, his large hands still settling on you as he talks to you. he's so gentle with you it burns your skin, it burns everything inside of you.

"i can't take it. i can't take the fact that i've never kissed someone," and then you pause, your voice a whimper, "i can't take it that i haven't kissed you jonbee-"

and then without a doubt, he looks at you again, his eyes so feverious, so full of emotion, burning with the exact same fire that you feel your body ablaze with.

just like that john b cups your jaw, and kisses you so sweetly you see stars.

[mikeysonly]

Take Care Of Me - Isagi Yoichi

♡ I’m rly sick rn so I wanted to write abt it idk. with isagi.. ofc… enjoy, pls brush ur teeth after this one it’s so sickly sweet lol.

The soft hum of the heater filled the small room as Y/N lay cocooned under her blankets, her cheeks flushed with fever. Her head throbbed, and even the dim light filtering through the curtains felt like too much. She sighed, her voice hoarse and her throat raw. Being sick was miserable enough, but being alone made it worse.

The sound of a knock at the door startled her. She struggled to sit up, clutching the blankets tighter around her.

“Who…?” she croaked, her voice barely audible.

“It’s me!” came a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

“Yoichi?” she rasped, disbelief laced in her tone.

The door creaked open, and there he was, her childhood best friend. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, balancing a small tray of soup, tea, and medicine in his hands. His scarf was still wrapped tightly around his neck, and his cheeks were pink, likely from the chilly January air outside.

“My mom made me bring this over,” he said with a sheepish grin, stepping inside. “She said you’re too stubborn to take care of yourself properly.”

Y/N blinked, trying to suppress a laugh that turned into a cough. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

“Figures,” Isagi said, walking over to set the tray down on her bedside table. He crouched beside her bed, his blue eyes scanning her face with concern. “You look awful.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“No, I mean…-” He stopped mid-sentence, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “ Ugh, you know what I mean. Are you feeling any better?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “But your mom’s soup smells great.”

“She said it’s guaranteed to make you feel better, so you’d better eat it,” he said with a small smile. Then, his voice dropped slightly, tinged with worry. “Seriously though, Y/N. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though her voice was far from convincing. She reached for the soup, but Isagi quickly grabbed the bowl and spoon.

“I got it,” he said with annoyance, batting her hand away. “You just sit there and uh…- try not to die or something.”

“Wow, so comforting.”

Isagi carefully blew on a spoonful of soup before offering it to her. She hesitated, her cheeks heating further. Not from the fever this time, but she relented, opening her mouth. The soup was warm and soothing, the perfect remedy for her aching throat.

“See? Not bad, right?” he asked, his face lighting up as she nodded.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, with Isagi feeding her small spoonfuls and chatting about his most recent Blue Lock training. He animatedly described how he’d been working on his spatial awareness and how one of his shots had made even Rin Itoshi do a double take. Watching him talk with such passion almost made her forget how miserable she felt.

“You’re going to be a star one day,” she said softly.

“You think so?” he asked, his cheeks dusting pink. “I mean, that’s the goal, but… hearing it from you makes it feel more real.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’ve always believed in you, Yoichi.”

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the heater’s hum. His eyes met hers, and she could see the earnest gratitude in them. He cleared his throat, suddenly looking anywhere but at her.

“You, uh… need anything else?” he asked.

“Maybe some tea?” she teased, though her voice was weak.

“Right!” He grabbed the cup, handing it to her carefully. “Here. Don’t spill it.”

She took a sip, smiling softly. “Thanks for coming, Yoichi. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did,” he said, his voice almost defensive. “You’re my best friend.”

Her heart clenched at the way he said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She set the tea down, leaning back into her pillows.

“You’re really sweet, you know that?” she murmured.

His ears turned red. “I..-I’m just… trying to help. Don’t make it weird, okay?”

She chuckled lightly, but it quickly turned into a cough. Isagi leaned closer, his concern returning.

“You sure you’re okay? Should I call your parents or something?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, smiling weakly. “Especially with you here.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to her lips for a split second before darting back to her eyes. “Y/N…”

“Yoichi,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

Before she could think too much about it, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. It was a fleeting kiss, tender and hesitant, but it sent a warmth through her that had nothing to do with her fever. When she pulled back, she saw the wide eyed look on Isagi’s face, his cheeks a deep crimson.

“Y-You…-” he stammered, his hand flying up to touch his lips. “Do you realize you’re sick? I’m gonna catch whatever weird mucousy thing you got going on!”

She laughed, the sound weak but genuine. “Worth it?”

His face softened, and he let out a small, exasperated sigh. “…maybe.”

[bingbongsupremacy]

Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: reader is able to get pregnant, pet names, argument, idk what else.

Summary: It's getting harder and harder to spend time with your husband and you have some really important news. (Pre-Outbreak)

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

ABC List

*****

The room is silent, the only noise coming from our TV. Light bounces off of the walls, casting a small glow on the coffee table that moves.

I curl deeper into the couch, watching as the clock ticks by.

8:30....9:15....10:45....11:12...

Finally I hear keys jingling from the front door.

" You're still up? " Joel's voice is tired and raspy. He pulls off his boots, leaving them near the front door. " Is Sarah still up? "

I shake my head, rubbing my heavy eyes. " No. She's over at Gina's, down the street, for a sleepover. "

Joel wanders into the kitchen, pulling a can of beer out of the fridge. He takes a swig before heading towards the living room. For a moment, neither of us talks.

" You were supposed to be home at 6. " I glance over at the man. I take in his appearance. His eyes are dark from clear exhaustion. His shirt is covered in grime. It's obviously been a long day.

" I was. " He agrees, not saying anything more. He takes another sip of his beer. Condensation forms on the can, dripping down his hand.

His answer doesn't satisfy me. " Why weren't you? Why didn't you call? " I press.

This has been happening often. Every few days he stays out later than normal, most of the time, he 'forgets' to call.

Joel lets out a sigh, obvious frustration filling his expression. " I got caught up in my work. It wasn't supposed to go past 6, but stuff happens. You know that, babe. "

Irritation fills my body. " And you couldn't have bothered to, I don't know, check your watch and maybe call me? I was worried sick, Joel. I stayed up even though I have to be up at 6 for work tomorrow. " I push myself up, looking towards his face. Looking for something, something other than annoyance.

I was really hoping he'd be here at 6.

" I didn't ask you to do that. You could've gone to bed. Don't blame me for your decisions. I told you, I lost track of time. I don't have my phone on me when I'm working. " Joel's gaze meets mine.

Anger runs through my body. Usually I'm not this quick to anger but the hormones are driving me insane. The stress of unknowing along with Joel's careless attitude sends rage flowing through my body. " You really could give less of a shit about Sarah and me, huh? " I seethe, not thinking through my words.

Joel's eyes narrow. " What the fuck do you mean? " He starts getting defensive. " Of course I give a shit about you! I fucking work my ass off, for you two! " Joel's tone rises.

" Then why do you keep doing shit that makes us worry? " I exclaim. " You could have called at any point and it would've helped me feel better. I understand that you don't keep your phone on you while working, but is it really that hard to take a five minute break to call me? God-you need a break anyways! You'll fucking hurt yourself if you're constantly working. " My heart pounds. I stand up, trying to get some space between the man and I.

Joel stands up as well. His eyes burn into mine, sending a shiver of discomfort down my spine.

I hate when we get into arguments. My hormones and his exhaustion are mixing together to create a toxic cloud of anger and frustration.

" Like you'd even answer the fucking phone. " Joel rolls his eyes. " You've been so busy talking to your stupid fucking friends that it's nearly impossible to call you sometimes. "

He isn't wrong. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks ago, and I wanted-no I needed to tell someone. I wanted to make the announcement to Joel and Sarah important, something memorable. At the time, I just needed to tell someone else.

They've been there for me this entire time, helping me plan tonight. Helping me plan the dinner and gift for Joel.

A gift he never got to open and a dinner he never got to eat.

" Well I gotta talk to someone, Joel. You're never around anymore. " I snap.

" I'm working! " Joel lets out a breath.

" Your unbelievable. " I shake my head. I let out an angry laugh. " You know what, fuck this, Joel. You're not even listening to me. The point isn't that you're working late, it's that you don't bother to call home and tell me about it. I care about you, Joel. What-What if you got hurt? What if you got into a car crash or fucking died somehow? I'd have no idea because you don't bother to call me. All I want is one call, and that's too much to ask of you. " I push past the broad shouldered man. " Your dinner's in the fucking oven. It's your favorite. "

With that I storm upstairs, grateful Sarah wasn't here to witness the fight. I barely close the bedroom door before the tears start to flow.

Downstairs I hear Joel curse as he drops something on the ground. I lean against the door, doing my best to listen to the man below. His footsteps die off as he most likely settles onto the couch.

I just want him to call home.

_______

The next morning I leave before Joel wakes up. I send a quick text to Sarah, letting her know there's some food in the fridge.

My day seems to fly by. Piles of paperwork seem to disappear in minutes. Before I know it, it's time to head home.

An unsettled feeling wracks my stomach, surely not a good feeling for the baby. I'm still pissed at Joel. I just wish he understood where I'm coming from.

I unlock the front door and am immediately met with silence.

No one's home.

I let out a small sigh, walking towards the kitchen. My eyes widen in surprise when I spot Joel sitting at the kitchen table, a pair of small shoes in his hands.

He found the gift.

Of course he did, I left it on the dresser last night.

" Surprise. " I state while making my way to the fridge. " You're gonna be a daddy. Again. " My voice is unenthusiastic. Not the way I planned telling him at all.

" I'm so fucking sorry. " Joel blurts out. He runs his rough fingers over the small white laces, following the rhythm of the string. " I'm an asshole. "

" That you are. " I agree.

Joel finally looks up at me. His sad expression breaks my anger. Suddenly, I'm torn. Do I keep acting angry or do I feel bad for him?

" I deserve that. I-I shouldn't have yelled at you last night. Pregnant or not- You didn't deserve that. I took out my anger on you. I've...fuck I'll just tell you. I've been working late to try to make some extra money for us. I wanted to take you somewhere for our anniversary. "

I take a seat next to him, shock filling my body. I had no idea.

" You're right, I should've called you. That was a dick move. I...I don't know why I didn't. I guess I was just scared I'd be tired and I'll accidentally tell you something? It doesn't fucking matter now. "

" Oh Joel..."

He continues. " I'm sorry about dinner last night. I should've come home. " He finishes, finally setting the shoes down into the small gold box I put them in originally.

I don't say anything. I wrap my arms around the man, sinking my head into the crook of his warm neck. " Yes, you should've called, but I shouldn't have have been so aggressive. My emotions have just been all over the place. " My eyes begin to tear up. I feel a tightness in the back of my throat as I pull away from Joel. " I feel so much angrier than I usually do. "

Joel pulls me back into his embrace. " It's okay, honey. It's the baby. It's okay. " He tries to sooth me. " I love you so much, and I promise, I'm going to cut back my hours. "

" And you're gonna call, right? " I look up at him from my spot against his chest.

" Yes, I swear I'll call from now on. I have to, what if something happens to you and the baby. " He furrows his brows in worry. " I'll call you every hour. I promise. "

I let out a small laugh, wiping a tear away. " I think every few hours is okay, babe. "

" No every half hour. Who knows what could happen. Your office has steep stairs-we should see if the elevator there is fixed yet. " Joel mutters.

" Okay that might be a little overkill. " I crinkle my nose. " How about you just call when you're going to be late. Alright? "

" I can do that. "

[moody-alcoholic]

The Missing Piece

Chapter 14 - Truth

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 2.7k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: MDNI +18 content Mentions of torture, torture, smut, blowjob (male receiving & giving), language. First proper Johnny x Simon scene, IDK it just felt right...

AN: I am not ignorant to the fact I’m writing a gay sex scene and everyone is hanging out in Syria. Resources below. Guardians of Equality Movement Syria LGBTQI+ Resources Equaldex LGBT rights in Syria

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3 Enjoy <3

Johnny was grabbing something to eat in the canteen when he watched Ghost walked over to him. He knew something was wrong, he had that cold look in his eyes. The one he gets when he has to focus on the job and nothing else matters, not even him. Johnny swallowed hard standing up to meet him. 

“Come.” It’s all he says but it makes the hairs stand up on the back of Johnny’s neck. Johnny follows they walk into an observation room. Johnny gasps when he sees you handcuffed the table head hanging down.

“What happened?” Johnny asked looking round the room his eyes falling on Jack who’s stood there arms crossed. 

“We believe she’s responsible for the murder of the doctor.” Jack says. Johnny laughs, looking around at everyone else being serious.

“Christ, what’s the evidence?” Johnny asked.

“Her ID was used to withdraw large amounts of insulin which is believed to be the cause of death.” Johnny looked at Jack shocked then at Price. 

“Has she said anything?” Johnny asked feeling sick. There is no way you did that, this has to be a set up, something… Johnny just knew it in his gut, you were innocent.

“No, she’s not talking.” Price said, Johnny could hear something in his voice. Sadness? Annoyance?

“I heard you are very good at your job lieutenant,” Jack says taking a step closer to Ghost. 

“‘Pends on what you heard.” Ghost replies remaining still, looking through the one way glass you’ve not moved.

“I heard you can get people to talk, and we really need her to talk.” Jack says. 

“We can try other ways before sending Ghost in.” Price says. Jack scoffs.

“If she’s been trained by the enemy she won’t break.” He says walking to the door. 

"What happened to innocent until proven guilty?" Gaz asks scoffing. Jack doesn't seem to like that, his eyes shooting daggers at Kyle.

“You have 24 hours to get her to talk or you’re out of here.” Everyone looked at Price. He went to sit down.

“You heard him, make her talk.” Price says.

“We don’t torture innocent people.” Ghost’s voice is level, he still hasn’t moved. 

“We’re not torturing anyone just question her you’ve got to buy me some time, look like you’re doing your jobs so I can figure out what the hell is going on.” Price sighs.    

“It’s wrong.” Johnny says. Price sighs again getting up. 

“LT, Gaz go to security I want anything you can find, from the moment she wakes up in the morning to the second she’s asleep. She takes a piss I want to know about it, where her card was swiped who has seen her anything, and quickly before Jack can replace staff.” Price says as he walks over to Johnny. 

“Come on let’s go have a chat with her, maybe she’ll tell us something useful” Price says his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny knows Price is trying to calm him but there is nothing on the face of the world right not that can slow his mind.

He looks back through the window, guilt rises up as Ghost and Gaz leave the room. It’s times like this Johnny envies Simon being able to hide his face. Price squeezes his shoulder he looks in Price’s eyes, they look sad understanding. It doesn't make Johnny feel any better.

—————————— 

You can’t look at Simon’s eyes when he’s the room, the caramel eyes you used to lose yourself in, they’re just dark now, dark and uncaring. Johnny’s in sometimes, he won’t even look at you let alone in your eyes any more, the eyes you used to look in for comfort, love, hope. You don’t know what's worse. Price is the one who questions you, always the same questions. 

How did you do it? 

Why did you do it? 

Who do you work for? 

How long have you known about 141? 

Did you get close to them on purpose? 

Did you use them to get information on 141? 

Why?

He never says their names, Johnny, Simon. It’s always just ‘them’ he doesn’t have to say their names, you know who he means. Maybe you did betray them? Maybe this was all your fault? 

By the second day all you can think about is the doctor and the fact he’s leaving a kid and a wife behind. You’re moved into a windowless cell, you’re woken up at random times, you’re starting to lose track of time. Maybe it's been longer then 2 days but you can't tell.

It’s only after what you think is the third day it becomes violent. Jack is the only one who’s violent, he’s around a lot more too, there are new questions. 

Why this base? 

Why now? 

Do you know anything about the arms sales to Al-qatala? 

Have you ever been to Urzikstan? 

Why kill an innocent doctor? 

Why insulin? 

Why are you betraying 141? 

Why?

Jack is the only one who will look you in the eye, he likes to look you in the eyes but he’s not kind. You become numb to the attacks, the repetitiveness of the torture, you hate that word, torture, it makes you feel guilty. You’re not guilty. Or maybe you are. 

“I wouldn’t use insulin.” You say after a particularly rough session. 

“What’s that?” jack asks, his face up in yours but you can still only just make out his features, nose, lips, chin, in your blurry haze he just looks angry. 

“If I was going to kill him I wouldn’t use insulin, too easy to be traced.” He doesn't like that answer, he doesn’t like anything you say if it’s true or not. 

You enjoy Gaz’s visit’s, he’s the member of 141 you had not met yet, he brings you food and water. You can tell he's not supposed to be there, constantly looking over his shoulder, leaving almost as quickly as he comes. He doesn't question you, doesn't talk to you. Just tries to feed you food, or at least swallow gulps of water that burn your throat.

He doesn’t need to do this for you, you don’t know him, he makes you feel strangely guilty. He’s got kind eyes, dark brown like Simon. 

You don’t see Simon or Johnny anymore, maybe they’ve given up on you, maybe they don’t care. Jack tells you they don’t care. Price is there sometimes you think, it’s getting harder to tell, the passage of time becoming almost impossible to follow, you think it’s been 3 days, maybe 4, maybe 5. Your stomach growls, you haven’t seen the sunlight in days. Your body hurts from being upright all the time. 

“You should give her a break.” It’s Simon’s voice that pulls you out of your half conscious state. You see him stood in the door way, all black, his face covered. It’s not the voice you know, not the kind voice you’re used to it’s something different.

It makes you shiver, makes the hairs stand up on your body. You try not to cry, only letting tears fall down your face after Gaz has been, then you know you’ll be left alone for a few hours. You don’t want to let them break you but it’s becoming harder to think.    

Someone bursts bursts through the door to the room pinning Jack to the wall. The noise makes you jump and you try to lift your head up but it’s too hard, your neck hurts. You blink hearing shouting, then you feel hands on your face, it feels like Johnny’s hands they’re warm he’s forcing you to look at him. Everything is blurry you try to squint. You feel movement behind you. 

“I’m so sorry it took us so long.” It’s Johnny’s voice you’re sure, your head is spinning though, you can’t tell. Your eyes move past Johnny, you think you see Simon, you think that’s him, you feel your head slump in Johnny’s hand as your restraints are cut lose. You must of blacked out for a second because the next thing you know is being on the floor. Johnny scoops you up in his arms and you lean up against his chest. 

“it's over now, we've got you.” Johnny whispers in your ears. You’re blinded by lights as Johnny carries you out to the room to the medbay. You recognise the smell, that’s a good thing you’re not totally broken, you can smell the clean sheets, the smell of antiseptic. There are hands all over you now, people touching you, so many lights. You reach for Johnny, where did he go? You start to panic trying to pull yourself up. Is it a trick? Are they doing this to finally try and break you? 

“Johnny!” You call searching for his hands. You feel a sharp pain travel down your arm. You feel your breath catch in your throat, your body being pressed down. Maybe this is the end you’re in too much pain and too tired to tell. You feel your body slump down as ringing grows louder in your ears, it doesn’t take long before everything goes black. 

——————————   

Johnny wakes to Simon’s hands on his shoulders. He looks over at your body still unconscious with tubes and wires coming off you. Simon pulls a chair up next to him, Simon’s started caring less and less who sees them together, especially at night. 

“The doc’s say the swelling in her head’s gone down.” Johnny says leaning forward in his chair.

“When was the last time you slept?” Simon asks him. 

“Got a nice kip before you woke me.” Johnny replies. Simon sighs, his hand running up the back of Johnny’s neck. 

“You really should get some sleep, some proper sleep.” Simon says. Johnny scoffs. 

“4 days,” he says, looking back up at you. 

“4 day’s, we let her suffer.” Johnny says quieter. Simon sighs his forehead resting on Johnny. He know’s how guilty Johnny feels, he feels the same too, he’s just better at hiding it. 

“Come.” Simon says getting up extending his hand out for him. Johnny looks up at him blinking. 

“Give me five minutes.” Simon pleads. Johnny sighs standing up and following him. He lets Simon guide him all the way to the dorms into Simon’s room. Johnny has never left the bedside since you had been moved to Damascus. Simon had tried to get some alone time with him but he can tell Johnny’s guilt weighs heavy on him, he want’s to be there when you wake.

Simon pulls Johnny into his room, locking the door. Johnny tries to protest but Simon is too quick, his hands guiding Johnny’s hips pushing him against the wall. Simon’s hand slips under the front of his mask pulling it off over his head, he looks up at Johnny his thumb stroking his cheek. Simon looks almost sad, he can see the pain in Johnny’s eyes, the anger, he feels it too.

Simon presses his lips onto Johnny, forcing his tongue in his mouth as his hands reach under his shirt. Johnny seems to relax for a second enjoying the taste of Simon on his lips, playing with his tongue. Simon pulls away moving to Johnny’s neck planting little kisses all the way down. His head tips back hitting the wall as Simon pulls Johnny’s shirt over his head. 

“Si, we shouldn’t leave her.” Johnny says as Simon is burying his head into Johnny's neck. 

“She’ll be fine.” Simon says his voice low, almost a groan, as he continues to run his tongue down Johnny’s neck, Johnny’s hands move up Simon’s back eventually running his fingers through his hair. Johnny doesn’t fight it, enjoying the feel of his husbands hands on his body as Simon’s hands slip under Johnny’s waistband pulling his trousers and boxers down. Simon is moving slow, slow and gentle working his hands down Johnny’s stomach to his abdomen, Johnny is almost desperate, gripping Simon’s hair as he moves his tongue round Johnny’s body. 

“Si..” Johnny moans as Simon’s hands find their way to Johnny’s semi-hard cock. Simon want’s to almost beg Johnny to relax, instead running his hand up and down his shaft. Johnny presses his forehead on Simon’s chest moaning as he pushes his hands under Simon’s shirt. Johnny trembles as Simon uses both his hands to pleasure him, his breathing becoming faster.

Simon keeps Johnny’s body pressed up against the wall as Johnny starts thrusting his hips, fucking Simon’s hands. Johnny had felt this many times before, Simon giving him pleasure, but never quite like this, his emotions high, endorphins pumping through his body, Johnny starts to tense again Simon pulls away, a whimper leaving Johnny’s lips. 

“On the bed.” Simon says guiding him over as Johnny blindly follows his instructions laying flat. Simon takes his boots and the rest of his pants off flinging them to the side. Johnny lays his head back on the pillows as Simon bends down and licks the precum off Johnny’s tip making him moan his hands desperately trying to grab Simon’s hair. Simon smiles then thrusts his mouth round his cock taking him all the way to the hilt.

The pleasure is almost overwhelming, Simon can feel it, Johnny’s body shaking a mix of pleasure and stress. Simon doesn't stop, his hands running up Johnny’s chest as he positions himself in a more comfortably to suck him off. Johnny moans and gasps as Simon’s tongue presses into the underside of Johnny’s cock, Simon can feel him twitching in his mouth enjoying each one as he get’s closer to the edge.

Simon can read Johnny’s body like a book, Johnny thinks he’s sly hiding his movements, his cheeky side glances, the heavy petting Johnny does when he’s in the mood, the way his fingers move around Simon’s body forcing his attention. He thinks he’s good at hiding it but Simon knows him, Simon loves him and right now Simon knows he needs to make Johnny relax.

Johnny’s hips are thrusting again Simon’s hands grip his waist trying to keep it in place. Johnny moans Simon’s name as he cums. Simon likes that, hearing Johnny call his name in the heat of the moment, He feels his own cock twitching in his pants as he rides Johnny through the orgasm making sure that Johnny is well and truly satisfied before pulling his mouth away.

Simon enjoys the taste of Johnny’s cum in his mouth too, the feel of his hot seed hitting the back of his throat and slipping down. Johnny is still panting when Simon moves, sliding up next to him pulling his head on his chest.

Johnny moves to get comftable his head resting on Simon's chest as his heart starts to slow. Simon takes exaggerated breaths and Johnny subconsciously follows him. He reaches down pulling the duvet over Johnny, kissing the top of his head, running his fingers through his hair. 

“You need to rest,” Simon says wrapping his arms round Johnny stroking his back. Johnny’s breathing starts to steady as Simon lowers his voice.

“You do this on purpose,” Johnny says sleepily. Simon smiles, he does do it on purpose. Johnny needs to rest, he’s no good to anyone if he can’t think straight.  

“I’ll wake you if anything happens, I promise.” Simon says kissing his forehead.   

——————————   

The knock at the door pulls Johnny out his sleep, he jolts awake almost fighting over Simon to get out of bed. 

“Easy.” Simon says as he moves swinging his legs out so Johnny can get up.

“You said you’d wake me if anything happened.” Johnny sounds frustrated puling his trousers and shirt on. 

“This is the first thing that’s happened.” Johnny throws Simon’s mask at him opening the door before he gets chance to put it on. It’s only Price.

“She’s awake, she’s asking for you.” Price says. Johnny shoves his feet into his boots as Simon gets up off the bed moving over to the door. Johnny looks back at Simon smiling and rushes out the room pushing past Price. Simon follows Price stopping him in the doorway. 

“What do you want to tell her about Jack?” Price asks. Simon sighs. 

“Laswell found anything?” Simon asks walking with Price, he shakes his head. 

“Still looking, he’ll be punished for the way he questioned her, demoted at the very least, depends on what they feel like. Theres no evidence he spoofed her card we’re lucky there were so many witnesses. We’re lucky we could clear her name so quick.” Price says. It still took 4 days. 

“Think he can justify his actions?” Simon asks. 

“Let’s see, we’ve got other things to focus on now.” Price walks into your room Simon hangs back for a second. A wave of guilt washing over him, he just wants to jump into bed with you and apologise. 4 days we let her suffer, Johnny’s words replaying in his head. Never again, he promises himself. 

Next part

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[insomniactic-daydream]

Magma- Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader (Pt.2)

<- (Previous Pt.1)

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader

Summary: After taking on the responsibility of fixing Bakugo gauntlets, Y/n Todoroki now has to deal with Bakugo nosy ass questions and remarks.

For Background Info: This is before any major events like the usj or sports festival. I don't think anybody know about Shoto's fire quirk til then. Correct me if I'm wrong but idk

Also for story purposes Y/n has black hair and as well as the infamous blue todoroki eyes.

"So your quirk is Nitroglycerin? Are you constantly sweating, or can you control the output? " Y/n questions Bakugo as they are seated away from their classmates at lunch. Bakugo agitated from so many questions. Why couldn't you just fix his shit.

"Tch. Yes, and I can control it, you idiot. But sometimes, the stupid weather makes it harder to produce sweat." He says, grumbling eating his food.

Y/n nods as she writes down a few words in her notebook.

"Do you know what kind of metal was used to make your gauntlets?" Y/n asks.

"HAH? HOW THE HELL WOULD I KNOW!? You're the damn epxert you tell me!" Bakugo yells but is lost through the volume of the cafeteria. Gauntlets are now thrown out to you on the table.

"Jeez, relax. You'd think you would be more cooperative if you wanted them done quickly." Y/n sighs as she examines the shatter gauntlets.

"I'm tired of your damn questions. Maybe you should've gotten your brother's quirk and become a hero. That way, you'd talk less and actually do more!" Bakugo yell. His words were almost comical to you. Assuming you didn't have an impressive quick cause you're a support student.

Y/n not looking away from gauntlets. "You're totally right, but then I'd still have to deal with you constant yelling. At least I don't have to deal with you longer than I have to." She says as she grabs her notebook again.

" WHY YOU LITTLE-"

"It's the metal." Y/n cuts him off nonchalantly. As if she's dealt with his yelps for a millennia. Surprisingly, stopping Bakugo. After all, he's a man of knowledge. The more he knows about his gauntlets, the less he has to deal with coming to you to fix them.

"Continue Nerd." He says with gritted teeth

"The metal they used, although used for most fire type and explosive quirks, isn't compatible with your quirk chemicals. That's why they broke the second you used too much of your sweat." She says taking a bite of her food out of accomplishment.

"So what then huh?! How are you going to fix it."

"Well, obviously need new material which is good considering this metal is known to be heavier than most. Not that you'd noticed cause you're a 'so strong' hero student." Y/n says sarcastically. Bakugo glares at her, but before he can chew her out she speaks again.

"I can look into a different material to make entirely new gauntlets, but that's going to take a while to make. The best I can do for you right now is fix these for training, but you can't blast another nuclear bomb at someone again." She finishes as she fiddles with her pencil

"That shit sound it's going to take ages!?" He says angrily out of the thought of not receiving new gear for the next few months at least.

"Well, luckily, a lava quirk and ice quirk do pretty well with speeding the progress of mending metal then, huh?" Y/n says with a smirk.

"Relax. If I'm getting a grade for this, then I'll make sure you're first priority." Y/n says with a wave of a hand before taking another spoonful of food.

"You have a fucking lava quirk?" Bakugo asks. Although he isn't much as a nerd as his childhood rival he can't help but be curious.

"Yup. It was my grandmother's quirk before the quirk de-evolved into flames." Y/n says

"What a waste. You can easily be better than your brother's ice quirk." Bakugo states almost if he's complimenting you. That sure is a first, but again, Bakugo can't ignore potential people who can be better heroes than him.

"I'm flattered but I don't really care for heroics. I help the world by helping you all. It's more humble that most of the show boat heroes today." She grumbles out.

"So you think you're dad is some show boat?" Bakugo pushes almost trying to gain information (more like drama) on the number 2 hero. Y/n, catching his trick, glares at him.

Bakugo catches a glimpse of red streaks of lava, appearing in your hair. He smirks as he realizes he has striked a nerve.

"I never said that." She says annoyedly. As if she was going to open up about her family dynamic to him.

"Easy there, magma, or your hair is gonna blow a gasket." He says with his signature smirk. His red eyes meeting Y/n piercing blue glare.

His word hit Y/n as fast as her hair turns back. "Shut up," Y/n mutters. She then touches her hair out of habit

This surprisingly lets out a chuckle from the blonde. "Tch. At least I'm not the one who is a walking volcano. Do you always have to cool that shit down?" He asks, earning an eye roll from Y/n.

"Not that's it's any of your business, but yes." She mumbles.

"Hah. I bet you struggle using product on that rat's nest you call hair." Bakugo jokingly lies.

He thinks your hair is fine. Flawless even. Not one out of place hair. But he won't admit that to you. If anything, he's curious to see how long it would take him to see you're hair completely turned into lava. Red suited you.

However, you didn't take that remark lightly and threw a piece of his broken gauntlets at him. Causing him to snap back to reality and hold his head in pain (and also anger obvi)

"As if I'd listen to you, pomeranian!"

(Next Part 3) ->

What can I say, I love a good harmless enemies to lovers trope. 🤷‍♀️

[bearieio]

ellie w. hcs :3

bc im seeing them everywhere and i need to put in my 2¢. thank you. (also not proofread :P)

⋆ biggest hayley kiyoko fan for like 3 years (the intro to ‘girls like girls’ was her ringtone when she was 14). would beg joel to take her to random record stores that they passed by just to see if they had any hayley kiyoko cds.

⋆ because of joel, she listens to a lot of 70s-90s dad rock. 

⋆ can’t drive for shit. like literally she’s not allowed to drive without her glasses

⋆ she needs glasses btw. she doesn’t wear them because she’s already too much of a loser. but when she does where them, you tease her endlessly about them. 

⋆ can and will sleep on the floor whenever prompted. no blankets, no pillows needed. just her and the floor.

⋆ isn’t allowed to drink any sort of energy drinks on account of a previous incident that had to do with about 3 cans of redbull and 2 large cans of the ‘Java Monster.’

⋆ isn’t allowed to own small pets (like gerbils, guinea pigs, hamsters, etc.) because she’d definitely forget about them. 

⋆ owns big dogs. great danes, newfoundlands, irish wolfhounds, mastiffs, st bernards, YOU NAME IT, SHE HAS IT (or has had it)

⋆ when she’s older, i feel like she’d be like one of those white people who has 192793999 dogs for no reason 

⋆ since her mannerisms are so much like joels, you guys argue playfully all the time about how things should be done, often bringing others into it too. 

“jesse, tell her!” he flips her phone screen around to reveal a very tired jesse, “it’s 1AM, ellie-“ 

“TELL HER!” 

⋆ i feel like at random times, she’ll just grab your boob(s). i don’t know why and you’ve never said anything about it, so she hasn’t stopped…… very handsy….

⋆ audibly goes “honk honk!” almost every time she gives ‘em a squeeze.

⋆ she’s a really sloppy kisser. not like boy-sloppy, but like the hot, messy, girl sloppy bc that sounds better and honestly i think her kisses would be the best.

⋆ she was one of those kids who’d eat dirt and find bugs all the time

because of this, she’s the designated bug killer/bug-getter-outter…. idk

⋆ she’s the worst drunk you know.

like literally sssoooooooooo messy oh my god. but you love her nonetheless :)

she’s soo clingy, and, touchy (like more than usual), but also much more emotional and sensitive than usual when she’s drunk or when she’s sick.

⋆ ellie tends to be quite difficult when she’s sick. BUT! you make it work bc you love her and she loves you :>

when you bring ellie her favorite drink from her favorite coffee shop, you literally have to fight her to be able to get out the front door. when you get up to serve her lunch, you’ve got to peel her off of you because she refuses to let you leave her side. when you go and get the medicine she says she doesn’t need…. you guessed it, she fights for you to stay in bed next to her.

“babe, what if i die right here, when you leave- like- BABE PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME-“ she bewails, crossing her arms and huffing at the sight of you leaving her.

⋆ when you catch her playing her guitar, she sometimes gets all shy and plays the wrong chords n stuff. 

“don’t LOOK! >:(” she says, gripping the body of her guitar, glaring in your direction.

“oh!- okay” you say, throwing your hands up in a playful manner, giggling. 

⋆ but the times where she’s not shy about playing in front of you, she’ll ask you if you want to play.

“do you uh- maybe wanna play? i could teach you” she suggests, gesturing toward the stringed instrument.

but then after, she’d tease you about your finger placement :(

“i said the fourth fret, girl, not the second, or, the third!” she says, in between laughs.

“well fourth from the top or the bottom?!” you scoffed, looking at her, still puzzled.

she knows your trying your best but it’s still fun to poke at you when she can >:)

constructive criticism is appreciated !!!

[seuonji]

HII!! i love your writing sm (seriously helps sm after a long day) and i was just asking if you had the time or were inspired could you do how svt would react if their introvert s/o is like socially exhausted sfw (ive had to go to important social events everyday for two weeks straight and i am absolutely exhausted). (If you cant do svt then maybe coups?) Again thank you so much for the content and if you cant do it its perfectly fine.(Idk whether youre taking requests rn, so if you arent im so super sorry for bothering you)

from aya: HII!! omg i’m so happy to hear that my writings make you feel better T^T <3 i hope your days get better!! it can be exhausting but im happy to know you have things to fall back on so that you can relax!! love lots, hope you enjoy this!

btw! so sorry this took so long i’ve been busy with the real world too hahah. i did the 95z so that there was a variety in scenarios but do let me know if you want another member!!<3

seungcheol. he doesn’t really need words to know how you feel, he’d be able to tell just by the look on your face but even then, he can’t help but feel his heart sink seeing you so tired.

so when you came home after a long day and you weren’t your usual self, he immediately noticed it when he greeted you at the front door.

“tiring day today?” he tilted his head as he reached for your body, pulling you close and compressing himself onto you. he hopes that the hug would be comforting to you and it was. it’s as if the warmth of his hug melted your heart and it brought your back to life.

“do you want to have some alone time?” he totally understands if you do, he gets it if that’s the only way you can recharge

you weren’t sure if you wanted to see seungcheol today but he was your comfort. he felt you shake your head into his chest answering a no to his question and he just brushed your hair. slowly, he parted from the hug and took the things you were holding, “want to eat or anything?” no matter what you plan on doing, after this you two would spend the night with a long cuddle session that recharges you from the draining day.

if you want him to, he’d definitely whisper encouragements or advice on how to not get drained too quickly. as a fellow introvert himself, he knows best.

“it’s tiring but you handled it so well! just keep doing the same you’ll get used to it but if it gets too much just call me and i’ll be there for you,” he whispered as he stroked your hair.

+

jeonghan probably teased you at first.

“ahh yn your face looks so dull today,” he gently caressed your face but as you gave a bitter reaction as a response, he realised that something was wrong and immediately apologised for making the joke. he quickly changed to listening mode, ready to listen to you but even if you don’t tell him, he’d just sit with you until you’re ready to speak.

as you open up, he’d offer some tricks to get away from the crowd even if they’re bizarre.

“if you get tired, just go into your car and drive home, to me,” he proudly smirked

“hanie…i have to be there.”

“okay then just go to the washroom and call me if you start feeling tired of socialising.”

“why would i call you if i’m tired of socialising.”

“well i didn’t think i make you feel tired of socialising,” he said in disbelief.

he means it all as a joke but he definitely has some good advice and suggestions hidden in there which really gets you through a day.

+

joshua was suspecting that you were going to feel this way even before you left the house. so when you came home with the expression that screamed ‘exhausted’ he could only greet you with a smile which hid his frown. he was upset knowing he couldn’t do much to avoid you from feeling that way but he knew he could provide you comfort so that’s what he did.

he greeted you home with a hug and asked if you wanted some alone time in case you wanted to recharge on your own.

there’s something that really brightens his day when you say you want to spend your time with him. he’d definitely spends the night pampering you and making you some comfort food while finding things you like to do like listening to music or reading a book together, whatever helps you recharge. the days definitely a lot more silent but you’re just comfortably in each others space.

in the bed before you two sleep, he holds you close. both your eyes are shut but he still whispers words from his heart.

“you did amazing today yn and you’ll do even better tomorrow. but remember you can tell me when it gets hard, okay? just tell me what you need.”

[discodummy]

I'm gonna rant about my body image issues and dysmorphia for a second so watch out. I'll put it under a read more if i can figure out how

slay i think i did it. anyway, going to the gym as much as i have and getting into shape and stuff has been lovely, dont get me wrong, but it also makes some things very strange for me. Like, I was raised by a an who had a manual job and was a bodybuilder in his 20's. My perspective of what a "dad bod" was was SO skewed by my dad that i though it meant a buff guy who puffs his chest out when he stands stil to look bigger. My older brother (by three years) was chubby in middle school and then did swimming and lacrosse and had an insane dorito shaped body by 17 and still has it now. I was 6'3 when i started high school and i looked like a lollipop: just a big head on a tiny body. And i stayed that way all through high school. I assumed that getting beefy and filling out like my dad and brother did just want going to happen for me. I spent all of my early and mid 20's weighing like 145 (150 on a good day) and having to buy 28x34's for pants and medium shirts. The pandemic happened and i started working from home and after a few years i was about 210 or so. I stayed around that weight for bit and assumed it was my adult weight and what my body liked and spent over a year coming to terms with it. wel NOW after going to the gym and eating better for the last 10 months, im down to a toned 180 and im all sorts of jumbled up. I hit my shoulders on doorframes bc even though i measured and know my shoulders got at least 4 inches broader, i still dont believe it or feel it. My mediums got too tight, and my XL's from being 210 fit my shoulders and chest but hang off of me. Like im surrounded by evidence of the shape my body is in now, and i can see in the mirror how i look, i just dont think its clicking for me. I'm right about 6'4 and until the last year or so i wouold just say i was "medium tall" bc i didnt think i was TALL tall, just tallER. Like thats how deep this weird disconnect from the objective truths of my body goes. And now im at the point where people compliment my arms or chest or butt or something and i cant shake the nagging feeling that its just flattery and they dont mean it and isnt true. Someone said my arms were big and i was like "i mean theyre long, but i wouldnt say big" and it took me seeing several people with smaller arms over the course of a while for me to be like "oh yeah i guess so". Like, i always felt like the most average and unremarkable of my family and thats SUPER bleeding into things now. Maybe i dont think i can be extraordinary or above average or something?? All i know is im CLEARLY not seeing what everyone else is, and poeple are getting frustrated with me about it and taking it as me being fake-humble or just plain oblivious. And i feel insane talking about it bc one of my friends says it makes him feel awful to see someone who "looks like me" doubt myself so much, because that means that HE must be so much worse then. I also know that a 6'4 in shape white guy having body image issues isnt exactly the easiest thing to sympathize or empathize with, but it sucks that I feel like i cant really talk about it with anyone bc it just gets too personally hard for anyone to go in depth about. Its like my issues are too triggering for others and i just need to get a grip or something. IDK, i just needed to vent about this bc i dont know what else to do. if you read all of this, let me know what you think or something lol

[marleyybluu]

Glasses

Husband!Oscar x black!wife!reader

Word count: 2k

Content warning: fluffy fluffy, Oscar is a stubborn husband, a little sexy flirtatiousness at the end, just your typical married couple and we love it, reader is hot for Oscar and his glasses (I mean I would be too tf)

A/N: bare in mind that i don’t have glasses idk how the process goes lmao I just made shit up so sorry if it’s not accurate I guess. Who cares we’re in make believe land rn

Sorry for typos && bad translations if any

(I know these aren’t glasses glasses but… you get it lmao)

"Mama..." Rafa says poking your arm, you look down at him and smile. "Yes?"

"Why is Dad making that face?" He asks pointing over to Oscar who's holding his phone down in his lap with his head tilted up slightly so that he can see the screen better. You shook your head. That old bastard was a stubborn one. You have noticed for months now that Spooky is squinting to read everything, he's holding things at certain angles just the see the words correctly. He even has the kids reading things for him when he flat-out can't make out any of the words.

And of course, you've confronted him about it, saying if he wanted you could schedule an appointment with an optometrist and get his vision checked but he tells you— "No, mamita, I'm fine."

Stubborn Jack ass.

You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically. "Mi hijo, maybe you can talk some sense into your big-headed father. Because he won't listen to me." You say loud enough for your husband to hear. He grumbles and looks over at you, so tempted to say something disrespectful but your son is there. You wiggle your eyebrows taunting him.

"Papa, I think you need gafas."(glasses)

Spooky breathes heavily like a dragon, you swear smoke comes out of his nose too. "Mira, baby, let me just take you to check your eyes. If I'm wrong I'll eat my words and do anything you want."

His ears perk up at the offer. "Anything?"

And you knew what that tone meant. Spooky had been asking for another baby sooner rather than later but you constantly rebuttal with the fact that your third child, Emilia, was only a year old and you refused to have two under two. "Yes, anything." You reply confidently knowing you'd win this battle. He says it's a deal and you smile proudly keeping a reminder to make his appointment later.

-- --

In the days leading up to the appointment, he swore up and down that you'd be wrong, that you'll soon be walking around with a round belly all over again and he couldn't wait to see it. You remain quiet and shrug, occasionally giggling at how cocky he was about this.

After dropping the kids off at your mom's, you two head over to the Optometrist. You're pleasantly greeted by the woman at the front desk who asks you who the appointment is for. Oscar finds himself a seat and huffs like a child. You roll your eyes and mention his name. "I'm assuming you made the appointment." She smiles light-heartedly. "That obvious?"

"Trust me, I've got one at home whose chain I have to pull to even get him to the doctor. They're all like that."

You giggle and look over your shoulder at him as he pouts and looks at his new shoes. The receptionist says she'll let the doctor know you two were there and be back to guide you to a room. You take a seat next to Oscar who immediately puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing at your supple flesh. "So, what do you think the next baby will be? I hope it's a boy, I can't lie."

"Will you shut the fuck up? You are not winning this bet, Diaz."

He looks around before trailing his hand up your dress, your eyes widen when his fingers brush over your panties. "Who you talkin' to like that? Don't let this bet get you fucked up."

You swallow your attitude and shrink in the chair, he removes his hand and gently kisses your temple. Maybe he'd get another baby out of you regardless.

It wasn't long before you two were called in. Once in the room, Oscar was told to sit in the chair that was hooked up to everything while you sat in the extra chair not too far from them. He starts by asking Oscar about his medical history; and if anyone in his family has problems with their vision but he says, "Not as far as I know."

You watch as he's asked to read the chart across the room and he instinctively squints, you cover your mouth to stop your giggles.

Even with the act of squinting he ends up getting a lot of them wrong.

He's tested furthermore and, honestly, it was not looking too good. He was struggling so much that it was truly getting to him, his nails scape at the jeans over his knee caps-- taps them once in a while whenever he lets out a frustrated sigh. You were beginning to feel bad for him, wanting to whisper the letters to him so he didn't feel so... shitty.

The lights in the room turn on and the optometrist sits in his chair. "Mr. Diaz, unfortunately, I do think you'll need some prescription glasses. You are more farsighted in your right eye than you are in your left. The left eye seems to be fine for now. So, I will put in an order for a pair of lenses and when they're ready we'll give you a call to pick out the frames."

Oscar sighs, he sounds so defeated. You two thank the doctor and make your way out of the office building and back to the car. He sucks his teeth while buckling his seatbelt, he crosses his arms and waits for you to put the car in drive but you don't budge. "Why are you acting like this?"

He shrugs. "Let's just go."

"No. What are you upset about?"

"I'm old."

There was a moment of silence, took you a a minute to realize he was serious. "I'm old, mama. I can't see shit, I'm tired, I'm cranky. I'm fucking old. Next thing you know I can't play with my kids, can't play Fútbol con Rafa, dios mio." (Soccer with Rafa, my God)

He was genuinely spiralling. "Papito, I hate to break it to you but we're supposed to get old." You say to him but it (obviously) doesn't help.

"Lo sé, mi amor, pero, they still have to make it to middle school and high school, I gotta see them through college."

"Who says you won't? Mi marido, (my husband) we will be there for all of their events, for all the big changes. We will still be there when they all leave the nest to create their own, and when they come back to visit." You reassure. "I'll still be next to you in a rocking chair. We are not going anywhere, anytime soon. Entiendes? No hay prisa." (Understand? No rush)

He nods, still pouting. You lean over and plant a loving kiss on his lips. "If you ask me you will make a sexy Abuelo. Glasses and all."

"En serio?" A little bit of confidence coming back to him.

"Sí, papi chulo." You purr pulling him in for another kiss. "You know we have a lot of time before we got to get the kids." He grumbles his lips travelling down your neck. "Let's go before you get us in trouble in this parking lot."

He shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

You laugh. "I know, I don't want to relive it."

-- --

Days passed and Oscar finally got the call to pick up his lenses and choose the frames, you offered to go with him but he said he wanted to surprise you. You'd been waiting all day excited to see what would walk through the door.

You sighed flipping through the selections on Prime, the house was quiet with the kids either distracted or sleeping and you were bored-- until you heard the car door slam shut and his keys jingle right outside the door. The door swings open but he doesn't enter, not yet. He calls out for you and when you answer all too eagerly he chuckles at your excitement. "You been waitin' on this all day?" He asks.

"Yes, hurry the fuck up." You rush. He appears from behind the door and stands with his arms slightly open. "Cómo me veo?" (How do I look?) He asks. Your eyes widen and your jaw slacks. They were simple black frame glasses, they weren't obnoxiously thick or oddly small, and they were good enough to fit him. You sit up on your knees and lean over the back of the couch. "You look... good. Muy guapo, papito." You slur feeling a heat spread in your lower belly. His eyebrows raise in surprise, he knows that look anywhere.

"Quierida..."

"Oscar... " You had the filthiest line ready for him to hear until a pair of footsteps descended from the steps. "Whoooooa! Elliana, Mira! Papa got glasses!" Rafa announces rushing down the stairs to get a better look and shortly another set of little feet made their way over. The two children were so interested in what was on their father's face and how different he looked. "Can you see better?" Elliana asks and he smiles giving her a sweet kiss on her head. "Sí, mi corazón. Thanks for asking."

Rafa turns to you. "Mama, doesn't Dad's glasses look cool?"

Their eyes were on you but you could feel the taunting nature of your husband's eyes. "Yeah... mhm, he looks... they look-k good." You stammer causing Oscar to smirk.

He had seemingly found an upper hand on you with these glasses and he wasn't afraid to use it over the next week. He had them on even when he didn't need them to see that look on your face— the lust, the adoration— your pupils seem to expand whenever you see him in those spectacles. He just looked fucking hot.

It was the best when he walked around in his grey sweats, alone, with no shirt. Just his tattoos and glasses to complete his look and you ate it up every time. You tug on your bottom lip as you paint the picture in your mind. But why imagine, when you can just go see. The house was quiet, all the kids were sound asleep, you shifted out of bed as carefully as you could to not wake Emilia. Once you are successful you grab the baby monitor and creep downstairs, the television is off and the whole first floor is dark-- the only form of light shines through the windows courtesy of the moon. 

"Why the fuck would you do that!?" 

Ah yes, of course, he was in his habitat. The basement. You sneak your way down to see that the ceiling light is off and he just has the ones around his monitors on, though they are bright enough for her to see where she's going. His back is turned and he's so zoned in that your presence goes unnoticed for quite some time. You cross your arms and dramatically clear your throat to let him know you're here. "Yall give me a minute, wifey is here." You can hear the collective; "Hi wifey!" "Hola señiorita!" "What's good Mrs. Spooky?" 

You smile and greet them right back before he mutes his mic. "What's up?" He spins his chair to give you his full attention. "Emilia's awake?" 

You shake your head. "No, she's still sleeping. Just came to hang out." Your eyes ogle the print in his sweats. He follows your line of sight and chuckles. "You sure?"

"Mhm." You swing your leg over his legs and perch yourself on his lap. "I mention how fucking good you look in these glasses?" You purr leaning in. "They havin' an effect on you, ma. That I can see." He hums ghosting your lips with his. "And that's why you should listen to your esposa (wife)more." 

Your lips finally meet and it's not long before you two are practically nibbling at each other with a mutual desperation to end the sexual tension that's been created over time. "Let me hop off the game-" 

"No, it's okay. They can't see you right?" You smirk gnawing at his jaw. "No, they can't."

You reach between your bodies and slide your hand into his sweats. Oscar reaches up to adjust his glasses and when they begin to fog up he cleans them off and reaches to put them on his desk when you stop him. 

"The glasses stay on, Diaz." 

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