#not a horrible schedule all things considered

[realtapiocafan]

PRAYING we get more home games in primetime!!!

(also we playing all the nfc north teams? and the afc east? 🤨)

[flfverse]

so btw it’s finals season for me but my last one is on the 10th and i’m moving out the 11th. my brain is too mushy for complicated longfics rn so apologies but it will likely be about that long until the new CTL chapter comes out. FF 11 i will try to put up next week since it’s already edited but there is a chance i will not for…idk. reasons. i don’t pretend to know how my brain works

however, my braincells are NOT too mushy to work on shiny new oneshots, so i’m taking advantage of that to build up a backlog to post during the summer hiatus.

currently in the works we have:

bakudeku sickfic/“getting together” (first year at UA)

bakudeku presumed death trope (age 20-21, so pre-CTL) (this one is basically finished i just have to figure out the actual wrap-up)

shinkami messing around platonically (first year at UA)

trans!sub!kiri Discovering Himself (1st-2nd year, also this one is complete woo)

trans!puppy!kiri (late 2nd year? i think?)

shintodo subdrop fic (2nd year?? 3rd??)

shinsou being adopted by erasermic (age 13)

those are just the current wips that i have started but not finished. my ideas list is MUCH longer. so those are things to look forward to! i am as always accepting ideas/headcanons/requests/whatever. no promises i’ll start or finish everything, even the fics on this list (i’ll try, though) because i do not control the brainworms. but yep, life update

[eternalsunrise]

when in france

nfl! joe burrow x fem! reader

wc: 3.1k

tags! established relationship, college sweethearts (because i said so), 💍 hint hint, no smut!

notes! abby try not to write sickening fluff challenge failed horribly. i keep going back and forth about whether i like or not but i hope you guys do! mwah 💋

when joe told you he’d be attending and modeling for fashion week, you were ecstatic. you’ve been encouraging him to step out of his comfort zone, and it seemed like he was finally listening during this offseason.

when he told you the event was in france, you were even more stunned. you were so excited for him. there was no one more deserving of these opportunities than your joe.

and when he asked you to accompany him, you were absolutely floored. sure you knew he loved you. you’ve felt it every day for years. but an experience like this, you were so grateful he’d even consider sharing this with you.

“are you sure? really babe it’s okay, i won’t be upset.” you had reassured him the day he found out about the opportunity.

joe just looked at you like you had three heads over his dinner, his fork clattering as he dropped it onto the plate. he reaches his arm across the table and clasps your hand with his, “hey. don’t be silly. you’re my girl. there’s no one, and i mean no one, i’d rather do this with.”

there’s something about joe’s soft, steady voice that always reassures you in the way he knows you need. he places a delicate kiss to the back of your knuckles. you don’t worry about it again.

your time in france is an absolute whirlwind. joe had warned you that his schedule was pretty packed, but you didn’t mind. after all, you’ve grown used to the hustle bustle of football season. nothing like the fast life. dinners, meetings, panels, runways, and parties. you’re supporting joe through it all, and he notices. hell, everyone notices.

the first dinner you all have together is after a runway show in cannes.

you’re chatting with a woman sitting next to you, laughing and sipping a glass of white wine. joe is on the other side of you, catching up with JJ and some of the other guys. of course the topic has reverted back to football, hard to avoid with those two at the table together. JJ and another friend are in a heated discussion about the rules surrounding taunting when the food arrives.

when the plates hit the table, joe watches your actions from the corner of his eye. you pick at your side choice, before putting the smallest bite into your mouth. reaction almost immediate, you turn to joe with a grimace that he knows all too well.

he clicks his tongue, shaking his head back and forth as he begins to eat his own meal, “i told you. i knew you wouldn’t like them cooked that way.”

you did this every time the two of you had dinner somewhere new. you like to order something you’d usually never try on the menu, in hopes of enjoying it. and joe, who knows you better than anyone, always warns you against it. then every single time, you flash him an adorable smile and say the same thing, “well, when in___”

this started when he brought you to ohio for the first time. the two of you were having lunch in cincy before heading to athens to meet his parents. you inquired about ‘cincinnati chili’, to which joe explained and confessed that even he didn’t enjoy chili served over spaghetti. but you had said “well, when in cincinnati!” with such excitement, that he didn’t have the heart to argue further.

the hometown specialty almost made you puke all over his childhood bedroom hours later. flash forward some years and the song and dance was still the same.

you shake your head, trying to lie. you’re stubborn. the last thing you want to do is admit he was right about this…again.

you attempt another bite, poking the food around your white, porcelain plate. “it’s not that bad joey…i kinda like it…”

you’re lying through your teeth. joe knows. he always does. the man has been reading you like a playbook since college.

so with a sigh he picks up both of your plates, making easy work of switching them. this is also a reoccurring affair. joe always orders something he knows you’ll enjoy, pretty much expecting you not to like your exotic choices. he never tells you this of course. but he’s not picky, so no harm no foul.

you frown down at your new dinner, as much as it looks delicious, you feel bad taking your boyfriend’s food. “no joey you don’t have to do that. i’ll eat it i swear!”

joe just gives you an affectionate eye roll, tapping your thigh a few times under the table, “eat baby.” he gently commands, picking up a fork and beginning to eat your rejected meal. his hand lingers, and you intertwine it with yours, leaning over and placing a sweet kiss on his cheek. you murmur a thank you against his skin, joe hums in response.

unbeknownst to you both, the people across from you were tuned in to the entire exhange. sharing amused glances with JJ, who just shrugs, “they’ve always been like this.”

the two of you resume eating, when the man across from joe speaks up in an amused tone, “so how long?”

joe looks up, confusion written on his face, “excuse me?” he swallows a bite and decides you’re right. this isn’t good at all, but he’s gonna eat every bite.

the man chuckles, sipping his drink. “sorry i didn’t mean to pry. it’s just, you two remind me of me and my wife early on in our marriage. i just assumed you must be newlyweds.”

the words catch your attention and your eyes turn into saucers. newlyweds? did the two of you really act married? the idea of being joe’s for life, officially; your stomach twists in lovesick knots. sure you’ve definitely thought about it. after all, you’ve been by his side for almost 5 years now. but you didn’t know where joe stood when it came to life long commitment. the idea that he might not want that with you, is sorta frightening. you don’t have time to overthink it though, a couple of ladies pulling you back into busy conversation.

justin gives joe a knowing smirk. he holds a hand up and wiggles his fingers, pretending he’s wearing a ring. an action he used to do back when joe would ditch them to hang out with you after lsu practices.

you’re so preoccupied you don’t notice joe’s hand playing with yours a little later into the meal. he takes one of your daily rings off of your index finger, slipping it onto the special one next to your pinky. he twirls it around a couple times, smiling fondly.

the rest of your days abroad pass in pictures of time. you and joe eating croissants early in the morning. sneaking kisses in your hotels elevator. joe asking if he had anything in his teeth before walking in a backless suit.

“were you planning on smiling on the runway babe?” you teased.

joe just shrugs, “maybe. it’s hard not to when i know you’re watching me.”

before you know it, it’s the vogue world after party, marking your last night before returning to the states. the night is lots of fun, full of mingling and laughter. although…there’s something up with your boyfriend. you’re not sure what, but he seems almost anxious. it’s usually out of joe’s character to be antsy, they call him joe cool for a reason. he’s been fidgety, bouncing his knee up and down every time the two of you were sitting. he’s quiet, but still sweet to you in a way that’s reassuring you that he’s okay. you blame his odd behavior on exhaustion, or maybe his social battery draining. maybe even the strobe lights are giving him a headache, which is bittersweet because they make his blues shine so well.

it’s well past midnight, and you’re sitting on joe’s lap wearing a black dress that compliments his outfit. you’re chatting with some people while

your boyfriend sits silently. you have no idea, but his mind is running a mile a second. one of his hands is wrapped around your waist, the other twirling stands of your hair that sit against the back of your dress. his heart thumps against his chest as he uses his leverage against you to raise himself up. he takes a deep breath, and leans his body forward to reach your ear. “you wanna get out of here?” deep voice rumbles from his chest and tickles your ear. it makes a shiver run up your spine.

you turn your head to look behind you, your noses are almost touching this way. the loose curl sitting against his forehead is begging you to brush it away. you resist the urge.

“sure babe, if you’re ready?”

joe looks at you with a look so full of adoration you think you might melt. he presses a quick kiss to your lips, “i’m ready. i already called the car.”

paris is stunning late at night, lights twinkling across the city. joe watches you stare out the cab window. he looks at you the way he has all night, full of love and an indescribable devotion. you’re so mesmerized by the landscape you don’t even notice you’ve passed your hotel until joe clears his throat.

your eyebrows furrow in confusion when joe turns your head to face him. “do you trust me?” the question is serious, but his voice is kind of rocky. like he’s nervous. but what for?

you nod your head with a laugh, “of course joey. why?”

joe smiles and deflects from the question. “alright. close your eyes for me then.”

now you’re really confused. you tilt your head at him, watching as the smile remains on his face. he’s really waiting on you to close your eyes. well, you choose to honor you words, closing your eyes tightly. you’re guessing a surprise is in store.

you feel the car slow to a stop. your hands drum on your lap, anticipation building in your gut.

joe places a hand on your thigh. “don’t get out yet, i’ll come around and get you.”

you nod your head, eyes still clenched to prove your honesty. you hear a car door shut and footsteps coming closer.

joe takes a deep breath, crisp night air filling his lungs. a shaky hand grips your car door, pulling it open.

you hear joe thank the driver, before he gently takes hold of your hands. he guides you to stand and step out of the car. you hear the cab drive away and your heart thumping in your ears.

the warmth of joe’s hands covers your eyes, making you laugh. whatever this surprise is, joe’s pretty adamant in not wanting you to spoil it.

you begin walking forward at joes command. “we almost there?”

you feel your body turn to the right, and suddenly the presence of his hands disappears.

“alright. open em’” he backs away from you, hands shoved into black pants.

you open your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the lights blinking all over the place. you gasp at what’s in front of you, your eyes trailing upwards. “joe…you…”

he grants you a chuckle, eyes crinkling in the way you adored. “you didn’t think we’d leave before i let you see the eiffel tower did you?”

you just stare at the beautiful structure in front of you, trying to convince yourself it was real. there’s something so breathtaking about being in front of something you’ve only seen in photos.

joe is staring at you with the same fascination that you’re giving a wonder of the world. 5 years and you still make the confidence flee from him. you take his breath away simply by being well, you. he’s been a nervous wreck all day. but staring at you right now, in the middle of paris. he’s never been so sure of anything.

you’re rubbing your bare arms, but the cold isn’t even bothering you.

that doesn’t matter to joe. he slips his charcoal jacket off, draping it over your shoulders. you feel strong arms around you, a comfortable warmth covering you. joe rests his chin on your shoulder, turning and placing a few kisses on your cheek. his nose cold against your skin, but you still welcome the contact.

a content sigh escapes you, “it’s so stunning, isn’t it? there’s something so romantic about it.”

joe nods, but to be honest he’s barely even glanced at the tower. he calls your name, his voice cracking is like a bullet shooting through his ego.

you turn to face him, a grin on your face. “i know i keep saying it but thank you. thank you so much for bringing me here.”

joe’s response doesn’t miss a beat, “i’d take you anywhere. i want to take you everywhere, show you the world. that’s what you deserve.”

the sincerity of his words coupled with the setting make your heart soar. suddenly he unravels himself from you. you turn around to face him confused. you open your mouth to question him but he interrupts you by grabbing your hands, squeezing them with his own.

“i love you. i’ve loved you for 5 years and somehow i still love you more each day. you’re the best part of me. you make me a better man, and i wanna be that man for you, always.” joe’s voice is strained as if he’s getting emotional. it’s so rare to see from him. the fact that he’s getting choked up over you. his love for you nonetheless, you feel your own throat tighten. you feel your eyes well up with tears. joe brings your intertwined hands to rest against his chest, his heart pounding in a way he’s sure you feel. the night air sweeps his hair around, that single curl waving at you.

“the first time i thought you to ohio, i saw howmuch my family loved you…and i realized something.”

that was only 6 months into your relationship. a spring break in march that joe wanted to spend with his family. he asked you to tag along and although you were petrified, you agreed. you’ve never felt nervous around his family after that, quite the opposite actually.

suddenly joe steps back from you, a hand reaching into his pocket. the implication of what’s happening makes your mouth dry up. it’s like you’re frozen, just staring at him with wide eyes.

“i–i went out and got this as soon as we got back to baton rouge. i’ve held on to it all this time….and i brought it with me because i thought well, when in france. right?” joe tries his best to keep his voice steady, a nervous chuckle escaping him. and sure enough, a little black, velvet box appears in his hand.

a hand flies to your mouth, and you look around as if a camera crew is going to appear and tell you you’re being pranked. but alas, it’s just you, joe, and the eiffel tower.

“joe….” the tears are definitely flowing now, silently down your face. you couldn’t believe your eyes. this was really happening. right now. in paris at almost 2 in the morning.

you watch as joe gets down on one knee. he tries to tame his trembling hands as he opens the little box, but to no avail. the quarterback that is usually so collected, has crumbled down to mush that you hold in the palm of your hand.

joe perches the box in between his hands, early morning moonlight dances across the diamond ring.

he breathes your name like a prayer, “i meant what i said. i would want to do this. or anything, with anyone else. i want to be yours forever if you’ll have me. so angel, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

joe flashes you that boyish smile that you fell in love with all those years ago. it’s then that you realize it isn’t just joe kneeling before you.

it’s the handsome transfer student from ohio that asks you where bronson hall is. it’s the boy that invites you to watch him play football, and forgets to mention he’s the new star quarterback. it’s the guy your friends ask about when you’re blushing at brunch. it’s the teary eyed heisman trophy winner who thanks you in his speech. it’s the cincinnati bengal who trusts you decorate the new apartment you share together. it’s the guy that plays catch with your younger family members at thanksgiving. it’s your boyfriend that invited you to france. it’s your joe.

this is the easiest question you’ve ever been asked.

“yes. oh my fucking god! a million times yes!” you exclaim, heels clicking the pavement as you jump up and down a couple of times. you’re confused when you look down and see joe still kneeling below you, his grin rivaling the city lights. then you realize, you don’t have the ring on yet. “oh fuck which hand is it?!” your brain is so frazzled, you just stick both hands out toward him.

joe gently grabs your left hand, ring perfectly slipping onto your ring finger. he admires it for a moment and places a kiss on your knuckles.

he’s standing up straight for less than a second before you’re pouncing on him, throwing your arms around him. you pull his neck down toward you, crashing your lips together in a bruising kiss.

joe returns your affection quickly. hands find home holding your face, thumbs dusting away tears. this kiss is different than any you’ve had in the past. it’s a seal. a promise. a sign of your devotion to one another deepening after tonight.

the two of you stay like that for a moment. so caught up in one another. the anticipation of a lifetime together makes you feel as light as a feather.

the two of you break away with sharp inhales, crisp air filling your lungs. you remove your hands from his neck, instead grabbing his in your own and giving a laugh at their state, “babe. you’re shaking.”

joe nods, tongue darting out to lick his lips. he gives your hands a squeeze. “yeah well. good thing i got you to keep me steady.”

the ride back to the hotel is full of giggles and light touches. the ring on your finger is like a magnet to your eyes. you can’t look away, even as joe is extra affectionate; kissing all over your cheek and the side of your neck. you’re so full of love it feels hard to breathe.

“hey joey?”

your boyfriend fiancée pulls his head back to look you in the eyes, “yeah, pretty?”

you put your now ring clad hand on joe’s chest. he looks down at it with a smirk, before meeting your eyes once again.

“what do you think about that backless suit for the wedding?”

[spideyson-stuff]

We talk a lot about Tony being a dad, but about Pepper being a mom?...

Peter, for some reason unknown to the human set, is AMAZING at Pepper's job, managing social networks, managing employees and creating new brands to leverage everyone's work.

Tony honestly regrets showing Peter Pepper's CEO job because now Pepper is basically stealing his protégé in broad daylight

Pepper is really impressed with how Peter fits into her schedule, he knows how to manage things in an incredible way, as long as he doesn't have to appear in public to do it, spoiler alert, he has social anxiety and can't speak in public

Peter literally created a clothing brand, a book series and manages the official SI and Avengers accounts simultaneously with his personal and Spider-Man life, obviously he did all this by creating a different fake name for each separate thing because he would rather die than let his colleagues know that he wrote the most famous romcom of the last decade, and ALSO is the designer of the new Strak clothing collection

Pepper had never been more proud of anyone in her life until one day she walked into Peter's personal lab (because now he simply NEEDED one to manage all of his new works) and sees Peter curled up on the floor crying with several papers around him

Pepper IMMEDIATELY drops her briefcase and goes to him to ask what happened, then Peter starts talking in a jumble about how he's a failure and the new book of his series is shit and no one will read it and the new designs for his new clothing collection are horrible and if someone sees this they will consider it a crime for fashion, and the SI and Avengers accounts are collapsing due to the amount of messages and tags they are receiving

Pepper notices that the papers around him are drawings of clothes and pages from his book, and she hugs him tightly, Peter manages to say nothing and just hugs her back crying while she calms him down saying that nothing he did was horrible, wow it's not even close to bad!

The new book looks captivating and the clothes are warmongering, Peter is definitely the kind of designer who loves women because the dresses are gorgeous.

Then Peter falls asleep in her arms and Pepper cancels all her plans for the day to be with Peter

Important Guy in Charge: But- Miss. Potts! you have important things today!

Pepper: Nothing is more important than my son's health, besides, Peter and I TOGETHER already done enough work to take 2 months off, you guys can manage things on your own for 1 day

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter one

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in the first two chapters, sorry gang :)

masterlist | next chapter

Prome Medical Devices hired you as a personal assistant to the CEO, Toshinori Yagi, shortly after he was diagnosed with his second bout of prostate cancer and shortly before they learned it had metastasized to bone. It was a tragic, yet expected turn of events.The man had been sick most of his life, they told you, he's probably slept in hospital beds more times than he's slept in his own. It was, like most things, inevitable.

Over the following weeks, through chemo and taps and rotating hospital doors, he began working from home and handling only the absolute basics, and your silly assistant job evolved into more. You had only planned to stay for a couple months, but then another horrible thing happened.

You became Somehow Important. 

Days went from scrolling on Twitter between writing notes to juggling everything that no one else could handle. Sitting in for meetings, handling calls, scheduling reviews and system checks, running to the pharmacy midday: there's nothing you haven't done. It’s a lot, but in the grand scheme of it all, it's nothing-- especially compared to the things that everyone else gets done here. 

8:35am. The security man gives you a nod without checking for your badge. Engineers skitter around the office like cockroaches. It's always a good sign when no one immediately comes to find you; that means your boss is still alive and doing about the same as he was yesterday. No updates, you’ve found, are good. No one bothers to tell you when good things happen: you’re the fixer, the emergency contact. When you’re being informed of anything, it’s because someone else wants you to clean up the mess.

(The only exception is from the man himself. Toshinori sends you the best kind of updates; mundane things from his life that he needs to share, like pictures of his duck pond or his review of the new coffee shop in town. It’s enough to keep you going, even when the day absolutely blows. You only had a few months working directly with the man, but he was fond of you-- and everyone was fond of him.)

Outdated filaments thrum down the halls. Your heels click against the tile with every step, a slow march to another day of monotony, a kind of dread that not even your phone can distract you from. Because your position is rather undefined for the corporate world, your desk is in an awkward spot, sandwiched in the hall, equidistant from the engineering department, the CEO's office, and the coffee machine. In terms of convenience, it's lovely, but it also means you have nowhere to hide.

Before you can even make it to your desk, a young man pops into the way and heads straight for you, a bit too quickly to be passed off as casual. Your heart sinks, then you realize it's just one of the interns: a college kid who's clearly had too many energy drinks already.

“Hey,” Denki smiles with too much gum, so wide his cheeks almost swallow up his eyes. He’s a scruffy, dirty blonde, a patchy black streak on one side of his head. His button down is obviously unironed, so crumpled it almost looks like a pattern, matching perfectly with his untied tie. It’s a good thing that he’s cute; you doubt he’d have gotten this far in life if he wasn’t. 

“Good morning, how are you? Have a good night? You look so pretty this morning. MILF town over here.” he says, twiddling the toe of his shoe into the carpet. “I made the pot of coffee for you,so you don’t have to worry about that-”

You cut him off. “What did you do?” 

The interns don’t report to you. If anything, they run parallel to you. If there’s anyone they should be ass kissing, it should be the department head, not some personal assistant, but the group considers you an ally. Maybe even a friend.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s something that I did,” the boy explains. He sucks air in through his teeth. “It’s more like what I didn’t do.”

“Denki.”

“It’s just the reports! I have to submit them end of day and it’s just not--” He juts out his bottom lip. “Can you proof my work? Please? The Eraser’s going to have my head if I make another mistake.”

The lead engineer is infamous for deleting whole chunks of code that the interns have made and ruining months of their work. Last month it was Ochako's work, who then spent the rest of the day at your desk, sniffling. The four others  were equally terrified of the man, constantly fretting and bitching about the ‘cruel working conditions.’ If Prome wasn't so prestigious (and internships weren't necessary for graduating) there’d be no interns left. You’re sure Eraser would prefer it that way.

“Please?” Denki clutches his hands together in prayer. “Please, please, please?”

 You don't even pretend to hem and haw.

“Email it over before lunch.” you say and he lights up. 

“Aw, you’re the best!” He turns away and practically skips down the hall. “I’m gonna drop off Izuku’s stuff too, okay?”

There’s no chance to say no before Denki’s gone. You flop into your chair and kick off your heels, trying to convince yourself that you don’t already regret saying yes. You catch your own appearance in the black screen of your computer. Makeup doesn’t do much to cover up the fact you’ve been crying. You can see it in your eyes, in the creases of your skin that you wish weren't there.  Even as the screen lights up, you can still catch your own face, starting back with that sad, sad expression. 

It's been mostly sleepless nights since Touya left, but you push through and ignore whatever you can. You miss your travel mug, the one that matched the coaster on your desk. You miss your forks, the ones that weren’t the awful ones from the thrift store down the road, bought solely out of panic when you returned to an empty apartment.  Most of all, you miss him, how the apartment felt warmer with two bodies instead of one, and how secure you felt with someone who loves you.

Your screen loads and a big, red 24 flashes in the corner-- fuck, the works already piling up. You try to squish any thought of Touya’s disappearing act into the back of your head. Like a dog, Touya always comes back home to you. He just needs to be wild for a bit, play off leash, and then he’ll crawl back like always. 

You check your phone. He’s still saved under “AVOID AT ALL COSTS” and the last five texts you sent are all unread. Your thumb hovers over the delete button for a moment; it’d be easier to cut him off and end this cycle. You can stop pushing the boulder up the hill,  just for it to tumble back down again. You could pursue someone else, maybe someone nice or smart or at least not rude-

 Focus. Compliance is raising concerns about the new platform and manufacturing has CC'ed you into an issue about screw heads, two things that you know nothing about. You flip your phone over and push through. What’s the difference between a hex and a truss and why should you care?

..

11:59. You’re none the wiser about either topic, but the dust seems to be settling and everyone seems to be happy enough. Denki’s reports are an absolute mess, bad to the point you start to wonder if he even tried. The pages aren't even formatted correctly, so it’s going to take most of your lunch to iron out the wrinkles. Luckily, Izuku is a bit more competent and his tasks look great, so-

“Oh, baby girl!”

You stop typing and sit straight up to peer over your computer screen, hiding the remnants of your microwaved lunch. With arms raised high and dressed in his finest ironed button down, Yamada Hizashi enters. Tall, blonde, thin, and leggy: Hizashi would have been a Victoria’s Secret model if he wasn’t a man. His long hair is tied back into a messy bun, a couple of loose tendrils floating  around his face in an effortlessly, annoyingly charming way as he marshes straight for you. 

“Let me see ‘em!” he demands loudly, a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Come on, baby. You know what I want.”

If it was anyone else, you’d think the man was a creep, but Hizashi is just so earnest about the way he lights up a room. With a belabored sigh and a grin, you roll your chair back a bit and stick your leg to the side to reveal your pink, fluffy slippers. The man claps his hands together and laughs a deep, hearty chuckle, genuinely bemused. 

The bunny slippers had started as a secret. The original dress code had required women to wear heels to work, which was fine, until the back of your feet became nothing but blisters. To give yourself some respite during the day, you had hidden a pair of slippers under your desk, just a little treat to make it through the day. It seemed like a genius idea-

Until the day the fire alarm went off. In the surprise, you had forgotten to change your shoes back, and proceeded to spend the next half an hour outside with the entire company in your violently pink shoes.

Luckily, everyone thought it was pretty funny.

Especially Hizashi.

“Seeing my work wife is the best part of the week.”

You throw a hand over your heart and gasp, trying to hold back your smile. “Only your work wife?”

“Oh, babygirl, I’d marry you in an instant.” He leans over your desk with another sigh, this one heavier. “I’d make you the trophy wife you were born to be.”

“Cool it, Mic.” Your heart sinks a bit at the voice.  “HR is going to have your head if you aren’t careful.”

Aizawa “The Eraser” Shouta makes his third appearance at the coffee machine this morning. He’s an average sized man, if not slightly short, with dark hair and the beginnings of a salt and pepper beard. The muscles in his jaw flex whenever he looks your way, almost as if he’s chewing away his annoyance. The most notable thing about him is a scar on his high cheek bone, long healed and silver in the light. He sits his coffee cup - a beat to shit Stanley thermos from long before they were cool- under the tap and lets the java pour, that sour expression never leaving his face.

Aizawa has worked here since the beginning. As one of the founding members of Prome and a lead engineer, he’s had his hands in absolutely every machine the company has produced, and yet he carries himself with none of the pomp and circumstance he deserves. Instead of abiding by the strict dress code, he wears a bright yellow sweatshirt that has an obvious coffee stain on the pocket.  It’d be charming if he wasn’t an infamous dick. The two of you rarely interact, despite the fact he visits the coffee station next to your desk multiple times a day, offering you no more than a nod most days. The interns are terrified of him-- and rightly so. You’re also scared of him. You’ve never met anyone else as tightly wound or as obsessed with work as him; there’s a rumor that he even sleeps here some days.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hizashi says. “He’s just jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m protecting the company from potential litigation when bunny slippers over here-” he juts a chin your way- “ decides your flirting isn’t fun anymore.” 

You knew he wasn’t jealous. It’s an open secret that Aizawa doesn’t like you very much. Unlike any other of the department heads, he never allocates you work or stops by to chat. There was even a rumor that he wanted to eliminate your position last year; you wouldn’t care so much if he didn’t have the power and sway to make that happen. 

Hizashi pops a hip to the side. He isn’t afraid of anyone it seems; he even claims to be the man’s friend after hours.“Would you rather me go back to flirting with you?”

Aizawa stares back, only the trickle of coffee echoing in the hall. Finally, when it almost reaches the top, he shuts it off and glares. “You’re not even supposed to be in office today, Mic.” 

Hizashi had always been the most notable salesman in the company, but once the CEO’s health went downhill, he had taken over a lot of the speaking roles as well. Interviews, speeches, and the like: Toshinori Yagi had dubbed him Mr. Microphone and the name had just stuck. From what you can tell, he’s actually pretty close with Aizawa and the other founding members outside of work as well.

“I have a quick meeting with the marketing gals in a couple minutes,” Hizashi explains. He brings his attention back to you, brows waggling. Fuck- you know what he’s about to say.

 “And I wanted to wish my wife an early happy birthday.”

Oh, god. Your face flushes with heat-- you had hoped he had forgotten that. You glance over to Aizawa, who seems more interested than usual.

“It's tomorrow,” you explain. He nods curtly.

“Our office darling is going to be thirty, flirty and feeling fine!” Mic explains further. Ugh. You wish he didn't sound so happy about it. When you think about it for too long, turning thirty feels like the end of the world, an evil you just can't avoid. It's better than the alternative, you guess. 

“Are you and the boyfriend planning on a romantic night?”

A second gut punch of a statement.

“Oh, no, I’m just-- he--” You almost get emotional for a moment. Thirty years old and single: it feels like the end of the world for some reason. Everyone else is getting married or having kids or living some dream life. Fuck-- even two of the goddammit interns are engaged and they're practically babies! At this point, you might as well give up and die alone; no one else is ever going to want you, are they? 

 The glimpse of Aizawa in the corner, watching you with those judgemental eyes, sobers you up quickly. 

“We broke up, so I’m just staying in.”

The two snap their heads towards each other. Mic waggles his eyebrows, not so subtly gesturing to a non receptive Aizawa. You know that look, the excitement and relief. It’s not a secret that no one really liked Touya-- people have been openly voicing their contempt for years. He wasn’t a bad guy, except for the times he was, but people only ever remembered the bad things. 

“Oh, is it…?” Mic bites back his words, debating how harsh he should be.  “Is it for real this time?”

Touya always comes back. Everyone knows the routine by now. 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m done with him.”

“Good.” Aizawa says. You grimace at that; even he knows? You didn’t know he paid attention to anything outside of work, let alone your shitty interpersonal drama.

“More than good. Amazing! Spectacular! I’m so, so, so proud of you!” Mic adds on and you pretend it doesn’t bother you. It’s strange; the more others despise him, the more your heart aches. Touya needs you and you need him; who else will have him?

Who else will have you?

“That means we can go out for drinks to celebrate!”

“Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that.”

“Too late, nope. We’re having a two-for-one birthday single bash tomorrow.” He’s on his phone, typing wildly. “I hope you have something pretty to wear because I’m going to show you how you deserve to be treated.”

Fuck. You’d rather be alone, sniveling and waiting for Touya’s return in your apartment, but Hizashi is smiling. His intentions are good; it’d be cruel to deny him. 

“Nemuri knows some awesome spots-” The man is a whirl, typing and talking and walking. “You better get excited, baby girl.”

“Oh, yay,” you offer weakly. Hizashi isn’t listening anymore; he’s caught up in his own plans, briskly walking down the hall. A breath you didn’t know you were holding sneaks out and you slump back down to your seat.

“You really don’t have to let him walk all over you like that,” Aizawa says. He swirls his cup slowly, watching the rim.  

You try to offer the man a smile, but you can tell it looks forced. Sure, Hizashi can be a lot, but he just wants to help, as misguided as that urge is. 

“It’s okay.” When he doesn’t look convinced, you add. “Really.”  

“Are you sure?”  he presses, voice tight. 

“Mhm.” You return to your keyboard and start typing, hoping that he understands the social cue. “Thanks though.”

Thankfully, he lets it go. Turning down the hall, he starts to sip his coffee, but then freezes mid stride.

“You make this?”

“No.”  

“I can tell,” Aizawa says, examining his cup. “It’s fucking dog water.”

That comment is so off kilter that you can’t help but snort. Aizawa watches you for a beat more, maybe bemused, maybe not, then nods. With that, he leaves, an empty coffee pot in his wake.  Another item to add on your growing list. 

-

The rest of the day goes by quicker than you need it to. Denki leaves a little bit after lunch for a doctor’s appointment and the rest of the workforce trickles out after. The head of development, Nezu, has you run through potential presentations before you follow up on compliance’s worries again. The coffee pot was refilled four more times, all by you, and your messages to Touya still sit delivered and unread. Two hours after the work day was supposed to end, you slip your heels back on. Denki’s files are pretty much unrecognizable now, but that’s a good thing.  All of the college students are intelligent and more accomplished than you’ll ever be, but you’re not sure why they can’t figure out basic busy work. There’s nothing hard about it, other than focusing.

With a final press of a key, your personal printer hums to life. A staple and a paperclip and you’re done: now it’s just a quick trip to engineering and you can finally go home. Your work isn't physical, but God, hunching at a desk all day takes a toll on your body. A flare of something eats at your lower back as you stroll the empty building and try to rub the grit from your eyes. You think there’s a frozen pizza at home or maybe some pasta-- though, you can’t remember if that was from this monday or last monday. Maybe it’d be safer to just throw it away.

The department itself  is a long row of cubicles, with miscellaneous machines and computers littering the other side of the room. You recognize old prototypes and parts of Prome's most famous product: a hospital bed. 

Before you had set foot in this building, you never thought a bed could count as a medical device -- or as something highly complicated and thoroughly engineered -- but this bed is different. It’s comfortable, lightweight, and durable, all while able to track a patient’s movement and comfort. It even records a patient's glucose, body temperature, SPO2, and many other medical things that go over your head. When used correctly, bedsores rates have been reduced to nearly zero and hospital related illnesses are caught significantly earlier.

In about three months, the newest model will be released, complete with full integration into electronic record systems. If everything goes according to plan, it’ll be revolutionary. Working here is a headache, but you do take pride that it's a company that does good. 

“Do you need something?” 

You jump at the sound of the voice, flipping around to search the room. Tucked at the end of it all is an open office door. Inside, Aizawa is perched at his desk, head in one hand, reading glasses in the other.  He’s illuminated only by the computer screen, his deep, dark eyes bouncing side to side as he carefully reads.

 Aizawa always looks tired, but now so especially; his heavy lidded eyes are drooped with fatigue and his skin is pallor, black stubble dusting his unshaved cheeks. There’s no bite or annoyance to his voice-- maybe even a little levity. For once, you don’t want to scurry away from him like a mouse, hiding in the shadows and corners to avoid his claws.  You still approach cautiously, heels sharp against the tile. The silence in between each hit makes your skin prick with an unknown nausea. 

“I thought everyone went home.” You say. 

“Everyone did. Just me-- and you, apparently.” He taps out a word or two. His office is devoid of personal items, desk covered in nothing but stacks of papers and illegible post notes, nothing to hint to his personal life. It’s been three years, yet you have no idea what his personal life is like-- if he even has one, that is.

“No slippers tonight?”

That was either a dig or a joke. You aren’t sure either way, but the way your shoes sound when you walk even closer feels like its own answer. When you reach the corner of his desk, he finally looks your way. It hits you that you've never actually been this close to him before. It's always been passes in the hall and distant conversations. His skin is smoother than you'd thought it'd be, with creases between his brow that fill themselves when he-

“Do you… need something?”

“Oh, uh-- Denki left these at my desk by accident,” you lie, sliding the file on to the corner of his desk. “I think they’re for you.”

He regards you again, more thoroughly this time. With a tilt of his head, he inspects your face, eyes flickering between your two. In the dim, they’re nothing but black dots, an inkinesss that you could fall into if you were any closer. 

He’s pretty.  And that’s an unsettling thought. You’ve never allowed yourself to consider that before. Immediately, you walk the thought back. No. Nobody with his personality is attractive-- hands down. Touya is the only dick you need in your life. 

“You should go home. It's late.” he says before turning back to his work. He types a couple things, then hits the backspace and deletes it all again. “Go home.”

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you sigh, the workday catching up to you. “You should too.” 

“Hm,” he grunts. He takes a long sip from his thermos, tipping it back to suck the dregs. You’d never noticed the sticker of the bottom before- a faded and torn image of an orange cat.  “Maybe.”

That’s a no. You don’t push the issue. You start towards the door, then pause. 

“Do… do you want me to make another pot of coffee before I go?” You’re not sure why you offer. Everything’s been put away and cleaned for tomorrow. It’d take at least 15 minutes to set up again. 

Aizawa slides his glasses back on, adjusting them by the bridge, only for them to slip right back down the flat bridge of his nose.

“You don't have to do that.” 

With that you leave, no proper goodnight dismissing you. The tap of your heels and the clack of his keyboard mix into some sort of soft, unbalanced rhythm. Despite yourself, you think of Touya, of where he is and where he isn’t. Is it also quiet there? Has he thought of someone else in the same way you just did?

When the doors of the building close and the security guard nods your way, the sound of percolation echoes behind you, the final drops falling into a freshly brewed pot.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

hear me out…jason proposing 😵‍💫 i’m such a sucker for a lowkey proposal like you’re just having a normal convo and he’s like “marry me” and you’re like wtf but you laugh it off bc like ofc he’s joking so when you’re like “you’re funny” he’s just dead serious, “marry me.”

I don’t really know where I was going with this, but if you get the reference I respect you.

—

Time written - 10:10 a.m

—

You weren’t a criminal when you met Robin, years before his tragic prime. It wasn’t every day when your paths crossed with a cape wearing teen around your age, even more so on his search of a bag of valuables you were ready to deny when it ‘accidentally’ came into your hands.

“Care to tell me how that happened?” The Boy Wonder at the time smirked, amused at your gawking face.

“Cat got her own tongue? What, you need some milk?”

You rolled your eyes. I you were a thief, you’d have sense to throw the satchel at his head. The cheesy jokes must’ve been a Robin thing. “I’m more of an Ice cream girl, actually. But, I didn’t steal this!”

To add up on this horribly unprecedented situation, Robin quirked a brow behind that domino mask of his, gesturing his head towards the bag of valuables in question.

“Trade you a milkshake for that.”

It was your turn to be incredibly confused, your mouth left open for quite some time. Was he serious right now?

“I choose the flavor.” You state after a further moment of thought.

“Seems fair.”

“And the place it’s bought from.”

“That’s askin’ a bit much,” Robin began to huff, hinting his growing smirk as your frown deepens.

“All I’m asking for is a five dollar shake in exchange for this bag full of hundreds of dollars, bird boy.”

“A five dollar shake in exchange for about seven hundred bucks inside that bag,” Robin points out, his smile growing bigger and bigger. “Throw in your phone number, an’ we got a deal, kitty cat.”

It turned into unconventional milkshake roof dates, sitting over the skylines, staring down at the chaotic world below as the two of you shared an unintentional paradise.

He’d tease your fear of heights, constantly calling you a Catwoman rip off, but he always made sure to never let you fall. Your relationship was sweet, too sweet, and gone way too fast.

Your rooftop dates were a tradition you kept alive when he died, only to resurface when a knock at your window interrupted you of sleep, opening your balcony to find a single milkshake perfectly balanced, with a bright black arrow drawn on the cup to meet Red Hood on the roof.

Jason Todd wasn’t the same as you remembered him to be, but he was still Jason, underneath all that broodiness that shielded him from whatever unseen traumas he hadn’t shared with you quite yet.

All these months since he ���returned’, he always made sure to keep up your ice cream date schedules. Nine o’clock sharp on the roof of your apartment building. Sometimes, ontop of Wayne Industries on special occasions. He’d always be the one to carry you, especially now.

What did stick with him was his horrible Robin humor, which was what you believed he was using when he popped such an unexpected question.

“What?” Came your first response, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. A strange warm throb formed in your heart, thudding rapidly in your chest.

“What did you say?”

“Marry me.” He repeats again, never putting off that firm expression plastered on his face.

What an untimely thing to say in the calm before an unknown storm. Both of you were out of breath after chatting for an hour, sipping on thick melted shakes and laughing over the previous Boy Wonder.

“Jason, this isn’t funny.” You peer down at your cup, nearly finished with its contents. He always got your favorite.

“You’re right,” He agrees, his tone a little too calm to be considered any sort of joke.

All possibility of opportunity to pop a laugh and admit he was joking weighed heavily in the air, carried around by the nightly breeze. He never says he’s joking, never shrugs off such an alarming, mind blowing question.

“What if you’re kidding?” Your denial still leaks through, making his lips twitch upwards. It has to be a joke, he wouldn’t say it like this.

“What if I’m not?” He casually responds, nearly wearing down your patience.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Jason.” Saying his name so softly, littered with fear and hesitancy makes his second life heart melt. Being so sweet on his girl, even after his death, taught him a great lesson about time.

Regardless if he didn’t arrive at nine o’ clock sharp, or if you arrived two minutes late, time could easily be taken away, ruining everything.

He remains quiet, watching your flustered expression vary from your hands along your cup before setting it down beside you. Taking this chance, he gently grasps hold of your hand before it had a chance to retreat into the safety of your jacket pocket.

“I meant what I said,” Jason speaks again in a more calm, soothing tone of voice. “I know this ain’t traditional. I don’t exactly do traditional, but … I wanna marry you.”

His hand squeezes yours, making you hesitant to speak further. He was serious, the realization was heavily daunting in such a unique way. A unique, exciting way.

“Why?” You look at him again, swallowing slowly as he leans closer, nearly making you anticipate a kiss.

Instead, his forehead settles against yours, taking in the rich, crystalline serenity of your unique, radiant beauty.

“Because,” he mutters, “You waited for me.”

Dedication, patience, hope; That was worth more to him than gold, worth much more than the bag of valuables he knew you didn’t steal.

“I have a ring for ya,” Jason continues on whilst his thumb strokes along the back of your hand. “If you don’t like it, I’ll getcha whatever you want. We’ll have as big of a wedding as you want, then we’re gonna go somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” You whisper.

“Yeah. Just you and me; no crime fighting, no danger. Nothing. Just us.”

“Just us?”

“Yeah babygirl,” Jason peers into your eyes, wanting to coo at your noticeable tears. “Wherever you want. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

You just needed to say yes.

You couldn’t help but giggle with an overwhelming mix of emotions, your trembling hand reaching up to settle behind his hooded head.

“Why do I feel like,” you nearly laugh in between your words. “Why do I get this feeling you put the ring in my cup?”

“An’ ruin a perfectly good five dollar shake?” Jason expresses in surprise, chuckling along with your giddy laughter. “C’mon babe. I’m not that inconspicuous.”

“Then where is it?”

Jason tilts his head, raising a brow. “Why’re you asking, kitty cat? Plan on stealing it?”

“No,” you muse, your nose nearly bumping against his.

“You expecting me to slip it on right about now?” His hand finds purchase along your hip, cradling your supple body. “Dosent work unless you—“

You cut him off via a kiss, one he graciously accepts.

You tasted like cherry sublime mixed with the highlife, a good life where you always existed in it. If he were to die again, he needed to know that he went with one successful accomplishment. Marrying his Robinhood sweetheart.

“Yes,” you whisper, those tears you worked so hard to hold back cascading down your cheeks. “I’ll marry you, Jason.”

In knowing him since he was Robin, till you met him as the muscular, ever brooding Red Hood, you’ve never seen the man smile so big. His eyes shining brighter than the moon that was ever so beautiful tonight.

Grasping hold of your hips, he pulls you into his arms, carelessly tilting over his half finished milkshake cup in the process. His lips find you once more after sitting you in his lap, muscled forearms snuggly hugging around your waist, holding you as physically close to him as possible.

“The ring I gotcha-“ he muffles against your pretty lips in between kisses. “- is at my place. Waiting for you—on my bed.”

Your laugh was all you could respond with. From the very start, it’s as if he planned this all out. All it took was a bag of misplaced valuables and the promise of a five dollar shake.

[oikasugayama]

Hi can I request a chart on bsd boys with a super shy s/o ☺️

of courseeeee <3 i was horribly shy as a child and still am to some extent, so some of these assumptions are based on my own experience!

Though he likes your shyness, he sometimes finds it annoying

Akutagawa (likes that you keep to yourself in public so enemies tend to overlook you, but he doesn't like having conversations on your behalf because you're too shy to make a phone call), Fyodor (likes that you're quiet and keep to yourself when other people are around, but doesn't like when you get shy toward him), Jouno (likes that you don't approach people or start conversations, but hates when he has to guess what you want because you won't just say it).

He likes that you're shy and finds it very cute when you need him to help you with social things.

Nikolai (you cling to him in public; sometimes he likes to disappear and watch from afar as you panic and search for him because the look of joy and relief when you finally spot him goes straight to his heart), Ango (feels like you're safe from harm because you keep to yourself and let him run a lot of errands for you; he loves feeling needed by you), Sigma (is surrounded by bold people, so you're a breath of fresh air being fairly quiet and calm; he'd do anything for you at the drop of a hat and doesn't even realize you need the help because you're shy), Junichiro (is also fairly timid, so he likes having a quiet, introverted relationship with you; you spend a lot of time at home playing games and cuddling; he can overrule his own anxiety to do things for you), Bram (is endeared that you're quiet and shy when others are around; he hates when people consider you his trophy wife or ask if he has you under a spell; he'll get in fights with people over this), Poe is the only person you've ever met who's as shy as you are; he hides in public, he trembles when he has to ask for something; only you and Ranpo know how fun and silly he actually is, and only they know the same about you), Mori (adores your timidness and enjoys controlling you as much as you'll let him; it's not necessarily toxic but it can certainly get there...), Oda (considers you as beautiful as the cherry blossoms in the spring after a dark, cold winter; he'd do anything for you, no questions asked), Chuuya (enjoys protecting you, helping you, cheering you up; he does wish you could have a bit more confidence because he wants everyone to know how radiant you are, but he's content keeping your shine to himself).

He generally finds it cute when you get shy, but wants to help you be more confident.

Fukuzawa (understands that it can be scary to talk to people, so he never pushes you and while he happily does things for you, he also gradually coaches you into being more confident), Dazai (selfishly loves that you cling to him in public and need him to do things like order at restaurants on your behalf; he just wishes you knew how much power you have and thinks it'd be hot if you acted really confidently sometimes), Tachihara (feels so important when he gets to help you, but sometimes he wishes he had a bold, dynamic partner who would go out with him and do all the crazy things he wants to do without shying away), Atsushi (finds you very cute and is happy to do things that you're too shy to do, but he recognizes his own lack of confidence in you and wants you to blossom the way he did), Tetcho (thinks that you're sweet if not a bit naive and wants to make you happy; he also thinks you'd be happier if you didn't need to rely on him so much).

He gets annoyed when you're "overly shy" and wants you to be more confident.

Ranpo (doesn't understand why you can't just say what you want to say and do what you want to do; has no concept of anxiety and is not helpful), Kunikida (gets frustrated when your shyness messes up his scheduled plans; he wants you to be more confident for your benefit but also his), Fukuchi (tells you he doesn't want a partner he has to take care of, and tells you to get used to doing things on your own), Mushitaro (is very independent and wants a partner who is equally so; he gets annoyed when you need help or cling to him in public and constantly tries to make you more independent). (Bonus discussion on the longevity of these four relationships.)

[runninriot]

Backstage Romance (I Want It Bad)

written for @steddiesongfics

song: Backstage Romance (Moulin Rouge! The Musical) | rated: E | wc: 7.018 | tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson, Manager Steve Harrington, Famous Corroded Coffin, secret hookups, dom/sub undertones, angst, smut, ambiguous/open ending | complete fic on ao3

-----

Eddie is buzzing, high on adrenaline like always when they’re playing a show. He’s still not used to this, it’s still something he can’t quite wrap his head around – to watch people dance and sing along to their songs, to hear their roaring applause and deafening whistles, to know they’re here for them.

It’s electrifying.

A fucking dream.

They’re still considered newcomers but Corroded Coffin are finally climbing their way out of the gutter; they’re making it, step by step, and one day not too far in the future, they’ll be on top.

It’s all Eddie ever wanted, all he and his best friends have always fantasized about back when they were still a bunch of loser kids dreaming of becoming rockstars while terrorising Gareth’s poor parents (and the whole neighbourhood, really) with the horrible noise coming from their garage.

The dream is reality now, success not only a possibility but a fact. It would be poison for Eddie's already too big ego but thankfully, there's always someone bringing him back down to earth when he gets carried away.

They’ve got a label now, signed record deal and all and-

   “Great show, guys! The people seemed to really love the new song.”

Yeah, and that. They’ve got a manager now, too.

Steve Harrington.

The guy whose appearance makes him stick out like a sore thumb from the sea of blacks and greys and dark reds around him. The guy who doesn’t look the part but actually likes what they do. The guy who doesn’t give two fucks about what others think of him because he’s not here to make friends, he’s here to do his job. And he’s pretty good at that.

Good at a lot of things.

At first, Eddie hated the idea of having a fucking babysitter on tour with them. Someone to watch their every move, someone to keep them out of trouble (where’s the fun in that?), to make sure they don’t fuck up their reputation. Someone to handle all their business affairs for them, as if they couldn’t take care of it themselves.

Now, Eddie’s actually glad they have someone to deal with everything – from interview requests and setting up their tour schedule to negotiating their contracts and booking their gigs. Steve handles it all, allowing the band to enjoy the fruits of their labour without having to deal with the annoying parts of being in the music business.

And that should be all there is to it. Just a business relation based on what’s in the band’s best interest.

But it’s not.

Not behind the curtains, backstage, when no one is looking. Where, hidden in dark corners, Steve and Eddie share a secret.

A secret that could ruin it all.

Because it’s unprofessional, could get them both in trouble. Could get Steve fired, possibly. Maybe even put Eddie’s – if not the whole band’s – career on the line if the public ever found out about it.

But that just makes it even more thrilling.

Eddie has always been drawn to that, the forbidden, things that could cause irreparable damage. And throughout his life, he’s come to ask himself more than once if this is really worth it. If it’s worth risking it all just for giving in to his reckless impulses.

But the answer has always been the same. Now even more so than ever.

He knows it’s wrong, dangerous, a game he shouldn’t be playing because playing with fire will get him burned.

The problem is that he’s a sucker for the pain.

And being ruined by Steve Harrington is worth everything.

-----

continue reading here

[retellingthehobbit]

….I’m suddenly realizing that I posted chapter 17 of The Hobbit comic on January 13th of 2024, so it’s been almost exactly one year since I last posted a chapter XD.

Really though, Ive realized my new Webcomic Goal is to be more like my favorite YouTube video essayists — who post one excellent high-effort video a year, and then vanish to work on their next video privately for another year (only giving rough draft updates to their Patreon members.)

I think a lot about Hbomberguy’s video essay on the widespread problem of plagiarism on YouTube, where he talks about how the incentive to Post More Content All The Time leads to creators producing plagiarized poorly-researched insincere videos about topics they don’t know/care about, videos that are horribly constructed and riddled with severe mistakes— and how the rise of AI is only going to make that kind of insidious plagiarism much easier to get away with. I also think about how I’ve seen webcomics I used to like start using AI-generated imagery for backgrounds in order to keep up with their rigid update schedule, assuming their readers won’t care as long as they get New #Content.

But people actually do care about quality and sincerity, is the thing! People like having things that are created with love, that they can slow down and revisit multiple times and appreciate more each time. People like things that aren’t shallow, and that the creator put their heart into making. I know that I value that, and I think most people actually do! Social media algorithms want us to prioritize frequency and regularity, and shove that data-driven content in our faces all day, but people actually do value things that are made with love and care even if they take a long time!

I know that I would rather wait an entire year for each video from Defunctland or Folding Ideas or Lindsay Ellis, than follow a thousand YouTube channels that keep to a rigid update schedule via lazy shallow poorly constructed plagiarized content. XD

Similarly, I’m always surprised every time I update that people are still Around and check on this goofy little fanfic comic project regularly? ;_; It’s still ultimately just a small fan-project, but it’s cool that people are still following it after all these years.

And I hope people can sorta view this comic that way— something that takes a long time to update, but only because anything worth reading takes a long time to create.

Anyway, I need to prepare some stuff so I’ll probably post the next chapter in the next couple weeks— I’ve been considering February 1st?— but in the meantime the full 30-page draft of the next chapter is on my art patreon, and you can see the full archive of the entire comic on my website RetellingTheHobbit.com :3.

Thank you again for continuing to follow me even during the Long Hiatuses! I really do appreciate having a small group of readers still sticking around in this fandom!! <333

[vinylfoxbooks]

October 20 - Train | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 756

I’m going to kill someone if anything else goes wrong today, is the text that Barty receives from Regulus as he gets on the train, completely out of context. He knows that Barty is going to ask for context, but he’s not going to give it to him until later when he’s calm enough to fully recall the events of the day. But as of right now, his last straw is that he’s getting on a train, yes. But it’s the wrong fucking train. 

It’s a whole series of events that led him to this point. 

And it all starts with this morning, when his alarm didn’t go off so we woke up late, then he got coffee late and the train that he usually takes to class was leaving by the time that he got to the station so he had to wait for the next one, meaning he was late for his class.

And his classes went shitty, but here he is, getting onto the wrong train. And it’s not because he missed his normal one twice in one day, no. He got to the station in time, got onto the train and was greeting by a car that was nearly overflowing with people. And Regulus hates himself enough to force himself to wait another thirty minutes for the next train, but not enough to step into a nasty train that is so tightly packed Regulus is sure that he would contract a disease just from standing at the doors for two seconds. 

So he’s on the wrong train. And it’s bringing him in the right direction, but it’s not his normal train which makes everything wrong, and his schedule is thirty minutes behind now. 

But at least this train is mostly empty, Regulus considers as he takes a deep breath that guides him down into a seat across from…

Holy shit. Sitting directly across from him with an earbud in, the other going to a man with scars whos sitting next to them, is an actual Adonis of a person. They’re wearing a tight-fitting shirt that shows off their muscles and they have golden rimmed glasses that just barely hold back messy curls from falling into their eyes. Eyes that are absolutely twinkling as they laugh about something that they’re showing to the person sitting next to them on their phone. 

And this literal God manages to notice that Regulus is staring at them, and before he gets the chance to look away awkwardly and pretend that he wasn’t just watching them, they flash him the most charming smile he’s ever seen grace anyone’s face. Regulus feels faint. 

Nevermind, is what Regulus types with one hand, not even looking at his phone in favour of watching the person and their friend talk now that they’ve shown they didn’t seem to mind his gaze, meaning that it’s probably horribly misspelled because Regulus doesn’t know his way around a phone keyboard at all. He feels his phone buzz in his hand when Barty texts him back, but he doesn’t look at it. Not when the person once again goes to look back at him. 

Regulus starts riding that train, going out of his way to wait an extra thirty minutes to get on it, just so he can see the God that rides the train. Sometimes they have their friend with them, other times they’re alone. And sometimes when they’re alone, they’ll smile and go to sit next to Regulus, pulling him into a conversation. It’s… nice, delightful even. This person, James he’s learned, is incredibly attractive and their voice and laugh are absolutely intoxicating, and they’re so kind…

I’m going to kill someone if anything else goes wrong today, is the text that James gets when Regulus misses his train once again, this time the one that brings him to his classes. 

Missed the train? James texts back, then sends, don’t complain, the last time you missed a train, you met me.

Wouldn’t that be a bad thing for you, though? James’ text bubble comes up and goes away a couple times while Regulus is stepping onto the train, cup of coffee warming his other hand, before finally his phone buzzes with the text, I don’t think you could find another me, especially when I’m still the one you talk to on the new train. Followed by a winky face. And no matter how bad Regulus’ day can go from here, he smiles at the thought that James is waiting for him at home.

[dre6ming]

On set of Dune II

This part of “The delicate beginning rush” universe- whole series HERE

If you want to be tagged

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem reader

Warning: smut 18+, blow job, cursing, MINORS PLEASE BE AWARE

Word count: 2k

Plot: you want to surprise Austin on the set of dune 2 and he gets shy about his fight scenes, but that is all forgotten when you work your magic on him.

A/n: this was a request by someone and it was so exciting to write, if you have more, send them to me and I’ll get to them as soon as I can.

With my busy schedule I barely got my assistant to fit this surprise flight to Budapest, so I could visit Austin on set of Dune 2. We haven't seen each other in person in 5 weeks, filming taking all of our time, on opposite sides of the world. It's not easy and it definitely is not pleasant, but we aren't the first nor the last to go through long distance. I have a few days off, time which I should have spend in the studio with Taylor, who's working on her new album, but I could not stay any longer without seeing Aus.

"Y/n so nice to meet you in person, I'm Denis. I have to say, I look forward to some day working with you, you're amazing!" The director says, putting his hand forward for me to shake. I smile kindly at him and take his hand. "Oh that's so beautiful of you to say, I look forward to that day as well, your work is so detailed and ambitious." I giggle, blushing a bit at his compliments. "Now I know this is a surprise for Austin, I did not say anything" he zips his lips closed chuckling "but you do have to sign some papers, just formalities you know." I nod and sign away, promising not to tell anything that I see today to anyone. "He's working, full make up, so brace yourself, it's really, it's a bit scary, come on."

Denis puts his hand on my shoulder and leads the way, as we walk I can start hearing grunting and thudding and all sorts of scenes. I am a bit worried about seeing Austin in full make up and acting like this psychotic character, considering that after the first time seeing him over video in full makeup I had a horrible nightmare. Granted he did call me at 3 am in the morning and I did answer kinda unconsciously, but still. There's big lights centered on two figures in the middle of a blue room, the rest is pretty dimly lit, so my eyes take a moment to adjust. I could recognize Austin's grunts anywhere, having had them in my ear for so long, so my knees feel a bit weak, my skin already hungry to feel him.

As I get used to the light, I see Austin move so athletically, jumping back avoiding hits, then throwing some good punches himself. He's been working very hard in the gym gaining a few pounds of muscle, looking toned like never before. God he looks so weird with this make up, I miss his blonde curly hair, thank god for the other movie he's filming, and this is all a fake bald cap. The other guy he's fighting with, uses a small knife, which I'm pretty sure it's fake but still scary. He swings it, in front of Austin's face and next thing I know he falls to the ground, catching himself mid fall, turning his head to the camera, showing his face full of blood. I stifle a scream, covering my mouth, feeling my heart pounding in my chest, I look at everyone, no one seems to notice. Austin flashes a smile, black teeth showing, with trembling hands I push my hair behind my ears and try and act as if I had known this was all an act.

"Cut! Austin man, amazing! Let's get makeup in here and clean it up, I want to shoot it one more time. Let's take five!" Denis says, and suddenly Austin's whole demeanor changes, it's so strange, he looks so scary, but his stance is so Austin. I clear my voice and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, walking forward. Austin, being the sweet guy he is, is shaking hands with his partner. "Hi there stranger, need a tissue? I think you got a bloody nose." As soon as he hears my voice, he turns around, scooping my up in a tight hug, getting fake blood all over me. "Y/n!" Austin says, holding me tight to his chest, his lips kissing my neck, leaving wet splashes of fake blood. "Did you miss me baby?" I ask, patting his back, as my feet touch the ground. He doesn't answer, instead, his hands hold my face and he pulls me in for a kiss. It wet and bitter, even a bit sticky, but it tastes like him still. Austin breathes into the kiss, his tongue, entering my mouth exploring. I lace my hands around his neck and moan into him, forgetting for a minute where we are.

Austin pulls back resting his forehead on mine, breathing softly. "What are you doing here?" He asks a smile evident in his tone. I giggle when he rubs his nose against mine, pulling back to look at me. "Oh fuck, I got fake blood all over you, honey I'm so sorry!" He tries to wipe it with the back of his hand, but I take it away, holding his hand in mine. "It's fine, I'm just glad it's fake, I thought it was real." Austin can see that I'm as honest as they come and his eyes look sympathetic "I'm so sorry darling, I didn't mean to worry you!" He says, kissing my forehead head, then grunting annoyed. "I really should stop kissing you now." He says, rubbing his thumb over my forehead, on what I'm assuming is another fake blood stain. "You look so buff and scary, so so hot!" I say biting my lip.

"Really?" Even though all this white makeup I can see the slight blush he has on, turning all shy and avoiding eye contact. "So so hot!" I stand on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear, feeling him shiver as my breath fans over his skin. "I can't wait for you to make those pretty noises for me!" I laugh, but my breath gets stuck in my throat as his arms circle around me and he pulls me in, flush to his front. "Baby these leather pants are very very tight and leave no room." He says rubbing his pelvis in mine so I can feel his hard on. My blood starts boiling and I can almost see myself with him on top of me.

"Ask for ten minutes, bathroom break or something." I plead under my breath. Austin looks hesitant, but he still does it anyway. Denis gives his ok and we bolt to his trailer, knowing we don't have much time. I laugh all the way there and he tries to make small talk, telling me all about how filming as been going so far, event this he's already told all this stuff. I listen, but in the back of my head I'm far gone.

We close the door to his trailer and his lips are on mine instantly. His hands hold mine down, so that I won't be able to try and thread my fingers through his nonexistent hair. "Get on the bed!" I say breathless and step back, letting him move past me and onto the bed. "Y/n, my darling, I've missed you so so much." Austin says, sitting on his bed, leaning back a bit, legs spread wide, sporting a noticeable bulge. "I've missed you too." I admit and move in front of him, placing my hand in his hard on, squeezing him through his pants. "Fuck!" He says, throwing his head back. I work his pants open and slide them down enough to free his hard dick, looking red and needy. I lick my lips and get down on my knees. This would be my first time ever doing anything like this, but I've been thinking about it a lot and I've been wanting to try.

"Y/n y/n, no no baby you don't have to, honey come on!" Austin tries to lift me off the ground but I keep my position. "I want to, but I've never done it before, so if I do something wrong, just tell me. Please!" I bat my lashes at him and his hips thrust in the air. "Just, ok, but take it easy ok?" I nod and hold him in my hand. I spit on him and move my hand up and down, using my thumb to touch his head gathering more sleek from there. I can already feel my panties getting wet, so I squeeze my thighs together. I lean forward and take him in my mouth. So far he's been quiet, but now that my warm mouth is on him, he lets out a long breathy moan, fisting the sheets beside him. "Fuck, you are an angel! I love you so much!" He tastes salty, but good in a way. I swirl my tongue around and suck, bopping my head up and down. One of his big hands leaves the sheets and finds purchase in my hair. I moan around him and feel him shiver as a few more cures slip past his lips.

God I've missed him. "Fuck baby, you look so beautiful with your mouth around my cock, do you like it? Like how I fit in your mouth?" I love when Austin talks dirty to me, so I moan, picking up the pace, causing him to fall back on the bed, crying out In pleasure. I finally understand why he loves to do this for me, I think I could watch him like this for ages and not get bored. I feel him twitch in my mouth, so I move my free hand from his thigh, to his balls, squeezing softly. "Shit, fucking hell!" He grunts, pushing his hips a bit in my mouth. "Y/n, baby, I'm not going to last long, if you don't want it in your mouth, I'll tell you when ok?" I nod, but I know want it in my mouth, I've tasted him before, after giving him hand jobs, so now I'm more than eager to get a taste of him.

I sneak my hand under his balls and push slightly on the spot there, which causes Austin to jump off the bed a bit, pushing himself further down my throat making me gag, tears prickle my eyes. I breathe through my nose and relax for him, working on him, pushing on that secret spot. "Fuck, Y/n, baby that feels so good, ahh I'm cu-" he doesn't get to finish what he has to say, as his body goes rigid and he spills himself into my mouth. I stay calm and swallow him whole, enjoying they way it feels. When he's done, I let him out of my mouth, give him a few more strokes, ending with a kiss to his head, smiling at the way he curses.

He lifts me up into his arms and I lay my head in his chest. "Wow, are you sure you've never done this before? Because this must have been the best I've ever had!" Austin says out of breath. I giggle and kiss under his chin. "I like to read, I learn what I read." I explain, sighing when he moves his head to kiss my lips. His hand travels down my body and gives my ass a good squeeze, making me yelp, so he can sneak his tongue into my mouth.

A knock on the door as us parting, him quickly putting his pants on and me, wiping my face with a tissue. "Back on set!" A voice shouts from the other side of the door. "In a minute!" Austin screams back, trying to make himself as presentable as possible. "Can I come watch you some more?" I ask, turning the water on to was the dried fake blood from my face. I look back at Austin and he looks so timid now, scratching the back of his head. "I mean of course baby..."

"Aus..? What's up?" I ask using a towel to dry my face, while I look at him, his eyes wondering the room, avoiding mine. "Well I guess I'm just a tad shy, you know, I have to act pretty barbaric out there and I feel so silly, I'm just I don't know.." he says dropping his head. I get close to him and take his hands in mine, rubbing slow circles on his knuckles. "You don't look silly, you look fierce, and bold and scary, you have nothing to be shy about." I say kissing the tip of his nose. "Now come on big boy, you've got work to do, and the faster you finish here, the sooner you get to make love to me!" I wink at him and he chockes on his laughter, blushing a deep red.

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[darsynia]

New (Nomad Steve/Nurse!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he met you.

Word Count/Warnings: 2,400 | None

As 1/7 of my Birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, NEw is a first kiss hurt/comfort fic about writing your own happy endings. It's a hugely busy week for you and there's no pressure to respond right now, they'll all be here when you have time!

Excerpt:

Lately it feels like exhaustion is your religion. Stay up way too late, stumble home confused and euphoric and try to will yourself to sleep, then wake up and perform miracles to get yourself back to the hospital for your shift. You’ve always been a night owl, but your shift supervisor practically considers you the ward’s brand ambassador, and to keep the peace, you agreed to stay on the day shift. You’d gotten the schedule down to a science, right up until a tall, gorgeous complication started to jog at the track after hours.

The name he’d given feels fake, but nothing else about him does, and you know all about needing to distance yourself from the horrible things you’ve seen at work. You suspect he was a soldier until he got out, and after that probably a firefighter, but you’ve never asked. Mostly, you just try to keep up with him. The sum total of the words you’ve spoken to each other probably wouldn’t make for a single meet-cute in a romance novel, but they feel consequential enough to you.

NEW

It takes Steve a painful amount of time to adjust to hiding.

It isn’t just that he’s recognizable, it’s that he’s always stood out, always. As a small baby he’d been gasped over by strangers, as a sickly child he’d see concern and aversion in their eyes, and once he’d grown into a scrawny adult, those reactions had just intensified. 

Some accused him of making himself sick to avoid the war, as though he could have secretly known it was coming and starved himself into stunted growth just in case. For some, it didn’t matter what he looked like-- any man who wasn’t at war was fair game for ridicule. Even those who didn’t care either way found his presence unnerving simply because men his age were scarce. He reminded them of the people they missed, the people who didn’t have the ‘protection’ of being physically unable to join up. 

If his life was a narrative, he’d be the best protagonist he could be.

Even so, there was a special kind of hell in wanting so desperately to fight for justice and be told how lucky you were to be disallowed. Back then, it had been important to him not to hide. There were certainly others in the same boat as he was, men who needed groceries, to watch the news in the theater, to have a walk in the fresh air. So he went out anyway. He was the example, the target, the archetype.

Once he had the serum, hiding meant all the hard work by Doctor Erskine and Howard Stark would be for nothing, so he didn’t. Even in tights.

The symbolism was even stronger when he came out of the ice. Now, people look to him as a lodestar meant to bring them all back to decency and safety, and he wants to, but with action, not iconography, no matter how potent. 

That hadn’t been enough, and now they’re here.

“You’ve been tying your shoes for five minutes, man. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Sam.” Steve finishes up quickly and straightens. “Daydreaming, I guess.”

Sam leans over and looks out through the thin rectangle of night sky visible through the thick curtains. “At this point I think you can just call it dreaming. Stay safe out there.”

Steve watches Sam head off into the kitchen before he slips out of the apartment door and locks it behind him. He and Sam keep nocturnal schedules, but Natasha’s expert-level camouflage skills have netted her a day job that keeps them all afloat. Their plan of moving from community to community taking seasonal jobs has worked well so far. 

This is the most ‘domestic’ of their locations to date; they’re spending the lead-up to Christmas in a small city in the midwest full of people who know how to keep their heads down and get things done. No one’s expecting a trio of superheroes to settle in a satellite town whose main attraction is a vintage bowling alley, but there are other calculations to consider. People make eye contact here. They bring their real selves to the conversation, and Steve’s been struggling with some real guilt about that. 

As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he’d met you.

Lately it feels like exhaustion is your religion. Stay up way too late, stumble home confused and euphoric and try to will yourself to sleep, then wake up and perform miracles to get yourself back to the hospital for your shift. You’ve always been a night owl, but your shift supervisor practically considers you the ward’s brand ambassador, and to keep the peace, you agreed to stay on the day shift. You’d gotten the schedule down to a science, right up until a tall, gorgeous complication started to jog at the track after hours.

The name he’d given feels fake, but nothing else about him does, and you know all about needing to distance yourself from the horrible things you’ve seen at work. You suspect he was a soldier until he got out, and after that probably a firefighter, but you’ve never asked. Mostly, you just try to keep up with him. The sum total of the words you’ve spoken to each other probably wouldn’t make for a single meet-cute in a romance novel, but they feel consequential enough to you.

As it has for the past week, your heart starts racing when you get close to the track. The problem is, you were run ragged today, and you feel just like the mermaid from the original fairy tale. Every single step is like knives stabbing the balls of your feet, and your arches are singing ‘fuck you’ so loudly you expect Ursula to show up any minute.

You stop on the bench right inside the gate to let the burning pain subside a bit. The last thing you want is for your burly new crush to think you’re a lightweight, not now that the months of forcing yourself to run after work have paid off so nicely with… well, him.  

Besides Frank, the school’s night security officer and all-around nicest tough-guy in town, there isn’t anyone else visible on the brightly-lit track. You take the opportunity to cross your ankle over your knee and reach for your shoe in preparation to swap it with the sneakers in your bag. These are a new pair, and you’d planned on wearing them every few days to break them in. As soon as you get your heel off you understand just how much you screwed up by not bringing  the others in to swap into once you realized how go-go-go your day would be. The swelling is bad, and the beginnings of blisters sting in various places. There’s no way in hell you can jog today, and walking home is going to be excruciating. It’s a god-damned miracle you have the day off tomorrow.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” you mutter under your breath. The John F. Kennedy High School campus is the same distance from the bus stop as your apartment is, but in the opposite direction. Your feet had already been screaming, why hadn’t you gone home instead?”

“Thought you weren’t coming!”

Your crush’s voice cuts through the late November chill, warming your heart. You look up and see him crossing from under the bleachers, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He’s far enough away that you let yourself sigh, half in addlepated pleasure in seeing him, half in utter frustration at yourself. He’s the reason you came, of course. You’d walk across fire to spend time with this guy, and by the time you head home, that’s definitely what it’ll feel like.

“Sorry, long day,” you tell him once he’s close enough. 

Hurrying, you yank off your second shoe and nearly swallow your tongue from the pain. Tears stand in your eyes, exacerbated by the surprise when you look up and your new friend is right there, almost like he'd teleported over. He’s crouched in front of you, and there’s nowhere to hide from his concerned scrutiny.

He confirms your assessment of ex-military by the professional once-over he’s doing, even more so when he takes your shoe out of your weary hand and tests the bend of its sole with a practiced hand.

“Don’t say it--”

“These are not very good shoes,” he pronounces. With a move as graceful as a ballet dancer, he shifts onto the bench beside you, still examining the shoe. You snag it from his hand and tuck it into your backpack with its mate, pulling out your tennis shoes before zipping back up.

There’s no chance you’ll be able to put them on, but, one thing at a time.

“You’re right. I didn’t expect to be the runner on the ward today, but we were shorthanded.” You wince at your feet, both of which are looking decidedly puffy. Shit, will either pair of shoes fit, at this point? “There’s a ‘best foot forward’ joke I could be making about hoping you’d be here running tonight, but honestly, I’m too wiped out to make it.” You look over as you finish speaking and catch his pleased reaction. It’s understated, but it’s there, enough to make you brave. “I have the day off tomorrow, maybe I can give you a twelve hour rain check? I bet you’re even more handsome in sunlight.”

To your dismay, his face falls and he looks down. You turn your head away, unwilling to see the evidence of just how badly you’d gauged this. He’s very clearly not interested.

“Or not! ‘Not’ is also okay, sorry about that, I--”

The words dissolve on your tongue at the gentle touch of his knuckle on your chin, turning your face back toward his in the time-honored tradition of romantic male leads.

“Please don’t-- Running with you has been-- Believe me, during the day-- I would like to, I just can’t.” Disappointment is etched across his handsome features, but more than that, you can see the way his mind is racing just like yours had just seconds ago. The man looks like he’s desperate to rewind to a moment that doesn’t feel like this.

There’s a remedy to that, and after a day of doing your best to fix everything and everyone around you, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to surge up and touch your lips to his. 

You meant to pull back right away, mirroring that thing where a couple knows each other so well that gentle brush is all that’s needed-- but your midnight warrior is still in the middle of the book. His large hand shifts to cup your cheek, holding you still for his head tip where he deepens the kiss and scrambles your brain. It’s impulsive, desperate, and honest. You grab at his clothing, needing to believe this is real, even as the two of you follow kisses with more kisses like you’re saying goodbye in an airport.

“Doesn’t look much like you’re runnin’!” the security guard calls out, his words so distant they almost don’t register at first.

That ends things abruptly, but the two of you don’t move much farther apart than a few inches, his hand still on your face, yours with a handful of his sweatshirt, right over his heart.

“Textbook,” you whisper, flattening your hand out to smooth over his chest. It’s solid muscle under there.

“Oh?” he asks, pulling his hand away swiftly like he’d forgotten how to be a gentleman in his eagerness to touch you. It’s charming as hell.

“This whole operation, it’s right out of the romance novel guidebook,” you praise. “I ought to look for cameras.” A shadow crosses his face, and you suddenly put the pieces together. “Shit, you’re hiding from something, aren’t you? That’s why you freaked out about coming here in the daytime.”

He’s already standing, but instead of stalking away from you, he’s looking around the track, turning in a circle of deep concentration. He’s looking for cameras, but not in a joking way, not as part of a bit.

“The school district would rather spend the money on Frank than cameras, if that’s what you’re looking for,” you murmur, pushing your voice into steadiness out of sheer determination. “The city contributes. It’s been so much safer when everyone who wants a night walk comes here, but there are fewer of us out in the winter months.” The fall chill is actually helping with the pain in your feet, so that's something.

Your mysterious crush is facing you again, apparently satisfied that the two of you aren't being watched by anything more permanent than good old Frank. “I’m sorry,” he says. The words have a horrid finality to them, but you’re focused on his eyebrows. They’re not on board with the rest of his body language. They’re beseeching, rather than resolute, hopeful rather than harsh.

You have one chance to get this right.

“There are some things I love about my coworkers, and let’s be real, a lot of things I don’t-- but do you want to know the thing I like least about working in a hospital?”

Your whole body is practically vibrating with adrenaline, and you realize this is your opportunity to shove on your shoes. As you do that, you refuse to look up at him. The goal is to bring his critical thinking skills back from ‘fight or flight’ mode. Then maybe you can get the two of you on the same page again.

It takes over a minute, but he lets out a long breath and sits down beside you. “Tell me."

“They’re terrible gossips,” you say, looking right at him. He’s not allowed to make the obvious (ruinous, new-relationship-wrecking) conclusion about what you’re saying, not without having to look you in the eye while he does it. “I can’t stand that shit. That’s why they send me on the errands. I’ve got everyone trained to stop talking when I walk by, at this point.”

His relief is visible. “I can respect that.”

“Good.” You set both feet on the ground and decide to test things out by standing. If you’re wobbly, you feel certain he’ll reach out and catch you. “Tomorrow night?”

“Wait,” he says, the picture of confusion. “You’re not-- You think I’m hiding from something and you’re not going to ask about it?” Even in the dim glow of the nearby track light, you can see the clench and release of his jaw.

“For all I know, you’re hiding from your last girlfriend. I know I’d find it hard to give you up, and I’ve known you for what? Two weeks?” Your feet are screaming at you about as loudly as the critical voice in your head, but happiness has made both just distant enough to achieve your goals. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets, which you take to be a good sign. “Would that still be ‘textbook?’ This is all new to me.”

All of the cheeky, sarcastic, and cheesy thoughts that cross your mind would ruin the moment, so you go off script. It’s not the best, but it’s not awful, either.

“New is terrible for work shoes, but it’s lovely when it’s you. See you tomorrow night!”

Stay tuned for more stories in the Ro Roll! Would you like more of these two? Let me know 💚

[kryptznnn]

♡/♛- It's Been A While [III]

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➸ INTERESTS; -mha!shouta aizawa x quirk-using!freader

➸ BACKGROUND; - after an attack at the high school you studied in, you were requested by your work firm and the firm of that school to work as a teacher there for extra security, incase an attack were to occur again to protect the students (and teachers). Unfortunately, it won't be as easy as you expected when you rekindle with old friends, and a specific someone.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc. 4.5k, romantic tension, traumatic disturbances, mentions of medications, bad health history, hallucinations, little bit angsty, haunted by the past, sexual tension, shaking, indecisiveness, confusion, etc.

➸a.i; - its 6am i sleep, also posting the masterlist for the series whenever I wake up, it should be updated on all of the chapters sooner or later this afternoon (also ik the chapter is so long im sorry i was bored) !!

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♡/♛- It's Been A While [ II ]

♡/♛- It's Been A While Masterlist

You sighed as you placed the textbook you were reading back down on your desk your students rushed out of your class. The last bell of the day had rung, and it also seemed like the deadline for your answer to the question Shouta had asked you prior.

His words still rang in your head, you kept both of your hands over the sides of your head, thinking. There was no way you could reject his offer, but there was also no way you could accept it either. Luck was barely on your side knowing that whoever broke into your apartment didn't know your schedule had changed, you couldn't put others in danger.

If anything considered from the heads up your boss had given you last night, whoever or whatever they were must have been after you for two reasons: your status within the embassy, or your quirk. The second reason made much more sense to you however, because if they had wanted you for your title, they would've come to see you much sooner.

Now was a horrible time to even think about or do such a thing, especially since you had to drug yourself up over prescribed medications to even keep your powers and emotions at bay. It's easy for someone to use you for your powers rather than status, honestly that's what you liked so much about the embassy, you barely had to use your quirk.

No one even knew about your quick use of medications to keep yourself at a low after so many losses from your powers. Each time you convinced yourself they were accidents, and honestly, they were, but the number of nightmares you had about the occurrences said otherwise.

Now with everything hitting you all at once you had the option to move in somewhere secure, somewhere safe. You knew Shouta and you knew he was someone who could take care of you, and himself. He was a pro hero for fucks sake, one of the best at that, it can't be as dangerous as you think if you were to accept his offer.

Maybe it'll be a good thing, maybe just maybe this is one of the only opportunities I'll have at being happy or seeing things on the bright side after having such a shit week. Plus, you didn't have to keep paying in cash to stay longer than you intended at the hotel you were planning to stay in.

You stood up from your seat, collecting your belongings from your desk and placing them in your work bag. Determined to find Shouta to speak with him about his offer, unexpectedly you hear a knock coming from your opened doorway to find him standing there.

"Hey" you said softly, glancing back at your desk and grabbing your phone, seeing you had a message. You only turned it off, thinking to yourself you'd answer it later as you placed it in your pocket.

"Hey, I was just stopping by to see if you made up your mind about my offer, it still stands." He replied, his voice heavy as he watched your movements, both of his hands now in his pockets. You looked back at him, now taking him in fully.

He had gotten a lot taller from when you two were this close, of course that was back in high school before you had left. If anything, if you had gotten closer to him, he might as well have towered over you. You only smiled at him and nodded as you threw your bag over your shoulder, placing your hands in your pockets as well.

"I was actually just on my way to go see you about that actually." You began, scanning his face for any reaction from the first half of your statement, only to see nothing but him nodding. "I accept your offer, but I'm not sure I'll be able to thank you enough for it, I have a lot to bring though." You stated, placing a hand out of your pocket and pointing behind you with a smile.

You said softly, you weren't sure if it was the bandages pressed against his collarbone and lower chin that made him put his head down, but you could've sworn he was smiling just now. He'd do that all the time since you two were children, hiding whenever he smiled or laughed, it's good to see that most things haven't changed.

It's almost funny really, how just a few days ago he seemed like he hated you. Was doing everything to avoid you or even speak to you, acting like the grinch almost, and here he was now, with you, smiling because you accepted his offer to move in with him temporarily.

"If it's your bags being too heavy, I can always help you with them and anything else you're bringing. I have plenty of space so you can put your things where you want." He spoke softly, now taking a step towards you, if you were to even move back you would've hit your desk.

You stood your ground and eyed him as he made his way towards you, you only nodded in response. Now gripping on tightly to the bag that weighed down on your shoulder. Your eyes met with Shouta's constantly within seconds, the tension between the two of you becoming thicker with each glance, as you stepped around him to leave you paused.

"If you send me the address to your place I'll stop by later tonight with my things, I need to pack." You said, not even turning to look at him. You needed to get out of that room, and it had to be quick, whatever it was he saw in you to look at you the way you did made you scream internally.

"I don't think I have your new number..." he said as he turned around and watched your state, it's almost as if you could feel him raise a brow, but you didn't dare to turn around and look him in the eyes again.

"My number never changed" you said simply, now turning to the left as your heels clicked. You made your way down the hallway towards the exit and into the parking lot, digging in your pocket to get your car keys. The entire moment the two of you just shared replaying in your head over and over without fail.

As you unlocked your car and took your bag off your shoulder you chewed on your bottom lip. Tossing your bag in the passenger's seat as you sat in the driver's seat, gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life.

This was going to be much more complicated than you expected.

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You scratched your head as you looked at the way you placed your bags within the trunk of your car. It looked so disorganized, but frankly you were too tired to fix them any better, the car ride would've been bumpy regardless, so it didn't matter too much. Just as you were going to close your trunk, your phone vibrated.

You reached in the back pocket of your jeans and pulled it out, seeing a message from Shouta and the person who had messaged you earlier in the afternoon. You closed your trunk and made your way to the driver's seat, locking your car as you sat in the parking lot of the hotel you stayed the night at. Now unlocking your phone and going to messages you saw the message underneath Shouta's from an unknown number, you rose a brow before opening it.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX: I won't let you forget about what you've done to our family]

You felt a twist in your stomach as you read it, already knowing who it was from, one of your old 'accidents' that occurred right after high school. The one that caused you the most grief and nightmares from the tragedy, and the same one that made you quickly cut the deal from being a pro-hero and working full time for the embassy.

Without a second thought you quickly blocked the number, sucking your teeth as you slumped into the seat, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You quickly swallowed your emotions as you remembered you hadn't answered Shouta's texts, quickly opening it and reading his message.

[Shouta :) : Hey, here's the address XXXX Main St, XXXX ****. Be safe on your trip here, I'll be waiting outside to help with your bags]

You smiled at his text, looking in your rearview mirror at the bags piled up in the trunk. You shook your head and chuckled softly, only hearting his message and pressing on the address that was underlined. It took you straight to the maps app and you followed your GPS to his place, as you followed it you played music from your favorite playlist on the way.

As you got closer and closer to the destination of his place you began to think how it would be. Was it just a two-bedroom apartment or was it something large and cozy like your own apartment. It must depend on the salary he's getting as both a pro hero and as a teacher, in all honesty you had no idea.

He didn't seem like a huge person on decorations or huge flashy things, so you didn't expect much, but when you drove through in the neighborhood you weren't expecting to see such a nice grey tone looking house. When your GPS told you that this was your destination you blinked out of confusion, looking back at the numbers on the house then your phone.

It wasn't wrong, this was definitely your destination, you just weren't expecting all of this. You shook away your thoughts and pulled into the driveway before seeing the garage open as you shut off the car after parking it. As you opened your car door the garage opened fully, revealing Shouta.

Honestly if you hadn't been paying attention you wouldn't have suspected it was him, he looked entirely different than he did a few hours ago. He was built, and you meant it, he was wearing all black, black sweatpants and a black wifebeater. His hair was pulled back into a low ponytail as he kept one hand in his pocket, raising the other one to wave at you.

Thank goodness he did wave at you, because it snapped you out of the little trance you were having of him. There's no way he was hiding all of that in the outfit he wore on the daily with his students and at night on his patrols. As you waved back at him and closed your door to make your way to your trunk you still couldn't wrap your head around it all.

Lost deep in thought you weren't even aware that when you opened your trunk, he was already making his way right behind you. Before you could reach for the first bag in the back his hand grazed yours as he picked it up, then picked up another and threw it over his shoulder.

Your head sunk down slowly as your breath hitched, not wanting to make this more awkward than it already was. You slowly made your way to the side and picked up two much smaller bags and turned to him as he cocked his head to the side, pointing to the house.

"Just follow me and I'll show you where your room is" he said, looking at you, you looked back to the car with a nod quickly. There was no way in hell you two were about to start yet another staring contest, especially now of all times.

As you followed him inside you got a nice view of the house, well the inside anyway, everything was nice and clean. It was honestly pretty bland inside, no sheer pop of color or decors, just furniture that was a sort of marble grey. Anything you could look at or pay attention too other than the handsome sculpted man in front of you would've sufficed.

As you walked down the hallway, you heard him speaking of you having the room entirely to yourself, and the bathroom was just to the side of it. You only hummed in response to his statement as your mind continued to wander, until a sudden question popped up in your head.

"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?" You asked, your question quickly followed by a yawn, to which you covered your mouth with the back of your hand. Shouta placed your bags down in your new room, it was big to say the least, neat and empty. The bed sheets were a tan kind of color, sand almost, along with a cream-colored blanket.

"What do you mean?" He asked, now turning to you and raising a brow as you placed your bags down on your bed, looking around the room to see where you'd place most of your belongings. You looked up at him, taking a glance at his face before walking over to the dresser that was in front of your bed.

"When we first bumped into each other you looked at me like you hated me, now we're here." You said carelessly, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you toyed with your hair for a little, looking over to see him in the mirror as he crossed his arms.

"I've never hated you" he said honestly, you now turned to look at him, in the eyes this time. Seeing the same look he had before, a look of sadness and sorrow. You only hummed in response yet again before opening the empty drawers to your dresser and looking inside them all, planning which draw would hold what.

You only left the room in one swift movement and made your way back to your car and grabbing your last two bags along with your work bag. You closed the trunk as you locked the car and began walking back inside.

Whatever answer he just gave you when you were inside didn’t answer your question, you hated how he always beat around the bush. Now you were too tired to argue or pry to get an answer that you wanted from him, you only returned inside through the garage to see him standing in the hallway waiting for you. Without exchanging any words, he just came over to you, taking the bags from your hands in one swift movement and walked into your room, placing them with the others.

“Thank you” you said, removing your phone and keys from your pockets and placing them on your nightstand by your bed. Shouta only shook his head at your words.

“No need to thank me, follow me so I can show you around” He spoke, now exiting your room and pointing down the hall for you to follow him. You followed behind slowly, turning your gaze back to the walls and floors now, not wanting to look at him knowing how easily your mind wanders.

You wondered how he felt about you, honestly it couldn’t be anything bad, he had offered for you to live in his house after hearing of your problems. Even though things ended rocky between the two of you and started again off to a strange start here you were, pushing everything to the side as he gave you a personal house tour.

You couldn’t even call this fate, as of right now you had no idea what it was, but whatever it was made you more curious than ever. As the small tour came to an end Shouta had shown you practically everything. The kitchen, living room, his bedroom and your bathroom, it wasn’t a lot, but it could be, his home was spacious, and you liked that.

He had even cooked apparently, and you complimented it too. His food was good and honestly you were surprised when he first told you, not expecting him to be the cooking type. Soon after you helped him clean up and stood around as you watched him.

Not to mention to your surprise you felt something pet against the heel of your feet, startling you as you quickly turned around. You were met with a small black cat, meowing at you softly before repeating the same action as before. You only smiled and relaxed, bending over to pet it, your back now facing Shouta.

You grinned as you called it pet names as you continued to pet it before picking it up and reading the collar. ‘Yoyo’ you read and laughed, knowing there was no way Shouta could’ve named her.

“This was definitely Nemuri’s doing, I think you’re more creative than this.” You laughed turning to Shouta, who was dangerously close to you. Your arm had brushed up against his chest and you knew better than to move. You only turned all of your attention back to Yoyo, as if you hadn’t realized what happened.

“Yeah, it was, I wasn’t sure what to name her, but I had help” he replied, placing his hand on the back of his neck and holding it gently as he sighed. You gave Yoyo a small kiss and hug before placing her down back on the floor and standing up again.

Without thinking you turned around and face planted into Shouta’s side, immediately pulling back and apologizing as you held your head. He only shook his head and apologized as well, placing a hand on your shoulder asking if you were alright. You only nodded and drew your shoulder back, feeling dizzy at the feeling.

He smelled good, too good, like one of those really nice colognes that would catch your attention whenever you went shopping and passed by the men’s section. You were snapped out of your trance when it seemed for a split second someone was standing behind him.

You immediately darted your head to the side, only to see the figure disappear as you frowned. You just brushed it off and turned into the kitchen, checking the time. As you counted how many weeks it had been in your head.

8:36pm

You were late to take one of your medications, your alarm had probably been going off for a while now and you weren’t even aware of it. Thankfully you had already eaten so you didn’t have to worry about taking it on an empty stomach.

“I have to go, I’ll uh, I’ll be back” you said with a pause, quickly turning around and making your way back to your room. You quickly shut off the silent alarm that had been ringing on your phone for nearly an hour before grabbing your keys and heading outside.

As you unlocked your car and climbed into the passenger seat to open the glove department you saw a shadow in the rear-view mirror. You turned around slowly only for the figure to yet again disintegrate from your view. You took a deep breath and searched for the bottle you were looking for amongst the junk in the department box, ending your search when you found a bottle labeled ‘Risperdal’.

As you cleaned up and closed your glove department box and locked your car you quickly walked back inside. The figure appearing beside you yet again, muttering whispers to you as you ignored it and made your way back to your room digging in your bag.

Your pill cutter where is your pill cutter. You’re prescribed to only take half of the full number of milligrams the pill had and unfortunately you had already taken the other left over half 3 weeks ago. It was surprising to you almost, you had never taken them so close together before, things like these were only monthly occurrences, but it was getting worse.

You sighed to yourself out of frustration as you couldn’t find what you were looking for, your grip on your bottle tightening as the faceless figure taunted you, practically laughing at you through a mouth it had grown out of nowhere.

You made your way back to the kitchen, embarrassment hitting you as you realized you had one of two options. Either hoping Shouta had a pill cutter around somewhere or using a knife to cut it yourself.

He raised his head as he looked up at you after drying his hands when he finished the dishes. Smiling at you softly before seeing something in your hands and raising a brow as you wet your lips and parted them.

“Hey um, do you have any pill cutters?” You asked quietly, but loud enough for him to hear, he slowly made his way over to you. He opened the cabinet beside your head filled with medications, as he reached to the top shelf and got a green pill cutter and placed it on the counter.

He then made his way over to his fridge and got a cold-water bottle, placing it next to the cutter. The entire time he kept his eyes on you, only that you weren’t looking at him, more or less something behind or around him had your attention.

Your eyes trailed on the figure that now morphed into a teenage girl, one who you had known well in high school. She went around and teased you laughing at Shouta as she grinned at you sinisterly as she spoke, you couldn’t hear what she was saying as it all came out as whispers. You knew it wasn't her though, the way her body was so deformed, and her face was twisted proved it was all in your head.

You then looked over to the pill cutter, placing the pill bottle in your hand on the counter before opening it quickly. Then opening the water bottle, shaking slightly as you did so before placing a pill within the tiny machine on the counter.

The girl had now made her way over to you as you placed the device in your hand, clamping your hands down on the button attempting to cut the pill. The more and more she whispered to you and placed her hands on your shoulders the more you trembled, your vision clouded with tears as you chewed on your bottom lip.

Within seconds you felt two large hands overcoming your own, and a firm chest being pressed against your back as you heard a click from the pill cutter. You gasped softly as you were snapped out of your trance for a short while as Shouta took the pill cutter from your hands.

He soon opened the device and took the left half of the pill with one hand, his other one rested on your shoulder. There was absolute silence between the two of you, the only thing making noise was you, your breathing was ragged. He paused as he read the label of your pill bottle, frowning softly before turning his attention back to you.

“Can I trust you to take it yourself or do you need my help?” He asked softly, his body still pressed against yours, you only shook your head in response. You only kept your head down and turned around slightly, the whispers of before echoing in your mind.

Shouta hadn’t said anything else, he only lifted your head slightly, his hand grabbing your jaw softly as he looked at you. It’s as if you weren’t even there with him, looking over the side of his shoulder, your mouth still agape. You watched as the deformation of the girl disappeared, her laughter leaving a trail behind.

He took the pill and placed it at your lips, his fingers brushing against your lips focused your attention on him, your eyes now locked with his. You parted your lips even more now, letting the cut pill go past your lips and hit your tongue, the taste bitter as your eyes never left his.

Your eyes were watery was his first thought, the same way they always were whenever you were about to cry. For as long as he knew you it had been that way, you’d squint slightly before letting your eyes water and cry, and he hated it.

He hated how conceited you were, especially with him, and now it hadn’t seemed like things had changed much. Even now, years later you were taking on way much more than you could chew, and he always blamed the embassy for it.

The two of you broke eye contact as you were the first to turn around, placing a hand on his chest to push him away softly so you could reach for the water bottle he had gotten you before. You quickly chugged the bottle two thirds of the way down, the bitter taste still in your mouth as you placed the bottle down.

The hand you had on Shouta’s chest hadn’t left, he grabbed it softly, tugging you towards him as you turned around again. You looked at his face, hinted with disappointment and possibly anger as he saw your gaze.

“Y/n. Risperdal? What has happened since you joined the embassy?” He said, now bending slightly to reach your eye level, his hands not leaving your arms. You had heard him, but his words weren’t as loud as the whispers that were still echoing in your head before you spoke.

“I’m fine, I took it too late” you replied slightly, ready to push him off of you, but his grip only tightened, pulling you in closer. You’re too close to one another, way too close. You weren't sure if your thumping heartbeat was getting louder from the way he held you or the sounds ringing in your mind, but you didn't like it.

Even through the haze of what you’re going through you can tell that this was wrong, even though it felt good, and it made you feel warm inside. You shook your head and pushed him off of you successfully this time as he left you go.

“I said I’m fine.” You repeated harshly, glaring at him as you watched his sad expression quickly turn angry, glaring back at you in return. Your hand clammy as you squeezed it open and closed again. There was no need for him to care so closely to you as he had before, you two weren't together anymore.

“You’re still a shitty liar, I guess you haven’t changed since when you left.” He responded harshly, you looked to the side and thought back to when you left initially years back. Your expression softening as you took a breath and stopped clamming with your hand.

You only excused yourself and bid yourself goodnight, practically speed walking back your room before slamming the door behind you. Taking all preparations and moving your bags to the side as you got ready for bed, laying underneath the covers with your earphones in listening to your music as you tried to tune out your thoughts before drifting to sleep.

Maybe you were right about putting Shouta in danger by living here, but the danger wasn’t from the outside or whoever was after you.

The danger was you.

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Taglist: @getoisinnocent

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn 🌸my main navigation

[acupofinkedblood]

Subspace x reader [Destructive Obsession]

TW: Subspace, twisted obsession, unhealthy relationship, reader being poisoned, gorey description

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

‘Love’ is such a twisted word

For love, you can do anything under the name of it to atone for your obsession towards your source of love. They die for love, some kill for love. The romanization of such acts under the name of love is so pathetic. Why would anyone go through such hassles just for that punny feeling? It’s such a waste of time. But now Subspace understands the principle of those behaviors. The logic behind said form of love, is to make your beloved stay

Trapping them inside this heart-shaped prison, listing all the things you will do for them to make them stay inside. It takes him so long to understand the obviate point of view. It serves as the necessary excuse for his actions. But doing all of that just to keep your prisoner of a lover stay is so bothersome. Might as well break their leg at this point, no?

Subspace isn’t the type to die for love, maybe he will kill for love. But is what he feels inside called ‘love’, or it’s just that twisted obsession disguised under the form of love? In his logic, it’s simply the same. He loves you, to the point that just the thought of you leaving him makes him sick to the stomach. Even when your devotion for him is obvious, after all the things you do and endure for him, it’s still not enough. You still have free wills. What if one day you decide to leave him? What if one day you become another Medkit in his life? What if you dare to do all of the things his paranoia tells himself that you will do, even though you will never?

He thought about it throughly, calculated countless possibilities and theorized every outcome of your relationship. Subspace is serious about loving you, in his very own sadistic way, of course. And all the these calculations point towards an ultimate solution, something that he has previously discarded before

Oh the thing you do for love

You will understand him, right? After all, this is for your own good. You have your trust in him, and he promises that he will repay the things you have done to him by this. Because it’s you that he wants to keep around, so you have to understand his logic

You walk inside the lab after putting your uniform back. Lately Subspace has been busy with this certain project of his, and it makes you happy slightly knowing that he has something to distract himself with instead of traumatizing the living shit out of you. You love him, you really do, but sometimes your mental health is going south because of his intense behavior. So it’s good to have a bit of peace in your mind, knowing that he seems pretty engaged in his work

Your schedule is as normal as ever: Researching the crystals, writing reports, discussing some important topic, cleaning the smoke— Wait. What smoke?

It doesn’t really strike you until now. There’s a slight hint of pink smoke near your place. Fuck, did Subspace drop his crystals somewhere? You want to run out for your safety first, consider that you don’t have a gas mask with you at the moment. But then your lover appears

“Subspace, some of your crystals might be around, be careful—”

How ironic, you’re telling the source of the poison to be careful of his own toxins? Subspace is flattered when you look out for him like that, even when it’s such a stupid thing to even worry about. You try to hold your breath in, not wanting to get poisoned yourself

That is until Subspace tug on the collar of your shirt to make you look at him. He doesn’t have his gas mask on, you can see the thick pink smoke coming out from his mouth as he breathes out your name

“You know that I do love you, right?”

“Yes- but why are you—”

He cups your face and pulls you closer. There is it, that menacing look in his eye that you know it’s a sign of something horrible will happen. You can’t even break free from his touch, his eye are hypnotic, it makes you freeze on spot with uneasy feeling slowly clouds up your mind

“Then you will understand why did I do this”

Without a warning, he forces a deep kiss on your lips that catches you off guard. You’re used to the slight peck on his mouth to prevent this scenario to happen. You can feel the poison slowly makes its way inside your mouth. It’s sickening, your head is being hammered with invisible force, tear starts swelling in your eyes because it burns so bad and you feel weak on your knees. You feel nauseous, your chest is feeling such intense pain yet your limbs are like jelly, your heart feels like it will explode

Then he let you go without a warning. You collapse onto the cold ground, choking on his poison gas while coughing out violently. Enough to spit blood, that’s when you know it’s serious. Your vision has became so hazy, the last thing you can see through the tears is his twisted grin before darkness fell upon you

The doctors are more than shocked when seeing your fucked up state. It’s even worse than Subspace’s. The poison is quick to spread inside you, some even manage to get through your skin and start eating it up, leaving hideous marks that is enough to make a grown up feel sick to the core. They tried their best to save your life, your presence is still important to Subspace and. Medical staffs are summoned at once to do their best to get rid of the poison inside you before it destroys your interior organs

As Subspace waits outside, he looks oddly calm. He knows damn well that he might have gone a bit overboard with his poison inside you, yet the sight becomes a core memory of his. What a sadist, he even has the audacity to smile oh so bright, pushing all his worries aside. He is certain that the doctors will eventually figure a way to keep you alive, but you will never be the same afterwards. He doesn’t really care, as long as he becomes a part of you, and you stay with him forever even when you have became disfigured, that’s all he cares about

The result is just as he predicts: Fucking SFOTH above, you look like you have been through hell on a ran down spaceship. Your entire body is covered in bandages with a bunch of equipment to sustain your life. The doctors inform Subspace that you can no longer talk, because your tongue has been severely damaged by the poison. He looks at you lovingly, maybe with a hint of pity as well before smiled behind his mask. And you look at him with confusion, what did you do to deserve this

Yet all he tells you is just:

“Now I can be sure that you will stay forever with me”

He brings you back to his place, promises to take a good care of you now that you are finally his. Now that he can be sure that you can never run away from him. Curse him whatever you want, it’s not like you can speak to him now. You have signed up for this, and he’s just do whatever the best for you — no, more like for him — so you two can stay together forever. Maybe you might die before him, but if that happens, he has no regrets left

Oh the thing you do for love, he understands it now

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: Yeah, I took some inspiration from Mouthwashing a bit-

Note 2: Holy shit did I write this?? Probably the very last time I can write something like this because good lord-

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

notarialno zavereni angst, danny ric or whoever u want

American law - Daniel Ricciardo x reader

You didn't know what was worse - getting your marriage annulled only a year after or the flight there. In your entire life you had only been to Vegas once. And now you have to do it all over again. Your divorce could have been an email, you think as you board the Amsterdam to LAX airplane. At least Daniel was already in America, you think bitterly. Of course he didn't care enough to stay with you, putting as much distance as possible between you. The little voice in your head tells you that he would definitely make a paddock cameo. Or a surprise appearance at the Enchanté popup. A man of the people, new and improved. Showing everyone that after the official end of your marriage, he was free. He could try all the girls now or drive a 100 cars. Even if lately you'd seen snapshots of him on two wheels.

Truth be told, he looked like he was doing better. Yet you knew him best. He was packing his schedule with events, sponsorships, and new merch drops for a reason. If he was on the move constantly, he didn't have time to think about your breakup. Meanwhile, you had been drowning your sorrows in D3 wine bottles. The last time you tasted that was on your faithful wedding night. Vegas GP 2023, you would always be famous. Since the queue for passport control was longer than the text chain between you and your now ex, you could reminisce about better times. Times where the world consisted of just you and Daniel.

There was nothing more dangerous than a charming man with lots of class. Unfortunately your beloved couldn't really exude that now. Daniel was wearing a sparkly jacket over his race suit.

"Snazzy, isn't it. Think we can get your glitter and some glue sticks and make you a matching one? New Enchanté drop?" Daniel jokes, motioning to the sparkly eye makeup he saw you in. He loved how excited about this you were, despite this being your upteenth GP. You'd been his grid good luck charm, ever since you started dating in 2018. Usually you'd be in for one or two European races, but there was no way you would miss the last few races, especially considering that you skipped out on attending a chunk of this season. You ignore the horrible memories from the Dutch hospital where they tried to give your boyfriend an aspirin for his broken arm.

"If you touch my primer tonight, you are not leaving Vegas in one piece." You joke and plant a kiss on his lips. "Your quali's about to start, lemme take this." You shrug on the eyesore jacket. The black and bold RICCIARDO letters pop against the blue sequins. Danny chuckles. He thinks how good his last name sounds with your first one. He got the idea way back when he was filming the grill the grid videos. When the admin asked who was most likely to get married in the little chapel in Vegas, he threw Charles under the bus. But the truth was, it was himself. Daniel had the ring ready, planning to take you on a late night track walk and propose there. Maybe it was the smell of weed in the air. Maybe it was the plethora of cheesy Vegas movies you two had binged the night before. But one thing was apparent. Daniel Ricciardo was getting married in Sin City.

He presses you into a bone crushing hug before dashing to his car. Despite there being a garage of people who also rooted for him. Despite the roar of the crowds, both here and at home. You're the one that cheers on the loudest. The most loyal supporter. Truly, you loved him the most.

You were snapped back from the thoughts by a government official asking for your passport and boarding pass. They take in the number 3 driver cap you had to pull to the side. Your last name intrigues them, too.

"Huh, what a coincidence that you're a Daniel fan and you have the same last name." They note. Clearly they were not versed in the gossip that came hand in hand with their sport. That was better, you thought. You weren't ready to be excluded from the WAG list.

"Yeah, funny. I'm actually going to the race, so maybe it'll get a few chuckles in the fan zone." You reply. In your mind you rotate the idea of having to change all your documents now. After this weekend you wouldn't be a Ricciardo anymore. Plain old you. That's why you hadn't bought a return ticket yet. It would feel almost fake to travel under Daniel's name.

With some time to spare, you grab a few packs of stroopwaffels and water for the flight. Your eyes scan the shelves and notice you grabbed your ex's favorite brand by force of habit. Nothing said "Fuck you for leaving me after we tied the knot" like a syrup baked good. What was an appropriate thing to even say? You debated asking your friends. They'd probably give you some jab about how you're the one keeping your dignity, even though he had been the one turning bitter near the end. Even though you'd laugh at their "give him money for a Moët, since he wasn't getting champagne podiums" line, you wouldn't believe it. Nothing could help you. Nothing could change the fact that this trip was going to hurt.

This first Vegas weekend was hurting. The Alpha Tauri wasn't a rocket ship. It was a submarine, sinking. Danny had somehow finessed a mini stroll for the two of you after he qualified in P14. He was blowing off media duties, ignoring the pen of journalists that wanted to know his thoughts. He had only 4 words in his brain. "Will you marry me?" looped around his head. The ring was now loose in his gloves, the fireproof pocket being too obvious. He took your hand and spun you around on the Vegas street. The sphere was changing. He was convincing you that there was something great on it coming soon, making you not take your eyes off it as he turned his back to you and retied his shoes.

He asks you to turn around and help him up cause he's got a cramp. You're mid bad joke about how he's blowing your back out so good and the car is blowing his when your mind registers what's happening. Daniel is on one knee, a shining ring in his hand.

" I want the only VIP on my table to be the view of you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Better than any win. You've been with me through the highs and lows of my career. I want you to be there when I retire in like 10 years and then forever. Will you make me the luckiest person in this city by marrying me?" He asks. You say yes, through tears in your eyes.

"Good, because the pavement was killing my knees. This thing gets hot." He jokes as he slides the ring on your finger. He kisses you and you swear it's like the first one. You slide your hand in his as he tells you about the ring, the engravings inside.

"You know, I never told you this, but I always wanted to get married in Vegas. Other girls probably wanted a grand ceremony filled with family and friends. My practical ass wanted in and out." You say, admiring the golden band.

"I mean, the chapel is open 24 hours. Elvis impersonator and all. It would be refreshing for them to get someone sober. Should we do it?" Daniel asks.

"You're crazy. You have a race tomorrow. People will tear you to shreds for focusing on me instead." You reason. Daniel's life was neatly sliced in two. Driving and not driving. And the biting comments from fans and Helmut were nothing new. Danny had a bad weekend? Your fault. You were a distraction. Which didn't make any sense. Max was world champion and he had Kelly. What people didn't see was that you loved your boyfriend so madly. Keeping each other sane through the online scrutiny. Covering for each other in front of paparazzi. Even things like keeping a balanced diet. Perhaps you were the best thing that happened to Daniel. But for you, it was beyond the shadow of a doubt. You wondered how you had survived your life before him. At least now he was yours forever.

"Come on. You're my lucky charm. If anything, you make me a better driver. I'm faster when I think that afterwards I'm coming home to you. So, let's make the gossip pages go wild." He says, not ready for the night to end. You give in, only interjecting with a

"Fine, fine but we cannot even have a lick of....."

"Champagne, please." You ask the stewardess.

"I'm sorry, but we don't serve alcohol yet, it's an early flight. I can get you sparkling water if you'd like." She offers, the picture of professionalism.

"That would be great, thank you." You say.

A hangover was not a good idea. Apparently you were the only sensible one. You paid for the in flight wifi solely to be able to communicate with Daniel. He was picking you up from the airport, so you wanted to update him. But the reply you got from him was unusual. The Instagram voice memos he gave you sounded something like this: “I'm drunk and I've been staring at my hands for an hour. I wanna remember what it was like to have you in them.”. His voice is slurred. He's reckless. So are you.

“Enjoying the night I see. Did you find a girl who's gonna erase me? Did you find a love that's gonna kill mine?”. He replies instantly with a “I found her, it's the one asking me stupid questions.”. Daniel means you, and he doubles down. “You're not mine anymore, but I don't want anyone touching you.” you cringe at his jealous streak. Maybe it was the first warning sign you missed. You know you should stop reminiscing about your wedding day. Yet……

You two are the smiliest couple in line to get married. Truly, someone could count Danny's teeth to pass the time. There's a wonderful old lady that's telling her entire life story to you two. She's here with her husband to be, who was her childhood sweetheart. But throughout her life, they were both dating other people, too hesitant to admit each other's feelings until now. She asks you if Daniel has always been this wonderful.

"He was born almost perfect. Though I think he needed me to complete him, to make him even greater." Your fiancee plants a kiss on your lips, effectively half-traumatising the older woman and smudging your lipstick.

You excuse yourself to reapply it, not about to get married with pink streaks on your face. As you exit the bathroom, there's a very drunk Elvis impersonator outside.

"Hey, baby. Wanna become my Priscilla?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You decline politely and try to get back to the guy who you were about to marry. The fake king of rock and roll doesn't agree with your decision and continues to chat you up. You're practically sweating through the rental bride dress when your eyes meet a familiar pair of brown ones. Danny moves faster than the speed of light, fist raised in the air. Before he can punch the guy you step in, not wanting to have him spend his race in jail.

The faux Elvis backs off and the old lady lets you two cut in line. As a couple exits the chapel, it's your turn. You're about to marry the love of your life in Vegas. All your dreams were coming true. You ask Danny to pinch you and he jokes that he should say Max’s name instead.

The whole flight you're antsy. It was heartbreaking. To have counted on Daniel for so long to this. It was a long time coming. The nails in the coffin were getting drilled since the start of the season back in March. Spain was the first big fight. It was the fact that your husband's life was in a pressure cooker. The online hate. His crash with Stroll. The fact that Yuki's contract was extended already. His career hadn't been much of a roadblock even when it was uncertain before. The McLaren exit was actually almost a turning point towards considering to settle down.

You couldn't afford to think the time line after, not right now. Your hands were shaking as you type "I hope you're here, just landed." to Daniel. Then you shove the phone so deep in your bag, not wanting to look at it.

His messy curls are unmissable. Despite trying to lay low, he is there, like an eyesore. Decked out in yesterday's clothes, judging from Instagram. Holding an A4 piece of cardboard. Of course, it doesn't say your name or Ricciardo. It just says Unforgettable. Pictures of Danny in the Vegas airport would become a rumor mill and meme in a matter of minutes. It doesn't help that as soon as he sees you, he starts crying, his eyes filled with tears. Were they for you, for himself, for both of you. You would never know. Instead of a hello, or a miss you, you say.

“I can’t wrap my head around why you’re doing this right now.”

"I can't believe you're crying." You whisper to Daniel. His misty eyes are also making you tear up. The "priest" marrying you doesn't care about this, doesn't even shush you. Since this was not planned, there's no time to have personalized vows. Still, in the way your husband's voice breaks slightly at the "to love and to keep" says it all. Rings exchanged, a kiss shared and it's official. You are married to Daniel Ricciardo.

It's so past his "bedtime" (the regime set by his personal trainer) by the time you get to the hotel, that you actually consider just falling asleep. Of course, he has other plans. Danny's lips are on your neck since the elevator. As you pat down your pockets for the hotel key, his hands are all over your chest, squeezing and groping.

"Baby, please." You moan out.

"It's our first night together as a married couple. We can't just postpone it because we're busy tomorrow. I plan to make you thank yourself for saying yes to me." He argues, his touches trying to find any bare skin.

"Danny, come on. You know how lucky I am to have you. And you're also aware that you're insatiable." You say, leaning into his touch. You're trying to reason with him, but you can't help but trail your fingers from his defined abs down to his happy trail. He groans and you're a goner. It's safe to say that you end up "consumating" your marriage in the Vegas hotel. Some would call it poor decision making. You can't help but be a sucker for your husband talking about love and then making it to you. The creak of your bed and the banging of the headboard at least rattles the poor driver on the other side of the wall. So, a bonus for Alpha Tauri, you reason with yourself.

You had nearly forgotten what it was to have Daniel touching you. But as he's leading you out of the airport, he holds your hand. Your fingers are laced together, like lovers. There's an intrusive thought in your head.

"Drop it, stop this, you can't afford him to do that to you, why, Jesus fuck, you still felt it". The spark. The need to pull him aside and kiss him. The want to see that look in his brown eyes just before he leans in, like a needy puppy. Daniel is intent on killing you, because he draws little figures with his thumb on your skin.

"So, do we have a plan?" You ask, as if you hadn't had to figure out the logistics of this for weeks now.

"We'll go there during quali. At least this way all the fans will be occupied, either at home or in the grandstands." He says. "That way you can still enjoy a day of the weekend in Vegas."

"I don't know about you, but I don't think I'll be thinking about gambling or entertainment after the official end of my marriage." You reply. You're not sure if he shivers because of the cold or your words.

"You're right, I'm sorry." He apologizes. He drops your hand to wave to the Uber he hailed. Then he reaches out again, this time going for your left. Your ring is pressed against his. Possibly for the last time. You think that you should have simply given yours back that day.

If you opened the dictionary to the words “media circus” you'd find the Singapore 2024 Grand Prix as the definition. And at the center of it are you and Daniel. You're not sure why the press picks up on your increased presence in the paddock recently. Since Spain, you haven't missed a race. You and your husband may be on thin ice sometimes, but it would shatter like glass under your feet if you aren't communicating and being there for eachother. Supporting Danny reminds you why you love him. He's driven. Relentless. Never backs down from a challenge. Yet, now it's extreme. He works himself to the bone. On the simulator, or in long talks with his engineer Pierre. There is no rest for the wicked or the treathened. You're on the sidelines, picking out restaurants that are open at least til midnight. Making sure he eats, that he still can enjoy at least something. You're no influencer, but you use your social media to bring attention to his sponsored campaigns, to the new Enchanté collections. Anything to keep the image of Danny positive.

It's not like people don't ask you about it. Friends, family, coworkers are all curious what it feels like. Your reply? Even if it's tough on me, it's a million times tougher on him. So when you see the interview, you're flabbergasted.

The fans tag you in it. Not that you need that, seeing as you've been glued to the F1 website and social media. Danny is on media day duty, Thursday in Singapore. One of the reporters asks.

"Daniel , your lovely wife is joining you once again this weekend. Do you think that will affect your performance?"

"When it comes to how I drive, that's all me and the team. I'm not a superstitious guy, I don't believe in good luck. Racing is about strategy and talent."

The next journalist latches on, wanting to get a quote too. It spirals because your husband does not and cannot address his early exit rumors. So he talks about you. But his words aren't his, don't come from the heart. They are what Visa CashApp RB wants to hear. How he manages his time or more accurately how he doesn't spend it with you. He doesn't tell anyone that he asked for this. After spending a couple days apart, he wanted you to be by his side. As you'd been before. All good, always. Daniel even tries to crack a joke.

"Honestly, I'm starting to think that she's using me as a travel buddy or a way to check off some destinations off her holiday bucket list.". It gets scattered laughter, most because many times before he's shared that you weren't interested in flying out with him that much. That it stresses you out, the airport a hostile environment rather than a relaxing one.

After the press conference he's pulled aside, you presume for socials. You reason that he's busy and that's why he's not responding to your texts. His team's Instagram shows him energetic, and dancing to 28 by Zach Brian. Your song. Maybe the chorus of how lucky are we resonated with him, but not you.

"You can't just pretend it's all okay. After what you did. I'm not the villain, okay. I'm not the one taking your seat away from you." You say, the moment he comes back in your hotel room.

"You think they're gonna fire me, now? What happened to having my back. Do you think I'm like Logan, huh." He says back.

"You throw me under the bus, you throw another driver, anyone else? Wanna drag the lizard during practice, too, while you're at it? We're not the bad guys here, Daniel. Go ahead, blame me for being unhappy, and blame me for having bad luck. Just remember that when you fall from the top, it hurts like hell.” you reply.

He thinks he will show everyone who doubted him on Saturday. Have a great qualifying, cement his place in the team. Danny wishes that he didn't have to prove himself to you, too. But he does. So all the angst is worth it. As a “I put us through hell, but look where it got us, we'll fix it now.” He's out in Q1. It was over. He was the biggest loser, forced to see others succeed.

After watching Max win in Abu Dhabi, you were tagging along to the belated celebrations. 3 consecutive championships was a big deal. So you had a few too many glasses of champagne with Danny's friend and former teammate. That resulted in your husband having to support you out, and tuck you in with a bucket next to you.

When the morning comes, there's a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the bedside table next to you. But no Daniel. You make your way to the kitchen in the spacious penthouse room. There was your beloved, making breakfast. An omelet with extra cheese signaled the start of summer break. But what surprised you was the abundance of bouquets, flowers covering multiple pieces of furniture.

"Did I blackout before you lost a bet or something? Why is there a botanical garden in our hotel room." You ask, admiring your favorite ones.

"Wanted to give you something pretty to wake up. Besides the obvious. Also, you got so drunk last night that you started singing this song about getting flowers." He explains.

You cringe as you recall shouting the lyrics, "Buying me all the flowers, swearing on yourself that you count on me," along with a few others.

"You let me get "belting out breakup songs" drunk?" you ask.

"Hey, who knows how many tipsy nights you'll have left in you?" He replies.

"Is this a jab about me aging, how dare you? You're older than me, you prick. Wait. Oh? Is this about?" You go on, then the realization hits you. Daniel's actually talking about

"A baby, yes. You are bad at picking up on hints. Do you think we should try for kids? I know we've had the conversation before, but are you still sure?" He asks. In truth, he hopes you'd still say yes like before. Screw being World Champion, all he wanted now was to be a father.

"I've never been more sure. I know I can count on you and you can count on me. Though let's wait a bit, I don't want to be giving birth in the middle of the Dutch GP or something." You add, shuddering at the thought of being pregnant in the paddock.

"Baby Zandvoort Stroopwaffel Ricciardo wouldn't stand a chance in the world." Danny jokes before pulling you in a kiss.

“I don't know, I think they're going places.” You say after pulling away.

As Daniel helps the driver with the direction, you quip

"Glad that you've had time to roam around Nevada while I was at home packing up my things from what was our apartment. In Monaco, surrounded by our friends' pitiful looks."

"My friends. They're my friends. Besides, one of us had to stay here for six weeks. Otherwise they wouldn't let us get divorced." he says.

"Oh, there was no graph on the fucking forms for custody of racing drivers. And maybe someone should have looked more closely at the law before complaining. You were so reckless and cheesy for proposing in Vegas. And now we have to deal with this." You argue.

"Well I wasn't the one who wanted to break it off. That was all you, sweetheart." He fights back. You're about to make a jab at him for not using that competitiveness on the track.

The man in the driver's seat just sighs and points to a decal above the mirror. It says "no conflicts, please." You can't help it. You want your ex to scream, swear, so you know he's hurting.

But you try to be the bigger person. You and Danny had always been explosive. Before, it was passion. Stolen kisses on busy streets. Hands dangerously close to intimate places on Australian beaches (accompanied by down under jokes that never got old). Hotel room pillows under headboards. It was a miracle that you actually didn't have to file for custody. You guess it didn't take. The universe knew. And despite all the happy, messy, angry raw sex you had, the tests always came back negative. You chuckle at the sweets still in your carry-on, remembering that talk about naming your child after Zandvoort. You extend a pack to Daniel, a peace offering. Stroopwaffels were truly the answer to everything.

"I can't believe you remember to bring me these. I thought you hated me." He says, when he's not sinking his teeth into the syrup filled snack.

"Despite popular belief, I don't live to see your downfall." You reply. We both already saw it is what you think. And when you hear your "other half" say it back to you, you almost believe in soulmates again.

Daniel and you make a few stops. First you two look over the divorce forms with his lawyer. Then you make sure they are notary certified. And lastly, you head back to the courthouse. Nevada is colder than you remember. You shiver as he wraps an arm around you. That's how you walk in to the building. Lovers, soulmates, best friends. Anything but strangers. This time Daniel's the one that breaks when he sees you crying. His thumbs are gentle, wiping the tears from your cheeks with such love that you're almost ready to take it all back. To say "sike", to tear the forms in stripes and use them as confetti you kiss under. To momentarily forget and keep doing that until you forgive him. Instead you go through with it. Right outside when you're officially legally single, you can speak.

"I get why you had to get wasted yesterday. This hurts." you say.

"Wanna go out drinking together. You know, one last time? As a warranty I won't dial your number after the last call like I did back then." Daniel suggests.

"Lead the way, Vegas boy." you reply.

You were lost, figuratively and literally. Singapore was not a good place to wander off in. The 3 cap on your face is pulled down to your eyes. In the end you decide to go back for the race. To give Danny a chance. He's too emotional to talk to you in depth. He kisses you, and your hands grip his denim like shirt. Good luck is all you manage to say. The stars in the Singapore night are what you stare at for the majority of the race. Even with the fastest lap, you can sense it's not enough.

Your heart breaks when Daniel doesn't get out of the car immediately. You wish you could rush over to him, talk. Then you see his face and know. He's grieving. For his legacy, his future. There's no send off. You stay with him until late, until it's just you two and the photographer on the track. You can't do this right now. It's after your flight back that you ask. You deal the final blow to Daniel's life. You ask him for a divorce.

He posts on Instagram before he replies to you. You like the picture, and you pour out your feelings in the comments. You tell him you'll always be proud of him and his achievements. You tell him that you love him. You can't bear to say anything about the future. Because his future is no longer your concern.

He calls you in the middle of the night. He's tired of everyone, drunk, super sad and tells you

"I miss you." as if you don't know. It brings you no joy to hear this. You just ask him to pass the phone to someone else in the bar and you get his location.

"You know, for someone who makes wine, you are a light weight." you comment as you help him back into your shared apartment. You don't wonder where he's staying and whether he likes it. You're lying. Even as you try to settle on the couch, you can't relax. You go to your bed and watch Daniel snore softly. You carefully get in next to him. Sensing the dip in the mattress, he immediately pulls you into his arms.

"Did we fight? I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I didn't mean it. Don't go on the couch, please." He whispers, voice groggy from sleep. He had gotten so wasted he completely forgot he was in the process of divorcing you.

"I'm right here, Daniel. I'm not going anywhere." you say as you turn towards him. You relax into his chest. For the first time in 168 hours you get a decent sleep.

The next day, he just packs some leftover clothes into a suitcase and leaves for the airport. You see him in America and remember the talks with Christian. The faint mentions of Redbull ambassador duties in the States. Despite everything, he chose the job instead of you. Even retired, he was more loyal to the team, which didn't even give him more than 3 photos and a paragraph on Instagram.

Daniel said he'd reject it. Yet, the moment he was free of you, he took it. You had been the roadblock again, being the thing making his career go wrong. After years of being his talisman, you had turned to a bad omen. Of course it was best for you to leave while you can, sprint towards the exit.

You're in front of a bar entrance.

"Is this a good idea? I know we've both been drinking away the end of our relationship, and marriage. So maybe tonight, let's not." You say, suddenly getting cold feet.

"You're right. Do you wanna see the apartment? Make it seem like you're here for a regular vacation with your husband?" He hesitates on the last word, yet still uses it.

"It would be a shame to not see what Vegas residency has done to your taste." You reply.

"You'll love the slot machine in the kitchen, brings the whole place together." Danny jokes and you laugh and it's almost like the old times. He's missed this.

Bachelor Daniel is different than you'd expect. He cooks you both pasta and has one of those fridges with a water and ice dispenser. After dinner, he shows it to you, and it escalates into a chase, pelting frozen cubes at each other. He catches you easily, damn his F1 reflexes.

The ice from his hand is violent poured at the front of your shirt and you fucking moan. Daniel watches the droplets and realizes you're not wearing a bra. It happens in a flash. You're pinned against the counter, your ex husband grabbing another icecube from his fancy fridge. It melts on his tongue, your tongue as you kiss. Daniel's cold lips make you shiver and beg for more as they move from your neck to your chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." He mumbles, now between your thighs. You tell him that " his whole life isn't going to be enough time for him to apologize to you, but this is a good start.". When his tongue licks a stripe down your pussy, it's literally frozen.

"Baby, it's like Frosty the snowman is eating me out, stop." You say and he pulls away immediately. "I need you still, though. Can you fuck me, please. It's been months." You continue.

He's on his feet, towering over you, lips on your neck.

"I don't have a condom though. Is that okay?" Daniel asks.

"Damn, single for 6 weeks and already banging other people raw. You don't waste time,huh." You recoil, trying to move away from him.

"I haven't been with anyone else. Only you. " He confesses.

You're back in his arms, this time taking the lead. It's a different kiss, slow and gentle.

"Then tonight's your lucky night, lover boy. A hot divorcee in your area needs you." You joke as you lead him to bed. You want to be in control, at least with this. For once, you feel at ease again. You grind against him, slowly teasing you both. You sink down on his cock, and he doesn't miss the hiss you let out as you get used to his size again. You ride him, gradually getting closer to your orgasm. You speed up the pace, asking him to fuck you. As you come, you're begging, needing and pleading him to come for you, to finish inside of you. Who is he to deny you? Besides he doesn't think he can get himself to pull out. He too wants nothing more than to spill his seed inside of you, to fuck you through his orgasm. And he does so.

You're both spent, as he pulls away. His mouth is moving faster than his brain when he says "I love you.".

"Don't be cruel, Daniel. Don't talk to me about love when you don't know it." you respond and leave.

You can't leave your house. Even though you're the one that ended it. You're stuck inside, sad songs and ice cream galore. You know that eventually, it will stop hurting. The endless edits of Daniel to Pink Skies aren't helping. You wonder how he is. You wish he wore the hurt on his sleeve. He looked so happy. With Josh, or at the stupid Red Bull event. It's selfish, but you wish to see how these nights end. It's time for him to cry. Because there's no sign that you'd been his at all.

Daniel somehow managed to lose you twice. You don't come back. You just send a text asking to keep the ring on. He takes it as a sign. But all in him that believed evaporated later that week. You're back with your friends. Danny remembers you had mentioned that you'd be staying with them. You neglected to say anything about what was unfolding in front of his eyes via Instagram. A divorce party. They threw you a fucking rager. He analyzes every second of every video. A stranger that’s there worries him. The guy looks freakishly like him. And he keeps hiding his face, clearly not belonging there. The motherfucker is in a 3 piece suit for fuck’s sake. And keeps orbiting in your personal space.

Then it's almost radio silence. You barely post. There's a picture of you, 2 dinner plates ,glasses of water and a fancy restaurant. A number and a heart is all he gets to know you've moved on. Daniel was never good at math, but it doesn't take a genius to calculate when this happened. The day after your divorce party. Because of your new beau, now you only post the occasional selfie. Then the bomb drops. A video of you and his doppelganger. At a fucking gender reveal. And you're the one expecting. The caption reveals the due date. Daniel wants to be spiteful. He wants to know just how many days after you two last saw each other you were fucking others. He plugs in the day you're about to be due into a sketchy fertility calculation website. It's actually very detailed and indicates that you conceived on the last day of your ovulation. Which just happens to be the last night you saw him.

Daniel was about to have a kid. A tiny human being in whose life he would never be a part of. He can't help but think what would happen if he could turn back time. His heart tells him he'd somehow still manage to turn the situation into this.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for going off on a tattoo artist for giving me the wrong mandarin letters?

Context matters a lot here. I (23ftm) recently lost my partner to cancer. They were the love of my life and I dropped everything for them- I moved states away from my family so that they could be more comfortable in a dryer climate, I made sure to be there for them through thick and thin- the works. My family, though sad, were okay with it since I had never been so passionate about anything before I met them. Losing them has been nothing short of miserable.

They were Chinese and had a very strong connection to their language and culture, so I wanted to get a tattoo that translated to "My angel, my love" with "my angel" being on the top and "my love" being on the bottom onto my arm. I wasn't able to learn any dialects from them while they were alive since things had been so busy, but I thought maybe at least I could start with this.

So, I went to a local tattoo parlor that had a Chinese tattoo artist (I hope it isn't racist to assume, I've heard him speaking in Mandarin on the phone) and asked to get the translation tattooed. He seemed genuine and we got to work with choosing a font, the right location, and scheduling an appointment. It was very professional and I was really glad that it had gone smoothly since if it hadn't, I'd probably just give up entirely.

A week passes and I get my tattoo. A bit after as we're talking about it, I mention that I got it to commemorate my late partner, whom like I said I consider to be the light of my life. When I mentioned that, he sort of paused and had this look on his face, like when you realize you forgot something really important. He shook it off though and we got back to talking, but things seemed obviously more awkward now.

When I went home I sent a picture of it to my partner's family, and immediately they picked up that something was wrong. They didn't tell me what it had actually translated to, but it was apparently very inappropriate and disrespectful.

Needless to say I was breaking down. My partner had died, I was struggling with depression and fatigue from handling a lot of the funeral procedures, and overall that had been the straw that broke the camel's back. This is where I may be the asshole. I drove back to the parlor shop and found my tattoo artist, and I didn't get physical, but I had definitely wanted to. I was yelling at him, screaming about how he was a horrible shitty person, the works. He argued back that I should have at least given him a reason for the tattoo, since he gets white people coming in all the time asking for dumb stuff, but I shot back that he could have at least told me what he had done when I did reveal why I got the tattoo.

Again, I didn't get physical, but they did threaten to call the cops on me if I didn't leave since I wss making a scene, so I left and later emailed that I had at the very least wanted a refund, since they didn't even give me the tattoo I wanted. I still haven't gotten a response yet.

My family (both biological and in-laws) are very conflicted over this. Some of them think that I could have dealt with it a lot better, while others think I should have threatened them with a lawsuit (obviously there's inbetween opinions but those are the main two extremes). I can't afford a lawsuit considering I'm already dealing with the funeral funds like I said, but I don't know. I don't even know if yelling at the guy made me feel better or worse- it was an in-the-moment response to be sure.

So, with more context, AITA for yelling at the tattoo artist who gave me an inappropriate tattoo instead of the one I really wanted?

What are these acronyms?