#please always wear a helmet in real life

[newnamesamecharlotte]

Meet my nomad V

She likes to keep her hair short so she can feel the airflow on her scalp when she rides her bike

[thefunkfactory]

Biker Breath

Zane was riding home from work on his bicycle when he passed a pile of stuff sitting on the curb with a sign attached saying “For Free”. Zane stopped to inspect what all was left out on the street and saw a super nice looking biker helmet, carefully picking it up he noticed some scratches and dings on the helmet but besides that it was still in perfect working condition. While he was examining it Zane noticed the rancid scent emanating out of the helmet. Holding his nose, Zane began to put the helmet back onto the curb when he heard a voice in his head that wasn’t his, it was a deeper, more masculine voice demanding him to put the helmet on. Wanting to resist, Zane set the helmet down and turned his back to it and the other stuff on the curb when the voice again demanded “Put on the helmet”, Zane was overcome with the need to put the helmet on. As he lifted the helmet up over his head Zane pleaded with the voice “Please…No…It reeks”. Feeling the voice command him to lower the helmet on his head, Zane’s mind and body obediently obeyed as he lost control of both. Upon lowering the helmet onto his head Zane could smell the reeking stench of the helmet. It reeked of sweat and B.O., the previous owner had obviously never even attempted to clean it.

Regaining consciousness and control of his body, Zane tried to take the helmet off, but quickly he heard the voice command “Breath in deep wimp” Zane once again obediently followed orders and took in a deep whiff of the helmet’s noxious stench. Zane would have normally been disgusted but he wasn’t, in fact he loved the rancid stench of sweat trapped in the helmet. Zane heard another command echo through his head, “Get on your puny bike loser”. Zane sat on his metal bicycle and began to pedal away. With every pedal, he bike became more akin to what a real man would ride. It slowly transformed into a fast and slick motorcycle.

Zane revved the bike instinctually and he felt his dick shoot to life at the same time, it was weird, Zane never was interested in motorcycles but his body was aching for more. Zane’s puny body was sitting atop a nice expensive motorcycle now but his body and face were still that of a wimpy nerd. That was soon to change, the voice started describing what a biker boy should be like. “Biker boys are unhygienic beasts who never wear deodorant, shower once a week, and never brush their teeth, all of that is for weak pussies” Zane could suddenly remember why the helmet smelled so bad, it was HIS stench that was infused into the helmet. Zane breathed in another deep whiff of the stink HE cultivated and let out a pleasurable sigh, breathing out a torrent of funky smelling breath, Zane added to the stench and made himself more loopy. Feeling his weak body get light and tingly Zane kept riding his newly minted motorcycle, he stopped at a red light and looked over at the car next to him, “Had I always had such big muscles?” Zane thought to himself as he saw his reflection in the car’s window. “No…can’t be I…” he took a breath in and inhaled more of his noxious B.O. and bad breath, “…I have always been this buff duhhh” Zane pulled off and sped home away from the stop light. Arriving home his brother was getting out of his car in the driveway, pulling up was surprised when he saw the man on the motorcycle, he looked like a stranger to him. “Hey man I think you got the wrong address” Zane’s brother told the now insanely ripped Zane, “Whatchu mean bro this my crashpad!” Zane said loudly. “Nah my brother lives here with me and my dad not you” Zanes brother remarked. Zane got off his bike and walked up to his little bro, “Heeeeeeeeeeey man chillax…no need to get your pantiessssss in a bunch” Zane drew out certain syllables on words so that he could breathe out his nasty breath that smelled like he had just eaten garlic, and fish, and hadn’t brushed his teeth in weeks. Zane’s brother’s eyes glazed over upon smelling his older brother’s stale and stinky breath, “Oh hey bro welcome home” Zane reached an arm around his brother’s shoulder and they walked to the house together. “Yeaaaaaaahhh you love your big bro’s stinking breath dont cha lil man” Zane laughed and purposely let out a blast of his funky breath into his brother’s face, “Yea…bro I- I love how…stinky…your breath i- is…I wish I was m-more like you”His brother said mindlessly as if in a trance. “Well in that case lil bro I wanna take you on a ride tonight okay? You can wear my helmet I jusssssst got it” Zane breathed out more of his rank breath while he spoke. “Yea…uhh like…totally bro…” His lil bro responded not knowing that the ride would seal his fate just how his brother’s was.

[the-offside-rule]

Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - Helmet Hair

Requested: yes

Prompt: 51) "Can I wear your helmet?"

Warnings: none

Charles sat in his simulator at his apartment, focused on the virtual track. The familiar hum of the equipment filled the room as he navigated the digital twists and turns. Y/n had been studying yet she couldn't help but sneak glances over over her boyfriend maneuvering his way around the virtual track. She thought of a challenge so she stood up and walked over to Charles, a mischievous glint in her eye. He looked up confused. "Are you alright?" He asked. "Mind if I join?" He smiled. "Of course, amore." He stood up and helped her into the seat. He began describing the different parts of the car to her, making sure to keep it simplified as to not confuse her. "It seems difficult, eh?" Y/n shrugged. "Seems simple enough. I hink I've got it." Charles smiled. "If you say so. Let's start with a simple track." He chose Austria and off she went, racing her heart out.

"See how difficult it is to drive the car?" Charles teased. "It's actually easy." He arched a brow. "Excuse me-" He was cut off by Y/n pointing to the times. "See? New personal best. This is the fastest the Leclerc car has ever gone." He watched in awe as she did indeed break his record.

"It's not as simple as it seems in real life, though." She scoffed. "Oh, please. I'm a natural at this." He huffed. "I bet I can make it more challenging." Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "How so?" Charles nodded towards the shelves of helmet he had. Her eyes lit up more than before. "Can I actually wear your helmet?" Charles smiled. "Of course. Pick one and you canwear it while racing. Let's see how good you really are." Y/n pointed towards the generic helmet he always used. Charles stood up and grabbed it, placing it carefully over her head. "Alright, let's add some flair to this race." Her face felt squished within the helmet and her boyfriend could see her cheeks squished up against the soft interior. Charles couldn't contain his laughter at the sight. "Shut up! Let's race!"

"Ready for the challenge, Senna?" He joked, choosing Monaco as the next track. "Absolutely!" With the helmet snugly in place, Y/n dove back into the virtual world, determined to prove herself. Charles watched with admiration as she navigated the turns of Monaco, both of them sharing laughs and cheers throughout the playful competition. "You just hit the barrier-"

"I know. Its the hairpin. Allow it." Charles hid his laugh as she continued on, overtaking one by one and borderline illegally. "Did you just hit Max?" Charles asked. "Im just being competitive." She replied. "And oh look, Carlos is in the harbour because of you now." She rolled her eyes. "He shouldn't have been there." She retorted. "Where? The track?" She giggled at his jokes. "I'm first. I don't know what you're on about." Charles watched as she went onto the final lap, hitting nearly every corner in doing so. "Oh? Look at that. Leclerc, P1." Charles clapped for her. "I won your home race before you did." He shot her a glare. "Behave." She pecked his cheek. "I'm kidding. You know that."

"Are you though?" Y/n chuckled, lifting the helmet off her head. Charles burst out laughing upon seeing her messy hair standing in all directions. "You make helmet hair look way better." Y/n said, fixing her hair in the reflection of the screen in front of her. "Not as good as you." He teased. "Oh shut up." She said, slapping his arm playfully. "Are you going back to study?" Charles asked. "I am. Have fun." Y/n smiled, kissing her boyfriend. "And thanks for the helmet."

"Don't mention it. I'll be out soon anyway." Charles replied. "Love you." She said, leaving gthe room. "Je t'aime." He called after her, getting back to racing and trying to break his girlfriend's records.

[dcxdpdabbles]

If you’re willing, I would love more of the cinnamon rolls, Son. Maybe Dan mentioning Vlad or Danny talking about Ellie with Dan?

"You want to take Dan for a weekend?" Phantom asks, confused. He twists in his chair to stare at her with a surprisingly challenging frown.

"That's correct," Diana confirmed firmly. She settles into a commander's stance, legs spread slightly to shoulder length, arms tucked behind her back, closed fists touching, and her long hand falling gracefully in an elegant braid. She had chosen to wear her more traditional armor, showcasing her achievements in battle and on the strategy board.

She also adored how the battling helmet made her seem more intimidating. "I believe the young ghost could learn from a strict mentor. I promise to bring him back well-disciplined."

Phantom's mouth opens slightly in surprise. His glow dims and brightens as he considers her request, seemingly struggling with adequately disciplining his child.

Diana remains quiet, allowing the hero to think. Although she was a bit of a rebellious youth, always wanting to join in on the warrior's training and talking about leaving the island long before Steve, Diana prides herself on being well-behaved due to her intense training from a young age.

As the princess of her people, she also had training in politics and etiquette. Indeed, with a sturdy hand and guiding light, Dan would not fall into the darkness the gods foretold.

"Okay, would the weekend of the ninth work? Dan and I have plans for this weekend and the next one already," Phantom says, a bit apologetic.

Diana smiles. "That would be acceptable."

She strides out of the monitor room with a sense of accomplishment. From her observations of young (?) Dan, the ghost, didn't seem overly emotional or prone to violent reactions. If anything, he seemed like a general who had lost his army in life.

She hopes that by giving him a new training method and installing a soldier mannerism into him, Dan will find a new army or goal to strive for. This also gave her the chance to finally train someone completely new. Diana had always been the youngest citizen on her island, and although she had read about children before leaving for Man's World, she never saw one be born or raised.

Is this what an older sister felt when a new warrior took up the blade under their mentorship? No wonder her elder sisters had been so eager to train her when given the chance.

Two weekends later, Dan stumbled into the Watch Tower, covered head to toe in mud. He dragged himself to where Phantom was sitting, not bothering with flying or walking. The ghost hero watched his son's approach with barely concealed concern.

"Dan?"

"That was horrible. Amazonians are crazy. I haven't had such a teacher since the day Dani tried to teach me how to text." Dan mutters into the ground by his father's feet. One large hand reaches out to grip Phantom's ankle. "I want to go home now please."

Wonder Woman lingers by the doorframe, for once not looking certain. "I apologize for my enthusiasm, Dan. I was not prepared for the gods to intervene in our training."

"It's okay. I had fun. I got to punch Zeus in the face." Dan mutters back, releasing his father to make a fist and shake it in the air. He refused to raise his face from where it was planted on the title flooring. "He had it coming."

"You punch Zeus?" Phantom asks scandalously. A few of the Justice League heroes are suddenly, rather violently, reminded that gods were real and that Phantom was, in a sense, considered one. Was his child attacking another god considered the same as a prince attacking a neighboring king?

"Yes, and I would do it again." Dan growls.

"Why? Why would you do that?" Phantom groans, hiding his face in his hands.

"Free Ganymede!" Dan shouts, suddenly leaping to his feet and chanting. "Free Ganymede! Free Ganymede! Free Ganymede!"

Phantom stares. "Who's Ganymede?"

Dan scowls. "Agh! This is why I can never introduce you to my friends. You're so lame!"

"I am not!" Phantom protested, "I'm sorry I don't know about your cause, whatever it is, and-"

"He is not a cause. He's my friend!" Dan shouted just as the head of what looked like a teenager peaked out behind Wonder Woman. The watching crowd was all amazed by his beauty, with long golden locks and soft features, even if the boy stared at the two ghosts with slightly anxious energy.

"Dan, I have no idea what you are - oh, Hello." Phantom cuts himself off, finally noticing the teenager. "Who is this?"

The stranger flinches before emerging from behind Wonder Woman and bowing low before Phantom. He tugs at his robes in the same fluid motion, allowing the white fabric to slip dangerously low on his hips.

Phantom blushes. "Hello, King Phantom, I am Ganymede. Prince Dan won me in a fight with King Zeus. I have been the wine pour for the gods for eons and can provide the same service to you and your kin. And if you require a lover, I am forever available to"

"No," Dan cuts in. His voice is low and dangerous, which makes everyone in the room tense. "No one will ever touch you like that again unless you desire it."

Phantom's red face instantly pales, and he stares in horror at the human not moving from his kneeling position. Those with super hearing can hear Ganymede's heart rate pick up in fear and see the cold sweat gathering at his temple despite his face remaining passive.

"Oh no. You're in one of the Greek stories....with Zeus? Every time that guy notices anyone, terrible things happen, and you're....we're about the same age...how dare he. How dare he!" Phantom whispers before his glow turns bright with outrage. "That monster!"

"I know!" Dan shouts. "We should kill him!"

"Wait, you can't just—" Whatever Wonder Woman was going to say is ignored by the glowing ghosts, who quickly help Ganymede to his feet and portal away.

The room is stunned as Diana places a shaking hand over her mouth. "I have caused a war between the gods....."

"So is this the end of the world stuff that time god was talking about," Barry asks, raising a hand. He flinches at the glare Diana sends him and lowers his hand. "Right, sorry, not the time or place-"

"We're going to war!?! " a new voice shouts as a little girl—no older than twelve—rips a portal in the middle of the room with a battle cry. They all stare at her glowing figure in even more stunned silence.

She looks around, taking in every gaping hero with a set of the same eyes as Phantom, and it's not hard to see the family resemblance between them. If anything, she looks like a younger female version of the hero.

"Have any of you seen Phantom? He sends me a text about storming Mt.olympus to kick Zeus's ass for harming one of the royal family's friends?" She asks, waving her phone as if it was a typical Tuesday.

Diana opens and closes her mouth before straightening up and gripping her blade. "I am one of the blades of Goddess Athena. Should she command it, I shall lay down my life to-"

"Yeah, no, I've been told many times not to cause trouble for the Justice League." The girl says, waving her hand. "Likely won't even be a fight. Danny will shout at Zeus since they each have to control certain parts of the universe as much as it grants their egos. But we're keeping Ganymede. No way will Dan let the god take him back, and you bet Dan can take that old geezer in a fight."

"Oh, " Barry breathes, staring at the glowing girl in wonder. You're Phantom's, aren't you?"

She beams. "Sure, am."

"Well-"

Her phone dings, and the little girl glances at the screen before squealing. "I have to go. Phantom said Zeus agreed to an honor battle. I can't wait to see him kick the geezer's ass! Bye!"

She vanishes before anyone can say "wait," and the run plunges into silence. Wonder Woman stands there looking dazed, and that's about the time Batman pulls out his laptop to add notes to his file on Phantom.

It's one thing to know the ghost is powerful. It's another to find out he's on equal footing with the Greek god Zeus. If his children could one day be as strong as him, they really need to make sure Dan doesn't go evil.

And maybe his daughter, too. Just in case.

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name.  Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour.  Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV):  Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

The Storm - [Reader's POV]: The happiness you feel in response to a question Din posed to you is somewhat clouded by lingering doubts. Yet your affection for each other helps you to push those emotions down, until a weekend spent at his cottage changes everything...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡

[its-quiet-colter]

Please Look at Me.

Din Djarin x Male!Reader

Word count: 2132

Warnings: NSFW (18+), sub!Din, frottage, praise and come eating but mostly pretty tame, fluff filled fic since its my first time writing in a few years.

| archive of our own | strawpage |

The gentle rumble of the Razor Crest’s engine is soft and soothing as you doze lightly in the cramped sleeping quarters. It’s barely big enough for one, let alone two, but it does the job. You’ve slept in far worse conditions, after all, the hard padding under your back could be considered a five star accommodation at this point.

Unable to sleep, you roll onto your side, facing away from the door. The light from the cargo bay was all too distracting but the thoughts swirling around your head are even more so. It’s been eight months since you teamed up with Din, helping him find bounty after bounty as you both try and keep prying eyes away from Grogu. You had to hand it to the Mandalorian. The kid was cute.

Yet it was fruitless to believe the only reason you stayed was Grogu, the child who had grown attached to you as much as he had to Din. It was a lie. You knew it and so did Din. You had felt it, brewing away for all these past months traveling together. The way you held his silence, the gaze you felt from underneath his helmet. Din’s saved your life countless times as you’ve saved his. There’s trust there. And something far deeper that neither of you dare bring to the surface.

You never talked about it when stray hands would wander at some lonely hour of the night, pressed against each other in the tight cabin. You didn’t talk about it when your hand slid into Din’s pants to stroke his cock, nor when his own would grasp the back of your shirt as he rutted into your palm. Panting and whimpering under his helmet. And certainly neither of you talked about it in the cockpit in the mornings after.

It was nice, whatever it was. Having trust in someone is a privilege in the New Republic, where lawlessness and betrayal are as common as they were in the days of the Empire. If not more. But having Din’s trust, and your heated embrace, however fleeting and complicated they may be, made a warm feeling bubble in your chest. Not talking about your relationship kept it from being real, and the moment it became real you knew Din would flee. Put his walls up, and push you away just as you had seen him do to others. Din trusted you and like hell were you letting that go.

Not once have you asked to take off his helmet, you accepted his creed long ago when you had first met him. But you can also feel that he wears it for comfort. An armor of beskar, keeping himself distant as much as it distances others. Yet you’ve seen Din’s fingers twitch sometimes, the urge to take it off, to reveal himself to you. He’s not there yet, and perhaps he never will be. And that’s okay, you can still hold him with his helmet on.

The distant sound of the ship’s cargo doors opening drags you from your thoughts, as does the soft thud of boots ringing along the metal floor as they edge closer to the quarters you’re resting in. Din’s breath crackles through the speaker of his helmet, muffled and slightly ragged. He was out chasing a bounty all day, but seldom does he return to the ship with such shallow breathing. Is something wrong? You think.

You hear the sound of Beskar hitting the floor, as he strips away his armor piece by piece, keeping it close by. Always alert, always ready for when the next attack comes. 

The hard mattress dips under your combined weight as Din lays down beside you. His breathing still labored. You can’t help but feel something is wrong, and so you go to turn around, to face him but his voice rings out first.

“No… don’t turn around.” He says softly and you pause. Din’s voice is so soft without his helmet. Wait, what? He took his helmet off?

You feel Din’s breath against your back, he’s panting softly as his nose brushes against your shoulder blade. His hair, short and scruffy, tickles the taught muscles of your back and you can feel his soft whimper. The back of his fingers gently nudge your hip, feeling your soft warm skin exposed above the waistline of your pants. The touch is so gentle, reverent even. Despite you facing the wall the moment is far more intimate than the casual reach around you’ve given each other.

“Are you okay…?” You whisper into the room, unsure if breaking the silence is such a good idea. You feel Din tense behind you, his cheek all but nuzzled into your shoulder blade as he spoons himself behind you. His stubble doesn’t go unnoticed, the brush of it against you. Is that a mustache? 

Din’s heartbeat is rapid as you feel him nod against your back, a soft quiet noise escaping him. “Mh.” he mumbles. 

His hands slide around to your front, resting over your chest as he draws himself closer to you. His chest pressed against your back. You hear another soft whimper slipping when your hand cups over his and tangles your fingers together.

“Where’s the kid?” Din asks, wanting and needing a distraction from the anxiety of the situation. Almost like he’s ashamed.

“Upstairs, sleeping.” Your words are whispered softly as your thumb brushes over his knuckles. “Had to swaddle him in one of your shirts just to get him to sleep, he missed you.”

Your hand is squeezed, almost like Din’s holding onto you for comfort. A silent way of saying thank you for taking care of Grogu. With a soft shuffle around, Din brings your legs to be tangled together and you bring your joined hands up to kiss over Din’s calloused fingers. “I missed you too.” You whisper softly.

Din’s soft shudder returns, his breathing unsteady. You instantly think you’ve said the wrong thing, perhaps startled him or caused more angst. But then you feel it. The slight tremble in his hands, the rustling as his legs shuffle on the hard mattress behind you, and the slight jut to his hips as his clothed erection presses against your thigh.

The whine he lets out makes heat pool in your stomach, and you squeeze his hand again as he tries to recoil away. Without his helmet he feels so vulnerable, so ashamed of his arousal, even if all you can see is the old worn metal wall of Razor Crest’s sleeping pod.

“It’s okay, Din.” You whisper as you feel him shuffle behind you, and the soft sounds of him stroking himself with his free hand are muffled by the panting moans he makes.

“I’m sorry.” Din whispers softly, his face buried against your back and you shake your head. “It’s okay, you’re alright.” you repeat again in a slow and soothing manner as he pleasures himself. 

Your own arousal makes you groan in frustration, wanting so bad to turn around but you refrain. The image of Din’s hand wrapped around his own cock, the twitch of his hips, the way his fingers squeeze a ring around his base to try and stave off an orgasm that might otherwise ruin this precious moment. But the image of him, Din. what he must look like, a flush to his cheeks, hair stuck down from sweat, both helmet and arousal induced. You already know he’s got facial hair, perhaps a scar or two; although you doubt it with how strong that armor is of his.

God, I bet he’s beautiful. You think.

“Please, cyar’ika.” Din all but mewls, desperate and wanting as his face is buried against your shoulder blade, kissing the soft skin. The sound of his desperate begging is all you need for what little resolve you had to crack.

Shifting around the bed, you turn around to face him. Din’s cheeks are flush, his lips parted slightly around a moan as his cock twitches under his own palm, the vulnerability causing the reaction. Your eyes fall to his soft brown eyes, so dark and blown wide as he squirms under your gaze. 

“Din…” You whisper in awe, the pad of your thumb coming up to brush against the stubble of his cheek. Almost like you can’t believe the sight of the man before you, so beautiful and laid out before you. He nods silently, looking at you as his chest rises and falls and his hands rest on your shoulders. It’s all the permission you need to lean down and kiss him.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, cradling his head as you both indulge in months worth of tension, of trust, of love. Din mewls against your lips and you groan against his, nipping his bottom lip before the kiss is deepend. He shifts and you get the memo, moving with him as Din lays on his back and pulls you on top of him. And all of a sudden the cabin around you feels more warm and closed in than usual.

Din’s legs wrap around your waist, his fingers sliding through your hair to keep your mouths locked together in a passionate yet tender kiss. All the while you try to undo your pants enough to push the offending fabric around to your thighs. Your own dick hard and leaking at the feeling of having the Din held underneath you.

He moans into your mouth, his hips jerking up as you take both of your cock’s in one hand, stroking and thrusting against one another. The heat of Din against you, the way he leaks precum as you thumb his tip, his head falling to the side to let out a guttural moan is enough to have heat pooling low in your gut. You thrust against him, your fist tight around the both of you as you get lost in each other.

With Din’s head tilted to the side, you kiss his exposed neck, feeling the way he gulps and gasps as he arches up into your hand. His fingers cling to your back, holding you close as you watch him start to tense up. He’s close. Legs tighten around your waist as his back arches with a moan.

“Mh… ‘m close… please!” Din moans aloud, looking up at you with half lidded eyes. Pleading.

Your hand stops, letting go of your own dick to focus on stroking Din’s alone. He whimpers as you settle over him, chests flushed together so you can squeeze his cock and whisper against his ear. “Let go, Din. I've got you, cyar’ika.” 

It’s all the permission he needs, and you watch as he tenses, ropes of cum coating your fist and his own stomach as Din comes hard. Whimpering as you murmur sweet praises in his ear and press kisses to his hair.

Din is panting, almost soaking up the warm glow of the aftermath, his brown eyes glazed over. You sit up, straddling him as much as you can in the cramped cabin as you take yourself in hand and begin to stroke yourself.

“You did so well..” You praise him gently, looking down at Din with so much affection and love despite your arousal and absolute need to come. “Fuck. you’re so beautiful, Din. So pretty.” 

You thrust into your own hand, feeling your orgasm begin to bubble over at the mere fact you’re looking at the Mandalorian that had stolen your heart months ago. With a hand pressed to his chest, your eyes are unable to look away to his flushed, disheveled state. Looking back at you is the same look of love and adoration reflected in Din’s eyes and your orgasm hits, painting his chest and chin in your cum.

As you both catch your breath, Din takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth as he licks the mess off of your hand. He presses a gentle kiss to your palm, never looking away as he does so, and it almost stirs you enough for another round.

Your back hits the mattress and Din curls up with his head on your chest, neither of you looking to break the silence and the peace of the moment. He had taken his helmet off, and in the aftermath as he began to calm down, you can see the gears turning in his head.

You probably won’t talk about this in the morning, but it doesn’t stop you pressing a kiss to his head, your nose buried in his hair. Din’s own nose brushes against your collarbone and he presses a soft kiss to your skin. His eyes flutter shut and he starts to doze off. The physical touch is a silent promise to one another. And that’s more than enough for you.

[anamelessfool]

Outlaw F!Reader x "The Ghoul" Cooper Howard (18+ MDNI) Full Fic here on AO3

Chapter 2: A Good Word (AO3 Link Here)

You're not running away from your sins, you're running towards the truth.

The expectation of an Overseer is to be of pleasant temperament, with a neat and well-manicured appearance. You are the friendly face of your Vault, a representation of the hospitality and amiable atomosphere cultivated here at Vault-Tech Industries. And the family at Vault-Tech Industries knows that the best leaders are in their hearts the most dedicated followers.

Tags: Read Em All on AO3, Blood and Gore, Gunplay, Broken Bones, Bandits & Outlaws, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Dystopia, Blood and Injury, Mystery and Intrigue, Western

Full Chapter because it's small below the cut!

White sails…white sails against the blue steel of the vault doors. Dangling like the shattered wings of a seagull. Or at least what you think are seagulls. You have read about them and it is important to keep oneself in the know when it comes to extinct creatures.

Your breath coats the glass of your hazmat helmet while the RAD meter on your PiP boy crackles, whines. It's the historic fog of the estuary. The wind off the ocean blows the moisture almost daily across the land. Fog thick with radiation. The foliage has responded in kind, growing small and meek and clinging to rocks like slime. Around you are the blackened bones of ancient trees, some you knew were hundreds of feet high and thousands of years old. Some of the oldest life forms on the planet. Now their remains stick out from the soil like toothpicks on a cheese platter.

But back to the white sails. You see them now as you come close. It was some sort of glider. A ridable kite.

Your surface recovery team had discovered the craft after hearing a loud bang across the outer vault doors this afternoon. The crash was soon after the thick fog rolled in. The occupant was dying, but he requested to see the Overseer.

He requested to see you. Alone.

And the moment you see him lodged in the ruined cockpit you freeze. He's wearing a gold jumpsuit with blue striped details, an unmistakable mark of authority. An executive. An Overseer of overseers. If the Vaults in Area 33 are little hives of productivity and human civilization, the Executives are the beekeepers. They have their own vault in the center of the molecule that is Area 33. And from there they do what they please. And apparently that includes joyriding gliders along the coast.

You know, rich people stuff. Successful people hobbies.

Your heart starts to pound, but it's not with dread or fear or despair for the pilot.

The executives give out promotions sometimes. Transfers. And even though this one's dying, you always want to give a good impression. You have been working on your resume for a while now, anyway.

“Hello! Welcome to Vault 66!”

You try to be friendly and upbeat, even though the man has been slowly dying from a shattered spine and skull injury for two hours now. “This fog sure is a real chestnut, isn't it?” You chuckle. “Although I bet the views of the ocean from up where you were flying were spectacular.”

“They….were…”

You cheerily give him your name. Your title. You would shake the man's hand if it wasn't permanently pinned under some sort of crumpled control panel. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes…” He coughs, groans. “Come close. Closer.”

You position yourself as deep into the cockpit as your clunky hazmat helmet will allow.

The executive winces and recovers. “Unzip my jumpsuit.”

“Uh…” Your brow furrows as you search your mind for protocol. You don't remember this being a scenario from the training slideshows. Is this considered workplace harassment? Quid pro quo? Personal space issues? To be fair, the destroyed remains of a vehicular accident could be classed as a hostile work environment. You give him a small, polite smile. “Repeat that again, sir?”

“Unzip my jumpsuit. That's an order, Overseer.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you laugh nervously, and unzip the front to expose his stained undershirt.

“Inner…left…pocket….” He screws up his eyes in pain, expelling air across the glass of your helmet.

“Heh, right away,” you say, reaching a little too close to a man you just met. That pocket is usually reserved for private things. Vitamins. Tissues. Feminine products. Fertility Tablets. Anti-fertility tablets. Intimate….devices. Not really something that another person reaches in unless they have a headcold or are busy repopulating the planet. What comes out of his inner pocket is an item you've never seen before. It’s small, half the size of a PiP boy screen, and thin. Made of a gold material. The front has a small digital panel that displays a long serial number that as you stare at it, wipes away and reconfigures every thirty seconds. You flip the little device over and a shine slides across it— you're convinced it's made of pure gold with some sort of tiny nuclear battery inside. A pocket atomic clock. To tell what, you're unsure. On the back is stamped a few mysterious numbers:

34.8559704, -111.7801052

You flash him a friendly smile but you feel the strain behind your eyes. “Um sir, what is this?”

“Vault Tech Company Property. Absolutely top secret. Override previous protocol. You are to keep this in your intimates pocket until further notice. You are not to inform a soul.” He coughs again, and blood flecks across the glass of your mask. “Got, that Vault 33-66 Overseer?”

You throw on your professional service smile, nodding with gratitude. “My pleasure, sir! Would—”

You start to request that he put in a good word for you but then you suddenly remember that the only other executive he's going to see soon is his own Maker.

“And another order, Overseer.”

“Hmm? What's that?”

“I'm giving you authorization to put me out of my goddam misery.”

“Oh…right.” You laugh nervously, pulling your gun from its holster at your hip. Lucky for him it was mating season for the RAD Seals and without a solid authentic piece a topside forager would be a pile of bone and jelly on the beach. You cock it and press it to his head, leaning back and getting into Stabilized Proper Armament Form (SPAF). “Well, sir, it's been a pleasure. Thanks for stopping by.”

And you pull the trigger.

My Fic List (Oops all Ghost!)

[callsignspark]

soft-tober | 09 | Bradley Bradshaw

soft-tober is about experiencing the joys of October with loved ones. each day is a fall-related one-shot for one of the couples from my Dagger, Sword & Shield universe, plus a few extras! today is Bradley and Mary with “Is this costume too revealing?” from this prompt list.

If you’d like to be tagged for soft-tober, please send an ask!

word count: 1.2k

soft-tober masterlist | main masterlist | divider credit here

warnings: extreme fluff, this takes place in 2024, body insecurities after giving birth, this gets a little raunchy so minors go away

callsignspark disclaimer: my blog is an 18+ space; minors do not interact - you will be blocked. I do not consent to my work being copied, run through an AI generator, translated, or posted elsewhere. I do have an AO3, where I eventually will be cross-posting my works.

09. "Is this costume too revealing?"

“I just don’t like it! He’s a good kid, but I don’t like it!”

Mary hums as her husband continues complaining, talking circles around himself while she’s stuck in her thoughts. She knows that she’s worrying about the wrong thing. They just dropped the twins off at the Benjamin-Mitchell household with Amelia and her boyfriend, Josh. Trusting the two teenagers to watch the ten-month-old Bradshaw girls for a few hours while they attend a Halloween party.

“I trust him, he’s a good kid, but does he have to be there? I guess it makes sense for there to be two babysitters, one for each girl… but I still don’t like it! Maybe we shouldn’t go. No, Amelia is smart; she can handle it.”

If this were a movie, she would be worrying right alongside Bradley about whether the kids were going to throw a rager while babysitting. And in real life, if it were any other night, she’d be concerned about leaving the girls, even if it’s just a couple hours. Especially considering this is the first time they’ve left the babies with anyone who’s not a seasoned parent.

But she’s not worried about that. Because it’s Halloween and the invite had said to bring a friend and come dressed like them. So, she’s wearing a flight suit tied around her waist, with a skin-tight bodysuit, that feels like it’s digging into every bump, lump, and roll of her post-partum body. She hasn’t been this uncomfortable since giving birth.

“Is this costume too revealing?”

She knows she’s worried about the wrong thing.

“And I heard you tell her to make out with him after- what?” Wide brown eyes bounce back and forth between her and the road, a confused look washing over his face.

“Is it too… ya know, too much?”

“No.” Bradley says it with such conviction that her brain almost lets it go. Almost.

“You’re just saying that because you like how much my boobs are out.”

“I will never complain about your boobs - especially if you’ve got my call sign over my favorite one - but you just have a little bit of cleavage. It’s not revealing at all.”

Mary glances down at her chest, the patch she had gotten made with Bradley’s helmet logo stitched carefully on her left boob, and realizes that while her breasts are one of the problems, they’re not the main problem.

“I just…” She sighs, wondering if trying to explain is even worth it. Bradley has only ever been self-conscious about the scars on his neck and face, never about his figure. He’s always been in great shape, no jiggling or wiggling like her body. “I feel like I’m out all over the place.”

“It’s because you’re breastfeeding, baby doll.”

“I’m going to flash everyone!”

“Lucky them.” He murmurs, ignoring his wife’s shocked noise as he turns down Javy’s street. “Where are we going to park?”

“Bradley!”

“Hang on, lemme park first.”

She huffs, looking out the window as he parallel parks in one of the last open spaces, the van jolting slightly as they stop. I still can’t believe we’re the kind of people with a minivan, she thinks as Bradley unbuckles them. Mary can feel him leaning towards her, a big hand making its way to her thigh.

“Mary, what’s going on?”

She sighs; he won’t let it go, it’s best to just talk to him about it. Which is easier said than done.

“My body changed a lot with the pregnancy, which I knew would happen. I had twins. I just thought I would be back to normal by now, especially with the breastfeeding.” Bradley doesn’t say anything; just brushes her hair back with a big, warm hand. “I know it’s stupid, but there’s a part of my brain - that sounds a lot like my mother - that keeps telling me how many women lose weight and get smaller when they breastfeed.”

A quiet gasp escapes her. It’s the first time she’s said it out loud and heard how terrible she’s being to herself.

Bradley opens his mouth, but she cuts him off. “I know what you’re going to say.”

He chuckles, “Oh, yeah? What am I gonna say?”

“That I’m just as beautiful as the day we met, and you can’t believe I grew and gave birth to your two favorite people in the world. That you love me.”

“Not bad.” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “You forgot a few things, though.”

“What?”

“You forgot the part where I tell you how fucking sexy you are. That I love you no matter what your body looks like, and I always will. I gotta admit, though, these?” Bradley trails kisses down her neck, pulling the stretchy collar of her bodysuit down, groaning when he catches sight of red lace. “These are incredible.”

“Don’t get used to them; they’re temporary.” Mary pants as he nips at the sensitive skin of her breast, right where his call sign has been sitting for the last hour.

“Guess I’ll just have to get you pregnant again.”

She moans at the casual way he says it, his tongue brushing over her nipple through the lace of her bra. He looks up at her, through his lashes, as he takes her nipple between his teeth, his big brown eyes making sure she’s paying attention before he sucks it into his mouth.

“Bradley!” She gasps, pulling at his curls, unsure if she wants more or if she wants to push him away.

“Yeah, honey?” He pulls off, the damp fabric cooling against the stiff bud. “You want more?”

“I- not in public!”

“Why? It’s not like I haven’t done that before.”

“Yeah, yeah. King of unclogging my milk ducts, folks.” Mary teases even as she lets her eyes drag over him, taking in every detail. The way he’s panting because of her. Eyes big and glassy because of her. Hard under his costume because of her. “Get in the backseat.”

“What?”

“Backseat, Bradshaw. Now.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re the one that wants to get me pregnant again, right?” She asks as she wiggles back into the third row of the minivan, leaving her husband gaping in the front seat. “Let's try right now.”

“Jesus fuc- We’re going home.”

“What! Why?” Mary whines, so worked up the windows are going to start fogging up any second.

“We’re going home. I’m going to bend you over the couch, and then we’re coming back to the party. Just let me text Mav and Penny to ask them to take the girls overnight.”

“Oh, god, I love you! You’re so smart!”

“Stay there.”

Mary freezes where she was starting to climb back to the front. “What?”

“Stay. There.” Bradley starts the van, checking his mirrors to pull out. “You’re going to get yourself ready for me, so when we get home there’s no time wasted.”

The car’s audio system interrupts him, telling them Penny texted, agreeing to take the kids, and ordering them to have fun. The two parents giggle; it’s the first time they’ve really let go since the twins were born in January, and they’re going to make the most of it.

And make the most of it they do.

@gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @hangmanbrainrot | @princessphilly | @hangmanssunnies | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice | @laracrofted | @yuckosworld | @mika-darling | @bradshawsbaddie | @bobblebobsbae | @ohtobeleah | @withahappyrefrain

[sleepymoppet]

Writing a Letter to Leon Kennedy

Notes: Literally why is everything this man does hot and just I want to baby him so bad but I also want him to fight the world for me?? 

Genre: Fluff, headcanons, a sprinkle of angst if you squint really hard

𝓛𝓮𝓸𝓷 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓭𝔂

When you go shopping with him, and have a large amount of bags, he will take them from you no questions asked. He doesn’t even ask if he can, he just quickly slides them off your arm and holds them in his hands, on his shoulders, or with his arm. 

The type on sleepless nights due to insomnia or other PTSD related reasons, to do a little slow dancing with you. He likes to turn all of the lights down with only a lamp casting your shadows on the wall with some very quiet and relaxing music playing in the background. Your sleepy forms slowly rocking side to side as he wraps his strong arms around the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. His cheek will rest on the top of your head as he rests his eyes as he breathes in the moment.

Either that, or if you’re up for going for a drive, takes you for a ride on his motorcycle. You can watch the neon lights on signs plastered in the windows of 24/7 convenience stores zoom past in a blur. The only thing lighting the road ahead are the streetlamps and the small headlights attached to the motorcycle. The stars seem to shift slowly behind you as you continue to take quiet winding roads to an unknown destination.

He always makes sure you wear a helmet and some padding on the outside, no matter what. If you don’t have any, he gives you one of his leather jackets and his spare helmet. 

If you at all ever feel uncomfortable riding with him, give his shirt a tug. He will immediately pull over at the safest spot and make sure you’re alright. “Are you okay? Just a little nauseous, that’s all? You’re sure? Okay we can sit here for a bit, no rush.”

(Do not pat him because otherwise he’ll think you want to either hold his hand or for him to make a turn somewhere if you specifically pat his side.)

When he’s away for a long time and notices that you’ve washed his motorcycle, or took care of it, he has to, has to, give you a big juicy kiss. Leon loves his motorcycle he is so grateful for you for taking care of it while he’s away on some extensive mission.

It’s just a nice thing to see because it means one less thing off of his plate, which also means more time spent with you instead of some boring maintenance chores.

His leather bomber jacket from RE4 is his baby, his pride, his favorite piece of clothing he has. So when he bestows it upon you, draping it over your shoulders on a chilly night, know that you are the love of his life. He would rather die than part with his jacket. Also if you tease him about it, his ears go red but he just turns his face away with a little, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Does his stupidly hilarious one liners and corny jokes. Every time he has a little shine in his eyes as he looks at you, waiting for you to laugh. 

Please laugh, he is hilarious.

When ever you two are together out in public witnessing something going down: a kid’s meltdown, a Karen yelling at some poor employee, etc., he just leans down next to your ear and whispers “Story of my life” With some stupidly handsome lopsided grin as he pulls away from your ear and looks down at you to see you’re reaction.

Even if he’s off the clock or not on a mission, he is keeping his eyes peeled for anything out of place or any sort of danger. Two things can come from this: he sticks close to you if he feels something is off. (A calming rub on his back helps soothe him a little.) Otherwise he will subtly guide you away. Say if some guy was eyeing you up, Leon shields his gaze from you and points at something to go look at. Once you’re off he sends a quick glare to the guy before following dutifully behind you.

If it were a real danger instead of just some guy eyeing you up, he does this to avoid you panicking about the situation (As they say, ignorance is bliss). This gives him the time to take care of it himself. He doesn’t expect you to be able to mentally face the horrifying bioweapons he has in his life. And honestly, he’d like to keep it that way for as long as he can help it.

He likes being the big spoon when cuddling or having you on top of him since he likes to know you’re safe. But on days when he’s exhausted, struggling to sleep, or out right anxious with his own mind and demons, hold him. Hold him close, wrap your arms around this big bulky man. Let his head rest over your heart, hearing the soft rhythmic beating, Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. as it lulls him to sleep a most restful sleep.

You can visibly see his shoulders relax as he hears your steady heart beat. It’s the one thing he needs to hear to know you’re alive

Loves it when you give him a massage. Leon melts like puddy in your hands. His favorite spot for you to work the knots out of is his upper back. Your legs straddle his waist with his shirt off, his head turned to the side and eyes closed as he sighs in content.

Leon has fallen asleep during these massage sessions on a multitude of times that it is just expected to happen. They just become so relaxing that he can’t help but let his eyes droop shut.

When feeling like he needs an extra bit of care, he asks you to use some essential oils. It helps him relax a bit more and also just makes him smell good. His favorite is a balsam and ginger mix.

The type to quietly say “I’m home” when it’s late at night and he comes back home to a dark and quiet house. Letting his things drop to the floor before slowly trudging his way to the bedroom, not even bothering to change out of his work clothes unless they are absolutely nasty. Throws off his shirt in one smooth motion before slowly and carefully sliding in next to you.

If you end up waking up from the shift of the mattress he will apologize before reassuring you it’s just him and you don’t have to worry. Go back to bed. And he would take this chance to actually wrap his arms around you since you’re at least semi-awake before nuzzling his face into the back of your neck. He takes in one deep breath, breathing in the scent of you, before letting his body relax finally and get some well deserved rest.

[m4golor]

Boomer Headcanon dump because i Need to put these into text form or i will go insane

[under the cut because i talk too much]

her real name is Allegra (the music term, not the medicine LMAO) which I believe means fast in regards to tempo, which I think fits her (honestly I just chose the first name I thought of but I got attached to Allegra so whateverr)

her bday is July 4th

she associates her identity with Starlight Jubilee because of her bday - since she was young, her parties were usually done jointly with Starlight BBQ cookouts, and the nights often involved watching the fireworks from the roof w her siblings, causing her to associate herself with the fireworks, festivities, and then the holiday as a whole

she has a big family, like a shitton of siblings - Boomer is probably the middle child. as a result her parents' eyes weren't often on her and she had a distant relationship with them

they didn't abuse her or neglect her shes just ignored but it did affect her longterm

as a result of her neglect she really really likes attention, and especially did when she first started professionally being a daredevil

after a good couple of years (and getting into a couple of accidents along the way), she starts tiring from attention in the sense that she feels a little bit like people put her on a pedestal and think of her as invincible and untouchable in a way? like they can't separate her as a daredevil from her as a normal person and she's just Boomer the World-Famous Daredevil all the time so she gave up and keeps her persona on all the time but is internally Not okay

handles public attention well but can get overstimulated by the paparazzi and social interaction and it makes her snappy and temperamental. like if she's trying to do something like shopping and people are trying to talk to her or ask for autographs she gets pissed off, therefore people see her as always having a short fuse which is Not true

lots of scars. all over. like maybe burn scars (from friction or pyrotechnics) and scrapes. she hides them to make her not look weak though I think if you looked at her hands hard enough you'd notice them there

probably also hearing loss from explosives/sfx [think i got this one from somewhere else]

she's a closer in the first two games she appears in (I think wing and hot dog) and then never again because when she started doing stunts professionally she had a major superiority complex and mighter than thou attitude + was figuring her life out

after those two games she Gets her Shit Together™ and mellows out + reasons mentioned above about being a "normal person".

her greatest fear is getting into an accident that results in her being unable to do stunts - like, dying, okay, fine, it's inevitable, but losing the one thing that carried her through her life to this point would wreck her

this fear causes her to stress out over hers' and by projection others' safety like crazy. like if you don't wear your seat belt in the car she's not driving/going with you, and she yells at kids to wear helmets when they're biking (and they yell ok Boomer back and she cries for an hour /j)

she has two places of residence: one in Starlight City that's like almost a mansion and has an outdoor pool where she keeps her Powseekers, and a small apartment in Toastwood

the latter is her delivery address and her main place of residence. she stays in Starlight City during Jubilee/BBQ and throws kickass parties in her bigass house

the Powseekers in that one 4th of July post are her pets, I doodled them here lol. she just has them

money she makes from her stunt shows goes to charity, usually health-related ones like the ones for hospitals or kids' health

friends with Akari, they go on girlie motorbike dates (please don't yell at me about boomerakari or whatever the ship name is /lh)

probably calls people 'hun' in a platonic way when she's in a good mood

her favorite color isn't red, white, or blue. its probably purple or some shit

knows how to make those cute little paper lucky stars out of ribbons

um thanks for reading!! send post

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

What are your headcanons for a human befriending a Arburian Pelarotas A.K.A Cannonbolt?

-A real delight to have around. Genuinely nice and have a positive outlook on life that's quite frankly infectious. The glass is always half full with them.

-They have such blind faith in you that they trust you completely. Would jump in front of a car if you told them to, simply because they trust you'd have a valid reason to ask them that.

-A giant pushover so please be careful to not accidentally bully them. Give them the chance to speak, ask for their opinions and show that you want to care what they want. It actually means a lot to them and makes them feel appreciated.

-Buddies for life! Once you are their friend then that will never change. No matter how long you are apart, how far the distance between you, where life brings the two of you, you will always be their friend and you can always call on them if you need help.

-Very gentle, they are a bit sensitive. If you two, for whatever reason, have an argument, they will feel so bad and end up blaming themself, no matter who was in the right.

-Loves to give hugs! Humans are so small in comparison to them so you practically disappear in their arms. Very careful when they hug you though since they know that humans don't have the same protective plating they do.

-Speaking of lack of protective plating, they are so protective and worried over your safety. Humans get so easily hurt and so they always seem to think that you are going to shatter into a million pieces. Climb up a ladder? Oh my stars, what if you fall? Going swimming? Please wear some floaties! Carrying something heavy? Let them do it, what if you break your back!? They want to wrap you up in bubble wrap and stick a helmet on your head.

-Despite their worries, life is otherwise good. Really good! They love Earth, they have a cozy home and they have amazing friends, like you! Really, they couldn't ask for more.

-And then the Great One destroys their home planet.

-After the loss of their home planet and the belief that, with the exception of themself, their kind has gone extinct, they become very melancholy and fall into depression.

-Their friends and family, all their loved ones, gone.

-They shut themself away in their home, close the blinds and curl up into a ball. When you try to call them, they don't answer. Luckily, you have a spare key to their home and so you check up on them.

-At first they don't even acknowledge that you're there. When you approach they tell you to go away. Of course you don't listen and sit down next to them, waiting in silence until they are ready to speak. It might take some time but eventually they'll open up and tell you everything.

-Slowly they uncurl and soon they are hugging you tight, harder than they ever have, and cry. They sob and cling to you, their claws digging into your clothes as if afraid you'll also disappear.

-Your friendship and support helps them get through this incredibly hard time. Things are still hard but with you by their side they feel like they aren't all alone. Life continues and they have to go on.

-Thank you, for staying by their side. For bringing them out of that dark place and reminding them that life is still beautiful.

[cup1dt3a]

How does the 1st year ob look like? I mean, what outfit/accessories are they wearing?

So basically I am actually working on some concepts for this but here are a few I have came up with. Hope you like them! I didn’t do a full design due to a time limit and art block please forgive me.

Adeuce duo they basically have the markings of their respective card suits on their head. Their markings downward are kind of like helmets too. But they both still have the heart/spade on the corners of their eyes.

With Aces overal design I had wanted it to be like a jerster and soldier like outfit. Because I had loved the traitor Ace theorys and some particular designs of his ob form had stood out to me a lot. But I had taken a lot of inspiration from the card soldiers from Alice in wonderland a lot.

With Deuce I wanted his more delinquent side to show throughout his appearance. Because his delinquent years were a big part in his life. A part that he tries to repress so I just thought what if he hadn’t changed? What if he was just very impulsive and didn’t hold back his tounge on snarky comments like Ace. So I have just been looking for the most grunge and delinquent styles I could find for him. His messy hair was kept since he probably doesn’t care that much for appearances. I had given him chains as his neck mark and to surround him. Because of his gangster persona and as a symbol of the weight of guilt he carries from seeing how upset his poor mother was. Not even bothering to change his ways because he was too deep into it and went “ FUCK GRANDMA!”

Epel like deuce would be a menace. For he must have a lot of built up gender dysphoria and hatred from always being called a girl. Even after constantly stating it to others only for them to still call him girly. So I wanted to give him a very delinquent-y look along with a long cloak since he is obviously inspired by the old lady queen? I forgot the name but anyways I wanted you to convey that through giving him a more intimating and messy look to convey how manly he is. Along with the fact he doesn’t care for his appearance either and is just a messy and chaotic farm boy. His blot markings are very similar to Vil’s but extremely messy and he has splashed markings everywhere on him.

Jack I am not too sure for his reasons of overblotting. Because sure you could have a good supportive family and childhood but still have issues. So I’d say that he maybe overused his powers to a point he had overblotted. But he is an obvious leader of the group due to him always keeping them in check. So I’d see his overblot form showing his animalistic side a lot more. Id keep his little shark tooth? Or fang necklace. But adding more fur onto him for a more animalistic look. Along with his very complex hair being more disheveled to add to his blot form looking very over worked. I’ve added the three scratches on his nose because of Leona.

Sebek… it’s just very obvious that he was bullied as a child for being half human. Due to Briar Valleys rarity of humans being there so he probably would have occasionally been bullied or felt different from the rest of the kids there. This would result in his self hatred. So his adoration for malleus besides his strength and other admirable characteristics would probably also be because he’s living perfection in his eyes. So his human racism would be at its max! But his loyalty to Malleus would still shine throughout his design because of how devoted he is to him. So most of his outfit would contain little accessories similar to malleus but expressed in Sebeks own unique way. Along with his reptilian looks shining through so he would most definitely have many inky and real scales around his face and body. Kinda like freckles for example.

I haven’t gotten his yet due to running out of time but still hopefully you all enjoyed this and are having a good day/ have your day get better! Sincerely Cup1d T3a💕

@simping-on-the-daily Got you some food!

[aajjks]

i love writing fluff for them 🥺

NWO!JK

you have his whole heart in your hand.

it’s your choice whether you want to crush it or keep it; cherish it forever.

and you choose to cherish it forever.

“eunwoo is gonna be so happy that we’re together. i think he always knew we were crushing on each other” you say while gently squeezing his hand in yours. you assume he does that to make sure you’re real and you’re happy to remind him that this is really happening. you’re right here beside him with yours arms and heart wide open for him and only him.

“i can’t believe you really reserved this rooftop for us. i don’t know how i’ll ever top this” you joke as you playfully shove jungkook before standing up and walking closer to the edge. “wow, this is so cool” you say in awe as you lean on the gate that separates you from falling off the building. soon, jungkook joins you to overlook the bright city lights but the view is incomparable to you.

🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️

she isn’t sure if she’s jealous or annoyed over jungkook’s obvious obsession with you. whether it’s the crystal’s doing or not, her plan has completely derailed thanks to you. what was a simple mind game had turned into who could take the spider-boy home first and mj is determined to ruin you along the way.

she spent hours crafting this crystal that will surely put jungkook in the palm of her hands and you will be the one to do so. a crystal containing her blood and all the love crystals combined will surely have jungkook obsessed with her and you with a broken heart.

“done” mj says as she holds the glowing magenta crystal up close before putting it aside. “let’s make it into a bracelet. he seems to wear those more than the necklaces” after mj finishes creating the crystal bracelet, she decides to pay a certain someone a little visit.

*knock* *knock*

“jungkook is that—oh, well hello. how may i help you?”

“hi! i’m a friend of jungkook’s. he’s got something of mine that i need”

~🫧

He really wants to take you home with him tonight, but.. maybe next time? The truth is that he really doesn’t want to leave you.

Because your company is always so comforting and addictive, especially you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t want to let go of you until he’s had his fill of you. And He can never have it fully.

“Yn the view is actually really good, but I can’t stop staring at you-and please stay away from the railing…” the fear of you falling has him worried, but even if you do, he will catch you.

 because he’s always going to protect you.

“I think it’s getting late so.. I wish I could take you home, but I have my bike with me and then you have your car with you.” Jungkook scratches the back of his head awkwardly because he just wants more time with you despite spending hours with you.

You’re like his full day and night. But that’s still not enough.

“And… do you promise to come over to meet my aunt? You have no idea how excited she was for this date.” Jungkook giggles, settling his hand on your waist after looking at you for your permission.

There is something intimate about you trusting him enough to let him kiss you and touch you. And he will never break your trust.

And he loves holding you.

•••

He’s driving home, after making sure that you got home safe, but you don’t need to know that. And he’s so happy. You make him so happy and this date the best date of his life.

His heart is twirling around, he’s so giddy.

Jungkook makes his way home with a content heart. You have chosen to love him and accept him. And that’s the best thing ever.

After a few minutes Of driving, he’s finally home but.. when he sees the gate open and there’s someone standing in front of the gate, his smile falters a little.

Who is this person and why is his auntie talking to them? Jungkook focuses as he takes his helmet off. And it’s Morgan, smiling talking to his auntie.

“Morgan.. what are you doing here this late at night?”

[forabeatofadrum]

Center Ice

Summary: Jack is hit badly during a game and loses consciousness. When he wakes up, he finds himself in an unfamiliar hockey rink together with another player. That player is Jack, from the future.

Notes: Hello hello hello and welcome to this fic! Now that the creators have been revealed by @omgauplease, I can finally post it here as well! Thank you for hosting this fun fest.

I am very excited about AU Please! and I loved this anonymous prompt. I hope the original prompter enjoys.

AO3

--

Jack’s always felt at home on the ice. It’s the one place where he belongs. He skates around with the puck and all he can do is focus on the game. He knows Kenny is somewhere behind him, waiting for Jack to pass. They’ve perfected their plays. Jack’s made sure of that.

He has his eyes on the puck. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Kenny approaching.

But if there’s one downside of laser focus and getting lost in a play, it’s that there isn’t much room for things to go differently.

“Zimms-”

He hears Kenny before he feels the hit. His body hits the glass and fans of the opposite team roar. This isn’t new. Jack’s life has consisted of hockey ever since he was a baby. He knows how to take a check, but this one is different. He slides down the glass and he closes his eyes.

He needs to get up.

But instead, everything goes dark.

When Jack opens his eyes, he is alone. The stands are empty. There are no other players on the ice or on the bench.

Did they just leave him here?

He shakes his head. That can’t be right. Sometimes Jack has the feeling that everyone apart from Kenny secretly hates him, but no one would leave an injured player behind. He takes off his helmet and he gets up, which is surprisingly easy. It was a tough hit, so it shouldn’t be this easy.

Once he’s up, he takes in his surroundings and he realises that this is a different rink. The letters on the boards read Samwell and there is a huge S at center ice. This makes no sense.

Where is everyone? Where is he?

“Oh.”

Jack turns around. He’s not alone after all. There’s another player wearing a deep blue jersey and helmet. The beam of sunlight reflects on his visor, so Jack cannot see the player’s face. He tries to get a better look by squinting, but it isn’t working.

The other player holding a hockey stick with pride tape taped around it, and Jack tries to suppress the feeling in his chest, but he can’t help but feel a tinge of hope when he sees it. The player uses his other gloved hand to take off his helmet and when Jack sees the player’s face.

He’s staring at himself.

The other Jack’s hair is shorter and he has a beard, but it’s unmistakingly Jack.

Jack backs away and he hits the glass.

« Who are you? » he asks, even though he knows the answer. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be speaking Quebecois.

The Other Jack looks equally confused, but after a few seconds of staring at each other, calmness passes over Other Jack’s face.

« Ah. I see » Other Jack says, and it’s weird to hear Jack’s own voice coming from someone else. Or is this even someone else?

« Who are you? » Jack repeats.

« I know this might sound strange, but I am you. You, from the future. »

Jack shakes his head. He must’ve been hit very badly. Why else is he hallucinating another version of himself?

Other Jack skates around the rink with a smile on his face.

« It makes sense that we meet here. » he says while he skates.

« Do you know where we are? » Jack asks. A part of him wants to ignore this Other Jack, but he also wants answers. Besides, this probably isn’t real.

 This isn’t real.

Jack feels like he can breathe again.

 This isn’t real.

He has nothing to worry about.

It’s comforting to know, because if it were real, then Jack would have to deal with that. Jack is still a bit wary of this Other Jack that he created with his mind, but hopefully he’ll come to his senses and he can go back to playing hockey.

« Were you hit? » the Other Jack asks instead of answering, « I got hit during a match in late 2007 when I was in the QMJL. I don’t remember much of it, but I guess I now know why. No worries, you’ll be fine. »

Jack realises that Other Jack is talking about the hit that has led to this hallucination. It makes sense that it gets brought up. The hit is the reason Jack is making this all up.

« Yes. It wasn’t nice. » Jack responds. He skates after Other Jack. « Why does it make sense that we meet here? »

« This is Faber Memorial Rink at Samwell University, our mother’s alma matter. »

Jack remembers Samwell. He’s never been there, but his mother has talked a lot about her time here. He wonders how his subconscious has recreated a place he’s never been to.

« Okay? »

Other Jack has a smile on his face. He looks wistful when he skates around, as if he’s reminded of something.

« This is a middle point » Other Jack says, « Samwell is a middle point between the QMJL and the NHL. I’m not on Falconers’ ice anymore, you’re not on juniors’ ice. This is center ice, in a way. It makes sense. »

« It doesn’t. Not really. »

Other Jack stops suddenly and Jack almost crashes into him. He looks at Jack with an easy smile. It is weird to see. Jack can’t remember the last time he looked so relaxed. Every photo of himself shows him with a tense face, or an empty one. On some days, Jack prefers to take some extra pills just to stay calm. An empty feeling is better than a tense one.

« I don’t know the rules for this » Other Jack laughs awkwardly, « I don’t know what I can tell you. »

Jack shrugs.

« If it makes you feel better… this isn’t real. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. »

Other Jack’s eyes widen slightly.

« That is a terrible way to think. »

Jack shrugs again, but he relents.

« Fine. Hockey matters. Hockey is all that matters. »

Other Jack smiles again, but this time it’s a sad smile.

« You really believe so, don’t you? » he asks.

Jack tenses up and he crosses his arms. He doesn’t feel like defending himself. Hockey is all that matters. That’s how it has always been and Jack’s tired of people questioning his love for the sport. Even other players are sometimes put off by Jack’s devotion. Sure, Jack declines invitations to go out so that he can come up with plays or so that he can watch tapes. And yes, whatever he has going on with Kenny is fun, but they both know that hockey comes first. That’s probably why Kenny is his best friend, since he gets it.

« If you really are me, then you’d understand. »

« I did. » Other Jack says. The past tense doesn’t go unnoticed. Other Jack lets out another awkward laugh and he gestures towards Jack. « Oh, look at you. I know you feel offended. I was you once, so no need to explain. I know hockey is everything to you, because it used to be everything to me. »

It’s a small admission. The Other Jack, the future version of himself, just told Jack that he will no longer care to the same extent. The thought horrifies him.

« But you still play. » Jack points out and he nods toward Other Jack’s attire. Jack doesn’t recognise the team, but Other Jack did mention the NHL. Everyone knows that Jack’s going to get drafted next year, when he’s eighteen, so Jack isn’t surprised to find a future version of himself playing in the NHL. But then why does this future version of himself look at him with, well…

Jack’s never been good at reading other people’s emotions, but he knows himself, and he recognises Other Jack’s pity.

« I will play as long as I can » Other Jack says. Finally, this version of himself says something useful. « I am 27. I hope to reach 53. »

« So I can beat Howe. » Jack adds. He knows what Other Jack means. « Technically, I need to reach 52 and 12 days to beat him, but 53 sounds better. Well, you’ve already played in the NHL for 9 years. 26 years to go and you’ve played as much as him! Well, he did take a small break for two years, so technically you need 24 more year. »

Of course Jack knows all of this by heart. He’s memorised all of the best players’ seasons.

Other Jack has another awkward smile on his face. Jack never knew it looked so weird on him.

« I, uh, started two years ago. If I want to beat Howe’s entire playtime, I need a bit more time. »

« You… what? »

Other Jack looks away and he avoid Jack’s stormy gaze. What does Other Jack mean? Does this mean that Jack’s NHL career starts at 25 instead of next year? The thought of that alone makes Jack feel uneasy and he clenches and unclenches his fists. He closes his eyes, because suddenly everything feels too much. He can feel the anxiety rise, which is weird, because Jack knows he took an extra dose before the game so he shouldn’t feel this way. Do the effects of his pills wear off in this hallucination?

Wait, he tells himself, This isn’t real.

 This isn’t real.

 This isn’t real.

 This isn’t-

He feels a hand on his shoulder. Jack jerks away, almost slipping. He’s still on the ice, after all. The Other Jack catches him.

« Woah there! » Other Jack looks alarmed, « Sorry. I didn’t mean- I’m sorry, I forgot I used- Are you okay? Maybe we should get off the ice and sit somewhere. »

 This isn’t real.

Other Jack guides Jack to the penalty box, since that is the closest by.

« You want some water? » Other Jack asks, and he sounds so worried, it almost makes Jack laugh. No one ever worries over him like this.

And Jack is fine. He is fine, usually. He has hockey, he has pills, and sometimes a drink. All is fine. These anxious moments rarely happen anymore.

« Where does a hallucination get water from? »

« I know this rink like the back of my hand.»

Other Jack doesn’t correct the hallucination thing, and Jack feels like something heavy has been lifted from his chest.

« I’m fine. You’re not real. »

« So you keep saying. »

« So whatever you say, it won’t mean anything. »

« If that’s what you want to believe to stay sane, sure. »

Jack frowns. Other Jack isn’t wrong. It’s indeed the thing that keeps him calm, but Other Jack didn’t have to say it like that.

« Then I can ask you anything I want about your life, and I can ignore it if I want to. »

« … I guess. Does my life really sound so terrible to you? »

« Yes! »

Other Jack looks away for a small second. The pity is back and Jack hates it.

« Why? » Other Jack challenges him.

« Because hockey! If you were real, which you’re not, are you telling me that I don’t get drafted next year? »

Other Jack nods and Jack really has to focus on the fact that this is a hallucination. Maybe the hit shook his brain and now his subconscious wants to torture him by presenting him with this bad future.

It feels so real, though. Which is ridiculous.

« Then, what am I going to do instead? » Jack asks, acting as if this future is going to happen. He’d still like to know how this Other Jack ended up in the NHL if he only started 2 years ago.

« I, uh… Well… » Other Jack trails off. He tries to talk several times, but nothing comes out, as if Other Jack knows Jack won’t be happy to hear it.

« It’s fine. This isn’t real. You’re not real. »

« And so you believe. »

« You can tell me. It won’t matter. »

Other Jack looks down and he closes his eyes. Jack knows that move. Jack also closes his eyes when he wants to shut out the world.

« You go to rehab. »

Jack jumps off the bench in shock.

« Rehab? »

« You have a drug problem. You are addicted to pills. You overdose the day before the draft. »

« I don’t have a problem. » Jack bites back. In the back of his head he keeps reminding himself that this is bullshit, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy thing to hear.

« Yes you do. And it almost cost you everything. If Kent hadn’t found you that day… » Other Jack trails off.

Kent.

That’s a thing Jack understands.

Kent is still there.

But the rehab thing weighs heavily. He tries to remind himself that this isn’t real, but it is hard. The Other Jack notices, and he tells him to breathe. For something that supposedly isn’t real, the panic does feel real. The panic is the reason he is on medication. He needs it.

He’s never considered that too much might be dangerous.

Other Jack is still sat on the bench. He must realise that Jack doesn’t want to be touched, but he’s still there to comfort him, which is admittedly nice. No one has ever been here for him like this, except maybe Kenny, but Jack mostly tries to stay away from him when he feels like this. He doesn’t need Kenny to know that he’s weak.

Jack has one more question that’s on his mind. He’s almost too afraid to ask, but he can’t stop thinking about it.

Other Jack raises an eyebrow.

Jack takes a deep breath.

« The overdose. »

« Yeah? »

« Was it accidental? »

Or was it intentional? is what is left unsaid, but judging by the look on Other Jack’s face, he knows what Jack is asking.

« It happened. »

« That doesn’t answer my question. »

« I know. »

Jack lets out a frustrated huff. What’s the point of this hallucination if the other him isn’t going to talk? This is his own mind!

Jack waits for Other Jack to hopefully elaborate, but Other Jack doesn’t. He looks into space.

« What does Kenny think about you not being drafted? »

« Does it matter? » Other Jack snaps and Jack’s momentarily thrown off guard. Why is Other Jack acting like that?

Jack’s eyes fall on the pride tape on Other Jack’s stick. So far he hadn’t really given it any more thought, but now he does. Is Kenny no longer beside him? Jack and Kenny have an agreement that hockey goes first, but the tape on Other Jack’s stick says that maybe Other Jack can have both.

« Are you gay? » Jack blurts out and Other Jack looks up in shock.

Then he burst out into laughter.

« Wow, way to change the subject, kid. »

In Jack’s defense, this hallucination is kind of upending his entire life. He has the right to not make any sense, since nothing about this makes sense anyway.

« Are you? » Jack asks. Am I?

« We’re bisexual, but no worries, you have some time to figure it out. » Other Jack answers.

« I do? During rehab? »

Jack still has to wrap his head around this rehab thing. It sounds ridiculous. But also, if he’s not playing hockey, then what else can he think of? According to Other Jack, his identity.

« Partially. And college. »

Other Jack looks around again and the wistful look reappears on his face, and Jack gets it. Other Jack called this rink a middle moment between the QMJL and the NHL.

« I will play in the NCAA? »

And finally, the easy smile returns to Other Jack’s face. Jack realises he missed it.

« For four years, yeah. Best years of your life. »

« Well. It’s still hockey. » Jack sounds unsure. It isn’t what he hopes for, and the rehab thing is still there, but it’s hockey.

« I know it might sound strange now, but there is more to life than hockey. »

That does indeed sound strange. Jack tells him that and Other Jack snorts.

« Then, what else is there than hockey? » Jack asks, and when he asks it plainly like that, he has to admit that it sounds a bit stupid, but Jack genuinely doesn’t know the answer.

Who is he without hockey? Everything in his life leads to hockey, even non-hockey things. His teammates are his social circle. He fools around with Kenny, but because Kenny knows it’s about hockey. His family has always been supportive of his hockey career.

Everything is hockey.

« Friendship. Comfort. Photography. »

« Photography? »

That sounds like an odd one. Friendship and comfort sound reasonable, but photography?

« Pies. » Other Jack adds and his eyes light up when he says it.

 Pies?

« Pies? »

« Oh Jack, you have no idea. So. Many. Pies. » Other Jack says with a chuckle.

« How are pies relevant? »

« Bitty. Bits. Love. »

“Bites?” Jack exclaims.

“Que?” Other Jack frowns when he sees the indignant look on Jack’s face.

Jack turns red. This is such an embarrassing conversation to have, especially with a made up future version of yourself.

“Bites,” Jack repeats the French word. God, this is terrible. He can feel himself feel red.

Jack can see the moment Other Jack realises. Other Jack looks horrified for a second, but then he hides his head in his face and he laughs.

“Ouais. Ça aussi.”

Other Jack has a smug look on his face. Jack coughs. Alright then.

“… Trés bien,” he squeaks out.

This is so weird.

Other Jack quickly says: « I didn’t mean that. B-I-T-S, not B-I-T-E-S. Bits.»

« … what is a bits? »

Other Jack he looks radiant.

« Bitty. Eric Bittle. My husband. »

Did Jack hear that correctly? They just had another linguistic mishap, so it might be possible that Jack has misheard another thing, but how else can he interpret ‘mon mari’? Did Jack mean another name? Mary? But who the fuck is Mary? And who the fuck is Eric Bittle?

« I’m sorry… what? »

“My husband,” Other Jack says in English, as if he can understand the confusion. Then he takes off his left glove and Jack’s eyes widen when he sees a ring on Other Jack’s finger.

« Can I? » Jack reaches for Other Jack’s hand. This is surreal.

While Jack inspects the wedding band, Other Jack talks about his husband. His husband. What the fuck.

« We met here, at Samwell. I was in my junior year and he was a new frog. That’s what we call freshmen at Samwell. He played hockey as well. I was kind of terrible towards him, because I thought he was a bad player, but once I got to know him I realised that he wasn’t and that I was a dick. And despite my attitude, he still gave me a chance and we became friends. I think I fell in love with him in my senior year, but I didn’t realise. We’re really bad at understanding emotions, don’t you think? »

« … Yeah. » Jack agrees. He slips the ring off Other Jack’s finger, so that he can inspect it more thoroughly. Other Jack lets him. A date is engraved in the ring, together with the text Halo.

« Yeah. It’s the autism. »

« What? » Jack almost drops the ring in shock.

Other Jack doesn’t dwell on it, since he’s lost in his story. He looks absolutely smitten.

« But once I realised, I ran after him and I kissed him. He’s been with me ever since, through thick and thin. I love to rile him up. He teaches me so much. We cheer each other on, and when I won my first Cup, I kissed him in front of everyone and I don’t regret it. And almost two years later I first kissed him, I proposed to him, here at center ice. We initially planned on a long engagement, since Bits just graduated college, but we realised we couldn’t wait any longer. We got married recently, but we will do a bigger ceremony later. Again, we just… got impatient. He’s so good. He’s gorgeous and he’s funny and he’s an amazing hockey player and he’s working on a cookbook now and we recently adopted our dog Amélie and… »

It's as if Other Jack remembers where he is and he trials off.

« Sorry. I got lost in the moment there. »

« It’s… fine. » Jack forces himself to say. It’s not fine. He feels uneasy again.

If Jack had any doubts about this being a hallucination, then those are now out of the window. Other Jack is bisexual and he can get married to a man while playing hockey in the NHL? This isn’t real.

But beforehand, Jack found that thought comforting.

Now, he’s not so sure, and it makes him feel weird.

Other Jack is still reveling in the memories of his life with this Eric Bittle, and he looks so content. Jack watches how relaxed and happy Other Jack is, and for the first time, the thought of this not being real makes him feel sad.

Jack is jealous. He is yearning.

This life of Other Jack sounds nice. He has hockey, but he was right when he said that there are other important things in his life. It sounds like a life Jack can never have. He looks at the ring in his palm and it feels heavy, so he quickly gives it back to Other Jack. He can’t have it.

Jack must look distraught again, because Other Jack asks if he’s alright.

« Your husband sounds lovely. » Jack says back.

« He is. I can’t wait for you to meet him. »

« But this isn’t real. »

Other Jack has a kind look on his face.

« Do you still believe that? »

Jack nods miserably.

« What part of this is so hard for you to believe? Not joining the NHL at 18? »

That is still a hard thing to accept, but Jack realises that that isn’t it.

When Jack does realise why it’s hard to believe, it hits him like a ton of bricks. It’s an unwelcome epiphany.

« You’re happy. » Jack says to Other Jack.

Other Jack sucks in a breath.

Other Jack is happy, and that is hard for Jack to believe. It’s a depressing thought, but it’s there and Jack doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t want to be unhappy. He always believed that once he’s in the NHL, he’ll be happy and nothing else will matter, but now that he’s heard Other Jack talk about how in love he is, Jack realises that yes, Other Jack was right. There is more to life than hockey.

Jack thinks of Kenny.

They have something going on, but it’s fun. It’s physical. It’s, fuck, it’s hockey. It’s not like Other Jack, who is besotted with his husband.

« You are going to be happy, Jack. »

Other Jack pats the free space on the bench. Jack sits down, but he doesn’t meet Other Jack’s eyes. Eye contact is always shitty, but now it’s especially painful.

« I am not you. »

« Aren’t you? » Other Jack asks. « Aren’t I? »

Well. Shit. Isn’t he? Aren’t I?

« If- If this is real… » Jack trails off. He’s in the danger zone now. He’s letting himself think of the possibility.

« Yes? »

« If this is real, then what do I do now? »

« Well. I, uh, don’t remember this. But I barely remember the time I got that bad check in 2007, which is probably why. You’re going to wake up and you’ll have a concussion. You’ll have to sit out the next couple of games, which will piss you off. »

Other Jack chuckles at the memory, but it does indeed sound miserable.

« And then you’ll have the overdose and the rehab. »

« Ah. »

Other Jack puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

« Not going to lie, it will be tough. You will be angry. You will be sad. It’s not pretty. But it does get better. You’ll find a therapist you trust, and you learn how to use your meds in a responsible way, and you… you will get clarity on something during the process. »

« The autism? »

« Oh. Yeah. Did I say that already? »

Jack doesn’t really know how to feel about that. It’s not like there is anything wrong with him.

« You’re going to hate that too. » Other Jack says, as if he can read Jack’s mind. Or Other Jack probably remembers that he hated it too. « It’s weird. On one hand, it isn’t a surprise, but on the other hand, it does change your life. And you’re going to think that it’s a bad thing, but trust me, it isn’t. It will make things make sense, and just because it’s different, that doesn’t mean it’s bad.  That’s basically my life in one sentence, ha. »

Jack looks at Other Jack. Jack doesn’t really know anything about autism apart from some things he sees on TV. Other Jack is nothing like the people he sees on TV. Other Jack is a full person, and he has a happy and fulfilling life.

Other Jack said it wasn’t a surprise to him, but it is to Jack. But maybe Jack will learn more about it. It looks like Other Jack did.

« Things will occasionally get shitty, and then I mean shitty-shitty, not my best friend Shitty- »

« What? »

« You will still have bad days, but the good days will keep coming and they don’t stop coming. The good days won’t save you from the bad days, but in the same vein, the bad days won’t spoil the good ones. There is more good than bad these days. In the end, you’ll be happy. You’ll have friends for like, a career you love, a comfortable home and the love of your life. It might sound unrealistic now, but that’s not true. Don’t give up. This is real. »

Jack wishes that it were real. He closes his eyes and he lets himself imagine Other Jack’s life. Images flash before his eyes. He sees himself at a frat house with a dude that isn’t wearing a shirt. He sees himself skating around this rink. He sees himself with a fancy camera and he’s walking around campus with a small Asian girl. He sees himself being tackled by two D-men during practise, but it seems like a good-natured tackle. He sees himself going out for coffee with a blond guy. He sees himself hug this blond guy. He sees himself laugh at something that the blond guy said. He sees himself kissing this blond guy in an empty bedroom. He sees himself kissing this blond guy on an ice rink. He sees himself marrying this blond guy.

It's weird. He’s never seen this blond guy, or any of the people in these images, but they feel so real.

If this is real, then maybe life won’t be so bad. He feels himself drift off and a smile forms on his face.

Someone is squeezing Jack’s hand. Jack focuses on the grip. He needs to wake up.

“Sweetpea, are you here?”

Jack slowly opens his eyes. He feels a bit groggy and his vision needs a few seconds to focus, but then he sees Bitty sitting next to his side. Tater’s on the other side. A medic is standing behind Tater.

“What happened?” Jack asks, slurring slightly.

“You got bad hit, Zimmboni,” Tater sounds relieved to see that Jack’s up, “You were out for short while.”

Bitty looks equally relieved and he throws his arms around Jack’s neck.

“Oh honey, I was so worried! You were lying on the ice, unconscious. The doctor says you might have a concussion but she’s going to run some tests, alright?”

The medic moves closer. She looks kind.

“Can- Can Bittle and Tater stay with me?” Jack asks quickly.

“Of course,” the medic answers.

Bitty and Tater do give her some space, so that she can do her work. The medic explains what happened. He was about to pass the puck to Thirdy when one of the Sharks gave him a nasty hip check that catapulted Jack into the air. The game got halted.

“The other guy feels really bad about what happened,” Bitty says, “He’s one of Chowder’s friends.”

Jack shrugs. That’s hockey. This isn’t his first bad hit and it probably won’t be the last. The medic continues her tests and she asks him questions.

“Do you remember what happened, or was this news to you?”

Jack tries to think. What does he remember? He does remember getting hit by someone, but it feels like something else happened. One moment he was on the Falconers’ rink and the next…

The next moment he was at Faber with his younger self.

“Mon dieu,” he mutters.

“Hm?” the medic asks.

Jack shakes his head. The medic finishes her tests and she leaves to document her findings. Tater also decides to go so that he can tell the others that Jack’s awake. That leaves Jack and Bitty.

Jack moves to the side so that Bitty can lie next to him. It’s a bit tricky, since this bed is narrow, but they make it work. Jack wraps his arms around him.

“I was so worried,” Bitty says again.

“I’ve been hit before, love.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t get up!” Bitty sounds strained. It must’ve been scary to see. Jack will probably rewatch the tape to see what it looked like.

Jack pulls Bitty even closer.

“Bits, something weird happened.”

“No shit, honey.”

“No, I mean, I think I had a weird dream, but it wasn’t a dream. I think it was real.”

“You need to give me more than that, Jack.”

“I was in Faber. I remember getting hit and losing consciousness, and when I woke up I was in my old stall in the locker room all alone, which freaked me out.”

“Oh, sweetpea.”

“So I started to search for other people, and I found my younger self on the ice.”

Bitty turns his head to look at Jack. He has a frown on his face.

“Yeah, I know right?” Jack says, “Me, at 17. It should’ve made me freak out even more, but it made sense in a way.”

“It did?”

Jack doesn’t really know how to explain it. When he saw his younger self, it was as if he knew that this had happened before, but as he also said to the Younger Jack, he doesn’t really remember that it happened. He was so worried about giving away too much, but on the same hand, just like his younger self, he wondered if it was real.

He tells Bitty that.

“So, it was like you travelled back in time?”

“I suppose,” Jack says, “Or more like I went back in time by five years and he travelled five years into the future, and we met in the middle. I don’t know. Maybe it was a dream, but it felt so real. He felt so real. And it was hard.”

“Oh?”

Jack nods.

“It was hard to see me. Past me. God, Bits, he was… He was so unhappy. I was so unhappy.”

“Oh honey…” Bitty trails off and he tightens the embrace.

Jack relaxes in his husband’s embrace. If only his younger self could see him now. He has someone he loves. He has someone who comforts him.

Maybe Younger Jack did see it, in a way.

“I’d like to believe it was real,” Jack tells Bitty, “I’d like to believe that I gave my younger self hope, even if it was just for a little while.”

“Even if he forgot about it?” Bitty asks.

He thinks so.

It’s weird to think back to his younger self. Seeing him was jarring. There was a form of anger behind Younger Jack’s eyes, even though Jack doubts that Younger Jack realised. Well, Jack knows for sure that Younger Jack never realised, since he was Younger Jack once. Jack remembers being so fed up with everything around him, while also being afraid of constant failure. He remembers the omnipresent anxiety, and the confusion with the world. He no longer feels lonely, but he remembers the loneliness of thinking that no one would understand him.

Jack doesn’t like to think this way, but when he remembers it, he understands why his past self reached for the pills. It hurt too much to think. It was too anxiety inducing. And back then, Jack didn’t have the support and the knowledge about himself.

Younger Jack is (was?) a seventeen year old closeted guy with undiagnosed autism. All the attention on him didn’t really give him a chance to stop and think about who he was. The world was too much, so he needed to it to quiet down, so that he could focus on the one thing that did make sense to him: hockey.

Jack no longer lives like that. Sure, hockey is still a big deal, but there is more to life. To Jack, it’s almost weird to think that it wasn’t like that. He knows he wasn’t always true to himself, but by now he is. He’s comfortable with his bisexuality and his autism. He talks so openly about it now, since it is part of his life, but Younger Jack must’ve felt so weird to hear him talk so casually about it. Jack didn’t even stop to think about that.

Jack showed Younger Jack a future. A happy one.

“Yes,” Jack answers Bitty, “Yes, I think so.”

“Yeah?” Bitty looks doubtful, “Cause if I would have the opportunity to tell past self that it’d all be okay, I would be pissed to find out if my younger self wouldn’t remember it.”

Jack gets that. He does. Life was rough, and as he told Younger Jack, there are still bad days, but he’s happy. He’s followed the joy and it led him here. Jack doesn’t believe in fate or higher power, but maybe it was meant to be this way.

Besides, he wouldn’t want to jeopardize his life. If Younger Jack had remembered, would things have changed? Would he still be here, like this?

“As I said, if I could give my past self some peace of mind, even if it was temporarily, even if it wasn’t real, I am glad. But I am also happy to be back here in the present with you.”

“Oh, honey!”

Bitty leans in to kiss him.

The two of them lie there, snuggling. Eventually the medic comes back, and a few minutes later, Tater returns to tell him that everyone is happy to hear he’s okay. The medic tells him that he’s indeed concussed and that he needs to take it slow. He will have to sit out a couple of games, and Jack almost laughs, because that is fine with him. Younger Jack, who got hit in 2007, was pissed, but current Jack doesn’t mind too much.

Once he’s clear to go, he says goodbye to his teammates. They’ll discuss the details with the coaches later. Now, he wants to go home with his husband. Jack takes Bitty’s hand in his, and they walk out of the rink.

If only Younger Jack could see him now.

Or, well, he does. Kind of. Younger Jack just has to wait 10 more years, but it’ll be worth it.

--

End notes: Thank you for reading.

And thank you for Jack Zimmermann, anno 2018, for helping me realise I'm autistic. One day I will write a more in depth fic about it, but I was happy that the original prompter encouraged me to add it here as well. I hope you enjoyed.

[bouncyalex]

How much of the outfits you show us is just you dressing up for the camera, and how much is real life? Do you regularly wear a diaper to the grocery store or a helmet while at home?

Wearing diapers is real life. I always been wearing 24/7.

The helmets at home are also reality on almost a daily basis, few min to full nights wearing one.

Life jackets in the swimming pool is reality. I never go in the swimming pool or a lake/ocean without wearing one. I had seizures before, in the swimming pool too. I like floating in a life jacket, and the fact is that they saved my life at least 3 times.

Bondage gears is fun play at home once in a while, although they have been using medical restraints at hospitals. I have been for medical reasons.

What I post is what I do, what I need, who I am and what I like. In public, I do stimming, fidget and unconsciously have my diapers often exposed. I do camouflage in general in public to look and act “normal” for whatever normal seems to be.

What I don’t do is long session bondage cuz I get easily bored and want to do something else, or have to do other things like everyone does.

Also, suspension bondage in vertical is extremely dangerous. The hanging syndrome is real and should be taken seriously cuz it could be fatal. The suspension bondage scenes are always short play.

Sleeping in a complete Segufix and unsupervised is also very dangerous. Even hospitals will never leave a restrained patient unattended or closely monitored. Although these restraints are safe and comfortable, they are not indicated for long term use, surely nit in the 21st century. Here are the reasons why:

If u choke, panic, have a seizure, have a malaise, house fire, gas leak, a partner leaving u alone and having anything happen to him while locked in unbreakable restraints like Segufix… earthquake, anything can happen! Also, bed sores are possible. Your fun game can turn into a real nightmare and be life threatening. When it comes to bondage, I never play long sessions. I don’t sleep in the Segufix.

We made videos where I am locked in a straitjacket, or bed restraints. I never been left alone and on my own. Ironically, it’s irresponsible and way too dangerous. If the partner leaves the room, either he is not leaving the house, or we use baby talkie walkies if he is too far in the house. However, we can say whatever we want in our videos because their main purposes are having fun, and adding a touch of fantasy makes them memorable too.

I don’t play self bondage when home alone. I almost got stuck for real once, and I was living alone when that happened. It might sound like a fantasy for some, but when this happened to me, I panicked and managed to get out of my self bondage after 30 min. This was stupid, dangerous, and I will never do it again. What if I couldn’t get out? Who would have found me and when? Than this is reality.

Please play safe!

Don’t be ashamed of wearing diapers in public, or whatever u like the most. I do have autism, and lots of special needs that criss cross with abdl stuff and my medical condition too.

I am not perfect. Not everyone will like my pics and videos. Not everyone will believe me, it’s normal because I am different. By sharing my lifestyle and kinks, I am taking a risk of being judged negatively by a vast majority and I am aware of it. When I get positive comments and when ppls are sharing with me similar interests, it makes me feel more understood and happier.

I prefer to go old school with my videos instead of adding any music or visual effects. I want to keep things simple.

Hiding is a waste of life. Let’s embrace differences and include some diversity! Normal ppls are boring to my eyes. 😉

[protocolseben]

slipshod writing because i just want a companion random story to that edit accompanied with some drawings (and also all written in lower case)

fernando is pissed as balls that his engine broke down in abu dhabi. He can’t even have a leaving-team race in peace, and worst of all, no donuts. he can’t send seb off like he wanted. everything was going to plan even. alas renault’s high quality engine™ decided it had enough of the year and wrecked itself in the middle of the race. 

karma in a way after ocon’s car also went spectacularly, it seems

so there he is dragging his items and the whole nine yards to the aston martin motorhome with his friend and basically minder because he’s also had enough with alpine management screwing him over. aston was nice enough to have a few spare rooms so he dumps everything in there and just. sits on a chair. he’s properly rinsed anyway and tired and also sad that now he has one less super experienced driver to go toe to toe with and really get him going

Internally he’s wishing really really hard. i wish with whatever is left of my heart that i get a really fun season next year with not a lot of crashes and good good racing please i'll politick a little less even.

something in his mind makes a faint click sound, but he's gone and napped too far to care about it.

Anyway his friend just lets him ko on the floor because it’s fernando, he knows what he's doing 95% of the time so its alright.

might as well acclimatise to the aston place that feels immediately extra homey and already accepted him as compared to alpine. Its gonna be his team for a while after all. uncharacteristically he just straight up KOs on the floor and no one had the mind to actually wake him up because that’s a dirty floor sir. but it's a comfy dirty floor for starters.

- - - - -

Anyway it gets real funky when he gets up and is in a hotel, but he felt like the entire weight of last season was completely gone. Its an athlete thing to always be at the top of your game, but right now he feels the same as if it was 2012 all over again and superduper motivated. That’s absolutely not right.

It’s dawn and really cool out and his stuff is still there except none of them are alpine related. It’s practically his black sponsorless suit and normal kimoa stuff. His helmet is…not bwt? It’s his standard asturias flag, not the horrible and pink but also seemingly missing the tribute flag lines he did for seb’s last race.

wait a minute, the season just ended.

he finds out he's near silverstone and his friend’s basically at the door telling him he needs to get ready to go to aston’s hq, meet the team etc etc. well ok sure no problem, except he swore it was not that fast dude. sadly the calendar on his phone says 1 JANUARY 2023 ..

He gets driven to the hq by his friend and he loves how nice the whole place is turning out. Getting to know the engineers and also Lance’s engineers and see how the car will go. Judging from how chatty they all are they are really excited about it, saying that he was excited about it, but fernando has legitimately zero idea about how the aston car felt like. because he can’t remember if he did a post season test or anything, and for once in his life just hoping he's not too clueless while looking around in the factory

Now you see, the other driver standing there waiting around isn't 185.5cm and fernando remembers this very well because Lance is a lanky man. This person is very much 176cm and wearing a knitted aston beanie and has the stupidest but gentle looking hair curls. He also has the biggest shit eating grin on his face seeing fernando come in and welcoming him in happily 

“wait you're supposed to be retired totally wtf”  fernando is whispering in semi-panic later when the engies are all away to get things because “THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED” and he is positive the date is 1 January 2023 

“No??? We welcomed you in and stuff remember”

“No you said you were done with the whole thing and you wanted to do new things not driving”

"fernando you're getting old!!!! i signed for another year"

This makes nando the most confused he has been in years and to make sure he proper isn't on some funny drug, he asks seb if he did post season testing

“Yeah you were really loving it you said the engine was really solid despite the miles i did”

Nando runs out of questions because he knows seb is almost incapable of lying unlike him who has chronic politicking syndrome. Also because the man is looking at him like he has grown five heads and that's not a good way to greet your new teammate.

- - - - -

He leaves the factory very confused but also very satisfied in the racing part of things, because the car feels so strong. He gets a genius idea on the way to his car and knows the internet is permanent, and he checks his twitter and-

that is not right. there isn't a single post about seb’s retirement. In fact the month of July-August is celebrating that both he and seb are going to aston, hell there’s an edit.

it takes him a minute to parse that this is in fact the new reality and he has 2 months to slowly get to it. he thinks he has a plan, but it fizzles before realising the contact he wanted to speak to wasn't even in his phone. briatore has stopped existing in his list .

...

who's briatore again?