#shit times but whatevs innit

[getoutofmytardis]

it is depression time and i don’t wanna pay for therapy again so. makin memes

[phagodyke]

this is like my fourth or fifth consecutive bad gym session I might as well just kill myself

[jrwiyuri]

Does anybody remember that moment someone faked vikstar coming out as gay??

[isa-gh0st]

is there a rundown of what's going on with the new mcyt drama? i haven't been following any of them since slightly before the finale of dsmp 0-0

Oh god. Let me try my best here.

I will say, on my main, @isa-ghost, I've reblogged a ton of liveblogging stuff that kind of gives you context in detail? But in reverse order because, yknow, that's how reblog chronology works or whatever.

This don't stop the party edit is a good tldr of the beginning of it all but you gotta pause to really read it so I'm gonna summarize via bullet points too.

XQC (shitty Canadian Kick streamer, misogynist and flaunts his money at every turn) met Trump, wearing a Trump shirt. Is a fanboy of his clearly. Is not the first streamer to do this, esp on Kick

Tommy quote rts his pic of him meeting Trump like "its hard to be more cringe than TommyInnit but you did it"

XQC clapped back saying Tommy went from dickriding Dr*m to making jokes to 17 year old girls irl (which is sexist to say but I digress)

Dr*m gets involved for some fuckign reason (he wants attention that's why) and makes a meme calling all dsmp stans (he later claims he meant inniters specifically) the r slur

Shit BLOWS UP obviously because he called 15 million people a slur in a derogatory way. Makes SO MANY excuses that don't work ofc. Later deletes all his tweets abt it, but prior to doing so he TRIPLED DOWN ON USING THE R SLUR. Tried to excuse it with "I'm autistic" (which personally idk if I believe bc he's such a fucking liar but I also don't follow Dr*m obv so if he posted abt the diagnosis then. Whatever. Anyway)

Tommy, Tubbo, Jack, Sneeg, and so so so many other CCs now have been ripping him apart for the last 48 hours. Tubbo has dissected everything he's said on Twitter and a Reddit post he made yesterday

Last night at like midnight to 3am his time, Dr*m goes live and dissects Tubbo's vod of him dissecting Dr*m's shit and Dr*m GENUINELY CRASHES OUT for 3 FUCKING HOURS, most of which was him projecting on Tommy hardcore and lying and manipulating AS USUAL. If you care enough, I'd watch Tubbo's vod. OR you can probably find a summary somewhere but it's. A lot.

Tubbo went live at 10am CST today dissecting Dr*m's crashout, which lasted FOUR FUCKING HOURS. He was meant to talk to Dr*m directly on stream today but then--

Tommy posted a 5 min vid clapping back very concisely so Dr*m is in the process of making a response vid, therefore he canceled his chat with Tubbo.

Quackity tweeted he would be going live because during Dr*m's crashout he name dropped SEVERAL ex-dsmp members and other people such as Ludwig, a6d, the girl GNF assaulted, Gumball's VA. The list goes on. However, idk for sure if Quackity is gonna talk abt this, all he tweeted was "going live later" basically.

47 MCYT CCs were tuned in to Tubbo's dissection stream today at one point or another. I haven't seen MCYT this united since we all ousted W*lbur for abusing Shelby Shubble (you said you haven't been around since the dsmp finale so idk how much abt that you know. It happened in late Feb last year)

People are welcome to break down these events in greater detail in my reblogs if they're crazy enough!

[asscaverns]

Long Time Coming - Daryl Dixon x FEM!reader

Synopsis: Reader and Daryl have been together for a long time, but have never been able to have sex. 3.8k words

minors dni/18+

Warnings: smut, fluff. So much praise! Oral f!receiving. Protected sex (kinda? they use a condom but it's expired bc duh). Daryl cums fast. I've never written smut before, I've never published anything either so go easy on me. Probably OOC Daryl. Not great writing, sorry.

“It’s quiet,” Daryl starts from his position on the couch, one of his legs propped up on the coffee table.

“Yeah, it’s a little unsettling. Even back in the prison there was always growling, or Beth singing, or Carol snoring all night,” you joke lightly mimicking her snores. You plopped down on the couch next to him and leaned into him, making him put an arm around your shoulders. “It feels safe though, yeah? Safest I've felt since the outbreak at least,” you wonder out loud, trying to gauge his feelings of your new home. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he pauses. “Just feels like I'm waiting for the shoe, y'know.” 

“The other shoe?” You ask, laying your hand on his knee, glancing up at him.

“Mhm, waitin’ for the shoe to drop.” 

You hum in understanding. “I think. . .” you trailed off thinking of your next words carefully, “I think, there’s no use in just sittin around and waiting. Maybe we should enjoy what we have, while we have it.” 

He sat up and turns to look at you like you were crazy. “And what? What about when these picket fence bastards decide we’re not good enough, we don’t contribute enough, or whatever the hell other reason they decide is fit enough to throw us to the wolves? We just let them blindside us?” he seemed incredulous. 

“No, honey, of course not. I’m just saying,” you take a deep breath trying to make sure you are clear. “This is maybe our last chance, our only chance, to live a life without running from the dead every damn day. We got used to that, it was, or maybe it still is, our new normal, but this can be too.”

“I understand, sweetheart, I'm just. . .” he trails off. 

“Nervous? On edge?” you finish for him after a moment. 

“You could say that,” he answers, picking up a cup of water off the coffee table, taking a sip, and sitting it back down, then leaning back onto the couch and throwing an arm over your shoulder again. 

“I know. You run for your life, hunker down in empty houses, broke down cars, and caves for lord knows how long. Next thing you know, someone offers you not only a home, but a house? To ourselves? And food, water, walls and defenses, plus people patrolling 24/7? It’s a big change, but this is the safest we’ve been for a while. I just think we should enjoy it while we can. We can stay on edge, sleep with a gun under our pillow or whatever, but we should enjoy what we have while we have it. We can live here for a while, when shit hits the fan we can run, like we always have.” 

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right, y/n,” he admits, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Kinda boring though, innit? This whole ‘american dream’ life.” 

You glanced at him and saw a small smile. “Boring?” you giggle, “I can think of something to entertain us.” You slide your hand from your lap over to his, putting your hand back on his knee and sliding it half way up his thigh. 

“Yeah? What’s that sweetheart?” He questions innocently, but you can see the way his cheeks are redder than earlier, and you can see the way he looks at your lips. 

You jumped up and offered him your hand with a wink, “Come with me and I'll show you.”

“Don’ need to ask me twice,” he jumped to his feet, grabbing your hand and letting you lead him up the stairs and into the bathroom. You open the door with your spare hand and spin around pulling at his shirt and winking at him. 

“Oh I get it, you just want to see me naked, don’ ya?” Daryl teased, pulling his t-shirt off. 

“You know I do, baby,” you flirted, grabbing his naked waist and pulling him closer for a moment, before pushing him away and leaning over to start the water, Daryl taking the opportunity to smack your ass. You giggle and turn around with your finger pointed, ready to scold him jokingly, but he grabs your hips before you can. He yanks you into his chest and kisses you hard, trying to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

“At least let me get in the shower first, you horny bastard!” You laugh at him and pull away, yanking your shirt over your head and pulling your pants down and off. You feel the water to test its temperature and upon deciding it warm enough, you turn around to see him still in his pants. You reach towards his belt and pull on it, “You joining? Or are you gonna stand there and watch?” 

“I’m happy to watch but I’d much rather join,” he responds, watching you step into the warm water. He tugs his belt undone and his pants down while you turn and let the water run over you. 

Truth is, you were a little nervous, you knew what you were initiating. Sure you’d spent most of the apocalypse together, started ‘dating’ not long after arriving at the prison. Though you’d never officially talked labels, it’s been long assumed, by you and the rest of the group, that you were together. So, you’ve been ‘together’ a long time, but despite that you’d never really gone farther than oral or handjobs. If you’d had the time, then you hadn’t had the solitude. If you’d had the solitude, then you hadn’t had the safety. If you’d had the safety, then you hadn’t had the time. It had worked out fine, in the midst of the end of the world, sexual frustration wasn’t your biggest concern, you’d go as far as to say it wasn’t even in the top 15. This was your third night alone in Alexandria, your group had all slept in the same house for a while before gradually settling into your own. 

“It’s been a long time since we’ve done this, huh?” you question, rubbing soap all over your body. You feel his arms wrap around you and pull your back to his chest, you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder. 

“You’re sexier every time,” he whispers, nipping at your ear. His hands grab the fat of your hips and grip it to pull you even closer.

“Really? You don’t think I looked better when we were covered in walker guts and months of filth?” You tease him, pushing away and signaling for him to turn his back to you, and begin to clean his back with a soapy towel. 

“You get prettier every day, Y/N, with or without running water,” he hums out, enjoying the soft scratch of the washcloth on his body. It had taken him a long time to get comfortable being this vulnerable, but years of relying on each other has built a trust unlike any other in his life. He trusts you fully, to see him wholly and unfiltered, who he truly was inside and out. 

 Once you both had been scrubbed you wrap your arms around his neck and push him against the wall. You brush your lips over his, testing the waters first. He grabs your face and spins you around, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You moan into his mouth and pull him closer. His arms wind around your waist when his tongue slips into your mouth, your grasp the hair at the base of his neck tightly in your fingers when you feel his leg slot between yours. 

You grind down on his leg and gasp, throwing your head back against the wall. He takes the opportunity to kiss your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking little marks on your collar bones. You feel his hand slide from your waist up your torso to grab at your breast and your hands grab at the strong muscles of his back. He kneads your soft breast before rubbing your nipple with his thumb, he places sloppy kisses on the junction of your neck and down your shoulder. You whimper and grind harder on his leg when he pinches your nipple between his fingers, Daryl kisses back up your neck and puts his hands on either side of your face, pulling it to his to kiss it harshly. 

“Please, Daryl, I want you,” you whimper against his lips, he hums into your mouth and slips his tongue into your mouth. “Daryl, please,” you whine as he willfully ignores your begging. 

You keep kissing, clawing at his back with your short nails, just trying to pull him impossibly closer to you, his arms wrap tight around your waist, holding you down on his leg to help you grind harder against his knee. One of his arms abandons your waist to grab a fistful of your wet hair and he lets it tangle around his fingers, while he kisses you even deeper. 

“You ready to get outta here, pretty girl?” He smirks at you. Before waiting for your answer he shuts the water off, grumbling about how you’re just gonna have to take another one later, and slides open the curtain. Daryl steps out and hands you a towel. 

You rush past him into the bedroom, drying off and discarding your towel, then jumping on your shared bed. He walks in a few moments later, dropping the towel he had wrapped around his waist. You whistle at him teasingly, “How on earth did I get so lucky?” 

He chuckles at you and sits on the bed beside your feet, running his hands up your calf, “I think I should be the one asking that, Y/N.” He crawls up to your body, pressing light kisses from your knees to your neck. If it weren’t for the lust in his eyes and the way he looks at you like you were prettiest damn woman he’s ever seen you might feel insecurity creeping in.

Daryl pecks your mouth, leaving you chasing his mouth until kisses back down your stomach, notching himself between your thighs. He peppers kisses all over the inside of your thighs, avoiding the one place you’re needing him the most. He finally caves, running his thumb up your slit, brushing away the soft hair that covers your cunt. 

“You’re the sexiest damn woman I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, not giving you a chance to respond before he dives in, placing one long lick from your hole to your clit. The surprise movement leaves you gasping and squeezing his head between his thighs, which he softly pushes away. He does another long lick before focusing on your clit, alternating between gentle licks and circling it with his tongue. He wraps his lips around it and sucks, smiling when he hears you whimpering above him. He goes back to gentle licks and sucks, Daryl moves farther south until licking at our hole, he looks up at you for approval and instead sees a sight so beautiful he wonders what he did to deserve this. You, your back arched the perfect amount for him to see the soft expanse of your stomach leading to your breasts that were pushed into the air, one hand grasping clumsily at one of them, pulling at your nipple. With the image of you and your salty taste on his tongue he swore he could bust right then and there. 

Daryl pushes his tongue into your hole, the mix of your wetness and his saliva creating a mess of your groin. He fucks his tongue into you, soft and steady. 

It’s so much, his wet tongue sliding in and out of you, his hands gripping your thighs, his nose nudging your clit every now and then. It was too much and not enough. You gasp out, “Oh, my god, Daryl,” between your moans and heavy breathing. “D, you feel so good, I need more, please.” 

He moves one hand from your thigh up to your mouth, pulling away to whisper, “suck on my fingers, baby.” You oblige, leaning forward eagerly to pull his thick fingers into your mouth and moan around them when he uses his other hand to squeeze your thigh. He fucks his fingers in and out of your mouth, coming up to press his mouth to yours, his tongue mingles with yours around his fingers. He pulls his fingers out and drops them to your cunt, using them to circle your clit, then sliding one inside of you, swallowing your gasps and moans in your shared kiss. He works his second finger into your pussy and abandons your lips to kiss down your chest, stopping to suck a nipple into his mouth briefly, but then continuing all the way back to your clit. Your hands grasp at his hair and push his face into your cunt, his tongue going back to playing with your clit while his eyes flicker up to see yours squeezed shut and mouth hanging open in ecstasy. Your hands wind in his hair so you have something to hold on to, his tongue and fingers making your head swim. He could ask you anything right now and you’d do it in a heartbeat as long as he didn’t stop. His fingers stretched you open just right and the drag of his knuckles in your pussy had you gasping for air. 

His fingers were fucking into you hard enough in just the right spot that you were breathless, gasping each time they hit that spot. He groaned against your cunt and it left you whining and grinding against him, his spare arm wrapped around your hips drawing you even closer and holding you still against his mouth. He pulled away from you, protests falling from your lips at his withdrawal, “You’re doin’ so good for me, Y/N, sound so fuckin’ pretty. Perfect little cunt too, you know how much I love eating your pussy, don’ ya, baby?’ He draws, pressing more kisses and sucking little marks against the sensitive parts of your thighs, while his fingers slowly thrust in and out of you. You hum in response, hands trying to pull his head back to where you want- no need him most. “I want you to tell me, Y/N, tell me what you want,’ He insists, his dark, brown eyes boring into yours. 

“You- you know what I want, honey,” you reply, face heating up, suddenly feeling almost bashful at your desperation for your partner. He pulls his fingers out of you at your less-than-satisfactory response. 

“Oh, I do, baby, trust me,” he insists. “But I need to hear you say it. I want to hear you. Don’t go getting shy on me now. There’s no reason to, I know you love when I give you head, you know how much I adore buryin’ my head between your sexy thighs, feeling them squeeze me while i devour you,” he pauses to slide his fingers back into you, smiling at your quiet moan. “Hell, you should see the mess my cock is makin’ down here, leaking all over the blanket I just washed. I’m humping the bed like a damn virgin while I’m tongue deep in your pussy, sweetheart. I can feel how close you are, clenchin’ like a vice on my fingers. Now I’d love to have you make a mess on my face, but I want you to tell me what you want first. No need in getting all bashful, sweetheart, we’ve been here a dozen times before. Want to see your pretty face when you tell me, too.”

You lean up on your elbows, head foggy with need. “Daryl, I need you to make me cum, make me- make me cum all over your face,” you manage to stutter out. “Then, I need you to fuck-” your words are interrupted by a broken gasp as he dives back in, licking and sucking at your clit for all his worth. Your arms give out from behind making you drop onto your back, arching it and trying to wriggle your hips against his hold and let out breathless praises for the man eating you out like his life depends on it. 

“Fuck! Daryl, you make me feel so good,” you gasp out when he goes back to licking circles on your clit. His fingers are curling into you just right, his tongue is circling your clit perfectly, your mind is buzzing and all you can think about is him. You feel your orgasm creeping up, warmth building and muscles tightening.  “I- I’m so close, I-, oh my god, just like that, baby. Fuck, Daryl, please!” 

You let out more whimpers and moans, a few nearly incoherent begs, although what you were begging for was unclear, all you knew is that you were so, so close to cumming on the fingers of the man you loved more than anything. Your fingers tighten their grip on his hair, which makes him groan into you and grind harder against the blanket under him, the vibrations of his groan make you buck your hips, so he tightens his hold on you. He was lapping at your cunt like it was water and he was dying of thirst. His fingers are pressing harder into you with every little thrust and you’re sobbing out as your orgasm finally washes over you. You can feel the pleasure wash over your body, making chills erupt all over you, the heat that’s been building in your core finally explodes and you’re shaking all over, back almost arching off the bed as he keeps lapping at you. You cunt is milking his fingers, legs shaking around his head as you moan out little gasps of his name. His fingers fuck you through the shock waves of your orgasm, but he doesn’t stop his movements. Your moans turn into little high pitched gasps when he pulls his fingers out of you once you stop pulsing around them, only to slide his tongue into your opening and fuck into you. It’s all too much, you can feel the rough drag of stubble on your soft inner thighs and his harsh grip on your ass as you come back down to reality. He finally lets up when you start to pull away from him and your grip on his hair loosens. He pulls away from you, his face glistening in the soft moon light peering in from the window. You grab at the back of his head and yank him into a rough kiss, tongues clash and the taste of your fluids on his lips and tongue make you moan into his mouth again. 

“You’re too good for me, Daryl, honestly. You’re so good with your mouth, I’d let you eat me out for hours,” you breathlessly praise him once he pulls away to catch his breath, letting his forehead rest on yours. 

“That can be arranged, darling,” he muses, starting to lower himself back to your pussy. 

“No! No, not right now. I need you. I need more of you. I want your cock, please, Daryl,” you stutter, desperation fogging your brain. “Lay down, let me blow you.”

“No, sunshine, I’m not gonna last that long,” he insists, hissing when your hand wraps around his aching dick, using his own precum to stroke loosely. You reach into your bedside drawer for the condoms you had placed there a few days ago, they were past the expiration date, but it’s not like you can find any new ones any more, you had both decided you might as well try to use the protection. 

“You sure?” You ask, looking at him with hooded eyes, licking your lips and ripping open the condom. 

“Yes, Y/N,” he affirms. You slide the condom down his length and then use that hand to guide his cock to your entrance. 

You can’t help but notice his shaky breath and the way his hands are shaking beside your head, “Daryl, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop now, we can go to bed, or I can jerk you off, if you’d rather wait.” 

“I want to fuck ya, it’s just. . .” he trails off. 

“Been a long time?” You finish for him. He nods to confirm your suspicion. 

Before you can respond he begins to push into you, your pussy aching as he stretches you out, feeling every vein of his cock as it fills you up to the hilt. Above you, he’s grunting, arms damn near giving out as he rests most of his weight on you. He’s grunting into your ear, muttering a quiet “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” as he adjusts to the tightness of your pussy around him, as you grind and squeeze against him, your body begging for me. 

“Hey, sunshine, look at me,” he’s leaning back to look you in the eye, once he got his bearings He brushes the hair out of your eyes, presses a kiss to your nose. “You feel good, better than I coulda imagined.” 

“Please, Daryl.”

In lieu of a response, he crashes his lips on yours. Pulling out almost completely and pushing back in with a broken moan, your hand flies to his hair as he begins to rut into you. Short, fast thrusts that leave you gasping with your arms tight around his shoulders. He slows his pace when your nails start to scratch down his back. “I-I’m not gonna last long, y/n,” he moans, pulling all the way back and then thrusting back into you hard. 

“That’s perfect, baby, please, that’s all I want. Jus’ want to make you feel good, yeah?” You pant out. Your legs wrapped tightly around him, his thrusts hitting so deep inside of you, you were seeing stars, his hips pushing flush against your own, you could feel his balls slap against your ass. He drops his head to kiss and suck on your neck, you tighten around him and reach down to rub our clit. 

Daryl’s moans and thrusts get more erratic, a sign you know means he’s close. “Fuck, baby, I-” he gasps out. 

“I know, I know, me too.” 

“I’m sorry, you just feel so damn good-” 

“Shut up and let me feel you cum inside of me,” you demand, your voice breathless and broken, he’s stretching you out so nicely and you’re rubbing fast, eager circles on our clit. “Oh- I- I’m cumming. Oh, my god, fuck! I love you so much, Daryl.” 

The rhythmic squeezing of your tight pussy and your blissed out face sent him straight over the edge, he was grunting into you as you both rode out your highs. 

Minutes later he was catching his breath, his legs shaking. “Was that worth the wait?” You joked. He laughed at you and slipped out, shaking his head at your sound of disappointment. Daryl pulled the condom off and threw it in the bin across the room. 

In the morning he awoke before you, the sun shining across your pretty hair, he could see your relaxed face, your tits sticking out of the blanket. He wondered what he ever did to deserve this, to deserve you. He’d fight through a dozen apocalypses if it meant being with you. 

[write4cench]

kisses and braids.

summary: you braid central cee’s hair, but he seems to be a bit too distracted.

pairs: girlfriendreader x boyfriendcee

genre: fluff + making out?

word count: 1.2k

a/n: idk about u but something about braiding a mans hair just does it for me. 😩

“oakley, if you don’t stop moving i swear your braids won’t turn out right.” you complained as he leaned over to pick up something that he managed to drop on the floor, a smile only grew on his lips amused at your annoyance.

central cee and you were seated in the bedroom of your apartment as he found himself comfortable upon the floor, rested on a pillow within your legs whilst you were seated upon your bed.

it was a random time within the evening when the idea of braids came across his mind and of course he turned to you, pleading for you to braid his hair.

and now here you were, braiding his hair into cornrows and having been doing so for the past hour or so, only getting to about half of his head.

one thing about central cee is that he had a lot of hair, but for some reason despite your advice, he always decided to keep it underneath something.

“shit, does it have to be this tight?” he asks you as his tattooed hand comes to rest upon his newly braided hair, you giggled at his silliness.

“baby i’m sorry, but if you want them to look good for longer they can’t be loose.” you insist to him and he sighs, staring off towards the television in your room.

“i just wanna look good for my show this saturday.” he mumbles as he opens a packet of whatever it is that he decides to eat, eyes glued onto the screen.

you pick out a comb and part his head, pulling apart his hair as you do so. “you always look good, “ you start causing an adorable smile to grow on his lips, “why don’t you just keep your hair out once in a while?” you ask him.

he shrugs his shoulders, “i guess it’s too much work innit, at least now there’ll be something done to it.” he insists, implying towards the braids you do.

you pull off of his head and lean back checking out your job so far, unable to see the front you sigh. “can you like turn this way?” you ask him.

you tilt your head towards him to get a better view of the job you’ve done so far. the two of you make eye contact with one one another and a smile grows upon his lips.

“what’s funny?” you ask him confused, comb in other hand. he smiles brightly and adorably, “nah nothing, you just look cute when you’re focused.”

you roll your eyes upon hearing his words and it only makes him laugh, “shut up.” you mumble. “it’s real cute.” he continues.

the room fell quiet and you turned your focus back onto braiding as neat as you possibly could do so, you were on the final braid luckily so it wasn’t a hard job.

cench was too busy eating upon on the crisps within his hands as he found himself interested in whatever it was that he was watching, one thing about the two of you is although you might not talk a lot with each other, something about the quiet company is comforting.

his hand came to playfully hit against your leg in a rhythmic form, the sudden feeling wasn’t annoying but comforting knowing the way he would be playful with you.

“why are you hitting my leg now?” you ask him, slightly moving after each hit of his hand, he doesn’t stop instead continuing on not uttering an explanation causing you to let out a stressed sigh. "alright i guess you want to be annoying." you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

your hands focus on finish the braid, your hands interwinding his hair between one another as you approach the end, trying to finish it as fast as you possibly can, and when you do you sit back and glance at the finished product.

cench remains seated for a moment, filling his mouth, when he doesn't feel your hands on his hair he turns around to look towards you, eyes wide and hopeful, you beam.

"are we done?" he blinks and you nod your head, he exhales tired yet excitedly whilst you lean over, wrapping your arms around his shoulders pulling him into a hug from behind, he eases into your embrace.

"i'm tired." you yawn as you rest your hands for a short moment, "get some rest." you insists and you refuse, shaking you head.

as soon as you lean back he gets up from the floor, stretching for a short moment and you watch him do so. you take the chance to get up from the bed as well, standing beside him.

"wanna see how it looks?" you manage to say through a yawn, he only looks towards you with thankful eyes, pulling you into his arms.

you almost squeal at the sudden affection, his arms rest against your lower back as he holds you close, his eyes studying yours noticing how you pretend to wish to pull away from him.

"i asked you if you wanted to see your hair, not if you wanted to kiss me." you tell him and he tiredly laughs, arms still holding around onto you. "i don't care, why can't i be close with my girl?"

his head comes to teasingly rest against your shoulder and you giggle as you find a comfort in wrapping your arms over his own, you feel him pecker a few lips onto your skin and since your ticklish a few laughs manage escape through your lips.

"stop." you manage to say through your laughter a hand gently holding onto your head, but he only continues holding you close, you feel his lips form a grin against the skin of your neck.

as soon as he pulls apart you meet eye contact once again, you don't utter a word instead your smile lingers upon your lips and one mirrors upon his own. you lean in, your lips meeting his and he doesn't hesitate to kiss you back.

you kiss one another a passionate moment, enjoying the feeling. the sound of your lips against one another sounds throughout the silence and the comfort of your bedroom. you forget about everything, instead you're focused about spending this moment with the man who you truly love.

you pull away from the kiss when you feel it begin to grow a little too heated, feeling the tingles and sparks that flow throughout your body. playfully you push him away from you, his arms widen and his mouth drops jokingly confused yet enjoying the act.

"we need to stop there." you tell him warningly, it almost as if he knows the affect you have on him since he doesn't complain and you know that he knows.

"alright." he simply says.

nothing but love fills his eyes and it's almost as if you always catch yourself smiling whenever you're with him. "i love you." you say.

he remains quiet for a good moment, realising he's about to catch himself saying something he never thought he would, you watch him expectantly watching how his lips agape to utter the words, just when he's about to he buries his head into his hands.

"i love you too."

[bapple117]

Velvette Slang Masterlist: for the fandom

A gift from a humble Brit to anyone (not from the UK) wanting to write Velv convincingly ~

Hello you wayward sinner!

Are you looking to write Velvette into a fan fiction, comic, roleplay or something else? Would you like to make her sound legit but you have no idea about British (or indeed, South London) slang? FEAR NOT! I, Bapple, am here to hold your hand and guide you through the wonderful world of British slang so you can have fun making Velv sound legit. Let's proceed!

Not all of this will be limited to the UK, of course, and it's not an exhaustive list of ALL British slang either - it's just the kind of things Velv WOULD say as someone from South London.

Insults

For men: bastard, prick, wanker, knob, dickhead, wankstain, bellend, git, tosser, sod, cock, pillock, numpty, codger (means old man)

For women: bint, bitch, slag, wench, slut, tart, trollop, scrub

For anyone: arsehole, arse, twat, sket, muppet, minger (means ugly), bugger, gobshite, cretin

The absolute worst thing you can call someone else is cunt - this is very strong and isn't used in casual conversation, unless you are in VERY informal company, in which case it's thrown around like it's nothing at all. (Come here you cheeky cunt - playful)

Terms of Endearment

Babes, hun, luv, darlin', sweetheart, mate, sweetie, mucker, pal, blud, fam, dear, dearie, honey

Eg: "Alright babes? How's it going darlin?'"

British people often use insults affectionately, too, especially with close friends as a way to tease / banter. (You silly sod, you useless prick, you cheeky git, you daft muppet, etc)

Slang Words

Drunk: trollied, smashed, pissed, wasted, legless, hammered, sloshed, battered, bladdered, merry, shitfaced, arseholed, plastered, lashed

Good: banging, well good, mint, the dogs bollocks, ace, blinding, cracking, brill, fab, neat, beast, fresh, hench, jokes (that's jokes innit), lush, peng (good looking), sick, wicked, peak, wavy

Bad: grim, naff, shite, shit, crap, tat (useless old tat), minging, rank, dry, nasty, humming (means gross)

Pleased: chuffed, buzzing, tickled pink, sorted (I'm sorted mate)

Annoyed: gutted, miffed, pissed off, fucked off, fuming, raging, ticked off, well annoyed, bovvered (used more sarcastically eg: I aint bovvered), vexed

Curses

Bollocks, fucking hell, bloody hell, bugger, piss off, any of the insults used above

Other random words

Bare = a lot of (eg bare money)

Chirpsing, grafting = flirting

Garms = clothes

Lips = kiss (are you tryna lips me?)

Peng ting = good looking person / high quality thing

Standard = of course, yeah no duh (Yeah that's standard mate.)

Tight = cheapskate (Don't be so bloody tight!)

Yard = your house (Come over to my yard)

Banter = conversation that's funny, casual, playful (S'just banter innit)

Convo, chinwag, chat = conversation

Defo = short for definite (Oh he's defo up to something)

Other random phrases

Are you taking the mick? = are you mocking me?

Stop faffing around = be serious and stop messing about

That's mad = wow, I can't believe what you just said or that's amazing

Allow it = just leave it, it's no big deal (Whatever mate, allow it)

Other helpful pointers

When British people (who talk like Velv) swear angrily we do so many times in a whole sentence and add a lot of qualifiers, eg:

"Fuck off you fucking prick, you absolute fucking useless arsehole!"

"Don't piss me off babes or I'll fucking end your shitty little life!"

Making a crude observation about something nearly always a curse in-front of it, eg:

"That's fucking rank."

"It was fucking buzzing mate!"

The Magical Use of Innit:

Innit is a wonderful word that can be used everywhere, especially for someone from South London. It basically means "isn't it?" but it has MANY uses. It can be used to mean an agreement, like "I know right?"

"That was well good innit"

"He's a right twat" - response: "INNIT!"

"It's fuckin grim in here" - "Innit mate"

Adding "well" to words

That was well good - that was well bad - that was well grim

(You get the idea)

That's about it for now!

If I think of anything else I will edit this masterlist and if anyone has any questions please feel free to pop them in my inbox. Happy writing!

[familyabolisher]

i still have like four interviews lined up & frankly they're for jobs i want more than this one, but: We Move

think i just got a job offer looool

[n3ptoonz]

Hello! I saw your most recent headcanon list thing with the Earthrealm guys being caught Slonking it Silly Style™ and uh. I was just wondering if you'd be willing to do something similar with the Outworld guys as well? Obviously you don't have to if you don't want to, but I think it would be neat! Thank you so much in advance! I love your work :)

deep, dramatic sigh. (kidding anon tysm i gush over comments like this ily smoochhhh) also the terminology made me laugh out loud ty for that

Shang Tsung

kinda sorta didn't gaf. who's to say he didn't want you to hear him. the world may never know

you were to report to him about some findings for his experiments and there he was, leaning over the table and straight up cranking it over a bucket (he's odd like that) honestly when you acknowledge your own presence he's like... can i help you?? you see i'm busy???

but at the same time he's like hold up i have a fine specimen here to help me out here...he's leaving here with SOMETHING (studio laughter)

Rain

i don't think he'd care either if you walked in on him. in fact, he might welcome it. he's used to having his own space, but he doesn't mind sharing it with people he's ok with being around. yes that includes you (is it only you? not even he knows yet)

day 8163 of using Rain's arrogance to push my narrative that he's not only in love with himself but how he looks in the mirror. you definitely walked in on him wanking it in the mirror and he'd freeze but recover so quick

ain't no way you're leaving here after you just caught him though. how else will his problems get solved? you went and made him hard all over again!

Reptile

syzoth has two, let's get that out the way. AND he uses both hands for them LMAOO

president of syzoth is a lil subby bitch society. so when you catch him tugging on both and reduced to a pathetic mess from his own hands??? he's frozen and quite literally has no clue what to do. he's sweaty, there's tears in his eyes, and his fangs are much more pronounced than usual

once you give him the green light that you're into whatever tf he was just doing watch him crawl over to you on all fours and hug your legs, practically begging you to touch him

Havik

expect this smug fuck to claim he wanted this to happen. dude was hunched over and going at it behind his own desk, grunting like a cave man who discovered self pleasure for the first time

1000% expect him to demand you help him, but instead it's after he froze for like 5 seconds and then tried to play it off

he would also be internally shocked when agree to finish the job, but on the outside it's like "that's what i thought...now get over here" whole time he's jumping up and down and twirling in his brain

Reiko

it's already rare that he has time to himself and definitely RARELY has time to be with you for an extended period of time, so you catching him when you wanted to surprise him with your presence it triggered his fight or fight LMAO

legit laughed at the thought of him jumping up from his chair hands ready to be thrown...but his dick is swinging PLSSSSSS

he's like well shit now he deserves your help after you almost got two pieced by your own boyfriend...but who's complaining?!

General Shao

this man weirdly reminds me of bowser sometimes. with that being said i think he'd do a BUAHA as a shocked sound when you catch him thwoping the schlong

as much as i can't fucking stand him he does look a lil better in this game i will admit. i'm not gonna sit up here and lie, he def has a HUGE wanker innit. so you didn't miss shit when you walked into his chambers

he would also demand your help. but if you have a lil push back just for fun, he'd eventually say please and be all soft and shit. why? cause it's you god damn it!

Baraka

let's be fr. truly i do not think mk1 baraka would masterbate simply bc he's like depressed all the time😭but for the sake of shits and gigs, ill humor y'all

let's say he hasn't seen you in a while and misses you dearly. he knew you were on a quest for a while, and he was very pent up... so what better way to release stress other than sparring! oh. not enough? time for another type spar 😈

if this were old baraka i'd say he has two 👁️ but since this version of tarkat is a disease let's say it made the skin around his wee like ribbed or something ya SO when you caught him he was in a straight up panic and apologizing profusely but once you calm him down and tell him you're glad he missed you so much, he's like oh shit...well help me out then...only if you want to!

a/n: i did it y'all FUCK. my bad for taking so long to release this i'm a perfectionist to a fault💀

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

A List of StarCanWreckedPulp Projects Confirmed Happening in 2024, Roughly In Expected Chronological Order:

-The Great Debate liveshows--to be put on Youtube at a later time!

-Spies Are Forever: Spy Another Day (in both LA and London!)

-Starkid, Innit

-The latter half of The Case of the Greater Gatsby (when oh when will my best friends Fig and Ford return from *dramatic music* The War??)

-Intelligent Life pilot reading

-Sissy

-Cinderella's Castle (NEW MUSICAL #1!)

-Space Baby

-Solve It Squad Returns at Edinburgh Fringe

-Pulp Musicals Episode 4 (NEW MUSICAL #3!!!)

-This Could Be On Broadway concert

-Gross Prophets (NEW MUSICAL #2!!)

-VHSCCs OC Act 1 Album!! (and likely a production in whatever form that show takes this year)

-This Title is Permanent (Semi-confirmed; might premiere early 2025 instead)

...holy shit that. Is. A LOT!

[lassofics]

Black Eye

Word count: 980

Timeline: Post Season 3

Warnings: Heavily implied abuse

Summary: After a Man City match, Jamie comes to training with a black eye.

Notes: This fic was created and is being published as a part of #Whumpuary2025 !!

James Tartt Sr. had chosen to drive all the way down to Nelson Road. But not to see his son, of course; his son meant nothing to him. Man City was playing Richmond, and leave it to the old man to never miss one of his favorite team’s matches.

The match had been close, but Richmond had come out on top. The whole team had celebrated that night, going to their usual pub to get drunk and relish in their win.

And by the time Jamie Tartt had gone home for the night, everyone was too wasted to remember his prick father was in town — including Jamie himself.

He’d been hoping the black eye would heal before training on Monday, but no matter how much he’d iced it and rested it, the discoloration was still visible Monday morning. Knowing he didn’t have much of a choice, Jamie had just sighed and made his way to the training grounds.

Just as he’d suspected, the moment he walks into the locker room, his black eye catches the attention of his teammates — specifically Dani, who rushes over to him, looking far more concerned than he should.

“Amigo, what happened to your face?” he asks, staring up at Jamie like he’s a wounded puppy or some shit.

Jamie just waves a hand dismissively. “Fuckin’ bar fight, innit?”

Dani’s eyes widen slightly, and he puts a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “When?”

“Yesterday,” Jamie replies, just a little too quickly. He adds, with a self-assured but falsified smirk, “you should see the other guy.”

Dani lets out a sigh and squeezes Jamie’s shoulder. “What are we always telling you, amigo? Don’t get into these fights.”

Jamie’s mind drifts back to that less-than-pleasant interaction with his father, and he grumbles, “I don’t start them.”

_________________

A few more teammates — Sam, Colin, and Isaac specifically — had asked the same question as Dani. And Jamie had given them the same answer. Other than a worried (and slightly suspicious) glance from Sam, everyone seemed to buy it.

Honestly, Jamie isn’t even thinking about it anymore. He’s just running his drills, joking around with the lads, and distracting himself from whatever pain he’s feeling — in that area or otherwise.

But once training ends and each player is a sweaty, exhausted mess, Roy calls him over.

“Oi, Tartt. Stay back a minute.”

Jamie, breathing heavily, wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, then jogs up to Roy as the other lads walk off the pitch. “Yeah, Coach?”

Roy just gives him a look, one that makes Jamie’s cocky smile fade. Their eyes meet. Jamie swallows thickly and quickly averts his gaze.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You don’t have to.”

They stand there face to face for another moment, with Jamie shifting awkwardly on his feet. He could jog off to the locker room with the rest of the lads, but something’s keeping him glued in place.

“He was drunk,” he finally blurts out, as if that’s some kind of excuse. “A-and so was I. I-I mean, I had a lot of fucking drinks to celebrate.”

“I know.”

Their gazes meet again, and it’s hard for Jamie to maintain that eye contact. Roy’s looking at him with such intense protectiveness and an undeniable affection that almost feels tangible. It’s a lot for Jamie to handle, especially right now.

“I didn’t even fucking see him,” Roy grumbles out, briefly lowering his gaze — as if he feels guilty. For what, Jamie has no clue.

“He, uh…” Jamie lowers his gaze, too, suddenly finding the patch of grass by Roy’s feet to be incredibly interesting. “He was chugging down beers in my driveway. Waitin’ for me.”

Roy stares at him in disbelief. In his mind, that means it could’ve been prevented.

“Jamie, I… if I’d have known he was coming, I…”

“It’s fine,” Jamie counters quickly, holding up a hand and forcing a weak smile. “Really. Barely even hurt. I’m tougher than I look, yeah?”

Roy just continues staring at him, his dark eyes practically piercing into Jamie’s skull.

“Is he still in town?”

Jamie bites his lower lip. He hadn’t even thought about that. “I… I don’t know. Haven’t seen him since he gave me this.” He gestures towards his black eye. “And that was right after the match on Saturday. He’s, uh… he’s probably home by now.”

Roy lets out a sharp exhale, then takes a step closer to Jamie, gazing down at him with an intensity that could make a grown man shiver. It almost has that effect on Jamie. Almost.

“The next time we play City, you’re fucking staying at mine,” he says firmly. It’s not an offer; it’s a demand. Jamie knows this.

“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs, lowering his gaze again.

There’s a brief moment of silence before Roy hesitantly asks, “did you know he was coming?”

Jamie bites his lip again. There’s no point in lying; Roy’s just gonna figure it out anyway. So, he nods.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jamie shrugs, still looking down. “It’s not like it matters.”

“Oi.” Roy suddenly grabs Jamie’s shoulder in a rough but loose grasp. “It fucking matters.”

Taking a breath, Jamie tries to hold back the tears that suddenly threaten to form. Roy’s voice is filled with a conviction that makes his head spin. He fucking cares.

“Thanks,” Jamie mumbles under his breath, finally lifting his head to look back at Roy. What he sees is that the older man’s expression has softened, and he’s now gazing at Jamie with something close to adoration. Jamie’s heart suddenly races.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because Roy just squeezes his shoulder and gives him a gentle push. “Go home, Tartt.”

Jamie nods, offering Roy a small smile — this one much more genuine — before jogging off the pitch.

[its-time-to-write]

Hi!! I hope you’re well !! Thank you so much for keeping the Jaimie Tartt community well fed like I will forever be in your debt you’re amazing‼️‼️ My humble request is in honor of SNTV:) My favorite songs are Enchanted and Sparks Fly so maybe a complicated angsty start up to a fluffy love confession (like they just haven’t gotten the timing right until now or they were friends and then something happens to her). IDK anyway sorry for the word vomit and thank you bunches for all your hard work!!

I loved this request!! Also sorry, all my fics seem to be ending the same way this days😬 But we keep getting to the ending in new and exciting ways so hopefully no one cares! Enjoy!

wonderstruck

You knew the moment you met Keeley Jones that your friendship was going to be a wild ride. You were still in uni, and had picked up a one-off job as one extra on a commercial shoot. The pay wasn’t bad (hey, it was extra money) and you were willing to sacrifice a Saturday for it. Keeley was one of the frontrunners for the commercial, all big hair and wild makeup. You had bumped into her by chance at the food table, started talking, and the rest was history. One random job turned into a solid four years of friendship. It was a funny dynamic between you and Keeley, because she was both older sister and antagonizer. She liked to pull you out of your comfort zone, taking you to clubs, parties, events, whatever as her plus one. Well, until she started dating a prick footballer named Jamie Tartt.

You didn’t meet him while they were together. You’d already known Keeley for two and a half years at that point, and understood she had shit taste in men. You weren’t afraid to tell her that to her face and she’d just laugh and say, “I know babes, but it’s right fun, innit?”

You’d laugh and shake your head, then go back to carefully painting her nails in the brightest, sparkliest colors imaginable.

Keeley was really, really good for you.

She called you the night she broke up with Jamie, and you came over to her house with a giant bottle of champagne only to find her and another woman, a Rebecca Welton, already proper tipsy and giggling on the floor. They were still dolled up from that night’s benefit while you were in pajamas, but you didn’t let that stop you. You downed half a bottle while Keeley and Rebecca cheered. You were glad Keeley had dumped that awful, cheating, self-absorbed prick. She deserved so much better.

You were glad when she started dating Roy Kent. He was a lot more down-to-earth than she was, and they were a good balance for each other. You wondered if Keeley gravitated toward those of a more serious nature in the same way you were drawn to those who were more spontaneous.

Post-uni, you had started your own business. It was kind of a random venture, something you had begun for a friend, but then it took off. You made the most outrageous, eccentric day-to-day dresses, taking a simple pattern then transforming it with wild patterns, tulle, and the occasional sparkle. Keeley, angel that she was, modeled some of them and put them on her instagram. And just like that, you were selling out. 

It was absolutely insane, but you were able to spend the week making two dresses and then turn over a nice profit. You felt like you were overcharging but Keeley said, “Babe, if you’re selling out, you might be undercharging.”

All that to say, life with Keeley Jones as your friend was absolutely magical. You’d do anything for her. Including going to a fucking benefit as her plus one.

—

“Why can’t you just take Roy?”

“Roy’s already got his own invite. He’s a coach, so he has to be there even though he’s going to fucking hate it.” Keeley laughs. She thinks Roy’s grumpiness is endearing.

“Alright, why’d you get a plus one then? It doesn’t make sense, Keels,” you counter.

Keeley refuses to meet your eyes. “It’s entirely possible that Rebecca gave me one so that you’d come.”

“Keeleyyy,” you groan.

She shoves your shoulder playfully. “She knew if she sent you a direct invite you wouldn’t go, and she said she’d let us meet up at her house to get ready together! C’mon babes, it’s going to be so much fun and we’ll look sooo fucking fit walking the red carpet together, yeah?”

She gives you her widest puppy-dog eyes, lower lip pushing out. You sigh.

“Fucking fine. Fine. But you’re coming with me to pick out a dress. And you’re buying my coffee.”

Keeley cheers and tackles you in a hug. “You won’t regret it, I swear. Worst case you can just bitch about it with Roy the next day.” You laugh. You and Roy bitch about a lot of things together.

—

The red carpet is absolutely terrifying. It’s louder than you would have thought and the flashes from the camera are giving you a headache. 

“How the hell do you do this?” you ask Keeley through a smile. 

She laughs for the cameras. “Loads of practice, babe,” she replies in a perfect pose. “Now look at me and laugh at something I said.”

You’re almost done and the paps are asking for a photo of Keeley and Roy, so you wait off to the side near the entrance for them. You crane your neck to try to find Rebecca, to no avail. You do however catch the eye of someone with a very nice fashion sense and very, very blue eyes. He gives you a once-over and grins. You blush and turn back to Keeley and Roy who have finished and are making their way over to you. Keeley grabs your hand and says, “Hi Jamie!” while Roy rolls his eyes. Jamie says, “Hey Keeley,” and nods to Roy. “Grandad.”

“Fuck you,” Roy replies, and you’re surprised at the borderline affectionate tone he’s using. Especially considering Jamie is Keeley’s ex. He’s not really what you would have expected, but you don’t have time to dwell on that because Keeley’s dragging you inside the benefit venue.

—

Jamie is sitting at the same table as you. 

Correction: he’s sitting right fucking next to you and it’s all you can do to avoid eye contact with him. You had introduced yourself to him with a barely suppressed grimace and steeled yourself for a long, misogyny-filled night. 

You were so tense that Keeley put her hand on your knee and said, “I’ve got to go reapply my lipliner, d’you want to come with?”

You got up and followed her, feeling far too exposed in your backless, purple-sequined dress. 

“Alright babe, what gives?” she asks once you’ve made it to the bathroom. “You’re wound up so tight I could stick coal up your ass and get a diamond.”

That makes you crack a smile and you shrug. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Keeley shakes her head. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, I’ve had four years of practice knowing exactly when you’re telling me a fib.”

“Who’s fibbing?” Rebecca says, walking in the door. “I saw Keeley drag you in here, and I didn’t want to miss out on some girl talk.”

“Oh thank god you’re here,” you say, relieved. “I’ve been looking for you for the past hour and couldn’t find you.”

Rebecca self-consciously smooths her hair. “I’ve been- busy,” she says. “But this isn’t about me. What are you fibbing about?”

You look between Rebecca and Keeley then deflate. “I have to sit next to Jamie Tartt.”

Keeley and Rebecca share a look. “I don’t see what that’s such a bad thing,” Rebecca says.

You look at her in disbelief. “Jamie Tartt? The biggest prick in all of London, and quite possibly all of England? Cheated on Keeley multiple times and all-around arsehole?”

Keeley grimaces. “Yeah, not one of his finer points in life.”

“See?” you say. “He’s the fucking worst!” Rebecca and Keeley share another look.

“Stop fucking doing that,” you say. “What?”

“Darling,” Rebecca says gently, “he’s changed.”

You’re not buying it, a sentiment that is evident in your expression.

“It’s true, babes,” Keeley affirms. “And look, I’d probably be the fucking last person to say it. But he has! He’s loads better than he used to be, an absolute sweetheart. Even Roy loves him.”

You snort.

“Okay, maybe love is a strong word,” Keeley amends. “But he likes him! Roy said Jamie’s the best player on the team, and possibly one of the best in the country!”

You’re still not buying it. 

“Listen,” Rebecca says. “Give him one hour free of bias. Forget who he was and give him a chance. You might be surprised.”

You look to Keeley, unsure. It is her ex, after all.

To your surprise, she’s smiling and nodding. “Go for it,” she says. “You never know what could happen.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you and you laugh. Only Keeley Jones could try to pawn her ex off on her best friend with the confident assurance that he’s a better man now. You know she’s not lying, or at least she believes Jamie’s changed. You’re not sure what to believe, but you’ll take Rebecca’s advice and give Jamie one hour to change your mind.

—

You’re not in your seat two seconds before Jamie starts talking to you.

“Why d’you look so nervous love? I don’t bite.” He grins. “Much.”

You catch yourself before you grimace and instead say, “This whole thing isn’t really my scene. It’s a lot of people I don’t know, and I’m only here ‘cause Keels asked me to be her plus one.”

Jamie still has that obnoxious grin on his face. “What does Roy think about you stealing his girlfriend? Can’t imagine he’d take it lying down.”

You glance over at Keeley and Roy. His arm is around the back of her chair and she’s leaning into him ever so slightly. 

You say, “I’ve been here longer than he has, so if anyone’s stolen her, it’s him,” and you watch the pieces click into place in Jamie’s head.

“Shit,” he says. “You’re the best friend. Shoulda known when you told me your name.”

You shrug.

“Makes sense,” he continues. “I wondered why you weren’t fuckin’ beside yourself to be sitting by the fittest bloke in the room.”

You roll your eyes, hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

He pulls his chair a little closer and looks at you again with those perfect blue eyes. “Seriously, I am sorry. I was a prick. It took Keeley breaking up with me for me to start gettin’ my head out of me arse.” Jamie’s words back up what Keeley and Rebecca told you. You’re not entirely ready to brush his past under the rug, but tell him that it seems like he did a right proper job of it, which makes him laugh.

“Do you really think you’re the fittest guy in here?” you ask.

Jamie gestures to the room. “Look around, babe. I ain’t lying.”

You laugh, and the tension dispels. You’ve 55 minutes to go, and then you can go back to hating him. For now, you’ll let him keep cracking jokes.

—

The hour is up, but you’re still talking to Jamie. You don’t stop to consider why he’s still talking to you (maybe because he can’t stand the idea of anyone hating him) but he is. It’s actually enjoyable, so when he asks you to accompany him to the dance floor, you look to Keeley for approval instead of outright rejecting him.

Keeley says, “Go on babe, I’m gonna try to convince this one to get out there for at least one dance,” and Roy says, “Fuck no.”

You let Jamie take your hand as he promises, “No funny business, I swear,” and you just laugh.

You laugh through three songs because Jamie has a way of making you giggle. He swings you around and executes all kinds of moves that you’re sure you could never replicate, but you assume that being a Premier League footballer means he’s got to be coordinated. Makes sense that he can dance.

The fourth song is a slow one, so you move to leave the dance floor but Jamie catches your hand.

“Stay,” he says. “I’m having a really great time with you.”

You feel Keeley kick the bottom of your shoe from where she’s swaying with her arms around Roy’s neck. 

It makes you stumble a little, just enough for Jamie to have to catch you. He grins. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

He puts your hands around his neck and his on your waist. It’s a soft touch, but you can feel sparks shooting up your hipbones.

You’re absolutely fucked.

Jamie doesn’t say a single thing, just sways along with the soft music and gazes into your eyes. You can’t look away no matter how hard you try. 

The song ends and you let go of Jamie. He slides a hand up you waist and down your arm, lifts your hand to his lips, and kisses your inner wrist. 

Before you can form a coherent thought, he’s gone.

Rebecca and Keeley are on you in a moment.

“You’re both coming to mine,” Rebecca says. “You have time to go home and get pajamas, but I’m getting out of here as soon as I can. I just made sure my pantry was restocked.”

—

It’s 2am. Rebecca and Keeley have successfully gotten you to admit that you like Jamie. 

Against all odds, you like him.

Fuck.

“You’re sure it’s not weird?” you ask Keeley as you pace around Rebecca’s bedroom.

“For the millionth time, babe,” she says, “I really don’t. I think you two would be fucking adorable together.”

Rebecca nods in agreement. “I’m on Keeley’s side on this one. Jamie used to be a right little shit, but he’s really turned it around. And could you please stop wearing a hole in my rug? It’s giving me anxiety.”

You abruptly stop and plop down on the bed. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if he was only trying to make me not hate him because I’m Keeley’s best friend?”

Rebecca makes an offended noise so you amend: “Sorry, one of Keeley’s best friends?”

“Listen,” Keeley says making her way to your spot on the end of the bed. She holds your arms. “I know Jamie. He was fucking interested. And he hasn’t been that way in a while. You should just fucking go for it.”

“I don’t know,” you say slowly. Rebecca and Keeley groan and flop back onto the bed.

“You’re absolutely hopeless,” Rebecca says, but it’s laced with affection. You grin.

“That’s why you love me.”

—

You don’t sleep. Keeley is sandwiched between you and Rebecca on Rebecca’s absolutely massive bed, and all you can think about is Jamie’s blue eyes and the sparks of electricity you felt wherever he touched you. 

You can still feel the kiss on your wrist.

—

It rains for three days and you refuse to go to Nelson Road. Keeley’s out sick anyway, and Rebecca is busy with work. You are too, working on a commission in electric blue. It’s very cozy inside your flat, soft music playing as the rain plinks on your roof. You’re wearing your good sweats, the ones that match and don’t have stains. Your hair is freshly clean and pulled back in a clip and there’s a pot of tea on the stove. 

Your heartbeat has not been normal since dancing with Jamie. It’s beating in an irregular pattern, horrendously out of sync with the calming sound of rain. You can’t get it to calm down so you decide to indulge and replay your entire interaction with Jamie, as a treat. 

You’re just thinking about his hands on your waist and letting your mind wander to where else you think they should go, when there’s a knock on the door. You frown.

That’s odd. Who on earth could be at your door at 7pm on a Monday in pouring rain? You pad across the living room to the door and open it to find a very wet Jamie.

“Hi,” he says, and then he’s pulling you onto the porch and kissing you in the pouring rain.

You’re soaked through to the bone, but you don’t care. All you can feel is Jamie’s hair as you run your fingers through and his lips on yours as they devour you. It’s straight out of a movie.

You shiver, and Jamie breaks away.

“Got your address from Keeley,” he says. “She’s the one who told me to come here. Can we go inside?”

You nod mutely and let him in. “Aren’t you cold?” you ask.

He just laughs. “Nah babe, I run hot. You look right fucking freezing, though. Good thing I’m here, I’ll help you warm right up.”

You’re really starting to shiver. “You should get out of those clothes,” you say through chattering teeth. 

“Could say the same about you,” Jamie replies. “Where’s your bedroom at?” 

You all but drag him up the stairs to your room. 

You think you’re going to kill Keeley for telling Jamie you liked him, but then you’re flat on your back, bare skin pressing into the duvet as Jamie Tartt presses hot kisses up your neck, and you forget all about her.

[phagodyke]

I love to talk but I rly do feel like we have to be talking for a minimum of 8 hours straight before I feel like I can even begin to rly broach things on my mind or that have been bothering me a lot that I actually want to talk abt without being vague or deflecting or omitting or lying and if the conversation takes a break at any point it resets back to 0 and its still nice regardless but.

[saywhatjessie]

I am so mixed up (that I cannot tell you)

Advent Calendar Day 13! (prompts by @raven-cincaide-words) Today’s prompts: Christmas Cleaning | Enemies to Lovers | Kisses Fandom: Ted Lasso - Pairing: RoyJamie 2k[Ao3]

“How the fuck did you get so much of your shit into my house without me noticing?”

“It ain’t your fault! Your eyesight’s gone all funny with age. You can’t be expected to see shit more than 3 inches from your face.”

Roy growled and Jamie winked back. 

Roy had been volunteered by his sister to host his family for the holidays. It was fine: he had the biggest house and guest rooms that could hold his parents for the week of Hanukkah as well as Ruth and Phoebe if they wanted to stay over any of the nights. He was also the best cook and absolutely refused to make latkes in the Little Tikes playset Ruth called a kitchen. So he’d agreed, figuring he could get some plastic to protect his kitchen from oil splatters and just tidy up the living spaces for his family to gather.

He had not realized how much of the surface area in those living spaces was filled with Jamie’s shit.

“When did you even wear this?” Roy asked, holding up bright pin track pants, disgusted. “Why are they here?”

“Wore that when I pulled your bike!” Jamie told him, brightly. He snatched the trackies out of Roy’s hand and shoved them in a giant laundry bag he’d had in his car. “Have you not seen the fan photos? I look well fit. You look like a belland.”

Roy growled, kicking pairs of Jamie’s shoes away from the door.

He supposed that helped explain it. Many times after their early morning training sessions, Roy would let Jamie shower at his place before they headed in to Nelson Road. And also he would come over after training to eat before late night training.

But that still didn’t explain why Jamie had left things here.

“How many bum bags do you have?” Roy asked, incredulous, yanking about three out from between the couch cushions. ”Is there anything even in them? How do you just forget them here?”

“Ooh, I’ve been looking for this one!” Jamie said, excitedly relieving Roy of a bright silver thing. “Well flash, innit?”

“It’s ugly as shit,” Roy told him. “And still doesn’t explain why it’s here.”

Jamie snorted. “I lost this one over a month ago, mate. Maybe start asking yourself why you never clean your place.”

Roy growled again and Jamie rolled his eyes, heading up the stairs.

Roy rumbled quietly to himself. Little prick. Roy cleaned his fucking house.

He went into the kitchen to check the damage on that. He knew his kitchen was absolutely clean – he used it every day – he just wanted to make sure he moved any clutter off the counters so it didn’t catch any stray grease. Hanukkah was the oiliest holiday of the year: thank you Maccabees. 

The kitchen was just how he left it. The stove was clean, the dishes were clean and put away, the floors were swept and at least surface cleaned. He had drawings Phoebe had done hung up on the fridge. Roy sighed in relief: this space, at least, was free of Jamie Tartt.

He started carefully removing the things from the fridge, knowing that those oil droplets could fly and not wanting to ruin any of Phoebe’s work. He took down a couple drawings, photos, Phoebe’s participation ribbon for children’s pole vaulting or whatever. He smiled at them, fondly, as he removed them and gently slid them into an envelope that he’d store safely away in his office until his kitchen could be deep cleaned. 

Then he hit non-Phoebe stuff he’d forgotten he’d put up there. Training schedule. Dietary list. Match calendar. He couldn’t remember why he’d hung those up – it made sense for him to think about these things as a coach but why were they in his kitchen?

And then he saw the ‘Good Boy’ tracker with little golden stars on it and he remembered. Of course. Of course these were for FUCKING Jamie.

The Good Boy tracker was actually a work of genius: nothing made Jamie work harder than the promise of a gold star. He could run that extra kilometer, do a hundred more burpees, and make that fiftieth crossbar kick if Roy promised him a little gold star by the finish. He couldn’t help but smile seeing all the stars proudly stuck to it. It was a nice reminder of how far they’d come.

The calendar and schedule were old so Roy just threw those away. But the dietary list and gold stars went into the envelope. He couldn’t help being a good coach, now, could he?

He moved onto counters once the fridge was clear and was again relieved by the familiarity of it. Roy’s cookbooks got stored in his office with the envelope, his jar of utensils got put in a cabinet, jars of flour and sugar got put in the cabinet as well as the ENTIRE spice rack. 

He hesitated over the salt and pepper shakers. They were little black greyhounds, bought for him for secret santa sometime in the last few years. He loved them so much, he couldn’t stand to put them away. He figured they would be easy enough to clean later.

Roy had just finished stowing everything away and gave the counter one last wipedown when Jamie came into the kitchen hauling his overstuffed laundry bag. He let out a low whistle.

“Fuck, it looks so empty in here.” He noted, frowning at the naked fridge. “What did Phoebe do to piss you off?”

Roy rolled his eyes, turning to wipe down the cabinets. He only wanted to have to get through one layer of grime when this was over. “Her stuff is safe in my office. You’ve never seen a kitchen during Hanukkah, everything gets fucking covered in grease.” He grunted, rubbing his socks against the tile and wondering if it would be worth it to do a deep clean beforehand. “I put away everything I didn’t want to see ruined.”

Jamie hummed in understanding but then scowled at the stove. “Well I guess fuck me, then. If you hated the little greyhounds, you didn’t have to use them.”

Roy frowned back, turning to look at the stove. Right, the salt and pepper shakers.

“Oh, no, I–”

“They weren’t easy to find, you know,” Jamie said, slouching against the wall and folding his arms, defensively. “Greyhounds ain’t exactly a friendly shape for salt and pepper. And no one makes things black you like it so it took a long fucking time to find something you could use in your kitchen that you would like and would remind you of your team. Like I spent ages on this shit so if you don’t like them, re-gift them to Higgins or something, I’m sure his wife would use them.”

And Roy remembers, oh fuck. Right. Jamie had been his secret santa that year. He’d loved the gift so much but had hated Jamie so he’d completely divorced the two from each other in his head. He’d forgotten completely.

He looked back at Jamie, his anger, and didn’t actually think he deserved it. “I do use them. You’ve seen me cook with them. I use them every fucking day.”

“Well how do I know you’re not just using them to make fun of me? You didn’t think they were worth saving or whatever.”

“How would using them be making fun of you?”

“I don’t know, maybe to remind me how unimportant they are? How pathetic it was for me to try so hard to get you a present?”

“Why would I even do that? I didn’t even remember they were from you!”

And that was the wrong thing to say.

Jamie’s head jerked back, his face going completely frozen even while Roy could hear a soft gasp being sucked in through his teeth.

Then, before Roy could react, Jamie’s teeth clicked together, his jaw tense, and he nodded. “Right. My mistake. Why would you remember?”

He heaved his laundry over his shoulder and nodded again. “Happy holidays, Roy.”

“Wait, no, fuck.” Roy scrambled around his kitchen island, his socks skidding a bit as he ran into Jamie gripping his arm. “I love those fucking salt shakers.”

Jamie snorted, turning enough so Roy could see him roll his eyes. “Right.”

“No, I do!” Roy said, desperation making his voice hoarse. “It makes me happy every time I look at them. I couldn’t bear putting them away. I told myself they would be worth cleaning by hand myself after the holidays.”

Jamie kept frowning, his eyes narrowed in mistrust.

Roy growled, pulling Jamie back and shoving him in a chair at the kitchen island.

“I’m not fucking lying,” He grumbled. “I forgot you gave them to me because I loved them too much to think they came from you. I sublimated it.”

Now Jamie’s eyes were confused. “Like the Beatles? The yellow sublimate?”

“That’s submarine you goddamn numpty.” Roy sighed, leaning his weight on the island. “Sublimate. Like repress or some shit.”

Jamie made a soft noise of understanding but looked away from Roy.

Roy sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Fuck.” He said, banging his fist on the island. Jamie didn’t jump. “I should have known it was you, though.” Roy sighed. “After Uncle’s Day. Should have known you’d have gotten me another one of my favorite presents.”

“Yeah?” Jamie said, his eyes getting some of their lightness back. “More than those custom trainers from Beckham?”

Roy rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop his relieved smile. “More than the goddamn sunglasses from Elton Fucking John.”

Jamie gasped, the sound much more welcoming than the last one. “You’ve got sunglasses from Elton John? Why haven’t I seen them?”

“Because I don’t trust you with them, I already have to lock my trophy room when you come over to make sure you don’t masturbate into my old jerseys.”

Jamie choked, going bright red. Roy huffed a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s fine. I’ve got no use for more trophies: things I lock in a room and never get to look at.” He pointed at the stove. “Those little shakers are with me every day. So thank you, Jamie. For the gift. I don’t know if I thanked you properly for them at the time.”

Jamie swallowed, still bright red and avoiding Roy’s eyes. “No, but you well hated me at the time so–” He shrugged, the laundry bag sliding off his shoulders and back onto the floor.

Roy grunted, putting a hand under Jamie’s chin and tilting it back.

Jamie’s eyes looked up at him, wide from shock. Whether from Roy’s earnestness or the fact Roy was touching him so softly, he couldn’t be sure.

And he couldn't think about it or he was going to lose his nerve.

He leaned forward and kissed Jamie softly on the mouth. Roy could hear the breath halt in Jamie’s body, the muscles in his back and neck tensing in surprise, but his mouth was loose, accepting Roy without protest and pressing back like it was as natural as blinking.

Roy pulled back just enough so he could say. “Thank you, Jamie. Really. You’re a good boy.”

Jamie squeaked, his eyes still wide and his body moving toward Roy like Jamie was fighting not to chase Roy’s lips.

Roy just smiled, leaning in to kiss him again once, very quickly, before pulling away completely.

“Why don’t I make us some supper?” Roy asked, turning back to his kitchen. “Reward for cleaning up before my parents get here.”

It took a look time and several unsuccessful attempts at speech before Jamie said. “You shouldn’t cook, you just cleaned the kitchen. Why don’t we get takeaway?”

Roy looked at him, nodding again in approval and delighting at Jamie nervously looking away. “Good, yeah.” He bit back a smile as Jamie squeaked again. “I could use a kebab.”

[fragilelovelythings]

Let it Happen (Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader)

Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader 18+

Summary: You go clubbing and you see him, lost in his dancing.

---

There he was, no dramatic coat, no psychotic vibes, no crazy eyes glaring at any supe. The man stood proudly, swaying as naturally as he pulled any trigger against danger. 

The way his hips moved to bear witness, to a chaotic swing and sexual drive pulling his body forward and backwards. Looking at Butcher this loose seemed a sin, one you know you were truly into whenever he looked at you behind his wayfarers. 

Feeling the thrill you kept glancing at him, desire conveyed in your stare. 

Butcher didn’t acknowledge you or anybody: he just moved his head side to side gone to the beat of the tech music he embraced. You bit your upper lip, without knowing how to catch his attention. You held a breath and closed your eyes, playing the game and feeling your body boiling through tight lips. And then, when you opened your brown eyes he was right before you, his tall frame making you tremble. The dark glasses remained put and the smirk in his masculine face made you curl your lips, abashed.

The second you felt him lean and the smell of something raw and manly drove you insane, he whispered against your left ear, mouth brushing your dark brown curls. 

“Good shit innit?” The raspy voice provoked an unnamed trail of need, wanton moans still trapped against your awkward giggle. 

Wishful thinking. 

“Yeah, good shit” you reply, hoping he meant the music and he barked a laugh, something barely audible above the loud, trance magic now enveloping you both.

“Ain’t you a sweetheart” You can’t contain the surprise and point at yourself, your sweaty hand mix of the hot atmosphere and the nervousness eating you up. He leaned again, this time intentionally brushing his thick lips against the lobe of your ear “Yeah, a wanton wee thing” 

You couldn’t help the way your body reacted, sweat mingling, ears burning by the sensual contact and you incline immediately against him, daring. 

Of course, he had noticed your stare, whatever you thought was something casual becoming the reality he dropped at your feet. He didn’t seem creeped about it but delighted. If anything, the doe eyes you pulled worked marvels and when the weight of his broad right hand rested in your waist you felt him inhale deeply “A tight small lil’ waist you got here” You nod timidly, the thrill nesting quickly under your stomach “Wonder if it’s the only tight thing you got here for me” 

Taken aback you search his eyes, promising, and brave as never before, and you shake your head willingly. 

The way he lifted the glasses and you finally got a full view of his black pits of desire you moan.

[lululandd]

── 𝐥 𝐨 𝐬 𝐢 𝐧 𝐠 [ II.] 

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 873

warnings: angst, hurt no comfort, ghost’s pov

note:posted this under a side account thinking i can manage two accounts but im a lazy fuck so that shit is gone and im reposting it here

summary: the first thing he noticed is how you stopped smiling around him. 

“How are you dealing with this?” Price sat next to him, defeat written all over his face.

“Poorly.” He murmured, jaw clenching as he looked away from whatever random spot of floor he previously focused his sights on. This is why he doesn’t make friends, doesn’t get attached to people. Johnny was the one exception he thought he could make, and look where it got him.

Price sighs, “Take time off, Simon. Captain’s orders.” 

He has a feeling Price is only telling him to take time off because he himself needs time off. Gaz isn’t taking it well either, neither of them has seen the sergeant in days at this point. 

Home is the last place he wanted to go back to as of now. He never wanted to come home when he’s like this. He hated coming home to skittish you, always walking on eggshells, making sure you don’t cross boundaries. He can’t stand the meek tone when you absolutely have to break the silence in the room. 

So he went hunting. 

The smell of blood clung to his clothes no matter how many times he put them in the wash. It only came to him now that he knows how to clean up blood from his clothes, but it was always you that made the smell disappear. Resigning with a deep sigh, he doesn’t know why he had to brace himself when what awaits him at home is nothing but pure love.

Crossing over the threshold of his own home had never felt so foreign. Everything felt like…it had been moved slightly to the left. 

It’s ‘coz I'm always right, innit LT?

He bumped the table by the little foyer, making the bowl holding all your keys jingle. Ghost heaves a sigh as your head pops out of a doorway. He didn’t miss the apprehensive few seconds you hesitated to approach him. Whatever’s left of Simon’s already brittle heart chips off into oblivion everytime he sees you cautiously take actions around him the first few days he comes home. You’re always trying to make yourself seem smaller, trying to make as little noise as possible, trying to not disturb him.

Pulling you into his arms, he felt a little warmth seep back into his tired bones.

“Welcome home, Simon.” You whispered softly.

His expression falters, Simon wasn’t there to answer.

The next couple of days were hell as he had seemed to inherit Soap’s sleep paralysis and started to see things coming for you as he lay there useless, limbs frozen. In his head you have died a hundred times in a thousand different ways, the fear is multiplied tenfold as he now sees those images with his eyes wide open. As soon as his sleep paralysis dissipated, he bolted out of the bed. Ghost decided if he has to suffer sleep paralysis he will suffer them alone, so they can’t get to you.

Disappointment spread to every corner of his mind every time he tried to relax. Dozens of scenarios played in his head of what he could’ve done differently on that fateful day. Something deep in his chest unruffled the more he lingered on these thoughts. He didn't know what to do with all the grief, so they turned to anger. Rage was his armour, something he knows very dear, always within arm’s reach. Rage never rejected him, it never looked at him with sad eyes that he would feel guilty for. It took over most of his days, since usually he has nothing else to do but dote on you when he’s home. So he started going out. Gun ranges, pubs, his cabin, he doesn’t care where, he just wants to be in places that would make the pain go away.

He woke up several mornings in a row to a sight of you on the sofa, feet hanging off the edge, blankets in disarray. His eyes flicker to your face, eyes swollen with tear marks on your cheeks. The suffocating pressure on his chest burst, he had to control the urge to just scream his lungs out. This is too much. You won’t even get in bed with him now.

Has he turned into that big of a disappointment?

“Not enough for you anymore, aren’t I?” 

“What?”

He didn’t even bother to sit down, a failure of a human being like him doesn’t get luxuries like sitting down next to you.

“You don’t even come to bed anymore.” He answers bluntly.

“You don’t even stay in bed Simon.” 

His lips parted for a moment, but he quickly thought of a reason. “I always wake up earlier than you.”

You roll your eyes. His heart dropped. You had never done that to him before, he had only seen you roll your eyes at strangers. There was also a flash of something else that made anger flare up in his chest, something that made him feel like a threat. “Yes. But you don’t stay. You don’t even make me tea anymore, Simon.” The rest of his already brittle heart turns to dust as he hears what you have to say. “Why don’t we just take a break from each other?”

—no, not you too.

But only silence answers.

( reader's pov )