#tami talks

[tamibae]

Natsu LOVES Lucy. And he’s just so obvious?? My boy does anything and everything possible for Lucy without her even asking??? And the way he hypes her up with compliments and defends her in front of other people???? Like who’re you to complain about my wife whenever anything negative is mentioned about her???? And AND the way he shows her that he needs her and verbally expresses his emotions with desperation?????

[spacerockwriting]

Galladrabbles Bone

Thank you to @galladrabbles and @heymacy for this weeks prompt! Had a completely different idea but then this came out instead. Joys of writing, I guess?

Bones

Lip paces, not standing still as Ian tries to fix his brother’s bow tie. “Were you this terrified when you married Mick?”

Ian shrugs, looking over at his husband who is trying his hardest to avoid talking to one of the adjacent Tamietti’s next to him. Grinning, Ian looks over at Mickey in his best suit, looking almost as hot as he did on their own wedding day. Mickey rakes his eyes over Ian, smirking as well.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Lip swears. “I don’t want to fucking see you trynin’ to bone your fucking husband on my fucking wedding day.”

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

i don’t like fanon gallavich. sorry.

[sastheforestspirit]

I'm thinking about her (the bar) again.

[gameo-archive]

"Here is my cameo from George Rexstrew!!! I asked for a pep talk to get me out performing more. He was so kind!

#DeadBoyDetectives #SaveDeadBoyDetectives"

I'm introverted so it can be challenging to perform my music for people. I would like a pep talk about having the courage to perform more.

Featuring some kids absolutely howling outside the window.

[sonknuxadow]

one like. sonic fandom shipping trope i guess is what you'd call it. that really annoys me is when people have amy move on from sonic but then immediately get with someone who looks like him (or is said to look like him in shadows case) or is a copy of him in some way. and have that be part of the reason she likes them. or when people have sonics rivals/copies try to get amy to like them more as a way of proving they're better than him or something than out of genuine interest in her. i can't even explain why i find this stuff annoying i just do

[nowherestogo]

i was tagged by @blackfairyemoji to list my favorite albums of 2023! 💖

1. THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND by Bad Omens | 2. Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift | 3. Rolling Up the Welcome the Welcome Mat (For Good) by Kelsea Ballerini | 4. Manic by Halsey | 5. Weedkiller by Ashnikko | 6. Portals by Melanie Martinez | 7. Midnights by Taylor Swift | 8. Finding God Before God Finds Me (Deluxe) by Bad Omens | 9. If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power by Halsey

tagging:

@concretenoah @criesbc1d @useraew @haroldtea @brunchbunch and anyone else who wants to post theirs!

[talkingwithtami]

Happy Valentine’s Day

[anormaladn]

One random fun fact about Tamirga

According to my Eliotrope headcanon, Eliotropes' birthdays (in his community at least) would be the day they got found and brought to the temple.

Tamirga rejected that one and chose his new birthday on the day he decided to never come back to the temple, which happened to be Javian 1st- because Descendre has a changing amount of days one year to the other*, he tends to only know it after the fact... it is how it is

*iirc, Descendre's protector Djaul dukes it out with Jiva and when she wins Javian and the new year begins, the fight is sometimes longer or shorter

[jawbrkrs]

" 𝒎𝒚  𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒔  𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕  𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔  !  "   voice  a  raw  ,  desperate  plea  cutting  through  the  air  like  a  jagged  shard  of  glass  .  demons  that  she  couldn't  bear  to  put  on  someone  else  —  the  last  thing  she  wanted  was  to  pull  the  other  into  her  fucked  up  world  any  further  .  it  was  hard  enough  keeping  her  head  above  water  ,  without  the  guilt�� looming  if  something  happened  to  her  .  "  ill  go  ,  but  you  aren't  coming  with  me  .  "  steely  resolve  underlying  her  words  like  an  iron  thread  .  blue  duffle  bag  lay  open  ,  its  contents  spilling  haphazardly  like  the  remnants  of  her  fractured  life  .  ten  minutes  ,  she  thought  .  ten  minutes  was  all  it  would  take  to  stuff  the  remaining  pieces  into  that  worn  bag  and  vanish  into  the  night  .

"i don’t pity you; i’m frustrated. can you stop being stupid for a moment? right now, i’m the only one who can help you. whatever personal issues you have with me, put them aside and focus. pack your shot and get it together unless you want to end up in jail."

[tamibae]

Sometimes I just wonder how when I started watching Fairy Tail, I thought of Lucy as an “average” character. Now? I’d defend her against the entire world.

[iandarling]

The universe is funny when it comes to timing.

Because of course it happens the one day a month Lip and Tami go to couples therapy, which happens to coincide perfectly with Ian’s new wish of doing a cycling class once a week. Somehow the fucking stars aligned perfectly or whatever, and none of them have their phones turned on. So Mickey gets the call.

Freddie fell from the monkey bars and broke his arm.

He’s at home when the phone rings. A frantic teacher is in the ambulance with the crying five year old. She couldn’t get a hold of his parents, so she tried his other emergency contacts. Ian didn’t pick up, but Mickey was listed at his spouse so she tried him.

“Can you meet us at the hospital?” She asks, while trying to soothe the crying child. Freddie seemed to be hysterical.

“Yeah, course- hey put him on so I can talk to him” Mickey answers, already outta the door and on his way down to the garage. He’s no baby talker like Ian, but he sure knows something about broken bones.

“Uh hey Fredster, it’s me -“

“Uncle Mickey?!” Fred interrupts him with a hiccup, crying.

“Yeah, look you’re safe in the ambulance bud and I’m on my to the hospital now. Just…sit tight and listen to the grown ups ok? Hand the phone to your teacher, I need t’know what hospital you’re going to”

Getting to the car to drive to the emergency room, Mickey tried once again to call Ian. Maybe he just didn’t pick up because he didn’t recognise the teacher lady’s phone number. Ian doesn’t fucking pick up.

That means he’s doing this alone. Fuck.

Mickey considers calling Debbie, but he also knows she’s been busy lately with the Rich-And-Definitely-Closeted-Housewife wanting her bathroom tiles replaced, and if he calls to interrupt Debbie now she will skin him alive. She needs the money and he can respect that. Even if that means tackling a crying five year old on his own. Fuck.

Traffic is not bad today so he gets to the emergency room a few minutes after the ambulance. White overhead lights shine bright, the sterile chemical scent is overwhelming, and he walks past several bloody teens on his way to the receptionist, who smiles at him “Hi, how may I help you today?”

“Got a call about my nephew coming in with a broken arm. Fred Gallagher, five years old and uhh” Mickey stammers out, suddenly a little nervous. He fucking hates hospitals, and he especially hates talking to strangers.

“Uncle Mickey!!” A little voice shouts from across the room. Mickey looks up and to the left where he sees his nephew in a chair inside a cubicle looking room. A woman is sitting with him. Probably his teacher.

Without explaining to the (probably perfectly lovely) receptionist, Mickey walks away and hurries towards the crying boy. Freddie is getting out of the chair to meet him halfway, hot tears running down his red face, his arm is in a sling.

“Hey kiddo” He says as he picks him up. Suddenly he’s struck by how tiny he seems compared to his usual self- shit has Freddie always been this small? His legs wrap around Mickeys waist as he hides his face in his uncles chest. Gently rubbing his back like he’s seen Ian do so many times, Mickey tries to shush him.

“Thank you for coming so quickly.” The teacher is thankful, and looks to be calming down now that Mickey has arrived. She’s young, probably fresh outta teacher school or something, and it’s clearly her first broken bone incident. Mickey smiles at her “No worries, I had nothing better to do today”

A nurse enters their room as well as the receptionist. He didn’t fill out the visitors form, and since he’s here maybe he can help fill out the intake form for little Freddie too? The receptionist hold the papers as he fills out the information with one hand.

“Name, age, address yeah yeah, relationship to the patient - uncle”

“Favourite uncle” Freddie whispers.

Smirking, Mickey adds it to the form “relationship to the patient- favourite uncle”. The receptionist giggles.

Ok, so maybe this isn’t as bad as he feared. He can do this.

After the forms are all filled out he sits down on the bed, Freddie now in his lap. The child is still crying but quieter now. Tiny hands grip at his jacket. “He get any painkillers or something?” He asks the teacher, whose name he still didn’t know.

They gave him something in the ambulance she tells him, but the shock is still there so he’s not entirely calm yet. They will give him more meds now that a family member is there to approve it. “Hear that kid? You’re gonna get the good stuff” Mickey tries to joke with him. Freddie doesn’t get it but he seems to be calming down now that his uncle is here.

The same nurse comes back in telling him they need to take pictures of the arm to ascertain the break and how bad it is. Mickey carries him down the hallway to a new room further down the hallway. Freddie is no longer crying hysterically, but he’s clearly in pain and scared. Mickey keeps rubbing his back as it seems to help.

The arm is definitely broken. Apparently it’s a small break so it will be easier to heal. They’re taken into another room where Freddie will get his arm set in a cast. A second nurse comes and gives him more painkillers. He starts to smile now. He’s excited about getting a cast.

“And we can draw on it!” Freddie tells his uncle excitingly. The pain is long forgotten and he’s talking happily to everyone now. “Can you draw me a lion uncle Mickey?”

Mickey has never drawn a lion before but sure how fucking hard can it be. It’s just a big cat right? “Sure bud, but uh we should wait until the cast is dry before I can draw on it”

The nurse smiles as she continues to work on the little boys arm.

Mickey snaps a picture of Freddie, sitting pretty on the hospital bed with his arm on the table. The nurse working on his cast smiles for the picture too. He sends it to the family group chat- hopefully someone else can show up soon. “Kids first broken bone” he texts.

Liam sends a flurry of texts back asking if Freddie is okay. Carl responds with a thumbs up.

Finally, after almost an hour at the emergency room, Tami calls him. They have to turn their phones off at the therapist, something about being fully tuned in or whatever. She’s almost more hysterical than Freddie was an hour ago.

“Ey ey; listen Tams I got him ‘alright? He’s good, getting his cast done as we speak. He’s fucking smiling and all” Mickey tries to calm her down, but it’s not easy. Lip takes over the phone.

“We’re on our way now, Mick. Please let him know and uh, maybe send another picture of him, Tami is really freaked out”. Mickey can tell Lip is just as freaked out as his girlfriend but decided this is not the time to make fun of him.

Mickey turns to Freddie, camera ready. “Hey little man, smile for me. Your mom wants proof of life”. Freddie smiles brighter than the sun. He looks so much like Lip it’s uncanny. The same crooked nose, those damn cheekbones and dirty blond curls. If he hadn’t been so damn cute Mickey would’ve almost felt sorry for him.

“So your mom and dad will be here soon, kid”

As they wait for the kids parents to show up, Fred compiles a whole laundry list of things he wants his uncle to draw on his cast. A lion, a monster truck, a dinosaur, and his house. Mickey has no idea how to draw any of those things, but he’s sure as fuck gonna try. He nods and promises to do his best.

Mickey feels like he is fucking nailing this uncle thing. Who knew?

Liam arrives at the same time as Lip and Tami. He had hopped on the L once he heard of Freddie’s accident.

Tami runs in looking frantically around for her son, Lip right behind her. “Oh thank god!” She screams as she lays eyes on him, kissing every square inch of his face. Fred giggles and Lip lets out a heavy sigh. His son is fine.

“Hey, thanks Mick” Lip claps him on the shoulder in that brotherly way he’s come to expect from him.

“Course, no problem”

It’s not until an hour and a half later that Ian finally turns on his phone.

Asshole

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Wear The Shorts, Baby- Carl Gallagher x plus size!fem!reader

I'm not confident.

I can't just put whatever I want on and go through the day like I'm not overanalyzing every look that might come my way. I want to, I really do, but my insecurities just take over.

Like right now. It's summer and over a hundred outside and here I am in a pair of dark jeans so I won't have any attention on my huge thighs.

I gained a bit of a weight after high school. Living on my own meant that if I wanted take out for the fourth time in a week, I could do it. And of course, I realized after the fact that my stomach was a little pudgy and my shorts were tighter than they should've been.

Realizing that was like a light switch being flipped; I was suddenly uncomfortable wearing shorts in public or even in front of most people. I didn't even want to wear them at the Gallagher house. Sure, no one had said anything but what were they thinking? Tami and Debbie had such slim legs, they could wear anything they wanted.

My stomach was churning with nerves right now. Me and Carl are supposed to go over there tonight for dinner, and I really don't want to. It's not that I don't like them or anything because I do, it's just this self conscious issue that kept popping up. Every time I saw my reflection or sat down in a way that made my stomach feel huge.

I pulled my jeans up higher, hoping to hide how much my stomach was sticking out.

"Hey, Y/N," Carl's voice was getting louder, clearer as he came up the stairs in our place. I didn't want him to see me like this, to bring attention to it, so I folded my arms, standing in a way that was supposed to look casual. When he got there, he gave me a smile, my favorite smile that made my stomach flutter for different reasons. 'You ready, baby?"

"Uh, yeah," I tried to smile too. "Just let me get my bag."

His eyes flickered up and down my body, a crease forming in his forehead. "It's like a hundred out there," he said, "you sure you wanna go in jeans?"

Carl was blessed with a naturally slim body. He could wear a tank top and shorts without a second thought.

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

He still didn't seem convinced. "You really wanna walk out there like that?"

He wasn't trying to be mean. He was rightfully concerned. I'd put on darker colors because it was supposed to make me look slimmer. Probably not the best idea in this sweltering heat, though.

But for some reason, the question just got to me. My eyes watered a bit but I blinked to push them back. "Yeah," I said, my voice coming out strained. "It's fine."

Carl was instantly concerned. In any other circumstance, I would have appreciated it. But right now, it was the last thing I wanted to deal with. If only he could just go and wait for me downstairs to give me a second to collect myself.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I mustered up a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Just a little something in my throat. Can you get me some water?"

But he just brushed the request off, and took me into his arms. I pressed my face in his shoulder, closing my eyes and allowing myself a moment of comfort. I loved it when he held me like this.

One arm was around my waist, which I instinctively wanted to shove off as I cringed whenever his hands got near my stomach, and the other rubbing up and down my back. "I didn't mean to upset you, Baby," he whispered.

"No. It's-it's not you..."

"Then what?"

There was a lump in my throat. I swallowed against it, trying to keep my face neutral. Crying was the last thing I wanted to do right now, especially over something so stupid. "Nothing. Let's just go. I think Mickey said he and Ian are bringing pizza-"

Carl held me tighter. "Hey," he said softly, "come on. Talk to me."

"Dinner," I started and was swiftly cut off.

"Doesn't matter. If they wanna bitch about it, whatever," he shrugged. I sniffled, wiping at my eyes. He leaned his forehead against mine. "Tell me what's up."

"It's stupid."

"it's not stupid if it's making you upset."

I chewed on my lip, feeling unusually nervous. I didn't want to even say it. If I brought it up, what would Carl think now that it was out in the open? We'd never directly discussed it before, I would've died of shame if we did.

My mouth opened but I lost my bravery. It took me a moment until I could say something. "It's about my thighs..." My face was growing warmer, especially with how confused he looked all of a sudden.

"What?"

"They're huge," I whispered, shamefaced. "That's why I'm wearing jeans. I don't wanna wear any shorts."

Carl's face softened. "Baby..." He murmured, making me feel all warm inside. I loved that pet name. "You're fucking perfect."

"No-" My eyes were squeezed shut, my head shaking.

I didn't feel perfect. Not when I couldn't help but feel envious of other girls who looked the way I wish I did.

I gently pushed him away, unable to look him in the eyes. "Carl, please."

He said nothing, looking at me with an emotion to his eyes I'd never seen before.

"I'm gross," my voice dropped, so did my gaze. I thumped my thigh, sighing.

"No, you're not," Carl cupped my face, his thumbs caressing my cheeks. "You're fucking beautiful."

My instinct was deny it but I didn't have a chance. Carl kept going.

"Haven't I told you that since we met?"

He had. I didn't believe him at first, figuring he was just saying that to get in my pants. Even now, I tried to take his word for it and sometimes I could, but other times...it was just hard. Like I had this voice come into my head as soon as I might be feeling the slightest bit good about myself. That voice pointed out the but. Like sure, Carl complimented me on how I looked in my jeans but remember how I used to be skinner and looked way better in my other jeans?

"Yeah," I said softly.

I wanted to interject a but. I didn't. Just dropped my gaze again.

"There's nothing wrong with you," he said matter of factly.

I gave him a look. Yeah right.

"Come on, Carl," I rolled my eyes.

"What?" He said, confused.

"You don't wish I looked like...like Kelly?" I watched his face contort into an expression of bewilderment.

"Kelly? Why the fuck are you bringing her up?"

I wasn't proud of what I did. But I talked to Debbie and found her socials.

"I kinda...looked her up on instagram," I muttered.

"Why?"

Because I couldn't help but wonder how different we looked. Because I had to know how much of a downgrade I was. Because I can't help but compare myself.

"I....I don't know."

"Why would I want you to look like Kelly?" Carl remembered what I'd previously said and asked.

I shifted. "She's pretty."

"So are you."

"Not like her," I shook my head. "She's-"

I didn't want to say thin even though that's exactly what I meant.

So I had to force myself.

"She's thin, Carl," I eventually said, chewing on my lip. "And I'm not. I just-" I didn't usually get this personal, this deep but I was already so far gone so I might as well. "I wish I looked like that again."

Carl cupped half my face, kissing me softly. When we parted, he looked into my eyes and boy, did my stomach flutter like crazy. "Babe, you're beautiful. Every part of you is. This-" He laid a hand on my thigh, "doesn't take away from that."

My eyes were welling up. Gosh, I'm a mess.

"You mean that?"

"Of course I do," Carl said with a brilliant smile. "Would I lie to you?"

It didn't magically take away my insecurity. It'll probably come back again, but for right now, I felt a little bit better and very thankful for this sweet boy right here.

---

Hope you enjoyed this! I'm taking prompts for Carl too so if you have any just send me a message or an ask!

[soloroomies]

lifemate (Chapter 7/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: so what if you find your husband attractive as hell? word count. 2.6k cw. marriage pact au, mature content, mild smut (oral f! receiving) a/n. this chapter is just me thirsting over Sakusa Kiyoomi:)

Masterlist

After that night when he fell sick, you felt a noticeable shift in the dynamic between the two of you. You’ve always been friends since high school, but you realize that your usual monthly meetups didn’t do justice to how he used to be. When you’re both home, you don’t just pass each other or talk only when needed; you actually have a fun conversation. You exchange everyday life trivia, transforming the usual “hey” and “how was your day?” into meaningful conversations.

Instead of his typical “good” response, he now shares more about his day. “It was good. Bokuto was more behaved today,” he tells you. This prompts you to ask for details, and soon you’re immersed in the full story of his day. He’s also very curious about your corporate life and your friends at work. “What about you? Did the presentation go well?” he asks. “Did that shitty coworker try to steal your idea again? You should really teach her a lesson.”

Both of you inquire deeply about each other's answers, leading to conversations that last well into the evening. Whether you’re eating together at the kitchen table or sitting on the couch, you find yourselves engaged in discussions that bring you closer. 

Last week on Saturday night, you even had your first-ever movie night with him, watching "The Shawshank Redemption" for the first time. Yes, you both are latecomers to classic movies. By the end, you concluded it was fun and decided that horror movies would be next on your list.

You also rediscovered how observant Kiyoomi is. You hadn't noticed that he had been restocking your milk for making lattes. It struck you as odd that the single carton of milk you bought during grocery shopping always seemed to last the entire month. You finally realized what was happening when you caught Kiyoomi putting a new carton of milk in the fridge. “Do you always restock my milk?!” you asked, incredulous. He frowned and replied, “Um. Yeah? Is there a problem?” You wanted to scream at his nonchalance but ended up laughing, pinching his cheek, and thanking him instead.

Physical contact with Kiyoomi was something you hadn't given much thought to before, but if anything, the past week had shown that he was becoming more comfortable with you. During grocery shopping, you used to just walk side by side, but now you noticed he often put his arm around you or held your hand while you walked. Even in the apartment, he was more touchy. He would casually move you by your waist when he needed to get a spoon from the drawer, saying, “Wait a sec,” before placing you back where you were, leaving you flustered.

Komori also noticed the change, teasingly commenting on how well you were getting along with Kiyoomi in your monthly meetup. You didn’t know how to respond, just waving off the comments dismissively. 

It’s been two weeks since Kiyoomi started his training camp. He stays out of town from Monday and comes home on Friday evening. The V. League Division 1 match season starts next week, with matches held almost every weekend with a few breaks over the next seven months. With his absence, you can’t help but feel quite lonely, especially given the recent intensity between you two.

Now, you're on a call with Tami. She's been telling you how much she misses her husband, with her business trips over the last few months and now his busy schedule. You listen attentively, trying to offer support, “I see. Work timings might be challenging for both of you, but as long as there is persistent effort when there’s time, I guess it’s the quality of time you spend together that matters.”

“You’re right,” Tami agrees, her voice tinged with longing. “I’m thinking of going to the cinema weekly with him. Or maybe just movie nights at home? We’ve been super busy lately.”

“Yeah, movie nights are fun too! That’s what I’ve been doing with Omi—like in a friendly way, you know?” you respond.

“What? Friendly way?” Tami laughs loudly.

“Yeah, he’s my friend. So the context is a bit different from yours, but it’s still quality time, right?” you explain.

“He’s your husband, girl!” she keeps laughing.

“But, we’re not like that! I’ve told you,” you protest.

Tami's tone shifts to playful curiosity. “Hey! I just remembered. Have you worn my gift?”

“That lingerie?! God, no!” you exclaim.

“What?! So you never do anything with him?” Tami asks, incredulous.

“No. I’ve told you! We’re not like that. I can't even see him that way. He's my friend,” you insist.

Tami pauses before asking gently, “Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah,” you reply, though now with less certainty.

“Just be prepared in case… y’know what I mean,” Tami advises. You roll your eyes at her.

After your call with Tami, a few moments later, your apartment door opens. Kiyoomi walks in with his bags since it’s Friday. You can’t help but feel a surge of happiness seeing him. You’ve missed him. You rush to him, “Omi! You’re home! I’ve made dinner.” You cling to his arm.

He smiles and pats your head, “Thank you. I’ll have that after I put this in the washing machine.” He lifts his bags.

“Okay!” you reply happily.

You continue your conversation with him after he takes a shower, and you eat dinner together. Then, like last week, you have your movie night with him, but this time, you watch a horror movie. As you sit together on the couch, you realize how much his presence means to you. You’re just happy your friend is home. That’s all. 

Then, Saturday comes, the first day of the volleyball season. You and Kiyoomi start your morning early and head to the stadium where the match will be held. It hits you that it's been over a year since you last watched one of his matches, often because of clashes with your side jobs.

Although the match will start at 3:30 pm, there will be an opening ceremony beforehand. Athletes need to arrive early for warmups and preparation. So, here you are, arriving at 10 am with Kiyoomi. You walk with him to his locker room where he changes clothes, puts on his shoes, and dons his other volleyball gear.

In the locker room, you meet the other athletes from MSBY and their spouses. You also run into Miya Atsumu’s girlfriend, Aiko, whom you met at the New Year's party earlier in the year. After Kiyoomi heads off for his preparations, you sit on the bleachers with Aiko. She congratulates you on your marriage, expressing surprise, saying she didn't recall you mentioning you were Kiyoomi’s girlfriend. You explain that you kept your dating life secret and only announced it once you were married.

Suddenly, a woman approaches you both. “Hey!” she greets, and Aiko responds excitedly, indicating they know each other. The woman turns to you, “Are you Sakusa-san’s wife?” she asks with a warm smile. 

“Yes,” you reply.

“Sorry for the late introduction. I’m Fumi, MSBY’s assistant manager!” she says cheerily.

“Oh hey! Nice to meet you,” you respond.

“We finally met!” Fumi exclaims, taking a seat beside you. “I’ve met all of the MSBY spouses. I’m so glad to finally see you in person.” You chuckle at her enthusiasm. You then start chatting with her and Aiko. The conversation mostly them asking about how you and Kiyoomi met, both getting heart eyed at your story. Fumi comments that it’s hard to imagine Sakusa-san in a romantic relationship. You laugh at her statement.

The opening ceremony starts with the national anthem, followed by speeches from league officials and dignitaries. Each team is then introduced to the crowd, walking out in their uniforms to applause and cheers. You watch as Kiyoomi stands there, feeling a surge of pride. The ceremony continues with a performance by local artists and cheerleaders. The crowd's energy is infectious, making you even more excited about the upcoming match.

When the performance ends and the official opening declaration is about to start, Fumi invites you and Aiko to meet the athletes. “Hey, let’s wish them luck; the match is about to start!” Fumi suggests.

“Sure!” Aiko agrees enthusiastically.

“Are we allowed to meet them now?” you ask, a bit unsure.

“Of course!” Fumi assures you.

“Yeah, I always meet ‘Tsumu before his matches,” Aiko giggles. You nod and follow them.

Outside the locker room, you see the MSBY Black Jackals concluding their final discussion. Some athletes share moments with their families. Aiko runs enthusiastically to Atsumu, hugging and kissing him while wishing him luck. Feeling slightly awkward, you approach Kiyoomi, unsure of what to do. You’re his fucking wife, dammit!

“Hey,” you greet him, rubbing your hands together. He turns towards you, his eyes lighting up and melting your nerves away.

“Hey,” he replies.

You take both of his hands, really wanting to encourage him for the game. “Good luck with the match,” you say, looking up to see the warmth radiating from his eyes. Without thinking much, you bring his hands to your mouth and kiss them. He looks stunned for a second, then hugs you and kisses the top of your head.

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

He and his team then start to line up to head to the arena, as the match is about to start. You return to your seats with Fumi and Aiko, feeling a mix of excitement and pride for Kiyoomi and his team.

The match finally starts, and you find yourself immediately drawn to the court, your eyes instinctively following Kiyoomi. There's an electric energy in the air, the crowd's anticipation palpable. As the game begins, you can't help but focus on him, mesmerized by his every move.

Kiyoomi’s black wavy hair is slightly tousled, framing his face perfectly and adding to his striking appearance. Each step he takes exudes confidence and a hint of cockiness, a combination that’s both intimidating and captivating. Sweat glistens on his skin, making his muscles stand out even more under the bright gym lights, emphasizing his athletic physique. His focus is intense, his eyes never leaving the ball as he strategizes his next move.

There's something magnetic about his presence, an undeniable allure that draws your gaze and holds it there. Every spike is like a piece of art, a blend of power and finesse that’s unmatched. You watch as he leaps into the air, his body seeming to defy gravity, and then slams the ball over the net with such force that it sends a shiver down your spine. The precision and strength of his play are breathtaking, and it's clear why he's a standout player. Witnessing his performance is nothing short of exhilarating.

You’ve never felt this way about him before. Sure, you've always known he was attractive, but seeing him in his element, dominating the court, is an entirely different experience. He looks so damn good—too good. It makes you want to do something frisky with hi—Fuck. You should stop.

You start to grip your jeans, trying to steady yourself. Fumi notices this and laughs at you, waking you from your trance. You blink at her, slightly embarrassed. “Your husband is an amazing player. You should come often to his matches!” she exclaims. You short-circuit for a moment, the word “husband” ringing in your head. Then, you glance at the court again. That is your husband? Damn. Your reaction prompts Fumi to laugh even more.

Seeing his incredible play, he does look very intimidating, which is how most people perceive him. But you also find him endearing, remembering his everyday quirks at home—a privilege that you have. This realization makes your head spin. You really can’t go back to seeing him as just your roommate and keep denying his attractiveness. Fuck.

The match ends with Kiyoomi’s team winning, and you clap wholeheartedly for the game. You really should come more often. This was fun, and thrilling, and seeing him in his element has given you a newfound appreciation for just how incredible he is, both as a player and as a person.

On the way home, you congratulate Kiyoomi and compliment his amazing performance. He thanks you, glancing over with a small smile. “You should come more often,” he says, his voice warm and inviting. You agree enthusiastically, when suddenly you’re reminded of the revelation you had while watching his performance. You take a peek at him and feel your heart drop. His profile is illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips. He looks effortlessly attractive, focused on the road yet completely at ease. His hair is still a bit damp from the shower he just took. The subtle scent of his familiar cologne—something masculine with hints of woody and musky notes—fills the car, creating an intoxicating mix.

Maybe you shouldn’t have come to watch him?

Over the next few days, you try to act as normal as possible. You have conversations with him as naturally as you can, but you can’t help feeling distracted by his movements. Why does everything he does look so damn attractive? Like, who the hell drinks water like that? His usual friendly touches also get you very worked up, making you jumpy as hell. You hope he doesn’t notice this. God forbid he notices!

You just have to take care of yourself, right? Maybe that will reduce your tension when you’re with him. But you feel like the dirtiest and most perverted roommate ever if you get yourself off thinking about him when he literally sleeps in the next room. You're so frustrated with yourself.

This Thursday night is no exception. You’re washing the dishes when suddenly you feel a looming presence behind you. When he taps your shoulder, you almost knock him with the plate in your hand as you turn your head and see him standing there. You keep saying sorry, feeling embarrassed and flustered, while he only replies with a frown.

Trying to shake off the awkwardness, you settle on the couch in the living room with a novel. When you notice him sitting beside you, you take a peek and see he's engrossed in his phone. You try to focus on your novel, but his presence makes you nervous. You then stand up, ready to leave, when you suddenly hear him say, “Wait.” Fuck.

Your heart races as you turn your head to him and see him observing you intently. You try to avoid his gaze, but he reaches for your hand, prompting you to sit back down beside him. Your heart is pounding, and your face feels hot. 

“Is there something wrong?” he asks, his tone concerned.

“No,” you reply, looking down and biting your lip.

“Did I do something wrong?” he presses.

“No!” you finally look at him, seeing the concern etched on his face. “It’s just…” you trail off, looking down again.

After a beat of silence, he tilts your chin towards him. “Can I do something?” he asks softly, his gaze never leaving yours. Before you can answer, his lips are on yours, and you unconsciously sigh in relief as the tension melts away.

The simple kiss quickly deepens into a passionate makeout session. You grip his shirt while he cups your face, and then you feel his hand travel downward. “Can I?” he asks, his voice husky. You nod, not trusting your voice, and he slips his hand into your panties, rubbing you gently. You can't help but moan at his touch.

Then, he gets down on his knees in front of you, still kissing you. He pulls you to the edge of the couch, his eyes level with yours due to his height. He pauses, looking at you intensely. “Is this what I get if you come to my match?” he asks, making your eyes widen.

“I should’ve invited you a long time ago,” he murmurs. Before you respond to him, he starts kissing you again and pulling down your shorts and panties. Then, he kisses your thigh, whispering, “You’re so beautiful.” You bite your lip and moan as he starts to eat you out.

You're overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events, by how skillfully he uses his mouth, and by the sight of him kneeling before you, his broad shoulders adding to the intensity. As he adds his digits into you, you entangle your fingers in his hair, moaning, and you cum more intensely than ever before.

He kisses you again after you cum, but when you try to touch his pants, he stops you. “Not now,” he says, leaving you confused as he gets up and goes to his room.

The next morning, he acts as if nothing happened, as if he didn’t just eat you out on the couch last night. You’re left bewildered, wondering what the hell is going on?!

Taglist: @wolffmaiden @yunskook

[em-harlsnow]

the "hit my husband again i'll fucking kill you" and "mickey's family" scenes have me thinking that mickey and carl (or debbie) would prank ian with insulting mickey just to get his reaction

I'm back on these! I have dearly missed doing asks and TikTok trends.

Carl knows a few things about his brother and Mickey. The first is that Mickey's heavily protective over Ian. But the second is something that a lot of people overlook, and it's that Ian's the same way about Mickey. It's always been that way, ever since Carl can remember.

They'd all been fighting for days about what to do with the house, mainly Lip and Debbie, but clearly Mickey's gotten himself involved now. Carl didn't catch how the fight started, but he sees Mickey and Lip wrestling and then Ian rushing to separate them. Carl wished it would have lasted longer, because it's been a long time since he saw a proper scrappy fight. He misses the fight nights they used to do in summer.

He'd mostly been staying out of everyone's business to avoid getting stepped on. Debbie tried to get him involved, and he was lucky to sidestep it. Carl sneaks upstairs to see Mickey as annoyed with Ian as he is with Lip, which never happens. Mickey gets more annoyed with Lip than anyone else. He watches Mickey close their bedroom door in Ian's face and tell him to go fuck himself. He also hears Ian say 'come on, baby’ to the shut door, which is far too soft for Carl and he thinks he might throw up. Carl averts his eyes and slides into his own bedroom when Ian turns back around.

Ian goes outside after that, and like the nosy fucker he is, Carl listens to Lip and Ian's conversation at the window.

'Hit my husband again and I'll fucking kill you' he hears. It seemed like a shock to Lip, for Ian to be defending Mickey, on his side, but it isn't to Carl. It's always been like that, they're just more honest about it now.

Once the house problems have settled, and Carl has a place of his own, there are fewer arguments. Ian and Mickey seem to be in a much happier place than they were the night Ian said that to Lip. They're doing better than Lip and Tami, but then again, they don't deal with a screaming infant.

And it’s not like they don’t see each other. They all see each other all the time. Everyone has a key to Ian and Mickey’s place, much to Mickey’s chagrin. It was just in case. Just in case and only for emergencies.

Carl’s abusing that ‘just in case and only for emergencies’ rule right now, as he sits on their couch and steals their crisps. He was bored, and watching ian and mickey is like his own private personal comedy special. Until they start to get all soft and touchy and giving each other looks like they’d be totally fine with fucking in front of him if he doesn’t get the fuck out.

But it’s good to spend time with Ian, just them, when Mickey goes out to pick up some tacos from a place a few blocks down. It’s calm, sitting on their sofa and talking like they did when they were kids. Well, when Carl was a kid and Ian was a teenager. He missed his older brother.

What he missed even more than that, though, was pissing him off. Ian’s a stubborn fucker and he’s undeniably funny when he’s wound up. He sticks his chin out and gets extremely exasperated very quickly. Incredibly funny.

So when Carl’s pulled back to that night when Ian said he’d kill Lip if he hit Mickey again, he wonders if Ian would have the same reaction if it were him. Carl’s younger than Lip, has always been able to get away with more.

It seems only logical to try it out.

“Mickey’s always been kind of annoying, huh?” Carl drops in when their conversation dies down. He doesn’t agree the statement at all - he thinks Mickey’s pretty cool, actually. He did find their loud sex annoying, endlessly so, but he doesn’t deal with that anymore since he got his own place.

Ian looks confused, wrinkles forming in his forehead. “What? Why d’you say that?”

Carl shrugs, sort of lost for reason. “I dunno. He’s just an asshole, right?”

Ian narrows his eyes suddenly, and it’s startling to see the switch up happen so fast. “No. Don’t talk about him like that.”

“You call him an asshole all the time, Ian.” Carl points out, which is true but it’s not usually said with venom. Sure, when they’re arguing, but there are much worse things to call someone.

“Not the same thing. By any fucking means.” Ian mumbles, but he doesn’t seem too concerned with Carl’s opinion. He started off light, so fine, he can understand why Ian’s not flying off the handle. “Is this because he beat you at Mario Kart last week?”

Carl rolls his eyes. “No. I just think, y’know.” What does he think? He doesn’t know what he thinks. Definitely something. “You never thought you deserved better?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Ian’s snapping back.

“Because- I don’t know.” He doesn’t know, shit. Carl’s poor planning skills are really showing. “I was just curious.”

“You got girl trouble or something?” Ian checks, clearly more confused than annoyed.

“Nah. It must be hard to live with someone who flies off the handle all the time, is all I was saying.” Carl thinks it’s funny when mickey gets in a strop about something, but he also really wants to test how annoyed Ian can get. “And all the shit-talking. I mean, that’s all he does, right?”

Ian scowls. "No. He talks about plenty of shit. Right now I wish he talked more shit about you instead of Lip."

Carl's trying not to cross the line between a genuinely hurtful thing to say but something that will get Ian pissed. It comes to him like a message from the heavens.

So Carl shrugs, casually adding, "I dunno, man. I just think that if I were gay, I'd probably go for someone more attractive."

Carl is endlessly pleased by the reaction from Ian.

First, Ian's eyebrows raise in a move that is comically similar to how Mickey moves his eyebrows. Then, his face sort of crumples into a clash between disgust and horror. His mouth gapes for a few seconds, as if he really can't fathom how someone would think such a thing about Mickey. His chin starts to jut out.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Ian mutters, glaring and lowering his voice a few octaves. "Mickey's attractive, and if you had more than one fucking brain cell, you would know that."

Carl grins at him. "You're such a fucking sap, Ian."

Ian furrows his brows again, lost for words.

"I was only kidding. You get so mad when anyone says anything about Mick. S'funny."

Ian half-pushes and half-smacks the back of Carl's head in the way only a big brother can, in a way that's reminiscent of his childhood.

"You're an idiot."

--> I hope this was okay, im sorry it took me so long to get to it

-> also sorry if they're out of character, I was struggling not to make Carl be too harsh lol

-> send me asks for TikTok trends that they could do!

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Must-Watch TED Talks On Female Sexuality

"Confidence and joy are the keys to a great sex life" by Emily Nagoski (required watch for everyone, especially women/AFAB)

"Reclaiming Female Sexual Desire" by Pamela Joy

"Good Sex Isn't About Knowing What You're Doing" by Sarah Byrden

"Cliteracy" by Sophia Wallace

"Joy of masturbation" by Julie Gaia Poupětová 

"Shame, sex, and silence" by Dr. Faith Harper

"The Vagina Whisperer" by Tami Lynn Kent 

"Women's Sexuality Isn't 'Complicated'" by Sarah Barmak 

"The virginity fraud" by Nina Dølvik Brochmann & Ellen Støkken Dahl

"Why We All Lose When We Talk About Virginity" by Shelby Hadden

"Making sex normal" by Debby Herbenick 

"Let's Talk About Sex: The Reality of the Sexual Pleasure Disparity" by Grace Wetzel