#what do you mean that moment didn't mean much to you?

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Norris Girls

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: none

If Lando were to ask, in his perfect world, his girls wouldn't go to kindergarten, and they'd be homeschooled later on. If he were to ask, you wouldn't be working either. Your main and only job would be to pack up the girls and follow him around the world so he could have you around non-stop. But unfortunately for Lando, that's not the case.

After you had Izzy, you couldn't wait to get back to work and get away from home. You loved being a mom to your girls, but considering that you were mostly alone with the two of them, it eventually became too much.

Besides, you wanted to give them as normal a childhood as possible. Although there was no need for the two of them to go to any kind of kindergarten, you decided that you wanted them both to go so that they could socialize and adjust to school more easily later.

Adjusting to kindergarten was quite easy for Isla and didn't take long, considering that Isla is four years old and very outgoing and sociable, while Izzy, who is only two years old and is the complete opposite of Isla, had a bit more difficulty adjusting.

One of the problems was that they were not in the same kindergarten group, given that they were of different ages. While Isla enjoyed spending time with her peers, Izzy would cry every day when she arrived at the daycare, and when you would come to pick her up, her eyes would sparkle with happiness.

Pre-season preparations were already in full swing and Lando already had his hands full. For him, vacation was long over and every day he was more and more prevented from spending as much time as he wanted with you at home.

Today, Lando was returning from a business trip and went straight to the daycare to pick up Izzy and then Isla. He was in a hurry to get there on time, but due to the traffic jam he was a little late, so every kid left earlier than Izzy.

When Lando entered the room, Izzy didn't immediately notice him because her back was turned to him. His heart broke when he saw her sitting on a small chair at a small table playing with some blocks, patiently waiting for someone to come pick her up and go home. He stopped for a moment and silently observed her.

"Izzy? Look who is here." The young teacher said making Izzy quickly turn to look behind her.

The moment her eyes met Lando's, Izzy burst into tears.

"Daddy.." Overwhelmed with emotion, she rushed from her chair toward him. At the same time, she was crying because she hadn't seen him in a few days and because, of course, she wanted to go home as soon as possible.

"Hey, baby" He knelt as she ran into his arms.

"Daddy" She kept saying crying into his neck.

"Is my little girl ready to go home?" He asked rubbing her back and kissing the side of her head.

"Yeah" She sobbed.

"It's okay, it's okay" He comforted her. "Why are you crying?" He asked putting her cheeks between his hands.

"I-I missed you, da-daddy" She said looking up at him with her big teary eyes.

"I missed you too, munchkin" He said picking her up in his arms.

"Daddy's girl, isn't she?" The teacher commented.

"All mine" He smiled proudly kissing her cheek before saying goodbye to the teacher and heading toward the car.

"Did you play with other kids today, baby?" He asked while putting her in the car seat.

"A yitto"

"A little?" Lando chuckled. "Did you have fun?"

"No"

"Why not?" He asked as he buckled her seat.

""I yike bein' wif you mowe."

Lando's eyes almost filled with tears at Izzy's words. He bent his head toward her and showered her face with soft kisses. "I like being with you too, baby. We have a whole week together in front of us, I promise"

"Otay"

When Lando and Izzy came to Isla's kindergarten to pick her up, Lando almost fainted when he heard that she wasn't there, knowing she should be.

"What do you mean she left?" Lando scoffed. "Did my wife pick her up?"

"No, it wasn't mrs Norris, it was a man that was already-"

"A what?!" Lando's eyes widened in disbelief. He didn't even let the woman finish her sentence, and the worst-case scenarios were already running through his head.

"Oh, no, no-" The poor woman was so confused when she realized what it sounded like.

"Who came to pick up my daughter?! How could you possibly let anyone but me or my wife come to pick up our daughter?!" Lando wouldn't let her get the word out.

"Mr. Norris, please calm down." The woman said a bit frightened. "Last week Mrs. Norris came with a man named Max to pick up your daughter and the gentleman left his personal information. Your wife said that in case she or you were ever unable to come, Mr. Max would come. I forgot his last name, but he showed me his ID and I remembered his face. I swear I would never put any child in danger and give it to a stranger, including your daughter."

As soon as Lando heard the name Max, a stone fell from his heart, but at the same time he turned red with shame and he immediately started apologizing to the poor woman.

"I am.." Lando sighed running his hands through his hair. "I'm so sorry. My wife didn't inform me about it and I reacted in the moment.."

As he drove, Lando couldn't stop thinking about how he had snapped at that woman. His thoughts also wandered to dark places like what if some stranger had really come for your daughter and taken her to who knows where. It was one of Lando's biggest fears that he couldn't shake from his mind all the way home.

"Daddy!!" Isla squealed with delight when Izzy and Lando entered the house.

He put Izzy down and grabbed Isla lifting her up as she ran into his arms. "Hey, pumpkin" He hugged her tighter to calm his thoughts from earlier. "I missed you" He said nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

"Look what I got" She said, showing him a new toy he hadn't seen before.

"Wow, who got you that?"

"Mom bought it for me"

"It's awesome, baby. Where is mom anyway?"

"Mom's here" You said as you appeared in the hallway. "She is waiting for her husband, whom she loves so much that she even made him his favorite lunch, which is already waiting for him on the table."

"Oh, yeah? If she loved her husband as much as she says she would have informed me that Max had permission to pick up our daughter from daycare." Lando smirked as he pulled you towards him into a hug and pressed his lips against yours.

"I didn't tell you that?"

"No, you didn't tell me that, so I attacked the teacher in the most wonderful way there is."

"Lan..you didn't.."

"Yup, I did. I insulted her before I even let her finish her sentence.." Lando said embarrassed, hiding his head in your neck. "You know that's your fault, right?"

"I know and I can't wait to face miss Jones on Monday" You said rolling your eyes and wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'll put her apology gift on your card just so you know."

"Make it generous, I'll survive"

When you were all ready to sit down at the table to have lunch, Lando wanted to check with his older daughter her knowledge about stranger danger so he decided to ask her some questions.

"If a stranger says, hey little girl you wanna come see the puppies in my car?, what do you say?" Lando asked Isla who was sitting across from him and peacfully enjoying her spaghetti.

"Um, yeah" She nonchalantly replied to which Lando lost his appetite.

"No.."

"Or yes..?" She asked raising her eyebrow.

"No, baby, no!" Lando started sweating. You watched them from the side trying not to laugh even though it really wasn't funny, but Isla's confusion was kind of funny.

"..si?" Isla tried in spanish and that's when you lost it.

"No, we don't switch the languages!" Lando said before turning to you to scold you for laughing. "Y/n, that's not funny?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's not. It's just that I think our daughter is a smart little girl and I trust her. She just got confused a little"

"Well, that's what I thought too, until now at least." Lando quickly switched to full protective parental mode. "Isla, baby, we never, ever, ever talk to strangers and we don't follow anyone we don't know, okay? That is not safe!"

"But what about the puppies? I love puppies, daddy" She said innocently, slurping a piece of spaghetti into her mouth.

"Oh this is going to be such a long day.." Lando sighed wiping away the beads of sweat that had already formed on his forehead.

"Lan, it's alright, calm down. We'll deal with it."

"What if my boyfriend is asking that? Can I go with him?" Isla asked sending Lando into an additional unexpected shock.

"Oh my God.." He whimpered looking at you.

"Yuck!" Suddenly Izzy spoke up after hearing the word boyfriend. Lando worked hard to teach both Izzy and Isla that boyfriend means yuck, but it seems that only one of his daughters remembered it.

"See? Someone is actually listening to me. That's how we do it! Good job, baby" Lando said giving Izzy a kiss on the cheek. "And you missy, you better eat that spaghetti quickly because you're about to have a whole lecture about people we don't know. Don't even get me started about boyfriends!"

And you knew it would be just like Lando said, one very very long day ahead of you.

[yois2aki]

you watched from across the room as caleb laughed, CALEB's eyes sparkling with amusement as he spoke to a girl from his class. her voice was high-pitched and bubbly, and she was leaning in just a little too close, making you feel an odd tightness in your chest. you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard to ignore the way they interacted—so carefree, so… effortless.

you found yourself shrinking back, feeling small and uncertain in the corner of the room. you had always known caleb was popular, had always been the center of attention wherever he went, but something about the way he was so engaged with her made you feel… invisible.

maybe it was the way she touched his arm when she laughed or the way she smiled at him, a look that made your heart twist. you’d never seen that expression directed at you, not in that way. you couldn’t help but wonder if it was something that would eventually lead to more.

“maybe i’m just overthinking it,” you whispered to yourself, but the thoughts kept creeping back in. what if he liked her? what if he was just being nice to you because he felt obligated? your insecurities bubbled to the surface, a wave of doubt flooding your mind.

you tried to distract yourself, but your gaze kept flicking back to them. caleb was laughing again—genuinely, without a care in the world—and your heart sank lower.

you hadn’t noticed how much time had passed until you heard the door to the classroom swing open. caleb appeared at the threshold, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. he spotted you almost immediately, his purple eyes narrowing in amusement as he strolled over to your desk.

“what's up?” he asked, leaning down to rest his elbows on your desk. “you’re lookin' a little… off today. somethin' on your mind?” his voice was light, teasing, as if he could read your thoughts.

you avoided his gaze, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of your notebook. “no, i’m fine.”

“really?” he leaned closer, and you could feel the heat of his presence as he playfully poked at your arm. “because you’ve been starin' at me all class like i’m about to jump off a cliff or something.”

your face flushed, but you didn’t say anything. should you tell him? you weren’t sure how to put your feelings into words, especially when the doubts swirling in your mind felt so silly.

caleb raised an eyebrow, sensing your hesitation. “you know, i’m pretty good at readin' people. and you,” he grinned mischievously, “you’ve got a whole storm brewing in that head of yours.”

you tried to force a smile, but it came out shaky. “it’s nothing.”

caleb straightened up, studying you with that intense look he always had when he was being serious. “come on, don’t do this to me. talk to me.” he was so persistent, but there was an edge to his voice, one that made your heart beat faster.

“it’s just…” you hesitated, unsure of how to phrase it. “i saw you with her, that new blonde girl from whatever class. and, i don’t know, i just… got a little worried.”

his brows furrowed, he paused for a moment only to let out a loud chuckle right after. “worried about what?”

“i don’t know, maybe that… you just looked so… comfortable with her.” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

a moment of silence made its way between you two, and when you looked up at his eyes, he had the boyish grin plastered on his face. “why are you looking at me like— you did that on purpose, didn't you?!”

you looked at him with a frustrated expression, like you had his scheme all figured out.

caleb blinked, stunned for a second, before his expression softened, and he spoke up with the most annoying voice he could. “what, are you… jealous?”

you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “no.” you mumbled, back to avoiding his gaze. embarrassment filled your being due to falling for such an obvious plan.

you knew, deep down, that he would never willingly flirt with another girl. it wasn't his nature. yet, it felt as though he had purposely noticed your gaze lingering on him, and in that moment, allowed the attention of a girl with clear intentions draw near.

the realization settled in your chest like a weight, and you wished, with all your heart, that you could just disappear into the ground and hide the embarrassing turmoil churning inside.

caleb let out another soft laugh, but it wasn’t mocking this time around. it was warm, affectionate, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “jealous? of her?” he asked, leaning down to look you in the eyes. “i was initially just messing with you, but you really think i’d choose someone else over my pipsqueak?”

you shrugged weakly, too afraid to look up at him.

“are you out of your mind?” he teased, shaking his head with a playful smirk. “do you really think i’m that dumb? you’re the one who has my attention, you know that, right?”

you finally dared to look up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. he paused for a moment before adding, “i get that you’re insecure sometimes, but you have to know that no one can make me feel the way you do. i don’t even like her like that. she’s just a classmate. and if i’m being honest, i didn’t even realize i was making you feel like this.”

you felt your heart skip a beat at his words, his voice lowering into something much softer. “i told you i'm not getting a girlfriend anytime soon. and i keep my promises. always.”

the weight on your chest began to lift, your heartbeat slowing as you let out a shaky laugh. “you’re sure?”

caleb grinned, his usual confidence radiating in his posture as he stood up straight, running a hand through his hair. “pipsqueak, if you can’t tell by now, then i don’t know what to tell you.”

he chuckled and winked, his tone full of playful teasing. “now stop worrying about some random girl. you’re the only one i want. always have been. always will be.”

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling a rush of warmth fill your chest as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “there’s no need to compete with anyone. it’s always been you.”

“i guess i needed to hear that,” you admitted, letting out a sigh of relief. “thanks, caleb.”

“anytime,” he said, his smile softening. “now, how about we get out of here and grab some food? i think you owe me for doubtin' me.”

[the-celestial-doll]

Some know the experiance of finding people at just the right time & knowing them brings so much joy and fulfillment. & sometimes those bonds break / & you have nothing to do with the breaking..

You are both alone with memories that used to mean the world -you showcased them proudly too, the world saw, even in the moment we always felt like our lives intertwining constantly felt like a tv show. Our own modern version of our favorite sitcoms bundled together but actually truly real. Happening live before our very eyes ✨-

I think that’s why my brain still thinks of you as an ally.. I never even got to say goodbye before I knew we were already strangers.

It’s in the eyes, stance, posture, your aura even.. like who I knew completely vanished. A facade! ha!

- but the pictures, videos, memories of the three of us, our vows together as a found family.. I felt selfish for taking time away, but it wasn’t very long & because of that I’ll blame myself forever! For where our lives could have been! If only my life didn’t have so much torment at home.. and to top it off I lost it all.

Not only did you dissappear but you two divided because I couldn’t mediate.. you broke off your friendship with him bc he was toxic to you.. you said you’d stay my friend and you loved me like your sister & confidant - then.. i was a ghost. It was like the current pulled me under, & when I came up for air -you were gone.

You & him talk now. It's odd how things happen, you even attended his wedding.. & i was a bridesmaid. We shared an elevator ride and i was so nervous- you didn't even acknowledge i existed.. then when brought to your attention later you looked heartbroken & like you wanted to talk to me? It's so odd when you try to hold a conversation as if nothing has happened.. but they don't say anything to you about what they did to you..

I even tried. Met you for coffee when you asked.. it was a mirror image of last time i saw you.. words of wanting to be around and catch up and know me again..

I had a feeling you needed me then. I missed being useful to you..but you just missed being able to use me as your therapist.

I know. it's hard to open up, & some connections you can feel in your soul.. I already knew his depths, fought his demons & cleansed his ghosts.. I could read his tells- I knew I was being used- I know you knew, I'd never hurt you. Even if I wanted to.

I just wanted to see my old friend again.. even if I knew it was all a lie.

sometimes i hate knowing all the looks in your eyes

— Trista Mateer, from “i still forget we’re not even friends”

[canine-witch]

What Do People Desire From You ~ Pick A Pile

I channeled a question today through a song. The song is in French, but the album art was a young lady looking behind her, her back facing the audience. The question "what do people desire from you" popped into my head, and I decided to make this reading to bring clarity.

Drink some water, pick a pile, and feel free to reject what does not resonate. Check at the bottom of the reading for channeled songs.

☁️ kofi - pac masterlist ☁️

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile One: The Carousel

People desire your destiny. You are beginning something new. Maybe a new job, a new hobby, or moving out of your current home. People around you can sense that you're going through a transition for the better, and want what you have.

You may not see yourself the way that others do. You may feel like you are running in circles, trying to catch up to everyone else. A force pushed the oracle card indicating this, trying to hide it from view. People do not want you to know that this period of questioning who you are and why you're doing any of this, will lead to a better life. They are scared of you leveling up, and leaving them behind.

Your best option at this moment is to lay low. Take time for yourself, find direction in your life. Know that you have enough time to do all you need and then some. It may not feel like you are moving forward, but all that you are accomplishing is not in vain. Don't let them cover your star, move in silence and grace, and learn all you can.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile Two: The Fountain Stairs

People desire your spirit. You may be a reader yourself, or some kind of energy worker or psychic. You have won multiple conflicts in your life, coming out on top and letting your light shine. You may be shy and wary, but this is because you have overcame much alone, and you aren't willing to get into more fights. People see this, but they are still fighting their own battles, and want you at their side.

There is something about you they cannot have. You have a heavy energy of creation and manifestation, able to make what you desire become reality. Others don't understand that the reason you are able to do this is through hard work, work they can do themselves. This is not a talent, this is a skill you have developed. They want you to fight their demons or others with them.

You need to look in yourself and ask if you truly want to fight with these people, or for them. You are weary from life, even if you are a young person, and you are not willing to break your personal peace at this point. But, these people could mean something to you, or be able to stand on their own eventually. Listen to your heart, draw cards for yourself, or have a reading done with the question, "Should I fight for them?". Your answer can only come through your spirit.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile Three: The Aviary

They desire your mind. You are highly gifted, highly attuned, and highly intelligent. You may feel trapped in your own mind, unable to escape your own intellect. You may be able to recognize patterns before other people. You have avoided much disaster and conflict through your intelligence, some battles you didn't even know you avoided. You are highly attuned to justice, blind to your emotions and relying on logic, even while perhaps being a spiritual person. This aspect of swords with you has caused conflict, many have said that you don't feel enough emotion. But, they secretly admire you and desire your intelligence.

They are envious of your intelligence. Often in our world, people place intelligence on such a high pedestal, and think that your life automatically becomes easier when you are as smart as you are. You have left many places with people like these, jealous people who always tried to one up you and halt your progress, without looking inwards to their own strengths.

You need to just be yourself. Don't worry right now about expressing yourself emotionally. You need to accept your logical side before you even think to begin working on emotions. People who wish you the worst are oftentimes the one begging you to respond in anger or sadness, when that isn't you, no matter how "healthy" it may be. This does not align with your personality. Use your head, learn all you can, and accept you are not a person who's first idea is to work off emotions.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile Four: The Garden Windows

They desire your ability to detach. You may have been told before that you are quick to anger and overly aggressive. That you must be gentler and give people second chances. You know that your strength keeps you safe and keeps people out of your life, and you are angered by people's insistence to coddle them. I am seeing a strong force with you, one that is highly intuitive and spiritual. You know yourself, and you know what is good for you. You are able to easily leave situations which are not in alignment with your higher self nor what you need at this time. People envy this ability to detach and want better for yourself.

They want your fire to be settled, like a campfire. They want to warm themselves and their egos with your praise and attention, but they have not earned it. I am feeling a heavy sigh or speaking from anger with your energy right now. But, your confidence in yourself is faltering, as it seems nowhere is the right place, and nobody is the right person. Do not stray off your path. Those who leave and fall away, do so because they cannot walk this path with you. You are facing the darkest parts of yourself and improving your mind and soul every day.

You expect greatness of yourself, and those around you. This makes you a true friend. Be patient, be still, ask questions, and live with your lonliness, even learn to cherish it. You are your own best friend, and you can never leave yourself. Learn to take the best only, even if it hurts sometimes.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Channeled Songs:

Pile One: did i tell you that i miss you by adore

Pile Two: Hate by ThxSoMch

Pile Three: Teen Idle by Marina (and the Diamonds)

Pile Four: YKWIM? By Yot Club

pac requests open! Thank you so much for your time and energy, have a wonderful day!

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

[huginsmemory]

Really can't get over the CAN WE TALK? stickynotes. And I mean I think part of it really kinda clicked when I've seen some fanart about it. We really see in TBOB that Ford after beginning to hear voices slipping through the cracks and questions Bill, to learn what Bill really intended, ENTIRELY shuts down his communication with Bill. And you see Bill when he gets questioned in that moment responds with a heavily implied dialogue along the lines of "haha, yeah I tricked you, I'm here to overtake your dimension". But Bill still expects Ford to respond to him in some way, and it's very clear that Bill is shocked when Ford REFUSES to talk to him. And what's interesting is Bill doesn't just IMMEDIATELY begin with threats; he actually leaves stickynotes first, before Bill realizes he's FUCKED UP big time and gets really nasty. There's something pleading with the CAN WE TALK? sticky note. There's a point where Bill does realize he's not getting what he expected, that he's missing Ford, and that he's willing to possibly even smooth some things over, explain things better (maybe even the part that the nightmare dimension is unraveling perhaps) or persuade Ford into Bill's plans. But Ford refuses, and it's already too late for Bill because just like with Stan, Ford feels betrayed and when Ford feels betrayed he'll mercilessly cut the person out of his life. Ford deeply, deeply holds hurt and betrayal and as a result he has zero desire to speak with Bill again (and also uhhh big red flag to take over the world, so also. Yeah).

And it's interesting because it's a slower ramp up until Bill is desperate and threatens, uses violence, because that's what he's always used when it comes down to it, and an ultimatum is given. It wasn't just threats out of the gate; Bill DID try to speak to Ford (btw this is not me being like Ford should have spoken to Bill and it would be magically healthy, cause no matter how you slice it it's just a toxic mess tbh). Threats out of the gate would have been faster; there's over three weeks in the timeline, before Ford goes through the portal (althought we don't get too much context around exactly when everything occurs). That's a lot of time! But Bill didn't threaten Ford immediately. And I think part of that reason is because Bill expected Ford to speak to him, expected their relationship or at least their project to mean enough to Ford that Ford would speak to him and then continue their work, once his anger cooled off. And I think also part of it is because Bill cared about Ford, not that he'd admit it in the moment; but he'd rather Ford willingly be alongside him, then have to force him through threats to do the work on the portal. You see that, even after Ford spends 30 years trying to kill him and nearly even does, when he offers him during wierdmageddon to be a henchmaniac. Bill cares about Ford, wants Ford beside him. But then Ford continues to refuse to engage with him at all, and Bill realizes he's lost Ford, and progressively gets more desperate and angrier as he's still refused, and falls into the violence he usually uses, to get Ford to cooperate.

Anyhow it's one of those things that you wonder what would've happened if they DID speak, but that would ultimately be defying a big part of who Ford is... So in a way it's a juicy juicy tidbit to chew on, the implications beyond the writing on the sticky note.

[cannibal-walleye]

First Meeting

"You guys shoulda seen it!" Impulse proclaimed loudly, tail swinging wildly with excitement. "I mean, Tango was great, but the lead singer—" The demon whistled.

"That good, huh?" Gem asked with a look that promised teasing should Impulse say much more.

He didn't heed the warning. "Yes, that good! I wish you guys had come; it actually blew me away. Like, the drums and piano blended perfectly, and so many of the songs made me want to start dancing right then and there," he gushed, pausing only for a moment to take a sip from his water bottle.

Scott, meanwhile, waved his phone at him, the screen displaying a pink heart that was on fire. "This is the same Heart Foundation you saw, right?"

"You found their insta already!" the demon beamed, reaching to grab it before the blizz snatched the phone away, blizz rods whirling happily.

"A'course I did, I am a professional. We need to do as much research as we can on your new crush before he can have our approval," Scott teased, scrolling through photos and posts.

"It's not a crush," he pouted, though he didn't bother with defending the claim against Gem's snort.

The warden peeked over Scott's shoulder, watching the photos fly past. "You said he's an angel, right?" she asked, glancing back at Impulse. She picked up her cocktail, taking a sip while the demon replied.

"Yeah, an angel. He's got these massive white wings, plus little pink ones on the sides of his head—though, I don't know if that was the lighting or dye or natural. Either way, they matched his suit perfectly, I didn't know it was possible for someone to look so good in hot pink! And- and! He's absolutely jacked, his arms were like the barrel of a cannon—and his hair also had hot pink streaks in it, and-"

"Like this?" Scott cut him off before he could ramble more, showing a photo of the angel, his arm slung around Tango as both of them laughed at the camera. He wasn't wearing the pink suit, just a tank top and sweats, but damn, if he didn't look just as hot, scars and muscles on full display.

Impulse's tail curled happily, a purr rumbling in his chest. "Yes, that's him! What does it say? Is his name on there, any other info about their next performance—though, I could just ask Tango when I see him-"

"You don't even know his name?" Gem interrupted, incredulous.

"I was distracted, okay?" he tried to defend, feeling a blush creeping up his cheeks. "I was taking a video for Tango while he was introducing everyone, and his voice was just so smooth, I couldn't really focus on the actual words. It's not my fault!"

They just giggled at him, Gem's elbow coming up to prod Scott, who looked up from the phone. Surprise flashed across his face, but it quickly turned to a teasing grin to match Gem's.

"You were distracted, hmm? Too busy eyeing up the hot angel to pay any attention?" the blizz asked, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

"I think so," the warden agreed before Impulse could defend himself. "Enamored with a complete stranger, our little Impy's all grown up~" she teased, eyes narrowing as though daring him to disagree.

He rolled his eyes, taking another long drink from his water; playing earlier had really left him drained, but not quite drained enough to sit out Tango's performance, despite Gem and Scott abandoning him to go get drinks. Impulse sighed happily, the image of the angel silhouetted by the backlighting still fresh in his mind, not to mention the memory of his voice. He'd need to ask the blaze hybrid later how they had met.

"So what if I am?" he argued, hands coming up to rub away the growing flush on his face. "I mean, he's friends with Tango, so he's gotta at least be a chill dude, plus he was so funny during the show, he interacted with the audience perfectly—honestly, Gem, you should be taking notes."

Her mouth fell open in amused shock, while Scott's smirk only deepened. They shared a glance, one that Impulse recognized well enough by now to know that they were categorically not going to drop this any time soon. Not that he cared; he was happy to keep rambling about what an amazing performance the niche band had put on; Impulse could recognize good music when he heard it.

"I don't know, I think you might be a tad biased," the blizz said, the frosty sparkle in his eyes refusing to disappear given Impulse's enthusiasm.

Gem nodded. "Definitely. You just think he's hot, you want to find a quiet spot where you two can kiss and-"

"Gem!" Impulse interrupted, flush deepening at the implications. "I don't even know if he likes guys," he retorted, wilting a little at the thought. Not that it mattered; he didn't know the guy, it's not like he'd somehow end up in a situation where hooking up was even possible.

"I dunno..." Scott drawled, eyes shifting to glance over the demon's shoulder. He grinned again at Impulse's embarrassment. "I feel like he'd be open to that sort of thing."

"And how would you know?" he snapped back, suddenly very self-conscious, as though the two of them were in on a joke that he didn't get. They did love to tease him, and it wasn't often that Impulse got a crush—not that this was a crush!

Gem just snorted while Scott waved the phone. "Instagram," he answered shortly, still smirking.

"But you didn't even answer the question!" the warden accused, taking another drink.

"What question?"

"Would you kiss him if you could?"

"Gem-" he tried to argue, hiding his blush with a hand again.

"Just answer! You never tell us about your love life, it's only fair," she insisted, giving him an intense and expecting look, one that warned against any arguing.

"I don't know him," the demon sputtered. "I guess I would, but I'd want to get to know him first, maybe take him out to dinner..." he trailed off, eyebrows furrowed at the thought. It really wasn't all that unrealistic that Impulse could meet the angel, since Tango could introduce them. But the odds of the guy actually being interested in anything?

"I was going to offer to buy you a drink, but I think it might have to be the other way around," came a deep voice from behind him.

The demon nearly jumped out of his skin.

Right in front of him was the angel, in the flesh, very close up and personal and—fuck, he was even hotter in person, suit torn at the sleeves and unbuttoned at the top, showing off his arms and chest. He was leaning against the bar, a stereotypical smolder painting his features, blue eyes dark as they looked the demon up and down.

Impulse short circuited.

He was stammering something, but he wasn't sure what—a greeting? An apology? How much had the angel heard, did he think Impulse was weird, did he-

"I'm asking if I can buy you a drink," the angel clarified, smirk fading into a more serious expression as he repeated the offer.

"I, uh-" The demon's mouth went dry. "I can't, I have to drive later," he answered weakly, brain still not catching up to the fact that the guy was hitting on him.

"No, you don't," Gem denied cheerily, the smile in her voice clear even though Impulse's back was turned. "We'll get an uber. Go have fun, enjoy yourself~"

He looked back up at the angel, who was now giving him the sweetest, most encouraging smile, and swallowed thickly. He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I- I'd love a drink," he managed, still unbearably flustered, tail curling in on itself.

The man grinned, the wings on his head puffing up happily—that's adorable—as he offered an arm to the demon.

Impulse took it, letting the angel lead him away to order drinks.

"Just be back by hotel checkout at ten tomorrow!" Scott called after them.

---

So that's their first meeting! I also want to write Skizz's first impression of Impulse and his pov of this encounter at some point, and potentially even extend the scene a little further when we see him ;)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! And if there's any questions about anyone in this au, feel free to drop an ask <3

[necromancer-at-abattoir]

I've seen this post before, and I wanted to argue against it.

Now, bear in mind that this is supposed to be a friendly debate and I don't want to offend you.

With that being said, let's look at the bullies that Percy's called out.

The teachers and students who bullied him at his old schools for his learning disabilities, Nancy Bobofit, Gabe, Dionysus, Tantalus, Ares, Hades (yeah he qualifies, he made Percy feel bad and Percy stood up to him. Go Percy, boss moment honestly) Clarisse, Matt Sloan and his gang.

These are people that Percy heavily dislikes (well, Clarisse is an exception, but at the time she bullied Percy, he heavily disliked her.) This makes it easier to call out their bullshit.

Annabeth is someone he likes. It's difficult to call out the bullshit of people that you like-very rarely can people can do this.

And we're forgetting that Percy's fatal flaw is loyalty. He's loyal to the people he loves and blind to their flaws, so he is the exact opposite of a person who'd be fair with both their friends and enemies.

Take Sally Jackson, for example. Sally herself admitted that she was selfish and kept Percy with an abuser so as not to be attacked by monsters instead of dropping him off at Camp where he would have been safer, especially with Poseidon's influence. Logically speaking, Percy should have resented her for this a little bit, right?

Now, for the morons who'll come to this conclusion, I am not saying that Sally Jackson is the devil incarnate. She was a struggling single mother stuck in between a rock and a hard place-there was no completely good option for her to choose here.

But she still chose to marry an abuser to keep Percy and herself safe. She knowingly married him knowing that he'd make Percy's life terrible and that Percy would be affected by this. This was definitely not a good choice on her part and it doesn't make her a good person (though she still is a good person, just not as good as one would make her out to be).

But Percy doesn't even think about this-he just idolises her (understandable, considering the circumstances, but still) and he never thinks about the situation from this point of view.

And Grover in Wrath of the Triple Goddess. Percy calls him out, but Percy later feels guilty for the stupid reason of Grover thinking he's going to be lonely when they (Percy and Annabeth) go to college, which is why Grover almost ruined the quest. Percy literally says that he should have been thinking about what Grover felt (Grover, who is responsible for his own self, Percy is not responsible for Grover) instead of, you know, thinking about himself and his future.

This is complete malarkey. It's a terrible reason for Grover's terrible actions. And what does Percy do?

He shoves it down, takes the blame, forces himself to be calm even though he should rage. This is another example of Percy not wanting to call someone's bullshit out because they're a loved one.

And Percy loves Annabeth. She's his friend, she went on his first quest with him, she's saved his life and she has a lion's share in his view of the mythological world since she was pretty much the first demigod that he really knew (discounting Luke who left after the first book).

All of this makes it pretty difficult for him to call out her bullshit-especially when she hates being called out on her bullshit, which she does.

Of course, he called out her bullshit during TLT and SOM regarding himself and Tyson respectively, but this is when they're not really friends. In the later books, where they're better friends and he likes her more, he doesn't do it.

And also, Percy has called Annabeth out on her bullshit, but she doesn't listen to him, so he becomes resigned to it.

Her calling him Seaweed Brain? He says that he's gotten used to it in TTC, meaning that he didn't like it but she didn't stop, so he just became used to it.

He says in TLO that he wanted to argue with Annabeth regarding his cabin inspection marks, but no good would come of it, so he just resigned himself to his marks.

He says that he wouldn't argue with her because she would beat him up.

Annabeth yells at Percy and blames him for leaving even though they both know that he was kidnapped. Does he call her out on this, tell her that she was wrong? No.

Annabeth pushes him off a cliff with no prior warning and he calls her out on it, but she brushes it off and so does he, because he doesn't have a choice at this point, or at least he doesn't think he does.

Annabeth makes Percy feel scared every time she brings up Rachel. This makes Percy feel bad and he does not call her out on it.

All of these are examples of Annabeth not listening to him and bulldozing her way over his protests, so he becomes resigned to it.

That's a common abusive tactic that I've experienced myself-don't listen to the victim and bulldoze your way over them until they become silent and resigned.

Now, I don't want to go so far as to call Annabeth abusive, but she is definitely pretty toxic towards Percy at times. I know that she loves him, I'm not denying that, but you can love someone and be toxic towards them.

Again, I don't want to be disrespectful and I respect your opinions. I'm just providing valid arguments as to why I think your statement was wrong.

when you say that percy is stuck in an abusive relationship with annabeth, you are not only insulting annabeth, you are erasing one of percy's best character strengths: how he is NOT afraid to call out people's nonsense and stand up against bullies no matter how bad or insecure they make him feel

[dcxdpdabbles]

For The next part of freelance inventor, you should do more parent trapping(if you want, of course) I was just picturing cartoon level schemes trying to get these two to kiss.

On the flipside, what would happen if the two of them had a fight? I can see the kids and Alfred just kind of trying to make Bruce agree how wrong he was.

"Bruce?"

His heart stops at the sound of that voice, and then it speeds up before he can look over his shoulder. Not that he needs to. He already knows who called out to him.

Only one person in the world adds a certain ring to his name when they speak it.

Bruce turns away from his laptop, displaying some spreadsheets of the upcoming term, coming face to face with Danny Fenton's beaming smile. Behind him, the ocean gleams like liquid sapphire, highlighting the brightness and warmth in Danny's aqua-blue eyes.

He once thought Danny wasn't human; surely, no human could have eyes like those. The sunlight bounces off the dark of his hair, swaying in the breeze, and it somehow calls attention to the laughing lines around his eyes and mouth.

He's shirtless, showing off a physique that would fit a swimmer. His black swimming shorts are covered in the NASA symbol, which is such a Danny thing to do that it makes Bruce's heart skip a beat.

It's odd. As one of the wealthiest bachelors in the world, Bruce had always been surrounded by gorgeous people. Usually, women and men flung themselves at him, whispering false claims of eternal love while displaying teasing hints of the bodies. It was a tool they wielded to charm him into doing what they wanted, but none of them could even compare to Danny's looks.

Perhaps it was due to how effortlessly beautiful Danny was. He didn't spend hours and hours on his looks. Bruce had heard people claim the inventor was plain, but he could never see it.

Bruce had always thought he was pretty from the moment Dick wandered to his table. The gentleness with which he spoke to his then nine-year-old son with respect and full attention as he explained his first intention- the portable charger. How could anyone not be memorized by him?

"Danny? What are you doing here?" He asks after realizing he is gawking like a fool.

His friend's eyes crinkle further as he laughs. "On vacation. Jay and Dick told me about this place, and since I had a conference on the island, I thought I would spend my off time at the private huts. What about you?"

Oh, those little rats. This was all a setup. He should have known something was up when they all forced him to accept it.

"The kids bought me a private hut for a weekend." He answers, moving his eyes away from Danny's lips with great effort. "They said it was a gift and a means to follow my doctor's orders."

"Dami told me about that. The doctor said you have been putting too much stress on your heart, and yet, here you are, working on vacation." Danny planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head in mock pity. "I bet you haven't even frolicked through a field of flowers or jumped over waves since you arrived."

Bruce feels a burst of amusement and slight anticipation tickle the bottom of his stomach. "Well, I just don't know how to do any of that."

"Since we're hut neighbors, I could show you how to have fun. You rich people know what that is, right? Fun?" Danny asks, reaching down to grip Bruce's wrist. Where he touches, tringles of flames light up his skin, and Bruce fights to keep the blush off his face. "I suppose you don't. The first lesson must be how to frolic through the ocean waves, and it starts right now!"

"I thought it was a field of flowers?" He laughs, allowing the shorter man to pull him toward the blue water.

"It's a hybrid course, Bruce," Danny laughs, splashing through the first wave until they are waist-deep and spinning around to grin at him. Bruce practically swallows his own tongue as the man shines in the sunlight, with a beaming soft smile that makes him feel like the only man in the world. "Prepare for the best weekend of your life. No kids. No work. Just us, the ocean, and some tasty meals!"

"That sounds like heaven," Bruce tells him, wondering if Danny can tell how soft his eyes have become or the yearning in his voice. He just knows somewhere in Gotham, all his children are high-fiving each other and scheming up another ill-fated attempt to get Bruce with the man of his dreams.

It's not that he's unaware of their goals. But over ten years after he'd known Danny, silently pinning for him, Bruce realized it would never happen. His friend didn't feel attraction like that.

If Bruce had told him how he felt, he would have lost Danny forever. He would rather live with this buckling longing for the rest of his life if it meant he could be gifted with Danny's friendly smiles and presence.

Danny reaches back, cupping his hands to gather water and splashing Bruce with a gleeful "What are you standing around for? Come! Frolic!"

Bruce grins, throwing back some water in a bigger splash as the young man screams, attempting to escape. He follows close behind, trying to drown the other between gasps of laughter. For a brief moment, he allows himself to live a fantasy life where this was a real romantic getaway, not a setup by his less-than-subtle children.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Fine! Be that way! Excuse me for having a fucking opinion!" Danny hisses, swinging around and stomping out of the room. Bruce's chest feels hot with anger; the angry words that had fallen from his mouth taste bitter and satisfying simultaneously. It's a whirlwind of contradicting emotions that he does nothing when the other man slams the door behind him.

He slams his hands over his eyes, willing himself to calm down but it's hard when Danny is the one who set him off. Danny is the only one in the world that made him feel everything like an explosion.

Both the positive and negative emotions.

How did things come to this? The conversation was going well until the two started talking about the Joker. He's always known his friend had a less white and dark point of view regarding the clown, but to actively claim that Batman was a coward for not killing him when he had the chance?

Yes, Danny didn't know Bruce was Batman, so when he tried to explain that the superhero was afraid that if he started taking lives, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop Danny had grown dismissive. It wasn't meant to attack Bruce, but he knows that logically.

But it still felt like the man he was in love with was calling him a coward straight to his face, and Bruce grew defensive. He tends to lash out when he's on the defense, and before long, the two were in a heated debate about vigilantes in general.

Suddenly, Danny was his face, sneering and growling, when Bruce pointed out that Phantom was the small-town hero of Danny's boyhood and someone he felt jealous of. Danny obviously held the hero in high regard to the point it felt like he was in love with him if Danny was inclined to such emotions- he was just if not more dangerous than Batman would ever be.

It went even worse when Bruce spoke his support for the Anti-Eco Acts that were currently being discussed.

A lot of hateful words were spoken in ten minutes, and by the end of it, Bruce couldn't even figure out how it ended, with Danny's eyes watering up with angry tears or his chest heaving with the screaming.

Why did he even say that? Bruce had a lot of issues with the Anit-Eco Acts. They were far too seated in bigotry to be anything but an excuse to hunt a different race.

He regretted his words, though he doubted he could ask Danny for forgiveness soon. That man was known for holding a grudge and giving the cold shoulder when angry.

Bruce would have to grovel later.

The door to his study slams open, and his children crowd the entrance, looking alight and outraged.

"Why did you make Dad cry!?" Jason demands, crossing his arms and looking ready to throw down. The kids started calling Danny Dad a few months ago when Tim accidentally slipped it into a conversation, and Danny thought it was sweet.

They played it off as a joke, but Bruce knew they liked referring to him as Dad. Bruce was Father in formal events, B in casual moments, and when angry with him, the kids simply referred to him as B.

B for Bitch since you act like one, Dick once explained, eyes burning with anger and a smile as sharp as broken glass.

"You better have a good reason, B." Tim hisses, voice low and anger tightly coiled like a snake ready to strike. It's a violent reminder of Danny that Bruce can only place his hand over his eyes again and groan.

"We had a disagreement."

"What did you do?" Damian demands next, tapping his left foot impatiently. He picked that up from Jazz the last time Danny's sister was in town. "Before claiming innocence, just know you're always at fault. Dad can do no wrong."

"Hear, hear," Steph, Duke, and Cass say together, glaring daggers at Bruce.

Great. The kids have unionized against him.

"We had a disagreement on the Anti-Eco Acts." He grits through clutch teeth, trying to get his shimmering anger to calm down. The children are not helping, and his frustration rises slowly at the avalanche of noise his children release.

"How dare you!"

"Those acts are a blatant disregard of human decency!"

"I always knew you were a white privilege asshole but this!?"

"I will stay with Danny for the rest of the month! I can't believe this!"

"Look here, you Father. You will not support those act,s especially at the expense of Dad!"

"You blue-eyed demon."

Bruce puts his head into his hands and screams. Danny returns to talk this over hours later, but Bruce is right.

He has a lot of groveling he needs to do. His kids still lock him out of his room. They have a sleepover with Danny, dragging in their mattress and watching movies late into the night.

He sleeps on the couch, listening to their merry-making with a heavy heart. Aflred refused to let him sleep in a guest room once Dick informed him that Bruce was in the dog house with Danny.

Betrayed in his own home.

The Anti-Ecto Acts are rejected primarily due to Bruce Wayne spearheading their resistance. Danny hugs him when he reads the paper, and all is right with the world. The Kids still don't let him sleep in his own bed, and for a month, Bruce's back hurts from the lumping couch cushions.

Clark tells him jokingly the children would choose Danny in a divorce, so he starts carrying around Kryptonite.

[entitled-fangirl]

Not a dog.

Cregan Stark x hidden identity!reader

Summary: The reader took her brother's place at the Wall, spending years hidden in plain sight. But Cregan Stark knows everything about everyone. Or does he?

Warnings: cursing, attempted sa, murder, blood, talks of sex, crude language, etc

A/n: Based on an incredible ask by an incredible blog! I was given liberty to go with the flow. And the flow went.

Masterlist

................................................

So, maybe this was a dumb decision.

But years ago, the Stark had expected a young man from each Bannerman's family to join the Night's Watch.

Your brother was young. Far too young for what lies outside the Wall.

So you took his place.

You hadn't been truly seen as a woman in years. And while it occasionally gave the feeling of longing,  it was also freeing.

You were a man to them. And they were none the wiser.

But when winter came, so did Lord Stark.

And every time you looked in his eyes, you thought that maybe, somewhere deep down, he'd find you out.

But that was impossible. No one knew.

…

You struggled to tie the strings to your cloak as you got ready this particular morning. It was one of the coldest weeks of the winter frost. So the more layers, the better. Which worked for you. It hid your figure well.

You had on your heaviest boots, your thickest gloves. Not that you owned many. But these were still new, still void of dried blood like some of the others.

"Alright?" Jonnel Mormort frowned. He was a sweet boy, two years younger. The two of you had joined at the same time, prompting you to bond. He reminded you of your brother sometimes.

"'M fine," you brush off. "I'll be down in a minute."

He nodded, leaving to go get breakfast. 

This was going to be a long day.

…

Cregan Stark had been at the Wall for three weeks now. The cold had seeped into his bones and it showed. 

He sat down with his fellow brothers, all chatting about nothing and everything as they feasted on what food they had.

"C'mon!" Glover exclaimed. "Nothing?"

They had been talking about women. It was a common talk.

Stark shrugged, the furs on his shoulder moving. But he was smirking lightly.

"Keep us in the dark, then. What about you Little Mormont?" Jonnel had earned that nickname the day he showed up.

He flushed. "W- I'm sorry?"

"What's the best lay you've had?"

They all watched to see what he'd say, gathering around. Even Stark watched with a heavy gaze.

"I… I don't know. I d-"

"Oh, sod off him!" You shout as you set your wooden bowl down beside him. You shoulder checked one of the guys as you moved, sitting down at Jonnel's side. "Let the boy be."

Glover chuckled, "Alright then, Bolton. What about you? Doubt a girl would lay with your ugly mug."

"I don't fuck girls, Glover. I fuck women."

That shut them up. 

Conversation over. 

But it was worth it to see a smile ghost over Stark's face. You wanted to avoid his attention, but it felt addicting to get. 

You'd charmed him.

…

So, it wasn't too surprising when he approached you during your day watch. 

"Easy," he grinned when you stuttered over yourself. "I appreciated what you did earlier. For the boy."

Gods, having him stand so close is making it all the more obvious how fucking big he is.

"Yeah," you cleared your voice, trying to deepen it around him.

After all these years, you'd have moments that you'd forget you weren't technically a man. But staring at Stark makes you realize just how much of a girl- woman- you are.

He tilts his head, looking you over, assessing you, maybe intimidating you, then stepping around you to look over the Wall.

You went back to your watch. Just because the Warden was here didn't mean you could slack off.

The two of you remained like that for a while, ignoring the occasional man that walked by. 

"Do you think me an imbecile?" He finally asked.

Your throat closed, your heart raced. Fuck. After all this, after all these years, he'd found you out that quickly?

You chew on your lip for a while before responding. "Don't know what you mean, milord."

He grins. "You don't know." He leans his gloved hands on the icy wall, the only thing separating the North from certain death. "I call bullshit on your stunt."

"I don't understand."

"You've never fucked a woman."

He's not wrong.

You can't help the smile you gain, even if it's not for the reason he thinks it is. You're just relieved that you'll live another day without the fury of the Wolf of the North. 

He noticed the smile. "I'm right, aren't I?"

You begin to laugh, brightly. "Afraid you are."

He quirks his head in a fashion that said he was used to being right all the time. Not that you minded. He was never cruel about it.

"Mormont is a good kid," he switches the subject. "Commander's told me a lot about him. And you."

"Me?"

He nodded, tapping lightly against the ice. "Said you were a scrawny thing when you came in. Just a boy." He looked you up and down. "I'd say you're a right man by the looks of it."

You nod along, running a hand under your nose. You'd think by now, your nose would be used to the cold. But still, it occasionally ran. "'S what the Wall's for, isn't it? Turning boys to men."

His brows raise, impressed by the answer. "Men that die."

The silence set over you both. 

Silence was common in Castle Black. When you spend all your days with the same guys, you tend to run out of things to talk about.

"'S not such a bad thing, though," you say, catching his attention. "Dying, I mean. If it's… for the good."

"I agree. Duty outweighs all. And duty looks like many things."

You can't help the small laugh that pulls from your lips.

"You find it funny?" He sounds a bit offended.

"I'm sure your days are difficult, milord. But you get a family and a life. You make rules when you wish. You… get your way." You kick at the gathering snow by your feet. "We here are not so lucky."

His chest puffs out defensively. "You came here willingly."

"Did I?"

He pauses in front of you. "You did."

"Or," you say as you decide to truly test your luck, "did the Starks force my family to give up their son?"

"It is an honor," he seethed.

"It is a death sentence," you growled back.

Cregan, in any other case, would have been impressed with the sheer defiance. But today was not the day to do it. He was cold. He was tired. He was easily irritable. And he had just been told his life was easy. 

His upper lip twitched at one end as he decided your fate. What to do with a man who couldn't shut his mouth.

"Admit it." You'd been around men for years now. You were used to having to puff your chest out and get in their face in order to be heard. But it never got easier, just more natural. "Admit you send boys here knowing they'll die."

His eyes are quite green. You physically blink the thought away. 

He grips the strings of your cloak, tugging you against him. "I tolerate questioning. I don't tolerate disrespect, boy." 

You decide it's wisest now to keep your mouth shut, and he appreciates that. Letting go of your cloak with a light shove, he continues. "This is the greatest honor I can bestow on a man. I trust that the men in this castle will keep the entire Realm safe from what lies outside. Do you understand?"

You're still brushing off his aggressive touch from your furs. "Yes."

"My life is no feast. I train, I rule, I die. That's the life of a Warden. That's how it's always been. You act as if a wife and children are true blessings. Most don't get the freedom to love openly. And it's a dangerous thing." He huffed, "Be lucky I'm saving you from that."

"Ah, yes. Keeping my virginity. Thank you for forcing me to, Lord Stark."

He takes a long breath. "You push my limits, you know that?"

You shrug. "Maybe they need pushed."

He wasn't sure whether to befriend you or strangle you.

…

The next time he'd come by was during training. You'd yet to spar with him, but you had seen him on occasion sparring with others. And he never lost. They called him one of the best swordsman in the realm. 

Mormont and Glover were paired today. Glover was good. Too good. No doubt Jonnel would emerge with bruises and a few cuts.

So slowly the group had gathered to watch. You'd pushed your way towards your friend's side, yelling out encouraging words as you could. 

He was practically shaking as he held his sword. He'd been here almost three years now and still he couldn't find the courage to 'be a man.'

You'd taught him all you could about defense. After all, there is no sword fight without first knowing defense. And luckily, he was quite good at it. You're pretty sure that's what has kept him alive this long.

But Glover basked in the fear and used it against the boy. His strokes were heavy, the sound of metal clashing filling the icy courtyard. 

Jonnel swung left and right, slowly backing up with each swing in an attempt to defend against this brick wall of a man.

He slipped, his back colliding with the icy patch that had gathered. His sword clattered against it and slid just out of his reach.

That's when you stepped in. You pulled your longsword out and took his place, catching Glover's blade against yours.

He grinned. "Let me finish this, Bolton."

"You're so full of shit," you huff. He'd always gotten on your nerves.

"Enough!" Stark's voice sounded from a little ways off.

It didn't stop either of you.

He swung first, and you stepped over Jonnel to block it. Your feet slipped occasionally, but you didn't let it stop you.

And soon enough, you saw an opportunity and took it, beginning to go on the offense. 

Your swings were fast. They were void of the same power that your opponent had. But any swing of a giant blade towards a body is considered dangerous. You'd managed to use that quickness to your advantage your whole life. The men had always patted you on the back and said, "you'll get the strength up when you're a bit older." Well, you're a bit older now and still now quite at harsh with it as they had hoped.

You were still a force to be reckoned with.

When the dynamic switched again and you were back on defense, you twisted your wrist enough to pull the blade from his hand. It clattered on the ground.

It was not a dramatic victory like some of the spars were. But it was a victory enough. 

The two of you simply stared at one another.

That's why the punch threw you so off guard.

It landed on your left cheekbone, causing your head to jerk to the side and your body to follow it. You stumbled and cursed, holding your free hand up to it.

You weren't going to back down now.

You threw your sword to the side, next to his, and the two of you began a new kind of spar.

You held your own fairly well. Years of fights in the great hall will do that to you. A few encounters with wildlings will do that to you. Pretending to be a man at all will do that to you.

And where your strength ended with your arms, the strength in your legs began. 

You tried not to let it show. It was a clear giveaway that women held most of their strength in their legs compared to men. So, you didn't use it often.

But now was a good enough time as ever. And it got Glover beneath you on the ground as you straddle him. Your fist threw punches as quick as you could managed them.

Until a larger hand tugged at your hair and  forced your face up.

"Didn't I say enough?" Lord Stark seethed lowly from above you. He let go just as quickly and stood over the two of you. "Get up!"

You're only now aware of how the audience of the fight had tripled. 

"Did I stutter?" He growled out.

You force yourself to stand, ignoring the protest of every bone in your body, every muscle. It all hurt so bad. You spit down at your feet, just now realizing how red it is and the taste of iron in your mouth is now hard to ignore.

Cregan steps to you first, giving Glover time to get up. He looks you over with anger in his eyes. He focused on the purple now displayed over your cheek and the red that's trailed down from your bottom lip. You're worse for wear, but the confidence in your eyes has yet to dim. You're proud to have beat Glover's ass.

Hell, he's proud too.

So when Glover stands, Cregan's gaze is more menacing when he gets to him.

And Stark lands a hard swing on the man's cheek. A matching one that Glover had done to you.

When he almost crumples, Cregan grabs his cloak and holds him up. "If you swing openly at a brother again, you'll see for yourself what we fear over the Wall. You understand?"

He groans but the Warden isn't satisfied with that. "ANSWER ME!" Glover goes quiet and he tosses him down on the ground. "You," he points at Mormont, "get the maester for 'em. And you," he looks in your direction, "we're taking a walk."

Fuck.

You spit again to get the liquid from your mouth and pick up your longsword, sheathing it back where it belongs. 

Stark begins to walk, confident enough that you'll follow. And you do.

You step in time with him, forcing it even when you really just want to limp back to bed.

He leads you back into the castle before he speaks. "You really can't keep to yourself, can you, Bolton?"

You wipe at your face, only smearing the red down your chin. "Guess not."

There's a hesitation in your body when you realize you're standing outside of the Warden's solar. 

If you get called to his solar, bad things happen.

He sighs, "I'm sorry about this."

You didn't do anything. One fight? A fight you didn't start? He couldn't banish you on those terms. 

"Milord, whatever it is, I h-"

"-I know," he immediately calms you. "Just humor me."

As much as you want to do anything else, you step into his solar.

He gestured to one of the chairs by the fireside and sits across from you. "I received a letter this morning. With the Bolton sigil."

You sit up instinctively. 

You spent the first year at the Wall having to dream of your family just to get decent sleep. You had to imagined scenarios where you got to go home. Where your brother was happy. Where your father hugged you a little tighter. Where your mother cried at your return.

But that's all it was. Just imagining.

"I regret to inform you that your father is dead. Your younger brother now holds the mantle of Lord Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort."

You go to chew your lip, but the pain of your split lip stops you. You stare at the fire in pure shock. No one had ever prepared you for this. Men you'd trained with here died constantly. But your family? Your true family? 

You'd never truly imagined that the night you ran off was the last time you'd ever see them.

And now you didn't have to imagine. 

"I understand that this could be difficult to hear. But, I believe it is best to hear from your Warden rather than rumors."

You nod, gripping the armrest of your seat, further injuring your already bleeding knuckles. You haven't cried in years, and yet you immediately feel the stinging of water against your eyes.

He sighs. "I lost my father when I was young. But your brother will be a fine Lord. I have no fear for him. And perhaps I should have kept this news to myself. To let you be in the dark to avoid the attachment but… I couldn't bring myself to do it."

By now, the hot tears have fallen down your cheeks, mixing with the dirt, blood, and sweat on your cold face.

"'S alright," he softly cooed. 

He stands with hesitant movements. He doesn't have to deal with things like this often, so he's a bit out of tune.

He just watches for a moment as you slowly fall apart. "I'm sending you home."

"What?"

"Your brother asked me to. You're to leave at the end of this winter."

That was unheard of. It didn't happen. It wasn't possible. You lived here. You died here. 

"Dismiss me," you finally manage out.

Another long sigh. "Go."

And you bolted.

Cregan moved back to his desk, taking another read over the letter from your brother.

…

You'd spent the next two days practically wasting away. You didn't eat. You didn't sleep. You sure as well weren't getting along with anyone. It was misery.

Especially when Stark found you in every room you were in. 

His eyes always wandered to you, like he was trying to figure you out. Or maybe he already knew.

So he didn't miss the way Glover eyed you too.

"Bolton," the Warden called over the Hall. "C'mere."

You sighed, picking yourself up from your bench to go to his. 

He grinned when you'd sat at his side, sliding his untouched bowl to you. "Eat."

"'M not hungry-"

"-Your Lord said eat, boy!" Glover interrupted. 

Cregan looked like he wanted to murder him for it.

With a huff, you picked up the spoon and began to eat. 

"Bruise is healing nicely," he pointed out to you. "It's a fine green now. Better than the red blotch it was a few days ago. Let me see."

Your head lulls a bit to the side to entertain him, and blushed when you realize he's a little closer than you thought he'd be.

He's unmoving, keeping the distance close and a hand reaches up to your lip. He brushes over the healing scab with a nod. "Looks good. Think you'll be fine in no time."

There's a moment where it's just you two staring at one another before you pull away.

He coughs and begins another conversation with someone else.

Towards the end of the meal, Stark excuses himself and takes off. 

That's when Glover approaches you.

"Mind if we have a chat?"

He's still beaten up too. But his cheek is a harsher tone of purple than yours was. Cregan must have hit him harder than you thought. You nod and stand, walking out into the corridor with him.

"Stark tells me you're leaving," he opens.

"Something like that." You're not sure what he wants out of this interaction. But whatever it is, you're not giving it to him. 

"Shame. Who's gonna be the boy's guard dog when you're gone?"

Your eyes flash with anger. "I'm not his dog."

"No, you're not," he agrees. "Not his. But Stark's got you on a leash, huh? Trying to be a good little dire wolf for him so he'll notice you?"

"Take it back," you growl. 

He grins. "No. No, I wanna finish what we started. Before you had to go find out about your daddy's death."

Okay, so maybe you started this fight.

You're blinded with rage as you throw the first punch, but he's expecting it. And you're no match for him this time.

It's a short battle before you're pinned to the wall. "You gonna bite me, little dog? Huh?"

You thrash, desperate to get out of his grip.

He shoves a knee in your crotch, expecting you to double over in pain.

But you don't. 

Cause you're not a man.

And you realize it too late.

He freezes, eyeing you with a questioning gaze. His head tilts before realization comes over him. "Are you not a man?"

Your thrashing continues, but he has a new motive to keep you against the wall. One hand goes down your stomach and over your pants as he feels for something he won't find.

"You're a fucking woman," he acknowledges in shock. 

You spit on him. "You got beat by a fucking woman."

He barely notices the spit. "So, that's why Stark keeps you around?" He gets a tight grip on your hair. "Cause he's fucking you? Is Stark fucking you, little dog?" He asks lowly.

"No," you growl through your teeth. "Get the fuck off me."

"I'm sensing an opportunity," he grins. "So Stark doesn't know. And you want this to be kept a secret? I think you owe me."

His mind works just as quick as your own, and just as you're about to fight against him again, he's trying to get a hand past the band of your pants.

You don't think to scream. You don't think to cry. You're focused on survival. And sometimes survival is in silence. 

But he lets out a small grunt and soon crumples to the floor.

And Jonnel is left standing in front of you with a terrified look in his eyes.

He'd stabbed Glover. He killed him.

You try to regain your bearings with little success.

"Is it true?" He asked in horror. "Are you a girl?"

"Jonnel-"

"-Have you been lying this whole time?"

You lean against the wall, knowing your legs weren't strong enough on their own. And you could only nod.

"Fuck," he spits and he leans next to you. The two of you look down at the body. "What do we do?"

"What's going on down here?" Stark's voice booms. 

He's always everywhere and nowhere.

"Go," you try to push Jonnel. You're willing to take the blame for all of this. No use in dragging him down with you.

"No, I'm staying," he insists. And now it's too late. Stark's approaching.

He hesitates, looking over the scene. "Who did it?" He asks softly. 

"Milord-"

"-Go to bed, Mormont. We'll speak in the morning."

Jonnel has no choice, now sentenced to bed like a child.

Which left you two.

And as soon as you're alone, he pulls you to him, trapping you in his arms.

Cregan Stark is hugging you.

And you're hugging him back.

It's an awkward hug, as he doesn't know what to do with himself, or why he's even doing it in the first place.

But it feels right.

He pulls away enough to access you. "Did he hurt you?"

You shake your head.

He lets out a relieved breath and pulls away. "Good. Good. Why don't you go get some sleep. I'll.. I'll handle this."

And you can't deny him, leaving to go collect what's left of yourself and try to piece it all together in the night.

…

The guys avoid you like the plague the next day, even Jonnel who you've told to 'lay low.'

You're worried that maybe Glover was right.

Maybe you were Stark's dog.

And the rumors are only going to grow when he approached you again today. "You're sparing me today."

You huff. "Don't wanna spar you."

"Didn't ask."

Well, that helped you find the anger you needed to agree and join him in the courtyard. 

Luckily, the two of you are alone when you do so. The other had practicing hours ago, now off to their individual chores.

You swung your sword, trying to start off with the offense against the Warden.

He defends with ease and switches to the offense. He's too damn good.

You take steps back as he swings with power and speed. He's one of the best by far that you've seen. And while your agility is a gift, it's not as helpful against him as you were hoping. 

Soon, he has your sword in his other hand, the tip of Ice under your chin as you're practically on your knees before him. He grins. "You're not thinking with your head. You never are."

You give an annoyed grunt as you stand up and take your sword back from him and assume your position again. "Oh, and you're so smart."

"I'd like to think I am," he says as the two of you begin again. He speaks between hits and his own panting, "I think I have you figured out."

"I highly doubt it," you jest back, getting cocky with your movements.

The two of your grow more serious, opting to fight rather than speak.

As you begin to back up again, he speaks. "Then how do I know you're a woman?"

Your sword easily falls from your hand and your back hits a wall.

His longsword meets your throat again as he stands over you. "You're not as clever as you think you are, Bolton," he whispers.

"Then how'd I get away with it for so long?" You  manage back.

He lets out a low chuckle, pushing the sword a little more against you. "Because I'm a lenient man for you."

"Well, I'm not gonna be your dog."

"Didn't ask you to."

You pause, finally taking in his closeness. His breath against your cheek. "You gonna kill me? Banish me? Make an example of me?"

"No."

His answer was quick. Like he already knew your fate, but wouldn't let you in on it.

As you open your mouth to ask, he continues. "You'll go home like I told you to."

"This is my home," you argue.

His head tilts. His sword drops. His eyes soften. "This was never your home."

He meant it kindly, but it only proves to anger you. 

You shove him as hard as you can, getting around him to grab your sword again and begin swinging. He manages to duck out of the way before regaining his bearings. 

"This." Swing. "Is." Swing. "My." Swing. "Home."

"Your home is the Dreadfort," he growls, blocking with ease. 

"I won't go back!" 

"You don't have to," he says. "But you're not allowed back here."

"Then kill me." You purposefully drop your sword again, holding your arms out. Your chin is held high. You're accepting your fate.

He pauses, then darkly chuckles. He takes slow steps to you. "'S that what you want? You want me to kill you?"

"Do it," you challenge as he gets in your space once again.

His eyes meet yours, his nostrils flaring. 

Then he's kissing you.

And you're kissing him back.

He drops his sword and winds his arms around you. Yours find their place around his neck. 

Your teeth clash, you're both out of breath. You both have put all your pent up anger into this. All this desperation. All this tension. And it shows. 

You only pull away when he tugs your hair back. "'M not gonna kill you."

"Didn't want you to," you admit softly.

His other hand tracing over your cheek, over the bruise that's faded. "Then go to Winterfell with me."

"I'm not your dog," you remind him.

"And I said you're not. I don't want blind devotion. I fucking hate it. I'm not making you. I'm asking you."

And for once, you realize just how easily you've opened your heart out for the Northerner.

"You took your brother's place, and I admire that. And all these years, you managed to fool them. Well done. But stop now."

After years of broken noses, crude language, and bloody knuckles, you still had such a soft heart.

You couldn't be a gentle wife. Not after all this. But he didn't want you to be one. He wasn't asking you to change.

Just to be truthful for once.

"Then fight for me, Stark."

He grips your jaw. "Is that a challenge?" He's grinning now. You amuse him.

"It is."

"Then pick up your sword, Bolton. I have a maiden to win and a heart to capture."

You weren't going to fight very hard.

He'd won you a long time ago.

.......................................................

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[16wolke11]

Clumsy - Oscar Piastri

A/N My first one-shot here! Still figuring out the tagging and stuff, but I hope you like it.

Summary: Oscar's girlfriend is extremely clumsy, always managing to get a new bruise or a new cut just a few days apart. One day she falls down the stairs and needs surgery, Oscar drops everything to be with her.

Words: 2139

__________

Being a teacher at an elementary school was always my dream job, and after finishing my master's degree, I am finally able to do what I love; teaching the young ones and laying the first stones on their path to knowledge. Even though it is difficult at times, to manage the fidgeting children who tend to get distracted easily, it's still what I love. Seeing success when another one manages to read a full sentence, solve a math problem, or write a rather difficult word with the correct spelling is priceless.

But being a teacher also means I'm not able to accompany Oscar that often. It's just not ideal to travel over the weekend; landing late on Fridays and having to leave exactly after the race, while also trying to prepare the classes for the upcoming week and maybe even needing to correct work from the previous one. I love summer break because it means I can be with Oscar more often, but in the meantime, we make the best out of the situation. We FaceTime frequently, chat while the other is occupied, and just savour the time we can spend together.

This week is another one when Oscar left for a race, and I have to stay behind. Luckily, I have a short day at school today, allowing me to go before lunch and finish some things. Well, if it weren't for my clumsy self. Oscar always jokes that I get at least five new bruises while he's away, and he's probably right, but I can't do anything about the stumbling, the brushing against door frames, or knocking my little toe into anything. But today, my bad luck took it one step too far, and I slipped on the stairs at school, hitting my elbow on them and feeling a sharp pain shoot down my arm.

I've fallen down these stairs before, but I've never been in so much pain. One of my coworkers found me, and after a quick look at my already bruising elbow, we decided to call an ambulance. Now, hours later, I have a diagnosis and finally some time to tell Oscar what happened. I already have a few texts from him, nothing too worried, just some updates about his day and a question about how mine is going. With a sigh, I call his number, bracing myself to tell him everything while not even being able to fidget with my fingers for distraction.

It doesn't take long before Oscar picks up like he's been waiting in front of his phone just anticipating my call or text. "Hey, Oscar," I greet him and hear some shuffling in the background before a door closes and Oscar speaks up.

"Love, everything okay? Shouldn't you be at work?" he asks, his voice already laced with worry. I close my eyes for a moment. Oscar didn't even know I was supposed to be out of work early today and just assumes I should still be at school teaching or supervising the little gremlins.

"Please don't freak out," I start, and I hear a nervous chuckle in response.

"This is not a great starting point for that request, but I'll try."

He's right, but I don't even know how to phrase what happened easily, so I just start with the simplest explanation I can think of. "Well, I kind of fell down the stairs after finishing my last class."

"Again?" Oscar laughs, and I can't help but smile a little too, though I roll my eyes at the same time, even though Oscar can't see me.

"Hey, I can't do anything about being clumsy," I protest, but I only get another laugh in return. Usually, I would laugh with him, but the light throbbing in my elbow, down to my fingers, stops the light mood I'm in.

"Sorry, but I reckon you don't just call to tell me that," Oscar apologizes softly, and then he gets back to the reason for my call. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for all the questions he's going to have.

"No, I might've smashed my elbow pretty badly, and they brought me to the hospital." I tell him the first facts, and immediately the laughing Oscar is replaced with a worried one.

"That bad?" he asks, and I can almost hear the pain in his voice. As much as he likes to joke about my clumsiness, he also hates it when I get injured, even if it's just a little bruise or a cut.

"Unfortunately, I managed to break it and need surgery to fix the broken pieces back into place. It'll be a long recovery because I was pretty successful in splintering the bone into pieces," I tell him what the doctors explained, just in the simpler version. They explained a lot about how they need to make sure there are no little bone fragments left in the joint and the recovery process I'll have to go through.

"Fuck!" Oscar curses, and I can hear him pacing, probably in his driver's room. I can only imagine the distressed look on his face and how he's probably ruffling his hair while a thousand thoughts swirling through his head. Well, at least he's giving me an insight into what's going on in his mind, because he starts rambling.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need anything? I could send Margaret over or someone else if you need anyone by your side right now. Did they say anything about the recovery? Will your arm be able to move normally or will there be any lasting damage?"

"Oscar, stop." I manage to speak up when he takes a deep breath. It's sweet how he's trying to help me from afar, even thinking about sending our elderly neighbour to me, but I need him to calm down.

"Sorry, kind of freaking out right now," he mutters, and I smile just a little bit.

"I could tell." I still remember the first time Oscar rambled that much and how surprised I was by the speed and number of words coming out of his mouth. Usually, he's calm, collected, and limits his words to the necessary ones, but when he's really worried, everything just comes out.

"Don't worry, I don't need anything right now. Just hearing your voice makes everything feel better," I tell him, which is the truth. There's nothing I need right now, except for him, and he just helps me by being here on the phone, even though it's not the same as having him in person.

"That's good," Oscar says, and I can hear that he's stopped pacing, probably calming down a little.

"Is there anything you know about the surgery?" he asks after a short break, now sounding like his calm self again.

"We're currently waiting for a free spot in the OR. It's not urgent, but they'd like to operate before the swelling gets too bad, and luckily, I haven't had lunch yet," I explain what the doctors told me. This isn't an emergency, but waiting too long isn't ideal either, so they're going to squeeze me in as soon as one of the ORs is available.

"I bet you're hungry," Oscar grins, and I can hear it in his voice. I've learned to recognize that tone through the phone—the soft change when his lips are curled upwards.

"Starving," I confirm with a soft laugh. My stomach is already growling, but there's no way to get food until after the surgery. I can wait if it means my elbow will be fixed.

"I promise you your favourite food as soon as I'm with you," Oscar says, and I know he's not lying. He would probably even order food into the hospital for me if that were possible, but they wouldn't bring it to me, so I'll have to wait.

"Looking forward to it. Hopefully, I'll be home by then," I mumble, knowing it will take some days until Oscar will be back home, and who knows, maybe they'll send me home just a few days after the surgery.

"We'll see," are Oscar's last words about my injury before we start talking a bit about his day. I get the feeling he's trying to distract me, and it's working perfectly. At one point, Oscar needs to leave for some duties, and luckily for me, a nice nurse comes in just a few minutes later to inform me that my surgery is starting soon.

The way to the OR and the prepping feels like a blur, and quicker than I thought, I'm with an anaesthesiologist. Drifting into sleep feels like a relief because I know my arm will be fixed. Of course, recovery will take its time, but I'm sure I'll manage it just fine.

Waking up after the surgery almost knocks the air out of my lungs because it feels like my arm is falling off. The nurse helps me take a few sips of water, gives me some painkillers, and then I drift back into sleep, even though I just woke up from a deep slumber.

The night is blurry, waking up from time to time—sometimes from the pain in general, sometimes from the nurses, and sometimes from the pain of a sudden movement. But somehow, I make it through the night and feel slightly better in the morning. Blinking, I try to figure out what time it might be when I spot a familiar figure sitting beside my bed, watching me closely.

"Os?" I ask groggily, not sure if he's really sitting there or if the pain meds are playing tricks on my mind. But just seeing the soft smile on his lips makes me hope that he's really there and not just in my imagination.

"Hi, love," he whispers, fingers reaching for my uninjured hand, softly holding onto it, letting me feel the warmth of his touch.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, slowly realizing that he's indeed here and not with his team for the race weekend.

"Being here for you," he simply states, like it's obvious that it wouldn't even be a question for him if he had to choose where to be right now.

"Your race..." I whisper, knowing how important it is, not only to him but to the fans, the championship, the team, and everyone else involved. I would like to ask him if he's insane, if they made it hard for him to leave, but no words leave my lips.

"You are more important," Oscar states, and my eyes well up. How can he be so perfect?

"Thank you," I try to squeeze his hand a bit, but my grip is pretty weak. Oscar starts letting his thumb brush over the back of my hand, and I relax under his touch. His eyes wander over me before he asks a question.

"How are you feeling? Is the pain manageable?"

My eyes linger on my heavily padded elbow for a moment. Right now, I don't feel anything but a dull pain. But it seems like Oscar's touch makes it disappear with every soft stroke of his finger on my skin.

"You make everything seem better just by being here," I state, my voice laced with tiredness, and Oscar smiles softly.

"So, I guess they gave you some nice painkillers," he grins. I can hear it in his voice, and I can feel my lips pulling into a crooked smile.

"Yes."

We look at each other for a moment, but my eyes are getting heavier and heavier, and I have to fight to keep them open for a few more minutes.

"Can you come in?" I ask Oscar, who looks conflicted at my question.

"I don't know," he says, gesturing to my body, indicating he's scared of hurting me in any way, but I just need him close now for recovery.

"Please."

Oscar sighs softly before standing up. "Okay, anything to make you feel better," he says, gets rid of his shoes, and carefully shuffles into the bed beside me. I need to stay on my back because of my elbow being propped up in some bedding, and he lays on his side beside my good arm, resting his arm over my belly and searching for the contact I need. I rest my head against his chest before a thought comes into my head.

"Did you bring the food?" I ask, remembering what he promised, and even though my mind is hazy, I realize he probably already knew he was coming home early when he promised me the food.

"Yes," Oscar confirms, and I can only hum the following words, close to falling asleep.

"Love you."

"Love you too, my little crash pilot," Oscar whispers, holding me in his arms while I slip into the sleep of recovery.

[vanillarosekiss]

principles of lust | simon riley

warnings: oral (f!receiving), angsty to smut, understanding!simon, makes up for all the times he's acted like a douche tbh... also this is rushed so don't expect much sorry!

You and Simon never argued. His pride and morality held him high above taking anything out on his pretty girl, refusing to even insinuate that something was your fault for whatever reason. He carried himself with a quiet patience, steady hands, and a voice that never wavered - even when you pushed him.

But today, you'd been in a bad mood, and you made sure he felt it. It started when he had mentioned that he'd booked a reservation at a nice restaurant for that evening - a sweet gesture, something meant to make you feel special. But the way he left it until the last minute, throwing it onto you like an afterthought, made your stomach twist. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate it. You did. But the rush if getting ready, the feeling of being unprepared, just amplifiedeverything else gnawing at you. He noticed right away, the tightness in your movements, the clipped responses. But Simon never pushed when you got like this. He let you have your space, even when that space became a cold shoulder.

And then the night just kept unravelling. The restaurant was warm, dimly lit, perfect for the kind of quiet, intimate evening Simon had in mind. But you were restless. Tired. Every attempt he made to pull you into the moment - his hand on yours, the way he leaned in to speak softly, the gentle teasing - only seemed to wear on you more. Your words turned sharp, your patience thinner than ever.

You could feel him starting to withdraw, though he hid it well. The way he slowed his responses, the way his jaw tensed slightly before he spoke. Almost unnoticeable. And then, finally, after one too many short answers, one too many times you brushed off his effort, he exhaled, setting his fork down with careful precision.

"I get that you might have something going on, baby, but acting like an entitled little brat isn't going to fix it." His voice was even, calm. Not cruel, not cutting - but firm. It made your chest tighten. Shame, anger, something else you couldn't name all tangled together in your throat.

The taxi ride was silent on the way home.

Simon's arm rested against the window, fingers idly tracing patterns on the fogged-up glass. You knew you should say something. Apologise, explain, reach for his hand - something. But the weight of the night sat heavy in the space between you, and neither of you decided to break it.

Fast forwards to now, when you were home and curled up in bed, with his head nestled in between your thighs. You'd only just begun to say sorry when he had kissed you, guiding you gently back into your bedroom and onto the bed. You were confused, but you let him take care of you, even if you felt guilty for it.

Simon was still slightly annoyed at you for being rude earlier, but he noticed how much pressure you were under. You'd been struggling for a while, and he wanted to help you through it. If that meant he had to get to you in a way where your brain shut off completely, he'd do it in a heart beat. So that's exactly what he was going to do.

He relentlessly lapped at your cunt, the noises bringing a heat to your cheeks as you muffled your moans slightly. He wouldn't stop until you'd cummed more than two times, knowing that you needed this. His large hands held your thighs open for him as he continued, sucking delicately at your clit. His tongue sent sparks down your spine that made you squirm in pleasure, as much as you could under his firm hold.

"Mm Si.. m’sorry about earlier!" you managed to moan out, as he ate away at your core, your eyes rolling backwards.

He hummed a small laugh that reverberated through your entire body, something which made even more heat pool inside your lower tummy.

“Don’t have to apologise for anything, sweet girl. Know you didn’t mean it, you’re just overwhelmed, baby. Just need something to help you through it, yeah?”

You gushed instantaneously at his words, metaphorically and literally, cumming undone on his lips and staining him with a sense of apology and quiet relief. You really were sorry, Simon knew that… of course he did. He’d do anything for you. Even if that meant putting his own feelings aside to make you feel better about yourself.

And who knows… maybe he planned that spur of the moment dinner just to take advantage of your already on edge state, fully anticipating that it would lead to this in return.

Sorry if this is a bit shit! I promise there's better stuff coming soon (hopefully).

Tag list 𖠋: @punkkture @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @siphon07 @figthoughts @mlthree @decaffeinateddelusionbread

[unacknowledgeable]

Brick by Bloody Brick

TW! Drugging and murder <3

It was an accident, kinda… you think. It's hard to say, honestly.

It was your 19th birthday.. Yayyyy… a whole year older with only a few dear friends to notice. Dear friends who were far more extroverted than you, which is why they decided that going out clubbing was the perfect way to celebrate your birthday! 

 You didn't see much of a point, none of you could legally drink for another few years, so why risk it in public? Wasn't it easier to just go back to one of their places to get wasted? Then again it was Gotham, so fake IDs were a dime a dozen and if the bartenders were on the stricter side? Well, you were not naive enough to think the good looks passed on from your father wouldn't score you some free drinks.

So you went along with your friends, not terribly enthusiastic, but not unwilling enough to refuse, into the more normal and socially acceptable night life of Gotham, clubbing. Stepping into the club you're instantly reminded of the second reason you saw no point in this. The noise… blaring so loud you can feel the music from your feet and into your throat, making it slightly more difficult to breathe. 

Your friend, Kate, drags you over to the bar before you can fully scan the crowd, a habit you developed young, and she gleefully waves her ID (fake, it's one of the few you made, you’re oddly touched she still has it) and orders two rounds of shots, hands you half, and takes you over to the table your other two friends, Mark and Ava, commandeered. From there it was a constant switch between shots, dancing, and lounging in the booth when breaks were needed. Again and again. During the latest of the breaks, you excused yourself to head to the bathroom, which is when reason number 3 on why you'd rather stay in and drink at Kate’s hits you. It was safer.

After one of the dance phases of the night, Ava had been given a drink some guy bought for her, but she didn't want it, since she didn't want to drink too much tonight. So, she gave it to you, an extra gift for your birthday, she said, so you took it, you drank it, and now you'd pay for it. Of Fucking course it was drugged.

Tripping over your own feet, bumping into random party goers, you try and look for the table your friends were at. Your vision is twisting and tunneled and you can't see or hear, Your breath quickens and you can't stop shaking and- 

And you feel a handle in your grip, the smoggy night air in your lungs, the music dulled through the brick wall at your back and the gravel digging into your knees. You can't tell if this is worse or not, on one hand you're out of the club and you can finally, maybe, not really, hear yourself think, but now it means you're in some back alley, drugged out of your mind and in the most dangerous city in the world. 

You need to get up, you had no clue how much time had passed, but judging by the fact you could now stand on wobbly feet, you guessed maybe an hour or so, enough time to filter out most of the toxins plaguing your system. You should go back inside, you think, the risk of passing out and being trampled by party goers was far more appealing then behind a dumpster, at least then your friends could get to you. You turn back to the door, already imagining how weeks from now you'll be laughing this terrible experience off in the comfort of Kate's living room, when the door opens, knocking you on your ass, back making contact with a loose pile of bricks lining the adjacent wall.

Evidently, not as much of the drug had dissipated as you’d thought and it takes a few moments to look at who opened the door, and when you do, all you can see is a dark silhouette back lit by technicolor lights. Just your fucking luck, clearly whoever had tried to drug Ava had realized what had happened and now had found a new target, you.

Reflexively, you smacked away the hand that reached for your shoulder, whoever this fucker was, you wouldnt let him lay a hand on you without a fight, drugged or not. You supposed, of course, you could scream but the likelihood of that actually garnering any help was slim to none. The only types of people who'd ever respond to such cries in Gotham were either more assailants or worse, your family.

Kicking, albeit weakly, at the man's feet furthered the scuffle, you couldn't afford to let him stay so high above you, he needed to be brought down to your level if you wanted any reliable ways to escape. Whatever garbled words he was spewing was lost on your ears, too focused on knocking him down to bother registering whatever filth he had to say. When he finally backs away, giving you the space to move, you bend over yourself, snagging his ankle and tugging his feet from beneath him. Groans and curses mix with the faded thumping of the bass inside the club, and though your assailant was down, you know this isn't over yet.

Shuffling to get your legs beneath you, you move to finally get a look at the man, pushing away the hands covering his face only to find him. Dick Grayson. Your older brother.

This, of course, stills you, a million questions running through your mind. Why was he here? Why wasn’t he in BloodHeaven? Why this club and why had he approached you? He hadn’t so much as looked at you since… since Jason died. Is that why? Because of what you saw?  But it’d been so long, why now? You hadn’t said anything, you never uttered a word to Bruce about what you had seen, he never would have believed you even if you had.

Flashes of that night raced through your mind, Dick, dripping blood onto the carpet of the foyer, no cuts for it to be his own but too much to know that whosoevers it was, they most certainly weren't alive anymore. Hiding behind the second floor banister, you watched the gore that surrounded him, awed at the sight. Only when he looked up did you feel fear. Convinced he had seen you, you fled. You knew Bruce's rule. No killing. And it was clear that Dick had broken it, which meant he could never let Bruce know. You knew how such a secret must be kept between two people, you hoped Dick didn’t intend to put you to rest beside Jason.

Strangely, nothing had come of that incident, you never allowed yourself to be stuck alone with him, not wanting to ever discuss what you saw and for his part, he never so much as uttered a word to you since that day, not that you two spoke much before it. But it seems, evidently, Dick must’ve decided you were too much of a liability after all, there was no other logical reason for him being here. He came to silence you. 

This revelation unfortunately gave Dick enough time to gain his bearings, ripping his arms out of your grip and pushing you flat into the gravel before saddling atop you. His hand gripped your wrists and you struggled to break free, you couldn’t die here, not now, it wasn’t fair. You hadn't even done anything, never did anything that could possibly warrant this. What gave him the right to wake up and decide your life was a risk to his own. Why now?

Kicking your legs before he could pin them too, you're able to plant a foot on Dicks hip, shoving him off and switching your positions. Dark eyes like pits of black tar stared up at you, eyes… like he was innocent, like he was free of guilt, of there was no blood on his hands, like you were the monster, like he hadn't just tried to kill you. It filled you with rage, why should he be the acceptation, why should you have to lay down and die, and for what? He had no reason to hate you, no reason to kill you and bathe in your blood as he had all those years ago. You'd show him, give him something to really fear.

Reaching behind yourself, blindly grasping at whatever you could, your hand finds a brick. With it now held tightly in your grip, you raise it high above you and deliver the first of many fatal blows. Each time you brought the brick down brought a sick pang of joy, and no matter how he clawed at your arms, each downward stroke landed perfectly across his face until those his hands could no longer keep themselves up to fight back. 

Any noise he made was drowned out by the music of the club until the only sound that came from him was the wet crack of brick meeting bloody flesh and bone, not even a breathe could wheeze past his lips, the crimson liquid pooling in his mouth leaving only feint gargles in its wake, until that too fell silent.

You've no idea how many times you laid that brick across his face, only stopping once the weight of it was too much for your intoxicated limbs to bear and letting it drop into the blood soaked gravel. It was quiet, so quiet, even with the club's music only a wall away, all you could hear was your own blood rushing through your ears. All you could see was red coating the body beneath you, as well as your glove clad hands, seeping into the ground and threatening to do the very same with your pants, inching ever closer as more of the vital fluid escaped.

 It was there, staring at the atrocity you had committed, that the horrid realization slammed into you like a freight train, Dicks eyes weren’t black, they were blue.

The next few minutes were, admittedly, a blur. You remember, distantly, falling sideways off the body before searching through whatever pockets you could find until you found a wallet. Finding the ID behind the clear plastic film was easy, but pulling it out with shaking fingers was not. The blood coating your glove smeared across the card and no amount of swiping at it with your thumb would fully clean it away, leaving it as tainted as you felt.

The date of birth was eerily familiar, though you couldn't tell why, but the face on the ID was not one you recognized, nor was the name. There were no dimples situated on either cheek, the hair cut in a far shorter fashion, the chin was cleft and the eyes… The eyes were a bitch black, not the startling blue often associated with your family, they most certainly weren’t Dicks eyes. Which meant that whoever you had just bludgeoned was a complete stranger, the one who had likely  drugged you in the first place. So it was fine, you could easily get off with a claim of self defence, even if Bruce didn’t especially care about you he still wouldn’t allow the scandal of you going to jail. You’d never have to tell them the real reason as to why you killed him. 

A quick glance at the body proved to you that the argument was futile, the drugs and alcohol in your system would be a whole different issue and it was clear as day that this was more of crime of passion then defense, neither of which would aid your case. But maybe the severity of the crime could. Plans raced through your mind, what actions would lead to the best possible outcome, what you could say to drive suspicion away, and it all came back to one option. Leave. No one knew you were here and no one had too. The only damning piece of evidence was the blood stained gloves adorning your hands, which were easily disposable far far away from here.

It wasn't like this man deserved justice, he’d tried to drug your friend, he had drugged you, so what? Just another piece of filth off the streets. Even in your own mind your justifications felt hollow compared to the sinking feeling that you had enjoyed this. Enjoyed caving the head in of this complete stranger, delighted in bringing down the brick again and again, loved snuffing out the light in those dark eyes.

Now far removed from the body and uncomfortably aware of your own, the faint buzzing from your own pockets has finally made itself aware to you. Gingerly,  you pluck your phone out, only to be met with Kate’s contact blanketing the screen. You accept the call with bated breath.

“DUDE! Where are you?!” her voice rings out from the device, harsh with worry and slurred with just a bit too much to drink.

“I… I’m outside, sorry, I just… needed some air,” you try to keep your voice even, hoping she’ll just assume the trembling of your words was from the chilly night air.

“Okay well, we are definitely having another talk about your disappearing acts later, but you need to hurry up front, some guy was caught with those new diluted fear toxin drugs that hit the market, the cops hauled him off but now the vibes here are just rancid, we can head back to my place, okay?” She speaks fast, you can tell she's moving through the crowd of club goers, and you can faintly hear Ava and Mark shouting over the noise, questions of where you had run off too.

 “Yeah, that’s cool, I'll meet you at the car.” and you hang up before Kate could confirm, they wouldn't leave without you, so it was fine. The weight of what Kate had relayed to you crushing your throat, air a long forgotten memory. Stiffly, you turn your head back to the body, if this man hadn’t been Dick and evidently not the one to have drugged Avas drink, then who was he?

 Pointedly not looking at what once was a face, you move to pocket your phone and gloves before tossing the remaining items aside. You don't need anything else to be tied back to you, best to leave it here. Staggering to the door that would lead you back to the club, you take a final glance at the body, hoping to sear the image into your memory. Then you pull the door open and step inside.

 Swirling through a sea of technicolor lights, fuzzed by the alcohol and apparent fear toxin you were drugged with, you made your way to the front entrance, intent to leave the area as fast as humanly possible. No matter what, you couldn't be here when the body was found. Weaving through the mass of party goers was surprisingly easy and you were thankful for that. What wasn't easy was trying to ignore all the idle conversations that plagued your ears over the mind throbbing music. One conversation unfortunately piqued your interest as you passed them by.

“Hey, have you seen Ryan?” a girl nearly screamed at her friend over the music. Your heart sank, you knew that name, had read it just minutes ago.

 “No, he'd said he’d back in a bit, said something about checking on someone who looked out of it, I don't know,“ Was the corresponding shout from the girl's friend.

Picking up speed, you darted away from the couple, barely catching the tail end of the conversation, 

“Man, he’s such a bleeding heart, he better hurry or he’s gonna miss his bir-”

You exit the club before you can hear the rest and before you can ponder just what was being said, arms are thrown over your shoulders, nearly knocking you clear off your feet.

“Finally! We were getting so worried! Come on, let's blow this joint!” Kate dragged you back to the car, where Ava and Mark were waiting, puffing smoke out into the chilled air. Their faces light up upon seeing the two of you approach and they usher you into the back seat along with Kate, before they climb into the front.

The drive is admittedly quick, but it feels like eons pass as the four of you make your way back to Kate’s place. The chatter is loud, the singing along with the radio even louder and all the while two things nagged at the back of your mind. Why had the man really approached you in the alley and why was the date on his ID so familiar?

“Are you okay?”

The question startles you from your brooding, turning to look at Kate, her eyes earnest and just as dark as the man you had brutally murdered nearly an hour ago.

“What?”

“I asked if you're okay, your favorite song was on and you barely made a peep.” Kate bumped your shoulder, as she often did when she was nervous. Glancing to the front, you knew Ava and Mark were also listening despite their valiant effort to seem fully engrossed with finding a parking spot in the garage of Kate's building. Focusing back Kate, you force a smile, returning the shoulder bump, hopefully selling the reassurance as sincere, as to not portray the new flurries of distress Kate's words had ignited in your chest.

“I’m fine, just tired is all, long night,” the words flow smoothly off your tongue, the car pulling to a stop effectively moving the attention elsewhere. Kate huffs, but accepts your answer as you all exit the vehicle.

“Yeah, it is pretty late, I guess we can do cake and presents tomorrow,” Mark chimes in and at your confused glance, he pats your shoulder, his chuckle perpetrating the air, “Don't tell me you’re so wasted you forgot it's your birthday, it’s the whole reason we went out!”

The world seems to tilt as realizations as Mark's words fell upon you, your knees all but bucking beneath the crushing weight. Mark seems to take your sudden trembling as drunkenness, hoisting you up into his arms, whatever idle chatter exchanged between him and the girls falls on deaf ears as your mind works to piece together tonight's events.

 What had the man been saying and why was the date so familiar? You now knew the dreadful answers to both. Kate's words echoed through your mind, accompanied by a different voice you didn’t fully recognize, but knew all the same, smashing through the fog that had kept you blissfully unaware of what the man had been saying to you when he first found you in that alley, 

“Are you okay?”

Those words swirl in your mind, coupled with the realization that the reason the date of birth on the ID was so familiar was because it was today. Your birthday. It had been his as well. He had tried to help you and intern you had killed him… yet even with this brought to light, you still loved every second of it.

You thought I was gone, didn't youuuu. Well think again! Okay!!! WOOOOOO origin storyyyy lets gooooo. Lemme know what you think bc by golly this was a monster to write and the worms love comments lol. idk how ppl do it.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

~Masterlist~

[captain-huggy-bear]

Listen idk what it his but Jack loves marking you up, but in a different way. Like leaving his hand print on your ass . He LOVES that

This was a thot and a half...18+ MDNI NSFW under the cut 👀 Warning: Jack's a lil' mean but in a way that you want him to be, still a loving baby, spanking as a 'punishment'. All consensual

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You expect it, it's part of your plan to be perfectly honest. To give Jack an excuse to mark you up, to give him a reason to paint your arse red with his handprint after a long roadie filled with irritating losses. You don't even pretend to be surprised when he walks in, catching you bare with your fingers between your legs like he told you expressly not to do while he was gone.

You're not surprised when he takes a seat on the bed and drags you over his knee until your arse is in the air, one arm laying across your back so you can't squirm, the other smoothing over the skin of your cheeks, lulling you into what you know to be a false sense of comfort because you know you've been a brat and brats don't get rewards from Jack.

"You didn't listen to me, baby..." The soothing sensation of his palm across your cheek is gone, hand pulled back, pulled away as he scolds you as you try to squirm on his lap, "I told you not to touch yourself while I was gone and you couldn't." a sharp slap to your arse has you jolting, skin going red underneath his hand but not red enough, "Fucking." Another slap, harder this time, causes you to moan out across his knee, "Listen." A third slap reddens your cheek, his hand resting there, smoothing over the skin lovingly because despite it all Jack loves you and despite it all this is supposed to be good for you both. It's your trust and love in him that makes this possible, because you know if he really hurt you, if you really wanted to stop, he would without hesitation.

"'m sorry, Jacky..." It doesn't sound very apologetic, not when it's practically a whine, your hips squirming trying to find some sort of friction even if it's just the catch of his jeans on your clit. His other hand is there to stop you, pinning you still because you don't get a reward, not for touching yourself without him when he told you not to. Not when he was so ready to come home and treat you so soft and gentle after a week away, not when you've ruined that for him. Now all he wants is to mark you up, cover you in him in the best sort of way.

"Oh, you're sorry? It's too late for that, angel. Actions have consequences. Play stupid games, get stupid prizes." A quick succession of light spanks to the now sore skin of your arse reminds you what that stupid prize is, "You're going to count every slap to your ass until you get to 20 and if you stop counting, I'm restarting, understand?"

Truthfully it's not to punish you, you both know that. It's for him because Jack fucking loves leaving your ass red, loves the fact he can see his hand print there for days, that you wince whenever you sit because of him and you can't even deny that you love it too. It's why you're always breaking the rules, always such a brat when you could be good and do as you're told.

You nod your head so hard that from this angle it makes you slightly dizzy, but it's not good enough for Jack. A hard slap to your other arse cheek has you using your words, "I understand, Jacky, promise."

"Good, start counting."

Each slap is followed by you whimpering out a number; 1, 2, 3, and your arse is already red, the print of his hand starting to take shape, 4, 5, 6 and he's changing to the other cheek, your skin blisteringly hot from how much blood has surged to the area. 7, 8, 9, and 10, you're soaking between your legs, practically dripping down your thighs as his fingers drift to your centre, circling your slit just enough to have you moaning and writhing, but not enough to give you any true relief.

"You're such a fucking brat, this fucking wet for me? How are you supposed to learn, baby, when you're enjoying this?" He doesn't even have the energy to sound angry, the smirk so clear in his voice because fuck...this is what makes this so good. The fact he knows you're getting off on it as much as him, that as much as he is rock hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans, you're soaking. Slick wetting the leg of his jeans making it hard to not just stop. But, God, he needs to see his palm print red and blistering on both arse cheeks, needs to see you wince when you sit down tomorrow and he can't have that if he stops now.

"'m sorry, love you..." Tears are streaming down your cheeks, a whimpering whining mess at the feeling of Jack's fingers tapping against your clit, causing your nerves to jump and buzz, but giving you nothing more.

"I know, baby, but we're not done yet, 10 more to go til you've learnt your lesson. What sort of boyfriend would I be if I let you be a brat, mmm? You've got to learn, angel."

You nod because you know it's the best course of action, agreeing with him as he starts back up again. 11, 12, 13, and you know sitting will be awkward after this, but so worth it. 14, 15, 16 and Jack's palm print is clear across both your arse cheeks, it looks good, the red print that no one could mistake for anything else. His mark left on you, your flesh burning hot, your cunt pooling slick on his thigh, seeping through his jeans. 17, 18, 19 and you're squirming so hard you almost slip off his knee, but he's got you, pulling you back firm against him before delivering the final slap to your skin.

"There, that wasn't so bad, huh?" His palm is gentle now, soothing circles across your burning skin. Loving and gentle because even when Jack's 'punishing' you, he can't help it, can't turn that switch off in his head that wants to baby you, to look after you, to care for you.

"Please, Jack..." His name's a pretty little whine from your throat, that has him pulling you upright into his lap, hand resting around your neck, holding, gentle as he tilts your wet eyes to look at him.

"Please what, pretty girl?"

"Need you, please, missed you so bad." and well, who is he to deny you after you counted so pretty for him? Who is he to deny you when you wear his palm print like a pretty brand across your arse?

[hardly-an-escape]

just a little something for Tommy Kinard Appreciation Day and @peppermintquartz <3

A few weeks after they get back together, Tommy comes over to the loft for dinner. It's nothing fancy, no special occasion – Evan's got a new roasted chicken recipe and they both have the night off, so Tommy shows up around 6:00 with a bottle of wine and a slightly nicer-than-average shirt.

He's rummaging around in a kitchen drawer, looking for some matches or something to light the candles on the dining table, when he finds the notebook. It's one of those composition books with the classic black and white cover, the miniature version, a little beat up. He probably shouldn't read it – scratch that, he definitely shouldn't read it – but.

It's labeled with his name.

Tommy, right on the cover, in Evan's handwriting.

He glances over his shoulder. Evan has his back turned, fussing with the salad dressing and not particularly paying attention, so Tommy palms the little notebook and wanders over to the living room to open it.

The first page has a single sentence: Things I Miss about him. After that it turns into a list.

His eyes

the way his face scrunches up when he smiles for real

his hands

His ass! And his dick!!!

I feel like I shouldnt write that but it's true!!

Tommy swallows hard. Evan's handwriting is kind of uneven and hard to read, and his spelling and punctuation aren't the best – but it's undoubtedly a list, all lined up with neat little bullet points, of the things he'd missed about Tommy while they'd been apart.

His hugs

especialy the way he used to press our cheeks together and hang on just a little longer then I was expecting him too

He's such a good firefighter and so expereinced, I always felt like I couldve learned alot from him

the competency in general... hes so good at so many things!

he could be so bitchy/sarcastic but he's actually so kind. Like his jokes were never mean

Really good with kids

he would be an amazing dad someday

The last item is barely legible, thoroughly scratched out, as though Evan had thought twice about it the moment he'd written it down. Tommy feels tears prick behind his eyes. Evan would make a fantastic father, he thinks. They haven't really talked about it – marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. Before, it had been too early, and now that they're together again... it still feels too new, too raw, to bring it up. But Evan's the first person who's ever made Tommy want to have that conversation. He flips to the next page.

I don't want it to sound like I was only with him for sex but god I miss his body so much

Tommy snorts. He's so absorbed he doesn't hear Evan call out from the kitchen.

"What was that, babe?"

He took such good care of me. like when I hurt my shoulder but also just in general. He checked in with me alot and always made sure I was ok

really good listener

Did I take care of him enough? did I listen to him enough?

I think maybe I didn't

"Hey, Tommy, did you – oh," Evan says, poking his head around the stairs. "Uh. You found that."

"I'm sorry," Tommy says immediately. "I shouldn't have looked at it, I just – it had my name on it," he finishes lamely.

"It's okay," Evan says, coming to sit next to him on the couch. "It's just a little embarrassing. I didn't really know what to do with myself, I had a lot to say and, uh, people got kind of sick of me talking about you after a while. So I started writing it down. I kind of forgot it was still floating around."

The thing is, over the past couple of weeks they've talked about those last two items on the list. Tommy's been honest about the fact that he'd felt, at times, that he was being more careful with Evan than Evan was being with him. About the fact that he'd been okay with that, until he wasn't; that he'd been okay in the role of fun, sexy first boyfriend, until he realized that not only were he and Evan not on the same page, they weren't even reading the same book.

It's different to see the words written out so plainly. But they're on the same page now. They're walking into the same future, hand in hand.

Tommy sets the little notebook aside and laces his fingers together with Evan's.

"I love you a lot, you know," he says. It's not the first time he's said it, but it still feels so special it's a little unreal.

"I love you, too," Evan says instantly, beaming, eyes twinkling.

[wlwsoccerfics]

The ACL Chaos Roommates(KerstinCasparijXRuthBrownXJillRoordXCasparijReader)

Warnings: mentions of adhd, mental health, ACL injuries.

Summary: both you and your girlfriend Jill have done your ACL in the exact same Game. Only Like 20 minutes apart from one another so you and Jill move in with Kerstin and Ruth.

You and Jill both sat on the couch. She had her right knee resting on a pillow and while you had your left knee resting on a pillow. Holding hands with one another.

"you two manage to be adorable even while being injured!" Kerstin stated. You chuckle a bit.

"well our love keeps growing day by day!" You explained.

"i agree! It's been three years but i won't ever stop Loving her!"Jill stated. Ruth smiled as she walked over with your pain meds and two bottles of water.

"okay Love birds, time for your daily dose of pain meds!" She said. Handing you a bottle of water each.

"thanks Ruth!" You said with a small smile.

"yeah thanks Ruth!" Jill replied with a smile. You both take your pain meds before relaxing again.

"i have Physio come in today in around an hour to see how well surgery went and what i can and can't do." You told them. Biting down on your bottom lip. You were quite nervous. jill already had her visit from Physio Yesterday and she would start working with him in two days.

"you are worried. I can tell!" Kerstin stated.

"yeah i am! I mean this sucks! Not only will it take months to recover but we were supposed to plan our wedding for this year as well. But i don't plan on limping down the aisle!" You replied and sighed sadly.

"liefje, het komt goed!(love, it will be okay!)" Jill told you.

"Je weet dat ik niet iemand ben die heel geduldig is als het om mezelf gaat!(you know I am not someone that is very patient when it comes to myself!)" You answered.

"Je moet stoppen met jezelf onder druk te zetten.(you need to stop putting pressure on yourself.)" Your sister said, sighing softly.

"she is right. It's not good for your healing process to put so much pressure on yourself!" Ruth agreed with your sister. No surprise there.

"they are right, y/n!" Jill answered. Squeezing your hand gently. You squeeze her hand back.

"i know, i am sorry i will try to be patient with myself and the process. we can figure the wedding stuff out later!" You said softly. Kerstin smiled softly.

"that's a much better attitude right there, little sis!" She told you.

"i agree with Kerstin!" Your fiancee replied.

"okay, okay! I got it i need to work on my patience! Altough resting isn't in my blood! ADHD wants me to be active and not sit around an bore myself to death!" You stated and laughed a bit.

"which reminds me, did you take your meds?" Jill asked. You looked at her and then at your sister and Ruth.

"Uh No! I am sorry! I will take it now!" You told them and grabbed it from the Coffee table. Reading the Label to make sure it was yours cause you weren't the only one with adhd in this House. You quickly swallowed the pill with water.

"good Job!" Kerstin let you know.

"thanks!" You replied.

The Physio came in and looked at your wound from surgery. It was still quite swollen so you couldn't try much movement today. Only checking if you could wiggle your toes and little things like that. Jill's knee was healing alot better and you were thankful for that and happy for her. But also didn't like that you were behind on this. He would come Check on you in two more days before he was gonna start working with jill.

The three tried to cheer you up after hearing you needed to wait a bit longer but there was no use, you put on some Headphones and closed your eyes. Wanting to escape your reality in that moment. Not ready to talk. But still wanting to hold jill's Hand. So that's what you did. She gave yours a gentle squeeze every now and then. They waited until you were ready to talk. Which you were around 20 minutes later.

"i am ready to talk now. Sorry that i had to pull myself away for a bit. I needed to collect my thoughts and Feelings!" You told them.

"it's fine Love!" Jill said softly.

"yeah don't apologize for this! It's great that you can voice your needs!" Ruth answered.

"i agree! You used to let people Walk all over you and struggle with voicing your feelings! So i am proud of you for doing that now, little sis!" Kerstin told you. You smiled a little. It was funny when she called you little sis. You were twins after all. Not identical though. But she wasn't wrong. You were 15 minutes Younger then Kerstin was.

"thanks guys! You really are the best! I am really Happy for you Babe and Hope your recovery goes fast and well! I just hate that i always seem to be taking longer. It took me longer to start talking when we were Kids. Same with walking." You admitted.

"i hear you, y/n, i get why this Is frustrating! But this isn't a competition!" Kerstin said softly.

"you are right it isn't! It's still frustrating!" You replied.

"we are in this together ,Babe! Doesn't matter if i am starting Physio earlier! See it that way, you know what's coming because of me starting earlier!" Your fiancee told you.

"okay that's a good point you got there!" You admitted.

Two days later Jill went to the training grounds for therapy. And you joined her. You also got the go now. But still had to be more careful then Jill. Which was fine though. You were just happy you could start with getting back onto your feet.

[mental-ch-illness]

pro tip for recovering addicts

TW: Addiction, Alcohol dependency

as someone currently working through a moderate addiction to alcohol, there is something that actually really has helped me recently: replacement and going nuclear.

i would like to say that this method is not fool proof, and it will not work for people who have not completely accepted their addiction or have severe addiction. also, i am only dealing with alcohol dependency, so this may not work for others. even if you are struggling with alcohol, this might not work for you, but here's something that has helped me.

going nuclear, so don't even bother with trying to convince yourself it's going to be just one sip or one night. if you didn't trust yourself earlier that day, you probably shouldn't trust yourself now. so i've been doing the Most™ and simply applying brute force against myself. here's what i've been doing.

bought myself a timer lock. i put my alcohol in a cabinet and then use the lock on the cabinet. that way i have to wait to get to it. i can have a drink and then put it back and reset the lock. this prevents me from going back for more before the effects actually kick in. usually i make it a few hours. this method is great if you have a problems with delayed gratification because you can watch the numbers go down. also, you can set it to a longer periods of time to prevent day drinking. it's pretty easy, so you can set it up during those periods of clarity and yet it still holds up once the urges start up again.

i now leave my driver's license in the lock box of my car whenever i go to the store. this helps as i typically go to the store telling myself i won't buy alcohol. then when i'm actually passing by that aisle i find myself picking up some bottles and convincing myself it will be fine. it's not fine. just like above, take advantage of those moments of clarity and lock up your ID.

i've been deliberately diluting my alcohol by making premade mixed drinks. a go too of mine is measuring out three parts fruit juice and one part vodka (so it should be... like... 8% ABV, but don't quote me on that). i typically just mix it into an already emptied bottle of fruit juice. that way, instead of just doing shots of straight vodka, i am forced to actually drink a whole cocktail. there's only so much my stomach can hold, so it forces me to slow down.

i started taking medication to help curb addiction urges. currently, i am on a daily dose of naltrexone (as a pill) to help curb the urge to drink. it's not a cure all, but it does provide a sort of speed bump. not just with alcohol. i've sometimes found myself questioning impulse purchases and the like much more often. there are other medications that can help, so it might help to talk to your doctor.

here's another thing that isn't really 'nuclear', but has helped: i got a snow cone machine... just a tiny one i found on clearance. whenever i got the urge to drink, i'd make a snow cone. i didn't think it would work as well as it has, but i think the dopamine hit from that does help to curb things.

not everyone can quit cold turkey, but everyone should do their best to outsmart their addiction when they can. you'll fuck up, but that doesn't mean that you are a fuck up. it's gonna be okay. maybe not today, or tomorrow, or the next day, but it will be one day.