#when not being able to decide which leg feels worse right now turns into using both canes at once and then spiraling slightly over the

[the-grape-entity]

When a bad day at the end of a few bad weeks turns into being terrified you’re getting worse and terrified you’re never getting better

[everythingne]

marketing ploy - ln4 ch7

Lando recovers. McLaren and Red Bull own up. Olivia and Lando decide the future, and give Oscar a heart attack while doing so. We get our happy ending.

piastri!oc x lando norris, bestfriends brother/fake dating

warnings/notes: hospital visits, mentioned injuries, loopiness from medication, pregnancy/sex jokes, media being bitches, lando going 'guys i gotta keep her' and doing the absolute MOST lmao, this is also TECHNICALLY the last chapter but im gonna write more for olivia and lando most def (also olivia will feature as oscars sister in other fics bc i love her)

prev |

-

I haven't run in years.

I can feel the burn of the air in my lungs as I force them open, adrenaline making every rib shake as I suck in a breath and force it back out. My shoes slam into the floor of the paddocks, sending jolts up my legs as I whisk my bag over my shoulder and 'just go' as Christian had said. My mind is swimming with a thousand thoughts. What if he was seriously injured? He was able to walk, but he collapsed, was it his legs? Or his ribs? What if it's his back? Or his arms? How long will he be out? Is this a whole-season issue or just a few weeks?

Fuck, I cannot be thinking about this right now.

I sweep the room quickly to make sure I have everything, patting my pockets to check for my phone--which is nestled in the back left pocket of my jeans, before whirling around and out of the room.

Once I'm out of the paddocks and towards the exits, where it opens a bit more, the wind whisks into my skin and bites me as I use one hand to dig through the side pocket to find Lando's car keys. I can't steady my hands, even when I'm trying to control their shake, they just get worse. Whether it's fear or anxiety, I find it plain annoying as I struggle to get the small keychain out of my bag. Lando had driven me here from the hotel and shoved the keys in my bag since he didn't walk in with his bag and didn't want to lose the car keys.

Luckily, he had, because talking to anyone in this state would be a bust. I could feel my attitude snipping at my heart as people shouted my name at me. I couldn't stop. I had to find Lando. I knew what hospital he'd be taken to, I had to get there in one piece.

And it was going to be hard with the fucking media right here.

A few reporters try to follow me, but I'm able to slip through the crowds like water. Once I make it to the parking lot, a woman steps in front of me with her camera held high and I shout.

"Can you fucking move?!" And shove her to the side as I zip out of the lot. Fuck the standards, fucking being polite, I'll ask for forgiveness later. And apologize, probably.

Throwing my bag haphazardly into the car, I follow suit and slam the door. There's time here for me to scream, cry, and rage in semi-private, but I bite back the bubble in my throat, throwing my seatbelt on and turning on the car's engine. I wait no time to slam the car forward into first gear, pulling out of the lot with shaking hands. My hands slip with sweat as I try when I remember his McLaren's manual. Cursing, I force myself to revert back to the car I drove in high school as my hands dance across the car in perfected practice.

Thank god I still have that going for me.

The highway is empty, where I thought there'd be lines of traffic there are only a few sparse cars. I slam the car as hard as it can go, watching the ticking of the speedometer, 50... 60... 70... 80...

I look behind me, merging into the fast lane and gunning it even harder. The car sings, and I feel an odd rush of momentary euphoria.

I hit around 165kpm at some point. The car doesn't even shake, it seemingly glides along with my movements, I hear sirens, I don't know if they're for me but I'm not staying to find out. I press harder, merging to the off-ramp and taking it, barely registering what's around me as I slam on my brakes and slip into the traffic near the hospital.

It feels good to drive like that. Maybe I should get back into racing at some point.

Once the McLaren is parked in a back corner of the hospital lot, I grab my bag, rip myself out of the car, and slam it shut, and triple-check it's locked. I turn and book it into the hospital, trying to breathe steady enough to keep myself from losing my shit. It feels like I can't run fast enough, slipping into the hospital and around people who dodge my clearly rushed pace. I pause in front of a desk, panicked and out of breath when someone comes to my side.

"Hi, honey, who are you lookin' for?" A kind nurse says, her hand finding my arm to apply soothing pressure as she notices the fear in my movements. I thought I was hiding it better than I was, I guess. I take a slow breath and let the shake in my hands come in, no longer holding everything back.

"Lando Norris, he just came in with Formula One?" I ask and the woman nods. She asks to see my ID and I fish out my license and Red Bull card to verify my employment.

"Olivia!" A voice shouts as my items are handed back when I'm cleared, and Jon comes up to my side, pointing at my head.

"You still have your headset on." He says softly and I look him up and down, pointing at him.

"So do you," I say. We pause and fall into soft laughter as I pull the headset down to my neck. Jon takes me by the elbow further into the hospital, out of the view of some of the reporters who try to snap photos of us as they're shoved out by the security. I hadn't even seen them when I made my way inside. Through the winding halls, and down to a smaller section of the hospital, Jon brings me to the door to what I assume is Lando's room.

"He's fine." Jon starts with, which eases me immediately, "He's a bit banged up, they think he might have broken or bruised one of his ribs. He's really out of it, the painkillers made him super loopy. Just a forewarning, he's also been dipping in and out of consciousness so don't be alarmed. It's just the painkillers."

"Is his family here yet?" I ask, looking at the door, and Jon shakes his head no once I look back at him.

"They're driving at normal speeds, so no. I don't wanna know how you got here so fast." He steps forward and knocks. A nurse pops open the door and welcomes us inside, Jon stays back while I make my way to the bedside. Lando's wearing a tee shirt and some loose sports shorts, he looks exhausted. I can see bruising on his legs as I nurse tosses the blanket over him as if trying to hide it from me.

"Here!" She pulls up a chair happily and I thank her as I sit down on it, taking my bag off and setting it on the floor, dropping my headphones in. I sigh, taking Lando's hand and feeling his pulse as if the machine that literally tells me that is lying. It feels good to feel his heart thrum under my skin and I kiss his wrist where the pulsepoint is.

"My girlfrien's not g'nna like you doin' that." Lando tries to take his hand from me, Jon snorting in the doorway. I let go of him and laughed softly, leaning up to brush his hair back from his face, the longer curls sticking to his forehead. He's still got the lines from his helmet and balaclava, and I trace one with my finger as he gives me the nastiest stink eye I've ever seen him muster.

"Hi, Lando." I croon, and he whines, slowly rolling his head to the side.

"I have a girlfriend." He states, poking my hand to push it away from him and I send him an odd look. Jon walks over and I can see he's recording, which makes a small amused smile poke at my lips.

"Lando," I laugh softly and Lando whacks my hands away softly, fighting through the weariness of his pain medication to wave his arms.

"I have a girlfriend." He pouts, laying his hands still at his side. I just laugh again, and Lando shouts in his dreary state, "It's not funny! I do!"

"Shush, shh, Lando." I stand and push my chair back a bit as I stifle my laugh into the back of my hand.

Jon calls from where he stands, attempting to help me not laugh by giving me something new to focus on, "Who's your girlfriend, Lando?"

"Olivia. Oscar's sister, which he was actually not happy about at first but I convinced him I was cool--" Lando keeps rambling on until I lift my hand and cup his cheek, running my thumb under his eye as I speak softly.

"Lando, baby, I am your girlfriend." I put a hand on my chest, "I am Olivia."

Lando blinks, eyes settling on me before he gasps and leans up to grab my face and pull me down for a litter of soft pecks to my cheeks and face. I catch myself on the bed and laugh, catching his lips as he happily grins up at me. It's all doe eyes, lovesick smiles on his lips as he keeps his hands tight on my face.

"Hi, baby." He whispers, bringing me in for another kiss and I detach one of his hands so it can rest by his side. I slowly situate him against the blankets with the help of Jon, and sit a bit closer to the head of the bed so Lando can be close enough to me. He keeps one of his hands in mine and I slowly run my thumb along his knuckles.

"Well, Mr. Norris!" A piercing voice calls, a young woman stepping into the room with a bit of an excited flourish, "You are all set! Jon's gonna look over your scans, specifically for those bruised ribs. We're thinking it'll be about three or four weeks of healing, and he's gonna make that like--workout plan and stuff with your personal doctor."

"Ah, thank you, Doctor." Lando smiles, watching as the doctor hands Jon some papers to look over. She smiles at me, a hint of recognition in her eyes.

"Olivia, right?" She asks and I nod, shaking her outstretched hand.

"I'm glad you made it here, Lando was waiting for you a bit impatiently." She kept her happy smile, rocking from foot to foot, "Kept asking us where you were, or when you'd get here. You've got a good man on your hands here, sweetheart."

"I know." My heart is bursting, "He's shown me that over and over."

--

11 JULY, ENGLAND. ↴

oliviapiastri and landonorris have posted new stories!

mclaren has made a new post!

liked by oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo, and 876k others..

Thank you once again to @ oliviapiastri for taking care of our #4 and providing the team with love and some pics while he was recovering! Lando is at home now, and our official statement on the accident and other situations this season has been posted on our website.

View the story: McLaren.uk/formula1/landoolivia...

user has turned off comments for this post!

mclaren.uk...

OFFICIAL STATEMENT ON SITUATIONS BETWEEN LANDO NORRIS AND OLIVIA PIASTRI THIS SEASON.

WRITTEN BY STEVE ATKINS (M), ON BEHALF OF ZAK BROWN (M), ANDREA STELLA (M), ALICE MCLOUGHLIN (ORBR), ASTRID MARINA (UNAFF.), ADA LUANNE (UNAFF.), CHRISTIAN HORNER (OBRB), AND HIMSELF.

On the 22nd of February this year, Lando Norris (MCLAREN F1 TEAM, DRIVER) and Olivia Piastri (ORACLE RED BULL, HEAD OF ANALYSIS) were pulled into the office of Christian Horner (ORACLE RED BULL, TEAM PRINCIPAL) in Bahrain. A deal was struck between both parties and their corresponding teams to create a fake dating scenario, capitalizing on the tensions between Oracle Red Bull Racing and the McLaren F1 Team to push ticket and merchandising sales. This fake relationship was planned to eventually leak in PR and Social Media Strategy, however, due to Norris' crash in Silverstone, the entire program has been canceled. The program was also discovered by F1 Stewards upon investigation after Olivia's reaction to the accident cemented rumors in the media of the two dating. Both the McLaren F1 Team and Oracle Red Bull are under investigation, and fines are yet to be announced.

Norris and Piastri chose not to be a part of this statement and can be expected to make their own statements in the coming weeks.

On July 9th of this year, Lando Norris was involved in an accident in the pitlane of Silverstone. Engineers have determined this was caused by an overheating of brake lines that didn't allow Norris to stop his vehicle along with worn tires. No fines have been placed at this moment.

Olivia Piastri will return to work with Red Bull remotely immediately and will be in-person by Zandvoort. Lando Norris will return to racing with McLaren by Zandvoort and will be replaced by reserve driver Bianca Bustamente for the time being. Neither Norris nor Piastri will be fined for involvement with the media stunt, or with the accident as of this moment.

20 JULY, LONDON ↴

There’s a sort of haze around me as I blink sleep from my eyes. A warm pressure on my left makes me look to the side. Lando’s face is squished against my chest, soft snores leaving his slightly parted lips and rolling across my bare skin that pokes out from under my tank top. I take a moment to take it all in, how we’d gotten here, how we were, and I can’t help but roll to pull him closer to me and curl him inside my arms as I pepper a few kisses to his hairline.

How did I ever not like him? He's a fucking saint.

Lando, a heavy sleeper until I started sleeping in the same bed, noticed immediately and grabbed my waist with groggy whines about how tired he was. I coax him back to sleep, kissing his hairline and gently massaging his back until the snores return and I smile at Lando’s sleeping face.

“Awake yet?” Oscar calls from the door, and I wave. He laughs under his breath, waving me over, and it takes a bit of grace to detach myself from Lando. Once I do, I grab one of the spare throw blankets off the floor from where Lando had kicked it and slip over to where Oscar is standing by the door as I wrap it around me to keep out the morning chill.

“He’s exhausted. I think all the stress of the season is catching up on him.” I rub sleep from my face, and Oscar nods, handing me a piece of toast like a peace offering. I take it and tilt my head at him.

“They’re fining McLaren and Red Bull a lot for this stunt. It just came out.” Oscar hums, “said it’s a breach of contract and a risk for documents to be shared amongst the teams…”

My heart jumps to my throat, and I look at Lando’s sleeping form as he rolls into where my fading body heat is still in the blankets, “they want us to split?”

“Well. Lando’s contract ends with McLaren this year.” Oscar paused to take a sip of his coffee before leaning in to whisper, “and you didn’t hear it from me, but Christian has been looking at grabbing him for a few years now.”

“Is Checo moving?” I ask because I know Max wouldn’t leave Red Bull unless we forced him out by dragging him by his ankles.

“I dunno.” Oscar grins, stepping back and whacking my shoulder, “but you can date within your garage, so.”

With that, he walks away and I turn back to Lando as he starts to stir. I lean on the doorframe and watch as he blearily blinks his eyes open, hands searching for me in the covers until he lifts his head to see me off in the doorway.

“C’mere.” he croaks, and I smile, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to sit on the edge of the bed as he wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my thighs.

I can’t imagine him in navy. But it might look good on him.

25TH JULY, LONDON ↴

“is Max positive?” Lando pokes his head into the kitchen doorway, looking at the island where I’m staring at my laptop. I look up and shrug, sending an email back to Christian about the fines and the media being on his ass for the whole stunt.

“Kylie said it’ll be here in five minutes,” I reply, refreshing my email as if that will make the minutes suddenly not matter and for the email to pop up. Apparently, Max had gotten sick right before the next race. While I was home with Lando to make sure he wasn’t being strenuous and to keep media off my back until everything died down, they had to do a COVID test on Max and isolate him just in case.

“It would suck if he's out for his home race this year." Lando wanders into the kitchen and pulls up a stool next to me as he sets his phone down on the counter. He’s been living in Oscar and my apartment for the past few days, just until next week when he goes back to McLaren's training center for a bit to do a lot of physical therapy before getting in the car next weekend for Zandvoort.

Oscar calls my phone, and I stand up, telling Lando to keep checking my email as I make my way over to the other side of the kitchen to grab my phone.

“Yes, bitch?” I say into the phone and Oscar laughs at my sharp tone.

“Just checking in on Lando for Zak,” Oscar says and I look behind me and my boyfriend—like, actual boyfriend now, and smile.

“He’s been fine, ribs are still a little sore. I had him doing cardio earlier and he was faring pretty well so I—I think Jon said he can go back to training a bit earlier. He’s still coming back in Zandvoort though.” I hum, “how’s Bia faring?”

“She’s having the time of her life. I gotta start bringing her around more. You guys really would be an unstoppable duo.” Oscar laughs, “But good, Jon is off today so I’ll let Zak know to reach out to him and ask.”

“Ollie!” Lando whines and I turn.

“Yess?” I draw out as I walk to his side.

“It's negative.”

“Oh, thank fucking god.” I breathe, “That makes everything a lot easier for me.”

Oscar is quiet on the line for a few moments before asking in a small voice, “What’s negative?”

“Max’s COVID test. He’s just got the flu.” I say without thinking much of my brother's hesitance before he lets out a soft laugh.

“I thought you took a pregnancy test or something, I was about to start judging the type of cardio you’ve been doing,” Oscar says and I shout,

“Dude!”

“I feel like that’s a reasonable thing to be worried about!”

“Oh my god, we’ve only been actually dating dating for like two weeks!” I groan and Lando sends me a confused look, so I pop Oscar onto speakerphone.

“It only takes like—five minutes to make a kid!”

“Hello?!” Lando shouts and I sink to the floor in a fit of laughter, trying to bite back the volume of my laughter before Lando shouts, "Do you think I fucked your sister?!"

"No! Stop! Stop talking Lando!" Oscar shouts over the phone and now I'm hysterical on the floor in tears as Lando tries to backtrack and Oscar keeps shouting for him to just-- "Shut the fuck up, Lando!"

"Both are you are going to kill me, I'm losing it." I wheeze from where I'm now lying on the floor, Lando laughing alongside me as Oscar groans.

"First the house, now this?" He says and Lando makes some noise in the back of his throat as I manage to calm myself down enough to stand.

"What about a house?" I wipe under my eyes, leaning my head on Lando's shoulder as his arm wraps around my shoulder and he kisses my head, his fingers poking at my side and making me squirm as I push him away with a laugh.

"Nothing, love." Lando sighs, "Remember when they gave me those painkillers that made me super loopy the first night, and Oscar was watching over me?"

I nod, remembering how halfway through my grocery trip he had to call me because Lando was so loopy he thought that I was gone forever. And he had literally cried tears of joy when I answered Oscar's phone call.

"Well, I kinda... oh my god this is so embarrassing." Lando sighs and Oscar tells him he now has to tell the story and Lando hides his face in my hair as he recounts, "I was looking at apartments in London for us."

"Stop, oh my god." I whine, turning to Lando so I can kiss his cheeks and his forehead, pulling him down when he tries to move back so I can't, "That's so cute."

"No, it's embarrassing." He grumbles and I laugh, pulling him closer and kissing along his jaw and then the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

"I wouldn't mind that," I murmur to him and his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, his hands find my waist and he presses a kiss to my lips.

"Ew, I don't like that I can hear him kiss you over the phone." Oscar groans, "I'm hanging up now, don't do anything too strenuous."

"Fuck you, Oscar!" I laugh as the call hangs up, Lando keeping his arms firmly around my waist. We sit in silence for a few moments before his hand ghosts up the side of my neck to take my jaw in his palm, thumb hooking on my chin to pull me down to look at him.

"Would you seriously not mind?" He asks softly and I grin, leaning over to pop a quick kiss on his lips.

"Getting to have you with me every day?" I bring our foreheads together, his curls against my own as his hands find my waist to hold, my hands resting on his shoulders as I grin and flutter my eyes closed, "That's paradise."

"I'll literally buy one right now, don't even test me." He groans, pulling me closer and I laugh.

"Let's get Zandvoort out of the way first, yeah?"

JULY 28TH, TWITTER ↴

AUGUST 27TH, THE NETHERLANDS ↴

Luckily for me, I made it into the paddocks long before any media people. Max welcomes me with a slap on the back as I welcome him to his home race, and then I'm greeted by the Ferrari drivers once again as Checo laughs at my bewildered expression.

"I'm gonna tell the Tifosi on you both." I huff, but let both Charles and Carlos wrap me in tight hugs of congratulations as we laugh. Once the two are carted off to go do their actual jobs, I get settled in my chair and glance down at my desk before laughing.

A vase of freshly cut flowers and a little cup of coffee sits there, waiting for me, and I turn to look at Max who just grins.

"He's determined." Is all Max says before slipping away as he's called over to get dressed. I laugh and send Lando a quick thank you message, before taking a sip of the perfectly made coffee and settling down to finally get back into gear.

"Welcome back," A voice chimes and I glance up to see Christian in the doorway. I offer him a small smile and a nod.

"Good to be here." Is all I say in reply.

-

Lando and Max seriously just want to kill each other in these cars. Max takes the win at his home race by some insignificantly small number, they had to literally watch multiple playbacks to see who crossed first, which means Lando is still in good running for World Champion. Luckily, somehow a mix of car issues and the pure energy from Oscar, Charles, Checo, and Carlos managed to keep Max in P2 for most races, leveling out the chances for Lando to recover his lost points.

As soon as most drivers have returned to their paddocks, I'm mid-packing up when I'm ushered off by Logan, who finished P6. He quite literally hoists me off my feet and carries me into the crowd for the podium. A few other drivers lag back, and I look over to Oscar, who'd finished P4 behind Charles.

"Where's Lando?!" Logan shouts over my head at Oscar, who points, and then leans over to me.

"Here's that kiss they promised you'd have to do," He shouts in my ear and I laugh as the two lift me so I can be partially over the barrier holding back the audience from the racers. I wave Lando down and he laughs, slipping away from a reporter as he finishes an interview. Biting off his glove as he walks over, he drops it into his helmet and then grabs my jaw with that now gloveless hand, pulling me into his lips for a quick peck. I don't let him leave though, grabbing his jaw and pulling him back in for a few more deeper kisses.

Oscar cheers and Logan laughs before Lando secures one arm around me to pull me over the barrier. Logan and Oscar immediately hop over after me.

There's warmth in my chest as Lando keeps his hand on my lower back, pulling me through the crowd of drivers and up to where Max and Charles stand. A giddy excitement thrums across my skin.

I could do this forever.

--

SEPTEMBER 3RD, INSTAGRAM ↴

oliviapiastri made a new post!

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, charlesleclerc, and 876k others...

oliviapiastri: 6 months <3

charlesleclerc: damn y'all move fast

oscarpiastri: DUDE THIS IS THE FIRST TIME WE ARENT LIVING TOGETHER IN OUR WHOLE LIVES. CHEERS!

maxverstappen: cheers!! looks lovely

user1: THEY LIVE TOGETHER?

alexalbon: DUDE ITS BEEN SIX MONTHS??

⤷ landonorris: I KNOW??

landonorris: omg i can post this publically now

landonorris: i LOVE YOU OLIVIA<333

user2: lando going bat shit in these comments is so real

landonorris: I LOVE U SM DARLING

⤷ oscarpiastri: i liked it better before the FIA made them announce it. i wanna go back in time to before that happened.

⤷ oliviapiastri: get me a tardis then

⤷ bbcdoctorwho: we can make that work ...

⤷ oliviapiastri: HELLO?

user4: dying dead gone deceased i love them

landonorris posted a new story!

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Eight

IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm posting both chapters 7 and 8 today so just make sure you didn't actually miss 7 or this one might not make much sense, lol. Also I'd recommend having chapter 7 fresh in your mind when you read this one. This chapter serves as an 'interlude' chapter that occurs before/during/after Chapter 7 but is told from Dave and Marcus' POV's (not Reader's). One final note, a page break/divider indicates a shift of POV to another character, but hopefully that comes across easily enough in the writing anyway.

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 5.1k

Notes: Who gave me the right to put all this ANGST in my PORN story? dw, I have a couple more chapters planned out, I'll fix this mess I've created eventually :P

Chapter Warnings (BIG TIME spoilers in the warnings... I'd recommend skipping them if you don't want to be spoiled. If you're at this point in this story, you're fine with whatever I have left to throw at you lol): 18+ MDNI. M/M (Yeah that's right. Reader who? Sorry babe, I'll make it up to you next time!). Oral sex. Hand jobs. Anal play. A shower stall is our 3rd main character in this chapter. Inexperienced!Marcus. Dom!Dave. Daddy Kink. Derogatory talk. Praise kink. Little sprinkling of Soft!Dave. Porn with too many feelings that these idiot men don't know what to do with (we'll work on them, ok?). Infidelity-ish (again, these three got some shit to work out).

MASSIVE thank you for @janaispunk for beta'ing and being my sounding board.

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

When restfulness fails to come for Dave he eventually decides to pull himself away from the two sleeping forms next to him in the bed and head off to the shower instead. He could use a thorough washing, and not to mention the relaxing spray and solace of the shower may just offer him a bit of a chance to clear his head, hopefully.

Letting out a heavy sigh once he reaches the bathroom near the front entryway of the suite he shrugs off the oversized fluffy hotel robe and hangs it on the back of the door before closing it shut, reaching inside the shower stall and turning the temperature up to near scalding. He hisses the moment he steps inside the large enclosure, immediately turning his back to the water and facing the door instead but within a few seconds the temperature starts to feel perfect and he rolls his shoulders and aching muscles under the steady beat of the massaging spray.

“Fuck” he groans, head tilting back to let the water wash over his face and through his hair. In hindsight he maybe should’ve had a cold shower because he’s been rocking a semi for the last… god knows… since not long after his two bedmates had fallen asleep. He resists the urge to wrap his fist around himself and take care of it solo, thinking he can will it away with sheer mental focus instead. As if he could focus on much of anything right now. His mind was scrambled, and that just wasn’t Dave. He had an innate ability to compartmentalize, always had. It’s what made him so good at his job and had gotten him through many obstacles in his life thus far. But then he met fucking Marcus Pike, which ultimately, also led him to you, and now here he was playing fucking house with what was meant to be a one or two time fun “hookup” and goddamit if he didn’t feel himself starting to fall. What’s worse is that he hadn’t just fallen for you, either. Annoyed with himself yet again for not being able to shut his brain off, Dave turns around to face the spray again and gets to the task of washing his hair instead, needing something else to focus on besides the insistent need that’s hanging between his legs.

The quiet ‘snick’ of the bathroom door latching shut catches Dave’s attention, even with his head under the hot spray of the water in the oversized walk-in shower, because of course it does. Dave is always super aware and hyper vigilant, even when in a relaxed environment. His eyes squeezed shut as he rinses the shampoo from his hair and back turned to the door he calls out, “it’ll be all yours in a minute, almost done here”

So when he hears the sound of the glass door sliding open and the cool air hitting his back, despite his offer to give up the shower momentarily, he chuckles. A low, raspy laugh from deep in his throat as he pushes his hair back on his head and finally turns around, his eyebrow raising in amusement as his gaze settles on his unexpected visitor standing just outside the shower door.

“Well, what have we here?”

Marcus doesn’t say a word. Too nervous he’ll psyche himself out if he attempts to speak. Instead he unwraps the towel from around his waist, leaving him fully naked and exposed, and tosses it to the ground behind him before stepping inside the enclosure and sliding the glass door shut behind him.

Dave waits, stock still, because he hadn’t been expecting this. Not that he should be too surprised, he supposed. It was probably bound to happen and truth be told he was far from mad about it. Over time he’d grown to care for Marcus a lot, and more than what he knew was realistic for a ‘friendship’. And with the fondness for Marcus growing so did the sexual tension, he supposed. It wasn’t immediate, as he had felt with you, but as he spent more and more time with both of you Marcus had unknowingly carved out a spot for himself under Dave’s skin, just as you had on that very first night he’d met you. It started out slowly, he would feel his own arousal spike watching Marcus get pleasure but he had chalked that up to being natural, not unlike getting off to watching porn. But then it started to change, and Dave began to wonder what it might be like for him to give Marcus that pleasure and earlier this evening he gave in and did exactly that. Holding his hands around Marcus as the younger man submitted to him and came with Dave’s mouth at his ear nearly had Dave spilling inside of you the moment Marcus let go. He loved hearing the sweet cries from Marcus’ perfect pouty lips as Dave held him tight to his naked chest. And the way you looked up at both of them, pure lust and adoration in your gaze he felt his chest constrict around his heart like it might just explode.

In that moment he wanted to just gather you both in his arms and tell you, beg you, to keep him.

And now, here Marcus stood just inches away from him, naked and vulnerable.

Dave was well and truly fucked.

Swallowing the thick lump in his throat from his nerves, Marcus carefully, slowly and wordlessly sinks to his knees in front of Dave and pauses. Peering up at him with those honeyed brown eyes, silently begging for whatever had come over him to be reciprocated. He’d woken up when he felt the weight under the mattress shift when Dave had gotten up and watched with more focus than what was probably considered appropriate at the back side of Dave’s naked form as he crossed the room and snagged a robe from the back of the door and threw it on. Marcus had to stifle a groan as he felt his cock instantly begin to swell at just the sight of the slightly older man before him. Once he exited the bedroom Marcus let out a sigh and dropped his head back to the pillow with a heavy thud, closing his eyes and focusing his breathing for a few seconds but still, his dick betrayed him. He rolled over to his side and watched your sleeping form, debating whether he should wake you to help him with his little situation or not but quickly dismissed the notion. He knew you must be exhausted, it wasn’t like you to be sleeping in the middle of the day so clearly you were worn out. Plus he’s pretty sure the actual reason for his current state of arousal just walked out the bedroom door anyway.

He lays in bed for as long as he can stand it, until he hears the shower come to life on the other side of the suite and his cock twitches again involuntarily, his mind conjuring up images of Dave naked and letting the hot spray of the water cascade all over his body and suddenly Marcus feels jealous over a fucking shower head of all things. Before long he finds himself getting up and out of bed, quickly tying a discarded towel around his waist before he leaves the bedroom and makes his way through the suite.

A grin spreads across Dave’s lips as the hot water continues to beat down his back and he reaches a hand forward, gripping the younger man’s jaw in his hand and angling him further upward as his thumb gently caresses back and forth at his cheek as he rasps out, “Well what are you waiting for, Champ? This cock isn’t going to suck itself”

After taking in a quick deep breath to steel his nerves, Marcus, ever obedient, presses forward. His eyes close as he takes Dave’s semi-hard length into his mouth, his lips wrapping around him as he finds his footing, as it were, never having actually done this before.

“Eyes on me Slugger” Dave tuts, hand going underneath Marcus’ chin and forcing his gaze upwards with the flick of a single knuckle. Marcus’ gaze is weak as he tries desperately to hold Dave’s but when he feels Dave begin to grow and swell against his tongue he gets a newfound confidence and can’t help the low moan that leaves his throat as he envelops him further into his mouth and finally begins to move his tongue and lips around him, licking and sucking and tasting every inch offered to him. He may not know exactly what he’s doing, but he does know what feels good to him and tries his best to mimic those same behaviors.

He pulls off for just a moment, collecting saliva in the back of his throat and messily spitting onto Dave’s length before he wraps his mouth around it again and begins to bob his head back and forth, letting his tongue drag along the underside as he swallows him down the best he can, easing off only slightly when the thick head of him nears too far to the back of his throat and causes him to momentarily gag before he resituates himself to a comfortable feel and can enthusiastically continue.

“Fuck, that’s it. Good boy,” Dave sighs, hand pushing through Marcus’ golden brown locks and a little whimper escapes Marcus at the subtle praise, eyelids fluttering shut for only a moment before he remembers Dave’s words from earlier and opens them again to hold Dave’s gaze. “You suck cock almost as good as your wife, you know that pretty boy?” Dave teases and despite himself, it only turns Marcus further on. He takes one hand and wraps it around the base of Dave’s cock to pump as much as his shaft that won’t fit in his mouth while the other hand goes to his own aching need as he begins stroking himself to the same pace that his head bobs.

“Fuck” Dave curses again, a little breathless this time as his head tilts back into the spray of water. He wraps his hand around the back of Marcus’ head and helps him by setting the pace that he wants, fast and rough and nearly hitting the back of Marcus’ throat each time his hips jut forward. Marcus does his best to take him but before long he’s coughing, sputtering, gagging and gasping for breath as he pulls off of him after just a few short seconds of Dave fucking his throat, a long strand of saliva still connecting him to the now rock hard cock in his face and Dave lets out a little chuckle at Marcus’ obvious inexperience.

“Well, maybe you could learn a thing or two” Dave laughs. “Up,” he commands suddenly, hand gripping under Marcus’ bicep and hauling him quickly to his feet. Marcus goes willingly, all too eager to comply as Dave turns him to face the wall, grabs both of his hands and forces them above his head and flat against the warm tiles. Dave quickly crowds his space, stepping up behind him, the hot, hard length of him pressed right up against Marcus’ lower back.

His breathing laboured, Marcus tenses momentarily but then relaxes as he feels a large wet hand slide down his side, across the smooth skin of his hip and lower still until it ghosts over the globes of his ass and then back up to hold firmly at his hip again as Dave leans forward, breath hot against Marcus’ ear.

“Colour?” He asks and Marcus takes a steadying breath.

“Green. Uh… green. I - I think” he stammers out nervously. Dave hums before his hand snakes forward to grasp around Marcus’ hard, leaking cock and gives it a light squeeze that has Marcus whimpering.

“I’d say you’re doing just fine” Dave taunts before he languidly strokes Marcus a few times, causing his knees to nearly buckle as a desperate whine escapes his lips.

“I’m uh.. I’ve never.. with…” Marcus trails off, his eyes squeezing shut when Dave gently ruts into his back, his hand still slowly stroking him. “H-Have you?”

“When you’re young and in your prime and stuck in the service for twelve plus months at a time, a warm mouth is a warm mouth” Dave shrugs nonchalantly. “But it’s not something I indulged in often, or ever pursued outside of that environment” he adds, still slowly working Marcus over with shallow pumps of his fist. “Truth be told I’ve never looked at or even thought twice about another man. That is, until you”. He finishes the last part quietly, like it's a secret he can’t voice out loud.

“S-same here” Marcus stutters, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on his breathing, hoping to stave off his orgasm for at least a little while longer. “Did you ever, ah fuck” Marcus groans, trailing off as his train of thought leaves him when Daves hand comes up to pay special attention to the head of his cock, his hand twisting just right over and over again at the sensitive tip.

“Did I ever what? Hmmm?” Dave taunts, hand stilling around Marcus as he lowers his hips slightly and presses further against him, his stiff length now pressing into the meat of Marcus’ asscheek. “Did I ever fuck a man’s tight little asshole?” He asks into the shell of Marcus’ ear and Marcus shudders before biting back a moan and nodding his head.

“No” Dave answers honestly. “Why, did you want to be the first?” He chuckles, rutting into him and Marcus lets out a stuttering gasp before shaking his head against the tiles.

“I don’t think… I’m not… No. I… I don’t know” Marcus answers helplessly, his shoulders tensing.

“Relax baby, relax” Dave soothes, pulling his hips back slightly but resting his forehead on Marcus’ shoulder. “You don’t have to be ready for that right now. And to be honest, if my cock is going to be in your ass then I want yours inside your wife so I can fuck you both at the same time” he chuckles darkly into the heated skin of Marcus’ back and a shiver passes through Marcus’ whole body at just the thought of that.

“Oh you like that don’t you” Dave laughs again. Feeling Marcus twitch in his hand gets Dave’s dominant confidence swelling in his chest again and he easily slips into the role he prefers to play, where he feels the most comfortable and less vulnerable.

“Wanna be the meat in our little fuck sandwich, sweet boy?” Dave taunts, his hand going back to slowly stroking Marcus again. “You gonna fuck your tight little ass against my fat cock while you’re buried inside of her?”

“Jesus, fuck” Marcus groans. He’d never once judged his wife for what she was into, but now he understood it first hand. The way Dave could have you falling apart just by the words that leave his mouth.

“Maybe a little friendly competition, see who can cum inside of who first” he laughs darkly and Marcus’ whole body shudders as a wrecked moan escapes him.

Dave hands picks up the pace a little as Marcus squeezes his eyes shut, face resting against his own forearm and teeth clenched as Dave draws him closer and closer to that edge he’s been teetering on since he sunk to his knees in front of the man in question just minutes ago.

He didn’t know what came over him, what possessed him to get out of bed and follow after Dave, but he couldn’t get what happened earlier out of his head. The way Dave had wrapped his hand around his throat, called him his good boy, and made him cum so hard his vision nearly blacked out. He needed more. Dave was like a drug, he understood it now. An addiction, a craving that could never be satisfied, always leaving you wanting more.

His breath catches in his throat when he feels Dave’s free hand that’s not currently wrapped around him back at his ass, a single finger sliding through the cleft of his wet cheeks until it stops to tease at his hole. The pad of his finger presses at the puckered flesh but doesn’t breach inside, just wanting to rile Marcus up and it is absolutely working as the younger man whimpers and squirms under Dave’s hands. Dave shifts slightly so that the water beats down more so on Marcus, ensuring he’s not dry as Dave continues to tease him.

“Colour” Dave demands again, finger pressing in again with just a fraction more pressure than the previous time.

“Green, fuck. Please” Marcus is trembling, his body leaning against the wall the only thing holding him upright and he feels the smirk reach across Dave’s face from where his mouth is still pressed to his ear.

“That’s my good boy” Dave chuckles. The sound of Dave spitting a giant glob of saliva between Marcus’ cheeks is downright sinful as it echoes off the four walls of the shower enclosure and Marcus has to bite into the meat of his own arm to keep from moaning too loudly when Dave finally pushes a single saliva slicked finger just inside as he continues to stroke Marcus’ length with delicate precision.

“Oh my god, oh fuck! I’m - ” Marcus cries out at the welcomed intrusion of Dave’s finger, barely inside but slowly moving back and forth creating just enough of a foreign pressure that it’s enough to push Marcus over that edge within seconds. He orgasms with a wrangled cry leaving his lips, spurts of his warm spend splattering onto the tiles in front of him and down Dave’s hand that still loosely grips him as he continues to pump him dry.

“That’s it” Dave’s voice soothes against his ear, still gently working him over with both hands as Marcus comes down from his high. “So good for your Daddy, hmmm?”

“Mmmhmmm, fuck” Marcus groans out once more, leaning heavily into the tiles now, shoulders and chest heaving with each laboured breath he takes. He lets out another whimper as Dave gently slips his finger out, sighs happily when he feels Dave’s lips press into his shoulder blade.

“Okay?” Dave breathes against Marcus' warm flesh, checking in with him and the younger man can do little but eagerly nod his head, still trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm. Dave’s hand still wrapped around Marcus’ length finally slows to a stop and he releases him fully, both arms coming up to wrap around Marcus’ middle and hold him tight against his chest for a long moment and Marcus sighs happily, sated, leaning into the warmth Dave offers. He does his best to ignore the little flutter he feels in his chest as Dave's lips continue to pepper little kisses across the back of his neck and shoulders, wills his own heart to stop hammering in his chest when Dave breathes in deep and then rests his check against Marcus' back, apparently content to just hold him until his own breathing evens out.

“What um… what about you?” Marcus asks meekly. He hadn’t exactly gotten to finish what he’d started earlier once the attention shifted to him and his own pleasure. He can still feel Dave pressed into his back, though with the delay for his own gratification Dave has softened somewhat again, his needs seemingly less urgent now.

“Let me finish getting cleaned up in here and then why don’t we meet back in bed, hmm?” He finishes his thought with a sharp little smack to Marcus’ ass and chuckles before he bites down gently onto his shoulder. “See if you can wake up that wife of yours while you’re at it”

“Yeah, o-okay” Marcus stammers, stealing himself for a moment before he heaves a deep sigh, lets his shoulders relax and finally reaches for the shower door and slides it open. Dave lets him go, watches with piqued interest as Marcus bends over to pick up his earlier discarded towel and secure it back around his waist again, and then, he’s gone. Door closing shut behind him again and leaving Dave to finish his shower in privacy.

Dave is doing his best to act nonchalant, normal, though nothing about what just took place was normal for either of them. He’d never held another man in an embrace like that before and found himself not even wanting to let go. It took everything in him not to spin Marcus around and hold him even closer. And it wasn’t just sexual, this feeling he suddenly had. Though that part was definitely good too, but now he felt himself feeling suddenly nervous about going back out there, like he was completely transparent and the two of you would see through him immediately. He dreads the day, and he has a feeling it’s coming soon, that the two of you extract yourselves from his life. He knows the texts and visits will become fewer and farther between until suddenly he stops hearing from you all together and he’ll go back to his life before the two of you were in it, wishing he’d never gone along with it in the first place because then he wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament he found himself in now.

He should put a stop to this himself before that happens, he thinks. Like a bandaid, just rip it off and the pain will dissipate before he even notices it’s there, right? He can fake a work emergency, or say somethings come up with his children and he needs to cut this weekend short. You’ll both understand, of course you will. Maybe even be secretly relieved that you can spend the rest of your time here together with just the two of you.

He’s doing everyone a favour, he thinks.

Mind made up, he takes a little extra time than necessary in the shower, turning the temperature way down to hopefully rid him of what’s left of his hard-on and finishes cleaning himself off, being sure to scrub every inch of his body to wash away any lingering traces of this weekend from his skin, hopefully soon enough from his memory. He takes the removable shower hose off the fixture as well and sprays down the tiles where Marcus’ cum still lingers, watching it wash down the drain past his feet and then hangs the shower head back up and finally turns the taps off and steps out.

Speech fully prepared in his head, what he didn’t expect was to walk back into the bedroom to see you with a very worried expression on your face and for a moment, he feels his heart literally fall into his stomach. Did Marcus just confess what happened and you’re so enraged you’re about to throw him out on his ass? Throw your husband out too? Likely not the latter, he thinks. If anything it’s probably further cementing the fact that the two of you need Dave out of your lives, he’s only going to cause problems in what is a beautiful, perfect marriage.

“You have to go?!” He hears you say and oh. So Marcus is leaving? He asks what’s going on and then just hangs back after Marcus responds to him but then focuses his attention back to you, Dave idly listening to the conversation in the background as your husband continues to apologize to you about an apparent “work emergency” that’s come up.

Dave was already set in his decision to leave, but with Marcus going he knows he really, really needs to leave. Being alone with you might just kill him, and he doesn’t deserve a death that blissful, he reasons with himself.

Not long after saying an endearing goodbye to you, Marcus brushes past Dave with a vague ‘see ya later’ and just like that, he’s gone and Dave is left alone with the person currently possessing the other half of his traitorous heart. The heart that wasn’t supposed to fall for either of these two people who already belonged to each other, let alone apparently falling for both of them.

Marcus is in the cab, half way back to his own house where he most certainly does not have any type of work emergency waiting for him, when he starts an inner battle with himself about just what in the fuck he is doing. Should he have left? Should he turn around right now and go back and stop being a fucking coward? What the hell was he supposed to do?

He felt so fucking guilty the moment his orgasm ripped through him like a freight train with Dave’s hands on him and you nowhere in sight that he just couldn’t get out of that hotel room fast enough. He had cheated on you, in his mind. What’s worse is that it wasn’t even all sexual, though that is how it started and how he pursued it but his feelings for Dave were beginning to get overwhelming and he thought maybe if he just ‘got it out of his system’ he could forget about it and move on, but then Dave had to go and fucking hold him afterwards and asked him back to bed and his throat just plummeted into his stomach. How could he just walk out of that bathroom and pretend that never happened? Is that what Dave wanted? Or did Dave want you to know exactly what happened? How would you react? Marcus didn’t even have his own feelings about the whole thing sorted out, he couldn’t expect you to understand. He crossed a line, that much he knew.

Ultimately he decided to let the cab driver continue to their destination. He was already well on his way home anyway, might as well keep going. He’d fix himself some dinner, maybe a drink and just have some time alone to sort out his thoughts before he joins you back at the hotel. He briefly wonders if Dave will still be there when he gets back. If he is, maybe it would be a good time for the three of you to have a conversation, one that’s surely long overdue. Marcus hopes he doesn’t have to speak first. What if he voices what he thinks he’s truly feeling and you all look at him like he’s grown a second head?

He’s equally worried at both ends. He’s worried that Dave, despite the tender moments he is occasionally capable of showing, might laugh the whole thing off. He signed up to be a fun ‘playmate’ for a couple of weekends here and there, not a more permanent fixture in an already existing and functioning marriage. And you… what would you even think? Sure Marcus knows you’ve warmed to Dave over the months during your encounters but you’d never discussed with Marcus that you’d felt anything for the man in question outside of sexual desire. Not to mention what would you think of him if he asked you to have another man be an active participant in your relationship? The last thing he wants is you feeling like you’re not enough for him or that something is missing from your marriage.

It would kill him if this drove any kind of rift between the two of you. No, he needs to shut up and keep whatever is in his head and his heart to himself and hope things sort themselves out. He’ll start to distance himself (and hopefully you both) from Dave and you can go back to your lives. He cares about Dave, far more than what he knows is appropriate, but he can’t lose you. He won’t.

Marcus finishes his dinner, accompanied by a rich glass of wine, and waits a while, letting his food settle and his mind attempt to find peace within the waging war that are his thoughts still battling on inside his head. A few hours since he’d left the hotel pass before he finally heads back outside to his car and types the address of the hotel into his GPS.

Dave York is a bad man. He knows it the moment he reaches the penthouse floor again, not even thirty minutes since he left it, and lifts his fist to knock at the hotel room door. He'd had every intention of getting into his car and leaving this place. Just one drink first, he'd reasoned with himself, then he'd leave.

He knew shouldn’t be here at your door now. Not without Marcus. Though, he supposes he shouldn’t have been in the shower with Marcus without you, either. Marcus knows it, clearly. It’s the only explanation for why he high-tailed it out of there with some half-assed lie of an excuse of having a work emergency on a Saturday night. Dave saw right through it of course but didn’t voice his concern, he certainly wouldn’t do that in front of you. He wouldn’t wedge himself further into the complications of your marriage than he already was.

He’s really fucked this up. But he knows, even before you pull open that door, that tonight is his last chance. The last time he’ll allow himself to see you before he forces himself to go back to his old life so you can have yours back with your husband. And if he was a better man, he would’ve just left earlier when he said he was going to and not come to see you one last time, knowing full well what he was doing and feeling and how it might affect you. How it might affect Marcus, and moreover how it might affect your relationship with Marcus.

But Dave York was not a better man. Not a good man.

Dave York was a bad, bad man.

"Hi" you breathe out the moment the door swings open and lands on him leaning against the frame on the other side.

"Hi"

Marcus lets himself into the hotel suite, quietly and carefully making his way through the rooms that are bathed in darkness, only slivers of moonlight peaking through where the curtains aren’t fully shut. Pushing open the double doors to the bedroom he frowns but is otherwise not surprised to find you sleeping alone in the bed that now seems comically oversized for just your body alone, especially given how crowded it was only hours earlier.

He glances around the room, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight, making sure not to shine it on you so as to not wake you up. He tilts it around the room, looking everywhere but there's no sign of Dave. His belongings seem to be gone, his duffel bag no longer occupying the corner of the bedroom where it was before. Marcus had walked through the living room to get to the bedroom so he knows he wasn’t asleep on the couch either.

Dave was gone.

Clicking off the flashlight and before he can talk himself out of doing so, Marcus taps on the Messages icon on his screen, wanting to send a quick text to your group chat, just to ensure wherever Dave was, everything was OK.

Once again Marcus gets that all too familiar feeling of his throat falling into the pit of his stomach when he reads the tiny grayed out letters that greet him at the bottom of your conversation.

Dave York has left the group.

Dun Dun Dunnnnnn! I am so sorry, but believe it or not this was my plan for this series all along from the moment you guys lovingly bullied me into turning my one-shot into a series, lol. Fear not though, we haven't seen the last of our dear Dave. He's just a bit of an idiot, and is going to continue to be one for a little while, but have faith in me.

Next Chapter

I really appreciate you taking the time to read this chapter! If you liked it please leave me a little note or a reblog, it means the world to me!

Taglist (if you want to be added - or removed!, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @runningmom94 @yorksgirl @harrington-thedad @missyorkswhore @disassociation-daydreams

[stillfoodforguys]

My friend Sean’s appetite had been out of control recently. Even before he started eating so much, the fact he was at least a foot taller than me with a generally broad, muscular build made me feel small and insignificant next to him. Now he’d started to have a big round gut to match the rest of him, which he always seemed to be able to fill indefinitely with whatever he deemed delicious enough. Perhaps I should have taken it as a more serious warning when he joked about being big enough to eat me in one bite, but I stupidly laughed it off at the time.

One night we decided to check out a new ramen place that had opened in our town, obviously Sean’s first choice after he heard about their massive portion sizes. It was almost hypnotic watching him slurp the thick noodles down his throat, so much that I even handed my leftovers to him just to keep him going for longer. My curious arousal at his sucking ability aside, it became ridiculous when he decided to order another full bowl and forced me to stick around until he was done. I could sense the gaze of all the other diners at the tables around us; their reactions were a mixture of awe and disgust as my friend lifted the bowl to his face to guzzle down every last drop of flavourful broth, gasping for air once he had finished.

To save us any further embarrassment, I had to call for the bill quickly and drag Sean out of there before he ordered more. Unbelievably, even all that food I’d watched him consume apparently wasn’t enough for his insatiable appetite, which he made me aware of after a hearty belch on the walk back to his car. “Man, I’m still hungry. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me lately.” I told him he should probably lay off the massive dinners for a while and placed my hands either side of his bloated belly, secretly enjoying the feeling of it’s curve and weight as I rubbed it gently.

“I just need one last snack, I think. But it would have to be substantial, a nice chunk of meat that’s big enough to keep me going for a while.” Since I was already so close to him, Sean went right ahead and took hold of my waist as he spoke, a strange gleam in his eyes that I’d never seen before. He licked his lips as he watched a bead of nervous sweat roll down my face, and I shuddered knowing exactly what he was about to say next. “Something about as big as you…”

Sean mouth widened from a sinister grin to a gaping, monstrous maw that descended over my entire head. In the absolute darkness, the sound and sensation of his tongue sliding around my face was intensified, making me squirm uncontrollably in the first moments he spent tasting me. I was soon lifted off the ground, my fists hammering against his chest but doing nothing to stop the powerful man from swallowing my head and stuffing my shoulders past his lips. My arms were crushed tightly together as they slipped into his throat, the muscles inside forcefully dragging me towards his stomach.

After pulling my pants off to make things easier, Sean continued to maneuver his wet tongue through my crotch and along my legs as he took in their flavour. Meanwhile I was uncomfortably curling up inside his tank, my body slowly filling up the sweltering space deep inside him. With a final greedy gulp, my feet went sliding down his gullet and fell into his stomach, the entrance sealing tightly behind them to secure his meal.

I struggled and begged for Sean to let me go, but all I got was a short, quiet refusal that he barely managed to fit between his satisfied belching. “So full, you really *urp* hit the spot. Really tasty too…” Being eaten alive was already scary, but what made it even worse was the fact that there wasn’t a solid piece of food siting in his gut, already having been turned into a bubbling soup. If his metabolism was that powerful, it was a clear sign that I was in for an intense and painful experience.

Sean tossed my clothes onto his passenger seat and sat down in his car, rubbing his belly while I was agonisingly melted down and my consciousness quickly dissolved away along with my physical form.

[that-one-odd-shipper]

🍉 . Fic Post . 🍉

This is a previously written fic! Right now I'm promoting my old fics just to let y'all know they exist.

🪭- A little Dazai fic! This is my first bsd agere fic I put out there, and I am pretty proud of it 🥺

🍄- This fic is inspired by the lovely Playrough's agency little fic! In which Dazai has a nap time set up for him by the agency since he tends to get cranky and fussy without sleep, but a meeting ends up making him miss it for the day. What Dazai didn't expect is how used to the naps his body had gotten.

🥀- Dazai is really small in all of my upcoming fics and this one, not even one year when he's regressed. Kunikida and Chuuya are co-caregivers to Dazai and it is mentioned how Dazai doesn't particularly like the concept of being little. This fic is pure fluff, a tiny bit of stress comes from the baby but not enough to be considered angst. It's a nice story to fall asleep to :)

❤- Now, I'll attach the first few paragraphs bellow for you to get a feel of the fic. Link to my ao3 and the fic itself will be at the end! Please enjoy, comment and like!

Ever since Kunikida and the Agency have found out about Dazai's regression, they've been pushing nap times. Something about him getting "Cranky, tired, and less productive" after a certain time in the day

Dazai kicked his legs under the table, trying to stay focused. There had been an important joint Mafia and Agency meeting today, which just so happened to fall at an inconvenient time.

...Stupid, he knows. Besides, Dazai is never productive so what difference would it make?!

These naps normally happen late at lunch. It's not like he could just slip out of the Agency to go home early, either! To ensure he got this nap in every day the Agency and the stupid slug, decided to pair up for this.

If he tried to escape and head home, Chuuya's stupid camera door sensor would catch it. Of course that was set up for him...the slug can't mind his business! He didn't even do anything before it was set up, the executive just assumed he would try! Rude...

And so, the little one had to accept that he would be caught either way. It was either walking around in the stuffy outdoors for the rest of the day every single day or taking a nap. His pride said the first option, but it's obvious what the best choice was.

'But Dazai, you're a genius! Why didn't you just deactivate the system or use another entrance?' Well, it's pretty hard to think clearly enough to sneakily turn off a system when you're admittedly very fuzzy and droopy.

From working so hard of course. Nothing else, totally.

He doesn't need an assigned nap! Not to mention, a person to watch over him. He knows when he needs to take a break... Totally. This is why in the first place he didn't want the agency to figure it out, but that all went down the drain...

Have they been nothing but accepting of him? Yes, that's the issue! They shouldn't be condoning this behavior, let alone enforcing it! Dazai doesn't deserve to act like a literal baby, "A healthy coping mechanism" be damned. He doesn't need one of those either.

Protesting that mindset to them only made it worse, however. That doesn't mean he wouldn't still attempt to be bratty and refuse, but it gets hard when all you feel is comfort and security in a Member's (or Chu's) arms.

How these naps played out was always the same. He would get fed a bottle of warm milk about 30 minutes before his nap, fed because he got the privilege of being able to feed himself taken away...

He only dropped it on his head like, once! It doesn't matter if it caused him to start crying, he can still do it like anyone else can feed themselves! He shouldn't have started crying anyway, it was a tiny little bump. God, why did little him have to be so sensitive?

When it was time for the nap, there were two main locations. With anyone besides Kunikida, Chuuya, Yosano, or Fukuzawa he was to be laid down on the couch smothered in blankets.

But when Kunikida had a chance, he would always volunteer to watch him first. It's like he has some attachment, the idealistic man always looks anxious when he's away from the embarrassing baby side.

With Kunikida, he was either laid on a tiny futon that was unrolled from the closet next to Kunikida's desk but rarely. Most of the time he's on someone's lap being rocked to sleep since motion puts him out like a light.

Others that were offered were Atsushi, Ranpo, Naomi, Junichiro, and with supervision of another adult, Kenji. However, with Ranpo and Atsushi, it gets... Complicated.

Atsushi and Ranpo are also little, but they are at least big kids! Most of the time, at least. They don't need naps or bottles, but they are also set off easily in the presence of another little.

That was learned the hard way when Kunikida ended up with 3 giggly and squeamish littles after coming back from break. From that day on all three of them couldn't be alone caring together, unless there was time for some sort of play date after nap time.

Dazai would rather live than have to regress more times than needed, so he's never had a play date with the two, though he's heard they do it decently often.

And of course, there was Chuuya. Sometimes, when he was free during lunch break he would come to pick Dazai up for his nap. Normally he'd get taken home, but occasionally he was taken to Chu's office where he got to sit on the rolly chairs!

However he always preferred going home because of the risk of someone walking into him, the genius Dazai Osamu...giggling as Chuuya Nakahara bounces him on his lap or gently spins the rolling chair around. Yea no.

Originally the nap thing was set to every other day, or just not required every day. Dazai ruined that for himself though very easily. Once he had gotten used to the napping, apparently his body went 'oo! Time for sleep!!!? ;?! ' around the scheduled time automatically now.

He ended up struggling to stay awake as he did work with Kunikida one day and got nothing done, per usual. Dazai eventually drifted off on his shoulder from the exhaust, not very grown-ass 22-year-old of him.

But back to the current situation, it's the dreaded nap time. Well, way past nap time. Currently, there is a meeting going on between the Agency and the port mafia, that's all fine. The fine part was that the meeting had gone at least an hour off schedule.

It was planned so as not to bump into the time he gets put down, but stupid Mori couldn't agree on the originally proposed terms, so now they've been stuck!

______________________________________

Another thing is that Dazai hadn't quite realized how his body had gotten used to the nap times. Now that's come to bite him in the ass because he can't stop rubbing his eyes and yawning.

The work is called Cranky Baby! Here's the preview, Links to the full story and my ao3 page bellow.

Work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56113351

My ao3 acc: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Odd_Shipper/pseuds/That_One_Odd_Shipper

[jahayla-parker]

Note/confession: this was an unplanned fic that I’ve written to shamelessly offer myself some semblance of comfort (or as I told @ell0ra-br3kk3r , remedying me needing my Freddy fix after the events of my trip; which you’ll more or less read about below- except unlike y/n I don’t actually have Freddy to comfort me 😭)

Bite Me : Freddy Carter x Reader

Description: 2.3k wc, y/n is fortunate enough to be looked after by her wonderfully caring husband Freddy after her recent vacation took an unexpected turn. Fluff, hurt/sick comfort.

Warnings: not proofread yet, one curse right at the start, mentions of bug bites and bugs, mentions of bug bite symptoms and treatment (including prescriptions and other medical settings & topics), minor mentions of a small amount of blood (from scratching too hard).

“Fuck me,” y/n whimpered, her body feeling truly miserable. She had been on a trip with friends to several beaches over the last week and now she was covered in bites. Prior to being bitten by them, she’d never even heard of no see ums. But, that didn’t stop them from aggressively attacking all areas of y/n’s body.

Freddy frowned as he watched y/n twitch as she tried to restrain herself from scratching at the inflamed, red, aggravated bites. He’d been bitten by the particular bug only once before and only a handful of marks formed that time, but he still knew how terribly itchy the welts could be. He even recalled having wished to have been bitten by mosquitoes instead as no see ums are far worse. As such, Freddy felt horrible for his wife.

“We’re almost there, darling,” Freddy encouraged softly. He reached across the console to grab Y/N’s hand, his thumb cautiously rubbing the back of it while avoiding the multiple bites present there. When y/n hummed begrudgingly in response, Freddy gazed over at her and his eyes once again tried to scan just how many bites she was covered in. He’d tried to count them upon her return home, but she just wanted to sleep as she’d gotten in at the early hours of the morning today. Unfortunately, as Freddy suspected, y/n had only been able to get a couple hours of sleep before waking up due to the pain and discomfort. Therefore, he was now driving her to the urgent care clinic nearby to be seen.

Y/n had initially been against Freddy’s idea, feeling like she was utilizing resources that would be better used by others. But, after Freddy had made it a point to authentically count out each of the bumps on her right lower leg, she quickly changed her mind. Freddy had only counted the bites on the area between the base of her right knee and the top of her right ankle. Yet, his counting was cut off by y/n when he’d reached 146 bites in that area alone.

It wasn’t uncommon for no see ums to bite in bunches with multiple bites on an area. But, Freddy hadn’t seen anything like this before. He could only imagine the amount of bugs that had ventured onto her legs as they decided to make a meal of her. Especially when he realized it wasn’t just her lower right leg that was bitten countless times. Instead, Freddy quickly realized the bites also more than covered y/n’s upper right leg, all the way to her bum. His despair over her predicament increased when he’d seen that the red itchy bites had mapped all over both legs in the same manner, the fronts and backs of her arms from her hands to her shoulders, her neck, chest, and entire upper and middle back areas as well. As ridiculous and impossible as it was, Freddy wished he could’ve protected his lovely wife from such an awful occurrence.

Freddy knew he couldn’t reasonably expect to count every single bite, much less when driving. But, the simple fact that when he’d looked over to do so he’d seen her agony broke his heart. Freddy sighed as she clutched her hands tightly together to keep from scratching futilely at the marks. After stopping at the next light, he leaned over and pressed a sympathetic kiss to her forehead. “I know you’re miserable, but you’re doing so well, love,” Freddy encouraged.

Freddy prepared himself to try and convince y/n to take the vile-tasting liquid medication the doctor had passed her way. Only, before he could even open his mouth, she’d confirmed with the doctor the appropriate process and then promptly downed the cup in one go. In fact, Freddy’s suspicions of the severity of her condition were confirmed when she went for a second toss of the contents in the cup to be sure to not miss a single drop of the remedy. He brushed some hair from her face and handed her a glass of water to wash down the aftertaste, hating that was all he could do for her.

Freddy listened to the doctor’s advice very carefully, asking plenty of follow-up questions to ensure he knew how to best help his wife. He’d easily memorized that in addition to the liquid steroid medication she’d just taken, the doctor was prescribing y/n some very strong prescription antihistamines to take twice a day at home. Freddy had discussed bathing and showering restrictions with the provider, making mental note to not let her take anything other than a cold water bath or shower until the welts were resolved. He had to come to terms with the notion that y/n’s severe discomfort might not be fully remedied for over two weeks even with the treatment offered. Freddy hated that idea and wanted to cry when he saw y/n holding back tears over the thought of this lasting that long.

“Oohhh,” y/n whined, a sarcastic laugh exiting her lips after. “Gaaahhh, Freddyyyyyy,” she cried out. She shifted around in her husband’s passenger seat unable to get comfortable. “It, it iiiitttcchhesss”.

Freddy’s eyes flickered from the road briefly to look at y/n. He sighed deeply with a frown. “I know,” he replied solemnly. “But-, no darling, no scratching,” Freddy directed, pulling her arm away from her thigh.

“But,” y/n croaked, tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe how insanely itchy her entire body was. Not to mention, there was also this simultaneous burning sensation from the bites and she was exhausted from not sleeping. Y/n genuinely didn’t think she’d been that uncomfortable before without being in excruciating pain. “It itches so badly,” y/n pointed out weakly.

With his eyes turned back onto the road, Freddy took the hand of Y/N’s he’d grabbed moments before and brought it to his lips. He placed a loving kiss on the backside of her hand. “I’m truly sorry, darling,” he acknowledged, “but scratching, well, it’ll only make it worse”.

“Oh bite me,” y/n exclaimed, using her other hand to scratch her ankle aggressively.

Freddy sighed and shook his head. He understood her desire (to the extent he was capable of that is since her situation was far worse than anything similar that he’d ever had). But, he still despised the idea that she could be harming herself by doing so. As such, he tapped one of the few clear spots on her leg and lightly shook his head at her. “Besides,” Freddy murmured, opting for another approach to his response. “I’m afraid things biting you is what got you into this situation, no?” He teased playfully, earning an unamused glare from y/n despite her small whimperish laugh.

Y/n grimaced as the itchy sensation once again fluttered through her body from head to toe and back. She began rubbing her legs against each other in hopes of having the friction ease the desire to actually scratch the bites. Y/n knew it still wasn’t likely an ideal solution, but something had to give, and at least this way she wasn’t risking opening the welts.

“Darling, it’s time,” Freddy said as he entered their living room. He quickly passed y/n her favorite water bottle and one of her newly prescribed antihistamines. They both sighed in minimal relief as she visibly swallowed the pill. It was obvious they were both hoping the pill would start to help her discomfort soon.

“Thank you,” y/n said quietly. She set the water bottle down, a small smile forming as she realized her husband had explicitly cleaned her emotional support water bottle for her to use. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, noticing the confusion the sentiment made form on Freddy’s face. “I’m being difficult and whiny,” y/n admitted, “I know I am, but-“.

“Y/n, love,” Freddy coed warmly. He cupped her face; partially choosing that contact option because it was the only part of her body he could touch without further igniting the itching feeling constantly inside of her. “You can whine and complain all you want,” he said tenderly. “You’re in an absurdly unpleasant and downright desolate state,” Freddy frowned in sympathy. “You’re not being difficult by wanting to, or actually scratching, you are fighting the urge the best you can. I know that.” “Why don’t we watch something on the telly to distract you a bit?” Freddy suggested considerately.

“I am freaking miserable,” y/n said in a singsong voice. She laughed humorously as she slid her shorts back on over her irritated skin, restraining from scratching the bites. She heard Freddy’s sympathetic sigh over the faint sound of his footsteps as he made his way to their bathroom. Y/n turned on the sink faucet, groaning as she prepared to wash her hands with warm water for sanitary purposes despite knowing how much worse her symptoms would be as a result.

Just as the water trickled onto Y/N’s hand, she noticed a small bug on her left at the edge of the vanity corner. It was some small black bug, but that’s all she could tell from that angle. As such, she reached over and moved the decorative item that was blocking her eyes from determining what kind of bug it was that had broken into her home. Y/n quickly realized it was a tiny spider as it began dangling from a thin web against the wall.

Without hesitating or even thinking, Y/N smacked her bare palm against the bug. The realization of what she’d just done hit her instantaneously as she pulled her hand back and saw the squished black mark on the white bathroom wall. “I don’t fuck around with bugs anymore,” she declared thoughtlessly. Y/n didn’t realize how unhinged her behavior or remark were until she heard the way Freddy’s chuckles reverberated around their restroom.

Y/n swallowed thickly as she hurriedly washed her hands. She tried to hide her bashful expression as she spun to where Freddy was in order to dry her hands. Only, it seemed he’d noticed and it only fueled his laughter further. Y/n shot him a fake glare that quickly shifted as she burst into genuine laughter of her own over her actions.

“Bloody hell,” Freddy laughed. He snaked his arms around y/n’s lower back to avoid most of her bites. “I am absolutely enamored by you, y/n/n,” he confessed with an amused grin. “And, quite impressed, you not only didn’t ask me to kill the spider for you, but you used your bare palm to do so on your own and then trash talked it,” Freddy said as he shook his head.

Y/n giggled and cautiously rested her head against Freddy’s shoulder. She made sure she was positioned so that none of the areas of her skin that were covered in bites touched her husband. Not because they were contagious, as they weren’t, but rather to keep her symptoms from increasing. “Let’s not talk about that again,” y/n hummed bashfully.

“Oh, but, darling, we have to talk about that all again still,” Freddy argued playfully. He laughed lightheartedly at y/n’s exaggerated groan, knowing the giggles that followed it showed her true feelings over the situation.

Freddy gasped whisperingly as he entered the bedroom. He figured it was taking y/n too long to change into her pajamas, so he’d wandered that way to check on her and possibly offer some help. Only, it seemed her discomfort had intensified to the point she’d caved into the burning desire to scratch at the inflamed bites. For, Freddy had entered the bedroom to find y/n rapidly scratching any and all areas of her body she could get her hands on; her hands flying around as they moved between areas with aggressively intense speed and force. Yet, it was the already visible result of such actions that made Freddy uncontrollably gasp.

“Oh love,” Freddy whined quietly. He could only imagine how bad her body was feeling if she had resorted to painfully dragging her nails all over her skin in hopes of even temporary relief. Especially as she’d done so to the extent that several of the once red-from-inflammation welts were now red from the trace amount of blood that had begun to leave the now open bites.

Instead of scolding y/n for something he knew was a last resort effort for her, Freddy exited the bedroom and quickly returned with a wet towel. “Let’s clean these off with a cold cloth, yeah?” He suggested as he knelt down before her seated position at the edge of their bed. “Place your hands on my shoulders please, darling,” Freddy requested, planning on using that as a way to keep her from continuing to violently scratch at her body. “Perfect, thank you,” he hummed as he slowly brought the cold cloth to her bare skin.

Freddy took his time cleaning the blood from y/n’s skin. He had intentionally taken longer than was necessary because he recalled how the doctor mentioned a cold compress could help ease the inflammation and therefore hopefully the itching. It was only once Freddy had felt the cloth reach room temperature that he fully removed it from her skin.

When he heard y/n sigh quietly in slight disappointment, Freddy realized instead of ending the round of treatment, he should step up his game. As such, he held onto Y/N’s hands as they remained on his shoulders and lowered them to his chest as he stood. “Darling,” Freddy spoke softly before he kissed her forehead. “I’m going to draw you a cold bath, we’ll give that a try”.

Unfortunately, this went on for quite some time. But, Freddy never gave up on his efforts to ease y/n’s misery. And, no matter how bad it got, y/n was never able to feel truly desolate because she knew her husband would do whatever he could to help her. Eventually, things resolved and Freddy attested that he was going to be sure to remind her to pack & use bug spray for all of her travels even if he wasn’t there to apply it to her skin himself.

Taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @missdreamofendless @nikfigueiredo @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @alex-kazbrekkersimp @opheliaofficial07 @historynerd77 @el-de-phi

Freddy Carter Navigation

Kaz Brekker Navigation

My Main Masterlist (All My Works) Navigation

[gamerchrissgf]

𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 - 𝖈.𝖘

A little blurb while i work on sum other stuffs

The triplets and reader go to an old abandoned haunted house. Chris thinks its a good idea to scare reader!

Scared!reader, prankster!chris, swearing, reader gets an injury (thanks to chris)

۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵۵

“Yea there is no way in hell I’m stepping foot in this house” you say turning around trying to walk back towards the car. Feeling a hand grab your shoulder you look and see Nick “Please stay? If we decide to split up chris can go with you.. is that okay?” He asks looking back at the boy in questioning.

“Yea I’m cool with it as long as she is” he says looking at you. “Okay but the second either of you try something stupid I’m swinging.” You say with a straight face.

Matt chuckles “you couldn’t even fight yourself out of a wet paper bag kid, let alone would you actually swing on us” he states still laughing at you. Oh so he thinks I’m joking.

“Ask chris. I got a mean right hook Matthew. Chris found out the hard way when him nick and I went to that house party and he thought it would be funny to try throwing me in the pool.” You say looking at chris the little bruise on his jaw still evident. You didn’t mean to hit him as hard as you did. But to be fair you thought it was some random dude manhandling you.

“Yea yea kid. You got hands or whatever can we go now?” Chris asks trying to avoid the bullying he was about to receive from his brothers for getting his shit rocked by a girl. Let alone you.

Walking up to the door it was locked. “Great can we go now?!” You say looking that the three boys. “No way in which means we dont need to be here.” You add. “Hold up i have an idea” chris says. Backing away from the door. He kicks the door open.

“CHRIS” you matt and nick yell in unison. “There is absolutely no fucking way you just did that. Moms definitely going to put a new mugshot up for you for destruction of property” Nick says causing you to laugh remembering the mugshot pics they took to give their mom for Christmas.

“Oh please. Could have said a bear did it. Or that it was already kicked in before we got here” I mean he’s not wrong. This house was always known for being broken into. I mean it’s also the oldest home in town, had belonging to a sweet old lady named Gertrude. Taking a look inside “how the fuck could a sweet little old lady such as Gertrude live in this scary hell hole?” You ask out loud.

After investigating the house for a while you guys did end up splitting up. And you lost chris. “Chris! Oh my fucking god where is this kid.” Walking down to the main floor “Chris i swear to god if you do some dumb shit ill kill you!” You yell still not being able to find the damn kid. You hear the floorboards creak from behind you.

Turning around your met with a clown mask. You being you, absolutely terrified of clowns. Youve always hated them since you were 6 years old. The boys know this as well. “OH FUCK NO” you scream turning around running to the door. Being chased by the masked figure.

Swinging the front door open running out onto the front porch the wood underneath your right foot breaks causing your leg to fall through. “OW FUCK. Stop stop stop please stop.” You yell out now crying from being scared and now having a sliced open shin. “Oh shit kid! Are you good?! Im sorry!” Chris rushes over to you taking the mask off.

“F- mmm- fuck you chris. Ow ow ow stop your making it worse!” Crying in pain. Nick and matt run downstairs seeing the predicament your currently in. “What the fuck happened?!” Nick asks. Looking up at him with tears in your eyes. You point at the mask then point towards chris. “Your a fucking idiot chris. I’ll call the ambulance” matt says dialing 911.

By the end of the night your in the hospital with a sprained ankle and 5 stitches on your shin. “Dude im so sorry i didnt mean.. i didnt mean to scare you that bad. I didnt mean for you to get hurt-” chris rambles on. “Yea yea save it. But at least ill have a badass scar.” The four of you laugh in the patient room. “Definitely going in the memory book. Say cheese guys!” Nick says throwing his camera up snapping a pic.

a/n: just wanted to post something happy Halloween!

[yellowkitkieran]

To Have and To Heal (Part 8)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

"You have a date?"

"Why do you have to say it like that?" Martin grumbles. "Like, have some faith, will you?" Martin presses the bar above his chest, getting a few more reps in before letting Kieran help him rack the weights. Martin is close to a new personal record; if he wasn't distracted with thoughts of what you might be doing right now, maybe he would've hit it. 

"Oh, I have faith," Kieran says with a hint of sarcasm. "Faith that I can get a date, or that Bukayo can pull that lass in media he's been pining after- but you're actually going out mate? I'm convinced the world is ending!"

Martin swipes the edge of his training kit over his forehead to collect the sweat, "what, is it so hard to believe that I can get a date if I wanted to?"

"Considering how you've been against it for years," Kieran starts, following Martin towards one of the leg press machines, "yes, it is that hard to believe. Out of the blue you've just decided to finally man up and move on?"

Martin rounds on his friend, shoving a finger at his chest. "Just so you know, this is why I don't tell you things. It was hard enough to agree as it is, I don't need you making it worse!"

Kieran's face softens and Martin can tell he feels bad. While Martin should be able to leash his temper, he doesn't appreciate his friend acting like this is a big deal. Even if it is earth shattering. Which Martin realizes the fact that he's dating again is. 

"Alright, I'll keep my mouth shut," Kieran says after a pause, holding up his hands palms out in surrender. Martin has noticed Kieran doing that quite frequently lately. Martin's fuse must be shorter than he's realized, if his teammate is so quick to resort to rolling over to avoid conflict. As captain, he should be better. He should be striving to set a positive example, not looking to pick a fight.

Though he knows the source of his irritability, there isn't much he can do about it just now. There's no instant solution to the turmoil in his head. Instead, it will require a long process of healing for him to be back where he used to be. Years of pent up emotion have piled up and caused a blockage that is finally threatening to spill over. 

"Thank you," Martin says, noticeably calmer after he allows himself a pause to relax. "I'll need your help picking out something to wear again, considering she liked what you put me in for her party."

Kieran breaks into a toothy grin, "Oh, did she? Makes sense, considering I have excellent taste! Right, we can go shopping after training today because I know you don't have anything fitting in your closet… I have a couple ideas, and you'll need to bring your card!"

"I have a feeling I'm gonna regret this…" Martin trails off, observing the gears turning in Kieran's head as he mentally picks pieces for him. Martin is nervous as it is, already thinking of a million ways he might verbally embarrass himself. Being in weird, stiff clothing that doesn't suit him will only make the situation worse because he'll be nervous about how he looks, too. 

From the moment he agreed to a date with you, Martin has been painfully aware of how important that night will be. He wants, or rather needs, everything to go smoothly. If a roadblock the size of a puddle pops up, he knows it'll be hard for him to overcome. 

"Come on, just leave it to me! I'll make you look attractive, or as attractive as I can-" Kieran yelps when Martin slugs a punch to his already sore bicep. "Fuck off! That hurt mate!"

"Cry me a river! Don't insult me and I won't have to hit you." A grin edges on Martin's lips, ruining his very serious, not at all humorous order. The tension is shattered when Kieran's knowing smirk turns into a full bodied laugh, both men leaning on each other for support while they try and catch their breath at the end of it. 

Martin is glad for Kieran's friendship, for as much as he pretends to be frustrated with him, he knows Kieran is someone he can count on. If it weren't for Kieran’s constant support and near endless prodding about when he would start looking for another partner, Martin may have never considered opening his heart to new possibilities. And even if this does end in heartbreak for him, at least he can tell Atla that he tried.

*********

"Right mate, take this." Kieran adds an off white shirt to the already substantial pile of clothes in Martin's arms. "And this hoodie- Oh, try these jeans too. Trust me, they'll stretch!"  

Who knew Kieran had an eye for fashion? Martin certainly didn't until today, when he drove to Selfridges in the heart of London and told Kieran he didn't have a budget. Now, his best mate is picking out pieces that Martin would never have expected, from designer leather vests with logos splashed on the chest to artfully ripped jeans with legs that seem much too long to be practical. But Martin, for better or for worse, trusts the judgment of his friend more than he trusts his own, especially in an establishment like this. 

"Go on, try all that on and see if it fits!" Kieran shoos Martin towards the over-the-top dressing rooms along the wall and shuts the white velvet curtain behind him when he's inside. Martin starts mechanically hanging things on the provided hooks, refusing to look at a single price tag. A single pair of jeans alone probably cost him a day's pay, let alone an entire outfit. But in his mind, it's worth it. Martin wants to impress you; he doesn't want to mess this night up. 

"I wouldn't be caught dead in this," Martin mutters to himself, screening out the wildest of choices that includes a pair of hot pink jeans and a zebra print top. Kieran must have been having a laugh when he picked those out. 

Martin takes his time trying things on, judging the fit and also how comfortable they are. He's looking for casual, but not too casual- he wants that 'I'm here for a good time but also not a total douche' look that Kieran normally hits on the head. Most things are too over the top or flashy for his preferences though; he doesn't like to flaunt his wealth and tends to opt for simplicity. 

Of the clothes Kieran picked out, there is exactly one full outfit Martin genuinely enjoys. He grabs the olive green shirt with purple bubble letters embossed on the front, the loose black cargo pants and the white hoodie with bright flowers embroidered around the cuff and neckline and puts everything else on the rack outside the room. 

Absorbed in his phone, Kieran continues to scroll until he realizes Martin is at his side. He tucks the device in his pocket quickly, though not quick enough to hide the conversation on his screen that seemed particularly sweet, judging by the emojis Kieran sent. 

"Who's that you're messaging?"

The tips of Kieran's ears are red as he clears his throat, "Don't worry about it. Right then, you found something you liked? Good, then we're done here. I can take Atla again for you on date night so you can have the entire night to yourself, just in case." 

"I haven't even told you when my date is," Martin notes. "How do you know you aren't busy?"

"I'll make time, don't worry. Just grab your stuff and let's get out of here- I'm coming with you to pick up my niece from school!"

Martin's steps falter. Those precious minutes Martin has with you when picking up his daughter aren't something he particularly wants to share with Kieran. So Martin is torn, because he knows Atla will love seeing her pseudo-uncle, and won't be happy if she finds out her father kept Kieran from accompanying him. Which, somehow, she always does; for being so young, Atla has a knack for finding things out that she shouldn't. She's forced Martin into explaining things he hadn't expected to more than once, including the infamous 'where do babies come from' question that all parents dread. 

"Fine," Martin relents, "I'll let you come with me. But don't say anything to solskin, alright? Just hang out with Attie while I talk to her."

When Martin lets the nickname slip, he regrets it instantly. Kieran visibly bites his tongue to keep his undoubtedly teasing resort at bay, which is a good thing considering Martin would've revoked his approval if he said a word. "That's a compromise I can make. I'll keep my distance, I pinky swear! I'll be a good little lad!"

Martin rolls his eyes at his friend's dramatics. Kieran can be a drama king when he wants to be, which normally isn't something that gets under Martin's skin so easily but lately, with how on edge he feels, Martin is annoyed at more frequent intervals. Thankfully, most of the time he can brush it off and ignore it, like now, and move on. 

"Whatever, just don't embarrass me." A big ask considering how Kieran loves to be silly around Atla, but at least Martin can use that as an excuse if needed. 

Kieran places a hand on his chest, jaw dropped for dramatic effect, "Me, embarrass my best mate? Never! Have no fear, there's not even alcohol involved… I'll behave!"

And behave Kieran does, despite Martin's fears. Through the checkout process, Kieran doesn't stop babbling about his plans for his upcoming night with Atla. The drive to Atla's white brick school is filled with talk of upcoming matches, allowing Martin to switch off the worrisome part of his brain and tune into his football side. 

When he parks, Martin begins to suspect Kieran's perfect behavior is less due to his promise and more so due to the fact that you aren't in the gymnasium when the boys arrive. Kieran's disappointed frown immediately turns into an ear to ear grin when he spots Atla. 

"Little blomst!" Kieran calls, capturing Atla's attention. The nickname is the only Norwegian Kieran knows, and he absolutely butchers his accent each time he says it, but Atla loves being called flower by her uncle. 

"Onkle Key! Miss Sunshine is sick," Atla declares rather mournfully when Kieran squeezes her in a hug. "She isn't gonna be here all week. That's what Miss. Jane said."

"Is that so?" Martin asks when he grabs Atla's bag and gathers up her coloring sheets. That explains why he can't find you, despite scanning the room for you multiple times. A pang of concern twangs in his chest. You aren't one to call out of school; in fact, Martin cannot remember the last time you've missed a day. Your dedication to your student's education is admirable, so whatever is keeping you home must be nasty. 

"Yes, that's so!" Atla's lip juts out in a pout, her arms crossed over her chest. "She's gone forever! She's never coming back-"

"I'm sure she'll be back blomst, dinnae worry! Miss Sunshine is probably feeling under the weather is all."

Atla's pout deepens and her eyes fill with tears. "No she's not- We need to visit her papa!" 

Martin's eyes flick to Kieran's. The two share a silent conversation consisting of head tilts and eyebrow raises. Ultimately they draw the same conclusion: how can Martin say no to Atla?

**********

"Go ring the bell, I'll be right here." 

Atla's dress and pigtails swish with the movement of her little feet as she fiddles with the brown paper wrappings of the bouquet she picked out. Martin waits, opting to use this as a teaching moment and let Atla work through what she's feeling rather than force her through. 

"I'm scared," Atla mumbles, glancing up at the quaint white house. It took some finesse but Martin had gotten your home address under the guise of sending you a warm meal to stave off your sickness. The offer of sending flowers to your doorstep hadn't satisfied Alta however, so now Martin stands with her on the sidewalk, encouraging her to go up to your door. 

"Atla, you've met Miss Sunshine loads of times. She isn't scary, is she?" Atla shakes her head. "Exactly. Where's that lionheart of yours? Gunners aren't scared, are they?" Atla shakes her head again, her eyebrows furrowed. "So are you gonna let a couple concrete stairs and a door stop you from making your friend feel better?" 

"No," Atla states firmly before starting confidently towards the oak door, raising her little fist and knocking three times. She steps back to wait for an answer, looking up in surprise when the light over her head flickers on a heartbeat before the door swings open. 

"Hello- Oh! Atla, what on earth are you doing here?" Your voice is thick, your words heavy like each one weighs a tonne. Martin is overcome with the urge to wrap you in a blanket and shepherd you inside and up to bed. He wants to spend the night sleeping lightly on your sofa, only a shout away if you need him for anything. He doesn't want you to move from your room unless absolutely necessary… he wants to look after you and ensure you're properly nursed to full health.

"These are for you Miss Sunshine," Atla says in her sweet voice, which finally drags Martin out of his head. Your smile is the warmest, most wholesome sight he's ever seen. It fills his heart to the brim as you crouch down to Atla's level, shaking your head when she moves to hug you. 

"No hugs today little bug, Miss Sunshine is too sick for that right now. But next week when I'm in class and feeling better, I'll give you an extra hug as a thank you for these beautiful flowers, okay?" 

For once, Martin is glad for his busy schedule. If he'd have planned your date for this week and you'd needed to reschedule, he's sure he wouldn't have found the nerve to do so. The rejection, no matter how necessary and warranted it may have been, would've turned him away from you out of embarrassment. 

"How are you feeling," Martin asks, unsure of when he'd gotten so close to you. He doesn't remember walking up the steps to your threshold but he stands there now, his hands on his daughter's shoulders. 

"I'll be alright," you assure him, followed closely by a wet sniffle. You smile apologetically and Martin waves it off. "I'll be okay by Monday, I promise."

Martin's stomach flips at the mention of the day that could very well change his life. He doesn't want to place too much pressure on it but it's unavoidable. Deep down, Martin knows the outcome of his date with you may alter the course of his life. For better or worse, he has to go through with it. 

"It's alright if you're not. Just focus on healing up. Listen to your body- if you need more time, it's alright."

"No it's not!" Atla taps her foot on the pavement, annoyed with her father. You bite your lip to hide your smile and Martin is delighted to see your eyes light up. "You have to come back on Monday Miss Sunshine, it's not the same without you! No one else prints out the right coloring stuff, or picks out the right pencils. You're the most fun!"

"Aw sweetheart, I'll do my best to be back to keep you company! For now, draw me a green elephant. I'll collect it on Monday after school, how's that sound?" 

"Okay! That's much better!" Atla throws her arms wide, then remembers your earlier promise and hugs herself instead. Martin finds the entire interaction incredibly endearing, his stomach tying itself in knots when you laugh quietly.

"Well I won't keep you two," you say as you slowly rise to your feet. "I'll see you on Monday, Mar. Good luck at Newcastle this weekend, I'll be watching."

If Atla wasn't here, Martin might have kissed your cheek. Sick or not he wants to, as much as he now wants to score a worldie of a goal on Sunday because he knows you'll be watching him. He wants you to see him play and be proud of him- a thought that catches him off guard because until recently, Atla is the only person he cared about.

Martin has so much to say that his words press painfully behind his teeth. None of it is appropriate to be said in front of Atla however, not when he's trying to keep her as disentangled in whatever is happening between you and him as possible. 

"Søta, could you count the flowers in the flowerbed for me quickly?" 

"Sure papa!" Atla laughs and climbs down the steps, eager to complete the task her father has given her. Martin has never been more thankful for Atla's unquestioning obedience than he is now, as it grants him the semblance of privacy he needs to be able to speak freely. 

"One, two, three, four…"

"What is it Martin?" A tired smile plays on your full lips as you lean in the doorframe. Martin wants to slip under your arm and take your weight for you, but he doesn't dare move an inch for fear he might lose his nerve. If he touches you now, he very well might kiss you, and that's a thought that both scares and excites him. But you deserve better than a kiss when you're not feeling well, and he doesn't want Atla seeing either.

 "Mar?"

Martin shakes himself and smiles, hoping you don't question the way he'd zoned out. "I just wanted to ask if you'd like one of my kits to wear on match day." He is careful to keep his tone light and airy. "I could send you one, I have plenty. I don't know how much you know about football but there's a few different ones we wear each season? You could have red, black or pink, whichever you prefer."

You take Martin's slight ramble in stride, nodding along and letting him finish before you respond. "I'd love that Martin, that's very kind of you. I'll take whichever you're wearing this weekend, so we can match… is that alright?" 

The mental image of you sat on your sofa in a red and white Arsenal kit- Martin's personal red and white kit at that- is enough to have his mouth drying up. Why does he love the sound of that? He's certain he won't stop picturing it any time soon. 

"Sure, yeah I can send you one as soon as I get home tonight. If it's too big or whatever just let me know and I can order one that's actually your size."

Despite your illness, Martin doesn't pull away when you step closer to rest your hand on his arm. "Mar, it'll be perfect. I'll send you a photo of me wearing it on Sunday, okay? Just so you know that I really am cheering for you."

Martin is positive he's fire engine red when he smiles at you. "Okay, sure! Yeah thank you, that would be great." He opens his mouth to say more but decides against it, shaking his head and stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep himself from gravitating towards you when you drop your hand again. "Feel better soon, before Atla has a fit when you're home sick again next week."

"Oh I'll be fit for next week," you reply, "I'm not gonna miss Wednesday, that's for sure. I've been looking forward to it since you asked."

Martin's stomach becomes an acrobat, flipping and tumbling in his belly. God, it's been so long since he's done this- what is he supposed to say to that? Dammit, he should've gone to Kieran for advice because Martin doesn't have a clue how to talk to women like this anymore. 

"Um- right well- I should get going," Martin bumbles out, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "Atla's gotta get some dinner and then finish up her homework so…"

"Of course! Thank you again for the flowers, I really appreciate it." Your smile warms Martin to his core, filling him with a fuzzy feeling he isn't sure how to identify. For now though, he'll suffice with knowing that he's had a positive impact on you tonight, and that he'll get to see you again in only a few days. 

After Atla has said her goodbyes, Martin gets her secure in her car seat and heads home. For once the ride is quiet, as Martin is too stuck in his head to ask his daughter his usual routine questions, like how her day went and what she learned. He's too busy remembering the ghost of your touch on his forearm and the heat that coursed through him when your eyes sparked with surprise upon seeing him at your door. Martin likes knowing he can make you happy when you're feeling low; he enjoys helping people, you in particular. 

Perhaps the most puzzling part of his day, however, is the way Atla seems equally as drawn to you as he is himself. It's no secret that you're Atla's favorite teacher. The two of you have a deeper bond than average, but not in a way that makes Martin uncomfortable or worried- in fact, he'd trust you with Atla more than he'd trust most of his teammates. 

"Papa, do you love Miss Sunshine?"

Atla's question hits Martin like a truck and leaves him gasping for air. "W-what? Atla I- what do you mean søta? I don't understand the question." Only, Martin understands perfectly well. He just isn't sure how his toddler has grown up so quickly that she could ever pick up on something like that.

Atla sighs through her nose, shooting Martin a very teenager-annoyed-with-their-parent look in the rearview. "Pa, you know what I mean! It's the same look uncle Aaron gives auntie Geo- and they're getting married!"

"It is not the same look," Martin grumbles, half convinced he's lying to himself. "That's a very grown up thing to think about, Attie. That's not for you to worry about."

"But I am worried-"

"Atla," Martin says sternly, "that's enough."

Guilt washes over Martin when Atla shrinks in her seat, messing with the zipper of her bookbag. He hates being harsh with her, but his love life isn't something he's willing to discuss with a toddler. He might have to in the future but for now? He's keeping his cards close to his chest. 

"Jeg elsker deg pa," Atla murmurs, feet tapping the seat in front of her. Martin sighs, relieved that she didn't take his snap personally. 

"Jeg elsker deg, søta. Papa loves you so much."

[kitkat-2204]

Harvard Diaries: Chapter 1. Frankie (Scat Story)

I was a great student my entire life. I had all A’s in high school, graduated valedictorian and at the top of my class, which lead me and 2 other classmates of mine to get into ivy league schools. Marissa got into Princeton, Robert got into Yale, and I got into Harvard. I spent hours grueling and grueling into assignments, until I was able to pass my requirement classes and get into the teaching education program, and here I am now. The perfect student. All A's, perfect attendance, and about to enter my masters program to finally become a Psychology professor.

Until recently, I had what I would say the perfect life, that is until I discovered my most recent secret, something no one can ever know except myself. It all started when I was awake one Friday night, working on a 10 page paper while everyone around me was out partying or celebrating the semesters begin. I was in my pajamas on my bed, typing and typing away, when I noticed a faint ache in my lower stomach. I decided to stop my homework quickly and check if the shared dorm bathroom was available. I went and checked, only to see a line of 16 people using overflowing toilet water as some sort of weird slip in slide (really disgusting) and slowly went back into my dorm and locked the door. God, I always thought the people here were disgusting, like children.

As I was working, the stomach ache began to worsen, and I began to think about all of the things I ate today. "Ugh.. I need to focus on this paper.. maybe if I relax and listen to some music for a few minutes, I can then decide to work on some things later.." I thought as I put my headphones and covered myself under the blankets a bit more. I then felt a strong twinge in my lower stomach, and began to feel a bit gassy. "Ugh... what did I eat?" I thought as I began to slowly lift my leg up to the side. I then released a low rumbling fart, which subsided some of my pain for a little while. Although that fart helped somewhat, that didn’t stop my stomach from continuously quaking in discomfort. 1 fart turned into 2, then 3, then 4, until I was farting ever 30 seconds. However, to be completely frank, I loved the feeling of it happened, with the squeezing and the tilt ur eyes make as your about to release, and the feeling of relief your lower stomach gets as it rumbles out is phenomenal. I lift my right leg once again as a 15 second rumbling fart is released. “Oooh yeah, that was a big one.” I said as my eyes fluttered in relaxation, slowly beginning to distract me.

The truth is, I’ve always had a weird enjoyment of farting and pooping ever since I was little. I remember my friends in high school being gross and farting around me in sleepovers, and I would pretend to be grossed out, but days later I would be replaying the moment in my head while physically melting just thinking about it happening, or imagining them going too far and pooping their pants, and being mesmerized by the thought of that over, and over again. I always thought I was just a weird kid though. “Ooh, I have to fart again—!” I said as I pushed. This fart was much wetter then the last, bringing a larger amount of relief, but indicating a teaser to follow. “I really hope the bathroom is fixed at this point, these farts are getting worse.” I thought, but as I continued to hear the yelling and splashing coming from other students outside, I knew the bathroom wouldn’t be available anytime soon.

I started to think about a moment where my best friend at the time, Caleb, would always have stomach aches after school and would be embarrassed to pass gas all the time, but I would reassure him that he was safe to fart around me, and I would never make fun of him. At a certain point, he felt comfortable enough to eventually let go and be open about his gas around me. I specifically remember him pushing wetter and bubblier farts around me when he felt safe to do so… and his face..as he relaxed..seeing how good it felt for him to just..do it…

At this point, I was already soft serving in my pants to the point of no return, but I was too focused on daydreaming to even realize what was happening. I was relieving myself as I thought of Caleb, completely entranced in this memory to even realize I was doing so. A few minutes later when I finally finished and began getting out of my daydream, I had realized what I just did. “What the fuck, did I just shit myself?!” I said In disgust and embarrassment. I took off my pants and tied them in a garbage bag before heading straight to the showers, ashamed. I scrubbed my skin so hard as if I was scrubbing off sins, completely disgusted myself. “I will never, do something disgusting like that again!!” I thought to myself angrily. Little did I know, this was the beginning of discovery that will change my life forever.

[stargazer-sims]

New Arrival

Treasure was grateful that it didn't take much effort on her part for Yuri to realize something wasn't right.

Yuri quickly took all her fancy accessories off, and put her familiar, comfortable halter back on her. That made a big difference. The flower crown was pretty, but it had been starting to make her ears itch. Now that she'd felt the first nagging little pain in her belly and really understood what was happening, she was suddenly not in the mood to be tolerant of any unnecessary distractions like an itchy ear.

Treasure: I think it's time. We need to go home. It might be a while before the foal comes, but I don't want to experience any part of this out here in the open.

Yuri: Come on. Let's get you home and settled in your stall. It's going to be a long day for you, but don't worry. It'll be okay. I'll make sure you have everything you need.

It did indeed turn out to be a long day. Early morning dragged into late afternoon, and from Treasure's point of view, things just kept getting worse. She thought Yuri would be with her constantly, but he left at random intervals to do whatever it was that humans did inside their houses. He always came back again, but that was not the point. She was suffering and she hated being alone for even two seconds.

Storm was conspicuously absent, which she decided really didn't surprise her. Then again, maybe it was in his best interests not to be anywhere near her, as there seemed to be a direct correlation between her level of pain and her feelings toward Storm. The more it hurt, the more she felt she wanted to leave hoofprints on his forehead the next time she saw him.

Treasure: STORM!!! You did this to me! This is all your fault!

Yuri returned just in time. Treasure had reached a point where she was certain she wouldn't survive this ordeal, and she needed him to reassure her.

Yuri: You're doing brilliantly, Treasure. You're so strong, and you're such a brave girl. I don't think it'll be much longer. You'll get to see your beautiful baby soon.

Spot took a break from his daily session of rolling in trash to sneak in and offer some encouragement as well. Treasure never imagined that she'd welcome the presence of the stinky little goat, but she had to admit she was glad he was there. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

Just as the sun was beginning to set, Treasure gave birth to a handsome little colt.

Yuri: Treasure, you did it! Look at him. He's perfect.

Both Treasure and the colt were up and standing on wobbly legs, exhausted but proud, when Storm finally made his appearance with Cookie in tow.

Yuri: Storm, look at your baby. Isn't he cute? He has your eyes.

Storm: It... it's a boy?

Treasure: You took your time getting here.

Storm: Did you actually want me here?

Treasure: I did... but I didn't? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that. I'm glad you're here now.

Storm: It's okay. I deserved it. I should've been here. Besides, look what you just did. You can get away with saying whatever you want after accomplishing that, as far as I'm concerned.

Treasure: Thank you.

Storm: I should be thanking you. I mean, like... I'm really proud of you. And just look at our awesome boy. Storm Jr.

Treasure: No. We are absolutely not naming him that.

Storm: What? Why not?

Treasure: Because he's not just a copy of you. He's a combination of both of us, and he's his own unique horse. He deserves the best of everything in life, and that includes discovering who he is and being allowed to find his own way. How's he going to do that if he thinks he has to live up to your name?

Storm: Oh. I never thought of it like that. What are we going to name him, then?

Treasure: I'm too tired to think about that right now.

Storm: Maybe we can just let the humans name him. They gave us pretty great names, so I trust them.

Treasure: *nodding* Yes, I'm fine with that. I'm going to try to sleep for a while now. I'll bring our son out to meet everyone tomorrow.

Storm: I'm probably not gonna be able to sleep all night! I can hardly wait for tomorrow, so we can show him off.

Treasure: *amused* So you can show off, you mean?

Storm: Well, yeah. That too.

Treasure: Try not to stay awake all night. That'll really take the shine off all the strutting around you're going to be doing tomorrow.

Storm: Right. Gotta get my beauty sleep. Unlike you, 'cause you don't need sleep to make you beautiful. You're the most beautiful horse on the planet, and maybe in the whole universe. But like, you still need to sleep. You should definitely get as much rest as you can, and—

Treasure: Storm.

Storm: Uh... yeah?

Treasure: Good night.

For once, Storm managed to take the hint. Treasure loved him, but he could be a bit too much at times, and all she wanted right now was some peace and quiet. She wanted time to bond with her baby and recover some of her strength.

Tomorrow would be a fresh new day, in which she and her son could begin their adventures in the outside world together, but she wasn’t quite ready to share him with the world yet. Tonight, she wanted him all to herself, so she could admire him and revel in the miracle of him.

She’d already forgotten the worst of the pain, and somehow his presence felt more like magic and less like misery with each passing second.

That is your name, she thought. Magic.

She closed her eyes. She’d have to think of a way to communicate her son’s name to the humans, but that could wait until the morning.

[sagethefool]

When Mr. Minor Fucking Prince fires while running away, there's a flash, a bang, a crack, and Izzy goes down.

(And the last time he saw Izzy drop like that, it had been Ed's fault, he had shot him.

"I have...love for you,"

And he returned that love with a bullet. He never even really apologized, just a shitty 'sorry about your leg' as he was walking away. And he'd never get to now and--)

There's no room to panic, to worry about his oldest friend, his only family. Rage courses through him, and he fires as they are swarmed. There's too much to follow as the rest of the crew, Zheng, and Jackie spring out from where they'd been. A whirl of smoke and swords and too much fucking shouting and Izzy is deaddeaddead.

"Ed, come on, we've got to go." There's Stede, warm hands pulling and tugging him away from the madness.

"Izzy--"

"We've got him, Ed, but it does him no good if we stay. Let's go"

And he does, he follows, feeling a mix of anger and grief and guilt the whole time. Izzy is dead and he can't cry yet, he has to make sure Stede and the crew get back safe. He looks around, and Wee John has Izzy slung over his shoulder, which, Izzy may have been a dick, but let's have some fucking respect and not treat his body like a sack of potatoes, for fuck sake.

He isn't able to really sit in that thought, though, because they are still actively fleeing back to The Revenge, Auntie turning to shoot at the gits still hot on their tails, the two dinghies being pushed and loaded and rowed into open water. They all flinch down as a few shots are fired towards them, but make it back to the ship unharmed.

Mostly.

Fuck. Izzy.

He looks across to the other dinghy, but of course he can't see Iz. They must have laid him down, and he's suddenly grateful he can't see him. He doesn't have the room to breakdown, and seeing his face, cold and grey and--

Not yet. Gotta get to the ship. Get to the ship, then they can decide what to do with his--

As the crew starts climbing aboard, Ed watches, waiting for them to bring up Izzy's body. He sees Stede leaning hauling him up from where they someone must be carrying him. He expects to see him still and unfamiliar, instead--

"--fucking set me down, I'm fine, Bonnet. It doesn't even hurt."

And the relief that he feels is enough to bowl him over, have him moving towards Izzy, taking him from Stede's arms and helping him down. And he's there, he can feel him warm and whole and none the worse for wear, but what, how?

"Izzy, mate, I saw you--I thought--but you--"

"The idiot missed and shot my leg." Izzy gripes, and sure enough, the weird horse leg Izzy had been using is broken off at the knee, splinters angrily clawing into his pant leg. "It was a damn good leg, too, the crew made it for me."

"I'm sorry. Izzy, fuck, man, I thought you were dead, thought that bastard had killed you." He stops, can't think about that, he's fine, Izzy is fine, "You're okay, right? I thought you were dead, and I can't lose you, Iz, you're the only family I have left."

He snorts. The bastards actually snorts amd says, "Oh, fuck off, you twat Ed, look around you," and he does, sees Olu, Jim, and Archie, Lucius and Pete, Wee John, Frenchie, Roach, Swede, Fang, Stede, even Jackie and Zheng and Auntie, "We've got more family now than we know what to do with. Even if I had been shot, even if I had died, you would be fine.

"They love you, Ed. So just be Ed."

[honeydots]

If you want another prompt: ❛ because i care about you, okay? ❜ Leokumi

"Because I care about you, okay?" 1.2k, leokumi (background xanlow) from this ask game

Takumi is sick in Nohr, and he hates it.

He’s laying here, in one of their hugely fluffy Nohrian beds, wrapped in blankets and feeling gross. He was already cold, but now he’s shivering, and the air tastes weird. It’s an all around bad experience. He’d rather be sick anywhere else.

Leo’s decided to just hang out with him while he’s dying here, for whatever reason, working on something on a desk near Takumi’s bed. It’s seriously embarrassing enough that everyone knows Takumi got sick, Leo doesn’t have to stick around and watch him roll through the covers miserably.

That’s exactly what Takumi’s doing, too. He groans, and he flops onto his side, as if facing the left will make him any less sick than facing the right might. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that weird fruit,” he mumbles, pulling his knees closer to his chest.

Last night, Takumi had a typical Nohrian dinner—which is to say it was pretty damn atypical for Takumi’s tastes. And ultimately it was fine, just not what he’s used to, but there was this one thing. A Nohrian fruit with a skin covered in bumps to peel off, that was mushy and sweet to eat. And he didn’t hate that either, but he had a bad feeling about it.

“We don’t know it was the food, you know,” Leo comments, obviously not working and rather eying Takumi with his legs crossed. Takumi squints at him.

“I ate it, and now I feel sick. What part of that doesn’t point to the food?”

Leo shrugs at him, of all things. It isn’t Takumi’s fault Leo fed him something weird. Takumi shuffles more under the blankets, feeling just as gross but also moody.

Leo, still not working on whatever it is he’s working on, leans forward in his chair. “Have you been able to stomach anything I gave you?” he asks. Takumi frowns, and he glances over at the plate of food Leo offered earlier. Much more simple stuff, easy grains and soup. Takumi sighs.

“Kind of,” he says. “The crackers were okay.” His stomach is in complete knots, and those were basically the only things that didn’t make it worse. But he can’t say he has an appetite anyway.

Leo hums. “The water?”

“Don’t want it.” Which makes Leo frown.

“Not even a sip?”

“Later, okay, I don’t want to vomit.” Mostly Takumi doesn’t want to have to sit up to drink it, actually. Leo gives him such a look, too, like he knows. Takumi gives him a look right back. “What’s with you?”

Leo raises an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

“You’re being pushy.” Which doesn’t seem to bother Leo as much as Takumi would’ve liked it to. Annoying. “Go somewhere else. I don’t get why you’re sitting in here with me.”

Leo, pretty pointedly, does not get up. “Because I care about you. Or is that not allowed?” he says, which is also annoying. Leo turns to his work, still clearly not intending to leave, and then glances back to Takumi. “Just drink the water.”

Takumi scrunches his nose. But he’s too sick to think of a retort, so he shuffles up onto his forearms and finally takes his drink. And yeah, it’s nice, whatever. It doesn’t cure him or anything. But it’s about as tolerable as the crackers were.

It’s almost more irritating that Leo doesn’t give Takumi a haughty look, but instead just an average one. “You should probably sleep, too.”

Takumi scoots back into the covers. “I’m too tired to sleep.”

“Interesting. Any other hypocrisies you’d like to share?”

It’s a lot easier to deal with Leo when he’s being himself. “You’re such a pain.” Takumi barely knows what to do otherwise. Especially while he’s sick—which is also why Leo’s being weird, for sure, so this is just a useless situation all around.

Takumi does mean it when he says he’s too tired to sleep. It won’t work, plainly, he’s just stuck staring at the ceiling feeling miserable. He’d love to pass out and get better so then hopefully Leo will stop being nice to him because it’s intolerable—but he’s stuck conscious.

So, he flips around again, and also flips his pillow, and tries to look at the papers on Leo’s desk. “What are you working on, even?” he asks. Leo looks his way briefly, then sighs, finishing a sentence before he puts his quill down.

“It’s for Camilla,” he explains, rubbing his fingers absently. “It’s this orphanage program she’s trying to put forward. I’m giving her some financial estimates.”

Takumi blinks. “Oh yeah?” Takumi wouldn’t have guessed, exactly, but that’s not unexpected for Camilla. Leo nods.

“She’s always been interested in developing one. But… Ever since Siegbert was born, she’s just been—I don’t know. I wouldn’t call it baby fever, but it’s something similar.” And then Leo starts working again, just like that.

Takumi guesses it is pretty significant to have a baby around the palace. People were freaking out when Shiro was born, Takumi included. He’s still kind of freaking out about that. It’s been a little while now, though.

“Their other kid is close, right?” Takumi asks, then elaborates more. “Your brother and Laslow's.” Takumi’s met Siegbert a few times, and he’s cute, but it felt like he’d barely been around long before it was announced they were having another. Takumi doubts Ryoma’s going to have more, since Shiro’s already a rascal as a not-even-one year old. But Siegbert’s been calm whenever Takumi’s met him, so. Maybe that spurred them on.

“Quite,” Leo says. He looks away, out towards the door. “I wonder if you’ll be here when it’s born.”

Kids are something that seem really far away from Takumi. He’s too sick to even think about it long. It was crazy enough to suddenly have a nephew. There’s a weird way things have felt like they’re moving both faster and slower, now that there isn’t a war to worry about. And to be honest, Takumi’s not in the mood to go fast.

Leo tilts his head, looking thoughtful. “You know. I think Laslow might’ve gotten sick when he ate that fruit for the first time,” he says. “Maybe it’s something you acquire a tolerance to.”

Takumi, feeling right but way too sick to appreciate it, huffs. “Don’t feed it to me again, then.”

“You only gain tolerance by repeating the process, you know.”

“What if I’m just allergic? I don’t want it,” Takumi says back, not eager to experience this stomachache again. “I’m not sure I liked it enough to really want to try, anyway.”

Leo gives him a ghost of a grin, then gets back into his financial whatever. “I really think you should sleep,” he says. Takumi buzzes his lips and pulls the covers over him more.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, mind getting foggier by the second. He might be too tired not to sleep now, thank goodness. “Wake me up when the baby’s born.”

And—it’s kind of nice. The last thing Takumi hears before he drifts off is Leo’s light chuckle, and the sounds of quill on paper.

And he really, seriously, barely even thinks about the kid stuff.

[the-gamer-blog-for-anyone]

Hey, I figured I’d update y’all on why my posts have been few and far between. It’s a bit of venting but nothing terrible. Read if you want.

I’ll start by saying that I’m sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth every so often. I don’t mean to do that, life gets in the way a lot.

Now onto the stuff.

The major I was in (Music Ed) was a big factor this past semester. I got so stressed about things I had to get done that I got sick, not once, but twice in a row with the exact same illness. Mind you, this was within the span of a week or so, not a month; I have never had that happen before. My immune system is pretty good, so I usually heal pretty quick and am back on my feet, so twice with the illness, especially with it being almost worse the second time, is a problem. Even though it wasn’t something detrimental to my health (like pneumonia. Again.), I still know that if that stress had kept up, something like that could’ve happened.

Unfortunately, music education requires hours, and that moves into classes that need them for you to pass. I had already told the school that I didn’t have a car, but even that did not stop them from assigning me to somewhere that would require one. I thought I had it worked out because I was going to go during spring break, but that was when the illness I had the week before decided to make another impromptu visit. Yippee.

On the other end of things, I basically live in a glorified dorm right now at home. My mom, my brother, and I share a room (stuff and all). That leaves no space, which also leads to even more stress. Living with someone who wants us to wait on them every time we are home is not helpful either (meaning the three of us serve them), but we’re working on boundaries, even if they don’t want to participate.

The last thing is that I had already injured my leg before, but because of that injury and the surgery they did, I was informed recently that the increased leg pain I’m having is just something I have to live with until I can get it replaced (which can’t happen until you’re over 55). Considering I just turned 20 over a month ago, that already feels unusual; Most people my age are doing things I can’t do. It’s not that I hate that them for being able to do those activities, nor do I think that they are judging me for my lack of ability to do them (at least not logically), I just wish I could be a normal 20-year-old who can do them.

I’m mainly telling you so 1) you know why I may be somewhat depressed or go radio silent, but mainly because 2) things are getting better, and I plan to be back.

I’ve already changed majors- Bachelor of Arts as opposed to Music Ed- to take some of the stress away. Taking that off my plate already helped a lot. Plus, now I can actually get back on track for my Psychology minor (which has led me to question what my future goals are, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it).

In terms of housing, we recently heard from a friend about a better place to live temporarily until we can get a house of our own. That would help us a lot if that happens, but even if not, we can work it out. My family knows I need space, and I know they need it, too. After talking recently, we’ve figured out how to work it.

PT is doing good for at least keeping my leg stronger than it has been, and that’s a step in the right direction, even if I still have to get surgery within the next year or so.

Are there things that are still stressful and complicated? For sure. Here’s the thing though:

On top of all this, I know I have a good roommate for this coming year who knows me and my quirks. I also have, aside from my moots and friends on here, good college friends I can hang out with and know I can trust to understand if I need a break (love you @lovelyunknown and @joannaksworld). That makes life so much more bearable knowing I’m not alone.

Anyway, I plan to be back making plenty of happy posts very soon… Unless I have no ideas, which is definitely not impossible.

With that, I hope you have a great day. I love you all!

[robotstrategy]

Recalled • Part 5 • 35 - Ground School

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 5 Masterlist • Next

In order to complete flight academy there are minimum training requirements of 65 hours of flight training and 80 hours of ground school. There’s also a minimum of 200 hours total time, which includes not less than 100 hours pilot-in-command hours of which 20 hours must be cross-country time. Cross-country time is defined as time acquired during a flight that is conducted in an appropriate aircraft; that includes a point of landing that is at least a straight-line distance of more than 50 nautical miles from the original point of departure; which must involve the use of dead reckoning. For right now, the first years are focused on ground schooling. It’s much like Driver's ED, but for aircraft, the accident videos get worse and the controls are even harder to figure out. 

Roland has been paired with a guy named Trevor, Trevor looks like the type of guy Roland’s roommate was accusing Roland of being. Roland wishes he could point to Trevor every time his roommate tried picking at him if he’ll even pick at him anymore. Today Roland decided he’d wear his sleeveless sweater and now his roommate is convinced he’s yin. His roommate says he’s happy because it takes Roland and another guy out of the mix, ‘Gross.’ Roland thinks, is that all that guy thinks about, girls? That would humour him if it also didn’t make him sad, this guy is ruining his life because he can’t see that he’s the problem, and not other people. Maybe another reason it disappoints him is that his roommate reminds him of his past self, not in the way about only caring if girls like him, just in overall crappiness.  

There’s a way in which Trevor holds himself, if ever Roland makes a mistake he’s always there to correct it before the teacher comes around. The teacher isn’t scary either, he acts like someone there to teach you how to do things properly so you don’t mess up and die. So he’s doing his job. Roland doesn’t make many mistakes, after all, it wasn't the back of his brain that was taken, the memory-holding part, unlike that Recall in the Psych Ward. During the little breaks they get Roland’s mind often wanders to things like this, he wonders if that kid ever made it out of the Ward, or if he’s still stuck there, unable to properly experience the world. Back to Trevor then, he seems nice, he seems to care when others pick at him and sometimes Roland. He reminds Roland a little of Hayden, with all of his little quips, but surprisingly he reminds him more of Connor, well, what Roland can still make of Connor. Hayden has told him that if he looks hard enough he could find clips of Risa and Connor, but he doesn’t want to. Hearing Connor’s name already put him on edge, and he wouldn’t dare look for Risa, imagining his gaze on a video of her makes his stomach turn. Trevor, like Connor, seems to be more of a team player, snapping every once in a while. Roland thinks it’s cool, it’s more than he could ever accomplish, even jokingly insulting someone would make him feel guilty. If it’s his sister though, it’s fair game, because she probably insulted him first.

There’s a guy named Roland in Trevor’s class, and he’s been paired with him. Roland seems to be knowledgeable on the basics, but once the work gets more complicated he and Trevor are on the same playing field. In the way that Trevor retains more of what’s being said, Roland seems to be able to handle the gory videos more that they’re sometimes shown. But why wouldn’t he be able to? He’s a Recall. Trevor doesn’t know what really goes on during an unwinding, but it must be awful. Trevor doesn’t watch the screen when the fake accidents happen, he just looks around the room at all the wide eyes, but Roland doesn’t flinch, he’s unmoving, maybe even uninterested. Roland’s body tells a story, he has this beautiful shark tattoo done in a Polynesian style on his right arm, it was paired with waves on his right leg, is what Roland had told him. He’s got graft lines going across his mouth, eyes, and forehead, along with three scars on his left cheek. Whatever got him clipped him on an angle, because there seemed to be a small, a medium, and a large scar. There were lines going down his left arm where he most likely would have been grafted. Trevor wondered why there was no hint of stitching, like on his face, Roland told him it was because he was nothing but a torso and an open head when he was properly Recalled. He was remade using one of the bigger Biobuilder models, there was no need for his new parts to be separated into smaller bits before all of him was connected together. Roland points to a girl in the back of the class, telling him that the girl had the biggest percentage of his parts. The girl looks up and smiles, waving at him, her partner is sheepish, they jump at everything, Trevor doesn’t think that classmate will last long. There’s something about the girl's face that makes him uncomfortable, once learning that she’s a Rewind from Roland, Trevor curses himself. He doesn’t want to dislike her for being a Rewind, maybe Cam Comprix scared him, but Cam was made at a time when he wasn’t needed. His existence was merely to be the perfect human being, while people were dying by not getting the right parts in time. Seeing the girl in a new light, he looks back at her again, but he can’t get over how the left side of her face makes him feel.

[anonymousj3ster]

Chapter 5- Key Motivators

I walk down the hall, an ache in my right leg- or rather, the orange stick that curled at the 'foot'. Even when Caine was still around, it would bother me a little, but now that everyone was starting to feel a bit more alive- hungry, thirsty, tired- the aches had gotten worse and more frequent. It was longer than my other leg, forcing me to have to swing it forward instead of just being able to take a step, and having it thud onto the ground sent soft shoots of pain up it. I grumble under my breath as I walk. Step. Swing. Step. Swing. Step. Swing.

"All right, my little superstars!" Caine's obnoxious voice booms cheerfully. I turned away from Gangle, getting up to leave. I had only joined this freakshow a month ago, and was already dangerously close to punching the ringmaster in the face. The only bearable part of this place was Ragatha's kindness, and Gangle's company, but even they got on my nerves every so often. I sigh and stand up. Well, that and the fact that I was the only person in the circus who could change their appearance. Caine had given me a box full of parts, which I normally tried to switch up everyday. Today I had gone with a tentacle arm and a crab claw, an antler on my head, and two mismatched colored legs: one blue, one green, though they were both normal legs.

As Caine droned on about days torment adventure, I walk off, determined to not be dragged into whatever misery fun he had planned for today.

"Zooble, my colorful cluster of parts!" Caine calls suddenly. I freeze, reluctantly turning to face him. The pair of teeth floats closer to me, until his eyes were only a few inches from mine.

"I notice you haven't been participating lately in the adventures!" He begins. Of course I haven't. It always ended in someone getting hurt, or lost, or scared. Jax would try to steal one of my parts, or I would somehow lose one. Then at the end Caine would finally let us do whatever we wanted, thinking we had all had fun while really we had all been pushed to our breaking points. Again. And again. And again.

"As you know, these fun little exploits help keep you sane, so it's very important you take part in them to keep your mind healthy and stimulated!" He rambles. "Which is why today, I've decided to motivate you a bit more!" I eye him suspiciously. What did he mean...?

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly as the cool parts I had picked to wear this morning were gone, replaced with white, heavy, unwieldy limbs that were hard to move. He zooms away from me up the the stage, where he hovers.

"Which is why todays adventure is...." He snapped his fingers again, making large letters appear. "Find the Pieces! Your pal Zooble's pieces have been scattered around the circus, and you have to find each one! Whoever finds the most will win!" I stare at him for a moment, shock slowly fading away and turning to rage. Jax bursts out laughing.

"Oh, this will be fun." The rabbit sneers, already running off. I try to chase after him, but my new limbs felt like 50-pound weights had been strapped to them. Ragatha walks over, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Do you need help?" She asks softly. I reluctantly nod. "Yeah...maybe if I..." I cringe inwardly at my next words. "Lean on you it might help?" The doll smiles and moves to my side, patting my arm awkwardly as I slowly shift a bit of my weight onto her. I hated needing people. I hated needing to have people help me. I hated feeling useless.

Kinger stares at us for a moment before slowly wandering off. I watch him with a bit of concern. It had only been a few weeks since Queenie abstracted, and he had been acting...strange. Wandering about, blurting out random nonsense. Not acting how he used to. Though now that I thought about it...I couldn't quite remember what Kinger used to be like.

I snap myself out of my thoughts as I see a tragedy-masked coil of ribbon make her way over to me and Ragatha.

"W-we should probably start looking for your p-parts Zooble." She suggests softly. I nod and take a slow step forward, leaning heavily on Ragatha. "Sorry." I mumble.

"It's fine Zooble! I don't mind helping you!" The ragdoll chirps cheerfully. I roll my eyes a little and take step after step, Gangle trailing after us.

We make slow progress. It seemed like every 10 minutes I needed to rest, to stop moving these useless rubber limbs, to try and ease the aches forming in them. Finally after what seemed like hours we find some arms, an antennae, and a leg- or, at least what I guessed was a leg. It was more like an...orange spiraly thing, but I switch one of the heavy legs Caine had given me with it anyways, thinking anything would be better than that.

I was wrong. I could barely balance on it, having to lean on the bright doll even more. We find a few more parts, until finally-

"Maybe we should split up? We can find more of your parts then!" Ragatha blurts, breaking the hours-long silence. Seems like hours of having to help the cripple were finally getting to her. "You can stay continue with Gangle, and I'll maybe go check some of the places we missed, ok?"

I nod, glaring at the ground as she gives me a sympathetic smile. "Great! We'll get your parts back in no time Zooble!" She chirps, before scurrying off. I stay sitting for a moment, before turning to Gangle.

"You think your able to help me walk?" I ask. She nods, quickly rushing to my side. I slowly stand, wobbling a little and gently leaning the slightest bit on Gangle. There was no way the poor girl would be able to hold me up the way Ragatha had. I focus on swinging the orange leg in front of me as I walk, only to fall flat on my face.

"Zooble! Are you al-" Gangle gasps, but I quickly manage to stand, brushing off her concern. "I'm fine." I grumble, starting to walk again. Step. Swing. Step. Swing. Step. Swing. Fall. Get back up. Step. Swing. Step. Swing. Step. Swing. Step. Swing. Fall again. Get back up again.

We continue the 'adventure' in silence, but it wasn't awkward. It was quite comfortable actually, not like the strained, awkward one with Ragatha. Because when Gangle looked at me, there wasn't any pity. There was concern, yes, but not an 'Oh, poor you!' kind, or a 'Do you need my help?' kind, or even a 'Are you sure your ok?' type. It was more of a 'I'm here' look. An 'I get it' look. It almost seemed like she was trying to say 'I get you'. But I knew I must be imagining it. After all, how could two black blotches and a slash convey those looks?

Just as I was about to break the silence-

We were back in the main part of the circus, in front of the stage.

"Well, my little superstars, it seems like our friend Jax has won the game!" Caine booms, hovering above everyone else, who had also been teleported here by the obnoxious pair of teeth. I glare at Jax, who was smirking and surrounded by a pile of my parts. "And, as per usual game rules, our purple pal gets to pick a prize!" He continues.

"Caine, I already know what I want for my 'prize'." The rabbit drawls, looking straight at me. "I want..." He trails off, eyes dropping to my useless 'leg' as I shift it, trying to keep my balance. His dickish smirk becomes wider.

"I want Zooble to have to wear that orange...thing...forever. For them to never be able to switch it out for one of their old ones." He says slowly. Caine frowns for a moment. "Are you sure Jax?"

"Oh, I'm sure." Jax says snidely. Caine shrugs, then snaps his fingers. "NO-" I snarl, lurching forward at the ringmaster as all of my other legs that few in piled around the other prisoners player's feet vanished. I stumble and fall flat on my face, silently fuming as I hear the purple dickhead burst into laughter.

I slowly stand up and turn to him, hands curling to fists, feeling a dark rage curl around my chest, about to punch the teeth out of his fucking grin-

I feel a soft tap on my shoulder, and my head snaps down to snarl at whoever was fucking bothering me-

A tearmarked mask gazes up at me. "It's not worth it." She whispers softly. I stare at her for a moment, before slowly relaxing, my fists loosening. No, it wasn't worth it. Jax wasn't worth it.

I nod, and walk right past the rabbit, not even sparing him a glance. I hear him call after me as I walk to my room, one hand on the wall to keep myself from toppling over.

That orange piece of plastic never came off.

"Zooble?" A soft voice calls. I flinch as it drags me out of my memories. I spin around to find the ribbon creature standing behind me, but this time she was smiling. "Are you ok?" I nod quickly, walking the last few steps to my door, ready to vanish inside for a few hours, try to sleep, the only form of escape in this place, despite what the jester claimed. Just as I put the yellow-clawed limb I had chosen to use today on the doorknob, I hesitate.

"I...wouldn't mind having some company though." I ask tentatively without turning back around to face the comedy mask. Theres a short pause, and just as I go to turn the handle, she speaks up.

"I wouldn't mind being with you." Gangle says. I nod, opening the door, but instead of slamming it in her face like I normally do with everyone, I hold it open for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I groan and blearly open my eyes, head pounding, a mild ringing in my ears. I slowly sit up, rubbing my face. I stare blankly around the blue room I was in, before it all comes flooding back to me. The carnival. Bubble. The door.

If only my memories of my real life came back to be as quickly as these ones did. I get to my feet, staring at the door. My brow furrows as I examine it. What had seemed like a normal door before now had some sort of keypad installed next to the handle. I experimentally press one of the buttons.

I jump backwards as blue panels spring up all around me, semi-transparent, each one having numbers, symbols, and letters. I stare uncomprehendingly at them, before a word hovering high above the panels catches my attention. ENTER PASSWORD.

I frown, before stupidly punching in the first thing that came to mind- password.

PASSWORD INCORRECT.

I sigh, turning around to walk around the panels since they were blocking me from getting a better look at the door-

But they surrounded my on all sides. I panic, stumbling backwards into the other panels. I duck down, trying to go beneath them. But they moved to block me.

I feel my breathing ramp up, feeling like a python had curled around my chest, strangling me as my panic rises. No. No. Nononononono. Not again. Not more. I was already trapped in this place to begin with. I can't be trapped even more. I had to leave-get out-escape-

My eyes snag on a word near the bottom right of the nearest panel. Exit.

I hear a delirious laugh bubble up from me as I stare at the button. No. No way. Of course it wasn't- it couldn't possible be- it was a way to get out of the panels not out of-

But yet. But yet but yet but yet. Dumb hope swells in my heart as I practically punch that word-

And the panels vanish. Just the panels. Not the room. Not the carnival. Not the circus. Just the panels. Just as I knew they would. But I still feel something curl up and die in my heart. I giggle, slowly backing away from the door, tugging on the ends of my fool hat, stumbling and twisting to face away from that door, away from where the red herring had led me, away from all of it, back to my little hell. I'm still giggling as I enter the circus tent, retreating to my room.

The fool couldn't hear the rumbling beneath her feet over her laughter.

[safetycar-restart]

BARKING

CHARLES IN A SUIT

currently only thinking about how he is MADE to be fucked 24/7. and that press conference? MANY thoughts.

one of them being sticking a vibrating butt plug up his ass before he sits down for that hella long interview. not to mention you were able to control the plug with your phone, oops.

so the poor thing goes over to sit down, in front of a crowd of people, absolutely terrified. he tries so hard not to moan and just let his jaw drop at how good he feels. the worst part is he never knows when you'll move your finger up the phone and when the vibrations are going to be stronger or weaker.

he was just listening to the man interviewing him, but he was really only focusing on the light vibrations coming from the plug. due to them being light, he had almost no problem answering his question. well, halfway. in the middle of his sentence, he felt the vibrations suddenly grow much stronger, causing him to stop in the middle of his sentence and finish off his word with a high pitched whimper. luckily, he was able to hide it with a cough. his cheeks were flushed after that, the same thing happening multiple times, and it always took him by suprise.

you were somewhere among the small crowd of people, despite not being a journalist. you were there to keep an eye on charles. by the way he was getting squirmy and kept bouncing his leg, you knew he was close, so you turned the plug off. in return, you got a wide eyed look from charles, who was really only waiting for you to bend him over the balcony gate in your hotel room and fuck him senseless.

- 📓

Oh god amazing. This is so fucking good I am obsessed? Incredible.

Firstly, I think this would be your suggestion? Charles loves this kind of thing so much, but he didnt think to suggest it at the press conference because he had been dreading the event for so long.

He didnt want to spend so long answering the media about his awful season. He couldn't think of anything worse. In fact if he could, he would pull a lewis and simply not attend the event entirely. But Ferrari wouldn't let him, so he has to attend.

You suggest the vibrating plug because you know it'll make the conference far more enjoyable. Charles lights up when he hears your suggestion, because that sounds fucking perfect.

You'd have to put his cute cock in a cage though, otherwise is hard on would be VERY visible. Though I think Charles sometimes loves his cage? It's comforting to know you have the key, that you can decide when he gets to play with himself, can even decide when he can get hard. But I digress, back to the point.

You sneak into the media section for it, which honestly was very very easy because Ferrari let you go wherever you want to (Mattia is actually fucking terrified of you, as is Charles's engineer). So you sit in the back with the app open on your phone to control the vibe.

You keep it low at first, letting Charles get used to the sensations and smirking when you see how he's trying to subtly grind down on the chair. You know he loves being filled.

You wait until the person is asking a long question to up the vibrations, and watch how Charles grips the chair to try and stop himself from whining. You know that if it were just the two of you, he would be crying and begging by now.

You keep the vibrations on the same level as he must answer the question, watching as Charles tries so hard to form sentences and not be too obvious about trying to rock against the plug. You just have to up the vibrations to high in the middle of him answering the question to watch him whine and try to cover it with a cough.

You continue to torture him for most of the conference, right until you can see that he's really struggling to control himself and then you turn the plug off. You would never actually make Charles cum in public, both because he wouldn't be able to cover that up and because he wouldn't have your permission so you know he would feel bad about it.

He smiles at you when you turn the plug off, showing how happy he is to have a dom who knows his limits so perfectly.

Your plan is originally to not give Charles any attention again until the event is over and then get back to the hotel to fuck him silly. But then the conference is over and Charles is flinging himself into your arms, whining into your ear cause he's so desperate, both from you teasing him and from feeling subby from all the pressure and eyes on him.

So of course you just have to drag him to the bathroom, take his cage off and give him a slow hand job. He's so happy, biting down on your shoulder to keep his noises at bay.

And then you clean him up and tuck him back into his boxers. Or at least you try it, but Charles whines and stops you and asks to please have his cage back on. You're confused, because you've already made Charles cum and you wont be making the plug vibrate again tonight so he shouldn't get hard. But Charles doesn't want it to stop himself from being hard, he wants it because the prize giving will be scary and overwhelming and he wants the extra comfort.

So he gets his cage and keeps his plug and then holds your hand the entire night. Naughty, horny subby baby.