#you understand the vision i'm trying to give right??

[iz-star]

About the latest polemic about Zayne and Sylus over twitter...

I left twitter for good. I'm honestly so tired of the drama that arises there everyday. I literally decided to log in today just to see some Arcane spoilers and the first thing I was hit with was with the most recent drama about CN players and specially Zayne and Sylus players having a heavy argument about plagiarism and how some lines of Zayne seem to have been copied onto Sylus' lines...

Firs of all, I don't know how the CN fanbase is, so I can't really say anything about that matter. From what I read, it seems things are quite complex there and arguments & harassment among LI's fanbases seem to be quite intense from what ppl is saying but, again, I can't really say too much on that matter cause I don't know how the fanbase is there, I'm not part of it neither I go to CN websites to look up for lads content. Most cases my experience visiting CN websites has been because of kind ppl that has respectfully asked me permission to repost my art and give me credits there, from that perspective my opinion about the CN fanbase has always been good and it still stands, I'm pretty sure that great part of the fanbase it's nice and it's only the small little toxic portion that is overshadowing the nice and chill part of the fandom.

My point here it's: Don't let yourself to have a tunnel vision about this situation.

You can probably see 10, 100 or even 500 ppl arguing and harassing others and even so it's not even a quarter of the whole total of players that belong to the fandom only in China, let alone global. To generalize from your point of view is not the objective take you think it is, talking from your experience doesn't talk for others experience, no one's experience here is universal. I read a lot of ppl trying to find someone to blame all the time "Zayne players started everything" "Sylus writers copied Zayne" etc and you know? Rolling this ball to one another is not going to lead us anywhere because as always, it's not acknowledging the true issue here: that is, us as players, keep enabling this kind of toxic behaviour if that means to stand up for or to 'defend' our main LI.

To try to portray one LI's fanbase as the guilty one is just creating more trouble than solving it and it's also not having a general understanding of the situation at hand and instead, encouraing biased opinions that only create more division and discrimination within the fandom.

And let's be honest, it's not the first time (and probably won't be the last, sadly) that drama arises within the fandom where we attack others LIs and their fanbase. This game is targeted towards adult women, we are not supposed to behave like adolescents making tantrums and messing up with our peers, yet here we are, enabling arguments, harassment, bullying or overall having an ugly and mean attitude in order to defend something that honestly, all the LIs would feel ashamed for if they were real. Like, literally all of them hate to be on the spotlight for the stuff they're good at, it would be even worse if the spotlight it's caused by them for all the wrong reasons.

I know lads guys are fictional, and I'm not going to invalidate people's feelings by saying that you shouldn't take it too seriously just bc they're not real -most of us find a lot of comfort in fiction, after all- but that doesn't give you the right to harass real people neither hurt their feelings [the same ways you feel when they attack your fav LI]. You are able to feel whatever you want to feel, however, you're still responsible for your words and actions. If this game is turning you into an awful person, then I'm afraid to say that you probably must step back and reconsider if your passion for it is healthy for you.

I know it's easy to get upset and sometimes we have the need to express it. However, to decide to be a part of a fandom is to accept that you are not going to always like what ppl say, let alone agree with them. Not everyone's opinions might aling with yours but it's enterily up to you the way how you take and respond to them. As I said before, I left twitter for good bc I found myself often wanting to be mean to others upon reading the negative stuff some ppl said about Zayne, especially in order to compare him with other LIs just to make him look bad. I would often felt so ugly thinking like that. Staying away from that drama has been super helpful and that's the best advice I can give for now: try and enjoy the game and your LI by yourself if the fandom is getting too much to handle.

Be careful about the discourse you support and always ask yourself if your words and actions will truly lead you somewhere good and healthy or it will only cause more chaos for you and others. Flammable opinions only light up and burn if we feed the fire, if there's no one to keep it alive, the flame will drown out very quickly.

[darkbluekies]

i got this scenario in my head just now

imagine (for whatever reason) that darling is arguing with someone and Silas walks up behind darling, standing there like a lion mother behind her cub, arms crossed over his chest, one hand resting on his inner pocket where he keeps his gun. He doesn't need to say anything. The message is clear.

I think i need to sit down he is so hot i am sorry

[feroluce]

Sort of the same idea as this, but Sigewinne standing around playing with the inmates of The Fortress of Meropide, when Wriothesley happens to walk by and hears them competing for rarest haul that they ever stole and got away with. Wriothesley immediately declares Sigewinne the winner.

And they all turn to look at her, because. Sigewinne is literally like the only one down here without a criminal record? Even she looks confused???

Wriothesley, with a completely straight face: Because she stole my heart.

Sigewinne is, in spirit, doubled over on the floor, clutching her chest and coughing blood as tiny cherubs shoot her full of arrows. The inmates are so so happy for them, they really truly are, but also Your Grace, please, some of us just ate BSMZJZJJZNSMDK

[syxnewt]

my parents want my little brother, who has had a fever no lower than 100 F for the past 2-3 days, to go to school tomorrow

[seventh-district]

I'm probably far from the first person to say this, but you can't tell me that this song doesn't just scream Aventurine, c'mon.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

50 Character Personality Traits + Meanings (For writers, worldbuilders, and artists) Part 1

Adventurous - Enjoys trying new experiences and exploring the unknown.

Ambitious - Driven to succeed and achieve their goals.

Analytical - Tends to think critically and examine things in-depth.

Artistic - Highly creative and expresses themselves through artistic mediums.

Assertive - Confident in expressing their thoughts and feelings.

Caring - Shows compassion and concern for the well-being of others.

Charismatic - Has a natural charm and appeal that draws people in.

Clever - Able to come up with creative solutions and make astute observations.

Compassionate - Displays empathy and a desire to help those in need.

Confident - Believes in their own abilities and is self-assured.

Conscientious - Reliable, responsible, and attentive to detail.

Curious - Eager to learn new things and explore the world around them.

Cynical - Tends to be skeptical and distrustful of others' motives.

Dependable - Can be counted on to follow through on their commitments.

Determined - Persistent in pursuing their goals and overcoming challenges.

Diplomatic - Skilled at navigating social situations and resolving conflicts.

Eccentric - Displays unconventional or unusual behaviors and interests.

Empathetic - Able to understand and share the feelings of others.

Ethical - Guided by a strong moral compass and a sense of right and wrong.

Extraverted - Enjoys being around people and draws energy from social interactions.

Flexible - Adaptable to changes and open to trying new approaches.

Forgiving - Willing to let go of past hurts and give people second chances.

Friendly - Approachable and enjoys building positive relationships with others.

Grounded - Practical, down-to-earth, and focused on the present.

Hardworking - Diligent and dedicated in their efforts to achieve their goals.

Honest - Values truthfulness and integrity in their words and actions.

Idealistic - Driven by a vision of how the world should be and a desire to make a difference.

Imaginative - Possesses a rich inner world and creative problem-solving abilities.

Independent - Prefers to think and act for themselves without relying on others.

Indecisive - Struggles with making decisions and often second-guesses themselves.

Introverted - Finds energy and fulfillment in solitary activities and introspection.

Jealous - Experiences feelings of resentment or insecurity towards others.

Kind - Gentle, considerate, and thoughtful in their treatment of others.

Leaders - Able to inspire and guide others towards a common goal.

Logical - Approaches problems and decisions through a rational, analytical lens.

Materialistic - Highly values the acquisition of possessions and wealth.

Organized - Maintains order and efficiency in their personal and professional life.

Perfectionistic - Strives for flawlessness and can be overly critical of themselves and others.

Pessimistic - Tends to focus on the negative aspects of situations and expect the worst.

Resilient - Able to bounce back from setbacks and adapt to changes.

Risk-taker - Willing to take chances and step outside of their comfort zone.

Sarcastic - Uses irony and witty remarks to convey their thoughts and feelings.

Sensitive - Deeply affected by the emotions and experiences of themselves and others.

Stubborn - Unwilling to change their mind or compromise on their beliefs and opinions.

Suspicious - Inclined to doubt the motives and intentions of others.

Thoughtful - Considerate of the impact their words and actions have on others.

Timid - Shy, reserved, and hesitant to take risks or assert themselves.

Trustworthy - Reliable, honest, and worthy of confidence.

Unpredictable - Displays an element of surprise and spontaneity in their behavior.

Witty - Possesses a quick, clever, and humorous way of expressing themselves.

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

[suiana]

yandere! parasite who decides to inhabit your body after observing you from his previous host. you're so cute! you'll definitely be a lot more comfortable to be in over this... fumbling fool that's obsessed with you.

the switch is seamless and you don't even realize that you have a parasite in you until he speaks.

you were stunned, where did this voice come from? you look around you, thinking your boss or coworker had called for you... only for the face of a... translucent and handsome looking man to appear right in front of you.

"hey!"

"what the- where did you come from? wait a minute who even are you?"

"you're so silly. isn't it obvious that i'm a parasite and you're my host?"

"a... parasite?"

you freak out, thinking you have brain eating worms in you as you break down in the middle of your job. fortunately, the lovely parasite in you takes the time to comfort you through your brain.

he tells you that he won't kill you and that he's a symbiotic parasite. that he'll just co-exist with you for as long as you live. that he won't interrupt your life whatsoever, he just needs a place to stay, you know?

at least that's what he tells you and himself.

unbeknownst to him, he had... unfortunately adopted certain characteristics from his previous host. and what did that include? his obsession of course.

he doesn't notice it at first. he was just acting like his normal self, observing your day to day life for about a month or two while interacting happily with you through brain messages. everything was fine and dandy! nothing out of the ordinary for the both of you except for the fact that you now had a parasite in your brain.

and he was quite useful actually! improving your health, boosting your physical strength and stuff... it was so freaking cool! you never knew you could do all these things!

plus, he was so sweet! you two were definitely like a pair of really good friends even if you just met a month or two ago! he's just perfect!

that was, until he saw someone confessing to you.

he didn't understand what was going on. why did his chest tighten up at the sight of some other person confessing their love to you? why does he feel a sudden rush of... anger?

he turns to watch what you do and he swears he only feels more anger at how you react. cheeks flushed, pupils dilated...

no, he couldn't have that.

meanwhile, you were totally flattered by the sudden confession. especially when it was from this cute nerd from the IT department! maybe you'll accept- wait, wait, wait! why was your body moving on its own?!

"you belong to me."

the parasite in your brain mumbles as you lose all control of your body and begin walking away from your admirer. what the?! he's never done this before! why's he taking control of your body?!

"hey! give my body back!"

"how could you do this to me? i am hurt, my dear host."

you couldn't even respond, too shocked to even say anything before you try to resust again. obviously it wouldn't work but it doesn't hurt to try.

"hey cut it out! i thought you said we're just living together? what's this? you totally messed up my chances of getting with someone!"

you were about to snap back when you feel a cold dread creep up your spine. shit, you forgot he could control everything in your body.

you could only watch in horror as he brings your body back to your apartment before he forces your body onto your bed. his translucent body appears in your vision once more, pinning you to the bed. you couldn't even resist even if you tried. he controlled your brain after all.

"you're my host, therefore, you are mine. i do not understand what's so hard to understand."

gritting your teeth, you could only allow this parasitic admirer of yours to stare down at you while grinding his hips into yours. damn, what's he trying to-

"hah... you're so cute... i love you so much... can i explore you? I'm so curious. I've always looked away when you were bare but..."

you couldn't even say no if you tried. your body was responding on its own. damn it! his brain controlling abilities were too good! maybe you should be a parasite in your next life.

"ah... is that a yes? god, i love you. i love you, i love you... i love you so much my darling host."

...

were you about to have mental sex with the parasite living in your body right now?!

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic - reader POV - cw: grief Simon Riley/female reader

"Breathe, honey. Try to take a deep breath for me."

Simon is frantic, cradling your face in his hands, pulling away your own to try to look in your eyes, his own wide with horror, worry.

This isn't fair. This isn't right. This is confusing.

"I- I'm sorry." You sob, because it's the only thing you can say, the only thing he can think of, and he shakes his head like he disagrees with you.

"No, no. Sorry for what?" You can't make it make sense, to him, in your own head, and when you try to talk, nothing comes out but a broken cry. "Shhh. You're alright. Just breathe." He tries to soothe you, and it only makes you cry harder, sob welling in your chest. "Are you hurt?"

"No!" you protest. "No, you didn't... I'm not... I-"

"Okay, okay. Hey, look at me sweetheart. I'm right here, I've got you." He coos, still holding you, wiping your tears, keeping you close. "You're okay." You bury your face in his chest, letting him wrap you up, cuddle you close, all while your mind spins and spirals, heart aching like it's been broken all over again. This wasn't supposed to happen. You're not supposed to feel this way. You're supposed to be happy. Aren't you happy?

"I'm sorry." You whisper when you find your voice, and he hums a raspy rebuttal. "No, I... you don't deserve this, to be saddled with this, a-" A widow, and a baby. An emotional basket case. A burden.

"Stop." He looks down at you with sincerity, severe certainty in his eyes, and you gulp at the intensity, shuddering when his lips graze your skin gently. "I don't deserve you, sweetheart. I know that for sure, but not in the way you're thinking right now. I'm not being saddled with anything."

"You don't understand." You shake your head.

"Then tell me." He encourages. "Tell me. I'll listen." He caresses your cheek, touch gentle and caring, devoted, and you close your eyes.

"Okay."

Simon makes you a cup of tea. When he returns to press it into your hands, you're sitting up in bed, donning one of the t shirts you found on the floor.

"Is that my shirt?" He asks, cocking his head, and you nod bashfully, lip tucked between your teeth. "Looks good on you." You reach for the mug with shaking hands, trying to take a deep breath and collect your thoughts. "Take your time." He murmurs. "I'm here. We've got all night." He's not going to want you anymore, once he realizes. Once you tell him how you feel, what you're thinking. You shake the thoughts free, trying to banish them. He said you could tell him. You trust him. You can do this. Just be honest.

"Emmaline's dad died the week we found out we were pregnant." You whisper, unable to look at him. "It was a housing fire, big building. Like this one." You take a sip, watching the way his fingers sit lax in the bed, close enough to touch you, but giving you space. "There was a power surge, or something. Half the city lost electricity and he got called in. It wasn't unusual, he was a Lieutenant, and they're responsible for a crew, a truck. I thought... I thought I'd just go to bed, wake up in the morning, and he'd be there next to me. Like always, on big calls."

"But he wasn't."

"He wasn't. Instead, his Engineer, and his Captain, were at my door with his helmet in their hands." You bite down on your tongue, fruitlessly stalling the tears and the breakdown that's fighting it's way up your throat. "I loved him so much." As soon as you say it, your voice breaks, vision going blurry, and Simon reaches for you, holding your free hand, stroking a thumb across your knuckles. "I haven't been... I haven't been with anyone, since then."

"Oh, sweetheart." You set the tea down on the table next to the bed, pulling air in through your nose as much as you can, trying to regulate your heart rate, your breathing.

"I thought I knew what love was." You whisper, peeking up at him, soft brown eyes watching you patiently. "But this... feels different. It feels like... more. And that... that makes me feel like I'm betraying him. Like I'm dishonoring the love we shared. I feel guilty, and awful, like I'm doing something wrong." You close your eyes, losing your control, your battle, lower lip trembling with a sob. It tumbles out of you, hoarse and raw, everything falling away as you cry. There's a knife, in your chest, in your heart, twisting and sawing and stabbing, and it hurts, it hurts so badly, the sharp ache only soothed when Simon pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, hand smoothing up and down your spine.

"Sh-shhh." He's settled you into his lap completely now, legs and hips and entire body, wrapped up tight, safe and secure. A small amount of tension sags away from your frame, relieved that he's not running, white hot guilt and grief and still burning in the pit of your stomach. "You're not doing anything, anything, wrong, sweetheart." He thumbs at a tear on your cheek. "It's natural to feel grief like this, it's normal. But you're not betraying him, or your marriage. He'll always be a part of you, and Emmaline." He's rocking you, murmuring softly above your ear, and you relax more, letting him calm you, put you back together piece by piece, your tears starting to slow, your chest rising and falling at a more regular pace. "I want to tell you something." He says after a while, once it's been quiet for a few minutes. You nod, trying to encourage him. "My mum is gone." You push off from him, looking up into his eyes. They're sad, and you see grief in them, despair, but also a deep depth of love. "She taught me how to cook, when I was a young lad. Always told me it would come in handy, when I fell in love." He takes a deep breath, burying his face in your neck for a second before coming back up for air. "She never got to see that, me with someone else. In love. And for years, I thought I disappointed her, let her down, even in death."

"Simon." You whisper, heart breaking apart all over again for the pain that's embedded across his face, the torment that bleeds from his expression.

"But, ever since I met you- I've thought, maybe she's lookin' out for me. That she's somewhere, out there, still bein' my mum. Sending me angels." He blinks, lashes wet, the tear that drips down your face mirroring his own. "Sending you, and Emma. And maybe your husband, is doing the same." You close your eyes, remembering the first time you ever saw Simon, on the roof, handsome in the morning light, even though he seemed so exhausted. You remember the way he held Emmaline, the first time he gave her a bottle, your little baby so at home in his giant arms, safe and cuddled against his chest like she just fit there. When he came to your rescue in the park, scary enough to make every scatter but all you felt was safety. The first time he kissed you, on his patio in the snow. And tonight, when he promised to give you everything, when he held you, made love to you, promised to take care of you. Your heart races in your chest, fingers clutching onto him, holding as tight as you can.

"Am I your angel, Simon Riley?" You wondered aloud with wide eyes, leaning into him, nose to nose. He kisses you, face wet with tears, voice hoarse when he answers.

"You're mine, as I'm yours, sweetheart."

[thelostconsultant]

Midnight rain

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: Lando wanted a family, but you weren’t ready. Three months after your breakup, he's still in love with you, and now it's your turn to decide whether or not to give him a second chance.

“You’re exhausting,” you groaned into the phone.

It was well into the morning when Lando’s name flashed on your screen, which wouldn’t have been so surprising if you were in the same time zone. But you were in Singapore, six hours ahead of Belgium, which meant it was around three in the morning over there. When he spoke, his speech was slurred, he was obviously struggling to form coherent sentences, but he sounded hell-bent on talking to you right now.

Since you were almost at the stadium for rehearsal before tonight's concert, you didn't feel like keeping up the conversation, but the way his voice broke made you listen. You knew he hadn't been in the best state of mind since the breakup, but the fact he still felt so miserable made you sad.

“We would have beautiful babies, you and me. Why don't you want to see them? A mini you, or a mini me, maybe a mini mix of us… So cute,” he said, at least that’s what you managed to understand from his mess of a speech.

And he giggled. You could imagine him lying on his back, one hand holding the phone while the other hugged a pillow to his chest. Rolling your eyes, you thought about what to say to this. It was always the same story, he would call you, tell you how much he missed you, how much he loved you, how he wished you would marry him, and how much he wanted to have a child with you.

The same things that made you break up with him in the first place. He told you about his vision; a big wedding somewhere remote, then the two of you would travel together, preferably with you coming to his races as a good luck charm, and soon you would welcome your first child who would be spoiled rotten.

That's not what you wanted. You wanted to focus on your career, you wanted to go on tours, you wanted to make more albums, you wanted to do so much before becoming a wife and a mother. Lando didn't seem to understand this, he kept telling you it would be okay, that there were many singers who could return to where they'd been before, but you didn't buy it.

“Go to sleep, Lando,” you told him calmly, hoping that gentle parenting would work.

“No, I won't sleep until you're back to me. I'll stay awake and–Don’t touch my phone, Osc!” he protested suddenly.

You heard some bickering in the background, which was followed by a long sigh. “Hey, it's Oscar. I'm sorry, we stayed with him and have been trying to keep him from calling you, but he somehow snatched his phone back from Max. You okay?”

At least he was in good hands and under supervision. “Yeah, sure, thanks for staying with him. Good race for you two by the way,” you said with a smile.

“You watched it?”

“Well, I checked the results and saw the highlights.”

There was a short break which made you wonder if he was still there, but then he spoke up again. “Listen, I don’t want to be involved in this, but I’m worried about Lando. You broke up three months ago and he’s still a mess. I get it, you don’t want marriage and kids yet, but maybe he would understand your reasons and agree to wait if you just sat down to discuss it.” You didn’t know what to say to that, but apparently Oscar was also a bit hesitant. “Do you still love him?”

“I don’t know if it’s love, but I care about him. We were together for over three years, it’s not gonna disappear from my life in a blink of an eye,” you explained. “But… I don’t know, I’m just afraid he would be back at it in a matter of weeks, once again trying to convince me to start a family with him.”

“And if we talked to him when he was sober? If we made sure he understands what you’ve been trying to tell him? Would you give him another chance?”

You took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Would you? Would it be worth it? You were on tour right now, but after the next four concerts you would end the Asian leg and have a few weeks for yourself. You would have time to figure things out. “I would talk to him, and maybe I would be willing to try again. Once last time. The moment he’s back on his bullshit, I’m going to leave him for good,” you added.

You could hear the soft laugh from Oscar’s side, and you could see him glancing down at his teammate with a smile. “I’m sure he would like it. I’m not sure how long he’ll be knocked out once we convince him to sleep, but I’ll tell him to call you at a reasonable time when he’s finally sober again, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks for everything.”

He said goodbye and left you with your thoughts, wondering if you made the right call. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to be with him, because the years you spent together meant a lot to you. He was one of the kindest people you’ve ever met, a ray of sunshine, really, in stark contrast with your sometimes gloomy personality.

But who knew, maybe his friends can talk some sense into him.

Lando knew he only had one chance at this. All his friends were very clear about this, Oscar especially, since he had been the one to talk to you. During that one phone call a week ago, you agreed to come to him in Monaco, visiting his apartment so you wouldn’t have this conversation at a public place. It was something between the two of you, there was no need for strangers hearing even snippets of it.

When you arrived and his eyes fell on you again, every single thought left his brain. He was just standing there in the door, utterly speechless, surprised that he didn’t start drooling at the sight. After all those months spent looking at photos of you at your concerts, seeming like you had the time of your life on the stage, it was so nice to see this you, the one without the sparkling dresses, the down-to-earth girl he loved so much it hurt.

“Can I come in?” you asked him hesitantly.

He blinked a few times before realizing he had been staring for a little too long. “Sure, sure, come in,” he said as he stepped out of the way. “Can I bring you anything?”

Shaking your head, you sat on the couch and patted the empty space next to you. Like a well-trained puppy, Lando sat down and turned to look at you, taking in every little detail as if this was the last time he saw you. Because maybe this was the last time, maybe you would end the conversation with the decision that this relationship couldn’t be revived.

After several painfully silent minutes later, you finally stopped fidgeting with your ring and let out a long sigh. “I don’t want to start a family yet, at least not the way you want it. Marriage is one thing, but… You expected me to spend my time following you around. I have my own career to nurture, Lan, you need to understand that. Sure, one day I’ll be ready for it, but not yet,” you explained kindly, your eyes examining his face for a reaction.

But Lando knew better than to let his disappointment be visible, he fought hard to keep it away from you. So, when he spoke up, his voice was also kept neutral. “But you wouldn’t be against it one day, right? Starting a family with me, I mean,” he said, deep down hoping there would be a dazzling smile on your face as you replied.

You smiled, but it was more of a polite, maybe little uncertain smile. “Yeah, one day, although I can’t tell you when, I can’t give you a deadline. Maybe in our early thirties, maybe sooner. You would have to wait and see. Do you think you can do that?”

He couldn’t hold back a sad laugh, mostly because you didn’t really give him the choice to negotiate. You told him what you had to offer, and it was a take it or leave it situation. And he wanted you back in his life, he wanted to be by your side every step of the way, he wanted to be your biggest fan, and he needed you to support him. “I can. For you,” he added seriously as he reached out to take your hand.

[petew21-blog]

Mike Thurston

Mike:"Hi, Cobra. I'm Mike Thurston. Your gym instructor. I understand it's your very first time in the gym, am I right?"

Cobra:"Hey, Nice to meet you. Not really a first time, but I was never consistent with my routine."

Mike:"I can see that. Let's get to it to change that, ok? The locker room is on the other side of the gym. We're the first ones here today and probably will be until 8 so at least we won't have to worry about anybody else."

Cobra:"Great. I'll go get changed then."

Mike was stretching and picking out the music for later on. Cobra emerged from the lockerooms.

Mike:"Are you ready, man?"

Cobra:"Yeah, yeah. Let's do it."

Mike:"That's the spirit. Ok, I'll walk you through it and every time before you try out the machine, I'll show you how to use it properly. We'll start with stair climbing first as a warm up."

After 20 minutes, Mike was barely sweaty while Cobra was sweating. Cobra stepped off the stairs to get his drink. Mike didn't pay attention to him, focused on his goal.

After a while Mike stepped off. "Too much?"

Cobra:"Nah. I just get tired quickly. I'll be ok in a while." Cobra handed Mike his bottle. "Here."

Mike smile and grabbed it:"Thanks, man." Mike took a big sip.

They walked over to another machine, but Mike noticed that his vision was suddenly blurry.

Cobra:"You ok, man?"

Mike:"Yeah, a bit dizzy. I'll just sit down for a moment. I don't know what's happening to me."

Cobra:"Must be your protein drink I spiked before."

Mike looked back at Cobra shocked. "What? The fuck man? I'm calling the police." he tried to reach his phone, but was too dizzy to do so. Cobra took away his phone and placed it far form him.

Cobra:"I don't think so, man. You should go to sleep to speed this up. I'm getting excited just by looking at you."

And then Mike closed his eyes afraid of what was about to happen to him.

Mike opened his eyes. Ok, good. He's alive. That fucker didn't kill him. One good thing. His ass didn't hurt, so hopefully the guy didn't do anything to him. Mike turned around. He was sitting alone in the gym, no one in sight. He thought of calling out, but he didn't know where Cobra was. But then it happened. He noticed the mirror. He got close. The reflection. "How...what..." Cobra's reflection said as these words escaped his mouth. He was in that fucker's body. Why would he do that? How would he do that? He noticed his slender body, his well-earned physique was gone. Where was his body now?

This question was about ot be answered as his body emerged from the lockers.

His body called out at him in glee. "Hey, COBRA. What's uppp?"

Mike:"The fuck are you doing with my body?"

Cobra:"Ok, calm down. I had to take a leak. Or... your body had too. Haha. And I have to say, man. Pretty nice cock. I wouldn't have expected you to shave EVERYWHERE, but I guess that's what you guys do."

Mike:"Give me my body back you fucker or I...!!!"

Cobra:"Or what? You gonna beat me up? With that body? I don't think so. Or you're gonna call the police? Right. Who's gonna believe you?"

Mike:"You can't do this. It's not right."

Cobra:"I say it's not right to charge people such amounts of money for not even helping them out, but that's on you."

Mike:"I'll give you anything, man."

Cobra:"Anything? Leave me your body then. Haha."

Mike:"Anything but that. I work on my body all the time. I have nothing without it. I am nothing. Please, I'm begging you."

Cobra:"Eh, well... since you're begging, I'll at least enjoy the body in front of you, so you'll know how much we hate YOU guys that shove it to our faces. Sit here."

Cobra streightened in front of Mike and started the exploration of his body.

Cobra:"It's freaking amazing to have all the knowledge of the muscles and workout. It must have taken you years to know this. Ok, let's see what we got here. Ooooh. Deltoids." Cobra rolled his shoulders. "So tight. And wide. Very nice." He flexed his biceps. "Biceps brachii. Very impressive, Mike. And those triceps. Damn."

Mike quietly:"Thanks..."

Cobra moved on to his chest. "God damn these pecks. Sorry. Pectoralis major. Gotta be strict about these terms now" he flexed them and watched how they contracted and bulged forward. A creepy grin appeared on his face. His hands travelled to his abs. He moved over all his defined six pack. "The core strength is unbelievable. And what a cheese grater. Ok, moving on, rectus abdominis" he turned and flexed "And let's not forget external obliques. Shit. You have got a really great body, man."

Cobra took off his sweatpants and flexed his legs. "Fuuuuck. So bulging. I love these quadriceps, man. And even knowing their names is so hot. Vastus lateralis, intermedius and medialis, rectus femoris. Fricking amazing."

Mike:"Ehm... you... don't forget hamstrings."

Cobra looked at Mike and smiled. "Don't rush me, man. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you want me to rush it. Chill or I'll keep this body."

Mike's face was pale now, but he stayed quiet.

Cobra took off his boxers

Mike stood up:"Dude, stop. That's too much."

Cobra:"Gotta appreciate it fully. Sit back down or we're staying like this."

Mike sat down again and watched as his body was naked flexing and enjoying himself.

Cobra|:"Let's not forget the most important muscle." he took the dick in his hand. Mike was ready to say something again, but Cobra stared him down with a dominating look. Mike just sat there as his body was stroking his dick. Now fully aroused, Cobra started moaning.

Mike:"Please, Cobra, please. Let's swap back. I want my body."

Cobra:"Not yet."

Mike:"Why? What do I have to do to get my body back?"

Cobra:"I'm glad you asked. You let me fuck my body and I give you your body back."

Mike:"You can't be serious."

Cobra:"You want your body back or no?"

Mike:"Yeah..."

Cobra:"Take your clothes off."

Mike got up and took off his shirt, his shorts and shoes. Standing only in Cobra's briefs.

Cobra:"What are you waiting for?"

Mike:"I'm not gay, man."

Cobra:"It's not gay, if you're fucking yourself. It's like masturbation."

Cobra leaned in and kissed his old body. "Man, I kinda envy you. It must be so hot to his your body." he noticed the tent forming in his briefs. "See, you're not gay, but my body certainly is. So let's enjoy it."

Cobra grabbed Mike's hand and dragged him to the showers. He turned on the water grabbed Mike's head and forced him on his knees. Mike instinctively took Cobra's hard dick and started to jerk it.

Cobra:"Don't be shy, lick it."

Mike took it in his mouth. He never sucked a dick before, so the taste was definitely something new. It might have been the body he was in, but he was a bit into it.

As water rushed over their bodies, Cobra couldn't wait any longer.

Cobra:"Pulled him up and kissed him. Let's fuck!"

He picked him up and held him above his waist. Mike's body was so strong and Cobra so slim, that it wasn't an issue. Cobra pushed his dick inside of him.

Mike:"Slow down, please."

Cobra:"NO"

He pounded more and more. Both of them moaning in pleasure. Cobra was laughing out loud. The cum filled Cobra's old body. They rested in the same position, Mike's dick still in Cobra's ass.

Cobra laughed

Mike:"What's so funny."

Cobra:"I can't believe you let me fuck you"

Mike:"You said that you would give me back my body if I did."

Cobra:"Yeah. Hahaha. So I lied. This is your body now for the rest of your life."

Cobra pulled out of Mike and set him on the floor. He washed his dick and with laughter left the showers. Mike, still naked and wet, followed him to the lockers.

Cobra:"What? You didn't understand something?"

Mike:"You stole my body."

Cobra:"Clever boy. See, you're not that stupid as I thought. And you're not bad to fuck. I could keep you as my cum dump, but I might be more into pussy now so we'll see about that."

Mike was still in the middle of the lockers as Cobra put on his new clothes.

Someone entered the locker room

Guy:"Hey, Mike. Who's the naked dude?"

Mike:"Hey, don't worry about him, he's weird, but harmless."

Guy:"You done for today?"

Mike:"Yeah, but I might come tomorrow."

Guy:"Ok, see you tomorrow then, man"

Mike was speechless. Not only his body was stolen, but it seemed, that he was gonna be pretty good at pretending to be him.

Cobra:"I hope you enjoyed your first time in the gym, COBRA”

A story request by @cobraas-blog

And a late happy birthday, man! xD

Hey! Your stories are amazing. Can I request a story? It's my birthday today and I would like to swap bodies with Mike Thurston. While he beg to swap back, the swap become permanent when I fvck him in my old body. Thank you!

[yourmidnightlover]

the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

-

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

-

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

lowkey I kinda wanna top gaz or ghost out of curiosity on how they would react 🤔

gaz or ghost? gaz AND ghost. ranked competitive sex. the ol' good cock/bad cock.

they're both confident almost cocky but they show it very differently.

you tell gaz you wanna be on top this time.

"i'm fine with that," he says.

cool cool cool. easy. too easy, in fact.

he's smiling at you. "you want to be on top, you're on top." he says. "easy as."

so... you get to be the dominant one this time. he knows that's what you mean. right?

mm, harder sell. you wanna do his job? you're gonna need to prove you have what it takes. you're gonna have to work for it. talk like you mean it. don't whine, don't ask, don't just tell him what to do. command him. 

and don't mess up.

nsfw ⬇

order him to take his clothes off. top him like you mean it--bounce on him like you don't need any help, because he's not helping you. and control yourself. edge him. don't show weakness. make him keep his eyes on you. keep his interest with your body, your voice, your tone.

(it's tough for him, feigning such precarious half-interest. pretending like you don't have a visegrip on his every atom. pretending like he's not suddenly understanding how it might feel to be possessed by a succubus. it's tough, but he's soldiering through because he's a great fucking teacher. this is good for you, you just don't know it yet.)

he's teaching you to use your whole body to tell him you're in charge. you need to make the rules.

if you don't--if you slip up--he'll make you sorry. he'll give you a crash course in how a mean dom operates.

(you might be able to collar him, but god help you if you fumble. the second you do, that o-ring choker is going on your neck, and his thumb is already hooked in.)

ghost--

ghost is a little easier to entice. he's a visual guy. he's a little smitten with anyone who approaches him first. you're offering to top him? to put your whole damn body on display? that's an act of service, baby.

even if you're doing it because you want to control the pace and the position, even if you want to take your own pleasure and act like you don't give a damn about his... you're still giving him exactly what he wants. if all he needs to do is lay back and shut up, he'll play your game.

not a tough job, either. not half bad. he could get used to this. nope, he's already used to it. he's thinking ahead--wondering what other dirty fantasies in that pretty head he could help fulfill.

then he shifts his hips down an inch to hit your sweet spot. you snap at him not to move. 

his eyes flick up--from your hole squeezing his cock--to your face. strange sense of whiplash you're giving him--the instant flip from almost ignoring him to focusing squarely on him. negative attention or not, it's arousing. you shouldn't have done that.

"yeah?" he replies, voice low and rough. "you gonna make me?"

you don't have time to reply before he's shoving his hips up into you hard. one stroke, then two, then more, so slow and hard and deep your vision threatens to go white. 

he's challenging you to keep ignoring him now. 

"say it again," he growls. "tell me what to do one more time."

he reaches for your clit, and you fight him, grabbing his wrist, using it as leverage to sink down on him again, redoubling your pace. 

you're both fighting to stay in control. ghost could overpower you easily but he's having fun. and you're putting on a hell of a show for him.

he'll contend with your attitude later. for now he just wants to keep you pissed off and horny enough to keep riding him like you've got something to prove.

riding ghost and gaz together...

you just know they're both talking at you, trying to get your attention as you fight like hell not to fall apart.

gaz is instructing you to sit up straighter, to clench your thighs so they don't shake, to control your voice--or keep it up, sweetheart. keep moaning like a slut if you want to be treated like one. 

ghost is egging you on, enjoying how furious you're getting, how it makes you clench up and stutter when gaz says something that really gets to you. he tosses in his lot every so often to keep things going. like throwing a lit match into a pit of black powder and lead azide.

you're doomed. until.

you tell ghost to move his hands already so gaz can maneuver you by the hips instead. 

that turns them against one another in negative two seconds.

suddenly they're critiquing each other. gaz smugly insinuates you're enjoying his technique more. ghost replies smoothly that it hardly matters to him; it's his attention you're after.

their back-and-forth gives you the precious time you need to clear your head. once you can finally fucking concentrate, you can push past all this edging you've been put through by stupid competition they've been having on you.

they keep one-upping each other and only half-notice what you're up to--until you throw your head back and make a sound of pure rapture, riding them both to completion. you throw yourself into the best orgasm of your recent life.

they're dead silent as you come down, grinding your hips in bliss as the final sparks of pleasure fizzle under your skin.

it sort of humbles them. but then again, it also inflates both their egos just enough to keep them from learning their goddamn lesson.

...

more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Written for @steddieangstyaugust, day 10 - "Where were you?"

Steve's breath is catching in his chest. He can't get enough oxygen. His whole body is screaming at him to stop, to give himself a break, but he can't.

Not until he sees Eddie.

He barges in the hospital room and half-collapses against the metal frame of the bed. He thinks there's someone else with him, possibly Dustin and Wayne, but he can't be sure. His head is pounding, and the rhytm it follows is Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

The call was short, but it rang all the alarm bells in Steve's head. He ran to the hospital all the way, his sides are burning, but it's fine. It's his body's job to get him to Eddie, and it did that. But now that he's here, he can't focus, he can't make his eyes see what's in front of him. Failure. What a failure.

"Steve. Hey, Steve. Come on, sit down and breathe."

He knows those hands. It's Wayne, his rough palms leading Steve so gently to the chair. No wonder Eddie is so caring, so full of love for others. He takes after him, his real father. No matter what his birth certificate says.

Steve's breathing finally slows down, the blurriness in his vision finally clears. He blinks away the tears - when did he cry? - and finally looks at the bed.

He looks so pale under all the bandages, the bruises and cuts. They couldn't even get all the blood from his hair, they just soaked it in water and hoped it would stay clear of the nasty wound on his forehead. It might need stitches. Does it have stitches? 

But most of all, he looks so small. Eddie is always larger than life, he takes all the space he can, because he's been denied it for so long. He spreads his arms, gestures wildly, laughs as loud as he can. He's always challenging the world. "I'm here," he says, "and I'm taking everything I deserve and then some. I'm here to stay, so you'd better get used to it."

The frail body in the hospital bed doesn't look like him. It has the right hair, the small scar on his thumb from when he cut himself trying to open a beer bottle with a small pocket knife, but it doesn't have what makes Eddie himself.

"What…what happened?" he finally rasps out and turns to Wayne. He looks so old, so tired.

"Some punks followed Eddie home from the bar," he says slowly. "They…heard the rumors. Decided they'd make him pay for serving them unclean queer drinks or some bullshit like that." He keeps his voice admirably calm, but Steve sees the white of his knuckles, the stern lines around his mouth. "Someone disturbed them, but…not soon enough. They ran and Eddie…"

Eddie stayed in that alley for over two hours before someone called for help.

He falls silent, and Steve understands. There is nothing more to say.

Only then does Dustin speak up. He refuses to even look at Steve, he is just grasping the bedframe, clenching his fingers over the peeling white paint. "He was right under your window. He was almost home. You would have heard him, if you were home."

He finally turns around and Steve recognizes that look. It's the same blend of pain and accusation from 1986, when Steve lived and Eddie almost didn't. And he asks the question that stabs Steve right in his racing heart.

"Where were you?"

Steve wants to answer truthfully, he wants to reject the accusation, defend himself, but he can't. Because he would have normally been home. He would have accompanied Eddie from his shift, but not this morning. He was busy this morning, he told Eddie. Robin needed something or the other, and they'd see each other soon anyway, maybe early lunch? The last two things that Steve gave Eddie? A rushed kiss and a lie.

Because Robin didn't need anything. It was him who needed her, it was him who dragged her through a bunch of shops, asking for advice, planning a glorious future while Eddie was unconscious in that alley.

Steve just shakes his head and takes Eddie's hand in his, holding it like the most fragile treasure of all. Once again, like in 1986, he prays, offers the distant god a chance to make things right for once.

And if- no! When! When Eddie gets better, when he wakes up, only then will Steve worry if Eddie likes the engagement ring he bought him this morning.

[fangswbenefits]

Another Chance

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You go into labour and all you know is that you need Miguel more than ever.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Mentions of childbirth. Dad Miguel. Comfort. Fluff. Happy father’s day to the best of the best!

“I'M GONNA KILL MIGUEL O’HARA!”

Usually, that sort of threat would send everyone that was standing around you into an uproar. But given the extremely specific set of circumstances, they merely exchanged understanding glances, returning their attention to the task at hand.

“Jess… I’m going to kill him.”

The pain of the contractions felt too unbearable and gritting out empty threats was the only relief you could find right now.

“You have my blessing,” she nodded, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "But for now, we need to deliver the baby."

It was too early. This wasn't supposed to happen right now... not like this.

A spider-nurse approached you with a fetal heart monitor to strap around your belly. Your already accelarated heart nearly imploded at the sight, fearing what the machine might reveal.

"Jess... I can't do this..." your voice broke.

Where is he...

Where is Miguel?

Your friend glared at you with kind eyes, swipping a piece of cloth along your sweat-drenched forehead. "You can and you will."

As another contraction tore through your body, you barely managed to grab the railings of your bed with a huff of pain. The spider-nurse was done setting the monitor and was now probing your arm for a vein.

"Where is Miguel?" you managed through laboured pants. "Lyla... where is he?"

The AI's hologram appeared from the watch on your wrist, that Jess promptly removed. You gave her a confused look, but it was probably for the better.

"He should be here soon. The anomaly is—" Lyla was cut off immediately by Jess.

The heart monitor was switched on and the room went suddenly eerily too quiet, save for your gasps.

Tense seconds rolled by that felt like excrutiating hours, until the sound of a thudding heart was heard.

"Slightly accelerated heartrate going at 191 beats per minute," spider-doctor informed. "The baby might be in distress."

Panic took over. "Do something! Miguel!"

The team attending you were working relentlessly, but no consolation came. The pain was borderline unbearable and your fear for your child's life.

... and Miguel was not here.

"You need to push," one spider-nurse said.

"Push," Jess urged. "You're doing great," she added with a warm smile.

She kept trying her best to soothe and guide you through the untimely turmoil, but it wasn't until your eyes caught a flash of two sets of claws tearing through the barrier of time and space in the middle of the room that you allowed yourself to slump back into your bed.

A cry of relief broke from deep within you as a fully suited Miguel O'hara emerged through the portal, sprinting to your side. The mask vanished instantly as he framed your face with both hands.

"I'm here."

You started sobbing uncontrollably when he planted a kiss to your forehead.

"Boss, she's fully dilated," spider-doctor spoke. "We really need her to push now."

"Miguel... this wasn't..." you stammered, gritting your teeth as the crescendo of another contraction began. "Where... I—”

He hushed you and anchored you through the pain. "You have to push, okay?"

Compared to a few minutes ago, Miguel's presence was nothing short of absolute comfort. But it wasn't enough the push away the fear that had overtaken you.

Jess was still by your side, whispering encouraging words as the staff worked in between your spread legs. Your vision blurred momentarily and you felt the sudden and overwhelming urge to push.

"This is all your... fault," you seethed at Miguel.

"On that much we can agree," he said softly, his thumbs brushing away the tears that mixed with sweat down your cheeks. "Push."

Blaming him was just a quick way to ease some of the frustration. He wasn't to blame. You had both wanted this.

"I can see the head!" you heard someone announce.

Miguel offered his hand for you to grip as you pushed. "I'll break it," you warned.

"You won't."

"He deserves it," Jess said teasingly.

But Miguel was right. As strong as you were — and the strength that women in labour were capable of mustering — you wouldn't even cause a dent in him. He was strong enough for the both of you.

"What´s taking so long?" his faint voice filled your ears.

"Almost there."

Suddenly, he had cradled your face in his large hands once more, forcing your eyes to fix on his. "You can do this. I'm so proud of you," he said, pecking the tip of your nose.

The air in your lungs was suddenly forced out with a finally throat-ripping grunt.

"It's here!"

You collapsed, feeling Miguel's arm promptly offering support on your back. A screeching sound of distress reverberated through the walls.

"It's a girl," one spider-nurse informed.

Even through your hazy eyes you were able to see Miguel's face, eyes transfixed on the little squirming baby that was being placed on your chest.

She was crying her heart out as someone who has been ripped from all the comfort and security a place could offer.

But now she had you and Miguel.

"She takes after you," you teased with a faint smile. "Already being so dramatic."

He chuckled, eyes permanently glued to the wailing baby. "I'm not dramatic. Just intense."

"Yes. Intensely dramatic.”

Miguel fell silent as he stroked a finger along the back of one soft tiny hand, miniscule fingers wrapping around it reflexively. The cries stopped abruptly.

His face softened and you wondered if he was about to tear up. He had longed for this for such a long time.

"Miguel?" Jessica said, covering your child with a towel.

He seemed too lost in his own thoughts, glaring at his daughter in a way that overwhelmed you. Like it was meant to be.

"I'll be going now," she said, offering you both a warm smile before leaving.

Suddenly, you realised Miguel was inspecting each limb with utmost attention. "What are you doing?"

He cleared his throat, placing a tiny hand on the palm of his. "Oh... uh... just counting how many fingers and toes she has."

"All five?" you offered with a chuckle.

"All five."

"No talons?"

He glared at you as if taken aback, then smiled. "Maybe one day."

"Do you think she'll have your fangs?"

"Oh, I hope not," he said, slowly checking the baby's bare gums. "That would be painful."

You then allowed yourself to take in the sight of your now relaxed daughter that lay on top of you. The wispy beginnings of hair that covered the top of her head were dark. Babies don't tend to resemble either parent when they're born - or so Miguel had once told you - and you couldn't wait to find out.

"What if... she doesn't like me?" he whispered, caressing a puffy cheek.

You almost chuckled, but he was dead serious. "She'll love you."

He leaned to place a kiss to your temple. "Thank you."

"For what?" you asked, feeling your heart bursting with absolute adoration for him.

"For giving me another chance at being a father."

Masterlist

[mydear-corinthian]

Fainting || Shelby brothers x reader

Sypnosis: How they react when you faint. Pairings: Tommy Shelby x reader, John Shelby x reader, Arthur Shelby x reader (individual) Warnings: mentions of fainting (reader), pregnancy, skipping meals, may be out of characters, may contain a spoiler. Note: Not proofread. Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

THOMAS 'TOMMY' SHELBY

🥃 His face shows calmness but deep down he is already panicking. 

🥃Tommy just went back from his paperwork in his office when he saw your son on your arms, cradling him to sleep. "Why aren't you asleep yet, love?" he asked you, giving a kiss on your forehead before taking the little baby on your arms to his instead. You sighed in exhaustion, your lips were chapped, your face was pale as a ghost, your once neat hair bun turned into a madness; little strands of your hair was detached from your messy bun.  🥃 "I was just waiting for Charlie to sleep." you answered. His brow raised a little, showing a sign of confusion. "Then why are you so pale? You look like you've seen a ghost," his fingers found the strands of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. Charlie finally stopped crying, his eyes fell down as he snuggled on his father. "I'm just tired, that's all." reassuring your husband as you replied. Your husband gently placed your child on the white wooden crib, letting the baby sleep comfortably. He was starting to get worried, your breaths aren't steady, the way you denied that you aren't fine even though you look sick, his heart itched. 

🥃 Holding your shoulders with his rough palms, he asked again, "Are you sure, (y/n)?" Your vision was starting to get cloudy, you felt like the floor and the walls were shaking, Tommy's voice felt like it was speaking to you from afar. Your hands met his hands, gripping them tightly for security before you passed out. "(Y/n)? Are yo- (y/n)!" the sight of your body falling into his arms made his sentence cut off, he gasped your name, there was a tone of a rough yell at the same time. His body shows signs of calmness except for the eyes; the eyes never lies. Thoughts were racing on his mind, full of what ifs and worrying what will happen to you.

🥃 When you woke up, Tommy was beside your bed, sleeping uncomfortably on the wooden chair. His arms were crossed, his clothes were still the same indicating that he was 100% focused on you while you passed out. You called out his name softly, trying to reach his arms. The sound of your soft voice woke him from his uncomfortable slumber. He stood almost immediately, how are you doing. "How are you now?" his palms cupping your right cheek. "I'm fine, Tommy." you replied, holding his hand that was on your cheek, caressing it with your thumb. He sighed in relief, "The nurse said you were stressed and your stomach is empty," "I know, I'm sorry. I was so busy taking care of Charlie, I forgot to eat." you replied, your head dropped, you felt embarrassed. 

🥃 His head shook, both of his palms were now on your cheeks, his glowing blue eyes locked with yours. The way he's using his eyes as his language. "Shhh.., no need to apologize, thank you for taking care of our Charlie. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you." "Thank you for understanding, love. It's okay, I understand how busy you are in the betting shop." you said, giving him a kiss which thankfully he returned it. Tommy's personal nurse knock on the door before entering your shared room, her arms carrying a plastic tray with your favorite food and a warm tea. Your husband placed the tray on the small table near the bed, giving you a plate of your food. "Eat, you'll feel better."

JOHN SHELBY

🚬 You've been feeling unwell lately. Your head ached, your muscles were sore, you had strange food cravings, and you felt sick in the morning. You knew what this hinted at, but you can't be positive, and the last thing that should be checked is that your period is late.

🚬It was an awful day. You vomited in the morning, and your joints hurt. Washing off the vomit from the metallic sink, you checked the date on the small white calendar beside you.

🚬 You were definitely late. For over a week now.

🚬 Sighing in exhaustion, you accepted the outcome of what would happen to you. Your partner, John, had already gotten you pregnant before. This will be your fourth child. - You weren't precisely sorry about it, but you were worried about what would happen to your unborn child, and you felt stressed out because of your job as an accountant for Shelbys. There was a lot of paperwork to be done, but not as much as Tommy had, but it was still exhausting.

🚬 It was already ten in the morning., John was gone on business, and the rest of your children were in school. The house was now yours alone, and there was food on the circular dish on the dining table that John had left for you before leaving to start his day. You finished the meal. Your stomach was now satisfied, but your muscles remained sore.

🚬 Grunting in pain, you approached to the front door as you heard a knock. You opened it to see your husband standing there. His peaky hat adorned his hair, and a light wooden toothpick displayed his lips rather than his thick tobacco. "John? Your shift isn't going to end for hours," you questioned as John entered the room and removed his hat. "I know; I just want to see you," John said. You chuckled at his response and taunted, "I'm your wife, John. You literally see me every day." "It's just that you've been feeling ill lately, and I needed to take care of you, so I left the office early," he explained, his arms gently gripping your hips.

🚬 "Honestly love, it's fine. I can handle it, I just need to re-", fefore you could finish your sentence, your head felt like it had erupted. Your temples felt like they were twisting. Your vision was becoming increasingly fuzzy, and your husband's sight was beginning to fade away. He called your name worriedly, catching your attention. He tried again, but this time louder. All you could hear was your husband calling your name and a long bell sound. His hands tightened around your hips, stabilizing your body. His eyes were filled with concern. Suddenly, your legs and muscles gave out, and your frail body fell onto his broad arms. Your face was pale and your lips were dehydrated. Panicking, he quickly lays you down on the vintage couch. He contacted his aunt, Polly, for help.

🚬 "She's pregnant." Polly announced to his nephew, who was pacing back and forth and unintentionally messing with his hair while his aunt checked on his wife. "H-How so?" he asked. "Well, maybe it's because the both of you fucked?" Polly coldly responds. This gave John an unimpressed expression. "The morning nausea, unusual cravings, the sore muscles, all that you mentioned it," she said. "Oh for fuck sakes, John, give (y/n) a rest. Every year she's fucking pregnant, control that cock of yours." Polly's statement made him laugh. John was happy that they are again to bear a kid but he can't also help but get worried and scared at the same time since getting into labour's hard. "Thank you, aunt Polly," he thanked the older Shelby, helping her make way to the door. "Take good care of her, John,"

-🚬 "I will." 🚬 You woke up, your clothes has been changed and there was a glass of water on the table near the couch you were laying down on. You called your husband's name, hoping that he was still here. "How are you, love?" he asked, combing your hair with his fingertips. "I'm fine now. John, I-I think I'm.. pregn-" "Pregnant." he cut you off. Your head tilted to the side in confusion, looking at him, his face was plastered with a big smile. "Aunt Polly told me. I called her for help when you passed out. When did you knew that you were pregnant?" "Just today, I already accepted that my period was late and I'm bearing your child again." you answered, emphasizing. "Hey, I can't help it you know, you're just so pretty, I can't help but fuc-" "John!" embarrassed by his reply, you cut him off. Your cheeks heat up at his answer. "What, it's true! Let me take care of you, love."

🚬 "As you should, Mr. Shelby." 🚬 "I will, Mrs. Shelby."

ARTHUR SHELBY JR.

🥊 Marriage to a man like Arthur Shelby was dangerous. Risky in the sense that you are afraid your illness will worsen. 🥊 Arthur was a good partner to you. He is both a provider and a lover. However, he was a heavy smoker. You can see him smoking his thick tobacco every day; it's as if he can't function without it.

🥊 It was an ordinary morning; you were just staying at home, and he was smoking brown tobacco. The hazardous air entered his lungs, and he exhaled the surplus air very near you. This has been going on for several days. His smoking became worse as a result of his distress about what had happened to his father. His father abandoned them for years, and when he returned, he left them again. You choked as he exhaled the noxious air, but it was even worse. Your coughing episode lasted over five minutes, burning your throat and making your heart race. When your partner spotted the never-ending fit, he promptly discarded the unfinished cancer stick. "Hey, love, breathe," he patted your back hardly. Thankfully, your coughing fit ended, but you were beginning to notice little spots all over you. You blinked rapidly, attempting to get rid of the spots. "Hey - are you okay?" Arthur asked. "Arthur, I can't - can't see clearly." You worried and looked everywhere. Your heart pounded quickly, and your breathing became heavy. Your dizziness gradually overtook you as you fainted.

🥊 When you awoke, you expected to be in your room, but instead you saw grey walls and a strange mattress. You looked around the room before calling your husband's name. The wooden door opened, and the oldest Shelby brother entered the room. As he approached you, he removed his peaky hat. His face expresses worry and sorrow. He sadly smiled and reached out for a hug, which you accepted. You were panicking deep inside. You've been hiding your disease since you met your husband; you didn't want him to find out because it might make him upset or, worse, leave you.

🥊 There was an unpleasant silence in the room before Arthur chose to break it. "How are you managing now, (y/n)?" he asked with a heavily sigh. "I'm feeling better now, fortunately." There was more silence. "The doctor says you have arrhythmia .. it looks like you have it for quite some time now. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

🥊You always assumed that this day would come, but you didn't expect it to be today. Your mind is filled up with thousands of unpleasant thoughts. 'What if he leaves me?' 'My life would end without me' 'What do I-' "(Y/n?)" Shaking your head, you determined to give him the truth, even if the outcome wasn't pleasant for you. You took a long breath and eventually explained to him. "When I was a child, I had a very narrow arteries. It got worse when I grew up and the doctor diagnosed me about it. I'm sorry, I should've told you sooner, Arthur."

🥊 His hands found the side of your face and gently stroked your cheekbones. "It's okay, love. I understand. And I'm sorry for smoking all around you. I won't do it again." He kissed your forehead before massaging your back. "It's fine, Arthur; you didn't know." You smiled as you held his hands on your cheeks.

🥊 "We'll be fine, right?"

🥊 "We will." THE END

[swamp-adder]

"Watson!"

I knew that voice, but the sharp note of alarm in it was new to me.

"Watson -- oh God." There were hands on me, shaking me lightly, causing a slight groan to escape me.

"It's all right, Watson. You're going to be all right." My friend was babbling the same kind of meaningless reassurances I had given to too many patients to count, though in a tone that suggested it was himself he was trying to reassure more than me.

There was a sudden pressure on my abdomen which sent another spike of pain through me, and I gasped.

"I'm sorry, my dear fellow, I know that it hurts, but I must try to slow the bleeding. Lestrade has gone to fetch a doctor, he will be back soon."

I was awake enough now to open my eyes and take in the image of my friend leaning over me, his face pale and strained. He had removed his coat and was pressing it firmly against the spot where the bullet had entered my body. Despite this attempt to stem the bleeding, the coat was quickly becoming soaked and my medical instinct told me that I was unlikely to survive long enough for Lestrade's doctor to arrive.

Accepting my own death in that moment was surprisingly easy, given the manner in which it had come about. I had taken that bullet deliberately, to prevent it from reaching Holmes. What better or more honorable death could I possibly wish for? I was proud to meet my end in such a way. I attempted in a somewhat halting manner to explain this to Holmes -- to reassure him if this was my time to go that I did not regret it for one instant.

"Nonsense!" he snapped, interrupting me. "Do not be such a romantic fool, Watson. Surely you realize that you are of far more use to me in life than in death? Really, Watson, I should be most disappointed if you were to allow yourself to succumb to so -- so trifling an injury!" The flippancy of his words was belied by the slight tremor in his voice as he uttered them.

By now any motion of my body seemed to send another wave of agony through me. Even drawing breath was growing increasingly painful, besides which I was beginning to grow dizzy from the loss of blood. My eyelids fluttered closed.

"Stay with me, Watson," Holmes ordered in his sternest and most commanding tone.

"I will… try," I managed to gasp.

"You will not merely try," he insisted. "You will do as I say. Do you hear me, Watson?"

It was beginning to seem as if would be easier not to try to breathe anymore.

"Watson!" That sharp tone, ringing with iron, was like a slap across the face. "I know that it is painful, but you must keep on breathing. You are not to give up. I absolutely forbid it. I have not given you permission to leave me, do you understand? I have not finished with you yet!"

I gritted my teeth against the pain and forced myself to draw another breath.

The voice immediately changed, became gentle and soothing. "That's right, my dear fellow. You are doing very well. You have never failed me before, and I know that you will not fail me now."

It was absurd to suggest that I had never failed him -- he had rebuked me for such failures often enough, as he ought to remember. Still, the power that warm praise held over me was quite extraordinary, and somehow in spite of myself I continued struggling for breath.

I had not closed my eyes, but my vision was fading to black in any case. My ears were ringing strangely and Holmes' voice sounded distant and hollow. Yet even as my strength ebbed, the pain itself was also receding -- instead I felt oddly warm and drowsy. If this is what death is, I remember thinking, then perhaps it is not so bad. I confess that at that moment I desired nothing more than to simply relax and allow myself to softly drift away… but he had commanded me to live.

And I would obey.