#// i just do it as a sign of “ i'm thinking about you ” when i see things on the dash / go on someone's blog

[cherrygirlfriend]

answer the call pairing: reader x bsf!rafe synopsis: rafe fucking his best friend while she's on the phone with her boyfriend warnings: smut, piv, unprotected sex, possessive rafe MDNI! - wc: 1k it's the fourth day of my birthday week celebration!!! god, i spent the entire day running around my apartment doing chores bc i refuse!!! to do chores on my actual birthday n now i'm so tired i might go right to sleep ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

rafe had you on all fours on your canopy bed, holding onto one of the posts for dear life as he pounded into you, the bed swaying every time he thrust his cock into you, one of his hands gripping onto your hair while the other rested on your ass, occasionally giving it a sharp smack, causing you to let out a noise that was between a gasp and a yelp.

"aww, look at you." rafe cooed mockingly with a tug at your hair, the blonde panting behind you "so fucking desperate for me to fuck you. bet your little loser boyfriend can't fuck you like you need to be fucked, hm?"

you hated the words that were leaving his lips, but you couldn't deny that he was right; your boyfriend definitely couldn't satisfy you the way rafe always seemed to be able to do, he couldn't hit that spongy spot that caused you to curl your toes, or rub your clit in the way that caused your back to arch off the bed. not like rafe did.

"say it," rafe commanded, "say that he can't-"

rafe let out an annoyed growl when he was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing on the nightstand. his initial plan was to tell you to ignore it, but when he saw who it was, he got a whole new idea, a grin taking over your lips.

"answer it."

"w-what?" you looked back at rafe with furrowed brows, thinking that he must be joking, but as he continued to pound into you, there was no sign of hesitation on his face, only a wide, cruel grin.

you reached for your phone from the nightstand, rafe slowing his pace as you looked at the caller id with widened eyes, almost waiting for it to change into something else, but clear as day, there was your boyfriend's name, along with the contact photo you set for him, a picture of you two taken at a carnival.

"do it before i do it for you." rafe mumbled as he bent to press a small kiss to the back of your neck, grabbing your ass roughly. and hesitantly, you pressed the green button visible on the screen as rafe pulled out of you.

"h-hi, babe." you said, trying your best to steady your breathing as rafe teased your entrance with the tip of his cock, the hand that was in your hair just moments ago going down to rub your clit.

"hey, everything good?" the voice on the other line asked, and you had to hold back a moan by biting down on your lip as rafe's middle finger brought some of your arousal to your clit, starting to slowly rub the puffy bud.

"yeah, everything's good." you chuckled, "i was just working out."

when you said that, you felt rafe's tip slowly starting to enter you, stretching your walls as you tried not to let out any noise, your boyfriend going on a tirade about something that you honestly couldn't give two shits about at that moment.

rafe continued moving in and out of you, at first at a slow pace, slowly building it up; all the while your boyfriend was talking, and you occasionally let out noncommittal hums and 'mmhm's, but the harder rafe was fucking you, the harder it was to concentrate on anything other than him, and trying to keep quiet felt like rocket science at that point, and you were starting to taste blood in your mouth from how hard you were biting down on your lip.

"i-i gotta go." you said into the phone, nearly panting, "i'll see you later." you said, hanging up before he could even get a word in, feeling the band in your stomach getting closer and closer to snapping, letting out a moan you'd held in for too long the moment that you were off the call as rafe started pounding into you relentlessly.

"say it." rafe commanded behind you, your eyes squeezed shut, your mind hazy with pleasure, confused as to what he was talking about. "say that your boyfriend can't fuck you the way i fuck you."

you were a panting mess as he continued hitting the spot inside of you that only he seemed able to reach; a part of you didn't want to say it, didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but the moment the palm of his hand landed on your ass, you yelped, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

"h-he-"

"nuh-uh. your boyfriend."

you let out a small whine when he corrected you, trying to steady your erratic breathing as he continued thrusting in and out of you.

"m-my boyfriend... can't fuck me the way you do..."

"atta girl." rafe chuckled behind you, and the way his fingers continued circling your clit while he pounded into you from behind was getting almost overwhelming, and rafe could tell that you were getting closer by the way you were starting to clench around him, the blonde letting out a groan, "gonna come in this pretty pussy..." he mumbled, "she's practically begging me to... wants me to show her who she belongs to..."

a part of you wanted to protest, but you were so close that your mind was clouded by all the bliss he was making you feel, the world around you getting so hazy that you couldn't bring yourself to care as long as you got to come.

and as soon as you felt the band in your stomach snap, rafe's cock buried deep inside of you, he couldn't help the almost animalistic groan that left his lips, warm pumps of cum filling you up

[hoshifighting]

hey baby, these last days I'm thinking so much about a dk (since he is all buffed out 🫦) and a reader so shy and has liked never came before... so the she and dk are dating and they wait a bit to do the deed and she doesn't tell him, but when his fingers are inside her she just moves like so much and try to push it off all because she never felt this much :c, then dk noticed she's a virgin and treats her so well

buff dk changed lifes

WARNINGS: virginity loss, fingering, overwhelming, inexperienced!reader, oral (both), begging, edging.

you’re already feeling flushed and flustered just from kissing, hands tangled in his hair, his lips warm against yours, and when his hand slips lower, fingers grazing down between your thighs, your whole body jolts, he murmurs something low about how horny you may be, and you feel your breath catch as his fingers slip under the edge of your underwear.

the second his fingers slide inside you, it’s like everything kicks into overdrive. your hips buck up all on their own, your mind foggy, and you gasp, hands coming down to grip his wrist like it’s too wet, too much, too intense, too everything. you squirm, legs trying to close, but he just keeps his hand steady, his fingers stilling inside you for a moment, like he’s giving you a chance to catch your breath.

“hey, hey,” he whispers, “you okay, baby?” something curious in his tone, and when you don’t respond right away, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes going all soft when he sees the shy, overwhelmed look on your face. and maybe he puts it together from how tightly you’re clenching around his fingers, how your body’s trembling just from a light fingering. “wait… is this your first time?”

you swallow, cheeks going all hot, but you nod, glancing away like you’re embarrassed. his expression changes instantly—any mischief is replaced by this gentle, almost reverent look, like he’s just discovered something precious.

“oh, baby,” he murmurs, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin so tenderly it almost makes your heart ache. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve taken things a little slower.”

you try to laugh it off, but it comes out more like a shaky breath. “i didn’t want you to… think i wasn’t ready or something.”

he smiles, leaning in to kiss you softly. “we’ll go as slow as you need. and if anything feels like too much, you just tell me, okay?”

you nod, and he eases his fingers back in, spitting on it to make it wetter, watching your reactions like he’s memorizing every little gasp and shiver. his fingers curl inside you, pressing is ''button''and it’s like a spark goes off inside you, makes you feel so sensitive you almost want to pull away, but you’re already too far gone.

“you feel that, baby? feel how good you’re squeezing me?” his fingers start moving and every time he curls them, it’s like this wave of pleasure builds up inside you, your body reacting on its own, clenching around him, hips lifting like you can’t get enough even though it feels like too much.

“seok—seokmin,” you whimper, and he leans in, lips brushing over your neck as his fingers keep working you open, the sound of everything echoing around the room, soft, slick, wet. he’s watching you the whole time, eyes locked on your face like he’s looking for any sign that you’re uncomfortable, but all he sees is you, flushed and breathless, trying to keep up with how good it all feels.

“you’re doing so good, baby. just let yourself feel it.” his thumb finds the clit, pressing down in these slow circles, and it’s like every nerve in your body fires up, hips rolling viciously, squeezing around his fingers so tight it’s like you’re holding onto him with everything you’ve got. he keeps whispering sweet, filthy little things, telling you how good you feel, his words melting into your skin as you get closer. and when you finally reach that peak, it’s like your body takes over, clenching around the digits,in seconds u are blissfully ruined in his arms.

oh, and he got patience like you wouldn’t believe. he’s not rushing anything; it’s almost excruciating how slow he takes things, like he’s teaching you the art of the dirty 😭, building you up in ways you didn’t even know you could feel before.

every time he’s got you spread out beneath him, his only goal is to take his time, making you wet with his mouth and his hands. fingers finding just the right spots to make your back arch, to make you gasp and cling to him. and he’ll look up at you between your thighs; “this is all you, baby. look at how much you’re already giving me.”

and god, he loves making you beg. the way he lingers between your legs, mouth hot and skilled, dragging you to the edge only to pull back at the last second, grinning when you whine, when you whisper his name all desperate. “you want more?” he’ll murmur, giving you just a teasing lick on the swollen clit, watching you melt. but he’s got that strict patience, only letting his fingers slide back inside when its wet, good and ready, working you slow.

sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly wicked, he’ll make you beg to do something for him. he’ll settle back against the headboard, a smirk playing on his lips as he pats his thigh. “if you wanna take care of me, you’ve gotta show me, baby,” he’ll say encouraging. “gotta know that you’re serious about it. come on, i know you can.” and you’ll find yourself crawling over, nervous but so desperate to please, eyes wide as you look up at him, hands trembling as you reach for his cock.

when you finally get his cock in your mouth, he’s so sweet, so patient, talking you through it, guiding you with gentle words and praise. “just like that, baby… that’s it,” he’ll murmur, trying his best to not moan as. he guides you. “you look so good like this, you know? so good for me.” and he’s got his hand in your hair, not forcing or rushing, just there, guiding you, holding you close. every time you pull back, gasping for air, he just smiles, brushing his thumb over your drooled bottom lip.

but he doesn’t let you get too far.

every time you think tonight’s the night, when you’re all worked up and ready, practically begging for him, he’ll just grin, leaning down to kiss you slow and deep, his fingers sliding right back between your thighs. “not yet, baby... not until you’re really, really ready. until you’re craving me so much you can’t stand it.” and he keeps you there, keeps you on edge night after night, learning every inch of your body, every little sound you make, until he’s got you wrapped around his finger—literally (?).

[sleepyangelkami]

INDISPOSED d.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 2.1K

DEAN WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you always seem to feel more than upset when you're sick. luckily for you, dean's always by your side when you fall ill, no matter the time.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - sick!reader, illness symptoms, flu, dizziness, aches, reader's a little emotional, eating?, crying, mention of reader's lonely past, non-sexual nudity, kinda crybaby!reader, (1) use of y/n, slightly ooc dean, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

there's seemingly a tell tale sign of when you're feeling extra poorly, and that's the feeling of water beginning to pool in your waterline.

you couldn't help the dramatics that would take over your body, much less when you find dean sitting in your bedroom, assuring you that it was alright that he'd come home early from his hunt. "you shouldn't have to leave sam alone 'cause of me." you were a sniffling mess at your desk, for two reasons, one being that you were upset and the second being that your nose was so stuffed you could hardly breathe.

"sammy's fine to figure out the rest of this one, baby." dean was sitting on your bed, girly covers and throw pillows surrounding him. "and i don't have to do anything, i'm choosing to be here." dean's voice was all low and soft, the voice he used when you were upset which was seemingly more often than you'd thought.

you heard him shuffle across the room to where you sat on a brown, tattered chair.

he crouched down so he was eye level with you. "come on, sweetheart, you know you're just upset 'cause you feel all sick." his hand was gently tracing your thigh, soothing you from your sniffles. "think you just need to lay down, yeah?"

you mumbled something that he didn't quite catch with a nod.

he waited momentarily but you hadn't made any decision to move. "y/n." your eyes snapped up to meet his. "come lay down."

"okay." was your sheepish response.

dean didn't often call you by your name, he cast it away with all the lovely nicknames he'd picked out for you personally. nobody was baby but his car, until he'd met you. it came so easily, that soft way of loving.

when dean had you finally beneath the blankets, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, half-comforting and half-trying to gauge your temperature.

"where are you going?" your hand reached out for his lower arm.

dean turned down to look at you, a smile softly reaching his lips. "just getting your medication, baby, i'll be back, don't worry." and this time, the kiss pressed against your forehead was purely because he felt like it.

dean was well aware of your inability to take care of yourself. now, he was in no way calling you a nuisance, he just wished you cared for yourself as much as he did. with that being said, he did always love being able to care for you, it was a way that was so different than having to take care of sam his whole life. perhaps it was because this, he wasn't obliged to do, it wasn't expected of him.

he loved taking care of you but if anything were to happen to him... he'd like to know you could take care of yourself, too.

when dean returned to the bedroom, you were passed out asleep against the sheets. the man couldn't help but stop in his tracks.

you were a chatty person, awfully bubbly at times. and dean loved that about you, listening to you babble on about something and when he didn't catch a word he'd ask you to repeat what you said, it was always funny watching as the gears turned in your head, trying to remember.

sometimes you swore you talked so much that you tuned yourself out.

dean didn't though, he listened to every word that spilled from your lips.

but you were chatty with everyone you were close to. god forbid you ever went on a road trip with he and sam.

but with him you could be quiet at times, you still got shy and nervous around him which always made him coo, there was something sweet at the fact you could be so different behind closed doors, so yourself.

and seeing you like this, your lips drew into a pout and pink staining your ill cheeks, well it was rather nice, he thought.

he hated to be so evil as he was to wake you.

"sweetheart." the mere whisper of the name as his hands came down to soothe your arms was enough to have your eyelids peeling open. "sweetheart, c'mon, you gotta take your medicine."

a half-whine fell from your lips as he sat you up against the bed, sitting too so that you could lean yourself against him. dean was suddenly aware of how much hotter your body had gotten. he hadn't been gone long, just a trip to the kitchen to get you a glass of water and the medication he needed, though it'd taken him a while to find it. he had a bad habit of leaving things in strange places and forgetting about it.

he handed you off the capsules and then the glass of water.

"how're you feeling, honey?" the back of his palm pressed against your right cheek then slightly down your top, to your chest. he was like a concerned mother. "you're really hot."

"thanks." you quipped, leaning your hot forehead against his arm and sipping the water he'd given you.

he rolled his eyes at your remark, obviously taking your sickness more seriously than you were. "'m serious, you can't have blankets."

"dean!"

"no."

"dean, 'm cold." you nuzzled yourself further into dean's warm body, a dark grey hoodie coated his form along with black sweatpants, not his usual attire.

"you're not cold." he took your face between his two hands. "you're sick." pressing a kiss against the tip of your nose. you fought the words 'sap' to come from the back of your scratchy throat. "you can have the blankets but i have to take this off, then." you felt him gently pull at the shirt you'd stolen from him, clad on your body.

"deal." you mumbled, feeling a wave of dizziness hit you.

to make matters worse, you shook your head, thinking it would rid of the dizziness.

"hey, don't do that." he steadied your head before taking the glass out from your hands and placing it on the bedside dresser.

you felt his hands on your shirt, slowly pulling it from your frame. you helped by putting your arms in he air, allowing him to pull it off your body and toss it somewhere on the ground.

"want the tv on?" you nodded your head silently as the man rose from his place on the bed, reaching the tv stand where he picked up the remote and switched it on.

aimlessly, you uttered, "my legs hurt." while sliding back under the pretty covers.

he was busy fidgeting with the buttons on the remote. he never did know how to work your tv properly. "'s just cause your sick, it'll go away, baby."

you huffed at his response, laying your head on the pillows while you pulled the blanket close to you. you were cold but it was that sickly cold where you couldn't tell if it was really a chill or perhaps you were so warm that you felt cold, which didn't make a whole pile of sense.

when dean finally climbed back into the bed, your body practically collapsed on top of him.

he laid with an arm behind his neck and the other trailing shapes across your bare back, you lay with your head on his chest, listening to the low tv along with the thumping of his heart.

"are you okay?" you mumbled, voice slick with tiredness. the sickness was weird like that, hitting you suddenly, leaving just as immediately.

dean could have cooed at you. even while you were wrapped up in blankets, sick as a small hospital, you managed to ask him if he was okay.

It was another reason why he liked taking care of you. you took care of each other. "i'm okay."

another hushed mumble. "promise?"

"i promise." he answered honestly, fingers against your skin, moving up and down your back. "get some sleep, 'kay?"

a yawn passed your lips. "okay."

they said sleep was the best medicine, that it cured everything that was curable. well, you weren't sure anyone had said it to you but you just knew that it was said.

you had to beg to differ.

by dinnertime, your temperature was running hot.

earlier was the kind of sick that you could stomach, this was the kind of sick that had you flushed against the headboard of your bed, hands running down your face as you felt your head pound against the back of your eyes.

you could hear dean walk back into the room and you felt guilt soar through your veins.

you knew you were being... difficult to say the least. but you couldn't help it, hot tears gathering at your waterline all over again.

the mattress dipped as dean nudged your arm and you looked up at him with glossy eyes before looking down at the sandwich sitting on a plate in his hands.

"know you said you're not hungry but can you try eat some f'me? 's jam." his tone was all soft and his voice was all quiet. by now, he'd turned off the tv and closed the curtains, noticing how the light had been affecting your eyes. the only light on now was the little lamp sitting on your bedside table so you could actually see your surroundings.

you nodded hesitantly and took the sandwich from him.

dean noticed things about you like nobody else. he very early on found out that you loved jam sandwiches, you loved raspberry jam but you had an awful distaste for strawberry jam so from there on, he never bought strawberry jam on the offhand occurence that you may accidentally use it without looking at the label and get your jam sandwich ruined.

you were halfway through said sandwich when you placed it back on the plate, begging to tear up.

dean immediately took notice of it, taking the plate from you. "wh's wrong, baby? too much?"

you shook your head, sniffling. even the act of shaking your head had you clutching it soon after.

dean tutted, moving your hand away so he could soothe your forehead with a kiss and a gentle movement of his thumb. "poor girl." you heard him mutter under his breath, his brows strewn together in sympathy.

looking up at him, you had those glassy eyes that made his stomach feel almost as nauseous as yours. he didn't have to ask what was troubling you for you answered, anyway, to the silent question behind his eyes. "you're so nice to me."

his heart shattered a little.

it was no supirse that you didn't grow up with much comfort surrounding you and that only got worse as you began to get older. some days, you didn't think you'd ever get the comfort that your body ached for. and then dean winchester walked in, and his one and only goal was to take care of you, was to care for you, was to love you.

so you couldn't help tearing up a little from time to time when you think about the strawberry jam he gave up just for you.

"oh, baby. you're my sweet girl." he pulled you closer to him, putting your forehead against his chest so you could lean your weight on him. "'course 'm nice to you."

he helped you sit on his lap, fully discarding the place wherever his hands could push it to.

then his hands found your body, roaming it with this gentleness yet assertion. you'd put his shirt back on a while ago and discarded the blankets, which he was thankful for. he needed to break your temperature.

you weren't due medication for another two hours and you'd taken all the painkillers you could.

right now, all he could offer was himself.

and that was enough for you.

your arms tightened around his shoulders as you sniffled, tears breaking down your cheeks with a defeated sigh. "hate bein' sick." you uttered, sadness evident in your voice.

"i know, angel, i know." he gently rocked you in his lap, not enough to make your head dizzy but enough to bring you back to the moment, to remind you he was there.

and you stayed like that for seemingly a long time, melting into one another's embrace as if it were the most entertaining thing in the world.

you pressed your flush cheek against the hoodie covering his bare shoulder. the tears eventually dried up and all that was left was your frustrated sighs and mumbles.

"'s okay, sweetheart." he pressed a final kiss to your flushed face. "it'll pass."

and he was by your side as soon as it did.

main masterlist/dean's masterlist

[corroded-hellfire]

https://www.tumblr.com/corroded-hellfire/743622480481107968/reading-ayw-things-has-me-thinking-about-eddie-and

I loved this request! To add on the baby fever, but this has a little bit of sadness, when baby Eliza looses that newborn baby scrunch, meaning that she's no more a newborn and she's growing. I was loosing it when my cousin did this (we're like 5 years apart)

For those unfamiliar with the newborn scrunch: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLFYCP6t/

THE NEWBORN SCRUNCH! It is the cutest of cuteness. I can't even imagine how I'm going to feel when I someday have a baby and they stop doing this lol. Probably react like Reader, ngl 😂

Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Eddie, Eddie should get kneed in the balls for suggesting having another baby so soon after Reader giving birth

Words: 1.2k

“Well, good morning my little cutie pie.”

Eliza gazes up at you from her bassinet, her little legs kicking within the confines of her pink teddy bear footie pajamas. 

“Morning, sweet pea.” Eddie comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder as he smiles down at your infant daughter. 

“Ready to get up and start the day?” you ask, fighting back a yawn. Eliza has gotten on a more consistent sleep schedule, but you’re still nowhere close to your preferred eight hours. “Babe, can you grab an outfit for her?”

“Sure thing.” Eddie barely takes two steps towards the door to head across the hall to the nursery before hearing you whimper. He immediately spins back around and takes in the situation with wide eyes. “What? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

You’re still facing the bassinet, Eliza held out in front of you. Eddie can see the baby hanging from your grip, her eyes going over your shoulder to squint at her father.

Slowly, you turn to face him, hugging Eliza to your chest. Eddie sees the tears building up in your eyes and comes to your side.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks.

“S-She…” You sniffle and shake your head, unable to vocalize it. Her soft downy hair tickles your cheek as you cradle her. “She didn’t do the scrunch.”

Your husband’s face pinches up into a confused frown. His eyes slide to the left, then right, trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about. 

“The…scrunch?” he asks. 

“The scrunch!” you whine. “The newborn scrunch!”

By the petulant tone of your voice, Eddie is pretty sure that you would’ve stomped your foot on the ground like a child if you weren’t holding your baby. The look on his face clearly conveys that he has no idea what you’re talking about because you sigh and continue to explain without any further nudge.

“You know how when you pick her up her little legs pull up towards her chest? Like she’s curling in on herself?”

“Oh,” Eddie says as it dawns on him. “Yeah, yeah, now I know what you mean.”

“She didn’t do it when I picked her up.” The wobble in your voice is clear and noticeable even before Eddie sees your bottom lip trembling. “She’s not my newborn anymore.”

“Of course she is,” Eddie says, placing a hand on the middle of your back and rubbing soothing circles there. “She’s only six weeks old.”

“She's already six weeks old!” you cry, the tears finally falling free past the lash line. 

“Aw, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckles, not unkindly, as he uses his thumb to wipe your tears away. 

“S’not funny,” you mumble, gently resting your head against your daughter’s.

Strong, warm arms wrap around you from the side, and you’re pulled up against a solid frame. A few soft kisses are pressed to the side of your face.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby,” he coos. “I think it’s cute, though.”

“Cute that I’m emotional over our baby growing up?” Your voice is harsher than you intended, but Eddie knows you don’t mean any harm by it. All of your hormones are still out of whack from pregnancy and giving birth. 

The end of her scrunch is just the first sign of her growing up. Suddenly you see her walking, saying her first words, going to her first day of pre-school, learning to ride a bike, having her first relationship, going to prom, graduating high school. The cherry on top is her packing up the car to head to college. More tears sting the back of your eyes at the thought. All of a sudden, her mere six weeks seem like a flash in the pan. 

“I think you’re cute,” Eddie amends. “Eliza’s still our newborn, though. She’s going to get stronger, and her little habits and cues are going to change, but she still needs her Mommy and Daddy for everything. Hell, I don’t think the boys could survive without us, either.”

Logic doesn’t always help even out the emotions, but your husband’s attempt does break through the surface. With a soft sniffle, you nod your head in agreement. Of course, Eliza is still your newborn and completely dependent on you. It doesn’t mean that you won’t have the same emotional upheaval when she can hold her head up on her own for the first time, but it’s comforting right now. 

Eddie has been doing a great job of letting you be a first-time mom and have all the emotions and experiences that go along with it, but sometimes his experience of having had two babies already helps ground you. 

“You’re right.” You exhale a deep breath and nod your head. “But I am still going to miss the scrunch.”

“Guess we’ll just have to have another one then, huh? Since you’re going to miss the scrunch,” your husband teases.

Slowly, you turn your head and give him a playful glare. The doctor just gave you the okay to start having sex again. The thought of pushing another baby out of your poor aching body is enough to threaten Eddie with never having sex again. 

“When you give birth, we can have all the babies you want,” you say.

Eddie laughs and presses a few kisses against your hair.

“Deal. Alright, let me go get her some clothes.” Eddie gives your side a loving squeeze before heading out into the hallway.

“Daddy’s right,” you say to Eliza as you gently rock her. “You’re still my new baby girl. I mean, look at these little fingers!” You offer her one of your index fingers and her fist instinctively curls around it. A smile grows on your face as you lift her small hand to your lips and press quick kisses against her knuckles. 

“Babe?” Eddie says as he grabs onto the bedroom door frame and leans into the room. “Where’s her yellow polka dot onesie? The one with the pink buttons.”

“Hmm?” You look at Eddie over your shoulder before turning to face him properly. “Oh, I packed it away a few days ago. She doesn’t fit into it anymore.”

Eddie frowns as he lets go of the doorframe and takes a few stumbling steps into the room. His messy bedhead sways with the movement.

“What?”

“Yeah, the buttons wouldn’t stretch to snap shut anymore,” you tell him.

A harsh sigh makes you look up at your husband. He crosses his arms over his chest and it’s a frighteningly similar look to when Luke is told he can’t have cookies before dinner. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“That was my favorite outfit of hers,” Eddie huffs.

You try your best to hide a smile, but biting your lip can only do so much. Now you realize what Eddie meant when he called you “cute” moments ago. Your husband’s pouting is currently rivaling Eliza’s adorableness. 

“It’s okay, Eds,” you tell him.

“How many clothes did you pack?” he asks, coming closer to you.

“A bunch of newborn ones that are too small now.”

“Eliza,” Eddie whines. He rests his chin on your shoulder and reaches around you to grab her tiny foot. “Why you getting so big? Stop growing up.”

It’s impossible for you not to chuckle at his words. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

[pickingupmymercedes]

That girl (woman) - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: That girl - Olly Murs

pairing: Husband!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff

a/n: tried a little something different with the pov and the narrative, let me know what you guys think.

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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It was a regular Wednesday mid-autumn, the kind of quiet morning in the Hamilton household that felt precious in its ordinariness. Lewis sat at the edge of their bed, balancing a tray loaded with her favorite redberry pancakes and a fresh bouquet perched precariously on the side table.

Before we dive deeper, let me share a little secret about Lewis. He’s a legend on the track—speed, skill, mind, the whole package. But there, in their Monaco apartment, watching his wife sleep soundly as morning eased into afternoon, he was just a man.

And as he gazed at her with a strange mix of tenderness and a touch of guilt, it was clear he was reflecting on what he nearly threw away once.

You see, Y/n hadn’t been just any woman in his life. She’d been a force, a renowned stylist, beloved by many. And Lewis, in a past he now could only shake his head at, had once thought he was doing her a favor by pushing her away.

He’d believed that she deserved someone less weighed down by a career that dragged him across continents, with fame that threw him, and her by default, under every public spotlight.

So, in a moment of misguided self-sacrifice, he’d told her she deserved better. Needed to leave him, he’d said, so she could find someone who could give her the life she deserved.

But she’d seen through his words. She’d planted herself firmly in his life and told him, in no uncertain terms, that if he truly wanted her gone, he’d have to make the effort to really let her go.

He hadn’t, of course— couldn’t. And now, there she was, their child growing inside her, still by his side.

Back in the bedroom that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea, Y/n began to stir, her dark lashes fluttering as she woke.

The sunlight had climbed high, a clear sign she’d overslept. Not that it was surprising. Lately, the exhaustion came in waves—pregnancy was starting to demand more rest from her.

She shifted slightly, her bump visible under the soft rise of his oversized T-shirt she’d claimed as sleepwear. Lewis smiled at that, too, how she’d taken so much of him as her own.

As Y/n stretched, blinking sleep from her eyes, she spotted Lewis there, looking all too pleased with himself, balancing that breakfast tray as if he’d been waiting an hour to make his grand entrance.

“Why, Sir. To what do I owe this royal breakfast treatment?” she asked, her voice still drowsy, as she raised an eyebrow playfully though she wore a faint smile.

“Oh, nothing much,” he said, setting the tray in front of her. But there was something about the way he lingered, how his eyes traced her face a bit longer than usual, and how his hand found its way to her bump, lightly brushing circles over her stomach.

She noticed it too, of course. Y/n’s gaze slid from him to the pancakes, to the bouquet of wildflowers he’d set down beside her. His hand was still there, fingers spreading, gentle against her skin.

She tucked into the pancakes, savoring the tart sweetness of the berries, though one eye was still on him. He was keeping quiet, which was unusual enough to make her pause, fork halfway to her mouth.

He didn’t speak, but his fingers had settled in, tracing softer circles on her tummy, as if trying to connect with their child through her skin.

“Alright, spill it, Hamilton,” she said at last, her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion. She hadn’t missed the glances, the softer smiles, or how his usual self-assured charm was just a little off this morning.

He fumbled. Oh yes, THE Lewis Hamilton—six inches taller than everyone else when it came to confidence—stumbling on his words now as he looked back at her, gathering himself as if preparing to speak before a packed audience.

“It’s nothing. Really, I just…” he hesitated, clearing his throat. “I just wanted to thank you. For yesterday. For coming to the factory with me.”

Ah, yes, the visit. Y/n had been there at his side all day, chatting with engineers and mechanics, giving them warm smiles, sometimes asking the kind of questions that endeared her to the team.

She’d been there, even though they both knew she’d been exhausted—he’d seen it in the way she leaned against surfaces or rested a hand on her bump when she thought he wasn’t looking.

But she’s the kind of person who’d walk the extra mile without a second thought if it meant making him feel grounded

“Oh” She waved it off. “I just know it’s important for you to have your support system there. Besides, we’ll leave you alone to those visits for a while, after this one gets here.” She gave him a smile, and it was enough to make Lewis sit back, humbled and deeply, thoroughly grateful.

Because that’s the thing about Y/n. She didn’t just say the right things. She showed up. She showed him, again and again, that he was worth it to her.

When he’d told her to leave, thinking he was noble, sacrificing himself for her own good, she’d thrown it right back at him. Said if he wanted her gone, he’d have to be a man and make it happen. He hadn’t. And in not doing it, he’d made a choice just as firmly as she had.

He reached out then, brushing his fingers on her cheek, his hand lingering for a moment, as if memorizing her face.

Y/n, ever observant, took his hand, resting it over hers. She could feel the weight of everything unsaid—how his grip was just a bit tighter, his thumb brushing her knuckles in slow circles. Her eyes softened, and for once, he allowed himself to drop the pretense.

“I know I’ve said it before,” he started, his voice quiet. “But I don’t think I can ever say it enough. I’m grateful. For you, for our little one. For everything.”

She let out a small laugh, rolling her eyes. “Lewis, you don’t need to go poetic on me. I’m not going anywhere.”

He chuckled, but even then, there was a solemnity in his expression, an echo of the worry that had lived with him since that fateful night years ago when he’d tried to push her out.

He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering just long enough to let her know he was serious.

They didn’t need words, not really. She knew, and he knew she knew.

That’s the magic they’d always shared. She didn’t need a grand speech to understand that in the way he carried her breakfast in, the way he’d brushed her cheek, he was telling her a thousand times over just how lucky he felt.

For Lewis, that single kiss said everything he couldn’t.

They sat there in quiet contentment, her finishing the last of her pancakes, his hand tracing that rhythmic pattern on her bump again, as if communicating with their little one in their secret code.

“Now” she said, breaking the silence as she watched him circling his fingers on her belly “I need you to go. This mama’s got work, and so do you, unless you plan on spending the rest of the day like this.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing” he said, flashing a mischievous grin.

But he stood regardless, though he couldn’t resist stealing one more kiss. Because that’s also the thing about Lewis—he’d had a brush with losing her once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

So there he was, savoring the sight of her, engraving this moment into memory. After all, being wrong about her had been the best mistake of his life.

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[doctorho]

thinking about viktor with a chronically ill reader. you know? we see the vision, right?

it just works.

the thing with chronic pain, illnesses, disabilities, all of that - is that you can't always see them. sometimes you can, sure, you can see the mobility aids and the not-standing-up-for-too-long and the bruising from blood draws and sometimes you can see the compression garments, the pills and inhalers and the i'm fine, i just need a moment-

but most people just don't pay attention to that. or if they do, they don't put the pieces together fast enough to figure out what's really going on under the surface. viktor does, though; he's been there, and most of the time he's way beyond hiding it. or, well, he's way beyond hiding some of it.

walking with a cane was like carrying a neon sign that said yes there is something different here. yes i can't walk the way you can. no it's not going to get better. that last part wasn't directly evident just from him using a cane, sure, but with the way his cane looked, it should've been pretty clear. He had used one practically forever and it had evolved with him, he'd made it as comfortable to use as it could be, had even made it match his uniform.

so yeah. viktor knew what it was like. he'd been the disabled kid forever, even if some of the others were never going to say it out loud. that was just a thing about him, and he knew how hard it could be to navigate something like that in an academic environment. it was hard to admit you couldn't do something, that you had to sit down, that you needed a moment. that sometimes your body was just falling apart for no particular reason and it was just another tuesday.

sometimes it was easier to sit with the pain than take medication in the middle of a meeting, knowing that someone would make a bigger deal out of it than it had to be, even if it was just raising their eyebrows meaningfully. they'd think about you differently afterwards.

he could see you push through it, and he didn't blame you, really, he did that himself, too, but - he didn't want you to hurt yourself. you hadn't been in the lab as long as he had, so he could understand you being a little cautious with how you acted and what you told people, but he didn't want you to feel like you had to put on a show for him. he was, after all, walking around with the equivalent of a light-up sign of i'm disabled, too, and he liked to think of himself as someone who wouldn't come off as judgemental about stuff like that. other stuff, sure, stupid stuff, but not that.

so when he sees you dealing with the telltale signs of being in pain, he conveniently sends jayce and the others to pick up some parts that would take a while to collect and that they wouldn't actually need until the next day. but better prepared, right? what's the harm.

and then he comes to sit next to you and sighs deeply. leans back. relaxes to the best of his abilities. asks if you're alright, and sounds like he already knows the answer.

you sigh too, shift your position, and answer with it's fine. and viktor recognizes the strain in your voice, in your posture, and he knows there's a key difference between this and i'm fine, but he'll take it. it's not what he'd like, but he'll take it.

he leans over to dig around his belongings, and then offers you a bag of candied almonds.

"if you're going to take pain killers, it's better if you eat something first," he says, and you just stare at him. "i assume you haven't taken anything yet. nothing strong enough, at least," he continues, casually, and you take a deep breath and accept the almonds.

he smiles. continues like this is totally normal. "jayce made me start carrying around some food so i could do that. for myself, i mean. but it doesn't hurt to have some snacks around either way, i suppose."

he knows he's skirting around the real topic of the conversation, but he also knows that sometimes people get uncomfortable around his bluntness, and you hadn't exactly told him you were in pain, so he'd understand it if you were a little weirded out. after all, most people didn't notice this stuff. but you haven't run away from him, and you're eating, and then you're digging around your own bag to take your medication, so he'll count this as a win.

thanks, you exhale, handing back the almonds, and he takes a handful of them himself.

"i'm fine, really," you continue, not really looking at him, "it's just hard sometimes."

he nods. it was - even if he didn't know the specifics, he knew that it was true. especially since you had been hiding it from the others. and with something like that, something the others couldn't see, the invisible step to let them see it would grow bigger and bigger with time, when they expected you to be able to do everything they did without a second thought.

he also knows you didn't mean fine in the dictionary definition sense of the word, but more in the this is normal and you don't need to worry -sense. and that's fine. he was used to functioning on different parameters than most people, so this version of fine was good enough.

my body just isn't always very reliable, you explain with a sigh, and that he knows better than well.

he hmms in answer and nods. he knows.

you exhale a small laugh at that.

and he's glad you're relaxing, wants you to be as comfortable here as possible.

"these people are alright," he says casually, "as far as healthy people go."

viktor smiles a little.

another win for him.

and then he sits with you, talking and not talking and enjoying the quiet comfort if it all. and then he makes up some excuse so you don't have to keep working yet. he was well aware what it was like trying to work through the pain, waiting for the medication to kick in, and he wouldn't exactly recommend it. besides, as a rule, you were more likely to make mistakes if you were thinking through a layer of pain, and that was just plain bad planning. it made much more sense to just take a break and continue when you felt better. in fact, he was in dire need of a caramel latte and a pastry right now, do you want anything?

and after that it just... sort of falls into place. you're more relaxed around him. and the others, too, but he's the only one that really gets it. doesn’t make a whole thing out of it when you need to sit down for a moment or take a break while your pain killers kick in. he's just there.

he knows what it's like, and that feels like an invisble curtain lifted from between you and him, and it's just easy. you don't have to pretend you're doing better than you actually are and he doesn’t hide it when he's in pain, either.

most people don't see it, but there's a mutual understanding there; yeah, sometimes life sucks and sometimes you're in pain and no it's not fair that sometimes your body is falling apart and life just keeps going. you can't do all the things you want to do but you still have to show up for the other life-stuff and if you took a day off every time you felt bad you would never get anything done and it just never stops.

but sometimes there's someone who'll sit through it with you without judgement. offer a warm drink and a snack and some understanding.

[ijwtbap]

ㅤㅤ★ㅤA promise — Bakugō

— Bakugō x GN! reader.

You like Katsuki, he likes you — is a fact not a maybe. He doesn't seem to believe it thought.

a/n. I had to keep my promise ig. Is VERY short so im sorry, also Im bad at english and is my first one shot so have some mercy plz.

You were going insane. Just a little bit. Well, actually, you were ready to rip out your hair and scream into the void, standing naked as flames consumed you. That's kind of insane.

Every time Bakugō referred to you as his friend—even if he only said you weren’t that annoying and didn’t mind having you around (which was close enough)—you wanted to disappear.

You had done everything but treat him platonically. Sure, you could see how holding hands, cuddling, or crying together might seem platonic. But kissing in bed and saying “I love you” in a completely serious way?

You were completely lost.

At first, you thought it was a joke, then maybe just a game to him.

But now? Now you’re convinced he’s just... dense.

You could tell Bakugō you love him dead serious while looking him dead in the eyes, on your knees and with a big sign that said 'plz marry me,' and he would still think you're joking.

And it was killing you.

"Are you going to study or what?"

You were in his bedroom, "studying." Yeah, right—studying. You just wanted to be there with him. You’d barged in without warning, and yet, he hadn’t even questioned your presence.

"No."

You knew he liked you back. There was no way he didn't, but fuck, he refused to acknowledge it.

"I like you."

His eyes widen for a second before he looks back at his notes.

"Shut up."

"I really do, tho."

"Yeah, whatever."

"I love you."

"If you don't stop, I will kick you out."

"I love you."

" __________ "

"I love you so much."

"Stop it."

"I want to marry you, one day when we're adults. Small or big wedding, or none at all, whatever you prefer."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

You two look at each other, him holding his pen so hard that it looks like it's about to break and you looking at him as if he were the most wonderful and prettiest dense idiot you have seen in your life.

"What do you need me to do to make you believe me?"

He ignores you. Mostly because he knows that paying attention to you would just make him more annoyed (because you clearly weren't going to stop) and because he didn't want to accept it.

"Die."

A small smile comes to your mouth. How many people would get offended by that? A lot, but you knew Bakugō didn't mean it.

"You want to recreate Given now?"

Bakugō rolls his eyes, making more notes in his notebook, but you were able to notice a small smirk.

You had forced him to watch it a couple of months ago, and he swears he didn't cry. You knew the truth, though.

"Shut up."

"Shut me up yourself, you coward."

He lets out another scoff, and he continues to avoid your eyes.

"Study already."

You loved Bakugō Katsuki, and he loved you back.

No matter how much time it would take you, you were going to make sure to take his last name and hold his hand in a not-platonic way.

One day.

"I love you."

I totally didn't use like 3 grammar online correctors, and re read this like 20 times (It will still have an issue, and I know it). I also didn't copy inspired my introduction (?) from a random post.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed my bad writing style. Im not doing this again, unless I get REALLY bored.

521 words.

[utopiastri]

hiiii!

soooo i read and reread all your f1 fics.

since they are all so effing amazing, well written, funny when needed, you must have a great taste in fics. sooo do you maybe, perhaps have any landoscar fic recommendations??

have a mega day!

-💫

hi 💫 anon!!! this was. the absolute loveliest ask to wake up to this morning so thank you SO much for sending it 💕💕💕💕💕

you are so kind and please know all of these compliments have absolutely made my day!!!!!

and GOD i would LOVE to give some landoscar fic recommendations, there is nothing i love more than talking about authors i adore

i very much started rambling about these fics so i'm putting my recs below the cut!

ok immediately we're off to a rogue start because i'm going to recommend a fic that isn't posted yet but @1425fivefive's upcoming fic Learned Behavior is just honestly going to be one of the best things you will ever read - i have been honoured to receive SO many wonderful snippets from it and every single one is just as amazing as the others and i am SO excited to see the full thing

i am legally and contractually obligated to put three-sixteenths by @ipleadbritney on here because i am actually three-sixteenths' biggest fan and as part of that it is in fact my job to make sure everyone has read one of the most DELIGHTFUL magical realism fics of all time, one that fills me with such joy every time i think about it, let alone read it

by love remembered by @lellabellas is just. i LOVE fairytales so much and the way this is such a gorgeous homage to fairytales whilst also being one of the most wonderful fanfics you will ever read is honestly just. a sign of talent of truly the highest degree!!!!

brevity is the soul of wit by a_new_anon because i absolutely have to recommend one of the absolute CUTEST texting fics i have ever read. i grinned my entire way through reading it and i cannot recommend highly enough oh my GOD

the devil in me by @its-all-papaya because who am i as a person if i'm not constantly Obsessed with the idea of jealous oscar piastri. GOD this fic has everything - including one of my favourite final lines of any fic like. ever

AND on top of all of these, because i am a firm believer in showing love and affection to tumblr drabbles as well, please have a few of my favourites of those as well:

I'll Wait (I'm Sorry) by @wanderingblindly because liquid reblogged this again recently and this version of landoscar has NOT LEFT MY BRAIN SINCE!!! i reread it and had to sit down lest i faint. concept of all time i fear!!!!!!!

fireworks - prompt by @foggieststars because every so often i think about what landoscar will be like when they're no longer teammates and then i remember it doesn't matter because i can just think about one of the Sweetest drabbles i have ever read about lando and oscar dealing with oscar leaving and i am calm again

immortal - osctober prompt by @nyoomfruits because sad immortal vampire oscar has actually been haunting me for the last month and i am still SO SAD ABOUT IT (but like. in a good way obviously)

ok i will cut myself off there but !!!!! anon thank you so much for allowing me to ramble on about all this writing i love so much!!!! and thank you again for the kind words 💕💕💕

also if anyone would like to not be tagged, please let me know!!!

[agent--shadow]

After a few minutes Kai's mouth starts to bleed, but it's the most desaturated and gray looking blood the nurse has ever seen. Kai's jerky movements and thrashing calm down, only for his eyes roll back into his head before he finally goes limp on the hospital bed.

****

Kai wakes up in a dark space, black as far as the eye can see. If there were other structures besides the floor beneath him, they were shrouded in black fog.

Green eyes pierce through the darkness as they zoom towards him, leaving ribbons of green light in its trail. It stops merely inches before Kai's face, letting out an ear piercing shriek that rattles the air, though Kai doesn't flinch. He just stares the awful creature down in its beady bright eyes, just like he had night after night, though he thought he'd escaped it in that forest, looks like it was back for vengeance.

The screech dies in the air after a few seconds, and the creature pulls away, revealing a hovering reflection of himself in every worst way. The creature wears his old uniform, except now it glittered and shone in the non-existent light, golden spikes protruding from each shoulder, green at the tips- which were deathly sharp.

Its eyes glowed green with black bleeding pupils, and the sharp ragged claws that replaced its fingers dripped with blood. Its face was curved in disappoint when he didn't show the fear in his heart on his face.

Its voice was glitchy and distorted, disturbing inhuman. "Come now... I'm getting bored." It floats closer to Kai, but he backs away, not breaking eye contact.

"I don't care. Leave! I won't play your games!" He tries to keep his voice steady, and devoid of the thousands of anxieties clawing at his heart.

The creature locks its hands and puts them to its face in mock sympathy, "Awwww, you're no fun. Do we have to go through the scenes again?"

Kai shivers at the mention, and his eyes go wide with fear, please, not again. But he shakes himself out of it, directing his fear into anger, anger at the creature in front of him that had taken everything he once held dear.

"I'm not afraid of you! You can't use me anymore!"

"Oh but you are. And I can. It'll just take a little more... Convincing..."

Before he knows it, Kai is back in his parents truck as they give him a sheet to wrap himself in before they cross the border, to blend in, to hope that nobody notices, to save their only honorable child. Kai looks around, Lilac isn't anywhere to be seen. "Wait!" He cries out, "she's not here! We can't leave!"

His father glares at him, "Be quiet or we'll never leave." And his mother tried to give him a sympathetic look, though it's clear she's not fairing too well either. "It's... For the best." She looks at the dirt, not daring to meet her son's eyes, already filled with tears. She doesn't dare even think about running back, grabbing their little girl and embracing her in her arms, lest their father find out and send them both back to the shambles of their house. She's ashamed of her fear, how can she call herself a mother if she leaves her child in the dust? How could she go on to respect this horrible husk of a human being who can't even stand up for her own daughter?

The door is slammed shut and Kai stares out the window, searching for any sign of his sister, his only real family. Just as the car starts up he spots a speck of purple over the horizon, curled up in a painfully peaceful ball near the dumpster. "LILAC!!!" He screams with tears welling up in his eyes, hoping she'd hear, hoping she'd come running back, come running into his arms so he could carry her far away from everything.

But she doesn't. They drive away until Kai can't make out anything but the horizon where she once lay. He calls out again, but his father rolls up the window with anger in his voice. "SHUT IT BOY!"

Kai sinks into his seat, tears streaming down his cheeks as he curls up violently, shutting his eyes so tight it hurts. Hoping that any second now he'd wake up, he'd wake up from this awful nightmare. He'd wake up in a soft bed in a warm house, with both his sisters in the kitchen messing around with all the spare food.

Instead he was wrapped in a dirty sheet hiding under the seat of his parents car, silently making a promise to his sister that he would find her again.

He never wanted it to be like this.

His vision dissolved to black as his sobs faded into obscurity, and were replaced with the hustle and bustle of the night market in the city his parents moved to. He shook off the dizziness blurring his vision looked around, seeing people in Zoraxis uniforms with wicked grins directed at him. He finally looked straight in front of him, and his nearly jumped into his throat.

There she was. With his knife deep within her shoulder. Staring up at him with those big innocent eyes, except now they were tainted with hurt, and worst of all, fear. His own sister looked at him the same way you would look at a bear before it tore you limb from limb. The sight made him sick, made him want to vomit out every horrible thing inside him until there was nothing left.

Stinging years dripped down his face as he lunged to protect what we left of his family, but it all turned to smoke. He stumbled back into the black room of fog, and looked at his shaking hands, they were covered in blood.

He cries out in anguish, covering his ears, balling up on the floor, trying to tell himself that it wasn't real, it was just a reenactment, Lilac was just across the hall, she's safe she's okay. But it wasn't enough, her terrified eyes burned a hole through his soul, leaving gaping wide holes that he still couldn't mend.

"Oh don't be so sad. You never deserved her anyways." The creature then mimicked his mom's voice, "It's... For the best." But with a sickening contorted grin on its face.

"Oh! I nearly forgot. We've added a new scene to our play recently."

A blinding light flashes before his eyes as the room starts to shift into the cavern a few days ago, the blinding light overwhelming him almost as much as the noise from the battle. Rocks fell every which way as the cavern began to collapse. He shook the dizziness from his vision once more and saw the sonic whip in his hands, crystals shattered on the dirt floor, just the like cavern would be in a few moments.

He darts around, looking for somewhere, anywhere to hide away, to protect what little was left of himself, but no such crevice lends itself to him as he desperately scrambles through the falling rubble.

He clings to the side of the rock, pulling himself up the cliff with every ounce of strength left in his body. He sees a figure above him scaling the cliff, and she turns towards him. It's Wraith, and her leg is covered in blood. The same blood on his hands. The same hands that are about to let go for good.

****

Kai is unconscious, not even moving. Almost deathly still save for the slow rise and fall of his chest. He will not wake up, or even respond, no matter what the nurse tries. It is all in his head. It is all in his head.

Questioning and Revelations

After some medical attention, Kai (@agent--shadow) finds himself inside one of the agency's interrogation rooms. Several signal blockers have been set up, cutting him off from any outside communication.

Handler Ellie walks in the room, her eyes cold and strict. She puts down an analog recorder, several digital microphones and cameras have littered the room.

"I would appreciate it if you would cooperate with this questioning, young man." Despite her words implying it was a request, her tone was clearly implying that it wasn't an option to be uncooperative.

She checks her watch, checking the time. If her guess is right, Handler Blue (@blueorchid-95) will arrive in half an hour. She would've heard about Kai's location around this time and once she hears about this, it would not be pretty.

[604to647]

Photocopies

2.2K / Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: You catch Javi off guard in the embassy photocopy room.

Warnings: Angst (sorry!), longing, some hurt (no comfort). Previous relationship, mention of past infidelity (or is it??). Mainly Javi's POV. Nicknames as usual (Pretty bird, baby).

A/N: This is a direct follow-up to Birthday Present, taking place S1/S2 Narcos, ~2 months after reader’s birthday; I don't think you need to read it but it gives some context. I'm sorry, there is no HEA for these two dummies yet, this is just another little one shot (not quite ready to commit to writing another long series!), but I hope those of you who remember them from Birthday Present will still enjoy seeing them again 🥹🥰

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Tagging @milla-frenchy who knows why 🥹😘

Mierda. 

Javier can see the consecutive flashes of the photocopier’s green scan light accompanied by the hum of the machine in repetitive use as he walks down the hall towards the U.S. Embassy’s main floor copier room.  It sounds like whoever’s occupying the photocopier is in the middle of a big job �� he sighs with an air of unjustified frustration.  Such would be his luck when he’s already running late for his meeting with the CIA attaché. 

He rounds into the room chest first, ready to barrel over whichever unfortunate intern stands, however unintentionally, between DEA Agent Javier Pena and something he needs to hopefully get ahead of Escobar, when he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

It’s you.  You, with a thoughtful look on your face as you adorably chew your bottom lip while counting the sheets in your hand, surrounded by neat piles of paper covering every available flat surface in the copier room.

Mierda. 

Still preoccupied by your collating project, you haven’t looked up to notice that you’re no longer alone in the small, stifling room – out of consideration or cowardice, but most likely both, Javier loathes to disturb you.  He hasn’t spoken to you in nearly four months - he’ll be damned if the first time he does so causes you inconvenience.  He’s already done so much worse to you. 

Fuck it - those spooks can make do with one copy of his Satellite Repositioning request.  If the CIA needs a second copy so badly, let them come down and make it themselves, he convinces himself.  Javier steps back silently, slowly backing out of the room. 

“How many copies do you need?”

Stunned by the sweet lilt of your voice, Javier remains motionless.  He suspects that you don’t know it’s him, but rather you had felt another person’s presence in the room and your considerate nature simply offered what you intuitively knew was needed.  But to his surprise, your eyes meet his directly when he looks up; he searches them for any sign of distaste or distain now that you recognize him as your intruder, but sees nothing except sincerity.  Your hand is already outstretched, waiting for his form.

He should leave.  Say he changed his mind about needing copies.  Say he got lost in this building that he’s worked in for years.  Say something.

“Don’t want to interrupt you.  I’ll come back.”

You throw an easy, encouraging smile his way and wave your still reaching hand dismissively in graceful sweeps that only serve to remind Javier of how effortlessly charming you are; your voice an enchanting song with its lightness, “I’m going to be forever.  Come on, gimme.”  You wiggle your fingers playfully, beckoning Javier to give over his paper - not knowing you also call for his heart with this enticing gesture.

He can refuse you nothing, though you could never know that, and hands over his single sheet readily, “Just one please.”

You take his form and titter to yourself as you diligently set aside the stack you were organizing, careful not to lose your place before laying his paper face down on the glass to copy, “I’ll make you two, just in case.”

Though the sound of the copy machine whirling to life fills the room, the silence between the two people in it somehow rings louder.  Javier looks around awkwardly, his eyes taking in the goliath of paperwork that you were in the middle of taming – should he apologize for interrupting?  No, it would likely ring hollow to your ears; he’s committed worse transgressions for which he still owes you an apology.  But the lump in his throat compels him to engage you; he’s a man starved, ready to beg for any meager scraps of attention you’re willing to throw his way.

“I thought you had a secretary to do all this admin for you – is Renee away?”

You laugh and the sound chimes in Javier’s ear like a chorus of cathedral bells; he never thought he’d have the honour of drawing such music from you again.  “No, she’s here.  But when it’s big booklets for interdepartmental meetings, I just like to do it myself.”

Right - Javier knows this about you.  You take such prodigious care with everything, of everyone.  Any fool at the embassy, and there were many, could see you’re a powerhouse, work ethic and dedication unmatched, and completely deserving of the respect and praise you reap – he’s always been proud of you.

Handing him his two copies and original, you toss Javier another soft smile before turning back to your task.  Whatever this interlude was, whatever grace granted him a few moments of cordiality with you is gone now, and Javier takes the papers from you with a genuine, but melancholy, “Thanks.”  He heads out of the room, feeling somehow happier and yet just as lost as he has been these past few months.

“Javi?”

He’s stopped again, this time not just by your melodic voice, but the song of his shortened name on your lips – his own heart longs to sing back a response in duet.  Turning, he finds you already looking at him, the irises of your knowing eyes swirling with tenderness, 

“Thank you for my birthday present.”

How did you know?  Javier had been so confident in the stealth of his actions, he’s silence by the revelation that you know he left a gift on your desk two months ago.

“I wear them all the time,” you turn your elegant neck slightly to show Javi the silver hair clips, each adorned with a small, delicate bird, tucked prettily behind your ear.

He manages to choke out a confession, “I know.” 

He does know.  Like a lovesick magpie, Javi’s heart would leap every time he caught the flash of silver in your hair at the embassy: during the meetings you expertly lead that he had the privilege of attending, via quick glimpses of you as you hurried towards the breakroom with your colleagues for a much-needed cup of coffee, when he stole longing glances at you from the DEA’s offices down the hall from the windows that ran alongside your desk in Treasury.  Each time you wore them, it gave Javi a surge a pride (and some relief) to know that amidst all the pain he had caused, he could still bring you some joy.

You’re looking at him now, eyes shiny and full of emotion, “I love them – they’re so beautiful.  Thank you for having thought of me.”

Javi’s body carries him across the small room and into your waiting arms of its own accord. All the strength he strains to wield on a daily basis in order to stay away from you evaporating under that tender gaze he thought had been forever lost to him.

He holds you close but not too tight, unable to tear his eyes from the sweetness of your expression.  How could you still look at him with anything other than disappointment, hate?  Despite what he did, you remain good.  Kind.  Feeling.  You wash over him like an inevitable wave and Javi wants more than anything to drown in you again.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Baby.

Drinking in his soft utterance of the endearment, you earnestly study the man who was once yours.  Javi looks apprehensive and guarded, like he can’t quite settle into the tenderness of this moment – expecting at any second for you to shove him away, curse him.  Your heart aches to witness his anxiety – he’s still the man you knew, believed in: one whose bravado and tough exterior harbours a sensitive and deeply feeling heart, one who never thinks he deserves good things even when he extends himself for the sake of others.  You take Javi’s face into your hands, feeling the flex of his strong jaw beneath your palms as he inhales and swallows deeply at the loving gesture, still convinced this unexpected peace will be ripped from him.

“Do you miss me, Javi?”

How can he possibly answer but truthfully? Even if you weren’t looking at him so tenderly and with such vulnerability, Javi’s never been able to hide from you, lie to you. Insinuate falsities, yes. Mislead, perhaps. But outright lying? Never. How could the moon ever lie to the sun?

“Yes, pretty bird. Every day,” Javi closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours, sealing in the truth of his words.

He’s being selfish.  It’s selfish to want to pull out the knife that’s lodged permanently in his chest; the one he placed there himself when he broke your heart, to stab and remind him with every breath he takes of what he’s lost.  What he’s broken.

If he could remove the blade for even a moment, then for that moment he can be your Javi again.  The one you trusted to take care of your heart.  The one who was ever grateful that an angel like you saw something in him, something he thought had long been snuffed out by the savagery of the Columbian sicarios and the cruelty of Escobar.  The Javi you had patiently nurtured back to life with your compassion and gentle touch.  The one whose vow of love you never questioned; he hadn't thought himself capable of such devotion, but you had easily unlocked it from within him with your own.

Selfishness wins today.  Javi removes the knife and lets himself be that man again with a tentative press of his lips to yours.  Immediately, he’s overtaken by the honey of your kiss – every brush of your pretty pout reminds him of all his favourite kisses with you: soft, secret kisses in hidden corners at the office; hard and heavy make outs outside the embassy walls away from prying eyes; tender kisses of promises intended to be kept while on dates or just laying in bed; possessive, dangerous kisses used to muffle moans of pleasure not meant for the ears of any other; hungry and urgent kisses heralding toe-curling, earthshattering orgasms; and sweet kisses of affirmation after every declaration of I love you.

Javi kisses you to make up for every single kiss he’s missed since he kissed you last.  He kisses you like he has the forever with you he threw away so cruelly all those month ago.  He tightens his arms around you as you melt into his kiss, momentarily forgetting how to let you go again.  Your soft whimper of surrender into his mouth jolts him back to reality.  He doesn’t have forever with you.  You aren’t his, and you shouldn’t be his.  He’s been warned.

It’s time to put the knife back in and Javier knows it won’t just be his own heart he wounds when he does so.

“Baby, we can’t.”

“Javi…” The way you say his name now has none of the harmony that invited him in earlier; this is a plea.

“Pretty bird, I’m no good for you.  Look at you – you’re perfect and you have everything going for you.  Everything you are is beyond my wildest dreams – you’re destined for the kind of future that has no place in it for a guy like me.  You deserve someone who can give you the best things in life.  You deserve someone better than me.”

You’re shaking your head, ready to argue and Javier thinks, no – he knows you would prevail.  He’s come over to your side of every argument the two of you ever had - won over by your intelligence, your passion, or simply for the joy it brought him to give you anything you wanted.  He has to put a stop to this before your eloquence and kindness can disarm him, so he pushes the knife in further, “You deserve someone who can be loyal to you.”

Javier can physically feel the flow of air that rushes in to fill the space created between the two of you as you shrink away from him.

It’s as if he can see the cinema in your eyes replaying that horrible scene from four months earlier when you caught him bare chested and pants unbuttoned, with a half naked Vanessa on his couch.  And just like that, the ache of his betrayal is renewed and your hurt rolls off your frame in lines so thick Javier thinks he might be able to pluck them out of the air with his fingers.

He twists the knife, even though it kills him to do so, “I never got the chance to apologize for that. I’m sorry.”

You nod, otherwise unmoving - stilled by that old pain you thought you had buried dead threating to crawl up your tightening throat.

Javi’s shoulders hunch, drooping with a defeat of his own making, “Thank you for the copies.”

“You’re welcome, Agent.”

Agent.

And just like that he’s Agent again.  Not baby, Javi, or even Javier.  Just Agent.

This third time he goes to leave the copier room you don’t stop him and Javier is thankful; unable to trust himself should he look back at you, he doesn’t – Agent Pena sets his face to a grim scowl and stalks down the hallway away from the best thing that ever happened to him.  Grateful that you had the forethought to give him an extra copy of his form, Javier discards the top sheet before going into his meeting – it’s completely unusable: the words on the page blotted and blurred from tears he didn’t have the strength to prevent from falling, the ruined, damp paper evidence of his failures.

[incorrect-star-allies]

Kirby: Ya, dayaya ya da da! It is good day to be not dead!

Magolor: *Shoots Kirby with Revolution flame* Pow! You are dead!

Kirby: I AM DEAD!

Magolor: Mehehehehehe

Gooey: Dan da Dan Dan da da Dan!

Magolor: Oh shoot!

Gooey: Oh! The Kirby is dead.

Kirby: Yes, I am dead.

Gooey: Why is the Kirby dead?

Magolor: I dunno.

Kirby: I think It was-

Gooey and Magolor: Shh! You are dead!

Kirby: Ok. *Clips through the floor*

Dedede: Heh, what's up ya Losers! Who's up for a- *Notices Kirby dead* Wh- What the Bloody Hell just happened?!

Gooey and Magolor: That Kirby is dead!

Dedede: The Kirby is dead?!

Gooey: Correct!

Dedede: :D

Gooey: So, did you see the Murderer?

Magolor and Dedede: No, sorry mate.

*Gooey slams a table that wasn't originally there*

Gooey: I will find them. I will capture them. And no-one will ever die again!

*Dedede and Magolor clap fast*

Magolor: Oh, well that's nice.

Dedede: Damn proud of ya!

*Kirby's skeleton Joins in, the clapping is faster, camera shifts to Fransisca; Flamberge; Zan partizanne and Hyness*

Hyness: Ateeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeention! *Zips to the 4* The Kirby is dead!

Gooey: We know!

Hyness: who killed him?

Gooey: We don't know!

Hyness: I will find clues! *Sniffs across the floor towards a gun* what's this? *Picks up gun* A weapon? *Shows it to the rest* That thing is why the Kirby is dead!

Gooey, Magolor and Dedede: THE KIRBY IS DEAD?!

*Hyness slams an Axe attorney table*

Hyness: Yes! *Whip Noise* He died!

Dedede, Magolor and Gooey: Oh!

*A faint car noise is in the distance*

???: Incomiiiiiiiiing!

*car crashes into Hyness*

???: Raus Raus!

*??? Reveals himself to be Elfillin, as they fly out of the ambulance*

Elfillin: *Pushes the others away* Move, now!

*Elfillin gives Kirby a Maxim Tomato*

Kirby: Ah ha ha! Ki- *loses all HP*

Elfillin: In my Medical opinion that KIRBY IS DEAD!

Dedede: Doc, what happened?

Elfillin: My professional opinion? *Slams another Ace attorney table and another whip noise when they point* THE KIRBY WAS KILLED!

Dedede: Oh god!

*Dedede, Magolor and Gooey turn around to converse with Mr L (Super Paper Mario), Sonic the Hedgehog and Pacman, while that is happening:*

Elfillin: I don't think it's anything to worry about!

Gooey: Well, now what?

*A jump noise comes from the distance, it was Marx*

Marx: Clippity Clip, Ya big losers, Boom!

As Marx says Boom, Gooey: Oh come on!

Marx: Look at this, the Fricking Kirby's dead! What do you think of that? *Awkward silence* Uh...

Gooey: Yes, yes, Marx?

Marx: Ye-

Gooey: GO HOME!

*A car is now here, the driver was Daroach*

Marx: Oh come on! *Runs to the Car* Pfft, Fricking unbelievable, no seriously; YOU ALL SUCK!

*Daroach drives to a wall different to what Elfillin drove into*

Gooey: Right, let's get back to *Picks up a Sign that had an arrow on it* the point!

*Dedede nods his head aggressively*

Kirby (He had extra lives): *Pokes the old Kirby's corpse* I think Kirby is dead.

Elfillin, Dedede, Magolor and Gooey: THE KIRBY IS DEAD?!

Elfillin: Marx! *Runs towards the burning car* I will heal yo-

*Elfillin dies in an explosion*

Kirby: Oh! Seriously? WHO KILLED KIRBY?!

*Keeby drink 1*

Keeby: It was Meh!

Kirby, Magolor, Gooey and Dedede: Oh!

Keeby: Yes! *Keeby drink 2* I did it *Pulls out ranger ability* Like this!

*Keeby shoots Dedede*

Keeby: WOOP DE DOOOOO!

*Kirby, Magolor and Gooey mourn the death of Dedede*

*Keeby drink 3*

Keeby: That's a Joke lads!

*Kirby, Magolor and Gooey go from crying to laughing*

*Keeby drink 4, Keeby Big Burp!*

Keeby: It was, you- *Burps then points at Magolor* Him!

Kirby and Gooey: OH!

Magolor: How did ya know?

Keeby: I didn't *Big Burp 2, electric boogaloo* That was a joke, too!

*Keeby keeps drinking, pans to Magolor laughing*

Keeby: Oh, I'm dead!

Magolor: That's right it was me!

Gooey: You monster!

Kirby: But why?!

Magolor: Cuz your fat Boy!

*Kirby and Magolor argue*

*the words 'Its Tradition' pops up under Gooey*

Kirby: MAGOLOR!

Magolor: Oh, Dammit Kirby! Screw off! You are dead!

Kirby: No, You! *Kicks Magolor into a dimensional rift* Pow; haha! You are dead! Not big surprise!

Gooey: Well that was idiotic, off to crush myself, watch and lea-

*gets crushed by a moving platform*

Kirby: I am Alive! Is nice.

...

Kirby: Yes, this is stupid.

[theambitiouswoman]

Hi Angel 🤍

I'm a 19 year old girl, and i'm highly ambitious, i'm working my ass off everyday to get what i want, but fear is ruining my brain.

I'm glad i'm where i am now (3rd year at university, abroad in Canada, starting new projects...) but i'm always so terrified.

And fear paralyses me.

My projects include filmphotography/short movie and a book i'm writing right now.

I keep telling myself "do it scared" but i'm so sick and tired of being afraid all the time.

Do you have any advices ?

Hi beauty 🤍

First off, I just want to say how proud I am of you for everything you're doing at just 19!!! You're already achieving so much already. That's something many people only dream about, so please take a moment to acknowledge just how far you've come.

It's tough to have big dreams & to put yourself out there. Fear is like this shadow that creeps in, making us doubt ourselves, abilities & our paths. But here's the thing: fear only shows up when you're doing something that truly matters. It's a sign that you're stepping into something big, something that has the power to change you & the world around you.

You mentioned a phrase I love: "Do it scared." The truth is, fear never really goes away, especially when you're pursuing things that are meaningful & aligned with your passions. But fear can either be your enemy or your fuel. The difference is how you choose to see it. I would say to convince yourself that you are suppose to feel scared, it means you are actually doing something! So accept it as part of the process.

Sometimes, the fear comes from looking at the whole picture—how much you still have to do, how far you still have to go. Instead, focus on just the next small step. Small wins build momentum. Your big goals are certainly achievable, but breaking them down into small stepping stones helps take the fear away.

Remember your deeper "why"? Remind yourself of the passion that got you here, and let that drive you forward. Instead of thinking, "I'm scared," try shifting it to, "I'm excited." The physical sensations of fear & excitement are almost the same.

It's okay to feel afraid. It's okay to not have it all figured out. You're already doing amazing things and there's no timeline you have to follow, seriously. Be kind to yourself and remember that everyone you look up to has felt this same fear.

Lastly, something I always remind myself is: courage isn't the absence of fear; it's the decision to keep moving forward despite it. You're already doing that every single day, and that’s what makes you an incredibly brave girl.

Sending you so much love & strength 🤍

[fairymischief]

I agree with you that they're like that, and I think "understand" is sort of an insufficient word here, because for example: you could "understand" that the stove is hot and will burn you if you touch it, but if you go on putting your hand directly on it everyday expecting something different to happen, do you 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 understand that fact? I would say probably not. It clearly hasn't sunk in that you shouldn't do that. In the same way, men don't truly "understand" that hurting/using women is wrong - and that its therefore not okay to act on it - because they keep doing it. (I really wish there were a word for when you "get" something so thoroughly that it would be unimaginable to consciously act against it, because that's what I'm trying to convey.)

When I speak of "evolution" here I am talking about spiritual evolution, and while I know that many people think that's hogwash, I should clarify what I mean. In my opinion, people who are more spiritually evolved have enough of an innate understanding (even if it's not articulated even to themselves) of the Oneness of things and that they just "get" that its wrong to hurt and use people. Because they're inwardly connected to this Oneness, hurting others hurts them too. So they don't do it.

On the other hand, sadism and exploitation is a sign of existing at a lower level of spiritual evolution, one where you're very disconnected from an understanding of this Oneness. Men and women both "understand" what evil is, but for men its only intellectual because they cannot connect. Understanding intellectually isn't enough, it's the CHOICE that demonstrates 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 "understanding" and determines one's level of evolution.

Since women rarely need to be taught not to do the awful things that come so naturally to most men across all cultures and throughout history, I'll always see them as inherently more evolved.

I've noticed that men usually only see what things are on a very superficial level, and women are able to see not just what they are but what they 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯. We see the larger picture, the symbolism that men either can't see or choose to ignore.

For example, when a woman tells her fiance 4,897 times that when they feed each other cake at the wedding, to please not smash the cake all over her face. She couldn't be clearer that this is immensely important to her. He says, "Okay" - and when the time comes he smashes the cake all over her face, guffawing.

Or when a marriage is on the rocks because a wife feels consistently disrespected and unappreciated, and she gives her husband one last chance to demonstrate that he loves her - and she comes home to a trail of rose petals that lead to a sink full of his dirty dishes. And he calls it a joke.

Men in the comments of these videos say things like, "Gosh, if she gets that mad over a little frosting/a joke, he's better off without her!" But women can understand in a flash that of COURSE its not about frosting or a poor joke - because what buffoon would think that? Its about the total disregard for her feelings; the way that all these things say, "You can plead with me about something that's important to you a million times, and I'll deliberately disregard it and laugh in your face about it. Why? 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦."

And you can't get men to understand any of this. Try it. They'll just say things like, "you obviously can't take a joke just like the other woman here" and eventually trot out some misogynistic slurs. They're literally just not at a level of evolution to understand these things that are so easily grasped by women. As someone once said, "You can't speak butterfly language to caterpillar people."

[georgiapeach30513]

Peach! Mrs. Pasta here...checking in for the second time in a few days!

Normally I just lurk in and smile to myself when I see your posts and banters with your followers. But tonight I just couldn't resist...

Ramen, bless him, is getting really good at the non-specific, vague-turnaround, deflective answers to personal questions! I'm impressed.

Also...Nobody keeps their hands more to themselves than Ramen does when he's around a lot of salty things. Is he on a low-sodium diet? Is that why he exercises such great self-control when it comes to these things? TBF, he's very gentlemanly when it comes to being around women, especially costars/colleagues.

I can see (most) people on here are either tired, upset, tired, over it, or a combination of both. I can understand that, especially for the mods that run these blogs. I notice that for a lot of people, separation of professional and personal for their favorite celebrity can be a difficult task. I don't blame anyone for feeling that way, it can be hard to "not think about THAT" when you just want to enjoy "THIS". I will say this though.

Something I have found time and again to be true, is that IF something/someone/someplace is meant for you, things will fall into place. If something is NOT meant for you, no matter what you do, things tend to fall apart. You can try and put it back together, but then something else falls. This has happened to me personally recently, where I was in a situation where I wanted to make something work because I thought I had no other choice and I didn't really want to rock the boat further and go searching for something else. Unfortunately, the more I tried, the more I compromised and kept on staying, the worse it got. I'd fix one thing, another would break. I'd get over one hurdle, another inconvenience would pop up. Finally, I decided to take matters in my own hands and started actually listening to what the universe was trying to guide me towards. It was very hard for me to do this, as I'm more of a logical/rational person, than a spiritual one (I don't really like reading signs or feeling energies to tell me what to do)...But I tried a different approach, and started asking the universe, "If this isn't right, what should I do?" And I would listen and wait, and then tangible things would happen, and then I started making different decisions and taking different approaches. Almost immediately, things started changing for the better. I'm in a much better place now (figuratively and literally).

Just some food for thought: Let things play out. They will. And hindsight is always 20/20. Think about it. I believe Anne's blog has a library that can be helpful for those interested. If all else fails, keep coming to Jen's blog where she posts stories, baking, and general hilarity to keep everyone's spirits up. You are truly a beautiful soul, Miss GeorgiaPeach! <3

Mrs. Pasta! Welcome back. Clearly, your presence has been much needed this past week. Which I do say that there is a reason one shouldn’t consume too much sodium. I suppose were all bloated, and now need to fast.

Ramen is quite smart. He’s playing it coy and vague, non-definite answers. He’s doing good, despite a quick facial change with some questions. It’s funny to watch.

For someone that is quite a gentleman and claims to love PDA his hands do seem quite to himself. But it is a family movie after all, wouldn’t want to be too obvious, I suppose.

I think a lot of people are tired, and more so tired of ongoing arguments that suck the life out of the fandom, much like an overly salted diet. So maybe it’s just the influx of salt that has everyone red in the face? But this is why I implore anyone to curate the space that you want. Filter tags, block blogs, unfollow blogs, create the space that you watch to see with personalities that jive well with your own.

The universe is quite a tricky lady. She usually makes way for things that are for you. Usually when you try to fit a square peg in a round hole, you’re met with resistance. You can sit there, and smile you’re doing it, but others around you will eventually be able to see that you are in fact creating a bigger problem with an impossible task. I’m glad you were able to get to a better place once you listened, and were aware that what you’re forcing isn’t for you.

I do think that hindsight is 20/20. There always seems to be something poking around that pops up at the last minute. Eventually things either fall into place, or you’ve created a big mess. @anneslibrary is a great well of information. And of course @annislittleshopofhorrors herself is a peach in her own right. You are a beautiful soul from the inside out as well, Mrs. Pasta. Take care, and never feel afraid to pop on by when you can.

[tapakah0]

[beef-brisket]

Adam walked up the desolate streets of the Pride Ring. Behind him, the exorcists took off to the sky.

Adam could hear the screaming and begging of the sinners not quick enough to get away.

Lute walks up next to him: Year three, sir. Would you like me to stay with you?

Adam: Nah, go kick some ass bitch.

Lute: You to, sir.

She spreads her wings and launches herself up and away from her commander.

Adam sighed. Fuck he hated coming down here. It's been a good six thousand years since he died. And five thousand since he learned just how many of his descendants were ending up here when they died. It was fucking embarrassing.

He didn't want to slaughter them, but Heaven insists it's a better fate than Hell. He thinks they should suffer down here. It's what they deserve. To fall with that bastard who calls himself a king.

Lucifer: Back again, huh? I really thought Heaven was joking! But uh... well, look who's back.

Adam rolled his eyes. This fucking clown. He turns and stares down the "king". The fucking lair.

Adam: Nope. Their dead serious. You signed the contract, asshole, so don't act so surprised.

Lucifer leaned on his cane and waved his hands around.

Lucifer: No, no, I understand the whole contract thing... I'm just surprised, is all. You of all people... actually condoning this? You were so... not this.

Adam didn't want to do this. He struggled for over nine hundred years on earth. He wanted his afterlife. He wanted his peace. But no. He was cleaning up this chuckle fucks mess. He had to raise his son, deal with constant pressure from the angels, deal with Eve's fucking put downs and bulling- while still having to fuck the bitch.

After all these years, he's still picking up after Lucifer. And all he has to do is sit on his bullshit throne and jerk off. Raise a daughter. With a wife who loves him. Adam doesn't have that. He can't. He can't give himself to another. He doesn't dare touch anyone or let them get too close. No one has seen his face for thousands of years.

It's to the point where he doesn't even know if there's someone underneath it. Or if he really has horns and sharp teeth.

Adam: You don't know me.

Lucifer: ...I used to.

Adam glared, his fingers itching to spawn his axe.

Asam: No, you didn't.

Lucifer: Adam- it's been a long time. Don't you think we- you should have moved past this by now? You have your afterlife, live it! Pun intended-.

Adam: I don't have a fucking afterlife. THIS bullshit takes up 98% of it! Do you think I WANT to be fucking down here?! Do you think I WANT to have to fucking see you every fucking year!? I've had enough of this bullshit! But no. Their my descendants- my fucking issue! Picking up YOUR trash! Instead of doing whatever I want, I have to come here and fucking listen to the screams! To the begging! I don't want to be here. I don't want to see you. Or think about you. Or hear you. Or about your fucking bullshit family- I don't give a fuck.

Lucifer: Adam- if you keep doing this, you'll end up down here-.

Lucifer tensed as a giant, golden axe flew past his head. He follows the axe and watches it slam into the torso of a snake sinner. A large one, too. He hears a gutteral scream, the sinner clawing at the heavy axe before falling limp.

Lucifer eyes are wide, and he turns to look at the man he considers- after all these years, his best friend. His sweet, gentle Adam.

He suddenly finds himself looking up at the man. He's so much taller than he was in Eden. He can't read his expression because of that damn mask. How can he be sure that's even his Adam under there?

Adam: I won't fall for your people's sins. I'm here to cleanse them. To rid their souls from this joke of an existence. I'm cleaning up your mess.

Lucifer stares at him. Even as the axe his pulled into Adam's hand, he doesn't flinch. But he could barely keep his eyes off the dark red blood dripping from the blade and down the handle to Adam's hands.

Lucifer: ...this isn't you. This isn't Adam.

Adam: Adam's dead. He died in that fucking garden. And I wish I could fucking join him.

Lucifer was stunned into silence as Adam walked away. He watched him for a few seconds.

Lucifer: You'll end up here Adam! And I'll be waiting for you!

Adam stops and turns to Lucifer, a deranged smile on his face.

Adam: I'll butcher every last one of these fuckers before that happens. And, as soon as that contract is broken, I'll be coming after you, and that little family of yours~.

Lucifer: Don't you DARE threaten them, Adam!

Adam: It's not a threat, it's a fucking promise. I'll show your daughter who you really fucking are, a lair, a cheater, a betrayer, a fucking clown. I'll make her hate you as much as I do.

Lucifer watches as Adam takes off. It's so quick that he almost missed it.

Adam could feel himself start to cry, and it pisses him off. Now he's shedding tears for that fucker. He eyes a group of sinners who aren't running. Good, they haven't noticed him.

Lucifers is about to walk away when a few blocks away. There is an explosion of golden light. It sets the sky on fire, and smoke and dust are sent into the sky. The screaming echoes through the streets.

Lucifer: ...I've lost you.

Adam finds himself standing in the kitchen. His face and chest were soaked with tears. His vision is nothing but gold until he rubs his eyes, and everything slowly returns to normal. He looks down at his chest and hands, their covered in gold. The golden tears he cries.

He looks out the window. It's still dark. He has time to shower and start on Lucifer's breakfast.

Maybe he'll pick some fresh flowers.

I'm coming up with some aus for you, but I need some meeting shenanigans.

I would love to know what bullshit Adam and Lucifer got up to during meetings.

Slowly healing their relationship, one meeting at a time 👀

Well I think the very first one they wouldn't even be alone together because of what happened. I think Adam would just silently glare at him.

Over time when Adam was feeling more confident to face the devil he'd go alone but by hologram, Sera's idea.

Making snide remarks, snappy comments, and being sassy.

And Lucifer would come back with his own and they would end up in banter for a while other than why they are really there.

As more time passes it's less hateful and more playful, maybe even takes on a flirty edge.

And I always see Lucifer being the one to make the first move after what happened in Eden. Adam has so many insecurities he wouldn't think that Lucifer would want him as more than maybe a friend.

Hit me with them bud 👀