#‘oh it’s always been accurate before!!!!1! >:(‘

[stylishanachronism]

PSA: if you use a formula that has Nothing to do with the problem you are trying to solve, and it gives you the wrong answer (because it is the wrong formula) it is neither my fault nor my problem that the amount of money you have earned is not the amount you were expecting.

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Verdict Due (Part 4) Clear Skies (Part 5)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4!! OUT NOW

[boiohboii]

How would that keep us safe?

(Kimi Raikkonen x pregnant!wife!reader)

Inspo

When a formula 1 driver's car fails on them, they would a. be angry, b. go straight to their engineers, c. stay in the team's motor home.. but not kimi raikkonen, no sir, especially not with his pregnant wife on a yacht on her own.

or

in which Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber and Jenson Button make fun of the infamous ice man for being head over heels for his wife so he just decides to double down.

WARNINGS: not proof read (when do I ever proof read this stuff), no sense of timeline whatsoever, just a small crackhead fic that came to mind. Thank you insta algorithm for the Kimi edits, the man is so fine omg, solid dilf right here people.

Masterlist

"God," yn huffed as she, for an accurate description, waddled alongside her husband, Kimi Raikkonen into the Mclaren garage "if you don't keep it in your pants next time I will chop it off."

"Yes dear." Kimi replied with a smile on his face, hiding his laughter as best as he could to spare himself the lecture that would inevitably make him laugh harder- he can't help it, his wife is much more adorable trying to give him an earful with her puffed cheeks, stomping feet and her belly looking like it's about to pop at any second.

It hadn't even been 30 minutes before yn started to feel the heat getting to her, making her fan herself with the collar of her shirt while glaring at the fan that evidently did nothing to help her out.

"Everything alright dear?"

"No, no!" yn turned to look at her husband "it's so fucking hot i feel like my skin is melting off and your daughter wouldn't stop kicking my bladder so no, nothing is fucking alright!"

While the engineers around gulped, scared for their lives, Kimi bit his lips to avoid smiling at his very cute, frustrated wife. He had gotten used to her snapping at him whenever any little thing annoyed her, he knew it's the least he can do and she always apologises so no harm done really.

"It's okay, here, how about you go watch the race from the yacht? Will that be better?" Kimi whispered as he stood behind his wife with his hands underneath her belly, lifting it up to give his wife some rest.

"Oh my god," yn groaned in relief "I really needed that, I love you."

Staying like that for a few minutes, yn agreed that it would be much better if she watched the race from the yacht in her swimming suit, the atmosphere and the clothing would definitely make it much more comfortable for her. And just as she was about to leave, new company arrived.

"Ohhh, did he piss you off enough to leave him before a race?"

"Damn Kimi, don't make a pregnant woman that mad, especially not your wife."

The voices of Sebastian Vettel and Jenson Button joined the couple, along with the laugh of Mark Webber.

"Oh, shut up." As much as Kimi tells yn that he would rather eat chalk than willingly hang out with these guys, he is indeed fond of them.

"He didn't piss me off," yn pulled her husband down so she could kiss him, smiling upon hearing two of the three newcomers groan and a whistle (of course it's sebastian) "i just feel like I will burst any second so I am going to watch the race from One More Toy"

"What the fuck is one more toy?"

"Oh, it's kimi's yacht."

"Our yacht."

Placing one palm on her belly while his other rests on her cheek, Kimi smiled at his wife "be safe, yes?"

"Yeah, of course."

Giving her a kiss on her forehead, Kimi let go of his wife, watching her head towards his yacht with the help of one of the interns.

"Be safe." Came the mocking voice of Jenson Button

"I'll be so safe." Sebastian continued as they both reincarnated the way Kimi and Yn were standing a few seconds ago; Jenson's hands on Sebastian's stomach and cheek

"I'm going to kill you on this track."

Deciding to join, Mark stood in between Sebastian and Jenson, breaking up their proximity and placing his arms around their shoulders "but how would that keep us safe?"

"An engine failure, yet again from Mclaren."

"It seems like Raikkonen is the one who will retire this race, what a shame."

"Everyone was hoping for him to win this race, he had been phenomenal these past few races giving one stellar performance after the other, truly a waste to see him go this early into the race."

"Well, it looks like Kimi is going to walk to the garage."

"That is insane, it's like a 20 minute walk, no?"

"And we are back, and oh my god, there is Kimi Raikkonen in his yacht, he hasn't got a shirt on, with his wife on his lap, the father to be could not care less in this moment ladies and gentlemen."

"What a legend, the Iceman strikes again everyone, leaving the race to be on a yacht with his family. And oh my god, it seems that the couple are having the time of their lives on their yacht 'one more toy' with snacks all around and their hands all over each other."

[augustinewrites]

“just leave me alone!” 

megumi storms off towards his room as gojo’s easygoing expression falls away instantly, leaving you conflicted as to who you should check on first. (which is difficult to do when you remember that thirteen year old boys hate talking about their emotions almost as much as twenty-five year old ones do.)

you decide that megumi needs a few minutes to cool down, so you step into the kitchen first, where your fiancé is tearing open a new bag of candy a little more harshly than necessary. you lean your hip against the counter as he murmurs a greeting. 

“what was that about?” you ask. 

“he hates me,” he shrugs. 

“he’s a thirteen year old boy. he hates everybody,” you point out, but it fails to make him laugh like you’d intended. instead, his frown only deepens and he mutters,

“he doesn’t hate you.” 

you tilt your head slightly. “is that what this is about? me being his favourite?”

“i don’t know,” he sighs. “i…i just can’t seem to connect with him the way you’ve always been able to.”

“that’s not true,” you say quickly, unsure of what exactly you can say to make him feel better. it’s not like him to be so insecure. “you guys have had your moments.”

“not lately. i just keep pissing him off,” he huffs, unwrapping and popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “did i do something?” 

you open up the fridge to pull some ingredients for lunch, sighing. “i don’t think so, but nanami, shoko, and i were texting about it the other day—”

“wait, you’re in a group chat with nanami and shoko?”

“oh yeah,” you nod, setting your vegetables on the counter. “it’s mostly memes, but sometimes we talk about how messed up you are.”

he blinks at you a few times before muttering that you’d get back to that later. “what’d they say?” 

“they quoted a lot of freud, but the gist of it was that it’s normal for fathers and sons to butt heads.”

he frowns deeply at that. “so what should i do?”

“be patient. he’ll come around eventually.”

“easy for you to say,” he huffs. “you’re the only mother figure he’s ever known. he’s already had a dad.”

“satoru, he’s thirteen. he’s officially been with us longer than he was with toji.” 

you study his conflicted expression as he turns that information over in his mind. “okay, how about this? i was going to take him to the mall to buy new clothes after lunch, but why don’t you go with him instead?”

“that’s a great idea!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together excitedly. “i’ll take him to the bookstore too! can you find out what’s on his reading list?” 

“he’s not a little kid anymore,” you remind him. “you can’t just buy his affection with a new book.”

“i’ll buy him two, then.” 

“i love where your heart is at,” you start slowly. “but you just…have to give him space to let him come to you.”

he groans loudly, coming up behind you to press his forehead into the crook of your neck. you smile, tilting your head to the side and reaching up to pat his hair. 

“i guess this is good practice for when we have our own kid,” he mutters, stiffening when he feels your hand still in his hair.

“our own kid, huh? so does that mean you’re done bringing home strays?” 

“you three are all i need,” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “whatever happens next…is just a bonus.” 

BONUS:

[you] [1 attachment]

[nanami] Why is he dressed like Gojo?

[shoko]: like father like son huh

[you] satoru had a quarter-life crisis yesterday. just a small one. 

[shoko] i’m not surprised. his life is like a shakespearean tragedy.

[nanami] That is accurate.

[you] he’s trying to bond with megumi.

[shoko] by dressing him like he’s emotionally unavailable?

[you] what does that even mean?

[shoko] the sunglasses

[you] ?

[nanami] Elaborate further, please.

[shoko] eyes are the windows to the soul. 

[nanami] (the more you know gif)

[midascrow]

Lucifer x GN!Reader

A Fan of the Devil?

———————//————

synopsis: Charlie’s father is introduced to the hotels “Gardener”, and comes to find out that they’re a fallen soul from above. He’s also surprised to learn that they’re a fan of his.

warnings: religious pressure(?)

an: Part 1? If this is well received ofc. This is told from Lucifer’s perspective and therefore his view and inner thoughts regarding what’s going on around him. I also threw in the idea that he’s bad with names cuz that feels very accurate to me lol

—————————————————————-

He hadn’t expected his daughter’s friends to be so….eccentric, upon meeting them. Of course he knew Charlie’s heart bled gold for any sinner around, but he thought-, more so he hoped that she would keep somewhat better company.

Especially in the revelation of this “RaDiO DEmOn”.

Baggie- Mag- Vaggie, was alright he supposed. She loves his daughter, perhaps just as much as he does,that much he was sure. And while he was a bit disheartened by having not known of their relationship prior, he was still content and moved by the way the two leaned towards each others embrace as they spoke.

His heart ached. Just a bit.

“Are they up in their room again?”

“I think they’re in the Garden again, hon.”

Garden? The hotel had a garden?

“Oh! Oh maybe we could-“

“I don’t know…you know how they can be about us going in there..”

“Pshhhh! I’m sure it’ll be fine Vaggie! Plus remember how they always talked about meeting him??”

Meeting who? Who’s meeting who??

Was there some kind of owl in here?

“Dad!”

“Ah!”

Charlie blinked down at her father in an awkward beam, watching his red eyes dart around nervously, for a moment or two. “Who?!-“ His throat dried and swelled in embarrassment, cracking his voice as he fixed his pride with a dust off his hat. “Uhm…Yes? Char?” Nailed it. Totally. Very cool and suave of you big boss.

His daughter smiled, a crease in her brow before she clasped his arm and tugged him forward, away from the peering eyes of the others and down a long corridor. “There’s someone- Well-there’s someone who’s been dying to meet you! Yknow ever since they arrived here it’s just be non stop-“

Someone wanted to meet him? Why??

Surely they were a weirdo.

His grimace must’ve given him away, because Vaggie, who he hadnt noticed following them till the moment of, gave a small hum, to cut through her girlfriends words.

“They were a bit of a fanatic on earth apparently.”

He dead panned.

“A cultist.”

“No.”

“A satanist?”

“That’s not even what satanists do!”

“…..”

“….A banker-“

“Just-!….Wait and you’ll see.”

He fell silent at that, a frown pulled onto his pale lips as his feet dragged him towards wherever they were headed.

He was a bit stumped when they came upon two large doors, both decorated in shimmering glass mozaics, depicting two dividing scenes. An Angel; hands carefully cupped around a beautifully red apple, kneeled down towards the other mural, was depicted on the right. And on the Left, in the same position, with the same red apple, a demon.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“Wow Honey! I uh- Didn’t know this door even existed! It’s very cool, yes yes very cool- now let’s head back to the-!” He called nervously, a half witted laugh leaving his sharp tooth smile as Charlie nodded vigorously, shiney eyes aglow as she took hold of the golden handles of the ornate doors, pulling them open with a mighty huff as a golden light spilled from inside.

It was startling to say the least, fact proven by how Lucifer felt his wings practically shoot from his back in defense, feathers cascading down in time with the petals and leaves that followed an imaginary breeze through the threshold.

His ears strained to hear the quiet sound of rushing water and leaves shaking, birds chirping and insects buzzing quietly somewhere in the back.

His skin warmed. Not in the way it naturally did from hells weather, but as if the sun was beaming down on his skin for the first time in eons. Of course, he knew it was fake. But it was so close.

“Oh- shit! Charlie!” A voice barked beyond the golden glow of the garden, a figure stepping out from the shadows of a large bush, covered in leaves and flowers as they stumbled clumsily through, racing towards the door and slamming it shut, completely ignorant to the king beside their hip, who’s gaze pierced them in silent wonder.

He hadn’t felt that in a while.

“What did I tell you about coming in unannounced! You could throw off the entire ecosystem! The slightest temperature shift might make one of the flowers wilt or one of the fruits shrivel! At least warn me before-“

“Ahem.”

The sinner paused, shoulders jumping stiffly as they froze, finger pointed towards Charlie rudely from their rant before their gaze shifted to the side.

He heard the way their breath hitched, and his chest puffed slightly in pride, wings fluttering just slightly.

“Hello there.” He was being cheeky, he knew that, though his smile felt a tad too genuine, caused by the sheer awe that glimmered across the sinners face at the sight of him. “Lucifer Morningstar, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to dislike that look. He was the avatar of pride after all.

And a small part of him took a rather large enjoyment in the stuttering and stumbling of the sinner before him.

“Y-Your highness! Oh my gosh-“ He grinned “I wasn’t expecting your company- I would’ve dressed more- well I-“ Vaggie coughed from the side, redirecting their attention as they picked the stray foliage form their hair and clothes in a frenzy, towards the garden around them.

With a startled gasp they quickly stepped to the side, nearly tumbling in their haste as they held their arm out, presenting the garden to the king. “It’s..it’s an honor to meet you Sir.” Your voice was steadier, but still thick with anxiety that stuck like molasses to your tongue.

He watched your hand tremble, just slightly. Like his.

His wings fluttered again. A warm feeling bursting through his chest and into his eyes, giving them that shine that reflected the faux golden glow of the sun in the large green room. “The pleasures all mine, My dear. Do you mind explaining what it is you have-.…here”

His smile faltered, gaze stuck on the tree that stood tall and proud in the center of the spacious garden. Its leaves and branches stretched far, each adorned by beautiful red..apples, that hung and shimmered in the light. He expected the familiar ache of guilt to swarm his heart, but was surprised when he found himself breathless instead.

“I hope it’s..somewhat accurate. I’ve only seen recreations of course, never the real thing..” Your voice was a bit muffled in his mind.

He felt you step cautiously beside him, as he continued to gaze reverently at the scene before him. Shadows and memories danced past his eyes and through the patches of sun that decorated the floor. He swore he could hear quiet calls and whispers mix with the rustling leaves.

“You made this?” It wasn’t really a question.

Plants weren’t common in hell. Especially none such as this. They simply couldn’t grow in the rotted soil that spread across his kingdom. And there was simply no pure water to be found that could sustain them. So how-

“I might’ve take a few things before I fell.” You laughed shyly, cheeks warmed under the sun and the intense gaze of the King that snapped towards you.

Lucifer finally got a proper look at you. At your eyes and your features. Your afflictions. There was no denying you were a human soul. It was clear as day and still beat deep in your being. But..

“You were in heaven?” He gasped, eyes wide, mouth agape as he turned fully towards you, the grip on his cane tight as he scanned over the few demonic markings that lined your body, and the big golden X that flashed across your entire being. For only his eyes to see.

A virtuous soul cast out? Was that even possible? To turn away a true, virtuous soul, one of the few who had made it into heavens gate from their life on earth-

“It’s safe to say I didn’t truly agree with heavens teachings. It was too…polished.” There was an easy going smile that matched your tone, as you let your eyes wander towards the tree that wisely outshined every other plant in the garden. You continued.

“Heaven wasn’t my first choice. Frankly I didnt believe in it to begin with. But my folks were..somewhat of zealots. They wanted the best for me, I know that. But I missed…” You paused, seemingly thoughtful as Lucifer watched you with rapt attention, you both becoming ignorant to the two lovers that slipped out.

Charlie smiled softly to herself. Her dad needed this.

“I missed the free will that their religion took away from me.” Your gaze was knowing, almost wise like the tree when it peered back into his own, and Lucifer swore he felt something crack. Something lift from his shoulders and pulled his wings away, letting them spread proudly, in a way he hadn’t felt or experienced in years. Possibly ever.

“You know….I always enjoyed the story of you they told on earth.” Lucifer grimaced again, the vision of you dimming for a moment as he glanced away.

“Is that so? I’m sure they’re singing my praises.” It was a dry laugh, his hands gesturing in a faux confidence, but his lips quirked when he heard your muffled one.

“No, many aren’t. Most seem to align themselves with Heavens view…” You hummed thoughtfully and stepped forwards into the soft grass that peaked through the cracks of brimstone. Lucifer followed, instinctively. He felt leashed by your presence, though not necessarily in a bad way.

“Though there are plenty, who think a little more like me. There’s many versions of your story. I always knew that the original couldn’t be the full story. Too..one sided. Time on earth taught me that there was always a second side. Someone’s else thoughts-, perspective. Falling only confirmed that.”

You words tangled with your fingers that fluttered across the branches of a close bush, caressing a small flower that curled into your touch. “The first thing I did was look for the story. Of the garden. I wanted to replicate it, though admittedly there was never much detail to go off!”

You laughed again and the sound was quickly becoming a favorite of his. It was gentle..understanding. It almost hurt.

“And when I read the story..it was different. More romantic for sure.” You flushed softly, cheeks warm again as you recalled the way the story of Lucifer and Lilith warmed your soul. “But..more honest. Heart breaking even. I couldn’t believe how horrible it was must’ve been…and never knowing how amazing your gift was..” you turned to him again, your gaze so earnest and true that it made him step back.

Lucifer couldn’t deny the warmth in his own cheeks. You were pretty..pretty? That felt mundane. You practically glowed in the garden. And while it wasn’t a perfect representation of what Eden had been, it was better.

Eden had always been..one dimensional. It lacked the depth and feeling that Lucifer had hoped to give humanity. It was gorgeous, there was no denying that. But it wasn’t real.

This…This, is what he had hoped for the garden to be. Alive. Truly alive.

And…you brought it life…because of him? It didn’t feel right in a way. Having spent so many years locked away by himself and mourning the sin and ruin he had created from his own selfish wish.

Selfish? Had it been selfish? At the time, when he had done it, it didn’t feel selfish. He wanted humanity to live. To be alive! Truly, and honestly alive.

And you were so Alive. You were dead here in hell and yet you were breathing life into this gorgeous scene because you chose to. You chose to fall too. You chose to be in hell.

Because of him? Because of his…gift?

It was ironic almost. Laughable even.

Your lips pursed, a worried sweat on your brow as you lost that roaring confidence that bled into your words prior. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to preach or anything-“ He stopped you.

“So-.…you’re a fan?” His lips screwed into a wobbly smile, embarrassment creeping up his neck at his less then poetic comment, though the laugh you graced him with almost made the shame worth it.

“You could say that. I personally think I hold the title of number one fan, but you know beggars can’t be choosers I suppose.” You gestured animatedly, a small smirk on your lips as you professed your..favor towards the king, and he gleamed.

“Well!” His hands flew to his suit, straightening it out and letting his chest puff out from its slumped frame. “May I know the name of my, alleged, number one fan?” His words were coy, smug as he gestured to you with a flourish that he had shown to the other residents. (Of course till you had so rudely stunned him to silence)

The smile you gifted him was holy.

“(Y/N)…Your highness.” Your bow was playful, a little awkward and strained, but it made him laugh.

“(Y/n), hm? I’ll be sure to remember that.” His throat cleared briefly, “I…hope you wouldn’t mind me stopping by sometime again soon..I’d like to hear a bit more about your garden.” He liked the way you looked at him in this moment. Disbelieving but so hopeful. Like he was something, someone to gaze at in such a way.

“I’d be honored.”

Maybe you had a fan of your own now, as well.

———————☆

[3d-wifey]

NSFT Alphabet: MK1 Johnny Cage Edition

A/N: Wrote this to hold you Johnny girls (gender neutral) over until I finish that smut 😙 Plus, I find writing these Alphabets for a character in preparation to write full-fledged smut for them is very helpful in capturing accurate characterization. It's almost like a writing exercise. I've written three different ones so far and I tried to keep them in character, if that makes sense. Like, I tried putting their personality and language in it. Okay, enjoy.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Talking. So much talking. But, honestly, did you expect anything else? As he’s pulling out, as he’s carrying you to the shower, as you’re washing his hair. And when it inevitably leads to shower sex, he’s talking then too. You’ll never meet a man who loves the sound of his own voice more than Johnny Cage.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Uh, how ‘bout the artillery canons strapped to his arms? C’mon, I mean, who wouldn’t want a ticket to the gun show? 

Face. Is saying your face too cliche? Hear him out! You want specifics? He can do specifics! He likes the dimples that pop in your cheeks when he finally gets you to laugh at one of his jokes, the little crease you get between your eyebrows when he’s pissed you off, the adorable way your nose scrunches up when he does that one thing with his tongue that drives you crazy. See? Specifics!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Pull out game…very weak. Embarrassingly weak, actually. He swears he’s never had this problem before. His ability to pull out in the nick of time has always been something he’s prided himself on. However, he vastly underestimated just how good you’d feel. He’s clean, you’re clean, and, hey! You both prefer the feeling of hitting it raw, the way nature intended it. However, your pussy’s like wet kryptonite. And he’s only a man. A very awesome man, but a man nonetheless. So birth control it is! Or, if you’re turned off by all the side effects, he can be talked into a vasectomy. It’s either that or give up the sweet, sweet embrace of your walls when he’s balls deep. 

On second thought, that vasectomy sounds pretty tempting. It is reversible, right?

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Johnny would leak his own sex tape. Plain and simple. He’d leak it from a burner account and watch the chaos ensue. There’s no shame in his game. Hey, it’s ranked the Number 1 Celebrity sex tape for a reason.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Is this even a question? Actors, singers, models, directors, producers. He’s THE Johnny Cage, Hollywood royalty. He’s fucked actual royalty. You’re in good hands—as long as he cares about you. If you’re a random hookup, then he’s not really working for your pleasure here. You’ll definitely cum, but it’s mainly a pit stop on his way to the finish line. 

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Reverse cowgirl. Johnny’s an ass man, through and through. He loves fucking up into you and watching your ass ripple with both of your movements. And he loves holding onto you. Big hands grabbing your waist, hips, thighs, and especially your ass. He also loves seeing you both in action. So reverse cowgirl + some artfully placed full-length mirrors = Him wrapping his arms around your stomach, rubbing at your clit, and forcing you to watch yourself as you desperately grind against him, AKA Heaven. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, c’mon. It isn’t like him to be serious in any situation. He’s gotta slip a joke in every now and then. Get it? Slip a joke in?

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Wax on, wax off, baby. Smoother than a seal. Or, uh, some other sexy, hairless animal. You mourn when he waxes his happy trail. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

You’ll be surprised by how charming he can be. It’s not all jokes and great orgasms. It’s also loving touches, reverent compliments, and amazing orgasms.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He’s got a healthy libido and a pretty stacked schedule, so sometimes a quick introduction between his hand and mini Johnny can’t be helped. But he’s also got a smoking hot girlfriend (you), so jerking off by himself is a rare occurrence. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Exhibitionism. What can he say? He’s a performer at heart and he loves an audience. But nothing crazy, just your average celebrity having sex on a yacht that’s in full view of the paparazzi. Or the occasional jerking off with you telling him how fast or slow to go. Oh, and you can’t forget about the sex tapes. Man, with the amount of videos he has of the two of you going at it, he could start an archive. You two have definitely ended up on the cover of TMZ and the front page of Twitter.

Voyeurism. But only for you. He’s enthralled by anything you do, including how many of your much smaller fingers will you stuff inside yourself to replicate the feeling of him stretching you wide. It usually leads to you begging for him to touch you, something else he’s in love with. Nothing wrong with a little hands-on audience participation.

Dirty talk. Normally, dirty talk is kind of basic to any old romp in the hay, but Johnny, being Johnny, puts his own Cage flair on it. Those corny oneliners somehow translate to the perfect thing to say to get you hot. He’s like Shakespear, if Shakespear was good-looking and not a virgin. You know what they say: everything sounds better when you’re horny. Who says that? Uh…

Fighting/Sparing which always leads to blood play. Winning a match gets Johnny’s blood pumping. The adrenaline of escaping death and the crowd hyping him up. And the crux of it all is you who happens to get especially wet when he comes to you covered in blood, grinning with a glint in his eyes that’s poorly hidden behind his blood-speckled sunglasses (a glint that many may describe as mania). And it certainly goes the other way. Watching you kick ass makes him harder than a diamond. Sparing together is a no-brainer that leads to fucking on his gym floor, or, honestly, wherever you two fall. Lui Kang must regret making you two his champions in this timeline with how often he’s walked in on you two. Offering to let him join probably doesn’t soften the blow, but, hey, it’s only polite.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In his mansion. In one of his lavish beds, or pressed up against the wall-length windows. In his Bentley or in the back of his limo. He’s a big fan of fingering you under the table at an award show and then fucking you in a bathroom at said award show when he should definitely be on stage presenting. For whatever reason, walking the red carpet always gets him worked up. And going to the club together always ends with you riding him in the VIP section.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Such a complex question for a man with complex taste. I’m joking, Johnny is so easy. It’s actually ridiculous how easily you turn him on. Laugh at his joke, hard. Complement his acting or fighting, hard. Running your fingers through his hair/scratching his scalp, hard. Feel him up/tease him in any context, hard. You’re covered in blood after a win, hard, hard, rock hard.

“Are you King Midas? Cuz you make me hard with just one touch.”

“That one was actually kinda clever.” 

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing too gross. He’s all for sloppy, messy sex, but he has to draw the line somewhere. There’s nasty 👁🫦👁 and there’s n a s t y 👁👄👁. 

He likes to tease/do the opposite of what you say, but if you’re not 100% on board with what he’s doing, then he’s stopping it then and there. Remember: there’s nothing sexier than explicit consent!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preferred to receive before he started dating you, and only ever had the urge to go down on someone if he had been drinking before. After you started dating, he definitely loved it whenever you gave him head, but he didn’t realize how much pleasure he could get from giving you pleasure. 

He loves sloppy head, giving and receiving, so if you weren’t wet before, you definitely will be after he gets his mouth on you. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on when and where you’re doing it. And if you two are “allowed” to be doing it in said place.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fan of the guy who came up with the idea of quickies, enough said. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

C’mon. He’s the leading source of your sex tapes getting leaked. I mean, how do you think the paps keep finding you in compromising positions? A little tip-off to them while you take his tip, ha!

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

It’s like he runs off horsepower, good God. If you’re trying to go until he’s tired out, it’s gonna be a couple of rounds until then.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s a fan of dildos. Specifically, watching you fuck yourself with one. “Go ahead, baby. Show me how bad you want me.” And show him, you do. God, you know how to put on a show. But you shouldn’t have to settle for some random dildo. You’re with the Cage man, and he would get a mold of his dick made for you. And they say he’s not romantic. 

Strap-on. That’s it. And he takes it well ;).

Remote-controlled vibrators, for you and him. Hell, let’s make a game out of it. See who can last the longest in public, there are no losers! 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

His version of teasing is doing the opposite of what you said to do. You want him to speed up? He’s slowing down and making sure you feel every inch inside you. Oh, keep his hands above his head? You gonna make him? He’s a total brat, but you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to date him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heh, yeahhh. He’s real loud. Moans, groans, screams, whimpers. You name it, he’s doing it. It’s the performer in him. And because he knows you like how he sounds.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Tattoos? Sexy as hell. If you were to ever get his name tattooed on you (preferably a tramp stamp), then you might as well start planning what flowers you want in your bouquet. I could see him getting your name tattooed on him too. Probably on his pelvis, in the middle of his v-line. In case anyone ever needs a reminder of who his dick belongs to.  

Type of guy to dedicate a Mortal Kombat match to you, and then lose. Ah, I’m joking. He’d beat his opponent’s ass all because you promised him victory sex if he won and he doesn’t take victory sex lightly.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s got an 8.5–8.9 inch hog, shower not a grower. Little Johnny isn’t so little. There’s a reason he’s alright with doing full-frontal nudity if the scene calls for it. They’ve had to CG out his bulge in post-production in every Ninja Mime movie. It’s not his fault spandex happens to be the clingiest material known to man.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Higher than Mount Fuji. He’s a stallion in his prime with a gorgeous girlfriend. His spare time is filled with filling you. And you both tend to feed off of each other, so all it takes is for one of you to be the tiniest bit turned on, and then, boom! You’re both desperately grinding against each other in a supply closet. Ain’t that just the way?

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Depends. He’s kind of like a dog that needs to tire himself out before he can sleep. 

Click for a Johnny Cage-shaped surprise👀👀

[greynatomy]

make my heart race || leah williamson social media au

face claim - none (fem!reader)

author’s note - i’ve been into f1 fics lately and an idea popped into my head. i’ll disappear from the writing world again after this so please enjoy and lmk what you think!

p.s. the timeline isn’t real life accurate so dw about the dates so much

liked by charles_leclerc, williamsracing and 20,365 others

formula2 Y/N Y/LN IS YOUR 2020 FIA FORMULA 2 CHAMPION

view all comments

user1 that’s my girl!!!

user2 hell yeah!!

charles_leclerc she’s growing up 🥺 doing bigger things

↳ user3 AH i love this friendship

↳ user4 I SHIP THEM SO HARD YOUR HONOR

↳ yourinstagram wtf chucky don’t ever use that emoji again

↳ user5 SHE CALLS HIM CHUCKY😩 IM SLEEPING ON THE HIGHWAY

↳ charles_leclerc but that’s my face right now

↳ yourinstagram well stop it

↳ user6 MAMA Y PAPA, MAMA Y PAPA

user7 girls shouldn’t be in formula one

↳ user8 bitch are you blind?? this is literally the formula 2 account

↳ user9 she not there yet but best believe she will

lewishamilton congratulations y/n!!

↳ yourinstagram ONFGSHDBD LEWIS HAMILTON SEVEN TIME FORMULA ONE WORLD CHAMPION JUST CONGRATULATED ME

↳ charles_leclerc you’ve literally met him before…

↳ yourinstagram CHARLES SHUT UP LET ME FANGIRL

↳ user10 i love her

liked by charles_leclerc, user1 and other 17,749 others

yourinstagram chucky let me drive

view all comments

user1 why does she call him chucky?

↳ user2 they basically grew up together and she’s always called him that

↳ user3 it’s actually pretty cute

↳ user4 her charles and max started carting around the same time

user5 he’s so hot 🥵 my man my man my man

charles_leclerc you drove for five seconds and told me to take a picture

↳ yourinstagram okay???? don’t gotta tell them

↳ charles_leclerc maman always told me to be truthful

↳ user6 why do i ship

↳ yourinstagram you’re uninvited to my yacht

↳ charles_leclerc what yacht??

↳ yourinstagram 🖕

↳ user7 this is so sibling coded

liked by yourinstagram, scuderiaferrari and 22,738 others

formula2 BREAKING: @/yourinstagram steps up to @/f1 with @/scuderiaferrari starting the 2021 season on a three year contract 🪜

You got this Y/N! 🇪🇸

#F2 #RoadToF1 #Y/NY/LN

view all comments

user1 no way

user2 where all the haters at saying she wouldn’t make it??

user3 girls shouldn’t be in formula one

↳ user4 too bad!! she’s making bank while you’re rotting at home!

↳ user3 she still shouldn’t be in racing at all

↳ user5 boohoo bitch go cry about it!

yourinstagram i’m gonna miss you so much admin🥲

↳ formula2 we’ll miss you too! off to bigger things!🍾

user6 she’s replacing vettel??

↳ user7 yes and she’s amazing

scuderiaferrari so excited to have you join us!!

↳ yourinstagram forza ferrari!!!

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 345,638 others

yourinstagram new season, new car 😎

view all comments

user1 oh shit she’s gonna go vroom vroom even faster this year

↳ yourinstagram you know it 😏

charles_leclerc i got a new car too

↳ yourinstagram go to your own instagram this is all about me

↳ scuderiaferrari podium 1-2??

↳ yourinstagram all day baby!!

maxverstappen1 i bet my cat is still faster

↳ yourinstagram nah i’m taking your title this year

↳ user2 spicy y/n i’m here for it

↳ landonorris my car can go fast too!

↳ yourinstagram it better be able to cause if not… then idk bud

liked by f1, user1 and 364,829 others

scuderiaferrari PODIUM for both Charles and Y/n! Congratulations Charles for P3 and a HUGE CONGRATULATIONS to Y/N for winning her first ever Grand Prix!!!

Great day at Silverstone! ���🇧

#F1 #BritishGP

view all comments

user1 VAMOS!!!! 🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸

user2 P1 P1 P1

user3 first ever woman to win a formula one grand prix!!!

user4 is that leah williamson on the third slide??

↳ user5 who’s leah williamson?

↳ user6 who’s leah williamson??? she’s the captain of the lionesses!!

↳ user7 what sport is that?

↳ user6 football

liked by alexiaputellas, liawaelti and 132,738 others

leahwilliamsonn Had so much fun at my first GP with my hometown team @/astonmartinf1 💚

view all comments

user1 no way! i’m here too!!

user2 woso x f1 both my worlds colliding

astonmartinf1 so glad you could join us!! 💚💚

↳ leahwilliamsonn thank you for having me!

kyracooneyx did your research live up to your expectations?

↳ leahwilliamsonn don’t expose me

↳ liawaelti she didn’t do any research cause she wanted to be surprised

↳ leahwilliamsonn i guess it’s gang up on leah day 🙄

user3 have fun!

user4 i need her 😩

yourinstagram it was so nice to meet you!

↳ leahwilliamsonn thank you for coming up!

↳ yourinstagram i would be crazy if i didn’t hermosa 😉 come back soon, maybe to a different garage

↳ user5 nurse! y/n is off her meds again!

↳ user6 i don’t think we’re supposed to be here

↳ user7 we’re definitely interrupting something

liked by user1, user2 and 7,648 others

wagdates Y/N Y/LN seen out with Leah Williamson at a skate park in Spain days before the Spanish Grand Prix.

view all comments

user3 they said ‘fuck being secret’

user4 i love them already your honor!

user5 the highway looks comfortable to sleep in right now

charles_leclerc @/yourinstagram busted

↳ yourinstagram shut up

↳ user6 did charles just confirm?

↳ user7 what other confirmation do you need? they’re literally making out

↳ user6 it could be a friendly kiss 🤷‍♀️

user7 okayyy but why is no one talking about the HAND PLACEMENT?????

↳ user8 THANK YOU!! it was all i could seee

↳ user9 i mean if i was dating leah i’d want her to choke me too 🤷‍♀️

↳user10 preach sister 🙌

liked by leahwilliamsonn, liawaelti and 471,739 others

scuderiaferrari pre-race through our lense 📸

#Y/NY/LN #SpanishGP

view all comments

user1 leah better stay away from her she’s mine!

↳ user2 never seen anyone more delulu than you

user3 can’t wait for leah to show up

user4 she so so fineuhhhh

charles_leclerc @/yourinstagram is this a photoshoot or a grand prix??

↳ yourinstagram nothing 🤷‍♀️ just an inchident

↳ user5 i love this little relationship they have

liked by yourinstagram, user1 and 90,739 others

leahwilliamsonn Another amazing Grand Prix with @/astonmartinf1 🤍

view all comments

yourinstagram 🤤🤤🤤

yourinstagram ditch them and come to my garage

yourinstagram i need my good luck charm

↳ leahwilliamsonn we’ll see

↳ user2 the way y/n probably has her post notifications on 😩

user3 she looks so good i need her

liked by user1, user2 and 10,748 others

wagdates Y/N Y/LN runs to Leah Williamson in the stands after her home GP win!!

Relationship confirmed?!

view all comments

user3 NOWAY??? THEY DID THAT?

user4 IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE CROWD?

↳ user5 right when Y/N got out of her car, she ran straight to Leah, ignoring everyone else

↳ user6 UGH that’s so cuteee

user7 that should be me 😫

liked by leahwilliamsonn, charles_leclerc and 502,274 others

yourinstagram number one at home with my number one 🏆

👤 : leahwilliamsonn

view all comments

leahwilliamsonn so proud of you ♥️♥️♥️

↳ yourinstagram te amo ♥️♥️♥️

↳ user1 when will it be my turn??

charles_leclerc double date when?

↳ yourinstagram make an appointment with my manager

↳ alexandrasaintmleux a double date sounds great!

↳ leahwilliamsonn yeah darling a double date is a great idea

↳ yourinstagram …double date it is

↳ maxverstappen1 make that a triple date!

↳ yourinstagram yes! i won’t be stuck with chuck

↳ charles_leclerc i am offended

↳ user2 not them going 3v1 with y/n

user3 i need to stop being single

liked by yourinstagram, alexandrasaintmleux and 116,739 others

leahwilliamsonn who new going to watch cars go vroom will help me find the one

👤 : yourinstagram

view all comments

yourinstagram watching you kick balls is pretty interesting too

↳ leahwilliamsonn being a wag suits you

↳ yourinstagram never thought i’d be a wag but i’m glad i’m yours

↳ landonorris alright! we get it! you love each other…

↳ user1 lando just had to get his two cents in

↳ charles_leclerc you’re just salty cause you’re still single

↳ yourinstagram who taught you that word?

↳ leahwilliamsonn that might’ve been me…

↳ user2 i never thought i’d see charles using gen z slang

user3 wait who is leah kissing??

↳ user4 y/n y/ln she’s a formula one driver

alexandrasaintmleux we gotta hang out just the two of us! have a day without the two!

↳ leahwilliamsonn text me!!

↳ charles_leclerc what??

↳ yourinstagram without us??

user5 bro wtf did author just wrote a whole love story through instagram and twitter?

[themultifanshipper]

The party was wild. Las Vegas was no joke.

But the after party was what George was looking forward to the most.

Part 7 of One of the Boys

Warnings: smut, semi public sex, oral (both f and m receiving), voyeurism, the hotel cuck chairTM, mxm blowjob (plot twist spoiler oops), I haven’t gotten over my vampire!george obsession so a bit of neck marking and biting

You'd accompanied the boys to the club to celebrate with them all after what had been quite an intense weekend for everybody. The bass was pumping, drinks were flowing, and everyone was having a good time.

At some point during the night, Max had dragged you into a bathroom, determined to have a taste of you before George inevitable whisked you off to his hotel room.

He had you bent over the sink, gripping the edge for dear life as he lapped at your glistening folds until you were a gasping, shaking mess, coming on his expert tongue twice before he let up.

When you got too overstimulated to continue, he kissed the back of your thighs apologetically and pulled your underwear back up and your dress down to cover you, before turning you around and smirking at your fucked out expression.

“Doing okay there, schat?”

You nodded swiftly and leaned up to peck him on the lips with a smile.

“Never better. My turn”

You unbuckled his belt and sank to your knees in front of him.

“You know you don't have t- oh!”

You didn't let him finish his sentence, instead putting his leaking tip between your lips and suckling on it softly, which always shut him up with maximum efficiency.

He was breathless as you sank down on him more and more, and with how many Gin & tonics he had in his system, it didn't take long for him to lose control and grip the edge of the sink as he came in your mouth with a groan of your name.

You blinked up at him and opened your mouth to show him the bitter liquid on your tongue and he groaned at the sight.

“That's disgusting”

You chuckled and quickly spat the cum into the sink before answering.

“I'd believe you if your dick hadn't twitched”

He laughed softly while tucking himself back into his own clothes.

You rinsed your mouth out with water and Max washed his hands before you unlocked the door and stepped back out into the busy club and into the throng.

It took all of 10 steps before you bumped into the man of the night and his teammate.

“Oh hi guys!” you squealed, embracing George and Lewis in a hug.

George had a smirk on his face as he spotted Max behind you coming out of the bathroom.

“I see you've been congratulating our world champion” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you rolled your eyes.

“I gave him a little treat, yes. His real reward will be after Abu Dhabi, though. Why?”

“No reason” he raised his hands in surrender “but I wanted to ask, or more accurately, Lewis wanted to ask if he could possibly join us tonight”

You whined frustratedly.

The last triple header had been hard because you'd been sore for 3 whole weeks thanks to the Ferrari 1-2, so it was in your best interests to calm down and take it easy so that you wouldn't be exhausted when the last race of the season rolled around.

You eyed Lewis hesitantly, contemplating your answer.

“I mean… you know I love you Lewis. But I don't want to start off too strong this time and burn myself out before we get to Abu Dhabi, you know?”

He laughed and pulled you into a brief hug.

“Don't worry I understand! We can be quite a handful” he winked at you and you smirked.

Yes, yes they were a handful. But you suddenly had an idea.

“But if you want you can watch… if that's okay with George of course” you batted your eyes at George and he slinked an arm around your waist.

“Of course he can watch us.” He smiled and gave you a brief reassuring squeeze.

“Great!” You looked between the two. “Lead the way gentlemen”

You lay down on the bed as George got undressed, motioning for Lewis to sit down in the chair in the corner.

Before he could however, George stopped him by grabbing his arm and he muttered something in the older man's ear.

Lewis' eyebrows shot up in surprise and his jaw dropped.

“Yeah. Okay” he said breathlessly and he sat down.

“What was that about?” you purred as George climbed over you, mouthing at your neck.

“Nothing, just a little challenge for Lewis while he watches us…”

You weren't able to dwell on it too long, because George slotted a thigh between yours and pressed into you while kissing down your neck and nipping at your sensitive skin.

When he got to your right nipple, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked, making your hips buck up and spread your wetness further up his thigh.

“That's it darling, use my thigh. You're such a needy little thing, I bet you could get yourself off just like this.”

You let out a low whine and sped up the roll of your hips, the drag of your clit against his skin was heavenly.

George tried to appear unaffected, but the feeling of you desperately rubbing your slick cunt over his skin was driving him wild.

And the sight of it was definitely affecting Lewis, who was white-knuckling the armrests of the chair he was sat in.

George’s cock was hard against your stomach and you reached down to touch him, but he grabbed it and pinned it over your head.

“Ah ah, I want you to get yourself off on my thigh first, sweetheart” He whispered, kissing along your collarbones. “Then you can have my cock all you want”

You whimpered as he pressed his thigh into you harder, and the friction was incredible.

It didn't take you too long to come after that, and while you floated in bliss, he peppered kisses all over your body, going lower and lower until he got to your thighs.

He sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, wetting them before pushing into you slowly.

Your walls pulsed around them and he grunted at the easy slide before adding a third.

You whined when he hit your g-spot, earning a sharp groan from Lewis, who you'd almost forgotten about.

You glanced at the man in the chair, expecting him to be jerking off to the show, instead being met with a pitiful sight.

Lewis’ whole body was tense as he stared at you darkly, but his obviously hard cock was still trapped within the confines of his pants.

You looked at George but he was completely focused on the fingers making lewd sounds as he pushed them in and out of you.

“George, why can't Lewis touch himself?” you panted.

He chuckled and removed his fingers, then climbed over you to rub himself through your sopping wet folds. There would be no need for lube tonight.

“Oh that” he smiled mischievously while he lifted your legs, hooking them over his arms as he got into position “I told Lewis that if he could be good and refrain from touching himself, I would suck his cock when I’m done with you” he shrugged, almost nonchalantly.

You were so stunned that he took that opportunity to push into you in one go, making you cry out at the sudden stretch.

He shushed you with his mouth on yours, swallowing your desperate noises as he moved his hips expertly.

He wasn’t particularly rough, but he took your breath away and his lips trailed over your jaw and down your neck to nibble at your soft skin.

He groaned at the obscene squelch of his cock burying itself in your sopping cunt and you took it all without complaint.

He was hitting all the right spots and you felt like you were on cloud nine, only the sharp nip of his teeth on your neck keeping you grounded as pleasure started building in your gut.

“So wet, so perfect, such a good girl for me aren’t you?” he teased when your breaths started coming in shorter and shorter as you approached the edge.

“She’s so good, isn’t she Lewis?” he smirked at the older man, who was being good and hadn’t touched himself.

Lewis bit his lip when you looked at him, all glassy-eyed and flushed, waiting for his answer.

“God yeah, she’s fucking perfect” he said in awe, and you whined at his words.

“She is” George acquiesced “and she’s all mine…”

His lips went back to your neck and he sucked a small bruise just below your pulse point, easily coverable, just a small reminder for you. When he was satisfied with his work he looked back at you, feeling you clenching around his cock.

“and she’s going to come on my cock isn’t she?” he asked you condescendingly.

“Mhm…” you nodded “Yes, I’m gonna come for you, I’m so close George!”

He smirked and snaked a hand around your back, lifting you up so that he was holding you close while he slammed into you from below.

“Good girl” he growled into your neck “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me see how good you can be for me”

He looked up at you in awe as your face contorted in pleasure and you came around his cock, moaning his name.

You tensed up and your back arched but he held firm, arms wrapped around you as he chased his own pleasure, using your body like a doll.

It didn’t take him long, your whines of overstimulation spurring him on and he finally let go, filling you up and sinking his teeth into your shoulder with a muffled groan.

You both calmed down quickly, giving each other an almost chaste kiss before he lay you down on the bed and pulled out of you gently.

He turned to Lewis, and the man was already looking at him.

“Your turn” George said, before smoothly sliding onto his knees on the floor and seductively crawling over to Lewis.

The older man’s jaw dropped at the display, and he stayed frozen as he watched George unbuckle his belt and pull at his pants.

He lifted his hips to help, and as soon as his cock was free it was down George’s throat faster than should have been humanly possible.

Lewis gasped and grabbed George’s hair, pulling it hard enough for the younger man to groan and suck even harder.

“I’m not gonna last long, Goerge” Lewis grunted.

George hummed and redoubled his efforts, sliding his tongue along the underside of Lewis’ cock, just like he knew he liked.

“Jesus, your mouth”

It indeed took only a couple of minutes for him to shoot rope after rope down George’s throat, but he swallowed every last drop diligently.

His voice was hoarse when he asked “How was that?” and Lewis (and you) laughed at how fucked out he sounded.

Once Lewis had his clothes back on, he bid you goodnight and left with a small complimentary bottle of tequila from the mini-fridge. Lord knows what other after party he was going off to.

George came back into bed with you and tucked himself under the covers, wandering hands exploring your body as you giggled and tried to swat him away.

He just held on tighter, pulling your body against his, his front to your back.

You could feel him against your ass, and he was hard as a rock.

“Aww… did sucking off your teammate make you hard again?” you teased, but he pinched your side in retaliation.

“Maybe… but one thing’s for absolutely sure…” he nosed up the side of your neck and his hand went to cup the mess between your legs. You had also been affected by the sight of him and Lewis together.

“And what’s that Mr Russell, winner of the Las Vegas Grand Prix?” you giggled.

He smirked against your skin, sliding his tip through your folds.

“Your night, as fun as it has been, is far from over”

[pandapetals]

Guys Night

Logan goes out with the guys getting wasted making me a big softie.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

a/n: Okay yes i know it’s lowkey impossible for logan to get drunk but idc i need him to just be a cutie and plus i loved writing girls night so whatever.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan had slowed down on the drinking after meeting you. What had once been a daily habit—a crutch to get him through the long, empty nights—had become more of an occasional indulgence. His healing factor made it nearly impossible for him to get drunk anyway, but the act of drinking had always been more about comfort than effect. A familiar ritual he could hold on to.

But when you woke up at 1:28 a.m. to the unmistakable sound of raucous laughter and slurred shouts echoing through the mansion, you knew something was off.

The soft click of the hallway light flickered on as you slipped out of bed, still groggy but now very awake with confusion. Opening the bedroom door, you stepped into the hallway just in time to see Jean doing the same, her brows furrowed as she looked down the stairs.

"Do you hear that?" she asked, her voice hushed but tense with curiosity.

You nodded, falling in step beside her as the two of you headed toward the source of the commotion. The muffled sound of laughter grew louder as you descended the stairs, and by the time you reached the bottom, the scene unfolding in front of you was... well, chaotic would be an understatement.

There, in the middle of the living room, stood Logan—or, more accurately, half stood while being supported by Bobby, Scott, Kurt, and Hank. Logan’s usually stoic and composed figure was now swaying precariously, his arms draped over Bobby and Scott's shoulders while his head lolled back with a dopey grin on his face.

"Logan, man," Bobby was saying through his own laughter, struggling to keep his balance under Logan’s weight, "you gotta be quiet, dude, or you’re gonna wake up the whole mansion!"

You and Jean both stopped short at the edge of the stairs, taking in the absurdity of the scene. Logan, who could barely get tipsy on the strongest whiskey, was absolutely, unapologetically drunk. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes glassy, and he was laughing—a loud, booming, uncharacteristic laugh that you hadn’t heard in... well, maybe ever.

"Oh my God," Jean whispered, her eyes wide with amusement. "Is that Logan?"

You shook your head, though you couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto your face. "My Logan," you corrected, watching in mild disbelief as he tried and failed to take a step forward, his knees buckling under him, sending Bobby and Scott staggering.

"I love you guys," Logan slurred loudly, throwing his head back again. "Yer all... yer all great! I don’t say it enough... but I mean it. You're... you're my family." His words were barely coherent, each sentence slurred into the next.

Kurt was biting back laughter as he supported Logan’s other side, his tail flicking with amusement. "Logan, you’re very... affectionate tonight."

Scott, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as amused. "He weighs a ton!" he grunted, trying to shift Logan’s arm more securely around his shoulder. "Why am I doing this again?"

"Because you love me!" Logan announced, his voice far too loud for the middle of the night. "C'mon, Cyclops, admit it—you love me!"

Scott's face twisted into a mix of frustration and laughter. "Let’s just get him to the couch before he takes us all down with him."

Before they could manage that, Logan spotted you standing by the stairs. His entire face lit up in an almost childlike way. "Hey!" he called, his voice practically a shout. "There’s my girl!" He tried to step toward you, nearly pulling everyone down in the process, before Bobby and Scott yanked him back.

"Logan!" you exclaimed, hurrying over to him. "What the hell is going on?"

His eyes found yours, and for a second, the chaos seemed to fade as he focused on you, his grin growing impossibly wider. "You’re the best thing... the best thing that’s ever happened to me," he slurred, his words heavy with sincerity. "I love you... I love you so much, darlin’."

Your heart softened for a moment, but then Logan, seemingly overwhelmed with emotion, suddenly became teary-eyed, his expression shifting from joyous to oddly vulnerable.

"And I never told you about that time," he started, his words blurring together, "when I... when I broke Hank’s favorite mug by accident, and I blamed it on Bobby... I’m sorry, Hank! It was me!"

Hank blinked, clearly surprised, though amusement danced in his eyes. "Noted," he said, shaking his head.

Logan hiccupped and continued, completely unbothered by the tears spilling down his cheeks. "And that time I ate all of Jean's cookies and said it was an emergency ration!" He looked over at Jean, who was covering her mouth, trying not to laugh. "I’m sorry, Jean... they were so good."

By this point, Scott and Bobby were both cracking up, barely able to hold Logan up as he continued confessing all sorts of things—half of them making no sense.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you said, half laughing, half exasperated, as you walked up to him. Gently, you brushed your hand against his cheek, wiping away one of his tears. "Logan, why did you let them get you this drunk?"

"I didn’t," he mumbled, looking adorably confused. "I just... I was just gonna have a drink... then Bobby bet me I couldn’t finish five bottles of whiskey."

Bobby raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I didn’t know it was actually possible!"

Logan hiccupped again, his glassy eyes focusing back on you, and without warning, he pulled you into an awkward, lopsided hug, nearly knocking you off balance. "I love you, sweetheart," he whispered dramatically, his words slurring against your hair. "You’re perfect. I don’t... I don’t deserve you."

You couldn't help but smile, your heart melting despite the ridiculousness of it all. "Alright, big guy," you said, patting his back. "Let’s get you to the couch before you start confessing more stuff."

Logan blinked down at you, his expression suddenly serious as he sniffled. "You’re gonna marry me, right?" he asked, his voice soft and vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache.

You looked up at him, gently guiding him toward the couch as the others helped ease him down. "Logan," you said, your voice soft but full of love. "We’re already married."

He smiled and then promptly passed out, his head lolling to the side as his body went limp on the couch.

The next morning, Logan was a mess. He stumbled into the kitchen with a massive hangover, rubbing his temples as if the slightest sound would split his skull. His usual gruffness was turned up a notch as he poured himself some coffee, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.

Of course, no one was going to let him live it down.

"So," Scott stated, smirking from across the table, "how are you feeling this morning, buddy?"

"Shut it, Summers," Logan muttered, wincing at the sound of Scott’s voice.

"Oh, and Logan?" Jean chimed in, barely suppressing a grin. "I think you owe me some cookies."

Logan groaned, putting his head in his hands as the rest of the team burst into laughter.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in hand, watching the whole exchange unfold with an amused grin. Logan sat hunched over at the table, his head in his hands, and looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

"Rough night?" you asked, your voice laced with teasing, as you took a sip of your coffee.

Logan grunted without looking up, clearly in no mood for jokes. "Don’t even start," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, I’m not starting anything," you said innocently, stepping closer to the table. "Just wondering if you remember anything from last night."

He groaned again, finally lifting his head just enough to squint at you through bloodshot eyes. "I don’t remember shit," he said, grimacing. "All I know is I woke up on the couch with a headache the size of Canada and everyone won’t shut up about it."

You couldn’t help the mischievous smile that spread across your face. "Oh, so you don’t remember the part where you confessed all your deep, dark secrets? Like that time you blamed Bobby for breaking Hank’s favorite mug?"

Logan's eyes widened slightly, and he looked at you in mild horror. "I... said that?"

You nodded, doing your best to keep a straight face. "Mmhmm. And the cookies. Don’t forget about the cookies."

Jean chimed in from the other side of the room. "Still waiting on those replacements, by the way."

Logan groaned again, sinking back into his chair. "Hell."

"But, you know," you said, leaning over the back of his chair, your voice softening as you teased him, "the best part was when you got all emotional."

Logan’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he glanced up at you, still squinting from the pain of his hangover. "Emotional?"

"Oh, yeah," you said, nodding solemnly. "You were crying—crying, Logan. Full-on tears."

Logan’s expression was one of complete disbelief. "No way," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don’t cry."

You grinned, raising your eyebrows. "You did last night. You were telling everyone how much you love them... even Scott."

At that, Logan looked downright mortified. "I said I loved Summers?" he asked, his voice filled with dread.

Scott, still smirking from across the kitchen, gave him a mocking salute. "Love you too, Logan."

Logan’s face twisted into a grimace, clearly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. "Kill me now," he muttered, rubbing his temples like the hangover was suddenly the least of his worries.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, the sound spilling out of you as you wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Oh, don’t worry. It was adorable," you teased, your voice playful but warm. "You even pulled me into a hug and told me how I’m the best thing that ever happened to you."

He blinked up at you, clearly trying to process everything. "I said all that?"

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, you did." You paused, leaning down so your lips brushed his ear. "And it only made me love you more."

For a moment, Logan’s expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with something vulnerable in them. He let out a quiet sigh, his hand reaching up to rest over yours, pulling you closer. "You’re messin’ with me, aren’t you?" he asked, though his voice was quieter now, less gruff.

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers through his messy hair. "A little," you admitted, "but you really did say all that. And for the record, I thought it was sweet."

He groaned again, his head dropping. "I’m never drinkin' again," he muttered, his voice filled with regret.

"Oh, I don’t know," you said with a smirk. "It was kind of fun seeing you like that. So... open." You leaned down to kiss his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your lips. "Plus, it’s not every day I get to hear you confess all your feelings."

Logan huffed, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Guess I can live with that part," he mumbled.

"Good," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear again, "because I plan on reminding you of it every chance I get."

Logan let out a low growl, his hand tightening on yours as he pulled you around to sit in his lap. Despite his hangover and his grumbling, there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at you, one that made your heart flutter.

"You’re trouble, you know that?" he said, his voice a rough murmur as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

You smiled, leaning into him, your forehead resting against his. "Only for you, big guy."

"Love you too, sweetheart," Logan whispered, the words gruff but real, the softness in his voice all for you.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of my First Friend.

In this strange new world, nothing is certain—not even one’s safety.

But through it all, you were with me. Always by my side.

Please don’t leave me behind.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

"Grrr...! This stupid thing won't close," Grim complains. He fumbles with the buttons on his robes, which refuse to be secured.

"That's because you've got two left thumbs... or, more accurately, no thumbs at all," his human companion teases. They crouch down, gesturing for him. "Here, I'll help you."

"Myahaha, that's my minion!" Grim scrambles over on all fours—definitely not like a cat. He's far more dignified than some glorified house pet or familiar.

"You're going to get your clothes dirty if you walk around like that," they scold him lightly as they cinch his robes shut, then dusts him off. They pause, going in to adjust his waistband, then the angle of his cap. "There you go." "All set for your big day."

"Our big day," Grim corrects, nudging them on the cheek with his paw. "We're a 2-for-1 deal, remember?"

"Right. Me and the almighty Grim-sama," they reply with a laugh, poking his little nose.

An ear-splitting sob disrupts the intimate scene. Three ghosts in top hats and gray cloaks sail in—one small, one plump, one scrawny—all wailing.

"I can't believe this day's finally arrived!"

"Grimmy and Prefect, all grown up... Off to tackle Twisted Wonderland head-on..."

"WAAAAH, I'm gonna miss my living roomies!!"

"Hey, hey, what's with the empty nest syndrome, guys?" The prefect huddles with the ghosts. They cannot physically touch, but the same energy is there, their arms lingering where the ghosts’ bodies float.

“B-But…!”

“Don't worry. No matter the time or place, we'll carry the spirit of Ramshackle dorm with us wherever we go.“ They smile sympathetically. “That means you’ll always be with us! This world, this life… and into the next.”

"D-Do you really think friendships can last more than a lifetime?" one ghost asks through his tears.

"For sure. So please… Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. Can you do that for us?”

“O-Okay,” the trio blubbers and sniffles.

“Geez, you’re all a buncha babies,” Grim sighs, paws on his hips. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be celebratin’ US today!! Like my minion said, let’s see some smiles, yeah?”

“We’ll come see you off at the ceremony the,” the small ghost suggests. The cheer is strained, like he is holding back a torrent of tears.

"The ceremony…” The prefect’s eyes go wide and panicked. “Oh crap, we're going to be late! The headmaster should already be starting his speech...!"

"Not a problem, leave it to this Grim-sama. A teleportation spell's easy as takin' a tuna can from a kitten!"

"Sorry, guys. Gotta run...! We'll see you there?"

Grim expertly clambers onto the prefect's neck, making himself comfortable as a boa on their shoulders. The magestone dangling from his neck lights up, and the duo are enveloped in its glow.

The last sight before they blip away are the ghosts, waving good-bye with wet eyes.

A blink later, the two are among a crowd of students in the same uniform as them. Long robes, graduation caps affixed to their heads. They're lined up behind a stage, the curtain stained the dark sapphire of a night sky and dotted with sparkling stars.

Crowley's voice drones from the other side, amplified by a microphone. A waiting crowd murmurs appreciatively as he crows on about hard work, congratulations, and new beginnings.

"See?" Grim winks at his minion. "What'd I tell ya? Anything’s a cinch with my magic~”

"Great going, archmage-in-the-making. You really saved our butts," they say, ruffling his fur. “Come to think of it, were running late for our first day too… and the sorting ceremony before that. I guess we’re destined to be tardy together, huh, Grim?”

"Heh, you got that right!" He bumped his tiny fist with his partner's. “Let’s keep at it, you ‘n me! Grim-sama and his loyal minion, together forever.”

"Oiiiii! Grim, Prefect!!"

"Oh, that’s..."

They glance up, finding a group of boys making their way toward them in the crowd. One with a heart etched onto his face, the other, a spade. A wolf beastman, another with reptilian eyes and slicked back hair, trailed by a smaller, delicate boy and an android with a head of blue flames. Old friends from the other dorms.

"There you are. We thought we'd missed you." Deuce calls out, looking relieved.

"Idiot, we wouldn’t have missed them—you worried for nothin’. They're first on the chopping block cuz they're sooo special." Ace rolls his eyes. "Lu~cky. You get to show off and hog the spotlight before anyone else does.”

"We um... wanted to come and say good luck," Epel offers. "It's a big deal to have made it this far. Starting a new life in an unfamiliar world and all, it's a lot."

"Thanks, everyone. I really couldn't have made it these past few years without your support."

"Ah-HEM!" Grim coughs.

"... And Grim," the prefect added, scratching him behind the ears.

"This is really it, then." Jack is blunt, his arms folded. "Our last chapter at Night Raven College."

"Hmph! Is that all you have to say?! Surely you can muster up more oomph than that!! Today is not just that--it is the start of the rest of our lives." Sebek straightens, looking rather proud.

"Hmm..." Ortho taps at his chin contemplatively. "You know what? When words are not enough to express ourselves, action may be the next best thing!"

"... Wait, what exactly are you suggesting?" Ace asks suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.

"A group hug! For one final sendoff."

Sebek is the first to protest, his voice cutting through loud and clear. "I refuse!! There is absolutely NO WAY I am engaging in physical intimacy with you humans!"

"Not so hot on the idea either."

Ace and Deuce warily stare at each other. "Not happening," they chorus at the same time.

"Well, if the others don't want to, then..." Epel trails off.

"Guys, shut up and group hug already," the prefect groans, throwing their arms around their friends. Reluctant grumbles round the group, but no one makes an active effort to peel away.

“GACK!!” Grim chokes out, crushed between everyone’s chests. When their bodies recede, he collapses, vision spinning, seeing stars.

“Hahah, looks like Grim got flattened like a pancake,” Ace jeers. “Still got it in ya to waltz on stage after that?”

“C-Can it!! Of course I do!” he snaps back.

The timing is opportune. Right then, Crowley’s speech reaches them, a summons.

“… We will now begin calling up our students to receive their diplomas, starting with Ramshackle Dorm.”

“Looks like that’s our cue, Grim.”

“Let’s get goin’!!”

The prefect steps back and passes one final look to their peers. People from many different places, many different backgrounds. United at last.

“Go.”

They do.

Clutching onto their graduation cap, the prefect races up the steps from the wings. Grim bounding along by their side. Every stride equal against the other’s.

Like shooting stars, they’ve come so far. They can’t go back to where they used to be.

When they emerge from the darkness, they’re hit with bright sunshine and stage lights. Spring is in full bloom, welcoming them with balmy weather and armfuls of flowers.

The headmaster beams from behind a podium, gesturing for them to approach. In his grasp, two scrolls secured with navy ribbons.

Their diplomas.

“Presenting Grim and the Prefect, our special students sharing the spot of Valedictorian.”

Grim squeals, soaked up the adoration. He waves at the audience, flashes silly poses for the cameras. The prefect laughs, prodding him along with their hands.

“Come on, let’s not stall the ceremony for everyone else.”

“One moment.”

A smallish figure blocks their path. It’s a young man with crimson hair and heart-shaped ahoge. He holds out his hand--and the prefect, stunned, takes it.

"Riddle-senpai. You've returned."

"Prefect. Grim." He politely greets them, shaking their hands in turn. "May the Queen of Hearts and her spirit of strictness guide you as you cross this threshold in life. Remain disciplined, and I know you will both achieve even greater things."

Riddle releases, and another seizes their hands. This shake is rougher, looser.

"Congrats, you survived four years at this place," Leona purrs. He wears less of a smile and more of a bemused smirk. "Persisted, like the King of Beasts did."

His duty done, he casually drops them. Azul elegantly ducks in, his grasp firm and tone professional.

"Fufu. What an honor it is to reunite like this. Your benevolence has done much to improve our dear Night Raven College. The Sea Witch would surely extol your generosity."

"Prefect, Grim!!"

Azul steps back with a bow, making space for the next person.

Kalim practically collides with them, excitedly yanking their hands up and down as he chatters. "So good to see you again!! Gahahah, you haven't changed a bit! I bet you're much wiser now though--maybe just as mindful as the Sorcerer of the Sands was!”

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Awareness hits him and Kalim gasps, letting go of the graduates.

"It takes considerable tenacity to arrive at this milestone,” Vil says, clasping the prefect and Grim’s hands in his own. Then, he smiles ever so slightly. “… Be proud, potatoes. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed by the Beautiful Queen.”

He steps aside, allowing a gloomy, hooded figure to replace him. Idia grimaces, shielding his eyes from the lights glaring down at him.

“Tch… Dragged me out here for this,” he mutters, keeping his clammy, pale hands shoved squarely into his hoodie pockets.

A pause—and Idia managed an anxious smile. “GG or whatever. I guess even an amateur can clear hard levels if they’re diligent enough. The King of the Underworld was a noob at one point too.”

(“Is that really the most encouraging thing you could muster?” Vil tuts from the sidelines.)

With that, Idia shuffles off, joining the other ex-dorm leaders.

“Nyahahah, it feels nice to be recognized~” Grim snickers.

“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t had your fill yet.”

A frigid touch comes upon the prefect and Grim’s hands. That voice, like sudden nightfall. They find themselves staring up at a colossal shadow with leering green eyes, scales studding their forehead.

"M-Myah?!” Grim’s fur stands on end.

“Even you came, Tsunotaro!!” the prefect gasps.

“I wouldn’t miss this ceremony for the world,” Malleus smoothly reassures them. “I wished to lend my support to my dear friends and send them off with my blessing.”

He raises his arms to the open sky. Bright blue, barely a cloud in it. Sunlight pouring down, framing the ceremony in a golden spotlight.

“The Thorn Fairy’s utmost value is nobility. As you of the new generation sally forth into the world, let your souls shine as noble and true as her own.“

Uproarious applause rises, cheering and clapping combining into one frantic melody. The flowers blush, swelling large and healthy with color. The sun itself seems to brighten too, the wind lifting in a joyous, effervescent song.

“Congratulations...!!���

“Waaaah, Tsunotaro made the whole world light up!” Grim cries, eyes sparkling. “Heheh, okay, that’s a pretty good one—but watch out cuz one day I’ll be one of the top 5 strongest, most charismatic mages too!”

“Fufufu. I look forward to that day.”

Malleus bends down, his lips puling back to reveal luminous teeth.

“May you never be apart,” he whispers, so quiet that no one hears. Then, more loudly, “Congratulations. I wish you all a happily ever after.”

“I dunno what you’re goin’ on about, but thanks for hypin’ us up!!” Grim grins from ear to ear. “Today’s definitely… the best day ever!”

“I’m glad of it.”

And may it remain that way, forevermore.

[maddyjones2]

On not idolising creative people

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope isn’t hiding a cellar full of awful actions. One name I see brought up is mine, in ways ranging from “Well, at least we still have Scalzi,” to “Oh, God, please don’t let Scalzi be a fucking creep too.” Which, uhhhh, yeah? Thanks?

I have many thoughts about this and I’m going to try to make sense of them here, as much for myself as anyone else, so this may be messy and discursive and long (seriously, 3600 words, y’all), but, well, welcome to me. So, ordered by how these things come out of my head:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire they skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

One of the aspects of being an “idol,” I think, is that higher standard that other people expect of you — that in every situation where the aspect they idolize you for is in play, you will act in a manner that is right and correct by their standard, which of course you will likely not know about because you don’t actually know them (or often know that they exist). This is, by definition, an impossible standard to be held to — you didn’t agree to it, or to engage with it — and an impossible standard to hold other people to without their direct consultation. Every human made to be an idol is destined to fail at the job. You don’t even have to have feet of clay! You just didn’t know you were on a pedestal to begin with.

(This does not excuse shitty action. The fact people should not be idols in the first place is not exculpatory for the choices one makes on one’s own. If you’re sexually assaulting people, or being a racist or sexist or homophobe or other flavor of bigot, or using your situational power coercively (as just a few examples), then hell yes you are going to be called out on it. And to be clear, it is not unreasonable, to put it mildly, to expect people not to sexually assault other people, or not to denigrate other humans for being who they are, etc. But this only adds to the point about idols, now, doesn’t it. You don’t know what you don’t see, and you don’t know what you’re not seeing, until it is hauled out into the light one way or the other. If it is hauled out into the light at all.)

I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone, ever. It’s not great for them, and it’s not great for you, they probably didn’t ask to be idolized (and if they did, holy shit, fucking run), and in the end unless you’re so completely wrapped up in their lives that they have no secrets from you — which is never — you don’t know enough to make that call. People do it anyway, and then disappointment happens, but they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Stop idolizing people. It’s not fair for anyone.

What to do instead? Enjoy their work, if they’re a creative person. Appreciate the kind and good aspects of their life that you can see, and the decent actions they undertake in public, with the knowledge that what you see of them is a mediated and elided version. Understand that we all have a different version of ourself for every person we meet, and that every person we meet has a different vision of ourselves in their head, and very often, those two versions are not the same. Like them, based on what you know of them! Love them, if it comes to that. And when and if you learn something new about them that you didn’t know before, let empathy guide you to a new understanding of them and what they mean to you.

And now, taking all of the above into consideration:

3. Absolutely 100% do not idolize me. I don’t deserve to be idolized because no one deserves to be idolized, but also, holy fuck, I do know me and I’m a mess. There have been lots of things in my life that I’ve done that have not been admirable or kind. I can be petty and shitty and competitive and cruel. I am lazy and inattentive and when I let things slide (which is often), I end up jammed up on my responsibilities, which makes me irritable and no fun to be around. I have a temper which goes from zero to sixty almost instantaneously; if I’m not actively paying attention to it, I can become a sudden, unreasonable rage monster, which is a burden to people I love, and I hate that fact about myself (pro tip: don’t travel with me, the rage monster comes out a lot then).

I can be controlling and demanding but I want other people to handle the details, i.e., executive asshole. I am strategic in a way that can be bloodless. When I’m insecure I brag a lot, which is unflattering. If you cross me, I won’t go out of my way to make your life miserable (that would require effort on my part), but I will absolutely enjoy when you take a literal or metaphorical tumble down the stairs. God knows I’ve enjoyed the failures of the people who have spoken ill of me, almost as much as I’ve enjoyed the fuming, spittling rage they’ve felt when I’ve succeeded. I spent years cultivating a snarky persona online and while that was fun (for me), I’m increasingly aware that when the tally is added up for Who Ruined the Internet, I’m not necessarily going to be where I want to be on that particular ledger.

And these are only the bad qualities of mine I wish to admit to you at the moment. There are others, I assure you.

So, yes: Who wants to idolize me now?

“But you seemed so nice when I chatted with you online/met you at the convention/saw you at that one place that one time.” Well, thank you, I’ve been in the public eye in one manner or another for three and a half decades now and I understand my assignment; my public persona is friendly and engaging and sociable and mostly fun to be with. It’s not a fake version of me — I am all those things! Honest! — but, again, it’s a mediated version of me designed not only to be a positive experience for the people who meet me but also to get my actually introverted ass through a whole day of events at a convention/festival/book tour/whatever. When I’m done I collapse into an introverted hole. When I came back from Worldcon this week, I slept for 15 hours the first day I was home. It wasn’t just because of jet lag or con crud.

I rather famously call my public face “performance monkey mode,” and likewise what I say about my (current) online mode is that I’m cosplaying as a better version of myself, one that is kinder than I used to be online, and more patient than I am in the real world. If you meet me when I am “off” then you will find that, again, these versions of me are me, just with some things dialed up and other things dialed down. But even that is still a different version of me than, say, the version of me which is at home (which is in fact extremely boring; that version of me doesn’t talk much and mostly stays in my office).

Many of you who have followed me over the years are familiar with me saying things like this, of course, and are likewise familiar with me pointing out that there are a number of things about my life that I don’t mention in public, for whatever reasons I choose. But it’s also true that I’ve been actively online for 30+ years now, and people feel reasonably confident that they have a good bead on me and that there’s not much about me that will surprise them or change their understanding of me. So to bring home the point there are indeed things you don’t know, allow me to surface just one previously unaired fun fact:

I have a concealed carry license.

(Or did; it expired this year and I didn’t renew it, because Ohio changed its laws so that you no longer need a permit to conceal carry in the state. These days in Ohio you can just wander about with a handgun stuffed down your trousers without training or licensing because that’s a real good idea, now, isn’t it. Nevertheless, the license is not necessary anymore so there was not much point in renewing it, although if the law had not changed, I probably would have renewed.)

Why did I have a concealed carry license? Well, ultimately that’s not important. The point is I had one. I didn’t talk about it before because, among other things, the point of a concealed carry license (to me, anyway) is that its existence is not meant to be known by anyone other than that great state of Ohio itself. I am aware, and this is a dramatic understatement, that I am not a person most people would expect to have had such a thing. That the fact I had one will cause a number of people to reconsider what they know about me, for better or for worse. Which is also my point. All y’all have just learned this thing about me! Think about all the other things you don’t know!

Oh, God, this is where Scalzi starts admitting to terrible, terrible things. No. I feel pretty confident I live a tolerably ethical life. Part of the reason for this is that I have what I think is a decent operating principle, which is: If I’m thinking of doing something, and Krissy called me right then and asked “what are you doing?” and I would be tempted to lie to her about it, then I don’t do that thing. Because Krissy is the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m doing (I have lied to her exactly once. She knew instantly. I haven’t bothered lying to her since). This is not replacing Krissy’s ethics with my own; it’s me knowing whether by my own ethics, I would be ashamed to tell to her what I am up to. It works very well. As such, the Krissy Test is an operating principle I highly suggest to others, although I’d suggest replacing Krissy with whomever your life is most important to you.

Be that as it may, my ethics are not universal and some others might not find them sufficient, for whatever reason. I am well aware I still disappoint many people, and that there are people who find my life choices, known positions or public statements (or lack of them, as the case may be) problematic, or who simply wish I would be other than what I am. I can’t help them with this, but again, this is the point. Given the fact that I am a fallible human who has an entire stratum of his life not visible to the world — and the strata of his life that are visible cause significant numbers of people to be irritated and exasperated — is it not better just to not hold me up as an ideal person, or the “good dude,” much less an idol of any sort?

I mean, shit. What Would John Scalzi Do? Solidly half the time, I have no fucking idea. I have to think about it, whatever it is. I have to think about whether I know enough to do or say something about it. I have to decide whether it’s something I want to engage with at all, and whether my engagement with it is something that would be of value to anyone, me included. I have to decide whether engaging with it is worth the shit I will get for it. And then I have to figure out what it means that I am engaging with it, since like it or not I’m a Dude of Reasonable Significance in My Field. I try to be a decent human, when people are looking at me and especially when they are not. But I also know me, and all my flaws and weaknesses and compromises.

What Would John Scalzi Do? The best he can, in the moment. Is that sufficient? For me, yes, most of the time. Is that sufficient for you? That’s up to you.

The point to this all is that people are just a big fucking mess, including the ones you might for whatever reason find admirable. I am no different than anyone else, and you should not be under the illusion that I am anything other than a shambling collection of flaws embedded inside a human form, which also, in its defense, has some pretty excellent qualities as well. We’re all this way! You too!

And while I want you to like my work, and to enjoy the version of me that you see here and elsewhere, don’t put me, or any other person, on a pedestal. Pedestals are wobbly and and don’t give actual humans a lot of room to move. We will inevitably fall off. Keep us with our feet on the ground. That way, when we stumble, there’s a chance we can get back up, and keep going.

— JS

[kurishiri]

official IkeVil JP twitter role-played with fans as Roger

translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties. Please reblog, not repost!

and here are some of my favorite responses and some tidbits about Roger (and some others, through his eyes) 🥹👌 also I wouldn’t consider these spoilers; they’re more like bite sized fun facts you might find in a random scene in some random side story or event or something lmao also I don’t like the green gun emoji on my phone so I’m using the beer one instead.

1. Roger is trying to get along with Alfons (it’s not working so well though I guess, haha)

💬: Roger!! Have you been getting along with Alfons recently?

🍻: That’s always my intention, but whenever I see him he gives me a kind of disgusted look. So maybe he’s just shy or something.

2. maybe Victor is trying to get everyone drunk…?

💬: Roger, have you gone out to drink with Victor before?

🍻: I don’t think Victor really drinks outside. If anything, he’s the one bringing some good booze back to Crown for us. Could it be — he’s scheming something and trying to get us drunk?

3. Roger can crack a joke 😂👌

💬: I kind of just ate this without knowing what that liquid is, but what is it, actually? 🧪

🍻: That’s a love potion. If you drink it you won’t be able to think about anything but me——just kidding.

4. Roger and Ellis are the strongest!

💬: Who is the strongest in Crown?

🍻: Me, followed by Ellis. You wanna compare our strength now with an arm wrestle? Though I reckon you wouldn’t be able to win against me even if you used both hands.

5. Roger’s worst fight with Alfons

💬: Please tell us the worst episode of a fight you’ve had with Alfons〜!!

🍻: Once during a mission we got into an argument where Al and I almost died — that day I’ve never seen Victor look that quietly angry before.

6. drinking with William! (they’re the older bros of the group)

💬: What do you talk about with William when you drink with him?

🍻: Will knows a lot, so we’ll talk about all sorts of stuff. Like how Victor’s overworking himself, or how Jude’s got bad feet, or how Liam hurt himself again——wait, what are we, their guardians?

7. Alfons bombed the drinking date

💬: Hey Roger, what sweets do you like? Other than Alfons’ scone.

🪞: Are we talking about me? Oh, that’s my handmade scone that I put a lot of love into. Don’t you feel naughty with just one bite? What do you think is in it?

🍻: Hey, you, get out and go somewhere else already.

8. drinking with Elbie!

💬: Have you drank with Lord Elbert before? 🥺🍻💚💙

🍻: I have, yes. But I can never tell whether he’s drunk or not.

🪞: That’s because he always looks drunk.

🍻: Oy, Al, what are you doing here? Tonight’s supposed to be just me and the lil lady, so don’t get in the way like that. Shoo shoo!

9. Roger doesn’t just drink beer (surprise surprise!)

💬: What do you like to drink other than beer?

🍻: I also drink whisky, though I always prefer beer. What about you, lil lady?

10. Roger comforts you after a long day of work

💬: Roger, I finally finished work…

🍻: There, there, you did well. I remember your efforts very well. Good job today.

11. Jude and drinking, according to Roger

💬: When you’re drinking with Jude, have you seen him when drunk before? I want to know what he’s like when he’s drunk.

🍻: Can’t say I’ve seen him drunk before. It seems like that guy always got a calm look on his face, no matter how much he drinks.

12. what Ellis is like when drunk

💬: Cheers! I have a question, what is Ellis like when drunk?

🍻: Ellis isn’t that weak to alcohol… but he becomes a bit more fluffy than normal, I guess. But he can walk back to the castle just fine.

13. trying to get Ellis drunk…?!

💬: I heard Ellis is a little weak to alcohol. Have you taken care of him when he was drunk? Also how many cups does it take for him to become drunk?

🍻: Pfft, haha… Are you trying to get Ellis drunk? I’ll have you know Ellis is like a cute younger brother to me, so I won’t tell. I have taken care of him though——let’s leave it at that.

14. who can hold their alcohol in Crown?

💬: Who is the worst at holding their alcohol in Crown?

🍻: I think everyone in Crown is pretty good at holding their alcohol. But should we put that to the test? …No way, this really isn’t for me to gather information on them?

15. he be takin care of Crown when they’re drunk

💬: Who do you drink with most often? And have you taken care of someone when they got drunk!?

🍻: Taking care of someone… Ellis — no, Al, maybe? Oh, and also Jude… whoops, can’t say any more than that, or he’ll be after me.

16. what Harry drinks

💬: I always get the impression Harry drinks strawberry milk a lot, but when it comes to alcohol, what does he drink? I want to know 🦊🍸

🍻: Harry likes whisky soda. It goes well with chocolate, and I’ve seen him eating it together with the drink. Noww then, now that I’ve told you some important information, you’ll stop that lying fox from eating too much sweets for me, won’t you?

17. Roger’s advice for those who simp to the point of illness 😆

💬: My friends love you to the point they might be a little ill, Roger. They love you so much it’s too much for me to handle. Is there medicine to make them feel better?

🍻: I can introduce you to a doctor I know who has some good medicine. Want me to? His name’s Roger Barel.

18. he cooks?!?!

💬: I want to eat a meat entree with you, Roger! (this is sausage and roast pork that I made) 😋🍽️🥩✨ What’s your favorite type of meat? And what other foods do you like?

🍻: I would say steak, but any meat is good. But I also like salty things too. Sometimes I make things that go well with alcohol. Want some?

19. oh..? 😳

💬: Yippeeee✨✨✨ it’s everyone’s older brother Roger!! Congrats on your main story🎉💕 I really look forward to this summer! (I have 🦑 with beer)

🍻: You have as much excitement as Victor! For sure, look forward to it. I’ll make it a summer you won’t ever forget.

20. Roger’s recommended drinks

💬: I want to know your drink recommendations!

🍻: Mine is beer, beer, and more beer. Ah, having some ginger ale in between seems pretty good too.

21. he drinks with Ellis and Jude often!

💬: Out of the members of Crown, who have you been drinking with recently? Have you drank with them several times…! 🍻✨

🍻: I go out to drink with Jude and Ellis quite a bit. Well, I think I prefer drinking together with you the most though.

22. he loves meat at the end of the day eheh

💬: I’m thinking of drinking with you tonight🍻 What do you eat (snack) with alcohol? I’m thinking chips goes well.

🍻: My favorite is salty meat. But chips go well with beer too. Should we order some?

23. Roger’s advice for those who just turn the legal age

💬: I’ve turned the legal age, what do you recommend for a first timer…? Was your first drink a beer…?

🍻: At first, you should go for drinks that don’t have high alcohol content to see if you can drink it or not. Other than that, drink together with someone. For example, with me. And of course, the first drink I had was beer!

24. Roger’s favorite drinking partner is… ✨✨

💬: Is there anyone you want to drink alone with?? What types of things would you talk about with them!?✨

🍻: The one drinking in front of me, right now.

[divinecrimson]

FCK ME EMO BOY! HAN TAESAN HC

Warnings: cum eating, mxf, cursing, piercings, music, degrading, praise, aftercare, smut, choking, slapping, rough sex, soft sex, pet names; mama, love, baby, good girl” bitch, whore, slut, loser taesan, simp behavior.

MDNI BELOW THE CUT ~|~ HEAD-CANNONS

Emoboy!taesan!; PT.2

Emoboy!taesan! Who loses himself inside you once you cum because he knows that now he has the green light to focus on himself and not the accurate thrusts he had been giving you. “F-fuck I’m gonna cum baby—“

Emoboy!taesan! Who gets his tongue and nipples pierced knowing what it’s going to do to you and allows you to try them all out once they are healed.

Emoboy!taesan! Who knows that you own him but doesn’t shy away from putting you in your place when you need it. “Stop fucking playing with me”- as he gives you such deep thrusts from behind while your in a headlock.

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves to eat a mix of your cum taking it as a reminder that you own every part of him both inside and out and of course he loves the taste.

Emoboy!taesan! Who degrades in such an evil way but knows when to make it worse. He will start of a little nicer and then get meaner as he fucks you. “Look at you. Can’t even take my cock.” - “such a nasty bitch for me hmm?” As he pounds you into the bed making sure to press down on your back.

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves to make you cum no matter from what it’s from if it’s his mouth, fingers, cock, and even toys he loves to make you cum. “So pretty when you cum for me baby”

Emoboy!taesan! Who knows how big his cock is so he gives you time to adjust but once you do he’s giving you slow deep strokes pressing down on your neck as your legs wrap around his hips making sure to change the amount of pressure he applies. “There we go…just take it love.”

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves when you ride him because the feeling of the entirety of your weight pressing his hips down into the mattress makes his eyes roll.

Emoboy!taesan! Loves to watch you run from his cock. He knows it means he’s making you feel too good to where you can’t handle it and his cock gets even harder. “Mama…just cum for me”

Emoboy!taesan! Loves nasty sex. Spitting in your mouth, making your squirt, spitting on your pussy, watching you drool on his cock, he just loves the way liquids look on your body it’s such a turn on for him.

Emoboy!taesan! Who will let you be in control whenever you want to unless he’s mad at you. “Oh you wanna ride me love? Okay do as you wish baby. Use me.”

Emoboy!taesan! Has brutal backshots. He will overstimulate himself focusing on beating your poor pussy up. He will watch your pussy suck up his big cock over and over forgetting to focus and he’ll slam into you after forgetting to keep a certain pace to not overwhelm you.

Emoboy!taesan! Who has a list of goals memorized for you. 1- find that spot, 2-make you cum two different ways, 3- switch it up. You never know what to expect for number three and that’s why you always cum so much he keeps it interesting and safe as well.

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves when you pull his hair. He likes feeling the way your nails grip his hair and the way you taste on his tongue as you do that makes him go crazy and he can’t help but to force and orgasm out of you. “S-shit-“

Emoboy!taesan! Who eyes sharpen before he fucks you like he switches from a loser simp to a daddy so fast that it’s hard to comprehend but he also will be a baby just for you.

Emoboy!taesan! Who has a playlist of all types of singers when he fucks you but sometimes if he wants to hear you scream he turns it off.

Emoboy!taesan! Who has your body and actions memorized to the point where you don’t need a safe word but he still has one for you incase he gets too lost inside your pussy.

Emoboy!taesan! Who always asks for consent even when he’s mad. He knows what it’s like to not want something and he makes sure your okay with what he wants to give you.

Emoboy!taesan! Who likes to slap your ass and tits as well as your pussy but even if you ever asked him to slap your face he wouldn’t not even just a little tap. It’s something he’ll never do.

Emoboy!taesan! Who will let you use him for your own pleasure. After all that is his first priority. How you feel always comes first to him. He will watch you ride him and he will even guide your hips in a circle or in all types of ways to get you to cum. “Say it’s yours.”

Emoboy!taesan! Who notices that when he hits that spot he teases you. He will feel his tip slam into it and mutter out “mmh mmh mmh” as if saying, I got you right where I want you now.

Emoboy!taesan! Who isn’t scared to moan. He will let you know when you feel super good which is always. He doesn’t care too much about his masculinity and even knows that it’s way hotter for a man to let out his moans so he knows you love it.

Emoboy!taesan! Who tries not to jerk off unless he’s away for periods of times because he knows once’s he’s back inside you he will feel even better from the lack of stimulation from not jerking off.

Pt.2??!?!

[frankingsteinery]

victor is one of the most psychotic characters i have ever read in literature and it all feels both surprisingly accurate and relatable given the time period; i have been meaning to make a proper analysis on victor's psychotic symptoms for awhile now, but have, ironically, been delayed due to my own psychotic symptoms, so here's more of an informal list--

i'll be breaking down victor's: 1. negative symptoms (loss of functioning)

2. positive symptoms (hallucinations)

3. disorganized thinking and speech/behavior

victor's psychotic symptoms, as well as his initial psychotic break during the creation of the OG creature, are brought upon by the stressors of creating the creature(s), both before, during and after the creation process. the first of these symptoms were negative symptoms.

negative symptoms of psychosis are a loss (thus--"negative") or reduction of normal functioning, and can include restricted emotional expression, lack of speech or monotone speech, difficulty thinking, reduced motivation and/or desire to initiate activities, reduced socialization and social withdrawal, and an inability or decreased ability to experience pleasure. they most commonly occur in the prodromal (initial) phase before the acute phase (characterized by hallucinations, delusions, and confused thinking) and in the recovery phase, which is true of victor's case.

andehonia (lack of pleasure):

"...but I did not watch the blossom or the expanding leaves—sights which before always yielded me supreme delight, so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation... But my enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety... I became nervous to a most painful degree" (paranoia, too) -- Vol I, Chapter III

"It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature" -- Vol I, Chapter III (1818)

"By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses, that alarmed and grieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I became capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure..." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

asociality (social withdrawal) & alogia (impoverished speech):

"And the same feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also to forget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had not seen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them..." Vol I, Chapter III (1818)

"Study had before secluded me from the intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial..." -- Vol I, Chapter V (1818)

"This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had entirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained. I shunned the face of man; all sound of joy or complacency was torture to me; solitude was my only consolation—deep, dark, death-like solitude." -- Vol II, Chapter I (1818)

additionally, and in general, victor becomes incapable of initiating activities (avolition) while being cared for by henry at ingolstadt.

victor hallucinates several times throughout the novel. these hallucinations are almost exclusively visual, and primarily of the creature:

“'Do not ask me,” cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; “he can tell.—Oh, save me! save me!” I imagined that the monster seized me; I struggled furiously, and fell down in a fit." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"The form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was for ever before my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him..." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"I saw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated by no light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimes they were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark orbs nearly covered by the lids, and the long black lashes that fringed them; sometimes it was the watery clouded eyes of the monster, as I first saw them in my chamber at Ingolstadt..." -- Vol II, Chapter IV (1818)

"All pleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that thought only had to me the reality of life. Can you wonder, that sometimes a kind of insanity possessed me, or that I saw continually about me a multitude of filthy animals inflicting on me incessant torture, that often extorted screams and bitter groans?" -- Vol II, Chapter IX (1818)

"Sometimes I entreated my attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was tormented; and, at others, I felt the fingers of the monster already grasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror." -- Vol III, Chapter IV (1818)

beyond that, victor's positive symptoms also include delusions of guilt, grandeur and persecution. however, this is complex enough that it warrants its own separate post. for another time... (edit: find it here)

victor also experiences disorganized behavior, behaviors that are inconsistent, contradictory, or don't fit the situation; for victor, the most obvious of which is catatonia, a symptom of psychosis characterized by abnormal movements, behaviors, and withdrawal. he demonstrates both akinetic (staying still, appearing unresponsive, staring blankly, lack of speech) and excited/hyperkinetic (moving in a pointless/repetitive way, appearing agitated or delirious, pacing, etc) catatonia.

"Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room, and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber, unable to compose my mind to sleep...I took refuge in the court-yard belonging to the house which I inhabited; where I remained during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"...my spirits became unequal; I grew restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded to behold." -- Vol II, Chapter II (1818) 

"Then the appearance of death was distant, although the wish was ever present to my thoughts; and I often sat for hours motionless and speechless, wishing for some mighty revolution that might bury me and my destroyer in its ruins." -- Chapter 21 (1831)

he also displays inappropriate/unusual reactions, another example of disorganized behavior:

"I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same place; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed aloud... my loud, unrestrained, heartless laughter, frightened and astonished [Clerval]" -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

victor shows disorganized speech through his "ravings" several times and there's quite a few examples of this but i can't be bothered to pull more quotes. here's just one:

"A fever succeeded this. I lay for two months on the point of death: my ravings, as I afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the murderer of William, of Justine, and of Clerval." -- Vol III, Chapter IV (1818)

as a side-note, in the 1800s, the term "fever" was used loosely in comparison to its modern definition, and the health of the mind and body was often viewed as interconnected--thus victor's "fevers" after periods of high stress that triggered psychosis—while being nursed back to health by henry, during his time in prison, etc.—could easily be viewed as mental illness rather than an actual physical sickness, or some combination thereof.

lastly, victor experiences disorganized thinking, which includes racing thoughts, flight of ideas, confusion, trouble keeping track of thoughts, difficulty concentrating, time processing disturbances, etc.

in general, victor experiences dream-like perceptions that leads to difficulty being present, concentrating, and processing reality, what he himself refers to as “strange thoughts” (Vol II, Chapter IX, 1818). for example:

“All pleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that thought only had to me the reality of life.” – Vol II, Chapter IX (1818)

additionally, victor is known to lose time and “awaken to understanding” weeks or months later several times:

“What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me…by degrees I gained a clear conception of my miseries and situation, and was then released from my prison. For they had called me mad; and during many months, as I understood, a solitary cell had been my habitation.” – Vol II, Chapter VI (1818)

“But I was doomed to live; and, in two months, found myself as awaking from a dream, in a prison…It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding: I had forgotten the particulars of what had happened, and only felt as if some great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me.” — Vol II, Chapter IV (1818)

“I seemed to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit. It was indeed but a passing trance, that only made me feel with renewed acuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to operate, I had returned to my old habits.” — Vol I, Chapter III

he also demonstrates flight of ideas, a thought disorder that involves rapid shifting of thoughts that are expressed in language. people with flight of ideas may speak quickly and jump between ideas that are not connected in a way that is difficult to follow, illogical, or nonsensical. this occurs just before alphonse visits him in prison:

“I know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but it instantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my misery, and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement for me to comply with his hellish desires… “Oh! take him away! I cannot see him; for God’s sake, do not let him enter!’” — Vol III, Chapter IV

to which mr. kirwin “regards [victor] with a troubled countenance” in response.

aaand that's a wrap.

there's no real point to all this i just wanted to outline most of his symptoms so i could have it all in one place. i'll probably expand on this sometime with more actual thoughts and ideas of substance as well as building on the implications of a reading of frankenstein where victor experiences psychosis (and how actually acknowledging victor's mental illness forces a much more sympathetic interpretation of victor... which is why people tend to talk around it). do with this what you will!

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 5

A smile from you is all he needs to feel recharged.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, Angst , emotional kook, suggestive messages, poor Maria pt.1 [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

This is not going to plan at all.

Not only is he behind schedule wise, he's also not thought about the possibility of what this all might look like to you at all. Because why would you even think that in the first place? He'd be absolutely stupid to cheat on you, let alone with a 64 year old married woman of all people!

But then again, you don't know that part- and he also can't really properly explain it as he would surely blow his own cover, and he's just too close to the finish line to give up now. He already almost cried at deleting your face ID and fingerprint from his phone, feeling like he deleted the memory of setting those things up too, but he swore himself it's for a good cause down the line. You'll make so many more memories together for sure, and they'll top those more than by just a little. He'll make sure that they will.

[Alright, I'm so excited! Next time let's do it this way right from the start- no need to make it so complicated!] Maria had wrote him in full, and he reads over it with a bit of worry. Does she really understand what he meant by his worries?

[I'm not sure you understand. I'm planning something big, and I'm also behind when it comes to physical intimacy these days, you know?] He writes the woman, who he's asked prior about the rules and such regarding.. well, sex in the home he's renting out for the upcoming special occasion he's planned. He doesn't want to get locked up for not following some Airbnb laws he overlooked after all. That would just be embarrassing. [And we're very intimate people. I'm taking her pleasure and happiness seriously, if you get the hint.] He texts her as he boils some water on the stove for his absolute accurately made ramyeon.

[Oh trust me, I've been young too! No need to be shy, I can only imagine that emotions will run high most likely!] She responds, and Jungkook pursed his lips for a second, before he starts to play with his piercings deep in thought.

[No, Maria, I don't think you get it-] he begins to type. [-it's been almost two full weeks at this point, that's the longest we've ever gone without any sex, we're talking at least three orgasms a day times fourteen, I've got some major catching up to do..] jungkook sends her, before he puts his phone down for a second as to prepare the instant noodles properly.

[It's fine, really. No need to worry!] The woman responds. But jungkook wants to make sure.

[She's a squirter- you know what that is right? Either way it's gonna get messy so I'm just making sure you REALLY know what you're getting into if you say it's alright because the carpet looked really nice and I'm not sure how to get cum stains out of that] he rambles, not noticing you emerge from the bedroom now as you put your bag on one of the kitchen chairs. [I can replace it too if that happens no problem, you know how my girlfriend gets haha. Well you don't but you will know after we're done with the place-] he taps and accidentally sends out as you call his name, causing him to almost drop his phone into the soup pot on the stove, only barely catching it in time before he can practically throw it into the pocket of his sweatpants. "Yeah?" He asks towards you, and you look at him still way too hostile in his opinion.

He knows you can be a bit of a hot head. It's what he loves about you- how fierce you can get and how you'll always stand your ground. But he also knows that you're a bit of an aklebiter with some serious anger issues sometimes- once you see red, you don't see anything else anymore. So he's got to be careful not to fuck it up any further, because once he loses you, he loses for good.

Because you're stubborn if you've made up your mind.

"The water's boiling over." You mumble, avoiding his gaze as you sit at the kitchen table, arms crossed in defense. He jumps at your words and turns off the stove at that, somewhat awkwardly playing up some food into bowl for the both of you, watching you eat silently across from him with an almost needy gaze.

You're gonna probably try and kick his balls if he asks you to sit on his lap right now, so he swallows down the request to keep them intact.

He's gonna seriously crunch some hours while you're sleeping over at a friend's house so he can still make the deadline, able to pass up on sleep with you not actually home to scold him for it. He hates the fact that the app on his phone constantly reminds him of the lack of intimacy between you two- taunting him with notifications about his streak being broken, his record being topped, his spot up top on the scoreboard being taken. He hates it. He created this app, he should be the one who's best at it too!

God he can't wait to get his hands on you again. He feels like his dick is going to fall off in the next few days.

And it's not just that, either. He doesn't sleep well when you're not with him, he misses all the interactions you usually have during the day, the love, the intimacy of just being close, he misses it so bad. And he kind of doesn't want you to leave right now- he'd love to just call it quits and just cave in, but he's come too far now, and you're also a strong independent woman. You deserve to choose where you want to go or stay, he's got no say in that- or at least he shouldn't try to have it.

"I.. You'll text me when you wanna come back home, right?" He asks as he finishes his bowl, and you shrug.

"Whatever." You mumble. "S' not like you want me home for more than the chores anyways." You huff into your food, and he can't help but feel his eyes tear up. No, stupid Jungkook, don't fucking cry right now. You're gonna ruin it all with your dumb tears and weak heart just like always-

"I do want you home.." he mumbles quietly, blinking harder to avoid you spotting anything off- but you notice. Of course you do.

"...I'll text you." You say, and that at least soothes his mind for the moment as his phone falls out of his pocket, screen cracking and making him cringe.

Fuck. That's the what.. 20th time this year?

But it's all worth it, if it means he can at least see the hint of a smile pull at your lips for once.

The sight alone motivation enough to make him work even harder now.

[livesworthlivingau]

Lives Worth Living Chapter 1

Spoilers for TwoHats

"C'mon Bonnie, Sif still needs his rest, let's give him some time to process everything."

"Awwww, fiiiiine, but I'll be back with some snacks later to celebrate!"

(The door closes behind them and you're left alone. You stare at the ceiling as you lay in bed, static filling your mind. It's a low drum at first but the cacophony grows and grows and grows until it's overwhelming.)

(You're... back… how could you be back?... It was over… it's BEEN over… it's been so long… Why here? Why now? Why-No… this is a dream, it must be, right? Some weird manifestation of grief over Odile, that has to be it…)

(As the initial shock dies down, you take a few deep breaths to collect yourself. You examine your oh so distantly familiar surroundings, a faintly recognizable Inn.)

(That’s right, it was the first place you stayed after leaving Dormont once you beat the King. You didn’t stay long to celebrate after all as Bonnie was practically dragging you all back towards Bambouche to check on Nille…)

(Was this actually real?... you’ve had dreams, or more accurately, nightmares of returning to the loops before, but you were never this aware in them, and upon waking up you could notice all the cracks around the edges. You’re lucid, there’s no cracks, no signs this wasn’t the real deal… So if this IS real…)

["Stardust?... Is that you?..."]

(?!!!?! LOOP!)

(You dart out of bed, you rush out of the door so fast you don’t even remember to grab your cloak and hat, almost slamming into Isa who seems to be carrying your breakfast to you in bed.)

“Hey, Sif! You’re u-AGH!” (He jumps, nearly dropping the tray as you just narrowly avoid splattering into him like a brick wall.)

“Sorry! I’ll explain after, I promise!!” (You shout back without breaking your stride, hoping your word would be enough to sate his inevitable worry.)

“Siffrin?! Shouldn’t you be resting?!”

“Frin! Hey, you didn’t eat breakfast!”

“Gems alive, what is it now?!”

“Can’t talk! Be back soon!” (Nothing else mattered right now, you had to be sure, you had to see them, you had to know if this was real.)

(You bust through the door, suddenly darting through the town, frantically looking around, you aren’t even sure what for until you see it. A tree, a massive tree, the largest one in sight, that has to be it. You make a beeline straight for it, stumbling some over rocks and roots, you were very out of practice after all.)

(Finally you’ve made it, busting through the tree line into a clearing around this region’s Favor Tree, sliding to a stop. Your breaths deep and heavy, lungs and legs burning some, various little scrapes and bruises from the various flora smacking against you as you rushed through. None of this mattered, especially once your eye locked onto what you’ve been searching for… the dark figure with a bright face, those vibrant eyes staring back at you in shock, almost horror, confusion waving through their entire form.)

“Loop… LOOP! LOOP IT’S REALLY YOU!” (You practically scream, running again and almost collapsing into them. Your arms wrap so tightly around them as tears pour from your eye.)

“Stardust… What-When is this? How long has it been?” (They asked, their forearms slowly coiling around your back in return.)

“It’s been so long Loop… I thought you were gone… I missed you so much…”

“So long? But.. you look the same, it couldn’t have been more than a few weeks? Are you really that desperate to have me around Stardust~?” (They asked, feeling confident enough to bring back that facade they always put on. It was helpful for breaking the awkward tension, but they clearly knew something was wrong. Their existence simply returning again was alarming in and of itself.)

“... It’s the next day… after you vanished, but… it’s been a lot longer than that for me Loop.” (You begin to explain, pulling away finally as you wipe your tears. You take a deep breath, knowing you’re gonna have to tell someone what’s going on, so who better than your… self? Kinda?)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“30 YEARS?!?!” (Loops voice cries out, the sudden shout sending every bird in a wide radius to suddenly scatter and flee every tree around.)

“WHY ARE YOU THE CALM ONE HERE?!” (They continue, seeming to be more upset about your own reaction than the actual news.)

“A lot’s happened in 30 years… I’ve gotten better about handling my emotions-”

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’re all ‘put together’ now, how long did you go to therapy in all that time?”

“...”

“... Great, just fantastic, now I’M the unreasonable one! This isn’t fair Stardust, you can’t just swap the whole dynamic all of the sudden!”

“Well it’s not like I chose for this to happen! We were all with Odile in her final moments and…

“So, what? The wish stuck around? We’re destined to reset anytime any of your family members dies?”

“... I guess so… but is that really that bad?... we’re not stuck in the same 2 days anymore, it’s a whole life practically…”

“What do you mean we, Stardust? What am I supposed to do while you’re off galivanting your whole life away over and over again?”

(You just beam a bright smile towards them in response)

“... Why are you looking at me like th-No! No no no no NO Stardust! I did NOT sign up for this!”

“Fine, suit yourself, just hide in the tree line for decades while I live my life~.”

“... This is actual hell, when I vanished I went to Hell, didn’t I?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Just admit it Stardust, we’re lost, because you were simply too obsessed with me to bother with directions~.”

“The past 30 years must have been dreadful if you’re so eager for a do-over~.”

“Let me guess, your Fighter still hasn’t confessed, has he~?”

“You know teasing you isn’t any fun if you aren’t going to react anymore, Stardust!”

“That’s exactly why I’m doing it~.” (You respond with a smug little smile. You were glad to have your old looping confidant back, and even more glad you could mess with them just like they used to do to you.)

“... So what’s the plan here anyways? We just show up Hey everyone, Loop is back! and I’m just part of the family? You really think it’ll be that easy?”

“Yeah, pretty much!”

“... And… What about… everything else? Do you really intend to tell them everything?”

“I uhh… haven’t really gotten that far yet. Do you want to tell them everything? I assume that would take a lot more of an adjustment, but we could try it out.”

“Try it out? You just lost the last 30 years of your life and you’re just fine with ‘trying it out’?! Seriously, no one is this well adjusted Stardust, what are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything, I just… I really missed you Loop… I’m really glad to have you back, and honestly, seeing you again is kinda making all of this okay for now. Am I gonna have a mental breakdown tomorrow? Maybe! It wouldn’t be that surprising, but I just… I want to enjoy this moment, while I have it, okay?” (You ask as you’ve stopped in your tracks during your little speech. You turn to Loop, holding out your hand, inviting them to take it so you can walk in tow.)

(They just stare at you for a moment, holding their hands close to themselves almost defensively, instinctively. It takes them a moment to let their guard down, slowly relaxing and placing their hand in yours, letting you take it with a roll of their eyes, just trying to put on a face as always.)

“So, just Loop? No other details?” (Your question sends Loop into a thoughtful stare towards the ground, lost in it for a while as you both walk along. Several minutes pass before they finally look back up to you, ready to answer)

“... Just Loop.”

“You got it~.”