#'mag was one of the bad ones because he was one you might start to like'

[earlyspringtranscendence]

Smth that I always come back to in the pee Nureyev experience is like. My view on Peter and Mags relationship and how I disagree with like 99% of the fanon interpretation of it (and also perhaps the canon starting in S4) (and so will ignore it henceforth) like Mag is . Nice. He's nice. I fucking know he lied to peets ok but he also like killed Mag so it evens out but it's heart wrenching to hear the audio when they're duping that New Kinshasa woman and they laugh so raucously (AND FREELY!!!! WHEN HAVE U EVER HEARD PEE SO FREE...) and well it's like. They love eachother . Kinda all I even have to say about that. I refuse to believe that Mag was a bad parent beyond the usual bad parenting of someone who isn't by any means ready or even nec willing to be a parent beforehand, but like anything that extends beyond that is so depressing to me... There's strength in numbers, even on Brahma, and pee used to have that with Mag. and anyway you cant take that away from me im putting my fingers in my ears and yelling if u try to reason w me GOODNIGHT & GOODBYE

[ratridingaskateboard]

Always See Your Face

New girl! Reader x Eddie

Summary: There is a new girl at Hawkins and Dustin will do anything to make sure Eddie doesn't find out.

Warnings: slight sexual innuendos, cursing, mentions of drugs. Y/N is described!

A/N: Hi! This is the first time I have written a fic in a while but I hope you enjoy it! Depending on the feedback I get from this I might write more :) FYI perspectives in this story will change and will be indicated by: --

--

Dustin had always been one to have his friends' best interests in mind. He might have overstepped boundaries at times but he knew what was best for him and his friends. Even though Eddie was several years older than him, he still knew that the last thing Eddie needed in his life was a girlfriend. What if he started hanging out with her and Hellfire stopped existing? What would happen with his band? Everything would go to shit because some girl would grab his attention for 2 seconds.

Dustin found himself every morning before school sitting in the back of Eddie's van with the back doors open. Eddie let them sit in the back and read comics while he would perform his drug deals for the kids who had extracurricular activities after school. Dustin looked up from his X-Men to observe a car he had never seen before. Strange, but not uncommon to see until he saw a figure he had never seen before.

She dawned a black denim jacket adorned with several Metal and Punk bands that Dustin would not be able to recognize but had seen in Eddie's vast cassette collection. Her legs were barely covered by a short red plaid schoolgirl skirt and her chest was wrapped in a Sex Pistols T-shirt. She was bending down to seemingly grab her backpack from her backseat and several football douchebags whistled at the response of seeing her backside. This did not catch her attention though as she quickly grabbed her backpack and placed it on the roof of her car. She glanced at Dustin and he felt himself gulp. Fuck- He was staring at Eddie's dream girl. He frequently heard Eddie go on tangents that no girl in Hawkins had the same interests as him. Now he proved himself wrong- Dustin could prove it with his own eyes. Not only did she have his style but she had a pretty face similar to that of one of the girls from one of Eddie's porn mags that Dustin had unfortunately found in his van. They both shared the same long brown hair and doe-shaped eyes.

What was Dustin going to do? Not only was this girl weirded out by the amount of time Dustin had been ogling her but she could ruin everything. She did not even understand the power she possessed by simply existing in the wrong place and at the wrong time. He had to do everything in his power to make sure neither of them saw each other.

Dustin's feet started to jog in her direction as she had already begun her strut to the front entrance of the school. Before Dustin could get the chance to tap her shoulder, she swiftly turned to face him, discomfort shown in her face.

"Hey man, I would really enjoy it if you could leave me alone." She barked.

"No no no! I don't mean anything bad by following you. I'm sorry for staring at you earlier but um... Oh! The principal had actually sent me to give you a tour of the school and to show you where your classes are!" Dustin had secured a good enough lie to not seem like the creep he was presenting himself to be.

Her eyes widened and her gaze softened.

"Oh, okay." She smiled and Dustin could feel himself getting more anxious knowing that she was that pretty when she smiled.

The bell began to rang, signaling to every student that it was time for Hell to begin. Dustin heard a familiar voice call out to Mike and he swiftly grabbed her hand and pulled her into the school, making sure to avoid any possibly common route Eddie normally took.

"Can I see your schedule?" Dustin asked, giving out his hand eagerly.

It seemed like she could hear the annoyance in Dustin's words and swiftly pulled out the crumpled sheet of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. Dustin quickly looked over the paper and let out a sigh of relief. Even though she was a senior, she did not seem to have a single class with Eddie most likely because her classes were for the more advanced students.

"Okay, Y/N. This way!"

Dustin guided her to her first classroom, Mr. Stadford's Physics class, and said that he would meet up with her after her second. After the first period was over, Dustin ran to meet up with Y/N and to make sure he was able to beat her before she left the classroom. Yes, Eddie and her shared similar hallways for classes but Eddie had a tendency to be late to each and every class he went to. Alongside this, Dustin made sure that she was always early to her classes. This cycle repeated until lunch.

--

Y/N had found herself bound to the little curly-headed boy. She shouldn't say boy he was only a couple years younger than her. Moving was hard but going to a new school was even harder. Her parents' divorce could not have been more sudden and even though he had been a tad bit too eager, she really appreciated Dustin's kindness.

She frowned after exiting her third-period class to find no Dustin. Guess she would have to find the cafeteria by herself or simply follow the crowd that had corralled its way down the hall.

Once she entered the cafeteria, she felt the eyes on her, all over her. Thankfully, there were plenty of tables that had not recognized that fresh blood had entered their school. She saw a familiar head of curls bobble in laughter and she started her stride in his direction.

Once she had gotten to the table, it seemed to be filled with only boys all wearing the same T-shirt Dustin was wearing. She assumed it must be some sort of club he had not introduced her to yet. The majority of the boys had noticed her walk up to the table and she could tell they were not often approached by women. The only ones who hadn't noticed were Dustin and an older boy with long shaggy brown hair.

"Hey," She put her hand on Dustin's shoulder and her moved her head down to his level. "I know you showed me around and I might be asking for too much but is it alright if I sit with you?"

A look of dread filled Dustin's face as he looked up at her from his lunch. She had automatically assumed that he had felt bad for not escorting her to the lunch room.

"It's okay! I found the lunch room just fine." She rubbed his shoulder to put him at ease and sat down next to him.

There was nothing but silence.

She had felt as if she had sat at the wrong table and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Dustin was still agape and didn't seem to have changed his expression even after her reassurance. She turned to view the other boys at the table. They stared at her with a sense of confusion and wonder but all too awkward to speak first.

Finally, she turned to the boy sitting at the end of the table. His gaze softened when she gazed at him. His eyes were wide also in shock from a stranger sitting at their table but there was something different in his expression that she couldn't quiet read. Embarrassment? No. Confusion? No. Longing? Maybe but not quite.

This silence was cut short by a food tray plopping on the other side of Dustin.

"Jesus, that line was long!" A boy with a bowl cut sighed.

"Where are you guys so quiet?" He looked around in disbelief but immediately found the source when he spotted the brunette sitting on the other side of Dustin.

"Hey." She waved.

--

A/N: Depending on how things go with this I will definitely continue this as a series. Lemme know your thoughts!

[revelboo]

Stop, we're too full of your delicious meals. We can't take anymore of it. 😫 (still have room for anything masterpiece of a fanfiction you have blessed us for today and more. 🤭) I don't think I've seen you done rodimus or not. Think you can whip him up one? 😗

I did, but also haven’t updated the Masterlist since it’s a pain on my phone. Here’s part two, though

Attractive Today Pt 2

MTMTE Rodimus x Reader

• “Nothing broken, but probably a concussion,” Ratchet grumbles, drawing back from the limp form sprawled on a Cybertronian sized exam table to lightly smack the scanner against his other palm. Like he’s thinking about hitting him with it, even though this isn’t his fault. How can he possibly know what everyone on the ship is doing all the time? Co-captain doesn’t mean watching the crew all the time to make sure no one’s doing something stupid. It shouldn’t anyway. “How many of them are there?”

• Spreading his hands in a shrug makes Ratchet’s servos tighten on the scanner. “Brainstorm was a bit vague on that part,” Rodimus says, attention dropping to the human. They’re tiny, but surely if there were more, they’d have been noticed already. He hadn’t brought up Brainstorm’s vague and oddly threatening ‘not on the ship,’ either. Because he’s not at all happy with the implications of that. “I don’t suppose you might-“

• “Absolutely not,” Ratchet cuts him off, now brandishing the scanner like a weapon. “That isn’t my problem, captain.”

“Co-captain,” he mutters, gingerly picking the human up and trying to not shudder at how disconcertingly limp it is in his hand. Megatron was supposed to be the one handling the boring, responsible stuff. Like reports and making sure stuff like this isn’t happening.

• Whirl had wanted it, but actually handing over a very small, very helpless thing to that lunatic? Almost as bad as the idea of more humans left behind on planets or ships they’d interacted with or passed too near. Or just floating out in space like horrifying, frozen markers behind the ship. That he refuses to think about. Maybe Mags will take it? He likes humans. Possibly. Striding out of the Medbay in search of Magnus, he starts running through possible alternate human sitters. Swerve?

• Head pounding, you squint your eyes open with a groan and lift a hand to touch your temple. Or try to. Your arms are pinned at your sides and whatever’s restraining you is warm, shifting slightly against you. And with dawning horror you remember that awful metal chicken-legged abomination snatching at you with those claws while the other one egged him on. Chasing you. There’s been a third one, right? Right, turning your head you stare up at the red and yellow nightmare staring down at you in surprise. “Hey,” it says, flashing a lot of big teeth in a big mouth.

• And you’re screaming again, and Primus, you have some volume. “Don’t eat me!” You wail, thumping your tiny fists against his servos like you think you can fend him off from… eating you? Well, that explains a lot of the panicked run straight into a wall. But where had you gotten the ideal that Cybertronians eat humans from? Growling under his breath, he tightens his grip as you try to squirm right out of his hand, completely oblivious to the possible fall. Fragging Whirl.

Previous

Next

[gerec]

Resurrection of Magneto - Issue 2

For all Cherik lovers:

If you haven't been following / don't follow the comics - Magneto has been dead since 2022 after his battle with Uranos in AXE: Judgement Day and has stayed dead because he asked not to be resurrected (yes resurrections were/are a thing in the Krakoan era for mutants). The new mini RoM is about Storm going on a journey to... purgatory somewhere?... to bring Magneto back to the land of the living because she heard his 'call'/dreamt he was in pain and regretted his choice. When she finds him though, he is very determinedly NOT interested in coming back, wanting to atone for his sins and because he's just so TIRED y'all. But then:

Then Storm is like 'Bestie let me catch you up it's been a NO GOOD VERY BAD DAY for mutants':

As you can see, Mags is PISSED because he specifically told Storm with his dying breath he was worried about Charles being left alone and what he might do if pushed to his limits and that he needed (her) support...

It's a little hilarious that Mags is more upset with Storm for botching things ('YOU HAD ONE JOB, ORORO') than with Charles' (questionable? depends who you ask) decision-making and starts flinging metal name plates of his victims at her (i.e. people he's killed or were killed because of him and yes he's been tormenting himself, surrounded by walls and walls and walls of their names).

Then we get THIS panel of Erik remembering how he cradled his 'friend' in his arms and lamenting how Charles was the only one who saw that ERIK/MAX/MAGNUS/MAGNETO mattered too, and that HE (and not just his victims) also suffered from his actions....'WHAT DID I DO, CHARLES?'

'SO I CHOSE DEATH OVER THE DREAM I BUILT WITH MY FRIEND' - HE'S SO SORRY HE ABANDONED YOU, CHHHHHHARRRRRRLLLLLEESSSSS!!!!

But then Storm says 'but look at all the lives you've saved, that's important too. You need to come back and help us SAVE mutant kind and HE says:

BABE, WAIT FOR ME I'M COMING HOME!!!

[discokicks]

BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT

a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!

masterlist! song inspo! AO3!

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?

word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)

warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)

authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags

There are two universal truths in life. 

The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.

These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.

However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.

It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.

“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”

Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”

“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”

“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”

You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care. 

You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting. 

You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.

But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours. 

Fuck.

Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.

“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”

You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”

Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”

“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”

The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers. 

However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.

Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.

You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.

Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.

But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.

You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.

Unfortunately, neither of those happen.

Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.

Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.

You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something. 

You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.

It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”

The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”

You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”

You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—

The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”

The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”

That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”

Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.

Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”

You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”

He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”

“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”

“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”

“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”

He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”

“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”

He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”

He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.

But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”

That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt? 

You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so. 

Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”

The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth. 

You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.

You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be. 

(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)

Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.

It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth. 

But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.

No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.

You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”

So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.

He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.

When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.

“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”

Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.

“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”

You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it. 

However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.

If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you. 

And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.

You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter. 

That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis. 

(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)

He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”

At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him. 

His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”

He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”

That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand. 

You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.

But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.

Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.

You’re fucked.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.

You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number. 

And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.

It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read. 

(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)

Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?

His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.

And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.

And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.

Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.

She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.

Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.

“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”

“Leah…” Your voice is weak.

It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”

“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”

“Are you sure?”

You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”

“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”

You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”

“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning. 

You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.

You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names. 

You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.

That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you. 

You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.

You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you. 

(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.) 

But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.

“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.

A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”

“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”

“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”

Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”

Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”

You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”

“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”

“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”

And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee. 

You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you. 

It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight? 

It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.

It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.

It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes. 

Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.

It’s a bad idea to consider it. 

But it’s a worse idea to agree.

text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.

The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.

God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?

Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.

However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”

You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat. 

It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?

Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”

His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”

That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”

“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”

The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past. 

But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember. 

“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”

“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”

He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.

The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”

That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”

His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”

“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”

The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”

“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.

You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”

Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.

He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.

His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips. 

The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.

His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”

You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”

You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.

You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.

It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”

You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.

Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”

He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”

You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is. 

It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.

So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.” 

The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”

“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”

His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”

And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him. 

This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.

So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.

Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”

“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”

“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”

He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”

Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.

He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.

“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.

Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”

You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.

He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.

The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”

That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.

Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.

He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”

“What?” you ask again.

“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”

The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.

He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs. 

You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”

His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”

Your mouth parts. “Why?”

“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”

You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.

“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”

His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.

Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”

You scoff. “I told you.”

He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.

His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.

So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”

That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.

You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.

And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking hot.

The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.

“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”

Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”

“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”

You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”

And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”

He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.

He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”

He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.

The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”

You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.

But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.

The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—

“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”

The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.

Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.

It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.

When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.

You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”

You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point. 

It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.

Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—

It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.

“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.

You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply. 

Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”

You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”

He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back. 

He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.

“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”

A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.

He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”

You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.

You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips. 

He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”

You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say. 

He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.

He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.

He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”

You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”

Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…

It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.

He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.

Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”

The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”

He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”

You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close. 

He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.” 

You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”

And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make. 

“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.

He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.

You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.

You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”

You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”

You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”

Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”

They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.

You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.

Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing. 

“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”

You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.

You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so. 

“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”

The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”

It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.

You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.

You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”

The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings. 

Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”

He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”

He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.

You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.

And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.

But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.

There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention. 

And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.

Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.

I had a really good time tonight.

And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating. 

me too. 

And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with:

i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.

[annabelle--cane]

im listening to mag again and damn do the archival crew HATE jon. listen i get it supposedly your lives would be normal if he hadn't brought you here... but he didn't? (minus og archive crew, jon requesting them and all) if anything he was just kinda there when you made decisions, bro wasn't EVEN THERE when melanie got hired like??? like how r u gonna wish him pain rn, he's ltrly sopping wet and on the verge of dying💀

like another anon I got a month or so ago, this is one of my sleeper agent trigger phrases, so this might be another marina monologue moment.

as I'm also in the middle of a (for my standards) incredibly slow relisten, I've been thinking about this topic, too, but I've been coming at it from a slightly different angle than I normally do. in tim's case, we don't get an actual look at the circumstances under which he transferred to the archives, it is theoretically possible that jon laid it on a bit thick in asking him to come with him to the department and tim wouldn't have even thought of it otherwise, but with melanie we have several scenes of her hiring and onboarding where jon is not present and she continually rebuffs people who tell her she's making a mistake, so the text very clearly sets up that her blaming jon for being trapped there doesn't make sense. and, even with tim having been requested by jon, he still had to make the ultimate decision to switch departments himself, so, yknow, what gives?

most people, I think, and myself in the past, have come at this question from a very jon-centric pov because he's the main character and it's a jon-centric show, but I think putting it down to "they lash out at him because he happens to be there and stops defending himself after a while" misses something, as does "they lash out at him because elias sets everyone up to think they have an adversarial relationship to jon." more than that, I think it's about the rejection of agency.

tma is a show that's very much About agency and choices, so it's important to keep track of where characters suddenly balk and try to offload their choices onto other agents. martin, despite being very proactive and efficient when he sets his mind to it, has a consistent habit of thinking of himself as fundamentally unimportant and unable to affect real change. jon, someone who is usually culpability_acceptor_4000, really tries to convince himself that the web made him pull statements out of strangers. and melanie and tim, on realizing that they've gotten themselves stuck in the archives, have similar reactions of trying to retroactively make those decisions jon's.

they hate being stuck there and they can't bear the idea that it might be their fault, and they don't know how to reconcile the choices they did make with the greater forces outside of their control that shape their lives. tim swings right from seeing jon as fully responsible to seeing everything as the result of cosmically inevitable bad luck, and this hits him so hard that it leads directly to his suicide. post-bullet melanie gets a better handle on it; accepting that she chose to fall further into the slaughter opens her up to accepting that she made other choices, like joining the archives, as well as accepting future choices, like quitting the archives.

and yes, in the moments where tim and melanie are most vulnerable and just starting to realize how deeply screwed they are, jon (at least from their pov) does something to make it worse. when jon tells tim that jane presntiss wasn't his fault, tim says "well you sure made me feel worse afterwards! and then everyone had to pay attention to how you were feeling to get you to stop stalking us!" when melanie goes in for a second assassination attempt on elias, elias makes jon talk her down instead of doing it himself, presumably to try and get the slaughter mark done with. neither of these are the inciting incidents for tim and melanie's situations, but they stand out. and because jon is culpability_acceptor_4000, a man who feels like the weight of the whole world is on his shoulders and is even right some of the time, the accusations stick. tim and melanie don't want anything to be their fault, jon thinks everything is his fault, and it's a bit of a vicious self-fulfilling cycle.

[leclerc-s]

big reputations - part eight

series masterlist // previous // next

charles leclerc i've decided that this week i will be driving like a menace.

daniel ricciardo i see track terror is making a comeback this week.

max verstappen no more inchidents please.

charles leclerc mate let it go already. it's been over 10 years.

max verstappen admit you pushed me into that puddle and i'll let it go!

oscar piastri i see why the entire internet is convinced you two are secretly dating

charles leclerc excuse me? max verstappen they're what? sabrina carpenter lestappen is lestappening

daniel ricciardo to be fair, they think k-mag and nico are in love with each other, have been since the whole 'suck my balls' thing

daphne jones didn't we have this conversation already?

max verstappen that was in the other group chat

sabrina carpenter YOU HAVE A GROUP CHAT WITHOUT US? THIS IS TREASON!

oscar piastri OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!

charles leclerc THIS IS TREACHEROUS!

daphne jones oh grow up, it was started before you three were even in the picture. we don't use it much these days.

sabrina carpenter good. otherwise i'd throw a fit.

max verstappen don't you always?

sabrina carpenter i will make your life miserable verstappen

max verstappen you already do by existing every day.

lando norris MR. RICCIARDO ARE YOU OR ARE NOT A MASTERMIND?! THE TWITTER GIRLIES WANT TO KNOW!!

daniel ricciardo the hell are you talking about lando?

pierre gasly so you saw the same twitter thread i did?

max verstappen i completely forgot daphne had performed at the 2016 austin grand prix.

lewis hamilton huh that did happen

lando norris DANIEL ARE YOU A MASTERMIND?

logan sargeant was going to ask why but then i realized what the song is about.

mark webber i don't get it? what's the song about?

oscar piastri forgive him, he's uncultured.

mark webber that's it, no more sabrina time for you. oscar piastri sabrina said you can't separate siblings. tell him charles! charles leclerc yeah! what she said! lando norris wait a fucking minute, are you all together right now?

carlos sainz is that family thing working for you guys?

max verstappen it actually is. you should've seen the group chat after texas.

max verstappen on second thought maybe not. daniel ricciardo yeah, that's not a good idea. oscar piastri things were said by sabrina. charles leclerc well when you say it like that you make it sound bad. nothing bad was said, they're being dramatic. although, she might be in love with fernando daniel ricciardo you do remember the spa inchident don't you? alex albon they call him fernando rizzlonso

lando norris renamed daniel ricciardo

mastermind hilarious lando. truely.

lando norris you never confirmed or denied it. i took matters into my own hands.

pierre gasly question for sabrina, how does one get a song like nonsense written about them?

sabrina carpenter what an odd question pear gasly, i'd say by dating a singer? which is better for me because that way i can steal your girlfriend with no obstacles.

aelx albon she's a menace.

max verstappen THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING!

oscar piastri it's not that great of a song. i don't get the hype?

sabrina carpenter added one person

sabrina carpenter oscar's been disowned. he didn't know the words to love story.

charles leclerc max doesn't either?

oscar piastri what the hell are you talking about sabrina?

sabrina carpenter i saw that mclaren video.

daphne jones it's one song sabrina, let it go. this is not going to turn into another spa situation.

yuki tsunoda excuse me while i go scream into the void

logan sargeant wait for me! lance stroll and me!

lando norris daniel probably

sabrina carpenter lando with all of his teammates

lando norris man fuck you sabrina

carlos sainz what's the spa situation?

daphne jones you don't want to know, trust me. oscar piastri for your sanity, you don't want to know. daniel ricciardo please don't get her started again.

sabrina carpenter mr. sainz, you truly do not want to get me started. as i said before, i may not have been present for spa but i can and will bite ankles for oscar.

mastermind so who's free to go to daphne's concert in argentina on the 11th?

lando norris SIGN ME TF UP!!

yuki tsunoda I'M IN!

alex albon depends, can i bring lily?

mastermind of course! - sabrina mastermind that's my wife! - sabrina

logan sargeant ready to dance along to the fearless era

mastermind bold of any of you to think you have a choice. I EXPECT ALL OF YOU THERE! - SABRINA

mastermind love the name btw - sabrina

charles leclerc to quote sabrina, "i expect ass shaking for vigilante shit."

oscar piastri dear i god i hope none of you do that.

lando norris well now i'm going to.

sebastian vettel well she's certainly something.

max verstappen she's a menace.

lewis hamilton huh, sounds like someone back in 2016 to 2018. max verstappen YOU TAKE THAT BACK! lewis hamilton i don't think i will

mastermind JUSTICE FOR ABU DHABI 2021 - SABRINA

oscar piastri she just likes to stir the pot.

mark webber sounds like someone else and the infamous alpine tweet.

oscar piastri okay, that was one time.

esteban ocon argentina right before vegas? doesn't seem like a good idea to me but i'm in.

lando norris BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER!

jenson button so is daniel dating daphne or not?

mastermind that's a secret i'll never tell - xoxo gossip girl.

alex albon something is brewing i can feel it.

taglist: @glow-ish @agustdpeach @msolbesg @spilled-coffee-cup @1nt3rnetgf @six-call @smol-scream @fernandoswarcrimes @arieltwvdtohamflash @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @chiliwhore @tygecjjd @cataf1 @nothaqks @caipng @nataliambc @formulaal @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @hobiismyhopeu @melissayalene @nikfigueiredo

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! i’m back for 2024! i tried something different for this chapter and i think i liked it so i'm going to change it for all of the other parts, which is going to be a bitch because it's gonna take forever. it's also not that big of a change but i think it makes a difference.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet. enjoy!

[holdmytesseract]

Greetings Bestie, I am here with a Magnus blurb request

How about a piece where Magnus realizes he's in love with his partner, and it's at a funny & inappropriate time and place? Like they're in an interrogation or maybe undercover?

Perfectly Bad Timing

Warnings: fluff, police things, more fluff

Word Count: blurb

a/n: Bestiiie, thank you so much for this! I really hope you're going to like this lil' story! 🥹💖

Magnus's eyes were glued to you. Something you didn't seem to notice. If the young man across from you and him noticed? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Anyways, the policeman wouldn't care. He always had just eyes for the wonderful woman he gad the honour to call his girlfriend, but today... Today was one of these days on which he got reminded by himself how freaking much he actually loved you.

During an interrogation in the first case Kurt allowed you and Magnus to be leading inspectors was admittedly not exactly the right moment, but what was he supposed to do?

You two worked at the Ystad police station for almost five years together now and he had never... Never seen you interrogate a person. This time was a first - and to Magnus, it was stunning. You were stunning. The way you talked. How you always found the right words to say against the snappy, arrogant and pubescent teenager. Your smart and witty nature...

Magnus would even go as far and say it was dominant, and he couldn't deny that he found that to be pretty hot.

The palm of your hand slamming down on the wooden table everybody sat at, caused the young policeman to snap out of his daydream. At least a little.

"Stop lying to us, Nils. We knew you were at the boathouse. We found your goddamn fingerprints!" You accused the eighteen-year-old across from you. By now you were utterly frustrated and kind of angry. Not just because the disrespectful young man just wouldn't cooperate, no... You were also angry because you already sat inside this constricting, small room for almost an hour and your colleague/boyfriend hadn't said a single word!

You gritted your teeth and slowly turned to face the curly haired man. "Magnus?" He shortly blinked and looked up; oceanic blues meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Yes?" You nodded at the door. "For a word..."

Magnus nodded in agreement; noticed immediately that you weren’t in a good mood. His chair scratched over the polished floor as he stood up and followed you outside in the hallway wordlessly.

You had crossed your arms and waited for him to close the door shut. "Magnus..." You started and took a deep breath; trying not to snap at him right away. Perhaps he had a reason why he didn't say something yet. "We are in there for almost an hour and after five minutes you kind of zoned out completely. Baby, you are absolutely no help! That's shitty. If you're just sitting beside me and staring holes into the wall, I might as well do this alone."

Magnus swallowed hard. You could see his Adam's apple bobbing. And he was blushing. "I-I know, I-" "Then why are you doing it?" You interrupted him. "This isn't working without you! Nils might be the key to solve this case! We can't let this opportunity sl-"

The policeman had heard enough. He knew what this was about. His head told him that repeatedly. But his heart... His heart just wanted one thing... For his lips to kiss you. So, he did.

Magnus interrupted you with his mouth on yours; hands on your hips and pulling you against his body.

You were shocked at first - like frozen, but then you couldn't help but to melt against his touch. Against his sinful kiss.

"Mags..." You panted, once he broke the kiss to get some fresh air into his lungs. "W-What... What was that about?" A boyish smile grazed the curly haired man's face; cheeks reddening. "Me, realising how much I love you, min älskling. I'm sorry for not doing my job, but... All I could focus on, was you."

Your expression softened. He was so cute and kind. How could you possibly be mad at him?

"Aww..." You hugged your boyfriend tightly; burying your hands in his wild, blond curls. "I love you so so much as well." You kissed him again and again and again; the ongoing integration forgotten... At least for a few minutes.

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @huntedmusicgardenn @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @loz-3 @javagirl328 @icytrickster17 @jaidenhawke @eleniblue @lou12346789 @lady-rose-moon @km-ffluv @herdetectivetheorist @lokiforever @crimson25 @simping-for-marvel @cakesandtom @vanilla-daydreaming @kimanne723 @glitchquake @lulubelle814 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @buttercupcookies-blog @november-rayne @mandywholock1980 @lokidbadguy @smolvenger

[dokidokitsuna]

Our Hero

Looks like Dream Alliance is gonna win the poll-- in any case, even if it slips into 2nd place by the end, it’s the oldest AU on the list so it takes priority. ^^ The art train has already left the station~

I thought it’d be nice to start off with a picture of good old Mad Scientist Magolor. I’ve never actually drawn what he would look like after his big adventure is over, during the brief year or two when he’s considered the universally-beloved savior of the world…y’know, before Consequences™ start to muddy the waters. ^^; He’s basically the same; the only changes are his scar and Nova-freckles, updated vambraces, and of course, the wheelchair. I originally intended for his dimensional overcoat to carry his weakened body around, and I guess it could, but visually I like the actual chair better. :] It makes him feel more down-to-earth.

So, if you remember, a while back I wrote out a “bad ending” epilogue for Dream Alliance, which I admitted I didn’t actually consider “canon” to the AU. "So then," you may be wondering, "what IS the canon ending? What actually happens to Mags and Division Six after they save the world…?"

Well, I gave it some thought, and as painful as it is…I think the true ending would be very similar to the “bad” one. Hyness is the problem-- after all’s said and done, the various leaders of the world would probably want him dead for inciting a global genocide. And it would be hard to blame them…but at the same time, I simply cannot imagine a Magolor who would sit quietly and let his father be executed. Even if it meant having the whole world turn on him, even if he truly felt the punishment fit the crime, he would still have to try to save him. He just loves him too much.

There would only be two major differences, and the first would be the position of the Dream Alliance: one of the conditions of the “good ending” is that Susie discovers the truth about Magolor, but understands where he’s coming from, due to her relationship with her own morally-bankrupt-yet-loving father. She does have a talk with him, but keeps it under wraps, and generally ignores the issue until the public finds out that Hyness exists. And even then, although she’s duty-bound to respect the wishes of the rest of the world (and kinda does want to avenge President Haltmann Sr., who died during the Void fiasco) she feels bad about having to oppose Magolor on this, and holds back a bit during the final fight.

The second (even more painful) major difference would be…I think Magolor would decide to sacrifice himself to end the conflict. 🥺If the world wants a life to take, let it be his-- after all, that would be the harshest possible punishment for his father, and he knows it. Nothing would hurt Hyness more than to live out the rest of his days knowing his beloved son died for his crimes.

And it would also quell any concerns regarding all the power Magolor amassed during the story: if he dies, the Void Destroyer System dies with him. No one has to worry about the god-killing mecha or alien auxiliaries falling into the wrong hands; it will all be gone. That extra detail, I think, would be enough to convince other world leaders to accept the deal.

His angels would agree unanimously to die with their creator, because that’s how they are (Morpho might even pull a “see you on the other side”, being part death-god, after all…he knows they’ll meet again in some form~); Gryll and Adeleine would be inconsolable, the other generals would be low-key devastated too (I think MK would be hit the hardest); and Hyness would probably still be alone in his cell, able to ‘sense’ the loss of his child even without anyone telling him…and wishing for nothing more than to join him from that moment on.

[deadcryptiid]

Interview with Euronymous for Morbid Magazine 1987

You had planned a tour in Italy, what will happen now that Manheim is gone?

Euro: We'll just use Torben. But the tour will be in December instead of August as first planned. This is for several reasons.

Does Maniac use distortion on his vocals or is his voice natural?

Euro: Maniac's voice is actually natural! When I first heard him I was sure that he used distortion, but he don't. You can hear that on the demo/record, because he and Messiah use the same mike together! But I think he uses some ki nd of space effect.

How do you manage to play so fast?

Euro: Well, you know that the more practice you get the faster it goes, and we've played for three years, now. But we don't play fast compared to bands like Napalm Death! They're fast!

Has your demo sold well?

Euro: We've sold some, but most people prefer to wait for the record, I think. We've sold a couple of hundred records, even before it's out!

Are any record labels interested to make a deal with you?

Euro: I don't know.We haven't tried to get a deal yet. We recently got a letter from some label called Thunder Records. They wanted a demo so I sent them one. But except from that we haven't sent out any demo to record companies at all.A lot of people have told us that we'd get a deal easily, but we hate record companies. If we'd sign a deal, we'd loose all control. Now we do everything ourself, distribution, promotions and stuff, on our own label called "Posercorpse Music, Inc. "If we sign a deal, we might get much better distribution and more money, but still we prefer to do things ourself. I mean, which rec. company would print our lyrics? However, if we one day do sign a deal, I doubt that it will be more than a one or two record deal.

Were do people that buy your demo come from?

Euro: From all of the world.We've even got a lot of letters from strange places like Japan, Australia, Poland, Chile and Peru!

What do you think of the Norwegian thrash scene?

Euro: It sucks, but I think it starts to build up now. More and more people seem to become active in the scene which I think is good. One thing which also is good is that punks and thrashers now start uniting. But I think that more girls should get into the scene! I know about just 5-6 of them here in this country. However, the Norwegian scene has alot of suckers!It is people who just walk around, thinking "I listen to Slayer, I'm hard!" and we also have those who make crooked use on bands and others, I'm not going to mention any names, but this is Bad!

Do you feel that many people buy your demo after they have read a Fanzine with you in it?

Euro: Yeah, I think that's the way most people get to know about us. We've also been played on lots of local radios everywhere, but it's deffinetly the fanzines who make most of the promotion.

What music do you listen to?

Euro: Personally I listen a lot to electronic syntheziser music like Klaus Schule, Tangerine Dream, Conrad Schnitzler and Brian Eno. I also listen to lots of thrash and some hardcore. But, NO disco shit, pop music or HM.

What do you think about Vomit and the music they play?

Euro: They rule! Their new stuff is so great! To be honest, I think they're better than us! They're really great guys. When Manheim left us they lent us Torben and they let us come to practice at their rehearsalplace every weekend. That's a cool attitude. Support them! They will have a new demo out this autumn.

You visited Kreator some time ago, how did they react when they first heard you?

Euro: The German thrashers are psychos! At that time we had only released "P.F.A" demo, and a lot of them loved it! Then you have to be sick!

You've got some help from Metalion of Slayer Mag. what do you think of him and the Fanzine?

Euro: Metalion is a fucking great guy and our best friend. If it haden't been for him....... The Deathcrush record is dedicated to him, and he truly deserves it! His 'zine is one of the best ive seen and also definitely the sickest.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Two

Paul and Ringo cabaret duo au NOW!

Their collective bitter humor about the fan mag. I think George probably appreciates Paul getting into this sort of shit with him. Even if it is only on a surface-level. A reminder that the Beatles fame journey (something that's been hellish at times for George, enough to give him PTSD and other issues for the rest of his life) has not left Paul unscathed. That Paul actually does have feelings, however buried they may be.

Could even be that the appreciation comes out in the form of "I think your beard suits you. Man." Does the tacked-on 'man' mean a sort of "no homo" type qualifier? Or is it just an added endearment. I know we don't think of George as particularly inhibited, but it was the sixties. And of course Paul loves the compliment and has no idea what to do with it.

Can you all please thank Mal as he hands you your tea next time? Not that hard, guys.

Ringo's voice is so sexy. And I love how supportive Paul and George are of this very stupid song. If either of them had written it, they'd tear it to shreds, but it's Ringo, so we laugh along and enthuse about the sentiments behind the lyrics.

The communal bitching about EMI's treatment of them. As they should.

Oh goodness, it's the "Paul has an embarrassing crush" moment from that iconic post of @jeremy-hillary-boob He totally does and you should say it. "I never used to know what it meant". It's giving "girl pretends not to know how to hold her golf club so the hot guy will touch her".

I have a theory that some of their covers ~matter~ and "What do you want to make those eyes at me for?" Is the first one for me.

Okay this look right here that John is giving Paul? Not to, like, out myself as never having experienced pure love except from my own child or anything, but the only other place I've ever seen that look is on my one-year-old's face when I come get him from his nap. So ... "A lovely little baby, John was"

"If this boy dies, you're gonna cop it." Peak older brother behavior. He's joking, but he's also deadly serious.

In love with John trying to sing out of his range. He's trying so hard, you guys.

"Everybody had a hard year. 'well, I'm not sure, actually. Put [good year]." Same, John. Isn't it always that way? Hard. And good. He's such a genius lyricist. He just captures the human condition with such specificity.

Lol at Paul correcting John on the key of his own song (yeah, yeah, gimme some truth is secretly a colab but it's still a John song)

When they put a piano in front of Paul and John's instantly like "uh-oh, red-alert my beautiful boyfriend might not get captured perfectly from every angle" vs a year and a half later when he's bitching about Paul having too much screen-time in Let it Be. Well, you were part of the problem, babe.

I love George's way of teaching his songs. Whereas Paul was shouting key changes and counts between phrases, and John doesn't even bother to give any of that information, George is just softly singing "E, to F sharp minor. E to A." Beautiful. John and Paul, take notes.

Wonder if I'll get through a day without calling Paul a whore. Probably not.

John being instantly self-effacing after suggesting that genius little let's enhancement. "My mind can blow those clouds away" is actually much more original and thought-provoking, but John just makes fun of himself. Like. Just own it. You're John fucking Lennon!

The George/Paul convo (George talking, Paul hardly flinching) is so painful actually. Because from the outside, Paul's avoidance looks so condescending and unfeeling, but avoidance feels much more like 'Shit fuck shit dodge the fight, go around, don't react, don't engage, don't start something' and i really feel for both of them.

Let John do Help for gosh sakes!

"Not bad though. Good try, that. Johnny."

The part where Paul is looking just so exhausted, and he's actually letting it show, and then he sees the camera on him and hurries and tries to do a cheeky little Beatles head-shake and smile. But then he's really just too tired (and high) and he looks away and rubs his eyes. It was like watching an old circus bear. Those poor things.

And of course John's head snapping up like a little gopher when Paul says his name

[zabala0z]

Hi I listened to six episodes of S3 and I’m back. I have nothing to do and school starts on Monday so lemme give my thoughts 🗣️

MAG 81: A Guest For Mr. Spider

Happy that Jon’s safe and in hiding! I remember Georgie was mentioned in Melanie Kings first statement so I guess she counts as a friend. Another spider theme. There’s so many spiders and I’m wondering what entity that could like fall under. I’m curious on “The Eye” because it hasn’t done anything, it just watched. Which makes sense. But Michael mentioned before that Jon being protected by it so is it like…chill????

MAG 82: The Eyewitnesses

Oh I hate Elias that little bitch I swear to god. Also the fact that the recorder didn’t turn off when they tried during Tims statement was interesting. Is The Eye doing that?? I don’t know maybe it’s just going weird.

Feeling bad for Daisy. Like she’s a murderer yeah but I like her ☹️ and I hate Elias. Super curious on his backstory though

MAG 83: Drawing a Blank

Auughhegughf I hate mannequins. Especially in games when you look away and they’re like getting closer. I’m wondering what the hell the deal was with this. Cause sometimes you can kinda gauge a motivation but this mannequin kinda just did a lot of stuff. Although the circus theme kinda reminded me of that one circus mentioned before. Maybe it’s like an element of The Stranger. Cause like mannequins are faceless and kinda take on different identities everytime you dress them y’know?? Lana was found partially skinned. Maybe the mannequin wanted that. Now that I know about these entities, I’m totally gonna search for links with them. I’m a sucker for cool horrors of humanity.

Also Breekon and Hopes deliveries mention!! I’m thinking they replaced the OG mannequin.

MAG 84: Possessive

Kind of another disease/gross shit theme in here? Also chills when they said “Gordie’s Dump” like eugh that got me. I’m still trying to understand what Maggie was doing. Like the boy saw Gordon’s face out of newspaper in the mud but Gordon was also in the house, Maggie smoothing paper over his face. Is she making like clones out of paper. Is she paper machéing clones???? They said whenever Gordon came to school, he had dirt under his fingernails so I’m thinking like every day he’s like replaced or something and then Maggie buried him??? I think.

MAG 85: Upon the Stair

This one was a lil hard because it’s a very strangely narrated statement but I managed! It made me think of Cheating Death where someone will replace the other person in whatever (someone replacing death after beating them in a game-someone replacing the stair figure after calling for them)

Jon did mention this but might as well say it; very Michael-esque. Somehow I don’t think he’s involved though 💀 I don’t know who is sending the statements to Jon. My first thought is Elias since he actually knows where Jon is and who he is with. Or so he says. Also the comment on like people becoming warped creatures is so true now that I think about it. I don’t want Jon to be a warped creature he’s too boring for that guys

Also Georgie is real. Go get that Hungarian dinner girl

MAG 86: Tucked In

Eughhhh it moves when you look. I hate that even more then when it moves when you DONT look 😭Also Tim has some problems he probably needs to work through. I feel like he knows more than he lets on. Like he did say to Martin that something worse is happening to the institute than it being haunted. Also, love Melanie King 🫶 it’s funny she doesn’t know what Og Sasha looked like since she knows she looks different then Not! Sasha. She just doesn’t know how.

Scary ass episode. I’m wondering if the creature in this and the one in A Fathers Love and Exceptional Risk are like…cousins or something because the one in this left behind “a small patch of foul smelling water” and in the other ones, brackish water would come out taps when I think it’s like close I think? Bit a stretch but maybe they belong under the same entity. Like darkness I dunno

Okay that’s everything! So far season 3 is super good. I love hearing the stuff outside the statements, it’s super interesting and I’m excited to see what happens next

[everydayyoulovemeless]

read your post about companions with a child sole and thought about how funny having a child be the overboss of nuka world is

like it’s just a bunch of scary ass raiders and their boss is some kid like no one would take them seriously

Nuka-World Leaders With A Child!Overboss

➼ Word Count » 0.4k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic, Fluff ➼ A/N » That kid would be straight pimping out in the wastes

Mags Black will treat you the kindest because she thinks she'll get a better payout if she does. She's always making the Operators give you cute new hairstyles in the hopes that you'll favor them over the other gangs. She'll coo and dote on you and your well-being, fixing you up with better gear so you're better equipped for the waste. After a while, she might genuinely start to view you as her younger sibling. It'll be apparent through the ways she hits your shoulder when you say something a bit impolite, or how she pushes you behind her when you're threatened.

William Black is fairly cold toward you. He doesn't understand why his sister took a liking to you so quickly when you were sure to die any second now. However, he'll fall into the role of 'older brother' once Mags gets more and more attached to you. It's a natural occurrence — if his sister considers you to be a part of the family, then he's bound to as well.

Nisha wants to slaughter Gage the second you're announced as the overboss. You being in charge makes all the other gangs look like a joke and she's not going to stand around and wait to be humiliated. However, she does give it a chance (albeit reluctantly). She'll wait to hear about your return once you left with Gage to take over Kiddie Kingdom, and when you come back alive and with the park in your possession, she'll warm up quickly. She'll approach you herself, crouching down to see you eye to eye as she promises you she won't let you die, and if you wanted, she'd gladly replace Gage for you. The rest is up to you, but one thing's for certain — you have her protection, and she'd be damned if there wasn't at least one Disciple around to be a second bodyguard along with Gage.

Mason thinks you're a riot and always has you kidnapped brought to the Ampihteater to see how far he and the Pack can take you before you start getting scared of the raider gangs. It won't be anything bad, just having you watch the animals maim each other in the ring or forcing you to participate in putting collars on the slaves. He stops once with Gage or Mags tell him off, even if he thinks it ruins the fun. Once you start claiming areas of the park, he'll start treating you with a lot more respect than before. He'll call you over to celebrate with him and the Pack where he'll throw you on his shoulders and give you whatever you ask for. He's like the frat bro of the four and always tries to get you hammered with him while the Black twins aren't watching.

[somethingvicked]

True Love of Mine part 11.

warnings: female read, fluff, mentions of oral sex (female receiving)

Chapter 10.

Now

Y/N

There was a comfortable silence between you two after that. One might think that after all these years you would have a thousand things to catch up on and you did, but right now you just wanted to enjoy the feeling of being together again.

You studied the new additions of tattoos on Eddie’s body, your fingers moving from one to the other while he kept twirling strands of your hair around his fingers while taking as much care to study your body; not so much for tattoos – because you had only added two to the one he already knew about – but for every new mole, every scar, including the faded stretch marks on your hips and breasts.

You blushed beneath his scrutiny. “I know, it’s not what you’re used to.”

Eddie looked up at you in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m not looking like I did back then. Or… probably like the girls you usually… see.”

You settled for ‘see’ because you didn’t want to use the word ‘hook up’.

Eddie’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his fringe, looking at you as if you were crazy.

“First of – no, of course you don’t look like you did back then, but… neither do I. We’re older, it’s natural.”

You nodded, knowing he was right. Even though Eddie barely had any stretchmarks like you did, he had a couple of lines around his eyes, and while he was still lean and had more muscles you could see that his stomach wasn’t completely flat and smooth any more.

Yes, both of you had gotten older, but you didn’t care. And it seemed Eddie didn’t either.

“Second of all, what do you mean? What girls?”

“Come on, Eddie, you can’t tell me you haven’t… there are more than hundreds of girls that are barely in their twenties that throws themselves at you, are you telling me you have never taken up the offer?”

Eddie snorted. “Not recently, no. Honestly… I’ve been single for a long time. Five years, I think.”

You almost gasped. “What?”

“Yeah. I tried dating a few women after establishing myself, but it never went anywhere. And hook ups? I did have one or two, but in the end it always made me feel terrible. The women I dated – I couldn’t help but compare them to you and that hurt them. Hook ups and groupies? I had to imagine your face just to get it up, so I figured… why bother? It was a plus side though, it did help me with my reputation, no dirty laundry in the gossip mags.”

You were still shocked but couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Eddie looked at you, stroking your cheek. “What about you and… Brent?”

It was obvious that it hurt him, saying his name.

“What about us?” you wondered, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers. “You already know that I didn’t love him like I loved you. No one ever compared to you either.”

“Did he make you feel good?” Eddie wondered and you knew what he meant.

“Honestly… we had sex like… once every six months,” you admitted. “It wasn’t that he was bad in bed or terrible looking but… I’d had a taste of what true passion and love felt with you. Nothing could be as good after that.”

Eddie smiled, looking somewhat smug and you scoffed, giving him a little shove, but he grabbed on to your hand, and placed it above his heart.

“Kitten, this is yours. You have always had it. I was an idiot for letting you go and hurting you like that. But I seriously thought I was doing the right thing. Even if I knew I would never love another, I did think you would be able to. That… that you would find someone better than me.”

“I know that,” you said, moving closer to him, “that you thought you did the right thing. And that I would move on. But it was and is impossible for me. Eddie… there’s one thing I want you to know. You remember how I used to write poems?”

“Yes, of course,” Eddie nodded.

“I still do. In fact, I’ve written poems all of these years. I’ve even had some of them published.”

“Wow, really? That’s great…” Eddie started but you held up a hand to stop him.

“Eds… the collection I published is called Love Notes For No One. That book… all the poems in that one is either about you or written to you. It’s been my way of expressing my love for you through all these years.”

Eddie was listening to you, his mouth hanging open. “Holy shit,” he said and it reminded you of the young Eddie, making you laugh.

“You’ll have to show me later,” Eddie said, wrapping his arms around you and rolling on top of you. “But this is exactly what I mean. Now I know that there is no way for either of us to live without the other. Which is why I’ll never let you go again. I love you kitten. Always have, always will.”

“Just like the song you sang to me, back at the Hideout. You remember?” you said, kissing his neck.

Eddie nodded, inhaling deeply. “Of course. And just the like the song I wrote to you now – that you’re the one true love of mine – no matter that you don’t look like you did back then. You’re my kitten, that’s all that matters.

You nodded. “What about your motorcycle? When did you decide to get an MC-card?”

Eddie shrugged. “I made a promise to stay away from drugs, kitten. And I rarely drink. But with all the shit I got bagged up… and the memories of you… I need some kind of vent. I’ve always liked to drive fast, you remember that? But on a bike, with just the engine and the wind… it’s peaceful and yet exhilarating. I started do kickboxing too. A good way to get the frustration out.”

“Wow,” you said, your eyes big, finally understanding where all the muscles  came from.

Eddie waved it away. “We can talk more about that later. Right now… there’s something else I want to do.”

He started kissing his way down your body. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you. And how much I desire you, regardless of how you’ve changed. Take my time.”

You gasped as you felt his mouth against one of your breasts, his lips closing around your hard nipple, sucking on the erect bud while he slid his thigh in between your own, spreading you open for him again.

He switched to your other breasts, rubbing his thumb over the now damp nipple, making you moan. Then he continued kissing his way down, taking extra care to kiss every stretch mark, every bump, all the little things you’ve been so self-conscious about.

Finally he came face to face with your sex, moaning himself as he saw that you were still leaking his cum from earlier.

“This...” he mumbled, not saying anything else, words clearly failing him.

Then he finally wrapped his arms around your thighs, all but pressing you in half and then dove in to taste you – and himself – for the first time in so many years.

You felt it was kind of a blasphemy to call something so filthy divine but that’s how it felt.

THEN,

Hawkins, 1984.

Eddie

Eddie didn’t know if he had thought there would be any difference in his situation when he began selling weed but if he had, then he realized very soon that it wasn’t the case.

People still talked shit in the halls and made up rumors, jumped him for no apparent reason as well as thinking him some kind of satanic Jim Jones.

There was one difference, however. The girls.

Girls usually ignored him or walked the other way when seeing him but since he started selling he had noticed that girls – especially the cheerleaders – had changed their demeanor towards him when he sold to them.

Not otherwise, God forbid, but when it was just him and them at the picnic table in the woods where he usually conducted his business, there would be a flirtatious comment, a hand on his arm, skirts that had been pulled up so high that it would be considered an offense against the school policy if it had been there.

Eddie wasn’t stupid though. He knew what it was about. They thought they could flirt and charm their way towards a lower price, thinking that he was actually so desperate he would just happily accept whatever crumbs they threw him.

Screw them.

He rarely said anything, because he didn’t want to scare off any customers – he needed the money – instead he pretended like he didn’t notice but sometimes, just out of pure pettiness he would raise the price.

There was one incident though, with Deborah Wallace, where she had gotten pissed because he didn’t seem to notice her hitting on him and had outright asked if he wanted to have a little fun.

Eddie had stared at her with badly hidden disgust. “I have a girlfriend,” he told her coldly and Deborah had just rolled her eyes.

“She doesn’t have to know. I wasn’t planning on screaming it from the rooftops, silly. I bet one time with me will ruin you for her anyway.”

Eddie had gotten so furious he was tempted to throw the bag of weed into her face in hopes that she would choke on the fumes, but he didn’t want to be like his dad, losing his temper and hurt people.

Instead he said through gritted teeth: “Being with Y/N has ruined me for everyone else already. Not that there was much to ruin in your case, Wallace. Get your weed from someone else from now on, because you can consider this business contact ruined.”

Then he had gotten up and walked away, leaving her steaming back at the table. He had thought that it would end there but since Eddie hadn’t had much to do with girls other than Y/N he severely underestimated the quote ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’

taglist: @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @mewchiili @melodymunson @ches-86 @jenniquinn @eddiemunsonfuxks @stolen-in-moonlight @alastorssimp @pandemoniusstuff

(let me know if you want to be on the taglist!)

please, like, comment and reblog!

Your likes are wonderful but reblogs expand my reading circle.

[ilguna]

☼ beard (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; knowing that you've been at home sick, Finnick tries to cheer you up when he comes back.

warnings; swearing,

wc; 1.4k

–

When Finnick left, he told you not to miss him too much while he was gone, and to be careful because there wasn’t going to be anyone to help you. At the time, you thought he was trying to be cheeky, because he knows how you feel about being with him all hours of the day. If you can be, you’re attached at the hip from sun up to sun down. You like his company.

He was mocking you, and trying to be sweet after to make up for it and to distract you from thinking about it. You caught it, of course, and halfway laughed at his stupid joke to make him feel better so he wouldn’t be hung up on your silence for the entirety of his trip.

It didn’t matter, anyway, because you were confident in your ability to entertain yourself for a couple weeks while he mentored in the Capitol. He hasn’t done that without you in a few years, it was weird watching Mags get taken away by that train again. You guys really thought she was going to retire for good.

While you had to figure out a way to keep yourself busy, you had to be mindful about your healing body, which was gravely sick a few days before he said goodbye. If it was up to him, he would’ve sent one of the other guy victors to the Capitol for him so that he would’ve been able to stay with you. He knew better than to do that, though, because Coriolanus would’ve been pissed.

He was genuinely worried before he left, and you did all you could to reassure him that you’d be just fine.

That first week wasn’t so bad, you did some cleaning around the house, being careful about inhaling cleaning chemicals so that you wouldn’t pass out. You dusted, wiped down everything starting with the top and moving down to the bottom. And once the house was cleaned, you took a breather for a few days.

You read a book, a small one that you finished the same day. And then you started a thicker one, and finished it the following day. You decided after that you wanted to be more productive with your free time, because you don’t get much of it often. 

So, you went ahead and went back to cleaning. You cleared out some of the junk from the pantry and most of what was in the closets, which has given you a lot more space to work with. You know that Finnick won’t notice any of those shirts are missing, much less the pants he wears when there’s nothing else clean that he would prefer over them.

You washed all the sheets, blankets and pillow covers in the house, which does include the guest bedroom. You hated the smell, that led you to lighting several candles, hoping to make the house smell good, and you blew them all out when the flame was getting dangerously tall.

When you were done with that, you bought fresh flowers to put around the house to brighten up the space. That same night, you went to stargaze outside, which was underwhelming and incredibly boring. You did, however, enjoy laying on the front lawn and feeling the warmth of the breeze on your skin.

You did this all within the first week and a half of him being gone. They were all tasks that you’d been putting off for months because you didn’t have the energy to go and do it all. And you managed to knock it out in a week and a half because you had to find something to do.

Since, you’ve done nothing but sit around the house and cook for yourself when you’re hungry. There really is fuck all to do when Finnick’s not here. You’re so used to following him around from place to place, talking to him about whatever comes to your mind, or listening to him babble about his latest project.

You thought that you’d never say this, but you might like mentoring a lot more than you thought you did. Solely because there’s so much to do in such a short time span. You’ve had your schedule so jam-packed at times, that you don’t have time to eat, much less take bathroom breaks because you’re so behind.

It hurts to send teenagers inside of an arena, of course, but there’s nothing like pulling every string available to help the tribute inside. And when that’s exhausted, there’s plenty to do in the city itself. It doesn’t have to be with just Finnick, either. You go out with the stylists and your fellow mentors all the time when Finnick’s too busy to go, or his night is occupied by someone else.

The day’s never the same without him here, though. Today’s the day he finally comes back from the Capitol. While other mentors get sent home as soon as their tributes die, he’s forced to stay until the Games are over to make sure that all of Coriolanus’ clients are fulfilled the way he wants them to be.

He makes you sick.

“(Y/n)!” You can hear your name shouted from downstairs. 

With your eyes closed, you can picture Finnick coming in the front door, back from his trip. He has a habit of setting his bag on the couch, and he likes to wear his favorite shirt and pair of jeans that he makes sure are clean for his trip every year. Like clockwork.

“I’m up here!” You shout back.

You don’t move from where you lay in the middle of the bed, on top of the blankets. You were about to take a nap in the patch of sunlight streaming through the window, since the warmth was enough. If he’s here though, then the extra sleep will have to wait until you’ve caught up.

You can hear his shoes hitting the hardwood flooring on the way up the stairs. You open your eyes now, rolling your head to the side so that you can see Finnick when he comes through the door. You have the door open slightly, because there’s no point in shutting it all the way anymore.

You can see him appear through the crack, standing outside of it for a second.

“Are your eyes open?” He asks.

“Yup.” You squint, trying to see him better. He’s standing in the shadow perfectly, it’s blocking out his face.

“Are you ready for this?”

“Ready for what?” You ask, face twisting, “Why are you being weird?”

He pushes the door open, it creaks the entire time. He’s still hidden behind the doorway, you can’t see him very well. You watch as he moves over, coming through so that you can see him better.

“Oh my god.” You laugh, struggling to push yourself to sit upright, “What the fuck is on your face?”

Your wonderful husband, who never breaks his habits unless he’s forced to, or it’s a dare that he can’t say no to, is showing you something that you thought that you’d never get to see in your life.

He’s grown a beard.

“Holy shit.” You laugh, sliding out of bed, “You grew this while you were gone?”

“No, I was working on it before I left, remember? I said I was going to shave later on the train?” He laughs, running his fingers through it.

You vaguely recall that conversation. You’ve seen him with stubble plenty of times, he’s lazy when it comes to shaving it, but he’s never gone this far before.

You reach to touch it, cupping his face. The hairs tickle at your palms and your wrists, curling around your fingers slightly. “You hate the feeling of having a beard.”

“I know.” He grabs your wrists, rubbing his thumbs over your arms, “I just thought that you’d like to see it.”

“It’s not going to last long so I’ve got to enjoy it while I have it.” You sputter out another laugh, “At least kiss me so I can know how it feels against my face.”

Finnick shakes his head, “You’re clearly feeling better.”

“Now that you’re here.” You kiss him.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 3 thoughts

here we go! this episode is titled "blood" which did not bode well for me, the girl who hates blood. but i am dedicated and pushed through in the name of our mission.

we open at a post office. sometimes, i think it would be fun to work in a post office.

but alas! our postman has received a paper cut. he licks it up which... can't be hygienic.

and then he immediately gets fired :( this is sooooo unfair

when he returns to his post his machine reads "KILL"!!! my first thought was that this was gonna be a little shop of horrors style thing where an inanimate object tastes blood and Likes it (Which is sort of what happened? but mostly not really)

((side note: need to see mulder and scully take on audrey two))

so it seems that the people are either being told by machines to do some killing or all the members of the town are experiencing collective hallucination...

mulder arrives. i was distracted by his fluffy hair. from the notes: "his hair is fluffy. he isn't saying much at this crime scene but his hair is fluffy"

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! he played right field! (this was brought up when the policeman mentioned the suspect was on the softball team)

back to our post office friend, who is near a child with a random nosebleed whilst getting some money, and now the ATM is telling him to kill people

mulder points out that these are spree killings and not serial ones <-okay human embodiment of the nerd emoji.

it's a totally normal report on the crimes, no spooky stuff involved, and scully is reading it... until he mentions UFOs and she says to herself "i was wondering when you'd get to that" LMAOOOOO she knows him too well

we see a woman being lured into a dark garage by a mechanic and i thought i knew where this was going but i DIDN'T because SHE gets paranoid and the machine tells her the guy is gonna get her and she freaks out and STABS HIM

mulder arrives to the crime scene with a really funny looking camera. can anyone provide me more information about this camera? i'm curious

anyway, he shows up at the house of the woman who killed the mechanic, and we see another example of his bountiful social skills when he asks to come in and she says "i'm late for work" and he just barges in and says "you can blame me". i love this man so bad it's actually a problem. he WILL get inside of ur house.

but her microwave is telling her to kill him and she pulls out a knife and STABS him and i was yelling NOOOOOOOO! and then the cop he was with shoots her and VERY QUICKLY we get a cutscene to....

SCULLY AUTOPSY TIME!!!!!!

she thinks there's some sort of chemical that is making the people do this

we also see poor wet meow meow mulder's bandaged arm :(

back to the ex-postman, who is seeking new gainful employment at a supermarket in which there are guns for sale in the back, another reminder that this show is set in america. he starts to see evil things in the TV but resists (and it might be related to the blood drive at the store but? it's a little unclear tbh)

mulder running scene! getting his cardio in! the man is dripping in sweat! he sees a guy toss some stuff in a yard and it's... dead bugs?

so who does he take the bugs to? well, the weirdos who previously were consulted for another case: the conspirators at the lone gunman! famous for the one guy hitting on scully and ripping up her twenty dollar bill

so we're back to these freaks and he says he didn't see their latest issue because "it arrived the same day as my subscription to Celebrity Skin"

now, i had an educated guess here based on name alone, but needed to confirm what this "celebrity skin" truly was. a search brings you to an album by the band Hole, and i was like omg!!! we're gonna get an insight into his canon music taste!!!! there is nothing more i LOVE than learning a character's favorite artists <3

but, this cannot be... for the show takes place before 1998, when the album was released... so i dig further

chat, as expected, it is a porn mag. seems to have involved some unethical stuff. mulder: ur a sick man.

the even sicker man who previously hit on scully was like "where's your little friend?" and he counters with "she wouldn't come. she was too afraid of her love for you" and the weirdo responds with "she's tasty"

now i want you to buckle your seat belts for what mulder says next. buckled? secured? sat? everyone is in a safe position? okay. he says:

"you know, it's men like you that give perversion a bad name"

HELLO? hey. hi! quick question <3 what does that mean. mulder a freak confirmed????

(i mean i guess we DID already know he fucked phoebe on arthur conan doyle's grave, which is going to stick in my head forever, but. don't make it worse. sometimes he's such a Man)

anyway the weirdos at the lone gunman think it's related to pesticides. and then mulder asks to borrow their night vision goggles and the weirdest of weirdos is like "only if you give me scully's number!"

cutscene to him using the night goggles

(mulder, if you gave that creep her number, i will NEVER forgive you. so keep that in mind)

he's sitting in a field and it looks so natural, like he really belongs there. bring back sitting in fields. but then he breaks into the orchard and gets sprayed by some pesticides and thoroughly knocked on his ass

mulder's yelling at some guy to take responsibility for the pesticides that he thinks are killing people... a moral crusader serving on the front lines...

scully's here now, btw. she took his blood. which had to be a strange experience. and then she mentions that she FLEW 300 MILES in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT to come take his blood?

holy shit, mulder. she did that for you and you've been so broody and angsty lately and maybe even gave some dick her phone number. holy shit mulder, do not blow this. you cannot afford to blow this. she is soooo good to you.

anyway, he's seeing the same evil messages in technology the killers were now so that's a bummer

mulder proposes that this is some sort of subliminal messaging thing that is being activated by the fear-inducing pesticides and the cop gets pissed and leaves, to which he says "he's probably one of those people that thinks Elvis is dead"

so that's the SECOND line in this show about him being an elvis truther and i'm starting to think it's not a joke

back to the ex-postman. people are coming to his door to take blood and test for the chemicals in the pesticides and he's going bonkers. he's seeing "KILL" in his calculator, which is how you know things are rough. his watch even beeps and says "KILL" which i think would make a very very very very funny gif if anyone has that.

well, all of a sudden he's missing so the agents go to his house and knock. until.

scully realizes the door is open and just. lets herself in. i was laughing SO hard here. these bitches WILL get into your house. they will NOT wait for an invitation. truly a sign of soulmatism.

ex-postman was running running and they're like omg where is heeeeee he's gonna hurt people!!! scully is once again proving her genius status by saying that if it's a paranoia case, then all these guys in police uniforms need to get out of view.

(there's also this shot where mulder is like. smoldering. and she's behind him and man. height difference content i really really do love you and your work <3)

our crazed ex-postman climbs a tower at a college and is gonna start shooting but he's also hallucinating and laughing maniacally which i described in my notes as "entering his joker era"

mulder runs up and prevents a shootout using some handy jujitsu. neeeeed to see if this man is a black belt. for character driven purposes.

but he says that he knows the guy can't stop and overall it's an eerie situation because you can tell the pesticides are still in his brain as well. and his arm is bleeding again and this makes the other guy go into overdrive.

um. okay.

crisis averted...?

well, you sure would like to think that, wouldn't you? but the episode ends with mulder calling scully, and then HE sees more evil stuff in his phone! and it fades to blackness as her voice is heard through the speaker...

(i love that she knew it was him immediately. despite the silence. and that her train of thought went from "it's scully" to "mulder is it you?" to "mulder, what's wrong?" talk about a connection!)

hope he doesn't do anything too impulsive...

in conclusion: my very surface level interpretation of this episode was that it was warning us to not be controlled by technology, which i'm sure felt more relevant back in the day. but now that i have to click "don't sell my data" when i browse flavors of soup for sale online, i think we might just no longer be the target audience. or maybe it's even more relevant! an argument could be made both ways.

down with pesticides, though! i can get behind that! when's the last time you saw a bee? bring them back!