#(i've never seen one punch man)

[aerequets]

me when im getting refs off pinterest again except this time instead of cute hugs or vintage drawings it's just loid getting beat up by the women in his life

(except anya. the only hits she'll get on him are the emotional ones, which may be arguably worse)

[micahs-chin-scar]

There's something funny yet tragic about people viewing Micah as such an embodiment of evil that even in one of his most vulnerable and human moments, when he asks Mary-Beth for a dance - hesitating beforehand, stuttering as he speaks, weakly protesting that he's "not a monster", then walking away visibly dejected by her rejection - they'll still find some way to spin it into him being a master manipulator or something

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Falling Into Me

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Smut (p in v, fingering, oral f receiving), angst, loss of virginity, light fluff, feelings :(, real bad self-image issues

Summary/Warnings: You're a virgin, and it's really not a big deal. Everyone was a virgin once. You're just a virgin longer. Maybe forever, because nobody really seems to be willing to solve that problem for you.

You've never told Sam and Dean, and you don't have any intention to. Ever. But when a hunt goes wrong, Dean finds out. And he might have been keeping something from you as well.

Author's Note: This might be the horniest thing I've ever written. Enjoy <3!

Title from Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan

Word Count: 8.9k

You haven’t slept in three days, and it’s starting to be a problem. But you can’t afford to sleep. You can only drink staler and staler coffee, sit at the motel table, and pretend this is a case that, somehow, you’re going to solve. That Dean isn’t grumpier than usual, and Sam doesn’t constantly look like he’s going to kill the next person that dares to have an incorrect idea. It’s why you volunteered for the next round of interviews. You don’t want to be there when one of them snaps and kills the other, and while you wouldn’t love to return to the room and find it covered in blood, at least then you’d have an excuse to call it.

You wouldn’t call it. You’d work the case until it was done, because that’s what you do. And Sam and Dean won’t kill each other, because they’re Sam and Dean. That said, you are expecting a pouting Dean to pacing back and forth outside the room as he waits for you to return, and a grumble about how Sammy said he was being annoying and needed to walk it off. You’re more than prepared to give him a sympathetic smile and ask him if he was being annoying. And he’ll probably protest that he wasn’t, and you’ll raise your brows, and he’ll admit he mighta been drumming really loud while eating the chips.

It’s not an unreasonable expectation. None of you have slept, because this thing is insane. There’s no obvious pattern to the victims, no connections, nothing in line with everything you’ve ever seen. It’s men and woman, a wide age range, no previous coflicts or knowledge of each other in life. There are holes through theirs chests that could be bullet wounds, but obviously aren’t, because Bullets don’t remove the heart from the body. But it’s not werewolves, because werewolves aren’t clean killers like this and every fucking person in this stupid town has passed the silver test. There’s a new kill every night, and a new body every morning, and another reason for you, Sam, and Dean to start screaming every day. Every hour makes you all wired, because it’s closer and closer to another evening where you won’t have caught this asshole and another person will die.

And it’s become really easy to get on each other’s nerves. Sam was mad at Dean because he’d purposefully gotten you all burgers instead of Sam’s rabbit food, you’re mad at Sam because he said you were bad at poker—and you are, but what the fuck—and Dean’s mad at you because-

Dean’s not mad at you. You and Dean don’t really get mad at each other. You understand each other, better than you’ve ever understood anyone else, and it’s the perfect amount of alike that you’ll lend him grace you wouldn’t lend anyone else—including yourself—but you don’t see enough of your own twisting, molding innards to hate him. You mostly see something better. A man that has all the same rotting parts, but has made something out of them while you just waste away in toxins.

And you think Dean sees something similar in you. It’s why you’d been obnoxiously chewing potato chips, right in his ear, and he hadn’t punched you or snatched the bag away from your hands. He’d just rolled his eyes, grabbed one of his own, and started chewing in Sam’s ear.

So you hadn’t really volunteered for interviews so much as been aggressively told by Sam you were doing interviews. And it was only fair Dean met the same fate.

But he hadn’t. And when you opened the door to the room, they both looked happy. 

Dean practically shouts your name when he sees you, wildly gesturing for you to join them at the table. “Sammy found it!” He grins at you almost manically, and it’s a little adorable. “We can finally fucking leave.”

“I might have found it,” Sam corrects, his smile a little more tentative, but still real. “And we can’t leave yet. Not until we actually get the thing-“

“Obviously, dude, but that’ll be soon, instead of in a million years.” Dean looks to you for agreement. “I mean, c’mon. You guys can’t really wanna stay in hicktown Ohio forever?”

You shrug. “I dunno. Good coffee.”

Dean glares at you. “The coffee tastes like ass and you freakin’ know it-“

“Dean.” You give him a flat look. “Do I actually get to know what the monster is?”

Sam sighs. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“I already don’t love it, it’s a monster that’s killed like, ten people-“

“Worse than that.” Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “It’s sorta like a dragon.”

You, very suddenly, don’t feel really well. Everything is hotter than it had been a second ago, and the walls seem to be closing in as your skin begins to prickle and ache. “Like a dragon?” You ask, forcing your voice to remain steady. “Or a dragon?”

“Like a dragon. Tell her, Sammy.”

Sam shoots Dean a glare—not happy being thrown under the bus—and mutters, “It’s a unicorn.”

You stare at him for a long minute, then shake your head. “It’s a what.”

“Unicorn.” Sam mumbles. “They’re, uh, looks like they’re real.”

“But not Pinky Pie and Disney.” Dean adds, turning Sam’s laptop for you to read. “Real fucking assholes.”

“They hunt virgins.” Sam explains. “To bond with. And it’ll kill anyone who falsely lures it.”

“Stab the poor son of a bitch right through the heart, then pull that sucker right out.” Dean adds, spreading his legs and propping his elbows on his knees. “And it looks like it’ll go after chicks and dudes, any age, so that’s why there’s no pattern. You’re able to fuck, you’re fair game.”

“Oh, cool.” You mutter, a lump starting to form in your throat. “I’m always looking for equal opportunity murderers in the monsters I hunt.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna make it a little harder to find the thing.” Sam grabs his laptop back, frowning at the screen. “It’ll take a human form, then look for a virgin. And it won’t be able to tell until it gets the person’s heartbeat up, so it might be a guy or a girl, depending on who it’s hunting tonight.”

“But,” you glance at Dean, who’s grinning as you start to put it together. “It is hunting tonight.”

“Hunts every night.” Dean says, rubbing his hands together. “And we don’t know where, but we can take some guesses. Split up and look at all the bars in town ’till one of us finds something, then gank this douchebag and get the hell out of here.”

“Split up?” You whisper, something wired and flailing coiling around your guts. “That’s, um, shouldn’t we stick together? If it’ll go after anyone?”

“Not everyone.” Same shrugs. “Low, uh, body counts. I guess. Low enough that it can’t tell immediately.”

“So we just need a bunch of whores?"

Dean snorts. “Well tonight,” he spreads his arms, shooting you a wink that really isn’t helpful right now. “We’re the whores, Sweetheart. We’re safe, and we’re going to kick some unicorn ass.”

It’s a cheesy, stupid thing to say, and usually you’d laugh and crack a joke back. Something about unicorn ass and whores that you can’t really think of right now, because there’s bile in your throat and something heavy fogging over your brain.

“How do we, uh,” your tongue is numb in your mouth, and every word is dragged out of your throat. “How do we kick a unicorn’s ass.”

“Well, we’re looking for electrical malfunctions, golden eyes when it gets, uh, excited, and a refusal to drink anything but water.” Sam frowns at the screen, looking up at you with a half-shrug. “Anything amoral seems to knock it down, so just, uh, swear? Then shoot it with iron. Iron kills it.”

“And, um,” you swallow, tugging at the fabric of your sleeves. “What’s gonna to the virgin? If the unicorn finds it?”

Sam sighs. “They, uh, they seem to use them.”

Dean frowns, leaning around to try and read the screen. “Use them-“ 

“Their purity. Use their purity.” Sam raises his brows, and you can see the exact moment it clicks in Dean’s head. 

“That’s...” Dean trails off, running a hand over his face. “Shit.” 

Sam mutters an agreement, and your mouth feels like sandpaper, your heart beating like it’s trying to escape your chest.

“And after?” You whisper, a little unsure you want to actually ask the question, or know the answer. “After they’re used?” 

“Well, they’re not ‘pure’ anymore.” Sam puts an air quote around pure, and you feel a little sick. “So, uh, stab.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly. You might need to lie down. “Stab.”

Dean looks over you with a drawn brow, his voice low and cautious as he says your name. “Are feelin’ okay-“

“I’m fine.” You remember how to smile, and hope it looks real. Not like your teeth are starting to feel out of place in your mouth, and you can’t seem to find enough spit to choke on. “Let’s get the unicorn ass.”

Dean doesn’t look convinced. Hell, Sam doesn’t look convinced. But they both let it go for now, and you can breathe just a little easier knowing you’re not barreling towards a fight.

But only a little easier. 

Because you’re fucked.

Virginity is a funny thing. It’s just a social construct, but it’s a social construct some monsters seem to take as scripture, making it a hazardous thing to still have in your line of work. 

And you hadn’t meant to be a hazard. It just kind of happened. Because it started as something that was a given to have, then turned into something that you just were a little too busy to lose, before becoming an awkward conversation you’re not willing to have. Something that hangs, silent and sharp, over your head and around your throat. Something that’s now a question of why? Why is it never you? You’re not ugly. You’re even pretty enough that, if you tell someone, they won’t believe you and it’ll all feel worse. You’re even pretty enough that you’ve seen people size you up at bars, but none of them ever approach you.

So it might just be you. You might just have something on your face that gives away that you’re more trouble than you’re worth, a little too rough to touch and not have it sting, telling people stay away. 

And Sam and Dean will never know. You’re already a little younger, a little worse of a hunter, a small problem when they’re obviously trying to take someone to their bed but the girl sees you and makes quick and inaccurate assumptions. Sam is better at brushing them off—She’s like my little sister—but Dean gets red and awkward and suddenly loses all his well-practiced charm. He sulks back to the table, and won’t look you in the eyes for an hour or walk with you back to the bar. You’re honestly shocked neither of them have thrown you to the curb by now, an you’re not going to give them another reason to. Another reason for Sam to make a sad, puppy-eyed pity face and Dean to stare at you like he’s not sure you’re real. Like there’s no way someone could’ve possibility survived as a hunter like this. 

And a small, well-contained part of you wishes Dean would look at you the way he looks at other women. Like they still have beautiful, horrible secrets that he’d love to uncover with only his hands and mouth. 

You’ve got secrets. Dean can’t have them—because they’re a liability and you’re not looking to lose him forever—but you really wish he’d just look at you. Once, really look at you, and not see you. See something so much better, that you think he’s always a little close to finding, that nobody else ever seems willing to try and look for.

You’re a little grateful they left you alone in this backwater dive bar. It would hurt to watch Dean flirt right now, when everything feels raw and wired in your body, and every time someone drops next to you at the bar you feel more and more sick. There are quick, polite conversations with random strangers who sound like they’d rather be anywhere than here, with you, and by the time you’ve repeated your cover story for the eighth time your lungs are wrapped iron and your nails feel like a burden on your fingers.

It’ll be over by tonight. All three of you know what you’re looking for, so the unicorn will be dead before sunrise, and you won’t have to do any explanations about why you’ve been quiet and tense since Dean said like a dragon. Nobody will look at you with pity or confusion, nobody will get hurt, and you won’t end up with a hole in your heart as the only people that have ever seen you to be worth something realize just how wrong they were. That you’re really just a small, useless burden that even a literal monster wouldn’t be able to stomach the presence of-

“You here all by yourself?”

Something sparks in your gut at the voice, coming from off to the side, because for a second you really think it’s Dean. It’s deep, moves through your whole body, and knocks loose something in your lower gut that always makes you feel hungry, but it’s not Dean. When you turn, the man next to you looks like someone ran Dean through a printer too many times and he came out faded. A little too short, not quite as broad, all the pretty scars that make Dean Dean seemingly vanished, and a gleam in his eyes that Dean’s never had. It’s a little more feral, without any playfulness or glowing shadows. Too much yellow instead of green, the cocky smirk just a little off, none of it right. None of it Dean.

“I’m, um,” you frown, because this man even smells like Dean. “I’m waiting for a friend. He’s running late.”

Not-Dean clicks his tongue. “Shame, leaving a pretty girl like you all alone. You want some company until your boyfriend shows up?”

You shake your head, turning your glass around in your hand. “Not my boyfriend. And I’m actually…” You trail off, your eyes falling on the man’s own glass. The clear liquid inside. “You drinking vodka?”

“Am I- Oh, sure.” The man chuckles, raising his drink for you to click. “Here’s to not-boyfriends-“

“Can I have some?”

You watch the man carefully as he looks between you and the glass. “Nah, sweetie, you don’t want this, it’s some strong stuff-“

Sweetie. Not sweetheart. Not Dean, not right, not safe. And something is starting to crawl over your skin and shoot up your spine, making you sit a little taller as your heart pounds louder and louder. 

As Not-Dean licks his lips, and scans over you with yellow eyes that might be shining. 

Fuck.

“I, um, I’m gonna go call my friend.” You start to shift off your seat, pulling your phone slowly out of your pocket. “He should’ve been here a few minutes ago, and I’m worried-“

“C’mon, you haven’t even told me your name.” Not-Dean wiggles his brows, and it looks wrong on his face. “Bet I can guess, if you give me a hint-“

“No, it’s fine, my name is, uh…” you look down at your phone, the screen completely black. You’d charged it before you left.

“Your name?” Not-Dean prompts, grabbing your arm. Holding you near him, at the bar. “I’d really love to learn it. I could teach you a few things in exchange-“

“I was never given a name!” Your voice is a frantic shout, Not-Dean’s eyes narrow, and you do the only thing you can think of. Punch Not-Dean square in the face, yank your arm from his grip, and run. Fucking sprint out of the bar and not allow yourself to falter as you hear a roar that’s a little hoarse and off pitched. Like a horse keen. Like a wounded animal.

Like a monster.

Splitting up had been a terrible fucking idea. Now you’re alone, you don’t have even an idea where Sam and Dean are, and you can’t afford to stop and jack a car because you can hear it in the distance. Hooves, clapping against the pavement, getting closer and closer as you begin to run out of breath. You can’t hide, it can hear you, and you can’t go faster because you already feel faint and everything is beginning to collapse in your body. Muscles tightening and skin crawling and eyes pushing out of your skull, every breath too shallow and every step too short. 

You fall to your knees behind a truck, wrapping a hand around your own throat and trying to force your heartbeat back down. Slow, even breathes that come out in choked gasps, nails digging into your skin as the hooves slow, and you hear a low sputtering sound from somewhere behind you. 

And it’s too quiet. You can’t hear anything but your blood in your ears, and all you can see in the night is the flickering yellow light of a streetlamp in the distance. You squeeze your eyes shut and swallow every breath, hoping you can force yourself out before the unicorn finds you. You don’t want to be used. You don’t want to be alone. You just want Dean, where’s Dean, why the fuck did you let him leave you alone, why didn’t you tell him the truth, why can’t you think of anything else but Dean, where’s Dean-

There’s something hot on your neck, and a large presence at your side. Something like spit is being splattered on your neck, and you can’t contain the vomit when a too-rough hand trails up your arm-

“Get the fuck back, you son of a bitch!”

A loud bang cuts through the air—making you jump out of your skin as a heavy body slumps onto yours—and it sounds like church bells and music. It sounds like Dean. That’s his voice shouting your name, his arms wrapping around your body and carrying you away from the unicorn, his breath fanning over your face as he sits you on the curb and starts to turn your face in his hands.

“Fuck, never should’ve left you, but I didn’t-“ Dean cuts himself off with a huff, and you think he’s talking to himself more than you. “Did the asshole touch you anywhere I can’t see?”

You shake your head, keeping your eye glued shut as you curl your hands in Dean’s shirt. Maybe Dean’s shirt. Not-Dean had been wearing plaid too, and you don’t have the nerve or will to open your eyes and seen if it’s your Dean, or the cheap unicorn knockoff.

“Shit, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. Sam’s on his way, but we gotta get you out of here-“

“Didn’t touch me.” You whisper, fighting every urge into your body to curl forwards and start sobbing weak and pointless apologies. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay? You think, fuck-“ Dean’s arm—bigger, warmer, maybe actual Dean��loops around your waist, his voice a little closer to your ear. “Need you to hold onto me, got it? We’re goin’ back to the car, and you gotta, fuck, can you open your damn eyes?”

They fly open, almost on command, and it’s Dean. The smell of whiskey is stronger, more authentic, and his face is sharp in all the right places, and it’s really Dean. 

And he looks pissed. His touch on your body is careful, and his eyes are attentive and sparked with worry, but his jaw is clenched, and his every word is suddenly pushed through his teeth.

“You’re gonna hold onto me.” He orders, holding your wide-eyed gaze with a glower. “I’ll take a better look at you when we get back to the room-“

“Dean, I’m fine-“

“And,” Dean barrels on, as if he didn’t even hear you. “We’re going to have a chat. You’re, I can’t-” he shakes his head scooping you fully into his arms. “Just hold on.”

He sounds pissed. Dean’s rigid and silent the whole ride back to the hotel, his grip white-knuckled and tight on the wheel, and you feel even worse than before. This is it. He had to save you, and he’s going to learn why he had to save you, and he might not kick you out but he won’t look at you the same again. No more ease or awe or comfort or understanding, because Dean’s rotten in places where the mold can be burned away with every good part of him, but you’re just rotten. Just a hideous thing that roars in your chest, just angry and cowardlyand revolting and wrong. You’re just wrong. 

All the panic and paralyzing adrenaline had left your body, so you push yourself out of the Impala on unsteady feet. Dean mutters something about Sam dealing with all the cleanup as he opens to motel room door, watching you shuffle inside with clenched fists and an unreadable expression. You flop onto the bed with a small whine, your body beginning to drown in exhaustion, your gaze locked on the peeling paint of the ceiling as Dean moves around the room out of your view.

“Why’d you come back?” You ask, your voice hoarse and weak, and Dean lets out a long, low exhale from somewhere off to the side.

“You were actin’ really weird.” He grunts. “Didn’t sound like yourself. Weren’t laughing at my jokes, or making fun of Sam. Looked sick every time one of us said stab.”

“I could’ve just been-“

“Don’t.” He snaps, and you crane your neck to see him at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and looking at you. Dean seems to be really looking at you, all of you, and you suddenly really wish he would stop. You’re complete exposed below him, under his glare, and he’s going to see something he hates. Something you don’t have a name for that you’ve never wanted him to see, never wanted him to find. The thing that makes everyone else look away.

But Dean’s attention is like a drug, and you need him to stop before you lose him, but you also never want him to stop watching you. It’s confusing and raw and makes you feel like a live wire, one word or touch or stare away from snapping and bursting into a million sparks.

And Dean’s still looking at you. 

“I didn’t,” you swallow, his eyes like a magnet on yours. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t.” He repeats, his voice lower. Harsher. “You’re not injured.”

You shake your head.

“Good. We need to talk.”

“Dean, I-“

“I’m asking the questions.” Dean leers over you slightly, and you nod again. “Why the fuck did that unicorn seem like it was hunting you.”

He knows the answer. His whole face is already painted in anger, and you know he knows. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Because it was hunting me.”

“Unicorns only hunt virgins.” Dean grunts your name, still not looking away. “You’re not-“

“I am.” You mumble, folding your arms over your own body as you drop back down onto the mattress. “Sorry.”

“Why would you say, fuck- Why in goddamn hell wouldn’t you tell me and Sam-“

“Tell you and Sam what?” You scowl at the ceiling. “That I’m untouched? Pure? Boring-“

“That you’d be in danger!” Dean all but roars, and you don’t flinch, but you do cringe. All the mold in your body feels as if it’s spreading like cancer, because Dean would never hurt you with his hands, but he might be about to curb stomp your heart with only his mouth. “I don’t give a shit about the virgin thing, I care that you were so fucking stupid to go off alone, that you didn’t trust me enough-“

“It’s not about trust, Dean,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut again. “And it’s not like you tell me everything-“

“I do! I’ve told you about all the shit in my past, and my fear of flying, and Rhonda Hurley, and that weird freaking dream I had with the mice in top hats-“

“That’s not the same!” You’re pushing back up on your palms, raising your voice to match Dean’s. You just need him to stop yelling at you, to rip the band-aid off and finally give up on you so you can rest. “This isn’t your business-“

“It’s my business if it’s gonna get you fucking killed, Sweetheart. And I coulda helped you-“

“Helped me?” You scoff. “I don’t need your help with this, Winchester, I’ve come to terms with it-“

There was a brief moment where Dean had looked like you’d kicked him, but it vanishes in a second as he gapes at you in disbelief. “To terms with virginity?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, holding his suddenly slack expression with your own glare. “Nobody wants me, it’s not a big deal-“ 

Dean snorts. “There’s no damn way you’re that stupid-“ 

“I am not stupid-“ 

“Yeah? Cause you’re a fucking idiot if you think nobody wants you.”

It’s your turn to gape at him. Your heart stumbles slightly in your chest, your fingers curling into bedsheets, and the world begins to spin as you try and understand his words. “What?”

“You,” Dean takes a firm step forward, drawing your name. “Are a fucking idiot if you think that there’s not one damn person on the planet who wants you.” 

“But-“

“Nah. No freakin’ buts.” He’s closer now, his knees bumping yours as he glowers down at you. “I’ve watched too many hair-gelled losers at bars size you up like they wanna take a bite for you to have buts. Hell, I’ve-“ Dean shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “Shit, there’s just, there’s no way-“

Your face twists back into a scowl. “Fuck off, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you believe me-“

“Oh, I believe you, Sweetheart.” Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring as a low groan leaves his chest, rolling through the air and settling between your legs in an aching heat. “And I finally fucking get it. You just, you have no idea. I thought you just didn’t want it, but you’re just- Shit-“

“Dean,” your voice is soft, a little breathless, and can’t help but rub your thighs together as his hands start to flex at his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“I know,” he mutters, scanning over your body with an almost predatory expression. “I’m not, I just gotta,” his gaze flies back to yours, his voice suddenly stern. “Sam tell you how the unicorn choses its form?”

You blink. “Wha-“

“It takes the form that will be most appealing to the target. To help the asshole get attention quickly. That unicorn,” his voice drop, deeper than you’ve ever heard it, and it takes all the will you have to not start fall back into in the sheets. “Looked kinda like me.”

“I, um, I don’t-“

“Do you want me?” Dean grunts your name, and you make the mistake of dropping your gaze down, to his pants. To where an impressive outline is straining against his jeans. 

“I’d, I mean, I’m not-“ You swallow, everything a dizzying haze of Dean. “Yeah, I think, but you’re not-“

“I’m not what?” He growls, kneeling down to your eye level, trailing a slow hand up your thigh. “Not interested?”

 “Yeah?”

“Wrong.” Dean’s hand moves higher, trailing closer and closer to your center before running back down to your knee. “So incredibly wrong, Sweetheart. I’ve wanted you since, fuck, since I first saw ya’. But you didn’t seem to want me, so I backed off, but if you just didn’t-“ He pauses, his brilliant green eyes suddenly tearing into your soul, unraveling you before he’s even touched bare skin. “Do you? Want me?”

“I already said-“

“You said yeah.” He mutters, rubbing his hand is a slow pattern on your knee. “Need you to say the full thing, before I do anything else.”

Dean’s face is suddenly softer, with something that aches and tugs on your own heart shining through his eyes, and you couldn’t lie to him if you tried. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to Dean. It feels cruel, and wrong, and as if you’d be denying yourself something so good and rare it will never be replicated if you walk away now. 

“I want you,” you whisper. “I’ve wanted you. But I’m not, it’s not going to be good for you. I mean, I know how to take care of that,” you point to the bulge in his pants, pressed slightly against your calf as he crouches before you, and Dean frowns. “But I’ve never, um, you know-“

“You’re not takin’ care of anything.” He says, scanning over your open face with drawn brows. “We’re doing this, it’s gonna be about you.”

“Oh.” There’s a little drool falling out of your mouth, Dean reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb, and your voice becomes a squeak. “Okay.”

“If you really wanna,” his mouth curves into a smirk, and you need it on yours now. “Next time, I’ll let you go to town on Little Dean.”

You can’t stop the small giggle escaping your lips, and it turns into a full laugh as Dean’s own grin grows, and nothing really feels that bad anymore. “Little Dean?”

“Compared to the rest of me, yeah.” Dean does a loose gesture at his broad, strong body, his grin growing cocky. Hungry. Starved. “But trust me, gorgeous. Ain’t nothing little about him.”

Your eyes widen, your thighs rubbing together as the need for him becomes almost unbearable, and Dean lets out a deep, low chuckle. 

“You want me, babygirl?”

You nod, and Dean’s eyes narrow as he squeezes his hand on your leg. 

“Need you to say it-“

“Yeah.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

A grin splits over Dean’s handsome face, and his hand drifts to your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours as he drawls your name. “I’m gonna need to get you ready, so just,” he pushes you slightly, and you fall flat on your back, moving your own hands to hold his against you. “Stay there, look pretty, and let me work.”

You nod, your vision already a little blurred with desire as you stare at the ceiling. Dean draws back, shuffling around at the edge of the bed, and you look up to see his shirt gone. It’s all warm, slightly golden and freckled skin, strong and soft in all the right places. His muscles flex as he takes a long, deep breath, and big, calloused hands lowering to trace over your midriff, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What’d I say about stayin’ there-“

“I, um,” you gasp a little as his hand slips under your shirt, bunching the material and starting to slowly pull it over your chest. “I’ve done other stuff. Just so you know. And I’ve done things to myself-“

“I bet you have,” Dean mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you carefully against him as he helps you out of your clothing. “Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so damn beautiful. Can’t wait to taste you, touch you, fucking ruin you-“

You let out a high, needy moan, burying your face in his neck and mumbling against his skin. “Please, Dean, just-“

You cut yourself off with a gasp as his free hand slips into your pants, cupping your pussy over the fabric of your underwear and rubbing back and forth so torturously slow you might fly out of your skin.

“So wet for me already,” he grunts, tugging on your hair until you lean back, meeting his gaze. “Ready?”

You’re not sure what you need to be ready for, but as long as it’s Dean doing it, you’re good. You nod, wrapping your arm around his neck in silent affirmation, and Dean pulls back to pop open the button of your jeans with a single hand, offering himself easier access.

Two broad fingers toy with the hem of your panties, Dean’s eyes almost glittering as his attention falls to where he’s touching you. Watching your body shiver when he glides his thumb over your clothed slit, your hips jerk when he presses down on your clit, your legs stretch as wide as they can when he starts to rub small circles against you.

“Dean,” you whine, your free hand moving to cup his jaw, trying to move his gaze back to yours. “Please, shit-“

“That feel good, babygirl?” Dean starts to quicken his movements, adding small, teasing flicks and pinches that make your eyes roll back in your head. “You like me teasin’ you? Playin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy until you’re soaked- Fuck-“

You start to grind on Dean’s hand, trying to chase relief while showing him that he didn’t need to play with or tease you. He has you, unraveled on his fingers and desperate for more of him, all of him, whatever he can offer you that will feel like this-

“Shit, you’re dripping.” Dean’s movement on your clit still as he drags his thumb down, resting right over your aching, already sensitive cunt, and pressing into you just enough to make you whimper. “I gotta taste you, Sweetheart, c’mon.”

His gaze shoots back to yours, something a little animalistic in his low, hoarse voice that almost makes you cum on the spot. “Need you hold on, pretty girl, we’re gonna get you out’a these.”

You nod, letting Dean lay you back down on the mattress, lifting your hips as he drags your jeans off your body, taking your underwear with them. Leaving to totally, completely naked on the bed. Vulnerable, entirely at his mercy, with not another place you’d wish to be in the world.

Dean crawls slightly over you, one of his hands tracing up your stomach, palming at your breasts, then rolling your nipple between two, rough, expert fingers. You gasp, arching slightly off the bed, and a low, deep groan rolls from Dean’s chest.

“Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You’re,” Dean cuts himself off, dropping his mouth to your other breast and latching plump, slightly chapped lips around your nipple. Your vision starts to line with light that might be angels coming to take you away, because this has to be heaven. This is better than heaven. Heaven wouldn’t allow such sinful things as Dean groaning against your skin, his boner pressing into your thigh, or his hand kneading at your ass. Someone shouldn’t be allowed to feel this good. This feels like everything, and blissfully nothing, and mostly just Dean.

You must have moaned his name, because he crashes up, fisting a hand in your hair as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. All teeth and spit and burning need. Dean tastes like coffee and whiskey and syrup and fruit when he shoves his tongue down your throat, and he smells like gunpowder and leather as his weight hold you easily down, and his lips are so soft but so demanding as he practically devours you, and you’re high. He’s not even inside you yet and you’ll never have enough. This isn’t more than what you’ve done before, but Dean’s ruined you with just teasing touches and wet, starved kisses, and you’re starting to worry you might ascend when he actually fucks you.

He starts to kiss and suck a line over your jaw, down your neck, and between your breasts. It’s heavy and wanting, but still so carefully coordinated. Every move Dean makes seems to be calculated, because he nips at your collarbone right as he tugs on your hair, and the sound that leaves you is high and undignified and exactly what he wanted. His chuckle rumbles in his chest—now pressed against your stomach—and all you can do is moan as he continues his perfect torture. Licking one nipple as he pinches the other, dragging two fingers through your folds as he kisses down the plane of your stomach, stopping right at the apex of your thighs with glittering eyes and firm hands, slowly guiding your legs open.

“Shit.” He mutters, warm breath right over your pussy, making your hips jerk slightly. “Goddamn, baby, you’re responsive.�� A wide, smug grin overtakes Dean’s face as he pushes one finger into your pussy, and you squeak. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He growls your name, and starts to pump that finger in and out, the pace so slow and almost painfully good. “God, you have fucking idea how long- How bad-“ Dean groans as you squeeze around him, and adds another finger. “You’re making such pretty sounds, babygirl, better than I ever imagined. Shit, you’re sexier than a fucking dream.”

His eyes drift back to yours, and shiver goes up your spine from how Dean’s looking at you. Really looking at you. Watching your writhe in the sheets and plead for him in weak gasps, watching you at your most vulnerable state, and grinning like he loves what he sees. Like he’s never seen anything better.

“Dean,” you gasp as his fingers pick up speed, starting to scissor inside your dripping cunt, bumping against a tender spot inside of you that seems to sing under his touch. “Oh my god, Dean, please-“

“Such pretty sounds,” Dean grins at you, crooking his fingers against that same spot to rub. “Let’s see if we can make some more.”

Without further warning Dean drops back down, latches his lips onto your clit, and sucks it right into his mouth like candy. It’s almost immediate, how he pulls you from warm pleasure to raw, almost feral desperation. You’re right on the edge, grinding on his face as his stubble burns your inner thighs in the best was possible, his tongue flicking over that pulsing bundle of nerves, his fingers reaching a demanding and brutal pace-

“Fuck, I’m-“ You let out a loud moan as Dean growls against you, pulling at his short, soft hair to try and both move him away as you dangle over the drop, and urge him on to let him catch you when you fall. “Close, Dean, I’m close, please-“

He pulls away, and you almost scream from the loss. You even force yourself up to glare at him, but you’ve barely gotten a steady balance when a high, needy breath escapes you at the sight of him. 

Dean’s towering over you, his pants discarded into another corners of the room, stroking his massive, fully-erect cock in one hand as he scans over your sweaty, flushed body. 

“I wanna fuck you dumb, babygirl.” He grunts, and you can’t really hear him your own Dean-addled brain, so you just gape and moan, and he chuckles. “Shit, looks like we’re already halfway there. You got any words for me-“

“Dean, please.” The words start to fall out of your mouth with the slight drool on your chin, almost as if he’d commanded them. “Please, I need you, need you so bad-“

You spread your legs in offering, and Dean groans. “Fuck, Sweetheart, you can’t just-“ He closes his eyes, running a hand over his face, and there’s a moment before he speaks again where you worry you’ve ruined it. That you’d shown too much, or Dean saw too much, but no matter what this is over before you can even get that huge, glorious cock inside of you- 

“I’m sorry-“

Dean frowns, his brow drawn as he looks down at you. “What the hell are you sorry for.”

“I dunno, I’m just not-“ You swallow. “I’m not good at this, I don’t know what to say-“

He grunts your name, prowling over your body under your trapped between his strong body and the bed, unable to escape his intense, searing gaze. Looking at you, examining you, and not flinching or moving away. “You,” he says, tracing one gentle hand over your cheekbones. “Are fuckin’ amazing at this.” 

You can only gape at him, so he keeps going.

“I’m the one that might fuck this up, Sweetheart. You’re so,” he makes a loose gesture to your body, and you really wish he’d use words, but the look of sheer awe in his eyes will be enough for now. “And I get to do this for you, and I’m not trying to blow my load before you even cum once.”

“I almost came.” You offer him a small smile, your fingers tracing over the sharp line of his jaw. “But you stopped me.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’m plannin’ to make that up to you. If you still-“

“I want it.” You cut him off quickly, rolling your hips up, right against his cock. “Please, Dean, I really want it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, dropping a little further down. “Are you-“

“I’m sure.” You guide Dean’s lips back to yours in a soft, almost sweet kiss, and say the words you really hope will snap whatever leash he’s put on himself. “I want you.”

It works. Something flashes in Dean’s eyes, and his hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit and rolling it in slow circles as he growls in your ear.

“Wanna feel you, babygirl. Fuck you raw. I’m clean, but if you want me to grab a rubber you’re gonna need to keep yourself going while I-“

“No!” You almost yelp, wrapping your arms around him in a desperate attempt to keep him above you. “I mean, I’m clean too, obviously, and I take birth control just for like, lady stuff-“

Dean raises his brows at you. “Lady stuff?”

“It kinda helps with period cramps and-“ You cut yourself off with a moan as Dean flicks your clit, tossing your head back you start to squirm, trying to catch him into you. “Fuck, Dean, please just fuck me-“

“You mean like this?” Dean guides the head of his cock inside you, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Fuck ya’ like this, baby?”

You grind on him, scratching at his back as you plead. “Shit, that’s, Dean that’s good, more-“

“More, baby? You need more already?” His grin is shit-eating, and you’d hit him if the dark look of lust in his eyes, the baritone of his voice being several octaves lower than you’ve ever heard it, and the throbbing ache of him starting to split you open wasn’t rending your limbs only putty in his arms.

“Dean, please-“

You might stop breathing as Dean guides himself fully into you, settling his face in your neck as he bottoms out. There’s a long moment where it’s only Dean’s warmth over and inside you as he gives you time to adjust, groaning against your skin as you squeeze around him.

“Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so tight.” He kisses right behind your ear. “Feel, fuck, feel so good around my cock, so fuckin’ good-“ He emphasizes his words with one, short thrust that pushes him right against that one spot and makes you whine. “You ready, baby? Ready for me to pound this tight little pussy until you cum all over my cock-“

You almost yank him back down into a desperate, borderline feral kiss, because if he kept talking you might have cum from just the sound of his low, rough voice growling in your ear and rumbling in your chest.

Dean takes a long, ragged breath when he pulls away, and you roll your hips only once. Just enough for him to groans and fall back over you, kissing and sucking on your skin like he thinks you’ll vanish if he doesn’t mark you with his touch. 

Then he starts to move, and you were right. This is heaven. Dean’s moving so slow, pulling almost all the way out before driving back inside, until you’re fully impaled on him—his cock pressed fully against that one spot, making your whole body feel warm and alight, and your head feel a little dizzy—then repeating the movement again. And again. Over and over, so fucking slow, still leaving softer, slightly uneven kisses along your collarbone and grunts against your skin but-

“Dean,” you gasp his name, your nails digging into the muscles of his broad back as he continues to move on you. “Fuck, Dean, go faster, please-“

He rises up to meet your eyes, an unreadable expression on his face that’s made entirely hunger and want, but edged with something a little stronger you don’t understand. “You sure-“

“Yes.” You’re practically whining, scratching at Dean’s skin as you squirm under him, desperate him to really, properly fuck you. “Please, Dean, feels so good, need more, need you-“

He shakes his head slightly. “Don’t wanna hurt you-“

“Not gonna-” you let out a breathy moan as Dean pushes back into you, the movement a little harsher than before, and so fucking good. “You won’t hurt me, please, Dean, fuck-“

“I’m-“

“You said,” you force your eyes to stay on Dean’s, even as he sits deep into you, cock throbbing against that soft spot and making you see stars. “You said you wanted to fuck me, Dean.” You raise your chin, grinding up into his torso until his throat bobs. “Fuck me.”

A low, primal noise leaves Dean’s mouth, and he fully snaps. You might have screamed his name when he began to move again—ramming into you at an unforgiving pace, creaking the bed and bruising your hips as he grabbed at your skin, molding you perfectly into his touch and body—but he swallows the noise with a deep kiss that makes your eyes go unfocused, your whole body slack and only for Dean to play with as he drags you higher. Slamming against that spot, balls slapping onto your ass, one free hand squeezing at your tits before dragging down your side and finding your clit-

“So fucking good, babygirl.” Dean groans into your mouth, and you think you might be floating or falling or flying, but it doesn’t matter because Dean grunting in your east and slamming into your dripping cunt, and that’s the whole world. “Look so good, all ruined and whiny, such a good fucking girl, taking this cock so well, made to be fucked so fucking pretty-“ He pinches your clit, and you whimper his name. “Wanna cum, baby? Wanna fucking soak this cock-“

“Yes,” you gasp, scratching at his back, muscles rippling as he drills into you. Something in you hopes it leaves a mark. That Dean feels you on his back a little forever, just like you know you’re going to feel him in your pussy and on your neck for the rest of your life. “Feels so good, Dean, feels so fucking good, wanna cum so bad-“

“Beg-“

Dean barely grunts your name before you bite on his upper lip, almost screaming into his mouth. “Please, Dean, please, need to cum, wanna cum so bad-“

“Shit, baby, you’re-“ Dean groans, his pace becoming uneven and thrusts slightly staggered, cock twitching deep inside you as he ruts into your aching, clenching pussy-

Dean flicks your clit once, sending your hips almost flying off the bed, and starts to rub you at a frantic, savage pace. 

“Cum with me.” He growls your name, lips ghosting over yours and you stare at him under, cockdrunk, lidded eyes. “C’mon, baby, cum-“

Your scream is hoarse as your orgasm slams into you like a freight train—pure, drug-like bliss washing over your whole body, a soft haze of Dean settling behind your eyes and over your skin—and Dean roars as he slams open, warmth coating inside you and dripping between your thighs, down your ass, and onto the bed.

Dean rolls over, taking you with him, and remains carefully sheathed inside you as your cunt grows sensitive and your breathing slows back down. It helps that he keeps your ear pressed to his bare chest, where you can hear his heart beating. Calm and steady and strong, just as certain and constant as the man it’s inside. 

As the man had been.

You’re not sure what he’s going to be now.

“That, ah,” Dean breaks the silence, his voice low and almost soft. “That do it?”

You smile against him. “If you mean take my virginity, then yeah, I think you did it-“

“No, I mean was it,” He groans, his arm shifting slightly around as his voice drops. “Was it good. For you.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly, trying not to hum like a needy fucking when Dean starts to run his fingers through your hair. “Yeah. Really good.” You stifle a moan as he twitches inside you. “It was awesome. Good, uh, good job?”

“Thanks, Sweetheart.” You can hear to smug grin in his voice, his free hand starting to rub soothingly on your back. “You were pretty fucking awesome yourself.”

There it is. You were pretty awesome. And he’s still inside you. And you need to know if you were awesome enough for something, anything to stick.

“You said, um,” you swallow, staring at his tattoo because you can’t bear to look at his face right now. “You said I could give you a blowjob next time. Did-“ 

“Did I mean it?” 

You nod nervously, and Dean’s whole chest rumbles with his low laugh, rolling right through your body. He grunts your name, and—when you still don’t look at him—hooks a finger under your chin to guide your gaze to his. 

“Look.” He sighs, and this is it. He did you a favor, and that’s it. He won’t stay, nobody stays, why would Dean Winchester be the one to stay- 

“I get it,” you mumble, and wish you would find the will to make your body roll away from his. “You don’t need to explain-“ 

Dean’s grip on you remains firm, and his voice is a deep, amused drawl. It feels a little cruel in your gut, because you’d have really liked more. More would have been the best. You didn’t even need all of Dean, you’d just have really like more. 

“You get it.” He raises his brows, and you nod again. “Sweetheart, you might want to actually hear the explainin’ part before you say anything.”

“I, um-“

“See, I’m a firm believer that all ladies should ride more than one dick in life. Too much of a good thing, ya know?” He winks at you, thrusting slightly up into you, and you flush. “But, if you’re taking applicants for long-term dicks, I’d have to be dumb not to apply. I’m never gonna complain if I get you all to myself.”

You stare at him, your voice barely a whisper. “So, um, you mean-“

“If you’ll have me,” he mutters. “I’ll take you up on that blowjob offer soon. And any other offers you’ve got.”

“Offers,” you swallow. “For long-term dicks?”

He shrugs—tracing a finger over your arm and refusing to meet your eyes—and it might be your turn to make the move. 

“Dean.” You whisper, crawling up his chest just enough for his eyes to easily find yours. “I’d really like you being my long-term dick.”

He frowns. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that-“

You drop down to press a soft, tentative kiss against his lips, and he tenses for only a second before overtaking you. Deepening the kiss with his tongue pushing on your lower lip, groaning when you open for him without a moment’s hesitation, pinning you onto his chest with big, strong arms as you fall fully into him.

Dean pulls back for only a second, searching over your open expression—all affection and need for him, swollen lips and shallow breaths—until he finds what he’s looking for, and his face splits into a wide grin. 

“If you’re lettin’ me,” he says, tucking a little bit of hair behind your ears. “I think I’ll stay your long-term dick for while, Sweetheart.”

“I’m letting you.” You whisper, a small smile pulling on your own lips. “But we need to come up with a better name than long-term dick.”

“Boyfriend?”

You stare at him for a second, unsure if this is real, because Dean just said that word like it was obvious. Not something he’s adamantly refused to be for anyone, ever, for the entire time you’ve known him. He said it like he was waiting to say it. And, looking at him—unfamiliar hope haunting the very deepest part of those perfect eyes, his grin so genuine but filled with nerves—you think he might have been. And all the money and glory and pleasure in the world couldn’t make you tell him no.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Boyfriend’s good.” 

Dean’s grin becomes almost boyish, and this last kiss is sweet. It’s a kiss in the rain, or under bleachers, or on a rooftop with nothing but time and peace around you.

And you and Dean have never had either of those things. 

But you’d really like to and find them. And if it’s with Dean, you really think you could.

End Note: Look at Dean. Being Emotional. I'm so proud of him (I made him do that)

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Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature

[a-b-riddle]

Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Clark: Mr. Wayne, can I ask some questions for the Daily Planet? Bruce: Certainly, especially for a reporter as handsome as you, Mr.-? Clark: Clark Kent. Bruce: A name as lovely as the man. Fitting. What questions do you have? Clark: There have been hundreds, if not thousands, of paranormal incidents reported within the Gotham Clock Tower, built and owned by your family. Do you believe these rumors have any weight? Bruce: You mean the legend of the Ghost Boy? Well, it's an interesting story, but in all the years I've been inside the clock tower, I've never seen the famous Phantom. Of course, I also haven't been inside it often, as my Grandfather closed it to the public due to safety concerns, and that included my family. Clark: Then you think that nothing is inside the tower? Bruce: I think the paranormal is real, especially with aliens like Superman being real, but I genuinely believe the Gotham Clock Tower ghost is just an old wives' tale. Clark: Hmm. Including the Lure? Bruce: Yes, including the Lure. As any Gothamite can tell you, the legend states Phantom's singing lures children into the Tower to never be seen again. Children are cautioned not to walk near the Tower after sunset or fall victim to the Lure, but I visited the Tower multiple times as a child, and many other children did too. It's often a dare Gothamites do as teenagers, practically a rite of passage. Clark: Quite a dare. Bruce smiling: It keeps things lively. You know how kids are. They claim they aren't scared, but everyone who does the dare is shaking in their boots. Clark: On the topic of those dares: What are your thoughts on recent rumors claiming that the string of missing teenagers are victims of Phantom? Bruce: I know Batman has made a statement, indirectly, since Commissioner Gordon was the one at the press conference - that he believes Phantom is behind this, but there is just no proof. Personally, I would rather a real detective investigate the missing cases than a man who hides behind masks. Even if Superman agrees with Batman. Clark: You don't seem to be much of a Batman fan. Bruce laughing: You seem to be one. I can tell I upset you with my opinion of him, but really, I think Batman is worthless and necessarily violent. He only punches at the problems but doesn't seem to fight for a better life quality in Gotham, and that's where crime really comes from. Clark is annoyed: Batman risks his life for this city. Bruce: You risk your life walking through the city. But I digress, if people want to believe Batman's warning of Phantom waking to kidnap teenagers, well, that's their opinion. Clark: Thank you for your time, Mr. Wyane. I'm sure many Gothamites will agree with a man as knowledgeable as you. Bruce: Thank you! And hey, if you're inclined in the same gender, I'm free this- Clark: Good day, Mr. Wayne. Tim watching Clark leave: What was the point of that? Bruce: Kent has a sway over the public; if he writes to take the warning seriously, then the people will listen. How was the stakeout? Tim: Oh, there is definitely something in the Tower. Its glowing green eyes locked with mine six different times, no matter how much I moved on the roofs. I was far away enough that Lure couldn't reach me, but I did hear a faint singing in the wind. Phantom is back. Bruce: Then tonight, we contact Zatana and John. That thing is going to give the kids back.

[genderqueerdykes]

as an intersex trans wo/man, i've noticed that unfortunately it has become painfully obvious that not only do radfems and terfs try to abuse trans men into falling in line with their beliefs, but unfortunately, this happens to trans women and transfemmes as well. i've unfortunately seen several trans women fall down the the "men evil, women innocent, trans men have cis male privilege, trans men don't struggle, trans men aren't men or trans they're just confused butches," pipeline really quickly after transitioning or their eggs cracking, and it's not necessarily that transfem's fault, but rather an abusive person sweeping in to take advantage of someone who needs and wants validation in feeling like a woman. the person who put the terf ideals in their head during this crucial stage in development is to blame, it is not inherently the trans woman's fault.

vulnerable transfems and trans women become indoctrinated into these things. trans women and fems are not inherently bitter, shitty, hateful people. it's a select few who become groomed by radfems who push this belief, and push it hard, because that's what you do when youve been indoctrinated into a cult. it's not an issue inherent to trans women and transfeminism at all- it's vulnerable people being groomed. this is a serious issue of trans women and fems being groomed and brainwashed.

this is a huge deal and we have to stand up for each other, because the transfems getting groomed into this need support and help to get out of this cult. it is not okay for women who are just trying to find their footing to almost instantly get sucked up into a literal hate group. we have to help trans people who become indoctrinated into gender essentialism, antimasculism, and transandrophobia just as much as we help other trans people unlearn transmisogyny. these issues are both damaging our community on the whole.

radfems are aggressive and will try to indoctrinate anyone they can into antimasculism, transandrophobia, and gender essentialism. a lot of trans women in the early stages of transition really want to be validated as women and such, will become groomed by these groups of cis women who will gladly feed them toxic ideals like women can never be wrong, women are always innocent, men are always harmful and evil, it just benefits the radfems, not the trans woman. this behavior grooms yet another person into spreading radfeminism without realizing it. when one espouses these beliefs they become a spokesperson for radfeminism and terfism

i'm plain tired of seeing this argument, because it is nothing but gender essentialist binarist bullshit:

"transphobia is worse for trans women than trans men because of x, y, z."

its not worse. its different. but equal.

i understand that many folks have not lived the life a trans man leads, but whenever you try to speculate on what it's like, you will always be wrong, no matter what, because you weren't in that person's shoes. it's impossible to see the nitty gritty of how a specific group of people are treated unless you are that person or spend lots of time around large groups of those types of people. trans men face homelessness at a disproportionately high rate compared to other groups of queer folk. we also deal with forced detransition. we deal with being dehumanized by she/her pronouns. we deal with having lesbianism and butchness weaponized against us. we also deal with sexual violence. we also deal with physical, mental, and emotional abuse. we deal with gaslighting, lying, being robbed, abandoned, injured and killed. its virtually impossible to find support if you're a pregnant trans man.

trans men have a lot of unique struggles. this is not a comprehensive list, but rather to show you that ALL trans people struggle. we are united under the same banner of transphobic treatment. we are struggling, but we are struggling together, and we can uplift each other without tearing each other down. punching down on another trans person hurts us all.

belittling the trauma of other trans people is a form of queer infighting that terfs want you to do in order to fracture our community further. queer infighting doesn't help anyone whatsoever. trans men do not have it harder than trans women. trans women do not have it harder than trans men. amab and afab and intersex enbies don't have it worse than each other. these are all completely different and unique struggles that deserve to be acknowledged for what they are. you cannot use the same scale of severity for a totally different problem.

people love to completely gloss over the issues trans men face for the sake of believing that all men benefit from patriarchy. saying that trans men are not affected by specific kinds of transphobia is spreading the radfem belief that only women struggle under patriarchy. queer men, men of color, intersex men, gay men, bisexual men, trans men, polyamorous men, genderfluid men, bigender men, gender non conforming men, feminine men, men who crossdress, disabled men, neurodivergent men, mentally ill men, and other marginalized men suffer under patriarchy as well.

i'm not tolerating radfem gender essentialism being woven into queer ideals anymore. this behavior has to go. when you genuinely believe these things, we all lose.

[theminecraftbee]

Grian sits on the edge of a desert cliff, watching the sunrise. His knuckles are bloody. He's had this dream before, and he's lived this moment before. He's awfully tired of it, honestly. He's not even particularly sad anymore. It's hard to be particularly sad, this long after, this much more between them.

But his knuckles are bloody again. There's someone sitting next to him.

"Joel?" he says, baffled.

"Yeah, hi, really weird bloody dreamscape you've got. Literally and figuratively: bloody hell. Like, Scott, he's got this pretty cottage and all these flowers and the single most terrifying version of Jimmy that I've seen in my life. Which serves him right, since he's a bastard, and I told him that. Or, uh, Pearl. She's normal. She's got dogs and... shit, I don't know--"

"Why are you here?" Grian asks.

"Oh, right, I was tasked with asking you if you regret it," Joel says.

There's a long moment of silence. The wind blows.

"I mean. No?" Grian says.

"Right? That's what I said! Blumin' stupid question, that!" Joel says.

"Wait, you mentioned--are you asking everyone that?" Grian asks.

"Yeah! It was all, oh, you've got a car, you can travel, it'll be all poetic like. You've had a 'character arc'--like I'm some, some fake guy--and grown as a person, everyone else has to, would they do things differently now? And I said, man, that's stupid. That's really stupid. But the glowing purple eyes guys--"

"Wait wait wait wait, the who?" Grian interrupts.

"Sorry, do you not know the glowing purple eyes guys? Martyn was acting like you're all buddies or something. Then I punched him. Because it was funny," Joel says.

"No, I know the--they asked you to do this?" Grian says. He takes a moment to try to imagine it. He has some trouble. Joel and the Watchers don't really belong in the same place at the same time for so many reasons that Grian doesn't know where to begin.

"Apparently, I'm not being serious enough," Joel informs Grian. "I kinda get it, actually. Like, everyone but Cleo has been somewhere like..."

Joel looks out over the cliff. It is tall, and Grian knows he cannot see the ground from the top. He had been able to during the actual games, of course, but these aren't the actual games; these are the memories of what brought him to victory, made manifest.

"So I guess I kinda wondered, since you lot always seem so blumin' sad about it," Joel finishes.

"I'm not really," Grian says.

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, maybe once, but--nah. Not really."

"Cool. That's the last one then," Joel says. "Hear that, weird glowing eyes guys? You act like I'm all weird or whatever but none of them regret it either. Not a single one of them."

Grian looks over the cliff again himself.

"None of us?" he asks, very quietly indeed.

Joel sighs. "All of you asked that too. I'm getting back in the bloody car."

Grian doesn't watch Joel leave. He rubs the blood off his knuckles and watches the sky instead. When he's tired thinking in circles about how he didn't really expect that he would be telling the truth, just then, he starts trying to imagine the trouble Joel might be giving everyone else instead. It's much more fun to think about than the sand that's getting in his socks. He's never able to get sand out of anything, these days, and it leaves him always just a little bit uncomfortable. Oh well; the price of being in a desert. He wouldn't be anywhere else if he had the choice, though, grit in his socks or not.

[isetfiretomyself]

Yandere King X G/N Ghost reader

Trigger warnings! Death, violence ,You die (obviously lmao), Yandere s/hs , More of a lovesick Yandere. This is my first ever fic so if I've missed anything please let me know!

With that said just imagine a...

👑Yandere Prince who sneaks out...like a lot. What can he say? He loves his kingdom! If he is to rule it one day he must understand it.

👑A Yandere Prince who one day bumps into you! A commoner nothing more, nothing less but to him. You were everything! Your passion, your gratefulness, your kindness is everything he loves about his kingdom in one person! You live in a little village just outside the kingdom but still in it's land. You try to avoid crowds, you have a collection of rocks and crystals. A harmless hobby that got you label as "mysterious" or "freaky".

👑Yandere Prince doesn't mind this at all! You're so pure and happy, you would never harm anyone! (And the more people believe you're threat the more you're all his-oop!)He loves when you ramble about the rocks you collect along the lake, his heart hurts when he finds out the reason you have mostly rocks in your collection is because you can't afford crystals.

"Your majesty?..." You open your door one night. "What ever are you doing at this-!" You didn't have time to finish before the young prince launches at you. Hugging you tighter then ever before, it's almost painful. " Father wants me to marry..." It's all he says, you try to see his expression but he's holding you so tightly you can't move. His blond hair covers his blue eyes. "I-I can't!" He's voice breaks. You've never seen him so Human, His prince persona complete forgotten.

You rub his back. "You'll make a fine husband, your ma-"

"Neil"

"I'm sorry?"

"Call me Neil... please" He pulls away from you. He gently moves his hands to cup your face and leans in. Before anything can happen there's a sudden slamming of your front door bashing into your wall. You scream in terror while Yandere Prince tries to keep you as close to the other side of the room as possible. Royal knights come in and pull the prince away from you.

"Unhand me!" Yandere Prince use's all his strength to pull away from the knights but with three of them restraining him it's near impossible. He's eyes wide in pure fear when he sees you being shackled. "No! No! You can't! You can't!" Kicking and screaming while being dragged into the carriage, he woke up the whole village with his tantrum. You keep your head down. If it wasn't for the knights dragging you along it would of been impossible for you to see, tears filling your eyes.

👑Yandere Prince who had to be bound to his bed when he found out you were to be hanged. His obsession of you being misunderstood as a love spell you cast on him. In a sick sense of comedy the more he screamed and cried the more it made up the kings mind.

👑Yandere Prince who managed to convince his personal maid, the one that's been raising him like her child since his mother's passing. To visit you one more time, to send his love and beg you not to hate me. To his surprise she returns with a small rose quartz you had on your clothes for him to keep.

👑Yandere Prince who cried so hard he vomited on your execution day. The cheers of the crowds fueled his rage. That night he was sat in bed rubbing his sore wrists, eyes puffy from crying. He brings his knees to his chest when he feels a hand on his back.Turning around he saw nothing.

👑Yandere Prince who has hardly slept since your death. Who is a vile shell of the young man he once was. On the day he had to meet his future bride. He punched a mirror unable to see himself with anyone who wasn't you.

That night he stumbled back into his chamber having drank his sorrows away to forgot everything. But he could of swore he never cleaned away the glass shards and he never let the staff in his chamber anymore.

That night he saw you. He came to him in his dreams. You're figure looked smaller then usual. The red ring around your neck was all he could stare at. "My love?" Was all yandere Prince could muster before waking up, the rose quartz in hand.

👑Yandere Prince who started carrying the crystals around everywhere, oh and I mean everywhere. He didn't believe it did anything but slightly ease his pain. That was an till his father, the king. Snatched it out of his hand "You stupid boy! Can't you see this was the vessel that ruined your mind!" And that was all it took. Yandere prince took his sword and plunge it into his father's heart. He went on a rampage killing everyone from the exactor to the civilians that cheered your demise.

👑Yandere king that became the most feared man in all this side of the mountains. All that death managed to bring Ghost readers form into this realm.

"My love... never again will I let scum take you away from me." He tried to take your hand in his but it just felt like a cold tingle on his palms.

After this yandere king made his staff build a steal box to keep the rose quartz safe. Maybe his father was right...the crystal was a vessel for someone.

[spikedfearn]

okay!! I've gotten a handful of requests that have me by the throat rn but here's my game plan/tentative timeline for my future Remmick fics!

1. Bloodbound (blood bride au)

summary: you’ve been chosen in a vampire-binding ritual as a blood bride, forced to tether to a vampire for your city’s protection. You never expected it to be Remmick—the most dangerous one. And when he marks you, you don’t expect it to feel so good.

I'm about 7k into this one, it's probably gonna be my longest one-shot, I'm estimating it'll be around 20k

2. Hallowed Be Thy Hunger (Louis x Lestat adjacent au, toxic vampire romance)

summary: In a house where the roses rot on the vine and the mirrors stay veiled, you sleep beside the man who damned you. Remmick—beautiful as sin, cruel as scripture—made you eternal, then made you his. What festers between you is not love. It’s legacy. A vicious, sacred hunger. Each time you try and leave, he draws you deeper into his bed. Each time you try to forget, he kisses the memory back into your throat and like a marionette, you come back every time he pulls the strings.

I'm gonna turn this into a three chapter fic. might end up releasing the first chapter before Bloodbound. I've made Remmick tender/romantic in my other aus thus far so I'm gonna write something a fair bit darker! anyone who's seen Interview With A Vampire will know what I mean!

3. Our Rapture, Their Retribution (Irish immigrant reader/Salem witch trials au)

summary: In the salt-stained wilds of the New World, you arrive wanting to escape famine and religious persecution, seeking grace, but America has none to spare. Instead you meet a man older than the trees and crueler than any Puritan God and when the village calls for your death, he answers with a slaughter that leaves no soul untouched. You were never meant to be saved. You were meant to be claimed.

this one I'm debating on making it a long one shot or a mini series like the above fic but Remmick massacring an entire village for trying to burn you at the stake 😩 this is also a working title bc idk if it has the same punch as some of my other titles but I'm super excited for this idea!!

[fatuismooches]

No other reason for this other than me being self-indulgent and having some fun. Dottore and Fragile Reader of course.

Prime Dottore - About You:

"If you were expecting me to... gush about them and whatnot, then your expectations are nonsensical. I have nothing to share with you about them. I merely have three things to say. Do not get close to them, do not make them upset, and do not get in my way, regardless of what I have to do to make them better."

Omega - About You:

"...[Name]? Their time is far too valuable to be spent around the likes of you. Speaking of, have you seen them? ...You say they're with another segment now? A pity. It's a shame they're always swept away by the others. I could please them far more than anyone else in any matter. I suppose I will need to think of a way to retrieve them yet again."

Alpha (Akademiya) - About You:

"Do you know how many pens and pencils I've broken due to [Name]? Even centuries later they still find the need to debate me on certain topics, academic or not, challenge my research and thinking, and criticize my handwriting. Truly an annoyance. If only they were able to be with me a bit longer... What? They are annoying, but I still acknowledge that they have the traits of a true scholar. And their voice is still much more agreeable than the others I have to work with..."

Beta (Webttore) - About You:

"Hehe, what a loyal assistant they are. They can pick apart different parts and mechanics with ease. Much more competent than that man I disposed of a while ago, on that expedition... along with all the others. Unfortunately, I only have a limited amount of time with them. Really, is it so difficult to find someone with even a third of their ability? Actually, that is a foolish question. No one could ever hope to compare to them."

Delta - About You:

"They have an exceptional talent for pestering me at any given moment, somehow seeking me out wherever I am easily. If only they could put their mind into something more productive. Why do I not simply ignore them? Because they do not stop until they've gotten their desired results, just like me. I'd rather not prolong their prodding.

Zeta - About You:

"... As long as they are well, I need not know anything else. Their health is of utmost priority."

Zandy - About You:

"[Name]? Oh, they're the best, most nicest and fun grown-up ever! I'm never alone now that they're around! They're always willing to play with me and they always yell at the other segments when they're being mean. They're never scared at all... [Name] could probably beat Prime in a fight if they wanted. Hmm? But they can't even throw a punch? That doesn't matter! They're much stronger than you think - I've witnessed it many times."

Pierro - About You:

"When I first recruited Dottore from the desert and gave him his Harbinger position, one of the first things he did was set up a room to monitor [Name]'s condition. He did so for hundreds of years, creating numerous segments to help, and it ended up paying off. It is not my place to pry into his life, as long as he fulfills his duties as the Tsaritsa requests, but now that they're by his side again, he seems... never mind."

Capitano - About You:

"I once encountered them when they managed to sneak out of the lab. They were... intriguing and talkative. They weren't scared in the slightest and were more interested in how I managed to befriend all the creatures near me. They wanted... tips on how to convince the Doctor to let them have a pet. I don't think I was very helpful."

Columbina - About You:

"The Doctor is engrossed with his research, but the only thing he truly has a soft spot for is his dearest [Name]. He hides his feelings exceptionally well, but anyone who witnesses him around them can tell the difference. Don't tell him I said this though, you know how he'll act.~ But do tell [Name] this, they're sure to get flustered. ♪"

Arlecchino - About You:

"They have made attempts to get closer to me, but I'm afraid I have no interest in building a relationship with them. Still, I've always thought that their character would be similar to that of the Doctor, but from what I've seen of them, that does not seem to be the case. So, I do wonder if those two opposites truly get along."

Pulcinella - About You:

"I have seen many things in this long life of mine, so unlike many others, their relationship with Dottore does not surprise me too much. Still, they have much to learn if they feel the need to come and ask me for relationship advice. If you ask me, I believe that they don't truly know how much the Doctor values them, even if it is as clear as day."

Wanderer - About You:

"The Doctor's little pet? Every time I saw them, they were always scurrying behind one of the segments, as if they were attached by the hip. I don't know what transpired between the two of them for this relationship to happen, but out of all the people who associate with Dottore, they're bound to meet the nastiest end."

Sandrone - About You:

"The Doctor? [Name]? I have no care for either of them. I am much too busy with my own work to think about his worthless love life. However, I do suppose the idea is entertaining - Dottore being capable of love is as laughable as thinking an Automaton can learn to cherish another, and this [Name] person is equally as idiotic for believing so."

La Signora - About You:

"[Name], you say? I can't claim to know much about them. Everything I've heard is through the mouths of others, mostly from agents who talk more than what's good for them, but especially the Balladeer. What are they really like - a harmless and fragile sweetheart? A tool for the Doctor? His equally as heartless accomplice? Or all of the above? All I can say, however, is that it takes one to know one, right?"

Pantalone - About You:

"Ah, the little one. I am more than familiar with them, although Dottore would loathe to hear that. Did you know the Doctor is more prone to jealousy than you think? It is most amusing to see his ever-confident smirk fall once you get a bit too close to [Name]. I vividly remember the time when I said I would accompany [Name] to a ball instead, as he was too busy with his research. He never changed his mind as quickly as he did once I promised to dance with them."

Childe - About You:

“I’ve always thought Dottore was eccentric, and after meeting [Name], I can say they are equally as weird as him, solely for choosing him as their husband. Their personality is nothing like his either - they are bubbly, affectionate, and most of all… extremely weak. Traits that Dottore has no interest in. And yet the segments seem to fawn over them… I just don’t understand them. I just hope they know what they’re getting into.”

Furina - About You:

"Whenever I see them, [Name] always make sure to arrange a tea party with their own homemade Sumerian sweets! It is truly a delight. I admit, I am a bit jealous of their skill. It's as if they have the experience of a hundred years! But of course, that's impossible. Regardless, they are very kind, and they also seem to have a particular liking for romantic films... an odd thing for someone affiliated with the Fatui to like."

Nahida - About You:

"A raven and a sparrow - two beings that are surely bound to be apart from each other, but when it comes to the Doctor and [Name], it seems that even the impossible becomes possible. Though my feelings toward them will not change because of what they've done, I can't help but be interested. What lengths will the Outcast go to cure the one he holds dear, and would [Name] still be able to love him if he becomes more of a monster?"

[hurtspideyparker]

Peter finds out Tony has never had a slushie, and takes him on a poor person's pleasure tour of New York City. All the sketchy shops and terrible public transport Tony has been too privileged to experience. Peter finds it appalling he calls himself a New Yorker and has never been on the Subway

First stop slushies and slim Jim's—"oh I see it's like a frozen margarita, but with less of the fun stuff and more watermelon diabetes"

They take the F train, which Tony has always avoided because a) safety and b) has private drivers, a dozen cars, and money to spare. He is both alarmed and fascinated, and very, very disgusted

Almost falls over because he refuses to hold the poll and Peter has to catch him

Gets harassed for his ugly jacket which he replies "costs more than your shitty apartment rent"

Gets nearly robbed for said jacket

Comments on the bodega cat "is that sanitary?" which Peter replies "nope! Oh look they have cool ranch Doritos"

They visit the Statue of Liberty "Pete I've seen every angle of this lady including up her nose, it's called reckless driving of a rotorcraft" "but have you ever waited in line? Any line?" "..." "exactly! Now shhh I'm eavesdropping on the Portuguese family. I think their cousin Afonso stole Mariana's car to see his prison boyfriend" "... tell me more"

Peter buys Tony a New York tourist shirt as payback which he does wear but refuses to take a picture in (Peter sneaks one anyway)

They take lots of selfies (without the shirt or covering it with his jacket at Tony's insistence) and show them all to Pepper and Happy when they get home

They eat hotdogs for lunch which Tony has had before but Peter insists it's part of the experience. "Not as good as a cheeseburger, better than the aloo gobhi Pepper made last night. Don't tell her I said that"

End up witnessing a man threatening an old lady at an ATM but before Peter can go change into his suit Tony has walked up to the guy and punched him in the face

Tony riding home on the Subway with a cup of ice water held to his purple knuckles wearing an 'I ❤️ NY' shirt looking very grumpy to be sitting on the filthy seat (Peter takes another picture and sends it to the Avengers group chat. Clint gets it framed)

"So what did you think!" "I think I'm going to have you wash your hands every time you step into my building. I also think you're going to come to Malibu with me next weekend." "Oh, why?" "To show you how I live. We'll need to get you a suit tailored ASAP, and I hope you have your learners permit." "Oh no."

[maybankslover]

the prophecy-drew starkey

drew starkey x singer!reader

warning: angst. emotional infidelity and cheating that doesn't get physical so it's even worse. no comfort

summary: she'll always identify with the prophecy

playlist: the prophecy by taylor swift

a/n: NO, there WON'T be a part two. it's a one shot.

she thought it wouldn't hurt this much given the fact that she was used to it. used to watch the last string of hope dissapear in between her fingers right in front of her.

she watched as he laughed at something the woman having dinner with him said. she watched as he mistook her for a fool.

as he thought she wouldn't find out he was out and about with someone else. she had seen him walk into the black dog, he hadn't even had the decensy to turn off his location.

no longer the one he confided his secrets with, a stranger now she shared her bed with.

because the man that she loved had turned into a stranger the second he decided to lie to her. the second he decided she wasn't enough anymore.

so much time down the drain, so much love being wasted.

she took a picture to send to one of their shared friends. the one who introduced them.

text

y/n 'found him'

maddie 'oh shit.'

y/n 'yeah. i'm going home.'

maddie 'want me to go see you?'

y/n 'no, i'm going home. back to tennesse.'

y/n 'i'll let you know when i make it there. love you'

when he got home into the late hours of the night smelling like perfume and wine, he found her with her bags waiting beside the door.

3. 17 a.m marked the clock on his watch. nothing good happenes at three a.m she always said after explaining an old superstition her grandfather had handed down to her.

"baby?" he asked. she hated how it broke her to hear his voice. "what's going on?"

"had a good night at the black dog?" she said as she got the leashes on both of their dogs. her black dogs, how ironic. "had a good time with your friends or was only the brunette who needed a special treatment?"

he closed his eyes for a moment.

"save it. not what i think? it's not what it looked like?" she scoffed. "i've heard all of them before."

"baby please let's just sit down and talk about it." he tried to come closer but she denied it pulling up her right hand to stop him before he even could take a step closer.

"gave you everything and it still wasn't enough. made me believe i was good enough or that at least i was good enough for you." she was defeated, life had gave her the last punch in the face. there was no going back for her, not to him, not to believing anymore.

there weren't more chances at love for her. she was done.

"it was the first time." he murmurs.

"and it makes it all better?" her eyes were lifeless. "it's even worse. you chose to go on a date, chose to lie to me. can't even blame it on drugs or alcohol because you just wanted an excuse to leave me or to give me a excuse to leave you so you'd be less guilty."

"let's sit down for a moment. just a moment." he choked out. his throat closing with the moment.

she looked at him as she toyed with the ring on her hand then looked down at the beautiful ring that had adorned her finger for the past year.

without saying a word she opened the garage door getting her dogs settled in her truck first as he conitnued to plead and beg for her to listen to him. only retaining the words 'tour' 'missed you' 'bored' 'never again' of the discurse she was shutting out.

"thank you for postponing the weeding." she murmured taking off her ring and leaving it on the kitchen table. "don't want the house, don't want anything aside from what i took."

"is this it? i make a mistake and now it's all over?" he gripped the back of her shirt stopping her from continue moving.

"you call a mistake deciding to have dinner with another woman to laugh with another woman and take her hand as if she was the one you're about to marry." she chuckled. "you even have my favourite shirt on. baby blue with stripes because it makes your eyes shine more."

she didn't stop him from dragging her back a bit to hug her from behind.

"please forgive me." he kissed her shoulder one, two, three and even four more times. "wasn't thinking."

"that's the problem, you weren't thinking. I know we weren't on our best moment but how do you expect me to build a life beside someone who as soon as it got hard run to some stranger."

a piece of one of her songs pierced through her mind 'you know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love. the slowest way is never loving them enough' he had swore to her he was her destiny. the one who would never disappoint her, the father to her kids. her one true love.

and maybe he was her one true love maybe she just wasn't his. it wouldn't be the first time someone meant something to her but she didn't mean the same to them.

"please let me go." she held the hand he had placed on her belly. "you knew this was the last shot i was giving love, the last time i was allowing someone to know me. made me believe you'd give that to me."

her walls breaking down as her short nails hurted his skin but the burn he felt was nothing compared to how he made her feel.

"you knew it and still decided to steal that from me." she chuckled with irony. "didn't even considered you killed the last string of hope."

he winced remembering all their late night talks. the last four years of their lives gone in the blink of an eye.

he had ruined her, he had ruined her more than anyone else because she had expected it from them but not from him.

she let him turn her around, she let him hug her and kiss her.

she let him do it because she needed to do it one last time too before all she saw in her mind was the memory of that night.

before all the happy moments were clouded by the image of him laughing with someone else like he laughed with her.

she let him deepen the kiss, she let him bite her lip and she let him grip her waist. she let him pull her close as close as he could.

she let him murmur he loved her against her lips. she let him do it all and even let him rest his forehead against her's.

"please let me prove you I'm not what you saw tonight. please baby let me beg for your forgiveness." his hands sneaked under her shirt and his thumbs caressed the side of her waist.

"no." she whispered before giving him one last peek on his lips and moved away to put in the trunk the last of her bags.

she didn't look back at him as she turned on the ignition. the last she saw from the rear view mirror was him holding his hands up and resting them on his head.

she was two hours in, on the eight hour drive when her chest started to close and she had to make a stop in the middle of nowhere.

belly and lola slept peacefully in the back unaware of the turmoil their human was going through.

"this is it." she whispered as she turned on her phone. a million missed calls from drew, and a few from madelyn and one of his sister's.

she had made herself the promise that if by 32 she hadn't settled down and found somebody to grow a life with her, she would be done with letting people in.

and at 29 drew appeared in her life in the middle of one of her tours. she felt it, she wished for it and it had finally happened. now she felt like an idiot.

not matter how much she tried she would always be on her own. back home her parents awaited not really sure what to expect when their daughter announced on a short message that she would be driving from north carolina where she had settled with her fiance all those eight hours on her own.

they didn't need to ask when they saw her tear stained face and both of the dogs with her. her father just hugged her while her mom took on the job of getting the dogs inside the house.

text

y/n 'stop it all please. I'm done. you ruined us so just fucking stop'

drew 'I can't. I can't fanthom the idea of going on without you.'

y/n 'you'll live'

drew 'I love you'

y/n 'it'll pass'

she disappeared from the public eye for months five months. on the six month mark he received the notification.

'thisisy/n has made a post'

thisisy/n

liked by 5,8mill

@thisisyn I looked at the sky and said my new single 'the prophecy' will be out tonight

all comments have been deactivated

she kept on touring and her private life stayed that way. private. he tried to keep tabs on her but there was nothing to keep tabs on, no one knew anything at all and madelyn wouldn't tell him anything.

while on her part she knew he got married a few years later, it was difficult to not find out. he had made quite a name for himself inside the hollywood scene.

she kept her promise to herself. she never opened herself to anyone again, she was done with begging and praying.

the prophecy became her life. she had made her life the prophecy. that song that condemn him to remember the worst mistake of his life. he loved his wife but not in the same way he loved her.

what it's worse? to spend your life empty of love or to spend your life knowing you'll never love the same way you once did while you are supposed to love the one by your side.

masterlist

taglist: @chenslucy @gillybear17 @imliterallyamirrorball @nichmeddar @gillybooboo @julczimozart @silkylovey @droppedyourhnd @jaydaaasworld @congratsloserr @carrerascameron @m1santhropicc @chiaraanatra @ijustwanttoreadlols @theoraekenslover @ethanthequeefqueen @rafesdrew @loverdrew @frankoceanluvr11 @josephandrewstarkey @snowtargaryen

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'the animal in the cage' - 18+ logan x gn!reader

summary: you return each week to watch the stranger in the cage, desire swirling in your mind. there's no way he'd ever look at you too. . . right? (830 words) tags: suggestive, set during the x1 cage fight scene, short one that might branch out, reader pov, reader is kind of obsessed with logan, for the 'cage-fight' prompt for logan promptober.

you return to the man in the cage every week, watching him from behind a glass, arriving a few minutes late this particular evening. you watch as his chiselled form moves with practiced ease, tight fist connecting with skin, his abdomen tensing with every blow while your mouth subconsciously waters in response.

he's like an animal, almost, in the way that he snarls and bares his teeth and prowls. his shoulders tense, eyes sharp, pacing the cage as though it were his own domain. and in a way it is, he owns it in his presence alone. the stage is his. and you lap it up from the audience, every. damn. time.

it's the same routine each week, albeit altered slightly for returning customers, but no one is as loyal to the show as you are. his number one fan. you watch as he's beaten to a pulp initially, before destroying his opponent in the second and third rounds.

he must plan it this way, must enjoy the feeling of pain. or perhaps he simply endures it for the sake of his identity. can't let them know he can take more than just a few punches.

you know what he is, a mutant. but that doesn't scare you. it excites you.

and so you watch from beyond the cage, safe in your little wooden seat as he prowls behind the metal, circling his prey.

it could be considered an obsession, but you'd prefer to label it a curiosity - a longing to know the beast in the ring. just how dangerous can he really be? is this just a means to an end? there's a sadness that flickers behind his eyes that tells you he craves more, something, anything more than this.

you know you could give him what he wants, or maybe that's your delusions talking. nevertheless, it doesn't stop you from fantasising each night, alone in bed. you find yourself calling his name in a desperate cry, gripping your sheets as you come undone, visions of him tangling in your feverish mind.

but his eyes never settle on you, not even once. his focus is sharp, mind steady and you find yourself pleading silently, willing his eyes to land on you just for a moment. you'd be content with that, you think, just for a second of his time.

yet it never comes.

you sigh as you find yourself at the bar, ordering another drink. perhaps it's time to give up the chase, give up. . . whatever this was. the situation has taught you nothing but how deprived and filthy you are - pining for the snarling beast in the cage who couldn't care less about the hopeless little bird on the other side. not worth the time. right. . .?

right.

rising from your seat, you head for the door, pulling your jacket around your shoulders in preparation for the winter chill. the air hits you like a truck, shivering on impact.

"i've seen you, y'know-"

you freeze in place at the voice.

"watching me. . ."

the voice purrs from your left, fire blazing in your cheeks as you attempt to calm your breathing in the hopes he won't notice. but it's too late, it's already painfully obvious how it puffs out quickly in small, light clouds in the icy atmosphere. you're almost too easy to read.

his gaze flits up and down your form, taking you in as your head turns, meeting his dark and soulful eyes. you swear you feel your heart stop as his eyes finally land on you. it's just you, and the animal from inside the cage, out here in the cold open air. there's no metal to separate you now.

"you're not as subtle as you'd like to think," he mumbles, stuffing a cigar between his lips. you watch on in awe, tongue instinctively swiping across your lips. you're hungry, hungry enough to ignore the insult he just threw your way.

there's a pause as he lights his cigar, tension so thick you can almost taste it. it tastes good. so good. almost as good as all those sinful thoughts begging to be acted upon inside your mind.

the silence envelops you, makes you feel like you can't breathe. you want to say something, anything to defend yourself. 'i'm not usually like this', or 'it's not what you think', some bullshit excuse like that. but no words come, just the pounding of your heart in your ears as you stare at him before you.

then his lips part once more, you're sure he's going to tell you to get lost, curse you out.

"see you next week, don't be late this time." is all he says, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts as your eyes watch the trail of large bootprints he leaves in the freshly fallen snow.

so wrapped up in your own head, in your daydreams that you failed to notice the animal inside the cage. . . had been watching you, too.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Now I have to ask- WHY do you hate Pacific Rim?

Okay, fair warning, this is about as bitter and salty and small-minded as day-old caviar. But. My bitter, salty (probably fishy) opinion:

Pacific Rim is only a good movie because it's a well-written story about robots punching monsters.

That's it. That's all there is to the movie.

I started out merely disappointed by Pacific Rim. We went gaga for the preview materials that promised these unique well-rounded character pairs and trios with these idiosyncratic robots from all these different Pacific nations... And then the movie itself is about some bland white American guy who pilots a robot named a racial slur, the second most fleshed-out team is bland white Australian guys, and the Chinese team is there, kind of, in the background, but don't worry they're going to die first. The "character-driven story" turned out to be "various characters take turns punching aliens" but, sure, whatever, I love the MCU so why not.

The day I went from "Pacific Rim is overrated" to "Pacific Rim is the worst thing that has ever happened to human civilization, I'm extremely normal about this" was the day I saw a Tumblr post suggesting we replace the Bechdel test with the Mako Mori test. Because Mako Mori has her own plot and doesn't kiss North Carolina at the end, making her a whole new type of feminist icon.

To which I was like:

We are talking about the same movie here, right? The Pacific Rim that can't even pass the Bechdel test? The Pacific Rim that's all about might-makes-right, the Pacific Rim that has ONE speaking role for ONE female character in its (from IMDB) 50-person cast? The Pacific Rim that repeatedly puts its only female character in danger and has her rescued by first Idris Elba then North Carolina? THAT Pacific Rim?

Is there a different Mako Mori I haven't met? Because the one I've seen a) has a character arc driven by deciding whether to obey her father or follow her heart, which is as inoffensive and stale as an unblessed communion wafer, b) does nothing that Ellen Ripley didn't do 30 years earlier, but with about 5% of the character depth Ripley got, and c) stands there in silence looking sad as two men punch each other over the question of her virtue.

Any post assuming this movie invented the idea of "small Asian woman kicks monster ass" needs to learn its damn history. Especially the ones acting like her being physically small is somehow a feminist bonus. There's something embarrassingly ahistorical about the whole thing.

And look. I get how we got here. I know how easily Tumblr backs you into a rhetorical corner of "calling a story Good can never mean merely 'enjoyable'; calling a story Good must mean 'virtuous'". Until next thing you know you're arguing that actually, shipping Obi-Wan/Darth Vader is a net good for all of society, because gay divorced middle-aged tyrants who use supplemental oxygen and murdered their exes in a custody dispute over the one kid (out of two) they actually care about deserve to see themselves in sci fi too! You only end up in that corner because half the time you're arguing against someone who says that shipping Obi-Wan/Darth Vader is literally the same thing as supporting father-son incest, so your real reasons for shipping them (1. foe yay, 2. old man yaoi) seem wildly insufficient.

Much of what I see about Pacific Rim seems neck-deep in the "it's not allowed to be a Good Movie unless it single-handedly dismantles the patriarchy" fallacy. There's nothing progressive about shipping two dudes best known for chopping off each other's body parts with laser swords. And there's nothing progressive about a movie having its only female character hug the male protagonist at the end instead of kissing him. You're allowed to like a thing just because it's well-made, without acting like a bog-standard normatively-broey action flick somehow invented a new form of feminism. Anyway, "Pacific Rim is a perfectly fine movie" is the hill I will die upon, heretical though it may be.

[zablife]

Harry da Souza NSFW Alphabet

A/N: I've attempted to write these for gn!reader. If I've made a misstep, pls lmk! Ty to my beta reader @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal for her amazing mind!

No Spoilers!!!

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Harry likes to hold you close, pulling your body into his to feel your body tremble with the little aftershocks of your orgasm. He'll quietly savor the moment as he listens to your breathing even out, trailing his fingertips over your skin and nuzzling his nose in your hair. He drinks you in, storing the sense memory for later to distract him from whatever unpleasant task he's summoned to clean up next.

And though he tries to stave it off, the guilt eventually creeps in, reminding him of one bitter fact. He never has enough time with you, phone calls from the Harrigans dragging him away in the middle of the night more often than not. He'll clutch you more tightly in those moments, desperately trying to convince himself his job isn't harming your relationship or putting you in any danger. With your head resting securely over his heart, he can almost believe it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Harry has a difficult time appreciating his body the way you do. He's always seen it as a tool of his trade, no body part particularly worthy of note unless it's showing signs of age. Tho you've pointed out how distinguished he looks with a bit of silver peppering his beard, he only grumbles. This is the usual sort of grumpy response he gives if you try to compliment his looks. After twenty years on the job and an untold number of injuries, he can only see remnants of past mistakes--a blade he failed to find in someone's shoe or the punch he didn't see coming. He doesn't understand how you find any of his imperfections sexy, but you do. Every time you kiss his crooked nose or allow your fingertips to linger over the knotted pink scars that dot his abdomen, you're reminded of his resilience.

As for the nonsexual body part he loves most of yours, it's def your hands. It's the way you care for him in such an adoring way, cradling his face in your palms or massaging the aching muscles in his shoulders. He can literally feel your love passing thru your hands.

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

Always thinking of consequences, Harry refuses to cum inside you. Regardless of whether or not he could actually impregnate you, it's become habit to pull out the moment he feels his balls draw up. As an ass man, he particularly enjoys shooting ropes of hot cum over your backside and watching it drip down the crack of your ass.

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

He'd hate for any of the Harrigans to know he enjoys submitting to you on occasion bc he's expected to be their ruthless enforcer. However, there are times when he needs to relinquish that control and have you dominate him. He loves the feeling of being immobilized by restraints, hooded eyes watching you have your way with him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

As in most situations, Harry is the more experienced party. He's seen it all and done it all! However, he never makes you feel foolish, taking time to talk you thru anything unfamiliar. He has the patience of a saint, wanting you to feel comfortable with anything you've never experienced. And he has no problem stopping if you suddenly realize you're out of your depth.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

If you were to ask, he'd say doggy style bc he has an amazing view of your ass. However, the truth is he'd choose missionary or any variation where you're face to face bc he craves the contact. He delights in watching you fall to pieces beneath him, a surge of pride swelling in his chest that he's giving you such pleasure.

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

Surprisingly, yes! He'll good naturally laugh off awkward moments to put you at ease and if that doesn't work, he'll pull a face to see you smile. He doesn't take anything too seriously, wanting you both to have a good time.

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

Harry hates to admit how self absorbed it must seem to always be perfectly groomed, but he does take the time to make himself presentable for you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Just like his goofy moments, Harry can also have tender moments when he wants to relish holding you close. He can be intensely romantic, esp when he has the time to set the scene properly. He's an expert at drawing a luxurious bath with salts and rose petals.

J = Jack off (masturbation head canon)

He doesn't have the time! He'd prefer to satisfy his urges with you anyway. On occasion he's agreed to stroke himself for you, but it's impossible to keep from kneeling before him and taking him in your mouth when he does. He's simply too irresistible.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Harry fantasizes about cockwarming bc it isn't something he generally has time for. It's a decadent request reserved for lazy days at home. The intimacy of it is a huge turn on for him as well as the idea that you'd take the time to do this for him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He isn’t the biggest risk taker and doesn’t much care for PDA so he’ll limit activity to the bedroom. However, I imagine he enjoyed using the Harrigans’ vehicles in his earlier, more reckless days. Sometimes you still revisit the scene of your old crimes for a quickie.

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

Being alone with you for any amount of time does it for Harry! He knows he's a lucky man and savors any opportunity to ravage you.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

He won't indulge fantasies involving gun or knife play. Even tho he's adept at using all sorts of weapons and doubts he'd cause serious harm, he won't take the risk.

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

There's nothing that soothes him quite like the feel of your tongue swirling the head of his cock. It's the fastest way to shut off his overactive brain so you often suck him off in the shower after he's come home from a long day.

That isn't to say he won't enjoy returning the favor. If he's still feeling pent up, he'll press his large palms into your thighs roughly before devouring you with ravenous appetite. When he gets especially greedy for your moans and whimpers, he'll hold you down as you shake from the overstimulation of multiple orgasms, his face covered with evidence of his prowess. He only begins to slow down when you're limp with exhaustion, pushing himself up for a languid kiss to share the taste he couldn't get enough of.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) 

This is heavily dependent upon the situation. He’s certainly capable of slow, sensual lovemaking during a stolen afternoon from work or if you're on holiday. You both enjoy these moments of connection when you can lavish each other with attention. Harry most enjoys a sunny afternoon on the balcony with you perched in his lap cockwarming him.

The fast, rough fuck is reserved for days when he requires stress relief, usually a day spent with Eddie. Tho Harry is good at compartmentalizing thoughts of work, a bad day will inevitably bleed into your home life. If you hear his boots thudding down the hall, you know he's coming to bend you over the nearest surface. On these occasions he’s far more likely to leave love bites and bruises, unaware of his own strength. But he makes up for it afterward, slipping into a warm bath with you to talk about the things he had trouble expressing earlier.

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

Harry's famous for this! He'll pop by for a quickie when he has an opening in his hectic schedule bc he wants you to know you're on his mind. You worry these brief encounters won't always be satisfying, but Harry is quite efficient. He can turn your legs to jelly within minutes of pushing you against the nearest wall!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Harry is prob more vanilla than you'd think in his personal life considering the risks he must take for Conrad. He's def not a prude tho, having tried most things in his youth. I doubt he'd turn down his partner's request to try something as he aims to please you in any way he can.

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

Even tho he eats well and gets regular exercise, Harry is still a middle aged man who requires a longer refractory period. He can usually only go one round, but he will be sure to satisfy his partner. And, boy, are you satisfied!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

See dirty secret for this one, but he def owns hand cuffs and strong rope for the nights when he needs to decompress.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry isn't a tease and he doesn't appreciate teasing. Catch him in the wrong mood and your playfulness will only invite frustration as he’s accustomed to obedience when he speaks. Patience worn thin, he'll pin you in a mating press and selfishly take what's been withheld from him.

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

Harry rarely raises his voice, preferring quiet dominance in any room he enters, including the bedroom. He'd rather listen to the symphony of sounds he’s coaxing from you and keeps his own vocalizations to deep grunts of satisfaction.

W = Wild card (a random head canon for the character)

He's surprisingly sentimental, carrying a polaroid of you in his wallet despite the risk of someone using it against him. However, Harry reasons he's the only one who could identify your naked torso painted with his cum.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

Average length, but above average girth. Watching him get hard might be the most tantalizing thing on earth, especially seeing the tip flush to match his kiss swollen lips.

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

Ideally he’d have you every day, but that doesn’t usually happen due to the nature of his work. He might leave unexpectedly one night and sever contact for days at a time as he fixes the Harrigan’s latest problem. Tho he’s proud of the lifestyle he’s able to provide, he deeply regrets missing that time at home with you. He’s always thinking of you, eagerly awaiting every homecoming and the lingerie you've bought to celebrate.

Z = Zzz

Out of habit, Harry remains awake and alert long after you’ve dozed off in his arms. He doesn’t mind a sleepless night as long as you’re resting peacefully by his side. As you begin to snore softly against his chest, he’ll look down at you with a goofy grin on his face, overwhelmed with gratitude that he's the one keeping you safe and warm.

[angelluv16]

The Chorus of Us

ex lando norris x Ginger Spice's daughter!reader x harry styles

✩: They broke up and wrote a heartbreaking song. Through this process, her old friends from F1 were with her. With one specific boy band member getting closer and closer

fc: Crystal Leigh, girls from pinterest

pairing: ex lando norris x Ginger Spice's daughter!reader x harry styles

warnings: swearing, cheating, Lando is an asshole in this

Wanna be added to the taglisg? Click Here

(We shall pretend Harry is on tour, I miss him. Also, Reader is not using horner or her mom's last name, she's using her grandparents )

masterlist

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*few months later*

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yourusername

liked by kellypiquet, maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, harrystyles and 2.3M others

yourusername: Was only going to post my natural hair, but why not give you guys a dump😘

tagged: @maxverstappen1 @kellypiquet @alexandrasaintmleux

view all comments

username33: The brown hair Omfg I never knew I needed it.

username34: Uhhhhh who's that man on slide 5 and 7 🤨🤨

yourusername: I don't know what ur talking about🤷‍♀️

christianhorner: 💕💕

username35: Not you casually soft launching on main 😭

username36: I just KNOW Lando is punching the air rn 💀

username37: The brown hair is everything. I’m obsessed. 😩

username38: One Direction vinyl, flowers, and a mystery man… this is a Wattpad plot fr

username39: Not me zooming in on slide 3 like a detective

username40: Not you trying to gaslight us in the comments 💀 we see the TEA

yourusername: I do not know what you mean I've been a saint

username41: 1D vinyl and pasta dates… oh she’s in her healing era 🫶🏽 (or her delulu era idk yet)

yourusername: I'm already healded girlie poo. and rude i'm not delulu

maxverstappen1: The only good Photo on this dump is of me and Kelly

yourusername: Tbh You ruined the photo but oh well

kellypiquet: You look beautiful as always ❤️

yourusername: Have YOU seen Yourself

username42: Not you moving on that fast 💀💀 girl be serious.

username43: Girl it's been months just because she's posting the oppisait gender doesn't mean she's moved on maybe she's going on dates perhaps she's seeing if she can trust someone and plus lando's moved on clearly an no one is talking about that but once she does it's a huge problem. babe get a fucking life and let my girl live her own ❤ by yourusername and harrystyles

alexandrasaintmleux: Miss you pretty girl

yourusername: Miss you more bbg, Meet up soon?

alexandrasaintmleux: Yes yes yes yes yes

usernamer44: You stay acting like the victim when YOU were the problem.

username45: Girl be fucking for real Lando CHEATED ON HER Not the other way around

oscarpiastri: I’m just here for the comments 🍿

yourusername: We stand by that

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liked by harrystyles, kellypiquet, zayn, charlesleclerc, carlossainz55, 2.1M others

yourusername: Happy to announce that after a year of no music (for you) My New single "Tolerate It" is out now everywhere. A big big Shoutout and thank you to @charlesleclerc for playing the piano, love you lots

view all comments

charlesleclerc: Thank YOU for Allowing me to Play the piano for this incredible song. Love love you

username46: I’M SOBBING. This is the breakup anthem I NEEDED

username47: The way Charles is supporting you >>> everyone else 😭

username48: Harry liking this post… yeah, we won today

kellypiquet: This song is pure magic. So proud of you ❤️✨ ❤ by yourusername

username49: Me, a single person with no recent breakup, sobbing like I just got left at the altar 😭

username50: The lyrics???? The vocals????? The pain????? You cooked and left NO crumbs

username51: Why did you personally attack me with this song? What did I do to deserve this??

maxverstappen1: Unreal. Your talent is insane. Congrats!

zayn: This one hits deep. Beautiful work 🙌

alex_albon: On repeat. Over and over

lilymhe: can confirm

username52: you’re only famous because of who you know, not because of talent. Mid at best

username53: Charles playing the piano for this? Thought would play for other artists not this slut

username54: So we’re just not gonna talk about the lyrics that SCREAM Lando??????

harrystyles: ❤️❤️

username55: Lando somewhere punching the air rn

username56: Me pretending this song was written about my imaginary ex 😌

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yourusername

liked by kellypiquet, harrystyles, gerihalliwellhorner, maxverstappen1 and 2.5M others

yourusername: Family time ❤️

view all comments

username57: You radiate happiness here 😭❤️ love seeing you with your people!

username58: Family time >>> everything else. You look so happy, my heart

kellypiquet: I missed you, but I think P did more, she literally did cartwheels when she saw you

maxverstappen1: wow no photos of me?!?

yourusername: I already didn't want to see ur face, what makes you think I want you on my post?

gerihalliwellhorner: Nothing better than being surrounded by love and laughter

yourusername: Love love you lots mama

username59: This is either a PR move or the most effortless flex I’ve ever seen

username60: Meanwhile, I’m in my bed with 3-day-old leftovers. Love that for me

username61: Every single picture is just aesthetic perfection

username62: Your ‘family time’ and my ‘family time’ are NOT the same thing

username63: The way this post could be used as a tourism ad

username64: We get it, your life is perfect 🙄

harrystyles: ❤️

username65: I just cried in my 2008 Honda Civic. Thanks for this

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harryupdates

liked by username1, username20, username41, username100, and 21,785 others

Harry Updates: Singer-songwriter YN YLN was seen at the Harry Styles show in London with four-time world Champion Max Verstappen and his girlfriend, Model Kelly Piquet. Then YN and Harry were spotted entering a restaurant alone. What are your thoughts?

tagged: @yourusername @harrystyles

view all comments

username66: If I don’t wake up to ‘sources say’ articles tomorrow I will be disappointed

username67: Me watching this like it’s a Netflix Original Drama

username68: I know lando is crying in a corner rn

username69: He fumbled the baddest bitch fr

username70: The F1 girlies and the Harry girlies are about to FIGHT in the comments

username71: Meanwhile I’m here struggling to get a text back

username72: If Harry and YN start dating, the internet is going to BREAK

username73: Not me refreshing Twitter every five seconds for updates

username74: I don’t trust Hollywood at all, this is definitely PR

username75: Max and Kelly must have been like, ‘So, should we just… leave them to it or?’

username76: ynis literally living the fanfic life we all dreamed of and I respect her for it

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lnupdates

liked by username100, username783, usernam73, username66, and 12,832 others

lnupdates: In a recent interview, Lando Norris was asked about his past relationship with YN. When questioned if he regrets how things ended, he scoffed before saying, "Regret? No. I mean, I don’t sit around crying about it. Things end for a reason. People move on." When the interviewer pressed further, asking if he ever felt like he let a good thing slip away, Lando shrugged and added, "Maybe she was a great thing. Maybe not. Doesn’t really matter now, does it?" Read the full interview at the link in our story!

view all comments

username77: The way he said ‘Maybe she was a great thing. Maybe not.’ like bro, you sound bitter for someone who doesn’t care

username78: No because the audacity? The nerve? The sheer gall? I just KNOW YN is somewhere sipping her drink, unbothered, while he’s out here pretending he doesn’t regret it

username79: You mean to tell me the boy who wouldn't let her go when she was with him at races or would always say he missed her now "regrets" the relationship and doesn't matter okay dude

username80: He’s acting like he didn’t look at her like she hung the stars every time they were together. This is just embarrassing for him tbh

username81: YN please drop a fire Instagram post ASAP we need to finish this man.

username82: he acts like he wasn't the one cheating lol

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yourusername

liked by harrystyles,kellypiquet,gigihadid,carmenmmundt,christianhorner 12m others

yourusername: Growth looks good on me. Can’t say the same for everyone. 😉

view all comments

username83: holy shit she saw that one comment and said bet

username84: the caption 🤣🤣

username85: Mother is MOTHERING as always!!!

username86: THE SHADEEEE OMG I LOVE IT

username87: She really said ‘I won’ without saying ‘I won’ LMAOOO 😭

username88: If I were him, I simply wouldn’t show my face for months

kellypiquet: What a beautiful human

maxverstappen1: uhhh... what about me

yourusername: bitch get out of here she don't like you

yourusername: thank you ml let's run away together with P

username89: Why do you always have to be shady?? Just be mature

username90: Growth but you’re still posting about the past?? Okay

username91: Oh, she woke up and chose violence but in the most elegant way possible

username92: Healing, glowing, moving on… some people could never

username93: Growth looks good on you, regret looks good on him. Balance

username94: SOMEONE CHECK ON LANDO RN LMFAOOOO

oscarpiastri: He's crying in a corner

carlossainz55: he locked himself in his drivers room

charlesleclerc: Already on it

pierregasly: he's just staring at his phone

maxverstappen1: he doesn't talk to me anymore which I love

lancestroll: he's giving us a death glare I'm soooo scared

username95: WTFFFFFF HAHAH I CAN'T THIS IS ICONIC

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ynharrynews

liked by kellypiquet, username672, username81, maxverstappen1 and 4,793 others

ynharrynews: Y/N and harry styles were spotted getting cozy last night 👀 Sources say the two were ‘inseparable’ all evening.

tagged: @harrystyles @yourusername

view all comments

username96: Omg Are they officially a thing now or just hanging out?

username97: This is giving couple goals but like low-key

username98: Seeing Harry happy makes me happy but also… not ready for all the fans who will lose it

username99: Okay but are we going to ignore the fact that they’ve been hanging out so much recently? It’s gotta be more than casual by now!

username100: Not Kelly and Max Liking this

username101: Honestly, they look so happy together! I’m here for it!

username102: after everything these two have been through, I'm happy they found each other

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yourusername posted a story

{caption 1: ready for the day}

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yourusername

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yourusername: My Lover boy 🥰🥰

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Note: Sooo I decided to post this today instead of the 6th chapter for rumor has it because well I haven't written it yet lol But I will start tomorrow and hopefully post it soon. So here is this one meanwhile

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @fulla02 @lottalove4evelyn @greantii