#AT?? really??? ur that desperate to be back on the grid?

[renrapp]

just woke up…um. many mixed feelings ab this news

[mv1simp]

Into It ♥️ Part 1 of 3

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

i'm into it, yeah, says she wanna fuck me later, girl i'm into it

the one in which you’re newly dating your gorgeous boyfriend, max verstappen, after months of pining and flirting. he’s the perfect gentleman, so romantic and treats you just right! now how do you tell him that you’re desperate for mad max to come out and rail ur insides without sounding like a freak 😚

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut but this time with some plot lol, reader essentially is just trying whatever tactic she can to seduce her bf and make mad max come out in bed, size kink, dom/sub elements, 4k WC

PART TWO HERE ♥️ PART THREE HERE ♥️

You look up blissfully at your boyfriend, Max, from where you’re tucked into his side, his strong arm scooping you against him and keeping you warm. You’re rewatching an old classic, Shrek 2, as you wind down from your dinner plans with your friends earlier than evening. Lando and Daniel had joined as well, teasing you and Max mercilessly about how you two were finally together and that the whole F1 grid had been placing bets on when you would make it official.

You had flushed in a combination of embarrassment and giddiness, unable to hold back a matching laugh with Max who had looked over at you with an adoring gaze, his own heart warm with happiness about finally being able to call you his own. You two had run in the same Monaco circles for years - with him as a driver and you on the McLaren legal team. Though initially you only saw glimpses of him through paddock interviews or social media posts celebrating his multiple winning streaks, the two of you had become a lot closer the past couple years through his friendship with Daniel and Lando. Soon enough you were joining them at weekly Padel sessions, leading to you and Max exchanging funny cat memes or popping online to decimate him and Lando on a Call of Duty stream and then eventually onto deeper conversations, from his latest breakups with his model girlfriends or quiet ramblings with a bottle of wine outside a booming party about the pressures of demanding fathers.

Of course, tongues were wagging anytime you two were seen together - especially when Max had his first time in years being single for months before you had gotten together. You couldn’t deny that you had always thought the older Dutch man was incredibly handsome and funny, always full of interesting facts about niche topics, and you found his intensity and passion for his racing career so attractive, as a high powered professional yourself as a lawyer for a luxury car brand’s executive board. But you had always curbed any growing feelings you had for Max, paranoid that it would compromise the strong friendship you two had developed. Besides, given his affliction for dating vogue models, and his respectful gazes or polite touches compared to the much more flirtier ones from other drivers on the grid, you had never thought max considered you attractive.

But somehow, despite both your busy schedules, despite max being across the globe, you always ended up calling each other first to share sad, happy, or even just boring news. You had never once imagined that after winning his most recent championship the first person he came looking for in his celebrations that night was you, his face flushes from champagne and hugging you tightly, his eyes shining with warmth as he told you he couldn’t have won it without you and suddenly you could no longer deny the rapid palpitations of your heart when you looked up at him. And as he looked at you, thumb gently brushing across your cheeks, warm breaths mingling together as your faces drew closer, he couldn’t deny himself any longer either - Schat, all I’ve been thinking about is what I really wanted for my prize instead of this trophy. Can I kiss you now?

And the rest was history. Fast forward a few months and it’s still so surreal to call Max your boyfriend, you think, as you come back to the present, watching him fondly as he chuckles at the movie. Dating him has been a dream - he’s your first serious relationship, your standards too high to waste time with any of the subpar guys you had gone on first dates with before - and wow, did Max know exactly how to knock all of those standards out of the park. He would always drive and pick you up anywhere you wanted, in his sleek luxury cars that had pedestrians gawping, one large hand on your thigh and asking how your day had been. You had literally stopped taking your wallet out anymore as Max always slammed down his black Amex at any opportunity to pay for you - dinners, trips, jewellery and luxurious shopping sprees - and although the staunch feminist in you had initially disagreed you couldn’t help but feel so cared for, so looked after - knowing all you needed on a night out was one hand around his arm and the other clutching a pretty little Chanel purse he had picked up for you at last month’s race weekend, with a matching Dior lip gloss inside. If you were ever having a hard day at work he would always order your favourite foods straight to your apartment, where he would meet you and bitch and vent alongside you about whichever client had been giving you grief.

And my god, the sex - THE SEX with your man had been absolutely amazing. Considering the difference in your past number of relationships, max was keenly aware that he had a lot more experience than you and was so unbelievably sweet and patient - letting you take all the time you needed to go slow and work up the confidence gradually to ask for what you wanted for him. Your first time together had been incredibly romantic, a night at a private house he had booked out for the week on the Italian coastline. After a candlelit dinner and a bottle of wine you found yourself in his lap on the outdoor chaise, soft kisses turning more and more heated, max whispering are you sure, liefje? If you’re not ready-

to which you had cut him off with another deep kiss, pleading for him to make you his once and for all ❤️ His eyes had flickered with a deep intensity at your possessive statement before softening out to adoration again as he gently unlaced your dress and trailed kisses down your body, worshipping you. you’d both cum embarrassingly faster than you’d have liked, high off the feeling of one another, max cleanly finishing inside a condom he threw away before carrying you in his arms to the bedroom inside. Since then, you’d both figured out you had a combined very high sex drive, using every opportunity in your schedules to make love, max never hesitating to always make sure you came first, either on his fingers, tongue or cock. You had the perfect boyfriend. Truly. You couldn’t ask for anything more, yet -

- yet, here you were, feeling like an absolute bitch about the recurrent thoughts that had planted in your mind as you watched max come out of the bathroom freshly showered, getting ready for bed after finishing a gaming stream with his mates following your Shrek 2 viewing. The issue was that your boyfriend - your incredibly hot, sexy, tall Dutch boyfriend - was so stupidly enticing but so oblivious that he has no idea what he did to you. You bit your lip as you looked at him, hair dripping wet, distractingly saying something to you while texting on his phone - but your mind was only fixed on how big and strong Max looked. Your boyfriend was much bigger than you, almost towering over you at 6”1 with your 5”1 frame. His athletic training currently during the season meant he had been looking extra delectable lately, defined abs, thick muscular thighs and a broad shoulder and back that narrowed down to a narrow (or as Lando joked, slutty) waist, highlighted now by the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips that did nothing to hide the sizeable bulge in between his legs. It was undeniable that he was packing, to the point where you had called it his third leg after first seeing him naked, making him laugh but also take even more care everytime he entered you - you were a lot smaller than his previous partners, after all. He always made sure his pace was gentle and slow, avoiding fully entering you too much in worry of causing you pain. Truly, your boyfriend was too sweet - everything he did was to avoid causing your any pain or distress - which is why you felt too embarrassed to ask him directly to be rougher with you when he was simply looking out for your comfort. It has been perfect for you initially, but now you felt more adjusted to his size, and each time you slept together you felt yourself becoming more and more desperate for Max to be just a little bit rougher, a little bit more controlling. What would he think when his usually sweet, happy go lucky girlfriend admitted she actually fantasised about him completely ruining her? So, of course, you being you - an ambitious feminist - have decided to hatch a conniving strategy to seduce your boyfriend into giving it to you just right!! 💕

Starting tonight - you had already planned to spend the night at Max’s, relaxing after the hectic work week you had both had. Often, you wore his comfortable hoodies that dwarfed you and smelt just like him as you cuddled in bed. Instead tonight you wore an angelic pink lace Agent Provocateur nightie, bows and all, pushing your cute tits up on display for him and complimenting your caramel skin perfectly. Enough to drive Max crazy, right? Sitting against the plush pillows, you had been reading one of your steamy dark romance novels - your latest outlet these days while you manifested getting some back breaking sex with Max - but of course had ended up distracted by the sight of your himbo boyfriend emerging from the shower.

-Schat? So what do you think? Max finally looked up from his phone, making you come back to reality and realize you hadn’t been answering his question. Max’s eyes widened seeing your pretty little form on his bed - he had never seen you wear an outfit like that in bed before. He cleared his throat, inconspicuously shifting his stance so you didn’t notice his hard on at the sight of you when you hastily stumbled to reply - Oh sorry maxie, I missed what you were saying, just a bit tired after today

Max immediately came to your side in bed, looking guilty. Of course Schat, sorry, I’m keeping you up with my gaming stream aren’t I? You had such a long week already, we can go straight to bed now. You cursed your own slip up - of course, your sweet Max would put your comfort first over what you were sure looked like mission successful given the rapid hardening of his bulge you had zoned in on.

You try again as Max dims the bedside lamps, taking your book gently away from your hands and setting it to the side. You lean softly in next to him, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, tits right up against his hard biceps so that your breasts are basically cushioning his arm right in between them. Your nightie rises up your legs, showcasing your soft, luscious thighs for him. Max smiles lovingly at you, cradling your face before peppering your cheeks with baby kisses. You look so pretty, sweetheart. So sweet to wait for me before falling asleep, mein Schat.

You lean in further, lips pouting in an effort your boyfriend would finally catch the hint but instead you found yourself gently maneouvered and tucked into his side, his large hands rubbing soothing circles along your back as he placed a final kiss on your forehead. Goodnight, darling. Your eye twitched at his definitive words, perplexed at how your plan had been so unsuccessful, but you sighed and wished goodnight to Max, falling asleep and already plotting for another day.

A couple of weeks later you decided to up the ante. A sexy, bold crimson red lingerie teddy set, practically see through and showcasing your tan nipples through the lace and mesh, and a pathetic excuse of some lacy red panties to match. You smirked as you eyed yourself in the mirror - sure, it was quite a forward look, but you had found yourself becoming increasingly more desperate for your boyfriend’s attentions after attending his Monaco race today. You did your best to attend the races you could but with your own demanding schedule often struggled to make it, so were very excited to support your boyfriend this time - especially as you had been keeping track of how this season was difficult compared to earlier years given the poorer quality of the RB car. Your eyes had widened at seeing the events this weekend - a string of bad luck events. First, his engine had stalled during free practise, making him lose precious practise time, and then a red flag had been called as he was finishing an almost perfect qualifying lap, ruining his chances of pole, and finally during the actual race he was clipped on the side by one of the Aston Martin’s, making him spin out but still incredibly go on to get P2. It was amazing result given everything, but what caught your attention was a side of your boyfriend you had only every heard whispers about emerge on the track. In the past, you had only attended races he had easily won, appearing calm and collected throughout the weekends as he cruised to P1 - easily overpowering everyone else. Today though - Mad Max, his fans excitedly cheered and paddock staff gossiped, Mad Max is finally back!! In his villain era!!

And your Max was indeed seething at everyone - competitors, his strategy team, the stewards for not giving Aston Martin a penalty - and you had listened in on the radio to hear him angrily swear and yell to his engineer, seen him aggressively overtake and defend his place on the track, and finally seen the stormy expression on his face as he emerged out of his car, clearly pissed with narrowed eyes as he stalked off to his driver room without a word, not even sparing a glance at you or anyone else. Sure, you should have felt a little hurt that he hadn’t noticed you or seen the perfectly planned designer outfit you had arrived wearing, sending the paparazzi into a flurry, but you completely understood that his career was first on the line today and he needed some time to cool off. And honestly, instead of feeling bad for Max - the sick, twisted part of you couldn’t deny that he had looked sooo sexy completely dominating on the track, authoritatively giving orders over the radio and confidently outmanoeuvring his rivals. You had to catch yourself from biting your lip or squeezing your legs together as his rough accented tones got more and more angry throughout the race over your headphones, imaging what it would be like to be pinned down by his strong arms, to have him lean down behind you and whisper naughty things in your ear, to ask if you liked being a dirty little-

“Oh! Y/N! Can we get a quick word?” The sky sports reporters interruption hastily put an end to the illicit thoughts you had been having. Quickly trying to school your expression into something much more PR friendly, you flashed a dazzling smile, “Of course!”. As expected they tried to rile responses out of you to condemn Max’s aggressive performance. But you had stood for none of it, honestly and clearly stating that your boyfriend had driven very capably and fairly given the circumstances and you were extremely impressed with his performance. “He’s a triple world champion after all. Did you just expect him to roll over and not defend his title? If you don’t agree with it then no need to watch it. At the end of the day he’s the one driving the car over the finish line while everyone else is speculating hypotheticals.” The reporters thank you for your input, stumbling for words at your strong defence of your boyfriend. You wandered off before they could say more, catching up with Max a couple hours later when he had debriefed and collected his trophy, looking a lot more chilled out than earlier.

Hey, Schatje he mumbled gently, leaning down to kiss you on the lips after pulling you from a conversation with the other WAGs. Max! you had exclaimed brightly, congratulating him on his win and letting him know just how proud you were of him. You knew he would be tired - we could go to the red bull celebration yacht party for 30min, show our faces, and then play hooky back to ours? I already put in a dinner order for your favourite lamb kebabs.

Max smiled down at you - you knew him so well, always knew what to say and when he wanted to relax. Sounds amazing, Schat he voiced in agreement. Later, after eating dinner at home, Lando sent him a trending insta reel with the caption “Mate, she’s too good to you, you bagged a queen.” Max grinned, expecting some fanmade memes about you and him as he clicked the link (he has seen all the Queen Y/N and he’s just…Ken Max tweets already. You were a well liked figure on the paddock for years with your well mannered speech, excellent dress style and courteous relationships with most of the staff.)

He was suprised to instead see an interview post race of you defending him staunchly, shutting down any opportunity the reporters used to manipulate your words. He walked into his bedroom to find you conveniently waiting for him in bed again, nose buried in one of your romance models, and started laughing at how effective you were at putting the media clowns in their place. Thanks for sticking up for me always, liefje. You smiled back at him with pure adoration - of course Maxie, that’s the advantage of dating a lawyer, right?

He agreed enthusiastically, so caught up on now yapping about the race as he climbed into bed with you that he didn’t even notice the sexy little outfit you had planned just for him, covering you up with his soft duvet before you could properly twirl around and showcase it for him. Your eye twitched again as he yawned in between statements, grabbing your waist and bringing your back in against him, spooning you while his voice gently trailed off, falling asleep.

Meanwhile, your mind was running at 100 miles a minute, a scowl on your face. This was ridiculous, you had gotten all dressed up in an overpriced beautiful outfit just for your boyfriend to get distracted by a 3min interview you had done with an asshole reporter and then fall asleep instead of ravaging you?? You had tonight would be the perfect night, for you to be the one to support him for once, be the perfect outlet for his stress, to use you and manipulate your body for his own pleasure…heat pooled in your gut at your dark thoughts, and you grow wetter between your legs at the mental image of max having his way with you. Maybe it still wasn’t too late. Sighing gently, you closed your eyes, pretending to drift into sleep but moving your plump, barely covered ass behind you to gently grind up on your boyfriend’s cock, which was now rapidly hardening with your practised movements. You sensed Max had awakened when you felt his arms tighten around you, keeping you still in an effort to stop you from exciting him to much while you were still asleep and he couldn’t act on it.

Mmmhmm, maxie, feels so good~ you moaned, still keeping up the facade of having a wet dream, breathing getting heavier and pushing your tits against the edges of his fingers that were wrapped around your waist. You felt him exhale sharply as he came into contact with your hardened nipples, a smirk on your face. Your grinding had managed to push the duvet partially off, exposing your red lingerie in the moonlight - surely this would be enough to drive any man crazy!!

You heard him sigh behind you, shifting slightly and inadvertently pushing his cock against your skimpy underwear as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck - and you had to hold back a squeal with how hard and big he felt against you, this was it, he was finally going to give in and fuck you awake while he thought you were having a wet dream, he could slide it right in, you were ready for it, for him, you were soo wet already just from imagining it, this was so hot-

Your fantasies are quickly shut down as max easily used his strength to turn you around so your face was buried into his chest again, your ass now devastatingly much too far away to get any action, and began rubbing your shoulders soothingly to get you to fall into a deep sleep again. You almost combusted at the action before deflating and accepting defeat once more. Your kind boyfriend of course would never toe the line of having sex with you in a dubious way were you were asleep. You wanted - no needed, to bring Mad Max out in your bedroom, and you were determined to do whatever it took.

Over the next few weeks you threw countless strategies Max’s way. Leaving your dirty romance books out in plain view, sometimes even opened up to a page right in the middle of a jaw dropping sex scene. Lacier and lacier bralettes and panties left everywhere to prompt him. “Accidentally” deleting his best SIM race time record on his rig. But nothing seemed to be working - max diligently tidyed up the stray underwear, reshelved the books, and generously forgave you for the SIM error before setting a new record later that night instead of fucking you angrily like you had planned. You got more frustrated as both your work schedules became busier, leaving you less time to connect with him. Fuck, last weekend - last weekend you had even thrown out all your boxes of condoms before jumping into Max’s arms when he had come home, laughing and eager to see you. One thing let to another and he was as eager to be inside you as you were to have him inside you, voicing It’s been too long Schat, I’ve missed your sweet body so much, so beautiful for me in between kisses as he reached for the bedstand drawer to grab a condom - only to find it empty. You pretended to have a confused look on your face (truly, you deserved an Oscar for your performance this past month) before oh so innocently suggesting Maxie, we- we don’t have to use one if you don’t want, I’m on the pill -

And there it was - a brief darkening of your boyfriends’ normally loving ice blue eyes, his sharp gaze on you at your suggestion of doing it raw for the first time - before he schooled his features back to normal and gave you a sweet kiss, It’s okay Schat, you’re too sweet, you don’t deserve to feel uncomfortable for my sake, I’ll just grab some from the corner store, da? He was off you before you could protest, promising he would be back soon as you blinked away tears of frustration and denial that yet again your plan had failed. When he finally entered you later that night, ever so gently, condom and all, you closed your eyes tight and imagined how each vein and ridge of his thick cock might feel when fully buried inside you to the hilt, if that goddamn condom broke, if he spilled all of his thick, creamy cum inside you, so much that it spurted out the sides, leaking everywhere, claiming you as his and no one else’s, making such a filthy, filthy mess-

- you came harder than you had the whole month, burying your face in Max’s shoulder to contain the scream that threatened to spill out. You sighed as you came down from your high. Fuck, you needed a drink.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Follow along for Part 2 of this 3 part series to see if dear reader will finally manage to uncockblock herself and release Mad Max!! 😚😚

[the-flaneur]

matchmaker pets (lh44) | pt1

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary: in a world where one's furry best friend is secretly their cupid, the drivers' love lives are sure to be entertaining for everyone (written from the pov of the pets!)

warnings: none (i think)

wc: 975

a/n: after finishing one miniseries, we go onto another (well sorta, hehehe) - hopefully with better updates, now that life is slightly more relaxed. also massive shoutout to @/giuseppe-yuki whose work has inspired this series (ur amazing queen!!!) - go check out her amazing series here!

[masterlist] [requests]

young!roscoe who has been with lewis since 2013 after being adopted by his bestest dad's into the hamilton family. he's also soon joined's by his little sister, coco.

young!roscoe who loves attending races with his dad's and meeting everyone; the mercedes team, his dad's bestest friend, the other drivers on the grid's and best of all's, the fans.

young!roscoe but's his favourite person on the grid's is actually none of these people (besides his dad's).

it's actually you :)

you're mercedes' main social media admin's, and he thinks that you're the best's thing since crunchy watermelon's.

young!roscoe loves following's you around the paddock, watching you snap photos of the drivers and the team's, as well as snapping's the best pics of him.

young!roscoe watches you and dad's get really close - afterall's, you wouldn't be the admin without being super close with's the drivers.

but, roscoe hates that you aren't close enough.

older!roscoe who frustratingly watches for five years. there are small smirks and flirts, and you and lewis tiptoe's around each other but...

nothing happens.

he's fed up, and now he's taking's things into his own hands (or paws in his case).

scheming!roscoe who "consults" sebastian, lewis' next closest friend after dad's bestest friend sadly left the grid's.

scheming!roscoe who learns about sebastian's doggo, bruno, who's never at races, but stays at home with hanna.

scheming!roscoe who tricks dad's into letting him meet bruno.

scheming!roscoe who finds out’s that bruno actually is a cupid! cupid dogs can help’s their owners get with anyone they want. but the love only lasts if it’s their one true’s love.

scheming!roscoe just knows that you and dad’s are meant to be’s. he asks bruno how to become’s a cupid.

dreaming!roscoe that night has a very weird dream - he's taken away from dad's home and sent up into a fluffy cloud.

another dog cloud speaks to him’s.

“are you sure you she will make your owner happy?” the dog cloud booms, the air trembling’s around him.

dreaming!roscoe who nods and barks furiously; you and dad’s would be the happiest people’s on earth if you were together. 

dreaming!roscoe feels a small swirl of wind’s around him, before he falls back asleep’s.

cupid!roscoe who can now see the bright beating hearts hoving above your's and dad's heads at the silverstone circuit.

cupid!roscoe who takes out his favourite tennis ball (now fashioned into a cupid's bow and arrow) and chucks it towards your heart.

cupid!roscoe who sees the tennis ball pass directly through the heart.

he frowns - this wasn't how bruno said it would go?

the ball must be broken - you're meant's to be together

desperate cupid!roscoe who tries again and again,

and again

and again...

tossing the invisible ball above your head, but each time's it passes with a small puff of smoke.

desperate cupid!roscoe who tries pulling you towards dad's by tugging your mercedes shirt, but you gently pull him off of you, before walking away's from him.

desperate cupid!roscoe who tries making's dad's follow him into the media pen, where even he's isn't normally's allowed just to see you's.

but dad's knows what roscoe is trying to do and walks away when dad's sees you.

desperate cupid!roscoe who realises that you have spoken directly to dad's in the past two weeks.

you're avoiding him's.

heartbroken cupid!roscoe who now maybe realises that you and dad's maybe aren't supposed to be together?

maybe you aren’t true love's?

heartbroken cupid!roscoe who pouts and whines the whole's night in the hotel room, but dad's in the bathroom, showering alone.

heartbroken cupid!roscoe who later finds out, cuddled against dad's wet cheeks, that you and him had a big fight.

heartbroken cupid!roscoe learns that you and dad's had a big fight about his photos with's other peoples. specifically, other women's.

heartbroken cupid!roscoe who learns that dad's who was meeting up with an old friend's got a photo taken of him kissing her cheek's in greeting, but the media's made it seem otherwise.

heartbroken cupid!roscoe learns that you yelled at dad's for the first time.

heartbroken cupid!roscoe learns that your stormed's out, not wanting anything else to do with dad's ever again. never again, you said's. you hadn't even tried's to listen to dad's.

heartbroken cupid!roscoe who sees dad's fall asleep sad, big wet tears painting's his cheeks that night.

he never wants you or dad's to be sad ever again.

determined!roscoe who finds you hiding in a corner's of the press conference room during's interviews with the drivers.

determined!roscoe who, despite his small's size, manages to pull you's next to lewis.

determined!roscoe who waits until dad's finishes his interviews (cause he's a good boy), begins barking. loudly.

his barking is so loud's, that you and dad have to both take him back's to the mercedes motorhome.

determined!roscoe who keeps' barking until his throat his sore's, but at least he managed to get you and dad's alone.

determined!roscoe who butts his nose against's your knees, pushing you two's together.

determined!roscoe who huffs up at you and dad's when you both laugh at him, watching him's make his moves.

happy!roscoe who finally gets to see dad's get the chance to explain what actually's had happened.

happy!roscoe who finally gets to see you and dad's reconcile...

oh and now you're making's out.

in front of him...

happy!roscoe who saunters out of the little room to find bono; at least's he would keep him company whilst you and dad's were together in there...

happy!roscoe who finally gets to see his family together at the hungarian's gp. there's a very nice photo of the family.

it's him, dad's and mum's.

all perfect together.

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[leclsrc]

darling audrey, congratulations on 5000 followers! ur witty personality and words of gold have charmed us all <3 considering your celebration, i would like to request a drabble with charles based on the song margaret by lana del rey. there’s just something about “he met margaret on the rooftop, she was wearing white, and he was like, ‘i might be in trouble’” or “when you know, you know” ughhhhh love is so sickeningly wonderful

good as gold – cl16

This is the story of Charles experiencing a rooftop conversation with a stranger. For Charles, this is the story he will tell of how he met the love of his life for the first time.

auds here... much like lana in this song i am messy with the pen, but missed this blog very much, i love you all & genuinely hope you're well mmmwaaahhhh :)

You’re wearing this dress. This long, white, lace-linen thing, too chilly for a London rooftop, too chilly for a London ground floor, too chilly for London, really. It’s the first thing Charles says to you, as a poor excuse for an opener, but you soothe his supposed troubles away with a laugh and a wave of a hand. It’s alright, I’m used to the cold, your lips form cloudily. Worst case scenario, I spill some wine on the dress.

The wine you mention is in a glass wrapped by your left hand, which brings itself upward to your lips, staining them violet for a second before you lick the residue off. You should know, I’m more a white wine kind of girl. He laughs, and every other word he thought would come easy comes so stuck, wrestled out of him. For once it’s not because he’s nervous, definitely not because he’s unsure. In fact he’s never felt surer of himself, and his self-assurance is almost foolish if it wasn’t so resolute in the fact that he’d one day like to slip a band over your blank slate of a ring finger.

Already he feels like it’s too late, he’s missed out on too much time with you. He should’ve known this laugh years ago, felt your skin when he was much younger, known you in an embarrassing phase while he was in his own. His desires feel childish, juvenile, but they feel so real, so much so that he verbalizes them to Lando in a desperate attempt to stave them off at the end of the night.

But that is later and this is now, now you tell him you’re here for work. You’re a something-something at somewhere, too professional for him to repeat back to himself in the fluid way you’re gifted. He asks what else is keeping you in a city like London and he phrases it like London is a shit city, and you joke: “Aside from the fact that it’s basically a first-world city?” He stutters in response, he stutters. “I’m joking. It’s work.”

Work, you say, not a guy, not a girl, work. No ring on your finger. You, like him, are committed to nothing but work. And because you’re two people in your early twenties, the rooftop conversation gradually ebbs in that direction, a foray into the worlds you’ve traversed by yourselves. He shares, ever a man of little words, stories of ex-girlfriends he’d rather not bring up again. He says the usual. He’s thankful, but it’s over.

You too, you sentiment. A while ago. I knew him for years, but we wanted different things. Just wasn’t right, something like that. Your index finger tugs at the plain gold chain resting on your collarbones and slides back and forth. The lights—strung up on poles on the roof and from establishments below—shine on certain angles, illuminate your hair, the beauty mark on your cheekbone, the stain of burgundy lip gloss on the wine glass in your hand. “Maybe in another universe.”

“Do you believe in that?” He asks. All he knows about possible universes is that Marvel and that Oscar-winning A24 film Lewis made half the grid watch and give roses to. The concept is interesting and likely true, but he feels secure thinking this is his only universe. Which, technically, is true, too.

You say kind of. “But that idea gives us too much allowance for mistakes.”

“I know. I guess I believe in it in a…” He’s afraid he sounds stupid, but your eyes are egging him on, genuinely curious, burning bright with a want for him to keep talking. “In a… I feel like I’ve met you before, kind of way.” Like he knows everything he has to know about you and him and it’s been barely an hour.

“I get that.” You pause. “I get that.” Then, with a pretty smile and meek hand over the linen chest of your dress, you excuse yourself to refill wine and make talk with the party host. He lingers, of course, watches the sway of your dress, waits to see if you will turn and smile a funny little just us smile, but of course you don’t. You’re a stranger after all. He turns away to find Lando, and for a second he feels like there are eyes on him, but he keeps walking and shakes it off.

“Marry?” Lando repeats half an hour later, when they’re both tugging their coats on. “You just met her. She got out of a long-term relationship a while ago. And so did you.”

They’re in the foyer of the townhouse, and Lando is pulling open the door now, under the impression that his words successfully permeated Charles’ delusions. He turns and Charles is stationary on the last step, humming to himself.

“Mate,” bogs Lando, eyes dead serious. “How do you even know—”

“I know.” Charles says simply. He never even had to ask himself. He just did. He just does. “I have to run up and do something… don’t wait up.”

[supermaks]

i send you asks abt this all the time but i feel like you Really Get why lewis and max in 2021 was just sooooooo good like literally they are so different and yet the exact same at their cores. lewis entering f1 at an age people said was too young and then he turned around and repeated the same narratives about max. them both being children of divorced parents. the way they imbue their loyalty in those around them. if i think abt it soo much i go CRAZY

omfg baddie ik ik ik ... in 2011, at the age of 26, lewis told reporters 'I drive the way I drive, if people have an issue with that, that’s their problem' during back to back seasons of crashes, recurrent visits to the stewards, drive thru penalties and insulting comments to the media. Yk I've watched those mclaren seasons ((shout out fullraces.com if ur f1 subscription randomly decides to fucking d1e which mine has multiple times i literally paid 80 US dollars!!!anwywya...............)) and its like. a whole different driver. Lewis was a Cunt in that car. He had to be because the car wasnt fast enough. Lewis was a karting champion too. Just like Max, he absolutely dominated the competition, u couldnt touch him. And what everybody says about those kinds of karting geniuses is that they will inevitably go back to their roots in times of need. They'll try overtakes nobody in their right mind would go for. They're fearless and theyll turn aggressive if that’s what it takes to make the pass. It’s so interesting to me how Lewis was handed a neat lil rocket to breeze past bitches with around the same time teenage Max and his one year of experience in open wheel racing had like a 20% DNF percentage and beef with half the grid. It gives the idea that these are totally different drivers with completely different philosophies when they’re. not. at all. This season we saw something a lil different. We saw a Lewis that was a lot more desperate and caused some damage for it. Whenever he got on the hunt u felt that shit in ur stomach because you know he’ll keep you at the edge of ur seat until the last second. He’ll push the limit even in a car that won’t let him he doesn’t give a fuck who’s in his way. And there’s only one other mf on the grid who got a nickname for that.

[ot3]

every single time you post about ace attorney i get excited because you understand all the characters in a cooler more intimate way than the rest of us. which made me want to ask! how do you feel about edgeworth choosing death? do you think it had any other meaning than his europe spring break girls trip? would love to hear ur thoughts on this one

oop saw this right before i went to bed and forgot to answer!

first of all thank you i think about them nonstop so at least my scholarly efforts are paying off

anyway i think that there's no way to read that as anything but, at the very least, an aborted suicide attempt. it is honestly quite baffling to me to see how many people Don't think about things in this manner. it isn't subtle. the game does just about everything it can do to tell you edgeworth wanted or tried to kill himself without actually saying that.

it is not any kind of coincidence that suicide and suicidal ideation are plot points in the case where edgeworth makes his return. it is even less of a coincidence that they have edgeworth use identical phrasing for talking about adrian's textual suicidal tendencies and his own actions earlier

farewell my turnabout does a REALLY good job of using the situation with celeste and adrian to parallel a ton of shit going on with the rest of the cast at once; franziska and edgeworth's betrayal/loss with their own mentor in mvk, franziska and phoenix's loss of edgeworth, all of theses characters previous tendencies to outsource their way of living to some external source or handed-down dogma rather than standing on their own that they then have to overcome during the game.

then there's everything about rfta, which pretty much exists as a case for two reasons: 1. show off cool ds capabilities with forensics minigames 2. retcon in more character perspective for edgeworth. everything in rfta is designed to make a more believable setup for edgeworth 'choosing death' in aa2.

primarily, what we see of edgeworth in this case is phoenix desperately trying to check in with him and see if he's doing alright, and edgeworth stalwartly refusing to give phoenix a straightforward answer as he gets more and more upset and beaten down. like they hit you over the head with how bad things are for edgeworth.

but i think the real critical thing about rfta is the fact that they go out of the way to show us that edgeworth writes a formal letter of resignation, and then doesn't go through with it. when ema and phoenix pick up the resignation note in edgeworth's office there's nothing about it that even remotely resembles a suicide note. and i really think that was done to emphasize that what edgeworth does after that is considerable different from tending his resignation. it also provides context for why the characters themselves believe it to be a suicide note.

and imo some of the most critical stuff comes right at the end of the case with this dialogue. like as much as edgeworth is wracked with guilt about the extreme measure's hes taken in the past, what's more important is that he's afraid of himself.

he's scared! he doesn't know what to do! and i think that so interesting particularly in the context of suicidal ideation because like. sometimes the only thing holding you back from going through with it is the fact that dying is the one thing more terrifying than everything about being alive. it's just a very real feeling that gets across to me here, yknow?

so basically i think it's safe to say that we're supposed to, with any level of critical thought, assume that edgeworth was at genuine risk of killing himself after lana's trial. he then either failed to do and took awhile to rebound from that, or backed off at the last minute and figured dropping off the grid to just sort of deal with his own headspace was a necessary prerequisite for even being able to look anyone he knew in the eye for several months afterwards

[mrslilyrogers]

All I Have To Do Is Dream

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all. 

Author’s note: I know I’ve been gone for so long, I’m sorry!! I loved these requests and decided to merge them together. Took a while to write, I haven’t had much inspiration. I’ll keep this short and hope you enjoy this!! Let me know what you think!  

Requests: hi!! first of all i adore your writing (esp. betrayal)!! id willingly chop two of my limbs in exchange of ur writing skills hahah!! can you maybe write a oneshot similar to take my breath away, and the reader and steve are dating, but they’re actually in steve’s dream(like in age of ultron) and she is sad that steve’s still hasn’t moved on from peggy?? and can you make it extra angsty?? sorry if this is too much hehe!! thanks btw :))

Hmmm maybe angst w/ Steve or Bucky where a misunderstanding/bad fight leads to the reader leaving the team?

“Damn it, Steve! Would you just listen? Where the hell are you even going?” your voice boomed around your small apartment as you breathed harshly, trying your best not to pull your hair out of frustration. 

At first, it had all been just petty disagreements, you and Steve letting off some steam after the snap happened. You had thought it was normal at the time, a coping mechanism that needed to be flushed out of your systems never expecting that it would last for as long as it has. Five freakin’ years. By now, you would’ve thought you’d realize how lucky you were to still be alive, to still be together while others couldn’t say the same. And yet...

“Geez, Y/N. I am! For the past 30 minutes! And I’m telling you now what I’ve told you from the start,  I am not ready! You gotta give me more time, doll.” He replied, his voice just a tad calmer than yours but you didn’t miss the tick in his jaw as he walked out of your shared room, shrugging into his jacket. You knew his anger was just brewing inside, ready to attack if you pushed just a little bit harder. After countless back-and-forths, this had become a routine between the two of you with Steve always taking the role of the aggrieved party, ending arguments with an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes before he walked away, deciding he had something better to do with his precious time than fight with you. While you, on the other hand, always found that more infuriating, making you impatient and mean, baiting and nagging him until you wouldn’t even recognize the shrill and whine to your own voice.

“And when would that even be? It’s been five years since the snap. When will—”

“Don’t you dare bring that up!” his voice rose, eyes glaring at you as he whirled around, his jaw clenched. “Don’t use that excuse on me, you know damned well I know it. Why do you think I chose to move on and be with you instead of helping Nat bring them all back, hmm?” He continued mockingly as if you were stupid enough not to understand. 

This was it, what all your petty arguments had narrowed down into;

Despite what he said, he still wasn’t ready to settle down. 

“But what the hell are we doing now, Steve? We’re not getting any younger! I want to have kids, a family, with you!” You knew you sounded pathetic, and desperate all at the same time but you couldn’t help but continue, the pretty picture already clouding your brain, 

“Can’t you see it? Having children of our own, their drawings hung up on the walls, the dog you’ve been wanting to have since forever running around the house, family barbecues...” your voice trailed off, a lump forming in your throat, your eyes glazing over with unshed tears. It was all within your grasp, so easily reachable if only Steve agreed with you. If only he wanted it too. Anger bubbled up to the surface while he bristled, looking annoyed. 

 “We can have all of that, you know. What are you even waiting for? Will you ever be ready? Because it really feels like you won’t and I’m the only one who actually wants this,” You were unrelenting, thinking of Tony Stark’s family, how they had gone off the grid and had their own little piece of heaven. Crossing your arms, you knew you wouldn’t achieve anything by becoming a nag but your patience was already wearing thin. 

“Jesus, Y/N! Why would you even say that? Of course I want a family with you! I’m just not ready for that yet! Just give me more time,”

Shaking your head, you let out a defeated sigh and looked away from him. You could hear him grabbing the keys from the counter, exhaling loudly before he went up to you and ran his hands down your arms soothingly, willing you to understand. When you didn’t budge, he just pleaded as he always had, 

“I love you, you know I love you. But I need to get to this meeting, those people need me, Y/N. Could we please just talk about this later?” He moved his head lower to meet your eyes and even in your state of anger, you knew you couldn’t say no to that. He took your begrudged nod as an assent, kissing your forehead before he turned to leave. What else were you going to say anyway? He was going to lead a therapy session for people who had lost their loved ones. Guilt ate at you for keeping him here when he so desperately wanted to save the world. People needed him too, not just you. They hung on his every word. They needed their Captain America, their symbol of hope. While, here you were, acting like a child because he wouldn’t let you have your way. 

Letting out another sigh, your gaze stuck to the floor, berating yourself at how selfish you’d become. You knew what you were getting into when you dated him. You had no illusions of being the center of his universe, it was always going to be the people. But still, it would’ve been nice to be put first for once. You hated the tandem feelings of jealousy and guilt that always crept up on you after your fights. You just wished he understood that while those people needed their hero, you needed your Steve too. But as time passed, it seemed like the man and the hero were indistinguishable and you’d been deluding yourself into thinking it could be different. You’d just have to accept that too because living without him wouldn’t even be an option. 

He paused by the door, catching sight of your slumped shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly, striding back to you. 

“You know I love you, right?” he stroked your cheeks and you couldn’t help the turn of your lips. Nodding slowly, you rolled your eyes at how easy you were for him. 

 “I know. I’m sorry,” 

Ducking down to give you a quick peck on the lips, he reassured you again, “We’ll talk about this later, I promise,” then he gave you one last kiss to your forehead before he disappeared. But what once would’ve eased your worries did nothing to quell your nerves now. Your heart believed everything was alright but your gut said otherwise. 

_______________

He looked down at the worn, brassy compass in his palm, his mind years away from where he was, unaware that you were standing by the door. You watched his shoulders relax into a defeated sigh, his eyes never leaving her picture. You couldn’t remember when he ever looked at you like that, all the love and longing etched on his face. He brought his other hand up to caress the picture gently, as if he actually imagined she was with him, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. You felt the air knock right out of you while you scrambled out of there feeling as if you’ve intruded on an intimate moment. You couldn’t help the tears falling from your eyes while you convinced yourself it was nothing. He had just lost his best friends, she was a symbol of his past. He just missed that right? 

You paced around the kitchen, your mind running back to the times you’ve caught him staring at Peggy’s picture. All those times you pretended you didn’t notice how frequently he had been doing it these past few years. His voice, an echo in your head, 

“I’m not ready, just give me more time doll, please,” 

Closing your eyes, you buried your face in your hands. Oh, it would be so easy, you thought. All you had to do was get into his mind and see for yourself. One little, fast trip into his thoughts and you’d get your answers. He’d be none the wiser, no one need ever know except you. And your dignity, and your pride and your principles. Ugh.

He trusted you, you promised never to use your powers on him and yet, that was all you could ever think about now. Did he think of her when he thought of the family he wanted? Was it her face he saw, walking down the aisle to him? 

For the first time in your life, you hated your upbringing at the Xavier Institute. You hated the values and principles they instilled in you, the very reason you were adamant not to use your powers on the unwilling and unsuspecting for your own personal gain even though you were going crazy, craving for your own peace of mind. Deep down you knew, promise to Steve or no, you couldn’t go through with it. 

You looked at the clock, thirty minutes to go before his meeting ended. Grabbing your coat from the rack, you impulsively decided to go to him, promising yourself you weren’t going to nag and argue with him but have a normal conversation like you used to. You haven’t had a date in a long while anyway. Maybe a little spark of romance was all you really needed. 

_____________

Your steps echoed on the linoleum floor, walking past the empty hall to follow the directions to the room where the meeting took place. Rubbing your palms together, you spotted the room. The fluorescent lights hanging above casting a lonely pallor to the already gray walls while the rain poured heavily outside. The gloom, an inevitable reminder of what the world has become. It seemed everywhere people went, there was always a reminder of what they’ve lost. Even on an otherwise unblemished sunny day, the vibrancy was not the same, people were scarce and it was quiet. Too quiet. Which was why you were so adamant to continue on living, in order to honor the lives of the people you’ve lost. 

You could hear their faint voices outside the room. Your heart going out to those poor people who still held onto the past while you thanked your lucky stars you still had Steve.You fished for your earphones in your purse trying not to eavesdrop but his clear and deep voice interrupted you. Leaning against the wall opposite the door, you listened, a smile tugging on your lips while he commended the other person. He was always so good with words, always knew the right things to say and that never failed to make you proud. His words of encouragement lifted your spirits, making you stand a little taller, hope blossoming in the pit of your stomach. He talked about moving on, about finding purpose again. 

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,” 

Your whole body went cold, the smile on your lips faltering, your hands suddenly gripping the edge of your blouse while his disheartened voice continued to try to reassure everyone including himself,

“I woke up 70 years later, you gotta move on. You gotta move on,”  

With a hand to your lips, you ran, your rapid, staccato steps filling the hall barely even muffling the sobs you desperately tried to hide. 

___________

Steve didn’t bother coming home straightaway after the meeting.  He told himself it was because he needed to check up on Nat despite the fact that he could’ve easily just called, despite knowing you were all supposed to meet for dinner in a few days anyway. He took his time getting to the Avengers Compound, embracing the uncharacteristic quietness of the city, giving him the chance to be alone with his thoughts. If he were being honest with himself, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that settled at the pit of his stomach at the thought of Peggy. The love of his life. Apparently, anyway. He had no idea where that came from, never really thought of it until it slipped from his mouth. And did he really feel that way? Was she really the love of his life? 

The thought of you came unbidden from his mind, your warm smile waking him up in the morning, your laughter setting the world to rights whenever he was feeling especially out of place. You’ve been through so much together, what you both had was real and it was beyond anything he could’ve imagined when he woke up from the ice and he knew he should take it a step further. He loves you, he is fully committed to you. There was nothing holding him back and yet… and yet, he still thought of her. He couldn’t help but think that if he had only stayed where he really was supposed to be, Peggy would’ve been the mother to his children, she would’ve been his wife. She would’ve been his life’s true love. But the very thought of that put a sour taste to his mouth, the truth was he could never picture his life without you. As much as he still dreamt of the past, how could it be the same if you weren’t there?

At first he thought falling in love with you was a balm to soothe his lost soul until he eventually realized you had crept up on him slowly but in a span of a heartbeat, wormed your way into his heart so suddenly he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment he knew he loved you. It was plain and simple, he knew it as he knew the sun rose in the east, he loved you. It was so unlike the way he fell for Peggy where all it took was one look and he was already drunk in love. 

Was it possible then, to be in love with two women? 

________________________________________

You were already in bed when Steve got home, feigning tiredness from the day when your heart was really beating rapidly in your chest. How could you face him now knowing you were second best? You could hear him in the bathroom, oblivious to your inner turmoil. When he was done, he gave you a quick kiss goodnight and went to his side of the bed, his back to you. You turned to face the wide expanse of his shoulders and wondered where the hell do you go from here. Would you really be alright living in the shadow of his ex, one of the world’s most accomplished women, so extraordinary that Captain America couldn’t even move on from her? Could you really leave him if it came down to it? 

A tear escaped the corner of your eye and you laid on your back, the darkness of the ceiling reflecting the heaviness in your heart. You must’ve stared at it for hours, wondering just how far away you were from the man right at your side. He was with you physically but his heart? You always knew deep down, it belonged to someone else. If he had a choice to go back, would he leave you? With the way things were going, you knew he would. In an instant. There was always a part of him that he closed off from you and ever since the snap, it only worsened. The fights, the distance, it all made sense now. Heck, even tonight, he didn’t even bother to ask how you were doing and accepted your lame excuse to get to bed early. It was the weekend, you literally had nothing to do the whole day and yet, it never even occurred to him that something could be wrong. For once, you were sorely tempted to use your powers on him. Hearing his even breathing as he slept didn’t make it any easier. It would be over before he knew it, what would be the harm in that? 

As if on cue, he turned and faced you. His long lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, he looked like a man who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked younger, more like your Steve. The Steve you wished would let you in and give you the family you’ve always wanted. 

“Just a quick little trip, no one would ever know. What would be the harm in that?” the little voice in the back of your head taunted.

What would be the harm in that? 

With your resolve weakening, you jumped right into the abyss, entering the mind of the man of your dreams, hoping you were his too. 

______

The sun shone brightly through the open window, letting in the warm summer breeze while his favorite vinyl record played in the background. 

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It’s been a long long time 

The air was crisp and the smell of pancakes and cinnamon wafted from the doorway of the kitchen into the living room of the small, suburban house. The yellow walls were adorned with children’s drawings with a few marker drawings on the wallpaper here and there. The faint sound of giggling could just be heard from where you stood by the stairs. Your children, you thought to yourself, a smile creeping up your lips. This was it. This was what you’ve been picturing too, what you’ve told him countless times over and over again. He dreamed of it too. You turned your attention to the living room, your heart giving a little leap at the mess. It looked like someone had tried to tidy up but gave up on the last minute, some toys still scattered about. You noticed the pet bed by the couch, and you couldn’t help but be excited and hopeful, it was everything you thought of down to a T. You went towards the paper and crayons on the low table between the couch and the fireplace, inspecting one of the children’s current drawings there. It was of a family, their hands holding each other while they smiled in front of the house, a little dog at their father’s side. At the bottom, a scribbly handwriting of a preschooler wrote; Mom, Sarah, James, Dad and directly below the dog, Sam. You laughed aloud at that, clutching the drawing, hoping you could keep it for yourself and willing it into existence. 

“Come on, dance with me,” 

You heard Steve’s playful voice coming from the kitchen. A woman’s laughter rang out, you could just imagine yourself shaking your head at him in response, but something about the woman’s laugh caught you in your tracks. A little too shrill, a little too melodic. You inched closer to the open door, your heart dropping to your stomach. There they were, the picture perfect couple.  He twirled her around, her red dress hugging her curves so effortlessly, while she drew her head back and laughed. The dimples on her cheeks deepening, her curls staying in place even when Steve maneuvered her around. They looked so beautiful together, his golden locks and smitten smile never once leaving her face, he never looked so happy. 

Not even when he was with you.

That realization hit you like a train. You couldn’t even remember the last time he looked at you the way he looked at Peggy now.  When was the last time you danced? When was the last time you acted silly together? When was the last time you were both happy? That was what hurt the most. You couldn’t even remember. It felt like a weird sort of deja vu except now, it was an actual woman instead of a picture on a compass. You tried to gather your pride and step away but you couldn’t, you were rooted into place, a sadistic part of you welcomed the pain because you should’ve known. 

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,” 

You should’ve known.

 But instead, you choose to play the fool.

There must’ve been a shift in the air that only they understood because Steve gathered her in his arms now, their eyes locking into each other, gentle and longing. 

You'll never know how many dreams

I dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

He rocked her back and forth, bringing her hand up to his chest, turning into action what words fail to describe. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his heart, savoring their moment. He leaned his head on hers too, a satisfied smile on both their faces as they continued to sway to the music. You had never felt as small as you did now. You felt like a thief, intruding on their moment, stealing his dream away. And that’s exactly what you were doing. That’s exactly what you are. You felt so dirty, a desperate, pathetic fly on the wall he couldn’t get rid of. And worst of all, you destroyed his trust too.

As if on cue, the colors started to change, the song distorting and shifting and in this moment you knew, you had to leave. 

You have to leave. 

Part Two

[entishramblings]

The Essence of Arda [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: whoA okay so this fic took me on a whole ass adventure. I kinda just let the story go where it wanted to and ya know I’m kinda happy with how it turned out. Also, “(h/c)” means hair color...there is something I included but I wanted to make sure you guys could still see yourself as the character so yeah! Another also...I’m sorry....this was requested literally so long ago.

Request: @sokkasdarling — heyhey im gonna request smth cus i LOVE U AND UR WRITING HHHH okay so how about a jealous legolas fic where he thinks the reader and aragorn have a lil thing going on but they're just really great friends and she actually likes legolas very much?? please and thank you<3333

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N) and Legolas’s paths cross in an unexpected way and the two develop feelings for each other. However, Legolas is unsure and gets jealous bc of the way Aragorn and (Y/N) interact.

Word Count: 3,661 (sorry I got a little carried away)

Warnings: angst, fluff, cuteness, jealousy, the tiniest amount of nudity

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST | AO3

Legolas had met many wandering souls throughout his travels of middle earth—weathered, withered, and warped humans in particular, for the elements and loneliness seemed to affect them more so. Elves, on the other hand, were bound to nature. It was where their hearts rested and their spirits thrived; therefore, the desperation of the empty lands of Arda did not affect him. However, that didn’t mean he did not wish for company. So, on that account, Legolas made his way north towards the Dundain, in hopes to see his good friend Aragorn once more.

It was there, in the northern wilderness, where he met the most riveting and thought-provoking individual. The intriguing nature that compelled his attention was that she was so unlike the other humans he ventured upon, specifically because she wasn’t exactly human.

The first time he had met (Y/N) was when her sharp canine teeth were at his throat.

A (h/c) she-wolf had launched herself at him with an unhinged jaw and barring teeth. The nimble creature had been so swift that he, even as an elf, did not have time to react. The wolf had pinned him down with a viscous expression—laughing at his surprise. Legolas was only quick enough to pull a knife from his belt once he was already knocked down upon the mud. However, he hesitated just before he was going to strike the blade into the beasts’ belly.

As intimidated as he was, something in those vibrant earthy eyes made him halt. Was it the deep churning of the sea? The fresh breath of the sky? The moisture of the leaves? The pooling of sun-kissed honey? The thickness of clay-like soil? Legolas was unsure why exactly, but those eyes reflected the essence of Arda—they reflected it right back into his soul. And here was his miscalculation, for the natural instincts of a wolf would not suspend for its prey—well, not without a familiar voice calling out....?

“(Y/N), NO!”

The creature froze. She reluctantly backed off of his form but she did not let her guard down. Instead, she circled him with those same barring teeth and low growls.

Legolas inhaled a deep breath of cold air as he tried to re-center himself, for it was not often an elf got knocked on their ass and enthralled so deep in a beauty.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and focused in on his elvish senses—feeling every nerve in his body scream out to be alert.

Legolas’s ears picked up the first indication—the speaker.

A sound of rough, ragged panting carried through the breeze as his gaze whispered upon the being who had previously hollered—a worn down Ranger.

A small grin crossed the elf’s face. Aragon stood before Legolas, with hands on his knees, sucking in deep breathes. An entirely human action. The Ranger clearly had a hard time keeping up with the canine creature—which he surprisingly seemed to be acquainted with.

“Legolas, by the Valar, I didn’t know you were traveling through these parts,” He exclaimed.

The elf chuckled as he stood, brushing dirt off his palms.

“Well, I suppose I am lucky for she listens to you well,” He nodding at the wolf for reference.

The Ranger shook his head and let out an amused laugh. “She never listens to a thing I say. So, you are lucky, indeed.”

The wolf released a snort-like sound as if she was retorting to his words.

The Ranger rolled his eyes before speaking to Legolas again, “Let me show you to where we are camped. A hot meal will be waiting.”

Legolas smiled softly, “Thank you, Mellon Nin (my friend).”

The group—consisting of man, elf, and wolf—traveled through the woodland tundra with small conversation between the two who could speak. They shared their recent adventures and current news across the lands until they come upon a handful of Rangers around a blazing fire. They were clad in similar attire as Aragorn, being worn leather boots and thick fraying fabrics. Each of them had the same haunted expressions as many people Legolas had met, yet nothing like the joyful grin that pulled slightly at Aragorn’s lips.

The Ranger introduced each of his companions to the elf as he settled down upon a log. Legolas did the same, allowing himself to become enthralled by the brilliant flames. The she-wolf left his thoughts.

As the moon rose high and stars stretched across the sky, the rangers began to settle for the evening. It was then when the elf ducked away to relieve himself.

He made his way through the twisting trees in silence for he enjoyed listening to the sounds of night’s nature. But the normal chirps and hoots was not what met his ears; rather it was snapping bones and ripping skin, small groans and weak whimpers—it was pain.

Legolas narrowed his eyes and crept forward cautiously, fearful of what he might find.

The sounds let him towards a rather large bolder that was impeded in the ground and covered in thick moss. He was startled as he laid a hand on the cold stone, for a leg protruded upon the side—a leg belonging to the canine species.

It bended and it snapped, morphing into one of human nature—much like his own. It then disappeared behind the rock once more. He could not hold back the gasp that left his lips for witnessing such a thing was—shocking, confusing, terrifying. It was unnatural, but then again, what was ever natural within the lands of Arda?

Legolas’s attention was drawn upwards as a naked figure shakily stood before him.

She stood straight, with impeccable posture, and a head held high; but that is not what claimed his consciousness. It was that vibrant gaze, burning angry holes into him.

She spoke sharply, “Well, are you going to pass me my clothing?”

Instead of responding or making any motion, he froze as if he was deer hiding from the predator once more. His blue orbs locked onto hers, for he dared not let his gaze wander.

Dreadful silence hung in their air as he processed that the person before him indeed was a wolf moments before—the wolf.

However, that antagonizing absence of sound was disrupted when life was breathed back into him and he could finally move his lips. Though it came out as a whisper, for elves were conservative creatures and such a sight had caught him off guard, it still came out nonetheless.

“You are—are not entirely human.” He stated with an expression that seeped curiousness and inquiry.

“Though, currently, I am shaped like one. So, as you are in my way, I will ask you once again to pass me my clothing.” She reiterated.

Legolas’s brows pulled together and his lips mumbled her words back to her as he searched his mind for the meaning. He twisted around and around until a pile of dark fabrics caught his eye. He grasped them gently and passed it over the boulder between them into her calloused hands.

He turned so his back was facing her. His anxiety and awkwardness reverberated off of every word that non-consensually tumbled from his lips. “You are a shifter then—able to alter your form? A wolf....so I suppose it was you who almost tore my throat out.” He paused before recalling her name, “(Y/N).” He should have stopped there if he could, but alas, he couldn’t. “I have only ever met one other like you. His name was Beorn—a great black bear he was—“

She interrupted him, “Most elves I come across are not so verbal. Though, Strider had mentioned you before, Legolas. A strange fellow you are indeed.”

A small grin of embarrassment flickered across his face, not that she could see. “He called me strange?”

A laugh, sounding of blades of grass rubbing together against the wind, struck the air. (Y/N) spoke, “For an elf he had said. But truly, he was too generous with those extra words.”

Legolas tilted his head at that for it seemed to be an insult; but before he could decide on such a matter, she called out to him again—this time fully clothed and ten feet in front of him.

“Are you coming?”

He quickly scampered after her.

As he and (Y/N) entered the area, Aragorn, who still sat by the fire, glanced up with a shimmer in his eye.

Legolas gridded his teeth and sat down next to the man. In a voice as low and quiet as he could muster, he spoke to the Ranger. “Why didn’t you tell me she was the wolf?”

Aragorn smirked in amusement before whispering back, “I figured you would eventually come to that conclusion and by your expression it was not of the best experiences.”

Legolas shot his friend a glare, but that only made the Ranger grin more.

Luckily for the elf, (Y/N) interrupted the moment. “Strider, did you save me some stew? I’m starved.”

The man passed a bowl to her as he spoke, “You know I always do, (Y/N).”

She smiled gratefully.

The Ranger stood and made his way to his bedroll, clapping the elf on the shoulder as he went.

Legolas took notice of the interaction between the two and turned his attention to the woman sitting across from him.

Once he was sure Aragorn was out of ear shot, he spoke quite bluntly, “You and Strider....are you—“

She snorted, “No, no. His heart lies in Rivendell.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow, “And yours?”

(Y/N) shrugged and glanced up at the scenery around them. “Here. In the lands of middle earth.”

The elf tilted his head, examining her again.

She stopped her chewing and sent him an accusatory look. “What?”

Legolas smiled softly, “I sense that shifters are much like elves in that regard—bound to nature and tethered in the sky.”

She raised a brow, “And what makes you think that?”

He chuckled lightly at her bold fierceness, “Your eyes. I can see the essence of Arda in them.”

(Y/N) shook her head in amusement, “Elves and their poetry.” She paused, taking a moment to think. “Although what you say is true, it is within that where I think we differ. You elves are laced up spiritually whereas shifters are tied animalisticly.” When the elf did not respond she continued, “You care for morals, I care to survive.”

Legolas nodded in understanding, “Yet we both appreciate the beauty of it.”

The corner of her lip pulled upwards and she shook her head in agreement.

......

As time went on and the small group traveled, the female shifter and the elf became great friends—bonding over their infinity with nature. The two had split off from the rangers for a little while because (Y/N) wanted to see the forest of Greenwood and examine what seemed to be haunting it. However, after approximately two moon cycles, they met with Aragorn once more. He was not with his previous companions though, so it was only the three of them.

The months had gotten colder and they traveled upon open plains so (Y/N) stayed in her wolf form. It was easier for the time being. And it was in this shape that she came bounding towards the ranger that she had not seen in a while.

She jumped up upon him, knocking him to the ground as she had once done to Legolas. She plastered wet slobbery licks upon his face as his chest rumbled with laughter.

The elf could not help but feel a pang of jealous encase his heart. He had grown to develop feelings for the shifter as they had grown close over their journey. 

Just as he felt bound to nature, he felt bound to her.

So he stood, with a fire burning in his heart, as he watched (Y/N) give canine affection to his human friend.

As the days continued on, Legolas’s irritation grew. (Y/N) strayed closer to Aragorn’s side—rubbing her face against his leg and pawing at his feet in attempt to trip him.

Of course, Aragorn could pick up on the elf’s mood and angry looks. He had thought Legolas was aware of his lover in Rivendell, but perhaps not. The Ranger had wanted to find a moment alone with the elf so he could assure him of the sibling-like relationship between him and the shifter; but with open freezing lands like this, there was no privacy.

The small trio had settled upon large rocks for the night as that was the only shelter available. They lit a brilliant fire in attempt to starve off the nipping wind, but it only did so much.

Aragorn, wrapped in blankets, had fallen asleep quite quickly; whereas Legolas sat brooding, leaning against a boulder.

It was a moment before he noticed those curious eyes on him. They twinkled with the emotions of Arda, searching his soul. With a tilted head, the wolf approached him slowly.

She crawled forward, so close that her wet nose was inches from his own. She resting one large paw upon his thigh but her weight did not hurt him.

Legolas did not move because he was taken by surprise. (Y/N), as partially human, did understand boundaries; yet, she did not seem to care about them in this instance. Instead, she studied him—up close.

The elf knew that she was searching him for answers given she had noticed his mood as well. However, Legolas did not wish to give any. Therefore, he held his porcelain elf features strong, not bending to her intimidation. He starred right back at her. Though this time, his eyes were filled with anger and frustration—and (Y/N) could tell.

Legolas was upset with her for she blatantly gave Aragorn affections.

Could she not see his heart?

He had said he would not bend to her will and intimidation. He had decided he would be cold towards her. He had made a choice—a choice that he could not uphold as he gazed into her soft eyes of nature.

Slowly, he raised a gentle hand. He brought it close to her face. When she did not pull away, he cupped the canine’s features.

To his disbelief, (Y/N) completed an action he had never seen her do before—even with Aragorn. She leaned into his touch.

Legolas’s lips parted as the moment encapsulated his mind.

He let his hand fall slowly and (Y/N) leaped off his lap. But she did not scamper off in a different direction. Instead, she ducked into his side and curled up against him. She let her head rest on his lap.

Cautiously, Legolas began to stroke her soft, (h/c) fur. He let the short strands slip through his fingers, lulling her to sleep.

.....

When Legolas woke, (Y/N) was not in his sights. He sent a confused expression towards Aragorn who was tending to the dwindling flames.

“She will be back,” the Ranger stated simply.

The elf stood and walked towards Aragorn. “Where did she go?”

The ranger shrugged while biting back a smile.

Legolas frowned at his playful expression, “I know you know something, Aragorn.”

The man raised his brows. “I woke sometime in the night. You and (Y/N) seemed quite close.” He paused, the tone of his voice changing, “You know, she never lets anyone touch her like that.”

“Never have you....?” Legolas let his sentence trail off as the ranger shook his head.

Aragorn spoke again, “My heart rests with another.”

Their conversation was cut short by a feminine voice. “Have either of you seen my cloak?”

Legolas’s head snapped in the direction of the sound for it had been long since (Y/N) was in her human form.

The shifter stood before them shivering slightly in her clothes. They were clearly not fit for the freezing air as the fabric was thin—so thin that her the curve of her breasts and nipples was easily seen.

Legolas adverted his eyes and instantly began to ruffle through his bag as he spoke with concern in his tone. “(Y/N), why have you shifted to your human form? Did you not say it was safer for you to travel through this weather as a wolf?”

She sighed, “It is harder to communicate in my animal form.”

Both of the men knew what she was alluding to.

Legolas cleared his throat and pulled out a couple fabrics from his bag. “I have been carrying your cloak.” He moved towards her as he continued speaking. “Wear this as well. It is an elvish tunic weaved from my homeland; it will keep you warm.”

“Legolas, you don’t ha—“

He shook his head, “Please, I insist.”

(Y/N) reluctantly took it and pulled the fabric over her head. She frowned as she handled the wrap around ties, not quite able to figure out how they were supposed to lay.

The elf smiled softly, “Here, let me.”

Ever so gently he took the extra fabric in his hands and begun to weave it around her form. He tied the delicate cloths in a simple knot before moving to fasten her cloak under her chin.

“Thank you, Legolas.”

He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, “It is no problem.”

He turned to gather his belongings as they were to continue their way through Arda. However, as he did so, Aragorn shot him an amused playful look. The elf sent him a sharp glare in retribution.

.....

Within a couple days, a winter storm hit the group. Luckily, they were not far from a human town which they gratefully took refuge in. Of course, as they busted into the inn, many weird looks were thrown their direction. It was not often this area was crossed by elves and rangers—and skin changers, but they were unaware of (Y/N)’s less than human nature.

They each paid for a room and took time to settle into the warmth.

Legolas rested on the edge of the cot, fiddling with one of his blades. He had let his thoughts wander to a place he had been avoiding. A bond with nature was one thing he knew deep within his soul, but a bond with another was something untouched and left uncovered. Of course he had had acquaintances with friends and family; however, the bond he was debating over was one with a lover. He knew where his heart craved to be, yet he was unsure how to proceed.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the frame of his open door.

Legolas looked up to see (Y/N). She was wearing fresh clothing, likely washed and pressed by a maid. All the filth and grim had been scrubbed from her skin and her wet hair was pulled into a tight braid.

“(Y/N),” he stated simply. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head as she stepped into his room, “Well, not entirely.”

Legolas frowned at that comment.

The shifter walked closer until she stood only a foot from the elf.

He looked up into her vibrant eyes with question.

(Y/N) cleared her throat as she gently placed something soft and neatly folded into his hands. “Thank you for lending me your extra tunic.”

He smiled softly at her, “Won’t you need it again when we depart? The weather isn’t getting warmer anytime soon.”

A light chuckle rumbled in her chest and she shook her head in response.

Legolas placed the fabric next to him and looked up at her again. He did not notice he was staring until she whispered his name.

“Legolas, why do you do that?”

He tilted his head trying to hid his embarrassment, “What do you mean?”

Her teeth scraped her bottom lip, “Why do you look at me like that?”

The elf adverted his gaze, “My apologizes. I did not mean to offend you—“

(Y/N) interrupted him, “It is not an offense.” She sighed before speaking again. “You look at me like you marvel at nature—as if I am something so breath taking.”

“You are.” He frowned, “Do you not think so of yourself?”

The woman did not say a word; instead, she shifted her vision to the floor.

Legolas reached outwards and took her hand in his own. “You are breath taking, (Y/N)—even more so than nature.”

She shook her head, “I—I don’t understand.”

Legolas could not hold back any longer. He knew he needed to explain what he meant but no words could formulate such a thing. Therefore, he gave into his impulses and did the only thing he could think of to demonstrate it. The elf pulled her into him and grasped her cheeks with his hands. Legolas drew her face downward and smashed his lips against hers. When she did not reiterate any action he instantly pulled away. Had he taken a step too far?

“Legolas,” she breathed out in a whisper.

“I...I am sorry...I didn’t—“

She shook her head and clasped his cheeks, bringing his mouth to hers once again. Their lips moved together like the rhythmic dance of the wind—swirling and intertwining with eagerness. Legolas could taste the essence of Arda upon her lips—the sweet honey from east of the Anduin, the fresh berries from the region of Eriador, the bitter nuts from the mountains of Angmar. (Y/N) moved her body in-between his legs, but she decided that that was not close enough. So, she lifted herself into his lap, letting his calloused hands encircle her waist and hold her steady. She could feel the warmth of sparking fires, the comfort of soft wool, the shield of shelter from harsh winds. Legolas laid down upon the bed, pulling her form with him. He could hear the pounding of her heart and the gasps of her breath. Every sound she made did not escape him, it fueled him. (Y/N) tangled her fingers in his blonde locks and smiled against his lips for she recognized every aspect of nature within the elf, for it was in her too. It was the essence of Arda.

.....

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust

Legolas Tag: @dark-angel-is-back @mylittle-escapingdreams @arandomfandomblog @moriamithril

[poptod]

Hey!! I’m the anon from earlier haha. Can I make a request in which the reader is suffering from severe depressive symptoms/anxiety and loneliness, and Elliot has the right words and knows what to do to relax them? possibly along with some cuddles/ chest laying? Tysm n take ur time, no rush. :)

Notes: hiya! this is a bit more angsty than i thought it would be but its also somewhat hopeful and sweet? i hope you like it! WC: 1k

+

"I've always been such a crybaby," you sob, unable to bring yourself to do anything else.

He'd never seen you so small. So frail. You curled yourself into the tightest ball possible, clinging to your knees pressed so desperately close to your chest. The sobs that wrack your shoulders send tremors throughout the rest of your body, bringing tears to red eyes, tightening your throat as you try to breath normally.

"Would you leave already?"

"No," he says, almost whispers, but it catches your attention.

The harsh intakes of breath go silent as you await an explanation.

"I know it's all a tornado in there," he says as he kneels down, "and I know you need someone to tell you to just. Shut the fuck up, you know?"

Oh God, he's bad at this. You're here in front of him, a perfect mirror of his own lapses in sanity, and he knows the torrent in your head. Every thought is lapsing into the next.

He doesn't really know you, and surprisingly that's not from his own efforts. You were assigned as an assistant for him, to bring coffee and help look for bugs in coding. Outside of work he knows nearly nothing about you. You hardly ever talk, certainly not to him unless it's necessary, and there's absolutely no information about you online. There's your birth record, but beyond that you're off the grid. No cell phone, no social media, no professional presence.

He thinks you enjoy not existing. He's right, of course, but this assumption of his had no actual evidence to back it up. Only your discomfort in knowing the names of others and of giving your own name. Not that he can really judge, considering he tries to stay off the grid just about as much as he can.

As it turns out, your similarities go beyond that. While your medical records are completely blank, it's easy enough to figure out what problems you have; severe depression, antisocial disorder, and most likely a fun case of frequent hallucinations. Sometimes you don't come in for a week or two, and when you do come back it's with bitter, tired eyes and trembling fingers. It's no wonder you're sobbing right now – having someone in your apartment is probably a horrible invasion of your well-kept privacy. Elliot's your best friend and you don't even like him. You're not even friends. What you don't know, and what you're too dizzy to find out, is that you're his best friend too.

He's really only here because of curiosity. You'd been skipping work for two weeks now – a new record – and Gideon thought it to be a good idea as well.

"Why did I have to be like this?" You mumble, and it's mostly to yourself. He knows that.

"You have trouble because you're different," he says. It's interesting enough to quiet you, if only a little, so he continues. "It isn't because you're inept. It's because your brain is wired different... special. And it isn't our fault society is built in ways that trigger us. People are just dicks."

You sniff again, a good deal of your tears beginning to dry on your cheeks. No more fell from your eyes, though they are quite red, which matches the blush in your nose. You say nothing for a couple minutes, allowing silence to sit in conversation's place.

"Do you think we'll be okay, then?" You ask, your throat scratchy from exhaustion.

"We'll.. find our places. Where we can exist, be happy for a little while. It'll be okay," he murmurs, staring at the floor. "Not perfect, but okay."

A touch atop his hand startles him, and he almost pulls away, but he quickly notices it's the tips of your fingers tracing his bones. The back of his hand is thin but strong, from constant typing and weed. He looks up to you; your cheek is pressed into your raised knee, pushing up in a way that almost closes your left eye. For the most part you're concentrated on where you're touching him.

Slowly your breaths get less ragged, your sniffs fewer and far between. He's quick to notice the improvement, so he lets you do what you want for however long you want to, and eventually your shoulders fall from their constant state of tension.

When that happens you begin to unravel yourself, your limbs flopping out on the floor as exhaustion truly claims you. It happens often like this after anxiety attacks. You draw a long sigh before swaying forward, and before you can catch yourself from falling, Elliot does it for you. He holds you up by your arms and shoulders, shifting you till your head is balanced in the crook of his neck.

Slow and ever careful, he raises his hand to rest in your hair, short and gentle strokes calming you further. You melt like wax into his touch, pressed into his side with your hands on his thigh. He shifts the both of you to lean against the wall, and with that you truly slip into mental exhaustion, your head slipping to lay on his chest. Although he's rare to touch and rarer to give comfort, he puts his arm around you and lets you stay. Just for a little while, he tells himself. To make you feel better.

But he can't deny this makes him feel better, too – feeling your breath move into peace, how you've allowed yourself to be comforted by him. It's a conscious decision and he knows it. Most of the time, when he's offered comfort, he doesn't take it. He's glad you've decided not to follow in his footsteps.

If you're anything like him, then he knows you don't really have a chance at happiness. And you are like him. As much as he hates himself for this, he likes that you’re like him, because that means you won't abandon when you find happiness. Instead, the closest thing to happiness either of you will find will be in the hearts of one another. One who understands the crushing pressure of anxiety, the diseased home of panic attacks.

You will be together through misery, and that way it isn't quite misery anymore. It's something different. Still not happiness, but it's... okay.

It'll be okay.

[benwhlshaws]

ok so this is just a rambly overview over what has happened (sam wise) over the seasons so its maybe a little bit easier when keep blabbing @ u abt him 😂

i will try not to go on tangents ehhh 😬😬

sorry for the salty tone in advance

s1: ok sam is at college & lives with jess, dean comes to him after they havent seen each other in 2/3/4 years and says they gotta find john bc he didnt come home from a hunting trip, sam reluctantly says yes to one case but only if theyll be back in time for his law school interview (☹️ oh child), they do the case, sam comes home to jess burning on the ceiling like his mum, and him & dean hit the road to Find Dad and Kill The Demon.

during all this sam starts to get visions of bad things happening in the future and everyones Concerned, they eventually find dad but fail to kill the demon and dean gets fatally injured.

s2: john makes a deal with azazel (the demon that killed mary and jess) to save dean and Dies (& gets sent to hell), sam and dean are Sad (this is tangent worthy but i Won’t right now)

note worthy middle season things are that sam gets possessed by a demon that makes him do horrible stuff in one ep and in another the first girl he has sex with after jess turns out to be a werewolf and he has to shoot her (Fun!), oh and before john died he told dean he might have to kill sam if he starts going rogue (bc john knows abt sam’s mysterious gifts), dean eventually tells sam abt it and sam is Horrified obvs, season ends with azazel kidnapping sam and other kids with Gifts and sam finds out he was fed demon blood as a baby, sam gets killed and dies in deans arms, dean makes a crossroads deal to bring him back and gets one year of life left

oh and they open hells gates and john gets out and is just Normal Dead (yay) but also lots of dark stuff (not yay)

s3: sam is Upset and tries to find a way to get dean out of the deal, katie cassidy’s Ruby appears and says she can help, mid season stuff notable mention for an ep in which the trickster makes sam watch dean die every day for abt 100 days and then lets sam live 6 months without him just for Fun (dean doesnt remember any of this but sam does), anyway they fail at saving dean and sam has to watch him get ripped apart by hellhounds

s4: i mean u watched this but still 😂, dean crawls out of his grave, cas gets introduced, sam has been hanging out with ruby and starts drinking her demon blood bc it gives him the power to exorcise and kill demons without harming their vessel, also the demon lilith (she sent dean to hell so sam has a revenge boner for her too lbr) wants to start the apocalypse by breaking 66 seals and sam has the power to kill her (hot powerful babe that he is 🔥😏), the angels manipulate the living hell out of Everyone and LOTS OF FIGHTING HAPPENS. also dean finds out he broke the first seal when he started torturing in hell (everyone loves forgetting that but Ok) anyway

when dean finds out sam is addicted to demon blood, him and bobby lock him in the panic room without food or water or comforting words but :-))) (i’m not mad at all). then CASTIEL (another guilty party maybe?? HMMM??) lets sam out so he can find ruby and go kill lilith, which he does and ends up breaking the final seal and frees lucifer (which no one knew would happen except for the angels and ruby & dean was abt to do the same thing literally minutes before he found out the truth LOL)

this season is so crazy tangent worthy but i’ll save it for the Actual Post

s5: sams guilt and self hatred is HIIIIIGH and dean does nothing to help that and the rest of the world loves reminding him hes Evil incarnate as well :-) but ok,

dean finds out hes michael’s vessel and sam finds out hes lucifer’s, lots of archangel and other mid season stuff happens, season ends with sam saying yes to lucifer so he can jump into the pit to hell and trap him in there with him, therefore saving the world and all of humanity bc he is a hero thanks for listening to my Ted Talk

s6: dean has been living with lisa and her son ben for a year, it turns out sam is alive but Different, oh damn! he’s soulless! (and sassy sexy Fun 😎) and his (pure gentle) soul is still in hell with lucifer (💔😭)

dean and cas get his soul back but its so damaged (😔) that putting it back into sam would kill him so they ask death to build a wall between the two (no idea how this all rlly works its been a while since i watched this), soul is back in sam, forgot how the season ends but not that important anyway

s7: sam’s soul hell wall thing breaks and he’s dying and ill and sick and sad and everythings awful and he has hallucinations of lucifer telling him insidious horrible stuff and making him doubt reality and dean and everything and its very upsetting to me thanks,

umm forgot how the season REALLY ends but basically sam sees dean die (dean is actually in purgatory BUT SAM DOESNT KNOW THAT)

s8: my memories are hazy at best but i remember the Basic stuff,

its one year later and dean is out of purgatory and somehow him and sam find each other, sam has been living off the grid and found a gf and a dog after grieving dean, dean finds this to be the most heinous of crimes and Hates sam for it (bc u didnt look for me sam!!! and u had a cushy life while i was fighting for mine in purgatory!!! HOW DARE YOU BE HAPPY WITHOUT ME) and the guilt tripping is outta control this season woooohoooo,

anyway idr why but one of them has to take on The Trials (bc it does smth important for them i dont remember why lmao) and sam wants to do them,

stuff happens and they make sam sick and weak and Sad but they also purify his blood so hes desperate for them bc he’s felt awful and unclean all his life and its Upsetting. season ends with the final trial aka The Ultimate Sacrifice which means death and sam’s like yes! death! here for it 100%! and dean’s like no! why? and sam’s like lol i’m horrible and useless and a liability and all i do is let u down and i wanna die! :-)

dean convinces him not to (in a crap way imho BUT)

s9: sams fatally ill and just. wants. to dieeee and gadreel (an arch?angel) tells dean that he could possibly heal sam if he lets him possess sam and Dean Says ‘sam would rather die than ever let anything possess him again’ aaaand then says yes to gadreel :-)

and sam’s alright but has no clue how it happened and keeps losing time and is fucked up over it and dean lies to him and says everythings A Okay

oh and gadreel kills kevin with sam’s body and sam has nightmares abt it

this somehow resolves itself (not in a satisfying way for me of course but when do things ever) but i dont rlly have the deets for the rest of the season

s10-s12: honestly i basically dont know much, somehow dean has the so called mark of cain on his arm which makes him Awful and Horrible and he says things to sam that are Unbelievable and make me Furious

also at some point dean turns into a literal demon, not for super long though i think

sam is a strong kind and beautiful bean during all of this

mary is there somewhere too somehow and lucifer stuff and the list goes on but you know SHRUG

s13: lucifer’s baby is born! a nephilim! idk how it works age wise but hes in the body of a cute young man called jack and hes a cinnamon roll and sam treats him so fatherly and gently and with so much compassion and it makes me Feel and they have an adorable gorgeous relationship! also dean is a giant Dickwad to jack :-) fun!

oh omg lucifer gets killed in the finale and i fucking hope its final and forever bc I AM OVER IT!!!!

thats the VERY basic stuff and i apologise that its so long... im sorry ur indulging me how do u cope

also i love u and the only person cuter than sam is You 🤗💘💖💕💓