#I am grateful they’re together again though

[munson-blurbs]

Hehe for since you asked for fluffy smut, what if reader has had a long day at work and Eddie maybe fixes a bubble bath and they take one together, but then it gets a lil frisky

Is this more smut than fluff? Yes. Am I apologizing for it? Nope.

Collab with @corroded-hellfire who is once again the only reason there's any fluff at all.

CW: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), roommate!Eddie, accidental boners, grinding, lots and lots of touching, mention of oral (f) WC: 1.9k

Home might have been a tiny, two-bedroom apartment that perched above the heart of Hawkins, but at the end of a long shift, it’s Heaven. 

You kick off your shoes; apparently they’re one of the most supportive brands, according to the other waitresses, but your feet still ache. 

The throbbing in your feet is nothing compared to the roaring pain that inflames your lower back. Just pressing the heel of your palms into it makes you wince and groan. 

“You okay?” Eddie calls from his room. You hear him fumbling to put away his guitar before you can even reply. 

The door swings open and he stands there, posture sagging when he sees how beaten down you look. Whatever makeup you had applied that afternoon had long faded, and the stains on your apron certainly added the finishing touch. 

Eddie, meanwhile, is refreshed—infuriatingly so. Today was his day off, and though he put in a lot of work the other six days of the week, you still yearned for the well-restedness that had him bounding over to you. 

“Bubble bath?” When you two had first moved in together, he used to try and talk to you about your day. He took it personally when you retreated to your room without glancing in his direction. But now he knew that you talk when you regain your energy. And there’s no shortage of gossip after eight hours at Benny’s. 

You nod, offering him as much of a grateful smile as you can muster. “That would be great.” You weren’t sure how you managed to find a great friend like Eddie, but you weren’t about to question it, either. 

None of the guys you’d actually dated had ever been so understanding. But Eddie…he managed to always know what you needed. 

He offers you one of his signature grins that always brighten your day and heads down the hall to the bathroom. You take off your name tag when the loud gush of the tub faucet reaches your ears and you barely have time to yank your socks off before Eddie’s back in your doorway. 

“Your spa awaits,” he says. “I would’ve prepared you some music but I don’t think any of my metal cassettes have the ambiance you’re looking for right now.”

You shake your head as you pass by him and step towards the bathroom door. 

“Not really,”  you agree. “I’ll let you know if I need it for some inspiration working out or welding or something.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and slips his hands into the back pockets of his black jeans.

“Wasn’t that Flashdance?”

“Yeah, but that music wasn’t my thing,” you admit with a shrug before you step into the bathroom. The door clicks behind you as it closes and you’re immediately shedding the stained, greasy uniform you’ve been dying to ditch all day. 

A trail of clothing is left in your wake as you step up to the tub, the bubbles fizzing and giving off a calming jasmine scent. Not wanting to scald your skin as the cherry on top of this already grueling day, you slip your hand into the water to test the temperature. It’s perfect. You don’t know how Eddie does it; he must have the magic touch. 

The water, the bubbles, the scent, it’s all too inviting. You lift one leg over the side of the tub and climb in, quickly bringing the other in as well. In your haste to start your relaxation, you slip a bit as you begin to sit down. Instinct has you catching yourself on the sides of the tub almost instantly, but it causes the collection of soap, shampoo, and conditioner bottles to tumble onto the floor in a large heap. You stare at the pile for a moment.

“Ah, I’ll deal with you later,” you decide under your breath and sink further down into the warmth waiting to heal you from your long day. 

The bubbles tickle your skin as they gradually make their way higher. They stop around your breasts and the warm water wraps itself around every achy muscle in your body. 

Suddenly, the bathroom door busts open, a frazzled Eddie charging in with wide, concerned eyes. He’s only in a Corroded Coffin t-shirt and boxers now, so maybe the loud bang woke him from a nap. 

“I-Is everything okay?” he asks as he eyes the pile of bottles on the floor.

“Oh yeah, I just knocked those over when I got in,” you explain. 

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief but the moment his eyes land on you, his body tenses up even worse than before. He’s clearly trying not to stare at you—especially your chest—but he’s failing miserably. You look down to find that your roommate has a pretty good view of the tops of your boobs. 

When you look back to Eddie, you get a pretty nice view yourself. Since he’s only wearing boxers on his lower half, his boner is quite evident. 

A smug sense of satisfaction settles over you, even seeing how uncomfortable Eddie seems to be at getting caught. But you’re not going to tease him or make him feel bad about anything. On the contrary, you’ve thought of yet another way he can help you relax. 

“Do you wanna join?” you purr. 

When Eddie looks your way you give him the most innocent, wide eyed look you can manage and flutter your lashes a few times. 

Worry blooms within you when he doesn’t immediately respond. 

Did I overstep? Is he completely freaked out? Oh my god, what if his boner was completely unrelated to me and I just assumed—

His voice, smaller than you’ve ever heard it, interrupts your thoughts. “Mhm, yeah. I mean, if that’s cool with you.”

You nod, watching as he peels off his shirt and tosses it aside, exposing the soft tendrils of hair across his chest. There’s a tattoo on one pec; you want him, need him closer so you can run your tongue over it. 

He sheds his boxers next. Though you knew he was big just from seeing the bulge behind the fabric, nothing prepared you to see him fully on display. The reddish-pink tip leaks pre-cum as the shaft bobs in desperate search for the warmth of a body. 

“Where should I…” He’s gained a bit of confidence from the way you stare unabashedly at his naked body, but he’s still hesitant to push his luck too far. 

Scooting forward, you gesture to the now empty space behind you. Nerves buzz throughout your naked body —now wet in more ways than one. 

Eddie swings a leg over the edge of the tub, getting his balance before bringing the other to join. The way he places his hands on your shoulders results in an electricity that you can only hope he feels as well. 

His lower body disappears beneath the bubbles and he lets out a relaxed groan. You lean back until your head rests on his chest, his considerable length pressing against your lower back. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. Whether he means to speak that softly or he can’t manage anything louder, you can’t be sure. “Be careful.”

“Careful?”

He nods, lips grazing the shell of your ear. He’s so close to you, and yet he’s still too far away. “You’re so fucking tempting like this.”

You shift slightly, enough to see the blush in his cheeks that you know isn’t from the steamy bath. “Maybe I want you to be tempted.”

One tattooed arm snakes around your waist, fingers trailing upwards and stopped just shy of your breasts. 

“Don’t tease me,” he begs. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it.”

You take his hand and place it on your left breast. He whimpers, and you swear you could climax from the sound alone. 

Water sloshes around the tub as he hooks his legs around yours, gathering the stability he needs. 

“Fuck…” His hips move as he ruts up against you, desperate for relief. The way he pinches your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, starkly contrasts the gentle kisses he leaves on your shoulder blades. 

You want him. You need him. 

His other hand lays in the water and you guide it between your legs, now spread in anticipation of his touch. 

“There?” He asks as he finds your clit, rubbing it when you nod in the affirmative. 

Eddie increases his pace, fingers working in tandem to bring you pleasure. You arch your back, exposing your neck for him to bite and suck. 

“When we’re done,” he murmurs, “I want you splayed out on the bed for me. I need to see if your pussy is as pretty as I’ve imagined.”

His words awaken something within you. “Y-You imagine me…?” You start, unable to finish your sentence. 

Eddie nods. “Every time I jerk off, Sweetheart, I imagine being inside you. How you’d feel around my cock—mmph, fuck.”

“I picture you, too,” you confess. “Your fingers, or your cock, or—”

He raises a brow. “Or?”

“Or your mouth.” The admission spills from your lips. 

“Yeah? You want me to eat that pretty little pussy of yours?” Your own desire for him amps up his confidence. He’s impossibly and impressively hard, and you would do anything for him to stretch you out. 

You nod. “Please.”

“Okay, Sweetheart. Soon as we’re done here, yeah?” His breath hitches, his rutting becoming sloppier and needier as he nears orgasm. 

Bubbly waves crest over the side of the tub, drenching the bathmat and flooding the tile floor, but neither of you care. 

“Eds, little more, I’m gonna…” 

He follows your every order, your pussy clenching around nothing as he takes care of your clit. 

“Wanna make you feel good.” Eddie kisses your shoulder again. “Please let me make you feel good.”

You can only offer a moan as you come, chanting his name over and over. It’s a name you only ever dreamed about chanting so loudly; it was usually relegated to quiet whispers alone in your room. 

A new warmth, different from the bathwater, coats your lower back and drips down to your ass when Eddie finishes, the hand on your breast squeezing tight, pain and pleasure intermingling harmoniously. 

“Oh my god,” he pants. “That was…”

“Amazing.”

Eddie nods. “So fuckin’ amazing.” 

He lifts a bubble-covered hand to your chin, tilting it slightly so he can kiss you. His lips are soft but move with determination, his tongue sliding between yours. You let him in, your fingers playing with the wet tips of his hair. 

“Meant what I said about eating you out,” he mumbles into your mouth before stealing another kiss. 

Splayed out on the bed. His to ravish. The thought has you lunging for the towel hanging behind the door in an attempt to dry off. 

But when you stand, Eddie reaches out his hand and pulls you towards him, now eye-level with your pussy. “Knew she was perfect,” he says with a smirk. “Bet she tastes even better.”

The kiss he presses to your folds nearly buckled your knees. 

“You wanna find out?” He nods eagerly, and you giggle. “It might be a little lavender-y from the bath soap, though.”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t care. Need you.”

And who are you to deny a man his needs?

--

[luveline]

I can definitely see a steddie x reader where reader is just enjoying their banter bc she thinks they’re being adorable and Steve is annoyed and Eddie is just being cheeky

Reader would definitely be just smitten about it, in all honesty-

“You’re not doing it right, Steve.” 

“Am too.” 

“You are not, babe.” 

Eddie sounds so genuine, like he truly cares that Steve’s not doing it right, but you can tell he’s messing with him. It’s in his smile. He sees you noticing him and puts a finger over his lips. 

“You owe me,” you mouth. 

“What did I do wrong?” Steve asks, agitated already. 

“You have to press the plastic down,” Eddie says, stepping behind Steve where your boyfriend tries to grate a head of broccoli using the food processor. “This bit. Babe–”

“Stop with the babe, you’re patronising me.” 

“That is not true.” Eddie takes him by the hip, reaching around him to shove the hand guard down onto Steve’s broccoli. 

“You’re seriously patronising me.” 

Eddie talks close to Steve’s ear. “Now why would I do that, Steve?” 

Steve smiles but pushes him away. “Get off of me, I can do it. Go irritate Y/N.” 

“I’m just trying to help,” Eddie says. 

“You’re not, you’re trying to make me mad.” 

“Is it working?” 

Eddie dives away from his shove and ends up hanging on you instead, arms slotting over your shoulders, warm and relaxed as he turns his flirting to you. “What’s the damage?” 

“He figured you out pretty quickly. No charge this time.” 

“How generous.” He sounds as warm as he feels, leaning in to draw a line on your cheek with his nose. “Think he’ll take the bait again?” 

“Aw, don’t,” you laugh, though really you want him to. Steve is a good looking guy and it’s worse when he’s playing mad, he gets loud and his brows draw together, darkening the honeyed brown of his eyes to a more shadowy colour that you adore. “He’s just trying to make dinner for us. He’s so nice.” 

“I’ll make it up to him,” he promises, kissing your cheek. 

Eddie once again approaches Steve, this time with a softer disposition, like he might be giving him a kiss. Steve lets Eddie touch his arm, lets Eddie wraps his fingers around his wrist and press a cheek to the top of his shoulder. 

“Don’t try and say sorry now,” Steve warns. Then, after a few seconds, he wraps an arm behind Eddie's shoulder to rub his arm roughly. It’s fond and annoyed at once. 

“I’m just trying to help.” 

“I know how to use the blender.” 

They sound in love. It makes you laugh, one because it’s nice to see, you love them too, and two because Eddie’s messing him around again. 

Steve looks back at you suspiciously. 

“I know you know how to use it, I’m just trying to help,” Eddie says. 

“Are you?” 

“Sometimes you get kind of stubborn.” He encourages Steve’s face back to his with a kind hand. Steve sticks his tongue in his cheek as Eddie tucks a lock of stray hair behind his ear. “You know, on account of you being extremely stubborn,” Eddie whispers. 

Steve rolls his eyes and shrugs away from him. “I’m used to being right. You know, on account of you being an idiot.” 

“Don’t act like that.” 

Steve lets Eddie link their pinky fingers together, even as they continue to argue about the blender. Feeling a little left out, you slide off of your barstool at the island and sidle up on Steve’s other side. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. “Broccoli and cheese?” 

“Uh-huh. Don’t know why I bother,” Steve side eyes Eddie, the one out of the three of you who loves broccoli and cheese soup more than breathing. “He’s making it more difficult than it’s worth.” 

“It’s gonna be done at bed time if you keep taking so long.” 

“Don’t start on me too.,” Steve says, though he leans in for a kiss soon after. 

Eddie tries to high five you behind his shoulders. You grab his hand and wrap it around Steve’s shoulders, who then tries to sweep you both in for a hug, assuming an Eddie style apology, and regardless of all the teasing he’s endured. 

“I don’t wanna cook anymore,” Steve mumbles. 

Eddie feels sorry, then, and tries to kiss his neck. 

You pinch him. “Let’s just order takeout.” 

[avocad1s]

About the Creator: Favoritism

Requested By: No one. Original Work.

CW: None?

Summary: Voiclines about your favoritism over certain characters.

Characters Included: Wanderer, Kazuha, Ei, Childe, Kamisato Ayato, Eula, Beidou

Note:

-

Wanderer: “I wonder time and time again why Their Grace favors me over anyone else despite all the bad things I’ve done. Perhaps they see some use in me that no one else has seen, or maybe they are waiting for me to drop my guard… why are you giving me that look Traveler… huh? You think I like being favored by the Creator? Well, who wouldn’t? They are the God of Gods and if they see usefulness in a pawn such as myself, then I will keep proving myself as worthy.”

Kazuha: I am forever grateful for my position with Their Grace. Even though I travel often, and they are constantly busy, we always make time to spend together. I like showing them the best views within Teyvat. I hope that one day they’ll agree to wander this beautiful world with me… ehem… I apologize, speaking about this with you has inspired me to write a new haiku about Their Grace.”

Ei: “You wish to know about my relationship with Their Grace? Well, they have been spending lots of time in Inazuma with me… they had promised to teach me how to cook. It hasn’t been successful yet, but I will keep trying just to see that smile on their face. I truly adore spending my time with them, I am learning how to be my own Archon rather than following in her footsteps… perhaps I have no reason to live in fear any longer.”

Childe: “Their Grace is the only God that is above Her Majesty. Despite what you think about the Fatui, we all still worship them comrade. Anytime Their Grace is in Snezhnaya, I always enjoy taking them ice fishing. I think the other Harbingers are a bit jealous of our closeness though. It doesn’t matter, as long as their eyes stay on me, then I’m happy.

Kamisato Ayato: “Hmm? My relationship with Their Grace is strictly professional… yes it is true that they spend lots of time at the Kamisato Estate but it because our discussions go late into the night and I wouldn’t dare send Their Grace away… huh? You wish to know what we discuss? Hehe… let’s change the subject, shall we..?”

Eula: “They are part of the very few who don’t judge me solely because of my clan. Their benevolence is like no other… hmm? What do you mean you saw the two of us at Good Hunter together? I was just showing them around Mondstadt, nothing else… Their Grace wishes to learn the Dance of Sacrifice… that’s the only reason we spend so much time together… why are you giving me that look? Hmph, vengeance will be mine!

Beidou: “Anytime Their Grace is on the Alcor we have an overwhelming amount of luck! We get so much treasure and never run into any storms in the middle of the ocean, I like to think of them as my good luck charm! The crew and I love having them on board, not to mention that they can hold their alcohol unlike anyone else I’ve met.. I wonder if they’re willing to be a permanent member on board… I’ll even make them co-captain if they desire.”

© avocad1s 2023

[micahwrites16]

My Love, My Home - Anakin Skywalker

Note: While writing this I imagined y/n as Padme in AotC, but not actually Padme? Like she’s Senator and she’s with Anakin on Naboo, him protecting y/n, but you can picture her however you want. I don’t specifically explain the circumstances of why they’re together, but it’s along the lines of the scene where Anakin confesses, except I write it… a bit differently. Hopefully you understand, lol. It’ll make sense the further you read. Enjoy!

( Also, please bear with me, I’ve never written anything close to this before. Don’t be shy to comment and let me know what you think of it! I’m always open to suggestions. <3 )

TW: really sappy smut, first times!

5.6k words

I always imagined that love was something you earned; something you had to deserve.

Something that I would never be worthy of truly receiving.

And as I watch the Padawan sitting on the velvety, soft sheets of my bed, I feel as though I am shattering my own heart with every second I allow him in my gaze. It’s as if he is reaching his calloused, worn hands into my chest and brushing his fingertips against the rapid beating of it. One more millimeter and he could crush my life without a second thought. And even though he was the one who tore apart my skin, it was his hand preventing me from bleeding out. Sometimes I can’t help but feel grateful, which is a very clear sign that I lost my sanity long ago.

I am in front of him and I do not pull away. I don’t want to.

I have never felt fear quite like it.

Although Anakin’s hand is not quite in my chest, it might as well be. A measly twelve inches separates us, his eyes searching into me farther than I have managed to explore myself. His lips move as words leave them, but I don’t know what. I’m embarrassed to admit that the sight of someone’s lips can distract me so easily. I know those aren’t just anyone’s lips, however.

“Y/n?”

My eyes snap back up to his, his eyebrows scrunched softly in confusion as he waits for me to answer.

“Hm?”

“Force,” Anakin laughs and shakes his head, resting his elbows on his knees. The laugh isn’t of amusement, that I can tell. “You aren’t even listening to me.”

“What? Yes, I am. I just have a lot on my mind. Keep talking. I promise I’ll listen,” I reassure him. He laughs again, the sound not warming me like it usually would. His head falls into his hands, his teeth shining as he smiles. “Anakin,” I urge, “come on. I’m listening, I swear.”

“Are you?” He turns his head to look up at me, his smile gone and something swirling madly in his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Alright. Then, what did I say?”

I pause for a moment, searching my brain and hoping that I subconsciously picked up his words. It’s not that I was ignoring him on purpose, that’s never the case. I was just preoccupied with other strange things happening inside of me. “You know what, never mind. It was nothing, anyways.” Anakin stands up quickly from my bed and I rise with him. “It’s late and you should sleep. I’ll be in the bedroom across from you.”

“No,” I grab his arm softly through his Jedi robe as he moves to walk away. I’m not letting him run away this time. “Don’t do that, Ani. Just tell me what you were saying. I can tell it’s important.”

His eyes lock on where I am touching him, his lips parting slightly. He seems frozen, lost in something that I cannot grasp. Suddenly, Anakin’s eyebrows furrow again, ripping his arm away from my hand. His eyes meet mine again, fire and so many other emotions stirring in them. “No. You don’t do that, y/n.” Confusion washes over me, the slightest bit of hurt emanating from his face and bouncing off my heart. His voice quiets, a darkness along with a familiar softness coating his words. “I am in agony and you don’t even seem to realize.” Anakin steps closer to me, his neck craned so he can meet my eyes. He’s so close and I am frozen. I feel his breath against my lips, his gaze against mine.

“Ani..”

“Can you not see how I am feeling? How I am practically begging on my knees for you to even look at me?” His voice is so low and I think my brain is short-circuiting and force, all it would take is the slightest movement for his nose to brush against mine. “You are the one instance I allow myself to feel anything at all, y/n. I couldn’t stop myself if I tried. And every moment that I am not with you, the worse my agony gets. It’s as if I am being torn apart. You are in my very soul, tormenting me. Every beat of my heart is throbbing for you, and I feel helpless.” He sounds so wounded, so seeking. “What can I do? I will do anything you ask.”

I am not usually at a loss for words. The thoughts in my head are cloudy and I feel dazed, almost as if my brain is trying to protect me from hearing what he is saying. I would rather die than allow that. Before Anakin, I had never let myself get attached to anyone or anything. I have duties that force me to be strong, independent. But he has sucked me in, and if I were to rid myself of him, he would take a large part of my person with him.

He looks into me like he’s searching for something, anything, and the pounding in my chest is increasing with every second of it. How are we both so blind to each other? He says that I do not see his feelings for me, yet he doesn’t see what I feel for him, either.

“I will get on my knees and beg for you, for any part of you, if that’s what you would like. Any part of you that you allow me to have I will worship. I already do.”

I have never felt the need to touch him more than I do now. I want to give him everything he’s asking for and more. I want to give everything that I have, everything I am, to him. I’ve been wanting that for far too long.

But I can’t.

“Anakin, we can’t do this,” I say quietly. I want to, I scream internally. I want to so, badly. “I’m Senator and you’re about to be a Jedi. We would ruin everything.” Nothing in his expression changes and I feel as though I am not doing a great job of convincing him, or myself.

“So you do feel something.” The corner of his mouth twitches just the slightest bit and I immediately curse myself for giving him hope for something that I can’t give him. “I don’t care about any of that. We can keep it between us and now that I know you feel anything, even the slightest bit for me, I will not stop. I won’t be able to. I will die trying to earn anything you will give me.”

He hesitantly reaches his hand to cup my the side of my face, his thumb stroking softly over my cheek. Am I dying?

“Don’t hide from what you feel. Don’t hide from me, because I cannot take it. I do not deserve you, I know that. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to. Don’t allow stupid, worthless rules to get in between this. In between us.”

Any resolve that I had before has now been thrown out the window. His voice is so gentle and pleading and an exact mirror of something that has been lurking inside of me since the last time I can remember. His thumb that is caressing my face is bleeding into me, filling my blood with a mixture of overwhelming fire, softness, and need.

“Anakin..” I close my eyes, fighting off my desires the best that I can. If I give in, everything will be destroyed.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, y/n. I will not let myself be your ruination.”

I want to fall. I want to lose myself in his deep, promising, dark blue eyes and never resurface. The longer I feel his touch the more I know that I am gone and I am not coming back.

And as I come to the realization that I will never be safer than where I am right now, that I will never be with someone who makes my heart pound as much as Anakin does, I lean closer.

I’m so close to him that I can see every individual blonde eyelash, every slight and rapid movement of his eyes as they flicker from my eyes to my lips. The only thing I see is Anakin. The only thing I know is Anakin.

Everything around us is still, as though even time has paused for us. The only sound is our soft breathing hitting each other’s lips, the crickets halting their chirping and leaving us in a loud bubble of quiet. He brushes his nose against mine, my breath hitching in my throat and my chest rising and falling harder with every second. Every action from him is small and hesitant, testing how I react.

My hand reaches forward, resting on the plane of his chest. He responds by snaking his fingers into my hair, tilting my head just the slightest bit, and causing my lips to brush against his just the smallest amount. A warm tingle flows through my body as I meet his eyes again. This time, there’s a question in them.

As an answer, I seal my lips against his.

I’m enveloped in a world of tenderness and warmth that I have never known before. As he just barely moves his lips against mine, I feel my heart shifting inside of me, flowing through the movements of my mouth. The first few moments are gentle, discovering. The next few are devouring.

He kisses me as if I was the last thread of life he was holding on to. As if I was the only light in a galaxy of darkness. In a planet of complete, utter beauty and peace, I have never felt so overpowered and overwhelmed. His lips are soft, searching into the deepest part of my soul.

He was wrong. I am not tormenting him, he is tormenting me.

Anakin tilts my head further, his tongue tracing my bottom lip and begging for entrance. I greedily let him in, wanting him to know places of myself that no one else has ever discovered. He sweeps in, tasting, caressing, and destroying me from the inside out. I trail my hand from his chest into his hair, my tongue now tangling with his, begging for as much of him as he now has of me.

A low groan rumbles through his throat, and I feel a fire inside of me that I have never known so intense than at this moment. His other hand grabs my hip, both of us stumbling back so he’s against the wall.

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

Anakin is now all that I know, and now that I have him, I don’t think I will ever be able to let go.

He kisses my lips until they’re swollen and pink. Until the room is no longer filled with silence, but the sound of his soft rasps and my small whimpers that I cannot stop from leaving.

Anakin’s hands are everywhere. My waist, the curve of my hips, my thighs, my hair, the sides of my face. It’s like he’s taking every bit of me insatiably, almost like he’s afraid I won’t let him do this again. This is all I’ve ever craved, Ani. This is everything I will ever need.

He groans again as I nip at his bottom lip, the sound stirring something deep inside of me. A fire is burning, and I don’t think it will ever be stopped. His lips move from mine to my jaw and down to my neck, sucking and tasting and torturing. I press my chest against him, needing to feel more. Needing more.

“Ani,” I moan, his mouth latching onto my collarbone. He lifts his head, his lips just as puffy as mine. He’s so, so, heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Tell me what you need, y/n. I will give you anything you’ve ever wanted. Anything at all.” His breathing is heavy, his chest rising and falling harshly. “You have every,” he kisses under my ear, “single,” he kisses my throat, “inch of me. I am forever yours.”

His pretty words fuel me like nothing else. I’m sinking, falling into an endless abyss of emotion and ruin, of beginning and end and nothing at all, but everything at the same time.

“Everything. All of you,” I beg, and I can’t seem to care that I do. For no man, for no person, I beg. But Anakin Skywalker makes me want and crave things stronger than I ever have before.

My tone isn’t lost on him, his head dropping to rest on my shoulder. “You can’t say things like that, y/n. You destroy me.”

“I mean it. Don’t reject me now, Anakin.” My voice drops to a whisper, vulnerability hitting me harder than I would like to admit, “Please.” I am yearning for a touch that can only be fulfilled by him, and by the madness spiraling in his eyes, I can tell he feels the same way. I brush my lips against his, communicating something that I can’t say with words.

His head rises from my shoulder, his eyes softer than I have ever seen them before. They’re bright and shining with a million unspoken promises that I could adventure in forever. Comparing them to the moons and the stars that surround us would be an understatement of the complete and torturous beauty that they hold, and the fact that they are focused on me makes my intestines swirl and my stomach warm.

“I will never hurt you,” Anakin breathes, his fingers tracing the edge of my jaw. “I adore you more than you could ever imagine.”

My breathing comes out shaky, my legs trembling softly. I have never wanted to hide as much as I do now, to shy away from the intrusion of Anakin searching into me so deeply. I am scared to my core.

But, I also don’t think my heart has ever been in safer hands before.

“I believe you,” I murmur against his lips. Something passes through his face, an emotion deeper than I can understand, yet.

“Will you let me take care of you, then?”

“Yes.”

Anakin immediately scoops me into his strong arms, holding me like I am glass in his hands. He kisses my forehead tenderly, walking over to my bed and dropping me on it softly. I watch intently as he steps back, me following his every move as he works to take off his belt. His eyes are burning into my skin, but I don’t care. I am mesmerized by every inch of that he uncovers. He has sucked me in and now I am forever locked in the depths of Anakin Skywalker’s heart.

He unravels the many layers of his Jedi Robe until the tanned, sculpted plane of his chest is revealed. I drink him in like I am dying of thirst. I can’t bring myself to be ashamed of my eagerness. How can someone be so perfect? I would be irritated if I weren’t absolutely overcome with adoration and desire for this boy.

He walks forward, climbing onto the bed and hovering over me. I absorb every detail of his bare skin, the small, old scars that litter his chest and abs, the newer ones that stand out more than the others. Every detail is beautiful.

“If you keep staring at me like that y/n, this will be over before it even starts.”

My eyes snap back up to his, my cheeks warming at his insinuation and the fact that I was so obvious. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. My stomach squirms uncomfortably, a mixture of scorching heat and fluttering butterflies making me blush further.

His lips curl into a familiar smile, full of soft amusement. “Don’t be nervous,” he says gently, reading my expression. “I’m just as anxious as you. More, even,” He connects our lips again, the heat inside of me flaring. “I’ll make you feel good, I promise,” he assures me and rests his hands on the side of my hips. “You are everything I have ever dreamed of.”

I bring his lips against mine again, this time more urgently. I need him so badly I feel like I am going to burst into a million pieces. His hands eagerly explore every curve of my body, his fingers fumbling with the zipper on the back of my black dress, revealing that he might truly be as nervous as I am. “Is this okay?” Anakin asks as he slowly unzips me.

“More than okay,” I murmur against his lips, greedily attaching my mouth back to his. I touch every bit of his naked skin, feeling every possible thing that I can. Anakin pulls away as he slips my dress down, his eyes devouring me as more skin is uncovered.

“Force, you are so beautiful. So unbelievably perfect.”

I shiver as he brushes his fingertips against my collarbone, down the valley in between my breasts, across the rest of my torso, and pausing on my thighs. His eyes lock onto my black lace panties, and the amount of heat in his expression makes me want to run away and climb on top of him at the same time. His pink lips are parted and there’s a small blush that lines his cheeks and neck, causing him to look more ethereal than he usually does.

Anakin leans his head down, gently sucking on the skin of my lower abdomen. I gasp softly, my fingers running through his short curls as he continues mapping my skin with his lips. He looks up at me as he slides his hand beneath my back, finding the clasp of my bra. I nod, him immediately unclasping it and slipping the straps off of my shoulders.

I see the exact moment his eyes turn from bright, shining blue into pools of darkness as he looks at my completely bare skin. He curses under his breath, the sound hitting me deep in my core. His lips quickly move from my abdomen to my breasts, locking onto the sensitive skin of my nipple. I feel as though I could burst right then and there.

“Akakin,” I whimper, the stimulation he’s giving me affecting me more than I thought was possible. He kisses and sucks and worships me with his mouth, every flick of his tongue and movement of his mouth sending me higher than I’ve ever been. An overwhelming wave of need washes over me and out of pure instinct my hips push upwards, causing me to grind my softness against his hardness. He groans abruptly and I decide then and there that I will be trying to earn that sound from him for the rest of my life.

He starts grinding his hips against mine as he torments my sensitive skin with his lips, noises leaving both of our mouths relentlessly.

More, more, more, I need more.

It’s almost as if he hears my thoughts, him pulling away just for a moment to fumble with his trousers. He doesn’t even bother unbuttoning them, instead ripping them open and causing a couple of the buttons to fly off. Neither of us cares. I pull his lips back to mine, helping him pull them down. He quickly throws them across the room, leaving both him in only his briefs and me in only my panties.

“Need you,” he rasps, “so badly it hurts.”

“Then take me, Anakin. I’m all yours.”

“Oh, fuck,” he whines as his hips buck against mine.

I’m on fire. I’m engulfed in flames, my body pulsing and thrumming with desire that has been boiling inside of me for far too long. I reach for his briefs, pulling them down quickly.

Oh, Force.

I must have said that out loud. A grin appears on his lips as he watches me stare at him, absolutely dumbfounded. He must have been sculpted by a god. Sparks of straight lava go off in my lower stomach,something inside of me tightening. Despite that, worry shoots through me.

I can’t handle that.

“You can take it. I know you can. I’ll be so gentle, I promise, y/n,” Anakin says softly. How can I possibly burn even hotter than before? “I’ll take such good care of you.”

Anakin’s POV:

I have never been in so much pain–so much pleasure–one time in my life. Desire is coursing through my blood, causing every inch of my body to ache. To ache for her.

As I hook my digits in her panties, I watch every shift in her expression. If there were even the slightest bit of doubt or regret, I would never forgive myself for making her feel that. As much as I have dreamt of this, fantasized about every small thing we could do, the last thing I would want to happen is for me to make her uncomfortable. I couldn’t stand myself if I did.

But as I look into her eyes, I don’t even see the slightest bit of hesitation. I see desire that is just as intense as mine, passion, and trust.

I pull her down her panties slowly, forgetting how to breathe. I’ve forgotten how to function.

So insanely perfect.

During the nights when want coursed through my mind, when I would think of her at the latest hours and in the naughtiest, sinful ways, I never could have imagined her so breathtaking. I was never even close.

I must be in heaven.

Hell, likely.

Her chest rises and falls quickly, the sight of her full breasts and peaked nipples sending me into complete overdrive. I trail my eyes lower, making sure to drink in every bit of skin. I spread her legs slowly, my gaze locking on to her bare core.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Hold it together.

I run my hands up her thighs, not looking away from the sight of her open wide for me. For me. I kiss the inside of her thigh, moving closer and closer to where I yearn to be.

“So pretty. So fucking pretty,” I murmur, kissing higher and higher.

“Anakin- Ani, please.” She hooks her fingers in my hair and I almost lose it. Her voice is so pleading, so soft, so full of heat. Please. She could ask me anything like that and I would do it. If she asked me to kill a whole army of men I would do it and I’d do it gladly. Fuck the Jedi code, she is what I obey now.

“Please what, y/n?” I ask lowly as she pulls me back up to her face, my body hovering directly over hers. My nose brushes against hers, our breaths mingling together. I can feel the heat radiating from her core against me and I genuinely have no idea how I haven’t completely lost it yet.

“You. I need you, now, Ani.” She grinds her hips up against mine, her drenched cunt brushing against my cock. I make a broken noise, my head falling against her shoulder. I’m gone. Absolutely gone.

“Anything. I’ll give you anything,” I pant. I force myself to look at her, softening my eyes. “You’re sure you want to do this? I wasn’t- this wasn’t what I was planning to happen. You don’t have to do this, y/n.”

I’ve never wanted anything more. Not only to have all of her but to give her all of me. I’ve been hers for a long time. I can wait longer for her to be mine if that’s what she needs. I’ll wait forever. From the moment I met y/n, I didn’t belong to myself. I belonged to her. My heart hasn’t been my own for quite a while and nothing would change whether she wanted to do this with me or not.

“I want to. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” She kisses my cheek and I practically melt into a puddle in her hands. I am at her complete mercy.

My forehead drops against hers, my hand moving to rest on her hip. I let out a shaky breath, positioning myself up to her core, but not allowing myself to touch her yet.

“Tell me to stop at whatever time, okay? If it hurts I want you to tell me to stop.” She nods and kisses me softly, my heart beating so fast I’m sure she can hear it.

“I trust you more than anyone,” she whispers against my lips and kisses my shoulder, and I would probably fall to my knees by the sweetness of it if I were standing.

I look down at where our hips are inches apart, grabbing my base and sliding myself up at down her heat, both of us shivering deeply at the feeling.

This is going to be over far too fast.

I meet her eyes one final time, looking for any indication she wants to stop. All I see is an intense look of heat and adoration, that I’m sure is on my face just the same.

I line myself up, unable to look away from our hips so closely together. I find a hard time believing this is real, even though I’m feeling everything so intensely. Being here, being like this with y/n might be the death of me. I’d be lucky to die like this. I’d thank the god that allowed me to be so close to her, only if it were for one time.

Both of us take one deep breath as I shift forward, taking that final movement to push myself all the way into her.

And then my world is shattered.

Y/n’s POV:

Anakin falls forward, his forehead resting against mine as he connects us completely. A choked noise falls from Anakin’s mouth, a noise so wonderful I would do anything to hear it again. I hold on to him like I’m dying because I think that I am.

He doesn’t move, letting me adjust to the new feeling. The truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to adjust to this. I feel so incredibly, overwhelmingly filled.

The first thing I feel is fullness, the next, sharp, stinging pain.

It’s a kind of pain that I would go through over and over again.

“Are you all right?” Anakin asks, his voice so full of worry it makes my insides go even crazier than before.

I take a deep breath, the pain slowly subsiding into something else. Something more intense. “Yes,” I plead, “you can move.”

Anakin stays still for another moment, before pulling all the way out of me and then plunging back in. My face twists, a completely indescribable feeling hitting me so hard I lose my breath. My mouth opens into a small “o” shape, small whimpers leaving my mouth as he moves slowly.

He’s being so gentle I could cry if I weren’t on the brink of exploding into a million small pieces.

He brings his lips down to mine, searing me in a kiss that could end worlds, create entire galaxies. As he continues to move, the pain fades away, bleeding into pleasure so extreme it’s like he’s sucking my soul out of my body and pushing it back in over and over again.

The noises that fall from his mouth I’m sure were sent from heaven just like the rest of him. Some of them are deep and guttural and sometimes when my body tightens around his, a small, whiny sound leaves his lips, each and every one causing pleasure to spike through me.

“You feel so f-fucking perfect. So tight. I can’t- fuck,” he groans loudly as my cunt clenches around him. It’s like my body is trying to trap him inside of me, like it’s trying to prevent him from ever leaving. He’s practically molding himself into me with how much I’m being stretched, my walls constricting and tightening with every deep thrust.

“Ani, so- so full,” I moan, my fingers hooking into his short curls, my eyes not being able to leave the sight of him thrusting in and out of me.

“I know, I know. You’re taking me so well, doing such a good job, y/n.”

If I didn’t know for sure that Anakin was a virgin before this, I wouldn’t have ever believed he was. It’s like he knows exactly what spots to hit, how hard to go, and what will make me spiral.

Full is now not the right word. Complete is.

I watch his face as he looks at where his cock is impaling me over and over again, a complete look of awe on his face. His lips are parted and his eyebrows are scrunched, everything indicating that he’s in just as intense a state of pleasure that I am, maybe even more so.

His hand snakes in between our bodies, his thumb reaching my clit and pressing softly. My eyes squeeze shut, sparks going off and short-circuiting my brain. “Ani- Anakin,” I cry.

“Being so g-good for me. It’s like you were fucking made to take me, y/n,” Anakin groans as he slams his cock into me so deeply I feel like I’m being split in half. My eyes roll back, my back arching instinctively, pulling a sound that’s almost a whimper out of Anakin. “Beautiful, so beautiful.”

My pussy clenches around him so tightly I’m almost worried it hurt him, but he makes the loudest, most broken noise that I’ve heard come out of him yet.

“I- I- y/n, I can’t hold on. You feel too good, it’s too much.” His face falls into the crook of my neck, my arms cradling his head softly. He thrusts into me relentlessly while still keeping his movements gentle. I moan loudly into his ear, something in my lower stomach tightening and tightening. “Keep making those pretty noises, y/n. Please.”

The almost begging tone in his voice causes my heart to swell in my chest. He sounds so beautiful. I push my hips up to meet his, creating friction that causes both of us to let out excruciatingly loud moans. “An- Anakin-” His eyes roll back and his hips stutter, his thrusts becoming desperate.

“Fuck, fuck,” He hisses, “you’re squeezing me so fucking tight. Doing so, so amazing.” He rubs his thumb faster against my clit, my mind going completely blank. His groans turn into whimpers as his thrusts get sloppier, him clutching onto my hips so tightly they would probably leave bruises in the morning. I don’t think he realizes it, since he would immediately stop if he did, but I want to have marks. I want to have a reminder of what’s happening right now.

I feel this unexplainable tingling in my abdomen, the pleasure becoming so immense it’s like I could physically snap.

“Come for me, y/n. Let me feel you, okay? You’re safe with me,” he says softly, and the words make the rubberband inside of me tighten. I pull his lips to mine, both of our moans mixing. And as I wrap one of my legs around his back, he slides so deep into me it’s like I can feel him from my face to the bottom of my toes.

“Ani, I’m gonna- I think-” I cry out, sparks of white flashing behind my eyelids and my toes curling.

“Y/n, y/n, y/n,” Anakin pants as he pushes into me one final time.

And then, the world erupts around us.

My eyes squeeze shut, my fingers tightening in Ani’s hair as he slumps on top of me, his face nuzzling into my neck. My mind goes fuzzy, everything turning into a blur around me as I hold on to him for dear life.

Anakin’s body twitches and practically melts into my arms as he fills me to the brim, his hips still moving in and out softly, riding us through our insanely intense highs.

“Anakin, oh, force,” I whimper.

“I know. I know,” he mumbles into my neck. He presses soft kisses on my throat and collarbone, rubbing my hips with his thumbs softly. He pulls back after letting us catch our breath, a sudden look of worry on his face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“It was perfect, Ani. Don’t worry, okay? You were so, so perfect,” I reassure him, kissing his jaw.

I notice the hint of vulnerability in his eyes and I bring my lips to his softly, wanting to wish away every bit of his insecurity. “You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” Anakin whispers against my lips,

“You’re my love. My home.”

Note: I really hope this isn’t super insanely boring, lol. This was my first time ever writing smut or anything like this at all, so don’t go too hard on me! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! If anyone has any suggestions on things you want me to write, I’d be happy to do it. <3

[allur1ngs]

Lusher and tatter being little shits and teasing Bada whenever they happen to hear her and reader fooling around like “man I REALLY had trouble sleeping last night…” bada being like 🤨 at first but when she does get what they’re referring to it she’s blushing while threatening to kill them 💀 and it’s not just bada- them teasing hyo too for having to stand outside wherever reader is and lusher being all like “doesn’t that bother you??” Tatter making it worse by saying “she’s probably into that kinda thing” and now hyo is all flustered too trying to defend herself 😭 (I’m sorry hyo I promise I want justice for you)

Ever since I made that meme of hyo from succumb to me this thought has been in my mind 😭

this would SO happen knowing lusher and tatter...

tw: very suggestive also please ignore any mistakes it's 2 am for me rn🤍 (this'll make sense after the drabble...🤭)

like for the first time in forever you, the bebe girls, and bada are all eating together like the little family you are. you'd somehow managed (it was so easy, all you had to do was ask) to persuade bada into eating breakfast with you and the girls and not in her office.

the second lusher and tatter realize bada's going to eat with them, they start glancing at each other, mischievous smiles growing on their lips. and almost as if they have telepathy, they both know what the other is thinking--

a plan starts to form.

...but really, it had all started last night.

lusher was laying in bed, cozied up under a heavy and warm blanket, scrolling on her phone before she went to bed. she was on instagram, going on her daily round of account check ups--making sure she hadn't missed any new posts from you or the other girls. she noticed you and minah uploaded new stories, and clicked on minah's first.

it was a picture of the delicious dinner you'd cooked for them. minah tagged you below the picture of the food, writing, "unnie is the best chef to exist, i'm grateful to have her in our home" with a heart-eye emoji. lusher smiles at the caption, about to press a heart on the story when a small sound grabs her attention.

a few giggles ring from the wall behind her bed, making her turn to look at it with a confused look.

she hears the sound again, though this time the noise is a bit clearer, and she's able to realize it's your voice. you're giggling from bada's bedroom, and saying something that lusher's not quite able to make out.

lusher stares at her wall for a second before shrugging, assuming you and bada must just be cuddling or doing something sweet together. she focuses back on her phone, realizing minah's story had timed out so she taps on it again--this time clicking the heart in the bottom right-hand corner.

she then gets distracted seeing some photos of socialites filling her feed. she scrolls through them, liking some posts--rolling her eyes at others before another sound startles her.

this time, a loud banging has lusher jumping out of bed, making her reach for her gun out of instinct. but then, she hears it.

a semi-clear moan makes it's way through the walls separating your and bada's room from lusher--your moan.

lusher's mouth drops out of instinct, her hand coming to slap over it.

again, your moan rings through her bedroom, and the sound of headboard slamming accompanies it. but this time, it doesn't stop.

the sound keeps coming from your bedroom, now only seconds of intervals between each slam, but they're so minuscule that lusher has no time to breathe a sigh of relief.

"jesus unnie." lusher closes her eyes, trying to bite back a laugh at how incredibly loud the headboard slamming is. "i hope you can walk tomorrow."

after a few minutes she decides to ignore all the noise--despite how...passionate and blissful you sound. lusher opens her phone again, instagram popping up immediately. her eyes go to the top left corner instantly, and she catches your profile announcing that you had an unviewed story.

she clicks it out of curiosity, and what she sees makes everything click into place.

it's a picture of you and bada, although your wife isn't fully in frame. all lusher is able to see is her arm wrapped around you and under your breasts in a back hug type of position. but what grabs her attention most of all is you.

you're wearing the most flattering dress lusher has ever seen. white straps and silky fabric barely hold onto your breasts, the sides of them popping due to bada's arm under you. although the picture is scandalous in nature, you're smiling widely, your eyes closed as you lean into bada's chest, looking like a sweet angel in white.

the small caption you'd added to the bottom of the photo reads, "date night" with a white heart emoji.

lusher chuckles, nodding. "yeah, makes sense."

she hearts the story, then swipes up to message you. she writes, "i can tell bada loves the dress. or more like she loves taking it off of you."

right when she sends the cheeky dm, a notification ding grabs her attention. effectively blocking out the sounds of your moans, lusher clicks on the notification.

she's transported into her messaging app, tatter's contact photo in the middle of the chat. she reads her text and quickly responds back.

lusher smirks at her text, seeing tatter's grey bubble pop up, indicating she's typing.

lusher hears another of your moans before she quickly types back.

lusher smirks at her friend's message. they continue texting back and forth, each of them giggling inside their respective rooms.

one of your particularly loud moans penetrates through lusher's wall, making her release a long breath.

...and a chance did they get.

--

lusher starts out simple, dropping slight hints.

"tatter, you look a little tired, are you alright?" she says, her voice dripping with fake sincerity.

you look up from your plate, eyebrows furrowed in slight worry as you cast your gaze onto tatter.

"i'm fine. i just didn't get much sleep last night." tatter says wistfully, biting back a smile.

"oh i totally understand, neither did i with all the noise coming from next door." lusher nods, eyeing you and bada not-so subtly.

you give lusher a look of confusion before it clicks in your mind and you instantly look away from her and tatter, your entire body burning with embarrassment.

bada seems to have finally tuned into the conversation because shifts her focus away from her breakfast to speak up. "what are you talking about? we don't have neighbors."

"we mean there was a lot of noise coming from the bedroom next to ours." tatter clarifies, finding it even more amusing that bada isn't picking up on their joke.

the other bebe girls however, although they were not clued into the plan nor did they hear the noise last night, all seem to understand what lusher and tatter are talking about. they all start to whisper to each other and snicker.

...all expect two girls. soweon and hyo.

"i didn't hear anything." soweon speaks up in between bites of her breakfast. "maybe it was a dream?"

"oh definitely not. the sounds were very realistic, there's no way we could have both dreamed them up." lusher shakes her head, a full-blown grin overtaking her lips.

you shift uncomfortably in your seat before grabbing your phone and unlocking it, hoping to distract yourself from the embarrassing conversation.

expect, it's then you realize lusher had dm'd you late last night. you click her chat and instantly shrink in your seat, hiding your face behind your hands.

bada, always attentive of you and your mood notices, and turns to look at you. "honey? are you okay--"

before your wife can say anything else, you shove your phone in her face, showing her lusher's dm.

as her eyes scan the message, the image, and the timestamp, her cheeks slowly but surely turns bright red--whether it's out of embarrassment or anger, you're not sure.

"you perverts." bada sends lusher and tatter disgusted looks while she she pats your back in comfort and brings you into her chest to shield you from the girls' view.

"you're the pervert!" lusher argues back playfully. "again and again all we heard was--" she bangs her fist against the dining room table, imitating the headboard slamming from last night.

"enough, seoyoung." bada scolds her subordinate, giving her a disapproving look. "you're making my wife uncomfortable."

"actually," tatter cuts in, her smile so wide that even lusher is anxious to hear what she says next. "the biggest pervert here is hyo." she points her finger at your bodyguard, who had become uncharacteristically quiet, and was keeping her head down the entire conversation.

"tatter..." hyo finally mumbles, a red tint staining her cheeks. "i'm serious--"

"she was standing outside the entire time, listening!" lusher exclaims, giggling.

hyo flounders, feeling all pairs of eyes on her. bada's in particular is the most heated, making her sweat in fear. "it's my job!"

"your job is to hear your boss fucking your other boss?"

"be honest, you're into that type of stuff--"

"oh my god." you squeak into bada's chest, wanting to crawl into a hole and die.

chaos finally erupts at the table, hyo trying to defend herself against both lusher and tatter's accusations while also trying to ignore the fact that bada has yet to move her eyes off of her--death is most likely imminent and will be swift, yet painful--while cheche and kyma laugh their asses off, minah focusing on plugging soweon's ears to keep her from hearing the genuinely unhinged things lusher and tatter are saying.

but sometime through the bickering, lusher breaks off and sneaks over to you and bada, grinning like an idiot.

"so tell me unnie, can you still walk after last night?"

[kelli-be]

ARE YOU SURE you are ARMY?!?!

I refuse to let anybody dim my Are You Sure?! light. I have enjoyed every single moment of this show. I have watched episodes more times than I can count.

I don’t expect anything from these two except that they just enjoy these precious moments together. I am so grateful that I get a window in even though I understand it is only a window. I am perfectly fine with that. I am grateful for anything they’re willing to share.

I refuse to pick them apart and use anything to decide if they are or are not anything. I enjoy these moments in history with them. I just feel so grateful to have found all of BTS. They are such an enrichment and an uplifting force in my life.

I love the dynamics of Jimin and Jungkook. Although I feel in my lover’s heart of hearts that they are the couple I think they are, I don’t need to focus on that all the time. Most of the time I just want to enjoy watching them and experiencing these moments at the same time in history as they do.

I will be so very excited to see them all back together again and at the prospect of a world tour because you better bet I will bust my ass to get there. Whatever I have to do.

But in the meantime, I keep myself away from all the negativity. I refuse to hate any of them, I recognize their humanity and know they make mistakes. No one is perfect all of the time and expecting them to be so is unfair to them and can end up being such a stress and strain on a fan if they expect to see that. Where is the Fun in that for anyone?

In the end, I am so grateful that they chose to do this and to take time for these precious moments with each other and yes, even with Tae.. because in the long run, they said that their trip to Jeju was made better with his inclusion. And I believe what they say.. not to say that I don’t sometimes think I see what they don’t say lol. His inclusion most certainly did not cheapen their beloved moments with each other. Seeing them all three get to enjoy each other before military service was lovely.

It is my fondest wish in this huge, potentially majestic fandom that everybody quit worrying about what they want to happen and just sit back with this lovely window into this world of these amazing men…all of them and just enjoy it. They are all a gift.. they have given me so much joy and such a lift up in my stressful life. We always need to remember that we should be a gift right back.

Squabbling over who is with who and who isn’t… Demeaning bonds, and friendships and possible partnerships.. attacking members shows such a lack of emotional intelligence, a lack of maturity and a lack of gratitude for what we have been given and for the sacrifices they make to give us the joy they bring..

I always ask myself what this group would be like without any one of them.. I DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW and I don’t see how anyone can call themselves ARMY if they want any one of them to leave. And I just want any of those people to remind themselves that if these seven had not meshed if they had not been chosen to form this extraordinary group… If they had not fought so hard to learn each other accept each other and get along, to choose each other as BTS over and over again.. you would not have that one member you want all to yourself.

I watched them hold each other up and keep each other going and I wonder why we can’t do the same as ARMY. We almost lost them.. but they chose to come together and stay together. Why can’t we? Even if we don’t agree about things, we truly don’t really know anything about. Why can’t we just agree to calmly disagree and keep going our merry lucky way… Just something to think about. 💜💜💜

[ayyy-pee]

𝐓𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Day 2: Face Fucking

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Profanity bc who do you think I am, Pussy Eating, Face Riding, Face Fucking, DID NOT PROOFREAD SO SORRY FOR ERRORS LMFAO

Summary: Satoru puts his mouth to good use for once.

You may be over Satoru, but Satoru is not and will never be over you. 

❥ Gojo NSFW Week Twitter - AO3 Collection ❥

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Because I don’t wanna do the mission. If I win, you gotta do it for me.”

“Satoru…” You groan, exasperated. “Are you really that lazy?”

Your boyfriend grins up at you. “Not lazy, but taking care of a Grade 2 curse sounds like a fucking drag and honestly, it’s a waste of my time.” He folds his hands behind his head, yawning loudly. 

“This is such a stupid bet,” you grumble and Satoru laughs.

“You’re always so tense. Either way, you literally come out on top, so really I’m doing you a favor.”

You cock your head to the side in annoyance, folding your arms over your chest as you glare down at your boyfriend. You wish you could see his eyes through that stupid blindfold he’s always wearing. You’re sure they’re positively glowing with mirth.

Your mind replays the events of earlier today and how you’d ended up in such a compromising position. 

- - - - - -

It should have been a day like any other. You’d teach your classes, maybe take the students on a mission, let them do their thing. Then you’d find Satoru at the end of the day to go home together. But when you’d bumped into your boyfriend coming out of Principal Yaga’s office with a sour look on his face, jaw tight with irritation, you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks to ask what was wrong. 

Your mistake.

“How would you like to gain some experience and maybe earn points with Yaga for a promotion,” Satoru proposed after explaining the situation. His wide, toothy grin shone brightly as he awaited your answer, which came the moment he’d finished asking.

“No.”

“Babe, come onnnnnn,” he whines, grabbing your hands. “Please, it’s an easy mission!”

“Then you do it!”

“I don’t wannaaaaaa.”

“God, Satoru, why are you literally the strongest and laziest person I’ve ever known?” You roll your eyes, pulling your hands from his grip to place them on your hips. Satoru pouts, and you’re grateful you can’t see those baby blues or you may have given in right then. His eyes were his greatest strength when it came to you, and not because of the power he held in them.

“Oh, I’m the strongest lazy person, but Suguru literally quit because he didn’t wanna do missions,” he grumbles under his breath. He crosses his arms over his chest. Satoru stands there, staring you down until you think you can quite literally see the bulb ding above his head. “Okay okay, wait. I have an idea.”

Your eyes narrow, looking your boyfriend up and down suspiciously. You have no idea what he could be up to, but you’re curious, if not a little scared.

“It’s just a bet,” he says as if that’s going to make you feel better. He must see the look of concern on your face because he scrambles to keep talking. “It’s just something we were probably gonna do anyway, but now we can make it a little more exciting.” He holds both his hands up in the air, wiggling his fingers and giggling to himself as though he’s just said the most hilarious thing. 

You’re still waiting for the punchline.

“What is it…” You ask warily…and you regret it immediately when Satoru leans down and brushes his soft lips against the shell of your ear, whispering.

“Let’s make a bet. When we get home, I want you to sit on my face. If I can make you cum in ten minutes or less, you take the mission for me.”

A tingle races up your spine, a slow warmth uncurling low in your belly. You’ve never done that with Satoru before. The thought fills you with excitement. Your lips curl with a smirk and you whisper back, a challenge in your voice. “And if you can’t?”

“Then I guess I’ll do the mission, but something tells me I won’t have to worry about that.” He nips your earlobe, grinning when you yelp. You shove his shoulder, effectively pushing him back. You try to resist smiling when you realize he has his infinity off for you. He always has it off for you. Only you. Such a romantic.

You could always go home and fuck Satoru until the sun comes up like it’s a normal Tuesday night. Or, you could take him up on his offer…and make him suffer a little in the process.

Satoru closes the distance between you and loops his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. “So? Do we have a deal?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close enough to whisper against his lips, “Take us home.”

It’s instant. Space and time bend violently around you and Satoru covers your eyes, holding you tightly against his chest as he warps you both home.

- - - - - -

Now here you are, naked and straddling Satoru’s chest, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about what’s to happen next. Your eyes dart down to Satoru’s phone on the bedside table, the big fat 10:00 timer blinking brightly on the screen. All you have to do is not let him win. You don’t want the mission anymore than he does and he needs to learn he can’t just dump all of his responsibilities on other people. 

Satoru clears his throat, pulling you from your straying thoughts. “As much as I’m absolutely loving the view from down here, we don’t have much time before one of us…” he points only to you, “...has to be on this mission.” You purse your lips, the uneasiness you just felt quickly dissipating. Satoru’s hands find purchase on your waist, gently squeezing. “Look, if you’re worried you’ll smother me to death –” 

“Tempting,” you interrupt, grinning with Satoru frowns.

“Anywayyyy, if you’re worried you’ll smother me to death, don’t worry about it. I’m the strongest.”

You stare blankly at him while he stares amusedly back at you. You’ve heard enough. You scoot forward, your bare cunt hovering over Satoru’s face for a moment before you effectively shut him up, dropping your core right on to his lips. A muffled yelp can be heard from deep between your thighs, Satoru shifting beneath you to try and get comfortable. 

“Clock starts now,” you sing, leaning over quickly to tap the timer on his phone to start. The seconds tick down rapidly, Satoru just as eager as he groans into your center. His hands wrap around your thighs, spreading them further apart for him. His tongue grazes your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud over and over.

You try to stay focused, try to stare straight ahead at the damn headboard because you don’t want to give Satoru the satisfaction of being able to brag that he won. But it just feels too damn good, the way he works his tongue through your folds, how he kneads the soft flesh of your thighs, how he groans into your cunt, clearly enjoying himself.

Satoru gives your pussy one long, broad lick and groans. Your eyes fluttering closed and your head falling back. You bite your lip just as his tongue thrusts between your folds, sucking, licking and biting. Your thighs shake as you struggle to keep your hips from slamming down into Satoru’s face but god it feels so fucking good.

Satoru has always been…gifted in the bedroom. There’s very little he’s not good at and it’s showing now as Satoru’s hands graze along your thighs, around to your ass where his nails dig into your ass cheeks. He pulls you forward, urging you to move.

You roll your hips forward when Satoru gives your ass one last smack. He sucks on your clit, humming as his lips wrap around the bundle of nerves and the sudden choked sob that leaves your lips catches you off guard. 

“Fuck! Satoru, right there. Don’t stop!” You moan, your fingers reaching down to tangle into your boyfriend’s hair. 

Satoru doesn’t stop. He does it again and again until you’re a panting mess atop of him. He grunts into your core, squeezing your ass before smacking it hard. A strangled cry rushes past your lips. Your thighs tremble on either side of Satoru’s head and he chuckles, smacking your other ass cheek and relishing in the way your legs shake again.

Your hips rock back and forth along his tongue, Satoru’s fingers digging into the meat of your ass to push and pull you along his face. He wants you to go faster, go harder, ride his face until you drown him in your cum.

God, he knows what the fuck he’s doing with that annoying mouth of his. You were an idiot for agreeing to his bet because you can already feel the heat pooling in your core as the band inside your belly threatens to snap at any moment.

Satoru’s loving this, you can tell by the needy groans and breathy whines escaping him as he buries himself as deep into your cunt as he can go. It’s so filthy, the way his tongue laps at your core, tasting and relishing every last drop you have to offer. 

You’re panting, leaning forward now to grip the headboard. Satoru stops suddenly, reaching up and pulling his blindfold off of his face to reveal his eyes. He knows exactly what that does to you, that you’ll fall apart in those beautiful orbs that hold all the power of the universe in them. Satoru looks just as beautiful between your thighs, snowy locks spread wildly, his mouth wet with your slick. He kisses your thighs, trailing soft touches all the way up to your center, leaving a gentle peck to your core. Satoru smirks when you roll your hips forward at the contact, then he trails soft kisses back down your other thigh. 

His hands squeeze your ass softly just as Satoru pushes his tongue between your folds again and runs his tongue flat up your core.

“So good, Satoru. Fuck, that’s so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, voice muffled as he buries his face in your cunt again, licking and sucking your clit while you’re grinding your own hips down on him, pace harder and faster than before. You nod, the only sounds heard being the hushed moans that grow gradually louder as you grind your hips down against Satoru’s face and the lewd slurping of Satoru’s mouth as he laps at your slick cunt.

With one hand, Satoru spreads one of your cheeks. With the other, he easily slips two fingers into your drenched cunt. “Shitttttt,” Satoru moans into your pussy when he feels your pussy clamp down on him. He curls his fingers sharply, smirking when he feels your thighs immediately begin to quiver around his head. You’re so close. There’s no way you’ll make it much longer. “Need your cum, baby. I wanna taste it. I need it.”

You don’t even get a chance to answer him. His fucking phone alarm blares on the table next to the bed, effectively stopping his actions and your orgasm. 

“Fuck.” You lean over and tap the phone, Satoru’s fingers idly pumping into you. You take your position with shit eating grin on your flushed face. “Guess I won –”

Satoru pulls you back to sit on his face, tongue darting out to lap at your soaked pussy.

“Don’t give a fuck about the bet. Need to make you cum,” he mutters into your core, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt. Your mouth falls open with a silent moan as Satoru wastes no time bringing you to the most earth shattering release of your life.

[its-time-to-write]

hi, i love your writing! could i request something where jamie and reader are dating and jamie starts introducing them to the important people in his life, like roy, keeley, the richmond boys, etc. and each time they get introduced to someone new, whenever jamie steps away, they basically get some variation of the 'you better not hurt him' talk, and when jamie finds out he's worried that reader is gunna be offended or upset but they reassure him that it's fine, they think it's cute that everyone's so protective of him and that it's nice to see him have so many people care about him

Sorry this took FOREVER. Here it is!

the way it goes

It has been exactly twenty-one days since Jamie asked you out on a proper date, and you’re of the opinion that life can’t get much better than this. You’ve only met two of his teammates so far, (Isaac because he’s one of Jamie’s good friends and Richard because you ran into him while shopping) and honestly, they aren’t what you expected at all. 

They’re kind and they seem to genuinely like working together.

(It’s a little funny to call football “work.”)

Isaac tells Jamie to bring you next time they all hang out, and reminds him to buy more juice packs than last time so they don’t run out again.

—

Turns out the next “hang out,” is a night at Isaac’s, and the whole team is there with various partners and spouses. There’s a strict sweatpants-only drsesscode, and pretty much everyone is in clearly expensive matching sets. You’re grateful that Jamie shrunk a brand-new deep green set the other week, because you didn’t have time to go out and buy something new/not ratty.

There are tables of board games, a pile of snacks, and even a bar. Jamie drags you over so he can get “proper buzzed,” and requests something incredibly complicated from Beard, who appears to be the only coach present.

“Babe,” Jamie says, “you good here? I’m gonna get some food.”

You nod and watch him weave through groups of people. You lean against the bar and wait for Jamie’s drink.

“So,” says Beard, “you’re Jamie’s girlfriend.

You nod. “Yeah, I am. I’ve known him for ages, though. Since I was in uni. Always thought he was just some prick footballer trying to score, if you know what I mean.”

Beard chuckles. “I get it. He’s a bit of an asshole sometimes.”

You grin. “He’s my asshole.”

Beard slides you Jamie’s drink but before he completely lets it go, he says, “Hey.”

His voice has lost its jocularity, so you look up to meet his (very intense, slightly terrifying) eyes.

“Jamie doesn’t need his heart broken. He may have been a giant prick, but he’s different now. He’s not the kind of guy you can just screw and move on from.”

Your mouth has gone a little dry, so you just nod. Right then. You turn to go find Jamie and hope he won’t mind if you take a sip of his drink. You’re planning on staying sober tonight, so that one sip is going to have to get you through till the end.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told you to be careful with Jamie. The first time was actually Roy’s niece, Phoebe. Jamie was babysitting and he asked you to come along, so while he was paying for ice creams Phoebe tugged your arm so you’d get down to her level and said, “If you make him cry, they’ll never find you again.”

You had looked at her in shock while she matter-of-factly stated, “My Uncle Roy’s been teaching me things.”

She said the word things far too ominously for an eight year old, but then Jamie came back and she was all smiles again. 

You got a similar, equally threatening talk from Phoebe’s mum, and then from Roy, and then Roy’s girlfriend Keeley.

Variations of the “break him and I’ll break you” talk had begun to trickle in whenever you’d pick up Jamie from Nelson Road. The tone ranged from Sam’s vaguely threatening, “We all love Jamie very much. We’re incredibly protective of him,” to Jan Maas’s blunt, “If you break his heart, you will never find another date on this entire continent.

Even Ted had a comment, which was more along the lines of, Jamie’s a big softie, he doesn’t need some to play him right now, he needs a real supporter. Each time, you assured them that you weren’t going to hurt him. You didn’t ask why they thought you would be the one doing the hurting when he was the one with the reputation.

Because you are fully aware of his reputation. You hadn’t seen Lust Conquers All, but you’d seen enough clips to piece together exactly how it went. And you’d seen the details of his cheating scandals all over the papers. And dealt with him firsthand while in uni. So yeah, Jamie’s past prick-ish behavior is not a mystery to you.

You find it endearing that so many people love him enough to protect him. It’s a good sign, you think.

You find Jamie carefully stacking various snacks on a tiny, tiny plate. His face lights up when you come into view.

“Oh good,” he says. “Extra hands.” He grabs his drink with one hand and gives you the plate with the other. He starts piling on something flaky and slightly green. 

“Isaac’s girlfriend makes these fucking pistachio things, and they always go way too fast. Gotta eat them while you can,” he says while creating an engineering marvel.

“Glad you like ‘em, bruv,” comes Isaac’s voice from behind you. You jump a little, and the plate wobbles. 

You turn to see Isaac with an absolutely gorgeous woman on his arm.

“I’m Stella,” she says. “It’s wonderful to meet you. We’ll have to have you two over for a real dinner.”

Jamie and Isaac quickly become engrossed in a serious discussion about football tactics, with Jamie downing his drink and then taking the plate of food from you. He was right, those pistachio things are amazing.

You chat with Stella for a little bit and learn she’s the face of a modeling agency and met Isaac during some football/branding thing.

“He was the only one during the entire shoot who made sure I was drinking enough water,” she laughs. “Who knew the way to my heart was through proper hydration?”

You talk a little longer before Jamie’s arm is snaking around your waist to whisk you off to see Dani. It goes like that for a little while until you finally settle down at one of the game tables. It’s a card game involving a lot of yelling and pointing fingers.

The house is noisy and cozy, filled to the brim with people who are just comfortable around each other, and you think you’ve never experienced something like this in your whole life.

Jamie on the other hand, is yawning a little bit. His hand, which had been on your knee tracing squiggly patterns, is starting to slow down so you put yours on top of his and whisper, “You about ready to go?”

Jamie nods and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“Got fucking extra training tomorrow,” he quietly laments.

You get up to leave and Jamie follows suit with a very loud pronouncement that he’d rather be somewhere private, much to the amusement of the Greyhounds who begin to hoot and whistle. You roll your eyes and smack his butt on the way out.

Forty-five minutes later, Isaac’s phone dings with a photo of Jamie in a pink robe and green face mask, hair pulled back in an equally pink and fluffy headband. He’s lying on your bed and he can see the tv screen playing Notting Hill. You’ve typed, Someplace private, my ass, and Isaac just shakes his head and grins. Fucking Jamie. Prick on the outside, softie on the inside.

You better not break his heart, he writes.

HAH comes your reply a moment later. Not a chance.

“Babe, look,” you say handing Jamie your phone. “I’ve collected the whole set.”

Jamie reads your text thread then looks up at you in confusion. “What d’you mean?”

“Isaac is the only one who hasn’t like, threatened me or something if I hurt you,” you reply.

The tips of Jamie’s ears turn red. “What do you mean, the only one?” he asks. “Like, the team?”

You shake your head. “Oh no. I mean, yes, the whole team, but like pretty much everyone who works at Nelson Road.” 

Jamie’s eyes widen as you begin to list people on your fingers. “Alright, so obviously the Greyhounds, plus all the coaches, Keeley, Rebecca, Higgins, Trent, Samantha at the front desk, Gary, Phoebe and her mum, Will-” you pause. “Should I keep going?”

Jamie groans. “Fucking hell. I’m sorry. They’re all twats, except Phoebe. I swear, they’re not always like that. I’ll talk to them and make ‘em leave you alone.”

“No! You can’t let them know that you know! And…” you hesitate, “I thought it was kind of sweet. Like a green flag, you know? They all like you enough to make sure that you’ll be ok, and they want me to know I have something special. Of course, I already knew that,” you continue, “but it’s nice confirmation.” 

Oh. That���s new.

Jamie’s quiet for way too long so you look over at him. “Babe, are you crying?”

“No,” he says, choked up. “Face mask got in my fuckin’ eye.”

“It’s dried solid, babe.”

“Fine,” he says, “I might be a little. But you can’t tell anyone, especially not Ted, because then he’ll talk to me about feelings and shit, and I’d rather eat ten fucking scones than that.”

You laugh and snuggle into his side. There aren’t going to be any heartbreaks here, not if you can help it. You’re both planning on keeping the other around for the rest of your lives.

[goodlucktai]

Are you still taking prompts? If so, could I ask for some rise!Raph and Mikey? Their brotherly relationship really intrigues me and I wish we could have seen more of it develop in the show, and I just know you would do it justice :D thanks

set pre-movie, canon divergence, in which i simply toss mikey at a problem to fix it

read on ao3

x

This same time last year, Mikey couldn’t wait to grow up. 

Because sometimes—only sometimes—he felt like he had something he needed to prove. 

It’s not that his family doesn’t believe in him. If anything, he thinks, from the lofty heights and newly acquired maturity of fourteen years old, they believe in him a little too much. Whatever he says he can accomplish, they give him room for—and if he can’t pull it off, they help him out and still afford him full credit. Mikey knows it’s just another way they spoil him, but it’s the least egregious manner in which they do, so he lets it slide. 

And it’s definitely not that he ever feels left out or left behind. Michelangelo and his brothers operate on a fulcrum that turns four ways as naturally as the needle on a compass, guided by gravity and the poles of the planet and something even more intrinsic and fundamental than all of that. 

Even when they’re fighting, when Mikey can’t be in the same room as Donnie without the Cain Instinct taking over or Leo goes full Mean Girls and has the cattiest-sounding Facetime with April about whichever one of them ticked him off, purposefully taking his call in the living room where they all could hear it, none of that ever lasts longer than a day. They burn bright and loud and hot, but they burn fast. Gravity keeps everything together. 

Come on, gravity, Mikey thinks, holding onto his temper very carefully. Do your thing. 

“I am not,” he says, for the billionth time in his life, “a baby.”

Raph looks a little nervous, which almost makes Mikey feel bad. But then he says, “That ankle’s sprained, big man. You shouldn’t walk on it.”

“Leo wrapped it up super well! I’ll be careful!” 

Their resident medic is smiling a little to himself, packing everything up again to his own meticulous organizational standards. (Only Donnie truly has his system figured out, but Mikey thinks that’s because they share a brain or soul or whatever.) It’s the full kit, too, Leo didn’t bother with the emergency supplies in his belt-bag and instead opened up a little dinner-plate-sized portal that he reached through to ransack their infirmary back home. 

Mikey wants to roll around on his shell in annoyance. It wasn’t even that bad!

“Sprains can be worse than breaks sometimes,” Leo remarks neutrally, as if he’s commenting on the weather. “Would you rather be careful now or laid up for a couple extra weeks?”

Raph seems grateful for the input, even though he doesn’t look at Leo and Leo doesn’t look up from his kit.

Ugh. “Ugh!” Mikey says out loud for good measure. “Then I can just walk on my hands!” 

It summons a wider smile from Leonardo, one of those crooked, pleasantly surprised ones. He’s so clever and thinks in circles around everyone else—not to be mean or tricky, just because his brain is as fast as Donnie’s and eats up seconds like a racecar around a Formula 1 track—that it’s fun to catch him off-guard with something totally out-of-pocket and watch that smile show up. 

“The whole way back to the Tank?” Raph says skeptically.

“You bet!” Mikey has warmed up to the idea now.

“This I have to see,” Donnie says, putting his phone away and folding his arms on Leo’s carapace. 

“I’ll have you know, Donald, that I walked on my hands for like two days once.” 

“Believe me, Michael, I remember. I was there.”

“You tried to make spaghetti for dinner with your feet,” Leo pipes up, and giggles when Donnie makes a gagging noise above him. He’s done packing his stuff up but he’s still sitting, probably because he likes the weight of his lazy twin leaning against his shell. 

Sensing no further help from that quarter, Raph says, “Mike—” but Mikey has already capitalized on his moment of indecision and flipped forward into a handstand. His foot actually does hurt a lot and his center of balance is a tiny bit skewed, but honestly he could do this for hours. He books it for the edge of the roof, putting something like a skip into his step just to make the twins laugh. There’s a shuffle and a cut-off noise that means the big worry-wart didn’t like it but puh-lease. Mikey’s safe as houses. 

It’s when he clambers up onto the parapet that he remembers the fire escape on this building is the kind with the rolling ladders, not the stairs. 

No one says anything behind him, letting him come to his own conclusion. Mikey would appreciate that except they’re only doing it because he’s the baby and they don’t want to upset him. 

Spinning around, the concrete scraping against his palms, Mikey aims an explosively unhappy frown at all three of them from upside-down.

“I could have done it,” he insists. 

“Of course you could have,” Raph is the first to say. “There’s not a doubt in my mind you could have walked to the moon on your hands if you wanted to. But you don’t have to walk while you’re hurt when Raph is here to carry you.”

He’s so earnest and sweet. It goes a long way in making Mikey forget why he was even annoyed to begin with. His brothers are lucky they’re so loveable! 

With a groan he tucks his head and shoulders and rolls forward, shell bumping playfully against the edge of the parapet, and comes right-side-up sitting criss-cross-applesauce.

“Fine,” he capitulates. “But only because Raphie thinks I could hand-walk to the moon.”

“And back,” Raph says, smiling down at him. Mikey lifts his arms to be scooped up and settled in his usual spot on Raph’s shoulder. 

If this was a year ago, Leo would have been right next to him, perched on Raph’s opposite shoulder and making silly jokes to make Mikey feel better. Leo loves to be carried. It was the one little brother thing his cool guy persona could never eclipse. The one thing Mikey was certain he wouldn’t outgrow no matter how old he got.

But instead of crossing the roof at a run to leap into Raph’s arms, always trusting the process, knowing they would open in time to catch him, Leo stays put. Maybe because Donnie is still resting his weight on him. But his expression is so transparently wistful and lonely for a split-second, even though his brothers are all right there, that it causes a pang of upset in Mikey’s heart. 

“Hey, Lee, room for one more,” he says, patting Raphie’s shoulder. 

Raph scoffs under his breath, which makes Mikey’s stomach do a surprised, uncomfy flip. Leo hears it, and his expression shutters so fast it’s almost unnatural, everything replaced by a wide, plastic smile. 

“Gotta get my steps in, Miguel,” he says, shoving his kit back through a portal and wiggling his shoulders so Donnie knows he’s about to stand up. “This figure doesn’t come free, you know.” 

He adds an imaginary hair-toss. Raph looks like he didn’t expect anything else. Mikey thinks he must not have seen that expression on Leo’s face. 

But it’s all Mikey can think about the entire drive home. That gulf between fourteen and fifteen where apparently everything changes. 

——

Something has been wrong for awhile now, ever since Pops made Leo the leader and turned their team inside out, but Mikey figured they were due for an adjustment period. Raph had a hard time letting go of responsibility and Leo had a hard time picking it up, but once they found their way back onto the same page everything would be okay. Gravity would keep them together. They didn’t know any other way to be. 

Except it’s been weeks and the arguing is only getting worse and it’s not even really that much fun to patrol anymore in the first place. Mikey usually loves going out at night with his brothers, finding bad guys to beat up and getting those ninja endorphins, but he’s sort of starting to feel about it the way kids in daytime television feel about homework. He just wants to get it over with.  

Tonight Leo is being a little silly. Flubbing jumps and slow to catch his cues. Once he even missed a sixteenth-story ledge and would have fallen—which was not funny at all and a bad joke to make—but Donnie’s arm shot out and caught him so smoothly that it had to have been planned. Like a trust fall! Or maybe twin telepathy actually is a thing and Donnie was just tricking them with all those printouts he handed around that one time to prove Leo wrong. Either way, Leo wasn’t actually in danger. 

Mikey loves silly Leo, and played right along into his antics, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Raph was ticked off and, by the time Leo missed that ledge, fed-up. He cut the evening short and told Leo to just portal them home. 

That’s when the wary little thing in the back of Mikey’s brain pokes its head up out of the ground. That’s when he realizes something was Wrong wrong. Capital wrong. 

Because Leo says, “Your wish is my command, my liege,” with the right amount of theater kid gusto, and that’s normal. He summons a pretty spinning blue portal as tall as Raph stood at the shoulder and hops through first, leaving Raph to make a hissing noise against his teeth and duck his head to follow, and that’s normal. Mikey glances over at Donnie, who doesn’t look up from where his snout is buried in his phone to wave Mikey ahead of him, and that’s normal, too.

It’s easy to take for granted how amazing Leo’s portals are. With two steps, Mikey walks off a cool rooftop in Brooklyn and into their warmly lit living room. He can hear Pops’ telenovelas from the projector room and smell the beef burgundy he’d left to simmer on the stove for dinner. 

And distracted as he is, listening to the familiar rising and falling cadence of Raph’s worn-out lecture about responsibility and watching the pretend-listening bob of Leo’s head, Mikey still sees it when the portal wobbles as Don steps through. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal, except Leo’s face goes white and his whole body stills, and the coloring of his stripes starts to tinge toward neon like his ninpo is about to light up. 

And that’s not normal at all. 

It was just a split-second of destabilization, and Donnie moves through it just fine, but Leo holds his breath and keeps the portal open until his twin is right beside him. 

“This is literally what I’m talking about,” Raph says, that worried wrinkle in his brow deeper than ever. “Leo please listen when I talk just this once. If you’re not paying attention someone could get hurt. What if the portal just then had—”

“Woah, did you hear that?” Leo says right over him, cupping a hand at the side of his head as if to listen for something. “There’s another super riveting lecture about everything I do wrong happening in my room. I’m gonna catch that one instead. Thanks for this, though.”

He slips away as easily as if he was part eel instead of turtle and books it out of the living room in a way that manages to look like a casual saunter instead of the full-steam retreat it actually is. 

Raph looks stunned at the blatant dismissal, and then hurt, and then it all boils together into something furious. He’s never actually angry with them. It’s just that he cares so, so much and sometimes he has nowhere to put it. Sometimes it becomes something too big for him to hold. 

Right in that moment, he seems ready to grab Leo and rattle him until he ran out of nonsense and had no choice but to listen. 

“I’ll handle this one, Raphala,” Donnie says abruptly. “I’m the one who almost got spliced, so I’m the one who gets to have the first opinion about it.”

Since the twins’ whole schtick is getting each other into and out of trouble with very little regard for anything else, Raph looks reasonably skeptical of him ‘handling’ it. But Don is already following Leo out of the room, and the potential of another argument is removed neatly by his exit. 

Raph deflates a little bit. He’s the biggest strongest person Mikey knows, but suddenly he looks small. 

“Hey, Raphie, wanna help me dish up dinner?” Mikey says, smiling up at him. Anxious to banish that uncharacteristic smallness with the full force of his own personality if that’s what it takes. “You take dad his plate and I’ll wrangle Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Lee.”

Raph smiles back at him, at least, and carefully carries two big servings of stew served over garlic mashed potatoes to the projector room. Pops will probably rope him into watching his shows and maybe Raph will actually take a minute to relax when it’s just him and dad and hearty comfort food and bad TV. 

Mikey ladles up two more bowls and takes a couple of individually-wrapped Gansito snack cakes out of his stash for good measure. It’s a sweet treat kind of night, he thinks. He’ll have to remember to get one for Raphie, too. 

Leo’s room is empty, and so is Donnie’s. Since Mikey doesn’t know where any of Leo’s secret hiding places are in their new lair, he only hesitates for a second before checking the lab. 

Oh, Mikey thinks, holding the tray in numb hands. Something is Wrong. 

The twins are both on the sofa that got shoved into the corner of the room as a compromise to Don’s occasional all-nighters, turtle-piled under a weighted blanket. Leo’s wearing noise-canceling headphones, using Don’s leathery carapace as a pillow. His mask is dangling from one sleep-loose hand, so the big dark circles under his eyes stand out on his pale face. 

Donnie’s still awake, tapping away on his phone. He doesn’t look up at the doorway that Mikey is standing in, but he does use one hand to sign a subtle, silent “no.” No talking? No company? Probably both. 

Swallowing hard, Mikey lifts the tray he’s holding up a little higher. That does get Don to look at him, and his second-oldest brother softens at whatever Mikey’s face must look like. He nods toward the desk, and signs, “Thanks, M. We’ll eat before it gets cold.” 

The only thing Mikey wants in the entire world at this moment is to crawl onto the sofa with them. He would probably get away with it, he doesn’t think there’s ever been a time in his entire life he wasn’t truly welcome in a turtle pile. But Donnie said no. And Leo looks so tired. 

He puts the tray on the desk, ninja-quiet, and leaves again without a whisper. 

His phone chimes in his pocket once he’s out the door, and he pulls it out to find a text from Don that says He’ll be okay, Angelo. He just needs to get some sleep. 

Leo’s relationship with sleep has always been hot-and-cold. Usually he’s pretty honest about it when it gets bad, in the sense that he lets them see how exhausted he is instead of hiding it behind a goofy, cocky exterior. 

Remembering that missed ledge from earlier tonight causes ice to form in Mikey’s stomach. That wasn’t a trust fall at all, was it?

Biting his lip, Mikey sends back, Would a visit from Dr. Feelings help?

The typing dots appear, but only for a second. The reply comes swiftly: Not this time. 

——

That night Mikey tosses and turns for an hour before finally pulling a move he hasn’t in ages and slinking over to Raph’s room. He lingers uncertainly in the open door, because he doesn’t know how little you have to be to be allowed to crawl into Raphie’s nest and let him hug the world all better. Mikey had thought that was a forever thing, but he can’t get Leo’s face on the rooftop out of his head. 

Raph is still awake, playing on his Switch, and notices the shadow that passes in front of the doorway instantly. He sets his game down and lifts one arm in automatic welcome and Mikey crosses the room at a run and slams into the embrace as if it’s an offer that might expire. 

And it might. Mikey had never really thought it would before. 

“Hey, big man,” Raph says, his voice a comforting rumble that rights all wrongs. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Mikey nods, and picks at a loose thread in the pink comforter, and then says, “Will you still carry me when I’m fifteen?”

“What? Of course I will.”

“What about sixteen?”

“You’re never gonna be too big for Raph to carry, Mike. I’ll always be the biggest, big enough to haul you bozos around whether you like it or not.”

Some frightened little creature inside Mikey’s chest loosens the grip it has on his heart with its teeth. But it doesn’t fully let go. And Mikey can’t help but ask, “What if we argue a lot and stop being friends?”

The idea of not being friends with his brother is enough on its own to make him want to burst into tears. He has no idea how Leo isn’t just constantly bawling. Then he remembers the circles under Leo’s eyes that don’t show when he’s wearing his mask and the way Donnie always follows him out of the room now. And he thinks it’s silly of him to forget that pain shows itself differently from one person to the next. 

Hurt chases understanding across Raph’s expression, and he squeezes Mikey a little tighter to his plastron. 

“I’ll love you no matter what, Angie. You and Leo and Don are forever for me, okay? If the world ends tomorrow, I’ll still be somewhere, loving my little brothers. It’s too big to just disappear.”

Mikey is fourteen years old and too old to be coddled anymore but not too old that he doesn’t trust in Raphael with his entire heart and then some. If Raph believes Mikey could walk to the moon and back, Mikey believes his biggest brother could lift up the whole sky and hold it for as long as he wanted to, if he wanted to.

Laying there under the warm pink blanket, with Raph’s twinkling nightlight in the corner and the sound of dad’s TV down the hall, Mikey thinks about things that last forever, things you can never outgrow—inside jokes between siblings, skilled hands wrapping sprained ankles, a door standing open in the dark in case you couldn’t sleep. 

Then he thinks about those looks on Raph’s and Leo’s faces when they thought no one was watching. How lonely they’ve both been without their best friend on their team. 

“Can you do me a favor tomorrow?” he asks before he can think better of it. “Scoop Leo.”

“Mikey…” Raph sighs, not wanting to say what Mikey already knows he’s thinking. That Leo would hate it, that it would cause another argument, that he doesn’t want to fight first thing tomorrow morning. He doesn’t want to fight at all. 

“Don’t—don’t do it like you’re mad,” Mikey adds quickly, heart thumping. “Like you caught him sneaking out or you need to keep him in one place so dad can check his stitches but he keeps slipping away like a buttered noodle. Do it like—like you missed him. Pretend he’s been gone for a long time and he just got home. And you’re happy to see him.”

Once Leo went away with April to an overnight camp. It was a nerd camp, he’d said gleefully, bright eyes scanning the brochure, and there was a chess league! April’s mom was a volunteer organizer and promised Splinter that it was a relatively small, local event, and that Leo would be safe. 

It was the longest the brothers had ever been apart before. Even though they texted and video called near-constantly, by the end of the week it had felt like they’d misplaced a limb somewhere. When Leo finally swanned into the lair he had bags of souvenirs for all of them and a hundred stories to tell and the first thing he did was drop everything and run straight into Raph’s open arms. The way he always does. The first thing he always does. 

Raph is looking at Mikey in the semi-dark with unreadable eyes. It takes a minute, seconds crawling by so slowly Mikey starts to worry Raph will say no. He builds up all these new fears, a subdivision development springing up where problems will live in rows of cookie-cutter houses and pay outrageous mortgages and never truly go away again. 

But then Raphie says, “Alright, Ange. But you’re dealing with the fallout.”

He sounds very tired, and a little like he’s just humoring someone who doesn’t know better, but a win is a win. 

The next day, when Leo is the last to wander into the kitchen even though he was probably the first one awake, and does that thing where he manages to not look a single person in the eye while otherwise acting totally normal, Raph frowns at him. 

Mikey can tell it’s concern. He thinks Leo expects it to be something else, and manages to find whatever he’s looking for even if it’s not really there.

But then Raphael glances over at Mikey, and Mikey holds out his arms and mimes a big scoop. Setting his jaw as though he’s about to go head-to-head with the Shredder again, Raph scoots his chair back from the table, rounds it, and then lifts Leo clean off his feet. 

Leo’s eyes are huge and he squirms like a hooked fish, but then Raph says, all bright and charming, “Look what the goat-man dragged in! How’d you sleep, champ?”

“Fine,” the slider says cautiously, slowing his escape attempts, but still looking like he half-expects this to be a trap. When Raph hums and nothing else happens, some little piece of his guard goes down and he adds, “Good. Slept, um, right through my alarm actually. Was worried I was gonna miss Chef Miguel’s magic.”

“Yeah? If you’re still feeling tired after breakfast, you should catch another nap. You know Raph worries.”

They’re each braced for the other to hurt their feelings. But being inside Raph’s arms when he wants to hold you is the best place in the whole world to be. Nothing bad exists and nothing has the power to make you feel small or ugly or scared. It’s just you and this big guy who loves you, who loves to carry you. 

For the first time in weeks, Leo’s plastic smile wobbles and slips. He blinks and his eyes get wet and he reaches up to sling his arms around his big brother’s neck. The way to get inside Leo’s head, past all the anxieties, past that constant guard, is to hold him and sound happy to see him. He wants so badly to be wanted. Mikey can’t understand how someone as smart as Leo doesn’t know that he already is. 

“I know,” Leo chokes out, “I’m sorry.”

Raph couldn’t have looked more stunned if someone had taken this moment to dump a bucket of ice water on his head. But in true Raph fashion, his arms tighten around his little brother automatically, readjusting their hold so that Leo is more secure. The shape of it transforms from quick hug into steadfast embrace. 

Mikey’s biggest brother, who could hold up the whole sky, will stand there and hold Leo together until the heat death of the universe, or until Leo lets go. 

“Hey,” Raph says gently, “how about we hit the arcade later, just the two of us? We’re overdue a jam session and I’ll bet there’s a karaoke machine with our names on it.” 

“As long as you promise not to attempt Mariah Carey, I’m down for anything, big guy.” Because Leo would follow Raph anywhere, has followed Raph everywhere, and they both seem to be remembering that in real time. 

It really must have thrown Leo’s world out of orbit to be the one pushed out in front and expected to lead, with no prior warning or discussion. A jam session is exactly what the two of them need.

“I’ll make French toast for breakfast, but only if we can agree on toppings,” Mikey pipes up from the kitchen, as casually as if his whole heart isn’t a painful, hopeful thing lodged in his throat.

“Raspberry jam,” Leo muffles from somewhere between Raph’s shell and shoulder, “or I’m rioting.”

Raspberry jam and cream cheese stuffed French toast is Raphael’s well-known, all-time favorite breakfast food. Raph shouldn’t be surprised that Leo knows that, so the surprise must come from somewhere else. The last couple of weeks of stress and hurt and frustration go sliding off his spiky shell like water, all replaced by relief. The worry and confusion are still there, but those weigh practically nothing in comparison. He smacks a noisy kiss on the top of Leo’s head, grinning brightly when Leo whines and starts half-heartedly trying to noodle away. 

“What’d I tell you?” Donnie says, from his sleepy stake-out in front of the Keurig. “Dr. Feelings is a smart guy, but he doesn’t hold a candle to the smartest guy I know. A Mikey makes everything better.”

Mikey beams at him, the kitchen warm and full and lively, Raph and Leo squabbling playfully by the table, his morning playlist belting out something folky and upbeat, gravity pulling everything back to where it belongs.  

Fifteen doesn’t feel so scary anymore. But maybe Mikey’s okay with taking the long way there, after all. 

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Keep Thinking About a Gale x Ace!Tav x Astarion AU

It makes no damn sense. Compels me though.

Let me be clear, this would be an AU and not a continuation of the “canon” I’ve established with Ace!Tav. It’s just not how I picture their story playing out. All the same, I keep circling back to this in my brain. Call it a thought experiment.

I’m probably not going to write a full fic for it. So, if anybody wants to take this general idea and run with it, feel free. Just give me a shoutout. Or if you guys are curious about this AU drop me an ask and I’ll answer with some rambles.

Speaking of, shoutout to @leighsartworks216 for letting me ramble to them about it.

Astarion x Ace!Tav Masterlist (for reference)

Cards on the table, none of these people are ready for a poly relationship

Gale is explicitly monogamous and ties sex and romantic love intimately together. Astarion is still dealing with the idea of being enough and just ✨the trauma✨ . Meanwhile Tav has their own abandonment issues and is just waiting for Astarion to get bored and leave. And yet! This disaster trio won’t leave me alone.

So this whole thing gets started when Astarion approaches Tav about wanting to experiment with sex again

He knows Tav isn't interested in sex and doesn't want to make them feel pressured into having it just to please him, so they talk about opening up in the relationship

Tav is hesitant about it, but also doesn't want this to be the reason Astarion leaves and so agrees

They convince themselves that if Astarion wants to have a one night stand, it’s fine; so long as he’s not seeking out his emotional needs with other people then there’s no risk of him wanting to end things; this is, of course, a terrible way to handle it

So, with that hanging over their heads they reconnect with Gale over some quest (maybe getting a magical item to allow Astarion to walk in the sun)

Gale has been teaching and while happy is admittedly still a bit lonely so is grateful to see his friends again

Gale and Tav always had a close relationship, but seeing them again does stir up some of those old feelings he'd let lie because, you know, the Absolute (headcanon here for further details)

Gale internally berates himself for this because he 1) knows Tav is ace and therefor not interested in a sexual relationship which is something he prioritizes when it comes to romance and 2) Tav is clearly still in a loving relationship with Astarion, so he's not going to be the asshole to get in the middle of all that

He tells himself it’s just the loneliness talking and pushes that shit down

So, he starts getting closer to Astarion who, while still a bit of a rogue, has mellowed a bit and worked on some of his more selfish instincts

Honestly, having the opportunity to see how much Astarion is devoted to Tav increases his opinion of the man

He and Astarion’s relationship is still antagonistic, but much more playful than before

This culminated in a moment when Astarion and Tav are checking in on each other after a trap goes off

Astarion pulls them close a moment kissing Tav on the temple once it’s clear they’re fine

Gale watches this interaction, his stomach twisting with familiar jealousy, but pauses as his mind screeches to a halt realizing “wait, am I jealous of Astarion or Tav?"

Meanwhile Astarion is a bit surprised at Gale being more friendly with him, but he can't say he's complaining. He knows Tav missed him, and while he had his own jealousies early in the relationship, he's since moved passed it. Gale was the one to help him ultimately get together with Tav after all.

He makes more of an effort to get to know the wizard one on one and finds himself looking more and more

There is something oddly endearing when he rambles

Gods he really is a powerful wizard (connotation: scared and horny)

Did his robes always show off his chest hair like that

He really does make Tav happy

Until one morning he's laying in bed and snaps up enraged with himself like, "GALE?! OF ALL THE PEOPLE YOU CAN FEEL COMPELLED TO FUCK. FUCKING GALE?!?!?!?!"

Full existential crisis

Yes, they said opening the relationship, but he knows how nervous Tav feels about it. They’ve told him about their past relationships and how so many of them fell apart when the topic of sex came up

But he also knows he can’t do a one night stand; he needs to trust the person he’s having sex with, he wants it to mean something

He knows Gale and he knows it would mean something with him

He also knows Gale’s opinion on monogamy; would he force him to choose between him and Tav? Would Gale even want to be with him? Astarion knows Gale used to feel deeply for Tav

And what if it ends badly? Gale is Tav’s friend, his friend. Fuck, this can’t be happening

Meanwhile Tav is reconnecting with Gale and is like, “Gods I did miss him…oh wait I like *missed* him, missed him”. But pushes that shit down because, again, in a very loving relationship with Astarion which they won’t risk for anything and 2) Gale has made it clear that sex is something he values in a relationship as a form of intimacy.

They knew they couldn’t give him that then and they can’t now

Tav is also starting to notice how Astarion is looking at Gale

They’re much more in tune with his emotions and can see he’s interested

Tav starts to feel jealous and then feels guilty for doing so because they said opening the relationship was fine

Gale is wonderful. They know he’d treat Astarion the way he deserves. They could hardly blame Astarion for ultimately choosing him

They knew deep down they were just a stepping stone on Astarion’s road to recovery. If he can be with someone who can give him so much love and sex, why would he need them?

It also doesn’t help that as they start noticing Astarion looking at Gale, they see Gale looking right back

They do feel deeply for Gale, but know his thoughts on monogamy

Besides, they turned him down before, they can’t expect Gale to have held onto those feelings

So they start to slowly distance themselves from both men, resolving that if Astarion approaches them about it, they’re not going to stand in his way.

This course of action causes all of them to start driving themselves crazy in their own heads

Astarion is scrambling because they can sense Tav pulling away and is desperate to figure out what’s wrong, but Tav won’t tell them anything

Gale can see it too and so is pushing down all of his emotions because “Tav I know you love Astarion and Astarion loves you, so what’s going on”

Tav can’t confide in him either so they just don’t say anything

This leaves Astarion and Gale to start confiding in each other more because what’s going on?

Finally Astarion spills everything to Gale, he and Tav opening their relationship, his fears about them leaving, and becuase he’s got a good idea why they’re pulling away

Gale is admittedly a bit obtuse about it which prompts Astarion to grab him by the front of the robes and start kissing him

Gale respond enthusiastically and the two of them start making out. But before it goes any further their brains catch up with them and they stop, both knowing that they need to talk to Tav

So they approach Tav and Tav’s like, “yeah, it’s fine, can’t say I’m surprised, neither of you are exactly subtle. It’s fine. I’ll take this as my queue to go then.”

Astarion then jumps in like, “wait, no, who said anything about leaving”.

Tav tries to convince him that it’s fine, that they’re happy for him, really. They can’t begrudge him for wanting more and he shouldn’t feel compelled to stay with them.

Astarion’s brain is reeling from this because are you actually kidding me? Please say you’re joking and don’t actually believe that.

He then takes their face in his hands and tells them he’s not going to stop loving them just because he wants to have sex again and if there is one lesson they’ve taught him is that he has more love in him that he ever thought possible. He’s got plenty to spare.

Gale meanwhile has been watching Astarion and Tav’s relationship for some time and has come to understand you can separate sex and romantic love

He then steps in saying, “yes, I am interested is pursuing something more with Astarion, but also with you. Honestly out of the two of you, I’ve loved you for much longer”.

Tav would still need time to accept the idea that they’re not the third wheel. Gale would need to work out how to put that sometimes obsessive love into two people and Astarion still has his trauma, but they’d all have each other to work it all out once they get everything out into the open.

[heliads]

Hey! I love your writing sm

could you pls do an f1 soulmate au with charles x carlos?

maybe whatever a person writes on themselves shows up on their soulmate so they write each other cute 'good luck' notes or jokes before races and maybe they realize they're soulmates when one of them gets a podium and the other person sees their drawings :)

i understand that you wanted this to be cute. however have you considered that they could be insane instead. have you considered that there could be mind games, bestie. think about the mental warfare (i am)

masterlist

Carlos Sainz believes that his secrets come out the fastest when he’s drinking. Doesn’t even have to be alcohol, his favorite ruiner of silence– he’s let out contract details and personal opinions just as freely with isotonic water after a race as with a shot someone hands him two hours into a post-race celebration. It’s easy to let your guard down when you think you’re with a friend, when the stakes don’t seem high, when he knows better but doesn’t want to admit it.

That’s why he feels a rippling wave of panic when he sees Charles walking across the Ferrari hospitality, two cups of coffee in his hands. Charles sits down at an empty table for two, places one cup in front of himself and one at the empty chair, and looks pointedly at Carlos. Carlos thinks to himself, this can’t be good, and mentally reminds himself to book an appointment with PR sooner rather than later.

He takes the seat. Some things, you can’t fight. Charles still smiles anyway, pleased, and says, “I got you coffee.”

Carlos had noticed this, surprisingly. It was difficult to ignore. “You’re being nice,” he remarks, blowing into the hole on the lid to cool down the liquid inside.

“I am nice,” Charles protests. His accent comes out more when he’s unhappy, it makes the syllables bunch up together like pleats of fabric.

Carlos arches a brow, and takes a sip of his coffee instead of answering. Scuderia Ferrari loves to claim that they adore the art of coffee just as much as their mother country, but every time Carlos gets coffee from hospitality it’s either flavorless or burnt, depending on who serves it. Charles’ attempt isn’t terrible, but he doubts Charles did anything more to prepare it than just put in an order. It’s a nice gesture, though. Just like Charles said.

When he looks up and the steam properly clears from his vision, Charles is still pouting at him. Carlos shakes his head, smiling to himself. He makes it so easy sometimes, to mess with his head. It’s kind of fun. Poker, but with a far prettier deck of cards. 

“Alright, fine,” he relents, grinning so Charles knows he’s in on the joke, “I’m just teasing. No need to get mad, cabrón.”

“I’m not mad,” Charles says, a hint of a smile on his face although he stubbornly tries to shake it, “just interested in defending my honor.”

“Your honor?” Carlos asks, laughing in earnest. “So lord-esque, that is what I have been telling you. Of course Lord Perceval would defend his honor.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “You can deal with my honor, mate. I got you coffee.”

“And I am grateful for it every time you bring it up,” Carlos says, and takes a sip to prove it.

Charles does the same, but his eyes remain on Carlos the whole time. “So? Is it true what they’re saying?”

Carlos wants more than coffee for a conversation that starts out like this. “Who’s saying what?”

Charles gestures vaguely towards his phone. “Everybody. They say you’re going to leave Ferrari when your contract expires.”

Ah. That. “People love rumors,” he says absentmindedly, “I never thought you’d pay attention to them.”

“I don’t usually, but I was interested in this one,” Charles admits. “You’d tell me if you were leaving, right?”

“I’m not leaving,” Carlos says.

Charles sets down his cup. “But you’d tell me, right?”

“I would,” Carlos says. Pauses. Starts again. “What’s gotten into you, man? I never took you for someone to fall for theories like this.”

Charles shakes his head a little too quickly. “I’m not. They just seemed to believe it.” 

Carlos shrugs. “They believe a lot. My contract doesn’t expire until next year. They won’t worry about me for a while.”

“Should I?” Charles asks. “Worry about you, I mean.”

Carlos looks at him, really looks at him. The tense grip of his teammate’s hands around his coffee, even despite the heat still emanating through the cup. The furtive glances he keeps sneaking towards Carlos, then abruptly looking at the cup again when he gets caught.

“I’m not going,” Carlos says gently. More gently than he’d answer any interviewer, anyway.

Charles nods quickly, his head bobbing like a doll on a string. “Of course. Besides, I have too much interest for you to leave yet. Not until we figure out your, ah–” A pause. Delicate, but not at all from a polite inclination, no matter how it might seem to any outsider.

Carlos groans, exasperated. “My soulmate? My God, Charles, you have to give this up at some point.”

If it were not enough to have an overly inquisitive teammate, one that’s rather good at using his eyes and smile to get what he wanted, Carlos has been cursed with a racing partner that’s unnaturally interested in his missing other half. Carlos himself wants to figure out who his soulmate is, obviously, but at this point he thinks Charles is even more invested.

They all have soulmates. Supposedly. There’s probably at least a couple people out there who skipped that universal drawing of lots, but Carlos knows for certain that he is not one of them because his soulmate contacts him almost every day. Some people go weeks or even months without finding so much as a scribble appearing out of thin air on their skin, but Carlos blinks and there’s a new sentence on his forearm, bruising his knuckles, curling around his ankle. Whoever his soulmate is, they don’t care much for being ignored.

Neither does his teammate. Charles huffs out an exasperated breath. “If you will not be curious, I will be curious for you. You’re always so cagey about it, anyway. I know they write to you. Don’t you want to know?”

“Of course I want to know who they are,” Carlos scoffs. “What I don’t get is why you want to know. Why don’t you focus on your own other half for a change?”

Charles just leans back in his chair, grinning coolly. Ah, yes. Carlos has suspected for some time that Charles already has an idea as to who his soulmate is, but for some reason Carlos has never seen her around the paddock. It could be that Charles is just keeping their relationship private, but he doubts it. Charles likes his trophies visible and his games extensive. More likely than not, Charles has his soulmate engaged in some kind of cat-and-mouse game so they figure it out without too much help on his end. It’s hellishly manipulative, but he’s charming enough that they all let it slide.

Even Carlos, although he at least tries to put up a fight. Sometimes, he thinks Charles is amusingly aware of that, and doubles down on his efforts to get Carlos to cave until both of them are locked in some sort of affectionate stalemate.

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” Charles hums, pleased that he’s got the other hand. “I mean,” he says, leaning forward abruptly to seize Carlos’ hand in his own, “Don’t you want to know about yours? Aren’t you curious?”

Whoever sat at their table before them left a Sharpie behind by accident; Charles picks it up now, uncapping it with the same hand without letting go of Carlos. “You could just ask them right now, who they are,” Charles muses. The tip of the Sharpie hovers millimeters above the curve of Carlos’ palm, waiting. 

Carlos stares at the black ink. It’s easier to focus on the skin when he mumbles, “They wouldn’t answer.”

You’re not supposed to. Unspoken rules. He’s never liked that sort of thing, and neither has Charles, who knows this and smiles unkindly anyway. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Carlos asks, mostly to himself. Charles doesn’t appear to hear him. The Sharpie dips lower until it touches Carlos’ skin. Immediately, the black ink flowers into his palm. Carlos waits for Charles to keep writing, to scrawl a question like who are you or can I fly you to a Grand Prix paddock, asap but instead Charles flinches, slams the palm of his own hand down towards the table, and covers up the pen again.

“Maybe you should do it yourself,” Charles mutters by way of explanation.

“Maybe,” Carlos says. He’s not sure if he’s agreeing or not. It would be easier, he thinks, to have Charles take the wheel again. It would also hurt more. Carlos caps the pen when it becomes obvious that Charles will not. “Drink your coffee,” he says. “It’ll get cold.”

Charles does as told, which is sort of surprising. Usually, he likes pushing the envelope until someone tells him to quit it. It appears to Carlos, though, that they have reached an unspoken limit, a line drawn out in black Sharpie on tanned skin that will not be crossed again.

A few minutes pass. They’re both quiet. Charles whispers into the condensation of his cup, “You’re not leaving, though, right?”

Carlos smiles. “I’m not.” Contracts change, obviously, but he’ll try to fight it. They all try.

They leave not long afterwards, race week means that they don’t have a lot of time to sit around. There’s always something to be filmed for media duties, an interview to conduct, checks to run through with engineers. Still, Carlos is somehow calmer than he was before, even despite the additional caffeine.

Charles, by contrast, seems jumpier than usual as they head towards the exit.

“Did you enjoy your coffee?” Carlos asks pointedly. 

 Charles glances quickly over both shoulders, then groans when he’s sure that no one can overhear him. “No, God. It’s terrible.”

Carlos chuckles. “But you went to so much trouble to get it. Surely you can pretend it’s more than just terrible. You drank, like, all of it.”

Charles gives him an appraising look. “It’s better with someone else.”

It occurs to Carlos, as he walks back to his driver’s room, that they may not just have been talking about coffee after all. He’s stopped by one of his PR advisors on the way back– apparently there’s a new TikTok trend that would be just great for him to do– and although he doesn’t feel that shaken, he must look it, because they only get halfway through a discussion of trending sounds before the agent asks if everything is alright.

Carlos scoffs. “Of course I’m alright.”

The agent arches a brow. “Are you sure? You look a little unsettled. Don’t tell me you were talking to George about track times again, he has that effect on everyone before qualis.”

Carlos shakes his head. “No, I didn’t see him. I was speaking with Charles, though, about nothing in particular. Just coffee and soulmates and stuff.” Unable to stop himself, he leans a little closer, drops his voice until it’s more of a whisper. “He’s found his soulmate, hasn’t he? She’s got to be around here somewhere.”

His PR agent, surprisingly, shakes their head. “No, he’s said nothing about it to us, and we’ve asked loads of times. Are you certain that they’re a she, though? That wasn’t the impression I got.”

Carlos stands utterly still. He thinks his blood may have cooled in his veins, congealing into a solid. He is not sure he could move if he tried. “Charles told you that?”

“Once,” the agent says offhandedly. “He got sick of us asking about his mystery woman. I don’t think he meant to let it slip, but you know how he is with secrets.”

They’re laughing at that. Carlos tries to chuckle along with him, but he can’t really do more than nod, because now he’s thinking about Charles’ soulmate being a man. It’s the driver in him, he supposes, the dreamer, that if he can imagine any scenario he would also imagine himself in it, and so it follows that now Carlos cannot stop thinking about the man on the other side of Charles’ heart being him, being Carlos. The picture fits a little too well. 

Carlos had never pictured his soulmate and thought of a man, but sometimes he’ll be up on the podium with Charles, champagne high and bright in the air, and he thinks maybe– maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing, not having a girl like that. He already knows what it’s like, anyway, to be at the top of the world and have another man standing there with him. If God did not intend for us to be with someone of the same sex, then why would He make it feel so natural?

Carlos somehow manages to end the conversation, to slip back into the relative safety of his driver’s room and lean his entire body weight against the door. He stares up at the ceiling, hands fisting the red fabric of his Ferrari jacket at his sides, and he lets himself, for the first time, wonder if his soulmate might not be a man as well. Anything Charles can do, Carlos can too, or so the commentators have started to say. Anyone Charles could love, Carlos could too. Anything his would be theirs. 

It is a risky thought. Pessimists will tell you that soulmates are good for nothing but getting your hopes up. Carlos does not know who his soulmate is nor, odds are, will he ever. It does no good to think about what he wants until he already has it. 

Later that day, Carlos tells his soulmate in non-descript block letters, All things must end. He caps the pen and covers his hand for the rest of the day. He sees Charles some hours later, looking pale and frightened. Carlos cannot, will not, imagine why.

He tries to push it from his mind. They are not hiding in Ferrari hospitality for the thrill of it, after all, but to prepare for the race ahead. Qualifying comes and goes, nothing to write home about but at least they should be decently in the points. One of them might be able to make it to a podium if they can give Lando Norris the slip. The best case scenario is that Checo will bin it so they could get a 1-2, but who knows if they’ll have any semblance of luck today.

Carlos qualified one position ahead of Charles. Fred Vasseur is already starting to eye him like a lamb to the slaughter, and Carlos makes a mental reminder to continually ask his engineer for Charles’ times during the race. He has a feeling that team orders might be given.

Strangely enough, it doesn’t make Carlos angry towards Charles as much as he thinks it should. He is irritated by Ferrari, of course, for picking one driver over another, but that’s expected in any given scenario in which the cars are swapped. Usually, though, that sort of thing happens enough times that you start directing your ire towards the other driver, but Carlos cannot manage that. In fact, he never has. Hating Charles is unthinkable. It would be easier to hate himself. Right?

Getting ready in his driver’s room before the race that Sunday, Carlos is struck by a sudden, unthinkable idea. He rummages around in his belongings for a while before coming up with a pen. Dark, thick, the kind you use for autographs when the hapless fan forgets to bring a writing implement of their own. Carlos uncaps it, stares at his skin, then starts to scribble. Words, underlined, circled. Do well. Good luck. Please.

He doesn’t know if– but he could, maybe, if he saw. Carlos loses himself in a frenzy, then snaps out of it just as quickly when his palms get covered in writing. The sound of footsteps outside his door makes him flinch, and he tugs on his gloves as fast as he can, smearing the ink even more than before. It doesn’t matter. Odds are nothing will come of this anyway.

The race goes as expected. Checo does not crash, much to the chagrin of all other teams, and Carlos gets stuck behind him long enough that they start talking about switching him with Charles, which happens around lap forty. When the checkered flag waves, Charles is third, Carlos fourth. He parks quickly and hurries over to the front. By the time he gets there, Charles has already withdrawn inside the cooldown room but Carlos can shoulder in with the other Ferrari crew and shout and slap each other on the back and that’s good, too, it really is.

He will tell himself that it is. Carlos, by now, has gone to a lot of teams and learned about a lot of strategy choices. He knows how to convince himself that something is fine, that the decisions of the team are ones he agrees with. He can idle with the crew and stare up at the podium with a fixed smile on his face, because Carlos is a Good Teammate and Good Teammates show up for each other. They accept team orders when they come their way. They do not stand in the shade of someone else’s idol and think, this isn’t fair.

Of course it isn’t fair, it’s motorsport. Charles is the one they love the most, even when he’s erratic and crashes every other race. Charles is the pretty boy, the golden one, Il Predestinato. Carlos is merely his father’ son. 

Charles, who figured out the whole game of soulmates months before. He guessed, at least. Told that to Carlos one night, grinning, drunk, spiraling after another lost podium. Charles had waited with wide eyes and a frozen smile as if waiting for Carlos to put something together, but the other shoe never dropped and eventually the moment ended, both of them pulled apart by other friends, downing other drinks, pretending they never existed. 

Carlos thinks of it now. He watches Charles emerge from the shadows of the space behind the podium to stand in the blinding sunlight, waving down at all of them. One of the mechanics is elbowing him in the side, speaking in that low voice they all get when they do the boy’s club talk, you know, someone’s soulmate likes him well enough, obviously, and Carlos has no idea what he’s talking about until he looks up and sees. Sees Charles, his palms dark with ink. From up here, it’s too small to see what is written. The Catholic boy in him thinks stigmata which is wrong, obviously, because there is no great divine mystery here, not when Carlos knows what happened.

Not when Carlos was the one to write all of it earlier that day. He’d almost forgotten during the course of the race, but it all comes flooding back now. That’s his ink on Charles’ hands, and that means– That means Charles is his soulmate. Always has been. Always will be.

Carlos stares up at him. Charles looks down, and although he’s been grinning with victory this whole time, the smile that slides onto his face upon seeing his teammate is different than before, it’s knowing. Charles knows that Carlos has figured it out at last. He’s been waiting for him to do it all this time.

It’s almost obscene, how close Charles must have come to telling him about a thousand times. Who would risk it like that? No one. Charles would. Carlos pictures him with the Sharpie earlier that week, black tip poised above his skin. How he’d caught himself before giving himself up. Perfect timing, a driver’s reflexes. Like managing to right yourself right before sending your car into the wall. Or, better, like doing it anyway. Like accelerating before you go. Like leaving your hands on the wheel so your wrists can break, too, not just your heart. 

Yes, Charles would. Charles Leclerc would. Charles, so impatient for his first championship that he’d give up his current chance by overshooting every corner, by doing too much until he ends up in the wall time and time again. This is the man who would expose his soulmate like a throat to a knife, and Carlos has known this about him for years.

The Ferrari section of the paddock is insane after getting a podium, so no one notices when Carlos fights his way through the crowds to let himself into Charles’ driver’s room. It’s empty when he arrives, Charles must have many more people to get through, so he paces relentlessly back and forth until Charles shows up.

Charles bursts through the door, still talking to someone down the hall. His exuberance crashes to a halt the second he sees Carlos waiting, and he hurriedly tells whoever is there not to wait up. Charles carefully closes the door behind him, locks it too, and then it’s just the two of them and this great and all encompassing secret for company. 

Charles swallows. “You know.”

Of course he does. Friends show up at each other’s driver’s rooms all the time, but this isn’t just on the order of congratulations for a good race result. They would not be hovering on the edge of this great precipice if it was just that. 

“You knew earlier,” Carlos challenges. 

Charles ducks his head in a nod. “I did.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Carlos asks. 

Charles’ gaze is shifty, it flicks from ceiling to floor to walls, anywhere but Carlos himself. Charles has always been a daredevil for the risks, but he’s never had the stomach for what becomes of them. The consequences are always a thousand times worse than the actions. 

“I didn’t think you would want it. Want me,” he corrects, almost whispering. 

This is so absurd that Carlos almost wants to laugh. Almost, because the look on Charles’ face is so pitiful that he can’t even smile. “Why wouldn’t I?” Carlos asks. 

Charles blinks in surprise. “Because you were never even that interested in finding out who your soulmate was, mate. Always said it would just be some girl you didn’t know. I didn’t want to see your face when you realized you didn’t even get some girl but me.”

“I didn’t want to look too much into my soulmate because I was afraid it wouldn’t be you,” Carlos says in a rush, and as he admits it he knows it’s true. 

How could it be anything but that? Carlos could have picked any team, but he went here. A hardheaded (formerly red) bull chasing not just the scarlet flag but the matador himself. Charles, all along. 

Charles’ eyes are wide, lashes darker even than the ink still staining his palms. “So you’re not mad, then?” He asks cautiously. 

“Not mad and not leaving,” Carlos reiterates. 

A ghost of a smile flickers over Charles’ lips. “You cannot blame me for wanting to be sure, I didn’t want you to go until I managed to tell you.”

“You certainly took your time about it,” Carlos comments. 

Charles rolls his eyes. “Just because we are racers does not mean we have to do everything fast, Carlos. Be patient.”

Carlos arches a brow. “You are telling me that?”

Charles has the grace to look at least a little ashamed. “Yes. Well. I can be patient now.”

Of course he can. They both can. Most people spend their entire lives searching for the answer to a question that is no longer a mystery to either of them. Time is all they have, time and sweet-sticky champagne and the sensation of being at the top of the world. Nothing will change them. Everything will. For once, though, the change does not scare him. It’s not bad, all of the time. 

Sometimes, it brings him Charles. Sometimes, it brings him this. No, not bad in the slightest. 

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

also: @quill-of-a-sparrow

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[rougepancake]

Domestic mitsuri x shinbou x fem reader HCS! (Could be nsfw or sfw whatever works for u!)

DATE NIGHT

What it’s like to date them

Sfw & nsfw hcs (mixed together I am so sorry I wasn’t thinking 😭)

Ft. Shinobu Kocho and Mitsuri Kanroji

Warnings: Some suggestive material under cut but nothing too bad. Modern au. Had a blast writing this tsym anon 😩

SHINOBU KOCHO

If you’re taller than her then have fun. She’ll look up at you and KICK YOUR ASS for simply being tall

If you’re shorter than her you’ll get pampered because she feels the need to rub it in

She’s definitely into quality time and physical touch all the way. Since she doesn’t tend to vocalize how she’s feeling, these kind of make up for it 😉

Is definitely the type of gal to book mani pedis for you two as a date as well as go and get your hair dyed together

Unlike Mitsuri, she isn’t clingy and trusts you quite a lot. She knows that no one else can eat you out as good as she can, and it kills you every time she mentions it

SPEAKING OF MENTIONING IT

She’ll openly dirty talk you in public with no shame whatsoever. In fact, she’s brutal

Won’t even stop if you offer to pay her

Has no regrets because she loves seeing you all flustered and cute like that

If she spends the night at your place BE PREPARED

She cuddles in her sleep and DENIES IT TO DEATH

Also enjoys showering/bathing together but not in a sexual way. She believes that it’s a good way to spend time together and just bond as a couple

HERE COMES THE QUALITY TIME AGAIN RAHHHH

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, when you’re doing it, or how long it’ll take you, she will find a way to join and/or help you out

Unless you’re complaining about it

Then she’ll sit and watch you suffer 😔

All in all, she’s the type of woman to definitely wind up in a relationship with the “best friends” dynamic

You have a lot of fun together and she wouldn’t want it any other way

MITSURI KANROJI

SHE LOVES TO GO ON ADVENTURES

That’s how you spend a lot of your time together (post/during your relationship)

Her love languages are receiving gifts and words of affirmation

If you say you can’t do it think again!! You’ll wholeheartedly believe you can by the time she’s done with you!!!!

Loves to go out and try new things!! She’ll try anything once and definitely lives with the yolo mindset

Her ideal date is going out on a hike or trying a new restaurant. Either is fine for her as long as you’re down for the ride

Since she’ll try anything once, your time alone is fairly interesting. In the sense of you’ll bring something up and she’ll say yes without a second thought

Prefers to keep what happens in the bedroom between you and her. HATES public humiliation going both ways because she feels guilty afterwards

Since one of her love languages is receiving gifts, she loves to show up with random trinkets and such that she’s found

“Oh here you go Y/n! This shiny rock made me think of you!!”

Stuff like that

It’s honestly so sweet

She was once a hopeless romantic, and now that she has you, she’s a bit worried that you might just up and vanish one day, so she has a tendency to be a little clingy

That’s okay though cause you love it

(She also enjoys cooking for you quite a bit but is quite embarrassed to admit it since her cooking skills are questionable)

Also enjoys watching movies with you and ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on your lap

She enjoys romantic cliches (even if they’re stupid)

You guys were definitely close friends before you started dating, so you’ve got that ‘we know each other better than our own parents’ type of vibe

Let’s just say you’re incredibly grateful that you wound up meeting her 😩

[xoxochb]

— prue’s official 1k love letter ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

💌 - dedicated to: all of my lovely followers and mutuals 🫶🏼🫶🏼

if you haven’t seen from my various posts about it then long story short I’ve hit 1k followers! I know for every new 100 followers I’ve hit that I’ve written notes like this whether they’re short or long. unfortunate for you, I’m a writer, so this one is going to be very long, my props to anyone who’s about to read all of this you’re a real one 🤞🏼

I’ve been using tumblr for nearly a year now. It started as a simple blog where I would just make silly pjo posts because I had been re entering that phase from middle school. after a while I started reading fics the lovely writers made on here and I became addicted to them to be honest. now, I’ve always been a writer at heart, when I was little I used to staple papers together and write silly childish books and at school I would always go above and beyond with creative writing assignments. after a while of being here I received a request from one of my early followers asking for a fic. I was new to this whole “sharing my work online” kinda stuff but nonetheless I proceeded to write it for her. It didn’t get many notes but it got enough for more people to come into my inbox and ask for more of my writing. since then I have been an avid riordanverse writer though most of the fandom has diminished by this point I’m still here to serve the people

over this time I’ve been on tumblr I’ve had some issues and I got accused of something that wasn’t true at all and received tons of hate over this (situation is resolved don’t worry). and if you’re still here reading this I suppose that you’re one of the many followers that didn’t leave me over this. but besides this slight issue I’ve met tons of great people on here and I’ve made many friends and found people who love my writing and love seeing my posts. honestly I think joining tumblr and sharing my work on here has been one (or probably only LMAO) of the best decisions I’ve ever made and it makes me incredibly happy to be thanking you all for helping me reach one thousand followers, it’s truly unreal to me and I am beyond words grateful for everyone who’s helped me achieve this accomplishment (I’m giving you all virtual forehead kisses rn 😙😙). I wish I could put into words what I’m feeling… but just imagine happy times, like, infinity!!!

anyways I’m gonna wrap this up because I swear I could ramble on and on all day but I’m pretty sure nobody would listen or read for that long plus I’m basically just talking about the same thing, anyways… again thank you so so so much for one thousand followers it truly means a lot and I will never thank you enough for this <3

with much love, prue 🤍🤍

[bronx-bomber87]

Good evening fandom! Welcome to my inaugural mini review post. Holy hell I can’t believe we’re finally here. These probably won’t be as detailed as normal like I mentioned. Mini review is the goal. It’ll be initial thoughts and feelings. Which will be fun cause all the other seasons other than S5 I had ton of time to reflect on moments. These thoughts for S6 could change when I rewatch the season for review purposes this summer. The exciting thing is having those first reactions. That's what these will be.

So you're getting hot off the presses thoughts haha I just watched it couple hours ago. These are thoughts I had while it was happening. With some editing to make it readable ha Want my reactions be as authentic as possible with these. Why I avoid spoilers tbh. Be interested in seeing what everyone else’s are as well. The gif library was an absolute turd so I didn't get to use all the gifs that were made yet. So I made some. Anyways this so friggin exciting to delve into so let’s get started.

6x01 Strike Back

Tim got scruffier from the finale to now-and I’m here for it. Mm. Plus he's in Metro gear. Phew Lord. Something about scruffy Tim gets me going. Adore them riding together automatically after their battle. I truly love it. The little things I continually love with them. Also LOVING the Metro call sign. Yum If this going to be his call sign all season I am about it.

Oh my lord why is her sitting at his desk so squee worthy to me? It’s getting me all in my feels. I love that Lucy can just use his office as her own. So cute using it to steal it for some study time. I love this so very much. Then her asking if they can ride together so he can quiz her? Tim doesn’t hesitate for a moment before saying yes.

Still amazes me we’re in the place with them. The Tim of old would’ve groaned and moaned about such a task. He jumps right on it for her. Ready to help her out. Even though he’s not sure how much it’s gonna do. Clearly very aware Primm is out to get her. That is common knowledge now.

Lucy is right when she says it sucks. That she has to battle this and face possible wild cards.. It isn’t fair when she's earned her spot more than most. Fought and clawed for everything she's done in this department. Definitely more than Nolan... Hey wouldn't be a review if I didn't pot shot Nolan would it? lol I love Tim finding a solution for them. Saying they can take out do the box calls all day. Widen her knowledge a bit on it. Sharpen her skills with odd calls.

I love her grateful smile when she says 'Thank you.' Loves this man. Damnit they’re so cute their banter coming out of his office is on point. Tim saying she learns best when she’s pissed off. I mean if that isn’t her rookie experience with him in a sentence. Lucy saying this feels like she is giving him permission to be an ass. Heh it kinda is no matter what Tim says.

You know he kinda loves being able to make her his boot again in some form. He is going to enjoy himself with this. There is no doubt about it. That's why he's doing that smile of his. Lucy calling him out knowing this man so well. Pointing her finger and all. God I love these idiots so much. Tim trying to tell her just his smile. Uh huh sure it is Tim.... Lucy following after him with a smile of her own. These dopes I've missed them so damn much.

I’m very much loving Tim has not really shaved in 6 weeks ha. The scruffy remains and I’m excited about it. Lucy is starting to question asking Tim to help her. We all know she learns best from that man sitting next to her though. I also always enjoy when she gets to drive. Another micro shift that has changed that I love so much. Her heart eyes when he says Angela’s cop brain is just booting up LOL Loves this goober of man.

Lucy absolutely losing it and going on a rant of epic proportions had me rolling. LOL Massive emotional downward spiral happening here. I’m dying as I watch Tim take it in. God Eric the master of expressions crushing it again. This was a huge one for her holy crap. Nuclear really. Well done Melissa getting all that in with one breath basically. By the time she’s done I’m cackling at Tim’s expression. LMAO Oh my god these two. God I’ve missed them so much it pained me.

Lucy knowing Tim's reply without even looking at him. Just epic married status at this point. Doesn’t even have to look at him or for Tim to say anything. It’s already there because of that crazy good connection they have. How deeply they know one another. It’s so good. Tim being the smart man he is says nothing. Lucy knowing he’s thinking it haha

Lucy coming to conclusion she will do crazy wild card during the day and the manual at night. She will sleep when it's over LOL Tim shaking his head. Knowing there is nothing he can say right now that'll make this better. Or to derail her crazy train of thought. This is like S1/S2 them with the added benefit of them being together now. It’s glorious.

Getting serious Plain Clothes Day vibes from this episode as well. Except this time Lucy light years away from who she was then. Confidently reciting what she’s going to do Tim nodding along. Tim wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t rock her boat a little though. Lucy getting in her head about the crime scene now. Tim isn’t wrong she did tick all the obvious boxes. That the point of today is looking for wild cards. That’s what he wants her to engage that brilliant brain of her's in. It's why he's here.

To zero in on the 'Out of the box thinking'. Poor Lucy spirals out not being able to decide if she wants his help or not. I ADORE Tim telling her it’s ok to not know the answer. Not shaming her in the least just needing her to make a call. God how far we’ve come. Tim pushes her because he knows that is when she learns best. Trying to add a little urgency to her decision making. Unfortunately it backfires. I kinda loved them calling each other by their ranks in this heated exchange.

Lucy is so flustered it’s giving me PCD vibe once again in the best way. The sprinklers turn on and Lucy panics. There’s the wild card….We watch as a bullet leaves this man’s body and enters the storm drain never to be seen again. Lucy being so very disappointed in herself. It’s reminiscent of the disappointment she showed in s1 but only now she's far more experienced. So it hurts much more now….Oh Lucy my heart. You poor thing. Couldn’t have gone more wrong if she tried.

I can’t believe they played clown music upon her entrance.... Beyond cruel but that's cops. Always taking shots when people mess up spectacularly. Tim trying not laugh.... Babe she is spiraling right now maybe don’t lol Poor thing I would be mortified too. I love how both Tim and Lucy smile when they see Wes and the wee one. My heart. She wants Wes's opinion and he just crushes her with logic. Ugh She needs a hug. Bad day for our girl.

Lucy continues to break my heart as they sit in front of the crime scene. She is on the verge of tears. Verge of a breakdown it feels like as well. Killing me softly. Saying she should skip the detectives exam. My girl. Tim doesn't want her to give up. I will say this fight I feel like I would be Tim. Trying to be so supportive it’s come off as agreeing with her she can’t do it. When really he was just trying to be supportive of whatever she wants.

Can't win for losing right now Timothy. She is in a bad way right now. Lucy has some weight to her argument though. if I was her in this moment I would feel the same way. If I’m in a bad headspace I need reassurances. So I can relate to both of them in this fight. It’s not a fun time for either of them. Tim is still learning that emotional depth he needs to have with her in these moments.

Being supportive has worked before so he's not sure why it's backfiring right now. They’re solid but always room to grow beauty of them. Lucy spots someone pull up to crime scene crying. She has them peel out with Tim not really understanding why. Lucy catching her digging through her trash. She ends up getting a confession. Phew Well done Luce.

Oooh this final scene. Oh my damn lord. This is some PRIMO productive angst holy hell. Eric and Melissa came out swinging with it. I knew they were going to have one more scene about it. I just didn't think it would be this explosive. I adore Tim picking up on how short she is with him. Grabbing her by the arm and confronting her. Growth continuous growth for them both continues to show. Love it. Look at Tim being the one to come at this. I’m so proud of him.

Throwing her words from 5x21 somewhat back at her. Saying this isn’t going to work if she isn’t honest with him. Then Lucy really lays into him. Now do I think he purposely undermined her? No I don’t. Not ever. That’s not in his DNA to do that to someone he loves. I was deeply hurt for him when she suggested this. You can see how hurt he is when she says as such. He’s getting emotional and it makes me as well. I just wanna hug him.

Tim as we know is a DEEPLY loyal person. Also one of my main relations to him as a character. To purposely hurt someone they love isn’t fathomable to a loyal person. It's unthinkable. You have to hurt them first. To undermine Lucy would be to hurt her so he would never. To be accused of such by your favorite person? That cut's so insanely deep for him. I haven’t seen him this hurt since the 'Tim Test' line from her in 4x08. I’m legit wounded for him. He is so upset she could think that of him.

Now Lucy might be onto something with the subconscious part. He could’ve done it not realizing what he was doing. Because love isn’t rational. Man is hardwired to protect her and want to keep her safe. So I could see this especially with her psych background. I think this is solid guess at what happened. Now was this the right time to lash out at him for Isabel stuff? I don’t know…

Felt like a low blow when he was already down for the count. She is throwing him daggers with her eyes most of this conversation. Feels like its more than just the UC right now but that's just my guess at this point. Let's not forget she was having UC doubts towards the end of last season.

Now do they need to have these fights and conversations? HELL YES. My god this subject needs to be discussed. Especially with how 5x20-5x21 were. Want to reiterate this is my first impression. I was literally writing this as I experienced their fight for first time. When I rewatch it this summer this could change. My POV could shift. But right now I see a man who only thought he had her back and was raked across the coals in this moment.

So for me right now in this moment I feel like Lucy had pent up frustrations and took it out on Tim. The protective side of me for him isn’t pleased with that tbh. Doesn't mean I love Lucy any less. I adore her so much. You all know that. But my gut leaned towards Tim in this fight. That may be bias idk but it’s how I felt when it was said and done. Tim was very very defensive when she brought up Isabel. Which hasn't happened in awhile. But his emotions were heightened and he was on the defensive before they'd reach the topic of her.

Lucy basically kicked him while he was down and he felt it. I'm not discounting her feelings at all. She is allowed to feel overwhelmed. Has every right to be. She is STRESSED and it is coming out in all kinds of ways. Ways that aren't like her. I think she stewed on this thought the ENTIRE shift and it came out in the worst way. Which also isn't like her. What she did had him defaulting back to old school Tim. Cutting off the conversation before more emotions were to be had or he said something he would regret.

Basically cut the fight off at the knees and walked away. Lucy’s face says it all when he walks away. She wasn’t expecting that. Shocked he just left her like that. Oh Lucy, you wounded him more than once and he retreated HARD. Leaving her standing there wondering what the hell just happened? God this is so good though everyone. This is the type of angst I'm all for. What a way to start the season off hot damn. Hurts so good angst to get us going. I could not be more excited for where we go this season. Feel free to comment on this. Love to chat with you all about this. All uncharted territory for us all. We're in for quite the ride.

~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

Who are these friggin people? They’re insanely ruthless. Like Rosalind level ruthless in how they just dispose of people. Sending two their team out as a distraction to be blown up. Jesus. Then sniping their own guy. They’re smart but cold af. Then killing who I thought was the boss at the end. Shit. Consider me intrigued.

I liked the 6 weeks later. Makes sense need to do a time jump.

Celina being more afraid of Tim than Harper. LOL little does she know they’re basically the same person haha

Poor Aaron wants to be back in the game and can’t be. I agree with Grey he’s not ready even if he thinks he is.

God I love Nyla Harper. Took that mofo out like the complete bad ass she is. Came with repercussions which made me sad for her.

Angela being more excited to see burritos than her husband lmao I love this woman.

Feeling little potential flirty action for Aaron and his therapist.

[thefrontofmymind]

Baby Bug

a/n: this was supposed to be just a little drabble but it...evolved. hope you enjoy xx

SYNOPSIS: a slice of life from your pregnancy with yours and Matty's first baby

WARNINGS: pregnancy stuff (obvi), the smallest allusion to sex (what do you expect, babies have to get made somehow), epidural.

WC: 1.7k

It certainly wasn’t the perfect time for you to get pregnant. You were well on your way for a promotion at work, and Matty’s new album was just about finished and ready to be sent off, in preparation for a world tour. It wasn’t like it’d never be on the cards for you–you were both in your thirties and not flat broke so it was only a matter of convenient timing for you.

Though as you were sitting on your bathroom floor with the positive test–the fifth one you’d taken that day just to be one hundred percent sure–there was a part of it all that just felt right. There were butterflies in your stomach–and not just from the constant nausea you’d been experiencing for the past couple weeks, but excitement.

You couldn’t even think of a cute or witty way to tell Matty like you’d seen a thousand times on Instagram and Tiktok, you just needed to get it out. As soon as he came home from the studio that day you greeted him at the door with a giddy smile on your face.

“What’s up with you?” He said after giving you a gentle kiss as he took off his coat.

“You know how I’ve been sick recently?” He nodded, giving a ‘hmm’ in response. “I figured out why today…”

“Was it a bug like I said?” He laughed.

“No…It’s um-” This was it. “It’s a baby…”

He looked up at you in shock–wide eyes and a gasp. “You’re…You’re?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, as did his. “I am….”

He fell to his knees, he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he grabbed your hips and cradled your stomach.

He laughed as you felt your tshirt begin to become wet with his tears. “Oh, you’re the best kind of bug!” 

~~~

From that moment on, Matty waited on you hand and foot. If he could have it his way, you wouldn’t have to even think about housework or cooking or any other task that may float into your head–which was growing more and more cloudy by the day. Your obstetrician told you it was perfectly normal though, you liked to think it was the baby taking all your brains so they could become a supergenius–wouldn’t that be neat? Any time Matty was home, you were delegated to the sofa, with your feet up and whatever show you were currently bingeing. And as your baby grew, the more grateful you became of his efforts for you to relax. And when he wasn’t home, he was just waiting to be by your side again, doting on you as much as he could–including quenching any craving you had, food and otherwise.

“How’s the bug doing?” He said, getting comfortable next to you on the sofa.

“They’re alright, been moving non stop…I think they’re training for a boot camp or something in there…”

“Hey, you!” He wiggled down so his face was level with your ever-growing bump. “Stop giving your mum a hard time! She’s growing you, for Christ’s sake…”

You felt an extra hard kick, an answer of ‘I’ll do whatever I please, thank you’

~~~

When it began to get closer to your second trimester–and you were convinced you were showing, as deluded as you may have been–you and Matty started to think about how you were telling everyone you loved about your happy news. To you, being able to let your loved ones in on your secret and seeing their reactions was something you’d been itching for.

First was the grandparents, over a small brunch one Sunday morning. On your back patio you gave them a box to open all together, containing the pictures from your twelve week scan. Through their tears, they told you all about how ecstatic they were for you.

“A grandmother! Me!” Denise laughed. “I’m too young!” You all joined in on the laughter.

When it came to telling the band, you had more of a strategy. You decided to tell Adam and Carly first–they were parents, themselves, and probably knew all the answers to the questions you both had concerning, well, just about everything to come over the next six months–and beyond.

You’d called in at theirs one afternoon, just for a cup of tea and a catch up. It shocked just how much their son had grown within the few weeks it had been since you saw him last, he was up and walking and almost like a proper person now. And he just wouldn’t leave you alone all afternoon. Every toy he’d go to play with, he’d want to show you, when he wanted one of the muffins you’d brought–picked up from a bakery on the drive over–he wanted to share it with you.

“Someone’s got a new favourite!” Adam said after the fifth time he brought you a drawing of some nondescript blob crafted with every colour marker he had at his disposal.

“You know what they say about little kids…” You started, earning confused looks from the couple, while Matty just grinned. “They’re really good at sensing things…Like…Well…”

“Oh just say it before I do!” Matty interrupted after a brief moment of stuttering from you.

“I’m pregnant!” You finally got out. 

Carly immediately burst into tears, while congratulating you with a warm hug, then Adam did the same–sans tears.

“How far along are you?” Carly asked excitedly.

“Just thirteen weeks,” Matty answered for you, as you could hardly speak from the smile that pulled at your mouth. “We’ve only told the grandparents, apart from that, you guys are the first to know.”

You saw a glint of a tear in Adam’s eye as he went to hug Matty, and Carly asked you about pretty much everything so far, giving you some handy tips to keep in mind.

Once you got used to telling a few people, it was a cake walk. You told the rest of the band at a dinner you held. It sort of just slipped out when George asked you why you didn’t have a glass of wine like normal, the whole room erupted in congratulations.

~~~

When the time came for your twenty week scan, you were a bundle of nerves. This would be the first proper time you'd be able to see your baby in all their glory, arms and legs and ears and eyelids, the whole shebang. The technician would be checking for physical abnormalities and–if you wanted to know–the sex of the baby.

You spoke with Matty about it, and ultimately decided that you would wait for the surprise of the sex for when the bug was born. It wouldn’t really make much of a difference for you both, you didn’t have a preference and you liked the idea of not going with a stereotypical blue or pink colour scheme–and at least this way, no one would pester you to tell them, because you couldn’t.

But your spine was practically jelly as you laid on the cold bed with a metal wand being prodded as hard as humanly possible. As you saw the outline of a face and you heard the heartbeat–much stronger than at your twelve week scan a few months back. When the technician asked you both if you would like to know the sex, you felt your heart ache.

“I, uh-” You started, quietly. “I kind of want to know…” Matty let out a sigh. “Oh thank god because I want to know too!”

The technician laughed. “It’s a…drumroll please….” Matty patted his lap, making a drumroll sound. “You’re having a…boy!”

At the news you couldn’t stop yourself from bursting into tears. Your emotions had gone into overdrive in the past couple weeks, you practically cried at everything these days.

“We’re gonna have a son…” Matty said, looking at the screen with tears in his eyes. “A little boy…”

~~~

“I hope he has your hair…” You said, laying on your bed rubbing your bump in an attempt to soothe your ever-so-active baby boy so you could possibly get at least half an hour of sleep–which was a more and more rare occurrence the further you got into your pregnancy. 

Matty scoffed. “Could you imagine?”

“You’d be twins!” You laughed.

“I hope he looks like you,” he said, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side–as best he could with the bump growing out of your front. “He’d be the most beautiful baby in the world then.”

“Oh shut up, you,” you said, playfully batting his chest.

~~~

Your third trimester was a battle to say the least. With swollen feet, a sore back, and complete and utter exhaustion at every moment of the day, you were ready for your bug to make his entrance into the world. 

But he wasn’t. Your due date came and went, and you remained pregnant and irritable. You spent most of the day afterwards in bed, mostly on the verge of tears. You became so overwhelmed by the whole thing, you were so, so tired but you knew this was the most rested you’d be for months, with a newborn baby to keep you up for most of the coming nights.

You had an appointment with your obstetrician, but you hardly noticed–you were practically a zombie by then.

“I’ll book you in for an induction then?” She asked once she got a look at you in all your misery, scrolling and clicking around on her laptop. “I can do 3 days from now which would be…” She checked her calendar. “Next Tuesday. Sounds alright?”

You’d never been more animated than with your nodding. “Please…Just get this baby out of me!” You laughed.

Three days. You could feasibly do three more days if it meant you’d finally have your baby bug in your arms. You just had to stick it out.

~~~

After you were induced, your labour was shockingly quick. There was barely time for an epidural–which you had to beg the nurse to give you when she was tentative about it, given how quickly you were dilating. After only about 3 hours of active labour, your baby bug was swaddled and sleeping in a bassinet by your side.He was very fortunate, he looked exactly like his dad–who, for the record, was sleeping curled up on an old hospital chair next to his son. You looked at your boys, both sleeping peacefully, curly hair and shielded chocolate brown eyes. You couldn’t help but shed a tear at the realisation that you’d somehow gotten the most perfect life.

[meetmymouth]

i’m on the roof… (2)

read previous part here

notes: angst (with a happy ending), ex!harry, alcohol consumption, use of she/her. love is a game for fools to play and all that :-)

“You sound like a fridge magnet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeff turns around, iced drink still in hand– the other holding a colour-block jumper.

She shrugs– it seems like shrugging and pursing her lips are the only reactions she’s exercised since that night.

“Means you’re talking shit, I’m bored,” she sniffs, wandering her hands between racks of clothing.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t need to. You’re giving me that– that pathetic look; the look you all give me when I do or say something sad,” she walks a bit further away from him, but is still within earshot.

Jeff stops, and turns his whole body to where she is. She picks up a crop top, and purses her lips– again.

Jeff sighs, and shakes his drink, the ice making a pleasant sound in the plastic. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

With a roll of her eyes, she sits on one of the stools. She looks away, heart heavy, and when she turns back to him, he’s smiling.

“What?” She asks.

He doesn’t say anything, and instead, he copies the shrug she gave him earlier.

“What, Jeff?”

“Just–” he says, shrugging again. “Just ask me.”

“Ask you, what?”

“Him.”

Almost shivering, she abandons the stool, and carries on walking.

They pay, and leave the shop, the both of them carrying a bag each. Jeff walks behind her, trying to keep up with her quick steps.

“Can you just–” he calls behind her, a few people turning their way to see what the fuss is about. She laughs, and turns her head his way, noticing how he’s trying to keep up with her. “Slow down?”

She stops walking, and he runs into her, chest making contact with her back.

“Wow, just– wow,” pushing her, she starts walking again, steps much slower and sluggish than before. “You need therapy.”

She lets out a laugh, adjusting the canvas bag on her shoulder. “I am in therapy.”

“Well, clearly it’s not working.”

“It would, if you just fucked off. Both of you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Jeff bumps their shoulders together.

“I do, I really do.”

“Hm.”

They walk some more, and they stop in front of the gates that lead to Jeff’s house.

“Wanna come in?”

She hums, though her legs don't move– she stays put.

It’s not a ‘yes’.

She looks up at the house in the distance, and sighs. Her eyes look for something in the distance, something up there, and when she spots the roof, her heart feels like someone’s squeezing it– as if they’re trying to get rid of excess water from a wet t-shirt.

If Jeff weren’t there, she thinks she would start hyperventilating, or perhaps start crying. How pathetic, she thinks.

“I”ll just,” she takes a step forward, watching as the gates start opening. “Get my car and go home.”

“Just come inside.”

“I’ll go.”

There’s a moment of silence, and he watches her with that same look in his eyes. The look he gave her that night– the look they all give her from time to time whenever she runs into them, or sees them out and about, or at gatherings.

She doesn’t like it– she can’t stand it.

“I’ll go,” she says, again, and Jeff lets her walk ahead.

She watches the gates to Jeff’s house get smaller and smaller from the rear-view window.

A sob escapes her mouth.

*

It looks pathetic, she thinks, the pasta in that ugly bowl.

It’s lacking a lot of things– it’s lacking basil, lemon slices, grated cheese that laid perfectly on top.

It’s lacking passion.

Love.

“This is shit.”

Sarah looks up from her own bowl of pasta, tomato sauce painting her already red lips, and a choked laugh leaves her mouth.

“What?”

“It tastes okay.”

“So?” Sarah asks, adjusting her body on the sofa, leaning back in her seat. They both look at the cold Rosé on the coffee table, though Sarah’s eyes find her face after a few seconds.

“It’s bland,” she shrugs, chewing the food with disdain.

Sarah shrugs, reaching for her wine glass. “I think it’s fine.”

The answer makes her groan. She looks up at her. “That’s the thing!” She insists, eyes wide open.

Sarah mimics her, clearly surprised at the sudden outburst. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing– everything. Nothing at all.”

“So,” she takes a sip from the cold wine. “Bolognese is a sore topic, I’m guessing?”

“It definitely isn’t. It’s just pasta, Sarah.”

“Wow,” she laughs. “You’re giving me a whiplash. How’s–”

“If one more person asks me about therapy, I will kill myself in front of you all. Just like that.”

Sarah gulps, clearly trying to digest not only the pasta, but also her words.

“Okay, well…”

“Sorry,” she bites her bottom lip. “I’m– I’ve been on edge. Mercury and all that.”

Sarah nods, very slowly, like she’s trying to make sense of everything she’s been saying for the last ten minutes.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“Besides,” she clears her throat, and wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I’m very tired. You know the shelves I ordered last week?”

“Yeah…”

“They got here yesterday. Couldn’t sleep at all last night– been trying to mount them on the wall and they kept falling so I had to watch a lot of videos because did you know they don’t really give you nice instructions on those papers?”

“Oh?” Sarah bites her lip, watching her intently.

“Mhm. The writing is so small as well, so I had to download it online. Couldn’t understand shit,” she lets out a laugh– pasta forgotten. “I was going to call my– my friend, but figured he’d be sleeping, you know? So I tried going back to sleep but– well, couldn’t.”

“Okay,” Sarah says her name, clearly trying to stop the pathetic rambling.

She fails.

“It was too late. I started cleaning the guest bedroom. Found a lot of shit from when– you know. Apparently I hide everything under the bed,” she laughs.

She laughs, and laughs, then stops.

The bowl nearly tips over, but she stops it.

She lets out another chuckle, then it turns into a sob.

She doesn't even realise Sarah getting up from the sofa, grabbing the pasta bowl and placing it on the coffee table next to their wine glasses. Despite everything being too quiet, aside from her sobs, she feels as though there’s a storm outside– if she looks up, she’s almost certain she’s going to spot the palm trees surrounding her house swaying left and right, creating a scene much like the ones in horror films.

She hears Sarah muttering her name, trying to wrap her arms around her, but she feels put; she can’t make noise, nor move.

“Deep breaths,” Sarah is saying. “Take deep breaths, come back to me, come on– it’s okay. You’re okay– you’re here…”

*

Sundays are slow.

Sundays are reserved for quiet days, and charging up, soaking some sunshine– just overall, taking it easy.

Instead, she finds herself on the kitchen floor, “Killing Me Softly” playing loudly–very loudly–in the background as she tries to find her earring.

It’s here somewhere, she hears her own voice mumble to no one in particular. She looks everywhere, but as soon as her hand touches the pink rug, she freezes.

She feels the soft material of the rug– though it doesn’t feel as soft as it did when it was first bought. It feels coarse, like you’re petting a horse, and she’s never particularly liked the feeling. She looks at it, still on her knees, the small, hoop earring long-forgotten as the pink rug fills her vision. It’s so vibrant– so, so bright compared to everything in the kitchen that she finds herself crying at the sight.

She finds her phone in no time.

“What?”

“Tom?”

She hears Tom laugh. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see it was you calling.”

“Can– what are you doing?”

A pause.

Then, he clears his throat.

“Nothing– nothing in particular. What’s up? Are you in LA?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m– I’m at home,” she nods, forgetting the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see her.

“Okay… you okay?”

“I think so.”

“Okay– are you– are you sure?”

“Tom?”

“Yes?” Tom answers back.

She gulps. Hand still feeling the pink rug.

Her knees are starting to hurt.

“Do you remember that pink rug we had in my kitchen?”

Another pause follows.

“Yes…”

“I don’t really– I hate it.”

Tom doesn’t answer for a while.

She hears shuffling on his end.

“You don’t like the rug– uh huh– yes.”

“It’s, well, it’s ugly. I’ve never liked it. I don’t– like it.”

“Do you–” he says her name, and it sounds like a plea. “Do you want me to come over?”

“No– yes. I don’t know, why?”

He chuckles. “I dunno, I thought you might need another pair of eyes to judge the rug.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I… don’t think so.”

“What? Do you want me to come over?” He asks. Again.

“I do.”

Some more shuffling, and she hears his voice.

Where is she?

“Tom?”

“Yes, love? I’ll be there–”

“–Am I on speaker? Did you put me on speaker?” She asks, disdain clear in her voice.

A jingle of keys, and she hears everything clearer now. “No, not anymore, sorry,” Tom answers, and she hears a door slamming shut.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes. Stay where you are.”

“On the floor?” She tries to joke, but she has an epiphany.

It’s all so pathetic.

She is pathetic.

“Well– no, not on the floor. Sit on a sofa or something.”

“The pink rug?” She finds herself asking meekly.

Tom laughs. “Keep it.”

She only gets on her feet when Tom calls her, letting her know he’s outside the gates. It takes him about three minutes to get to her front door, and when she opens the door, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, he gives her that same look everybody’s been giving her for a while. It’s not sad– they don’t exactly look sad; they just look worried.

She decides she doesn’t like it.

“Can I come in?” He says, feet already carrying him inside.

She doesn’t respond, just watches him walk inside, and take his shoes off.

They just stand there for a bit, until Tom nods–more to himself–before wrapping his arms around her.

She shakes like a leaf, sobbing and wetting the white t-shirt he has on.

His hug feels like Harry’s, perhaps it’s because they’re best friends.

It feels warm, and safe, his embrace.

She basks in it, hugging him tighter as he sways them in the middle of her entrance. He doesn’t say anything, just lets her cry into his t-shirt. Only when she stops he grabs her by the forearm, and helps her sit on the sofa.

Curling into herself, she closes her eyes.

She hears him call her name.

“What?”

“You need to– this needs to stop,” Tom lifts her legs, and moves them on his lap, getting comfortable on the green sofa.

“I can’t.”

He clears his throat. “If you just spoke to him…”

“No. Absolutely not,” she visibly shudders at the thought of seeing him, talking to him again.

Purely because she knows she will give in.

“This can’t go on like this, you know that, right?”

“Why not?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but his phone goes off with a phone call.

He takes it out of his pocket, and sighs– presses the side button to silence it as it keeps ringing.

She can see the screen– the call is still incoming.

“Who is it?” She asks, knowing she has no right to.

“It’s– fine.”

“What’s fine? Who is it? Is it Jenny?” She murmurs, throwing one of the throw pillows on the floor so she can lean back on the sofa. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Tom nods.

She groans, feeling hot all of a sudden. Another wave of tears hit her, and she feels them rolling down her cheek.

She looks at her hands on her lap. She plays with her ring. “Why– were you together– when I called?”

“Yeah,” Tom nods again, voice quiet.

They fall silent for a while, before they both flinch at the sound of her doorbell going off.

“Who the fuck–”

Tom stands up, and she holds him by the arm.

“I’ll answer it,” he says.

“What? No– this is my house.”

“You look like– well…”

It’s too late, though, because he watches her walk to her front door.

Whoever is at the door presses the doorbell once again, but she stops in her tracks; she can’t move.

It’s weird, because whoever is on the other side of the door, is someone who knows the code to her gates, and they probably know the security outside for them to be able to walk freely to her front door.

Whoever is on the other side of her door, shouldn’t be him.

But, as always, life has unpleasant surprises for her.

It is him.

She catches a whiff of Harry as soon as she opens the door, and she feels her legs give up, though she finds it in herself to hold on to the door.

“Go,” she can only say. “Please, go.”

He takes a step back. “I’m– I can’t.”

It feels weird, almost nostalgic, hearing his voice.

It’s deep, hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in a while. But, at the same time, it feels fond, hearty…

“Harry,” she whispers.

Her insides fill with relief and chaos at the same time, just from hearing his name coming out of her own mouth.

He responds, saying her name back.

“Don’t make me leave,” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t– I can’t leave. Not now. Not when I’m here– not when you’re in front of me.”

She lets out a whine, the wind from the outside sends a chill down her spine. Harry stays put; it looks like he’s not even breathing, not saying anything– just staring at her. He looks like he’s about to drop to his knees, and cry. Glossy eyes meet hers, and she sees him take a step forward, toes almost touching.

“Let me–” Harry whispers, voice cracking. He sounds like he’s breaking. He doesn’t finish his sentence, he just– he waits.

She’d forgotten about Tom until she feels his presence behind her and they both turn to him, the blond man giving her a sheepish smile.

“You called him,” she says, matter-of-factly, ears feeling warm. Anger and shame.

Tom looks at Harry, a silent conversation happening between them for a second before he turns to her.

“I didn’t call him–”

“–He didn’t, I was with him when you called. I knew he would be here,” Harry murmurs.

She doesn’t say anything, instead, she watches Tom contemplate for a few seconds before he sighs. “I’m gonna– I’ll leave.”

“Tom…”

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll come back. You know I will.”

“Tom, please.”

Harry cuts her off, says her name, and she turns to him again, completely ignoring Tom who quickly brushes past them and walks towards the gates.

“Harry,” she says. “Please leave, I can’t do this right now.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what, Harry? Just fucking leave. I don’t have the strength to do this with you– to argue, to fight with you. I’m done– there’s nothing left in me to do this with you,” she waves her hands in the air, and Harry gulps.

He’s nervous.

“Don’t, then. Don’t argue with me– don’t fight with me, let’s just– let’s just be.”

“Fuck you.”

He smiles, it’s barely there, but she can tell by his lips turning upwards ever-so-slightly. “Yes.”

“Fuck off,” she takes a step back. Harry follows.

“I know.”

She leaves him there, and walks inside the living room, feet carrying her back to the sofa. She sits, leans back, and closes her eyes.

She feels him staring, even with her eyes closed.

That’s the problem, really.

She knows him. She feels him– all the time.

“I hate you,” she whispers, eyes now open. “I hate you so much.”

Harry doesn’t sit– he just stands there, by the console table. “I know.”

“Stop–” she averts her gaze to the ceiling. “–Stop repeating yourself.”

“I want to apologise.”

“For?”

“For– everything. For that night. And before that.”

“And before that, as well?” She asks, playing with the pillow on her lap.

“For everything, yeah.”

“Did you apologise to her, as well?” She tries to find his gaze, though he doesn’t give in.

He can’t even look at her.

His gaze stays on his shoes, hands trembling at his side.

“I did.”

She lets out a chuckle filled with bitterness. It’s cold, and it’s nasty.

She feels nasty.

“I feel nasty,” she says. She means it.

“I do, too.”

“Why– how did this happen?” She looks around, then back at him.

Their gazes find each other.

Harry sits on the edge of the sofa. They’re closer now.

“I don’t know, but I’m sorry for everything.”

“Why did you come?”

“I wanted to see you,” Harry turns his face, and she catches a glimpse of the shadows on his face.

He looks tired.

“I’m not well.”

“I know.”

She lets out a laugh. “Not your fault, though, I mean– I let you do this to me, to us,” she clears her throat.

“Can I– how can I fix this?”

“You can’t.”

“Please…” He almost whines. She closes her eyes. “I need you.”

“You don’t need me.”

“I do– I always do. I need you all the time,” he gets up, gets on his knees. It’s all so fast that she’s worried he might bruise his knees. “I’m selfish– I’m horrible, I know. But, I need you, I–”

“–Don’t say it,” she shakes her head, watches him come closer to her, on his knees in front of her. “Don’t you dare fucking say it.”

“I love you.”

“No,” it’s frantic, the shaking of her head. She feels cold. “No. Don’t.”

“I love you. I think– I think I’ll always love you, always need you. I’m not– I can’t do it without you.”

“Stop gaslighting me.”

“What?”

“Harry, just–” she gets on her feet, walks past him to stop by the coffee table. “Get up– you look pathetic– you sound pathetic!”

He does.

He listens.

*

A year is a long time.

Her hair’s longer.

Her nails are shorter.

It doesn’t hurt as bad when she sees his favourite colours on the streets, or when his favourite song comes on shuffle. She sleeps better now, doesn’t cry that often– only once a day on most days.

She still reaches for his side of the wardrobe when it’s chilly at night– still makes his favourite food when she knows he’s away and he might be missing home. When February comes, she goes out and buys his favourite flowers. Such beautiful flowers, the lady at the till says. I know, she says, they’re my favourites.

She breathes easily now, she thinks.

Until now.

She’s three glasses in when she walks back into the kitchen, and spots the pink rug.

She leaves the wine glass on the kitchen island, and gets on her knees. She acts like she’s found her missing earring. Then, her hand finds her phone in her pocket.

She does scroll for a bit before she finds his name.

He picks up on the fourth ring.

He sounds breathless, so does she.

“Can you come over,” she asks. “I need you.”

She doesn’t get a response for a while. She grows anxious.

“Please? Are you in LA?” She goes on. >Pathetic.

He answers at last. “I– am. Yes.”

“Come– come over.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Harry,” she hears herself say, sounding equally breathless. It sounds like a prayer. It’s the first time in a while she’s said it out loud.

“Yes?” She hears his keys being picked up.

“Come home.”