#I just feel like it was an opportunity missed

[inbabylontheywept]

Babylon and the Duck of Butter

I have a gift for falling in love with random objects. One time, my aunt got me a little rubber chicken, and whenever I squoze it, a little egg thing popped out. Very silly. Except that chicken became something like my best friend. I carried it with me to school, and I kept it with me in my pocket, and whatever social hazards there were about Being The Guy Who Got Stressed Whenever His Rubber Chicken Was Missing were far outweighed by being The Guy Who ALWAYS Had a Rubber Chicken On Him. There's a lot of comedic opportunity that comes with always having a good prop on your person.

Of course, the chicken did eventually. Explode. And such was my grief that I did not eat for 36 hours. This was very stressful for many people. Mostly my mom. I was a very strange child to work with. She took parenting so incredibly seriously, and then I'd pitch her these curve balls like refusing to eat for a day and a half because my rubber chicken died. No parenting book tells you what to do when that happens. You just have to feel it in your heart.

A less tragic story of an object that I fell in love with was a large, foam toad that I found in a trinket shop. The toad was the size of a very large grapefruit. Much too large to carry with me to school (thank god) but enough that I could move it around the house, to keep me company during my solitary pursuits. If I was reading, the toad was there, and if I was tinkering with legos, the toad was there, and even when I slept, I would wrap the toad up in layers and layers of blankets, and then spoon it. I did this until the rubber coating on the foam started to wear out, and the foam started to get brittle and break down and leak this repulsive yellow powder. Then I simply put the toad in the playroom and would consult it on matters of great importance. Eventually I stopped doing that, and someone took the opportunity to dispose of it. Not sure who. By the time I noticed its absence, too much time had passed for me to actually be sad. As an adult, part of me thinks I would have maybe liked burying the toad, but part of me also thinks I might have refused to part with the toad, which would have resulted in it leaking more repulsive yellow powder into the house. So I understand why that decision was made. 

I want to state that this does not happen often, and it does not happen on purpose. I don't choose to fall in love with random objects. And it's always a little bit embarrassing when it happens. 

Which brings me to my wife. 

Before meeting my wife, I did not often go to places with crowds. I didn't really think of it as avoiding them - those places just didn't seem fun to me. But she liked those places, and I really liked her, and being with someone who really likes something can kind of sell you on liking it too, so I'd take her to places and watch her Visibly Enjoy the Fair and go: Alright. The fair is pretty sweet.  

Which is a thing that happened. After fourish months of dating, I took her to the fair. And she fell very visibly in love with a large series of quilts, and she stayed near them for a while, which she thought was very embarrassing, and I got to pretend to be understanding as an outsider, because I thought it would be much more impressive than also being the type of person that would fall in love with a quilt. 

Do not do this. The gods punishment for my hubris was that the room next to the quilts was full of butter sculptures, which was an entirely new thing to me, and I immediately fell embarrassingly in love with all of them. It was like the biggest, sappiest non-sexual crush you've ever had, but not only did the other person not recipropcate, they could not, because they were made of butter. I actually got yelled at for pressing my face against the glass, which is fair, but also, I hadn't realized I was pressing my face on the glass, I just started leaning forward because after approximately 30 minutes of staring wistfully at a cow made of butter my legs got tired. And I think I should be given some grace for that.

Anyway. My wife was very patient with me taking more time to look at the butter sculptures than the average person might spent at the Louvre, and she also felt much less embarrassed over falling in love with a quilt, and we had a good laugh about it on the ferris wheel. 

A few weeks after that was my birthday. And I don't know what I expected, exactly - but I did not expect what she did. 

Dear reader, she made me a butter sculpture. Of a duck.

She picked a duck, because our first kiss was at a Japanese friendship garden. It was our second date, and she'd made up her mind not to do any kissing until the third date, but as we sat on the grass, a duck walked past me, and I'd just seen the hold-duck-gentle-like-hamgurber meme,

so I sort of impulsively reached out and snatched it. I honestly didn't think it would work. I don't know who was more flabbergasted, me or the duck. But we looked at each other, and then I looked at her, and then she looked at the duck, and she looked so incredibly envious that I assumed that must have wanted the duck so I just handed it to her.

It turned out she was actually envious of the ability to just grab a duck as it walked by, but she accepted the duck and stroked it a few times before releasing it. (She also made up her mind to kiss me in that moment, which was very nice.)  

Anyway.

She made me a butter duck of my own. Obviously, I fell in love with it immediately. I cleared out all of the freezer-portion of my mini fridge, and I put the duck in there, and for the next several months, when I felt sad, or lonely, I would open the door up and spent some quality time. Just me and my duck.

But this is, of course, not the end of the story. 

Because.

After several months. 

The mini fridge died. 

I really didn't use it that often. It was mostly my duck storage container. But one day, I walked by it, and it struck me that it wasn't humming. So I opened the door, and it was just. Far, far too late. The duck was dead. Dead dead. Turned into a foul-smelling slime dead. 

I cried. I did. After the rubber chicken thing, I thought I had changed, but I had not changed, and the unexpected death of my butter buddy left me pretty shook. I texted my then-girlfriend now-wife about how sad I was, and she actually came over to help me say goodbye. We didn't even bother scraping the duck out of the mini-fridge, we just said our goodbyes to both and threw them together in the nice dumpster behind the chapel, because it seemed appropriate to put it in God's dumpster. And it did actually help quite a bit. I certainly did not go 36 hours without eating again. 

And that was, for some time, the end of the butter duck. 

However. Three (or four?) years ago, for my birthday, my wife was looking around thrift stores. And she found something interesting. 

The original butter duck had an odd pose. She'd sculpted it laying flat, intending to raise it up later. But the butter was less flexible than she thought, and she was afraid of cracking it so she left it down which left the duck with a very elongated, very in-motion appearance. And she found a brass statue of a duck in the same, running posture.

It wasn't the original. But it was oddly on the nose. It was a yellow brass, it had the same strange posture, the same crude little face feathers. 

I think it was $3, but it remains perhaps the most thoughtful gift I have ever received. I got very choked up when I unwrapped Butter Duck, The UnDying. 

Pic provided.

[luveline]

Jade can we get hotch and his daughter again I miss them!!!!!

You’ll confess to liking your father’s new apartment. It’s well-furnished and warm. It’s nothing like the house, though. You can hardly tell anyone lives here when you aren’t putting your laundry bag by the washer-dryer to go in next, the bedroom especially untouched. You suspect your father lives out of his wardrobe and go-bag, as it’s called. 

Different to the house. You’re always welcome. No strange silences pervade when you come knocking —if Aaron’s home, he opens the door already having pulled the chain lock down to let you in, and, despite his apparent stress and budding depression, he asks you what you need. 

How was school? How’s your studying coming along? Did you find a potential grad outfit yet? Did you need a check for that? 

It’s too much, sometimes, but not because you don’t want it. 

You hesitate at the door. From inside, you can hear the barest hum of the TV. Maybe he’s actually relaxing for once. Maybe you should leave poor Aaron alone. 

You’re selfish. “Dad?” you ask, letting some excitement colour your voice, “Hello! Are you napping?” 

It’s gotta be five quick seconds before the doors being pulled open. “Hey, sweetheart,” he croaks, all tired eyes and rumpled pajamas as he stands aside. You dodge his arm, laughing at his disgruntled groan. “You can go home if this is what I have to deal with.” 

You let him close the door and lock it before you turn back to him. “Tell me you weren’t just sleeping on the couch? I thought we had a few more years.” 

“I was asleep in bed.” 

“You got to the door super fast.” 

“I was getting up. We got home late,” —he drags a hand over his face— “and I didn’t sleep on the jet. Let me go get dressed and we’ll go for breakfast.” He checks his watch. “Uh, dinner.” 

“Or we could order in?” 

He sighs in relief. “Or we’ll order in. Good idea.” 

You don’t comment as he steps past you to the couch. You’ve missed your opportunity for a hug. It’s your own fault for dodging the first one. 

You slip out of your shoes and leave them neatly by the door, hanging your jacket on the hook, and your sweater on the back of the couch. He holds up a hand as you sit down on the couch and you take it for what it is, a beckoning to sit near enough for him to hold your shoulder. “Alright?” he asks, touching the side of your face with his knuckles briefly, before leaving you to your personal space. “You look tired. I don’t mean that unkindly. How have you been sleeping?”

“You’re the third person to tell me that today, but I don’t feel tired.” 

“Maybe you just need something to eat,” he says. “Pass me the phone, honey, I’ll call for us.” 

He calls. You listen to him talk. You love how polite he is to everyone and especially people who work jobs like you did. Despite his titles and expertise, he doesn’t condescend. He says thank you twice. And he orders all your favourites, so you have to give him double the credit for being observant. 

You slip a ways down into your seat and look Aaron over. To no one’s surprise, having a father who cares about you is easy work for the heart. Your life is changed. He’s good, and you like being around him, but it’s a funny thing to look at this man you’ve known for a year and to know you love him. He really is everything you ever wanted, as a kid. He isn’t picking you up from sleepovers or rubbing your back when you cry, but you’re sure he’d do both of those things if asked. You like that you can come here without asking. You like that he doesn’t care why.

He doesn’t look young, exactly, but he doesn’t look quite old enough yet to have a daughter your age. He could be a coworker. The thought makes you huff. 

“What?” he asks, already smiling. 

“Just thinking about something.” 

“About what?” 

“You’re not as young as you look.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Right, right, I forget that you come here to insult me. You know, Jack told me I was getting more ‘crinkles’ the other day.” 

“Kids say the darndest things,” you tease lightly. 

“I’m not old.” 

“I said you’re not as young as you look, that means you’re doing well.” 

“I think I look right for my age,” he says contritely, but grinning, tipping his head back against a cushion. “It’s good to look your age. It’s a privilege to be old.” 

“I thought you weren’t.” 

“I’m not. I’m just saying… I’m lucky to be here still,” he says, giving you a nudge, “or I wouldn’t know my girl, would I?” 

“And sappy in your old age.” 

“Mm.” He grabs the remote, turning the TV onto a movie channel and upping the volume. “Unfortunately.” 

You turn into him and let your knees touch. You watch TV waiting for your dinner to arrive in companionable silence, not tired but worn, not bored but somehow restless. You wonder if wanting a hug off your dad when you haven’t had very many is wrong of you. But the thing is —is that he really feels like your dad. Just the way he talks to you cements it. Sometimes when you’re with him, you feel like a kid again.

When he touched the side of your face and told you that you looked tired, it felt like a compliment, somehow, the signals all crossed in your head, ‘cos it was nice to be cared for. 

“Dad?” you ask quietly. 

Aaron turns his gaze to yours, not bothering to square away his joy at being called such a thing. “What, honey?” 

“Do you think… would it be really weird if I asked for a hug?” you ask shyly. Heat floods your cheeks and nose, but he doesn’t laugh. 

“Come here,” he says, sitting up a touch, arm extended for you to fold under. He wraps you in, lets you slouch into his touch just like Jack does in those slices of time after dinner and before bed. “Not weird. I mean, you’re a big girl,” —he laughs— “but I don’t think there’s an age limit.” 

“I know that. Just don’t know if you want to.” 

If he sees you wringing your fingers, he ignores it. “Why wouldn’t I want to?” He settles back on the couch, pulling you a little to make sure you go with him. Not like Jack laying bodily atop him, but still a nice hug. 

“Don’t know.” 

You both sort of know why. You’re old. You’re not supposed to want this stuff. You should find it too awkward and the time for affection has passed. And yet. 

He hums softly. “I love you, honey.” 

You know, but it’s nice to be told. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.” 

He doesn’t begrudge the way you put it, sinking again into the couch, his eyes looking heavy with some contentness, but mostly fatigue. “Don’t let me fall asleep before the food gets here,” he says.

“You got it, boss.” 

He gives your shoulder a rough, dad-like squeeze. You laugh and squirm away. After a few seconds apart, he shuffles you back toward him. 

“Is it hard?” he asks. 

“What?” 

“Finishing the year out. Getting ready for your exams. The bar. Is it stressing you out? You can be all caught up on sleep and still exhausted, I’d know.” 

“Yeah, it is. Yeah, but it’s just a few more months. I can do it.” 

“I know you can do it, baby,” he says, drawing your attention from the TV, “that's not in question.” 

His voice is soft like a strip of velvet. You’ve stopped being surprised at his propensity for gentleness, but you don’t always know what to do in the face of it. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks. 

“Nothing. Just studying.” 

“Okay, so stay the night, the guest rooms calling your name, and tomorrow morning we’ll just study.” 

“Do you even remember–”

“Don’t insult me.” 

“It’s a lot.” 

“I remember. I used to drive Haley mad.” He goes quiet for a bit. Two or three seconds where you know he’s thinking about their separation. “But I couldn’t have done it without her. It’s hard work, committing it all to memory, we can make more flash cards.” 

“That would be nice.” 

“Not exactly helping you with your math homework.” 

“Are you any good at it?” 

“Math?” He laughs. “Not anymore.” 

“You forget all that stuff, right? I knew we would.” 

“Yeah, you do. I had to get rid of all that stuff to make room for work.” 

“Oh, so it was on purpose?” 

“I’ll ignore what you’re implying. I’m gonna eat all the poppadoms when they get here, but I’ll ignore it.” 

“Sick.” 

He shrugs. 

“I’ll tell Jack.” 

“Oh, don’t. If your brother knows we had butter chicken without him he’ll throw a fit.” 

“We can save him some.” 

Aaron lets his face rest on the back of the couch. “Good idea.” 

“Aaron, don’t sleep.” 

He grins. “I’m not. I’m resting my eyes.” 

Ridiculous. “Is it… Can you have Jack tomorrow?” 

“I don’t know. She doesn’t really like it that I’m only having him on the weekends. She says she gets all the hard parts and I have all the fun.” 

You don’t know what to say. “Well, I guess that’s kinda true.” 

“Yeah. Thing is, I can’t say sure, I’ll have him Sunday through to Wednesday because I never know if they’re gonna send me somewhere with the team. I can’t even confidently take him on the weekend. I can’t promise I’ll be here.” 

“I know.” 

He squints at you. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You give him a rueful smile. “What are you sorry to me for?” 

“It’s not just Jack I’m letting down.” 

“You haven’t let me down,” you say, practicing some of his softness. “Maybe you have let Jack down, I don’t know, I’m not Jack, but so long as you’re trying to do well by him, I think that’s probably enough. You… you and Haley, you’re not sure what’s happening.” You don’t like telling him he and Haley have a happy ending, because everything he’s told you so far doesn’t agree, but you don’t wanna kick him while he’s down either. “It’s okay to need time to like, get things straight. You have the apartment, you have the guest room, you’re offering to have him when you can. You do have to make the effort, but you know that already.” 

“I know, but thanks, honey. You’ve listened to too much of my whining.” 

“You listen to me whine all the time.” 

He squeezes you to him. “I love listening to you.” 

“I don’t mind listening to you, either.” 

“The horrors of adulthood, listening to your deadbeat dad complain.” 

“Shut up, you’re not a deadbeat. You’re stressing me out.” 

“Sorry.” He rubs your arm again and lets you loose. “Oh, sweetheart, I got your snacks, if you’re hungry. They’re in the cabinet by the fridge.” 

“I can wait.” 

He sighs very deeply. You’re sure he’s gonna nod off, but he forces himself to stand. “Thank you for coming over. I couldn’t do this without you.” 

“What, the sad bachelor thing?” You giggle to yourself as he stands up. “Where are you going? I’m just kidding.” 

“I’m getting your snacks.” 

You turn on the couch to watch him. He unveils a bunch of your favourite things from the cabinet. You can see Jack’s fruit snacks, his yogurt covered raisins, and it gives you a chest ache thinking about Aaron all alone this weekend. “You know I do love you, right?” you ask carefully. 

He comes back, looking super tired but not so sad. “I know. I’m the luckiest man alive if I have you and your brother, you know that?” 

“Okay.” 

Aaron laughs, dropping your candies in your lap with a thunk. He got the big bag. “Okay. Tuck into those, and I’ll go see about your bother coming over tomorrow. Did you have pajamas in the laundry?”

“Uh…” 

“I’ll look.” 

You did not wanna get up. “Thanks!” you say, cracking open your bag of candy with a smile, missing the fond look he throws your way from behind. 

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 5

Chapters 5 and 6 are done! Yippy! Chapter 7 is going to be a slice-of-life type of thing because I don't want to time skip straight to the bats finding out quite yet. Also, did y'all know that Gothamite also means an inhabitant of NYC? Whenever you see me use that just know I mean an inhabitant of Gotham City.

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 5 >>next(TBC)

NYC was hell on earth and that’s coming from a Gothamite.

Sure- did a rogue attack 3 times a week, maybe more, in Gotham? Yes. But NYC felt lawless and without rhyme or reason. Every day something was happening, every day a building went down if it wasn’t a whole street, every day a hero would almost run you over while you were just trying to chill in the air.

At least on the third Tuesday of every month, there would be no robberies in Gotham, at least if something happened to the city and Batman wasn’t around the rogues would keep the people safe. Here it seemed to be everyone for themselves, and the rent was heinous for the type of bullshit that went down, in Gotham it was pennies compared to NYC. The constant feeling of being watched didn’t help either it irked at the back of your head every time, only stopping in the safety of your home.

The shadows stopped talking to you as well, you could barely hear them anymore, your theory being that NYC was simply too bright compared to G. City. Visiting Midnight City helped keep you connected to them, it felt somewhat like Gotham. But Darkwing felt too much like Batman, making you paranoid, so you never truly lingered for long. You missed them. Missed the rogues, the garden, the kids, the manor. The house really grew on you.

But you liked it. You liked the chaos, the myriads of heroes, the aliens that kept trying to conquer the world, and you enjoyed how the heroes knew that sometimes the best course of action was to kill the threat.

You were still bitter about how Joker took Jason from you, about how Mr. Wayne hid that from you, so seeing Omni-Man, War Woman, Immortal and so many more deal with clearly deadly threats as they should be dealt with felt nice. They would never let Joker live, the clown wouldn’t have millions of kills, and he wouldn’t have gotten Barbara and Jason.

Of course, you’ve heard rumors that while Batman doesn’t go out of his way to kill, he lets others do the dirty work, everyone in Gotham has. You’ve seen Lois Lane cover some of the bigger, worldwide alien attacks that the Justice League helped with. Batman didn’t seem to have a problem with killing or seriously injuring them. He was either a hypocrite or afraid to lose it once he did kill a human, either way, both were bad options.

So, you put up with it, found yourself a studio apartment owned by an old woman, overlooking the fact that the whole building may have been owned by a gang, and kept on doing your online schooling. Kept on making art, donating to charities and shelters, found yourself a nice job pet sitting, and even did some volunteering at local shelters when they needed an extra hand.

You got better at flying, getting so fast you could go around the globe in 5 minutes. It was fun visiting the places you heard Bruce talk about to the others, Algeria, Argentina, Australia, Austria, Bangladesh, Belgium, Brazil, and China. You were planning on visiting every city in every country with this newfound freedom. It was fun, and Bruce didn’t even notice as you used more and more of your allowance.

Sadly, your moments of peace and happiness always seemed to last for a short while. You were happy with just flying, it opened opportunities you didn’t even think were possible, but you’ve never seen a meta whose ability was only flying, not if they didn’t have wings, and maybe paranoia settled in.

Were you just dreaming? Was this just a really long dream? Were you dead? Would you go off the rocket when or if other powers showed up? What will you do when they do show up? You wanted to be an artist, to paint until your heart gave away. But if people needed help you wouldn’t be able to stay on the sidelines knowing you’re more than capable of lending a hand.

You knew you already had some strength power active- you wouldn’t be able to fly that fast without your skin peeling right off. Maybe it just made your skin stronger? Well, that’s how you ended up in a forest, or deep in a park- you weren’t sure, you flew without thinking, your thoughts and theories eating at you until you had to act.

The tree in front of you had an average-sized trunk, maybe on the smaller side compared to the others around you. You’ve been staring at it for a bit, debating if this really was something you wanted to see if you could do. “Ignorance is bliss” flew through your mind, but the full sayings of these quotes always rang at the back of your head. “Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise”.

Your fist met the trunk with a small thud, you didn’t feel any pain, nothing was happening, so you bit your lip, closed your eyes tight, and punched the trunk harder. You heard the wood splinter before you saw it, your eyes flying wide open at the sound. The trunk had a dent in the shape of your fist, not quite all the way through. You still felt nothing.

Maybe you shouldn’t have tested out your strength this much, Ivy would have been quite mad at you for destroying so many trees, each one thicker than the last, but you were simply curious and made sure to clean up after yourself. It was weird. If you hit fast enough your arm could go right through quite cleanly, but there was no pain, none at all… Is this how Superman felt?

In your excitement, you didn’t even notice the figure above you, watching your every move or the flying orb camera doing the same. And while the figure kept watching you grow in your powers for a year, watched you help around in small ways, mostly clean up and small muggings, the orb stopped after a few months.

It took a while for you to be able to lift as much as you could now, for the first half of your newfound power you had to break stuff like big rubble down before you could lift them, you still found it amusing how Red Flash stayed quiet about you, but how could he not when you shushed him the first time he tried to tell the others. The man wasn’t about to fuck with Cecil’s worker, even though he might have said a word or two to the old man’s face about child labor.

Despite all that you truly felt happy, fulfilled even. You were doing art, helping people, and despite still working on having friends during the day part, you were glad you left. You were on cloud nine, well, literally more than figuratively. You were flying above the clouds, basking in the sun. Nothing could cloud your life anymore.

…Where did the sun go? Your eyes opened, blissful expression turning into a frown as your eyes caught a dark figure flying just a few paces over you, its eyes glowing, a wide grin showing a full set of teeth, cape billowing behind it.

What. The. Fuck.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion

hope I didn't forget anyone 😬

[deerlysacred]

🍎 i feel so high school every time i look at you . . . { dean winchester x fem!reader }

𐂂 𝄢 { you always felt like you missed out on lots of silly, social & romantic things in your teenage years because you were very shut-down and depressed back then. dean shows you that there's still time to make up for it. }

𖣂 𝄢 established relationship & fluff

♫ 𝄢 concept song : so high school - taylor swift

Clink.

. . .

Clink!

The soft clatter of pebbles against your bedroom window barely registered at first. You were curled up under a mountain of blankets, comfortably burrowed in your own little nest, flipping through a book with a cup of tea precariously (?) balanced on your stomach. You told yourself it was probably just the wind. Or a tree branch. Or, you know, the natural creaks and groans of a house that is absolutely not haunted (you hoped so).

Then— another clink.

And another.

You sighed, your eyebrows knitting together.

Okay. Either a ghost just decided to throw hands, or some poor bird tragically lost its sense of direction.

You went out of bed, padding over to the window as you pulled the curtains away. Your eyes widened against the unexpected scene.

Dean Winchester. Standing in your backyard, throwing rocks at your window.

The sight alone was almost too much for your brain to process. He was grinning up at you like some teenage heartthrob straight out of an '80s rom-com, one hand tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket while the other —oh great— prepared to lob another pebble.

"Dean?" you whisper-yelled, opening your window. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What's it look like, sweetheart?" he whisper-yelled right back, looking too proud of himself. "I'm sneakin' my girl out for a date. Proper teenage style. Now c'mon, before your strict old folks catch me."

You just stared at him, struggling to process several things at once. One, he is standing in your yard throwing pebbles at your window like a delinquent in a coming of age TV show. Two, he just called you his girl, which— okay, that probably should've sound normal to you since you're his girlfriend indeed. For a while now, in fact. But your brain still short-circuited a little, getting flustered even after all this time.

"…Dean, I don't have strict old folks."

He waved a dismissive hand. "I dunno, Y/N. Your grandma did glare at me once. Feels like I'm riskin' life and limb here."

You bit back a laugh. "You do realize I could just use the door, right?"

Dean scoffed, his breath getting visible with the fog because of the chilly air of the evening. "Oh, sure, and miss out on the whole forbidden romance, Romeo-and-Juliet, sneakin'-through-the-night scene? Where's your sense of drama, sweetheart? Hm? Where's your passion?" He gestured grandly towards the window and flexed his muscles briefly. "Now, c'mon. Climb out or somethin'. I'll catch ya."

You folded your arms, shaking your head as you chuckled. "You will not catch me!"

Dean put a hand over his heart, looking scandalized. "Excuse me? I am a gentleman. I would absolutely catch you."

"Dean, be honest. Do you want to risk finishing this date night before it even began after you broke your arm because you got too full of yourself?"

He squinted, like he was actually considering the question. "…Okay, fair point. Plan B— the ladder in the garage. We improvise."

You shook your head again, a helpless smile breaking through. You knew why he was doing this. He probably couldn't stop thinking about what you told him last night— how you felt like you missed out on things as a teenager. How you overthink about the past missed opportunities sometimes, okay… Maybe more than sometimes. And here he was now. And because that he was Dean, instead of just saying something sweet or reassuring and get over with it (not like he was very good with words too), he was throwing pebbles at your window like a teenage rebel, giving you the moment you never got to have.

And damn it if that didn't make you fall for him even more.

"Give me a minute." you said, already reaching for your coat.

Dean grinned, all boyish mischief and dimples, retrieving the slightly rusted ladder from the garage, setting it against the house. "That's my girl, come."

You sighed and closed the window before carefully making your way back down. When you were only a couple of steps from the bottom, Dean suddenly spread his arms wide, wiggling his fingers.

"Alright, sweetheart— leap of faith. I got you."

You eyed him warily. "Dean…"

"Oh, come on. Where's your sense of adventure? Woulda made such a cute movie moment."

You rolled your eyes but decided to humor him. With a deep breath, you let go of the ladder and jumped.

Dean, to his credit, did catch you. Mostly.

He stumbled back a step, arms full of you, before he managed to steady them both, laughing. "See? Told ya I'd—oof—catch you."

You clung to him, half-giggling, half-mortified. "That was not smooth."

"Eh, I give it a solid eight outta ten," Dean said, setting you on your feet. He brushed an imaginary leaf off your shoulder, voice dipping low and playful. "Y'know, if this was some cheesy teen drama, this'd be the part where we kiss real slow, right before your dad comes out with a shotgun."

You snorted, tilting your head. "Too bad my dad's not around to threaten you."

Just as the two of you turned towards the Impala, movement from across the street caught your eye.

Mr. Jenkins.

Mr. Jenkins was your eighty-something-year-old neighbor who sits on his porch every night sipping his coffee, watching the world go by. And right now, he was watching you and Dean with the exact expression of a man who has seen some things in his time but has never seen this.

Dean followed your gaze and gave Mr. Jenkins a slow, respectful nod.

Mr. Jenkins narrowed his eyes. Took a sip of coffee. Kept staring.

Dean turned back to you, whispering. "Alright, I think I've been made. Your grandpa's gonna call the cops, isn't he?"

"He's not my grandpa."

"You sure? He's got that 'disapproving man of the house' energy goin' on."

You sighed. "Just get in the car before he starts asking questions."

Dean tugged open the Impala's door with a dramatic flourish, waving you in like he's some kind of old-school gentleman. "After you, milady."

"Dean…?" you said slowly, side-eyeing him.

"Mm?" He looked perfectly innocent. Too innocent.

"You're taking me to a makeout spot?"

Dean smirked. "Technically, I'm takin’ you to a scenic overlook with a great view of the stars." A beat. "But, yeah, also a makeout spot."

You groaned, slumping against the seat. "I hate everything."

"Nahhh, you love it."

…You kind of did love it. But he didn't need to know that.

When he finally pulled up to the clearing, the view was stunning. An open sky stretching for miles, stars shining bright against the darkness, the town lights twinkling far below. Dean shut off the engine and hopped out, you hugged your coat and went out to clim up on the hood of Baby to sit. When Dean came back, he was holding— a picnic basket?

Your brows shot up. "Oh my God, you packed snacks?"

Dean looked vaguely offended. "Sweetheart, I always pack snacks."

You laughed as he set the basket down on the hood of the Impala and sat next to you. He pulled out a few chocolate bars, a bag of chips, and—of course—a pack of beer.

"Very nutritious." you remarked.

Dean popped the cap off a bottle. "Hey, you want gourmet, sweetheart, you're in the wrong car."

You rolled your eyes but took a chocolate bar, unwrapping it as you leaned back against the windshield, eyes drifting to the sky. It really was beautiful up here. Quiet. Peaceful.

Then, the soft strumming of a guitar filters through the Impala's speakers. An old, slow love song, the kind that makes your chest ache in that bittersweet way.

You glanced at Dean, who was busy nursing his beer like this was no big deal. Like he didn't just put on a song as if this was a romance movie. Your stomach flipped, biting your bottom lip, you spoke.

"Dean…"

He cleared his throat. "Just thought, y'know… if you ever wanted that teenage movie moment… well. This ain't a prom, but…" He gestured around you. "Got the view. Got the music. Got the devastatingly handsome date."

You giggled, leaning into his side. "You are pretty devastating."

Dean grinned, draping an arm around your shoulders. For a while, you just sat there, listening to the song and cuddling.

After a moment of silence, he glanced down at you as he was caressing your shoulder gently. "So, what kinda stuff do you think you missed out on?"

"I don't know. Just… normal teenage things, I guess. Like— stupid, fun stuff. Sneaking out just to go nowhere. Sleepovers. Gossiping about crushes. A first kiss that wasn't tainted by some deep emotional crisis."

Dean winced playfully. "Oof. That one hit close to home."

You smirked. "Right?"

Dean leaned back on his palms, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, I get that. I missed out on a bunch of crap, too. No high school parties. No prom. No dumb summer jobs or college road trips. Just—" he huffed a dry laugh. "—training, hunting, and trying to keep Sammy safe."

You frowned, reaching for his hand. "That's not fair. You deserved those things, Dean."

He shrugged, squeezing your fingers. "Yeah, well… wasn't in the cards for me."

You looked down at your joined hands, your thumb tracing over his knuckles. "Sometimes I think about it. What kind of person I would've been if things had been different. If I'd been happy back then."

"You ever wish you could do it over?"

You hesitated, then shook your head. "No if it meant I wouldn't end up here. With you."

Dean's lips parted slightly, like you just knocked the wind out of him. Then, after a second, he cleared his throat and smirked. "Damn. You keep talkin' like that, and I'm gonna have to start writing poetry."

"Oh, please. I'd love to hear your poetry."

Dean straightened, putting on a dramatic voice. "Roses are red, Impala is black. Every time you kiss me, I forget how to act."

You laughed and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. "That was beautiful. You should publish that."

Dean grinned. "Oh, totally. I heard bad poetry is in high demand."

"Then congrats, baby, you're about to be a bestseller."

You sat like that for a while, the laughter fading into something softer, warmer. Then, as the song playing on the radio faded into another slow melody, Dean suddenly sat up.

"Alright, that's it." He turned to you with a grin. "We're fixin' this."

You blinked. "Uh… Fixing what?"

He hopped off the hood, holding out a hand to you. "We missed out on stupid teenage things, right? So let's make up for it. Starting with a slow prom dance under the stars."

You huffed a small laugh but didn't resist when he took your hand, helping you down. The second you were standing, Dean turned, grabbed a soft flannel blanket from the basket, and carefully draped it over your shoulders.

"Wouldn't want my girl gettin' cold." he murmured, making sure it wrapped snugly around you. Then, with a boyish smirk, he added: "Also, this way you can't run when I step on your toes."

You giggled. "Wow. Confidence through the roof, Winchester."

Dean just grinned and pulled you closer, swaying you two gently to the quiet music playing from the Impala's radio.

At first, it was ridiculous. He exaggerated his steps like some old-school ballroom instructor, guiding you dramatically across the dirt like you were at some grand gala instead of parked on an empty hill. But you played along, batting your lashes and letting out an over-the-top sigh, as if you'd just been swept into the most magical moment of your life.

Then, somewhere along the way, the teasing melted into something softer.

Your movements slowed, your bodies falling into an easy rhythm. Your arms looped around Dean's neck, your fingers absentmindedly curling into his hair. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs drawing lazy circles through the fabric of your clothing. The blanket cocooned you in warmth, shielding you from the cold night air.

For a while, you just swayed. No words, no hurry. Just you two, the hum of the radio, the distant chirp of crickets, and the glow of the stars above.

Then Dean dipped his head, his nose brushing lightly against yours. His voice was quieter now, softer. "Y'know… I think I like our version of prom better."

You smiled up at him. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm." His voice was lazy. "No bad music. No ugly corsages. And best of all…" His lips quirked up. "I get to kiss the prettiest girl here."

You barely had time to catch your breath before Dean tilted his head, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. This one wasn't playful or teasing— it was deep, unhurried, and sure. Reassuring. Reassuring in a way that told you you didn't miss out on anything, everything little step in life brought you here. To him. And you knew, that this was more meaningful and real than any ghost of a never-happened memory.

[themultifanshipper]

i am ovulating so bad but can I request a franco x reader x ollie smut where they were fighting over the reader like that one fight scene from bridget jones' diary, and the reader was like... why not both??

To say the start of the 2025 season had been eventful was an understatement. 

Or at least from Franco and Ollie’s points of view. 

Warnings: smut, threesome, blowjob (the return of Franco's dick sucking lips), mention of quickies, also a lot of alcohol, Yukierre being little shits, Ted kravitz once again making an appearance, very plot heavy ngl there's not much smut

At some point during the winter break, you had struck up a situationship with Franco. And you’d managed to keep it a secret for about a week. 

There was no such thing as privacy in Monaco, so of course it was inevitable that someone would eventually snap a pic of him leaving your house, and that was it. 

Ollie had been planning on asking you out at the start of the season, given that he now had a full-time seat and you'd be seeing a lot more of each other. 

And he didn’t really consider Franco much of a threat, so he decided to ask him during testing. 

The two of them were gazing at you from across the pitlane. 

“Are you and her like... an official thing?”  

Franco scoffed “What is that supposed to mean?”  

“You know... do you love her?” 

Franco frowned at him.  

“No, I don’t. But just because we aren’t in a relationship, do not think for a second that I will let you have her” 

Ollie raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say I wanted to. I’m just curious.” 

Franco didn’t believe him. And Ollie didn’t believe Franco.  

And they were both right. 

Because the truth was that Franco was in love with you, but he was too much of a pussy to do anything about it. So he was fine with just sex, until he could muster the courage to confess to you.  

And the truth was that Ollie was going to do everything he could to have you. He did have feelings for you, that had been brewing for a while, but the added element of competition made him hungry. 

Ollie was nothing if not proactive. He took every opportunity to talk to you, and flirt shamelessly with you. 

And at first, you were reticent. 

You’d been waiting for Franco to make a move. You liked him, a lot. And you knew he liked you. So any day now, right? 

Except weeks went by, and still no indication that Franco was going to make any kind of commitment to you. Not even a drunk phonecall, or a proper date... 

So eventually, Ollie's advances started getting to you. You were only human.  

You had no idea that the two drivers were in any kind of altercation in Melbourne. 

Someone had spotted them having a heated argument and a blurry video was circulating around the more remote spots of the internet, so you missed it completely. 

In China, you got your first indication that something was going on. 

Before FP3, Ollie had come to you saying he wanted to talk to you about something important. 

You told him to meet you in your drivers room after the session, and that you had something to talk to him about as well. 

His heart swelled with hope. Perhaps you also had feelings for him and he was finally going to beat Franco. 

But then, Franco was there, in your drivers room, waiting for you after the session.  

“I’m waiting for someone, you need to get out before someone sees-” 

“I don’t care about Ollie, I need you so bad right now” he groaned into your neck while his hands worked to get your suit off. 

He’d never done anything so bold before. And as soon as his hands and lips were on you, you caved. He had his way with you on the massage table, doing his best to get the sweetest, and loudest, noises out of you in an effort to ward any lurkers away. 

One of said lurkers, Ollie, froze when he heard the noises coming from your room.  

His heart sank, Franco had gotten to you first.  

This time. 

You and Ollie both did terribly on sunday. You weren’t expecting a podium, but some points would have been nice. And Ollie DNF’d thanks to one of the Alpines (in his mind he blamed Franco, even though the Argentine wasn’t even in a car) crashing into him in turn 2. 

So you and him did the only thing you knew would lift your spirits. You went out drinking. 

You ended up in some club, and you knew Yuki and Pierre were there as well. 

You drank, and danced with the three men. Forgetting your worries for a night. You hadn’t had that much fun in a while, Yuki and Pierre were absolutely unhinged when you got a bit of alcohol down them. 

Ollie stuck by your side the whole night, and eventually your mind went back to the FP3 session. 

You dragged him outside to talk (the club was stifling, and loud as fuck), and he wondered briefly if there was something wrong because of the haste with which you’d grabbed him. 

“Ollie, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about Friday. I got... distracted”  a blush crept over your cheeks. 

Ollie found it adorable. 

“That’s okay” he pulled you into a drunken hug “At least you were making so much noise there was no chance of me walking in on you” 

You giggled shyly, nuzzling into his chest.  

“Oh my god... that’s so embarrassing” 

“Well, I suppose that was Franco’s way of staking his claim” there was an undertone of something almost bitter in the way he said his name. 

That was a very odd thing to say. Why would Franco even need to stake a claim? Unless... 

“Let’s go inside, I’m cold” you muttered, and Ollie led you back to the booth where Pierre and Yuki were arguing over whether Mijiu or Baijiu tasted better. 

You had no idea what either of them were, so you ordered a round of both for everyone to do a taste test. 

They were both awful in your opinion, so you ordered a round of shots of tequila to wash them down. 

It didn't take long before all of you made your way to the dance floor, inhibitions completely obliterated. 

In the back of your mind, you had a plan. Granted you were on the edge of blackout drunk, but it still made sense to you. 

When the song changed to something a bit slower and more... sensual, you shuffled closer to Ollie.  

If Franco had been trying to stop Ollie from talking to you, there had to be a reason, right? 

So you moved to the beat, rolling your hips enticingly as you sang along to the words. 

Ollie lifted an eyebrow in question, his lips curving into a drunken smirk. 

You bit your lip and got closer, hooking your fingers into his belt loops to pull him in. 

He got into the rhythm very quickly, and slid a hand around your lower back to hold you close while you danced. 

The tension was palpable, but the chemistry was undeniable as you moved in sync, rolling your hips to the heavy bass pumping through the speakers. 

Your faces were inches apart, separated only by your mingling breaths, and the rapidly dwindling amount of restraint you two had. 

“Kiss mee” you slurred, smiling up at him. You needed to know whether he wanted you as much as you wanted him. As if the way you were grinding on each other wasn’t enough. 

“What?!” 

“Kiss me!” you said, louder. 

His mouth opened, hesitation written all over his face, but he glanced down at your lips. 

Between the alcohol and the noise of the club, it was impossible to hear anything, so you mistook his hesitation for misunderstanding. 

You decided to get your point across by curling a hand into his hair and pulling him down to crash your lips together. 

He quickly got over the shock of it and cupped your face with his hands to deepen the kiss. 

You didn’t know how long you stood there making out, but it was long enough for Yuki to come and tell you that he and Pierre were leaving and that you could all share an uber if you wanted. 

The miniscule part of your brain that was still rational decided that you and Ollie should go with them, so you did. 

You had what you wanted anyway. Confirmation that you had two boys that wanted you. 

Japan is where you realised just how badly. 

You didn’t know about their arguments over the weekend, you just knew that Franco was trying to have sex with you every minute of every day, and that Ollie had a smug smirk on his face constantly. 

It was unnerving, really. 

On sunday morning, your team made you aware that pictures were circulating, of two blurry figures kissing in a club in China, next to two people who looked suspiciously like Pierre and Yuki. 

It was impossible to confirm who the people kissing were so you had nothing to worry about, but your PR manager asked you to please, for the love of god, be more careful. 

The race came and went, and you and Ollie both finished in the points. 

Yuki was taking Pierre to a karaoke bar that night, and in true Yuki fashion, invited you, Ollie, and Franco. 

The little shit- stirrer. And of course you knew the idea was probably a Yuki-Pierre collaboration. 

It was a bit awkward at first, both Ollie and Franco were trying to get your attention under the table with wandering hands, but you quickly shut that down. 

You and Pierre were up. You were singing a duet version of ‘My Way’ but Pierre sang his parts in french. It was hilarious. 

Yuki jumped onto the table and joined in within seconds. 

You were so into it that you didn’t notice Ollie and Franco slip out.  

Until the song finished and you looked down to see that the leather seats were unoccupied.  

You decided to go and look for them, and it didn't take you long to find them. 

The shouting could be heard as soon as you shut the door to the private room. 

You followed the voices all the way to the men's toilets, in which the two were arguing. 

You pushed the door open and couldn't help but laugh at the sight in front of you. 

Ollie had Franco in what seemed to be an attempt at a headlock, but while one of his arms was around Franco's throat, the other was pinned under Franco's weight against the wall. 

“Oi!” you hollered at them and they immediately let each other go, attempting to straighten themselves out. 

Ollie had a swollen lip and Franco looked like he'd had an altercation with a plug socket. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” 

“Nothing” “He started it!” “He said-“ 

“I don't care!” you shouted “get your asses back in there and behave!” 

You pointed towards the room sternly, and they quickly shuffled down the corridor with their tails between their legs. 

You managed to finish the karaoke without another incident, but you could feel the tension between them. 

The walls were closing in. It was becoming all too real to you all of a sudden. They both wanted you, and you didn’t want to choose, but you couldn’t exactly let them keep tearing each other to shreds over you. 

Shit hit the fan in Bahrain. 

They were behaving like animals. 

You couldn't speak to either of them without the other one getting jealous and pissing you off. 

Ollie didn't do FP1 because Haas had gave his car to a rookie for the session, which meant that both he and Franco were in the paddock during the session. Unsupervised. 

It came as a shock to everyone but you when they started openly brawling. 

You'd just got out of the car, and were getting weighed when you heard the commotion. 

“DON'T YOU DARE!”  

Crash. 

“MOTHERF-“ 

“YOU TWO STOP I-  OW!” 

You ran towards the two dickheads. Who were fighting in your garage. 

These two could not fight to save their lives. It was the stupidest brawl you'd ever seen. 

Your mechanics sort were hesitant to intervene, sort of standing around ready to step in as soon as there was any risk of them doing actual damage to each other. 

You didn't know who threw the first punch. You didn't care. 

The adrenaline was coursing through you so you went straight in, pushing the two struggling men down to the ground to destabilize them, then grabbed the shirt of the first one you could get your hands on. 

Which happened to be Franco. 

Someone next to you shouted “Yeah! Get your boyfriend!” 

“He is not my boyfriend, fuck off!” you shouted back. 

Your words had different effects. Franco’s heart broke a little, despite it being true, and Ollie now knew he had an undeniable chance. 

And everyone around you went “ouch” 

You dragged Franco away and threw him to the side, allowing Ollie to get back up and lunge at him. 

You blocked him, and slapped him, hard. 

You turned around and slapped Franco even harder. 

“Out of my garage, now!” you spat at them. 

They looked like they wanted to argue but you didn't even give them the chance. 

“I said, OUT!” you bellowed, and they looked at the crowd sheepishly before making their way out, in opposite directions. 

You didn't even entertain the small mass of people that were staring at you. You strutted to the back of the garage and made your way through the corridors to find a quiet place to think. 

You thought things couldn't get any worse, but of course, you quickly found out that a camera had wormed its way into the crowd and had broadcasted live the moment where you intervened and shouted at the person (who turned out to be Ted Kravitz) to ‘fuck off’. 

You were in your hotel room, looking through tweets about the footage, when a message popped up on your screen. 

“I'm sorry about earlier, can we talk?” 

It was Franco. 

“No” 

You left every subsequent message on read. 

About 10 minutes later a knock at the door interrupted you once again. 

It was probably your PR manager, coming to give you the 7th speech of the day about how “for the record, this is not what I meant when I told you to be more careful!” 

You looked through the peep hole and cursed loudly. 

It was Oliver fucking Bearman. 

You wrenched the door open. 

“What the fuck are you doing here? If anyone on my team sees you here we are both dead!” 

You dragged him inside and slammed the door shut behind him. 

“I wanted to come and explain-“ 

“No!” you whisper-yelled “There is nothing to explain! You and Franco have humiliated me, and yourselves today!” 

“But-“  

“There is no ‘but'! This shit stops now, I can't have my name dragged through the mud because you two wankstains decided it was a good idea to start fighting in my garage! Do you realise how that looks?” 

He looked at you guiltily and hung his head in shame. He looked almost small while sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“This whole thing has been a mess from the beginning! Because the truth is I like you both and I don't want to-“ 

You were interrupted by another knock at the door. 

Oh hell no. 

You stormed over to the door and wrenched it open again, revealing Franco in gray sweats and a dark hoodie. 

His attire told you everything you needed to know about his intentions right now. 

“Go away!” you hissed. “I told you I didn't want to talk” 

Franco glanced at Ollie still sitting on the bed and frowned. 

“So I am not allowed to be here but you invited him? That is not fair” 

“Oh for god's sake!” 

You dragged him inside, like you did Ollie, and motioned for him to sit on the bed. 

“You two are idiots!” You hissed. “What was that, today?” 

“We both wanted to go to your driver’s room to talk to you” 

“Yeah? And then you started fucking fighting!” 

“Because we love you!” 

“I can fucking see that, dipshit” you flicked Ollie's forehead “And thanks to you every motherfucker who watches Formula One also saw it, because you fought on live fucking television!” 

Ollie scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and Franco stared at the floor. 

And as if the universe hadn't punished you enough. Another knock rattled against the door. 

You turned around and watched in horror as your PR manager let herself in, and upon seeing the two men on the bed, stared daggers at them. 

“You two just don't know when to quit do you?” 

“I'm sorry about this, I didn't know either of them were coming they just turned up” you muttered. 

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Well at least this all seems a bit more mature than whatever the fuck happened in the garage earlier” 

She turned to you. “I've smoothed it over for you, given that you'd just come out of the car, and according to the footage you actually stopped the fight, so you won't be getting any fines or penalties. Although I would refrain from telling any Skysports presenters to fuck off anytime soon. No matter how much they deserve it” 

She turned to the other two. “I however do not have the power to save either of you, so my guess is you will be informed by your teams of any fines you may be getting.” 

She eyed you all sadly. 

“Please sort your shit out. What you do, or do not do behind closed doors is none of my business, but please stop being idiots in public, it makes my job so much harder, and I am not paid extra.” 

The two drivers had the decency to look ashamed as they apologised to her. 

“On that note, I wish you all good night, and please don't break any furniture” 

And with that she smiled softly and left, leaving the three of you in silence. 

“You heard the woman” you sat on the chair next to the bed and crossed your arms defiantly “Let's sort it out.” 

They looked at each other helplessly and you rolled your eyes.  

“Come on, what do you want?” 

Franco piped up first. 

“I want you. All of you. I have been in love with you for months but I’ve been a coward…” 

You nodded, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his confession. 

You looked at Ollie. 

“I was planning on asking you out. But I got jealous when I found out you were with Franco… and then I uhhh… kind of made it into a competition. Trying to get you to like me back before Franco had the guts to tell you.” 

You hummed, not quite knowing what to say. 

“What about you?” Franco asked. “What do you want?” 

“I uhh…” you were almost intimidated by the two men staring at you. “Well… I like you both, so… either you can learn to share, or neither of you can have me” 

They looked at each other, seemingly having a silent conversation as they glanced back and forth between you and each other. 

The fact that they seemed to be entertaining the idea of sharing you was doing funny things to your brain. 

You imagined having them both at your mercy. Then your mind wandered to all the possibilities. 

The image of them making out briefly flashed in your mind.  

The butterflies returned to your stomach and you let your mind wander even further, Franco on his knees for Ollie.  

A voice suddenly pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Are you okay?” Franco asked, and you stared at his lips. They would look so perfect wrapped around- 

“Yeah, you look a bit flustered” Ollie chuckled. “What are you thinking about?” 

You bit your lip. 

“The two of you. Together.” 

A small blush crept up their necks and they squirmed uncomfortably. 

“We can share” Franco muttered, eyes darkening slightly. 

“Good” you smiled, standing up and slowly making your way towards them. “I want you both naked in the next 15 seconds…” 

They glanced at each other with wide eyes before hurriedly taking their clothes off. 

Once they were fully bare, they looked up at you expectantly. 

You grinned and swiftly sat down in between them. 

You pulled Franco in for a kiss, hands inching their way up the two men's thighs. 

You could feel Ollie's gaze on you so you turned your head and smiled at him before leaning in to kiss him. 

One of your hands went to touch Ollie's cock, which was half hard, and your other was met with Franco's hand, that he had already wrapped around himself while watching you make out with Ollie. 

You swapped again, Ollie's cock hardening at your touch, and at the sight of Franco pushing his tongue into your mouth. 

Then Ollie's turn came again, and he was fully hard by now, so you swept your thumb over his tip to make his hips twitch. 

You then stopped touching them altogether and leaned back on your elbows on the bed. 

“Now you two” you smirked. 

They looked at each other breathlessly, blush high on their cheeks and eyes lidded. 

They were hesitant, Ollie's hand weaved its way into Franco's hair to pull him in.  

It started out chaste, but still, the sight of it was truly something. 

You wriggled out from in between them and they looked at you in question. 

“Gonna lock the door” you muttered, jogging over to it. 

You heard a muffled “good idea” and turned to see them back at it, and this time with gusto. 

Their eyes were closed, so you undressed silently and climbed back on the bed. 

Ollie gasped into the kiss when Franco's hand made its way around his cock, squeezing gently before setting a slow, almost teasing pace. 

Franco trailed kisses along his jaw, making his way down Ollie’s chest, and the latter looked at you. 

His eyebrows jumped when he saw your state of undress. And went even higher when he noticed you were touching yourself. 

But it was quickly wiped from his mind when Franco’s lips suddenly made contact with his tip. 

He gasped, head whipping down to look at where Franco was kissing up and down his length.  

One of his hands once again found itself weaved into Franco's dark locks when the absolute tease decided to lick his cock from base to tip, while staring straight up at him through his lashes. 

“Jesus” he muttered “You've done this before haven't you?” 

Franco just winked, and took his cock halfway down into his mouth and sucked. 

The two of them looked ethereal, Ollie gasping for air while Franco sucked him down as far as he could go. 

Apparently Franco was doing something with his tongue, because Ollie kept throwing his head back and hissing. 

“Fuck- I'm not going to last long if you keep doing that.” 

Franco pulled off with a pop and smirked at him, pulling him in for another sloppy makeout. 

You were sitting there, two fingers deep inside yourself, and they were completely ignoring you. 

The irony of the situation made you scoff. 

“Guys… is either of you going to fuck me or…?” 

Ollie laughed and Franco started crawling up the bed towards you. 

“It would be my pleasure” he smiled. 

Ollie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Actually, I think you have fucked her enough, it's my turn now” 

He crawled up to you, and kissed you sweetly, pulling your hand away from your cunt and replacing it with his own. 

“God, watching us got you this excited?” 

You nodded shyly. “You two look really fucking hot together” 

He laughed, gummy smile making a brief appearance as he lined himself up, sliding his tip up and down your folds to tease you. 

“You ready?”  

“Of course” 

He slid home in one gentle thrust, and you moaned into his mouth when he leaned down to kiss you. 

Franco came to kneel next to your head and waited for you to take a breather before asking you to open your mouth for him. 

He slapped his cock against your tongue teasingly, and the wet noise caught Ollie's attention, who had been mouthing at your tits absentmindedly. 

Franco fucked you mouth in earnest, and when he noticed the pther man looking at him heatedly, leaned over to capture his lips in a bruising kiss... 

It was all over far too quickly, but the exciting novelty of the situation had gotten to them and they came together with a muffled whine. 

You then made them clean you up with their tongues, and the sight of both of their faces between your legs, taking turns lapping up your juices, just felt right. 

If they could share, and not be too obvious about it, then the rest of the season should be a breeze. 

You sent your PR manager a hefty check, with a note. 

“Thank you for putting up with our shit. It's been sorted <3” 

[thottieonline]

NO ANGEL

LUIGI MANGIONE X VIRGIN! FEM READER

IN WHICH — Reader goes to her first Frat Party at Phi Kappa Psi, partying with Frat President Luigi Mangione.

WARNINGS — SMUT!! Porn with a Plot! Minors DNI!

CONTAINS — Loss of Virginity (Duh), PinV! Oral (Fem! Receiving), Praise! Blasphemy — we knew it was coming. Reader wears glasses (a bit self indulgent, lol)

NOTES — So. Much. Dirty. Talk. Luigi’s a little rough but we love it! Like this is just straight PORN I’m so sorry!! Anyways, this is my first smut on Tumblr, so excited to be here! I used to write on Wattpad under the same username, lol :))

To Y/N, it seemed that it was a social norm to have had sexual experiences or have been in a relationship, especially by your second year in one of the biggest party schools in the country — So how was it possible someone as beautiful as Y/N could remain untouched?

She knew her male peers gawked at her and shamelessly spoke about her whenever she walked by, often hearing the things they wanted to do to her in passing, ultimately sending shivers down her spine.

She was innocent, not stupid.

Considering she came from a family devoted to their Catholic faith, they had tried their best to shield her from a life of “sin.” However, as she grew older, she questioned her religion.

Would I really go to hell for doing this? If I wasn’t meant to be doing this, why does it feel so good?

Those questions eventually lead her to make more impulsive decisions. After all, you’re only twenty in one of the biggest party schools once.

Ask for forgiveness, not permission — The voice of her roommate Blair spoke into her head. Blair being her voice of unreason, she encouraged her to be more wild, thus leading to them getting ready for a frat party at one a.m on a Tuesday.

“B, you still haven’t told me what frat we’re going to.” Y/N yelled over Blair’s loud music, Blair only sparing a glance at her and refocused on her hair. “We’re going to Kappa.”

Phi Kappa Psi was one of UPenn’s biggest frat houses, gaining a reputation for throwing the wildest parties on campus, competing with other frat houses on who could garner the most attention, in-campus and off-campus.

Other Fraternities pale in comparison to Phi Kappa as they miss one important element — Luigi Mangione.

Luigi Mangione managed to make a name for himself as a third year student, making a lasting impression on his fellow peers and professors. Being exceptionally gifted in Computer Science, Robotics, and Charisma — Mangione had the respect of everyone around him in the palm of his hand.

Mangione being five-foot-eleven, athletic and intelligent with unruly curly hair and a smile to die for — It was simple, really. Every man wanted to be him, while every girl prayed for the opportunity to be the next one he took to bed.

She was no exception — though she never voiced her desires out loud. Y/N often imagined his lips trailing down her neck, his lips creating a suction on her sensitive skin, sucking on her vanilla lotioned skin to the point of bruising.

God only knew how much she wanted to be marked up by him. Her virgin mind constantly thought about sex, but she couldn’t think about anyone else but him. No one else had her attention like he did and that was exactly how she liked it.

She only thought about Luigi fucking her to the point where she cried, her pussy being used and overfilled with his cum. She’d imagine him continuing to fuck her after she lost count of how many times she came, the glasses she normally wore on her face were nowhere to be found.

Y/N imagined Luigi calling her his perfect slut, praising her ability to take all of him like a champ.

“God it’s like this pussy was made for me. Tell me, how good do I fuck you, baby?”

“Such a good fucking slut for me, N/N.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby. Let me see you.”

Just the thought of him made her thighs clench together. Luigi was the only one she would ever let fuck raw. She needed to feel all of him, every inch and every vein of his Italian cock. She wanted Luigi to ruin her for other men, fucking her so good to the point all she can remember is his name.

It’d be even better for her to wake up to such a deliciously painful reminder of him when she’s hardly able to walk the next morning.

“Okay, I’m done.” Blair spoke, quickly snapping Y/N back to reality. She looked at her roommate, seeing she had finished getting ready for the night.

Since it was a frat party, Y/N and Blair were dressed in simple yet sexy outfits— Y/N opting for a black tank top, pairing them with denim shorts that were tight on her ass and her beat up sneakers.

She’d done her hair hours ago, opting to go straight, putting her trust onto the anti-humidity products she put in her hair to last all night.

“Bitch you look so good.” She smiled, Blair giving her a full 360 of her outfit. “Thank you, baby.” Blair smiled at her compliment.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get fucked tonight, looking all sexy.” Blair teased, making Y/N roll her eyes, fighting back a smile.

“So what if I am?” She challenged, half-jokingly.

Blair squealed, “She’s finally coming out of her shell! Took almost two years but we’re here.” She quickly wrapped her arms around Y/N. “C’mon, let’s get you fucked up tonight!”

Before she knew it, Y/N had stepped foot onto Kappa grounds, already trashed with red solo cups and a couple of passed out partygoers on the front yard — It looked like a scene straight out of Project X.

Careful to not step on those passed out on the grass, Y/N and Blair made it to the front door, pathetically guarded by one of the seemingly drunk pledges. “Damn, looking good mamis.”

The two giggled at the slurred voice of the young man, “You two on the list?” He asked. Before Y/N could open her mouth, Blair already began talking to him.

“Not really, but I think you can make an exception for tonight?” Blair flirted, placing her manicured hand on his bicep, giving the young man false hope of something happening later on.

“Fuck,” He uttered under his breath. “Yeah, you two can come in. Enjoy, ladies.” He stepped out of the way, letting Y/N and Blair come through.

“You gotta teach me how to do that.” Y/N chuckled. “It was like you didn’t have to try at all.”

“Y/N, please, you can totally do that. You just overthink things too much. You didn’t see how he was looking at you at the door?” Blair chuckled. “Now, let’s get you some liquid courage — God knows how much you need it.”

With that, Blair took Y/N’s hand and led her to the dining room, where the infamous Kappa jungle juice was placed. Blair poured herself and Y/N a full cup — the combination of the sweet cranberry juice and the unforgiving strong scent of liquor nearly sent her to a drunken state.

Out of habit, she did a silent prayer before she downed her drink.

“Fuck, that’s strong.” She groaned to herself, the bitter taste of the liquor lingering on her tongue. Y/N pushed herself to drink more — It wouldn’t be a complete first frat party experience without getting shitfaced drunk.

Blair giggled at the sight, “I’ll be right back, N/N. Stay here, ‘Kay?”

“Mhm.” Y/N hummed, acknowledging her. She continued to drink, silently praying once more to get her through the unforgiving taste of the drink in her cup.

God, if you let me get through this, I promise you—

“Yeah, I’d say the prayer is totally necessary.” A deep voice spoke close to her, interrupting her moment with the man upstairs. Y/N turned her head to the side out of curiosity and there he stood less than a foot away — Luigi fucking Mangione smirking at her.

“Say, were you also raised catholic or was that for dramatics?” He teased, making her blush as she looked down at her feet before looking up at him again.

“Definitely both.” Y/N laughed, her free hand playing with her gold cross necklace that laid nicely on her chest.

Luigi’s gaze flickering from her eyes onto her necklace. He admired how the gold cross complimented her glistened skin. The last piece of Y/N’s devotion to God contrasting with the less-than-holy outfit she had on drove him insane.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” She spoke, the liquor giving her the courage to introduce herself — something she could’ve never imagined doing stone cold sober. The sound of her voice made him flicker his gaze from her chest onto her eyes, decorated with her signature frames.

He smirked to himself before telling her — “I know who you are, pretty. I’m just surprised to see you here, that’s all.” With that, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her body closer to his, her heart racing faster with just a simple touch.

“You do?” She questioned.

Mangione was two years above her and to the best of her knowledge, they didn’t have any classes together. It was a really big school, after all.

“You don’t know?” He asks, taking in how her eyes glimmered with curiosity as she shook her head. “You’ve seriously never seen the Penn Crush page on Facebook?”

“You know, I don’t really use Facebook like that — So, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.” She smiles, watching him pull out his phone to look up the infamous Penn Crushes page on his screen.

A few seconds pass by and there she was — Y/N L/N all in her glory. She scrolled through his screen, seeing the countless pictures taken of random students that deemed was submitted to the page — yet a lot of those pictures were of her.

There was one picture of her taken from afar where she sat on a random bench, presumably waiting for her next class, and there was another one that she recalled Blair taking a picture and uploaded on her Instagram story. It must’ve been screenshot and submitted as she saw the amount of likes on the post.

She continued to scroll until she saw one post where the caption immediately grabbed her attention —

Penn’s Hottest Virgin, Y/N L/N in a throwback post with the Penn Catholic Service Association. It’s great knowing she’s kept her promise! #virginityrocks

“Oh My God.” Y/N laughs at the post. She recalled joining PCSA when she first came to the school to have an outlet where she could be with others like herself.

She’d thought it’d be a good way to stay connected to her religion while forming new friendships, becoming a dedicated member of the association and getting involved with her community.

Y/N recalled the event from the post as she had to prepare a speech on why it was important to her to keep her promise to God to maintain her purity. At the time, she didn’t mind that people knew if she was a virgin — It was the whole point of the speech!

However, as time passed on and she had since left the association, it was definitely something that she wouldn’t have shared now, nearly two years later.

She read through the comments, barely processing the countless amounts of praise she received unbeknownst to her. “I didn’t think I was on anyone’s radar,” She joked, “Especially as the hottest virgin.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a fan favorite.” He told her, not before he pulled her impossibly closer. “Have you kept your promise?” He teased, seeing the almost immediate effect he had on her.

She didn’t know if it was the combination of the crowded room they were in with the liquor or the fact that Mangione’s lips were on her ear, asking a question that sounded so innocent, yet so filthy.

The heat rising in her body was getting too much. Y/N felt his hazel eyes following her every move, from the way she subtly pushes up her glasses to the way she clenches her thighs together to relieve the ache in between her legs.

“Yes, sir.” She smiled at him, “But, I think I wanna break it.”

“You do?” He cooed, tucking her hair behind her ear. Luigi knew she wanted him as bad as he did, but he needed those words to come out of her mouth.

She bit her lip, holding back her words for the last time. “I want you to take my virginity.”

With that, he put down his cup on the remaining space on the counter, taking her hand in his and leading her up to his room.

The hallways were completely closed off. It was quiet, a complete one-eighty of the chaos that ensued everywhere else. Luigi unlocked his room, holding the door open for her as she entered what she would describe as the closest thing to heaven.

Y/N turned around to see him close the door and without hesitation, he pulled her by her waist and placed his soft, plump lips onto hers, starting her off slow and sensual — It was the perfect first kiss, she thought, but she knew the slow pace wasn’t going to be enough.

She wanted him so fucking bad, wanting to prove to him that she could take it like the good fucking girl she is. She’d been waiting for him all this time and she couldn’t let it go to waste. Y/N pulled him impossibly closer to her as she began to channel her insatiable desire for him, Mangione following suit.

His hands trailed from her waist and latched onto her hips, fueled by desire as he backed her onto his mattress, their bodies creating a soft thud on the bed. Never breaking the kiss, Luigi ground himself onto her denim shorts, making her moan into the kiss.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” She whimpered, breaking away from their kiss. He was orally fixated on her, his lips continuing their delicious assault on her sensitive skin.

“Gonna mark you up real nice, baby.” He uttered, eliciting a moan from her in response. “You like that, hm? You wanna be marked up by me?”

“So fucking bad.” He smirked at her confession, placing his lips back onto her neck and trailed down to her belly button. His strong hands roughly pulled down her denim shorts, Y/N’s body clad with her tank top and her soaked white thong.

The cool air in his bedroom didn’t help relieve the ache in between her thighs, needing him more than ever. “Bow on your panties? How cute.” He teased, pushing her panties to the side as he licked a bold stripe on her slit.

Her hips jolted at the newfound sensation, Mangione smiling at her reaction. His hands gripped onto her hips as he continued to use his tongue on her relentlessly, needing her to get himself drunk. Luigi couldn’t help himself but gather every last drop of her juices on his tongue, tasting her virginal pussy.

A string of sounds escaped her mouth as his tongue continued to work through her folds, circling his tongue around her clit before sucking on it. Her knees buckled at the suction of his lips.

“Fuck, L-Luigi.” She whimpered.

It was all happening so fast, her mind in a haze as Luigi held her up, throwing one of her legs over his shoulder as he continued to give his all, devouring her as if she was his last meal.

He had love for the game, so determined to make her first time worth it — wanting her to scream his name loud enough so everyone could know he was the first one to fuck Penn’s Hottest Virgin.

“Say it louder, baby. Need everyone to hear you.” He heaved, replacing his mouth with his long, skilled fingers.

She cried in pleasure as his two fingers stretched her out like no other, his digits pressing right up against that spot deep inside her that she could never reach on her own. Her glasses had slipped off her face, laid somewhere on his mattress.

It would’ve frustrated her to not be able to see, but with how good he’d been giving it to her, her eyes had stayed shut, the poor girl only being able to keep them open for only a few seconds until the next wave of pleasure.

“Put them back on for me, baby — Please.” He pleaded, loving how her glasses decorated her face. That was her signature, she’d never been without her glasses since the first time he saw her.

She reached out for her glasses, feeling the hard plastic beside her, putting them back on her beautiful face.

“Did so fucking good baby, listening to me.” He praises her, taking out his fingers and putting his mouth back on her needy pussy.

Y/N was so fucking close, her legs shaking around him as he devours until there’s nothing left — Luigi drinking up all her juices as they spread from her pussy to her thighs and undoubtedly his bedsheets.

Mangione had taken everything from her at that moment — her body, mind and voice. It was all too much, her needy hands reached into his bed of curls, gripping onto them as she buried him impossibly deeper between her thighs.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck Lui, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonn-” She cried out, tears running down her face as his name rolled off her tongue, his name being said so many times as if it were a prayer.

It was so sinful, so sexy, and he loved it.

“Cum on it, baby.” He urged, his tongue desperate for another taste. Luigi had been hooked from the first drop and had a craving for more. His tongue trailed from her hole onto the top of her folds, swallowing the remaining juices on her pussy.

“You taste so fucking good.” He praised, kissing her right inner thigh. Luigi could spend his entire life reliving this moment, worshipping her body.

Her body was in a near paralyzed state, the only signs of her liveliness was her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Her glasses were now sitting at the tip of her nose, making her look so much sexier to him.

Luigi tried to fight back his infamous shit-eating smirk, but it was no use. He smiled proudly, showcasing the infamous fangs that everyone had been obsessed with, Y/N included.

Seeing those fangs reignited the fire in her body, needing to feel him again. Y/N lifted herself up and got on her fours, crawling to the edge of the bed where he remained kneeled.

There was nothing else on her mind but him. She wanted him to ruin her so fucking badly and so did he. His hazel eyes were clouded with lust as were hers. His dick was uncomfortably strained against his shorts, begging to be inside her virgin pussy.

Mangione leaned closer, his hands gently grab on to her face as he brings her closer to his face, closing the gap between them.

He held her face as their lips moved in sync, much hungrier than before, Y/N tasting the combination of the sweet jungle juice and herself on his tongue. Her hands trailed down his toned body, feeling his hard cock on the palm of her hand.

“Not sure if all of that is gonna fit inside me, Lui.” She joked, as she pulled away from the kiss, gently squeezing his bulge. It felt so fucking good under her hand, the feeling of how hard he was for her made her so much wetter.

“We’ll make it fit. I’ll make sure you’ll take all of it.” He promised, sealing it with a kiss. He pulled down his shorts, revealing how big he was — His tip glossed with precum. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long, N/N — wanted you in my bed since I first saw you.” He confesses, guiding his dick between her folds. His tip rested right at her pussy, inching in slowly as she winced in pain.

“Want me to stop, baby?” He coos, caressing her soft thigh.

She shook her head, “I-I can take it, Lui—S-Swear.”

Satisfied, he pushes himself in her even more. “God, you feel so fucking good — wanna fuck you so hard, but we gotta wait, right?” He teased.

“Fuck me, Lui.” She pleaded, pulling his face down so she could whisper into his ear, the hard plastic pressed against the shell of his ear — “I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."

With that, he pushed himself all the way inside, his dick harder than ever before. The burning sensation intensified, a small shriek erupting from her throat. “F-Fuck.” Y/N gasped.

The initial pain soon subsided as he continued to thrust, his hips connecting to hers — Luigi & Y/N becoming one. She cried with pleasure as Luigi’s pace intensified, making her tits’ jiggle out of the skimpy tank top, her eighteen karat gold chain smacking against her chest.

It felt so fucking wrong, yet so fucking right.

He wasn’t ever supposed to see her in that way — For fucks’ sake, he wasn’t even supposed to know who she was!

Mangione was her fantasy come to life. She loved the way he felt, his cock going in so deep inside her he could see an imprint of where he was. He couldn’t resist, taking her hand in his and placing it on her stomach.

“You feel that? I want you to remember it f-forever.” He groaned. Her cunt grasped him hard, holding him even tighter.

“Oh fuck! Y-You make me feel so fucking g-good, baby.” She whimpered.

“Yeah?” He mocked, grinding his hips deeper into hers, his pace slowing down a bit, making her feel every inch and vein of his. She clenched around him once more, Luigi groaning at the sudden tightness. He worked harder, hips snapping into hers as he picked up the pace once again.

Y/N loved how full he made her, the way he didn’t leave a single part of her body untouched.

“God, it’s like this pussy was made for me. Tell me, how good do I fuck you, baby?” He gripped on her hips, smiling at her fucked out expression.

“So,” It was all she could get out, her speech becoming more incoherent the closer she got. Y/N placed her manicured fingers on her clit rubbing her sensitive bud in circles, matching his pace.

Her body squirmed at the dual stimulation — It was all becoming too much. Y/N wanted this to last forever, never wanting to forget how his big dick felt inside her body, fucking her like the slut she knew she was.

“Luigi!” She screamed in pleasure, reaching her peak. Her walls pulsated around him like crazy, nearly sending Luigi into his climax. As much as he wanted to cum inside her, the thought of him cumming on her beautiful glasses sent him into overdrive.

God, he just loved her fucking glasses.

“Please baby, I just wanna cum on your glasses. Can I, baby?” He pleaded, pulling out of her. He took his needy cock in his strong hand, he inching closer to her frames.

He was so close, how could she deny him such a pleasure?

Y/N nodded, excitedly grabbing his dick from his hold and jerked him, aiming him closer to her frames. “Like this?” She asked sweetly as he shuddered around her touch.

His cum quickly shot out of him, landing on her glasses and coating her vision. “Just like that, sweetheart.” He assured her.

Luigi released himself from her touch, wanting to mark her up with his cum, aiming for below her stomach. He released a string of curses under his breath, chasing his much needed relief.

“Fuck, that was definitely the best sex I’ve ever had.” He breathed, feeling so fucked out as he laid next to Y/N’s body.

At that point, her hair had been messed up as the anti-humidity spray was no longer holding up as some texture had shown up, adding onto her “sexed out” look.

Even with her hair wild and free, she still managed to look so beautiful — Luigi couldn’t get enough.

Y/N had now taken off her glasses, playfully rolling her eyes at the Italian. “Please, you’re just saying that.”

“I mean every word I say, Y/N. I’ve thought about you so much, it drove me insane — Do you know how hard it is to run a fraternity when there’s only one thing on your mind?” He ranted, now getting up from his spot on the bed.

She shook her head, knowing he couldn’t see her from his private bathroom. She was amused with the Italian. “Didn’t know it was so hard on you, Mr. President.”

“Very hard, actually.” He stated, returning with a damp cloth and wiping her body down. “Especially when she was known as the hottest virgin.” He joked, making her laugh.

Once she’s all wiped down, Luigi then uses his own personal glasses cleaning kit from his bedside drawer, spraying the liquid onto the stained glass, cleaning her frames with such care.

“You’re too much, Luigi.” She smiled, adoring the man beside her. “So detailed, too.”

“I’ll prove it everyday if I have to, Bellisima.” He professes, placing her frames back on her face with such care. “I’m not letting you go after everything you said to me.” Luigi pulls her in for another kiss, reassuring her he was there to stay.

[ohithankyou]

Most of the time, I'm pretty confident that Buck (Evan❣) and Tommy will find each other again because so much point to that!😀 But then I think about how this is THE season of missed storyline opportunities on 911 aaand I'm back to questioning my own reasoning.😭 And repeat, ad nauseam...

Stop gaslighting me, Tim!

ah anon i get it! me, i’m too hopeful for my own good and after the initial shock and upset of the breakup, i immediately found hope (one could call it cope lool) in the idea that buck and tommy could very well get back together. really, the only thing that made us think so definitively on the contrary were the interviews and after revisiting them with a clear head, i realized that they don’t make anything very final in the way it felt immediately after the breakup. and for me, it always comes back to how open-ended they left the breakup in the narrative. and not just open-ended like it could happen one day but one that leaves a lot of room for a make-up and reconciliation sooner rather than later. like. if buck and tommy hadn’t essentially declared their love for each other during the breakup and if tommy’s reason for breaking was something other than the fear of getting his heart broken one day, i think i’d be less confident. but their breakup, to me, only further established that they really are it for each other. in fact, the breakup made me believe in their love and want for each other even more so. and i think if tim had wanted to really end them for good good - and leave tommy as buck’s “first” and not his last - he would’ve went about it in a way where the breakup would’ve ended on more positive note. still sad but like - it was time to move on. but the fact that it was sooo devastating and heartbreaking …making us care about buck and tommy even more….i’d like to think that maybe it was intentional. especially when i go back to what tim said when he was talking about why he likes to break couples up:

obv this is mostly just my spec and feelings but i am hopeful and will remain that way until the end of 8B <3

[g4rvez-r3id]

Bad Day

Boyfriend! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You come home from a really bad day and your boyfriend, Spencer is there to save the day… and hold you while you cry.

Category: Fluff, some Angst

Warnings: reader having the worst day of her life, crying, mentions of having bad days, kissing, spencer being the best bf ever- ig that’d be it 🤷‍♀️

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! so this is more of a blurb bc i had a bad day today soooo this was the outcome of said bad day and how spencer would be 😌 can you tell i’m projecting again? oops. oh well.

This was probably the worst day of your life. Okay, it may not have been the worst day of your life per se, but it seemed like it was in the top ten at the very moment.

Everything that could’ve happened today happened. You woke up late, causing you to be late to work, you missed the bus on top of that, the customers in the store were horrendous and rude and you’d miscounted the deposit in the store at least a hundred times, causing you to be late to your other bus. Oh, and it was raining. Today was just not a good day.

And after your ten hour shift, all you want to do is just go home and cry yourself to sleep and forget this whole day. You’d arrived back home, holding yourself back from crying until you got into your bed. But you unlocked the front door and came home to a pleasant surprise.

Your boyfriend, Spencer was in the living room, reading a book, feet rested on the couch — showing off his mismatched socks — with a small smile on his face. “Hi, angel!” He diverts his attention from the book to you, closing it as he stood up from his spot on the couch. “How was work?”

You look up at him and his face makes you sad. He’s so happy to see you, so joyful even if he has a job being one of the most important people in the world, catching serial killers. He was a hero, essentially and had seen the worst of the worst out there and still managed to put a smile on his face whenever he saw you.

Your shoulders sank and your head fell against his chest and you began to cry into his sweater. And you cried hard. To the point where you were soaking Spencer’s sweater with your tears. Spencer, being the concerned boyfriend he was frowned and rubbed your shoulders, pulling you away from him so he could see you. “Hey,” He spoke softly. “Hey, honey, what’s the matter? Come here.”

He led you over to the couch where you sat down and he kneeled in front of you. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” Spencer asks as he rubs your thigh soothingly and your eyes are shut as you cry but you can feel him staring at you, awaiting an answer because he hates seeing you in this state.

“Everything that could’ve happened happened,” You sniffle. “I’ve had such a horrible day, Spencer.”

Spencer frowns as he sits next to you on the couch and lets you lean on him as you continue to cry and cry. “It was a bad day, that’s all it was.” He says as he rubs your arm. “Shh.” He says as he holds you close.

Eventually, you’re done letting it all out and take a deep breath and you look up at Spencer. You had kept your feelings in all day today until you got home and the minute you saw Spencer, you broke. Mostly because it was easier to be vulnerable with him. He made it easy to. And you were never afraid to express it to him.

Spencer looks at you with a fond, sympathetic smile as he takes the opportunity to wipe the tears away from your cheeks. “I’m sorry.” You tell him as you looked down at his soaked sweater. “Don’t be,” He assures. “It’s normal to have bad days. Bad days are a common human experience, it happens to everyone. It often stemming from stress, poor sleep, or a series of minor inconveniences and while they can feel overwhelming, they can also be a learning opportunity to build resilience and understand yourself better.” He gives you a tight lipped smile after his little fact. And somehow, it makes you feel better about your bad day. “Do you feel any better?” He asks and you shrug with a sniffle, “A little.”

“Well, then how about you hop in the shower and I’ll get your bedroom made up since I put your sheets in the dryer —” He checks his watch. “A little under an hour ago — and I’ll order us takeout and we can have a movie night. And I’ll put on a Disney movie since those seem to cheer you up a lot. Is that okay?” Hearing him say that just makes you want to cry again. Not because you’re ungrateful but because you feel as if you don’t deserve a kind man like Spencer in your life.

Often, people told you to suck it up and get over it and grow up. But Spencer never did. He listened when you had bad days, he sat there when you vented and needed someone to listen to and vice versa. You’d felt vulnerable with him like he had with you. And at first, you weren’t like this. You never opened up to him because you were scared you’d get the same reaction — telling you to get over it, but he never did. He wouldn’t dare to.

“Please don’t cry, my love. I’m sorry.” Spencer says with a small loving smile, holding your face in his hands but you shake your head as him, “I’m not sad,” You tell him. “I’m just… emotional now because… you are seriously my dream man.” You say to him with a small smile and he chuckles at that and pats your thigh as he stands up and goes to the bathroom to get your shower ready.

After you get out of the shower, you go to your room and find Spencer has made your bed, the takeout is here and your TV is on, ready for any streaming networks.

You get into the bed and Spencer happily joins you, opting to turn on Wreck-It-Ralph since you both agreed on it and as the movie starts, you watch him with a small smile.

As he focuses his attention on the screen, you focus your attention on him. His perfect nose, the way it twitches when he’s happy. His brown-on-the-outside, gold-on-the-inside eyes, always so mesmerized in you. And the way they crinkle up when he smiles. And speaking of his smile, the most perfect you’d ever seen it. Next to his hair, which you are currently raking your hands in and brushing through with your fingers. He was so lovely, in your eyes. He was the flower petals to a beautiful rose, he was your everything. Just as you were his. What did you do to deserve him, you wonder.

“No wonder I had a bad day,” You spoke, causing him to turn his head to you and furrow his brows in confusion. “I didn’t have my lucky charm with me.” You say as you brush through his locks.

Spencer has a baffled look on his face at that sentence alone. “I’m your good luck charm, huh?” He asks, raised eyebrows and a small smile appearing across his face.

“The best good luck charm ever.” You lean close and peck his lips with your own and that’s what you’ve missed this entire time. His lips against yours and you can’t help but smile in the kiss.

Blushing like a schoolgirl, you back away from the kiss but he wants seconds. And he grabs you by the chin gently and kisses your lips one last time, so passionately and lovingly and he waits there after the fact, faces close and looking into your eyes as if you made the world stop turning.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you get impossibly close to him as you watch the movie with him and fifteen minutes later, Spencer looks over and sees that you’ve fallen asleep and he lets you rest. And he hopes that your bad day may have turned into a good one at the end of the night.

Spoiler alert: it did.

[marauder-misprint]

happy 500 followers i’m so happy for you!!

can you write 62 for the dialogue prompt with remus? maybe she’s james’ sister and a flirt just like him. bc jealous rem ✅✅ they’re dumb for each other but sooo oblivious

Thank you for the request ❤︎

I definitely had a moment writing where I was laughing to myself. You flirt with Remus for years: James has no problem. You say one flirtatious line to Sirius: James asks what's wrong with you.

What you need

Remus Lupin x Potter!reader

2.9k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining, angst

You and James were dual threats. Quidditch stars, academic weapons when you chose to be, friendly, attractive and flirtatious. He had his sights set on Lily and you had yours on Remus. Your methods, however, differed. While James showered Lily with compliments and asked her out daily, you had a more gentle approach. You were drawn to Remus, plenty happy to just sit in his presence. You showered him with compliments as well and made him the center of your world, but you felt that, like Lily, he didn’t reciprocate your feelings. 

You didn’t let it deter you though. You knew he was more reserved than the rest of the Marauders. You decided you would play the long game and wait. He would ask you out. Eventually. 

You collapsed next to Remus on the couch in the common room with an exaggerated sigh. You leaned your head on his shoulder to see what book he was reading.

“The various color changes in the wiggenweld brewing process are essential to the process and without them, the potion will be rendered useless. Substitutions, while appropriate in other potions, will drastically reduce the effectiveness,” you read over his shoulder. “Merlin, Moony, what are you reading? I know Slug didn’t assign this.”

“Just reading up on healing potions. Never know when you’ll need one,” he said.

You hummed and adjusted your body so you were closer to him. 

“Must be something more interesting going on now, though, right?”

“Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail all have detention.”

“I know,” you laughed. “Maybe we could do something! You know, just the two of us!”

You tried to not sound too excited at the idea. It was a rare opportunity that the other three had detention while you and Remus got off scot-free. 

“Oh, well, I was planning on reading…”

“You could read out loud?” you suggested, desperate for some attention from him. “Maybe I’d learn something.”

“No good at reading out loud,” he mumbled.

“It’d be good practice, Moons. You know I won’t judge. Plus, you have a nice voice.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his face turn a pink hue. You nudged him gently. 

“Come on, read to me,” you sang softly. 

Remus, feeling flustered, stood up.

“Please excuse me,” he said, leaving you on the couch alone.

You watched him retreat to his dorm with a frown on your face. Once again, it hadn’t gone as you had hoped. This wasn’t the first time you had alone time with Remus and he left just after you made him blush. You grumpily moved over into the spot he previously occupied. It was warm and faintly smelled of him; it was the second best thing right now. 

It didn’t take long before Lily sat down in the squashy armchair near you. 

“Why the long face Potter?” she asked. “Missing brother dearest and the troubled gang?” 

You made a face at her, earning you a laugh. Oh, how James would’ve smiled and stared if he were here. 

“They aren’t all in detention, Lils,” you told her.

“Well, you’re not. That would be at least one.”

“Ha,” you said dryly. “No, um, Remus is upstairs. Reading.”

“Huh. Doesn’t he usually read down here when they aren’t around?”

“Mhmm.” You took a deep breath. “He was for a bit.”

Lily nodded. “You’re in his spot, aren’t you?”

“Maybeeee,” you replied quietly, turning your face to look at the fire. “Smells like ‘im,” you added in a mumble.

She laughed again. “Potter, you’re doomed.”

You looked back at her so she could see you roll your eyes and then you returned your gaze to the flames. You knew you were doomed. You would follow Remus to the ends of the earth. You sat next to him whenever you could. You knew how he liked his tea and which quill was his favorite. You knew his ranking of tables in the library, the ones best for studying alone, studying in a group and prank planning. You knew which sweater was the comfiest because he wore it after every full moon. You adored him and he couldn’t seem to stand to be alone with you for more than a few minutes. 

“So, what’d you say to him?”

“What?” Your head snapped back to Lily.

“He was reading in that spot and now he’s not. What made him go upstairs?”

“I asked him to read to me.”

“That all?” 

You nodded, with a confused look on your face. If Lily thought it would’ve taken more to chase Remus away, perhaps something was up with Remus that you didn’t know about.

“Bit strange. I thought he would read to you,” she said lightly. Then she pulled out her own book and waved it in front of your face. “I could read to you if you want.”

“Not the same and you know it. But, if I were James…” you teased. 

“If you were James, I’d be up in our dorm avoiding him.”

Like Remus is doing…

“You read. In your head. I’m going to the pitch... I need air.”

---

When you went to the pitch alone, you used it as a time to think, to clear your head. Did you need to practice because Gryffindor was playing Slytherin this week? Yes. But you also need to think. You’ve loved Remus for years and, well, something clicked while you were flying. He just didn’t like you that way and you had to make your peace with that. 

You started small. You didn’t sit next to Remus at breakfast although you still had his tea ready for him when he arrived at the table. A look of confusion passed over his face when he saw you sitting between Sirius and Mary. He didn’t say anything about it, nor did anyone else. 

Your next step was more direct. You sat next to Otto Bagman in your first class instead of Lily. That caught the eye of some people. Even more so when you let your hand linger on his shoulder longer than you should have and flashed him your brilliant smile. You laughed loudly at his lackluster jokes. 

During the next class, you chose Stubby Boardman. And Gildeory Lockhart in the next. And Gideon Prewett. And Bertram Aubrey. Each got your flirtatious treatment. None made you feel like Remus did, but it was nice to have their attention. 

At dinner, you pulled a move that none of them were expecting. You sat between Sirius and Mary like you had at breakfast. But you sat closer to Sirius than you usually did. It was a closeness you reserved solely for Remus. 

The boys were discussing their next prank and determined that they would need to sneak into Slughorn’s private stores first in order to pull it off.

“I think Sirius should be the distraction. He’s got something super captivating about him, don’t cha think?” you said, leaning forward a bit. 

You flashed him a soft smile as you rested your hand on his shoulder. If you hadn’t been looking at Sirius, you would’ve seen the glares that he immediately received from both James and Remus. 

“Don’t know if Slug is particularly captivated by me, love,” Sirius said, looking down at you and matching your soft smile. Then a wicked glint appeared in his eyes as he turned back to the boys. “But, running in yelling about an exploding potion down the corridor? See how fast the old man can run!” 

James’ expression changed in a flash. He slammed his hand down on the table.

“Brilliant, Padfoot!” 

Remus, on the other hand, let his glare hold longer, only dropping it when Peter addressed him, asking him to repeat what they needed to get from storage. You remained close to Sirius for the rest of the meal as you offered your ideas for getting past Slughorn and for the actual prank. When you excused yourself after you finished, James followed you out of the hall and walked with you back to Gryffindor Tower.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” he asked.

“Obviously.”

“So then, what was that back there? What’s going on with you and Sirius?”

You stopped walking in shock. You spend years flirting with Remus and no comments from James, but one comment toward Sirius and now he’s suddenly concerned with your love life? James turned to fully face you and you frowned at the concern on his face.

“Nothing. There’s nothing between me and Sirius,” you said, sounding a bit incredulous. 

“Then what the bloody hell was that comment at dinner? He’s like super captivating, he he he,” he mimicked in a falsetto.

You took a calculated step toward James while reaching for your wand.

“I do not sound like that.”

“What was the comment for then?” he repeated the question for the third time. “You don’t flirt with Padfoot.” 

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes. 

“I had… a moment of clarity. Obviously, Moony isn’t right for me and I’ll get over him with whoever I need to.” 

You huffed before stalking away from your brother. He stood there and watched you leave, utterly shocked by what you said. Obviously was a strong word in his opinion. He thought the obvious thing was the effect you had on Remus; Remus was hopelessly in love with but too insecure to do anything and you were waiting for him to make a move. 

You continued to flirt with the boys throughout the rest of the week, with Gideon being the main recipient. Being a fellow Gryffindor and on the quidditch team gave him an easy foot up over the rest. James didn’t say anything more to you, really just being glad it wasn’t Sirius but still showing his concern nonverbally from across the room. 

When he could, Remus would find an excuse to leave whenever you were with Gideon. He couldn’t dismiss how sick it made him feel. Somehow he had been the one receiving your attention for so long that he didn’t realize how much of his day was actually spent with you around, and he didn’t realize how cold he’d feel without your warmth. Instead, he now had to watch Gideon bathe in your compliments and subtle touches. Remus hated it. 

When the weekend came, the whole school descended on the quidditch pitch for an exciting game. Gryffindor versus Slytherin always brought excitement. Every student donned either green or red, even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. The game was a compilation of incredible plays and dirty moves. In the end, Gryffindor pulled through as your seeker caught the snitch. Usually, after a Gryffindor win, you’d search for Remus’ arms the moment you landed, but this time was different. You immediately found Gideon and let his arms be the ones to wrap around you and spin you around. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You didn’t mind that it wasn’t Remus; it was nice to be the one receiving the doting for once. 

Gideon’s attention followed you all the way back to the common room for the party that ensued. You knew you had eyes on you - you could feel them. In the past, after a win, you’d have one drink in your hand and you’d nurse it while hanging around the outskirts of the party with Remus. You’d maybe do shots with James because no win was possible without the Potter Twins. This time, however, you were not standing around the edge of the party with Remus. Nor were you nursing a singular drink. 

You were multiple drinks in and dancing with Gideon. His hands were traveling your body and you made no moves to stop him. You just kept moving to the music and taking sips of your drink. 

Remus felt like throwing up at the sight. He had half a mind to walk up to you and tear you away from the ginger. He knew you could do better than Gideon, but if asked who, Remus would want to say himself, but was he better than Gideon? Once again, Remus let his insecurities get the best of him; he retreated to his dorm unable to watch you dance like that with another guy who wasn’t him. 

You finished your drink and felt Gideon lean into your ear. 

“Do you want to celebrate somewhere more… private?” he whispered. 

You smiled at him before saying, “Refill first!” 

James had been keeping an eye on you and Gideon for a while. He didn’t like the way that Gideon was touching you, just as much as he didn’t like how much you were drinking. You were certainly not in your right mind. He intercepted you on your way to the drink table.

“I’m cutting you off,” he said curtly before leading you to the stairs. 

You pouted but allowed yourself to be ushered up to his dorm. In your head, you planned to sneak back down to the party the instant that James left you in his dorm. Once inside, he brought over to his bed and you sat down, crossing your arms. 

“You need to sober up a bit. Um, here’s a water. You know extra blankets are in my trunk. Loo’s over there. Got your wand? Need anything else?” 

You groaned in annoyance. “I’m fine, James,” you slurred. “But you know what I actually need.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“To get over these damn feelings for Lupin!” you basically spat. “Can’t very well do that if I’m up here, can I? He won’t ask me out, won’t kiss me, can’t stand to be around me. Why you stopping me from moving on?” 

“I-I…” he stuttered, trying not to look over at where Remus was sitting on his own bed with wide eyes. “I’m preventing you from making a decision you might regret.”

“James… James, James, James. I’m fine. Just let me get over being in love with Remus.”

James can’t help it. His eyes flickered to Remus. Yours immediately followed where his went. Remus was staring at you with a faint blush on his cheeks. Because why did you just say that you needed to get over being in love with him?

“Shit,” you muttered, falling back onto James’ bed. “Now I’ve said too much.”

“I’m… going to leave… and let you two… talk,” James said slowly, trying to sound casual and topping it off with snaps and finger guns.

“You’re… in love with me?” Remus asked nervously.

You made a noise that’s a mix of a scoff and laugh.

“Only been bloody head over heels for you for years, you twat.”

“You’ve been,” he muttered, not quite believing you. 

“A girl can only flirt so hard,” you said with a heavy sigh. 

“You were flirting?” 

“With you. For years. Keep up, Lupin.”

There was a slight pause before he said softly, “You don’t call me Lupin.”

“I didn’t when I was in love with you.” 

“Was?”

“Moony, Merlin’s fucking beard,” you exclaimed, propping yourself up on your elbows briefly. “Did you not just hear me tell James that I’m trying to get over you? You clearly don’t like me back so stop making it harder!”

You let yourself fall back onto James’ bed with a ‘humph.’ You stared up at the canopy. Then you felt the bed sink next to you and you don’t need to look over to know that Remus has joined you. 

“You actually like me?” he whispered. 

“If I have to say it one more time, I swear, Moony, I will curse-”

“You like me.” This time it was a statement. Remus doesn’t believe it yet, but he didn’t need you to finish your threat. “And it’s real. Not a prank or cruel joke or anything?”

You rolled onto your side so that you could see him.

“Stop pretending to be dense. It’s been hard enough coming to terms with you not liking me like that.”

“No!” 

You blinked at him with a confused expression.

“Um, I… I do like you. Like that.”

“Remus… don’t tease me right now. You can’t stand to be alone with me for more than a minute.”

“Because I don’t trust myself to not kiss you.” He swallowed and allowed his eyes to flick down to your lips. “It’s easier to control myself when James, or anyone else, is around. But when it’s just you and me, and you say those sweet things… I just…”

“Those sweet things,” you repeated with quiet laughter. “You mean my flirting?”

“Yes. That.”

He stopped talking for a moment. He reached out to caress your face. 

“I just thought you could do better than me.” 

You scoffed at the idea that someone was able to be better than Remus.

“But seeing you with Aubrey, Lockhart, Bagman… Prewett…” Remus sighed. “It was hell.”

“So, what you’re saying is you’d like me to keep flirting with you and only you?” you asked softly before your teasing nature returned. “I don’t know about that, Moony. I might need something in return.” 

“Anything.”

“Ask me out?”

“I… I can do that.” He cleared his throat. “Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me? Hogsmeade, next weekend?”

“Of course, you idiot,” you said before placing a quick kiss on his lips.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

You hummed.

“Never flirt with Prewett again. It was nauseating.” 

You laughed. “Just kiss me until my brother comes back, Moony.”

[wisteria-lodge]

Wait, do you think Tom Riddle made himself ugly on purpose so he didn't look like his dad? That never occurred to me. I always just assumed it was a side effect of all the weird shit he was doing and he didn't care much as long as he became more powerful. So many time travel fix-it fics I've read have him horrified in particular that he is hideous in the future.

I think Tom Riddle has a deeply ambivalent relationship with his own extraordinary beauty.

Like, okay. He has the same name as his (muggle) father, and looks exactly like his (muggle) father. Apart from being a muggle, the most important thing about Tom Riddle Sr. is that he's very, very pretty. It's why Merope targets him. So right away, the books make Tom Riddle's looks... kind of a negative.

We also know that Tom sheds his "filthy muggle father's name" at the first possible opportunity. But those looks... he needs those looks, at least for now.

I think that Orphanage!Tom is a good snapshot of what he looks like in his natural, comfortable resting state:

"He scares the other children.” “You mean he is a bully?” asked Dumbledore. (...) “There have been incidents. . . . Nasty things . . . Billy Stubbs’s rabbit . . . well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it?”

Tom enjoys feeling powerful. He's going to take what he wants (ie young Tom's trinket collection) and everyone around him is just going to let him... because they're scared of him. Also he's kind of a sadist.

The problem is, Tom's NOT powerful at Hogwarts, at least not at first. He can't scare people into doing things for him anymore, and so he needs another strategy.

So, Hogwarts!Tom becomes a CHARMER. He charms Ginny and his school mates. He hits the "sir" incredibly hard when talking to his professors. We're told that "Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his honesty." He plays Slughorn like a violin:

“But you obviously know all about [horcruxes], sir? I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can’t tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I’d ask —” It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone.

Tom also does things like - pay attention to Slughorn's food preferences, so he can get him the perfect gift (candied pineapple.)

And well. That ability to charm people is related to his looks. They're brought up almost every time he is: Tom is the "clever, handsome boy," an "unusually talented and good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff." The link between his beauty and his power becomes text (rather than subtext) during the Hepzibah Smith segment:

Harry thought he saw a red gleam in [Tom's] dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah’s face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort’s handsome features.

It's pretty clear what's going on. Tom wants Hepzibah's magical trinkets, and Hepzibah... wants Tom. (and she wants him because he's beautiful.) We get an unusually detailed description of him here:

He was plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited him; he looked more handsome than ever.

Hepzibah's attraction is framed as "greed." It's negative, almost threatening, she's looking at Tom like she wants to eat him. The section goes out of it's way to frame Hepzibah as unappealing and unattractive... but her "naughty boy" Tom is still kissing "Miss Hepzibah's" hand, and bringing her flowers. Then she casually pinches his cheek.

Tom is getting nothing out of this soft-seduction. He actually seems to be working very hard not to take up space. He "murmurs," or else speaks "quietly." (He's described as speaking "quietly" four times, and it's not a long scene.) He "picks" his way through the room, "smiled mechanically," and the narrative voice makes a point to say that when he reaches for the locket after his eyes flash red, he did it "without invitation this time," - implying that he is accustomed to asking for permission, positioning himself as less powerful than the person he's talking to.

He honestly seems very happy to just drop the pretense... and just publicly be the scary bastard he always was underneath. Tom walks into Dumbledore's office to ask for a job, and is just incredibly direct. At this point, he's halfway to full snakiness, and not as pretty as he once was:

"His features were not (...) as snakelike, the eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet masklike, and yet he was no longer handsome Tom Riddle. It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody look, though the pupils were not yet the slits that Harry knew they would become."

But he also seems much more powerful, much more confident, much more comfortable in his skin. Now when he smiles it's a "taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage." He "sneers," he stands above Dumbledore and gives him a hard time, and in general seems very proud of himself.

“You call it ‘greatness,’ what you have been doing, do you?” asked Dumbledore delicately. “Certainly,” said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to burn red. “I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed —”

We also have a moment with full-snake Risen Voldemort, and his response to his own new body is completely positive:

He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant.

Tom then goes on to have a WONDERFUL time until things go south - monologuing, torturing Peter, casting spells on Harry to force him to bow...

So my take on this is that Tom likes and even prefers his Snakey body. It means he no longer has to play the subservient charmer (he CAN'T.) It is physical proof of his own brilliance, his own power, his own experimentation. He no longer looks like his muggle father, he has shed the muggle side of himself completely. It's probably also a body that needs less food, less sleep, feels less pain etc. I'm basing this off Ralph Fiennes' decision not to wear shoes as Voldemort, but it fits with his MO: he wants to be MORE than human, he wants to shed his weaknesses and achieve some kind of immortality and transhumanism.

Now the question is - was his Snakey appearance an accidental/unavoidable side effect of the "dangerous magical transformations" that left him "barely recognizable" - or was Voldemort actively seeking out something that would change how he looked? Honestly, I could see that going either way. But I'm inclined to think that he *did* at least sign off on this appearance... just because all those Snakey!Tom transformation beats are about being in control. That is what he's doing here, showing off just how much control he has over his body, and his world.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 3

I'm on a roll- don't expect it to last :)) but as of right now, Chapter 4 is done, Chapter 5 will be started, and I feel like each one will be longer and longer than the last- hope ch4 was just a one in a trillion thing

First || previous<< Chapter 3 >>next

Sleeping that night seemed to be a struggle on its own, nightmares plaguing your mind left and right. You’d fall asleep for 30 minutes and wake up, fall asleep for another 30 minutes and wake up again, and again, and again, giving up once you woke up at 03:33 am. No use in trying to sleep if you’re just going to wake up crying and gasping for air, heart pumping so hard you could hear the blood running through your veins.

You needed air, wanted something less stuffing than the four walls that seemed to close in around your shaking form. With bare feet, you made your way across the manor towards the garden. May as well try and do something productive.

The garden was loved and taken care of, once upon a time. The plants were dead, the trees dried beyond help, and the dirt may need to be changed as well if the roots have gone putrid and rotten, just to be sure. It’ll take years to bring the space to its glory, to how it looked in the painting, but you could feel it in your bones that it will be worth it.

Diverting your attention from the nightmares to the garden helped ease the shaking, the fear. The more you thought about the nightmares, the more you didn’t know which one scared you the most. Between relieving your mom’s death, accepting she was dead, that you’ll never see her again, that you didn’t even know where they buried her- and seeing Bruce as the one holding the gun, firing it at your mom, at you, and then laughing with glee, saying something you didn’t quite remember…  You couldn’t decide which one you hated the most.

Your eyes trailed the walls of the manor, up to the roof, and back down. You wanted to call him dad, hug him, have him come to your recitals and activities, and have him love you like Officer Gordon said he would. And yet, no matter how close he seemed to you, he was farther away than the moon. You hoped it was just your awkward self, that maybe your anxieties were putting ideas where there shouldn’t be any. Today’s breakfast only seemed to fortify said anxieties.

“When will I go back to school?” The question fell from your lips so quietly, and the silence it created made you sink into yourself. Bruce’s eyes had been glancing at you non-stop, but now they were fixated on you, non-blinking. He hummed, low and thoughtful. “You’ll be moved to online schooling. After what happened to your mom, I feel it will be safer for you to stay inside the manor for a while”

“For forever.” The shadows hissed in his ear, but Bruce simply cleared his throat, checked his watch, and left, Richard following soon after at the man’s nudging. Bruce will drive Dick to school. Your eyes remained on your plate as they left, remaining quiet for a while.

“Mama said I should make friends.” Your teary eyes met Alfred’s again as your lip trembled. “How will I make friends if I can’t go outside?” The older man’s hands were rubbing together behind his back. He felt as inexperienced as when Bruce was a toddler, as unsure of what to do as when he was with his father. That was a rare feeling for the man.

With a soft sigh and a shaky hand placed on the young kid’s shoulder, Alfred did what he did best. “I am sure you will have many opportunities to make friends, young miss.” He lied. You knew he was, and yet you held onto the hope. Bruce said it’ll only be for a while- so maybe, just maybe, in high school, you’ll have tons of friends.

You finished your plate, eyes still wet, but at least you didn’t cry. Your insistence to help Alfred was only met with a soft smile and a shake of his head, the man insisting on you enjoying the free time you have, telling you that perhaps you should go and buy some clothes, some decorations for your room.

Again, you mentioned the insanity of leaving a kid to buy whatever they wanted, but Alfred only laughed. “Can- is there a laptop I can use? Mama always let me on hers when we ordered something online. It’ll be easier for me…” You asked so softly, almost going into rambling as anxiety of sounding like a brat, like you were ungrateful for the phone, settled in.

Alfred didn’t even blink, no muscle on his face twitched as he only nodded, saying he’ll bring one to your room straight away. That was easier than expected. You were so used to your mom saying no, or bargaining with her for new shoes, and you understood- you didn’t have that much money, could barely scrap by… But the way the Waynes threw money around felt irresponsible. Does Bruce truly make that much money that he doesn’t have to worry about losing his home? What if he loses it all one day? Does he have a savings account? Your tummy didn’t feel good worrying about all that, mama always said that only adults should worry about money.

You don’t think your mom would like Bruce very much. That thought filtered through your brain for quite a while as you looked up how to take care of a garden and specific plants you wanted to see bloom. He was so cold, distant, creepy, and secretive. Your mother always dreamed of a loving man, strong but gentle. You never understood why she put up with the men she hung out with considering they were exactly like Bruce.

Alfred interrupted your musing as he knocked, opening the door only when he heard your voice. He left the laptop and its charger on the desk, and his only words were to inform you of the timetable for eating.  “But, of course, if you get hungry before then, you’re more than welcome to the kitchen, young miss.” And he left just as fast as he came, barely having the time to ask where your mother would be buried. You doubted Bruce would hold a funeral for her. Alfred just said he’ll look into it.

With a small huff, you went and plugged the charger into the wall and laptop before opening it. Bruce gave you the card to use, and if he can’t be bothered to go with you to stores, you can surely get whatever you want. He’s so rich, you can bleed him dry a bit.

In the end, you didn’t. You felt too guilty about buying clothes and things for the garden, so your desires for those shiny metallic watercolors and 360 markers were exchanged for a few sketchbooks and graphite pens. Your mother is rolling in her grave at how much you spent, you were sure, so you rationalized the guilt to simply wanting to perfect your skills before buying those fancy things.

You got the clothes a size or two bigger, just like mami did, so they’ll fit you for longer. Simple things, pajamas, socks, underwear, and a few pairs of jeans and T-shirts, things she’d buy for you since you were unsure of what you were supposed to get.

You hoped Bruce wouldn’t be too angry, he was a scary man now, and you dreaded to see him angry. On the garden side of things, you may have overindulged. From all the tools you got, to the kind of soil, to the types of flowers, to making sure you got beds for the plants. The soil outside truly looked beyond saving. But if he was okay with Richard’s desire for more gymnastics equipment, surely he'd be fine with this.

At lunch, you were informed by Alfred that Bruce and Dick won’t attend dinner. It didn’t surprise you, however, it still felt like they were avoiding you, and it still hurt. Perhaps this will be the new normal, the everyday occurrence. Maybe this was normal for them, you were sure high school and work kept them both busy… Will they ever have time for you?

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae Forgot the tags D: my bad

[partoffantasy]

Love Letters - Liam Mairi

summary: while Liam is away on a mission, he leaves behind a series of handwritten notes for reader. As she finds them hidden in her daily routine, they become her anchor, a reminder that no distance can truly separate them.

pairing: liam mairi x fem!reader warnings: fluff word count: 1.4k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

Y/N didn’t notice the first note right away. It was small, tucked neatly beneath her dagger on the nightstand, the parchment slightly curled at the edges. The familiar slant of Liam’s handwriting made her heart stutter as she reached for it, unfolding the delicate piece of paper with careful fingers.

My Love,

I know you hate waking up alone, and I wish more than anything that I could be there when you open your eyes. But since I can’t, I’ll leave little pieces of myself behind. Starting with this—I love you. I’ll love you today, tomorrow, and every moment after. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.

Yours, always.

She let out a soft, breathless laugh, pressing the note against her chest. Trust Liam to anticipate the ache of his absence before she even had time to feel it. Still holding the note, she made her way toward class, her mind entirely occupied with thoughts of him. She didn’t even notice Ridoc eyeing her curiously until he suddenly snatched the paper right from her fingers.

“What’s this?” he mused, dodging her immediate lunge to get it back. “A love letter? Oh, this is good.” He cleared his throat dramatically before reading aloud. “I’ll love you today, tomorrow, and every moment after.” He clutched his chest. “By the gods, Y/N, this is so sweet I think I might pass out.”

Violet and Rhi burst into laughter as Y/N groaned, face burning. “Give that back, Ridoc, or I swear—” “Liam really has it bad,” Rhi teased, grinning. “You’ve completely ruined him.” “I did not ruin him!” Y/N huffed, reaching for the note again, only for Ridoc to hold it just out of reach. “He was already disgustingly perfect before I came along.” “He’s an absolute goner,” Violet agreed, smirking. “I mean, we already knew, but this just proves it.”

Ridoc finally relented, handing the note back with a wink. “Fine, fine. But if he ever gets tired of writing you love letters, I’m happy to ghostwrite a few.” Y/N snatched it back with a scowl, though the warmth in her chest remained. “Liam would rather let a gryphon eat him whole.”

The second note appeared in the pocket of her flight leathers, crinkling beneath her fingers as she reached for her gloves.

My Love,

Did you know you furrow your brow when you’re concentrating? It’s adorable. And infuriating, because it makes me want to kiss you senseless when you’re deep in thought. But since I’m not there to do it, consider this my promise—I’ll make up for every missed opportunity when I return.

Yours, always.

She swallowed against the warmth creeping up her neck, shoving the note back into her pocket before anyone noticed the flush on her cheeks. Y/N soared high above the training fields, the wind rushing past her as Caelan cut effortlessly through the sky. Liam’s words lingered in her mind, wrapping around her like the wind against her skin.

She had never thought about the way she furrowed her brow. But Liam had. Liam noticed. Just like he noticed how she always twirled her dagger between her fingers when she was restless. How she held her breath for a split second before throwing a punch. How she tapped her nails against the hilt of her sword when she was thinking through a strategy.

Liam noticed the smallest things about her—the things even she didn’t realize she did. And the weight of that realization settled deep in her chest. She thought about the little things that made him who he was. The way his hands always gravitated toward her, even in sleep—fingers brushing her arm, his palm resting against her waist, as if even unconscious he needed to touch. The way he always took the seat closest to the door when they were in a room together, an old habit from years of needing to be ready to protect at a moment’s notice. The way his lips curled into the softest, most unguarded smile when he thought no one was looking.

The way he always knew when she needed silence instead of words. When she needed a joke instead of comfort. When she needed him to pull her in instead of giving her space. Liam was observant, patient, steady—everything she wasn’t, but everything she needed. Caelan let out a sharp rumble beneath her, sensing the shift in her emotions.

"I’m fine," she assured him, though her fingers curled a little tighter against his scales. He didn’t buy it. Not that she expected him to. Not when Liam had left her feeling like this—warm and full, yet aching all at once. She adjusted her grip and Caelan angled into a wide turn, scanning the horizon out of habit. The rest of the patrol team was spread out in formation, but her mind remained locked on one thought.

She missed Liam. Not just his presence, but the way he saw her. And gods, she wanted to see him, too.

The notes kept coming. Hidden between the pages of her favorite book, slipped inside the satchel she carried to training, even tucked into Xaden’s back pocket for her to find. Each one was different—sometimes playful, sometimes tender, but always filled with Liam’s unwavering devotion.

By the time a week had passed, she had gathered a dozen of them, each a lifeline tethering her to him. She read them when the days felt too long, when the silence of her room felt too empty, when she missed the steady warmth of his presence beside her. And then, finally, he returned.

Y/N didn’t give him a chance to speak before she launched herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as he caught her effortlessly, his familiar scent washing over her. “Miss me?” Liam murmured against her hair, holding her just as tightly. “Terribly,” she admitted. “But you already knew that.”

He chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. “I had a feeling.” Reaching into her pocket, Y/N pulled out a folded piece of parchment and pressed it into his palm. His brows lifted as he opened it, eyes scanning the words written in her neat, careful script.

Liam, my Heart,

You left pieces of yourself behind, but you didn’t realize—I carry you with me always. In every breath, every heartbeat, every thought. Your notes reminded me of what I already knew: that there is no world in which I exist without loving you.

I miss you like I miss the air when I’m drowning. It’s not just a passing ache—it’s something deeper, something woven into my bones. I see you everywhere, in everything. In the way the sun rises slow and steady, just like the warmth of your hands against my skin. In the way the wind shifts, constant and unyielding, like the way you’ve always been there for me. I see you in the stars, in the embers of a dying fire, in the pages of my favorite books—because no matter where I look, you are there.

I don’t know if I ever told you this, but before you, love was something distant. Something I could admire from afar but never touch, never hold in my hands. It wasn’t meant for people like us—people who have lost too much, who have been taught that love is something cruel, something fleeting.

But then you walked into my life with your quiet strength, your unwavering patience, your heart that has always been too big for this war-torn world. And suddenly, love wasn’t distant anymore. It was in the way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. In the way you knew when I needed a push and when I needed a hand to hold. In the way you saw me, truly saw me, when I wasn’t even sure I knew who I was.

I love you.

Not just in the easy moments, but in the hard ones too. In the silences between words, in the spaces between breaths. I love you in ways I don’t know how to put into words, but I hope you can feel it. I hope you never doubt it. I hope you understand that you are my home, my heart, my always.

Yours, always.

As Liam read the letter, his fingers trembled slightly, his chest tightening with every word. He had expected something sweet, maybe teasing, maybe affectionate. But this—this was everything. It was every unspoken truth, every quiet moment they had ever shared, poured onto a single page. His throat worked around a thick knot of emotion as he read it again, then again, as if trying to commit every word to memory.

And when he finally looked up, his sky-blue eyes found Y/N’s, and he knew—there was no world in which he existed without loving her, too.

[rei-ismyname]

At the risk of sounding superficial, what is your favorite outfit from the Hellfire Gala? Cyclops' black outfit with the red crystal between his eyes is wonderful to me

Hey, thanks for the ask! Took me a while to actually decide on my answer because there's so many bangers. I will say I don't think it's superficial to enjoy fashion at all, especially not in this context.

I do love that Cyclops outfit, especially contrasted against his other Gala efforts. If I was listing my favourites I'd probably give it an honourable mention. I love the departure from his usual colour scheme/s as well as being a callback to his revolutionary era costume. You can't really go wrong with all black, and Jumbo Carnation's influence will be missed. The Luciano Vecchio sketch is rough, but I dig how it breaks down the what and the why.

I haven't been able to find a proper image of Nightcrawler's outfit from the first Hellfire Gala but that's my favourite.

This is the highest resolution I could get my hands on, but it doesn't show his cane at all and his boots are obscured too. I feel like he's taking the opportunity to express his inner pirate cross swashbuckler and it's particularly moving considering Kurt's history with how he looks. Him getting to lean into who he is and how he wants to be seen is just fantastic, and while it is a banger of an outfit, not everyone could pull it off.

This gives a better idea of what the outfit looks like, though I apologise for the poor quality. I love asymmetry and I love capes.

[creatie123]

CHOI SU-BONG/THANOS X PREGNANT!READER PART 5

Part 1 Part 2 part 3 Part 4 Part 5

tw: heavy mentions of miscarriage, dead dove do not eat, angst, cliff hanger (again), drug use, smut, slight themes of Thanos having a breeding kink,

~~~

I am putting the note up here so that I don't forget. Hi everyone! wow, we are so close to the finally, there will be to chapters for a sad ending and a happy ending, the sad ending will be chapter 6.1 and the happy ending will be chapter 6.2, I'm so sorry for the delay with the new chapters I have had some personal things going on in my life that have made it hard to write. but not to worry I am back and ready to give you all the finally you have been waiting for. thank you all for the support have given me when reading my story!

till next time

-creatie.

~~~

As usual I wake up to the music playing over the intercom and blink away the tiredness in my eyes. Yawning I get up rubbing my face, and kicking my feat off the bed to stand up. Lifting my arms over head I let out a groan of satisfaction as my back stretches as much as it could. 

We all turn to look at the door as the voice over the intercom announces the arrival of the guards by saying it is breakfast time. I quietly follow 120 to get in line. Thanos stands beside me in the line next to us, visibly twitchy and on edge. Did he really give up the drugs for me? I try to pay him no mid as he continues to look over at me as if wanting to say something but stops himself.  I grab my biscuit and milk and go to walk back to my bed.

“Celina.” I hear Thanos's voice call out.

It’s shaky and desperate. So I pause, I don't look at him, I can't. I would lose the internal battle I was fighting within myself.

“Please. Please talk to me princess. Just give me five minutes of your time. Please.” he says

Princess? He only ever called me that when he was not pumped full of drugs. The desperation in his voice pushes me over the edge and I turn to face him. “Five minutes.”  I huff crossing my arms. 

Five minutes my ass. I think as I’m pinned to the bathroom wall a moaning mess as Thanos's lips leave a trail of wet kisses down my neck. His hands leave my own to trail down my body and rest on my waist, I seize the opportunity to tangle my fingers in his viberant hair.

“Thanos!” I whine.

“I dont like you being mad at me princess. Say my name.” he demands.

“Su- bong!” I moan, pulling him closer to me.

His hands trail from my waist down to the strings of my pants and begin to pull at them to push them down my legs.

“You cant be serious.” I gasp pushing him away.

“I need something celina, im going fucking crazy.” he says shoving my pants down.

They bunch at my legs and I quickly step out of them. I grab my jacket, unzipping it and pulling it off my shoulders tossing it to the side. Then my shirt, leaving me in only my bra. “What if someone walks in?” I hiss.

“Then they’re going to get quite the show huh princess.”  he says pulling his pants off then his shirt.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. He has lost a lot of weight while still being fit. My eyes follow the tattoo that leaves from his hand up his arm. His arms reach out to grab me pulling me against him. He settles us on the floor before his lips once again leaving a trail of messy kisses down my neck to my collar bone, then down to my stomach where he pauses.

“You look so fucking good nocked up with my kid, senorita.” he says

I moan at his words closing my eyes to take in every touch and kiss, every little feeling of his hot brath on my skin. “I wonder if you taste any different.” he says 

Grabbign my ankles he throws my legs over his shoulder and loweres his head to give a long lick to my already sensitive clit. I let out a shuttered breath my hands shooting down to tangle in his hair again. “Fuck you taste to good. I’ve fuckin missed you princess.” he groans

I throw my head back into the pile of clothes that thankfully cushion my head, “su-bong please… please stop teasing me.” I whine.

“What do you need beautiful?” I asks in his playful tone.

“You! I need you! Please su-bong I need you!” I moan squeezing my eyes shut when his thumb toys with my swollen nub.

“Once this round is over ill make sure you nice and properly fucked how does that sound? Hm? We need you with all your strength after all.”

“You’re a tease!” I cry, grinding my hips to meet his thumb which continues to give lazy circles on my clit.

Pulling his hand away he raises and plants a firm kiss on my lips before getting up and pulling me up with him. “C’mon we gotta go.” He says helping my get drest and walking out.

I stand there dumb founded just listening to the sound of his feet retreat. I go to take a step to follow him but stagger and fall into the sink. I gasp raising my hand to clutch my stomach the other shooting out to stabble myself against the sink. I whimperleaning over to rest my head on the cool glass of the mirror. I dont have amoment to regain myself beofre I double over and vomit into the sink. 

“What is going on with you mały kwiatek?” I cry.

I spend what feels like hour in the bathroom throwing up and clutching my stomach in pain. A knock on the door barrly registers in my head. 149 comes in an immediatly rushes to my said pulling me against her. I cry into her chest. Thankfully the pain and nausea subsides after a few more minutes and she helps me stand up my legs wobbling a little bit before I regain the strength in my legs.

“Will you be able to play the next game? I-I don't know what will happen if you refuse..” she says.

“no..no I can play. I’m ok.” I whisper letting her lead me out into the room where people are gathering to start leaving to go to the next game. I follow closely behind her as we walk into a room with a large platform that resembles a carousel. Doors line the walls. We all make our way to the platform and stand with the lady here some and 120 and 095. The platform begins to move and a song plays. A hand grabs mine and I turn to see 222. I gasp, pulling her into my arms. She does not return my hug but I can feel her let out a sigh of relief. When I let her go she held my hand tighter. The carousel stops and the voice exclaims the number ten.

It was a blur. I felt a hand grab me and start shoving me towards a door. Only after a few seconds there were ten of us in a room panting. I look around our group, 456, 388, and 390.

“Everyone ok?” 456, ask.

I grip 222’s hand tighter as gunshots fired outside. 

“Unnie I’m scared.” 095 says holding 120’s arm.

I look at them trying to control my breath, I flinch as the voice on the intercom tells us it is ok to go back outside. I feel 222 clutch my hand tightly. The smell of blood fills my nostrils and I suppress a gag. Placing a hand over my nose I take deep breaths of air, thankfully my hand blocked most of the smell.

“Gi-hun!” Hear a man say. 

We turn to see 001, 388 runs up and gives him a hug, and the men give each other greetings. He turns to us and I give him a nod still holding my nose. I pull 222 away from them to go find our group again. Once everyone was on the platform the music started playing and the platform started spinning,I looked around to see the amount of people still on. My eyes catched Thanos and nam-gyu dancing. My eyes widen and I scowl at them. 

The platform stops and the voice calls out the number four. I look at number 222. 120, and 095 grab us and we run to a room. Once we are in the room I break out of my trance. 

“What about 149, is she ok? Why, why didn't you guys go with her and her son?” Tears stream down my face.”

“121, she’s ok I say she and her son go with 456 and 001.” 120 soothes me. “Please, you need to stay strong for the rest of the game.” she says.

After a little while I nod wiping my tears. 095 comes up to me and gives me a hug. I return it patting her head. Giving her a thank you we walk back outside when the intercom says we could. I saw 149 and I let go of 222 and went up to her wrapping her in a hug. “I was so scared.”

“Oh dear. Im ok see nothing to be scared of.” she says patting my shoulder. 

I sniff and nod giving her a weak smile. I stand in between 149 and 222. 222’s hand finds mine again and I smile at her. When the platform stops and calls out the number 3 hell breaks loose at the small uneven number. I watch as 149’s son is torn away from her. She stands frozen. I go to run to her but I am pushed forward and fall on my stomach. Pain shoots to me as I scream out in pain. I am pulled up by two sets of hands. I watch as 149 is pulled by my 456 and 001, and let out a sigh of relief letting the hands drag me.

When we get in the room I slump against the wall placing my hand on my stomach and wince pain shoots through my abdomen. Through my legs and throughout my entire body. I turned to look at who saved me and it was 222 and Myung-gi.

“You could have gotten killed, what were you thinking  celina?” Myung-gi said.

“I just.. She.” I dip my head.

“Shut up myung-gi.” 222 said.

She walked up to me and took my hand standing next to me. I squeeze her hand thanking her for the comfort. I rest my head against the wall breathing through the pain shooting through my body. Once the voice over the intercom says we could leave, 222 softly pulls me forward and out of the small room. I breathe a sigh of relief watching 149 leave the room with the two men. She is saying something to them when she gets interrupted.

“Mom!” 007’s voice rings out. She goes up to him pulling him in her arms whispering that it will be ok and that she is ok. I smile at them. We make our way to the platform standing on it. The music begins to play but it sounds worse each time. Like a bomb's timer waiting to go off. When the platform and music stop the voice calls out the number six. Chaos again breaks loose as people try to pull others from their group to join them. 120, 095, 007, 222, 149, and I ran to our room. I see 095 is pushed and someone takes her place so I grab her and push her in the room watching the door close and lock. Dread fills me as I realize what I just did. Shit. shitshitshit. A hand grabs me and pulls me into a room just as the timer goes off.

[sensationallysangwoo]

𝚂𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙳𝚊𝚢: 𝙲𝚑𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚡 𝙶𝙽!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙵𝙵🧡

🧡𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛-𝚝𝚑𝚎-𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

🧡𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝚂𝙵𝚆, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚂𝚒𝚌𝚔!𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘, 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚝!𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘

🧡𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝! 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

🧡𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @trashk1tty , @torasgfreal , @dilfismz , @pulparindos , @reddead-salem , @daeholuvs , @radarbiterlover , @partyb0yyyy , @sawlover353 , @m4nbl00d , @swtt4hk

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm clock screeches, signifying 5:00 a.m. You feel a stir next to you, followed by a groan. Sang-woo should be rolling out of bed in approximately 1 minute to get ready for work. This is the normal Monday-thru-Friday routine.

You’re privileged enough to be able to sleep in. You stay home and take care of the house while Sang-woo happily financially supports you. You wouldn’t have it any other way. Normally you wake up briefly to give him a kiss goodbye, and then you nestle under the covers for another 3-5 hours.

Today is different, however. Sang-woo doesn’t feel like reaching for his glasses. He takes an extra moment to lift his body, still heavy with sleep, out of the bed. You notice abnormal heat radiating off of him, way more than usual.

“Sang-woo, you gonna get up or what?” You mumble sleepily.

“I’m not feeling too good this morning, darling. Probably just didn’t sleep well. I’ll be okay, though.” He mutters, voice nasally with congestion.

He attempts to stretch despite wincing from the muscle aches. “I can feel you, you’re literally a walking oven. Do you have a fever?” You ask, yawning.

“I’m fine.” He pressed.

“Okay….” You reply, your voice filled with concern.

You hear the shower running, but you also hear a lack of movement in the bathroom. You drowsily drag yourself out of bed to go check on him.

He sat weakly on the closed lid of the toilet, too weak to even take his PJ’s off and get in.

“Baby you can’t go into work like this. No way. Come on, give me your phone. I’ll call your boss.” You gently grab his face in your hands. “You’re burning up, sweetheart.”

“I can’t miss work today. I have an important meeting at 3 that I really can’t cancel.”

You reach into the cabinet and pull out the thermometer. You scan his forehead. 101 degrees. “See that? You are sick. Stop being such a work-o-holic and rest today Sang-woo. Please? For me?”

He finally gave in. “Okay. I’ll call up my boss now. You can’t say I didn’t try to go, though.”

You smile to yourself. Even when he’s a stuffy, feverish mess he’s still absolutely adorable.

“Mr. Kim? Yeah. I’m not making it in today. I’m really sick. 101 fever. Thank you. I will rest up. Goodbye.”

“See how hard was that?” You tease. “Cmon, let’s get you back into bed.”

You turn the shower off and lead him back to the bedroom. You tuck him back into bed and kiss his forehead. He looks miserable.

He hardly ever got sick so the opportunity to take care of him is a rarity. You can’t wait to show him how much you love him and care for him at this time.

You head into the kitchen and make him a cup of his favorite tea. You also grab some medication for him as well and head back to the bedroom.

He lays in bed sniffling and coughing and sneezing. His eyes are droopy and he looks pale. You notice a light sheen of sweat across his handsome face, making his dark hair stick to his forehead slightly. You love him more than anything, even like this.

You hand him the cup of tea and he offers you a meek smile in return. “Thank you, love.”

“Make sure you take these, too. They’ll help you feel so much better.” You gently drop the pills into his hand.

He finishes his tea and sets the empty cup on the bedside table, for now. You’ll get that later.

He lays his head on your chest, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close.

You almost laugh at how comical this is. He’s so cold and harsh towards the average person. Stoic and unbothered. But you, you’re his safe space. You’re the only person he ever has, and ever will, let his guard down around. Cho Sang-woo, a man who scoffs at anyone who he even suspects has a lower intellect than he, wants you to hold him and cradle him while he is sick. The effect you have on this man is unreal.

You playfully roll your eyes and wrap your arms around him. One of your hands finds its way to his hair as you stroke the dark strands lovingly. You gently and softly kiss his forehead once more. Within what seems to be seconds, he’s snoring.

You feel yourself getting tired again, too. Between his weight pressing down on you, the light snores and the steady pulse of his heart against yours, your eyelids sink comfortably.

You dream of more sick days. Not that you want him to be sick, more-so you want to spend entire days with your lover. You want to see this soft, almost helpless side of him more often. You don’t need to worry though, cus his heart is entirely yours. The emotional wall he’s built for years is crumbling down all because of you.

As for him, he’s dreaming of your homemade soup, your soft touch and your tender, lingering kisses. It’s early. You still have a whole entire sick day ahead of you.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Ohhhh the maternal urge to care for a cold stoic character and shower them in love and affection😩Bahahahaha yk what I mean!!! Anyways hope you liked it, have a wonderful rest of your weekend everyone! -G🫶🤍

[elliesglock]

Azzi go with Paige bad live!!!

some side notes before anything:

this live yalll 🚶🏼‍♀️‍➡️ unserious asf. first of all quit playing in my face kk with the my man comments you are so sick. i like how she switches from the my man comments to laughing at the baby stud comment like gurllll we know what you are 😭 don't even have to spell it out.

first of all, paige looking all fine in this live azzi i see why you were having some trouble studying in this live wooowweeeeee.

so there's gonna be some big time jumps in between everything because we don't see azzi a lot. however paige has never been subtle about her girl so we still get some lovelyyyt moments.

in the beginning of the live, amari walks in and they start laughing at her cause "her man's" over. kk leaves to go introduce the guy to the live and imo paige follows her out. she obv goes straight to her girl it sounds like and is giggling and laughing with her while kk's in amari's room. this probably why she's so irritated later in the live cause she can't know one moment of peace with paige 😭.

they come back into paige's room and kk sets down the camera. paige is so close to that camera like honey back up please i can feel that breath. she's staring HARDDDDDD at those comments and that's when a comment pops up that makes me want to shoot people. "paige with azzi real bad 🙄🙄". LIKE??? and ofc this nosey ass girl JUMPSSSS to touch the screen and read the comment. her eyes get all wide and she taps kk, she's laughing and kk starts laughing too. like they know yall. the way p's eyes LOCK DOWN when she sees azzi's name in the chat in general. it so gives who's talking about my girl? what they know about her? why are yall mentioning her? UGH PROTECTIVE P YOU ALWAYS BE FAMOUS. kk pushes paige in a joking way but you can tell she's so over them and us lololol. she's like i already have to hear them 24/7 talking about each other and now yall are giving them even more opportunities to mention one another GET OUTTTT.

skip to a little later, i think p's missing her girl a little bit and says, "get azzi on live." yall this whole live she's literally talking and wanting azzi to come in the room. she's mad because azzi's taking an exam and is so far (3 feet) away from her. kk kinda pauses and goes, "hmm?" like babe im just gonna pretend you didn't say that. i've heard you talking about this girl all day 🙄. live pauses for a second and im not sure if its kk doing it in case p says something or if it's just that uconn internet. i'm sure it's because of that toaster wifi. there's a interesting little moment next i wanted to bring up cause i find it funny. someone in the comments says, "kk should i get back with my ex?" and kk kinda hesitates and goes, "nooo..?" and paige says no as well. kk laughs at this. in a manner where it's sorta like she's saying girl you know damn well you did. she's basically calling out p subtly cause she knows she got back with azzi and she thinks she's being a hypocrite. that's just my interpretation according to my timeline. p's thinking of her freshman days oop. the comment replies back and says they were dating for 3 months and both of them say yeahhhh let it go. p confident as hell in her answer cause she knows she had azzi for so long and knew she was hella right for fighting for her back i know that's rightttttt.

someone in the comments asks where's azzi? kk reads it out and paige immediately says yeah go get her like she was waiting for the opportunity to speak or even see her girl again. THIS GIRL IS SICK IN LOVE YALL. she also has this....tone when she says it. veryyyy sensual. kk walks out of the room and goes up to azzi. also i'd like to point out HOW CRAZY it is that azzi's just posted up in paige's dorm room (that's not even a's dorm room btw) and she's just chilling doing an exam. azzi's a better soldier than me because the fact she's doing an exam with the literal LOUDEST most obnoxious woman ever near here is straight willpower. but since she's been caught doing hw before multiple times with paige i think she likes to do it in her dorm room. imo it's because if she gets a little frustrated she can go to p and have a little break and some snuggles before locking back in. and she knows p will help her and do whatever she needs to get through the assignment mentally and physically. p's her rock and that's always how it's gonna be. kk says azzi wants a cowboy hat from the live and azzi says nooooo in that cute little pouty voice she has. you can hear p GIGGLE in the back like a little school girl and i just find it so funny because she's definitely hanging over the edge of her bed watching the interaction to get some of her azzi time in. going back to what i saying earlier, i think az's a little upset because of her homework ofc but also because she's having a hard time and she can't go and cuddle like she's used to with p because kk's in there on live :(. poor azzi baby you'll make it out. kk asks if she's okay (like genuinely worried aweee) and azzi says she's taking an exam. kk goes ohhh and leaves immediately. paige obv is hanging onto every word because she pipes up and yells, "that's! don't let her- she's not taking an exam." GIRL HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?? she just wanna tease azzi every chance she gets. kk walks away and go back to p's room and as she's walking in she makes eye contact with paige. as if p was already staring at her and giggling for teasing azzi. they both start laughing. girlll leave my princess alone damnn. kk says "she is actually" and p responds and says "is she?" and i just want to point out whenever paige says something about azzi or is talking about her she gets this tone of voice. her voice goes deep and she speaks very lowly and flirty like. almost like the thought of azzi gets her feeling something and it translates into her voice. SHOOT ME IF YOU WANT TO BUT IM JUST SAYING.

later on, kk brings up wanting to see sabrina and steph in a three point shooting contest. paige not being able to help herself says, "my moneys on azzi." like when it comes to repping your girl yall are not fucking with p at alllllll. again, it's like she's bringing up az cause she misses her and her girls away from her :(. i know my friends and i do that whenever we're missing our significant others, we'll just bring them into conversation more because we're thinking about them heavily. kk sorta laughs and goes off camera for a second because she knows it's soooo goofy of paige to bring up azzi out of no where when the topic wasn't even about az. by god paige will make it about her tho. however, she comes back on screen and daps up paige almost like she's saying yeahhhh im tryna get like you in the future and rep my girl like that!! they both say "you already knowwwww!" and the first thought that came to my mind was dang p is so in love with azzi's talent and she wants everybody to know that's her girl and that's her goat. i mean she does it all the time saying azzi is the best player in the world.

kk sees a comment that says "i got my money on azzi lol" that's making fun of p. she laughs for a second and hands the phone to p to show her. p laughs with her little azzi smile reading it before repeating you already knowwwww. she's subtly hinting again that that's her girl and she WILL be her biggest fan and yall are not allowed to be at all. kk goofily says "and we're gonna end the live" at the comment and they both laugh.

they move on, but p can't stop talking about her girl for 5 minutes. again, because she's thinking about her and wants her to come homeeeeee (her room). she'd rather rip her skin off than not bring up azzi. so she says, "she's not even taking the test no more." she's so desperate it's soooo hiliarious. kk pipes in and says yeahhh she's chatting! p agrees. she needs to go mess with her again, so she brings in the big guns and both her and kk go in this time. kk goes in and says "are you okay" and I KNOWWWW az is giving her the dirtiest look and kk looks a little scared now. but fret not p knows she can mess with her and azzi will never get madddddd cause that's her girl and she loves her (at least in p's delusional head she thinks azzi won't say anything to her). so here's comes this loud ass bitch screaming " AZZIIIII!" and i know az's body immediately tenses up cause girl me too. and then paige screams, AZZI again. it's giving a little kid trying to get their moms attention fr 😭 she seems so done and defeated when she says, "no paige pls im almost done seriously." and she's truly begging for her life cause she knows p will keep annoying her. p obv gets very sassy and pouty and doesn't like this cause she goes, "WHAT THE HE....." before kk mutes her. they probs bicker for a calm little ten seconds and p ofc loses and tucks her tail between her legs. next time we see p she's sitting on the bed again playing her game, oh azzi put belt to asssssss!! she said SIT YO ASS DOWN I NEED TO FINISH THIS. and no matter how loud and sassy p is she's gonna do what her princess says.

kk leaves and goes to go to other peoples dorms. but the legend says azzi stayed and finished her final and went to paige's room and stayed the night 🤫 i just find it so funny as kk's leaving she says goodnight to both of them it just gives she's saying goodnight to her moms and leaving their room before going to sleep. it's so adorable. my kk pazzi's kid agenda IS UPPPPP rn.

that's it yall, thanks for reading!!!

(also aliyah and aubrey at the end isssssss soooo cute)