#I wasn't sure if I wanted to post this or not

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 6 (the finale)

Our time has come, this labor of love is *finished* (at least for now, i could probably be convinced to return to these loves soon)

warnings: none pairing: lando x singlemom!reader word count: 2k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername cold but happy carlossainz still can't believe you convinced Lando to spend Christmas in the cold. >>>yourusername oh it wasn't me! Stella said she wanted to learn how to ski, next thing I know he's booking a 2 week trip to Switzerland! >>>landonorris what my girl wants, my girl gets. 🤷🏻

Christmas, 2025 "Momma, are you sure Santa knows to bring my presents here this year and to not leave them at home?" The concern etched on Stella's face has you grinning into your wine glass.

"Yes, my darling." You assure her, patting her head as she snuggles deeper into Lando's side. "I wrote him a letter weeks ago, remember? You were with me when we mailed it! When you wake up tomorrow morning, all of your presents will be underneath that tree right over there."

This had been Stella's number one concern ever since Lando had announced that he'd booked a house at one of the most exclusive resorts in Gstaad, Switzerland for the Christmas holiday. You had spent a significant amount of time since discussing the fact that yes, Santa did know she wasn't going to be at home this year and yes, he would be able to deliver her presents here instead.

You had been in the mountain town for a few days now, spending nearly every waking moment on the slopes. It was beginning to feel routine, the way you all woke up around the same time and had breakfast together before getting your snow gear on and heading out onto the mountain. You had enrolled Stella in ski school that first day, despite Lando's protests that he could absolutely teach her to ski by himself, and she was thriving. It took a Herculean effort to get her off of her skis every evening but you were happy Stella was having fun.

Today you had managed to get Stella off the mountain early in order to go to dinner with Max and Pietra, who were also staying at the resort for Christmas. Max's initial reservations about Lando dating a single mom had long since evaporated into thin air, after he had seen how much both Stella and Lando adored each other this year. By the middle of the summer, you and Pietra had also become much closer as well, so you enjoyed traveling with Lando's friends who you now considered yours as well.

There was a crackling fire in the huge fireplace that took up most of the external wall of the large four bedroom chalet-style home and above the fireplace, Elf played on the tv. Stella was snuggled up between you and Lando, her head buried underneath Lando's arm, while her feet were stretched across your lap. Lando's arm is flung over the side of the couch, his fingers tangled in yours as his thumb brushes soft circles over the back of your hand. After a few days with a lot of activity, it felt nice to finally spend the evening relaxing in the quiet of your own space.

As the credits to Elf begin to roll, you tap Stella's feet, a signal that it's time to get moving. "Come on, baby girl, it's time for bed. Go brush your teeth and then I'll be in to read more of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and tuck you in, okay? The sooner you get to sleep, the faster Santa comes!"

Stella stretches out her legs and whines, sounding a lot like a cat after it wakes up from a long nap. "I want Dad to tuck me in tonight."

The entire world goes still as you suck in a breath at the name she just used for the very first time. On the other side of the couch, you see Lando freeze too, gaze snapping straight to you as his fingers tighten around yours. The request has your heart squeezing in your chest, a response to her question simply unable to form in your brain.

Stella senses the mood shift in the room and glances up first at you and then over at Lando. "What? Can't Daddy tuck me in just this once?"

Daddy.

Lando's stomach does a somersault up into his throat as he grips onto your hand for reassurance. Had she just...

It really shouldn't have been a surprise, he'd realize later once Stella was fast asleep and you were curled up in his arms in your shared bed. Ever since Silverstone back in July, Lando had practically moved in to your house in all but name. He'd decided to rent out his Monaco apartment to one of the new rookie drivers next season, choosing to remain full time in England where you were. The teachers and parents at school all knew him not as Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver but as the man that often picked up Stella from school whenever he was able to. Stella's teacher had even begun including him on her weekly email newsletters she always sent out on Friday afternoons. He was as ingratiated into this family as both you and Stella were.

But hearing her call him dad for the first time? The new title did something to Lando's heart that he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from.

Emotion claws at his throat as he struggles to find the simple words to answer her request.

"Of course he can, honey." You whisper, seeing the shock and adoration sit heavy on Lando's face. Your own voice is with thick with emotion too. "Do you need help finding some jammies to change into?" You ask as Stella slowly gets up from her little nest between you and Lando.

"Dad can help me." She says with a shrug, as if the name is the most natural thing in the world.

Lando moves to get off the couch as Stella pads down the hallway, the brand new teddy bear she had conned him into buying at a shop today tucked into the crook of her elbow. He squeezes your shoulder as you look up at him, brilliant smile stretching over your face.

"You okay?" You ask as he rounds the couch, following behind Stella, dazed look still on his face.

Lando rubs at the back of his neck, stopping for a moment before turning back to you. His eyes shimmer with tears as he glances behind him and then back at you. "I think so...is...is that okay with you? Her calling me..." He pauses, trying to work his mouth around the next word, "dad like that?"

You're surprised to see concern flit across his face, like you could possibly be upset at what had just happened. "Lando." You murmur, rising from the couch to stand in front of him. You slip your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips are warm despite the fact that his kiss is hesitant at first. He quickly reads the emotion you pour into him though: confidence, love, desire. All of it positive and he knows without needing to hear anything vocalized that you're just happy about his new title as he is.

You tuck your head into his neck, nuzzling at the warm spot you love so much. "She loves you so much and so do I. You're the best thing that could have ever happened to us, Lando Norris."

Lando chuckles. "I think it's the opposite way around, my love. You two are the best thing that could have ever happened to me."

"DAAAAAAD" From the end of the hall, Stella's little voice calls out and you both can't help the laugh that pulls you apart. "I'm waaaaaaiting!!! Stop kissing Momma and come read to me!" She demands.

"The Princess awaits." Lando mutters before giving you one last peck on the cheek and turning away to walk down the hall towards Stella's room.

Over an hour later and you're 2 glasses of wine deeper than you were when Lando left you, still sitting alone on the couch. You're beginning to think he's fallen asleep putting Stella to bed only because you've done the same thing countless amounts of times over the years when you hear the door to her room whisper open.

"You were in there a long time." You murmur as Lando sits down on the couch before he pulls you into his lap. You set the wine glass down on the side table next to you so you can wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"Stella and I had some things to discuss." He says lightly.

Lando's body relaxes as he tucks his head into your neck. If there's one thing you adore about your boyfriend you'll adore until the ends of time it's how affectionate he is. He's always touching you when you're near and he never gives half-hearted hugs, they're something he pours his full body into. The same goes with cuddling, it's never halfway with Lando when it comes to physical affection and you simply cannot ever get enough.

"Oh?" You laugh, grinning at him. "And what are you two plotting now?"

Lando shifts, glancing away as if he's nervous to answer your question. "Stella calling me dad just had me thinking about things..."

You lift an eyebrow. "Things?"

"Yeah" Lando nods. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer into his chest. "I just got to thinking and maybe it’s time we make things official."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion has you pulling away from him so you can look at him. There's a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and you have to resist the urge to kiss him, despite the fact that you are fully lost as to what he's talking about. "You’ve been calling me your girlfriend for months now?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I mean official official. With this." Lando lifts his hips off the couch and pulls out a black velvet box from his pocket. For the second time that night, your heart stalls in your chest, world tilting a bit on its axis.

"Lan." You whisper before sucking in a breath as he opens the top of the ring box. Nestled in the black velvet sits the most gorgeous ring you'd ever laid eyes on. It's simple and perfect and something you would have picked out on your own had you been let loose in a jewelry store.

"Marry me, baby." Lando's voice is thick, anxiety and nerves evident in every syllable that comes out of his mouth. "I never want to go back to a world where you and Stella aren't in my life. Stella sees me as her dad, I hope you can see me as your husband and father of the rest of our babies one day. I love you so much l. Spend the rest of your life with me?

It's a wonder the sound of your heart clattering against your ribcage doesn't wake Stella up it's so loud. Blood rushes past your ears so loudly, the sounds of the house are muffled for a moment and all you can do is stare at Lando. He doesn't move, a look of anxiety and love and hundreds of other emotions sitting so plainly on his face you can barely form a thought.

"Of course. Oh my god. Of course." Your right hand finds his cheek and you frame his face with your hand as he takes your left hand before slipping the ring on your finger. A perfect fit.

"Yeah?" A wash of relief crashes over Lando because for a moment he thought you were about to reject him.

When he had finished reading a chapter of Stella's book to her, he had as casually as he could brought up the idea of them being a family for real next year. Stella had been a bit confused, asking him if the weren't already a real family but Lando had quickly explained he meant he wanted to marry you but only if Stella thought that was a good idea because she was part of their family too and what she thought mattered to him just as much as what you thought.

You nod, laughing through your tears before crashing your lips to his in a heated kiss. "Yeah." You mutter against his mouth.

"I was going to do this tomorrow morning" Lando pulls away, glancing down at your hand that's still captured between his. "But it just felt right tonight. Stella was so excited, she started asking what kind of dress she’d get to wear at the wedding."

"Oh Lando." You coo before you allow him to lay you down on the couch, kissing you as he goes.

yourusername (private) posted

123 likes liked by BFFSarah, CarlosSainz, yourdad, and others yourusername mrs. norris has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? 😘 BFFSarah OH. MY. GOD. I'm sobbing. Bestie. I love you. I love him. I love Stella. I'm so happy for you!!! >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️ thank you babes >>>BFFSarah sorry, back again to tell you holy SHIT that ring!! @/landonorris you did good!! >>>landonorris why thank you! ☺️

landonorris posted

1,098,874 likes liked by yourusername, mclaren, zakbrownceo, and others landonorris santa can't compete with my present this year zakbrownceo congratulations to both of you!!! we'll have to throw a little party when you're back in the new year! >>>yourusername thanks zak!! you are too good to us! user009 the gold digger got what she wanted...how long til she's knocked up with baby number 2? gotta get that bag somehow... >>>user221 seriously. bro fell for the oldest trick in the book. fucking gross. >>>user223 hey so this is a fucking WILD thing to say about someone you don't even know so publicly. JESUS. user928 OH MY GOD THEY'RE ENGAGED user230 we're going to get dad lando content FOREVER >>>user929 the way i live for stella/lando content and now we get even MORE??? Yes please!!!

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[jheselbraum]

Birth of a Nation revitalized the KKK in America and is perhaps the only piece of "irredeemable media" I can think of that's actually like. You know, a story, and I don't know of anything else off the top of my head that had that kind of lasting, palpably harmful impact that isn't like, direct state mandated propaganda like Mein Kampf. In 1915 the KKK was effectively dead, they'd slowly dissolved around the 1870s (particularly after the introduction of the Ku Klux Klan Act of 1871) and Birth of a Nation led to the most notorious American terrorist group reforming. As far as I'm concerned, DW Griffith has actual blood on his hands, for murders committed at the very least through the 40s (they disbanded temporarily in 1944 after America's most effective violent crime task force, the IRS, got involved, though it could be argued he's only responsible for murders committed by the KKK through the 20s, as membership declined rapidly after that once people saw that being part of a terrorist organization wasn't like how it was in the movie).

And like, look I generally don't think the word "irredeemable" can really be applied to art in any form, but there is something viscerally reprehensible about Birth of a Nation that makes us not want to watch it. Like it (arguably) pioneered a lot of film techniques but that's more of the science side of film than the art side, I'm completely certain that people would have figured out that contrasting long shots with close-ups made movies more interesting if Birth of a Nation was left on the cutting room floor. (In fact, several of the techniques 'pioneered' by Birth of a Nation were actually from earlier films, it's just that DW Griffith was more popular and his films are the ones that were remembered). But like we don't screen this movie publicly, we don't like it, we don't like the what DW Griffith had to say. Birth of a Nation just... repels people away from it. Its in person screenings are relegated to a few film classes and maybe some klan meetings, though I'm certain there are some racists on 4chan who've downloaded a copy. If you ask normal people to pick one movie to stop existing, there's no way out of it you have to pick one, chances are they'll pick Birth of a Nation, assuming they've even heard of it (my first exposure to it was in high school, some people might not get to it until college, or even later, that's just kind of what happens with something like this. It's not like you can learn about something through cultural osmosis when the culture is trying like hell to osmosis that thing out of itself). It's an acceptable loss.

Meanwhile, from what I've read, I'd say the decision to use A Serbian Film alongside Birth of a Nation is actually a reasonable one, not because of the graphic nature of it's content, but rather its themes and message and how flat it can feel because of who's saying it (DISCLAIMER: I haven't watched it, I'm not going to watch it, take this with a grain of salt). It's about a man who's forced to commit horrific crimes to survive (economically, though he may be directly threatened with death I'm not sure, he's doing it as a job basically). If you'll recall, Serbia committed genocide during the Bosnian War in the 90s, the targets being primarily Bosniaks but also including anyone in Bosnia and Herzegovina that wasn't Serbian.

The director of the film, Srđan Spasojević, had this to say when asked if the acts depicted in the film were related in any way to crimes committed during the Yugoslav Wars:

A Serbian Film does not touch upon war themes, but in a metaphorical way deals with the consequences of post-war society and a man that is exploited to the extreme in the name of securing the survival of his family.

Additionally, he described the film as "a diary of our own molestation by the Serbian government ... It's about the monolithic power of leaders who hypnotize you to do things you don't want to do. You have to feel the violence to know what it's about."

A Serbian Film is an exploitation film that's apparently considered one of the most disturbing of all time, but the film is not a snuff film as many people have claimed. A snuff film is the filming of actual gruesome crimes like murder, torture, and rape, committed for the purpose of selling the resulting film and making money. It's not "a movie that depicts gruesome crimes like murder, torture, and rape through the use of special or practical effects."

Based on the quick read-through of the Wikipedia article I did, it seems like most of what the film is trying to say is through the lens of the aftermath of the Yugoslav Wars, or at least that's how the audience largely interpreted it. The script writer, Aleksandar Radivojević, said this about the process of securing funding for the film and the state of the Serbian film industry in general.

you had this EU arts council funded production using Serbia for EU's political agitprop agenda of 'promoting tolerance and reconciliation in the post-war Balkans' by boosting sappy local projects of no aesthetic value whose sole reason for receiving EU financing was their respective authors' willingness to amplify the EU-approved message, i.e. to express 'Serb contrition over what happened in the Yugoslav Wars' via essentially making victim porn, showing small miserable Serb people who are struggling mightily while nevertheless simultaneously 'doing their part in search of collective redemption' by being extremely remorseful

Now, I'm a white American who does not experience racism of any kind, let alone the violently dehumanizing prejudice necessary to convince a group of people to commit an ethnic cleansing, but if my people had been the victims of a genocide, and I heard someone from the group of people that committed that genocide complain about media depicting his people's remorse, and saw that that guy also wrote a movie where the plot is a man is forced to commit gruesome rapes, and again, my people were gruesomely raped as a part of that guy's country's plan to wipe my people from existence, I'd be fucking pissed. Like again, I haven't seen A Serbian Film, and Radivojević wasn't the only person in the writer's room, so maybe in practice it reads less as "our government was controlling us we did nothing wrong" and more "our government is controlling us and we're monsters for listening." And we can argue the merits of the latter another time, but at least the latter acknowledges that genocide doesn't happen in a vacuum because some schmucks at the top said so, that the people bear as much responsibility as their government.

Now, is A Serbian Film actually trying to say anything about the Yugoslav Wars at all? I don't know. I haven't seen it. Maybe it isn't about the Bosnian genocide at all. But then what is it saying about Serbia? Serbian actor Dragan Bjelogrlić said this about the film and its director, a year after its release:

I have a problem with A Serbian Film. Its director in particular. I've got a serious problem with this boy whose father got wealthy during the 1990s—nothing against making money, but I know how money was made [in Serbia] during the '90s—and then pays for his son's education abroad and eventually the kid comes back to Serbia to film his view of the country using his dad's money and even calls the whole thing A Serbian Film. To me that's a metaphor for something unacceptable. The second generation comes back to the country and using the money that had been robbed from the people of Serbia, smears the very same people by portraying them as the worst scum of the earth.

OP was right, it's fucking insane that this site only uses words like irredeemable media to talk about cartoons for children. Like, no, Steven Universe or The Owl House or My Hero Academia or whatever TV-Y7 cartoon you're hyper focused on that week isn't irredeemable media. Your bar for even discussing it as a possibility is "did this story's public existence revitalize a terrorist organization and lead to several murders," a qualification which A Serbian Film, despite its content, themes, and possible interpretations, does not meet. It's offensive, and disturbing, it possibly excuses genocide, but as far as I've read, no one has gotten physically hurt because it exists.

A Serbian Film is more violently graphic than Birth of a Nation. Birth of a Nation did more to physically harm real people than A Serbian Film ever could.

It's fucking wild that the above reaction to A Serbian Film mentions next to nothing about what it's trying to say, how well it works, who's saying it and in what context, but focuses purely on the graphic and violent scenes depicted in the film. It's probably why they slapped Salo on at the end even though a cursory glance through Wikipedia (I don't care enough to read thoroughly on the plot and themes you get the point graphic exploitation films aren't inherently evil for depicting murder or rape or whatever I don't want to read about more graphic shit it's not something I personally enjoy doing) reveals that that film is strictly antifascist, though several actors were actually injured during filming. Notably, the director of Salo, Pier Paolo Pasolini, was gruesomely abducted, tortured, and murdered in 1975 shortly before Salo's release at the Paris Film Festival. He was openly gay, and a Marxist, and while his death was initially contributed to one Giuseppe Pelosi (17 at the time of the murder) after he confessed, he later retracted his confession claiming that he made it under the threat of violence to his family (which unfortunately tracks, Americans may recall the more recent case of Amanda Knox, who was arrested in 2007 for the murder of her friend and forced by Italian police to confess to a crime she didn't commit and was later exonerated from). The case was reopened after Giuseppe's retraction in 2005 and other evidence that had come to light, and as of 2023 the Italian authorities are looking at the far right group Banda della Magliana as possible suspects. While I agree that "I hear it's kind of. nasty" is frankly an understatement when attempting to discuss the graphic content of Salo, and really fucking hilarious in the context of trying to argue that Salo shouldn't exist at all, I don't know that that's really a fair criticism to make, considering the other two examples are if not directly far right (using the term because of the changing political landscape between 1915 and 2010, like I can't really call Birth of a Nation fascist because it was made before fascism was a fully congealed political ideology, even if it upholds the ideology of fascism) then at least debatably so. As previously established, the actual content of the film, as in, the acts depicted, don't immediately make a work reprehensible. Remember, A Serbian Film is more graphic and disturbing to watch than Birth of a Nation, but Birth of a Nation is worse than A Serbian Film.

Tldr; op is right, and the person whose tags have been drowned is exactly the kind of person op was talking about

'Irredeemable media' is such a funny concept to me because it's never used for stuff like Birth of a Nation or A Serbian Film. It's always The Owl House or My Hero Academia because these people only watch things for children and can't stand any conflict more complex than Super Mario Brothers.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

ephemeral

Pairing: Batfam x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k words

Summary: You were forgetting something. However the most frustrating part was you couldn't seem to remember what exactly it was that you were forgetting.

A/N: This was inspired by this post by @bonefanatic! I know that it's Yandere!Batfam in the OG post but as soon as I read it this is just what it inspired. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

You were renowned for forgetting things.

You'd always forget to bring your keys the day when your mother happened to be running late. You'd forget your pencil case on the day of exams and forget your bus pass on the rare days that your father didn't give you a ride.

On sunny days you'd forget to wear your sunscreen. On rainy days, much like today, you'd forget your umbrella. Now, when you were a young girl, running back home through the rain wouldn't matter. In fact, you had vague memories of your feet splashing through puddles, hands shielding your face from the pelting rain while you and an old lover got soaked to the bone.

You could hardly even remember those days; just the sound of splashing puddles and the deep petrichor, the cold of the rain mixed with the warmth of someone's laughter...

A coo brought you out of your thoughts and your eyes met those of bright blue. The baby strapped to your chest gave you a semblance of a toothy smile, his teeth only beginning to come out and you returned it, leaning in to rub your nose against his, revelling in the giggles it brought out.

The sweet boy, who only ever saw you, was the reason you couldn't let yourself get wet, standing in the shade of an apartment building and choosing to wait out the rain.

You gave your baby a once over, making sure that he didn't get wet in your effort to reach the building. He looked fine and his clothing wasn't wet, although he did seem a little cold. You held his tiny hands in between your palms, repeating the process with his feet until you were satisfied.

The door of the building swung open and you immediately covered Thomas' ears to protect him from the cold breeze, letting him burrow his face into your chest.

In came a man that had to be larger than anyone you had ever seen in your life. Clearly, he had been caught in the rain, his boots were soaked and so was his leather jacket. He donned a motorcycle helmet, and your stomach lurched at the thought of him driving that out in this weather. Without realizing it, your eyes glanced over his figure, wondering if he had possibly gotten hurt.

When you brought your eyes back up from his muddy boots to his face you were slightly startled. When had he taken off his helmet? His blue eyes stared back at you, shock apparent on his features before he had schooled them back to monotony.

"Are you lost? I don't think you live here." His voice was low and gravelly, but it found a familiar place in the back of your head.

You gave him a small smile, "No, I'm just trying to wait out the rain. I forgot to bring an umbrella, and I really don't want my son to get sick."

His eyes glanced down to your son and you curiously watched as something swirled in his eyes. Longing perhaps? Maybe he had some baby fever? It didn't quite seem like that though...you just couldn't put your finger on it.

"Would you like me to call you a cab?"

"I already tried. The streets here are too narrow for a cab to drive through so I'd have to walk a bit before I'd reach the road."

He nodded, taking a beat before he responded, "Wait here."

And then he took off for the stairs and even though he looked relaxed, you saw him taking multiples stairs in a single step, resisting the curious urge to tell him to be careful and not to slip because of his wet shoes.

He didn't make you wait long, reappearing in less than 5 minutes with an umbrella and something else in his hands.

"Oh, I couldn't."

"Please, I insist. I don't think the rain is going to stop anytime soon and there isn't anywhere for you to sit down," He said earnestly, placing the umbrella in your hands, "I already called a cab. It should be waiting for you at the corner."

"Thank you, young man." You watched him run his fingers through the cute little tuft of white hair bashfully before he handed you something else—a fuzzy blanket patterned with bats.

You looked curiously up at him, "For the little guy. He looks cold."

You really wanted to refuse, but Thomas' nose and ears had begun to turn red from the chill and with the blanket he'd be better protected as you walked to the cab. So, you bundled up the baby in the cozy blanket and thanked the man again who said goodbye with a melancholic smile.

While taking the cab home, your fingers traced over the embroidered monogram in the corner of the blanket that looked like it was brand new.

T.W.

***

You don't know what it was about the travelling circus that had you so enraptured. There was just something about watching the acrobats soar through the sky like birds, as though they were weightless, that made you feel equal parts worried and in awe.

It was unusual. You didn't enjoy watching gymnasts while you grew up and you had certainly never visited a circus, and yet while sitting in the seats for the performance of Haly's travelling circus for the 4th time since they had arrived at Gotham, you couldn't help but wait in anticipation for the show to begin.

Thomas was clutched to your lap, every bit as excited as you were, when a man with dark hair and blue eyes—a common feature here in Gotham, it seemed—sat next to you.

You spared him a glance, only to find him staring back at you with a small smile and a cone of roasted chestnuts in his hand. He handed you a pair of ear protectors.

"They're handing it outside the tent—wouldn't want the little guy to hurt his ears."

You thanked him with a smile, placing them over Thomas' ears and giggling when he laughed at you pointing at the man who returned his toothy grin with one of his own.

"Would you like one?" He offered, holding out the warm chestnuts for you to take and you obliged, thanking him and relishing in the taste and the immediate warmth that spread through your body.

"So, what brings you to the circus?"

Your arms tightened around Thomas, resting your cheek on the top of his head as you contemplated the answer, "I don't know. I just like the acrobats. Every time I watch them, I feel comfortable, like I've been watching them my entire life. Which is weird because I've never seen acrobats before Haly's circus came to Gotham."

You looked back at him, "What about you?"

"My mom used to be an acrobat here. After I lost her, I like to visit, so I don't forget her." He explained, eyes scrolling across the bright colours of the circus, taking everything in. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, trying to comfort him.

He looked down at Thomas, watching as the baby gave him an innocent grin that had returned with a sad smile and giving a delicate little pinch to his pudgy thigh before looking back up at you.

"I really don't want to lose my mom a second time."

***

One thing you really couldn't appreciate enough before having children was the freedom to shop for groceries all alone. Now, after having an infant, something as simple as stocking the fridge turned into a long and arduous feat.

You’d have to get Thomas dressed, make sure his nappy was changed, and time it just right—long enough since he’d eaten that you wouldn’t need to change him again, but not so long that he’d get hungry and need you to breastfeed him in the middle of the store.

Not only that, you'd also be stuck pushing a cart around with him strapped to your chest because he was still too young for the shopping cart.

And finally, the most torturous part of this whole excursion—the car loading. Most of your bags were heavy and packed full, and you couldn’t load them into the trunk with Thomas strapped to you.

So, you’d carefully place him in the car seat, turning on the engine and air conditioning to cool the car after its time baking in the parking lot. Then, you’d haul the heavy groceries into the trunk, turn off the car, take Thomas back out, return the trolley to its rightful place, and—once again—secure him in his car seat before finally heading home.

You stared at the cart full of groceries—enough to last you at least 3 weeks so you wouldn't have to make another trip for a while—trying to summon the energy to load the heavy items in the blasted vehicle.

"Mo—Ma'am?"

A young man approached you, a half-drunk coffee in his hand and your brows twitched. Just how many coffees had this boy had today? You shook your head of the thought. Why would you even care?

"Do you need some help?"

Giving him a polite smile, you shook your head, "I'm okay. Thank you, sweetie."

He gave you a sad smile, and it made you immediately want to take your words back and to give him the world instead. The feeling confused you even more. Why were you so concerned about him? And why did he look so sad after you refused his request? If anything, he should’ve been relieved that he wouldn’t have to do any work.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind." He tried again, this time placing his hand on the handle of the trolley, his hand just a hair away from yours. It was peculiar—your instinct for stranger-danger urged you to pull your hand away, and yet, you felt an equally strong urge to place your hand over his.

You smiled again, "I guess I'll take you up on your offer."

He was stronger than he looked. Despite his scrawny frame, he easily lifted your bags into the trunk, loading everything and shutting it in record time. Dusting off his hands with a proud smile, he turned to you as if expecting praise—only to deflate when he caught you watching him with a small, lingering smile.

It was as though he grew sadder with each passing second, his expression dimming as he gave you one last longing look before turning that same gaze to Thomas, "I’ll return the cart for you. Why don’t you strap him in?"

You nodded, thanking him again, "Thank you so much for your help."

Using Thomas’ little fist, you waved goodbye to the boy. He returned it with an expression far too tired for his young face. You resisted the urge to tell him to get a good night’s rest, instead watching him push the trolley away through your rearview mirror. A pang hit your chest at the sight of his slumped shoulders.

***

A figure collided with your back and you would have been knocked over if he had been any taller, however when you looked down, a young boy with dark hair and beautiful green eyes looked back up at you.

"Ummi..." He murmured, before he even had a chance to stop himself and you frowned in concern for this child who couldn't have been more than 9 years old who all of a sudden looked so small and unsure and something in your soul reached out for him.

You leaned down, well, as much as you could with a baby strapped to your chest, "Did you lose your mom, sweetheart?"

He flinched, eyes going wide and his bottom lip began to tremble in a way that made you want to hold him to your heart and soothe him, "Yes...I have lost my ummi...and I wish she'd come back....I miss her very much."

You reached out a hand before you could stop yourself, almost reaching for him to run your fingers through his hair and scratch your nails lightly against his scalp—

"Damian!"

Your hand froze an inch away as a man, slightly older than you, ran up to him. When your eyes met his, a rush of something surged through you—so intense and so sudden that there wasn’t even time for an epiphany.

All you knew was, you had met this man before.

Only, you couldn't remember when.

"I'm sorry about him. You know how kids are." The man with familiar blue eyes told you, flashing you a charming smile that had done an incredibly good job of hiding the misery underneath. And yet, you still saw past the mask. And still… you chose to look away.

You smiled up at him before glancing down at Thomas, now realizing why this curious stranger's eyes felt so familiar—your son looked up at you with almost identical ones, "I do know."

The man followed your gaze to the happy baby in your arms and you watched as the corner of his lips had dropped from the calculated smile he had worn. It was like he had frozen in time and the more you watched him, the more despondent his expression became.

His son—Damian. Why did that name sound so familiar?— looked up at him with concern, now grabbing his hand and tugging him away.

"Baba." He said softly, finally managing to knock the man out of his stupor.

"Oh," He finally spoke, looking down at his distressed son, "I'm sorry, miss. I hope my son didn't hurt you or the baby. If you need any medical bills covered, you can contact this number."

He handed you a business card and walked away before you could even argue about how absurd it was that you would ask for him to pay your medical bills over his adorable son bumping into you. It was an honest mistake!

You could only watch them walk away before your eyes looked down at the Wayne Enterprises business card.

"Bruce Wayne, CEO."

'Bruce'

You swore you had heard that name before.

And yet... you'd forgotten.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

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@that-one-fangirl69

@eloriis

[cjlouwho]

This got a little long winded, so it gets its own post. The story you are about to read is based off of this poll. These are your choices.

Tommy was pretty sure he'd never felt a headache like this before. He wasn't prone to migraines, but he'd seen his mother suffer with them and this... well, this might be worse.

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as a wave of nausea fell over him.

It wasn't just his head that hurt. It was his whole body.

Damn, he hadn't been this sick in... well, ever.

His body shook with chills. There was a heaviness in his chest that had him turning his head to the side and choking out a hard cough.

Once he finally settled, that heaviness still there, he slowly let out a raspy breath.

Pudding.

He wanted pudding.

That was odd. He used to crave pudding as a child. Every time he got sick, he would request a pudding cup. And that's what he wanted right now.

Maybe he still had one in the fridge. He'd kept a few things there for Jee back when- Well, he had some kid foods that had been sitting in his fridge for a couple months now. Surely, the pudding would still be fine.

If only he could get out of bed.

He made a mental note to order a new mattress. This one had lasted him quite a few years, but he was definitely feeling the lumps today. It was hard and painful and poked into his back.

“God, this sucks,” he breathed out, blinking his bleary eyes open and... oh.

This wasn't right.

He wasn't at home. Wasn't in his bed.

And the heaviness in his chest was actually on his chest.

That's when the memories came flooding back to him. Going for a flight on his day off. Wanting to clear his head and get his thoughts in order.

He couldn't panic. He needed to maintain focus.

That was hard to do when his brain was all jumbled.

He remembered his phone was... somewhere.

Shirt pocket! That was it!

Carefully, and painfully, he reached up and pulled out the phone.

Miraculously, it was still in one piece. Besides a few cracks to the screen, it seemed to be working fine.

He stared at the screen. The default background that was once a picture of him and Evan.

It hurt to breathe. Hurt to think. He knew he probably didn't have that much time. Not with the way this heavy piece of metal pressed against his body.

So, with fuzzy eyes, Tommy went to his contacts, hovering his finger over the name before pressing down.

“Hello?”

“H- Hey. Long time, n- no talk.”

“Tommy? What's up? Are you okay?”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “I... Well, that's a loaded question.”

“You sound weird. What's wrong?”

“I wanted to a- apologize to you.” With a grimace, he swallowed down what was definitely blood.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

There was a pause, then, “Did you do something stupid?”

“Not intentionally,” he deadpanned. “Listen, I- I kinda got into an accident and I...” his voice trailed off as he went into a coughing fit. The movement sent a pain shooting from his leg to his back. “Damn it!” he yelled.

“Tommy! Tommy, talk to me. What do you mean you got in an accident?”

“No, it- it doesn't matter. I just wanted t- to apologize for the way I left you.”

“You apologized for that years ago, Tommy. Tell me what happened so I-”

“Abby!” he exclaimed, the hunk of metal over him creaked as it lowered slightly. “I don't... I just need to apologize. I- you loved me, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did. Car crash, or were you flying?”

“F- Flying. I loved you too. Not... Not the same though. Sorry.”

He could hear her mumbling something to someone else, then she was back on the line. “I'm calling 911 with Sam's phone. Stay on the line with me, Tommy. Are you in LA?”

“Mhm. Do- Don't think I made it far. Abby, listen, I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you. I was so s- scared of- of everything.”

“Do you see anything around you? Any indicators for where you are? They're working on pinging your phone.”

When Tommy turned his head to the side, all he could see was trees. “Woods. I think. Can't see much. I was dating th- this guy.”

“Can you tell me where you're hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“Oh, for sure. But A- Abby, I didn't m- mean to hurt you.”

“Focus, please. Where are you bleeding?”

“Head. Leg. Mouth. Kinda e- everywhere. I was dating th- this guy,” Tommy sucked in a shaky breath, a rattling in his lungs. “Your guy, actually. O- Our guy?”

“Tommy, I think you're getting confused. I-”

“No, no. Evan. Buckley, Ev- Buck. Him.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“No, I'm here. I- You're dating Buck?”

“Was dating Buck. I- I ended it. I'm c- cold.”

“Help is on the way, Tommy, just stay with me. You broke up with Buck. Why?”

“Remember wh- when we went to karaoke nights? Th- That was fun, wasn't it?”

Abby sighed. “It was, but that's not what we're talking about.”

“Wh- What was the song we us- used to sing?”

“You were a big Queen fan. I Want to Break Free. Shoulda known,” she mumbled.

Tommy laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit, where blood bubbled up in his mouth.

“Tommy! Tommy, stay calm, okay. Turn your head a little so you don't choke.”

Tommy listened, spitting out the blood before he continued. “We should karaoke again.”

“I don't think that's gonna happen. Tell me about Buck.”

“Evan.” Tears filled in Tommy's eyes and he tried his hardest to blink them away. “We were t- together six months and it all f- fell apart.”

“Why?”

“He wanted... wanted me to move in. Can you b- believe that?”

“Yeah, actually, I can,” she answered. “Buck likes to attach and you're, well, attachable.”

“No. No, I'm not.”

“You haven't changed much, Tommy. You didn't seem to think you were worthy when we were together either.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. Down his back he could feel the sensation of more blood dripping from his neck. “What d- do you mean?”

“The whole time we were together it felt like you were waiting for a bomb to drop.”

“That probably had to do with the whole being gay thing.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Maybe. Don't think so though. Hang on a second.”

He looked up at the hunk of metal trapping him in place. “Nowhere to go.”

Tommy closed his eyes while he waited. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but the next thing he remembered, Abby was yelling in his ear. “-mmy! Tommy, talk to me!”

“Wha- I'm here, I'm here. God, you're l- loud.”

“And you're an ass. If I was there I'd smack you on the back of the head.”

“That would hurt,” he replied. “With the gaping wound an- and all the blood.”

“Back to Buck. Why'd you say no to moving in?”

“I own a home.”

“And?”

Tommy thought for a moment. “I- I wasn't enough for you, Abby. Couldn't be.”

“Mhm.”

“I hurt you. Didn't m- mean to, but I did. I saw- I saw it in your eyes, when I left, I... You loved me, and I couldn't... I'm sorry.”

“Is that why you left?” Abby asked. “You were afraid Buck would do the same thing to you?”

“I really...” he couldn't stop the tears now. His chest heaved in the little space it had left. “I really loved him, Abby, and I- I saw what I did to you and I couldn't. I just co- co- couldn't-”

“Okay, okay, Tommy, I need you to stay calm, okay? Listen, the dispatcher is telling me that the 118 is close to you. So you stay calm and you talk to me!”

“O- Okay.” He tried to calm his breathing the best he could, but the rattle persisted. He knew that didn't mean anything good. Each breath got a little harder, the blood continued to flow down his neck, and he was pretty sure something was sticking through his leg.

“Did you tell him how you felt?”

“He didn't... He never said it. That he loved me.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Maybe he was waiting on you. Did you think of that?”

“I think...” He just wanted to close his eyes. Nothing made sense, the cold feeling was fading, he was going numb. “I think I- I'm dying, Abby.”

“No! Listen to me, Tommy! They're close to you! I need you to make a noise. Let them know where you are. You hear me?! Call for help, Tommy.”

“Abb-”

“Call for help!”

Tommy groaned, more blood coming up in his throat. He managed to move one arm just enough for his hand to knock on the door of the chopper. “H- Here!” he yelled, banging on the door as hard as he could manage. “I- I'm here!”

Abby listened over the phone as the 118 arrived on scene. She could only make out bits and pieces.

“Tommy, can.... me? Talk to... There ya go! We got a...”

“What about the...”

“Hey. Hey, we're here, Tommy. Just focus on... and we'll get ya out, okay?”

“He's losing too... gotta get that off now!”

“Tommy, you look at me! We will... you just gotta promise me you'll... Promise?”

She waited, holding her breath until she heard his voice, just a touch above a whisper. “Promise.”

Things got quieter for a bit, then she heard voices again, so she yelled, “Hey! Hey, pick up the phone! Someone pick it up!”

“H- Hello?”

“Buck, is that you?”

“Yeah, Abby, it- it's me,” he answered, his voice practically shaking. “Maddie said y- you were on the line with him.”

“Is he...?”

“He's alive. We're following the ambulance to the hospital.”

“How bad?”

She could hear Buck sniffling through the line. “I don't know how he's alive, Abby,” he admitted, lip trembling. “It looks like this thing has been through a compactor.”

“And Tommy?”

"Has a gash on the back of the head, concussion, broken ribs, a pretty big piece of glass through his leg, definitely some internal bleeding. He... Chim says he should make it, but we- we barely got here in time. He might've... if he wasn't talking to you he probably...” He couldn't even bring himself to say the words.

“Hey, don't think about that now. He's gonna be fine. That's what matters.”

“Yeah.” Buck ran a hand over his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, you're right.”

“I'll let you go, Buck, but let me know when he's stable, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Abby.”

“Of course. Oh, and Buck!” she quickly added before he could hangup.

“Yeah?”

“I know the guy pretty well. He loves you. He's just not great at being loved.”

“A- Abby-”

“Don't give up on him. He's worth it.” Before Buck could get in another word, she hung up.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed.

Evan was beside him, staring down at an empty cup in his hands. Tommy figured he must've sensed the staring, because soon enough Buck was meeting his eyes. “You're awake,” he said, eyebrows rising.

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “I think so, yeah.”

“There's been a couple wake ups that didn't quite stick,” Buck explained, standing to grab cup of water. He put the straw to Tommy's mouth and had him take a sip. “Slowly,” he instructed. “Don't want you choking.”

Tommy took a few sips, then settled back in the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost four days.”

Tommy's eyes widened. “You.. You haven't been here the whole time?” he asked. “Have you?”

Buck nodded. “Three nurses have tried to drag me out of here. All have failed.”

Tommy hoped the monitor didn't show how fast his heart felt like it was beating. “Wh- Why? Why'd you stay?”

Buck smiled, wrapping his shaky hand around Tommy's. “A mutual friend of ours told me you were worth it,” he said, his eyes glistening with tears. “I just so happen to agree.”

[djotime-allthetime]

Freaky Redheads

synopsis: interactions between you and fred hechinger at a red carpet event for gladiator ii.

wc: 2.5+

rpf!!! don't like, don't read!!!

a/n: i love that soft, sweet, adorable man with all of my heart. my inspiration is how fred talks about sherry. the monkey. i'm down bad bro.

italics are supposed to be comments under tiktok clips of these interviews. i definitely have more in mind for these two, but we'll see how this goes. feedback is writer's fuel!

cross posted on AO3

The flashing cameras and yelling reporters have started to become the new normal, which was so not normal for you. You couldn't believe how far you'd come.

Granted, your role in the movie was definitely more in the supporting cast territory, but you couldn't deny how massive the production was. But even as a supporting actress, you still had quite a bit of screen time as the unnamed favorite concubine to Emperor Caracalla.

The fans who knew you called out your name from behind the velvet ropes and you smiled and waved as you walked by.

"y/n! y/n! Over here!" A reporter called out. You nodded and smiled as you approached, indicating your acceptance of the carpet-side interview. Your agent had warned you that not every journalist might want to speak with you and that you should accept any interview you came by. Thankfully, as the start of your night would show, that wasn't the case.

"Hello!" You beamed, coming to a stop in front of the camera. The reporter greeted you back and handed you a microphone glued to a mini Romanesque column. "Oh, wow. I love the microphone!"

"Thank you," She smiled. With a quick glance at her blouse, you saw a name tag that said 'MTV UK: Claire'. "It was my idea, actually."

"Incredibly creative! They should give you a raise, Claire."

"If you wouldn't mind saying that directly into the camera..." Claire trailed off with a chuckle and a mischievous glint to her eye.

You shot the camera as serious a look as you could muster. "MTV, if you do not give this woman a raise, I will riot in the streets."

"Alright alright, enough of that." Claire laughed out loud with a few shakes of her head. "You look absolutely stunning!"

"Oh, this old thing?" You smiled bashfully, grabbing at your skirt to twirl it around. The styling department had made sure that all the gowns worn during press had some Roman inspiration behind them. The piece you were wearing was off white in color, representing your character's position in society. Even with your character in mind, your dress was still breathtaking. The gown was composed of yards and yards of fabric, giving it this dreamy, flowy silhouette. The neckline was so beautiful, in the cowl style and draped ever so slightly off your shoulders. To say that you loved it would be an understatement. "Thank you very much, you look amazing yourself."

"But you are on a different level!" Claire gasped, no doubt to return the topic to you. Just like you were media trained, the reporters were too. "What was the thought process behind your look tonight?"

Your eyes lit up as this was something you had wanted to talk about. "Well, the styling department and I actually workshopped this look together. Of course we wanted it to be glamorous, this is the red carpet after all. But we also wanted to show the character through the outfits, you know?" She nodded along.

"Right, your character was quite impactful even with the few lines you had." Claire added, and you smiled in thanks.

"Yeah, thank you." You felt your face heat up at the compliment. "We wanted to still be true to her, under all the glitz and glamour. So that's why we went with the understated color, to not only show her position in society but also her demeanor throughout the film."

"But your jewellery is anything but understated." She laughed.

"Yeah, I couldn't help myself." You laughed with her.

"Give us a quick tour."

You were almost dripping in gold, from your head to your toes. "We've got the hair piece." You brought a hand up to show the gold pins connected with chains littering your up-do. "Earrings upon earrings, all hoops." You pulled a strand back to show off your right ear clearly. Some were clip on earrings as you didn't have quite enough piercings to get them all. "The necklaces, of course. Some bracelets, some rings. But I think this cuff on my upper arm is my favorite."

"And these are all borrowed pieces from different brands?"

"Most of them are, yes." You confirmed with a nod. "But some are from my private collection. And some I might steal." You joked, getting a laugh out of Claire.

"Well, you really knocked it out of the park." Claire smiled, a tone of finality in her voice that showed you the interview was coming to a close. "And before we let you go, we've got one question we're asking everyone tonight. I think we can all agree that the cast of this movie is full of beautiful men." You giggled, a bit surprised at the turn in topic. "But people on the internet have separated them into two categories."

"Oh, have they now?" You asked, unaware of what she was talking about.

"Yes, they have. Gen Z has divided them into the brooding brunets and the freaky redheads." She explained, pulling up two little hand held signs. One with Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, the brooding brunets, and the other with Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger, the freaky redheads.

You couldn't contain the surprised laugh that escaped you at the sight of their little printed faces. "Oh my goodness!"

"So, as the resident Gen Z-er on the cast, who is your pick?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm the only representation of Gen Z here." You mused as you grabbed both the signs from Claire. You lifted up the 'freaky redheads' sign and pointed to Fred. "My friend is right there with me in the Gen Z territory."

"Alright, as the representation of Gen Z women, which team is more your style?" Claire asked as you studied the signs. "People are saying they went into the movie for the brunets and came out converted to team redheads."

"That's actually really funny," You chuckled as you looked down at both signs. "This is hard." You mumbled. A small smirk found itself on your lips as you thought of Fred seeing this clip later. Someone no doubt showing it to him, as he wouldn't find it on his own. "I feel like- yeah." You nodded with determination. "I'm gonna have to go with Fred- I'm going with team freaky redheads." You nodded. "I think it would be treacherous otherwise."

"Good choice. You'd break Emperor Caracalla's heart."

"And then he'd have my head." You laughed, stepping back. "Thank you for your great questions."

"Thank you for your time." Claire waved as you walked away. "We're gonna have a tally going throughout the night, and we'll see who wins. Team brooding brunets, or team freaky redheads." You heard her say to the camera as you moved further down the carpet.

'She looks so pretty!!'

'i love the thought process behind the outfit, you can tell she really loved her character'

'the reporter asked y/n if she prefers lucius and acacius or geta and caracalla and this girl really said FRED 💀'

'i love seeing new faces in hollywood, give young new actors a chance!!' ↳ 'right?? im so sick of them recycling the same actors for every big budget movie'

'she mentioned fred, not caracalla, twice, unprompted. i see you, y/n. you're just like us.' ↳ 'have you seen his interviews? he's literally the cutest i cant blame her 🥺'

A few steps down, another reporter flagged you down. This time, the questions were more centered around the acting itself.

"And was it difficult? In a previous interview, you've said that your character's growth was significant, but she had almost no lines in the movie."

"Yeah, I think in the final cut she only has... three lines?" You winced, looking upwards as you tried to recall what was and wasn't cut. "Though I'm not sure."

"So there were scenes where she could've said more?"

"Oh yeah, for sure! There was a lot of experimentation with my character throughout filming. Ridley's a genius and he was kind enough to truly take in my suggestions. There were times where I felt like she would actually stay quiet during a scene, whereas other times I felt like she would speak up. But yeah," You breathed in and furrowed your brows in thought as you tried to focus your answer back to the original question. "It was definitely a challenge. I had to really work on my micro-expressions. Lots of research, lots of practice. And lots of trust, too. With a character like mine, I really relied on Fr- on my fellow actors in those scenes. So yeah, definitely challenging. But who doesn’t love a good challenge?"

"And did you take any inspiration from other people's work? Any source material that helped you out as you built your character?"

"Of course!" You smiled, a hint of humor in your tone as you thought of your response. "Yeah, I did. Actually, one of the biggest inspirations for my role, believe it or not, was Ferb. From 'Phineas and Ferb'."

"The- The children's show?" The interviewer questioned with a grin.

"Yeah, Ridley thought it was brilliant!" You laughed. "We watched compilations of Ferb scenes on youtube together. And I know that Fred- Fred Hechinger, who plays Emperor Caracalla-, he also brought up Sid Vicious with Ridley, as well as other sources like that. Sir Ridley Scott has great taste, there's no denying that."

'ferb as inspiration for a movie like this,,, gen z in the film industry really are the gift that keeps on giving'

'im just imagining y/n and ridley scott curled up on the couch watching phineas and ferb reruns. that man is 86 years old. this is brilliant.'

'bro didn't even have to say anything and y/n still brought up fred 💀'

'the gen z cast members making ridley scott watch cartoons is sending me'

'not her pretending she didn't mean to say fred when she talked about trust, we all heard you y/n'

Unbeknownst to you, Fred's interviews were going much like yours, only a few feet behind you on the carpet.

"You look amazing today!" Claire, the same reporter you spoke to, told Fred during his first interview on the carpet.

"Thank you, thank you." He replied bashfully as he tried to subtly look around for you, but he couldn't see you just yet. "Everyone looks so great, everyone."

She asked him a few questions and then came time for her ending segment.

"Alright, to close off, we've got a little game here."

"A game?" Fred smiled with raised brows. "I love games." He said softly, not realizing that the microphone would pick it up.

"Yes, a quick one. You just have to choose between team brooding brunets and team freaky redheads. We've asking everyone to join."

"Woah!" Fred exclaimed as he received the signs. "That's me." He pointed out his own face in the picture of him and Joseph. "What are we basing our choice on here?"

"Well, the internet is battling on who is more attractive."

"Oh my god." Fred chortled, not expecting that answer. "Who's played the game?" He asked, still examining the hand held signs.

"As of now, we've spoken to Joseph Quinn, Connie Nielsen, and y/n l/n." Claire recounted.

Fred's eyes lit up and his cheeks reddened at the mention of your name. "And what's the- what's the consensus so far?"

"It's two to one. Can you guess who's in the lead?" Claire asked.

"Let me think... Well, Joseph -my brother-, he definitely voted for us." He pondered aloud as he counted the votes off on his fingers. "Connie... I think Connie went for team brunets. I mean, it's her husband. She's gotta." He grinned when it came to you. "y/n chose me, right? We're in the lead?"

"Yeah, you're right on all counts! You really know your cast members." Claire laughed. "y/n didn't want to anger Emperor Caracalla."

"Oh, she couldn't. I’ve got too much of a soft spot for her." Fred shook his head emphatically.

"So, are you keeping team redheads in the lead? Or will you give us a tie?"

"No, I'm going team redheads!" Fred exclaimed. "I'm not helping out my competition, no way!"

'this man has bewitched me with his beautiful eyes and calming demeanor'

'he always calls joe his brother im CRYINGGG'

'did you see his face when they mention y/n, this man can't hide his crush for the life of him 🥺' ↳ 'neither can she lol'

'what do yall know about fred hechinger 🗣️🗣️🗣️'

'fred immediately knowing that y/n chose him, kill me right now.' ↳ 'mind you the choice was caracalla. she still said 'fred' and he said 'me'. can they be more obvious?'

'the way this man said 'i love games' protect him at all costs'

‘he said ‘i’ve got a soft spot for her’ is this the year of men yearning?’ ↳ ‘it’s just the paul mescal effect’

It was during his next interview that he saw you. He was talking about his experience building the character of Emperor Caracalla with Sir Ridley Scott as well as Joseph Quinn when he finally caught sight of you. You had spent a bit longer with a specific reporter down the carpet, causing Fred to catch up to you. 

“Of course, y/n was a great help as well.” He smiled, reaching over to brush against your elbow to catch your attention. At the perfect time, too, because you had just finished talking to the reporter in front of you.

“Oh, Fred!” You beamed, coming over to give him a hug. 

“Look at you.” Fred spoke against your shoulder. He pulled away from the hug and brought you into his side in front of the camera, almost like he was showing you off. “Look at her, isn’t she stunning.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes as you tried your best not to show how his compliment affected you. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I just had to say hello.”

“No worries,” the reporter reassured you. “Fred was actually saying how you helped with the building of his character.”

“Yeah, we worked really closely during pre-production actually.” You nodded, acutely aware of Fred’s hands on you. He had one hand casually tucked into his pocket while his other arm draped across your waist, his hand resting against your hip. “My character was almost like Caracalla’s sidekick, so the motives for all her actions are really based around him.”

“I’d argue that she was more of a mirror, actually.” You turned to look at Fred, never passing up an opportunity to hear his view on these things. “She’s the complete opposite of Caracalla, but in a way she represents who he truly is under all the pressure of being in Geta’s shadow.”

“And under all the syphilis, of course.” You added, causing Fred to giggle.

“Yeah, and under the syphilis.”

‘he seems like such a sweet guy 🥺’

‘did you see his face when he saw her???  😫😫😫 theyre in love, your honor’

‘him showing her off like that is peak soft boyfriend behavior’

‘they just called me single in seven different languages’

‘his laugh is actually so cute, who is this man and why am i in love with him? 😍’ ↳ 'get in line' ↳'behind y/n, you mean?'

‘the way he’s touching her???? im just gonna go take a nap in front of an oncoming train’

‘im calling it, new hollywood it couple’

‘look at how he looks at her!!! may this love find me 🙏’

[just-some-random-blogger]

YOU ALWAYS GOT ME CURLING MY TOES KICKING MY FEET SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

“Fancy seeing you here,” your captor said in a very familiar, cheeky voice.

🧍‍♀️ ???? This rat really acting like it was a coincidence when he nearly yanked my soul out my skeleton hello???? He's so stupid

I'm tryna be ur wife fool

He leaned down, his lips brushing along the column of your throat.

THAT SHOULD BE ME

His lips connected with yours in a soft, languid kiss. “Consider yourself warned,” he grinned.

WARN ME EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF MY EXISTENCE

“Just how much I like you,” you whispered, resting your chin on his sternum when he pulled back.

I fuckin knew I would forget the context of this... Gimme a sec... OH NVM I REMEMBER FUCK IM SO DUMB YEAH YOU AND ME BOTH BESTIE HELLO

He chuckled. “Gonna to have to be quiet f’me, love. Don't want go get caught with a Beater, aye?”

Literally me (I hate this gif I am legally obligated to say how much I hate it but equally find it hilllllllarrrious mdkdkdkksk)

You lurked by the Gryffindor locker rooms, waiting for George to emerge, freshly showered in his favorite hoodie and sweats. Your mouth nearly watered at the thought.

IMPURE THOUGHTS ONLY. I LITERALLY WENT I WILL LIKE HIM LIKE A LOLLIPOP FRESHLY SHOWERED JUST TO GET HIM DIRTY PLEASE I WANT HIM SO BAD

“Oi! What—oh, hey y/n.” He smirked down at you, waggling his eyebrows. “Wrong twin, but—”

🧍‍♀️😭✋ he is an icon. he is the moment. HES SO FUNNY. GEORGE IS GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU THOUGH BUT YOU DID IT FOR THE COMEDY

“Yeah, he was livid. But, he's the last one in there if you want to cheer him up.” Fred winked and slipped back into the hall, leaving you to your mischief.

We ain't leaving till our skins wrinkly as fuckkkkk HAHAHAHHAH

“You little minx.” He grabbed you off the bench and into his still damp chest, kissing you fiercely. “I was just about to come see you,” he said between sloppy kisses, backing you against a row of lockers.

I WILL LITERALLY GIVE HIM HIS OWN QUIDDITCH TEAM. MOLLY WEASLEY AINT GOT NOTHING ON ME

Your stomach dropped, indignation at Woods words colliding with the newfound guilt in your mind. George loved Quidditch. You didn't want to be the reason he wasn't playing well. But also…what if that meant Quidditch was higher priority to him? Where did that leave you?

Honestly me at Oliver: (the crowd goes fucking mild)

How does he think not dating will help? The call of a man who's never felt the touch of a woman

“Fuck, Georgie,” you whined, bucking your hips against his hand.

😭CON😭GRA😭TU😭LA😭TIONS😭 HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY LIFE

Irritation prickled up your neck. “I'm not sure I have time to tutor someone.”

A deafening crack sounded from across the pitch and you both startled, turning back towards the match. A bludger was barreling straight towards your section. You screamed as it slammed into the post less than half a meter from Gus' head, ripping through the wood with a resounding boom and scattering splinters across the section.

BROOOOOOOOOOO GEORGE OUT FOR BLOOD HES LEGIT ALMOST KILLED A MAN INSANE BEHAVIOR HELLO?????

Gryffindor was booing the call, chanting “Weasley!” at the top of their lungs. Without George, unless Harry caught the snitch, the match was basically forfeit.

AND THATS ON PERIODT. MY MANNNNNNNNNNNN IS THAT GWORL

“Are you questioning my aim?”

GAGO KA GEORGE GEORRGGEEEE IM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT YOU HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL GAGO

He pinched your cheeks together in his still gloved hand, shaking you slightly. “I'll always protect you, brat. And if that makes me a madman, so be it.”

I WANT HIM

A grin split George's handsome face, making your heart flutter.

I wish he was real ): (he's real to me)

“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

BEAUTIFUL STUNNING GORGEOUS LOVELY UGHHHHHH 100000000000/10

Hii there!! Can you write something about George Weasley where he and the reader have been really good friends for a while but start secretly dating because of some stupid rule like quidditch players can’t date during the season or something like that? And they get caught by their friends being intimate after a game?

Ps: love your writing style so much, your fics are so easy to get into and beautifully written💕

thank you for the request! hope your enjoy 🫶

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| George Weasley x fem!reader

cw: light smut (heavy petting/making out), sneaking around/secret relationship, jealous!george, assault via bludger, oliver wood is a cock block.

MDNI 18+

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You were walking down the hall with Luna, chatting about the results your divination exam, when a hand shot out and yanked you into a dark, empty classroom.

“Fancy seeing you here,” your captor said in a very familiar, cheeky voice.

“You can't just kidnap me, Weasley.” You cross your arms over your chest, jutting out a hip.

“Kidnapping is a bit dramatic.” George’s hands slide around your waist. “Can't a bloke want to spend a few moments with his girl?” He leaned down, his lips brushing along the column of your throat.

You craned your head back for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Perhaps. But still, some warning would be nice.”

His lips connected with yours in a soft, languid kiss. “Consider yourself warned,” he grinned.

You breathed a content sigh, taking your fingers through his ginger hair while he peppered featherlight kisses along your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids. The last few weeks had been so challenging thanks to Woods new rule about dating during Quidditch season.

You and George had been circling one another since fourth year, waiting for the right moment to dip your toes into something more than friendship. And of course, when the stars finally aligned, Wood had to throw a wrench in your new relationship. So now, instead of basking in your honeymoon phase, you were forced to sneak around, hiding your relationship from everyone.

But Fred, obviously. George couldn't lie to his twin even if he wanted to.

“You're in your head, darling,” George murmured, pulling back to look at your face in the dim light.

“Am not,” you argued, dragging your hands down his chest and sliding them under his robes. The sweater beneath was soft and thick, warm from his body heat.

“What are you thinking about?” He kissed your temple, across your cheekbone, beneath your ear…

You hummed, leaning into him, soaking up his heat, his unhurried affection.

“Love?” He prodded, nipping at your ear.

“Just how much I like you,” you whispered, resting your chin on his sternum when he pulled back.

A smile spread across his freckled face. “My sweet girl,” he cooed. “I like you too.”

You pressed your lips to his, brushing your tongue along his lower lip, and his hands tightened on your waist. He parted his lips for you to delve deeper, matching every stroke of your tongue with his until you were panting, clawing at his sweater to get closer.

He backed you against a desk, his hand sliding under your skirt to squeeze your ass, notching your hips against his. A gasp squeaked for your throat when he ground himself against you, already growing sensitive.

He chuckled. “Gonna to have to be quiet f’me, love. Don't want go get caught with a Beater, aye?”

You nodded, clamping your lips shut.

The Quidditch season was only three months. How hard could it be?

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Quidditch practice ran late for the third night in a row, and you were desperate for some attention from your boyfriend.

You lurked by the Gryffindor locker rooms, waiting for George to emerge, freshly showered in his favorite hoodie and sweats. Your mouth nearly watered at the thought.

But player after player trailed out of the locker room, and no George. You were getting impatient, shifting form foot to foot when you spotted Fred walking with Ron, chatting animatedly about the match this weekend.

You grabbed Fred’s wrist and yanked him to the corridor you were hiding.

“Oi! What—oh, hey y/n.” He smirked down at you, waggling his eyebrows. “Wrong twin, but—”

“Ew, Fred! No! Where's George?”

Fred snickered. “Still in the shower. Pitch was muddy and he got a face full from Thomas.”

You grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, he was livid. But, he's the last one in there if you want to cheer him up.” Fred winked and slipped back into the hall, leaving you to your mischief.

You scampered down the corridor and into the locker room, following the trail of steam until you found the only drawn curtain. George was humming to himself, tapping his feet on the tile floor.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to avoid laughing and ruining the surprise, and perched on the bench across from the curtain to wait.

A few moments later, the water cut off and his hand poked through the curtain, grabbing the red towel off the hook.

The curtain ripped open, and George yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the towel slung low around his hips.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You grinned.

“You little minx.” He grabbed you off the bench and into his still damp chest, kissing you fiercely. “I was just about to come see you,” he said between sloppy kisses, backing you against a row of lockers.

“Were you?” You giggled as his lips moved down your neck, sending tingles skittering across your skin. You dragged your nails cross his bare back, admiring the way his muscles jumped at your touch.

“Couldn't stand another night without you,” he admitted. He started undoing the buttons of your blouse, clearly feeling as desperate as you did based on the tent in his towel.

“Eager, are we?” You teased, hiking your leg over his hip as his hand slid into your skirt.

His middle finger swiped through your slit, teasing your clit with small circles. Pleasure pulsed through you, making your eyes roll back. “Someone is. Already soaked for me, love,” he groaned, capturing your lips in another bruising kiss as he toyed with you.

“Fuck, Georgie,” you whined, bucking your hips against his hand.

“Merlin, I missed you.”

“Weasley, you still in here?” Wood called his voice echoing around room.

“Bloody fucking—stall, now.” George slipped his fingers from you and into his mouth, ushering you into the shower stall he just vacated. The air was still humid and scented by his vanilla body wash. No, your vanilla body wash, you realized, spotting the bottle you'd been missing still sitting on the shelf.

“Still hangin’ around, Wood?” You heard George say.

“I wanted to talk to ya’ about somethin’,” Oliver said, and you saw his boots enter the shower room from under the curtain.

“Can I put trousers on first?”

Oliver snorted. “Sure, mate.”

You heard George shuffling around, pulling on his clothes.

“Fucking trousers don't hide shit,” he grumbled to himself and you had a stifle another laugh. “Alright, Wood. What's on your mind?”

“You've been distracted, Weasley. Missing bludgers, ignoring plays, it's not like you to not take Quidditch seriously,” Oliver said, and you frowned.

George sighed. “It's, ah, there's an assignment in Herbology that's gone tits up. Damn plant won't grow,” George said.

“Uh huh,” Wood answered, clearly not buying it. “Well, maybe it's time your sort out your priorities, mate. Not sure a plant is worth throwing the season, if ya’ know what I mean. We need our best Beater, yeah?”

Your stomach dropped, indignation at Woods words colliding with the newfound guilt in your mind. George loved Quidditch. You didn't want to be the reason he wasn't playing well. But also…what if that meant Quidditch was higher priority to him? Where did that leave you?

“Understood, Captain.” George's voice was cold, a stark contrast to his usual chipper demeanor, and it raised goosebumps along your arms.

Oliver clapped him on the shoulder and left the locker room, evidently oblivious to the shift in George. The door clicked shut behind him, echoing around the empty room.

George tugged the shower curtain open, startling you from your spiralling thoughts. He immediately clocked the distress on your face, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Oh, lovey—”

“I didn't know I was impacting the team,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes.

George tilted your chin up, his other arm wrapping around your waist. “Baby, the teams fine. Wood just has a stick up his ass. I played great today, and always do when you're in the stands watching me.”

It was true. Some of his best games had been in the last month you'd been together.

“And besides, I don't need to sort out my priorities.” He bumped his nose against yours. “You always come first, y/n.”

Your heart soared, heat creeping up your neck. “Before Quidditch?” You asked, curling your hands into his hoodie.

“Before everything.” He kissed you softly, with no real pressure, just feeling you against him, and all your anxiety fell away. “C’mon, Freddie's going to a Hufflepuff party tonight, so we've got my dorm to ourselves.”

You kissed him again, smiling. “Sounds perfect.”

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Brooms whizzed over your house’s section, whipping your scarf around your head.

“Go George!” You cheered, when he drifted nearby, twirling the bat in his gloved hand.

He flashed you a wink before banking left, whacking the snot out of bludger that was hurdling straight for Ron. It rocketed across the pitch and directly into the other houses Seeker, giving Harry the advantage.

“Woohoo!” You cheered with the rest of the student body. “Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

“Good game, aye?” A guy sidled up next you, leaning against the railing. You sort of recognized him from your Potions class, but couldn't be sure.

“Great game,” you replied, turning your attention back to the match and your boyfriend.

“Are you fan? Of Quidditch, I mean?”

“Mhmm—go Ron!” You cheered, tuning him out.

“I'm Gus, by the way. We're in the same Potions class?”

“Hi, Gus.” You give him a tight smile, hoping he takes the hint.

“Y’know, maybe we could study together sometime. Merlin knows Potions isn't my strong suit, but you seem pretty smart—”

“Get after it, Harry!” You roared as the Seeker flew overhead, the snitch just a few feet out in front of him.

“What do you think, y/n?” Gus prodded.

Irritation prickled up your neck. “I'm not sure I have time to tutor someone.”

Gus’ smile faltered. “Well, what about the next match, then? Maybe we could sit together.” He scooted closer you, infringing on your already limited space.

You squirmed closer to your friend on the other side of you, who was too wrapped up in the match to notice your discomfort. “No thanks, Gus.”

“Oh, c’mon. I promise I'm a nice guy.” He dropped his hand on your knees, and you wrenched yourself away.

“Don't fucking touch me—”

A deafening crack sounded from across the pitch and you both startled, turning back towards the match. A bludger was barreling straight towards your section. You screamed as it slammed into the post less than half a meter from Gus' head, ripping through the wood with a resounding boom and scattering splinters across the section.

You jumped back, falling into your friends laps, and Gus shrieked like a banshee, his face blanching white at how close it had come to taking his head clean off his shoulders.

An ear-splitting whistle interrupted the resulting chaos.

“Weasley, out!” Madame Hootch hollered.

You straightened in alarm, finding George hovering at the center of the pitch, his bat gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes were locked on Gus, dark and smug, a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“George, land!” Wood bellowed, and George finally floated back to earth. You could hear Oliver shouting, but couldn't see George from your seat.

You fought your way out of the stands, trying to push your way towards the locker room.

Gryffindor was booing the call, chanting “Weasley!” at the top of their lungs. Without George, unless Harry caught the snitch, the match was basically forfeit.

Your mind raced from the adrenaline. Did George do it on purpose? And if he did, why would he jeopardize the match like that?

You found him in the locker room, undoing the ties on his robe. He was still in his uniform, sweaty and smeared with dirt, his hair flat from the helmet.

“George,” you said, and he looked up.

“Love, what are you doing down here?” He frowned, reaching for you, but you held your ground, crossing your arms over your chest. His frown deepened.

“Did you do that on purpose?” You demanded.

“Of course I did,” he responded, not a trace of hesitation in his voice.

“Why? They won't win without you!”

“I don't care about the bloody match, y/n.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

George walked over to you, cradling your face in his gloved hands. “That guy was bothering you, yeah?”

You almost denied it, but found yourself nodding, unable to lie to him.

“And you thought I was going to sit back and let someone make you uncomfortable? My girl? Fuck no.”

You giggled, his protectiveness spurring a wave of affection and dissolving your anger. “I think nearly killing him was a bit much,” you snickered.

“Are you questioning my aim?”

“Just your sanity.”

He pinched your cheeks together in his still gloved hand, shaking you slightly. “I'll always protect you, brat. And if that makes me a madman, so be it.”

You swatted his hands away before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for kiss. He tasted of salt and peppermints, his skin smelling of turf and fresh air, with a hint of that masculine musk that made your head go a little fuzzy.

He kissed you back, catching your lower lip between his teeth and sucking gently. You moaned against him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth and taste you.

“I'm done hiding,” he murmured when you both came up for air. “And Wood can bugger off.”

The mixing shouting of the crowd filled the quiet air around you. “Ravenclaw scores another twenty points!” Lee declared, his voice notably unenthused.

George shook his head with a smug chuckle, leaning his forehead against yours. “See? They need me.”

“Weasley!” Oliver shouted, startling you both. George looked up, tightening his grip around you. Oliver didn't even bother to act surprised. “You're back in,” he sighed.

A grin split George's handsome face, making your heart flutter.

“Good man,” he replied, dropping a peck onto your lips before doing his helmet and running back out onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd.

“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

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Thank you so much for reading!

If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

[midnightwind]

you guys like me going off on random DA tangents and musings, right?? because I've been awake too long so you're getting another one

I have been sat here trying to figure out Why Lucanis' prison looks like a bunch of ice and why it was so far away from the "lab" settings for a while now. (arguably two rooms fit this description, the one where Lucanis tells you about Zara and the one right outside his phylactery room) Like, even without that bridge being broken, it's in such a bizarre corner of the Ossuary. And I mean, it wouldn't really matter with a normal prisoner, but Lucanis was a notorious Crow and mage killer on top of that, plus he was Zara's special little guy to fuck with. You would not want to take him for a long walk to experience the worst shit on earth every few days. Maybe it's close enough to the little room where he mentions Zara and maybe she wanted him close to the door so she didn't have to go far to torture him, but again, leaving such a challenging subject close to the exit seems like a bad choice. You want him to have to get through so many guys and doors before escaping so you have time to take him down.

This also ignores the magic required to leave, but they're not clear on what that is and not all the Venatori are mages so there's gotta be a mundane way out he could snatch off a guard. I digress, the whole ice cage and far off room doesn't make sense. But we know they were shipping demons to Zara. (I'm pretty sure the few demons you confront in Minrathous were Zara's little pets set loose so we can assume she wanted them in the capital for the eventual Venatori coup on the crown) If Zara was about to be stuck in Minrathous for the foreseeable future, setting things into motion for Elgar'nan, I could see her wanting her pet Crow at her side. Especially if you consider the initial idea for Lucanis: he was going to be a mind controlled murder puppet before you break him out.

Sure, Spite didn't crack open his ribcage and crawl out like some new horror, but having a demon in Lucanis lets her control him via the phylactery if not just outright with her blood magic. Maybe his will was too strong for mundane control, but the phylactery works. We know it works based off of Lucanis' dialogue about it. So we know she had a surefire way to keep him under control. (There's a whole other post exploring the amount of dead Venatori and the fact that Lucanis still has his leathers and weapons [which would make sense if he was Zara's murder puppet, but alas] and whether Lucanis recently made a break for it or if the loose demons/spirits/undead killed them all) Maybe he kept his leathers because Zara wanted him presentable upon delivery, I don't know.

But I do think he was being prepped to move. The Ossuary is falling apart, Zara is pulling all the best results, they're losing personnel and servants without being given more; Zara was clearly moving on from that location. But she wanted her little Antivan prize. He's too dangerous to move normally, a Crow is likely to escape if given an inch especially a skilled one like Lucanis, so they need to lock him down somehow. Ropes and chains aren't reliable, not with a Crow, but he's not a mage. You can use magic. You can literally put him on ice. I think they were packaging him up in an ice cube and doing it next(ish) to the door so they could more easily move him. I think Zara was going to take him and his phylactery to Minrathous and use him to cause some absolutely ruthless mayhem in the city before her cult took it over.

I think Rook showing up weakened the spell being cast just enough for Lucanis and Spite to break out, and I think it saved a whole lot of lives.

[straightoutthehexcore]

"Honey"

Pit fighter Vi and every other design change of hers after that can 100% get it. All day, every day. She could punch me square in the nose and I'd lap up the blood, savor the metallic taste, and thank her profusely.

Characters: Vi

Synopsis: General smut headcanons for Vi, technically Vi x AFAB! reader

Content Warning: NSFW themes (public sex, oral (fem. anatomy receiving), strap-on sex, masochism if you squint (mere mention), praise kink, mentions of tribbing/scissoring, soft dom (for the most part), overstimulation)

"She's hell in a basket, just making a racket I love every second, it's fucking fantastic."

Canon lesbian, not deviating from that. no need to bombard my requests and replies this time folks, learned my lesson.

Heavy switch, gives off top energy but could be either/or on a given day. I used to think that she was mostly a top, but after careful research watching a bunch of CaitVi scenes, yes that one too I realized that wasn't the case.

May or may not be a virgin, depends on if we're talking B.C. (before Caitlyn) or A.C. (after Caitlyn). For me personally, it's after Cait (I love crashout alt women).

I once saw a post where someone said that Cait and Vi can literally only fuck in prison cells, and that basically informed my headcanon that Vi, more than Cait, is really into public sex,

It's in the clicking heels that walk past and the small noises that make you jump as you shiver while she lays gentle kisses on your neck and collarbone. The touch of her fingertips on your sides linger, and you're genuinely a little worried but Vi's reassurance whispered into your ear makes it hard not to give in.

"Come on baby, you're okay. Besides, nothing they can do that I can't do worse."

Really good at oral, loves sucking the clit specifically because it results in an ecstatic gasp from her partner. Her grip on your supple skin is also very tight, and she'll also rub the skin of your ass or outer thighs (maybe even inching up your sides) while eating you out.

THRIVES in the 69 position, she loves having her face sat on. Already wrote about this before but it still stands.

LOVES having her hair tugged on and having you fuck/buck up into her face while giving oral.

She likes being treated roughly as a bottom too, so in whatever mood she's in, she's a slight masochist.

Bigger on strap fucking that tribbing/scissoring/etc.

Will do tribbing/scissoring for her partner (and doesn't really hate it), but doesn't necessarily prefer it.

The strap exclusively belongs to her.

Why yes, it is a HexStrap, how did you know?

Pretty good stamina, so she could top for a while. It all depends on how long you can keep up. She's a really considerate lover.

She does have her moods where she takes out her stress/anger out on you in bed, overstimulating you and taking pleasure in your cries, whimpers, and labored breaths as she teases that she knows you can cum for her one more time.

"Do it for me, I know you got it in you, just one more..."

Other than that, though, generally she's a kind lover who praises you and reassures you that you're doing just fine, your gummy walls squeezing around her strap every time she circles your clit and hits that same spot inside of you harmoniously.

"Good job, sweetheart. Taking it so well, I'm proud of you."

Also gives really sweet, meaningful, yet hungry kisses. In general, but definitely during sex.

She is a praise kink haver's wettest dream, between the voice and the idea of an edgy, dominant futch woman telling you that you're taking her cock better than she thinks anyone could.

She also kinda has a praise kink, so definitely make sure to remind her just how good she's fucking you or how it feels seeing stars with her head bobbing as she show you heaven on Runeterra.

But most importantly...

She'd 100% leave you for Cait. Any day of the week.

"Well she stings like she means it, She's mean and she's mine."

Hello hello hello once again! Figured I'd try this again... because I wanted to. The gay late night thoughts go crazy.

Oh yeah: to the same people reading this post after literally harassing me over this character’s sexuality (you know who you are), don’t do that again. I already took responsibility for what I did, but I’m telling you to not do that.

I don’t appreciate being insulted in my requests because I chose to turn off replies for a little bit because a lot of you guys were being rude asf over a fictional character. I appreciate those who were trying to kindly explain it, but when others are acting rude over things like this, it’s just annoying.

On a more light hearted note, I chose this song as the title n stuff because I remembered listening to it and being like "oh, this kinda reminds me of Vi," but I listened more while writing this and realized it was so CaitVi coded, specifically from Cait's p.o.v.

So long box munchers (affectionate), Rosey <3

Masterlist is here for everyone! See ya! <3

[jazzyolivervo]

Aight. Let's tackle this point by point.

Content Warning for the screenshot below: Death threats.

"Jazzy is saying they're nice because she's afraid they won't hire her anymore."

I've left paid jobs because the clients did things I wasn't happy with. I left an entire project with a cast of personal VO heroes of mine because I was not happy with the client's overall behavior. Is my income important? Sure. But it's not nearly as important as my morals. I'm a very blunt individual. If I don't like people, I will say it to their faces. Like this.

Hey, ii-neg! I don't like you! Or anyone who follows you! Especially with how much you wish death onto the II creators. Something I DO have proof of. Don't believe me?

Looky! I posted evidence! It ain't that hard.

Also, please report this! I don't think Tumblr likes encouraging murder on their platform~

"I have people and proof that beg to differ."

Show it then.

"You do know about the ableism. Don't deny it."

No, because all you do is claim that it happened and then proceed to do nothing. I can deny it all I want because you refuse to show any actual evidence.

"Adam cowardly licked Israel's boots."

The evidence you have of that is a flag from a decades-old, largely unused IG account. It is possible that he, being a teenager at the time it was last used most likely, wasn't aware of that the flag was for a country that was doing REALLY bad stuff. It is entirely possible he thought AT THE TIME it meant Judaism. It's entirely possible, and even believable, that he wanted to represent his faith and didn't realize what the flag actually meant. Was it a mistake? Sure. Was it one he corrected? Yes. And it's stupid that you're still dragging him on this. And considering the man went so far as to delay episodes in solidarity with anti-Israel strikes, I do not think you can factually say he's an Israel supporter.

But again, your account is one that relies on just saying things without actually providing actual evidence.

Aaaaaaaanywho! I'm gonna go ahead and stop giving this person attention after this. Seeing their post about me told me everything I need to know and further posts saying they're wrong is pointless given that any individual who thinks about what they're actually saying for 5 seconds can get the gist themselves.

I'm still gonna do positivity posts on here like the dirty little "posie" I am. But they'll be a wide range of topics! :D

Someone wake me when they actually present actual evidence.

[d-oie]

well since she blocked me after begging me for a reply i'll write my reply here, im sure her defenders will send her a ss of what i said. first the comment :3

no one is hating on you nor is anyone saying youre not creative, ive said multiple times that i use to defend you myself and that i love your moodboards.. the original ones that is. i think you're a very talented person liia, but that doesn't take away from the fact you stole/copied/were heavily inspired. this whole thing was blown way out of proportion, you pretend you did these things like finding the images online and somehow it looks the same as someone elses saying that its just inspo but that is NOT what inspo is, ive seen you tag creators like n-americano when you're inspired by them, but what about these? and what about the images you take from others moodboards and have "images edited by me" in your moodboards knowing some arent, if you can credit yourself you can credit others. my post wasn't to turn the whole world against you nor was it to make you seem like a bad person, if thats how people interpreted it then so be it, i have an actual life and don't care if a bunch of people attack me online when i can just power off my device. my main objective was to wake you up. to make YOU realize you're in the wrong, sure it was also to bring light to the situation and let the creators you copied see what you were doing which I dont think is wrong. this whole thing couldve been avoided if you were apologetic, if you just said "hey, i see how these moodboards look very similar along with some of my others, i apologize and this will never happen again." instead you and many others dragged it. i was genuinely willing to hear you out and talk to you in dms but since you blocked me i can't.

my response to your dm

you never clarified you didn't steal from others, those past accusations never came with evidence so you could have easily brushed it off, you saying that you were just inspired and that these images don't belong to anyone isn't what your situation is, inspiration doesn't compare to what you're doing, what youre doing is plain plagiarism. you want to sit here and tell me "i didnt mean to copy" when i can clearly see y-unjins moodboard in yours. i tried to give you my respect since i'm also a "content creator" but you keep giving the same excuse when you know youre in the wrong, then you assume i want to start drama like i live on it, sweetie no, not everything is to attack you, if someone believes you've done wrong and you're not taking accountability for your actions you will be called out. why should i turn a blind eye when i know the hard work someone went through in order to make their moodboard just for you to take the images? im not saying its illegal for people to use one or two of the same images from another moodboard but youre on a whole new level, you're mad i'm posting about this but imagine the creator's you've stolen from. the thing im mostly confused about is why, why would u steal from others creators when one, youve been called out for this before, and two, you're moodboards and dividers are beautiful, so you have no reason to steal from others when YOU yourself dont want people to steal from you and you have your own form of creativity. and again its you talking about how "if taking inspo is copying then everyone would be copying" ... like do you not understand the situation youre in? you know youre in the wrong and this trash ass excuse aint getting you nowhere.

im not even gonna go in on this, if you cant reply to your ask truthfully why would you reply to my dm truthfully? if you were mature enough to admit your wrongs instead of going on a whole rant about why your friends hate you then this post would have never existed. how hard is it to admit your wrongs and start anew? i get it, everyone makes mistakes, but everyone can always own up to and fix their own mistakes.

i guess im evil for bringing the truth to light, if this were to happen to me ID OWN UP TO MY MISTAKES. yes taking inspo isnt bad but if it gets to the point i get called out for copying when i personally believe i was just being inspired by others id apologize and see what i can do differently, since ya know, im at that point in life where i can admit my wrongs, you on the other hand did not do so and tried to pretend it wasnt an exact replica. my post wasnt to bring hate or spit on your name, if anyone sent you aggressive comments then you have the action to report or block them, i cant control what people say, damn i can rarely control what i say, and i dont know where youre getting the idea that i hate you when i never once said that and i actually said this not only once, not twice, not thrice, but multiple times that i use to respect you, you were one of many creators that i would defend with my life, you use to inspire me, now i feel nothing, just disappointment which is what a lot of people feel, that doesn't give you the right to guilt-trip your mutuals, like what your "defender" said, moots are like real friends, once you lose their trust its hard to gain it back, if you really cared you wouldn't have allowed this to get blow way out of proportion and would have just admitted your wrongs, hell when you dmed your entire following list you should have explained the situation to them rather than trying to make them feel bad for how THEY feel about the situation. then you have the audacity to say "dare to tell me to my face rather than being a coward" as if youre not one? you escalated the situation, youre the one who's been sitting on your ass feining for my reply, crying to your moots how they're bad friends for believing this even though theres full blown evidence. im not a coward, i had the balls to post this knowing you'd see it, you're acting as if i was leaving you in the dark, like i didnt think you would ever see this post, like i was plotting on your downfall behind a secret account. "think before acting" how about you follow your own advice before trying to give advice to others. thanks.

i didnt want this to go this far, i believed that once i posted this you would admit your mistakes and change for the better, i didnt unfollow you because i wanted to see you continue to grow and continue to be the amazing creator you are without the copying, but i guess that was just a fairytale and i have to face the reality of randos on the internet not being able to take accountability.

Hi guys, it's come to my attention that someone in the moodboard community known as lil-liaa has been copying / taking heavy "inspo" from other creators like @y-unjins and @iluvrei view more for more info + evidence + my opinions on the whole situation

before i start, i'm not trying to run lil-liaa off the platform nor am i trying to stur up drama, this is just to bring light to the situation as not many people know and many people (including myself) defended her when this first happened, i also want liia to realize that what she's doing isn't right and that she shouldn't just brush off "accusations" like these when there is evidence.

proofs

you can see the similarities as lil-liaa used 3 of the exact same pics as iluvrei's including one edited by the original creator without adding credits to the post.

2nd

here you can instantly tell that the moodboard was copied (lil-liaas on the right being an exact replica of y-unjins), only changing 2 pics excluding the idol change and

3rd / last

lastly, you can see how one lia used the exact same divider (+ didnt give creds), two she uses the same images not only in the moodboard but also in her gif (same pics from y-unjins moodboard including the png)

now, lil-liaa was sent multiple anonymous ask from last year and one recently accusing her of stealing moodboards, although a lot of people defended her last year including me due to the ask having no sorts of proof of moodboards being stolen and no one else speaking on it but now the recent ask she has received included proof and her response to it was very (in my opinion) rude and just sounded like she didn't care.

in my opinion, i don't believe this was just a draft she had premade and i don't believe she somehow got the same exact photos from y-unjins moodboard recommended, i believe since this isnt the first accusation and now there's proof of this i believe she has been copying moodboards since last year when she was accused. i don't believe lil-liaa cares about this, the fact she's stealing from other creators and when she gets called out for it she pushes it off with the same excuses

tags

@miujo @rkkuri @lvioung @ciestial @aeraras @sugarish @gyareii @i-kyujin @daddldee @i-mmaculatus @haerinism @chaeryeos @bloomqi @h-yeoni @p-oisn @bitchey @yeritos @yonkiibums @y-vna @y-urios @fairytopea @shuaver @yeoniis

[ranchstoryblog]

Fandom Memories: HMFarm

Hmmm. So, nearly a quarter of you whippersnappers wanna hear about the good ol' days, huh? Well, back in the day, you wouldn't just hang out on one or two big websites to try to find people who shared your niche interests among a million random users. Everything had its own dedicated site, with its own special pack of weirdos that you probably wouldn't find anywhere else. Home grown fandom, sprouting from the cement sidewalks of the freshly paved internet like so many weeds with pretty little flowers on top. So, let's take a little stroll down memory lane and visit one of the oldest fan sites with Archive.org's "Wayback Machine."

Ahh, just like I remember it. This here is "Harvest Moon Farm." 'course, we just called it HMFarm, like the URL did. This used to be the place to be. The prime progenitor of all farmin' fansites in the English speaking community. Maybe not the literal first, but up until around 2005, this was where you would go if you wanted to know anythin' about digital farmin'. It truly was a magical place to visit.

This screenshot isn't the oldest design, but it's the one I fondly remember. The majority of my time using the site was during the lead-up to A Wonderful Life, which was probably also when it was the most active as an information source. Seeing the screenshots, checking the forums, speculatin', wonderin', dreamin'... It's a warm feeling. I can't really describe how it felt to look at these shots for the first time. Granted, they were mostly sourced from various places like IGN or Newtechnix, but who wanted to go to THOSE messy sites when all the info I wanted was right here? IGN wasn't telling me how to revive the Vineyard in Harvest Moon 64 while I was waiting for AWL news either.

Our first look at the character we would come to know as Muffy, the sheer novelty of being able to go into the townsfolk's glorious, 3D-rendered rooms, the apparent misidentification of flowering tomatoes... The webmaster, Gamergirl87, would caption each one as well. Some of the captions of those screenshots ended up not being exactly true, but it was the closest thing to on-going coverage we really had. Who else was there to trust?

It's a little off topic, but I think at one point after learning about the GBA connectivity, I must have dreamed about this very gallery and seeing a screenshot of a Gamecube-ized Popuri with the caption that Mineral Town villagers would visit after connecting the GC and GBA together. At least, I'm pretty sure it was a dream. I've met some people who claim they saw the same thing, but none of us have been able to find that screenshot or comment again.

The one that would most catch my attention was the one on the left here. I didn't have a PlayStation 2, so I was coming fresh off of the GameBoy and Nintendo 64 when going into A Wonderful Life. The pond, the mysterious glowing plants, the mood and ambiance of their lighting, the little tree on the door... Naturally, I mirrored it on my first day the remake was available.

It's a real shame that the message boards are poorly preserved, since it doesn't look like there was a news post about the pre-order plush cow. I was hoping to find the name of whoever it was that convinced me to commit my first ever preorder. I still have the receipt, but without the forum post it's really only tangentially related to HM Farm.

'course, just learning about existing games and upcoming games wasn't the only good thing HM Farm was for. As I alluded to, there was a whole community here! While it's a shame that the message boards aren't well preserved by the Wayback Machine, you know what is?

The "ideas" list! This incredible time capsule was one of the first "interactive" parts of the site, starting in the year 2000. It's kind of fun to see how many of these ideas actually happened. Obviously, new characters and personalities were probably expected, but Animal Parade would eventually feature a honeymoon, several games have clothing and other customization, a mall, city, and pig would be added as soon as GBC 3, a goat would be in A Wonderful Life... It's actually amazing how prescient a lot of the suggestions are.

I'd share the whole thing, but the amount of e-mail addresses involved gives me pause. Still, there's a couple I wanna highlight:

Considering how often I still hear about people wanting to marry the moms and people attributing it to just "the fans getting older," it's funny to see Laserion lay out that, no, we've always been like this. Right down to using Manna's unhappy marriage and Lillia's husband never returning as valid reasons they should be available.

Tuan145, on the other hand, I just find extremely amusing because of the specific "2002 Escalade" part. Yes, this is clearly the ideal vehicle for all farmers in the Story of Seasons universe. This is now accepted headcanon. The boat was added in GBC 3 too, so obviously a 2002 Escalade is going to be added any day now.

Another thing that's amazingly well preserved is the site's fan art section. There's a few missing images here and there, but for the most part the entire thing is open to explore. People of basically all ages and skill levels happily submitted their creations, including original characters, digital art, traditional art, crossovers with popular series like Sailor Moon, a liiittle bit of drug use... Y'know, all the kinds of things you'd expect to see in a fan art gallery of the day.

Even better, some of the artists are still doing art today! Looking around, I quickly discovered one of my favorites, Rina Cat, is now on Blue Sky. I made sure to ask for permission to repost their art before including it here. Reaching out to everyone would be a bit much though, so I'll just encourage you to just browse the gallery using the Wayback Machine yourself. There's poetry and fanfics too!

There's a lot more to the site, including useful bits of history like keeping track of release dates for games, pre-release screenshots, and information that was only available on Japanese websites at the time, but I'll leave it at that for now.

Unfortunately, though the site continued to be updated until 2010 and stayed online until 2021, it's no longer available on the regular internet and the URL doesn't seem safe to access anymore. I wanted to include an interview with the former webmaster as well, but all their readily available contact information was tied to the website and I haven't had any luck so far in finding other means of contact. If I have any success, I'll be sure to make a follow-up! If you have any memories of HMFarm, or other fan sites, I'd be happy to hear about it.

[love-byers]

st4 music coding: yearning and miscommunication (& lumax/byler parallel)

alright here we go

this will be long so strap in

(yes this is the post i've been hyping up for like 3 days lol)

there's a song that i noticed plays twice in season 4, in two very similar scenes, and a third that ill talk about later. the first is lucas looking at the hellfire club celebrate, and the second is will looking at mike and el skate ahead of him. i've drawn a few interesting parallels here that i think really strengthen byler endgame. please watch the video above in tandem with reading the post

first of all the obvious: lucas and will are both yearning to be with what/who they're looking at. lucas wanted to be there for the end of the campaign. he asked them to move it, not cancel it. he wanted to be there because he likes being in the club and he loves his friends. and we all know will byers is devastatingly in love with mike wheeler, so that speaks for itself. lucas and will are both feeling rejected, forgotten, unneeded, replaced. they are also both looking at their sibling taking their place. erica took lucas' place in hellfire, and el has taken will's place at mike's side. mike and el were attached at the hip the whole day, and that used to be mike and will. will knew mike long before el did, and before they started dating mike and will were a firm duo. mike and el were heavy on the PDA that day, but mike used to be affectionate towards will too, putting his arm around him, holding his hand, sticking close to him, laying his head on his chest, hugging him, etc etc. now mike can't even hug him. and there's a special sting about your sibling of all people replacing you, and seeing your friends (or crush in will's case) having a great time without you, with the better version of you, not needing you, not even thinking of you. and right there, ladies and gentleman, is where will and lucas are wrong. sure, the hellfire club were happy with erica and about the fact that they won, but they wanted lucas there. the whole reason mike and dustin were upset in the first place was because lucas was choosing the basketball team over them. they accepted that lucas had "gone to the dark side" and went on to find his replacement. they feel like lucas doesn't need them anymore, that he's replaced them with the jocks. and little do they know, that is not true. lucas misses them and yearns to be over there celebrating with them. and though it doesn't seem like it in that moment (lucas' point of view), they miss him and want him there too. they are miscommunicating. the same is going on with mike and will. will feels rejected, ignored, replaced. he thinks mike has basically forgotten he was there. he thinks mike couldn't give half a shit about him. he thinks mike doesn't need him. he will soon find out that that could not be farther from the truth. mike was HOT AND FUCKING BOTHERED. he felt rejected by will. he felt like will was purposefully pulling away. he felt ignored. he felt replaced by will's non-existent friends and maybe even a girl will liked. he felt like will didn't need him anymore, that will was doing great without him. he felt like he had lost will. he, like the hellfire club, accepted (or attempted to accept) that they weren't wanted or needed and leaned heavy into filling that void. (meanwhile lucas' replacement wasn't sufficing, and will didn't even have one). and little does mike know, that is all wrong. he missed will just as much as will missed him. he'd been watching will all day hoping will would talk to him. meanwhile will thinks mike has looked at him like...twice, and so does the audience, because we got will's pov first. this is why the rink o mania fight is so all over the place and dramatic, they're basically running smack dab into each other at full speed. they're both confused because the other suddenly cares about their relationship, and they're both hurt. they are miscommunicating. the hellfire club enjoyed having erica there, but she's not lucas. mike enjoyed hanging out with el, but she's just not will. meanwhile , lucas' replacement for hellfire wasn't sufficing, and will never tried to replace mike at all.

onto more specifc and visual parallels: lucas, el, will, and mike all fake smiles. i really want to stress el and mike, because not a lot of people realize that shot is about both of them. mike is faking a smile too. mike is upset too. mike is trying to appear happy and satisfied too. like y'all please cut my son some slack he was having a BAD DAY. his whole day was shitty too just have some empathy. if you really pay attention, you'll see that mike and el are doing the exact same things in tandem. mike sighs, el sighs. mike fakes a smile, el fakes a smile. mike's smile falls, el's smile falls. they're both trying to conform, trying to pass of lies as reality. "I try to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies... I try to laugh about it, hiding the tears in my eyes..."

now lastly: the scene of max listening to the radio call of the game. this falls right in line with the themes of the other scenes. she feels like lucas is doing great without her, like she's not needed. his life is just getting better and better and hers is getting worse. but she's got it all wrong too. she turns it off when the radio guy says "He must be feeling on top of the world right now". he was not. he was feeling shitty and missing his friends. he was missing max desperately, all the time. and he felt rejected by max, like she was steadily pulling away from him. and unlike the others where the distancing happens because of the miscommunication, max and lucas' happened because max distanced herself, and she was not there to see how lucas was really feeling, which was shitty. and yall already know im byler brainrotted as fuck so its extremely important to me that both times this track is used there is romance involved. in the ep 1 scene the song specifically trails into max's scene, roping her into this coding. mike and will are once again paralleled to a canon, requited, well written couple.

i don't really have any closing thoughts

actually here i have one: lucas and will parallels are the reason i wake up and breathe every day

and another actually

at this point to anyone who truly thinks mlvn are getting married:

and byler endgame but wbk

[alternate-real-ities]

I'd love to see what alternate versions of this guy there are.

Sure buddy. It wasn't easy tuning my machine this time, but I think I've found some interesting realities out there! Hope you like them :)

In an alternate reality not so different from our own, this bearish hunk has taken on a more muscular, less chubby form - transformed into a behemoth. Here, he's not just any old gym rat; he's a world-famous powerlifter and internet celebrity whose influence knows no bounds.

Young men from all corners of the globe look up to him as their idol, their motivation, their reason for living - especially when it comes to getting swole. They follow his every post, eagerly absorbing each tip on training and nutrition like gospel from a fitness prophet. And why not? With a physique like his, who wouldn't want to emulate perfection?

His pecs are massive, each one a study in taut, rippling muscle that defies the laws of physics. His arms bulge with thickness, as if carved from granite by some mythical sculptor. His thighs are tree trunks, powerful and unyielding, while his calves are chiseled masterpieces of human anatomy.

But his influence extends far beyond the gym walls. In this world, a new wave of ripped teens has become the norm, thanks largely to their idolization of this muscular beast. Gone are the days of skinny, awkward youth; now, every boy from puberty onwards is driven to get big and buff in order to measure up.

Parents worry about the health implications, but who can blame them for wanting their sons to grow up strong and confident like this fitness icon? And as for the young men themselves, they'd follow him anywhere - even into the depths of steroid abuse if it means achieving that perfect, chiseled physique.

In this world, there's no escaping his shadow - nor would anyone want to. For in the presence of such unadulterated muscle majesty, all other men are but mere mortals, forever relegated to the sidelines while he reigns supreme as the ultimate embodiment of human potential.

In another reality, our bearish hunk has been reborn as a towering Latin stud, the kind of papi that makes hearts race and loins stir across every continent. Hailing from Colombia, he grew up in a world where machismo is king, and his rugged good looks and powerful physique were destined for greatness.

Here, he's known as Papi Leche, a towering figure of masculine perfection with a body that could make even the most devout Catholic priests weep with lust. His skin is a rich, burnished brown that glistens with the sheen of oil and sweat after a long day at the gym.

But it's not just his physique that sets this Latino daddy apart - it's his legendary cum, renowned throughout the land for its unparalleled potency and addictive quality. Gringos from all over the world can't resist the allure of his Latin leche, once they've tasted its salty, intoxicating flavor.

He takes great pleasure in breaking them down, both physically and mentally, until they're nothing more than obedient little cumsluts desperate for another taste of his golden nectar. And he always delivers, pumping load after massive load into their eager mouths and throats until they're drowning in Latin dick juice.

And it's not just a physical addiction. They gradually change the more leche they drink. Their skin darkens, their features soften, and their accents change until they're speaking in perfect, melodic Spanish.

Before long, this Latino daddy has an entourage of half-Latino, half-gringo chicos who worship him and vie for his attention - all of them hooked on his leche like junkies on a fix.

So if you ever find yourself in Colombia, make sure to keep an eye out for this hulking bear of a man - but be warned: once you've caught sight of him, there's no escaping his gravitational pull. You'll be drawn in like a moth to a flame, helpless to resist the allure of his latin leche until you're nothing more than a mindless, cum-addicted shell of your former self.

Finally, in yet another reality, our bearish hunk has been reborn as a cocky, wealthy young Arab stud - the epitome of Dubai's high-flying elite and a player in every sense of the word.

Here, he's the king of the scene, with a body that's equally at home on the beach or in the boardroom. His skin is a flawless, golden brown, his features chiseled like marble from the hands of a skilled sculptor.

As a member of Dubai's elite social circle, he moves through life like a prince among paupers - except instead of a crown, he wears a gold-plated watch on each wrist. He cruises the city in his gleaming black Lamborghini, with a string of adoring twink boys piled into the backseat for good measure.

These young men are just playthings for him to use and discard, their tight little holes and eager mouths mere receptacles for his boundless sexual appetite. He'll fuck them raw, pump them full of cum, and then toss them aside like yesterday's trash - all while smirking in satisfaction at the knowledge that he's left another broken little twink in his wake.

But it's not just about the physical act for this Arab stud; it's about the power dynamic. He loves nothing more than to humiliate his conquests, reducing them to quivering, tear-streaked messes as he lectures them on their place in the world - namely, at his feet, servicing his every whim.

And when he lets loose with that massive, cut Arab cock, it's a sight to behold - thick, veiny, and heavy as a horse's head, with a bulbous, slit-tipped crown that glistens with precum. It's the kind of dick that can stretch even the most well-fucked hole to its limits, leaving its recipients gasping in awe at his sheer size and potency.

And yet, despite all the degradation and abuse, these twinks can't get enough of him. They're addicted to the thrill of being used by such a powerful, dominant figure; they crave the taste of his cum on their tongues and the feeling of his thick, veiny cock splitting them open.

But despite all of this, this Arab boy has a soft spot for romance. He adores showering his favorite twink with expensive gifts and lavish dates - taking him to the finest restaurants and clubs, then whisking him away to his private villa for a night of passionate lovemaking under the stars.

So if you ever find yourself in this version of Dubai, keep an eye out for this hunky Arab stud. Just be prepared to worship him... and pray that he deigns to notice your pathetic little existence.

And so, once again, we have explored the possibilities that the multiverse provides. Which version of our friend here do you think is the most appealing? Or perhaps you have your own alternate version in mind? Who knows, the possibilities are endless...

[sugusat]

Saturo Gojo x Reader

Post-Apocalyptic Survival: In a world overrun by curses, you team up with Gojo to survive. His cocky attitude keeps you somewhat entertained, but his rare moments of vulnerability make you wonder what else he has hidden under that blindfold.

Slight enemies to lovers, gojos a goof and lowkey down bad but reader is angsty af from saving everyone. Pesismistic reader, eventual smut. Oral, grinding? Gojo calls reader Peach!

Part 2!

The long abandoned buildings creaked and swayed as rats scuttled across the ground in the afternoon sun. You and Gojo had been walking for hours now, hell bent on making your way back to camp where you and a group of survivors had been banding together to try and defeat the dominating curses once and for all.

You had both gotten lost on a run for supplies, overwhelmed by high-level curses that had attacked.

The camp would be wondering where you both were now, and you weren’t liking the look of that nasty gash on Saturos ribs that he had received in turn for defending you. With Gojo still weak from the fight, you didn't like the idea of being out here vulnerable any longer than you needed to be.

He was such an idiot sometimes.

"Come onnn Peach, we've been walking for hours. Can we pur-leasE take a break." Gojo sighed as he dragged his feet across the mudded road.

"For the last time, no! We need to get into the woods whilst we have the daylight, the curses will be coming out to play soon and I do not want another run-in. Besides, I'm estimating the camp is only around 1 hour from here." You sighed as you continued walking, ignoring the ache in your feet and trying to not become too paranoid as the dark woods came into view.

This was good, you would be more covered on this part and have more areas to hide. You would get home shortly and then could have some well-needed space from Gojo.

All these thoughts ran through your head as you sent Gojo silent daggers through the back of his head.

"Ya know I can feel you glaring at me from here, it wouldn't kill you to say thank you. You know.. for saving your life and all."

You snorted at this, "What you did was foolish, you are the strongest one here and yet you came on this stupid supply run and nearly died stopping curses I could have handled." You muttered the last part as you knew you couldn't have handled those curses alone, but you weren't ready to admit that yet.

Since the curses had taken over 5 years ago, the world had fallen into disarray. With limited communications and more people dying every day, the fight was hard. But this didn't seem to have stopped Gojo's infernal positivity, no he seemed entirely unaffected by the years and it was infuriating.

"Yeah sure Peach, you could have handled that all by yourself, forgive me for making an error in judgement. Next time, you handle the big bad demons all by yourself. " His words seemed more agitated now and his movements had become sluggish with every step.

You moved to stand in front of him, and he staggered as if he hadn't noticed you had even gotten ahead of him. "You're burning up, I think that curses blade was poisoned. Fuck." You sighed as he began to sway.

"Hmhm Peach I'm fine, lets just rest awhile yeah?" Gojo mumbled as he leaned his forehead further into your hand.

"No, we need to keep moving, come on.. Just loop your arm around mine and tell me something, k-keep talking to me," You insisted hesitantly as you began to pull Gojo a bit quicker through the muddy forest. Using what little reversed technique you knew to try and heal him. If you made it back, you needed to remember to thank Shoko for showing you a few tricks.

"I think that's the first time you've ever asked me to speak, rather than shouting at me to shut the hell up. Are you sure you're not the one with the fever Peach?" Gojo smirked as his steps began to match your pace but his weight noticeably leaned into you.

You laughed at this, just satisfied he was still walking and talking. The camp wasn't far, you could do this. Sure - It was only the strongest.. close to passing out in your arms.. Gods, what would the camp think if you got him killed? Then where would you all be, and a small part of yourself couldn't deny how awful it would be to not have his annoying optimism around all the time.

"I thought we were supposed to be talking Peach, " Gojo breathlessly said as he floppily turned his head to yours, his eyes hidden beneath the fabric on his head. "We are! We're all fine. Everything will be fine." You spoke more to yourself than him.

"Heh, I know it will be Peach" Gojo said as he began to walk with a bit more strength, "because I've got you. You really think any of us would be still here without ya saving us all the time Peach?" Gojo said as a lazy smile graced his face.

This was strange, Gojo and you tormented each other but you were sure over the last five years he had never acknowledged your leadership in the camp or how you tirelessly worked towards keeping everyone alive and stopping the curses once and for all.

You were silent in this, unsure what to say. "Why do you call me Peach?" You asked, wanting to steer the topic away from his strange vulnerability at the minute.

"Heh, I've always called you Peach. Do I need a reason?." Gojo laughed as he staggered slightly across a small fallen branch on the ground. You steadied him with your arm and pulled him closer, the camp wasn't far now.

"C-come on, just a bit longer Saturo.." Gojo seemed to wake at this, "What did you call me?" He asked in a hazy confusion, "Your name silly, we're nearly there." "Ye-yeah, right. Nearly there," Gojo muttered as you continued to walk, Gojo leaning into you still.

"I call you Peach because when we first met, before all of this, you were so shy and awkward. You would go pink as a peach whenever we spoke, but now.. you're so different.."

"Bad different?" You snorted as you glanced up at the tall white-haired boy.

"N-no, never. You keep us all alive, heh- I've never known someone so stubborn to fight for this world.." You held your breath, the only sound of both footsteps in the quiet woods to fill the air. Gojo sighed, the poison clearly fighting back against the healing energy.

"I guess it's just nice to hold on to something that could have been ya-know? Everything is changing every day and it can feel so scary, but if I can still call you Peach and maybe tease a lil, then I guess it's not too bad right?"

You glanced down at the ground, processing Saturos small confession. You always thought he was an arrogant fool, too powerful to understand what it was like to fear death every day. Too busy laughing and making jokes to understand the gravity of what you were all doing here, fighting back. But maybe you had been the one to judge too quickly, maybe this was just how Gojo coped with everything. Just how you leading the camp and fixing everyone, helped you feel a bit more in control.

"Come on, we're here. Shoko is going to pull that poison out of you and you'll be back to your usual teasing self." You said with an eye roll, dismissing the curious conversation.

"Hmhm..home sweet home.." Gojo muttered as he almost fell into the protective wall that kept the camp safe.

--------------------------------------------------------------

After dropping a babbling Gojo into the arms of Nanami and Shoko, you quickly made your way to the small 2 room quarters you had been provided many years ago. The camp consisted of a series of shacks and some larger buildings for a food hall, medical and defence, it wasn't much but it was home.

Now resting on the tiny beaten table in what could be called the living room, you tried to get comfortable as you poured over war strategies in books and any possible weapons for defeating curses.

A knock sounded at the old wooden door. Your head whipped around at the sudden sound, and the door began to creak open. Immediate panic ran through you as you moved for the cursed-infused dagger resting on the table and stood to attack. But as quickly as you were standing, the door opened fully and a mop of white hair bobbed into the room, ducking down, clearly too tall for the shack's rickety door.

"Woah-woah, I come in peace alright, jesus, and I thought we liked each other now,”

Gojo laughed as he held his hands in the air and looked you up and down. His mask now abandoned and his captivating six eyes staring into your soul. You calmed your breathing, glaring at his back as you placed the knife on the table and Gojo slowly shut the door behind him.

"You ass! Can see you're back to your usual self now," You snarled, angry at yourself for reacting. Reading about war strategies and demons for two hours in silence would make any girl jumpy.

"So this is how you spend your nights.." Gojo smirked as he took in the worn shack filled with aged volumes and archives containing vital information about the war you were fighting, usually swapped between you and Nanami. Weapons scattered the floors and more clutter accumulated over the years. Small drawings littered the door of a long broken fridge, which caught Gojo's eye as he walked over to observe.

"Make yourself at home.." You muttered as Gojos eyes skimmed the collection of sketches from another life, along with some children's drawings. "Wow, you really are talented, seriously if art museums still existed this would be a home run." Gojo laughed as he picked up a splotchy painted drawing, clearly done by one of the small children you helped train and not yourself.

You snatched the drawing from his hand and placed it on the counter, "What do you want Saturo..?" You were so tired after being nearly eaten by curses, saving Gojo and pouring over those beaten books. You weren't in the mood for his teasing.

"Hey it's been a long day but um, I guess I just wanted to say thanks alright? I guess you saved both of our asses today and I appreciated it."

Gojo said awkwardly as he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, his muscles flexing through the tight t-shirt he now wore. You could see the lining of where the bandage ran around his ribs.

You were clearly sleep deprived if you were admiring Gojos muscles, you shook your head. Clearing the fog.

"Uh, yeah it's fine I guess. I mean you hah-you saved us first, and it wasn't much." You mumbled, feeling an awkwardness from the vulnerability again. You weren't used to this.

"I guess the Peach name still counts.." Gojo smirked as he stared at you and your slightly flushed cheeks.

"Ass" you muttered as you turned to sit at the table. As you sat down, Gojo started to follow but instead of sitting down on the other remaining chair, he knelt in front of you.

"Look I mean it, thank you. And I'm sorry if you don't think I take things seriously Peach, because I do, trust me. But sometimes it's nice to remind you that life can still be fun ya know?"

You rolled your eyes and scoffed but Gojo placed a large hand on your thigh and pulled your body back to face his kneeling form. "You don't always have to be the strong one Peach. You deserve joy as well, you know... ”

And you didn't know what to do with those words, it was as if five years of pressure and fighting came crashing down on you all at once. You felt the breath be sucked out of your lungs at someone seeing you, and you were so tired. So tired of running, of fighting, of making the decisions. But you weren't ready to face that just yet, and you hadn't realised you had knelt forward, your face now so close to Gojo's who silently watched you.

Tears threatened to spill in your eyes but you couldn't deal with it, couldn't stand it. So you did the only thing you could, you kissed Saturo. His initial shock reflecting through the kiss, his lips unmoving against yours and it was as if time had slowed down.

And oh god, this was a mistake. What were you doing? Why were you kissing him, but then he was moving the hand on your thigh to grab at your hip and ghosting his other across your jaw. Parting your legs to lean in further on his knees he pulled the chair closer and kissed you back with a force you had never expected. He groaned into the kiss, which surprised you even further and surprised you how much you liked that noise from his lips, and how you would do anything to hear it again.

As his tongue pushed past your lips you let out a small moan and allowed him to pull you closer as he deepened the kiss. Lips crashing together, his tongue moved around your mouth desperate to taste more of you. The hand on your jaw now snaked into your hair as small mewls fell from your lips between breaths.

"Fuck Peach, you're something else.." Your arm moved around to his thick white hair as you pulled slightly and that delicious noise crept up from his throat again.

Gojo broke the kiss to stand but quickly pulled you up from the chair and began to scatter kisses all across your neck. Sucking lightly and nipping wherever he felt was right. His hands now stroking your hips, wanting to make this moment last forever. You let out small moans of pleasure at the feel until you needed more, "Hmhm Touru please.."

"Fuck Peach, say-ah-say that again," Gojo murmured into your neck as he roughly pulled your hips against his.

"Tou-hm-ru" you muttered as you began to pull at his arms, his hair, his neck. Anything, you needed to feel more. You needed more of him.

"Peach, let me make you feel good yeh? I can do that, let it be about you okay, Peach." Gojo whispered as he continued placing kisses across your shoulders. He said it so gently it made you feel sick, this was such a strange day but the contact felt so good and you just wanted to forget. To be that girl again from 5 years ago who had a secret crush on the Saturo Gojo and not the girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

You pulled him to the room other room where a small bed was situated in the middle and nothing more. He nipped at your neck as he lightly pushed you down and then caged you in on top. Dipping back to your lips, tongues tangling against each other as you arched into him. Quiet moans fell from your lips at the light friction, your pussy growing wetter by the minute with each grind.

"Heh, so responsive Peach." Gojo breathlessly laughed as he nipped at your lip. "Can I make you feel good Princess, can I do that for you?"

"Hmhm, yes please," You muttered as your hips grinded into Gojos again. "Uh s-shit, I've wanted you for so long Peach" Gojo muttered as his hips thrust down in response, his cock now painfully hard in his dark pants.

Gojo grabbed your chin and moved your restless head to meet his eyes, "Tell me you want this Peach, tell me you want this and I'll make you forget everything for tonight" "Hm fuck, please Touru, need you," not allowing yourself to process his previous words.

Gojo didn't hesitate after that, scared you may take those precious pleas back. He continued to kiss down your body, pulling your vest over your head along with your sports bra. Suddenly you were brought back to reality and very aware Satou Gojo was on top of you staring at your full breasts as if they were the last Mochi on the planet. Feeling exposed, you made to reach for the blanket but he held back your arm with his own, locking you in as his head went down, his lips suckling at your nipple and then grazing his teeth across the puckered bud as moans filled the room. Pushing against his arm at the newfound sensations. His head bobbed up, those bright blue eyes staring into yours.

"Still with me Peach?" He asked with a smirk as you nodded, eyes rolling into your head as he dipped down to the other breast.

"Hmhm Turo, please-hm-need you, please" You muttered, impatient at the lack of friction. Gojo began to leave wet sloppy kisses down your navel as he slowly pulled your pants away from your legs.

Your wetness clearly visible in the light grey panties you wore, you arched up again, the cold air providing a frustrating relief. "Shit Peach, you're soaked. This all for me? I can't wait to taste you." You blushed at this and rolled your eyes, irritated at Gojos teasing but desperately needing him to make this ache go away.

"Don't make me beg Gojo" you said with little demand as Gojo began to place wet kisses down your thighs. Your breath hitched in anticipation. Getting so close to where you needed him and then pulling back to start again on the other side teasingly.

"Uh uh Peach, I don't know. If you're calling me Gojo, we clearly don't know each other very well. Should we really do this.."

Your thighs shook with anticipation and your wet pussy helplessly bucked at nothing as Gojos large hands grazed the soaked panties.

"Turo, I need you so bad. Make me feel good, make me forget, puh-leaseee" you whined, mocking his begging from earlier in the day, still breathless.

"That felt a little sarcastic but I don't think I can deny her any longer, " And just as you were about to ask who her exactly was, Gojo dived in. At first, pushing your panties to the side but then impatiently pulling them off and lifting your lower half into the air as his tongue met your folds. You moaned aggressively, sure the whole camp would hear you but you didn't care. Fuck he had a magic tongue.

And then his long fingers entered you, first just one and then another desperately curling to a spot inside that you could never reach with your own. You panted as he nudged your legs farther apart and groaned into your pussy as you clenched around him. "Fuck peach, you taste out of this world, why have you been hiding this from me?"

"Hmhm" Was all you could say as Gojo continued to ravage you and your high began to grow. You needed the release, needed him. Your hands found their way into his hair as you pulled, needing something to ground you as you felt you were about to levitate off the bed.

Gojo moaned as you pulled on his hair, his fingers now curling again and again into your pussy. Hitting that spot you desperately needed as he continued to make out with your folds, tongue flicking at your clit, and fuck it was too much.

"Toru, I'm going to-I ccan't, shit" You mewled as his hand grabbed your own to soothe you, and then it was happening. You were so close, so close to falling. You needed to cum, you needed it so badly you couldn't see, hear or feel anything else.

"Shit Peach, cum for me yeah? Cum Peach, cum, cum" and so you did, with a final curl of his fingers, you let go and came crashing down. Every muscle in your body spasmed as Gojo continued to suck on the juices leaving your body. You think you screamed but you couldn't remember, couldn't make sense.

"Fuck Turo, what the fuck." You cried as your body came down from the insane high. It had been too goddamn long.

Gojo looked as dishevelled as you felt as he emerged from your thighs, wiping his mouth across his arm and then sucking his fingers dry.

"God damn Peach, that was something else."

You mewled back, still struggling to catch your breath as you stared at the ceiling.

You glanced down to Gojo and you wanted more of him, you needed it. But you were so tired, your eyes blinking slowly as you made grabby hands to pull him back up. He was visibly hard and you wanted to return the favour but your limbs felt like jelly, still feeling fuzzy from the previous high. Exhaustion taking over you.

Gojo quietly groaned when you began to palm at his visible erection but he quickly grabbed your wrist to gently move your hand away. He instead pulled your body into his chest and adjusted the blanket onto both of you as he brushed the top of your head with his lips.

"Sleep Peach, you did so well," He whispered into your hair as your eyes finally fell shut, officially exhausted.

--------------------

Part 2?

I really enjoyed writing this so please lmk if you liked it, this is like my second smut so pls be kind !!

[measuredingold]

my soul is useless without you

author's note: part two to i'd walk through hell for you is finally here ! i'm not sure if i want to do a third part, but we’ll see lol but i'm currently working on something for folio 👀 as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ! also, if yall have any requests, send them my way :) i'm in the mood to write but inspiration is running thin lol

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

word count: 3.5k

cross posted on ao3 / part one

cw/tw: angst, hurt/comfort, Noah Sebastian Is Bad At Feelings But A Good Friend, reader is going through it, anxiety, hints/mentions of depression, noah is just a good guy and cares about reader a lot ( more than he realizes ), friends to lovers pining lol, 18+ minors do not interact

It's when Jolly asks Noah in-between takes if he'd heard from you recently that the anxiety finally settles in.

Because he doesn't know the last time he's heard from you. Which isn't normal.

He's a bad texter, notorious for looking at messages and making a note to reply to them later or replying in his mind, but he always makes sure to reply to you whenever the two of you aren't together. It's just always been a thing, to always have some form of communication with you when he wasn't over at yours or if you weren't at his, so it panics him when he can't remember the last time he'd spoken to you.

He goes through your messages and finds that it wasn't him this time who didn't respond, but instead it was you. Relief washes over him briefly, the guilt of forgetting to respond to his best friend vanishing, but then that anxiety comes back full force. 

You didn't respond.

You always responded.

He sends off a quick message to you, apologizing for being in studio mode and not leaving the house and asks if you're alright. He waits. They go through another take, he somehow doesn't fuck it up even though his mind isn't all the way there. You still haven't responded by the fifth take and that's when he starts to feel sick, stomach twisting with the worry of what could be wrong. 

He tries to think back to if you've ever gone this long without speaking and he can't think of a time when that has happened. 

"Earth to Noah." Jolly's voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

"Oh. Uh, sorry." 

"All good, man." His bandmate eyes him for a second before his eyes flicker towards his phone. "She respond?"

"Um. No." His brows furrowed as he stared at his phone, the black screen mocking him. "Kind of worried."

"Yeah... I am, too." Jolly murmurs. He clicks around on the screen a few times before twisting his chair around to fully face Noah, arms crossing over his chest. "You should go over there. Check and make sure she's alright."

Noah raises a brow at him. "We're in the middle of recording?"

"And?" Jolly shrugs, waving him off. "We got a lot done today, we can wrap it up. Something's obviously wrong and she might need you. That's more important than some song."

He blinks at his friend, letting his words settle in. Jolly's right, he thinks. You are more important than whatever song they're working on. That confirmation makes him feel funny, something tightening beneath his chest but he ignores it, nodding slowly. 

"Okay. You wanna come?"

Jolly shakes his head. "Nah. The both of us might be overwhelming. If you do need me then call, if not..." He shrugs again before lifting himself up out of his chair, groaning softly to himself, "...might be best for just you to go. She'd probably feel better if it's just you, anyways. You know how she is."

Noah isn't quite sure what he means, but nods along anyways. He checks his phone again and still no text, but he notices that you read the message. He should feel relieved at the sign of life but it only makes his anxiety worse, stomach twisting violently. 

"Okay. I'll text you when I get there." 

He's practically running out of the studio after that, the only thing on his mind was you. He needed to make sure you were okay. Deep down he knew that if this was him, you would've already been here, and he feels guilty all over again. He should've paid more attention, shouldn't have let this slip his mind so easily. He thinks back to your last messages together and how you were talking about your work day, overwhelmed and quite frankly, upset about it all. He should've paid closer attention.

He makes it to yours in record time, legs moving him to the door before he can even think about it. He sends up a quiet prayer to the universe that you had given him an extra key months ago and uses it to unlock the door, slowly pushing it open.

He calls out your name, but no answer.

His eyes sweep over your apartment as he enters, scanning the open space. Your kitchen looked untouched, minus the few dirty dishes that were in your sink. A few boxes of Chinese take-out and some bottles of water. He feels almost relieved. You'd been eating and as far as he can tell you'd been keeping yourself somewhat hydrated, so that was a plus. He knows how bad you can be when you get into this headspace - brain fog, forgetting to do basic things like eating and drinking water. But this... this is a step in the right direction.

His eyes move towards the living room and it's just about the same. A pile of blankets lay together at one end of the couch, pillows scattered along the length of the cushions. You'd been there quite a bit, he can tell, but other than that nothing was too bad.

Noah feels like he can breathe for just a second, eyes going straight to the cracked open door to your bedroom. He hears the faint hum of your television and hears the muffled voice of your favorite characters in your favorite comfort show. His chest tightens. You only ever watch it when things get bad inside your head, when things start to become too overwhelming and you need to cling onto something that you know. Something that won't throw any surprises at you and make things worse. 

He makes his way towards your room, ready to call out your name again as he pushes open your door but stops halfway. You're curled up in your bed, covered in a pile of blankets. He steps closer to get a better look at you and he doesn't think he's ever seen you look so peaceful. Lashes against the tops of your cheeks, lips parted. The crease between your brows is relaxed, which never happens. 

Noah takes a deep breath.

You're alright. He can see that you're safe and sound, at least for now, and that's enough for him. He shuts your door behind him and makes his way back into the main room, taking his shoes off by the door. He takes another deep breath to center himself as he looks around your space, hand finding its way to his hair. 

He decides he'll clean up your kitchen and living room. It isn't too bad, and it won't take him too long. He also just... doesn't want to leave yet. He'll wait until you wake up. Make you talk to him, ask what’s up. Probably make you eat something. Then he'll head home. 

Sounds like a good plan to him.

Even though your door is shut he still tries to be quiet, making sure to carefully wash and put away your dishes without making too much of a fuss. After the dishes, he throws away all the take-out boxes and water bottles. He even makes a note to take the trash out for you when he's all done, because he knows you would've done it for him. 

The constant reminder of you and knowing that you'd do something like this for him, and have, is the motivation he needs to continue. It makes him feel warm all over and he thinks how lucky he is to have someone like you as his best friend.

And he definitely ignores the bitter taste in his mouth at the word best friend. 

It's maybe an hour after he's finished, curled up on your couch that now has its pillows in place, and the pile of blankets are neatly folded and put away, that you finally emerge from your room. You rub the sleep out of your eyes, not noticing him on the couch at first, but when you do you make a noise of surprise that has Noah laughing.

"Hey."

He notices the slight flush of your cheeks but ignores it. "Hi?"

"I uh," He scratches the back of his neck, sending you a sheepish smile. "Hadn't talked to you in a few days. Got worried. So did Jolly. Told me to come over. Check on you. You were sleeping so I just," He throws his arms around, gesturing to the space around him, "cleaned up a little? Figured you would appreciate a clean house when you woke up so..." 

He's talking too much, he knows it, but he can't seem to stop the word vomit from coming out. Noah knows you wouldn't mind, but he was nervous, especially because all you do is stare at him without saying a word. Stare and stare and stare until you sniff, brows furrowing.

"...Thanks."

You're unusually quiet and it makes his stomach turn again. You sniff again and Noah swears you look like you're on the verge of tears, and he sits up on the couch. He watches you closely as you wring your hands together in front of you, mouth opening and closing as if you want to say something. You don't, and Noah catches the exact moment when your bottom lip trembles, and he's moving before he can even think about it.

"Hey. It's okay. You’re okay."

He tries to keep his voice soft and free of any panic, but his heart is beating so rapidly against his chest he swears you can hear it. You sniff again, head shaking as your lip continues to tremble and he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls you into his arms and presses you into his chest. You don't move for a second, but eventually your arms circle around his waist. You squeeze, tight, but he doesn't mind. He just squeezes you back. 

Your body begins to shake as the cries start to rack through you, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Noah swallows down the lump that was beginning to form, cheek resting on the top of your head. He's always hated when you cry. He himself wasn’t one for much display of emotions, but when it came to the people he cared about, he hated seeing them anything but happy. 

Especially you.

He's seen you cry a few times. Well, more than a few times. Sometimes it was over nothing, and then sometimes it was over an incredibly cute dog you'd seen scrolling on Twitter. He didn't mind those, but when it was over something serious, he fucking hated that. He never wanted you to be anything but happy, and whenever you weren’t, it’s like a piece of him breaks. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers into your hair, trying to pull you even closer to him.

“Everything.” You eventually mumble against his chest, sucking in a deep breath as you try to control your tears. “Fucking everything is wrong.” 

He fucking hates the way that answer makes him feel. His chest feels like it's on fire, and he swears his heart just fucking broke at how sad you sounded, voice muffled by his shirt. He squeezes you to his chest again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He wants you to talk about it, to tell him what's wrong so he can make it better. Noah knows it'll probably be damn near impossible to even do that, but god, he'd try absolutely anything to make your tears stop. You take a long moment to respond, trying to control your breathing, before you eventually shake your head against his chest.

"Not right now." 

"Okay.” He mumbles, raising a hand to smooth down your hair. “That's okay, we don't have to."

"Thank you."

You stay like that for a moment, in the middle of your living room. Noah doesn't plan on letting go any time soon, thinking for a split second that he wished he could keep you in his arms forever. If you were there, he'd always know if you were okay. The thought fades before he could think too hard about it when you finally pull away from him, and Noah catches sight of your slight red and blotchy face. He frowns.

He doesn't remember the last time he's ever seen you so sad. So defeated. Whatever was going on really pained you, and he wishes you'd just tell him so he can fix it. Another passing, fleeting thought, but he thinks he'd do just about anything right now to see you smile again. 

"Have you eaten?" He breaks the silence between the two of you, not waiting to hear whatever you were planning on saying.

You blink up at him. "Um... no. Not since this morning. Had some fruit and coffee." 

"I figured." He guides you towards the couch, practically pushing you onto it. You snort when he grabs a throw blanket and dumps it onto you. "Pick something to watch." 

It's not a question, but more of a command, and Noah ignores the way his chest flutters at the small smile you give him. He turned away from you, pushing whatever feeling was brewing inside of him so far down and got his brain to focus. Food. You need food. To be honest, so does he. He’d been so worried about you for the last few hours that he didn’t even think of getting something to eat. 

It takes him a few minutes of rummaging around your kitchen to settle on making something easy - instant ramen. He’s surprised you hadn't eaten it all in the week you’ve been off-grid, but thankful nonetheless. Noah's way too impatient to wait any longer to actually cook something, especially knowing you hadn't eaten anything since this morning. Every so often he looked over his shoulder to watch you, wishing you'd say something, but would find you either staring blankly at the television or your phone.

A bitter taste settles in the back of his throat every time he turns back around to the stove. He hated this, and he fucking hated that he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.

He brings your bowl to you once he's finished, already making a mental note to clean up the mess he had made while cooking. You blink up at him and reach for it, giving him a quiet, "Thank you."

Noah doesn't verbally say anything, just hums out a response as he ventures back into the kitchen to grab you something to drink. When he comes back he notices you had slowly begun to eat, and he feels his shoulders finally relax. Just knowing you ate something eases him, the tension in his body leaving him completely. You're already reaching out for the glass of water in his hand that he happily hands off to you, giving you a gentle smile.

"Need anything else?"

You shake your head, peering up at him. "No. Just want you to come sit with me." 

That same fluttery feeling beneath his chest returns and he wishes he could ignore it again, but it doesn't go away. No, it stays perched underneath his chest, as if it's decided that it's making a home there and never leaving. He doesn't say anything, just nods at your request before grabbing his own bowl and a Pepsi you had in the fridge before making his way back to you.

You wait until he's settled on the couch to scoot closer to him, legs pressed flushed together. You're already halfway through your ramen and for a split second he forgets that weird feeling in his chest, instead focusing on the intense pride filling him. He was able to get you to eat, he was able to help out in some way. Knowing you were alright for the most part and it was from his doing made him feel good.

The both of you eat in silence as whatever show you decided to put on plays in the background. He’s just now realized it was The Office, and he huffs out a small laugh at something Michael Scott said. Another one of your comfort shows, something easy. 

It isn't until you both are finished with your food and Noah's back in the kitchen cleaning up that you finally speak. He doesn't hear you come up behind him, focused on washing the dishes and making sure everything's clean and good to go, so he can't help but jump when he feels your arms slip around his waist and squeeze.

"Shit." He swears, followed by a breathy chuckle. "You scared me."

You don't say anything to that, just squeeze him harder and he feels you press your face against his back. Then ever so softly, he picks up the faintest, "Thank you," muffled against his back. His face flushes, eyes casting down to the soapy water his hands were currently submerged in. He's glad you can't see the blush on his cheeks, and he fucking hopes you can't hear the way his heart is pounding beneath his chest. Can probably feel it, though, and that makes his face burn even more. 

"For what?" He manages to mumble out, resuming his efforts. Your arms squeeze his waist again.

"For being here." You sound so small. "You don't have to be, but you are, and I can't thank you enough for that."

"You'd do it for me." His response comes easily, voice nonchalant because it's true. He knows you'd do the same for him, and the thought has his stomach flipping every which way. "And have done it for me. It's the least I can do."

You're silent after that but don't part from him, and Noah can't help the smile that spreads across his lips at the feeling of you rubbing your face against him. It makes him feel warm all over, and that damned fluttery feeling in his chest is back yet again. You stay like that until he's finished with the dishes, moving with him as he shuffles to the side to dry them off. You don't pick your head up even when he manages to turn in your arms, finally facing you. 

Noah's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him and now you can rub your face against his chest. He laughs softly, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Still don't wanna talk about it?" He knows he's pressing but he can't help it, a part of him still needs to know what's wrong and how he can fix this for you.

You shake your head. "Not yet. Tomorrow, okay? I just... don't wanna think about it tonight."

"Okay." He thinks he can handle that. 

"Thank you." You say again and finally lift your head up from his chest, blinking up at him. There's still a sadness there, roaming around behind your eyes, but not as prevalent as it was earlier. He’s at least done something right. "I'm really fucking lucky to have you, you know that, right?"

The way you're looking up at him is overwhelming, Noah's throat tightening at the softness surrounding your tired eyes. You smile at him and this time it reaches your gaze, not faked but real, and his heart slams against his chest. A thought passes his mind again, something he hasn't thought of in years, and he pushes it back with a hard swallow.

"You're just saying that because you didn't have to do the dishes."

You roll your eyes but that smile never drops from your lips, and Noah thinks he'd like to keep you smiling like that for the rest of his life. 

"Shut up. I'm being serious." You're giggling now, eyes crinkling and he catches a glimpse of the real you for the first time in hours - probably days, weeks even. 

"So am I." Noah yelps when you pinch his side, your laughter growing louder. "Hey!"

"I'm trying to be nice here, asshole. You can at least try, too."

He softens at that, eyes meeting yours. He's well aware his face is on fire right now, cheeks pink.

"You already know I'm lucky to have you. Didn't realize I had to say it."

Even if he doesn't say it often, he is very lucky. So incredibly lucky to have you in his life, for sticking by him and for understanding him. For always being patient with him. Jolly reminds him occasionally how lucky he is to have you, how all of them are lucky to have someone like you in their lives. He doesn't know what the fuck he or anyone did to be so deserving of you, but dammit, he's fucking thankful for it everyday. 

You don't say anything, just continue to beam up at him and Noah can't seem to stop himself, tilting his head down to brush his lips against your forehead. He feels you press further into his chest, if it was even possible, and practically melt in his arms. 

He wishes he could keep you here forever, tucked away in his arms. He thinks there isn't much he wouldn't do to keep you safe, to make sure you were okay, and that thought alone scares him. He'd never admit it, at least not out loud, and he tucks that thought away for another time. Or to possibly be never thought of again, he doesn't know. He doesn't really care.

No, all he cares about right now is that you're okay, at least for now, and that you're nestled against his chest like it's the only place you want to be. 

And that's enough for him. 

[queenclacker]

Ive been reading so many posts about Neil hurting Kevin for jean ...... Neil hurting kevin ... Neil hurting yeah that wtf like why are ppl not remembering that Kevin was so abused that he can only rely on alcohol to function and he can't even process anything because the moment his mom died his entire world crashed with it and he was abused used and forced to play the perfect role and that messed him up and don't go . Omg he left jean there alone ..... Kevin is a victim and he has been longer than jean he used him sure it was shitty but he was desperate and he was weak and he was broken down to little pieces because that's why riko and tetsuji wanted a good little doll that never fights back .... But Kevin is fine ... Omg me when I read with my eyes closed .. even in his fear he defended Neil even in his panic he tried and when jean was finally out and he knew he can't shackle himself anymore he changed his tattoo and thats something that was psychologically conditioned into him he is always number 2 and he changed that .... Oh but jean was SA'ed yes thats terrible but that wasn't on Kevin stop blaming Kevin for things he didn't do because u need someone to blame to fit the nerrative

Anyways thank you for coming to my rant about a fictional man never thought I'd even be this person but hoe y'all need to get some critical thinking