#I’d be saying so much more if I was good with words but- LOVE!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yeyinde · 11 hours ago

Text

i can't believe we're so close to the end!!! this whole series has me in such a chokehold that it's a little hard to imagine not waiting for the next chapter to drop.

but this one in particular has me spiralling because it has everything - a little bit of Price's background/lore, some tenderness, overprotective bear John, burying a body (my favourite couple-y activity), flighty mc finally being caught by Price, delicious smut, and i'm also currently in the process of writing a cease and desist for THAT scene because wow :)))))))))))))) WOW!!!

seriously!!!!

He pulls back to stare at your dripping hole. “Missed me, my love?” You’d answer if you could form words, but then you realize who he’s talking to and your mind goes blank.

i would have gotten this out much sooner but i read this and had to go for a jog. i need to burn off some excess energy before i continued because this was insanely hot!!! there's something about Price in particular doing this that's somehow crazier than Ghost, Soap, or Gaz. i don't know what it is. it just flustered me beyond belief.

the whole scene was so good, though. the descriptions of John we're incredible. his hairy knuckles, him looking bigger in the low light, how the fire painted his face - just beyond exquisite.

He must feel the way that thought heats you up because he rasps, “Need a lil somethin’, love?”

i love how you can take this idea of him in my head and put it on paper because i love how he's so attuned to the mc - as if her pleasure, her needs, were tethered to his own. i love little pieces like this scattered throughout - especially when it's brief hints of his overprotectiveness:

John’s nostrils flare. The fire reflects off his eyes in such a way that, for a moment, it almost looks like it’s coming from within him. “I’d kill him again if I could.”

this is such a gorgeous description, and i love how his anger is directed outward. flaring quick and blistering, and then simmering down into a quick, decisive heat. there's nothing he wouldn't do for her. no lengths he wouldn't go.

and the way you brought it all together - like this was a waiting game of him slowly pushing her in the right direction until she caught up - was brilliantly done. the gut punch of her admitting her feelings, him pulling more and more out of her, and then the slow, raw declaration at the end with him saying:

“You’re my wife. End of story. The rest ain’t anyone’s business but ours.”

it's so perfect. genuinely in awe over you right now!!!!! this was amazing. i need to finish the bag of all dressed i bought at the store, and read this five more times.

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 19)

masterlist

A blood-orange sun hangs low in the sky.

You might think it ominous on any other day, but not this one. What more adversity could stand in your way?

Instead of sharing a saddle with John, you ride the same horse that Graves rode out of town. Days spent on horseback have finally caught up to you, pain radiating up and down your legs, a soreness embedded deep in your inner thighs, the skin positively chafed from the constant friction. At least you no longer have the handcuffs digging painfully into your wrists, the metal cuffs long since unlocked using the key in Graves’ pocket and discarded, now lost some acres back for the coyotes and the hares to prod at and sniff.

You drift in and out of conscious awareness, coming back into your right mind every mile or so, losing track of time along the way. Sometimes you blink and trees disappear out of sight, already ten miles back. Scouring the landscape for something familiar only to come up empty.

Recent events lour over your conscience. It’s difficult not to let it get to you. So much has happened in such quick succession that part of you still thinks you’re dreaming in the abandoned shack with Graves sleeping just a few feet away.

A distinct sound scrapes against the inner recesses of your mind and eardrum. If you were to look behind you, you’d find the source of it wrapped in a shroud and dragged behind John’s horse. Drying blood stains the fabric. The head, obscured under the fabric, jostles from side to side as it passes over rocks and undergrowth.

It’s beyond you now though, the future shuttling forward at an unfathomable speed and taking you with it, willing or not. The world hurrying on to repeat its past mistakes.

So you don’t look behind you.

“Won’t be much longer,” your husband murmurs from beside you, speaking just loud enough for you to hear him over the influx of thoughts in your head, which rapidly empty out at the sound of his voice.

“We can stop for a break after?” you ask, turning your head enough for your eyes to land on the hard, bristled line of his jaw. He nods.

“Just gotta get this part out of the way.”

He says it so casually, like a bit of unpleasantness that has to be dealt with; no way around it. Unfortunately, a body isn’t something that can be just swept under the rug. No matter how much your muscles beg for a moment’s reprieve, you won’t get it until all the loose ends are tied up.

“How do you know the land around here so well?” you ask as John leads the two of you deeper into the plains.

“The boys and I have been out here before. Grew up in this county anyway; been wanderin’ these parts since I was born.”

You can’t imagine John as a young boy, uncertain of his place in the world. He seems like someone who emerged from the womb ready-made, already able to skin a deer and build a bushcraft shelter by hand. But he must have been young at one point.

Finally, he comes upon a suitable place to bury the body.

Deep in the wilderness, he digs a shallow grave with the short shovel strapped to his horse, sweating up a storm before the hole is big enough to bury the body. You dismount your horse and wander off while John handles the burial.

This is the part where you have to turn away and pretend it isn’t happening. You stave off the urge to plug your ears and close your eyes. Dogear any page in your life except this one. This is the only memory that you want to fade into obscurity, pretend that it never happened, that this was some bad dream that you only half-remember twenty years from now.

You glance back only once to find John breathing heavily at the edge of the hole, having just hauled himself out. Sweat slicks his brow and drips down the side of his face near his temple, a dark flush spreading over his cheeks from exertion. Even his shirt is damp with sweat under the pits and around the collar.

You force yourself to look away. Now is not the time for your libido to trouble you.

Graves’ body lands with a dull thump when John rolls it into the makeshift grave. You bite your lip and let your eyelids slide shut. Then he starts the process of covering the body, shoveling the dirt back into the hole. It takes a while. An offer to help hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite make yourself say the words.

A half hour later, it no longer matters, the hole covered until the only thing demarcating the grave is the layer of upturned soil, slightly darker than the dirt in the surrounding area.

“That’s it,” John announces, making his way back to you with the shovel slung over his shoulder. You can smell the ripe scent of sweat wafting off him even from a foot away. “Let’s head out; we’ll wanna make camp before it gets dark.”

You don’t answer. Not verbally anyway. The guilt almost makes it hard to breathe. In all your stupidity and poor decision-making, you’ve inadvertently made John an accomplice in your crimes; forced him, in fact, to commit one as heinous as the one that had started this whole debacle.

You travel the next mile in relative silence, scouring the landscape for a neat patch of land to set up camp. The sun plummets towards the ground at a faster and faster pace until it’s tugged below the horizon, vanishing with a green flash. Then it’s too dangerous to keep going, the way back far too dark to keep traveling down.

John builds a small fire after tying up the horses for the night. The temperature drops exponentially as the sky darkens, the cold sinking low to the ground. You help with gathering the kindling, mostly twigs and clumps of dry grass, then take the packs off both horses to use as makeshift seats by the fire, unrolling the sleeping bags as well.

It comes as a relief to finally sit down after the fire is struck. Rest is a double edged sword though; the longer you sit with Graves’ old pack propping you up, the more the pain has time to sink its claws in deep.

In the hours since he shot Graves, neither of you have spoken more than a few words to each other. You certainly haven’t brought it up. The memory of Graves revealing the truth of what you’d done back east to John looms over you. It’s inevitable that you’ll talk about it eventually though. It’s heavy in the atmosphere, almost oppressive; the weight of everything said and unsaid. You can’t take back what Graves revealed to John. At some point you’ll have to face it.

At what point will you have to beg for forgiveness? It sits on the tip of your tongue.

The small fire crackles in front of you. Red tongues of flames lick at the darkness, the light extending out in a circle around the two of you. You’re grateful for the warmth though, particularly after spending the previous night in the cold.

“Nothing to eat, m’afraid,” he says apologetically, brow creasing. “I didn’t exactly pack before coming after you.”

You shake your head. “That’s fine. I’m not hungry anyway.”

In a few more hours, you might work up an appetite again, but for now, you couldn’t be further from it. All you want to do is lie down on your bed back home and sleep through to the next day.

“Yeah,” John sighs. “Me neither.”

He picks up your hand and holds it in his for a time. It’s strange how such a small gesture has become such an immense comfort for you. You wish you could thread your fingers through his and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss all over, but you’re too tired for a gesture of that magnitude.

When he lets go of your hand, it’s only to transfer it to your face. His thumb runs over your split lip, pulling away when you wince. “Looks like it’s healing on its own.”

“That’s good,” you mumble. “…It hurt a lot more yesterday.”

John’s nostrils flare. The fire reflects off his eyes in such a way that, for a moment, it almost looks like it’s coming from within him. “I’d kill him again if I could.”

Your stomach clenches at the ferocity behind his words.

“You—you shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” you croak. “Not when he was—” right, you don’t say. Right to haul you out of town by your hair and drag you back to the scene of the crime, back to pay for what you’d done.

“Now I ain’t gonna hear you go spoutin’ that horseshit,” he growls, clasping you by the back of your neck and tugging you to his side. It’s so sudden that your butt skids across the ground, raking up a small mound of dirt with the weight of your body.

You look away, unable to meet his eyes even as he pulls you forward until you’re nearly nose to nose. “It’s not—”

“Yes, it is, darlin’. That shit weren’t none of your fault. You ain’t done a thing wrong by keeping yourself safe.”

It’s almost hard to hear. It’s taken you months to scrub the dirt from your soul, which until recently was raw to the touch and pained you to even think back on. And the hopelessness. And the longing, the irreversibility of it; irreversible in the way that you couldn’t turn your pain inside out. You could never go back to the way things were because the only way out was to keep on trudging forward.

Like rain in a drought, you’ve been missing someone’s mercy. You’ve been waiting for someone to come and forgive you for your sins; someone to absolve you of them.

You lean forward, burying your face in his neck. Not making much of a sound except for a harsh exhale, your throat quavering with something unsaid.

Then you grip him by the back of his shirt and pull him to the ground with you.

Out in the open like this, John doesn’t dare remove your clothes, but he does reach beneath your dress to pull off your underclothes. He’s silent through it all, eyes fixed on yours. Never wavering or dropping your gaze. It’s intoxicating to be stared at with such a fierce intensity. Vaguely overwhelming, the sensation creeping up your chest and lodging in your throat.

The light of the fire he built for the two of you flickers across his skin, illuminating his face in shades of orange and gold.

He holds your gaze when he rucks the skirt of your dress up and crawls down the length of your body until his mouth is level with your center, slick already dripping from your sex. Your breathing goes haggard, anticipating his mouth before it’s suddenly there between your thighs, planting a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before dragging his lips over your sensitive skin until they brush your clit. Your mouth opens to a soundless gasp. Electrical impulses travel up your spine, your arching back following their trajectory.

He pulls back to stare at your dripping hole. “Missed me, my love?”

You’d answer if you could form words, but then you realize who he’s talking to and your mind goes blank.

When he runs his tongue up the seam of your pussy, you jolt, legs slung over his shoulders kicking at the air. He eats you out with gusto, with reverence, sighing into your pussy that it’s been too long, that he’d worried himself nearly half to death over you.

Rough hands hold you by your waist and pull you down onto his face. Long, crude licks of his tongue, rubbing the flat of it over your clit until you’re a roiling, twisting hotbed of pent up arousal.

The urge to suppress your noises is almost overwhelming. When you twist your head from side to side, there’s nothing but miles of land; trees and shrubbery and a deep, impenetrable darkness. Not another person around for miles. It makes you shiver when you stare out into it.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—” you gasp, chest getting tighter and tighter until you expect it to burst but it doesn’t. It stays all pent up, all itchy and scratchy and you can feel the sweat slicking the small of your back and the blood furiously rushing to your cheeks, heating you up from the inside out. Sweat-laden and flustered.

Your toes curl in your boots, throat tightening up the closer it gets. All it takes to push you over the edge is John cupping his hands under your butt to tilt your hips up, licking you from hole to hole. The impertinence and thrill sends a rush through your body, the coil in your belly twisting and releasing, core pulsing around nothing. Your body gives a violent jolt when he gives your clit one last wet, suckling kiss.

“Are you comfortable like this, darlin’, or should I wait until we’re home?” John asks when he positions himself over you again, beard still wet with your desire and a big hand cupping the front of his trousers. You stare down at the hair dusting his knuckles and the bulge straining against his pants.

The shadows make it seem even larger than usual. Your throat goes dry the longer you stare down at where he fists his length through his trousers.

“Darlin’?” he repeats, drawing your attention back up to his face.

“Oh?” you ask, cheeks heating. “I’m, um…I’m quite comfortable.”

It seems absurd to have such a conversation when your husband’s hand is reaching into his trousers to pull out his cock and fuck you with it, but the nervous tickle in your belly is far from unpleasant.

He’s so careful with you, cognizant that your muscles are already sore and aching from days of being on the road and the abuse Graves put you through. Gentle hands maneuver your legs around his hips and move your hair from your face. Again your belly flips.

Your grunt is involuntary when he first pushes in, walls stretching around the head of his cock. It hasn’t been long enough for the blunt intrusion to be painful, but it’s overwhelming all the same. You wince and grimace through it all.

“Easy does it. You’re alright,” John shushes when you whimper, rough hand cupping your cheek. It sends a thrill down your spine, but doesn’t lessen the intensity.

He stays like that for a time, hovering over you and stroking a thumb over your cheekbone until you relax around his girth, gradually finding your breath again. In and out; one after the other. When he pulls his hand away, it’s to plant his forearms on the ground beside your head and grind his hips forward, taking your breath away.

“Oh Lord,” you wheeze, then brace your hands around his neck.

“You’re doing great, darlin’. Just hold on; I’ve got ya.”

It’s nothing like the times before; your arms link around his neck and your breath goes shallow, hitching with every measured thrust. It’s too much and not enough. You feel windswept and battered, bruises smarting now that you’ve had time to feel them, but still you need more from him.

He works himself into the wet flex of your pussy with slow, heavy thrusts. Taking his time. Not rushing it just yet because though the threat of you being taken from him still looms over his head, he’s sated his bloodlust. His reassurance now comes in the form of your legs spread to receive him and the fat head of his cock fitting snugly in you.

The heels of your boots press firm against the flesh above his buttocks. Taking him this way with your clothes still on feels debaucherous, filthier than usual; like you were so desperate to have your husband inside you, that you couldn’t even be bothered to remove your garments.

He must feel the way that thought heats you up because he rasps, “Need a lil somethin’, love?”

Before you can even answer, he’s reached a hand down and tucked it between your thighs to strum the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex.

“John—”

Your fingernails must dig into the back of his neck because he grunts. Serves him right, you think, digging your nails in all the harder when grinds a knuckle against your clit and you briefly see stars.

You’re splintering down to the root, coming apart in his hands like clay; when he says your name, the darkness fades and for a moment, you’re in the light, a shaft of it haloing your face. Chasing it no matter how fast it runs. A hare in a snare, a shadow captured in the palm of your hand.

It comes fluttering down from somewhere beyond sight. Gasped out in another voice, a truer voice. From the depths of you, true as stone and air.

“I love you.”

Give it time and it’ll come naturally. Now, it comes as a gut punch. Even John stills over you when he hears the words, and you can feel the shudder that runs through him under your fingertips. There’s no time to sit and talk about it though, not with the frenzy that comes over him, blue eyes glazed over by a manic glint.

He braces one hand on the top of your head and surges forward, so rough with you that your teeth clack together, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Say it again,” John growls, leaning down until his mouth is right next to your ear.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Then it hits you. A wall of heat. Your belly rolling and cheeks burning, walls squeezing around John’s cock, tighter with every thrust. You yelp when he lifts himself off you to yank the skirt of your dress up higher and presses his hands to your inner thighs, spreading your legs wider for him. Bullies his cock into your channel even as you try to squeeze him out, pounding into you until the lurid torrent of words spilling out of his mouth go slurred and his release floods into you, his hips slapping against yours until he’s emptied the last of his spend into your womb.

It’s a while before either of you can move after that. Your energy melts into the ground like rainwater, purifying the earth. Maybe life is already germinating beneath you, grass seedlings about to burst from the dirt, flower buds curled up in tight coils until they’re ready to bloom.

Your hands shake when you lift one up to wipe the sweat from your face.

When he finally pulls out of you, the feeling of his come leaking down your inner thighs makes you fussy. You lift your thighs just enough to let him pull your drawers back up before lying back down, no energy left in you to do more than that. You only scrunch your nose a little at the feeling of your combined juices already wetting the gusset.

Time seems to come apart and then piece back together. You roll over onto your side and nestle up against John’s chest, staring up at him wordlessly. His eyes stay shut for some time until he feels your stare on him and they peel open, the color of his irises barely discernible in the flickering light.

“Somethin’ on your mind?” he asks in a tone so devoid of accusation or condemnation that you’re almost thrown by it. He says it like it’s just another day, like something horrible and monumental didn’t just happen.

It takes you a while to find the words. Even when you do, they come out jumbled and disjointed. “How long have you…—when did you find out?”

“‘Bout what happened back East?” he clarifies, blunt as usual.

The question makes you swallow impulsively, anxiety secreting from you again. “Yes.”

John looks up into the dark sky, quiet for a spell. “Not until recently. The arrest warrant drifted across my desk probably around the time Graves first stopped by. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together after that—you showing up in a tizzy around the same time as the warrant was issued. General description matched as well.”

You feel a bit foolish in retrospect, certain that you were getting away with it all this time.

“You know my name.”

“I do.”

“My real name.”

“In a manner of speaking. Got yourself a new last name since then though, didn’t you?”

Your lips pull up at the corners involuntarily. “Yes. I guess so.”

You can almost hear it now. The penultimate note of the overture writhing against convalescence like you might stay this way for a second longer. But it isn’t right to keep feeling the same old pain. At some point, it has to heal.

“Hey,” John says, giving your shoulder a little shake to draw your attention back to him. The look in his eyes is serious. “This is as far as the story goes, alright?”

You stare up at him silently until you nod against his chest.

“You’re my wife. End of story. The rest ain’t anyone’s business but ours.”

Off in the distance, an owl hoots, and its call hits your ear as a distant evocation to sleep. You press one last kiss to his chest before rolling off him, letting him put the fire out before the two of you turn in for the night, and then drawing a blanket over the both of you.

And then, you go to sleep.

#the notif came at such a perfect moment because i was reading this western (not good) and immediately thought #country roads is just so much better #and godddd how you delivered

533 notes · View notes

wolverigrl · 17 hours ago

Text

Baby Bump and Tears

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: I cried. But I think it’s good to end things when they are at their highest peak. Thank you for your support and love for this fanfiction! <3

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, emotional, it's the last part

Enjoy! xoxo

Previous Part

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

As I curl up on the couch beside Hugh, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace and joy that’s almost too much to hold. Our world has shifted, filled with love, excitement, and anticipation.

This baby… our baby.

Just thinking it makes my heart swell. I reach down, almost reflexively, to rest my hand on my belly, feeling a little thrill. It’s so small now, barely even there, but it’s ours. I glance up at Hugh, who’s watching me with that warm, gentle look, as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here, right now.

His hand comes to rest on my knee, warm and steady, and I let out a soft breath, leaning into him, my head against his shoulder. He presses a kiss to my temple, the gentle touch calming and grounding. “You ready?” he asks, his voice soft, almost reverent.

There’s a sparkle in his eyes, and it fills me with so much love I feel like I might burst!

I nod, my throat suddenly tight with emotion as I press play on the first video.

The screen lights up with the familiar sight of Chris’s living room, filled with laughter and warmth. Just seeing my best friend's face instantly makes me smile.

We’ve been close for years, a bond that feels like family, like having an older brother who’s always been there, looking out for me. Sharing this news with him had been something I’d dreamed of, and now, watching it all over again, it feels even more special. I sometimes find it strange that we had a fling together many years ago, but I'm incredibly thankful that it didn't ruin our friendship.

On the screen, Chris and his siblings, Scott, Shana and Carly, are packed onto the couch. The energy is buzzing, with Hugh holding up the phone, trying to wrangle everyone into a “photo.” I can feel the anticipation from that day all over again, the little tremor of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside me. I remember exchanging a glance with Hugh, both of us barely holding back laughter. It felt like we were sharing a precious secret, and we couldn’t wait to let everyone in on it.

“Alright, everyone, say cheese!” my voice comes through the phone, high-pitched and almost breathless with excitement.

Chris leans in close, throwing an arm around me, and his siblings follow suit, all grinning, not knowing what’s about to happen.

“Cheeeeeese!” he says, hamming it up with a goofy grin, and I remember feeling a surge of love and gratitude for him.

For all of them.

And then, just as everyone settles into the “photo”, Hugh blurts it out, his voice full of pride and excitement:

“Y/n’s pregnant!”

The room falls silent for a heartbeat, and then—chaos.

Chris’s face goes blank with shock, his eyes widening as he processes the words, and then, as if a light switches on, his expression shifts to pure joy. He lets out this loud, ecstatic laugh, one that I can feel deep in my bones, and he practically tackles me in a bear hug, squeezing so tight I can barely breathe.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?!” he exclaims, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes, his own shining with disbelief and excitement. “Seriously? This- this is incredible!” He grips my shoulders, his voice softening as he looks at me, his face full of something so pure and real it nearly brings me to tears. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom! I just know it!”

I nod, laughing and crying all at once, the happiness so big it feels like it’s radiating out of me.

“Yes, Chris! It’s real!” I say, my voice catching on the last word, and he wraps me in another hug, his arms around me like a promise that he’ll always be there, always a part of this family.

The rest of his siblings are cheering, reaching out to hug both me and Hugh, their joy spilling over, and I feel surrounded by love, a warmth that makes me feel so incredibly lucky. I catch Hugh’s eye over the happy chaos, and he’s watching me with this quiet awe, his face soft as he sees me embraced by my friends.

As the clip ends, I wipe a tear from my cheek, unable to stop smiling. I turn to Hugh, my voice barely a whisper, full of all the love and gratitude I feel.

“He's the best. He loves us, Hugh. Loves this baby already. I can’t believe we have friends who care this much..”

Hugh’s arm tightens around me, and he brushes his lips over my temple, his own eyes glistening. “You’re right. We’re so lucky to have him… all of them. And I’m so lucky to have you.” His voice drops, filled with a soft intensity that makes my heart race.

“I love you. You’re my everything, and this—us, this family—it’s my whole world.”

I look up at him, our faces close, and he kisses me, slow and deep, his hand resting on my cheek. In that moment, it’s like the whole world fades away, and there’s only us, together, ready to step into this new chapter.

When we pull back, I swipe to the next clip. I can feel my heart starting to pound again, this time with an almost nervous excitement, as I see the screen light up with the faces of Hugh’s family. His mom is sitting beside him on her cozy couch, with Oscar and Ava snuggled up next to me, their expressions already bright with anticipation. Just seeing their faces on the screen makes me feel this deep, comforting warmth.

They’ve embraced me from the start, made me feel like I truly belong, and sharing this news with them had felt like a sacred moment.

In the video, Hugh lifts the phone, settling us all into the frame. I remember holding his hand, feeling its warmth, and taking a deep breath, steadying myself.

“Okay, everyone, say cheese!” he says, grinning as he raises the camera.

“Cheeeese!” everyone says, laughing, leaning in closer to one another. I glance at Hugh, feeling that bubbling excitement again, and he gives me a small nod, encouraging me to go ahead.

“I'm pregnant!” I say, my voice carrying just enough that everyone hears, and then I hold my breath, watching their faces.

Hugh’s mom’s reaction is instant.

Her hand flies to her mouth, her eyes widening with surprise, and then they fill with tears as she lets out a soft, happy laugh. “Oh, darling!” she says, her voice trembling with joy as she reaches over to embrace me. “Sweetheart, that’s… that’s wonderful!” Her voice is filled with so much warmth and love that I feel myself tearing up all over again, and I hug her tightly, feeling truly, deeply welcomed.

Oscar is smiling, trying to keep his composure, but I can see the pride in his eyes as he looks at Hugh. He reaches out to hug him tightly. “Congrats, Dad! I’m really happy for you too!” he says with a steady voice which is filled with unspoken love.

And then Ava practically launches herself into my arms, her face shining with excitement. “I’m gonna be a big sister!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck and holding me so tight I feel her heart pounding against mine.

“Yes, you are, Ava!” I laugh, hugging her back just as tightly, feeling this overwhelming sense of love and connection. This is our family, and they’re already embracing this baby as one of their own.

I blink back the tears that are gathering in my eyes in the present, wiping them away again as Hugh reaches out to hold my hand. “They were so happy..” I murmur, my voice trembling with emotion. “They really, truly love us..”

He squeezes my hand, his voice soft but steady as he says, “Of course they do, baby. You’re their family. And this baby will be so loved.” He pauses, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

“Just like you.”

The last clip is the one I’ve been holding onto, the one that feels the most personal, the most precious. It’s the video of my mom and my stepdad, Brian, whom I’ve always called “Dad”. He’s been there for me through everything, a constant, steady presence. I knew this news would mean everything to him, and to my mom, but there was something about calling him “Granddad” that felt so special and so right.

I tap play, and there we are, gathered around their kitchen table, just as we’d done so many times.

The comforting smell of my mom’s cooking, the warmth of their home, it all floods back to me. Hugh and I had been sitting across from them, exchanging little glances, both of us barely holding back our excitement.

“Alright, let’s get a picture together!” I say, lifting the camera as if it’s just another ordinary family snapshot.

They lean in, smiling, unsuspecting, and I feel my heart pound as I look at them, so full of love and warmth. Finally, I say it, my voice soft but clear: “We’re having a baby.”

For a second, they’re silent.

My mom’s hand goes to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears as she looks from me to Hugh, and then she lets out a small, joyful laugh, her face lighting up. “Oh, my baby… this is… this is everything!” She leans forward, pulling me into her arms, her voice trembling as she whispers, “I’m so happy for you!”

I sink into my mom’s embrace, feeling her arms around me, warm and steady, like they’ve always been.

She holds me tight, not letting go, and I can hear the emotion in her breathing, the little tremble that says more than words could ever say. She finally pulls back to look at me, her hands cupping my face, her eyes shining with the same love she’s given me all my life.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispers, her voice so full of pride and tenderness that it makes my chest ache. “You’re going to be an incredible mother. I knew it the first day you held your baby cousin! You have so much love to give. And Hugh…” She glances at him, her smile soft and full of approval. “Thank you. I see how you look at her—you’ve always looked at her like she’s the most important thing in the world.”

Hugh reaches over, taking my mom’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, his own eyes misty.

“Thank you, Barb, really. I don’t even have words..” he says quietly. “I promise I’ll love her and this baby with everything I have.”

And then, Brian just stares at me, his face unreadable at first, and then, like the emotions are too big to contain, he lets out a breathy laugh and reaches for me, pulling me into his arms and kissing my forehead.

“Oh, my little girl..” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. I can feel him trembling slightly, a side of him I rarely see. “I can’t believe it… I couldn’t be prouder, sweetheart. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and now you’re bringing another beautiful soul into this world.” He leans back, blinking a few times as he fights back tears. I let out a shaky laugh and look at him lovingly. “You're gonna be a grandpa and you will be just as good as you are as a father.”

His tears broke like a dam and he began to chuckle. Brian pulled my mom and Hugh into our arms.

I see my dad looking over at Hugh with a warmth that’s unmistakable. “Thank you, Hugh. You are a good man.”

In the present, watching this clip play out, I can’t stop the tears from streaming down my face again. I feel Hugh’s arm wrap around me even tighter, holding me close as I quietly wipe my cheeks, laughing softly at my own emotions.

“He’s… he’s been my dad my whole life, and seeing him like that, it just makes everything feel so real. They’re all going to be such incredible grandparents!”

Hugh’s hand moves to cradle my cheek, turning me gently so I’m looking right at him. “You’re everything to them, y/n. And to me. They’re so proud of you… and I’m proud of you too. I can’t wait to see you as a mother. I know you’re gonna be amazing.”

I can barely speak, my heart so full that words feel inadequate. I reach up to touch his face, my fingers grazing his beard as I take in every detail, the warmth in his eyes, the gentle curve of his lips, the depth of love there that’s just for me.

“I’m so happy and thankful you’re by my side, Hugh. I don’t think I could do this with anyone else.”

We both lean in, and our lips meet in a slow, tender kiss, one that says all the things we don’t need to say out loud—the love, the promises, the future we’re building together. As we pull back, he rests his forehead against mine, a soft smile on his face.

“You, me, Oscar, Ava and this little one.” he murmurs, resting a hand gently on my stomach. “Our family. I’m so ready for this.”

I take a deep, shuddering breath, letting myself savor this feeling. It’s overwhelming but beautiful, and I know that as long as I have Hugh, our family and friends by our side, everything will be okay. It’s all more than I could have ever dreamed of.

Finally, I close the video app, locking my phone and setting it aside, then turn to Hugh again, feeling like I’m holding my whole heart in my hands as I look at him.

“We’re so blessed..” I whisper, the words spilling out in a soft, heartfelt murmur. “I don’t know how we got so lucky, but I’m so, so grateful.”

He pulls me into his arms, holding me as if he’ll never let go.

Our life, our love, this baby—it’s all a gift, one I’ll cherish with everything I have.

In this moment, I know that our future is going to be beautiful. And I’m ready for every single step.

---

Later that evening, with Hugh’s arms still wrapped around me, I glance at my phone and the idea hits me. The clips—each precious moment of joy, shock, and laughter from our family and friends. I can already imagine how special it would be to share this journey with everyone who has supported us. “What if we… posted it?” I ask, looking up at Hugh with a little smile.

He chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “You think the world’s ready for it?”

“Only one way to find out!” I say, excitement bubbling in my chest.

“We’ll show them how fun this journey has been from the very beginning. Plus, you know they’d find out anyway.”

With a grin, I start piecing together the clips, feeling a wave of happiness wash over me with each reaction we captured. Chris’s delighted laughter, Hugh’s mom’s joyful tears, and my own parent’s emotional embrace—they all blend into a beautiful, joyful montage that feels like a celebration of everything we’re about to embark on. I add some soft music and finish it with a little clip of me and Hugh laughing in our living room, the camera turning to show his hand resting protectively on my belly. I feel a soft, fluttery nervousness in my chest as I write the caption:

>>y/n instagram: When you’ve got the best family and friends to help you share the biggest news of your life… Baby Jackman is already so loved💕 Get ready, world—this little one’s going to have the coolest, funniest aunts, uncles, and grandparents around!😎❤️<<

Hugh chuckles as I hit post, and almost instantly, the notifications start flooding in. Friends, fans, and family—everyone’s reaction lights up my screen, and each new comment makes me smile even wider.

Right at the top of the comments, I spot Ryan's unmistakable reply:

>>vancityreynolds: Finally, someone to keep Hugh in line. Congrats on creating a future little Wolverine… or at least a very hairy child.<<

Hugh bursts into laughter beside me, shaking his head. “Of course he’d say that!”

I scroll down, spotting even more replies:

>>chrisevans: Counting down the days until I’m officially the cool uncle. So, so happy for you both!!!❤️<<

>>zendaya: I can already tell this kid’s going to have the best sense of humor. Congrats, you two!😍<<

>>therock: Hugh, let me know when the little one’s ready for some ‘Baby’s First Workout’ tip🤪 Much love to you both!❤️<<

>>blakelively: Congrats babes! Let me know if you need tips on handling an overexcited Ryan😂❤️<<

Fan comments start rolling in too, filling up with heart emojis, funny congratulations, and even more excitement about “Baby Jackman.”

And as the comments keep pouring in, I can’t stop smiling. Here we are, surrounded by love, joy, and humor from the people closest to us—and even from a few who like to tease us along the way.

This is everything I could have dreamed of and more..

The End.

---

Tags:

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01 @inlovewithcharmers @gaulty74 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @sylviavf @bethexo07 @rachb629 @chronicallybubbly @marvelgirlie-4 @khxna

#hugh jackman #wolverine #marvel #hugh jackman x you #x men #hugh #jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman imagines #fluff #baby #fem reader #pregnancy #pregnant #hugh jackedman #logan howlett

81 notes · View notes

honeybelleee · 11 hours ago

Text

letter of the heart | s.jy

summary - when y/n finds a love letter at her locker, she has no idea who it's from, so she asks her best friend, jake, for help with what to say. jake, being the good friend he is, jumps in-giving advice, joking around, and even offering to "practice" her responses

pairings - jake x fem!reader

genre - highschool au, bestfriends to lovers, fluff

warning - jake’s a cute idiot <3

belle’s note - this is a continuation from @levandright’s work, make sure to read it first before reading mine <3

769 wc ! happy early birthday jake masterlist

after the day at lunch when you teased jake about knowing the letter’s author, the days that follow become a playful back-and-forth. jake is sure you’ve figured it out, but every time he works up the courage to confess, you give him a flirty look or make a teasing comment that throws him off completely.

one afternoon, as you and jake study together in the library, you casually slide the letter across the table. “so, jake, do you think my secret admirer has noticed that i haven’t written back?” you ask, feigning innocence.

jake blushes and stammers, trying to play it cool. “uh, well, maybe they’re, you know… waiting. for you to notice.”

you smile slyly. “is that what you’d do?”

jake nearly chokes. “i—i mean, i don’t know. probably?”

other moments leave him just as flustered. during lunch, you read a line aloud and tease, “you make me believe in all the little things that make life beautiful. isn’t that sweet?” jake almost spills his drink, his laugh a little too forced. “oh, uh, yeah… really sweet.” you lean in, eyes sparkling. “if it were you, how would you want me to respond?” his blush deepens. “uh… maybe something simple… like, ‘thanks, that means a lot?’” you pat his arm, pretending to think it over. “hmm. or maybe i should say, ‘i’d love to know more about these little things.’ just to keep him guessing.”

each teasing remark leaves jake in a fresh shade of red, more flustered and more convinced that you know. but you never say it outright, leaving him caught in an endless loop of nerves and excitement.

finally, you decide to end his suffering. that evening, you sit down and write jake a letter of your own. you keep it simple but sweet.

dear jake,

every time you help me with “advice” about my secret admirer’s letter, i can’t help but feel like you know a little too much about how they feel. so, here’s my reply to that mysterious person who said i made their world brighter.

you’ve brightened mine too. i hope you’ll meet me by the school gate tomorrow afternoon so i can finally say this in person.

much love,

y/n

the next day, jake is jittery with nerves. when he finds the note tucked into his bag, he reads it once, twice, and then once more, his heart thundering. you… feel the same? his mind races as he realizes this isn’t one-sided, and he can barely hold in his excitement. he spends the rest of the day watching the clock, ready to run to the gate as soon as the last bell rings.

after school, you’re walking toward the gate when you hear footsteps behind you. before you can turn around, jake is there, slightly out of breath, clutching your letter in his hand.

“y/n,” he blurts out, his voice rushed and filled with nervous energy. “i-i need to tell you something. i wrote the first letter. i didn’t mean for you to find it, but then you did, and i was just so nervous, and then you kept bringing it up, and i thought maybe you knew, but you never said anything, so i didn’t say anything, and—”

you can’t help but smile, watching him ramble on in his adorable, flustered state.

“jake,” you interrupt gently, stepping closer.

he doesn’t stop. “and then, i didn’t know if you’d be mad or think it was weird, and i was scared you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore, and—”

you place a finger on his lips, stopping him in his tracks. “jake,” you say, a teasing glint in your eye. “you talk too much.”

then, before he can say another word, you lean up and kiss him softly on the lips, silencing him completely. when you pull back, you see jake staring at you, wide-eyed, his face turning as red as a tomato.

for a moment, he’s speechless, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to process what just happened. then, he lets out a shy, breathless laugh. “so… you’re not mad?”

you laugh, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “mad? jake, i think i might’ve been waiting for you to tell me all along.”

he grins, his nervousness finally melting away. “well i’m glad you found the letter then.”

you both walk home together, hands brushing until jake shyly takes yours, his cheeks still pink but his smile bright and wide. the teasing and misunderstandings are finally over, leaving just the two of you and a new, sweet beginning.

jake will hv an amazing bday if u like/comment/reblog!

perm taglist - @ancnymcnzjy @june19190 @wiccangirl29 @shjsnjkj @who-tf-soddhi

©honeybelleee on tumblr!

83 notes · View notes

evilslushy · 16 hours ago

Note

would you be open to doing bf headcanons for hamzah? they could be sfw and nsfw or just sfw. love ur writing :). <3

BF Headcanons _♡

SFW

i’m a very opinionated person, so asking me about my hamzah headcanons is a FIELD DAY for me

I’ve always said this but I feel like hamzah (in the beginning of the relationship) is very shy? Not in the way of “ignore any possible interaction between you and him” but more of a “ignores eye contact after a kiss” or “blushes when you call him a nickname for the first time”

He acts like he hates when you baby him but behind closed doors… BIGGEST BABY EVERRRR

It took him a while to hold your hand in public, not because he's embarrassed but again because he gets too flustered when you run your thumb up and down against the back of his hand,,, or when you play with his hands in general.

I MENTIONED THIS BEFORE IN FIC BUT HAMZAH IS AN EAR BLUSHER AND HE'S SO CUTE WAA

If you get on his lap and play with his hair while talking about random stuff, and you kiss him out of nowhere HE’LL SMILE THIS BIG SMILE AND COVER HIS EARS IM CRYINGGGGG HES SO CUTE

Speaking of kissing lololol

Hamzah’s kisses are SENSUAL, he takes his time and really makes sure you feel his love

Contrary to popular belief i feel like if you’re with hamzah for long enough his love language becomes physical touch

And i dont say that and mean ONLY kisses but hes such a cuddly person. HE NEEDS THAT TLC HES A BIG BOY

BUT. Big but! He is not the type of person to show affection publicly IM SORRYYY

Holding hands and hugging is fine but i think more intimate things he’d rather do in private…

Not because hes embarrassed as i said, he gets shy at other people perceiving that version of him especially since he isn’t ‘acting’ or ‘joking’

Also he feels like only you deserve to see him like this hehehe

His love language is quality time. Like actually.

His head on your chest, playing stardew valley on his ipad. You watching TV or reading while playing with his curls.

Another form of this is that he’ll ask you to be him and martins cameraman just to have you there with him

Or he’ll ask if you want to try a new coffee shop that opened down the street

He’s a man that likes to be around you 24/7

ALSO ALSO ALSO OMG OMG

HE WOULD SO FORCE YOU TO DO BACKGROUND VOCALS FOR SOME OF HIS MUSIC LIKE THE RAPPERS HE LIKES LMFAO

I dont wanna go on too long with this but one thing is for sure

You’re his princess for REAL treats you like ROYALTY lol

If you guys get into an argument. Even if you’re wrong, he ends up apologizing

“I shouldn’t have let it boil over to this anyway.”

10/10 boyfriend. Totally recommend.

NSFW

SISTA. I HAVE NEVER EVER THOUGHT I’D HAVE THE PLATFORM TO SHARE THESE THOUGHTS BUT I HAVE TO MAKE SURE YALL UNDERSTAND ONE THING!!!!

Hamzah is NAWT a boob or ass guy. HE LIKES BOTH EQUALLY. (He is secretly is ass-leaning tho LMFAO)

This is so funny but he totally is the type to smack your ass randomly when he walks by.

Do you get mad? Yes. Do you tell him to stop it? Yes. Does he stop? No. Do you secretly think it's kinda…? WELL YESSS

TWO WORDS. Boob squeezer.

I think from what we can understand so far. is that Hamzah is the handsy man. HIS HANDS ALWAYS SOMEWHERE LOL

sex drive is for sure high. and when i say high… ITS HIGHHH

Contrary to popular belief AGAIN.

Hamzah doesn’t partake in dirty talk much… not that he doesn't like it—he just wouldn’t in my opinion? It's not that he wouldn’t talk at all, but he is more of a heavy breathing, whimpering, moaning guy—pretty much more noises than actual words

Though as i said, he would talk sometimes, especially if he’s feeling really good, or his stamina is lasting him longer than he thought… he starts getting a little cocky

On the topic of dirty talk, if he does talk, 99.9% of it would be praising, i don't see him enjoying degrading unless you ask him to.. but he’ll be a little awkward about it LMFAOOO

Something like: “fuck, baby you’re taking me so good.”

(Unironically starts actually using good girl after a while of making it a joke btw)

Someone sent a request a few days ago and said “i feel like hamzah has a breeding kink” and why was i gagged?! NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT BUT YES, i feel like hes more into the thought filling u with *** then the thought of impregnating you if that makes any sense

Im talking too much… digital footprint go hard.

(A/N): this isnt proofread, i kinda braindumped but i had fun doing this!! Thank u anon for the request I HOPE U LOVE THIS CUTIE MWAAAAHH

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah fluff #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #deer’s reqs!#hamzah smut #hamzah the fantastic

67 notes · View notes

funnyinsanegirl · 2 days ago

Text

Second Chances [Touya Todoroki x Reader]

˙⋆✮ That's So True ✮⋆˙

"Looking into big blue eyes. Did it just to hurt me, make me cry Smiling through it all, yeah, that's my life."

even villains deserve a lil redemption

Dabi x F. Reader

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ༄˖°𓂃ﾟ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

WC: 1398

I'm sat on my thrifted couch by the window as rain softly beats against the glass. I press play on the voicemail for what feels like the millionth time, the words already burned into my memory, but still, I can’t help myself. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe hearing it again will change something.

"Y/N, please come back. What I did was wrong, it’s been months... I can’t lose you. The league misses you, too. Toga won't shut her damn mouth about you. Fuck, I’m so drunk right now... I love you. I know I didn’t say it often, but—"

The sound of Shigaraki’s raspy voice cuts through, sharp and impatient. "What are you yapping about?" he snarls. "We’ve got shit to do, wrap it up."

Dabi’s voice stumbles back in, slurred. "Bye, Y/N. I have to get a new burner soon- I’ll try calling again. Fuck, I know you won’t pick up. You haven’t the last dozen times but I’ll try." The message ends with a quiet beep.

It’s been three months since that call. And by then, I’d already been gone for seven. Seven months since the night I left him—the night I left all of them behind. His betrayal, his lies... it was too much. It’s been almost a year since I stepped away from the league, from the chaos, from the life that almost consumed me and swallowed me whole. A year since I walked out and didn’t look back.

I’m lucky, though. So stupidly lucky. My quiet, lowkey role in the league made slipping away easy, there were no repercussions or police coming after me every time I stepped foot outside. I’ve kept off the radar, built a new life for myself—a quiet life. I work at a flower shop now, which is insanely different than working as a villain for Shigaraki and the League of Villains, and it smells a lot better too. I’ve even gotten myself a little apartment on the edge of town, cozy, with a window that overlooks a quiet street, and roommate, which is actually just a little calico kitty that I named Cupcakes.

I’ve found peace here. Real peace. But the voicemail keeps pulling at me like a thread that came loose on a favorite sweater, both painful circumstances. And no matter how hard I try to ignore it, I know Dabi’s voice will haunt me forever if I don't talk to him at least one more time, and attempt to get better closure than some shitty drunk voicemail.

I text Giran, the broker that supplies the league with everything, including burner phones. Dabi stopped calling recently, so I assumed he lost my number with the last burner, because knowing him, he wouldn't stop calling just to give me space.

Me: Hi Giran! It's Y/N, I know we haven't talked in a while, but I was wondering if you know Dabi's current burner phone #? 😇

He gets back to me almost immediately.

Giran: Y/N!! So good to hear from you, kid, thought you fell off the planet lmao. And yea I can send the number. Giran: ###-###-####

He sends me the number, and I dial it immediately, my hands trembling. After a few rings, Dabi picks up, his voice sounding annoyed. "Who’s this? And how’d you get this number?"

"Hey, uhm... it’s me, Y/N."

"Y/N?" His tone softens, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight. What’s up?"

I hesitate for a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to talk... are you busy?" I can hear a lot of voices in the background—probably everyone from the League. "If you’re tied up, it’s fine. It’s nothing important."

"Never too busy for you, doll." His voice shifts, and I hear him step away from the noise, the background chatter fading as he walks off.

The noise in the background slowly fades as he steps away, and I imagine him walking down a hallway, his boots hitting the floor with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The sounds of his breathing and the soft hum of his movements are the only things I can hear now. It’s strange, this feeling of distance and closeness at the same time.

“Alright, I’m all yours,” Dabi says, his voice rough but clear now, like he’s giving me his full attention. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

I swallow hard, staring at the rain outside, the droplets running down the glass, blurring everything in sight. My heart races in my chest, a million thoughts running through my head, none of them making sense. “I don’t know,” I admit, running a hand through my h/c hair. “I guess... I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, I figured that.” He lets out a soft chuckle, though it sounds a little strained. “You’ve been gone for a while. Thought you were never gonna reach out.”

“I didn’t think I would either,” I reply quietly. “But... I keep listening to that last voicemail you left. Over and over again. I just... I couldn’t stop myself.”

There’s another long pause, and I can almost hear the shift in his posture. Maybe he’s rubbing his face, or clenching his jaw. I wouldn’t be surprised. Dabi’s never been one for easy emotions. “Shit,” he mutters, sounding like he’s been through too much to deal with this. “I shouldn’t have left that message. I meant what I said but I wish I said it better, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

"It's okay. I liked it." I say softly.

"Really?" He asks, his voice almost in disbelief at me admitting that I enjoy his shitty drunk voicemail despite everything.

“Yeah,” I answer quietly, feeling the weight of the words settle between us. “It wasn't like you at all- guess the liquid courage helped a lil, huh?" I laugh dryly, "It was real sweet its own way. I could tell you meant it, even if you were drunk n didn’t know how to say it.”

Dabi’s silence on the other end feels heavier now. I can almost picture him—frowning, leaning against a wall, trying to collect himself. "Fuck," he mutters after a moment, voice low. "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that. But... I'm glad you did."

“I’ve been avoiding it,” I admit, my fingers tightening around my phone. "Avoiding you, avoiding everything. But I can’t keep running forever."

Dabi lets out a long exhale, like a weight’s been lifted from his chest. "I get it. I know you had your reasons for leaving, and I don’t blame you for it. I fucked up." His voice drops a little. "But if I’m being honest... I’ve missed you, Y/N. More than I ever thought I would."

My heart skips a beat. It’s strange to hear him speak so plainly, without the usual sharpness in his voice. "I’ve missed you too," I whisper before I can stop myself. The confession catches me off guard, and I quickly add, "But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to just jump back into everything. Things are... complicated."

"I know," Dabi replies, quieter now, as if he’s absorbing my words. "I’m not asking you to. I’m just... saying that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. If you want me to prove it, I’ll prove it."

There’s something in his voice now that feels different, a promise without needing the words. A subtle shift in how he speaks to me, less like the cocky villain and more like a person who’s afraid of losing something he doesn’t deserve.

I stare out the window at the rain, a tightness in my chest as I let the quiet wash over me. I know I can’t go back to the way things were, but maybe—just maybe—I can start a new chapter with him, one where we’re both trying, even if we don’t have all the answers.

“I don’t know how I feel yet,” I say finally, voice soft but steady. “But... maybe we can try again. Slowly.”

Dabi’s voice is quieter now, but there's an undeniable relief in it. "That’s all I need. A chance. We can take it slow."

I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes as I listen to the steady rain and his steady breathing on the other end of the line. For the first time in a long while, the knot in my chest begins to loosen. There’s no going back to what we were before, but maybe there’s still a chance for something else.

"Alright," I whisper, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite myself. "Let’s see where this goes."

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ༄˖°𓂃ﾟ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

#dabi #boku no hero academia #mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #league of villains #shigaraki #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #lov x reader #lov mha #touya x reader

55 notes · View notes

nwjnsloona · 5 hours ago

Text

if the world was ending (i’d wanna be next to you)

kang haerin x f!reader

synopsis: what would you do if the world was ending?

word count: 1k

tags: angst, fluff in a way??, world end au, mentions of other newjeans members but this is haeyn centric, also 6th member ig

haerin found out the world was ending on a tuesday.

she had just left her local coffee shop, the bell jingling behind her, when her phone rang.

that must be yn, she thought, picking up the call without much thought.

“yn-“

“i love you.” she heard you say over the phone, your voice shaking as you spoke.

“is everything okay?” haerin asked, worry evident in her voice.

“can you come over? quickly.” you said in the same tone as before.

“of course. but why?”

“the world is ending.”

“oh. i’ll be right there, i love you.”

“i love you too.”

you heard the beep of the phone as haerin hung up and you slid down the wall, staring at the floor blankly as you cupped your face in your hands.

the tv droned on in the background, and you could just about make out some more information about the exact details of how the world would be destroyed over the constant train of your thoughts. you decided that sitting around wasn’t a very good use of your last moments, so you picked up your phone again and called minji.

she picked up almost immediately, “i guess you’ve heard.”

“i… have. are you with hanni?”

“yeah, hanni and dani are both here.”

“have you called hyein yet?”

“dani did.”

“what did she say?”

“uhhh…” you heard some muffled voices on the other end. “she’s still on the phone now.”

“do you think me and haerin can make it there if we drive?”

“literally everyone’s driving right now. there’s no chance.”

there was a pause, and though you couldn’t see minji’s face, you knew what expression she was making.

“minji,” you whispered, like it was a secret. “i’m scared.”

“me too.” she confessed. “i’ll- i’ll miss you.”

“i’ll miss you too.“ you let out a stifled sob as you let it sink in— the world was ending, and you were all going to die.

you didn’t want to die. you and haerin had finally moved out of the dorms into your own apartment, and that was recently.

it was just kind of… unbelievable that this morning was the last morning you would ever spend together. and this afternoon was the last afternoon before you died.

you found some solace in the fact that today was your off day and you didn’t have any schedules.

the door unlocked with a click as haerin rushed in, hurriedly taking her shoes off and running over to you. she held your face gently in her hands, softly tracing circles with her thumb.

“it’s going to be okay.” she said, her eyes meeting yours.

“but what about our future together?” you looked up at her, your eyes glistening. “what about us?”

her arms wrapped around you, and you breathed in her scent. she smelled just like she usually did— floral perfume and jasmine shampoo, and you wondered how this could be so normal when everything else seemed to be tipped upside down.

a tear slipped down your cheek as minji’s voice sounded from your phone.

“hello? yn? are you there?”

“minji unnie!” haerin exclaimed.

“haerin? are you at yours now?”

“no, i’m with hyein.”

“what?”

“i’m kidding, how would i be using yn’s phone in america?”

“i don’t know,” minji sighed. then, in a smaller voice, she said “i’m glad you’re safe, haerinnie.”

“you too, unnie.”

there was a long pause, where all three of you tried to take in each other’s presence for the last time. then, minji spoke.

“i’m… going to hang up now. i love you.”

something about it seemed so final, but at the same time, you couldn’t imagine that tomorrow, you wouldn’t wake up and call minji because you were late for pick up time and she wouldn’t sigh and tell the manager that they would have to wait— that tomorrow, you wouldn’t wake up at all.

“i love you too!” haerin replied, and you repeated her words.

the three beeps sounded signifying the end of the call, and that was that.

“the last time we ever talk to minji,” you said, bitterness seeping into your tone.

“it feels so… surreal.”

haerin stared blankly at the wall.

“how are you so calm right now?”

“i mean, if these are my last moments on earth, i want to spend them happy, with you.”

you stopped, contemplating her words. then, you reached your arms out, and haerin smiled, rushing into your arms.

“you know all the things we put off saying we’ll do them another time?”

“yeah?”

“well we can’t do them another time, so let’s do them now.”

the next few hours were spent doing things you loved— baking cookies, and making a cake for your anniversary which had passed a few days ago. you ate them all, not caring about the restrictive diet your company had set. you drew each other, laughing at the end result, and looked through your camera rolls, reminiscing the past.

(“we were so young back then,” you smiled, looking at a selfie all of newjeans had taken.

“i know! we look like babies.”

haerin scrolled to the next picture— “wait! you’re not allowed to see that!” she said, hurriedly changing the picture again.

“i wanna see!” you complained, reaching for her phone. she held it up out of your grasp, but you had a trick up your sleeve.

“HEY!” she yelled between laughter. “STOP- STOP TICKLING ME!”

“give me your phone.”)

finally, you both crawled into bed— haerin lay on top of you, resting her head onf your chest.

“i love you.” you said, smiling. you felt your eyes fill up with tears. “let’s meet in the next life.” it felt so final, like it was the end, the last time you would ever say it.

“i love you too.” she looked up at you, a singular teardrop rolling down her cheek.

and despite the fact the world was falling apart, you felt whole.

a/n: sorry the pacing is AWFUL i write all my fics like five words at a time 10 mins before sleep

#newjeans #newjeans x reader #haerin #kang haerin #kang haerin x reader #haerin x reader #newjeans haerin

29 notes · View notes

amialunatic · 23 hours ago

Note

Heyyy! I’d love to see some dom!sam head canons, or maybe an nsfw alphabet if you’re interested in writing one!

ok I know this is late but I was just a tad nervous about actually writing hehe.

This is my first writing in general. So yeah, idk how good it is, but I hope you enjoy it !!

NSFW Alphabets

Sam Winchester (Season 1-6. With the exception of demon blood, and soulless Sam)

If anyone likes any of the particular scenarios, give me a request. I could write more about them.

Words: 1k

Warning: nsfw. Minors DNI.

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

Normally, very sweet. Cuddling you, gently caressing you where he was rough with you. Brushing the marks he left on you, treating you like a precious jewel. (I plan to write another one for soul-less Sam because I need more exposure to him. I'm in S6 rn)

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

Everywhere, but somehow it feels like Sam would love your neck. Gently nipping with his teeth, drawing out your gasps. He is very modest, so he doesn’t admit to having any favorite body parts of his. (Mine is his back and chest though, omfg I die)

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

Inside you (protected of course), even though he is scared of having kids and a family, thus passing down his toxic family dynamics, he secretly loves the idea of breeding you.

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

He sometimes hates that he loves pain. It makes him feel like the devil he believes he is. So he tries to keep that side inside himself. Sometimes, you can push past his limits and set free the untamed Sam and that ends up being the most mind-blowing experience you have had.

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

He knows enough and guides you through it gently. Rough actions, gentle words.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Different moods, different positions. We know the man has different personalities. If he is feeling soft, you straddling and riding him with intense eye contact. If he is feeling more rage-y, from behind. OR with your legs on his shoulder, deep and intense yet extremely personal. He can see you underneath him, your eyes pleading and barely open with all the pleasure you’re in.

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

Oh no. He is serious. A lot of teasing, but not goofy. It’s more condescending like, “oh you like it? I thought you were above this. I thought you didn’t want this. Your body says otherwise sweetheart. “

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

Yeah he is groomed. Clean and trimmed.

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

Very intimate. Romantic, but not sweet. But he knows you like it like that.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he is alone during hunts and misses you, he imagines you. If he is able to, he calls you. If not, he gets himself off in the shower, cascaded in warm water, eyes closed, imagining your body and your pleading and needy voice.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage- The man loves this. You under his control.

Voyeurism- He gets off from watching you in pleasure. Either self masturbation or toys, whatever it is, he loves the moans and gasps and his name emerging from your lips as you tip off the high.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed for sure. Kitchen counter. Shower.

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

Sounds, and your eyes.

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

Hurt you. You guys can be rough which is why you have a safe word. He retreats and becomes his gentle self if he hears so much as a whisper of that word.

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

He loves to give. But he loves to receive too. Both are intense. When he is eating you out, nothing can stop him. He is fully into it, determined to draw out the most sinful moans from you. He doesn't stop until you’re a shaking stammering mess underneath him.

And when he is receiving, he has to hold himself back from slamming too hard. He runs his fingers across your full cheek and stretched lips slowly coaxing you gently to relax. “It’s okay baby, open up. I know you can take it. You look so beautiful, those lips wrapped around me taking me so well.“

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

Switching between both. One minute he is slow and sensual and slowly dragging his cock inside you. The next moment, he can’t resist himself from slamming hard as he hears your gasps. Tries not to be rough, but sometimes the restricted rage and force slip through and he can’t control it.

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

Not a fan. He likes it to be detailed and loves to take his time breaking you down to your bare bones until you’re nothing but blissfully fucked out. But he also lets you ride his thighs when you’re needy, even if he is working.

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

Yeah if you want to. Personally, he likes it traditional, he never gets bored of the basics with you. But if you propose something, he will try it out to please you.

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

Extreme stamina. Believe me, this man can keep going as long as you need him to.

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

He loves indulging you. If you like toys, he buys you toys. Secretly he likes to see you overstimulated and he is just watching from across the room, enjoying your pleasure like his.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases you but is very kind. Begging from you, one sincere plea and he will let you cum. But you liked to be teased and so he does it.

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

Not really loud. Grunts and low groans are the things you get. Heavy breaths and strings of curses when he is drawing out his and your orgasms so that you can release from the high slowly.

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

He is not super horny. But when he is, you are done for. You probably would need to rest a couple of hours to recover from it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Not that quick. He carries you and gets into the shower, slowly washing away the remains and calming you down. Then gives you something to eat before sleeping.

#spn #supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester smut #jared padalecki

38 notes · View notes

sunsbleeding · 1 day ago

Text

“I think I’ll just stay with her till I get my birthday presents”, she laughs, sounding more pig than human. I nod along as she continues, “she such a freak she just stares at the wall all day”, I bite my tongue, because saying the wrong thing would get her all despondent and quiet. Agree or be ignored, just like the shadow of my mother and her silent treatments.

But the thing is I used to just stare at the wall all day too, for whole weeks actually. I’d be so depressed that the heaviness in my stomach would anchor me to my bedspread; nothing to do but watch the sun change shape over the walls as it sank. I did this in high school a few months before the hazy night my life was supposed to end. The EMTs refused to let me choose though. Stuffed my soul back in my body and wiped vomit off my face and chest with those cheap paper towels you usually only find in gas station bathrooms.

When we talked ill of her girlfriend I should have said “well you’re using her, you’re manipulating her, you don’t respect her boundaries, you date a wizard created by a terf in your head, and to top it all off you’re in love with a man that lives in LA, for God sakes you write poetry about him for her to see (and laugh when it’s the only poem she doesn’t heart), you make out with me and tell me not to tell her, you can keep her on a leash if she doesn’t know you lie”

So you go, scurry on putrid rat and tell MY stories to your “friends” but boy do I have tales to tell about you, and none of them are even remotely funny or interesting or complex, because you are not any of those things. The stories are just snippets of a girl who was and always will be a boring beige wall of a person, spineless, dreamless, talentless and going nowhere bright. Couldn’t even sign up for university classes properly my ass, you’re just too lazy with a lack of comprehension or a knack for learning about anything that matters. I went through all of university without the money for therapy, without meds for my anxiety or depression, or a diagnosis for my ADHD. You have all the help in the world afforded to you and you still choose to do nothing with your life. Pathetic. You wouldn’t have enough time to read fan fiction anyways so it’s better you just study that, since it’s the only thing you’re remotely good at.

You tell them about your addict, child molested, depressed ex-best friend, who’s seen the world, experienced so much life, built a dream into something tangible, made money you took full advantage of, finished university (it’s not for everyone and that’s okay but let’s be honest you’d rather read smut some horny weirdo on the internet made up than learn about anything real, meaningful or socially relevant).

This all has taught me that I have real friends and supporters in my circle, I have people that’ll sit with me in the bathroom while I’m having a panic attacks. Celebrate being even five days clean. Ask me if I’m okay if I look spaced out (dissociating is something I deal with).

Because of this I remembered I have passions, and taste, and empathy (the word you skipped when you were reading the dictionary). I’ll tell them about you, a waste of space nobody who feeds off the energies of the pretty or cool or interesting girls around her because she hasn’t got a thing going for herself. I have pity for the things you went through but you can only use your trauma as an excuse to be a bad person for so long…. You are a mooch, a liar, a dull woman with the media literacy of an incel and the brainpower of a rock. (Maybe you did do too many whippets in LA smh)

Having a best friend is awesome, having any type of relationship with a delusional psycho narcissist is something I’m done with.

#I guess I’m not quite done being mad #text #journal #narcissistic personality disorder #is what she has #not a people pleaser…..

21 notes · View notes

georgiapeach30513 · 13 hours ago

Note

Now Jen…I LOVE your blog and your posts but I respectfully disagree about your Steve comments. Again, I use the word respectfully, because I don’t want you or your other followers to take it too seriously. But I think it needs to be said.

First of all, Bucky fans love to make virtually everything about him, especially when it comes to Steve. Please do not at me, Bucky fans never want to admit this but some of you even bleed onto the actors and like to make things about SS when it’s about CE. Think about it. Why do these two people always get compared?? Maybe because it’s a bunch of Steve Bucky fans who can’t get over it and don’t want to. And then it becomes competition and Bucky/SS fans need to make it a sticking point into virtually everything and I’m TIRED. CE fans tend to get upset because they keep having to defend Chris doing random movies instead of doing or following what Sebastian is doing and I think some of them are tired too. Or maybe I’m just projecting.

Steve in the movies did everything for this guy and he also does everything for everyone else. But the moment he does something for himself WW3 happens. I’ll agree that the ending for his arc should have been different because the endgame storyline left too many questions and as a Steve fan I find it extremely annoying. But Why is it his duty to be his friend’s butt buddy forever and always? How come Bucky fans can’t ever seem to let go? And they’re fine when Steve world revolves around him but when they have to deal with Steve being his own person and thinking about his own life for once it’s verboten. I don’t think Bucky is perfect in the slightest and mostly he annoyed me 10 fold in the falcon show. But I will allow it since he has been through a lot, he’s allowed to be grumpy. I don’t expect him to live his life for Steve and tbh I also think he should have gone back in time and relive his own life differently. But that’s a different story and clearly about whose marvel contract is still active and whose is expired.

But Steve needs to be a ray of sunshine that doesn’t do anything except exist for his friend 24/7? Also…why are we getting this “he left him for a person who aided in bucky’s demise?” How did Peggy do that? Why, once again, is it not about Steve and Peggy, but about Bucky and dumping it on Steve and Peggy???

Even now salty bucky fans make their dislike about endgame and MCU about Steve not being around for Bucky, even though the storyline literally was just writing Chris out of it. If it was in reverse and Bucky went back in time I’d 1000% bet none of you would be crying about it. You would say, good for him he deserves to lives his life over. But Steve deserves just as much if not more, he has had no life of his own and was barely existing even in his own movies, as…oh yeah, even marvel was making his story about other people, so no I don’t agree with this constant needing to be mad at Steve over Bucky, when you could just admit that you want it to be about Bucky always and Steve second.

That being said…that is just my opinion. Your opinion is valid as it is your blog. You are my favorite blogger on here but this is one thing I can’t stay silent on.

I love conversations like this, so NEVER apologize. I think the beauty with cinematic universes are we get to know the characters a bit more. And every character is going to resonate with different people in a different way. So let’s get into this, and of course I respect your take, but let me explain a bit more where I’m coming from.

I am aware that we Bucky fans love to make him the main event. As do Steve fans do that, and Loki fans do that. And I do think that there are some people who go bleed the lines of reality with fiction. Obviously when I joke around about Sebastian and Chris I do not think that they are romantic at all. I do think that Chris and Seb equally are aware that the other is attractive. And everyone knows that I am a big hater of people comparing Chris to Seb. I don’t like it. These are two different actors who have both carved out their careers very differently, and for them. Sebastian has always shown that he wanted awards, and is looking at acting as an art form, while I think Chris enjoys what he does, but maybe doesn’t center his whole life around it. As far as the random movie, Seb has done random shitty movies as well. I am not going to dive into why Chris has chosen the movies he does, because I’m not Chris.

There is a big reason why I hate time traveling movies, and honestly, this is a prime example of one of them. I’m also aware that Chris’ contract was up, so they thought they would be clever with his ending. I actually think it was a cop out, personally. It’s not just for the Bucky aspect but for the Sam aspect. Maybe Steve being a white man didn’t understand the weight he put on Sam’s shoulders. I don’t think Steve understood Sam’s position as a black man, and I think that reigns true with most white folk, including myself. I will never understand the injustices that POCs feel, I can be empathetic, but I am aware of the privilege the color of my skin has. Again, Steve’s ending left so much to be desired. And then if you think about it, Steve knew that Peggy died having a full life, and he still selfishly went back. Furthermore, he went back, and stopped the life Peggy would have had. So therefore it alters the future/present. Again, I hate time traveling movies for this reason. I think at the end of the day it was the finality of the decision, but also I feel so many people weren’t given closure with it. That includes fans, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and all the other Avengers.

I personally do not think that Steve needs to live his life for his friends. But this was the life he was given, he should have moved forward, instead of going backwards, but again, Chris’ contract ended, I get it. It was lazy writing. As far as Peggy aiding in Bucky’s demise, who was the one who allowed Zola to live? Who allowed Zola to not just live but work for SHIELD? Peggy Carter AND Howard Stark. What did Zola do? He rebuilt Hydra. What did Hydra do? They tortured Bucky. Remember when Steve learned all of this? Learned what Zola did, and who allowed Zola to live? How he built Hydra to be more powerful than ever? They created the ultimate weapon, The Winter Soldier. Bucky was no longer human to them.

I can’t speak for everyone else, but had the roles been reversed, I would still be irritated. Again, lazy writing. In my ending, Steve had his dance with Peggy, but he returned. I actually wish that Steve made a bargain with Red Skull, a soul for a soul, and he retrieved Natasha. He got his dance, and he said his goodbye, but he came back to the time he was supposed to be in. Take Bucky and Sam out of the equation. Steve still should have stayed in the present even if those two characters died. He rewrote Peggy’s history, and therefore the present. Don’t get me started on Marvel making his story about others, Civil War still irritates me. That was just a lower scale Avengers movie, and we deserved better. I enjoy the movie, just not as a Cap movie.

Now as to the last comment, I jokingly say I can’t ever look at Steve the same. I actually choose to believe my ending for him over what happened. I don’t want him to constantly live to serve Bucky. I want Steve to have his time to grow into Steve. Oddly enough, Steve is also my number 8 Chris character. I don’t think I resonated with him as much as Bucky, and I can admit that this is why I put Bucky on a pedestal. It’s funny that the two best friends had very similar and yet very different lives. I wish that Marvel would have dove into that more. I would love to see a piece where it explores both Steve and Bucky’s mental health. We got a bit of that with TFATWS, but not enough, and without Steve. I guess I love the Cap trio so much, including Sam, I selfishly want more and more of all three.

Again, I love these conversations. And I think all your statements are valid.

22 notes · View notes

eocon-fr · 3 days ago

Text

In the head of Esteban Ocon, F1 driver : « At 130 km/h, I have the impression to be able of walking next to the car »

ᯓ Translation of the article “Dans la tête d’Esteban Ocon, pilote de F 1 : « A 130 km/h, j’ai l’impression de pouvoir marcher à côté de la voiture »„ by Éric Michel and Christophe Lacaze-Eslous for Le Parisien. The article is protected by a paywall.

Preparation of the car

"I am completely involved in its development. For me, improving the car is an obsession. Sometimes, I wake up at night with an idea, I write it down and send it straight to the engineers, in case it could help. I tell myself that they must have already thought of it, but in 20 to 30% of the ideas, this was not the case. So, it helps"

The week before the race

"I disconnect less and less. You have to stay 100% involved in the thing. I go to England one or two days a week (to Enstone in the Alpine factory) to see the engineers. Sometimes we leave directly from there to go to the Grands Prix. Otherwise, I work on my personal training. I do recovery, mass gain, cardio, and also visual detection. Even outside the race, these are long days that last from 9:30 a.m. to 6-7 p.m. But I'm happy about it, when I left the circuit, in 2018 and 2019 (he was a test driver for Mercedes), I worked in the cave and I no longer had access to F1. I missed it."

On the starting grid

“Before the lights turn green, I don’t necessarily feel a thrill. It’s more in my mind, a question of adrenaline. It’s always there, even after all this time, every time. After all the preparation before the race and the concentration it requires afterwards, the start is a bit of a lull. I look to the right: Ah, Max Verstappen! I look to the left behind my mirror: Hou là, Fernando Alonso! In front: Waouh, Lewis Hamilton! There are some great guys around me.”

His driver friends

“I realize how lucky I am to be one of the 20 F1 drivers in the world. That’s why I always have a smile on my face. We all respect each other. We’ve all known each other since we were very young. I drove with Pierre (Gasly), Charles (Leclerc), Max (Verstappen), Lando (Norris) when I was young… We have a lot in common, pretty much the same lives. I always said to my childhood friends: If one day you see me change and become like certain athletes — I won’t name any names — I’d like to take one, so that it wakes me up and puts my brain back in place.”

The madness of the start

“Getting a good start means getting out well. It’s the crucial moment, that’s when the most things happen. Sometimes I have a bad feeling. I feel like a guy is going to hit me from behind. You can’t be sure that everything is going to go well, never. It’s so grouped, someone can block the wheels. On the other hand, once it has happened and it has gone well, after that it’s smooth sailing.”

Peaks at over 300 km/h

“People talk a lot about the very high speed (300 km/h) and the tunnel vision effect, in other words the loss of peripheral vision. This is not true at all. In Mexico, for example, we reach speeds of 370 km/h. Despite this astonishing speed, we can still see people on the left, on the right, in the stands. Even when I started, I don’t remember this effect. When I was 6 or 7 years old, while driving on the track, at 90 km/h in a kart, I saw a very beautiful flower on each lap. One day, I stopped. Hop! I picked it and then brought it back to my mother!”

Maximum concentration

“During the race, you don’t have time to think about anything else: neither your worries nor your joys outside of F1, your loved ones, your family. Nothing! You have to be 100% focused. If you start to scatter your mind, it’s because you’re starting to see things blurry. That means you no longer have control over your heart rate and as a result, you lose energy. At that point, there’s a big problem and you start to lose concentration, and losing concentration means danger.”

Always measure the danger

"I'm not saying that fear isn't present. Above all, we must never forget that F1 is a risky sport. But if you're too afraid in F1, it's better to stop, it means that you don't know your subject inside out. You're no longer able to control it. I've already had situations where I was at fault and it hurts.

However, distrust always helps me think before taking action. I ask myself: Is it worth trying this or that maneuver? What's to be gained compared to the danger it represents? When a car is in front of me and I can overtake it, I wonder if it's worth it. I constantly ask myself: Isn't there a wall next to it?"

On the road, like the average Joe

"The road you drive on every day and an F1 circuit have nothing in common. On a circuit, we have marshals, guys at every bend who watch out for, for example, an animal crossing. If one of us has left oil on the lap before, there is an immediate yellow flag. On the road, there is no one to warn us of danger.

Even if it goes slower, you have to be very careful. I am of course. I respect the traffic laws by having the chance to drive cars that are very nice with great performance. I just have to get used to it again. At 130 km/h on the freeway, I feel like I can open the door, get out, and walk alongside."

World champion one day

"That's of course my goal. It's not that it's in my head, it's an obsession. Ever since I was little, I've wanted to go to F1. Now that I'm here, I want to win. I've always been a very bad loser. There's no way I'm leaving F1 with regrets. I'm putting all the chances on my side and all the cards are in my hands."

A life as a driver

“Between races, I have time to watch movies and listen to music while traveling. I’m a big Marvel fan. But I don’t really have a normal life, I know that. I dedicate all my time to what I do, about three hundred days a year. It’s hard for people, my girlfriend, my family, we don’t see each other often. I still have a home, but I don’t spend much time there.

I miss things, friends’ birthdays, dinners with my grandparents, but it’s a lifestyle choice. I worked hard to get here. I can’t complain about having a different life. It’s great that I can live my passion, travel and see different countries, meet passionate people.”

#eo31 #esteban ocon #formula 1 #so much interesting quotes #he's crazy #and silly

27 notes · View notes

heavilycaffeinatedsblog · 3 days ago

Note

Hey, just wanted to say your recent post about the election really inspired me. As a queer Latina, as a college student relying on FAFSA, as someone who heavily relies on having access to reproductive healthcare to stay alive, this election really was a slap in the face. It’s upsetting, demoralizing and infuriating but that doesn’t mean we should sit in our sadness either. Now’s the time to take care of ourselves and our peers and found out what we can do about our situation. I’ve been reading through your replies for things I can do in my own life and already found a few things I plan to implement. Some things I’d add are

Speak up and speak out- in times like this it can feel extremely isolating knowing just how much hate is out there. But there is also love and it’ll find its way back to us if we keep fighting and keeping talking about our issues, our concerns and our struggles. They can’t silence us all

Organize- if it’s safe to do so, many organizations and grassroots efforts are still fighting the good fight and making their voices heard. This one varies state by state and even city by city but social media has made it easier than ever to find and connect with groups who are still out there protesting and disrupting the flow post-election. Find out what those grassroots groups in your area are doing and see how you can participate

Spread awareness- honestly even posts like the one that started this ask is already a form of resistance! Reblogging and reposting resources helps get that information to someone who may need it. Whether it’s hotlines, health or community centers or simply just a “hey you’re not alone” post, its something simple, easy but amazingly effective

Continue writing and sharing- there’s a reason books are on the chopping block for being banned. Just as there’s power in reading, there’s power in writing. Give voice to your frustrations and others will resonate with them as well. Reading something, even fictional, can be a call to action.

Your words are more powerful than you know.

All of this!!!!

#klance #voltron #heavily_caffeinated #fanfic

16 notes · View notes

teenwolfbywitchofhellridge · 2 days ago

Text

Ahhh, Tumblr friends, I am absolutely reeling from all the thoughts and chaos over my recent musings on Scott McCall’s morality. You guys showed up, lit up my notifications like a wildfire, and it’s honestly blowing my mind (and maybe my phone's sanity) that so many of you had thoughts—good, spicy, heartfelt, philosophical, and everything in between.

Now, full disclosure: I’m new here, and it’s safe to say I’m swimming in a sea of reblogs and comments that I genuinely can’t keep track of. My over-caffeinated brain is blinking at this tidal wave, but I can’t even begin to know who I’ve responded to and who’s still waiting for my thoughts. So, from the depths of my overwhelmed heart, I am sorry if I haven’t replied to you yet (or possibly even re-replied and made it weirder—that happens too).

And here’s the kicker: I’ve got twin toddlers pulling me back to reality. These mini chaos agents keep my life busy enough without the added plot twists Tumblr throws at me. As much as I’d love to dive back in and respond to each and every one of you, right now, it’s just not humanly possible.

But know this: I see you. I appreciate you. I’m still (very clumsily) figuring out Tumblr, and I’ll be trying my best to dive back into the sea of Scott McCall morality debates when I can. Until then, stay wild, stay wonderful, and know that every reblog and comment means more to me than I can put into words. Thanks for making me feel at home in this little corner of internet chaos! 💜

Some musings about Scott's morality (probably not very common and a little controversial)

Scott McCall’s adherence to his no-kill rule can be seen as both a moral stance and a psychological defense mechanism, shaped by his own fears, insecurities, and desire to preserve his innocence. At its core, Scott’s refusal to kill, even when faced with situations that may arguably call for it, reflects a deeper internal struggle to maintain a clear sense of right and wrong. However, this rigid adherence to his ideals, especially when it leads to others suffering, reveals underlying contradictions in his character.

Scott's moral code is largely centered on protecting his own sense of innocence and moral purity. By clinging to the no-kill rule, he avoids the emotional burden of directly taking a life, even if it means allowing harm to befall others. Psychologically, this allows Scott to protect his self-image as a "good" person. His reluctance to engage in lethal violence can be seen as a defense against the guilt and moral ambiguity that would come with making more ruthless choices.

In the case of the Kanima, Scott's refusal to kill Jackson despite the clear threat he posed to others shows how his need to maintain his moral boundaries outweighs the immediate threat to those around him. His insistence on finding non-lethal solutions, while noble, reflects an almost selfish prioritization of his internal morality over the safety of others.

There’s also an aspect of moral superiority in Scott’s unwavering no-kill stance. He often positions himself as the moral compass of the group, but this also gives him a sense of control over situations. By dictating that no one should kill, Scott maintains his leadership position and moral authority. However, this control is built on a framework that isn’t always flexible or responsive to the nuanced, dangerous situations he faces. His rigid moral stance can put others at risk, as seen when lives are endangered by the Kanima’s rampage while Scott focuses on preserving Jackson’s life.

Scott's no-kill rule can be seen as a form of psychological conflict avoidance. Killing someone would force him to confront the darker aspects of his role as a supernatural leader and protector. By adhering strictly to his rule, Scott avoids the internal conflict that would come from crossing that line. In a way, Scott’s reluctance to kill is an avoidance mechanism that keeps him from fully engaging with the morally complex world he inhabits, allowing him to maintain a black-and-white view of morality.

While Scott views his refusal to kill as a form of self-sacrifice, it can often lead to the sacrifice of others instead. In situations like the Kanima case, where innocent lives are at stake, Scott’s refusal to make the hard choice arguably protects his own conscience more than it protects the people he’s responsible for. This can be seen as an attempt to shield himself from the psychological toll of killing, while others bear the physical consequences of his inaction. It’s a form of indirect selfishness—by preserving his own sense of moral integrity, he unintentionally places the burden of suffering on others.

Scott’s no-kill rule is a complex and flawed psychological mechanism. While it is rooted in a genuine desire to be morally upright, it often causes harm by preventing him from making hard but necessary choices. His strict adherence to this rule can be seen as a defense against guilt, moral ambiguity, and the loss of his own innocence, but it also exposes him as someone who prioritizes his internal morality over the safety and well-being of those he is meant to protect. In this way, Scott's idealism becomes a form of moral tunnel vision, where the desire to remain "good" leads to greater harm for those around him.

22 notes · View notes