#It's been living rent free in my head for some time and I refuse to suffer alone anymore

[azuresins]

The Butler who polishes and minds the silver of the house is referred as the Silverman, or the 'Silver Butler.' The title of the series then becomes all the more clever... but I'm also angry because that means even the title by itself, is a Sebastian oriented pun. I think we all knew that it was right, but it's the extent of how clever it is, that makes me insane. My understanding is that 'Kuro' doesn't only refer to black as a shade, it refers to darkness, gloom, shadow, ect. It's a pun that's a tad too difficult to translate into english or explain properly in just a title alone... but I see it, Yana, I get it. If a Silver Butler minds the silver, then pray tell, what would Sebastian mind if he were called the Black Butler. The Butler who minds and manages the Darkness. ... (slamming my fist on my desk) It's so good. It's so clever. It's almost too clever. I simultaneously love it and hate it, forever.

[trashytracktales]

https://www.tumblr.com/trashytracktales/778028575513280512/hey-babe-i-cant-stop-thinking-about-lando-fucking

a fic like this would probably kill me, just saying...👀

Season opener | LN⁴

🔸️ inspired by this ask

🔸️ summary ──── After securing his first win of the season, Lando can’t wait to celebrate with his girlfriend.

🔸️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🔸️ rating ──── explicit

🔸️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, swearing, semi-public setting, desperate!Lando, unprotected sex (against the wall), mild praise kink and possessiveness, overstimulation, interrupted intimacy (oops 👀).

🔸️ word count ──── 2.7k

🔸️ date ──── Mar. 25, 2025

🔸️ a/n ──── Here’s a little quickie to hold you over before I drop a 10k (so far) one-shot later this week. That mf has been living rent-free in my brain for a month now, and if I don’t end up posting it, you guys officially have permission to throw tomatoes at me. Enjoy this while you wait 💋

THERE’S STILL A lot of noise ringing in Lando’s ears, even as he’s dragged from one obligation to the next. The podium was nice, the feeling of being drowned in champagne and cheers always welcome, even though it can get really uncomfortable. It’s been a weekend full of twists and turns that, thankfully, is coming to a happy ending for him. But the real celebration awaits in his driver’s room.

However, it seems like the universe has decided to taunt him some extra today, with the post-race interviews where every question feels like it stretches time longer than naturally possible, and the conference where he has to relive every lap, as if there weren’t thousands of cameras that captured every angle of the race.

A real-life purgatory, that’s what it feels like.

His body is still running hot, adrenaline refusing to settle and, trough it all, there’s only one thought consuming his mind. He’s trying not to think about her, though, or the orange mini dress she picked out weeks ago for the season opener. He even tries not to imagine the curves of her body every time he blinks or to hear her soft voice in his mind, that sweet whimper that makes him more tense with every touch.

Lando grips the back of his neck as he listens to another useless question, his patience wearing thin. He can still feel the weight of her teary eyes on him earlier, the way she had smiled at him when he climbed out of the car. It was quick, a moment stolen in the chaos, but he caught it. It was theirs. And ever since, he’s been aching to get back to his girlfriend.

From the conference he is dragged straight to the debriefing and, by the time that finally ends, Lando is already moving before anyone can stop him; he mutters something about needing a minute and storms down the hall. His race suit is still damp from sweat and champagne, hugging his muscles, the collar pulled loose where he had yanked at it earlier. His curls are a mess, damp at the roots, and his entire body is vibrating with something more than just the thrill of the first win of the season.

He doesn’t hesitate at all when he reaches his room. Just opens the door eagerly, closing it just as quickly. The second he sees her, his stomach flips.

She’s already standing up from the little couch, her face lighting up the moment she realizes it’s him. “Congratulations, my lo—”

Lando is on her in an instant, crossing the small space with long steps and grabbing her waist, lifting her off the ground. She gasps in surprise, laughing breathlessly as her arms wrap around his neck, her fingers threading into his damp curls at the back of his head.

“Oh! Someone missed me, I see,” she giggles, breathing against his cheek.

Lando exhales deeply, his chest heaving, hands tightening around her hips. He can’t think straight, can’t focus on anything but her warmth against him, the scent of her sweet perfume mixing with the sharp tang of champagne on his suit.

“You have no idea. I was losing my fucking mind,” he admits, chuckling in return. He presses his forehead against hers, his breath hot. Purposely, his hands slide down her back, pressing her flush against him. “Thought about you the whole time. Could barely focus.”

Before she can catch her breath, her back meets the hard surface of the nearest wall. Another startled gasp leaves her lips, swallowed instantly by his mouth, his kiss demanding in ways she’s felt it before.

But not like this.

It’s the kind of kiss that takes her by surprise, leaves her thoughtless and very, very aroused. The dress has already lifted up her thighs, and they’re squeezing around him as if Lando could get out of her embrace if she’s not careful. What soothes her, however, is the fact that he is the one who pushes himself even harder against her, pressing his chest against hers until he almost leaves her out of breath.

Lando’s race suit is tight around his body, but he doesn’t have enough energy to care about anything else but her. All he knows is the way her lips part, letting him in like she has no choice, the way her fingers grip his shoulders, and the way his entire body feels like it’s still racing. Only now, it’s for and because of her.

She deepens the kiss, messy and uncoordinated, teeth grazing and tongues tangling in a tender yet rushed desire. Her hands run up the expanse of his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles as he holds her up effortlessly, her feet barely touching the ground. His biceps flex under her touch, and the realization that he’s holding back, restraining himself just enough so he doesn’t break her against that wall, only makes her more pliable in his arms.

“In here?” she asks between kisses.

Lando lets out a little noise while exhaling, feeling her heat pressed against him even through layers of clothing. One of his hands moves, lifting her dress even higher, until it hangs somewhere around the middle of her waist. His fingers are hungrily skimming her bare skin, until they find the waistband of her panties. He doesn’t have enough patience to tease. Just pulls at them, dragging the thin fabric down her thighs and letting it pool at her ankles.

“That answers your question?” asks Lando, feeling her nails digging into his shoulders as she tries to steady herself.

“Mhm,” she lets out a shaky breath, “So eager.”

Lando grins, shrugging, “Got some adrenaline left I need to burn off.”

He groans in frustration as he fumbles with his zipper, refusing to let go of her even for a second. Finally, he yanks it down just enough, his breath heavy as he works himself free with a sharp hiss. In all the rush, Lando’s hands won’t stay away from her hips for too long, keeping her exactly where he needs her.

The girl watches him, eyes filled with amusement despite the heat between them. Then she laughs, a silky sound that makes his heart race in his chest. Lando looks at her and something tender flickers in his gaze, even as he pushes his hips forward, even as the impatience still coils hot in his veins.

“You think this is funny?” he asks, lips curving into a smirk.

She shakes her head, though still amused at the image in front of her, and the way he’s so impatient he can’t even get out of the suit properly. “Nope. I think it’s hilarious.”

Lando scoffs dramatically, like he can’t believe her audacity. “Oh, yeah?” he challenges, his voice lower now. “Let’s see how funny you find this, then.”

Before she can throw another quip his way, his hand slides between her thighs, fingers trailing over her entrance with a lazy kind of intent. She sucks in a breath, all the amusement vanishing in a blink of an eye, her head knocking back against the wall as her body responds to his familiar touch.

Lando watches her reaction, the smirk widening on his flushed face. “Shit, you’re right,” he agrees, dipping his fingers in just enough to make her shudder. “It is hilarious,” he tilts his head, pretending to think. “Yeah. Getting wet so quickly almost has me rolling on the floor.”

He slides his fingers up and down her opening, then pushes two at once inside, curling them right before pulling out, only to make her squirm. Her thighs tighten around his waist, demanding more, but it’s not about her right now. It’s about him, making it a moment worthy of the Winner’s Room.

He’s painfully hard next time he cups himself, and the first press of his cock against her clit sends a shiver up her spine. Lando drags his length down her folds with uncharacteristic patience, until the distance between them diminishes completely, and he kisses her again, lazier than before. Their world becomes substantially smaller, and there’s just hot skin, erratic breathing, and the slick, aching need to be as close as possible. He lines himself up and thrusts in one smooth motion, punching a moan from her lips that she barely manages to swallow down.

Lando lets his forehead fall to hers, chuckling gently. “Not too loud, yeah?”

She shakes her head, “Don’t ruin the fun.”

He’s buried inside her, stretching so sweet that it sends a full-body shudder through her. The wall behind is harsh, but all she can focus on is the way he fills her completely. How he holds her there, with no chance to slip away. Not that she wants to be anywhere else but here, right now, with him.

Lando’s fingers grip her tighter as he pulls back, then slams into her again, feeling her walls pulsing faster around his cock. A broken whimper escapes her, her head falling defeated on his shoulder. It makes him curse under his breath, finally finding a rhythm that’s both deep and devastating. Each thrust forces a soft cry from her throat, her body moving in unison with his, nails raking down his sweaty back.

The way she pulls him in turns Lando on even more, the only sounds between them the ragged breaths and the wet, obscene noises of him fucking her right there, against the wall.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” exclaims Lando, biting down on her shoulder, his hips snapping up harder.

She lets out a hiss, her head is spinning while pleasure is building gradually, her body burning from the inside out. She fists his curls, dragging his mouth back to hers, swallowing his groans as she squeezes him.

“That’s so good, baby. Shit. Keep doing that.”

The way she feels around him, the way she moans and gasps his name, the way her body reacts to him like she was made for him — everything gets too much for Lando. Yet, he somehow finds himself craving more of her. His movements grow sloppier, pushing him to drive into her faster.

“Lando…” she moans his name in a whisper, cupping his face with the intention to kiss him. But the way he’s moving inside her makes her weak, so she ends up holding on to him with limited strength, like her life depends on it.

And right now, it does.

Their eyes meet just as he lifts her thigh higher on his waist, the small adjustment allowing him to sink deeper.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, her voice barely more than a breath. “You feel so—”

He doesn’t let her finish. A hard thrust has her choking on her words, and the way she clenches down around him makes his jaw go slack.

“Yes, tell me,” he urges, his voice too unsteady, hanging on by a thread, while his fingers press into the curve of her waist like he’s trying to brand himself into her skin.

She loses it, her hands tugging at his hair just to hear his little noises in return. “Feel so good, love,” she breathes heavily, her head falling back, exposing her throat. “Fucking me so good.”

A guttural curse escapes him, dragging her against him with a pace that makes her cry out in pleasure. “That so?” he rasps, his teeth grazing her jaw before his lips claim hers, swallowing every desperate sound she makes. “Then take it, baby,” he orders gently, “All of it. All for you.”

“Shit—don’t stop,” she begs, her eyes teary because of how tense with pleasure her body gets.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Feel how perfect you are? How fucking tight, hm? That’s it,” he encourages her, watching the way her lashes flutter open to look at him. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart?” asks Lando, going somehow even deeper with each thrust.

Her back arches, a broken moan spilling from her lips. She’s so full and desperate to come, and he knows she’s close; her whines and the way her body reacts giving it away in the most obvious way.

“Need you, Lan,” she breathes in spasms, “Please.”

“I can see that, baby. Come on,” he grits out, his movements turning frantic. “Let me have it.”

Her body trembles at his words, at the sheer heat in his voice. The way he holds her, firm and possessive, sends her spiraling. Every thrust, every rough snap of his hips only winds her tighter, like he’s pulling her apart piece by piece just to put her back together again.

“Lan-do,” she breathes, voice breaking on his name. “I… oh, fuck,” she can barely think anymore, barely breathe with the way he’s fucking into her, like stopping isn’t even an option.

His hand slides up her side, gripping the back of her neck, tilting her head so she has no choice but to meet his gaze again. His eyes are way too dark now, blown wide with lust, sending another wave of heat flooding through her veins. He goes harder when he sees the desire on her face, pushing her further against the wall, and she lets out a high-pitched moan before biting her lip, remembering where they are.

“Wanna feel you all over my cock,” she hears him saying, but she’s so overstimulated now that can’t quite process the meaning of his words. She’s not sure she’s even breathing as Lando presses his body against her with more force, continuing, “Be a good girl and let go for me.”

That’s all it takes. Her body seizes, her head spinning as pleasure rips through her, hot and intense. And endless. She clenches around him, pulsing, shaking, and the feeling, the sight of her unraveling for him, sends Lando spiraling too.

He chokes out a curse, burying his face in her neck as he surrenders, his hips pressing deep and desperate to keep her close as he fills her. The warmth spreads between them, spilling down her thighs, and the sheer filthiness of it only makes her moan, her fingers flying to curl in his hair once again.

Lando rests his forehead against hers, panting, his lips ghosting over her cheek. He doesn’t move away just yet. Instead, he pulls out, and a sharp whimper escapes her as she feels the mess they’ve made drip down her thighs.

Then, without warning, he pushes back in making her gasp silently this time, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“Wait, Lan,” she almost cries, her voice raw.

He keeps her still while he rolls his hips, slow and teasing, his other hand trailing down her stomach before settling low on her belly.

She shudders at the touch and at the way he’s still so deep inside of her, tilting her head and blinking heavy-lidded. “Wh—what are you doing?”

Lando barely hears her. His attention is caught on where they’re still connected, mesmerized by the way his cock glistens with their release as he continues to lazily move in and out. He watches the way her spent body still takes him in, so perfectly, his jaw clenching as pleasure coils in his gut all over again. It sends his head spinning, the wet sensation of skin on skin almost maddening.

Every shift, every sudden flutter of her walls around him, threatens to pull him under completely.

“Fuck, baby,” his raspy voice is laced with adoration. “I can look at you all day.”

Her body is already responding before her mind can catch up. She clenches around him again and again, and Lando chuckles lowly, the sound rich with satisfaction.

“Oh, shit! You like that, don’t you? Hearing how good of a girl you are for me, hm?”

She nods and, without meaning to, she tightens around him harder.

Lando’s grin turns smug. “Yeah, you do,” his hips still for a beat, his hands flexing against her waist before he gives her one hard thrust that knocks the air from her lungs. “Like that, baby,” he groans, the words dripping with heat. “Keep me in.”

The sensation of her pulling him even deeper rips a moan straight from his throat, and Lando drops his forehead to her shoulder, breathing heavily.

“Fucking hell, you’re killing me,” he rasps, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against her damp skin. “Swear to God, I’ll come again if you—”

“Lando?” a muffled, familiar voice rings out from the other side of the door, accompanied by knocking. “Your parents are waiting, mate. You good in there?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[juricel]

god your yandere smc lives rent free in my head i wanna punch him, kick him in the shin and then give him a lil kiss

also if you're feeling up for it and your requests are open, would you mind writing some headcanons about yandere smc w/ a reader who is defiant but not really in the "kicking, yelling, screaming" way but in the "i will do my best to make your life miserable and inconvenience you as much as possible " (think refusing to talk or engage, entertaining herself in isolation, snarky backtalk; very much "cat making eye contact with you while pushing a glass off the table" energy, defiant yet still subdued)

bonus points if the reader is usually an affectionate person and continues to be like that w/ candy apple (hugs her/pats her head, speaks nicely and sweetly to her, treats her like a lil sis/daughter)

thank you so much for your time!! your writing is amazing!!

a/n: i'm flattered! and please do feel free to do so, anon... he more than deserves it with how he's been treating the reader in my fics.

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x defiant! reader hcs

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, physical abuse, heavy possessive and obssessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, mentioned and implied mindbreak, stalking, potential ooc.

𖦁‎ oh, he would adore your defiance! shadow milk cookie loves games, and he would view your defiance as such and daresay, it certainly has became his favorite game, even taking over the throne of his most beloved hobby of breaking cookies apart and observing them falling down the never-ending rabbit hole from illusions.

𖦁 your distant attitude towards him wouldn't faze him whatsoever either, and if anything, his lovesickness would delude himself into thinking it was a natural reaction of yours from being in love; oh, you're not listening? oh, that is no biggie for him! he'll simply blabber your ears off, isolating yourself? has his dear forgotten? he is an omniscient presence within earthbread and his kingdom, there is no way to flee from him, he'll just trail along behind you! being a petulant thing against him? oh, that's adorable! surely, you jest! breaking one his precious gifts he spent his time on solely for you? oh, silly little you! how clumsy you are! being such a nice lover, he'll put it back together! you didn't mean to break that, don't you? you didn't, right? he'd break your arms. regardless of how you much you pay no heed to his presence, he is an everlasting existence and will forever be right beside you! there is no escaping him and his sight, it is just as fate concluded, after all!

𖦁 candy apple cookie—although, you treat her nicely—doesn't mean you're still exempted from her trickery: for her undying loyalty to shadow milk cookie overshadows anything to her; she'd allow you to braid her hair, all the while inquiring you why you loathe shadow milk cookie when he's just protecting you from the cookies outside, in love even! in that sickenly sweet tone of hers dripping with deceit. she'd even ask you to come with her for something she proclaimed was in dire need of help for only to lead you to back to shadow milk cookie with a cheerful face, giddily probbing shadow milk cookie if she did good.

𖦁 to shadow milk cookie, your defiance is none but a mere game to him, however, the moment you went against him and betrayed him by helping pure vanilla cookie within his spire? oh, that is when he actually takes your advances seriously. why are /you/ helping that pesky little thief? can't you comprehend that he's punishing him for taking what was his? don't tell him that you fell for that querulous cookie's lies? yes, surely, pure vanilla cookie did something to you that turned you against him, truly! what a fiend, stealing his soul jam and then you? oh, he is gonna crumble him into pieces! he vows on the witches the moment he's done with him he would be beyond recognization. you, on the other hand, unmistakably needed some tweaking—yes, he'd need to find a way for you to not do that again, surely, his sweet dear wouldn't mind being confined, would they?

a/n: extremely short compared to my other works but i do hope its fine.

[willowsnook]

When Love is Left Unspoken

max verstappen x reader

she isn't you i'd be insane not to love you

request from @formulaal

Pt. 2 here

"Alright, one more question from the chat," you said into your mic, scanning for a good one. One caught your eye, and you began reading it aloud before realizing it would reveal something from your past. “Would you choose a guy over your best friend?”

Laughing humorlessly, you looked into the camera with a tight smile. “Anyone who’s been here for a while knows how relevant that question is to my life. But my answer hasn’t changed: if you’re choosing a romantic partner over your best friend, you can get fucked. Thanks for tuning in, everyone. See you around.”

Logging off, you grabbed your water bottle and headed to the kitchen to refill it. Checking your phone, you smiled at the stats from the stream—10k of your fans tuning in tonight was a big turnout. You’d gone viral on BookTok back in 2020, and now, your book podcast had a solid following. Normally, BookTok didn’t bring huge numbers, but thanks to your former best friend, your popularity had skyrocketed. As grateful as you were, his part in your success irritated you now.

Then a notification popped up on your screen, and you rolled your eyes.

MV: Nice stream.

You: Fuck off

MV: Glad I’m still living rent-free in your head.

You: Glad you got permission to text me.

You threw your phone down on the counter, boiling inside. Nobody got under your skin like he could, especially after 20 years of knowing exactly how to do it. Growing up, it hadn’t always been this way. At 10, you’d moved with your family to the Netherlands, right next door to the Verstappens. Max quickly became your best friend, your weekends spent watching him kart. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine things would end like this.

You met Kelly in 2018 at a race Max invited you to. Right away, you got weird vibes. She looked at Max like a toy she had to have. It was creepy, especially given the nine-year age gap. By 2019, they were dating, and she made it clear she didn’t like you, refusing to acknowledge your existence. That led to rocky times between you and Max; he always had excuses to avoid seeing you. When you were together, he seemed tense, as if being watched.

Everything fell apart in Australia 2021.

Flashback

Max invited you to the first race of the 2021 season, though you almost didn’t go. It felt obligatory, as if he invited you just because you’d never missed an opening race. You hadn’t seen him all winter, just exchanging quick holiday texts. Walking into the paddock, you felt a strange sense of finality, like this might be the last one.

Spotting Carmen outside Mercedes, you walked over and hugged her. As you stepped back, she looked worried.

“What’s up?”

She hesitated. “I thought you should know, Kelly’s been saying some nasty things about you around the paddock. No one believes her, but… I wanted you to know.”

“What is she saying?” you asked, heart sinking.

“She’s calling you pathetic, saying you’re still pining over your childhood crush and using Max to become an influencer,” she said softly, looking at you with sympathy.

“You’re joking,” you said, anger simmering. She shook her head.

“Can I be real with you?” She asked, and you nodded. “I love you and George loves you and honestly, everyone does. But I will accept not seeing you here anymore if you finally realize that Max is not being a good friend to you. And he hasn’t been for a long time.”

Eyes filling with tears, you let her words sink in. She was right, but admitting it was brutal. Maybe staying around him was just self-inflicted pain.

You found Max later, pulling him aside.

“I only have a few minutes, so make it quick,” he said, barely looking at you. Seeing him like this, you realized that the man in front of you wasn’t your best friend anymore.

“Your girlfriend’s telling people I’m a pathetic loser here to use you for fame,” you said, voice flat.

“I don’t believe that,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“Really?” you laughed bitterly. “You don’t believe that from your girlfriend—the one who’s disliked me since day one?”

“Seems like you have something to say, Y/N. Just say it,” he replied, finally looking at you.

“There was a time in my life where I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live without you. But now I’m living it. Have the past ten years been nothing to you? All it took was an older woman to bat her eyelashes at you and that was it?”

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off.

“I’m not going to stand here and tell you that we had a good run and that I wish you the best. Fuck you. Fuck you for choosing her over me and fuck you for even letting it have to be a choice. I hate you.”

End of Flashback

That was the last time you had spoken to him. There were no texts or calls after that; his life just went on like normal while you felt like you were dying inside. You had thrown yourself into your work after that and now had over a million followers and subscribers to your podcast. You’d stayed friends with Carmen but hadn’t returned to a race since that day. You had tried to block the memory of that day from your mind, but when you were low, one thing always resurfaced in your mind. Kelly was right about you pining after your childhood crush. You had been in love with Max back then. How could you not be?

Then Carmen invited you to the Austin GP, and after much persuasion, you finally agreed. Thanks to your online following, you flew down with her, officially a Mercedes guest. Wearing Mercedes colors felt like poetic justice.

When you entered the paddock, a wave of nostalgia and sadness hit you. But it disappeared as you saw familiar faces you’d missed over the years.

"Y/N!" Alex called, arms open. Hugging him, you sighed, realizing how much you’d missed everyone. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you admitted before greeting Lily, who gushed over your podcast and joked about being a guest. As you laughed with her, you noticed Alex subtly trying to block your view. Looking over, you saw Max walking by. He did a double take, but you turned back to Lily, ignoring his stare.

Later, as you waited for a coffee, you overheard Checo’s wife and Fernando’s girlfriend chatting.

“I heard Max and Kelly broke up,” Melissa said.

“Oh yeah, it’s been a few months,” Carola replied, shrugging. “Apparently, he was in love with someone else the whole time.”

You smirked. So Kelly finally experienced what it felt like to be second choice.

The race came and went, and you successfully avoided Max the entire weekend. You didn’t even think about the possibility of running into him when you accepted Carmen’s invitation to go out that night. George had actually wanted to go out, so you found yourself at a little country bar that night with what seemed to be the whole grid. You felt Max’s gaze the second you walked in, and you were doing a hell of a job ignoring him. Charles was trying to talk to him, looking confused between the two of you, but you didn’t care.

Ordering another gin and tonic you felt him come up next to you and you refused to look over.

“Put hers on mine,” Max said, handing over his card. You tried to leave, but he held out an arm to stop you.

“No ‘thank you’?” he teased, eyes intense.

You glared. “You can have it, then.”

“Stop being difficult,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You look good.”

“Can’t say the same about you,” you shot back, and his expression darkened.

He sighed. “Can we talk?”

“I said everything I needed to say three years ago. Have a good night.”

This time he let you go and you made your way back to Carmen who was looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You okay?” She asked, and you nodded.

A little while later, you were sitting at a table talking with Charles with Max hovering close by.

“Max, come sit down,” Charles slurred, and at this point, you were too tipsy to put up a fight about it. “Max is my best friend, ya know?”

“Ah yeah?” You asked head tilting. “Those words don’t mean much coming from him.”

Charles giggled, too drunk to understand what you meant and Max clenched his jaw looking at you.

“Insult me all you want schatje, as long as you’re talking to me I’ll take it,” he said and you didn’t say anything, just stared at him trying to figure out his angle.

“Is this the girl Kelly broke up with you over?” Charles asked and Max whipped his head towards him. “You always had a thing for her, so I told Alex that was my guess.”

Max’s face fell, and you froze. Shock turned into anger as you got up and stormed out. You felt Max following and soon he was in front of you, blocking your path.

“Come on,” he urged, leading you to a nearby park.

“Max, I don’t want to talk,” you said firmly, pulling away.

“I don’t care,” he replied, frustrated. “Tell me what I need to do to fix this.”

You laughed bitterly. “Crawling back because you got dumped? It’s too late.”

“It’s not like that.”

“You made your choice three years ago. Now live with it.”

“You want to know why we broke up?”

“I don’t really give a fuck,” you replied before turning to walk away.

“She isn’t you!” He yelled. Your legs stopped moving as your mind reeled.

Whirling on him you got into his face, “You don’t get to fucking say that to me. Not after all this time. Not after what you put me through. Not after you chose her over me. I was there the whole time Max. Me! I was there! It’s not my fault you didn’t realize that till I was gone.” 

“I realized it long before then,” he said softly, and you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. Tears were starting to fall, and you looked everywhere but him. 

“Then why?” You whispered, voice cracking. 

“Because I wasn’t good enough for you,” he said laughing sadly to himself. “The pressure was starting to cave in back then and I didn’t want you to see that. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“You were my best friend Max,” you said exasperated. “I would have done anything for you.” 

“It’s easy to see that now,” he said. “But then you were so full of life and starting your little videos that I didn’t want to disappoint you. She understood what I was going through, but I never stopped loving you.” 

“Then why did you still push me away?” 

“I had to do that so that I could try and move on. She knew and she hated that there wasn’t anything she could do to change how I felt about you. I knew what she was saying about you in the paddock, and I knew why she was saying it.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and it felt like heartbreak all over again. “You knew and you let it happen. You are the worst person I’ve ever known Max Verstappen.”

He was crying now too and the two of you stood staring at one another not saying anything. 

“I would be insane not to love you,” he said softly and it made you cry harder. “So I will do whatever it takes for however long to make up for what I did.” 

He let you go again and you left him there, crying silently as you walked back to the hotel. So many emotions going through your mind paired with confusing feelings. 

Happiness for your 15-year-old self that has wanted to hear those words for so long. 

Sadness for your 21-year-old self reliving those memories. 

And anger at your 24-year-old self for considering letting him make it up to you. 

[predestinatos]

too cold | MV1 ⋆꙳❅ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

pairing: max verstappen x female!reader

summary: stormy weather leads to stormy thoughts about a years long friendship.

tags: best friends to lovers, soo cheesy, fluff, giddy max, super whipped for reader!!, wearing his sweater, just so much softness!

author's note: i dreamt about max for some reason and he's been living in my head rent free so... i had to let this out!! hope you like it. it's a short cute thing so..!

word count: 3.5k

warnings: -

It was cold and stormy that day. You had expected it, the forecasts all telling you the same thing, your hair completely tangled in itself as soon as you stepped out of the house into the car.

You planned it all, including getting there earlier, so you could spend as much time with Max as possible – you never skipped the pleasant silence of his presence at least once a week. What you hadn’t planned was for you two to get carried away with taking buzzfeed quizzes and personality tests to the point where it was dark outside, the storm more aggressive, more threatening, and more dangerous.

“Shit,” you muttered when the wind outside made the windows tremble with extreme force, their sound almost like a warning voice in the night. “How am I going home like this?” you asked yourself out loud, desperate and scared, as Max completed yet another ‘What’s Your Mental Age Based on Your Choice of Cutlery’ quiz. He glanced outside nonchalantly, almost carelessly, as if the question was ridiculously easy to answer, close to ironic.

Before going back to the seriousness of the questions at hand, he shrugged, shoulders going up and down in explicit tranquility. “You can stay over” he stated, his finger hovering over a weirdly shaped spoon that said ‘shit stirrer’ on its surface. You let out a breath that indicated his joke was funny yet not useful in the slightest given your current dilemma, to which he looked at you and laughed back, assuming you were amused at the choice of teaspoon he had just made.  “Max, I’m serious” you voiced your urgency and fear with those words. “Me too” he continued, eyes glued on the screen, yet slightly confused at your own comment.

At your audible sigh and attempt to get up from his bed, where you comfortably laid scrolling through your phone for options, he turned around from his chair which was facing the screen. “You’re not leaving” he said, in a concerned tone of a friend who refused to let you be consumed by the rapidly increasing rain. “I don’t understand what the matter is” he continued as he saw you searching through his room for your things, messily scattered on the floor, reminiscent of childhood times spent together.

You merely looked at him in response, the answer obvious to you but seemingly not to him, only hitting him hard in the face as a joke he couldn’t help but laugh at seconds later. “You always slept here” he said, astonished at your reluctance and apparent timidness. “Yeah, Max. When we were 11” you protested, tucking some hair behind your ear as you looked for your charger. “Plus, I don’t have a pajama, or spare underwear” your arms now crossed across your chest, mimicking his own, a baffled smile on his lips.

“You can wear one of my sweaters. And like, my boxers, or something” this made your mouth drop in ridiculous surprise, a fear in your eyes which he didn’t understand. “I’m serious! It’s better than you going out with this storm!” his arm pointed towards the window, the view outside a paid actor because a lightning appeared violently before both of you. With a winning grin, he finished his argument with a “C’mon I’ll let you choose the outfit.”

Opening the drawers, you let yourself take a look at the collection of multicolored sweaters organized neatly. Your eyes landed on a grey one, which looked a bit worn out but comfortable at the same time, its marks of usage being a testament to its quality. You grabbed it and noticed that it smelled like Max, like the years of friendship you two shared. “The boxers are in the other drawer” Max interrupted your thoughts, yet his indifferent air made you less awkward about this situation, almost like it was normal that this was happening, like you were both 10 again, popcorn being prepared in the small kitchen next door.

You let yourself randomly choose some of his underwear, trying your best not to look too much at it, knowing little to nothing about how to even begin choosing such a thing for yourself. The strong wind whistled outside, and Max’s fingers hit the keyboard, creating a soothing lullaby.

“I’m- uh-… going then” you said, making your way towards the bathroom as he happily nodded, the familiarity of the house being a known fact for both of you.

The truth was, Max missed you. A lot. He missed hanging out with you all night, watching really bad films and playing silly videogames, drinking some beers and enjoying yourselves. Lately, he hadn’t had the time to do all these things, let alone doing them with you, and even though he did not plan this storm in the slightest, he was glad for it. The rain came as a reminder that you two had a year long friendship you could still enjoy, the sound blending with the one coming from the bathroom as you turned on the shower.

Sleeping over only got weird given the fact that Max was a boy and you were a girl, but it shouldn’t have been like that. In his mind, nothing changed, and nothing should have to change – he still wanted you as close as he did when you two watched scary video compilations on youtube and spent all night hiding under the covers and whispering in an attempt to not ‘awake the big monster’.

He still wanted to spend time with you when you were 16 and started talking about how cute his friends were, asking him if they were single or not as you put a lollipop in your mouth and painted your nails in colorful amusement.

He still wanted you to sleep over even when his girlfriends told him they didn’t quite like the fact that he was so close with you, that he seemed to want to be with you more than with them, that he dropped everything as soon as you texted him a slightly unusual text.

And it was normal, and alright, because you were best friends, because you knew each other better than your own selves, because you’d recognize his laugh in the middle of a crowd even with noise cancelling headphones, and he would recognize the smile you made when you were flustered even if he was blindfolded.

It was also normal for him to smile to himself and feel the happiest he has felt in a while, because he missed you, and you were staying over and nothing would have felt better than knowing he had a night full of your presence.

Meanwhile, you stood in his all-too familiar shower, accepting the fact that he had no conditioner, and a shampoo would have to do for the night. Simultaneously, this made you reflect on the clear fact that he had probably had no stable, consistent, female presence in his life in a while. As the liquid dropped in your hand and you brought your hands to your hair, thoughts about previous relationships of his flooded your mind.

They never ended well, and the guilt you felt because of it was ever present. Max was the best friend you could’ve asked for, because he always picked you, no matter what. In fact, he gave it no thought nor justification, not to you or his previous relationships. He accepted the fact that you were his priority as a given, something so natural as breathing, as blood pumping through his veins. You couldn’t deny you did the same. Previous partners of yours weren’t too fond of his constant need to assess and approve of them, of how he was your emergency contact whenever anything happened, how you made sure you spent time with him at least once a week.

Feeling the foam forming on your scalp, you remembered the times where you two bathed together, the innocence of gone times flying through your head with fondness. Of course, you two grew, and while you never broke the bond that formed between you, it was also harder to continue certain traditions you maintained.

Your teenage years were filled with angst and some bickering over how uncomfortable he made your dates, or how all he did was talk about girls when you two were together. You used each other as diaries and confidantes, keeping secrets in a closed vault made of memories. Nothing really had changed besides your ages, and none of you were dating, or at least it did not seem like it.

As you washed your body with lavender scented soap, you realized this is what you were missing – the comfortability of being the most like yourself you could possibly be, alongside him.

Max stared at the “You Are 14 Years Old!” result on his computer, reading the in depth description on how that one fork gave his age away, when he heard your shout for his name coming from the now foggy bathroom, the place now looking more like Silent Hill or a liminal space. Removing one side of his headphones off, his voice echoed throughout the apartment “Yes?”, filled with softness and worry, a completely unknown care for you which wasn’t displayed by anyone else but him. Smiling to yourself, you replied, “do you seriously only own one bath towel?”

Removing both of his headphones off now, with realization hitting him and he jumped from his seat, he ran towards the drawer that possessed all the other towels he stored in organized fashion. “Shit! No! Sorry! I’m on my way!” he said urgently, grabbing one as he ran towards the bathroom, opening its door and popping only one arm in, his eyes facing the wall but also closed with affirming need to reassure you that he wasn’t looking, refused to look, would never even consider to do such a thing.

You pulled the fabric off his hand as you thanked him with a soft giggle, his previous nonchalant attitude vanishing upon the thought of seeing you naked – which you weren’t, and he would’ve realized this had he considered the fact that the bathroom possessed ONE towel, currently wrapped around your now wet body. Shivering with cold, you got yourself dry as fast as you could, while Max sat back down in his chair, cursing to himself at his clumsiness and lack of thought.

Examining yourself in the mirror as dried your hair off (after several minutes of looking for the hairdryer, not wanting to put Max through the whole ordeal of performing the biggest demonstration of respect towards one’s privacy ever witnessed) you noticed something you hadn’t before. This simple, yet incriminating item put into question your previous thoughts about Max’s lack of companionship in his home, your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth turning downwards at the thought that he was hiding something from you.

On the tiny little cup sitting on the sink, there were two toothbrushes. They were carefully put together in a magical arrangement of colors that indicated that one had to be able to tell them apart, like each had its own owner. Suddenly, the whole idea of sleeping over – hell, of wearing Max’s clothes – seemed ridiculously selfish. You had done it before, but you were adults now, and with adulthood came a sense of responsibility and respect that hit you in the face like a slap, the simple idea of an innocent sleepover with your best friend sounding absolutely childish and ridiculous.

“Max?” you called out again, a deep breath escaping your lungs as you sat down on the toilet seat, hair still slightly damp, towel still wrapped around your body upon your refusal to put his clothes on. “Yes?” he replied once again, a feeling of déjà vu invading your thoughts, a repetition of mere seconds before yet with rose tinted glasses off.

 “I think it’s best if I just go home,” you muttered, even though you hadn’t moved. Realistically, the idea of going out there terrified you, but perhaps not as much as staying over, given the current situation. Putting your underwear back on after showering felt dirty, but perhaps wearing his clean one after noticing another one’s presence in his room, his life, his thoughts, made you feel even dirtier.

“Come on, I bet your outfit looks amazing” he said jokingly, assuming you were embarrassed about your current look, trying to lighten up the mood with teasing reassurance. Getting up once again, he stood near the bathroom door, head close to it as if trying to listen to the fabric against your skin, some hint of your own amused presence. All he heard was silence, one so unbelievably loud he felt something off, something wrong. “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice now more careful, more tender, and more concerned.

You only murmured in allowance, and noticed the doorknob turn as he stepped inside. “What’s up?” he asked, his eyes revealing deep concern with slight embarrassment over the painting you two were probably creating. Him, pajama pants and hoodie on, glasses now slightly foggy; you, with droplets falling down your hair as you looked down, hugging the towel tightly against your body. “I don’t want to cause any trouble” you said as you unconsciously looked back at the toothbrushes which now seemed to stare at you both accusingly, judgingly.

“Why would you- Oh,” he interrupted himself, his gaze following yours towards the same spot, his look going from confused to serious to utterly humored. “This?” he asked again, grabbing the small toothbrush from the cup, its cable a pretty yellow shade. “What’s your favorite color again?” he continued, waving the object in front of your face as you stared at it in confusion.

Looking up, you replied simply “yellow- oh,” it was your turn to interrupt yourself, now realizing how you had almost forgotten your childhood promise, yet surprised as well at the fact that he had kept it after all these years, the innocence of the act causing your heart to hurt slightly.

“It’s always been here. I mean, not the same one, obviously, but… a spare toothbrush” he explained, even though he did not have to, his hand playfully messing your hair before he headed bac towards the door. “Get dressed, silly. We have films to watch” his warm voice instructed you with tenderness before he closed the door behind him.

Stepping out of the bathroom, finally dry and dressed, you forced Max to close his eyes before looking at you. “Don’t make fun of me or I’ll leave” you threatened jokingly, as his eyes remained tightly shut with his hands in front of them dramatically. “I won’t I promise!” he claimed, yet he was already laughing, the sound of it reminding you of the years of togetherness you both shared.

“Okay, you can look” you finally gave your permission, as he took his hands off his face and blinked fast, the lights suddenly blinding him. At first, he just stared at you, expression absolutely unreadable. Then, he burst into laughter, apologizing as his giggles filled the bedroom. “I look ridiculous” you complained, the long sleeves covering your hands and flopping lazily as you did so. “No you look adorable!” he tried to protest, laughter insistent on making its way through his lips, his eyes shining with happy tears. “Adorably ridiculous” you continued, rolling your eyes and throwing yourself on the bed defeatedly, your head buried in his pillow, filled with the scent of him.

Knowing your mood would change soon, Max merely smiled to himself as he started putting a film on, the choice being the Twilight saga – easy to watch, entertaining, fun, and he could tease you about it constantly, pretending he didn’t enjoy it himself. Bags of jellybeans hit your head as he threw them towards you, in an attempt to wake you from your moody attitude. “C’mon grumpy I have beer” he poked you as he sat on the bed as well, pressing play and opening a bag which he waved in front of your face as you got up lazily.

“’I know what you are’ ‘Say it. Out loud. Say it!’ ‘Vampire’” you said the lines along with the film, echoing each and every intonation and expression. Popping a bear shaped jellybean in his mouth as he took another sip of his beer, Max interrupted your acting session by saying “can you imagine how awkward it would be if it was something else entirely and he would just be like… ‘uh no’” and laughing to himself. Your arm flew to his as you punched it angrily, despite the fact that you were giggling to yourself.

Something about getting you slightly on your nerves while also making you smile made Max feel almost at home, in a safe space without comparison, only available to him when you were around. He felt himself in a constant state of meditation whenever he was around you, his breathing naturally adjusting itself to match yours.

Instinctively, and not out of the ordinary for any of you, he grabbed your hand and played with it softly, his fingers feeling the soft texture of your skin and pinching it with playful tenderness. You never questioned it, and neither did he, this need you two had to display affection more than most friends did, the need to always be in some sort of contact with each other, to feel each other’s warmth and presence closely. Without taking his eyes off of the film, seemingly very intensely focused on Edward’s skin of a killer, he spoke up. “You don’t look ridiculous,” he said, as you held your gaze on the film, yet laughing at his comment, expecting a joke to be made about how what’s on the screen is way more embarrassing than you in his underwear. Yet he said something completely different. “You always look pretty. Very pretty” his voice was soft as he now looked at you, and you felt his gaze on your skin, your cheeks, your eyelashes, yet refused to look at him and face whatever was happening in that night.

The windows rattled once again, breaking the momentary spell that hovered in the room, hypnotizing both of you with the haze of uncertain feelings. You heard his breathing as well, heavy and nervous now, his heart racing and yours matching his, maybe because you were so deeply connected or maybe because your feelings and his were now the same shade of complexity.

 You wondered if this is why you had stopped sleep overs together. Perhaps it was the fear of facing the fact that things were not as simple and easy to brush off when the clock hit 3am and his hand was on his and your head on his shoulder and you had no intention of moving. And he shared these same thoughts, realizing how that letting go of you right now would probably be the worst thing that could happen, the scariest thought that could possibly cross his mind.

All this happened in fractions of second, too short for any of you to truly acknowledge what was happening, his voice interrupting both of your thoughts as he spoke once again, “obviously not as pretty as Edward Cullen but-“ to which you rolled your eyes and laughed. “I bet he’d look better in your sweatshirt” you said, another sip of beer falling on your lips.

“Impossible” he replied, a smile on his lips, his eyes finally meeting yours and then taking your whole appearance in, your cheeks blushing shyly at how attentively he looked at you, at how his gaze seemed so tender and soft. A sudden urgency to feel his lips on yours filled your thoughts with sheer intensity that terrified you. You hadn’t seen Max that way, hadn’t considered it nor question it before, not even when your dates and boyfriends accused you of things, not when your friends commented on how you looked at him. Yet in that exact moment, something shifted completely, perhaps stirred by the storm outside, perhaps because it simply felt right in that moment to feel wrong.

“Can I kiss you?” he suddenly asked. The innocence of the question made you giggle, the contrast between his soft and careful voice and his adult look with a week old stubble making you giddy and timid as you nodded.

His lips touched yours with caution, yet with undeniable fondness that made you question why this hadn’t happened before. You felt his smile in between the kiss, the satisfaction of finally breaking this unknown wall that had existed between you for so long, and which you remained so unaware about.

Pulling away, Max’s eyes stared into yours before moving to the screen, a satisfied smile on his now slightly redder than usual lips, your own face mimicking his. “Edward Cullen could never kiss as well as you” he whispered, earning himself another soft punch, followed by 3 more films worth of kissing.

[stark-ironman]

Separated

A/N: probably my longest fic yet haha. Honestly, I seen a video of Hugh literally picking up another woman in front of his wife at the time and this idea has been living in my head rent free for a few days now. I'm trying to get out of my writing slump. And no this is not proofread

Warnings: angst, jealously, mentions of pregnancy

"Y/N, love, I'm sorry. It honestly was all just for fun." Hugh tries to explain as you start packing your bag. "Fun? You call flirting and picking another woman up in front of me, fun? Smiling and touching her waist all while I had to stand there and keep a fake smile on my face!" You exclaim, looking at him with fiery eyes. "What did you expect me to do? If I said no then I would've been accused of calling her fat and my career would've taken a massive hit!" He raises his voice and throws his hands in the air.

Taking a deep breath, you try to suppress your anger as you look at him. "So, your career is more important than your marriage?" You ask, quietly. "No, I never said that." Hugh tries to reach out for you but you back away from him, crossing your arms over your stomach. "You embarrassed me in front of everybody. All those interviews you've done where you flirt with the hosts and picking that woman up tonight, you've embarrassed me for the last time. We have this argument just about every time you do an interview because of how you act on them, and this is the last time I stand here and feel embarrassed and unworthy of your love. I'm leaving and I don't want you following me. You want to flirt with every single woman in this world then fine, your wish has come true." You take your ring off and set it on the dresser, not once sparring a glance at Hugh as you grab your suitcase and quickly leaving the house.

You drive to the nearest hotel to check in, noticing some of Hugh's friends standing outside but you walk right past them, hearing them whisper amongst themselves as to why you're there, but you continue on to your room.

Once up to your room, you lock the door and immediately hop in the shower. Tears flow down your face as you think back to all the arguments you and Hugh have had over the past couple of years, especially when it comes to him having to flirt with every single woman he is around. You understand it comes with the job for fans and interviewers to flirt with him, but he refuses to set boundaries because it 'hurts his career' as he puts it.

You set a boundary with all the men who interview you or hang around you to not flirt or touch you inappropriately, especially after Hugh got over-jealous one time, and it never hurt your career any. Two years you have wondered why he does it but you can never figure out why. When he's with you, he is the happiest man in the whole world but the moment another woman flirts with him, it's like something flips inside and he turns into a different person, especially when he didn't used to be like this.

Hugh was absolutely crazy about you in the beginning. He wouldn't even glance at another woman but now it's like he craves the attention even though he gets all of yours.

Wiping your tears, you finish showering and get dressed, grabbing your phone as you lay on the bed. You see numerous text messages from your friends about a TMZ link so you look at it and are immediately shocked.

Y/N & Hugh Jackman Reportedly Separate.

Who the fuck told TMZ..

----

A few weeks later, you wake up the next morning to knocking at your door. Silently cursing to yourself, you open it to see Hugh standing there with bags under his eyes and his beard starting to grow out.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone?" You spit, going to shut the door but he stops it. "Please, can we just talk for a minute?" His voice is soft but hoarse, making you wonder if he's been drinking anything. "I told you the other night I was done talking. I've talked for years and you didn't want to listen then." You say trying to shut the door again.

"Y/N, please." He begs and you notice tears forming in his eyes, causing your heart to slightly break. "Five minutes, that's it." You step aside to let him in, shutting the door behind you.

The two of you stand in silence and you watch as he fidgets with his ring, one thing he does when he's nervous to calm him down. "How did you find me?" You ask even though you know the answer. "A couple friends texted me the night you left that you was here." He barely says, coughing a little.

You grab a bottle of water from the fridge, handing it to him as he whispers a thank you. He drinks it and you go sit on the couch, motioning for him to follow.

"I'm sorry," He starts, "I know I've hurt you for a while now and I never wanted to do that but looking back at what I've done, I understand what's wrong. I tried every interview to set a boundary but the interviewers always wait until im on camera to ask me to say or do certain things that if i say no, it makes me look bad. Even my management team said if I tell them no then my career is ruined. My career is no where near as important as you are but darling, I love what I do. I don't want to lose my career but I don't want to lose you either."

"Do you remember when we first got married and I done that interview with Jimmy, the one he was flirting the whole time and you got really pissed off?" He nods and you continue, "What's different about you being jealous versus me?" His head turns down and you know he's finally understanding where you're coming from.

"I'm really sorry." Hugh chokes out, letting the tears fall down his face this time. "I don't know if sorry is going to work this time." You quietly say. "I fucked up and I don't expect your forgiveness. I don't deserve your love or anything." Hugh stands up, heading towards the door and looks at you as he opens it.

"I'll go file for divorce today and have the papers sent by the end of the day." He says and walks out, leaving you by yourself with your thoughts.

Divorce?

You never mentioned wanting a divorce, you really just wanted separation so he could realize the mistakes he made. Which leaving your ring didn't help any and that was a heat of the moment type of thing but you figured he would have tried to fix things before running to a lawyer.

You decide to go out for a cup of coffee so you head to the nearest shop, sitting down in a isolated corner of the building as you scroll your phone, seeing all the news articles trying to pick apart yours and Hugh's relationship.

As you drink your coffee, you see a full flash from the corner of your eye and quickly stand up, heading out of the shop and running straight for the hotel.

"Y/N! Where's Hugh at? Why did you two split?" You hear several paps asking but you ignore them, running straight into the lobby and you're thankful this hotel doesn't allow cameras inside. You start walking towards the elevators, hearing the paps start up again as someone walks through and you turn around, seeing Hugh's assistant walk through the doors with some papers.

'Well that was fast.' You thought to yourself. "Mr. Jackman wanted me to bring these to you." He says handing you the papers.

Taking them out of his hand, you see the word divorce at the top of the paper and hand it back to the assistant. "Take them back and tell him I don't want them." You say giving them back. "But, Mr. Jackman told me to give them to you and make sure everything was in order before I brought them back." He tells you.

"Kid, I don't want the papers. If this is a big issue then call Hugh and tell him I don't want them. I'm going up to my room now so go ahead and do whatever else you need to do." You smile as you walk away, heading back up to your room.

The moment you walk inside, your phone starts going off so you answer it.

"Hello?" You ask.

"Why did you turn away the papers?" Hugh's confused voice fills the phone.

"If you would have given me a moment to talk, you would have known I never wanted a divorce. I wanted you to try to fix things with us before going that route because I do still love you." You sit on the couch, listening to him sigh.

"I'm the stupidest man on this entire planet. I should've let you tell me your feelings, I'm sorry." His voice cracks but you don't think he's crying, yet.

"I want to work on these things with you, Hugh, but I want you to be able to figure out what all you have to fix on your own." You tell him, looking out the window.

"I've already fired my management team for making me believe I couldn't set boundaries and I'm releasing a statement today announcing that I'm taking a long break from doing interviews until people can start respecting the limits I set." He shuffles around and a small smile form's on your face.

"You really did all of that?" You ask.

"I did and I'm going to do more. I want my best friend back home with me." He softly tells you causing your tears to well up as he continues, "Can I take you out tonight?"

"Hugh, don't you think it's too soon?" You ask but he stops you.

"If you think so then just tell me no."

You think about it and your mouth speaks before your brain can come up with a reason. "Let's do it."

"I'll be there at 6, darling." He says before hanging up.

You look at the time, noticing it's 4 now so you get up and start getting ready.

After getting ready, you hear a knock on the door so you look at the time, noticing Hugh shouldn't be here for a few more minutes and you open it to see one of his friends standing there.

"Can I help you? Did something happen to Hugh?" You ask, confused. "The only thing that happened to Hugh was he lost the most beautiful girl by flirting with every one else." The man says, lifting a hand up to your face but you smack it away. "Don't touch me." You tell him but he steps closer. "I know you've wanted me for a long time so don't sit here and act like that." His foot steps inside but he gets flung back into the wall and you look in shock as Hugh starts punching him.

You run up to him, placing your hand on his shoulders causing Hugh to relax against you but he stands up, holding your face in his hands. "Are you okay?" He quietly asks, eyes meeting yours. You nod and hug him.

"Come on, Hugh. You know she doesn't want you anymore." The guy says from the floor and he turns around to look at him. "She didn't want you either, mate, but you tried forcing your way into her room after she said no." Hugh snarls as he kicks the guy so you grab his hand and lead him inside, locking the door.

You grab his hand and lead him to the bathroom, sitting him on the toilet as you start bandaging his hand. "This is not how I wanted our first date to start out." He tells you with a chuckle. "First date, huh." You state, looking up at him to notice he shaved his beard off.

He nods, taking your hand in his as he looks at you with soft eyes that speak a thousand words. "We should go if we're going to make our reservation." Hugh says after a few minutes, causing you to straighten up and finish his hand. "Alright, your hand should be all better." "Thank you, love." He tells you as he stands up.

You both walk out of the room and head downstairs, seeing the paparazzi still standing outside. "Is it okay if I hold your hand?" He asks and you nod, interlacing your fingers with his as he leads you out. The cameras flash like crazy as Hugh leads you to his car and he helps you in before getting in on his side.

"I wish I knew who told the media about our separation." He grumbles after he's been driving for a few minutes. "When I arrived to the hotel that night, there was a group of your friends outside, one being the guy you beat up tonight." You tell him. "Well you don't have to worry, I'm getting a new phone tomorrow and cutting a lot of people off." Hugh says, glancing over at you.

"You don't have to do that." You look over at him to see him shaking his head. "No, I have to do it. They're nothing but trouble for me anyways." He continues driving until he gets to fancy restaurant, leading you inside and acting like the sweet and kind Hugh that you fell in love with originally.

----

After dinner, Hugh takes you back to the hotel but notices the paps are still outside. "Love, why don't you just come back home? I'll sleep in the guest room but I don't want you being harassed anymore." He tries to reason. You think about it especially since you're tired of staying here. "I need to get all of my stuff if I do." You tell him and he pulls his phone out, sending a quick text before driving off.

"My assistant will get it tonight so don't worry." You smile when he says that, reaching your hand over to grip his. Hugh's hand squeezes yours tightly and you see a smile work it's way onto his face.

The drive to the house is fairly quiet and when you get there, he grabs some clothes and goes to the guest room like he promised. You change into some comfier clothes and lay on the bed, tv playing in the background with the volume off, as you try to go to sleep but after hours of tossing and turning, you sigh and get up.

Walking through the house, you think of all the memories that are here and you zone out thinking of everything, noticing you're in front of Hugh's door so you knock quietly. He opens the door and you're met with his broad, shirtless chest and he looks at you with a smile but has a confused look on his face.

"Is something wrong?" He asks. "Can I stay with you? I can't sleep." You quietly say and he steps aside, letting you in. You both get in the bed and he turns the light back off as well try to go to sleep.

Turning over, you lay your head on his chest and he wraps his arm around you to hold you closer, causing you to fall asleep quickly for the first time in 3 weeks to the sound of his heartbeat.

-----

A few more weeks pass and things have gotten entirely better for the two of you. Hugh held up his promises and set boundaries for everybody and he made sure to put out a statement regarding his behavior during the interviews and taking accountability on his part, he even goes to therapy and takes you along with him every couple of days.

Which, a couple of days ago you woke up deathly sick and after Hugh left to get some medicine, you took a pregnancy test and found out you're pregnant so now you're getting ready to go to your ob to find out how far along you are. You just have to tell Hugh and hope this doesn't backtrack all the work you two have done over the past few weeks.

"Hey, love." Hugh says, walking in and kissing your cheek as you greet him back. Yes, cheek, you two haven't made it back to kissing each other yet but you're hoping it's soon.

"Do you feel like taking me to the doctor? I still feel a little queasy after these past few days." You tell him and he nods, wrapping his arms around you. "I wonder what could be going on. You're not running a fever or anything like that and it's honestly got me concerned." He softly says, pressing a hand against your forehead.

"That's actually what I want to talk to you about," You look up and see his eyes glimmer as he looks at you causing you to smile softly before continuing, "I took a test a couple days ago and found out... I'm pregnant." Hugh looks down at you and you see his face go through several emotions before a smile breaks out on his face.

"Are you serious?" He excitedly asks and you nod. Hugh hugs you tightly, kissing your forehead before leaning down and kissing you deeply, feeling the world around you stop when he does. Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer, feeling his arms wrap around your waist as he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

"Is this okay?" He whispers against your lips. "More than okay." You whisper back as both of your lips connect again, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip.

"Shit, we have an appointment to get to." You breathe out, pulling back slightly. He nods and holds you there, burying his face in your neck. "Just give me a minute." He tells you and that's when you feel his erection straining against his pants.

"I'm sorry, hon. I didn't mean to get you hard." You apologize, holding him close. "Trust me, love, it doesn't take much for me to get turned on by you but I'll be okay. I'm just glad to have you back in my arms again." He admits, kissing your shoulder softly.

Your fingers play with the hair on his neck as he holds you in silence.

"Let's go to my appointment and we can talk about where we're at now. Okay?" You say as he sets you down gently and he nods, following you out to the car.

Once to the ob's office, you're lead back and they give you a sheet to put over your lower half so they can do an ultrasound. Hugh grabs your hand, staring at you lovingly as the tech starts checking you. A heartbeat fills the room causing you both to look at the screen and tears to flow out your eyes. Hugh kisses your forehead softly, smiling down at you.

"Well. Mrs. Jackman, it looks like you are 8 weeks along and the baby has a pretty strong heartbeat. You should be able to find the gender out at the next appointment." She says handing you the pictures she took. You nod and Hugh leads you out, taking you home after setting up your next appointment.

Once home, you notice there's food laid out on the table and you look at Hugh, confused. "I had planned a surprise for you tonight but I forgot about it when you told me about the baby. I hope it's okay." Hugh says with a bit of uncertainty. "It's more than okay." You smile as he leads you to the table, pulling your chair back for you and helping you sit down.

You two eat dinner, joking and laughing with each other the whole time and it feels like your relationship feels normal again. "Y/N, I want you to know that I feel bad about upsetting you the way I did a few weeks ago and for the past couple of years and I'm thankful everyday that you've given me a second chance to prove that you're the only person I want. I never want to live my life again without you in it so will you please marry me, again?" He asks getting on one knee in front of you.

You nod, pulling him into a hug after he puts your ring back on and he grips you tightly. "I love you, hon." You say, feeling tears come after saying that to hugh after a month of not saying it. "I will love you forever, darling. I promise."

[jenosbigtoe]

so real on the "but i also really want alpha jeno in my guts" cause same 😩 his outfit on the bat is still living in my mind rent free

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: alpha!lee jeno x mate!reader

warnings: abo, unprotected sex, breeding, mating press, creampie, possessiveness

alpha!jeno is such a himbo.

you seriously wonder how long he’s survived without you by his side. he asks you the silliest questions, tilting his head and pouting his lip slightly as his eyebrows furrow in confusion. it’s the cutest sight to you, seeing this big muscular man act so clueless.

“why can’t we have just sex right now?”

“jen, your friends are literally in the living room and we are IN THE KITCHEN WITH NO DOORS.”

“okay but you’re my mate, they should understand right?”

and trust, he has an insane sex drive. he promises he’s never been this horny before he met you but now that you’re officially his, he gotta be inside you in some capacity at all times. you’re his mate duh, if he could crawl inside your skin he would.

you’ll be cuddling on the couch, watching a romcom, and he whispers “baby, can i stick the tip in? i’m so hard.”

you’ll be eating dinner at the dining table and his fingers gravitate to your thighs as he wordlessly cups your cunt under your underwear, mindlessly rubbing and pumping his fingers in and out of you.

and he would actually be so so sooo jealous of anything and everything that breathes and looks at you.

“oh so you like this stray kitten more than your mate alright how would you feel if i just ran away from home and became a stray too?”

“jen.”

he actually gets the most jealous when it comes to his friends being around you. he knows them too well, even if he trusts you and (to a certain extent) them.

“jaemin get the fuck away from my mate right now you absolute manwhore.”

“??bitch we’re literally just playing mario kart like 3 feet away from each other.”

“i don’t give a fuck she’s mine,” and pulls you into his lap to pout and snuggle you tightly, locking you in his massive biceps.

jeno is so silly as your mate but oh does he fuck you like no other.

his insane animal stamina has him going for hours after your legs have already become jelly and your mind fucked stupid from overstimulation.

“baby, you’re mine. my mate, my love. your body was made for me,” he would growl into your ear as he took you in mating press.

his thick heavy body would drive his cock so so deep inside your poor little pussy, you would be left sobbing.

“jen-jeno! s’deep,” you’d cry, hiding your face in your arms.

he’d grab your arms and pin them above your head, using his powerful hips to thrust so hard and so deep to keep you from squirming so much.

“ah. wanna see my mate as i fuck my pups into her. you’re doing so good, sweetheart.”

and he refuses to ever cum anywhere but deep inside your little cunt. “i don’t care if you’re on that stupid birth control bullshit, you’re gonna have my kids.”

[stalkingthenet333]

TouchStarved!Reader (+ some random reader things mainly) & Thomas Hewitt

This is rather long so yolo LOL (I just wanted to write down some little things about this that I’ve been obsessing over the past two months and couldn't quite figure out a way to make it into a full/short story so...sorry.) ((Not the best at writing moans and all that, some profanity is used!))

NSFW THEMES, MENTIONS OF ORAL (F+M RECEIVING) SIZE + PRAISE KINK AND MUTUAL MASTURBATION. (Also, slight mention of mommy kink? On readers side)

General Reader, AFAB!characteristics (example; use of breasts, vagina. Etc.)

I fully believe Tommy wouldn’t care if you’re touchy, as long as he is comfortable around you.

Which WILL take forever to get to that point. He doesn’t trust easily.

(Can you blame him? Poor baby)

But besides that, he wouldn’t care.

He’d be a bit nervous because he’s so big and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

If he’s in the basement working? You’re clinging to him like a monkey.

If he’s walking around the house? It’s like you’re Velcro.

At first, he didn’t like it.

Because he didn’t trust it.

After a while? Man is sad whenever you’re NOT there.

One time Hoyt made a nasty comment about you, and how “clingy” you are.

Tommy almost killed him.

Hates when you’re upset.

But also, secretly loves it?

And not because he’s used to people crying/being upset around him.

No, no

It’s because you’re EXTRA touchy.

You LOVE his arms, and hands…and strong thighs…. big ole shoulders……hmm.

He makes you feel safe more than anything.

Which is ironic, yes.

If you’re feeling lonely, you’ll find him wherever he is in the house and just hug him.

He grunts and grumbles.

But he loves it.

One time you absentmindedly played with his fingers, and he couldn’t help but get hard.

(When he caresses that girls face OMG)

And yes, I’m one of those firm believers he’s THICC down there.

Big ole man has a big ole dick

LMAO

Anyway.

You’re usually the one to initiate any type of intimate interaction.

It’s not that he won’t, he will…. sometimes.

Which for him, he LOVES to suck on your tits (if you have them.)

That always starts something more.

Yes, he does wear his mask.

He refuses to scare you.

Though you told him time and time again it won’t-

He just grunts at you.

I think he would love if you sucked his thumb SORRY, but I do

Like to calm yourself down, you just grab his hand and sit yourself on his thigh and go to town.

(The scene where he shoves his fingers into that guy's mouth lives rent free in my head.)

He thinks it's erotic.

Adorable.

But definitely naughty.

I also firmly believe he doesn’t have a lot of experience with sex...

Until he met you.

The first time anything ever happened he walked in on you masturbating.

Your eyes closed in bliss...

You didn’t even notice him.

That was until you heard the clank of his belt,

His apron discarded on the ground.

He was fisting his cock as he watched you.

You should’ve been embarrassed.

Scared even.

But it just made you so wet.

You moaned as your eyes met.

“T-Tommy…? I…hmm...”

He’d grunt softly, moving a little closer.

He didn’t fully understand why you were touching yourself, or the purpose of it.

But he clearly felt his cock harden rather quickly.

He’d grunt and groan as he watched, looking behind him to make sure no one would come into the room.

He knew Momma would have a heart attack if she saw what was happening.

He was nervous.

But he kept watching.

Kept fisting his cock.

You’d silently beg him to come closer.

But he wouldn’t move an inch.

Just fisting his large cock, his eyes trained on your wet cunt.

When you came it was as if he was touching you...

He came with a grunt.

Making you lick your lips as his seed leaked from his red, sensitive tip.

“Tommy, you’re such a good boy...” you’d praise

If he didn’t just have cum, he’d cum again.

He loves being praised.

Everyone’s always so mean. Yelling and berating him.

You never did.

You were always so gentle with him.

Took your time when explaining something.

Never got mad when he "messed up”.

He loved hearing your soft moans and whimpers when he had your warm breasts in his hands

Usually late at night.

Neither of you had the energy to actually touch each other but-

His tongue was magic anyway.

He’d rut his hips against your ass as he groped and sucked your tits.

Your nipples wet and glossy with saliva.

You usually were the one to receive any kind of oral.

He didn’t want you to hurt your jaw

How sweet :)))

Really, he just loved to taste you.

One time you even asked, "how Mommy tasted.”

The man about hurt his eyes with how wide they got.

He doesn’t understand kinks. Not yet anyhow.

He’d love to feast on you for hours.

Half the time into overstimulation

Which he didn’t understand, he’d tilt his head when you pushed him away.

“Baby, I’m sensitive. It felt good…so good…I promise I loved it, but…let’s take a break. Okay?”

He’d nod with a huff.

If you two didn’t have time through the day to see each other, you’d find him later that night in the basement...

You’d walk over and straddle his thigh,

“Tommy…” you’d whine.

You didn’t let him ‘respond’ before you’d slowly start grinding yourself down onto his thigh

“Need you.”

He’d let you get yourself off first, holding your hips as you used his thigh to rub your clit against the fabric of his pants.

After you came, he’d stand you up and pull your shorts down, underwear too.

Then he’d lift you up to sit on the desk and eat you out

The taste of your release like honey on his tongue.

He's a certified munch confirmed.

The first time you two ever had sex…was different.

You always talked to him about the idea of it, when…where…how.

He isn’t a stupid man.

Not by any means.

But he loved to hear you explain things.

Really just loves to hear you talk.

Never interrupted

Such a Good boy.

He did have a perceived notion of what sex meant/is.

Momma always told him it was only for a man and his wife to do to make babies for the lord.

That was the extent of his knowledge tbh.

Anywho...

The first time, it was like any normal day.

He went to “work”

You stayed home and helped with chores, Luda May (who still insists you call her momma, but you can't seem to bring yourself to do) always declared she could do it alone.

When he walked in the door, he went straight to clean up for dinner.

Dinner was uneventful.

You washed the dishes alone, telling Luda to rest.

He came into the kitchen.

And just stood there.

“Tommy? You okay Hun?”

Always so gentle with him, he huffed...

“What’s wrong?”

You wiped your hands on your hand towel, walking closer.

“Hmm? Long day?”

You hugged him, he didn’t move.

“Tommy? Hey…” you rubbed his arms, making him stiffen even more if that was possible.

Furrowing your brows, you frowned, “Did I do something?”

He immediately shook his head no.

“So…. I'm confused on what’s happening.”

You chuckled nervously,

He didn’t say anything before lifting you easily onto his shoulder making you yelp.

He took you down to the basement, locking the door as if anyone else would ever go down there willing.

He’d plop you on his bed and stand there staring down at you.

“Tommy...? I…can you try to tell me what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

He just stood there, chest heaving softly

You were always good at reading him.

His noises, his eyes, the way he walked or carried himself.

This felt different.

“Honey…I can’t…I’m confused.”

He huffed softly, his eyes trailing over your form

“Oh…want me to strip?”

He nodded, almost eagerly.

Smiling, you got up on your knees on the middle of the bed and began pulling your shirt off.

Then your bra...

His breathing grew heavier.

You could only smile, shaking your head softly.

Then you sat back and shimmied your shorts off, taking your thong with it.

“There. Now what?”

He huffed, this time deeper

Crawling up to the edge of the bed, getting right in front of him,

“Tommy…” you’d whisper softly.

He’d pull you up so he could kiss you through his mask.

That was new, you usually initiated…well everything.

You kissed him back happily, a soft moan as you did so

He’d trail those thick fingers down your sides,

He was a behemoth of a man, but maaann could he be gentle...

Especially with you.

He'd slowly back you up a bit, making sure you were safely on the bed still, before pulling away, making you chase his lips a little with a whine,

He'd huff out in what would be considered amusement before he'd grunt and nod at the bed again,

"What...? I... Tommy. I'm just...a little confused is all...what do you want me to do?"

He'd grunt again before picking you up and laying you down,

A surprised laugh left your lips.

You laid there sprawled out for his eyes,

He began breathing heavier, his eyes trailing down your body hungrily.

He'd kneel down rubbing your legs softly, before kissing your lower stomach his eyes meeting yours briefly,

He'd immediately latch onto your clit, sucking gently.

"O-oh! F-fuck... Tommy..." your head lulling to the side as you had propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him,

He lets out a low, satisfied grunt as he pleasures you.

His large rough hands gripping your thighs tenderly, taking his time as his now very experienced tongue works circles around your clit.

You moaned out, your hand going to the back of his head, keeping him close,

His mask presses against your inner thighs as he hungrily began licking up and down your cunt, a soft grunt escaping him, but it was muffled against you.

"Hmm...baby...feels so good..."

He moved to hold your hips tightly, a far cry from how gentle he typically is, spreading you open with his tongue he dove into your wet, tight entrance.

Fucking into you with the strong muscle.

You bucked your hips, "ooh hmmm...."

His tongue laps inside of you with increasing fervor,

His hips slowly rutting into the side of the mattress, his cock straining in his pants.

The wet noises mingle with your soft moans and whines.

Suddenly, he pulled back a bit, and blew gently onto your exposed glistening pussy,

You felt his thick fingers slowly rubbed along your slit, teasingly pressing against the entrance but never pushing past.

He blew on your cunt again, making you whine, "Tommy, be a good boy and touch me already...!"

He'd pause all movements, his eyes meeting yours

Then he'd dip just the tip of his middle finger inside of you.

Those eyes never once leaving your face.

You let out a small moan as he finally and oh so slowly pushed his thick digit inside of you.

His talented mouth latching onto your sensitive nub again as he set a slow pace,

Letting you adjust to the thickness of his finger.

"Y-yes, so good...so good for me, hm?" you tried to buck against his finger, but he quickly held you down easily with his free hand.

"Tommy...please..." you'd beg

Instead of moving faster, he grunted and removed his finger,

"No! No, please...please!"

He leaned up and pressed the finger to your lips, "Hm."

You sucked it clean, your eyes never leaving his.

He slowly added another, watching with keen eyes as your lips stretched around them.

He lightly pushed them further into your mouth,

"Hmmm..." you'd hum around them, your eyes closing as you sucked them eagerly as if they were his cock.

His excitement grew,

He pushed them further making you gag slightly, your eyes opening and tears lining your lashes.

He pulled them out and wiped the saliva from your lips with his thumb, his hand rested on your face.

He leaned in and kissed you,

The kiss is deep and demanding.

While his other hand trailing down to cup your breast firmly

His thumb brushing your nipple,

Circling the hardening peaks.

He broke the kiss to suck a nipple into his mouth, sending shocks of pleasure through you.

"Tommy...I need you, please baby...", you moaned breathlessly

Releasing your nipple, he grunted softly,

He swiftly moved you so he could sit on the edge of the bed, "Mmm."

"Let me help..." you'd speak gently, leaning in to whisper into his ear, "Let me show you..."

He lets out a low groan, your gentle words and whispers getting to him.

And despite his monstrous appearance...you trusted him.

Needed him.

He gave a curt nod and watched as you smiled that beautiful bright smile of yours,

You helped him take his belt off, your dexterous hands easily unbuttoning his pants.

His chest heaved as you palmed him through his slacks, his hips bucking involuntarily into your hand.

With an almost slow, and tortuous pace, you reached in to free his large throbbing cock from the confines of his pants.

"So big." you'd mumble out,

His massive erection springs free, and he let out a deep rumbling growl.

It's thick, long, and veiny.

Standing tall against his lower stomach, leaking pre-cum.

He is the picture of raw, primal need this way.

He spreads his legs giving you more room to work.

You swiped your thumb over his tip, making him shudder,

He watches as your small hand is barely able to wrap around it.

He growls low in his throat as you began jerking him off,

"Let me taste you...please?" you'd ask delicately

You knew he didn't ever want you to hurt yourself, he was very adamant about that.

His eyes widened a bit, and his large hand reached out to halt your movements,

"It'll feel amazing... I promise I'll be careful."

He's terrified that you'll hurt yourself trying to take his massive size, but he gives a small nod, letting go of your hand.

You immediately resumed jerking him off and shimmied lower, so you were eye level with his sex.

You looked up over your lashes before licking the slit on the top of his sizeable shaft.

He lets out a deep, guttural moan,

His hips lifting in a knee jerk reaction.

Grinning you leisurely suckled on the tip of his cock, your lips stretching around him trying to accommodate his size.

You'd swirl your tongue gingerly, humming soothingly.

Pumping the extra length that didn't fit you began slowly bobbing your head,

His small grunts and groans turning you on even more.

Despite your best effort he's only about halfway in your warm, wet mouth.

He let his hand come up to gently rest on the back of your head, urging you silently to fasten your pace.

His massive chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as you swallow more of him, you bob your head a bit faster.

Being careful to not hurt yourself, you pushed all of him into your mouth.

The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag.

You pulled off of him, a small string of spit still attached as you caught your breath.

You continued to rub his cock that's now slick with your saliva.

"Taste so good baby..." before you took him back into your mouth.

Overwhelmed with the sensation of your welcoming mouth and small praise, he shuddered again,

"Hmmph."

He pulled you up so he could kiss you again.

As you two made out sensually he moved you, so you were now straddling his lap,

Your naked core flush against his throbbing dick,

You slowly began to hump against him.

Moaning into his mouth as your clit dragged up and down his member,

"Tommy...I want you...please..."

His hands on your hips tightened in a small grip, he pulled away from the kiss.

His intense gaze fixated on your face, trying to read your hidden emotions.

"Please..." you'd reach down between your bodies and feel him up.

He'd grunt but nod, kissing you again as you lined his tip up with your entrance.

His large frame goes almost rigid, his mind racing.

A part of him wanted to stop.

Nervous his Momma wouldn't approve.

Another part of him, the monster in him, wanted to pull you down and fuck up into you like a wild animal.

The part that loves you ultimately won, so he allowed you to go at your own pace.

Letting out a soft moan, you slowly lowered yourself onto him.

He let out a low growl, his hands gripping your hips tighter.

Sure to leave a bruise but you knew he didn't mean it.

Still locked in a deep kiss you took him inch by inch, thankfully your cunt was still slick with juices, helping you.

"F-fuck..." you whimpered, "Tommy..."

He'd grunt in approval as you were now fully sated on him.

"Mm.." His hips moved a bit, almost as if he was experimenting causing you to moan out.

His eyes snapped up to your face, seeing your hooded eyes and mouth slight agape,

"Hmm, it....it felt good, you didn't hurt me...I promise I'll tell you, okay?" you rubbed his shoulders comfortingly.

He nods, slow and unsure he lifted you up a bit before pulling you back down.

You moaned again, "Y-yes...good...good boy, hmm."

He continued to do that, his eyes never leaving your face.

In a measured and deliberate motion, he began to slowly buck up into you, "Nngh.."

His small moans and grunts made you clench around him.

His eyes met yours again, a small question,

"I'm so full...feels so good..."

You slowly began your own pace of fucking down onto him,

A small gasp left his lips as he slowed his own thrusts.

"Tommy...such a sweet boy..." you closed your eyes in euphoria

His lips latched onto your tits, sucking and massaging them with his large hands, his hips bucking up as you rode him.

"Your cock is so big baby...fuck." You'd whine as you rested your hands in his hair, your hips meeting his thrusts

He inhaled sharply as you verbalized your pleasure, a small shimmer of pride in his eyes

Knowing his massive size is bringing you such ecstasy makes him throb inside you.

Without warning he turns the two of you, so your back is on the bed and he's now wildly pounding his hips into you, his gentleness snapping.

Your nails scratch his forearms as he held you open, allowing you to take him easier.

"Oooh my god! Yes! Yes...hmm, Tommy!" you'd wail out, begging him for more.

His eyes roll back as the slight pain of your scratches mixes with the intense pleasure of being inside your tight warm cunt,

"Hmm, mm.." his pace was relentless, he was chasing his own release quickly.

Reaching down, his thumb rubbed small circles against your sensitive nub making you mewl softly.

"I....oh, fuck...don't stop..."

His thrusts became erratic as he felt your walls clench, "Mm!" he was now grunting into your neck as the pleasure almost became too much.

With a growl he slammed into you, holding your thighs tightly as he filled you to the brim with his warm seed, your eyes rolled back

Your legs shook and you cried out as you came, your walls clenching around his cock, keeping him inside of you.

"Tommy..." you spoke breathlessly, kissing him.

"So good.."

He'd rub your hips soothingly, his eyes full of remorse as he noticed the thumb shaped bruises.

"I'm okay my love, I promise."

You two would cuddle the rest of the night but not before he cleaned you up, peppering small kisses on the bruises.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soooooooooo...? What do we think? Too much? Too little? Could be better? Be honest, please and thank you! I do take requests btw!

[pugh-bug]

Flashing Lights

Art Donaldson x reader

If people like this I’ll write a part 2 and possibly some sub Art fics in the future. Challengers is all I can think about at the moment and this blonde man is living rent free in my brain.

——————————————————————

‘Come on come on, they can never have too many pictures taken of them!’

Your friend dragged you and your mediocre camera, quite forcefully, to Tashi Duncan’s party. It wasn’t just that you hadn’t been invited and that you weren’t remotely a tennis player it was that Ashley’s lame excuse of ‘they need more photographers’ was patently untrue. Everywhere you looked there were photographers with cameras that cost more than your yearly rent.

‘I’ll get us a drink wait here.’

You watched her confidently insert herself into the queue for the bar, in between endless posters of Tashi Duncan hoodies and Tashi Duncan headbands. If you hadn’t been such a feminist you might have felt a little sick from all the masturbatory self promotion.

In your idleness you decided to people watch. There were no less than a hundred people there already, all dressed elegantly with hair and makeup that no doubt took longer to do than the night would even last. You pulled at your tight dress. Flattering? Definitely. Comfortable? Absolutely not. Ashley had the tennis body, the Tashi Duncan confidence and skill but without the praise or queue of fans. You had your camera.

You hadn’t touched a tennis racket since you were ten years old. These people weren’t your peers they were your betters, including the snobby photographers and perhaps even including Ashely. At least she knew what ‘down the line’ meant.

‘Can we go?’ Your voice sounded bitter as Ashley handed you a cocktail. ‘I’ve got two photoshoots to edit for tomorrow and I don’t even like tennis! Why am I even here?’ As your friend defended her plan to ‘sleep with as many rich tennis players as possible’ your eyes wandered once again, this time landing on a man who needed no introduction.

‘Is that … Art Donaldson?’

It was him, smoking a cigarette by Patrick Zweig dressed for Summer. Fire and ice in the flesh. You suddenly felt the need to readjust your dress, your hair, your earrings. To fidget. To fidget and prepare for the chance he might look in your direction and see what he wanted.

‘Fuck me it’s Zweig.’

As Ashley launched into a thesis on why Patrick was the hottest man she’d ever seen, your eyes bored into the side of Art’s head. His curls fell so perfectly on his forehead but all you could find yourself imagining was messing them up. As your staring breached the line of too far, Ashley tapped your arm. ‘Think I should go talk to him? Flirt a bit? He’s a bit of a man whore, I’m pretty sure I could get him.’ Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the recipient of your staring began to move closer.

It only took a few moments for Art to reach yours and Ashley’s corner of refuge but his eyes never strayed from you. Zweig had followed him like a puppy and whilst you couldn’t have cared less where the brunette chose to stand, you could practically feel Ashley screaming in her head.

‘Aaliyah right? You basically murdered my friend out there yesterday.’ As Ashley corrected Patrick’s memory, you forced your eyes to look at anything that wasn’t Art’s knowing smirk in your direction. It didn’t work, in fact your refusal to make eye contact with the future star had made your feelings glaringly obvious.

You’d watched him play many times, instead of doing your own work, and although you found tennis a little boring the man had you riveted. The ease at which he hit the ball with such force, the little hand movements he’d do during a tie break and his cruel habit of taking his shirt off on hot days … you were hooked.

As he eyed your dress you wondered if he’d seen you, made note of just how many matches you’d been front and centre at. Maybe he knew you were an amateur photographer and perhaps his smirk was intended as a mockery of your being there. Art knew you didn’t belong at thee Tashi Duncan’s after party. You both knew it. He looked at you, finally as you’d lifted your gaze, and cocked his head slightly to the side.

‘So, you don’t like tennis?’

Shit.

‘Oh. You heard that.’

‘Yep.’

His voice was glazed with amusement as he sipped his cold beer, daring you to defend yourself.

‘Ashley was invited,’ you lied with little ease. ‘I’m here as her friend- well I guess also photographer but you all seem to have that covered.’ Both yours and Art’s eyes glanced at the gang of professionals taking Tashi’s photo. She was holding the shimmering trophy as if it was nothing of real value, she had the humble but proud smile down. Art clocked your jealous expression and raised an eyebrow. ‘Tashi not your favourite?’

‘She’s pretty amazing and she looks fucking beautiful tonight I can’t lie. I just, I guess I wish I was that talented.’

Despite her successful flirting to Patrick, Ashley heard your little, sad admission. Mentally you scolded yourself for letting Art see your vulnerable side. Instead of judgement he smiled.

‘Are you not the best at getting front row seats?’

He left off ‘at my matches’ but the point had been made loud and clear. You chose not to react and to ignore him completely. ‘Ashley?’ But when you turned your head to your friend you saw her mouth was occupied. Oh.

Art laughed at his best friend. ‘Seriously? You couldn’t go one night?’ No, Patrick couldn’t and he couldn’t find it in his horny heart to feel guilty for stealing your one friend and escape route from you. The pair, still connected by their lips, hurried away from the party and to some poor fucker’s bedroom. You were alone with Art Donaldson and the party that engulfed the two of you had began to die down.

‘I should go too-‘

‘Wanna go down to the beach with me?’

You couldn’t help but scoff audibly at his request. ‘You don’t even know my name.’

Art’s eyes practically gleamed with cheekiness as he moved towards you. ‘Then tell me.’

‘It’s Y/N.’

With a charming smile he repeated his offer. ‘Y/N… wanna go down to the beach with me?’

If a mind reader had been in attendance you’d have been mortified as your first thought was: Oh god have I even shaved?

The decision to take your heels off had been an impulsive one and an instant regret as you felt the brittle sand rub against your toes. Avoiding the broken glass, you walked into Art’s shoulder and quickly apologised. ‘You’re like a baby deer.’

You perched on the rock overlooking the water that moonlight reached. Art’s eyes were transfixed on you as your hair blew from your shoulders. Surely he was just bored and flirting for fun. But you hadn’t seen him speak to anyone except Patrick before approaching you.

‘What is it about photography?’ Art gestured to the camera you almost forgot you were still wearing around your neck.

‘What is it about tennis?’

Art lit his second cigarette, took a drag and smirked.

‘I’ll let you answer that.’

Much to his elation, your dress had begun to ride up but you hadn’t noticed. You simply dug your toes in the sand and smiled coyly at the blonde. But how to best handle this?

‘Watching you play tennis isn’t like watching other people play tennis.’

Art grinned, only for a moment, but you caught the ego boost in real time. He moved backwards in his chair, outstretching his long legs and looking up at you with keen interest and quiet amusement. ‘Go on.’

Your mind flashed back to his most recent match. His opponent had purposefully coughed every time it was Art’s turn to serve and instead of letting it distract him or doing it back Art had fired the ball, with force, by his head. It had been a warning, not a greatly subtle one but certainly great to watch. The shock on the boys face as he narrowly missed receiving a black eye had made you laugh and you suddenly remembered Art had beamed at you when you had.

‘You’re just really good at it.’

‘Try again.’

He wasn’t making this easy for you but that didn’t mean you had to shower him in compliments, not when he hadn’t so much as asked you your name until prompted. You watched him, completely settled and comfortable in Tashi Duncan’s deck hair and wondered if someone this confident and talented (and knew as much) could possibly be single… unless?

‘Are you and Patrick just friends?’

He twitched ever so slightly at your question before covering his shock with a chuckle.

‘Umm.. yes. Sorry to disappoint.’

You smiled, suddenly feeling more confident now that you’d put him on the spot for the first time that night.

‘Not disappointed.’

Seeing you at ease, seemingly with any answer he had to offer, Art relaxed into his chair again. A moment of silence passed as the two of you listened to the very end of the party above and the seas tumbling waves. The water was just beginning to reach the rock you’d been safely perching on. A sign to leave.

‘I think I should go back to my ho-AAA!’

You’d barely taken two steps before buried broken glass assaulted your feet.

‘Jesus fuck!’

‘Y/N!’

The pain shot through you from toe to head, it settled in between your eyebrows as you frowned, trying not to scream. Art’s face was a picture of panic. He couldn’t help but notice how much pain you were in from putting weight on your foot, which had just begun to bleed as a thought entered his head.

‘I’ll carry you.’

‘I think I can walk.’

You took a hesitant step further but your foot ,in an act of betrayal, buckled under the pain. Giving Art a look of defeat you sighed. ‘Yeah, I think you’re gonna have to.’

You thought it would feel strange, the man whom you’d been watching almost obsessively for months play a sport you despised carrying you to safety. It didn’t. It felt right. His strong arms flexed under your weight as he took confident but cautious steps to Tashi’s party. There wasn’t much left of it. In fact the only people still there were two photographers packing up their lighting equipment and they didn’t give you so much as a second glance.

‘Any chance you secretly are friends with Tashi?’ Art asked, his voice hopeful, hoping he could drop you off to safety. He pursed his lips when you shook your head. Another moment of silence passed through the two of you but this one was different. You craned your neck out to gage the distance before suggesting:

‘My hotel really isn’t far. A mile at most.’

Art smirked for a moment, forgetting what the actual circumstances were. Your foot had stopped bleeding but you didn’t feel like walking. In fact you were rather enjoying Art Donaldson: the knight in shining armour. It was a good look on him.

‘Uber?’

‘Think of it as a workout.’

It wasn’t the recreational workout Art had been hoping for that night but he did it. He carried you and your shoes to your hotel room. The receptionist barely reacted to your new person but of course what did she care? She was probably only concerned with what mess you’d leave the cleaners.

‘67, this is it.’

Art put you down, keeping his arm around your waist for support. He was a little flushed from the exertion and you were flushed from the pain, or perhaps just his wandering hand.

‘Do you want me to st-‘

‘I want you to stay.’ You interrupted him hurriedly, desperate for him to stay. In that moment you didn’t mind if he stayed to read the complimentary bible next to you or if he wanted to fuck you mercilessly in front of the bathroom mirror. You just wanted him close.

At your eagerness, Art smiled following you in. Your hotel room was not too messy for visitors but it certainly hadn’t been expecting any. For a moment you wondered how Ashley was getting on in her room down the hall and if she too had embarrassed herself in front of her favourite tennis player. Somewhat likely.

‘I think seeing as you’ve carried me bleeding you can see me in pyjamas. Give me one se-‘

You gestured to the bathroom and your dress, looking forward to getting out of it but Art shook his head. You froze. His face was one of sheer determination and unwavering confidence, not unlike the look he gave cocky opponents who needed humbling. He closed the gap between you until his chest was inches from yours but blocked by your camera. You took it off, not breaking eye contact, and placed it slowly on the desk behind you.

Just as you thought the only way to break the silence would be with a kiss, Art broke eye contact. ‘Do you have any antiseptic wipes? Anything to clean it?’ You felt your stomach unclench. ‘Yeah.’ Limping slightly, you fetched a packet from the bathroom sink and placed them in Art’s open palm. He gestured to the bed.

‘Sit.’

His order was polite but you felt compelled. Sitting on your own bed as if it was alien, you looked up at him waiting for the next.

‘Foot.’

Art got down on his knees. Your stomach flipped. With careful hands, he held your injured foot and inspected it. You’d never felt so exposed before, the way his eyes engaged with your wound as if it were more fascinating than any match he’d won. There was an unspoken rule for neither of you to speak as he cleaned you. It stung like a bitch but you only let out minor hisses in pain, barely audible to Art but not unnoticeable.

As he took out a plaster, seemingly from thin air, and applied it to your foot he said: ‘Before tonight,’ Ouch. You winced from the pressure he applied. ‘I’d seen you watching me.’ He didn’t look at you, only concentrating on his handiwork and causing you as little pain as possible.

‘Yeah I gathered from all the teasing.’

His voice grew suddenly lower. ‘I’m not talking about tennis matches.’

You were suddenly reminded of a not so distant memory. Ashley had stood you up for lunch, she’d found a better hot date, and you had been in the cafeteria alone. Art had been queuing in front of you, waiting for Patrick and you’d been in awe. What you hadn’t noticed was that he’d sensed your eyes burning holes into the back of his head long before he turned around. He had given you a passing look of recognition and slight amusement before finding his seat next to Patrick.

You imagined alongside that memory were hundreds others. Hundreds of days you’d stared at Art, watched how he span his apples before eating them and the line of his jaw when he drank water in oppressive heat. All the time he had known, you just hadn’t been as subtle as you thought.

‘Oh.’

Art gave you your foot back and sat on the bed beside you. For a moment you couldn’t bare to look at him, incase he disappeared and decided it was funnier to leave you hanging. Your foot was the least of your worries. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d really kissed someone, with feverish need, but you wanted to.

Noticing your inward battle, Art raised his hands almost in defeat. ‘I can leave.’ He meant it, there was no judgement. You turned to him, your eyes meeting his clouded with lust, and recognised that this was a man who needed to be wanted. He wanted to give and receive pleasure, not out of boredom but out of a clawing need for it. If you wanted him to leave then he’d leave but if you wanted him to stay then he’d make the most of it.

Your hand settled atop of his.

‘Don’t.’

Part 2

Masterlist

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[chvoswxtch]

Court baby i've waiting for this moment! I have this idea for a fic living rent free in my head. Its Frank x fem!reader. They were in a very cozy and confy moment when the snap happened and reader was blipped! You could write how Frank deald with those five years and with reader coming back. With a lot of angst moments and flufly and maybe spicy after she comes back. I would love if you accept this request! Thank you, I love you ❤️

i'm not gonna lie to you, the blip is my least favorite marvel storyline, but I love you so I put myself and frank through it just for you 🖤

I would say sorry that i'm about to emotionally wreck you but in my defense, you did ask for this so...enjoy or don't

warning: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, guns, & alcohol, heavy angst, very brief allusion to suicide (blink and you miss it) word count: 4.1k

the blip.

A split second. That’s how quickly Frank lost you. He turned his back for a second to refill his mug of coffee, and when he turned back around, you had vanished seemingly into thin air. At first he thought maybe you had gone back into the bedroom to grab a sweater or something. It had been a bit chilly in the kitchen, and you were always cold. But then a few seconds turned into a few minutes, and Frank didn’t hear any shuffling or soft footsteps. He didn’t hear anything at all. The crisp silence had an icy sense of dread trickling down his spine, and when he didn’t hear your sweet voice responding to his cautious calls of your name, he went into a full blown panic.

You were gone.

Year One.

This wasn’t happening again. It couldn’t be. There was no way he had survived losing Maria and the kids just to find you, to let your endless patience and irrevocable empathy fill the gaping void in his chest, only to lose you too. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Frank didn’t consider himself a good man; he was well aware of and acquainted with his demons. But he didn’t deserve this.

Did he?

It was forty-eight hours before anyone even knew what happened. One giant asshole snapped his fingers, and half the universe’s population ceased to exist. Frank had stopped believing in God a lifetime ago, and he certainly didn’t believe in aliens or otherworldly creatures. He had seen first hand during his time in the Marines that mankind was the real monster. But it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in it, because it happened, and not even the fucking Avengers could stop it. Hell, half of them were gone too.

Two weeks after the snap, news broke that Thanos had been killed, and that the Infinity Stones were destroyed, but the remaining members of the Avengers were trying to come up with a way to bring everyone back. For months Frank was glued to every news outlet, frantically waiting for even the smallest of updates. Anything was something. He refused to believe that the snap was permanent. The Avengers were going to find a way to bring everyone back. They had to. 

Your pillowcase had stopped smelling like your shampoo, and Frank found himself using it and your body wash just to keep your scent on the sheets. He burned your favorite candles and read your favorite books. He wouldn’t stay gone longer than fifteen minutes in case you finally came home. He wanted to be there when you did. Frank kept himself busy with little projects around the house, things that you had mentioned changing or updating that he had promised he would get around to and never did. Frank swore to himself when you came home, things would be different. 

He would take that trip you wanted to go on. He’d take you to the shelter to pick out a dog like you had been talking about. Maybe you two would finally start a family. Whatever you wanted, he’d give you. He’d find a way to give you the goddamn moon and every single star in the sky if you wanted them. 

As soon as you came home.

But then a year went by, and nothing had changed. The anniversary of the snap came and went, and everyone seemed to give up hope on bringing everyone back, or they just decided to move on and accept that no one was coming back.

But Frank couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe you were really gone.

Year Two.

The worst part about the snap was that Frank couldn’t collect his vengeance in blood like he had with his family. The one who took you from him was already dead, and even if he hadn’t been, Frank had no way of reaching him. Thanos was a Titan, someone who was revered as a God to those that followed him, and Frank was just a man. A man poisoned with rage and an insatiable thirst for revenge. So, he did what he was good at. He punished. Even though half the universe’s population was gone, that didn’t mean there weren’t still monsters left on Earth.

Frank killed without mercy or prejudice. There was no sin too harmless for his wrath. His fists collided with skin and bone until there was nothing left but ivory fragments tainted crimson and torn flesh. He didn’t stop, not even when his destructive blows caused his own knuckles to crack. It had gotten to the point where he hardly reached for a gun anymore unless he absolutely had to. He preferred to use his hands or serrated steel. He wanted to inflict every ounce of pain that he felt inside on whoever was stupid enough to get in his way.

It was like he wasn’t even mentally present anymore. His conscience had been shut off somehow, and all that was left was a relentless killing machine. Whenever he ran out of targets in the city, he moved on to hunt in the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He lived primarily out of his van, or whatever dingy motel he came across on the road. He hadn’t stepped foot in your home in almost a year. He couldn’t. It was haunted by your memory, and he couldn’t desecrate the home you two had made together with what he had become.

You would be ashamed of him. You would be disgusted and horrified by the things he had done. That thought echoed in his head as he watched the water continue to run red while he stood under the weak spray of the shower head. He didn’t know what town or even what state he was in. He didn’t know what day of the week it was, or what month it was. He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were gone, and he had nothing left.

Nothing left but the white hot fury that infected his veins and had him seeking out blood like water in the desert.

Year Three.

Frank couldn’t visit you, not like he could Maria and the kids. He couldn’t even have the closure of burying you, because there wasn’t a body. There was no final resting place for you, and he didn’t think that was fucking fair. Today was your birthday, and Frank had been drowning himself in whiskey trying to dilute the painful memories that played in his head like a haunting home movie. 

The angelic sound of your voice as you read him whatever book your nose was buried in that week, your fingers slipping through his dark tresses while he laid his head on your chest and listened in pure content. The feeling of your soft lips on his heated skin and delicate noises of pleasure as your bodies connected like they were made for each other. Your melodic laughter, the silkiness of your skin, slow dancing in the living room with the moon acting as a spotlight. 

All the words he never said. All the promises he didn’t get to keep. All the dreams that wouldn’t come true.

Somehow Frank found himself in a church. He couldn’t remember the last time he stepped foot in one. Maybe it was Sunday school back when his parents still forced him to go. He had stumbled in, his heavy boots thudding along the aisle, the only other sound coming from the amber liquid sloshing around in the half empty bottle in his hand. He stopped when he got to the front, looking up at the stained glass depictions of angels, until his weary eyes landed on the savior that was nailed to the giant cross.

Frank glared at him for several minutes before hurling the half empty bottle right at the head of the statue, causing a firework explosion of shimmering shards of glass to rain over the altar and various candles that had been lit for loved ones that had passed on. His rough voice boomed throughout the empty space.

“You son of a bitch! Why didn’t you take me, huh? Why not me? She ain’t never done a goddamn thing wrong. I’m the one you want. I’m the one that deserves it. I’m the goddamn killer here, huh? I’m the fuckin’ Punisher. So you bring her back, and you take me!”

Frank started grabbing bibles from the pews and hurling them at the statue with all his strength. In his inebriated state, some of them flew right past the statue and knocked over other small figurines and candlesticks. He let out a guttural war cry every time he threw a new one, and by the time he ran out of steam, he was panting heavily, and tears had formed in his eyes.

Dropping to his knees, he looked up at the melancholic face of the statue that matched his own, and he did something he hadn’t done in years. 

He prayed.

“Please. Please, just bring her back. I’ll take her place…I won’t fight…just…just bring her back. I’m beggin’ you…I’ll do whatever it takes, alright? Just…you can’t…you can’t do this to me again. You can’t. I may deserve it, but she don’t…okay so just…just…”

Frank was tired. Three years without you was too long. He hadn’t been able to find the peace that he had found after Maria and the kids. He spent a year waging war on everyone, and it did nothing. He spent the last few months drowning himself in booze, and it didn’t help. Nothing helped, and there was nothing to keep him going. You were gone, and you weren’t coming back, so what the hell was he still getting out of bed every morning for?

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Frank pulled out a revolver and stared down at it. There was only one bullet in the chamber, and it wasn’t meant for anyone but him. If God wouldn’t bring you back, then he would go to you.

As soon as he cocked the hammer, a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“You don’t wanna do that, Frank.”

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Frank squinted his blurry eyes before turning back around, shaking his head with a dry laugh.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Half the goddamn universe gets wiped out, and I get stuck with the fuckin’ altar boy.”

“Frank-”

“Mind your fuckin’ business, Red. Just cause there’s only one bullet in this chamber don’t mean I won’t handle your ass.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few cautious steps towards where Frank was on his knees in front of the altar.

“You’re drunk-”

“And you’re fuckin’ relentless. Go home.”

“Look, whoever you lost-”

“Whoever I lost? I lost everyone, Red!”

Matt didn’t flinch when Frank suddenly rose from his knees and stormed over towards him, his loud voice booming in the silence as they stood barely an inch apart. Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, his lips pursed as he grit his teeth.

“You think you’re the only one that’s lost everyone you’ve ever cared about, Frank?”

“Then what the hell are you waitin’ on, huh? You too much of a fuckin’ pussy to do it yourself, huh? That it? You need me to do it for you?”

Matt carefully reached out to place his hand on Frank’s arm, lowering the gun that was in his hand while he spoke in a calm voice.

“I don’t want to die, Frank. And I don’t think you want to either. You just want the pain to stop. But if you do this, it’s permanent, and you’ll never know if she came back.”

Frank shook his head and blew a puff of hot air out of his lips, his dark brows scrunching up in pure annoyance and frustration.

“She ain’t comin’ back-”

“You don’t know that. She’s not dead, Frank. She’s lost. Maybe she’s with Karen and Foggy. Frank, someone came down from another planet and wiped out half the universe. Is it so crazy to think that could be undone?”

The anger that was simmering inside Frank from Matt’s intrusion seemed to be burning through the alcohol in his system, and Matt’s question was igniting a tiny ember of hope that Frank wasn’t prepared to tend to. His body physically deflated as he dropped his head between his broad shoulders. There was a heavy tide of tears on his bottom lash line threatening to flood at any moment.

“Don’t do that.”

“You have to have faith, Frank-“

“I don’t, Red.”

“I do.”

Frank didn’t know when Matt managed to slip the revolver from his grasp, but he didn’t feel the weight of a permanent decision in his palm anymore. Matt had planted a tiny seed of hope, and what if’s were taking over Frank’s brain like wild ivy. 

What if there was a chance you could come back? Matt had a point, you weren’t dead. Not really. Even if the probability of it happening was one in a million, didn’t Frank owe you the same unwavering patience you had always shown him?

“Look Frank, just…give me a year. One year to show you things can be different. If you still want to make that call in a year, I won’t stop you. I’ll leave you alone. But Frank…you’ve gotten through this once before. You can do this again. If not for yourself, just try for her.”

A year. A year was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Frank had already been without you for three years now. 

What was one more?

Year Four.

Matt’s apartment was fucking obnoxious due to that goddamn billboard across the street, but it was better than the shitty motels Frank had been staying in. He still couldn’t step foot in the home he had shared with you. It had been three years now, and even though he wasn’t fully convinced you could come back, he couldn’t let it go. Everything that was you was there, and if he sold the house, that meant every trace of you and your existence was gone.

Matt had one rule for Frank staying with him; no killing. For a week, Frank lounged on the couch trying to figure out what to do with himself. He would start to read a book, but could never get more than a few pages because he remembered how much you loved to read, and then he would get stuck staring at the pages while memories of you played on loop in his head. There wasn’t a TV because Matt didn’t have use for one, and Frank didn’t care to watch anything anyway. It didn’t take long for Frank to go stir crazy. He had never been good at staying idle.

While Matt was out making the world a better place, Frank had managed to find a construction job. Busting down walls all day long allowed him to get his pent up anger out while not breaking Matt’s golden rule. Most days it felt like Frank was on autopilot. He woke up, went to the job site, smashed a sledgehammer through a wall until his hands bled, came home, tried to sleep, inevitably had a nightmare about losing you, and laid on the couch staring blankly up at the ceiling until the sun rose.

Every single day was a repeat of the last until they started to blur together. Frank didn’t speak to anyone at the job sites. He didn’t speak to anyone at all. Between Matt’s busy court schedule and his nightly patrols, they didn’t see each other often, and even when they were home at the same time, Frank still hardly spoke to him. He wasn’t sleeping, he barely ate, and on the days he had off, he didn’t leave the couch. He felt like a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

Matt knew what he was going through. Hell, he had been there himself after the second time he lost Elektra. He knew what it felt like to lose the person you loved most in this world, and that had happened to Frank twice now. He did his best to be patient, but after four months, he couldn’t take it anymore. Matt was fortunate that he’d had people that helped him combat his depression to find his way back to himself, but Frank didn’t have a soul in his corner.

Except for Matt. 

And even though Frank wasn’t shy about not wanting Matt’s help, Matt didn’t care. Frank could be stubborn, but he didn’t have the energy or the drive to match Matt’s stubbornness, and Matt used that to his advantage. He was relentless in pushing Frank to participate in life again. He purposely antagonized Frank, even if it meant being reduced to a human punching bag, because that meant Frank was still in there somewhere.

Matt started small in getting him out of the apartment, like guilt tripping Frank into joining him on trips to the grocery store.

“You’re not gonna help your blind roommate get groceries? You know, a lot of items don’t come with braille labels. So when I die because I accidentally put bleach in my coffee instead of creamer, you have to say nice things about me at my funeral.”

“You don’t need labels, Red. You got that goddamn bloodhound nose. Would you stop lookin’ at me like that? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine. Get your fuckin’ jacket and let’s go.”

After a while, he even managed to get Frank to join him at Fogwell’s from time to time.

“No wonder you became a goddamn lawyer. All you know how to do is fuckin’ argue, makes sense you made a livin’ outta it.”

“I’m not arguing, Frank. If we got in the ring, you would lose. That’s a fact. You don’t know how to box, you just know how to run at people and slam them into things. And you’re too bulky to move as fast as me. None of that is an argument, it’s a simple observation.”

“Why don’t you observe your ass in that ring so I can shut you the fuck up, Red.”

The more time they spent together, and the more Frank put in an effort to move forward one step at a time, the less empty he felt. The nightmares still came every so often, and there were days where the weight of your absence was too much for him to bear, but for the first time in four years, he didn’t feel so hopeless.

He could think about you without breaking down. He could see something that reminded him of you, and it warmed his heart instead of ripping it out. He had finally reached a point where he had slowly crawled out of the deep pit of grief that he had been digging for the past four years.

As much as he hated to admit it, Matt had helped him find a semblance of peace.

Year Five.

The sound of a dog barking caught Frank’s attention. He pulled his head out from under the hood of his truck, looking over at the grey and white pitbull that was standing a few feet away from the front door of the house you and Frank had lived in together that he’d finally moved back into six months ago. He glanced between the front door and the dog with his thick brows furrowed.

“What is it, Daisy?”

The dog turned her head when she heard Frank’s voice, the movement so fast it made her long velvet ears flop. She turned her attention back to the door and continued to bark. Something inside had caught her attention. Eyeing the front door warily, Frank rubbed his grease stained hands off on a small rag and walked over towards where Daisy was, kneeling down beside her to gently scratch that spot between her ears that she loved.

“Hey, shh shh shh. C’mon now, what’s got you so worked up, huh? What do you think is inside, huh? You smellin’ that-”

The sound of the front door opening caught Frank’s attention, and he instantly snapped his head in the direction of it. All of a sudden, his warm brown eyes went wide, and time seemed to freeze in that very moment. 

“Sweetheart?”

His quiet whisper was dripped in disbelief. There you were, looking exactly the same as the day you had vanished, looking between Frank and Daisy with an expression of surprise and perplexment.

“Frank?”

God, your voice. It had been five years since he had last heard it. That was all the confirmation he needed that this was real. You were real. You were really home. 

Without wasting a second, Frank stood and ran over towards you, tears filling up his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your frame and hugged you as tightly as physically possible. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage, and he was terrified this was just a vivid dream, but then he inhaled the scent of your shampoo intermingled with your perfume, felt your hands gently pressing against his back, and heard your soft angelic laughter.

“Frankie…baby…you’re crushing me.”

Frank pulled back only slightly, bringing his large hands up to cup your face to study your features, taking in every single inch of you. He caught the way you frowned softly, looking up at him in pure concern when thick tears streamed down his cheeks. You lifted your hand to delicately brush them away with the featherlight touch of your fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re really here.”

“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Baby, why are you so upset?”

As you ran your hands through his long grown out curls, a crease of bewilderment nestled in between your brows when you took in his appearance.

“Wait…what happened to your hair? It was just short five seconds ago…and you didn’t have a beard. How…how did you do that? And when did we get a dog? Frank, what-”

Five seconds ago. 

Is that all it was for you? Frank could see the visible disorientation on your delicate features, and he had a lot of questions of his own, but right now nothing mattered but you. He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every emotion he had felt in the past five years into it. He kissed you like the world could end at any moment, because for him it did the day you vanished.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a deep exhale of relief.

“You…you were gone, sweetheart. You were gone a long time…a long goddamn time.”

“Gone? What-”

“I’ll explain everythin’, I promise. Just…just give me a minute, please. Just let me hold you for a minute, can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

Frank had always been able to read you like a book, and he could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t just confused. Hearing you had been gone for a long time infused you with a sense of panic and uncertainty. But you trusted Frank, and you knew whatever hard truth he was going to tell you, he wouldn’t let you go through it alone.

“Okay.”

As Frank embraced you again, you suddenly felt a pair of paws on your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the happy dog wagging its tail while looking between you and Frank. Reaching down, you gently pet the side of her face with a soft smile.

“Hi there, precious.”

“Daisy.”

Glancing up at Frank, your lips parted slightly when Frank told you her name. A soft smile covered his lips, the first smile to do so in five years. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear slowly.

“You always said if we got a dog and it was a girl, you wanted to name her Daisy.”

Tears welled up along your bottom lash line as you looked up at Frank, a gentle smile covering your lips. After a moment, you glanced away from Frank to look at Daisy again, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Daisy.”

Frank gave your waist a light squeeze, leaning in to press a soft lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And we’ve been waitin’ a long time for you. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[thejolteonmastertj]

The plot bunnies be hopping

Y’know how Link’s uncle is brought back to life at the end of alttp—but doesn’t seem to be living with Legend in Linked Universe? 🤔

What if Legend’s refusal to carry on the family’s knighthood as the sole surviving heir of his generation is part of why he’s grown distant from his uncle? I’m not saying his uncle had to have tried to force it or been an outright asshole about it—but maybe there’s some sort of tension, guilt or some other sort of melancholy there.

Y’know something else conveniently similar that’s been living in my head rent-free since I first played botw? That one memory where we learn literally the only detail about Wild’s family we ever learn in-game: His father was a knight of the Royal Guard. Also of/c that Link followed in his footsteps. But like—the whole theme of that memory was, “but what if…”

Specifically, here’s Zelda’s dialogue in the memory:

Your path seems to mirror your father's. You've dedicated yourself to becoming a knight, as well. Your commitment to the training necessary to fulfill your goal is really quite admirable… I see now why you would be the chosen one…

What if... one day... You realized that you just weren't meant to be a fighter. Yet the only thing people ever said... was that you were born into a family of the royal guard, and so no matter what you thought, you had to become a knight. If that was the only thing that you were ever told... I wonder, then... would you have chosen a different path?

We don’t see any response from Link of/c, but… the implications, from the mere fact that he remembers this specific conversation at all—especially in the context of LU, where Wild has already admitted he has a hard time believing the prim & proper soldier in his memories was even ever him.

Which is not even to mention anything else on whether he’d choose to be a knight if given the choice now. We know Wild carries around Roam’s diary, so he’s almost certainly read Zelda’s as well & would therefore know that even the him from before wasn’t doing too hot under all the pressure…

So like, hoo boy, Wild would get it. Legend may or may not initially expect it, but I think Wild would 100% back up Legend’s choice to stay out of knighthood... after a bit more development of his own that seems to be incoming of course. 👀

Hell, Legend might even step in on Wild’s behalf first if things happen to escalate—which would be neat. A lot of things would be neat between these two tbh (Y’all know me I’m obsessed with them. 🤣)

They’re the only two Links with a father mentioned or even implied in-game, (well, them & Twilight perhaps, but that’s off-topic) & both of them got complicated & juicy relationships with their inherited knighthood. 👀 There’s convenient parallels & I just think they’re neat. 🤭

[trainsinanime]

Is there a specific scientific term for what I'll call "harm construction", meaning "thinking of ways that something harms someone in order to condemn it"? There must be, right? I see it all the time and it's not new. Let me give some examples in random order.

One of the first cases where I really remember it was at least a decade ago, an online article by a British newspaper, about how an online store had put a pole dancing pole in their toys section. A bit of an embarrassing mistake but nothing more.

However, that article provided several quotes from a British couple who said they were very worried, because their kid could have seen that. It seems pretty clear that their kid did not, in fact, actually see it, but the newspaper treated their concern as if it was a genuine thing to worry about. It was utterly ridiculous.

A more recent example is a call-out ask I received a few months ago and, of course, immediately deleted, but it's still been living rent-free in my head since then, because it was so horribly bad. I'll not repeat the exact wording, but they were annoyed that their victim blog (which I don't follow and haven't for years, if ever, and they don't follow me) was annoying and sometimes said mean things. They very ineptly tried to explain that this might have been part of the reasons why someone else, completely unrelated, sent out hate messages to yet another person. That was the harm that was so big that it supposedly justified a targeted harassment campaign. (If you're the person who wrote that call-out ask, please rethink your life. You were only increasing the hate in the world, not making anything better. I suspect the sender wasn't anyone who actually follows me, but just in case).

The biggest and most prominent example of harm construction right now is of course all about trans people, bathrooms and school sports. Conservatives and TERFs alike need a reason to oppose the existence of trans people beyond "I personally find them weird", because saying that out loud gets them correctly branded as bigots. How do you turn "let's be really mean to a marginalised group" into a progressive cause? By saying that the existence of this group causes harm. The problem with that is that trans people existing does not actually cause any harm, it's literally fine.

So in an effort to construct harm after all, they have searched far and wide for something that trans people could even theoretically damage, and the only things they managed to come up with are "there might be someone with unexpected genitals behind that bathroom stall door" and "the sanctity of gender-segregated sports". If it weren't for their cultural and political power then it would almost be funny how little potential harm they managed to find and how much they have to amplify it. They're just another couple in the newspaper worried that their kid might potentially see a website.

If you look for it, harm construction is everywhere, because we all sort of agree on a surface level that dividing people into "normal, acceptable" and "weird, must be punished" isn't nice, but the instinct to punish people for being "weird" is still alive and well and many people refuse to question it.

At a completely different end, anytime someone uses the word "normalisation" about a fanfic on Ao3, that's another example. We all know making blorbos do weird things doesn't actually hurt anybody (assuming proper tagging and so on), but we still want to punish people who do it wrong. So we construct harm, by arguing that seeing something on Ao3 might "normalise" the thing and make it more likely that someone will do it in real life.

These examples are very different, at very different ends of almost all scales of power and cultural influence and meaning, but the core idea is always the same. So, yeah. There must be a better term for this.

[sturnsblogs]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆More than best-friends‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Chapter 13: Only You.

For months, Chris had been trying to prove to you that he wanted everything with you.

That he wasn’t going anywhere. That this wasn’t just some temporary feeling for him—it was real, it was permanent, and he needed you to know that.

Ever since the night you finally admitted your feelings for each other, everything had changed. You made it official soon after, and Chris had been nothing but devoted to you since. Every day, he found a new way to remind you how much he loved you, how much he needed you.

And he did it in every way possible—through words, through actions, and especially through the endless messages he sent, reminding you every single day that you were his, and he was yours.

01: Morning Messages

Chris: Good morning, my love. I hope you slept well. I woke up thinking about you (shocker, I know), and I just need you to know how much I love you. Like, it’s actually insane how obsessed I am with you. If I could spend every second with you, I would. And if anyone tries to ruin your day today, let me know. I’ll handle it. Love you, baby.

You: You’re so dramatic, you know that?

Chris: Not dramatic, just very in love with my girl.

You: Fine. I love you too.

Chris: Damn right you do.

—

Chris: Princess, wake up. The sun’s out, the birds are chirping, and I miss you.

You: Chris, it’s 7 AM.

Chris: Exactly. That means you’ve already wasted at least 7 hours not being in my arms.

You: Christopher.

Chris: Sweetheart.

You: I need sleep.

Chris: You need me.

02: Random Check-Ins

Chris: Baby, have you eaten today? Drank water? Taken a deep breath?

You: Yes, dad.

Chris: Shut up, I just care about my girl.

You: I know, I know. I love you.

Chris: Damn right you do.

—

Chris: I just saw a couple walking down the street, holding hands, looking all cute, and you know what I thought?

You: What?

Chris: That should be us. Except you’d probably be dragging me into some random store because you saw something “cute” that you absolutely needed to have.

You: First of all, correct. Second of all, it’s called retail therapy.

Chris: And what am I called?

You: My personal ATM.

Chris: Wow. Love that for me.

03: Soft Reassurances

You: I just don’t want to lose you, Chris.

Chris: You won’t, baby. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.

You: Promise?

Chris: On everything. Now stop worrying and come let me love on you.

—

You: Sometimes I feel like I’m too much.

Chris: Baby, you are everything to me. I love the way you are, every single part of you. There’s no such thing as “too much” when it comes to you. If anything, I just want more of you.

You: More?

Chris: Yes, baby. More laughs, more kisses, more late-night talks, more waking up next to you. I want everything with you.

04: When He’s Extra Soft

Chris: You know what my favorite thing is?

You: What?

Chris: The way you look at me. Like I’m the only person in the world. That look right there? That’s what keeps me breathing.

You: Oh my god, Chris.

Chris: What? It’s the truth. I’ll never get tired of looking at you, baby.

—

Chris: I was having a bad day, but then I thought about you, and suddenly everything felt better.

You: Chris…

Chris: Baby, I’m serious. You’re my peace. My safe place. My favorite person. I don’t think you’ll ever understand just how much I love you.

You: You’re gonna make me cry.

Chris: Come cry in my arms, then. I’ll hold you forever, angel.

05: Late-Night Messages

Chris: Falling asleep without you is so hard, baby. My bed feels empty. My arms feel useless. I keep rolling over expecting you to be there, and when you’re not, I sigh dramatically to myself like I’m in a sad movie. Just come over already.

You: Chris, I am literally in my pajamas.

Chris: Perfect. Less time wasted when you get here.

You: Why are you even up so late?

Chris: Thinking about you.

You: Chris.

Chris: What? My brain literally refuses to shut off when you exist.

You: Do I live in your head rent-free?

Chris: Baby, you own the damn penthouse in my head. Fully furnished.

—

Chris didn’t care about anything or anyone else anymore.

Avery? She was nothing but a bad memory. He didn’t waste a second thinking about her—because his mind, his heart, his everything belonged to you now.

You weren’t second choice. You never had been. And every day, Chris proved that to you in a million little ways.

When he held your hand absentmindedly while driving. When he showed up at your place just because he missed you. When he kissed your forehead and mumbled, “Mine,” against your skin like he was afraid you’d disappear.

And especially when he texted you things like:

Chris: I don’t care about anything that came before us, baby. I don’t care about her. I don’t care about my past. The only thing I care about is my future—and that’s you. Just you.

And deep down, you knew.

You had nothing to be afraid of anymore.

Because Chris was yours.

Completely.

Unconditionally.

Forever.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

A/N- I LOVE THIS MORE THEN ANYTHING.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @jimmasterflashh @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl

CHAPTER 12

[affableramen]

this idea has been living rent-free in my mind jealous!pantalone early stage of relationship, spy and criminal themes

Jealous!Pantalone was coming up with a plan to expose an evil merchant who had been plotting something big and cruel against Teyvat economy. This particular merchant abused power and destroyed many innocent lives. Yet the mastermind Pantalone is, he created a strategy to take over this nasty man’s plans and finally unveil his dirty business. Yet this whole plan had a big flaw - your involvement.

Pantalone, Tartaglia and Arlecchino were all at his desk while he was explaining the rules of the “game” he plotted against the merchant. At last, you enter the room but, good god—what are you wearing?

“I’ll be the bait.” In extraordinary clothes you shine like a precious diamond, and the glittery makeup makes your rounded eyes the centre of attention.

Arlecchino looks at you with approving and slightly proud look - what a bold move you’ve taken for the sake of Fatui’s secret mission. Tartaglia agreed too:

“She is the only one who can do it”, though his words sounded ambiguous and indefinite, Tartaglia coughed into his fist and explained, “I mean… She kind of seduced you too, Pantalone. I think she can work her charms on another merchant just fine.”

“And besides - it will be nothing more than just shallow flirt.” Arlecchino glared at Tartaglia who just could not shut his mouth in time.

Pantalone stopped writing and almost dropped his pen but gripped it immediately then.

“Absolutely not. We’re not doing it.”

He sounded more gloomy and grumpy than usual, not a hint from the familiar friendly-mannered and charming Harbinger.

Everyone stared at him like if he were an idiot.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Y/N won’t be the bait. I do not allow it, even if it is simply for mission purposes.”

“I will simply talk to the target and look pretty, nothing more nothing less”, you finally said, but that did little to convince Pantalone. He shook his head, the Knave and Childe fell silent.

“Are you jealous?” you crossed your arms.

“No.” Pantalone turned away and continued drawing the plan. “This task is extremely dangerous, I refuse Y/N’s involvement.”

“Yes, he obviously is. If I were him, I would feel jealous too”, said Arlecchino nonchalantly.

“Come on, give her a try, Pants. We don’t really have another choice. There should be a beautiful lady involved in such missions. As if someone would die of it!” He rolled his eyes.

Arlecchino gave you a smirk.

“What are you two blabbering about?!” Pantalone finally exploded. “I won’t let her go—not looking like…this!”

“Looking like…what exactly?” Arlecchino was not happy with his choice of words.

To shift the attention in some way and prevent a conflict you used the red lipstick and rubbed your lips together.

“Then it’s decided.”

This little action made Pantalone bite his own dehydrated lips as the sight of you was so intoxicating.

“Is that enough to charm our target?”

“Too much for some greedy old man.” Pantalone responded earlier than Tartaglia or Arlecchino could open their mouths.

“Relax.” You said to him silently.

“How am I supposed to—when you’re going to work your charms on another man?”

“We need it for a job. We need it to take the damn criminal down.”

Pantalone hit the desk with his fist furiously.

“Fuck the plan, I don’t want to sit and watch you flirt with an old jerk.”

Arlecchino and Tartaglia gave each other a knowing glance and left the room.

“You two decide it between yourselves.”

When everyone left Pantalone grabbed you by your hips and set you on top of his desk and kissed you in the lips passionately.

“Stop—come on—you’ll ruin my makeup!”

He only stopped for a second to look at your face again before proceeding to kiss you more anxious and desperate. After a while he pulled away, breathing heavily, like a pathetic jealous old man he is.

“You may flirt with the target but under one condition”, still gasping for breath profusely he says quietly, his fingers lingering on your shoulders as if he were discreetly trying to hug you.

“What is it, [Pantalone's real name]? What are you afraid of?”

One hand appeared on your cheek and he stroked it gently and affectionately.

“You’re going to seduce me later.”

“You’re unbelievable!” You chuckled under your breath. The audacity and bluntness of this man were insufferable. “But I promise to stay safe and come back to you after this all ends.”

[romanticintheory]

Okay but could u write something fluffy with soap. Tbh I feel like he'd be the best friend to lovers kinda thing.

AND YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT i love friends to lovers so much guys u don't understand :(

also, i realize now that this isn't super fluff-heavy!! apologies </3 i got carried away.

johnny "soap" mactavish x gn!reader

warnings: horrid scottish slang from a non-scot (i am sincerely sorry), my writing from 2 am on three hours of sleep (also sincerely sorry)

-

-best friend to lovers with soap except there wasn't really a specific moment you two become each other's. it just... kind of happened.

-growing up with him and supporting his dreams to be a soldier while he supported yours. the first time he came back from a mission, you were the first person he wanted to see once he was allowed back home.

-you used to fuss over any injuries he got from being himself as a little kid, and the worry only heightened when he'd come back from missions with real wounds.

-his mom would always have a cheeky smile seeing you two together. she never said it, but it was always hinted in the way she acted. she was always talking to johnny about how you were such an impressive and loyal young person, often doting on you and insisting you stay for dinner (which, of course, you couldn't refuse).

-the first time johnny started dating someone, it was hard for you to deal with, but it got easier the more it happened.

-what you didn't know was johnny would take it even worse whenever you told him you started dating someone. he'd act all proud and protective in a brotherly fashion, but behind closed doors he was scowling to himself without knowing why.

-one day, you're visiting him in his apartment after he had been away for a few months. you're strangely more subdued than usual, and of course he notices.

-"hey," he calls to you softly, a strange contrast to his usual loud self. "what's wrong?"

-"nothing, don't worry about it," you reassure him, fiddling with the little plushie he got you from his travels--one of the many trinkets he's gotten for you. he always says it's to make up for the fact that he won't be there to bother you in person, but it's actually because every precious little thing he sees reminds him of you.

-"ah ken you're lying," he tells you in a warning tone.

-"i got broken up with, is all," you admit, turning your head away from him.

-"what?" he booms incredulously. how could anyone leave you? "is he insane? after getting an apartment together?"

-"there was this girl from his work and, well, i don't know," you shrugged, fighting back the tears you thought had dried days ago. "he wants the apartment. i mean, he did pay for more of it so-"

-"come live with me."

-it was your turn to be in disbelief, turning your head to face him with a confused look on your face.

-"what?"

-"th' place is empty with me at work. no rent, 's away from yer stupid ex, and ye get to be around me," he added jokingly. you rolled your eyes, but how could you not take him up on his offer?

-from then on, you're living with your best friend and taking care of the place while he's away. if you're staying rent-free, the least you could do was try and be as neat as possible (he insisted it was okay with the place looked like it was lived in, but you refused).

-when he'd come back from his missions, he'd still shower you in little gifts he'd get along the way when possible. you always tried to have some kind of meal ready for him, too.

-"you're always cooking for us, a'm feeling like i should do it sometime," he says, already knowing the answer to that proposal.

-"absolutely not." (the one time you let him cook was when you were both in college. he caught a pan on fire, somehow.)

-"you hurt me!"

-"oh, please."

-eventually, the routine becomes more and more domestic to the two of you. soap's mother always calls out how you two are living like a married couple, but the both of you just laugh it off like neither of you have noticed.

-you eventually notice changes in johnny's gifts. it went from gag gifts and plushies to little pieces of jewelry or intricate pens. sometimes you even think you catch him staring at you, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. he hasn't mentioned being interested in anyone in a while, either.

-it all comes to a head when johnny doesn't come home the day he said he would. sure, it happened at times, but this was the longest amount of time he's been late.

-eventually, he finally walks through the door with too many injuries, a bruise on his lip, and walking with a rough limp.

-you tend to him immediately, of course, interrogating him on what his doctor told him he should do to take care of his healing wounds. the rest of the night goes just like how the others have gone, with you making sure he's fed, warm, and resting.

-by the time you're closing his window for him, you're absolutely exhausted. you had barely gotten any sleep because of johnny's delayed return. normally, you would've let him do more for himself, but the extent of his injuries was worrying you.

-"ye ken am alright, aye?" he asks you in that low, rich voice, searching your eyes for something other than worry and sleepiness. he's sitting up in his bed by the time you walk back to him (despite the fact that you told him to lay down).

-"you're injured. you came home late."

-"what? ye have no faith in me?" he mocks hurt, trying to put a smile on your face or at least get an exhale of amusement out of you, but you weren't in the mood. he could tell by the way you didn't respond and the permanent but subtle frown on your face.

-"i know you're good at your job, johnny," you finally say, ready to call it a night.

-"good. then ye know i'll always come back home to ye, aye?"

-you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, too tired to overthink about what he just said.

-"come here," he orders quietly, reaching out to you.

-gently, he coaxes you into laying next to him. the last time you ever slept in the same bed as johnny was when you two were kids. you were having a sleepover at his house with you in his bed and him on a spare mattress. you had a nightmare so bad it woke johnny up, but instead of brushing it off and making a joke of it, he jumped into bed with you and hugged you protectively. he said it was a good way to train for becoming a soldier, and you couldn't help but snort with laughter.

-just like back then, you had an easy time falling asleep in his arms, now.

-you woke up that morning well-rested and still encased in johnny's arms, which was impressive considering the fact that most times he sleeps in a position that looks like he flung himself across the bed.

-when he wakes up, you sit up with the intention getting breakfast up and running, but johnny doesn't like that idea.

-"johnny, it's almost eleven. we have to eat something," you chide, trying to get out of his impossibly strong grasp.

-"ye get all sad when am gone but yer trying to leave, now?"

-"well, i suppose if you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to clean the rest of the house and cook, yeah?"

-he lets go of you immediately in a comical fashion, and you have to catch yourself as you hurl out of bed from the built momentum of your escape. you look back at him with a seriously? look on your face as he laughs at your near fall.

-"doesn't that hurt?" you question him, remembering the bruise and cut near his lips and throat.

-"maybe a little," he admits. "kiss it better?"

-the grin on his face makes you think he was setting you up for that one. how could he be so confident?

-just like the times when his mother called you two a married couple, you laughed it off and headed to the kitchen to start breakfast.

-that wasn't the only time johnny's behavior changed noticeably. now, his longing stares at you were more blatant than ever. he'd hold you by the waist if he was moving past you and even told someone flirting with him "oh, i've got someone at home," while he was on call with you on the other end.

-what more could you do than accept it? it wasn't like you didn't like it, anyway.

-one night, you're both in the dining room with you standing and him sitting down on a chair. his hands are on your waist with his legs on either side of you as you reapply a band-aid to his temple (something he could very well do on his own, but any excuse to be close to you, right?).

-as you finish putting it on, your attention draws itself to his lip nearly healed. gently ghosting your finger across the barely visible bruise, you murmur, "good to see this one's basically healed."

-"awe, but it isn't," he corrects you, a slight pout on his face.

-"it isn't?"

-"no, still hurts like hell." you should've seen this one coming. "kiss it better?"

-"that's the second time you've asked me," you were rolling your eyes as you withdrew your hand from his face, but he caught your hand in his.

-"am being serious, (n/n), only a kiss'll make it better," he insists, that damn smile back on his face.

-you couldn't help but wonder if he was actually being serious or just pulling your leg.

-"how could you be so sure?" you challenged him.

-"seen it in ma dreams." oh, that was a funny one.

-"you dream about kissing people to heal your wounds?" you ask through the remnants of your laughter, but he's still looking at you with that same far-off smile on his face.

-"no, just of you."

-there's a pause between the two of you as you process what he said.

-"oh."

-he squeezes your hand with an expectant look in his eyes, like he knew you were head over heels just as much as he was for you.

-you cleared your throat and tried to ignore the searing burning in your cheeks. "well, i guess if you dreamt it, it must be true," you tell him.

-he places his unoccupied hand under your chin and guides your face to his, but he doesn't close the gap. it was like he was waiting--making sure you really wanted to go through with this.

-but you do, so you press your lips to his and he lets go of your face to put his palm on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer toward him.

-later that night, when you're back in his arms watching your guys' favorite show and he's calling his mother to tell her the news, you can hear her shrieks of excitement coming through the phone.

-the only thing you don't hear is when she asks, "when's th' wedding?"

-"soon, hopefully," he looks at you leaning against him, head pressed against his shoulder and arm clinging to his like it was meant to be. "but there's no rush. a've waited this long, aye?"

[gloster]

FAVORITE FANFICS OF 2024

2024 is/will/already over....and dear gosh, this year really kicked my butt. Drained me dry. Did a number on me mentally, emotionally, and even my wallet took too many hits. But I live to see another day & enter another year.

As always, the things helped me get through this year was friends both fandom & IRL, good movies, good shows, good music from familiar favs with new albums to KPOP, and of course FANFICS.

Every year fanfic writers both familiar & new to me blow me away with their talent, their writing, their brilliance. And every year I always do this traditional post to give them their flowers. Hence, the reason for this sweet lil' post of mine.

This is a little Tumblr tradition I've been doing now for a whooping 6 years & I look forward to it every time. It's my own favorite of fanfic rec lists. I did ones for 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, & 2023 if you're interested.

Without further ado, here are my favs.

1). however wild by @sayesayes & @noxarcanaart (steddie)

Summary: Prince Steve has always been told to stay out of the forest. And he does… when he’s awake.

This story 🖤this story🖤 this story 🖤this story 🖤 This beautiful, beautiful, incredibly addicting dark jewel is the reason why I was sucked into the steddie fandom- the amazingness that is this story, the beautiful fanart done by @noxarcanaart, & my bestie @dreamydrarry who was determined to pull me into the steddie ship b/c she needed a friend to gush with.

Fun fact. I saved this story on my marked for later for my friend @dreamydrarry b/c this story sounded right up her alley. However, I was too intrigued, particularly thanks to the key word: fae. I love fae. That's one of my magical creatures to read about in fantasy, so whenever I see it mentioned in a story, I have to read. For this one, I decided to read it. And I've never been the same again.

This story was just a masterpiece. A pure masterpiece from beginning to end, living rent-free in my head where I keep thinking about it, Prince Steve being so gentle & brave, fae-Eddie being wicked one second and so devoted the next.

I purposefully delayed my reading because I didn't want it to end. And once I finished, I immediately hopped on to see what other steddie stories @sayesayes had.

Honorable mentions:

genius loci

Flight Risk

locust year

(there is) thunder in our hearts

girlskin

too good to be true

daddy talk series

2). you might have some bruises (and a few scars) by @newtonsheffield (kathony/kanthony)

Summary: Matrimony- Gentleman, 27, seeking eligible lady. Respectable income made from farming livestock and barley in Aubrey, Kent. Gentleman lives with, and provides for six younger siblings and is seeking a wife who would tend to their care and education first and foremost. Family is very important and as such would be willing to provide a living for the lady’s family should this be required. Please send responses through Mrs M Williams, Aubrey village. -Mr A E Bridgerton

OR

Dear Mr Bridgerton, I hope this letter finds both you and your family well as I know the end of Winter tends to lend itself to small children finding themselves unwell. I am writing with regards to the advertisement I noted in the newspaper this past Sunday. I am six and twenty and reside in Somerset, where I grew up, with my mother.

OR

Anthony is a handsome farmer in need of a mother for his younger siblings and no time for courting

OR

The marriage of convenience AU no one needed

Once upon a time, I used to despise marriage being used as a trope in stories from arranged marriages to marriages of convenience. As usual- fanfics came along and completely changed my mind. This story is an example of that. This story also made me more open-minded to farming and farmers in stories, which I never thought of before until I stumbled across this story.

@newtonsheffieldis that writer, especially for the kathony/kanthony fandom, feeding us well with the content and love the damn show refuses to give our favs.

Just when I think I can't love Kate & Anthony anymore, this story deepened my love 100000x fold.

Honorable mentions:

Cupboards

(I feel) the lavender haze creeping up on me

3). I know I've kissed you before (Can I try again) by @transmascsteveharrington (steddie)

Summary: “Still not graduated, Harrington?”

It’s something Eddie would have said teasingly when they were teens. Steve would have smacked him on the shoulder, affectionately calling him an asshole before being pulled into an apologetic kiss. But they are not teenagers anymore and Eddie’s voice lacks any of the warmth that used to be reserved for Steve. Now, it’s just loaded with resentment, which, yeah, is a fair reaction.

“I…eh…work here now,” Steve says lamely and points at his office door. “Guidance counselor.”

or: 14 years after his first big heartbreak, Steve's life is relatively stable. It's been two years since the tragic incident that led to him becoming Dustin's guardian, both of them slowly healing. He is doing amazing at his job and his social life is great. Of course, that's when a person from Steve's past has to come and shake everything up.

OH. MY. GOSH. THIS STORY-THIS STORY-THIS STORY-THIS STORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Best way I can describe this story is the famous Lady Gaga meme: talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it.

Second chance romance is incredibly hard to do, which many try (particularly published authors) and very few can pull off. This story did it well where my heart was lifted, speared, crushed, sewed-up, & melted in an orderly fashion.

4). Living The Unknown Dream by @blushweddinggowns (steddie)

Summary: “How are you feeling?” Steve asked, all wide-eyed and caring.

Eddie gaped at him, fully aware that his entire face must be red. He was trying to form words, he really was, but Steve single handedly put the brakes on that.

Why was Steve Harrington holding his hand? Why was Steve Harrington calling him baby ?

Why did he kiss him, like it was the most natural thing in the world?

Only fanfic writers. Only fanfic writers can take tropes that usually don't tend to stick and turn them into brilliant stories. Amnesia trope is one I've grown to loathe after getting burnt- and incredibly frustrated by it- too many times in other stories. But with this one, I was too intrigued and oh how I fell. Oh how I was proven wrong. And I'm so happy for it.

Yet another story that just deepened my love for a ship that I already carried such deep love for, but then this story came along and it increased 1000000000x.

5). The Yellow Tulips of Texas by @folklauerate (kathony/kanthony)

Summary: Kate runs into a store to get out of the rain, and runs right into a southern gentleman.

(or Texas!Anthony and New Yorker!Kate fall in love)

“You should go,” He says, drawl somehow even stronger now, or is she imagining it? “Most beautiful place on God’s green earth.”

She snorts.

“You laugh now, but just you wait,” He says. “You’ll see, one day.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll go to Texas?”

She has a feeling she knows why he’s so sure, but she asks anyway.

He grins at her.

“A man just knows these things, honey.”

For y'all who didn't think you couldn't be anymore thirsty for Mr. Anthony Bridgerton/ Jonathon Bailey, BEHOLD *presents story in full gusto*. Be Prepared. This story will make you perch for him because 🥵🥵🥵

I do not care for age gap romances. I really don't. Most of what I read usually rub me the wrong way, but the way this one was done, I was greatly impressed. Partially because of their ages where Kate is in her mid-20s & Anthony in his 40s, which isn't too bad. Partially because the writer just knows their stuff and makes magic.

It's because of this story I started hunting for more age-gap romances.

Honorable mentions:

lost in your current like a priceless wine

The MILF in 2B

6). Come Away with Me by FloralUmbrella (kathony/kanthony)

Summary: Anthony and Kate whisk away on their honeymoon. An exploration into the world of intimacy and marriage ensues.

If you are like me, you weren't that particularly impressed with season 3 of Bridgerton for a number of reasons. Including the very very limited scenes of kathony/kanthony, and lack of attention they were given both on-and-off screen.

It's time like this when fanfic writers come through & deliver the content we so desperately need. This story gives us the honeymoon period we were denied in the show, where we see our fav just fall deeper and deeper in love while also learning more about each other.

7). When You Kiss Me (What A Lovely Way To Burn) by @femmequixotic (drarry)

Summary: A drag fairytale of New York in which Draco wears red lipstick and Potter can’t get enough.

An oldie but such a good good goodie. Listen I will always advocate for older fanfics and giving them a chance because you can find some good treasures.

Nothing is more better than going to a story you've been saving forever and it ending up being so much better than expected. Confident Draco in drag, trying to bury the ghosts of his past. Harry stumbling across his club and needing an escape. It's so so so so good.

8). The Librarian by library_fireplace (drarry)

Summary: Draco Malfoy is a reference librarian at a small branch of Britain's wizarding public library system. Harry Potter needs help finding the romance section.

~*~

“Malfoy,” Potter said, slowly. “When did you read The Dragon Tamer?”

Draco felt himself turning pink, and then red. He hadn’t meant to give himself away quite that much, but he also knew that Potter suspected him of following his reading history. He had been found out for his snooping. “I —“ he stuttered embarrassingly, and wanted to melt away into the floor behind the desk. “A few weeks ago, now.”

“And how many romances had you read before that?” Potter pressed, now smirking again, knowingly this time, leaning forward with his arms crossed on the desk. Draco felt himself break out in a shiver that he hoped wouldn’t turn into a sweat.

“Er… None, I’m afraid,” he found himself admitting, even though he had really meant to lie.

“Draco,” Potter smiled. “Did you read it just because I had read it?”

Draco scoffed audibly, but very unconvincingly. “No!”

“I think you did.”

Books have the power to bring people together, even helping old rivals find common ground- and more- within the wonders that lay in their pages. Including some good old smutty smutty.

It's a tale as old as time. Stuffy librarian who believes in "fine literature" A hardcore, shameless romance reader who loves their smut and isn't afraid to show it. This story already was promising featuring Draco as a librarian who has a perfect system for organizing his books. But having Harry be a romance reader whose big stack intrigues Draco into reading, having him fall hard...it's PRICELESS.

9). blood is an aphrodisiac by @cuips-not-cute (steddie)

Summary: There’s a few things Eddie notices when he wakes up.

One, he bites his tongue. It hurts. Of course. The weird thing, though, is he doesn’t taste blood. But he knows he bit it hard and it’s throbbing behind his teeth. He tastes something, and his mouth feels wet but there’s no metallic flavor (metal. He likes metal. He’s remembering). It’s smoother. More earthy.

Two. He’s alone. Completely. No Dustin. Or Robin or Nancy or Steve or anyone.

Three. He’s sore. His whole body aches, his skin is thrumming with it. His neck especially, and his sides like where Steve was bitten, too.

Four. He’s got to blink a couple times to realize this one. Let his eyes adjust from the pitch black of being closed to the dim blue haze of the Upside Down. Yeah, that’s what he realizes. He’s still there.

Five. He’s fuckin’ starving.

In which Eddie wakes up with sharp teeth, Steve has a thing for tongue piercings, and it takes a while for them to figure out what all of that means.

I'm convinced this story was the starter behind the vampire/kas!Eddie fanart I be seeing. Like everytime I see vampire Eddie, I think of this story and the biggest smile spread across my face.

I binged this story. I read it in one sitting-and immediately wanted to go back to the beginning to read all over again. This story felt like one of those urban fantasies, where it's modern day, vampires exist, but they're integrated into modern world. Also despite the fangs and the blood thrist, vampirism has very little to do with the plot and is a stepping stone for these two getting together.

I just how Steve wasn't at all shy about his attraction and just want with it. Meanwhile Eddie is just like 😨🤯😶 I LOVE IT.

Honorable mention:

he could be brave

blinking red light

10). The Stutter and The Freak series by @lexirosewrites (steddie)

Summary: The Hellfire Club can collectively pinpoint the exact day that the formerly ruthless dungeon master known as Eddie “The Freak” Munson became soft. Mostly because it was the same day that Steve “The Stutter” Harrington started school at Hawkins High and became an unofficial member of HFC.

If there's another fanfic writer whose profile I've been devouring, it would be @lexirosewrites. And each one, I get more and more hooked. They have so many stories that I really adored, including the first honorable mentioned that tied with this one for top fav. But there's something about this one that gets me every time.

This one, Steve is such a sweet baby boy who deserved to be protected and Eddie immediately is like, BET, I accept that challenge. Quickly Steve is taken under Dustin's wing, taken into the Hellfire Club, and immediately captures Eddie's heart.

It's a comfort read.

Honorable mentions:

my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

Silver

Bandaids for the Heart

And now for the Honorable Mentions that were insanely good but due to time & length, couldn’t go into full depth:

Love You Like A Love Song series by eyesofshinigami (steddie; omegaverse steddie w/alpha Steve & omega Eddie, dissolving and switching norms in the ABO on its head, being so sappily in love)

awake for ever in a sweet unrest: california trail steddie by hesjustlikemefr (steddie; California trail, mid-1800s, alpha Eddie x omega Steve, mpreg, age gap w/older Eddie)

Nice & Quiet by nobetterlove (steddie; hard of hearing Steve, Steve slowly losing his hearing, Eddie & the gang helping him all the way)

you're mine, class president by orphan account (tododeku; based on the anime maid sama ft. flirtious shouto x shy izuku, peppered with so much cuteness)

For the Love of Football by olddarkmachine (sheith; football player shiro x loner-keith set in a 4-part college AU that's so much fun)

Hic sunt dracones by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation (steddie; fated mates w/dragon Eddie & prince Steve, delivered with such beautiful devotion and possessiveness that I gobbled up)

There you have it, folks. The fanfics that live rent-free in my head. The fanfics that helped make this year bearable. Done by the amazing writers who deserve all the praise, love, kudos, comments, and more. And whom I definitely will be checking out their future stuff in the future.

HAPPY NEW YEAR