#So yeah it’s not gonna happen. But do I care? Of course not

[mcrveilles]

just this once // ln4

HI THERE WE GO - also can you let me know if the taglist works? tumblr is being weird about it 👀

word count: 2.8k warnings: casual intimacy themes, secrecy, conflicts of loyalty, romantic tension and suggestive content, heartache, feelings of betrayal includes: friends to lovers, fluff, best friends little sister, brothers best friend summary: sorrows sorrows prayers - heartaches, max comes to his senses and summer break happens

PART SIX previous part - next part

The celebration has fizzled out, and the quiet hum of the hotel feels almost suffocating. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at the untouched glass of water on the nightstand, your phone resting loosely in your hand. Every moment from today replays in your mind like a relentless highlight reel: Lando standing on the podium, the roar of the crowd, the grin on his face as he sprayed champagne. You’d cheered for him, of course. He deserved it. But you couldn’t let yourself get too close—physically or emotionally. Not today. Not after everything.

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

Lando: "Can we talk?"

The message is simple, but the weight behind it feels unbearable. You don’t want to talk. You don’t want to feel everything that rises to the surface when it comes to him. And yet, you find yourself typing back before your brain can catch up with your hands.

You: "Where?"

His response comes almost instantly.

Lando: "Your floor. Hallway."

You freeze. It’s unexpected. He could’ve easily asked you to meet somewhere neutral—the lobby, maybe, or the bar. But no. He’s put the ball in your court, literally meeting you where you are. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. When you open your door, you find him standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. He looks… hesitant. Like he’s just as unsure about this as you are. His eyes meet yours, and for a second, the tension between you tightens like a live wire. “Thanks for not locking me out,” he says, his voice soft but laced with something heavier.

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the door frame to maintain some semblance of distance. “Figured if I didn’t come out, you’d just keep waiting there like some kind of lost puppy.”

He huffs a laugh, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Yeah, well… wasn’t gonna let this weekend end without at least trying.”

Trying. The word sticks with you, twisting itself into a knot in your chest. “What do you want, Lando?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intend.

“I want you to stop running from this,” he says simply, stepping a little closer. He’s careful not to invade your space entirely, but his presence feels overwhelming anyway. “I get it—Max is pissed, and everything’s messy, but I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter to me. That you don’t matter to me.”

You glance down the hallway, ensuring it’s empty before sighing and stepping back into your room. “Fine. Come in. But keep your voice down.”

He follows you inside, closing the door gently behind him. The room feels smaller with him in it, the tension between you filling every corner. You stay near the window, putting some space between you, but it doesn’t do much to ease the knot in your stomach. “Lando…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words. “This isn’t fair.”

“To who?” he asks, his brow furrowing. “To Max? To the team? Or to us?” You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “To everyone! Max barely speaks to me now, and if people find out—” “Why do you care so much about what people think?” he interrupts, his voice sharper than before. “Why does everyone else’s opinion matter more than what we feel?”

“Because it’s not just about us!” you snap, your voice rising before you catch yourself and lower it again. “Lando, you don’t get it. I’ve already lost so much because of this—because of you. I can’t lose Max too.” His expression softens, but it only makes things harder. “You haven’t lost him,” he says, his voice steady. “He’s mad now, sure, but he’ll come around. He always does. You know he does.” You look away, biting your lip. “I’m not so sure this time.”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unrelenting. Finally, Lando takes a cautious step closer, his hands still in his pockets like he’s holding himself back. “I know it’s complicated,” he says quietly. “And I know I’ve made things harder for you. But I’m not sorry for how I feel. I can’t be.”

You meet his gaze, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. He looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters, and it’s terrifying. “I can’t do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I can’t deal with all of this—Max, the pressure. It’s too much.” Lando’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might argue. But instead, he nods slowly, his expression guarded. “Okay,” he says softly. “If that’s what you want.”

It’s not. It’s the furthest thing from what you want. But you don’t say that. Instead, you turn back to the window, unable to face him any longer. You hear him move toward the door, his footsteps hesitant, and then he stops. “For what it’s worth,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “I think you’re worth all of it. Every messy, complicated part of it.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and the weight of his absence settles over you like a storm cloud. You press your forehead against the cool glass of the window, your chest tightening as you try to catch your breath. You’re not sure how long you stand there, staring at the empty street below. But when you finally turn around, the ache in your chest hasn’t gone away. It lingers, heavy and unyielding, a constant reminder of what you just let walk away.

The silence in the room swallows you whole. It feels suffocating, like the walls are closing in. You stay frozen by the window, staring at the darkened street below, but the city lights blur as tears sting your eyes. You try to hold it together—you really do. But the ache in your chest feels like it’s splitting you in two, and before you know it, the first tear spills over. It’s slow at first, just a quiet trickle. Then it becomes a flood you can’t control.

You press your palms to your face, trying to muffle the sobs that wrack your body, but it’s no use. The dam is broken, and everything you’ve been holding back—the stress, the guilt, the fear—comes rushing out all at once. How did it come to this? The weight of it all presses down on you, heavy and relentless. You think about Max, about the way he looked at you on the balcony like you’d betrayed him in the worst way possible. You think about how much you’ve hurt him, how you’ve fractured the one relationship you swore you’d always protect.

And then there’s Lando.

You think about the way he looked at you just now, his voice soft but sure, his words cutting through all the noise in your head. “I think you’re worth all of it. Every messy, complicated part of it.” But you don’t feel worth it. You feel like a mess. Like you’ve let everyone down, including yourself.

Your knees buckle, and you sink to the floor, the plush carpet doing little to soften the weight of your emotions. You hug your knees to your chest, letting your tears soak into the sleeves of your hoodie as you try to steady your breathing. But the more you try, the harder it becomes to control the swirling storm in your mind. The image of Lando walking out flashes in your mind, and your heart clenches painfully. You think about the way his voice trembled when he said, “Okay,” like he was giving up on something he didn’t want to let go of. You think about the way he looked back at you before leaving, his eyes searching yours one last time as if hoping you’d stop him.

But you didn’t.

You let him go.

And now, you’re left with the hollow echo of your decision, and the crushing reality of what you’ve lost.

Eventually, the sobs subside into quiet sniffles, but the heaviness in your chest doesn’t lift. You sit there on the floor, staring at nothing, as the night stretches on. You wonder how you’ll face Max tomorrow, how you’ll look Lando in the eyes again. You wonder if things will ever go back to the way they were.

And deep down, you know the answer. They won’t.

---

It’s been a week and some since Silverstone, and the silence is deafening. Not just between you and Max, but between you and Lando too. Neither of you reached out—no texts, no calls, nothing. Maybe that’s for the best, you tell yourself. After all, how do you even begin to repair a friendship when so much has been broken? But late at night, when the world is quiet and your thoughts are the loudest, it’s hard to ignore the ache in your chest, the hollow space where his presence used to be. After all, before all of this, Lando was something like your best friend. The only person you had when you moved to the south of France all by yourself.

Max, on the other hand, has been… different. Polite. Distant. He talks to you, but the easy sibling banter you’re used to has been replaced by careful, measured words. It’s like he’s walking on eggshells around you, and it’s exhausting. So when he texts, telling you he’s in Monaco and asking if you want to grab coffee, you hesitate. Part of you wants to avoid it altogether, but the other part—the part that misses your brother—wins out.

You meet him at a quiet café not too far from your apartment. It’s a small place, tucked away from the hustle Monaco, and the warm, homey atmosphere does little to ease the knot in your stomach. You sit across from him, your hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, and wait for him to speak. Max takes his time. He stares at his cup like it holds the answers to the universe, his brows furrowed in thought. Finally, he sighs and looks up, meeting your eyes.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the other night,” he starts, his voice low and steady. “You and Lando.” You brace yourself, every muscle in your body tensing. Here it comes. “I handled it wrong,” he admits, surprising you. His shoulders slump slightly, and for the first time in weeks, he looks less like the overprotective big brother and more like the Max you’ve always known. “I shouldn’t have blown up at you. Or at him. It’s just… it caught me off guard.”

“Max,” you start, but he shakes his head, cutting you off. “Let me finish,” he says, his tone soft but firm. “I was angry, yeah. And hurt. Because you’re my little sister, and Lando’s my best friend. And the idea of you two…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not easy for me.” You nod, swallowing hard. “I get that.”

“But,” he continues, leaning forward, “I shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to choose. That wasn’t fair. And I’m sorry.”

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I understand,” you say quietly. “And I’m sorry too. I should have told you.” Max’s expression softens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “No, you shouldn’t have to tell me everything,” he says gently. “I should trust you enough to know that if there was something going on between you and Lando, you would have told me.”

“I’m not saying I’m okay with it,” he interrupts, holding your gaze. “I don’t think I ever will be. Not completely. But I also don’t want to lose either of you. So if this is something you really want…” He pauses, exhaling slowly. “I’ll try to deal with it. For you.”

You squeeze his hand gratefully, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. Max has always been fiercely protective of you, but right now, as he sits across from you with his messy hair and tired eyes, he just looks like a worried brother who wants the best for his little sister. “I’ll talk to Lando,” Max continues, breaking the comfortable silence between you two. “I’ll apologize to him too.”

His words are like a lifeline, pulling you out of the storm you’ve been drowning in since that night on the balcony. Your grip tightens on your mug as you try to find the right words, but all you can manage is a choked, “Thank you.”

Max smiles faintly, a flicker of the old him shining through. “Just don’t expect me to be happy about it.” You let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over you like a wave. “Noted.” The tension between you softens, and for the first time in weeks, it feels like you’re starting to find your way back to each other. It’s not a perfect resolution, and it doesn’t fix everything. But it’s a step forward. And for now, that’s enough.

---

The morning sun is already warm against your skin as you wheel your suitcase across the tarmac in Monaco. Everything feels too quiet—except for the sound of your heart, which beats like a drum inside your chest. You remind yourself this was always the plan: flying to Mykonos with Lando. It’s been set in stone for months, back when things were simpler, back when the thought of sitting next to him on a private plane didn’t send a confusing mix of anxiety and longing spiraling through you.

“Morning.” His voice is soft, hesitant, as he steps out of the car behind you. He’s wearing sunglasses, his hair just slightly disheveled, and he looks like he hasn’t quite woken up yet. There’s a faint tension in the way he carries himself, though, a stiffness that mirrors your own. “Morning,” you reply, your voice sounding way too bright in your own ears. You quickly turn back to your suitcase, fiddling unnecessarily with the handle.

The crew greets you both as you board, but you barely hear them. The plane is sleek and modern, with wide leather seats and enough room to keep things casual. But even with all the space, you feel like the walls are closing in when Lando sits down just across the aisle from you.

You settle into your seat, fussing with your bag and pretending you’re completely unbothered. You’re thankful for the sunglasses hiding your eyes, giving you a shield to glance at him when he’s not looking. He scrolls through his phone absentmindedly, his brow furrowed in concentration. He doesn’t look at you, not even once, and you tell yourself that’s a good thing. The engines hum to life, and the plane begins to taxi. It’s a short flight, really, but it feels endless as you sit there, hyperaware of the silence between you. Normally, you’d be talking and laughing with everyone by now, but your other friends are joining later, flying in from various parts of the world. For now, it’s just you and him, and that fact is as heavy as the August air.

After takeoff, Lando finally speaks. “You excited?” he asks, his voice neutral, careful. He’s not looking at you, instead staring out the window at the endless expanse of blue sky. “Yeah,” you say quickly, too quickly. “It’ll be good to relax for a bit. Mykonos is beautiful.” He nods, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wants to smile but thinks better of it. “Yeah, it’ll be nice.” And just like that, the conversation ends. You chew on your lip, debating whether to say more, to ask him how he’s been, but the words stick in your throat. It’s easier this way, you decide. Easier to keep things surface-level, to avoid the deep waters you’ve both been treading since Silverstone.

The flight attendant offers drinks, and you accept a sparkling water, grateful for something to do with your hands. Lando orders the same, his voice low and polite. For a moment, you almost miss how easy things used to be. The teasing. The jokes. The way his laugh used to light up a room��or a plane cabin.

But that was before. Before Monaco, before Silverstone. Before the lines between you blurred so completely that you’re not sure where you stand anymore. When the plane begins its descent, Lando shifts in his seat, glancing at you for the first time since takeoff. There’s something in his expression—hesitation, maybe, or regret. “Hey,” he starts, his voice softer now. “Thanks for… you know, still coming.” You blink at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Of course. I wasn’t going to miss it.” He nods slowly, his eyes searching yours for something you can’t quite place. Before you can say anything else, the plane lands with a soft thud, and the moment passes.

As you gather your things and step onto the sunny tarmac in Mykonos, the salty sea breeze greets you like an old friend. The island stretches out before you, glittering and inviting, full of promise. You tell yourself this trip will be what you need—a distraction, a fresh start. But as Lando falls into step beside you, his arm brushing yours for the briefest moment, you’re not so sure.

tag list: @sltwins @sarx164 @hadesnumber1daughter @fullmugwolffish @willowsnook @sageskiesf1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @rawr-123s-stuff @leclercdream @chezmardybum @landossainz @cloud-55 @sillyfreakfanparty @harrysdimple05 @mwuaferrari @milkysoop @weekendlusting @chezmardybum @isotopemylove @luvvcharxo @simp4f1 @henna006

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Could I have a HC of IV letting reader wear his jacket?

He’s a sweetie, his intentions are pure. But sometimes you make him a little bit evil. There’s nothing ten bucks can’t fix. :)

IV x GN reader

Under the cut ~ <3

“IV it’s gone I can’t find it-“

“It’s probably in the car, quick let’s go we’re already gonna be late.”

You guys stayed up late last night. IV had the guys over for dinner, they ended up staying back for some drinks and before you knew it, it was 1am. After a long night of hosting you both crawled into bed, dead to the world in mere moments, and didn’t set any alarms for the plans you’d made for the following day.

A text from ii is what woke IV up, something about traffic and it being best if you two took another route. Which is how you find yourself here. Rushing around the house like psychos trying to get ready as quickly as possible. Except your good jacket, which you had hung by the door especially to wear today, is gone. You can’t find it. And you have no idea where it is.

“IV, I’m gonna be so fucking cold if I don’t have it.”

“I’ll buy you a new one when we get there if I have to, just get your cute ass in the car.”

Spoiler: it wasn’t in the car.

And now you’re on your way to the meeting spot you agreed to meet everyone at, pretending that you’re not even bothered by the cold. Of course the gathering today had to be in a nice park, it’s lovely and it’s quiet. But there’s not one part of you that can enjoy it. You're already dreaming of a hot shower tonight.

“You’re a terrible liar, love.”

“IV, just drop it. I'm not in the mood.”

You frown at the ground. It’s damp and it chills your feet through your shoes. You can’t help but silently wish you didn’t come out at all today.

“One day you’ll realise you’re lucky to have me.”

You can’t even question him on his cryptic comments because your thoughts are immediately cut short. He’s draped something over your shoulders, you don’t even care to find out what it is because the only thing you can acknowledge is that it’s warm. The chill in the wind isn’t nipping at your skin anymore. It feels like you can suddenly breathe again. And when you do all you smell is him.

He’s given you his jacket.

Your head snaps to him. Worry immediately eating at your chest.

“Now you’re just going to be cold why did you-“

Oh.

He was wearing two jackets.

“You were wearing two?”

“Yeah. Thought it was going to be colder but I’m just a bit too warm. Was gonna take it off anyways. Lucky you, huh?”

“This whole time? What kind of evil are you?”

He’s smiling at you. He literally doesn’t care. Because you’re wearing his jacket and you look stunning in it.

“The kind of evil that always comes prepared. I remembered two jackets. You didn’t even remember one.”

You’re huffing and rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him, but you’re smiling. You feel much better now, and you feel so lucky to have him.

“Thank you. But in my defence I didn’t forget it, it’s gone from where I left it I don’t know what happened… I was sure I-“

“Don’t worry about it, love. The day is saved. Now go say hi to the girls. They’ve been dying to see you.”

“You’re an angel, IV. I don’t know what the fuck I’d do without you.”

“Freeze to death, apparently.”

He sends you off with a kiss to the top of your head and a swat to your backside. He watches you part ways for a moment, admiring you dressed up in his favourite jacket. It makes his heart swell and his cheeks warm. It empties his brain and fills it with the impurest thoughts imaginable at the same time.

He watches the girls welcome you into their circle, IIs there as well. He’s happy you get along with his friends. He’s happy they love you.

His ogling is interrupted by a clap to the back from III.

“We get it, mate.”

“Shove off, prick. You’re already on my hit list.”

He has the gall to chuckle.

“Mission success, then?”

“It won’t be if you don’t keep your fucking voice down.”

“Pay up, then.”

IV huffs with a roll of his eyes, but reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a tenner. Slaps it into IIIs palm and shakes his head.

“You couldn’t wait five minutes, could you?”

III can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, yet again.

“Pleasure doing business, sweetcheeks.”

He saunters off with a smile that screams trouble. Headed straight for you. IV watches him say his hellos to you, compliments your ‘new’ jacket with a sickening smile and seamlessly inserts himself into the conversation you were having with II.

He briefly overhears you asking the tall son of a bitch where he disappeared to last night. He makes up some excuse about forgetting to turn his stove top off. IV can’t help the scoff that escapes him. But he doesn’t have long to dwell on it.

“You actually had him do it?”

Vessel stands next to IV, watching you all cozied up in his jacket.

“I asked him to hide the jacket, fucker took it home with him completely, I have no idea how I’m getting it back.”

“You know he’s going to con you out of another tenner, right? He planned this.”

“Yeah well. I can’t say I’m surprised. Plan worked though.”

“You know, I’ve heard just asking your partner to share clothes works wonders.”

“Alright, enough out of you. Keep your mouth shut.”

Vessel can’t help but laugh at his friend, a big old sweetie pie on the outside with a little bit of something sinister on the inside. Even if it means he ends up with more work in the end.

Vessel claps IV on the shoulder and walks him over to the rest of the group. IV zeros in on you. Comes up behind you and pulls you into his side. You’re in his jacket. You smell like him. You’re surrounded by his friends and you’re glowing.

He’s a very happy man today.

He doesn’t leave your side the whole time. As if you wearing his clothes wasn’t enough, he just needed to keep a hand on you all day as well. You learnt a long time ago that IV gets into these moods, you’d compare him to a lost puppy during these times. He follows you around with hearts in his droopy eyes and a smile that could tell a million stories. He’s so soft and gentle, and listens to every word that slips from your lips. (Except for the ones that tell him to leave you alone.) (You do not need to pee with the door shut.) (You’d think you’d get that by now.)

Sometimes he can reel it in. Like today, surrounded by his friends. But you know just beneath the surface his urges are festering. Every little squeeze of your hand. Or kiss to the forehead. Or quick little cuddles when the wind picks up, are his ways of trying to dampen his own urges to whisk you away, take you back home and bury you both back in bed.

He thought he’d be able to handle seeing you with his name all over you all day. Guess not.

There’s one moment, while you’re out, III was hungry and Vessel wanted a coffee, so you decided to take the short walk to a nearby cafe just down from the park. You and IV hang back, slowly following along but far enough away to be in your own world for a little bit. His hand is intertwined tightly with yours and he’s pulled you so close your arms keep brushing.

“You look stunning, love.”

It’s said in a low murmur, like he wants it to be a secret. A secret that only he knows how good you look. Your nose and cheeks are slightly pink from the chill in the air, your lips are a little bit cracked and his jacket drowns you. But to him you’re just beautiful. The smile you give him almost sends him into cardiac arrest. He thinks if his heart beats any faster it’ll create enough energy to power your house.

He ponders Vessels words. Wonders how you’d feel if he just outright asked you to wear his clothes when you go out together. Or when you go out without him. Or when you’re home for the day. Or when you’re going to bed. He knows you’d say yes, but there’s something about you being so oblivious that gets him all excited. How you unknowingly just let him dress you. Thinking it was pure coincidence, and that you really are just so lucky to have him.

He might tell you one day. He knows he’ll cop a good amount of teasing from you, but until then he’ll settle for watching you feel so at home and safe with him all over you.

____

“What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong, Bub?”

“My jackets back there.”

IV quickly turns to see what you’re looking at. Mid way through tossing his jacket back there now that you’re back in the car, he follows your eyes to the backseat.

And there it is.

Bunched up on the floor like it was there the whole time.

“I must be blind or something, I swear it wasn’t there this morning. Fucking hell… all that and it was here the whole time…”

He turns back to the road and bites back an amused smile.

III might put him through strife sometimes, but he’s clearly not stupid. He makes a mental note to send him a text when you two are home.

Lucky bastard lives to see another day.

.

.

.

Thank you for reading. I love you guys.

[sweetshelluvaau]

My copy and pasted post of a convostation I had with a firend about Mastermind.

Spoilers under the cut

Also the more I think about this episode the more stupid it is and how I hate it:

what does Andre gain for putting IMP on trial? Outside of three dead imps and a hellhound? It would make more sense to have Stolas on trial than Blitzo because he can use that as a power play

why wasn't Stolas not there to begin with? He's the 'victim' having his book stolen to begin with they would want his testimony. The only reason why they did it the way they did was for Stolas can see the execution on TV to come in like the big hero he is and save the man he loves gag me with a spoon please

it wouldn't make sense for Blitz to hire Striker because my God he's an imp don't they have little power to begin with? Plus Blitzo is also an assassin as he said he could do it himself. Wouldn't some of the Sins have some brains to figure out how stupid that sounds.

let's talk about Striker for a second. Why was he there? It was so ooc for him to even speak for a noble, let alone bullshit that they'd take his word over someone like Stella or idk fucking Stolas!?

Dude even Ozzie would call out bullshit right away too because Stolas told him about how Stolas wanted to set Blitzo 'free' and he has the crystal now so he can do his job legality. Of course you could have Mammon go 'of course the imp fucker would defend an imp' and that's what caused the drama to begin with suppose to whatever happened in the show. Stolas didn't give Ozzie the full story but still that's testimony enough. More than whatever bullshit Striker pulled out of his ass. Also: isn't Blitzo now under his jurisdiction anyways that could be used in their defense.

Stolas didn't take accountability for shit he kept singing about him being the 'Mastermind' but Mastermind of what you stupid cunt?! Yes it is his fault but not because he 'planned' this whole thing. He wanted to get sex out of Blitzo so he used his book as leverage to force that out of Blitzo but of course we can't have that now that would make Stolas look bad.

God the whole court plot was so stupid and poorly put together. I didn't care for the song it was shit minus for Satan because Patrick Page's voice is mmmm

Speaking of Satan: I like both his character and his voice which I knew was going to be the case anyways because um...Patrick Page but I wished they gave him a more regal outfit because otherwise I don't mind the design. Belph's design is cute but doesn't scream 'A Sin' to me. I don't like Levi's design it's kinda lackluster but I do like the idea of the two heads because 'two faced' I do think that was clever but not sure If that was Viv's intention or just ended up working out that way.

Stoltiz is canon, which means it's only gonna even more down hill from here.

But yeah those are my thoughts on Mastermind. Will I watch Sinmas? Nah most likely not but I think I had my fill of this show because there's so much horrible written melodrama I can stomach before it becomes too much. I only really watched Mastermind for Satan anyways.

[shima-draws]

Curious. Since you and I both like tododeku — do you think that we're delusional for falling for this ship? Is it true that there is absolutely no possibility that they could ever be a thing in canon? Horikoshi, in my opinion, is playing games with the fandom. I personally think that he doesnt even know what he wants when it comes to Ochako because hes seemed to have given up on that. Do you think that theres any slight chance that Hori might surprise us, or do we find ourselves in a delusional hole of hope?

Anon I mean this in the nicest way possible but WHAT are you talking about lmao. I ship a lot of things that I know for certain won’t ever be canon. That doesn’t make me “delusional”, that’s just me having fun and curating my own fandom experience. I don’t have to look at canon ships and agree with them. That’s part of why shipping is so fun—I get to decide how these characters interact. Who cares what Hori’s doing. I don’t. I make the rules in this house

Essentially

Just have fun with it bro

[brionnnne]

note that i will only ever call mithrun "stupid" jokingly. by "stupid", i only mean "frustrating behavior that i am immensely familar with". seeing him do something that makes me groan aloud, closing my eyes, sighing "stupid (affectionate, mournful)". like when he fucking... his dumbass "i don't want to [use the bathroom] right now, so it's fine." oughh. i know you! i know you! that's not how that works!!! and he's smart!!! he's so smart... but god, god... he's kind of an absent professor. he's kind of a cloudcuckoolander. i love him dearly. he gets called a dummy, a little idiot, and i flick his forehead, a little bonk of hard-heads, like "try again, idiot. that's not how bodies work." and "ooh, 'that's not going to work'. yes it is. shut up, stoopid. stubborn little man, my god." rolling my eyes forever.

[theyreinsensibleshoes]

im so scared. i'm so so so fucking scared.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

it's like. everything happens so much. it's all happening right now but at the same time nothing is happening whatsoever. it's a liminal space of an existence. it's slowly crushing me under the weight but when I look up there's nothing actually bearing down on me. there shouldn't be any weight. something is wrong but nothing has happened. I'm simultaneously overwhelmed and utterly bored. nothing is happening and maybe that's the everything that's happening. maybe the everything is the nothing. we aren't there yet but it's all so imminent. either everything is going to crash down or nothing is. I'm just waiting to figure out which.

[gibbearish]

its been fun watching the hbomb subreddit try very very hard to stick to the "if anyone harasses james on my behalf they wont see the light of heaven" by imo overcorrecting to "any time anyone mentions somerton ever it's because you're obsessed with him and want to pick on him because he's the villain of the week" bc its like. yknow actually i dont think people keeping an eye on his various attempts to weasel back into the spotlight and keep doing his same old shit over the last /two months/ is the same as harassing him because it's hip and fun. i think maybe those are not the same thing

[natugood]

make it make sense that I enjoy doing my job (especially the tedious parts) when I am off the clock, but as soon as I am supposed to be working I'd rather be doing LITERALLY anything else????

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Hnnnngngngngn maybe tomorrow

[acaciapines]

i need to talk about the dess raises kris au. or im gonna explode.

[antiqua-lugar]

There was a lot to be said about the Saints' relationship when it comes to shipping (and I stand by it!) but also their devotion to each other is... They threw a bunch of children in an orphanage, then they shipped them all around the world to be raised as children soldiers without even telling them why, then those who survived were told that their lives purposes was just to be a God's soldier until the day they died. They have nothing but their missions and their fellow companions. Of course they would do anything when one of the only people they can trust on this Earth is at risk.

[writingpostmidnight]

i am so fucking mad at my mom

[starkeysbunny]

tears [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe was a busy man. but, when his girl knocked on the doors of tannyhill with tears streaming down her cheeks—nothing was more important than her. and he’d fix whatever was bothering her. or whoever. he hated to see his girl cry.

warnings - none rlly, hurt/comfort, protective and attentive rafe

rafe sighed into his phone call when he heard a knock on the door. he stood in his father’s office—which was now his—pacing the room.

“hey, hey man, just hang on a sec, sorry.” he muttered to the potential investor before he put him on hold. he set his phone down on the desk and marched out of the office, curses and mumbles leaving his lips.

“somebody always fuckin’ needs something.” his hand rubs over his buzzed hair as his other hand curls in and out of a fist at his side. “goddamn. probably fuckin’ sarah and her stupid—“

his mumbles come to a halt when he opens the door and sees his girl standing there, tears staining her flushed cheeks. “rafe..” she whispers weakly, her frame shaking as she looks up at him.

“hey, hey, baby.” he says quickly, completely forgetting the phone call waiting for him as all his attention, worry, and concern is shifted to her. “what’s wrong, c’mere.”

his hand reaches for her wrist, pulling her into his chest. she lets out a quiet sob as she buries her face into his chest, stepping inside. he haphazardly pushes the door shut as he keeps her close to his chest and walks them both inside and through the foyer.

he whispers shh’s, and coos at her in his arms as he heads for the living room, sitting them both down. he softly pulls her from his chest, his head dipping down to her level. his hands come to her cheeks, wiping the tears off her soft skin.

“hey, baby, what happened? talk to me.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“i-i-“ she stammers, unable to get words out as she chokes on cries. her breathing quickens, getting close to hyperventilating. when she cries, she goes too fast, losing control of her breathing.

“hey, hey, no. don’t do that. c’mon baby, you know better. breathe, baby, breathe.”

she begins to slow down, her breathing coming back to normal. she keeps her eyes on rafe’s, slowly calming down.

“there ya go. atta’ girl. good job. breathe.” he praises, his head nodding softly as he watches her. once her breathing fully calms, she takes one last deep breath and wipes the last of her tears.

“now, gonna tell me what’s got your pretty little head so worried, hm?” he coos, his head tilting slightly. “what’s bothering you? who do i have to kill, huh?” he jokes with a grin. but to be honest—he probably wasn’t joking.

she sniffles, her eyebrows furrowing. “my uterus.” she whines. “i’m on my period. my cramps hurt like a bitch. and my mom is pissing me off.” she sniffles, stumbling over her words slightly. “and i’m hungry. and you weren’t answering, i know you’re busy. but i just really needed to see you, i’m sorry—“

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” he nods softly. “i’m here, it’s alright. i’m not busy, doesn’t matter.” he says matter-of-factly. he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “what do you need? hm? i have that heating pad in my room i bought for you a couple months ago.” he whispers sweetly. “i can make you somethin? buy you stuff? i dunno, what do you need?”

he was willing to do anything, he didn’t care. when his baby cried, he’d move mountains to make her feel better. he’d go to every store in town, run up his credit card, do anything. as long as she got a smile on her face at the end of it.

she nods against his chest, looking up at him. “yeah.. the heating pad. and—and can you make me a grilled cheese? you make em’ so good.” she asks sweetly, her voice gentle and weak.

he smiles softly, looking down at the sweet girl in his arms. “yeah, baby, of course. i don’t know if they’re that good. everytime i make them, you’re usually drunk and it’s three in the morning. that might be why they taste so good.” he jokes.

she shoves his chest playfully. “i don’t care, you can’t fuck up a grilled cheese. please?”

he grins. “yeah, yeah. grilled cheese, heating pad. got it, baby. anything else?” he says thoughtfully, his fingers coming to push strands of hair off from where they stick to her tear strained cheeks.

she shakes her head. “just you.”

he smiles. “okay.” he kisses her forehead. “i’ll be right back, gimmie a few minutes to get all that.” he stands, making sure she’s laid comfortably on the couch. he grabs the blanket from the end of the couch and drapes it over her. his eyes search the living room, landing in the remote, he hands it to her.

he leans down, placing another kiss to her cheek this time. “put on whatever you want. i’ll be back, promise.”

he leaves her at the couch and heads back to the office. he picks up his phone and takes it off hold. “hey, gotta go. somethin’ came up. i’ll give you a call later.” he hung up before the guy could even get a word in.

nothing came before his girl.

[cherrygirlfriend]

bsf!rafe waking up with morning wood

warnings: smut (mdni) maybe somnophilia if you squint i guess? morning wood, me trying something new bc i came up with this random blurb i might try out writing other blurbs like this??? so if you have any ideas or pairings you want me to write for pls lmk because as much as i love writing +2k word fics it's fun to rewind by writing shorter stuff too

wherever rafe went, you followed; and even though it annoyed some of his friends, they didn't dare to say anything about it to rafe, because the one time they did, he got so angry they thought they were getting their asses kicked.

everywhere, also happened to include his bed. it had started after you had accidentally passed out on his bed from how much you drank, and he didn't care if you were there or not, he was sleeping in his own bed. now, it had gotten to the point where you couldn't sleep without him, and vice versa.

but you weren't a couple, of course not. rafe wasn't one for relationships, and you were just his friend since childhood, and even if he fucked you into the mattress a couple of times per week, or the fact that he never allowed any other girl to be in his bed, or that he thought of you whenever he hooked up with someone, it was just friendship.

"come on, wake up pretty girl..." he mumbled into your shoulder as you started stirring awake, rafe holding up one of your thighs up slightly as his hand rubbed his hard cock against your panty-clad pussy.

"come on, rafe..." you mumbled sleepily, and the blonde pressed a small, warm kiss on your shoulder over the fabric of his t-shirt. "why'd you wake me up? can't you see that 'm tired..."

"princess.. i need you..."

"rafe, we already went three rounds yesterday..."

"please, baby..." rafe mumbled, pressing soft kisses to your neck, the action causing shivers to go down your spine, and you could feel your panties starting to get wet, sticking to your puffy folds. "i'll do anything... just need you so much right now..."

you looked at him with half-lidded eyes as he pressed lazy kisses on your neck, "anything?"

"anything for you, princess. including murder."

"will you buy me those vivienne westwood earrings i want?"

"hell, i'll get a matching necklace."

and that's how you ended up with your best friend on top of you, pounding into your already sore pussy from the night before, your face pressed against the sheet as you let out moans that got muffled by the pillow, a handful of your hair around his fist as you closed your eyes in pleasure, your fists gripping the sheets to try and anchor yourself as he spoke in a low tone with every thrust "such a good girl for me... you're mine... this pussy's all mine... no one's gonna fuck this pretty pussy like i do..."

yeah. just friendship.

[gonzodangerfeels]

The system is so fucking ridiculously op right now, even the creator of it is looking at it like yo what the fuck is this shit.