#and i was like oh! maybe i should share! so. here.

[bubblingbowie]

just read your little logan smut with flower mutant!reader. ugh!! it was literally so sweet !! all the little nicknames for her “his flustered girl?” “the sweetest thing.” UGH i’m clawing my hair out it’s so good.

it made me think like what happens if he were to like overstimulate her or something. or maybe she’s had a bad day, or logan had been out on a mission and she misses him. and so when he gets back and pounds her into the mattress, bc duh obviously he missed his girl, little vines of some climbing flower wrap around his arms where he holds her, and eventually up his biceps, around his waist where they can sprawl over his abs, all of her favorite places of logan. and obviously she doesn’t realize it bc she’s too lost in how logan makes her feel and how much she missed him.

oh and maybe when she realizes, they start to retract because she’s so embarrassed !! and logan’s all like “hey, now don’t pull away from me, pretty girl,” and just kisses every inch of her and holds her close. please i’m obsessed. logan and his pretty flower girl are all i need !!!

a/n: YALLLL she's back. i literally had a whole other fic i was writing but this ask shot me and i just had to so thank u anon :) i will post the other fic soon but for now! be kind to me work has been busy i love uuuu enjoy!

Logan Howlett x f!reader | 18+ i'll bop you between ya eyes | flower!mutant :)

you all but jump into Logan's arms. 19 hours away; of silence. it was necessary for his stupid mission but agony for his darling love back at their cabin in the woods. he couldn't even make it inside, you ran out so he wouldn't have to find you in the house. "hey, sweet-pea." he gruffs, your eyes just beaming. he sure doesn't miss the dandelions that you leave behind with each step.

"about time! you said you'd be home by ten! god i was worried sick, i-i didn't know if i should cook dinner or not so there's nothing to eat." you babble, worried and running up the wall with meaningless stress. he just watches with a keen eye.

his hand ushers to your head, petting so sweetly to calm you down. "hey. hey. 'm alright, dolly. don't even care about dinner." and then the softest kiss to your forehead. "just happy you're here." like you'd be gone when he came back.

you're relaxed in his palm, eyes glued up to him. it's like he never left you. "bought some whiskey for you though." oh he's dating an angel, he knows it. and your proud smile just sends him in a frenzy of wanting to sip and stay with you in the living room or carry you over his shoulder to your bed. he wants the latter so badly.

he chuckles lowly and wraps his big burly arms wrap around your waist, his nose nudging under your ear. "too kind to me, baby." he murmurs. your all too familiar scent envelopes him and the switch is flipped. he has you to himself again. and Logan is just sooo greedy for his girl.

greedy and impatient. he all but shoves his large backpack into the corner of your shared room before you're thrown on the gentle plushness of the comforter. and you even made the bed for him, his sweetest girl. he's panting, eyes blown while your sweater rises up on your skin. the most he can do while he's crawling towards you is press the softest pecks on your knees and the front of your calves.

"missed you so bad." you're heart flips in its place, the sight of big bad Wolverine slinking slowly up your legs worshipping every inch he saw just too much.

"it was only a day." you chuckle, a hazy grin on your lips. your hands trail down to his hair, running through it with a smile. its fuel to the fire.

there's a small nip onto your thigh from the comment. "you say that like i don't need you every fucking minute of the it." he's quick to peel off pesky clothing in the way of the grand prize. both your tops and your own shorts were laid lazily on the floor. Logan nearly ripped it all off, his teeth baring a few times with how wanton he seemed. it's just you in your cute cotton panties and he aches all over for you. "can i? christ- lemme have you dolly, please?" you gulp, cheeks red and knees weak.

"please. yes please, need you so bad" oh how you're eyes go wide when you're desperate. Logan's hand gliding up and up your abdomen, a soft gleam shown with how smooth you've stayed. fingers run over the breasts he's worshipped so many times. after all that's been done, you've stayed his sweetest girl. so sweet you'd let him fuck you silly so quickly!

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

"i know sweetie, so deep, ain't i? jus' feel good, petal" he cooed so sweetly with your legs on his shoulders, pressed so lean against the silk pillowcases (bought by you but loved the most by Logan).

"oh fuck! 's so good, god-!" your eyes were screwed shut. you couldn't keep up, it always happens. senses get clogged up with how his dick stretches you so nice. all you hear is the quickness of skin on skin, his movement so unforgiving. you see Logan with a slacked jaw from how sloppy he's gotten you even within the few moments he's had you back in his arms.

but what you feel? you feel heaven and light all at once. you feel loved and loving, your skin melting into his. wanting him closer. to stay. on Logan's end, he's relishing in your sweet noises. just working along to keep your legs shaking, keep those warm tears falling down your cheeks, keep those vines growing your skin onto his hands rested on your waist. Logan does a double take.

the vines. oh shit. gardening again! just like those weeks ago with the wisteria. he remembers how red you were when your eyes laid upon those flowers. poor thing, your first thought was you hurt him. sure, like your mind would ever let yourself harm him. he prays it's a normal occurrence now, maybe he's a good man after all if you're so willing. a beautiful creation he has laid out so beautifully and for him?

yeah, you're growing more for him. "thas' it dolly, just feel good. you like my cock so bad? hm?" in your head, he's just talking about how you've gone limb from how the head of his cock rams deep into what feels like your gut. makes you so dumb you nod eagerly. he grins. the vines grow and grow to where they keep his hands attached to curve of your lower back. he can't loose you in all this now, can he?

Logan's just happy you've had your eyes welted shut focused on the bliss he's giving you, moaning like it's second nature. you were a vision beyond anything he'd seen with your charming trailing plants making him keep fucking into you. even the most darling buds pop next to the leaves.

"some pretty flowers for me too, huh?" Logan curses himself for saying that when your eyes meekly open, the words unfamiliar from his lips when it came to being fucked into a mattress. and then they're quarters from there. wide and beady while watching the fruits of your labor spinning and twisting up your lovers arms while he fucks you so good.

"oh...L-Lo, ah! i'm sorry i'll stop- fuck!" you really wanted to be sorry and pitying, to cry more than you were but from sheer humiliation. not from blinding pleasure. but maybe the vines had the good idea. they're not constricting yet not too different from your clawing hands onto his back.

he simply shakes his head. "nah. nah, keep em. lemme see it all, petal, please." embarrassment subsides. it's your Logan! there's no need for it. your shoulders relax with your head lulling back into the pillow, too cock drunk to think of ever letting this stop. more vines blossom onto his broad shoulders now. he'd be covered by the end of the night at this rate. "good girl, there we go..." the vines were kind enough to let his arm bend down to your cheeks pressing haste kisses on your flushed skin, peppering and spoiling you for you compliance. always so eager to please. his filthy girl.

he's insatiable, eager for more. his hips buck into you with more intent. to push you over, to have you more intimately. or to put it plainly, to feel you cum hard on his cock. and with how you clench around him with your little noises of "ah! ah! ah!" his lips capture yours in a sloppy kiss. all teeth while he drinks in every muffled moan. you just taste like fucking candy everywhere he puts his mouth, you're magic incarnate. in all his blistering years barely alive he's never known a feeling like having you below him so desperate to have his cock.

he doesn't know it but his stroke are getting messy. he's getting close and you're right behind him, your back arching into the sheets. he has to move his hands. his knuckles feel raw where those three shiny blades seep out. Logan's all too familiar with it. though he didn't think moving your flora would be so easy when detaching his hands to avoid an accidental injury to his lady.

fingers wrap around the bed frame with another large palm cradling your head to face him. you face the foliage you've made on his shoulders, and now, his chest. what a sight. seeing the ivy leaves decorate him and his specially carved abs.

oh you were a weak woman. "fuck, 'm gonna cum! more, please gimme more-" you cry out, now pulling him in by those strong stems able to carry while buildings. no longer auto pilot. you're all too aware. he groans, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head.

"doin' that on purpose now, bub" oh you were. you simply wanted his fat cock deeper for when he unloads inside your poor pussy. you smile with mischief. his brows furrow. his pace picks up once more, groans turning to growls while the bed shakes with the direction force from his hands. beastly man he was . "cum with me, baby. cum on this cock and i'll fill ya up. i'll get y'so full, whatever you want"

and that's was all you needed for you're poor hole to clench violently while you drip down his thighs with a broken cry out. the vines tighten then expand, crawling out onto the bed with a poof. even cuter, the flowers bloom. he relishes in seeing his girls pretty pussy make a mess on him he just needs to return the favor. feeling the subtle clenching from your orgasm, he's cumming with one last mean buck of the hips.

"fucking christ-!" his claws unsheathe into the wall, his other set of knuckles driving into the mattress next to you while he grinds slowly to dump every drop into you. his veins on his forehead nearly pop, his eyes only watching your glossy pupils zeroed on abs. so shameless you were. he pants out with his entire body breathing with him.

he settles slowly, his claws reeling back from exhaustion. your plants remain however. yet he's only settled on you. his hands begin their soothing, his thumbs caressing your cheeks while you catch your breathe. "easy now. you okay? did i hurt you at all?" your head shakes in his grasp, eyes lazily opening to meet his eyes. your poor guy, he thinks anytime those knives come out around you he'll dice you on accident.

"spooked me." you mumble, but half heartedly. the smile on your lips shows it's a joke. Logan only huffs.

"it's only hot when you loose control." you gasp, a hand playfully patting his arm clad with your leaves. he chuckles while pressing a kiss to your forehead.

his sweetest flower, back in his arms again.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

dt: @nervous-person @clownprinzzzz

ask for a dt ! ! ! !

[midnighvtm4ss]

Oh you sweet, poisonous thing

summary: just Arthur yearning and being jealous of reader and Javier. Enjoy😽

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

content: fluff, jealousy, a hint of angst maybe ?? idk

wc: 1,8k

a/n: *taps into the mic* heyy,,, how y’all doing *voice echoes, crickets can be heard in the distance* so i kinda disappeared from tumblr ik. I went through a rough period and I thought a lot about what to do with this account. I lost all motivation to write for a while ngl, but after some thinking i decided that no matter what I’ll keep writing and posting here. After all this was and still is my little safe space where i can just forget about my life and post silly things about cowboys sooo yeah have some Arthur yearning because we should bring back yearning in 2025. ok i yapped enough bah byee

The cracking sound of the campfire travels softly in the center of camp, casting long, flickering shadows that stretch and shift over the familiar faces of the gang, dancing on their features to the sound of the soft music leaving Javier’s guitar.

It had been a rare, uneventful day—the kind where, surprisingly, nothing went wrong, and the world seemed to hold its breath afraid to burst the serene and quiet bubble that engulfed all round the camp. The stillness settled over the gang’s members like a balm, soothing old wounds and lifting everyone’s spirits. By evening, an easy carefree air had taken root, boosted by a few shared drinks and Javier’s guitar.

You sit near the fire, sandwiched between Karen and John, the blonde slouched lazily at your side, her cheeks flushed from the too many whiskey glasses she downed. Javier is in a contagious good mood, sitting on the ground near John strumming another lively tune as he leans toward you, his bronze skin glowing in the campfire’s light and he’s grinning like at you like the charmer he is.

“Why don’t you sing with me, cariño,” he says, his voice playfully teasing. A chorus of groans and exaggerated complaints come from around the campfire, the gang all too eager to tease you about the first and fortunately the last time you sang around the campfire in Horseshoe Overlook after you had too many to drink. You remember waking up the morning after with a terrible headache and the sweet memory of laughter shared around the warmth of the campfire.

You laugh at their reaction, shaking your head. “I think I’ll save everyone’s ears this time, thank you.”

Javier chuckles and with that resumes playing, his voice low and smooth. His energy is infectious, pulling easy smiles and a few soft laughs from everyone. But in the back of your mind, you can feel that there’s a subtle shift in the air—a pull, a presence that tugs at your attention like a ping you can’t ignore. It’s faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it grows stronger, undeniable, familiar. You glance toward the edge of camp, and as suspected there he is.

He’s leaning against one of the wooden posts near the horses, half swallowed by the shadows, the dim firelight barely reaching the brim of his worn hat. His broad shoulders are hunched, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he’s trying to protect himself, to keep something away though you’re not sure he even knows what it is. His aqua eyes are sharp even in the shadows, and they’re fixed directly on you.

As the weight of his gaze settles over you like a heavy fog, thick and tangible, despite the distance between you, a shiver runs down your spine. Your chest tightens, as if the very air around him has thickened with unspoken things.

You’ve known him long enough to feel a quiet storm building in the depths of his quiet, unshakable composure. It’s not indifference nor anger. It’s something else—something raw and unspoken but you can’t, and maybe won’t, put a name on it.

When Javier nudges you playfully, you force yourself to focus back on him, offering him a smile that you hope conceals the tension swirling inside of you. Still, the weight of Arthur’s gaze doesn’t leave you, not even as the evening stretches on.

As the night deepens, the fire crackles low. One by one, people begin to drift off, leaving just you, Tilly, Lenny, Javier, and Karen around the fire. Tilly, who had joined your little circle a few hours earlier, is lively chatting with Lenny about some gossip she’d overheard in town, her voice bright with excitement seemingly unphased by the late hour. Meanwhile, Karen has fallen asleep with her head resting on your shoulder, undoubtedly drooling a bit on your blouse. This leaves you and Javier alone, the conversation between you two flowing easily, until he eventually sets his guitar aside with a stretch, breaking the comfortable atmosphere.

“Already going to bed ?” you tease, nudging him gently on the side. “Won’t you play me another song before you go to sleep ?”

He smirks, shaking his head with a wink.

“Tomorrow.” He promises winking at you. He stands up and disappears into the shadows of the night. After a few minutes Karen stirs awake, mumbling something about needing another drink before bed, lazily getting up on her feet, shuffling toward the camp’s supply.

After that it’s just you, Tilly and Lenny sitting near the dying fire. From your peripheral vision you can see the dark silhouette of Arthur sitting at the worn wooden round table under the tall tree in camp. You don’t look at him, not directly, but you feel his presence like a thread pulling between you. You sit there, looking at the fire contemplating if approaching him or calling it a night.

When you finally stand, your feet move before your mind can catch up with your actions. You carefully walk towards him, finding him hunched slightly over the table, his broad shoulders tense as he stares down into the nearly empty glass in his hand.

“Mind if I join you ?” you say pausing a few feet away. The sound of your voice softly filling the cold air around you both.

Arthur doesn’t immediately look up, his focus still fixed on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. You nearly contemplate leaving when after a long moment, he tips his head in a slow, deliberate nod. “Suit yourself.”

You take a seat across from him, your hands folding in your lap playing with a few loose threads as you settle into the quiet. For a long moment, neither of you speak. The noise of the evening has faded away, leaving the camp wrapped in the soft rustle of trees and the distant sound of crickets.

“Tired ?” you finally ask, your voice hesitant, breaking the silence.

Arthur huffs a low breath, his eyes never leaving the glass. “Long day,” he mutters, a simple response that tells you nothing.

You nod, though his answer feels like a wall, a quick, easy way to avoid revealing something deeper. There’s something bothering him, and maybe it’s the alcohol in your system or maybe you simply care too much for him but you’re determined to find out what.

“Javier kept everyone entertained tonight,” you say lightly, your words casual, trying to spark a conversation, though you’re watching him closely.

Arthur’s grip on his glass tightens just enough for his knuckles to go pale against the clear glass. “Yeah,” he replies, his tone flat. “He’s good at that.”

The space between you feels heavier now, filled with something unspoken, a tension that neither of you acknowledges directly. You lean back in your chair, letting the silence settle between you, but you can’t ignore the flicker of his eyes as they meet yours, then quickly shift away like he’s afraid of what might show if he stares at yours too long.

“What’re you drinking ?” you ask after a moment, breaking the quiet.

“Whiskey.”

“‘S that the good whiskey Pearson’s been hiding, or the usual watered down crap ?”

Arthur’s lips twitch, almost imperceptibly, clearly fighting a smile. “Usual crap,” he murmurs. “Pearson ain’t that generous.”

You laugh softly, the sound easing some of the tension that’s built between you. But still, it lingers, just beneath the surface, like something you both know but can’t put into words.

“You seemed quiet tonight,” you say after a pause, studying him closely.

Arthur shrugs, lifting his glass to his lips, the movement slow, as if every motion is carefully measured.

“Didn’t feel like talkin’.”

You watch him, your gaze tracing the line of his jaw, his wet lips and the way his fingers absently trace the rim of his glass. He’s not being completely honest—that much you know, but you’ve learned to read between the spaces of his words.

“Or maybe you just didn’t like the company,” you offer, your tone playful but with an edge to it.

Arthur’s eyes snap to yours, sharp and unmoving. “I didn’t say that,” he replies, his voice low, almost a growl.

He holds your gaze a beat longer than necessary, and you feel the weight of it settle deep in your chest, making your breath hitch. There’s something in his eyes, something raw, vulnerable that makes your heart stutter. You’re not sure if he sees how your composure falters, but he’s the first to look away, tipping his hat lower over his brow to shield his expression. You’ve always hated when he does that—you’ve always hated the way he uses it to put a distance between you, but now more than ever you hate it because it feels like the wall between you is growing thicker and you’re not sure if you can get through anymore.

“You’re a hard man to figure out Arthur Morgan,” you say softly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.

He doesn’t answer right away, and when he does, it’s in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

You bite your lower lip in frustration but then you force yourself to swallow down your disappointment. The conversation shifts then, moving toward more trivial things like the weather, the horses, Pearson’s latest disaster with the stew. But even as you talk, you know that there’s another conversation happening in the spaces between words, in the glances you exchange, in both your body language, in the way the silence sometimes wraps itself around you both.

You don’t speak of it. You don’t name it. Neither of you can, but you know it’s there.

“Good night Arthur,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended. You give him a sweet smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, before you stand, the weight of your own tiredness forcing you to seek the sweet embrace of your bed.

He doesn’t reply right away, just gives a slow tip of his hat. “Night.”

As you start to take a few steps away from the table, you feel his gaze on your back—steady, unwavering. It feels like it’s burning into your skin.

You glance over your shoulder, just once, and meet his eyes. For a moment, they’re distant, almost lost, like he’s somewhere far away in thought. But as your gaze lingers, you catch something else, something in the way his eyes soften, the barely perceptible softening of his eyebrows. It’s not a look of anger or frustration that he gives you, no, he’s looking at you with something deeper, something raw.

It’s the kind of look that makes your chest tighten, a sweet warmth settling between your ribs. He doesn’t need to say anything, you can feel it in the glance between you—the weight of all the things neither of you will dare to speak aloud.

In that brief moment, you understand. And it’s enough to leave you walking away with butterflies storming in your stomach and the strange sense that you’ve just shared something deep, something fragile with him without ever needing to say a word.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° always picking a fight

( alexis ness x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — i love ness so here's ts i wrote at 1:30 AM ( MANGA SPOILERS FOR MOST RECENT CHAPTER )

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — alexis ness x fem! reader, fem! reader, established relationship, hinted that ness and reader have known each other for a while, kaiser's an ass, kaiser and reader fighting, violence ( reader slaps kaiser )

♡ synopsis — There was only two ways to describe Alexis Ness—loyal to a fault, and yours completely.

Alexis Ness thinks you’re insane.

Because who in their right mind would walk up to the star of Bastard München, Michael Kaiser, and slap him? Who would storm past the press, security, and their own boyfriend to get in the face of The Emperor himself?

But here you are—eyes blazing, voice steady despite the storm brewing in your chest—standing toe-to-toe with Michael Kaiser like you’ve got nothing to lose.

And then your hand strikes his face, sharp enough to leave a faint red mark blooming across his cheek.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you spit, words laced with venom. “How dare you talk to him like that?”

Kaiser barely flinches, though the press of his tongue to his cheek betrays his surprise. “Excuse me?” he says, voice dripping with condescension, his gaze flicking past you to where Ness is awkwardly hovering. “Ness, is this your girlfriend? You should teach her some manners.”

Your glare sharpens, and Ness stiffens behind you, already moving to intervene. “Kaiser, let’s not—”

“No, Alexis,” you cut him off, your voice slicing through the tension like a knife. “Let’s not pretend this is okay.” You take a step closer to Kaiser, finger pointed at his chest. “Do you think you’re untouchable? That you can just say whatever you want and everyone’s supposed to bow down and take it? You told him to quit soccer. Do you know how hard he’s worked for this? How much he’s given up just to stand on the same damn field as you?”

Kaiser smirks, the kind of infuriating grin that makes your blood boil. “Oh, please. If he’s so delicate that one comment from me shakes him, maybe he should quit. I don’t have time to babysit dead weight.”

“Dead weight?” you echo, incredulous. “You’re one to talk. You’d be nothing without someone to pass you the ball. Or did you forget that soccer is a team sport, Your Highness?” The tone you spoke the nickname full of nothing but sarcasm and distain.

Ness steps forward, his voice soft and pleading. “(Y/N), please, it’s fine. I—”

“It’s not fine!” you snap, turning briefly to look at him, your expression softening for a fraction of a second before you whip back around to face Kaiser.

“You’re not fine. You’re allowed to make mistakes, Alexis. You’re human, no matter how much this prick thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

Kaiser raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Wow, Ness, you’ve got yourself a firecracker. Tell me, do you keep her on a leash, or does she just run wild?”

' Oh. ' Ness thinks.

" Oh ?" You say, your eyes narrowing and before you can think twice, your hand raises again, but Ness catches your wrist just in time. “(Y/N), stop,” he murmurs, his voice strained but gentle. “It’s over. Let’s go.”

For a moment, you’re frozen, chest heaving with anger, your glare still locked on Kaiser. But then you see the way Ness’s shoulders are hunched, how his eyes are darting to the ground as if he’s trying to make himself smaller.

And just like that, the fight drains out of you.

You let Ness guide you away, your hand still trembling in his. You can feel Kaiser’s smug gaze burning into your back, but you don’t look back.

The walk back to your shared apartment is silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Ness doesn’t say a word, and neither do you. You’re still fuming, but the anger isn’t directed at him.

When you finally step inside, the silence feels suffocating. Ness closes the door softly, setting his bag down by the wall, and you shrug off your coat with more force than necessary.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ness asks quietly, his voice cautious, like he’s testing the waters.

You shake your head, avoiding his gaze. “No.” Your voice is thick with emotion, the one syllable wavering as you hid your face from him.

But he knows you better than that. He always has.

He’s seen this pattern too many times—how your fiery outbursts always burn brightest when you’re protecting someone you love, and how the aftermath leaves you raw and vulnerable. He knows you’re trying to hold it together, but the cracks are already showing.

“(Y/N)...” Ness starts, his voice hesitant. He takes a tentative step closer, watching you carefully, like you might break if he moves too fast.

“I’m not crying,” you blurt out, your voice shaky.

His lips press into a thin line. “I didn’t say you were.”

You let out a bitter laugh, and that’s when the tears start to spill, hot and unrelenting. “He shouldn’t talk to you like that,” you choke out, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of it.”

Ness is by your side in an instant, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle but firm embrace. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest. “You just don’t want to say it. You’ve always been too nice, too... loyal. Even when people don’t deserve it.”

He sighs softly, resting his chin on top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache. “I didn’t mean to make you so upset.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him through tear-filled eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do. That’s the problem, Alexis. You let people like that shaggy haired fuck walk all over you, and it’s not fair.”

He brushes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his touch impossibly gentle. “I don’t care what Kaiser thinks of me,” he says softly. A lie, and you both know it.

“I care about you. And seeing you like this... it hurts more than anything he could ever say to me.” Alexis Ness had taken many verbal lashings from Kaiser, but nothing would hurt him more than seeing you hurt because of him.

You sniffle, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “I just... I hate seeing people treat you like you’re nothing. Because you’re everything to me, Alexis. You always have been.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his eyes searching yours. Then he pulls you close again, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, you do,” you reply fiercely, your words muffled against his chest. “You deserve everything, Alexis.”

The two of you stand there in the quiet of your apartment, holding each other as the weight of the day slowly starts to fade. You know the fight isn’t over—not with Kaiser, not with the world—but in this moment, it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the way Alexis holds you, steady and unwavering, as if he’s trying to absorb all your pain and make it his own.

And maybe he is. Because that’s just who Alexis Ness is—loyal to a fault, and yours completely.

is ness also batshit crazy? sometimes, but i think he'd be more vulnerable with a gf

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[nahoney22]

Congratulations on the followers! Please can I request some angsty fluff with Fox and a female reader with this prompt - 24: “Who hurt you?”

Maybe reader got attacked and he found her and tends to her wounds which leads to some feelings being shared? Thanks if you do 😊 I love your work

Medical Feelings

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

word count: 1.8k

prompts:

• “Who hurt you?”

Plot: After a risky mission that left you injured, Commander Fox helps nurse you back to health.

Warnings: Safe for work, hurt whump, idiots in love, Reader scared of droids momentarily, needle mention, slightly injured reader, minor blood mention.

Authors note: Sorry for the wait 🩵

“How are you holding up?”

You blink, trying to focus as the voice cuts through the haze in your head. But your vision blurs and swims, the light above stabbing behind your eyes like a viroblade.

“Like someone who’s been hit in the head,” you groan, wincing as you sit up on the medbay cot. The room tilts for a moment and you feel like you may be sick but luckily it settles, and your eyes finally set on the figure perched nearby. Thire.

The mission hadn’t gone as planned. What should have been a straightforward retrieval of intel left you caught in the crossfire. You weren’t a soldier so when the fighting started, you’d been forced to rely on pure luck and very minimal training. Clearly, neither had been enough.

Your memory of the incident was weak as all you could recall was a sharp pain to your head followed by the sight of clankers looming over you before everything went dark.

“You took quite a hit,” Thire says, his voice lighter than the situation warrants as he pulls up a stool to sit beside you.

“I noticed,” you mutter, rubbing gingerly at your temple that felt sticky and as you pull your hand back, a splodge of blood painted your fingertips. A dull ache radiates from where the blow landed, and your entire body feels stiff and battered.

Recovery is going to take a while.

“You know the Commander’s going to want to see you.”

The comment makes you freeze for a beat before you force a painful shrug, hoping to look unaffected. “He’s busy. I doubt he even noticed.”

Thire snickers. “Not too busy for his favourite girl.”

You roll your eyes, already regretting letting him sit down. “Oh don’t start with all that.”

But Thire doesn’t let up, grinning like a loth-cat who’s cornered its prey. “Come on. You’ve seen the way he looks at you. If Fox stares any harder, his visor’s going to fog up.”

“Shut up, Thire,” you grumble, though a reluctant chuckle escapes before you can stop it. The movement makes your ribs ache, and you hiss softly in pain. “And no, I haven’t seen the way he looks at me. It's you lot putting that notion in my head.”

Instantly, Thire’s grin fades, replaced by concern as he notices your pain. “Should I call a med droid?”

“No!” you blurt, a little too quickly. Thire raises a brow, clearly catching on.

“Not a fan of droids, huh?”

You cross your arms, or at least try to; the motion is stiff and awkward. “I’m fine. Really. I don’t need—”

“Who hurt you?”

The sudden voice freezes you mid-sentence. Both you and Thire turn toward the door at the same time, and your heart stops.

Commander Fox. The visor of his helmet glints under the overhead lights as he strides toward you, exuding that no-nonsense authority he’s known for.

Thire shoots you a smug, told-you-so glance before rising to his feet. “This one took a blow to the head, sir. She has a possible concussion.”

Fox’s attention shifts to the datapad in Thire’s hand. “Why wasn’t this reported to me immediately?”

“I figured you had more pressing matters,” Thire replies smoothly, clearly unfazed by the irritation in Fox’s tone.

Fox huffs, the sound sharp and metallic through his helmet’s vocoder. His gaze snaps back to the datapad, scanning the details. “And why hasn’t a med droid been dispatched?”

You groan, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I’m right here, you know. Maybe someone could ask me what I want instead of talking like I’m invisible.”

Both men turn toward you at the same time. Thire’s expression is sheepish, though it doesn’t quite mask the amusement in his eyes. Fox, however, is unreadable as always, his emotions hidden behind the stoic facade of his helmet.

Thire clears his throat, stepping back. “I’ll, uh, leave you with the Commander.” He’s gone before you can protest, disappearing through the door with a suspiciously quick pace.

The silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a vibroblade. Fox stands rigidly near the cot, his arms folded across his chest. You can hear the faint tap of his boot against the durasteel floor as he shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug, regretting it immediately when the movement sends another sharp ache down your spine. “I’ve been better.”

His head tilts slightly, a gesture that might be concern. “You should’ve reported your injuries sooner.”

“You think I wanted to end up in here?” you counter, the bite in your voice softened by exhaustion.

Fox doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he steps closer, his broad frame almost casting a shadow over you. For a moment, you think he might argue. But his next words surprise you.

“You’re lucky,” he says almost quietly. “It could’ve been worse.”

There’s something in his tone—a rare softness that catches you off guard, even if it is for a moment. You both seem to snap out of whatever the hold that ensnared you both and you close your eyes, leaning back with a soft agreement of his words.

Fox pauses for a moment, then steps away. You crack one eye open, expecting him to be halfway out the door, but to your surprise, he returns moments later with a medical droid trailing behind.

You suddenly sit up straighter, tension rippling through you as the AZI droid glides closer, a stim injector held in one of its arms.

“I’m fine. I don’t need a droid to see me,” you declare quickly, glancing between the droid and Fox with what you hope is a convincing look of confidence. But Fox is already standing there, arms crossed, and his helmet tilts slightly in a way that screams ‘you’re not fine’.

“The patient requires an injection to reduce inflammation and prevent complications,” the droid announces, already grating on your nerves.

Your heart skips as the droid raises the injector, the gleam of the stim making your stomach twist. You instinctively lean back, trying to put more space between you and the advancing machine.

“No. I don’t want it,” you snap, panic slipping into your voice despite your best efforts.

Fox’s gaze shifts to you, then to the droid. He holds up a hand, “Stop.”

The droid halts mid-motion. “Commander, the patient requires—”

“I’ll handle it,” Fox says firmly.

Before you can process what’s happening, he steps forward and plucks the stim from the droid’s arm.

“What are you doing?” you ask apprehensively.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead inspecting the stim injector with almost practiced ease. “You need this,” he says finally, his tone calm but resolute under the modulator. “If you don’t want the droid to do it, I will.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you as he pulls a stool closer and sits beside the cot. He’s quiet, efficient, and unbothered by your flustered state as he rolls up the sleeve of your tunic. His gloved fingers brush against your skin, sending a jolt through you that has nothing to do with the injection.

“This will only take a second,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost soothing. “Just relax.”

You nod stiffly, your pulse racing as he steadies your arm. The sharp pinch of the needle is over in a heartbeat, but the warmth of his proximity lingers far longer.

“There. All done.”

You exhale, tension slowly bleeding out of your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended.

But Fox doesn’t get up. Instead, his gaze shifts to your temple, where the bruising from the blow to your head.

“Let me take a look at that,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

You look at him, eyes wide. “It’s fine—”

“Sit up,” he interrupts, standing and motioning for you to move to the edge of the cot.

Reluctantly, you scoot forward, your legs dangling over the side as he steps closer.

Much closer.

He stands between your knees, his hands are surprisingly gentle as they cradle your face, tilting it slightly so he can get a better look at your wound.

The proximity makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding so loudly you’re begging he can’t hear it. His touch is careful, his thumbs brushing along your jaw as he examines the cut near your temple.

“This should’ve been cleaned properly,” he mutters under his breath “You clones are always too stubborn for your own good.”

“But i’m not a clone,” you mumble, your voice embarrassingly shaky even though his comment amused you.

“No,” he replies, glancing down at you for a moment. “But you’re just as stubborn.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words die in your throat when he dips his head slightly, focusing on your injury with laser precision behind his visor. His presence is overwhelming, the sharp, clean scent of his armour mixing with something distinctly him.

“This might sting,” he warns, holding up a sterilising wipe.

You barely register the faint sting as he cleans the wound, too distracted by the way his hands move so deliberately, so gently. His thumbs brush against your skin again, steadying your head as he works, and you find yourself leaning into his touch without meaning to.

“There,” he says after a moment, stepping back just enough to toss the used wipe onto the nearby tray. His hands linger on your jaw for a second longer before he finally lets go. “That should help.”

You glance up at him, your cheeks warm, and manage a small, “Thanks.”

He straightens, his imposing frame still far too close. “You need rest,” he says firmly, though his voice is softer than before. “No arguments.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Got it. Rest. Sure.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the charged silence stretching between you.

For a moment, you don’t think about your actions. Perhaps it was the blow to your head that made you act in a certain way. As he was about to turn and leave, you reach out and grasp his wrist.

He looks back, his helmet adorably titling to the side as you gesture him to come back by pulling his arm. And he does.

“Thank you, Commander. You’ve… you have always been kind to me.”

Then, you lean up and rest your forehead to his, eyes closed. His visor made it a little difficult but you heard his shallow gasp pop through his modulator.

But, he doesn’t move back. He lets it happen and only moves when you finally break away, a soft and nervous smile on your lips.

“Thank you.”

“G-Get some rest.” Then, with a curt nod, Fox finally steps back, his presence still lingering long after he’s gone.

And as you lie back on the cot, staring at the ceiling, you can’t decide what’s more distracting: the ache in your head or the memory of his hands on your skin.

Reblog to support your content creators ♥���

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri i @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo o @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi i @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @the-bad-batch-baroness @the-bad-batch-baroness

[themultifanshipper]

You decided, on a random Thursday in december, that you were going to give each of the 2025 rookies a visit, to congratulate them on getting into F1. 

Warnings: this is kinda wild but not very explicit, it's more about the dynamics than the actual smut, I'm trying to set stuff up for the 2025 season, biting kink, gym sex, kitchen sex, oral sex, anal sex, very bad flirting, half of this was written while blackout drunk

Part 10, and epilogue to One of the Boys

It was also to show them a little of what they would be fighting for next year, along with the trophies.��

You went to see Ollie first, him being the one you knew best. 

He'd done 3 races in 2024 and you'd gotten to know him a bit when you two would chat during weekends where he wasn't driving. 

You'd sent him a text, you were staying in Italy for a few days and you should hang out sometime. 

He readily agreed. 

You showed up at his house one sunny afternoon, and he answered the doorbell with his usual grin. 

He was also shirtless, wearing gray sweats, and his hair was dripping wet. 

“I just had a shower” he said apologetically. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I can see that”  

“Come on in!” he ushered you inside with enthusiasm “Don't mind the mess, it's laundry day” 

You giggled at his nervous disposition. He was fidgeting with his hands. 

“I don't care Ollie, I'm not here to comment on your tidiness” 

His nervous grin turned into a genuine smile and he visibly relaxed a bit. 

“Right, yeah of course. Uh do you want a drink?” 

It was your turn to grin at him. 

“Would love one! What have you got?” 

“I've got like… loads of fruit juice.”  

You frowned curiously. “What do you mean loads?” 

You ended up staring at all the bottles lined up in his fridge door. The tension was palpable, you hadn't said a word in a whole minute as you read all the different labels. 

“Like… seven or… eight… maybe nine different kinds?” 

“Is this weird? I feel like it's weird” he finally piped up sheepishly. 

You picked up the bottle of passion fruit juice and stared at it, before turning towards him with a barely concealed smirk. 

“I didn't know you were so… passionate about fruit juice” 

He looked at you in disbelief and you dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“Simple orange will do me fine thank you, Ollie” you wiped your tears of laughter away while he rolled his eyes. 

“I can't believe I just bared my soul to you and you're making puns about it” he scoffed, but he was smiling as he took a couple of glasses out of the cupboard and filled them. 

“Well, you are the bare- man” 

“Oh my god” he groaned “I hate you” 

You laughed and the tension seeped out of the room as you bantered back and forth like you always did. 

“So-” he eventually asked, eyeing you suspiciously  “What actually brings you to Italy?” 

You were sat on top of the kitchen table, next to Ollie who was sat on a chair. 

“What? Can't I come and visit my friends?” 

“Friends…Plural?” he asked teasingly. 

“Yeah, you're actually the first on my little trip, I'm also going to see Kimi and Gabriel in the next couple of days…” 

He raised an eyebrow and hummed in surprise. 

“Are you, now?” the sarcasm was dripping from his tone and he held back a laugh as he took another sip from his juice. 

You frowned suspiciously at him. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

He put his glass down, considering his next words carefully. 

“You know… Franco has told me a few things…” his eyes bore into yours and you shivered under his intense gaze, gesturing for him to continue. 

 “…about the private party in Monaco” 

“Colapinto…” you tutted “One of these days that mouth of his is going to get him in trouble” 

You put your own glass down before adding “I'll be having a word with him. And you'd better not share whatever he told you with anyone else” 

He smirked, finishing his glass before standing up to put it in the sink. 

“Of course not…” he muttered as he turned around and stalked towards you “We wouldn't want my mouth getting me into any trouble, would we?” 

He stopped inches away from you, hands leaning on the table either side of you, effectively caging you in.  

“Or can I get into a little bit of trouble every now and then?” 

You weren't sure where his brazenness had come from, but his lazy smirk was getting you hot all over. You glanced at his lips, and he caught the movement. 

“Little Oliver Bearman?” you goaded him “he would never get into any trouble! He's an angel…”  

Your breaths mingled as he leaned in, painfully slowly, his pupils dilating as he closed the gap. 

“We'll see about that”  his lips lightly brushed yours, and you could feel him smiling, tempting, daring you to make a move. 

You did, you crumbled, leaning forwards and joining your lips heatedly. 

He tasted like oranges and sugar, and when you deepened the kiss he closed the space between your bodies, leaving absolutely no room for Jesus as he immediately started rocking his hips against yours, and you realised he definitely wasn't wearing any underwear. 

He took you right there on the kitchen table. 

He ate you out first, proving to you that his mouth was, in fact, trouble. 

Then he worshipped you with his hands while he reduced you to a puddle of goo on his cock. 

After, he asked if you wanted to stay the night, hang out, watch a movie or something. 

You agreed without hesitation.  

… 

You secretly, desperately hoped the Haas wasn't going to be a glorified wheelbarrow next season. 

Next on your list was Gabriel, and if his response to your message was anything to go by, he had definitely been briefed by Fernando beforehand. 

It took all of ten minutes of you crossing the threshold of his apartment, before he had you on your knees for him, swallowing around him as he looked down at your tear stained cheeks with nothing but hunger in his eyes. 

“Meu deus-” he groaned “Fernando was right, you do have a mouth worth fighting for” 

You hummed and took him deeper, sucking him down as far as you could, and it didn't take long for him to come with a shout down your throat. 

Once again you stayed the night, and in the morning he very kindly repaid you with three orgasms.  

One with you sitting on his face, one with his fingers dragging you to the edge of ecstasy with insane precision, and the last one with him bucking up into you while you held onto him for dear life. 

He was a lot of fun, that was undeniable. 

… 

But unfortunately for both of you, their really wasn't  much hope for the Sauber. 

Your tour of Italy ended in Kimi's apartment. 

And he had obviously not been briefed. 

He didn't seem like he had any inkling whatsoever about why you were there. 

When he opened the door he had his airpods in and he was sweating buckets. 

He was in the middle of a workout, and had lost track of time. 

“I am so sorry” he panted as he let you in “I didn't realise it was already time” 

You laughed at his panicked expression. 

“It s fine, Kimi. Just finish your workout I'm not in a rush.” 

He didn't seem to pick up on the way your hands lingered on his body when you hugged. 

So you watched him do the last part of his routine: weights. 

It was hard not to salivate. He'd rolled up his sleeves so that his arms were on full display, and you swore you saw a little smirk appear when he did. 

His biceps were objectively quite shocking in their size compared to the rest of him, and your gaze wandered over his body as it flexed. 

You couldn't help notice him repeatedly having to unstick his shirt from his body while grimacing at the feeling, so you took a gamble. 

“Kimi, if your shirt is bothering you, you can take it off” 

This time he definitely smirked at you. 

“Are you sure?” he grabbed the hem of his shirt “I don't want to make you uncomfortable” 

You bit the inside of your cheek at his tone, he was definitely trying to tease you. 

“Of course.” You giggled “Don't worry, I don't bite”  

Something in his gaze darkened and he muttered “that's a shame” before grabbing the back of the shirt and pulling it over his head. 

You could honestly say you definitely didn’t moan at the sight of his insane physique. 

Whatever went through your head in that moment was between you, and God. 

But Kimi could see the look on your face, jaw slack, dark eyes fixed on his sweaty muscles. 

You were no better than a man. You licked your lips and he laughed. 

“You sure you don't want a bite?” he teased, subtly flexing his arms. 

“Why don't you come here and find out?” you tried to sound confident but even to you it wasn't very convincing. 

That day, Kimi found out you loved to bite.  

And you found out he fucking loved to be bitten… everywhere. 

He fucked you on the workout bench. Then on the exercise mat on the floor, and by the end of it he was covered in teeth marks. 

His biceps, his neck, his tits, his thighs… 

He was going to have trouble explaining those to his physio. 

And everything he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm and endurance. 

Two to go… 

You were at it for so long the sun had set and you were both pretty hungry so you decided to order take-out before going to bed.  

Isack was a bit shy at first, not really knowing what to expect when you showed up at his front door. 

You decided to do Paris first, that way you could circle back to Monaco afterwards to see Jack, and then spend a couple of days with Oscar and Lando, like you'd promised. 

You sat next to him on the sofa, telling him about your… reward system. 

He was hesitant with his touch, hand softly caressing the skin of your thigh as you spoke, but he quickly got into the spirit when you straddled his lap and pulled him in for a kiss. 

As soon as your top was off he made sure to give your tits all the attention they deserved with his hands and most of all, his mouth. 

It was heavenly when it trailed along your collarbones, nipping and sucking at your skin while his hands made quick work of your clothing. 

And once he was inside you, it was his turn to be in heaven. 

He was mesmerized by the way his cock disappeared inside you every time you bounced in his lap, his hands tightening around your hips to help you along. 

“Putain…” you could tell he was getting close by the strain in his voice as he uttered curses against your skin. 

“Can I… inside?” he whined, looking up at you with a pout, those beautiful brown eyes staring into your soul, and you bit your lip at the sight. 

“Go on then Isack, fill me up” 

He groaned and his hips slammed up to meet yours, letting himself go completely. 

… 

He then played with your clit lazily, eyes on yours the whole time as he studied your reactions, and he made you come just like that, seated on his softening cock while he made you writhe on top of him. 

Monaco was just as sunny as Italy, but there was a slight chill in the air as you knocked on Jack's door. 

He opened it seconds later with a massive smirk adorning his features. 

“I was wondering if I'd be getting a visit from you during the break” 

He winked and let you in, offering you a drink as you made yourself comfortable. 

“Seems like word travels fast, then” you blushed as you sipped your drink. 

You were already feeling tingly because of the couple of drinks you'd had on the plane, so you didn't hesitate to put your legs up on his lap. 

“You have no idea” he chuckled, one of his hands going to stroke your thigh. “I've had quite a few interesting conversations about you” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve heard that a few times now… I need to teach my boys to be a bit more discreet if they want me to come to the races next year”  

He raised an eyebrow, looking at the way his hand was making goosebumps appear on your skin in its wake. 

“I'm sure I could do something to convince you” 

You put your glass down to disguise the way your heart was racing at the look he was giving you. 

“I'm sure you could. But where's the fun in that? They're the ones that have been running their mouths” 

He grinned, leaning closer to you. 

“If you'll let me take you upstairs, I could show you how I could be running my mouth” 

His gaze dropped to your lips, his pupils growing by the second. 

“You've given this some thought, haven't you?” you teased, rubbing your calf over where you could feel him, already half hard in his shorts. 

“I've had quite a bit of time to think about what I want to do to you” he growled, hands going to hold your hips. 

“By all means, then. Take me to bed Jack” 

He sprung into action, lifting your body easily and carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom. 

Once inside, he stripped you of your clothes and manhandled you onto your front. 

“Hips up, whore” he ordered, landing a light smack against your thigh and you gasped at the unexpected show of dominance. 

You did as he asked without hesitation, and he chuckled. “Already wet for me and I haven't even touched you” 

His resolve crumbled relatively quickly though, and he crawled up behind you to eat you out like a man starved. 

But as you trembled in his hold, his attention slowly moved upwards. 

Well it was rare that anyone ate your ass, but he was doing so with so much gusto you couldn't help but moan into the pillow you were gripping onto for dear life. 

A bottle of lube and a few fingers later, you were spread out under him, your legs having given out embarrassingly early in process. 

He was inside you, rocking his hips against yours while your wetness spilled onto the sheets uselessly. 

You begged and begged, but no use. 

He wasn't usually a selfish lover by any means, there was just something about you that made him want to see you squirming and desperate. 

“Whores don't get to have their cunts filled” he said with a mean lilt to his voice. “But I am feeling merciful, so you can come if you can be bothered to do it yourself” 

You obeyed without question, reaching down under your body to help yourself along. 

He felt you come around him before he heard the high pitched moan come out of your mouth. 

Well, you had your work cut out for you with these rookies, and getting to play with them all season long was going to be so much fun, you could feel it. 

You clenched so tight around him he had no choice but to finish inside you, rocking against you until you both shuddered in overstimulation. 

You stayed the night at Jack's, shooting Oscar and Lando a quick text to let them know you were back in Monaco, and that they would soon be able to collect their Championship prize, just as promised. 

[lilygaragee]

new year’s kiss

☆note: hii guys!! ive decided to create a new account here after a small break so please dont go harsh on me 🙏 english is not my first language but i tried my best so i really appreciate all of the support 🫶

☆warnings: mentions of alcohol, drug use, swearning, cheating(?), smuttish but not really smut, fluff

you were high out of your mind, watching a film on your couch with peter (your current boyfriend) you honestly hated him, you hated the way he treated you and the way you basically became a drug addict because of him.

as you two were laying in your apartment that obviously you pay for because peter is broke. Your phone vibrates from underneath your back, you silently lift your back to see who texted you without peter looking into your phone. It was sarah, you best friend since kindergarten saying that she hosts a party on new year’s eve and that you should totally come, you read the message quickly enough for Peter not to be able to and he immediately asks you „who is texting you again?” „oh its just my mom asking if i would want to come to spend new year’s with her” „i want to go to a club baby” he says giving you a small kiss on your forehead „ill go alone then” as a response he just hums and goes back to watching the film

☆☆☆☆

You have decidedto wear your favourite black dress with black thighs and shiny heeles, obviously you changed in the car so you didnt have to worry about fighting with peter that you look like a slut, he hates we you look good and you know it, he thinks that you will chase him for tne rest of his life, he hasn’t realised yet that you are so sick of him, his habits and just his entire personality, you want to kick him out of your place but you know that you dont have enough strength to do it alone.

„hey im here can you come out?” you stare at the text you sent and wait for sarah to respond or at least see the message but then you see her cherry red dyed hair running up to your car „girl cmon youre still scared to come to my house alone?” she says laughing, „im very scared of your neighbours” you respond to her looking over at the house thats right next to sarah’s

As you two were getting ready in sarah’s bathroom blasting music snd makeup just trashed everywhere you ask her „do you have a list who’s coming?” „yeah overhere” sarah passes you her phone with people’s name’s „who tf are these random people” „omg stop you literally know them” you still look at the phone confused as you try to recognise any of them as you notice a familiar name „who’s oscar piastri?” „oh he’s my friend’s friend or something like that, i dont really know the guy. What is he cute?” „i mean..maybe a little?” you still scroll through his pictures curiously „wait aren’t you with peter still?” „we broke up but he still says he loves me and wants to stay at my place but he gives me free weed do i guess its fine” trying to explain how you feel about peter is probably one of the hardest thing to do.

People stared coming to sarah’s house around 8pm and it was just a regular house party with people drinking, smoking or doing other stuff, you were looking out to see if the oscar guy that caught your attention was already here but you could not find him anywhere, after a while you just gave up, not having any hopes about seeing him, you came up to a random guy that was rolling joints and asked to borrow one he agreed after some negotiations and you went to the garden to smoke it in peace, you were sitting beside the pool smoking while a guy comes up to you and sits next to you, you were honestly shocked because wtf is he doing?? and then you notice the similarities between him and the guy that you were stalking on instagram „oh uh you want some?” you ask him shyly not confident at all like you planned in your head to be „yeah sure” he smiles and takes the joint from your hand. You’ve made the small talk while you were sharing the weed and you can already feeling it mess with your head and you can feel your mouth getting dryer by the second. „what your feeling it already?” said oscar laughing a little. „yeah” you said giggling „cmon lets go inside” oscar said standing up and reaching his hand to take yours to help you stand up, you stood up groaning, not wanting to go near people, but as soon you walked into the room full of people dancing to house music you slowly started getting more comfortable and more high. Oscar was right next to you all the time dancing and laughing with you, your just dancing your legs out of any strength at this point you feel so tired as you puy or head on oscar’s chest humming something while people around you are still dancing „hey are you ok? wanna go lay down” Oscar just see you nodding and takes you upstairs.

You were laying on Sarah’s bed in the only room that was left because people were probably having sex in all the other ones, but you weren’t there alone, you were laying on oscar’s chest listening to his heartbeat and listening to his monologue which didnt maks any sense, he probably doesn’t know what’s hes saying either. You never felt so connected and locked with anyone, you could feel his hands on your hair braiding them, you put your head up to look at him and you see his red eyes looking almost closed, you didnt have to look in the mirror guessing that you probably look the same, now your just admiring him and noticing the little moles he has and dimples when hes smiling. In the very awkward moment that Sarah catches you two just shouting fo everyone upstairs to comedown the stairs to watch the fireworks.

„How much do you want to stand up and go downstairs” oscar asks quietly „i have like zero strength left in my body so you would literally have to drag me there” „oh okay so..wanna stay here?” he asks smiling at you „yeah that would be nice” you said giving the smile back.

As you remember that you have something called a phone in your pocket that peter probably has been trying to get an answer for the last couple hours! he thinks your at your moms, you turned off your location so theres no way he’ll find you, you think „whatever all check later”

Oscar and you stood up to sit netxt to eachother while listening to people countdown seconds till new year, you take one more look at oscar and now he had probably noticed you admiring him for so long but he doesn’t do or wants to do anything about it

„happy new year” oscar says to you as he turns his head to you immediately catching eye contact

„happy new year oscar” you say back to him visibly flushed, you close your eyes as you feel his hand on your cheek pulling your lips into his, your tongue immediately started a battle with his fighting for dominance, you have really put all of your left strength into the battle but still lost to Oscar. At this point you two were out of breath and both broke contact, just for him to catch his breath and go back for even more. He picked you up from the bed, you wrap your legs around his hips while he carries you to the bathroom and puts you on the sink that you were getting ready in a few hours ago. Oscar stared to zip off your dress and you were left in your matching lacy underwear immediately teasing you, „you are so gorgeous baby” oscar whispered to your ear sending shivers down your spine while you responded with a moan. „We cant oscar…im sorry” you said quietly but loud enough for him to hear, „huh? why not” he reacted quickly, „peter would kill me if he found out, like literally” „is he your boyfriend or what?” „no, not really, were not together, but he says he doesn’t want to break up and now wont move out, hes like fucking insane” „what the fuck is wrong with the guy, i could never huty you” said oscar gently fixing your hair.

You and Oscar exchanged numbers and you told sarah everything, when you finally checked your phone you saw over 50 missed calles from peter trying to reach you without success, thank god you never gave him your mothers number even though he deemed that many times. you responded to him after few hours saying that you left your phone in the car and thought you lost it, he somehow believed it.

[dragqueenstarscream]

In relation to your Starop Library au post:

-Starscream suddenly starts going to the library more often, asking for assistance finding books all the way at the other end of the library despite already knowing where they are whenever Optimus is on staff.

-Star starts sitting near Optimus' desk, occasionally staring at him and taking care of his appearance even more than usual. (He'll deny it to the end of the Earth though)

-In some places (*cough cough* Amarica *cough cough*) the average salary of a librarian can be pretty low compared to living costs so if Starscream finds out Optimus has trouble with living costs he mysteriously gets a raise.

-Whenever Op has trouble finding someplace in the city due to being from the country, Starscream would immediately assist him. Trying to find a good coffee shop or bookstore? Need a ride home since it's dark outside? He'll jump at the opportunity to be near Optimus longer, although he'll probably act annoyed about it.

-If Optimus is in collage on scholarship (or highschool based on how old they are) and needs an expensive textbook(s), brand new copies of them are mysteriously donated the the library by an anonymous source, or Star would let him borrow his if he had it.

Sorry if these are out of character, I just like sharing my StarOp brainrot

-💌 anon

see you get it!! you see the vision!!

as for the out of character worry, remember that, in some iterations, starscream was actually a very different person before the main war happens, like in skybound. since this is an au where nothing goes horribly horribly wrong and nobody dies, i think we can play with that possibility here. anyway!

- he would. he absolutely would. he'll ask for the same book several times even when he should know where it is by now. he thinks he's so sly, but optimus caught onto what starscream was doing a while ago. he just plays along because he thinks it's cute.

- i could definitely see starscream switching his usual study sessions from his dorm to the library so he can be near optimus. it's no coincidence that he also wears nicer outfits and fixes up his hair on his study days. maybe he'll throw on some jewelry if he's feeling especially fancy.

- i imagine in this au, optimus is working at the library to help with paying tuition while the rest of his money goes to food and rent. starscream comes from a family rich enough to afford the full ride, so he's a little shocked. cue a "mysterious donor" paying rent for optimus and his roommates. i wonder who that could be!

- starscream knows a good opportunity when he sees one. if optimus is looking for a nice place to treat himself with his christmas bonus, starscream has a recommendation. new movie out that optimus wants to see? starscream knows the best theater and can pay for the best seats. optimus needs a ride back to his apartment because his pickup truck is in the shop? starscream drives him in his rolls royce. he acts annoyed, but really he's just emotionally constipated.

- college textbooks are ridiculously expensive, so if optimus is having trouble affording the pricey physics textbooks he needs... oh, wow! someone donated a bunch of physics textbooks to the library! how kind! definitely without any ulterior motives of any sort!

also, what would their names be in this au? i imagine optimus' would be orson ryan pax, but he always goes by ryan or orion because he sees orson as an old man's name. what about starscream? something fancy and british probably

[thewalrusespublicist]

"Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol)"

OMG no way! Your blog is one of the best here! What i love the most is reading the analysis and meta from the users, there's always more information and good takes, and yours are always quite deep and insightful.

I would love if you share your opinions about Stuart as well. I feel like he is obviously more sanctified that he should be since he died young (like that insane quote from his mom saying that Brian told her that Stuart could have been the Beatles' manager, no way lol) and i feel his memory has been used to attack Paul, sometimes in a very unfair way. Like, i don't deny the teenage drama and jealousy that Paul felt about him but he *was* a shitty bass player and the band was Paul's future, he was allowed to criticized him not only for being John's new bestie. I also think John played with them both but i lack of your eloquence so i will love to read your take about it.

Hi anon! And the other anons!

Thank you again and to all the other messages I got, they were extremely sweet and really made my day. :)

From my inbox, it's clear you guys want to know about Stu and his role in the Beatles legacy. Well you asked for it and a novel you shall have. Be warned this might be the longest post I've done so grab like a drink or something.

A few disclaimers: I wish and had intended for this to be more of a deep dive into Stu as a whole person rather than just his relationship with John and Paul. Unfortunately I just didn't have the space to do it. If you want to know more about Stu I would highly recommend @eppysboys' blog which is the source for all things Stu Sutcliffe and where I got a lot of this info. Please check their stuff out. Also, I'm going to be a bit blunter on this than maybe I usually am because this topic has been irritating me for some time. Oh also I’m trying my best to answer a lot of asks in one post so please forgive if I don’t fully answer your specific ask about this!

Stu in a perfect world should be a fandom darling: an exciting cipher, a handsome artistic talent that died way too soon who had a major influence in the early Beatles style. It's like there’s this secret other James Dean looking mf Beatle hidden away to uncover, that's cool and he is cool! The problem is that he’s sort of becomes radioactive to talk about in a normal way due to how he's been portrayed and utilised in some biographies and fandom spaces, particularly those that have been infected by John Lennon aspirational boy bestie syndrome. As those types of spaces cannot seem to exist without tearing down Paul to prop John up as their special lil guy, Stu as John's other best friend has become the ideal heavy object to hit Paul McCartney over the head with. It's like a corrosive element, the minute Stu hits a Beatles bio, the biographer suddenly loses all training in objectivity and source work and starts waxing lyrical about 100 percent reliable never biased or wrong Saint Stu of Hamburg who died for our condom arson sins and that Paul McCartney should feel bad about every day of his life for not worshipping Stu and not accepting his own ‘place’ in life as John's just-some-guy placeholder best friend. I’ve personally seen so many posts and forums where Stu being mentioned leads to a legion of comments about how Paul could never have been Stu (correct both ways) and how John would never have even glanced at Paul for much longer if Stu had been alive. Sidenote: If you seriously think that the musical savant from down the road whom John went on to produce the most prolific song writing partnership in history with couldnt have kept his attention for long then I'm begging you on hands and knees to get your head out of the arse of your John Lennon body pillow and be serious. But anyway…

This boy bestie battle royale approach has in turn lead to a reflex reaction where Stu gets studiously ignored by other sections of the fandom as a precedent has been set that shining a light on him diminishes Paul and John's relationship with Paul. It's frustrating because if people weren't so keen to cut Paul out of his own story then we would get a much better nuanced view of every single person involved.

So let's put aside all of our defenses, cut the John Lennon loved one ranking system bullshit and lets look at the actual question here which is what was John and Stu's relationship really like and what did he mean to John?

John and Stu met at art college a year or so after Paul and John met. Up to that point John and Paul had their fun little codependant thing going on but Stu quickly became a huge fixture in John's life. Stu had things that Paul couldn't really offer at that point in time. John was at his heart a musician who aspired to be seen as an artist (he would later express surprise that he didn't become an artist). Stu was the passionate artist who knew tons about the art of the period that could teach and inspire John. Their creative leanings meant they could work on projects together and share art notebooks and poetry. (Including yes the one with anti-semitic story which I mention again as I believe it's an important thing to remember when it comes to both John and Stu and the culture of the time.) Stuart by the sounds of it was even writing a novel about John at the time of his death. They were fascinated and inspired by each other.

So, creatively they fired each other up but more importantly perhaps, Stu and John were peers. It's funny to think about when you see the Beatles later but at the time Paul and George were the kids in their school uniform coming to see their cool older friend at art school. That's an important divide. When Paul and George's parents insisted their kids do their homework and go to bed, John and Stu could stay up and talk all hours of the night, which they did. They also could rent a place together and spend long hours chatting (despite John moving out later after realising electricity cost money lol.) There's a different dynamic that the age similarity offered as well. Whilst Paul would later somewhat grow into this role, Stu could act as an authority figure to John as well as open up to John in a way you can really only do with your peers. Stu was the person John opened up to throughout Stu's life:

How long can one go on writing and writing like you. I now don’t really know who I’m writing to or why it’s quiet peculiar. I usually write like this and forget about it but if I put it in a little part of my [almost?] secret self in the hands of someone miles away who will wonder what the hell is going on or just pass it off as toilet paper. Anyway I don’t care really what happens because when I think about it, it’s so bloody unimportant – but what is important who has the right to say that this letter is not important and this is a something any way – anyway – anyway – yeah! I wonder what it would be like to be a cretin or something. I bet it’s gear. & how are you keepin Stuart old chap are you as ok – is life as good – bad shite, great – wonderful as it was or is it just a thousand years of nothing and coolness on and on and on. I think this is it Goodbye Stu don’t write out of – er what is it? well not because you think you ought to write when you feel like So goodbye (from John you know the one with glasses) ANYWAY BYE BYE see you soon I don’t know why I said that I remember a time when everyone I loved hated me because I hated them so what so what so fucking what I remember a time when belly buttons were knee high when only shitting was dirty and everything else clean + beautiful I can’t remember anything without a sadness So deep that it hardly becomes known to me so deep that its tears leave me a spectator of my own STUPIDITY + so I go rambling on with a hey nonny nonny nonny no

Extract from a letter to Stuart Sutcliffe from John Lennon, 1961

By lots of accounts Stu was gentle but firm when it came to telling John he'd gone too far. John references this aspect of Stu to Hunter Davies:

"I looked up to Stu. I depended on him to tell me the truth. Stu would tell me if something was good and I'd believe him."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

In this way I kind of see Stu as a proto-Yoko. John was so insecure and uncertain about his grip on the world and reality that he relied on Stu to be his point of reference and guide. Paul did this too later and I think in Hunter Davies John mentions this, but not at this time period and not as much due to their competitiveness. This may be why some people saw Stu as the person that really understood John at this time period:

"During the turbulent adolescence that prefaced a turbulent manhood, hardly anyone knew Lennon as intimately as Stuart Sutcliffe. If they weren't exactly David and Jonathan, June Furlong, one of the life models at Liverpool's Regional College of Art, had "never seen two teenagers as close as those two."

The Gospel According To Lennon by Alan Clayson

Now this person likely never met John and Paul together but this is only one of many similar quotes and even Julia captain of John and Paul's friendship boat seems to agree there was a period where Stu dominated and Paul 'kept his distance' from the John-Cyn-Stu 'menage-a-trois'. But the friendship wasn't perfect and his position as John's ultimate best friend was never iron clad. This is best outlined by the shit they pulled when John convinced him to join on Bass for the Beatles.

Despite being John's best friend, Stu was teased and bullied:

"They argued as usual amongst themselves, but most of all they picked on Stu, the newest member of the group. John, George and Paul had been with each other long enough to know that rows and arguments and criticism didn't mean much. If it did, you just argued back. "We were terrible," says John. "We'd tell Stu he couldn't sit with us, or eat with us. We'd tell him to go away, and he did." At one hotel they stayed at, a variety show had just left. There had been a dwarf in the show and they found out which bed he had slept in and said that would have to be Stu's. They certainly weren't going to sleep in it. So Stu had to. "That was how he learned to be with us," says John. "It was all stupid, but that was what we were like."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

Why John encouraged this I have no idea, maybe jealousy over Stu's looks and wanting to play people off each other? Things were tense in both Scotland and Hamburg, especially between Stu and Paul. As I said in my last post, the girls were fighting and it was mutual. Paul was mad for both fair and immature teenage-boy reasons. Stu could not be bothered with the bass most of the time and couldn't really play well and was only there as he was '(John's) best friend' (ouch for Paul). Paul conversely had given up higher education to be there and was sending lots of money back home. He also was dating the girl Paul fancied. Stu was popular with the new group and also did mean things like help John steal Paul's money when money was really tight for him. Paul in turn was a passive aggressive, jealous and mean. It all came to ahead in the punch up onstage which according to Spitz came about from Paul wanting money back and saying that Stu could borrow some from Astrid. Stu goes for him and reports vary from full-on bust up to embarrassing scuffle. Stu then goes to where Astrid and Paul's gf Dot are, demands Dot leaves and goes on a rant about Paul. Now all of this must be framed in the context of Stu receiving increasing brain damage from his condition that seemingly lead to mood swings and anger. Nevertheless, the mutual needling and anger, as well as John's refusal to do/say fuck all about it, especially given how protective John was of Stu, suggests that it wasn’t straightforward and/or John may have been playing some games to make both feel threatened. This would also make sense as to why we hear conflicting accounts of John and Stu being the centre of everything and everyone else in orbit AND John and Paul being the centre and everyone else playing catch-up, as well as John giving Paul the lead to take him round the Reeperbahn when John got dressed in the gorilla costume. (I know Paul may have just been the closest there but that always gave off bestie behaviour to me.)

(I did get an ask about how John and Paul's friendship survived it, I think it was damaged by Hamburg. When Paul got back home he got a job at a construction site and there's just a vibe of everything being a bit on tenterhooks. John also acts a bit weird at the period, not talking to anyone for a few weeks then making a lot of weird demands from Paul. I'm really not sure what to make of it.)

Even when he's back in Liverpool, John still writes long letters to Stu and vice-versa. I can't find it at all but I’ve read a really sad interview with John saying he missed his best mate and it's a shame that he's not with them. He had no idea at that point that Stu had already died of a brain hemorrhage at 21.

John is said to have gone into hysterics when he found out Stu had died. A lot of people who've spoken about this time (Aunt Mimi, his sister Julia, the Exsis) concur that at this point Stu was his best friend and the death shattered him. He even told Astrid he wished he could give his life for Stu’s. This is backed up by the fact that John never forgot Stu and his shadow lingered for the rest of John's life:

Stu was recalled in In My Life

Years later, after John composed the first of his truly poignant and heartfelt Beatles songs, "In My Life"—with its lines about "friends I still can recall/some are dead and some are living"—he revealed to me that the two people he had had uppermost in mind were myself and Stuart Sutcliffe. And then he stunned me with a statement that I'd never heard him address to anyone—least of all to another man. "You know, Pete," he said softly, "I do love you. But," he quickly added, "I loved Stuart as well."

Weird that Paul isn't mentioned surely you think that he would be mentioned if Pete was there too okay, okay my tin hat is going away this isn't the time

Pete Shotton, Nicholas Schaffner, John Lennon: In My Life

In 1965 John drew Stu on a postcard

He apparently said this about Stu prior to sending the postcard, prompted by an article about Stuart.

The card had been sent from Genoa mid-way through the Beatles' Italian tour. [...] But the conversation had become maudlin when I reminded him that he was going to talk to me for an article about Stuart. [...] In that sad telephone conversation before they set off for Milan, I asked him if he was happy: 'I'd be a lot happier if Stuart was still part of us,' he said, 'The Beatles would be complete.' And before he rang off he said 'Ill send you something.'

He also appears on the cover of Sgt Pepper

As mentioned, Stu gets mentioned in Hunter Davies in terms of wistfulness and guilt AND he gets a mention in John's insane 'if I were a homosexual' ramblings in early 70s. According to Yoko, John also wanted Yoko to write letters to him and didn't think it would be strange because Stu wrote letters to him.

I have a pet theory that as with a lot of things for John, his unresolved grief over Stu really came to the fore in the late 60s now that he had actually had a chance to sit down and think about things. I believe it was partially why he wanted Yoko to write letters and why he gets mentioned in the early 70s as a collaborator/best friend and not in 1980 where John only gives that credit to Paul and Yoko. I think with the cracks with Paul, John had started to think back on his old friend and guide and what advice he would give.

Stuarts presence is still felt throughout the seventies:

“He told me everything. He loved to talk about Hamburg. There were no secrets. It was the kind of life I never knew…. It meant total freedom. At his side always was Stuart, sweet Stuart. There wasn’t a time in John’s life when he didn’t think about Stuart. He spoke always of his love and respect for Stuart.”

Yoko discussing Stu in When They Were Boys: The True Story of the Beatles’ Rise to the Top by Larry Kane

Coming to grips with his death is also present in Skywriting

SEAN O’HAIRE: What happened to Stuart Cliff? DR. FISCHY: What happened was a full exchange of energy where it was not needed within the expression of your own self or in the energies involved around and about you. We cannot call it a happening. We’ll say it is an awakening, for in that way it has served an expression from the past to the present and to the future to where there shall be more of that incomplete vibration expressed to you in a more fuller understanding.

Skywriting by Word of Mouth, John Lennon

This isn't exhaustive but I think from all this it's pretty clear that John adored Stu, John grieved Stu and kept grieving Stu. Stu had a specific place in his life as a confidant that he tried to recreate with Yoko. At the time of Stu's death, he was John's best friend, probably slightly over Paul. Stuart had been able to be both a friend and paternal presence, a confidant and an artistic collaborator. His presence and loss was one of the foundational points in John's life.

But as we've been asked to play this stupid game and so many bios like to make a hoopla about it, were they at their closest ever as close as John and Paul were at their height?

No.

How do we know? Because John told us so:

" He [Paul] still is the closest friend I've ever had, except for Yoko, so I'm still close to him whatever goes on."

John Lennon to an interviewer, 1971

But Walrus! John just says shit! How do we know he isn't leaving out Stu because the press don't know Stu. Well true John does just say shit but this is at a time where John isn't the most glowing about Paul and he's had no problem mentioning Stu in this time period ('one of my best friends ever' would have made a similar point).

But Walrus again! If John picked Stu over Paul when they were young why wouldn't he be the boy bestie of all time, and why would John say that he was closer to Paul? Well, because of the environment and timings. Stu's death happened near the beginning of John and Paul's major bonding moments. If you look at their personal timeline, Paris, the Nerk twins, and getting signed happened just before Stu died. That's missing the major years of Beatlemania, Key West, LSD, Paul growing more into being John's peer and a load of other huge moments in their lives. It's like how John writes to Cyn in 1962 about wanting the house to themselves and not have Paul around all the time. Would you say because he feels closer to Cyn then that John in his overall lifetime loved Cyn more than Paul? No, because relationships change over time and theirs were no exception. (One thing to consider as well is that we don't yet have many letters between John and Paul during their Beatles years and earlier, probably because they were spending so much time with each other. We know a couple exist that Paul considers too personal for publication but I'm sure there are others. It's easy to understand what John felt for Stu as we have the letters, I think we would also have an easier time understanding what John felt for Paul if we had the equivalent of those.)

At the end of the day Paul was the man he believed he had a psychic bond with, the man he couldn’t shut up about, the man whom he’d conquered the world with with their endless collaboration, the man with a twin personality to him and according to John spent more time with throughout the 60s than he had with Yoko ever. To be frank if Paul had died in 67' I don't think this would have been a conversation.

As mentioned early, in early 1970s John elevates his partnership with Stu to his collaborations with Paul and Yoko but by 1980 he’s pretty clear that Paul and Yoko are their own category.

"I was saying to somebody the other day, “There’s only two artists I’ve ever worked with for more than a one night stand, as it were. That’s Paul McCartney, and Yoko Ono.” And I think that’s a pretty damned good choice!!"

John Lennon interview with DJ Dave Sholin, 1980

There are of course the what ifs. Would Stu still being alive mean that John was not as close with Paul? Maybe, highly doubtful though as the Beatles experience was so intense. If Stu remained a Beatle would John be as close with Paul? If Stu remained a Beatle he wouldn't be Stu so no. At the same time who knows what it would have been like if Paul and John were peers from the off? I said this to @the62ndbugsfan when it comes to Stu vs Paul (hi girl sorry i've made our chat a whole ass post lol) but to go a bit Wuthering Heights, soulmates are made as much from the earth as they are of the stars. What binds us is our experiences just as much as our personalities. There may be a universe where Stu and John took on the art world together or became inseparable bffs again after the Beatles disbanded, but it is not our universe. In this universe Stu tragically died and John and Paul chose to become Lennon/McCartney and artistically unite themselves forever.

Even going back to Stu's lifetime, I've said it before and I'll say it again I find it interesting that not only did John choose to go to Paris with Paul rather than pay to meet up with Stu somewhere but that they arranged to meet up with Juergen and nobody told Stu until they'd already gone. Stu was shocked and didn't know if it meant the end of the Beatles which is a pretty big thing for him not to know about. Why didn't John tell him if they're apparently still writing long letters? Was it because he really wanted to do this with Paul and didn't want to hurt Stu's feelings? And that's really the point I want to make here. Due to his trauma John was preoccupied with reinforcing ranking of relationships within his life. But the thing is friendship rankings are made up guidelines and the reality is far more complicated. You can have a designated best friend but feel closer to another friend at times, you can want to do one thing specifically with one friend and not the other for various reasons. You can (as I do) have more than one equal best friend. Friendship as with most relationships are in a constant state of flux and each friendship you have will give and mean a different thing, even if they are of similar value to you.

Paul may have ended up closer to John than Stu had been, but that doesen't make John's relationship with Stu any less special. Nor does Stu negate the significance of Paul. Whilst both fit into John's pattern of intense relationships and demands related to that, both had unique positions and meaning to him. Considering what I've gone into about John's closeness to Stu, it actually says something deeply, borderline unnervingly, intense about John and Paul that Paul pipped Stu to the post. Maybe it's time Beatles bios accept the fact that John Lennon just wouldn't be into them like that, stop using a tragically prematurely deceased young man as a prop in their jealous psychological warfare against Paul McCartney, stop perpetuating one of the most damaging games that John did to his loved ones and allow both relationships the space to shine and showcase the amazing talent that was the Beatles and those that surrounded them.

[read-write-thrive]

Charles Rowland Week Day Two - Chorb/Comfort

After over three decades as ghosts, you would think that Charles and Edwin would have a good grasp on what ghosts can and can’t do, or even what ghosts could or couldn’t feel, so, etc. Like, ghosts can eat, but it tastes awful. Ghosts can’t sleep at all. That sort of thing. Edwin called them “ghost rules”. Charles also called them ghost rules, but he did his best not to talk about them at all unless directly asked. He’d opened up about missing being alive and all that baggage, yeah, but no need to poke at it, alright?

But lately they’d discovered a new ghost “rule” (ability? Function? Who knows) completely on accident. You see, after the entire fiasco with Esther (and the following quest to get Niko back) the boys had been, frankly, exhausted. They’d done a lot in their thirty years but never so much in so little time. It was weird, to say the least.

“Are you guys sure you’re okay? We can stick around—“ Crystal had tried as they all but herded the girls out of the office. It was past midnight and they should’ve left hours ago, but the boys must look especially bad if their looks were anything to go by.

However, this exhaustion was wearing on the boy’s patience (well, Edwin’s, but Charles had to mediate so it was getting to him too) and frankly, they needed a break. Charles was happy to say as much.

“Nope, all good here! In fact, I think we’ve all earned some time off, so maybe take the next few days to rest, yeah? You sure you don’t want us to walk with you to the tube?” Even his face hurt from smiling, which hasn’t happened since long before he died. There was an alarm bell in the back of his head, but he felt too exhausted to have a proper look at it. He just needed a break is all.

The girls shared a look again. Is this how people felt when he and Edwin did that? Charles didn’t realise it was so annoying.

“We’ll be fine. You have my number right? If anything happens?” Crystal pulled on her coat and helped Niko with her accidentally inside-out sleeve, “And you’re sure that ancient landline even works?”

“As I’ve said, the phone was enchanted to work even without electricity. Barring extremely dire circumstances, it works.” Edwin snapped, lighter than his proper angry tone but still on the edge.

“Do you want us to call you before coming back?” Niko asked towards Edwin, but with a significant, pointed glance at Charles. Charles knew there was something in that look, too, but thinking felt a little difficult at the minute. His head kinda felt like the jar of bees. Maybe he should fish it out of the backpack to compare.

Edwin replied to Niko kinder than he’d been with Crystal but not by much. Crystal snapped at him, probably about his tone with Niko, and then those two were arguing again. Charles really should break it up so the girls could get back to their flat.

God, was this a migraine? Could ghosts get migraines? It’d be just his luck, too. Was there ghost paracetamol he could take? He’d have to dry swallow it since the drink would taste like sand—

There was a hand waving in front of his face. Someone grabbed his arm and shook him. Suddenly Edwin grabbed him by the shoulders, staring him down intently. He was saying something, too. Charles moved to smile and nod, even as he had no idea what was going on, but that seemed to make the pain spike again. He flinched against it. He crossed his arms across himself, though he couldn’t say why. Comfort? Warmth? Guess it didn’t matter much, really.

Several sets of hands were pushing him somewhere—oh, the sofa, right. That seemed like a good idea. Weren’t the girls going somewhere? Or supposed to be, at least. He assumed they were some of the other hands pushing and pulling him along.

He landed on the sofa with little grace, the bouncing making something pulse in his brain is a not nice way. Edwin was there again, hands on Charles’s cheeks and forehead as if checking for fever. It was silly—surely ghosts couldn’t get fevers, if they didn’t have bodies. Edwin knows that.

They were talking to him again. It sounded like he was underwater, sound carrying but only barely. Oh, right. Ghosts weren’t supposed to have whatever was happening now, either. That would explain Edwin’s furious note taking and fussing. Niko was up and about helping him, which meant Crystal had to be the one next to him. Turning his head felt like a bad idea, so he was glad they only had so many people in the vicinity. Process of elimination and all that.

Pain struck at his abdomen next, dull ache turning stabbing in the matter of minutes. He curled in on himself, bringing his feet up onto the sofa and his knees to his face. Clutching at his stomach, Charles squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead into his knees. Maybe if he just curled up tight enough—

It was like his ears popped and every joint cracked at the same time. Charles was pretty sure it was an audible pop! too. But suddenly everything was peaceful, like he was stretched out and condensed into the best full-body hug at the same time. The world was a warm yellow, bright but comfortable. Sure he couldn’t see his friends anymore, but it was blessed relief from whatever the bloody hell that pain was and Charles was absolutely going to bask in it.

After a minute or two of adjusting, Charles realised he could almost hear what was happening in the office. Crystal and Edwin were fighting again, though now Niko seemed to be— cooing over something? Muttering reassurances? He couldn’t catch all the words, but he was pretty sure that was her “finding a literal creature and/or inanimate object adorable” voice. Who/what was she talking to? Shouldn’t she be splitting up the other two? Actually, weren’t the girls supposed to be heading home?

He wanted to ask all of that, but this blissful state didn’t grant him the power of speech, apparently. Charles’s questions came out as a humming noise instead. Surely this should be worrying him—no sight, no speech, hell he’s pretty sure no body—but it was hard to feel worried, or frustrated, or sad here. He felt so good, why would he ruin it with all that? Besides, taking a step back and being relieved of his headache gave him the chance to carefully consider what had just happened.

And he would do that. Definitely. At some point. Look, this was probably the closest he’d gotten to sleep in over thirty years, you can’t blame him for wanting to bask in it for a while, alright? Just a little bit, so Edwin doesn’t kill Crystal (or Crystal somehow double kills Edwin). A bit of rest then he’d figure out how to go back.

~

When Charles “popped” again, returning to the mortal plane or whatever, it was to a pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the office, wood burning stove lit and his three best friends circled around him. Thankfully they left him enough room to not pop on top of someone.

The girls were asleep, but Edwin was instantly focused on Charles. He went so far as to scurry forward, kneeling between Charles’s flailed legs to, again nonsensically, press at his face for a fever that wasn’t there.

“Charles, you’re back! Are you alright? Do you know what happened? Lord, I— we were worried.” Edwin admitted, dropping his hands and rocking back on his heals to create a smidge more distance.

Charles, genuinely smiling this time, decided he wasn’t a fan of this embarrassment or shame or whatever it was Edwin was dealing with. So, naturally, he leaned forward and threw his arms around his best mate.

“Oh, mate, it was brills…”

—

Day two of @charles-rowland-week !! I am vvvvv sleepy rn so if there’s mistakes no there isn’t 😌 hope y’all enjoyed!

[qhazomb]

so some recent art by @we-cool-beans reminded me of this one "sharing a body" au i've thought about.

i've talked about my other one where it takes place post-canon, with the temporary body-sharing happening in order to save gordon from a life-threatening disease he developed (likely from all that radioactive raw sewage...), but this is one that takes place during canon.

(this is using my headcanon that benry's true form is just a big glowing cloud of rainbow cosmic energy containing a consciousness).

after gordon's hand gets chopped off, and then benry realizes humans cannot in fact regrow limbs, he's not exactly jazzed over the fact that he got gordon perma-fucked up. he's also not a big fan of the fact that he can't un-fuck him up. benry doesn't know how to make someone else's body regrow limbs, just the body that he's in!

....so then he gets the idea "oh i'll just pop into gordon's body to fix it, then."

so benry abandons his own body somewhere (not important, he can just make a new one later), and slips into gordon's when everybody's asleep. when he gets there, he originally intended on just fixing gordon's hand and then leaving, but holy shit this guy is a LOT more beat up than benry thought. this hev suit's kinda sucks at being armor, huh. there's new wounds that are looking pretty rough, and benry also notes evidence of old injuries that don't look like they healed the way they're supposed to. he's got a looooot of work to do.

when the science team all wake up, they're all extremely surprised to see that gordon is no longer down a hand. the others of course make light of it, but gordon himself is feeling a weird mix of relief and what the fuck over the fact that he just... regrew a limb. like a fucking lizard or something. the rest of the team try coming up with theories on why this happened- "Perhaps the hazardous materials you've been swimming in have given you mutant powers!" "Are you sure you're actually human?" "Maybe Black Mesa's been secretly experimenting on you without you knowing it."

gordon of course does not like any of these theories.

at one point gordon gets a cut on his hand, an sees that his blood is a LOT darker than it should be, which freaks him out further. and then, again, when that cut heals up pretty much right before his eyes, he's not sure if he should be thankful or freaking the fuck out over it.

gordon also doesn't like the fact that benry's been missing again for A While, which normally he'd be thankful for, but given the current circumstances, it's putting him extra on edge.

gordon finally finds out both why he has a hand again and where benry went when he has a big emotional outburst... that's accompanied by sweet voice.

"I didn't know you could use the Black Mesa Sweet Voice, Gordon!"

gordon insists that he can't, and his panic is rising as more coloured orbs spill from his mouth (which tommy comfirms means gordon is panicking. bubby makes a comment like "Yeah, we can tell.")

it's then that benry, who has been just been staying quiet the whole time, finally speaks up in gordon's mind. "hey, calm down maybe?"

obviously this just freaks gordon out even more, albiet in a different way.

when gordon says he can hear benry in his fucking head, there's definitely some jokes in there from the team about gordon hearing voices now/being haunted again, pff.

eventually benry's able to explain himself (the best he can, at least). he's in here because gordon couldn't heal that good on his own, and benry couldn't heal him without being in here. and he's staying here because gordon's weak lil baby human body is just SO easy to break, like damn, so benry's gotta stick around to make sure it stays put together. he's the maintenance man, now.

gordon of course HIGHLY objects to this, but it's not like he can force this weird cosmic energy being out of his body.

(and though he's not saying it out loud, he does appreciate how all his usual aches and pains have been completely gone ever since benry started this "maintenance" work.)

gordon does at least get benry to agree to get the fuck out of him once they're all out of black mesa, though.

and then through the rest of their journey, understandings happen, and bonding happens. i've imagined one point where gordon is feeling Overwhelmed with Emotions and having a bad time because of it, when benry tells him to just, sing it all out with sweet voice. gordon begrudingly does so, and then... actually does feel better afterwords. turns out sweet voice is a really good way to get Big Feelings out. huh.

now the thing that we-cool-bean's art specifically reminded me of, is when they get to xen. benry obviously isn't here to be the big bad final boss, thus the nihilanth is still kickin' around, and proving to be just as dangerous as xenrey. during the fight, benry gives gordon a lil power-up: RAINBOW DEATH MODE

(gordon doesn't get freaky shape-shifting like benry does when in RAINBOW DEATH MODE, he just gets glowy. there's extra orange in there as that's gordon's life energy colour signature!)

i picture gordon getting to land the final blow on the nihilanth, managing to get up on its head, prying open that noggin' to expose the crystal... but then being unsure what to do next.

benry yells in his mind "song of death at it!"

"How do I do that!?"

"just think about how much you wanna kill this guy and SING!"

the 'singing' that comes out of gordon's mouth sounds less like the angelic theramin notes benry sings, and more like death metal screaming, but hey it gets the job done all the same!

in the end, even after benry's vacated the freeman, it soon becomes aparent that gordon is... not entirely human anymore. having benry spend so much time hanging out within him, and then giving that RAINBOW DEATH MODE boost at the end fully cemented gordon's own connection to the cosmic ether, which is what sustains benry. now it's sustaining gordon, too.

...aaaand gordon's gonna need some lessons on how to keep from spitting out sweet voice when he gets a bit too emotional while in public :B

[allamericanb-tch]

marauders as eliza mclamb songs

** i limited myself to the ones she has on soundcloud because i did not want to go through her entire tiktok page to find links for all of her old songs sorry im a lazy queen.

pretend my explanations are not convoluted and poorly worded

the playlist of songs mentioned please go listen to it (with the marauders in mind !! ) i am obsessed with eliza mclamb currently. i tried to use every song on this playlist since i couldn’t use every song on her tiktok but i did skip some so. sorry? also the lyrics are just the ones i thought were the most them. i did not type out every single lyric to all these songs im not a MANIAC

james — look at me and lie / “daddy issues”

genuinely this song makes me tear up every time. it’s so jegulus from james pov coded which i think is absolutely devastating. in my mind this song is james thinking about regulus, knowing he has the mark, and regulus is wasting away knowing that he can’t be with james anymore, unknowing that james knows he has the mark. ugh it just breaks my heart every time.

i fucking hate when you look at me and lie // but i see it in your eyes you haven’t given up anything, except maybe the last three years of your life

—

jegulus 💔

i know i remind you of the life you couldn’t live, you make that pretty clear when you lose your shit weirdly i like that side of you better. // to see you angry is more fulfilling than the apathy

———

remus — wendy’s parking lot / autopilot / dial tone 

cigarettes i mean this is literally remus. but in all seriousness, this song is so remus feeling alone, very first and second year of him, before he really got on with the marauders.

smoke a single cigarette out the window // i want to go driving till i run out of gas, speed till i pass everybody in a baby blue subaru with their 401k’s // i don’t have anyone to cry to

—

remus trying to live his life after sirius leaves

doctor said i need routine // it’s time to drive around aimlessly and listen to music that used to make me cry, i wish it still did // i miss the feeling of feeling something

—

remus calling grant after sirius leaves

who can i call? // you don’t have to say anything at all // just stay on the line, to know somebody’s out there will do me fine

———

sirius — 2007 / haunted house

this song is sirius thinking about his time with regulus before hogwarts, and regulus idolizing his older brother and wanting to be just like him, and they grow up and grow apart, but really they’re scarily similar and sirius knows it and hates it because he hates himself.

you were still a baby, of course you’ll always be my little lady, but then you were freed // god, you’re turning into me // i want to hold your little face just look at you and say, ‘it’s not as good as it seems’ // it never gets better than being a kid with a dream

— 

this is sirius returning to his apartment he has with remus after he escapes azkaban

i swear this house is haunted, i can’t be here without wanting to go back ten years and do it all again. // i just can’t make myself fit back into place

———

peter — speak

this is peter being quiet and shy and following james around like a lost puppy dog because james has always been his only friend, and he couldn’t bear to lose him, so he goes along with everything james does.

i never could talk loud enough so i learned how to listen. // i find my place in other people’s shadows. // i wait for you to ask me, ‘how is it you forgot how to speak?’

———

mary — pornstar tits / anti-cinematic

this song is so mary being oversexualized by the fandom, and only used as a device to further the plot of wolfstar fics by being a rival love interest for sirius.

they trade that shit like pokémon cards, swapping my body with somebody else’s // it’s either jezebel or madonna and i’m not sure which one is worse

—

this i think is mary leaving the wizarding world, and losing all her friends (..because they died) and trying to go back to life as a muggle

what if my best years are behind me? // what if i just keep getting older and lonelier?

———

lily — elastic band / american wasteland

this song reminds me of lily reminiscing on her life before she found about wizards and magic and became involved in the war, and knowing she can’t go back to the life she once had.

so many memories i can’t recover existing in only a feeling // sometimes if i think real hard its like i’m there again // i’ll think i’ll stay in this moment for a while

—

american lily evans. there i said it. but this song actually feels more petunia to me. petunia after lily leaves, feeling out of place without her built in best friend.

two kids in a double wide // take the city bus home // get off at the next stop and walk the rest of the way home in the dark

———

marlene — twin flame

marlene and dorcas, dorcas and marlene.

i can read your mind like you can read mine // do i like you, or do i like that you’re fucked up like me?

———

regulus — hydroplaning

this is regulus being in love with james, and being so deep into his self-hatred that he can’t even fathom why someone like james would like someone like him.

something about you liking me just doesn’t sit right with me i think it probably means you have bad taste. // and then of course i’ll whine about how no one could ever love me.

———

evan — drunk in a fancy shower

evan at a party feeling out of place because party is drunk kissing other girls, and not drunk kissing him. poor evan :(

it’s so clear that i really don’t belong here // is it so cynical to think that no one would give a shit if i crawled out this window? // i need to get the fuck up, get back out there fill my cup up

———

barty — zoned out

this is so barty losing his mind slowly after evan’s death

i came back into my body to find somebody else in it // i hate that i can’t listen to you over the sound of my heartbeat // sometimes i just have to leave

———

pandora — witching hour / all alone

pandora is very much the kind of person who would find comfort in being alone in the middle of the night, and being awake while the world is asleep.

it must be the witching hour if i’m awake // it’s like the universe has picked me up, i’m a tiny baby in her cosmic cup. // i’m not scared of the unknown

—

pandora being self aware and knowing that people think she’s weird and creepy but knowing she is on the right path for her <3

all alone, in my little world. if it’s a one man universe i’m my favorite girl. // ‘you’re all alone, well aren’t you wasting time?’ no i’m just taking mine. 

———

dorcas — dreamgirl

dorcas being dorcas

i wanna be your dean girl // i like the version of me that lives in your mind // i’m still a mystery to you

———

[autisticandroids]

CASTIEL: Stop. What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me - not love, not respect, just fear.

[youtube with closed captions]

a godstiel pity party. i'd like to thank an anon i got way back in february of 2021.

[zebratimw]

Spirit animal SQH

[nyupuun]

Satellite's Shooting Star (Dragon)

continuation of this (technically)

[cuteniarose]

Personally I find it really funny that based on what the twins said in the Book 2 finale re: having to tell their mom about what happened to Unalaq, it's literally canon that Unalaq's wife a) exists, b) is alive, and c) is just chilling in the Northern Water Tribe

She took one look at all the spirit fuckery her husband was getting up to and went "Well that's none of my business" and honestly I respect that

[dragondawdles]

crumplt piece of paper