#and now we look forward to so much more <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[cameronsprincess]

okok hot cocoa and a movie w rafe and his gf on a late night drive maybe after a fight?????? 🤗🤗🤗 u can make it smutty or angsty or fluffy

i’m honestly thinking all three, angsty smutty fluff😏🩷

CW: smut! 18+ only! bf!rafe, gf!reader, strong language, slight angst, piv sex, car sex, semi public sex, fluffy ending w soft!rafe<3

join the 5k celly here!

you lean your head against the window of your boyfriends truck, nothing but the low hum of the radio filling the tense silence that surrounds the two of you.

the night was going well, until it wasn’t. you and rafe argued a lot, but it had never reached the point it did tonight. the thoughts of all the harsh things you both spewed at one other makes your chest tighten.

you slowly lift your head from the window, chancing a glance at rafe. his body is tense, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. you don’t miss the slight tick in his jaw, watching as he clenches and unclenches it, nostrils flaring as his eyes remain on the road, not bothering to even look your way for a second.

“rafe…” you whisper, shifting in your seat so you’re facing him completely.

his hard blue eyes glance at you for a second, quickly placing them back on the road before he speaks.

“what, y/n… i’m really not in the fucking mood to talk to you right now.”

you breathe out a sigh, rolling your eyes. “then why the fuck did we go on a drive, huh? if you can’t even fucking talk to me, what was the fucking point in this?”

his hands tighten around the steering wheel once more, a heavy sigh pushing from his chest.

“i needed to fucking clear my head, after you…” he pauses, trying to calm himself before continuing, “fuck, after you said some of the shit you did, throwing low blows about my relationship with my dad my way, telling me that i’m a fuck up, i needed to fucking get out of that house… you are the one who asked to come with me, i would’ve much preferred you stayed home.”

his words hit you hard, slapping you in the face and twisting tightly around your stomach. your face drops, a slight frown on your lips as tears begin to fill your eyes. you know you shouldn’t have thrown his strained relationship with his father in his face, using it as ammo in your ploy to hurt him, and you definitely shouldn’t have called him a fuck up, knowing full well he hears that enough from his father and a few others.

rafe wasn’t a fuck up— far from it actually— you were just so angry, the words spilled from your lips before you could even give them a second thought.

“rafe, i-” you begin, but his loud, booming voice rings through the air, cutting you off.

“just stop fucking talking! can you fucking do that, for once? just stop. fucking. talking,” he pauses, letting out a rough laugh, “i’m just gonna take you home, i can’t stand the sight of you right now, can’t stand your irritating fucking voice.”

you gasp, his words slicing right through your heart.

“fuck you, rafe! god, i’m trying to make things better, but you’re being a fucking dick! and you wonder why i said the shit i said earlier, it’s because you act like this! you’re a fucking child! learn to grow up and communicate.”

rafe slams on the breaks so hard you jolt forward, your palms slapping against the dash of the truck. you push back, eyes narrowed on him. “what the fuck, rafe! are you fucking crazy? fucking drive the truck, now!” you shout, hands shaking and breathing choppy.

he ignores you, simply pressing his foot on the gas and speeding down the road, his tires slightly screeching as he does. you press your back firmly against the seat, arms crossed over your chest as you watch dim street lights and dark outlines of the trees fly by.

rafe makes a sharp right turn, pulling his truck into an empty, dark parking lot. he places the truck in park, quickly killing the engine and tossing the keys to the floorboard. you run a hand down your face, a scoff leaving your lips.

“why the fuck are we here? take me the fuck home.”

he doesn’t answer, his silence slowly grating on your nerves.

“rafe! are you gonna say anythin-”

he cuts off your words, his hand reaching out and wrapping tightly around your throat. you wrap a hand around his wrist, trying to pry him off, but it’s no use. his fingers tighten around the expanse of your neck, pressing firmly into your pulse point. he gives a low hum, leaning his face in close to yours, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“god you’re fucking infuriating, such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he stops, his eyes flitting down to your lips, reveling in the way they’re slightly parted, loving the way your pulse beats rapidly against his fingers. his lips slightly brush against yours and you squeeze your thighs together. you need him, and you need him now. “what am i gonna do about that little fucking attitude of yours, hmm?”

your eyes find his, the normally bright and shining blue now dark. you inch your face closer to his the best you can, and it’s just enough to press your lips against his. rafe groans, releasing your throat, his hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you further into him. his tongue shoves its way past the seam of your lips, tangling with yours perfectly.

you moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping at the soft fabric of his shirt and pushing him back. both of your heavy breathing fills the cramped space of his truck, your eyes darting across his face, “rafe…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you say another word.

he fumbles with his belt, pulling it free from his jeans before popping the button and slowly guiding the zipper down. he removes the rough denim from his lower body, his boxers going with them. your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock, his tip swollen and already dripping with his arousal. he reaches over the center console, hands gripping your hips tightly and yanking you into his lap.

a low groan escapes him when your covered core rubs across his length, making him twitch beneath you. his hands pull at the waistband of your cotton shorts and you lift your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs. he tosses them into the passenger seat, one hand firmly gripping at your hip while the other fists his cock, jerking himself as he keeps eye contact with you.

“fuck me, rafe. please?”

the words barely leave your lips before he’s pushing the head into your drenched hole, bottoming out in seconds. you both groan in unison, the feel of his large cock stretching you and the way your pussy tightly grips his dick making all the anger from moments ago wash away.

rafe presses his lips against yours, his mouth devouring you as he holds onto your hips, keeping you still as he pounds himself inside you from below. the head of his cock repeatedly hits at that sweet spot inside you, your body shaking in his hold and sweet moans of pleasure falling past your lips.

“r-rafe.. oh, god.” you mumble against his lips.

he pulls back, hard blue eyes on yours as he continues to brutally fuck himself into you. your pussy pulsates around him, your clit throbbing. you remove his hands from your hips, running them up your sides and placing them up your shirt. he cups your breasts, squeezing at them harshly. you begin lifting your hips, slamming yourself back down on him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“fuck, baby. ‘m so sorry, ‘m so fuckin’ sorry.”

you press your forehead against his, your lips beginning to slowly trail across his jaw and down to his neck. your teeth lightly nip at his sweat slick skin, loving the reaction it pulls from him.

“‘m sorry, too, rafe. i love you. fuuuck, i love you.”

your body trembles beneath his hold, rafe’s hands slowly and softly roaming your body, drinking in every bit of you with his hands. “i love you, too.”

the band snaps, your pussy clenching tightly around rafe’s cock, your orgasm rushing through you with a call of his name. rafe isn’t too far behind you, his dick twitching inside you. he shoves himself deep inside you, a raspy moan falling from him as he paints your inner walls white with his seed.

his body falls limp beneath you, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lie your head on his chest. his fingers begin to trace lazy shapes on your back, lips kissing softly at the space between your neck and shoulder.

you break the silence first, “i’m really sorry… i- i didn’t mean anything i said, i just-”

he lifts his head, cupping your face in his hands as he forces your eyes on his. “i know. i’m sorry too, i love you, y/n. i really fucking do.”

you smile down at him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. he pulls his hands from your face, allowing you to rest your head on his chest again. you find comfort in the silence this time, the strong beat of his heart against your face making your insides warm.

tagging a few moots: @starkeysprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesangelita @rafeyscurtainbangs @drewsarms @drewsephrry @bloodibambiidoll @babygorewhore @nemesyaaa @httpsdrewstarkey @redhead1180 @rafeinterlude

[theformulaimagines]

Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part nine

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Vettel!Reader

Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...

Warnings: angst

masterlist

Three weeks later…

This whole situation feels like a bad dream. Like a horrible nightmare. How could they have this sort of slip up? They’ve been so careful…

She can still remember the look on his face when she left their Airbnb to get into the taxi. The awful presence of their mutual heartbreak was visual in his eyes. A little break, that’s what they decided on. Their managers suggested they should get some space to breathe, some time apart to figure out what to do next. How to move forward.

She also remembers Sebastian‘s silence when she got into his car. He picked her up from the airport, his voice was coated in disappointment and hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”, he had asked her when they parked outside his house. “We didn’t tell anyone.” “I’m not anyone.”

Y/N sighs as she brings the cup of coffee up to her lips. The cold air feels good on her hot skin as she watches the sun rise over the mountains.

“Morning.”

The young woman flinches slightly and when she turns her head she catches a glimpse of the small smile on her brother’s lips:” Sorry.”

Yet she shakes her head:” No, hi. It’s fine. Good morning.” Her hands bring the blanket closer to her chin, while Sebastian sits down next to her, positioning his coffee on the table in front of them:” How are you doing today?”

Y/N licks her lips and immediately regrets it:” I think it’s too early to decide on that.” She wants to sound witty, but it just comes out sad. Her eyes fixate on the mountains and a few seconds later she blinks away the tears that are forming. Sebastian notices them out of his peripheral vision and sighs, his hand reaches for hers.

No matter how angry he has been about her keeping her relationship a secret he still loves her. So much. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”, he lets out after a few moments and watches how a weak scoff leaves her. He wonders what she would say if she knew Lewis has been texting him regularly since they last saw one another.

f1gossipofficial has made a post

liked by 17,198 people

f1gossipofficial: Breaking News! Recent information from reliable sources suggests that Y/N Vettel and Lewis Hamilton have not communicated in several weeks, as they are currently taking a break from their relationship.

view all comments…

user 1: NOT A BREAK NOOOO

user 2: i hope everyone who has sent hate their way is going to have a horrible life from today on

user 3: thank you GOD!!!!

user 4: you’re awful

“Is she okay?”

Sebastian turns his head and when he makes eye contact with his wife he takes a deep breath. “I mean, I always reckoned that something was going on between them… but I wouldn’t know what to do if I was her.”, Hanna whispers and watches Y/N through the closed glass door:” She’s probably dying inside.”

The blonde man tilts his head at her confession:” You knew?” “You didn’t notice the way they looked at one another?”, she asks and turns on the coffee machine:” The giggling and smiling? The way he would always gaze down at her from the podium? He did take more risks whenever she was watching. God, Sebastian.” He lets out a beaten sigh.

“I wish I could do something about this mess.”

“I know you do.”, Hanna says, walking up to him:” I mean, I am glad she’s not using her phone at-.” She’s cut off by the doorbell ringing, and Sebastian rolls his eyes:” It’s 8 am on a fucking Sunday, I swear to God.” He lets go of his wife before walking down the hallway. With one swift motion, he opens the door.

His eyes instantly widen at the sight in front of him.

“Hi.”, Lewis says, trying his best to smile at Sebastian but it looks more forced than genuine. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to see Y/N.”

[itsonlydana]

Love Spells and Fang-tastic Kisses (A Hauntingly Romantic Tale) | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑🦇

You're invited to Thranduil's halloween party; a fangtastic opportunity to get closer to the man you've been harbouring a crush on

tags/ warnings: none, modern!au, Thranduil in a hot vampire costume

word count: 8,2k

an: hello!! happy Halloween! This is totally not a month late!! We shall ignore and celebrate Halloween!

+ masterlist + rules +🌿 reposts and comments are much appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

You're invited to a Night of Haunting Delights!

Dearly Departed,

As the brisk winds of autumn carry the faint whispers of otherworldly echoes, and the luminous full moon bathes the night in an unsettling glow, we extend a chilling invitation for you to join us at a Halloween gathering that guarantees to send shivers down your spine!

Attire: Elegantly Eerie or Ghoulishly Glamorous

“Tilda if you want your braid to be straight you have to hold still for a second!”

The girl in front of you nods obediently but a few seconds later the wobbling of her head starts again as she grows impatient. Five minutes ago, after she kept reaching back with her hands when the braiding pinched a little, you had asked her to sit on her hands. What you didn't count on was that this would give the girl the wonderful opportunity to swing forward and backward, using the height difference that her hands gave her to the usually flat surface of the kitchen stool. 

You allow yourself another quick glance at the clock above the fridge and immediately regret it again when you see the time. 

It was already just after four, and while on any other Friday afternoon that was just the kickoff to the weekend, today didn't offer you much more time to have three children – four if you counted Bard – ready with costumes and makeup. 

Your eyes flitted from the clock to the invitation pinned to the fridge, surrounded by all kinds of paintings; the animals were Tildas, the planes had been drawn by Bain and there were a few more advanced watercolor sceneries that Sigrid had done, hung up with different shapes of magnets and while there was so much color the silver paper with the beautiful handwriting stood out in elegant monochromy.

Now, with the current time coming up closer to the one on the invitation, more than ever since the kids had brought it home from school a few weeks ago. 

The girl in front of you wiggles again and you bite down on the hair tie that you had to take away from her (she had offered to hold them while you braided but with her nervousness, she had dropped them two times until you had taken them again). 

“Tilly,” you groan out between clenched teeth, just barely catching the last centimetres of hair you had left before they slipped away and you could start from the beginning.

“Sorry Auntie,” the girl giggles, the sound so pure and full of excitement that the annoyance and stress disappear in a pink cloud full of love for her. “Are you done soon?” Tilda asks, already moving her head again to look back at you but you react fast and turn with the movement.

“One second–,” You hold the hair in one hand and grab the hair tie with the other, quickly securing the braid. When it falls down, you reach for the small mirror placed on the kitchen counter, holding it out so that Tilda can get a look at herself. Watching over her shoulder, you see the red-painted lips curve in a smile. 

“I look so pretty!” she exclaims, her eyes wide and sparkling, not just because of the glitter she wanted you to put on her eyelids. 

You laugh, tapping her red nose with one finger, “Yes you do! The prettiest scarecrow in the whole wide world”

She scrunches her nose, and takes one last look in the mirror before she hops down the stool with such speed that you nearly drop the mirror in order to catch her. But she lands safely on the floor, running off into the hallway, where you can hear her stomping up the stairs.

You hope she will only grab her stuff and be ready in ten minutes when you had planned to leave. 

Knowing her, you would need to send Sigrid to get her sister.

Halloween had been a lot easier a few years ago, when it had been just you and a bottle of wine alone on the couch, watching scary movies or the few times you'd gone out with work colleagues. Halloween at the Bowman's house, no, scratch that, Halloween in Esgaroth in general was incomparable to that.

Not that you would want to trade your life now for those years, not for any amount of money. 

When you moved from the bustling city of Gondor to the quiet seaside town of Esgaroth there hadn't been any more lonely nights, alone yes, you needed them from time to time, but never lonely. How could you be lonely if you had Tilda, Bain, and Sigrid in the neighbourhood? They were responsible for the move, including the change of apartment as well as job, if only indirectly. 

After their mother, and Bard's wife, had passed away, your brother had overworked himself trying to feed all four of them, taking on a second and third job next to his handyman one, which in itself had already taken up too much time. It had taken you too much to listen to how tired and completely exhausted he had sounded on the phone calls between you, which had diminished in their regularity. 

He didn't have to explicitly ask for your help, he was too stubborn for that, which is why you didn't let him know that you had quit your job (it had been unbearable and much too boring anyway) and your apartment (please, who wants to live in a multistoried building with a hundred tenants?!). You had just left one day with all your stuff in the car, rented a small vacation apartment in Esgaroth and rang the doorbell.

You had chosen a Sunday morning, the only morning of the week when he was not at work and far too tired to object much.

One week after that, Bard helped you move into the guest room. 

Not that you weren't extremely happy with the life you now lived, much cosier and full of laughter, family movie nights and stickers everywhere on your clothes, but right now you wished you could have imprinted your organized lifestyle from before on your brother.

“Bard? We should leave in like–” You watch the clock, debating on whether you should lie to give all of you enough time to finally get out the door. Hearing nothing but what sounded like chaos from upstairs, the answer was clear, “–in five minutes!”

Eh, close enough to the truth. 

A door slams somewhere, followed by the sound of boots on the carpeted stairs that barely muffle the steel soles. “Coming!” you hear Bard's grave voice getting louder the closer he gets, “Have you seen my hat? I swear I left it here..”

“On the sofa.”

“What? Who put it there?”

You would have laughed if you didn't hear a loud crash from upstairs at that moment.

“Everything's fine!” Sigrid yells just as you and Bard nearly run into each other on the way to check whatever happened and if someone is hurt. The edge of Bard's cowboy hat, now safely placed on his curly mess of hair, slams into your forehead, not enough to really hurt but it slows you down abruptly. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Bard takes a step back and adjusts his hat. “What are you doing up there?” he yells, casting an apologetic glance at you as he steps back onto the first step. “I'll be right back down.”

Another glimpse at the clock. 

“Tell the little monsters they'd best come straight with you or I'll tell all the neighbours to give their candy to Legolas!” you raise your voice enough that it would travel all the way to the three children's rooms. Immediately there is an indignant shout, a proclamation of “You wouldn't dare!” (Bain), “Legolas would never do that to us!” (Tilda) and “I can't get my dress zipped, Da!” (Sigrid).

It's a miracle how you and Bard manage to be out the door relatively on time with all the kids both costumed and ready with makeup, and equipped with bags for their candy. 

You don't question it any further, happy that you finally made it and with few incidents. You had already been out with one foot when Bain ran in again because he had forgotten his proton pack for his Ghostbuster costume. After that Sigrid had to go to the bathroom and last but not least under the laughter of the others you went in again to exchange the cape that had come with your witch costume against a far warmer black coat. 

You are glad that you did, even if it cost you time that you truly didn't have.

October has made itself comfortable in the small town, decorating the trees on the side of the road scarlet red, pumpkin orange and a sulfurous yellow and the cold winds that swirl through the colourful trees are biting at your legs, despite the tights you wear under the dress. 

“Shit, I hope they have a warm punch,” Bard leans towards you, careful that the curse doesn't reach his kids that are walking a few meters in front of you, awing at the town's Halloween decorations.

You look from them to your brother. “Have you met them? Of course, they will have warm punch, jeez, I am sure we will have mulled wine served to us in barrels.”

It wasn't an understatement, last year the hosts of what must be the biggest Halloween party in the area (not just in Esgaroth, it was bigger than the ones in most cities on the coast) had shipped in the most expensive bottles of cider and even the simplest choices of drinks like water or coke had been served in crystal flutes. 

Bard grins, clearly remembering the cider as well, or the effect it had. By the third glass, when all the kids had been tucked into their beds in the mansion and the adults had gathered outside again, there had been one too many drinking contests with the result of a shared hangover. 

“I can't wait to see what Thranduil has planned for this year,” Bard muses, raising a hand to scratch the stubble of his beard. He turns his head slightly in question. “He didn't tell you anything?”

“What?” you ask in what was probably a much higher note than usual because Sigrid whips her head around alarmed. You wave her off with a tight smile and lower your voice, “Why–  why should he tell me anything?”

Bard's eyebrows wander so high up his forehead that they should disappear under his stetson any second. “No, don't do that. Don't deflect and worm your way out of this. He comes into the coffee shop daily and I know he stays for a chat.” At your incredulous look, he shrugs his shoulders, “What? The kids talk.. and before you tell them off for snitching–” his lips curve into a smirk “Thranduil mentioned himself that he enjoys staying for his cup of tea.”

“I wouldn't tell them off!” you protest, completely overrun by the sudden emotions cursing through your body like it's a goddamn rollercoaster.

“No, you are too nice for that,” Bard says, drawing a roll of your eyes as a reaction from you, “–and far too flustered that you would speak to them right now.”

Any objection dies on your tongue as another particularly cold breath of wind hits your face and the heat in your cheeks burns indisputable; your denial is no match to it. Your stubbornness, however, steps into the fight with her hands raised, ready to at least try and defend yourself in any way she knows how.

“So what?” you attempt to sound nonchalant. “There are many customers that do not want to leave immediately. They say they like the atmosphere. It's cosy and comfortable.”

When you think of the coffee shop that hired you a few years ago, those adjectives were not the only ones coming to mind- the moss-green facade made it special, tugged in between a white hairdresser and a grey washing saloon, the plants ranging from honeysuckle growing on the walls to seasonal potted plants littering every window sill and the steps up to the dark blue door made it colourful and alive. 

It was however very cosy and comfortable as well once you stepped inside, with cushioned stools and wooden tables decorated with candles in coloured glasses. There were benches under the windows, and a leather couch tugged away in one corner of the room with two giant armchairs where students would hang out during their break you truly love the warm feeling that just thinking about the shop brings to you but you can't help it; your thoughts trail to the man that would come into the coffee shop every morning and sit at the few bar stools at the counter. 

Right where you worked, and waited for him.

Before, your mind would only conjure the big windows, the sound, and smell of coffee getting crushed in the machine and the chatter of the customers but now, and damn that man for messing with you with that, you think about golden sunlight filtering through the window and falling on silver hair, about tea steaming and the flowery scent of it, about the low hums of appreciation when Thranduil would slowly sip his tea, the cup looking tiny cradled between his big and yet slender hands. 

“Yeah sure,” Bard laughs and the familiar sound of it leads you back, out of the coffee shop into the night; Halloween night. “That's what keeps the customers there, right.” He earns himself a well-deserved nudge in the side from your elbow “Ow!” he yelps dramatically, rubbing the spot that you slightly grazed.

“What was that supposed to mean?” you glare at him, eyebrows pinched together, “And I hope for your own well being that you're gonna tell me it is because of the coffee and the delicious pastries.”

“–or the woman smiling at everybody like she gets paid for it.”

“I get paid for it!”

“Not enough to be that happy every morning, sunshine coming out your–”, Bard stops himself before the crude word slips out his mouth but the sentence finishes itself in both your minds and that's enough for you to hit him again. It doesn't do anything, your flat hand catches just his upper arm and not forcefully, you two were never really ones for the whole wrestling siblings act.

His upper body shakes with laughter as you shake your head, clicking your tongue against your teeth like that would help the smile fight its way up in the corners of your mouth. “Obviously I am nice to the customers, they pay good money for a good cup of coffee.”

“Or tea.”

“Or tea,” you roll your eyes again because of course, Bard has to throw in another hit with the fence about Thranduil. “Just because you are mister grumpy, grumbling while you work and avoiding talking to your customers doesn't mean I have to do that as well.”

That you bring up the subject of his work is normally enough for him to change the topic, not that he hates working as a handyman, going around town fixing leaky pipes and sinks or straightening up shelves and letter boxes, but his boss wasn't as nice as yours and that left him working far too much for (what you think) is far too less money. On any other day he would quickly move on to another topic but tonight he has his teeth dug into what was in his mind, the relationship between you and Thranduil Greenleaf. 

The truth is that you don't know what Thranduil thinks of you, you on the other side are completely and utterly swooned by him. Hell, when you moved to Esgaroth the last thing you had on your mind was falling in love and then, a few weeks into the new job, in comes this tall, beautiful man with shoulders that you want to lean into and cerulean eyes that pierce their way into your soul and he orders a fucking tea.

In a coffee shop. 

At first, you thought you hadn't heard him right, then he'd cocked one dark eyebrow, his manicured nails tapped against the wooden counter and his deep voice had repeated the order for “His tea”.

Thankfully, your coworker Feren had jumped into the conversation before you'd started crying out of pure confusion about who the man was and why he would order tea in the middle of the midday rush when you weren't even sure if and where the shop stored tea.

The next day the man was back, this time with an apology about his rushed behaviour the day before and when he ordered his tea, a flowery combination of what smelled like roses, cherry and green tea, you told him off for behaving far too entitled for someone who wanted something from you. 

After that Thranduil came back every day, ordering his tea and sitting on the barstool, chatting with you while you prepared coffee, wrapped up pastries and tried not to glance over at the beautiful man giving you his whole attention.

Well, not that often. Once in a while, you allowed yourself a sneak and were gifted a small smile and sometimes a wink. 

“Yes, let's come back to Thran for a second.”

You groan.

Bard laughs. 

“Did he or didn't he tell you about the party?”

“He told me nothing,” you say, fingers crossed inside the pocket of your coat. It's not entirely true, he really hadn't told you anything but he had asked you some things. What you would want to drink, what you think is a better activity for the children, apple bobbing or pumpkin bowling? 

The lie, half-lie, half-truth, comes out sure enough and Bard huffs, white clouds escaping his nose and disappearing into the rosy evening light of the lowering sun. He stuffs his hands into his pockets as well and you can see the second-guessing of his outfits happening on his face. It's a nice costume, the nearly all-black outfit except for a leather belt with a golden buckle, some silver decorations on his stetson and the jacket that he is wearing. He probably would have chosen another, slightly warmer costume if it hadn't been for Tilda who wanted her dad to wear the golden star that she had made him in school and that's now proudly shining on his chest. 

You smile and link your arms, pulling your brother with you as you catch up with the kids that already started trick-or-treating at the houses on the way.

When you arrive at the mansion its heavy iron gates are wide open, pumpkins with what probably were supposed to be scary faces cut into them by a wobbly kids hand sit on the ivy covered pillars. They stare down at you as you turn onto the gravelly road adorned with orange-glowing lanterns, the kids sprinting and kicking up dirt and gravel with the warm boots that Bard made them wear no matter the costume. You can hear them awing and gasping, and when Bard and you turn another corner and the tall pines make way for the mansion sitting on the end of the road, even your mouth falls open.

The fountain in the circle in front of the stairs is coloured an eerie red, illuminated by the lights inside the lower bowl, and the texture looks easily mistaken for blood from far away. Instead of the usual birds using the fountain as their water source, fake bats are hanging from the upper bowl, their glowing red eyes shining through the water rushing in front of them. 

The whole garden is decorated accordingly for the festivities; spiderwebs cover the trees and bushes, skeletons sit on the benches, gravestones are splattered here and there on the lawn and everywhere are little ghost fairy lights strung from tree to tree. 

The house itself screams Halloween as well, with flickering lights in the windows, more cobwebs stretching over the dark roof tiles of the front porch, and the small tower where Thranduil's son and the children's friend Legolas has his room. The ivy that grows outside at the gate grows on the white brick of the house itself as well, climbing up the walls and when you get closer you can see the (hopefully) fake spiders nested inside the green vines. The door to the house is wide open, letting a pool of golden light fall onto the porch but instead of going inside Bard tugs you along with him towards the small group of adults milling around on the lawn around a small campfire. 

“Good evening!” he proclaims and tips his hat. 

You give everyone a small wave, eyes scurrying over everyone in search of a particular someone who doesn't seem to be there at the moment. Though you don't know if it's a relief or disappointment, your heart leaps in your throat at the realization. Arm still linked with Bards, you stop at the fire pit. 

It's the same constellation of people as most years, mostly parents from the children's friends who got together in the ways that parents always make acquaintances. Elrond (dressed as a pirate with a ridiculously big hat and a fake pirate sitting on his slim shoulders) and his wife Celebrían who matches his costume with a puffy blouse, leather trousers and a sword dangling next to her leg were the first parents you met when you started bringing the kids to school. Their daughter, Arwen, waited for Sigrid and Bain and her parents had roped you into a conversation while they wandered into the school, Arwens hand finding Sigrids naturally. 

Then there are Thorin and his husband Bilbo, Thorin who seems to be dressed the warmest in a werewolf suit, and Bilbo, who wears a green overall with flowers pinned all over it (“I am a gardener!” he could be heard multiple times throughout the night and every time Thorin would lean into the other part of the conversation and whisper loudly “He is secretly a garden fairy, you simply can't see his wings” and watch him so lovingly when Bilbo glared at him that you got jealous.)

Those two you met because Bain was in one class with Thorin's nephews Fíli and Kíli who he basically adopted as his sons at this point. Five years ago they came over for a school project and stayed because “Bilbo is trying out vegetarian recipes and we need meat if we want to become real strong men” (their words, mumbled with mouths full of the spaghetti and meatballs you had cooked that day). 

You really met them on a stroll through the park with Tilda, who decided that walking around and gossiping was much more fun than sliding and swinging on the playground, and you exchanged numbers so at least one person would inform them about the boy's whereabouts. Fíli and Kíli, as it seemed, sometimes just forgot to call home, and now you would ring them and chat when Bain and the two boys would huddle up around the living room table, their textbooks buried under snacks and instead of their pens they held controllers of Bain's game console in their hands. 

There were some other people around the garden, work colleagues of Elrond and Thranduils or parents that you never got as close with as these four, neighbours and friends of friends. 

However…

“Where did the children go?” you ask, head turning back to the parents after sweeping over the whole garden, resultless.

“Maybe the evil witch got them,” Thorin's joke about your costume goes right over your head, your eyes still wandering and meeting Bards in confusion. They weren't your kids but you felt the same chilling drop of your heart whenever you couldn't find them as if they were your own.

Elrond steps closer, nudging his chin toward the house. “Thranduil gathered them inside the house,” he explains with a comforting smile that eases all the worry. Of course, you didn't have to worry, this party is always safe and it's not like you let them loose in the woods for the wild animals (Ha Thorin, take that!).

“He wanted them to get some warm tea before we go out trick-or-treating,” Celebrían adds, uncrossing her arms in front of her chest when Elrond takes one hand in his. 

“That's good,” you feel and hear Bard exhale a deep breath, even he gets nervous when he doesn't know about Tilda's whereabouts despite the fact you are with his dearest friends right now. “So who drew the short straw and will go with them this year?”

The groan that leaves Thorin at the question is an answer in itself. 

Bilbo playfully pushes his hip against his husband. “We–” there was most definitely a bigger I in that word– “decided that Thorin should definitely go to keep an eye out for the boys. Kíli got into some trouble with another boy at the school and his house in on our route.”

“Yes,” Thorins mouth twitches into a smile “And judging by how dented the boys' pockets looked, I'm sure I'll find the eggs that mysteriously disappeared from the kitchen in them.” He gets another push from Bilbo and rolls his eyes “I won't do anything stupid, love.”

“Throwing eggs with them will count as stupid.”

“Then I will maybe do something stupid.”

“Don't you dare,” the smaller one shakes his head, wavy locks flying with the movement, “I really have no desire to deal with the parents tomorrow about why their windows are smudged.”

Thorin laughs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Bilbo's temple while throwing a wink in Bard's direction. “No worries, they won't know who it was. Bain is a smart one and will figure that one out.”

“Oh, I am sure about that,” Bard nods, pride oozing out of the smile that grew when Thorin called Bain ‘smart’. 

You want to reply, step into the conversation to tell them that Bain will not partake in any egg throwing at all because of his smartness, thank you very much, when the children storm out of the house, loudly cackling and yelling, long and short feet trampling over to you fast enough that you get nearly crushed by a small fury of a straw scarecrow who crashes into your legs. Following her is Arwen, Elrond's girl, who is wearing a costume that must be snow-white, because hot on her trails is Thranduil's daughter Tauriel with a red-riding-hood cloak a fiery red like her hair, fluttering in the wind like a wild flag in a storm. Behind them comes Legolas, who, despite his braided hair and green Robin Hood outfit, bears such a resemblance to his father Thranduil that you falter for a moment. He seems to have had a growth spurt every time you meet him, slowly growing as tall as his dreams, his head ever closer to the clouds.

“We are going now!” Tilda yells up to you, her voice uncontrolled by all the excitement that has the girl bouncing up and down your side and tugging at your coat. “Are you coming with us, auntie? Are you? Or are you Da? Pleasee–”

Thorin, who steps away from the fire to Fíli and Kíli (both of them wear a Ghostbuster costume like Bain) rubs his hands through their hair, earning himself an outraged grumbling, “Aren't you two going to ask me nicely to join you?”

“I would beg you to stay here,” Fíli barks out, fixing his long blond hair by throwing it dramatically over his shoulder. “But your head is too thick for that to go through.”

“That and you are such a fool for Bilbo. He probably asked you to keep us in check,” Kíli adds, mimicking his brother with his own, brown hair. Even though they are not twins, their behaviour is so similar you could mistake them as such. 

“You–,” Thorin starts but Elrond jumps in: “Celebrían will be there as well and now.. you know not to anger her.” His sharp eyes bore into the boys, even without any real edge or warning in the sentence Kíli and Fíli shrink under the gaze, nodding fast enough that their heads must hurt, Elrond's stern, thin eyebrows surely help with that.

His wife and you share a smirk.

You turn back to Tilda and Bard, the latter is wiping away some crumbs of what must have been cookies out of the corner of her mouth, careful that he doesn't smear the lipstick the younger one is so proud to be wearing. 

“Tilly–,” you tug at the collar of the sweater she's wearing under her costume.

You don't get to finish the sentence, right as you open your mouth to tell her that you would love to come with her, you are abruptly silenced by the resonant sound of approaching boots from behind. The arrival of a newcomer, his voice a mellifluous, baritone timbre and a sonorous blend of charisma, sends a tantalizing shiver down your spine. “I had dared to hope she might grace me with her presence, as you delightful rascals torment the hapless neighbours.”

Tilda's eyes grow bigger as she looks up at the man standing behind you, the dark brown shining with admiration, and her mouth falls open in the tiniest ‘o’. 

It's not that difficult to impress her, she is an eight-year-old girl, all you had to do to win her heart was to tell her a story about the fairies and elves that supposedly lived in the forest next to your house, but that look in her eyes, awe in its purest form and you are sure that she would be singing praised about whatever she is seeing right now if there wasn't absolute shock mixed into her emotions as well. 

There are only few that get that reaction out of Tilda though and you slowly twist around. First, your shoes turn, squelching softly on the grass covered in leaves, then your legs, your upper body following the movement and finally, awfully cautiously, your head turns.

Your eyes land on a pair of boots.

Black. Leather. Boots.

And they don't seem to end as you lift your chin.

You know the man is tall, like really, really tall. Even Bard, who got luckier than you with the height genes, is a few inches shorter than Thranduil. If you stand next to Thranduil, it always requires you to look up.

Right now, as your legs buckle and you casually (it surely is anything but) drop one knee into the grass for more balance, the striking figure of Thranduil is looming over you. Your eyes travel upwards, up those damn boots on his endless legs, to the silvery corset that hugs his small waist tight, higher up over a ruffled white blouse with far to many buttons undone to be considered decent, and when you reach his face, your tongue lays heavy in your suddenly dry mouth. 

The smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth and the crowfeet next to icy blue eyes twinkling with mirk tell you that the asshole knows the effect the costume has on you.

“Good evening,”  Thranduil greets everyone but his gaze is locked on you. “I didn't know it’s witching hour already,” His lips curve more, flashing a row of pearly white teeth and if the black cape swaying around his body isn't expressive enough, the smile reveals two extraordinarily sharp canines, pointing down at you almost predatory.

You swallow hard enough that your throat protests. When you speak there is still a roughness to your voice that surely anyone around you must be able to detect: “Aren't you supposed to lay in some dirt until the sun sets? I wouldn't want anyone to clean up your ashes,” and when you can't fight the smile that threatens to break out on your lips anymore, you add a cheeky, “Count Greenleaf."

Next to you Thorin snorts and Bard groans.

“If you two would pause the flirting for just a second,” your brother's voice cuts through whatever had been building up there because your eyes snap to him.

“We weren't flirting!” you say at the same time as Thranduil nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders: “One second should be fine.”

The look you send him is supposed to be threatening but all it archives is another smirk from the tall blonde man. 

“Back to the question,” Bard sends you a wink that has you fletching your teeth in his direction “I think Thorin, Celebrían and me will go with you, Tilly-bear.”

“Yes, and I think Bilbo wanted to help me prepare the games for when you come back,” the man addressed nodded dutifully, not an ounce of not a bit of malice in his face and yet you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Here stood probably the smartest people you knew and they didn't even try to hide what they were up to. 

Of course, you could have seen it coming, in the last few years it had always happened that you and Thranduil were suddenly left alone. At Sigrid's birthday party, Bard sent you off to buy more garlands, only for you to run into Thranduil at the supermarket, whom Bard had asked about the very same thing. Another time, Elrond and Celebrían both had to cancel a breakfast out of the blue, so it ended up being just you and Thranduil sitting together. It seemed like everyone was conspiring behind your back to force something into existence that was growing so beautifully slowly.

Now all you can do is smile and nod, while you kiss Tilda on the cheek (“I will try to ask Lady Galadriel if she has your favourite chocolate,” she whispers into your ear like a secret promise), ruffle Bain's hair despite the fact that he always shakes the care you put into styling the short brown mop away as soon as your hand leaves his head, help Sigrid with the zipper of her Mary Shelley dress and let her pull you into a hug (“If you want me to abandon Da somewhere on his own, you just have to say the word,” she mumbles and nods into Thranduil's direction. “I will be fine,” you assure her. When you want to let her go, she smiles encouragingly: “Don't let us be the reason you hold back from going after what you want. I'm pretty sure Bain wouldn't mind having another boy his age around the house.”

You hug her just a tiny bit tighter, wondering when the hell she grew up.)

Bard only gets another light shove, as well as a threatening warning that you would hide all of his work tools if he steals the kids' candy, and then they are off, disappearing down the gravely path winding through the trees and you watch until the laughter and howling grow quiet. 

Someone, and you know exactly who it is by the crunching sound of leaves under heavy boots, the scent of a rich perfume hitting your nose without having to turn around, steps next to you. “They are not very subtle, are they?” Thranduil hums, and your cheeks go up in flames again.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you deny, forcing a calm tone into your voice. 

“Come,” Thranduil says. He holds out an arm, an invitation you gladly take. The sight of him, all dressed up in this costume with fangs and silvery blond hair flowing down his back, is enough for your legs to consider giving up under you; you appreciate the arm not just for the gesture but for the feeling of his muscles underneath your palm as well.

“Where to?” you ask, yet you know that no matter the answer, you will follow wherever. Sigrids words have made themselves comfortable in your mind, and the night, coming upon you on the slow walk to the mansion in beautiful tones of pink and purple in the sky, feels magical. 

“I did not lie before, even though I was tempted,” Thranduil says “There are a few more things to be done and I was a little bit selfish in wanting your help especially.”

This time, you don't ignore the warmth settling in your stomach that his words cause, instead you embrace it, use it. “Well, I am sure that while the others are maybe capable, this witch here” – and you point to yourself with the free hand – “has a touch of magic that will surely be better than anyone else.”

He chuckles, seemingly agreeing in the form of a low hum. “Witch, you truly are captivating, making me wonder if being wicked has ever looked so irresistibly appealing,” he flirts right back, as openly as he never did before. Or maybe he did. Maybe all those times he complimented you in the coffee shop or asked for a smile to sweeten up his tea were not just niceties (it was what you told yourself every time, a reassuring 'He doesn't mean it like that' to hold yourself back and not kiss him senseless), maybe he really did like you.

Motivated by a sudden rush of adrenaline and giddiness, you tug at his arm, beaming up at him. “Count Dracula would be envious of the charisma you bring to that costume, Count Greenleaf,” you giggle, nearly shocking yourself with the sound.

You reach the steps up to the front porch of the mansion just that moment. You take the first step, Thranduil though, stops and while it's not the biggest difference in height, when you turn around to ask him why he stopped, you have a direct line of sight with the fangs biting down on his lip. 

“I don't know who this Dracula is or what you mean with a costume,” he leans closer, finally taking that step and growing taller before you. “But I will take the compliment nonetheless. It's not every night that an enchanting woman compliments me.”

He grins an uncharacteristically lopsided grin, boyish and far from the snobby, rich persona he sometimes falls into and the laugh bursts out of your chest. His statement was far from the truth, he must be the most lusted-after man in Esgaroth (it didn't help that he was a stupidly rich single father, drop dead gorgeous with soft features, strong shoulders and a voice that made a woman's heart tremble). More than enough times you had become a witness to a poor soul making their way up to Thranduil when he was sitting on his spot at the counter. Their faces were sometimes nervous, sometimes determined but no matter in what way they came onto him he never accepted a number or agreed to a date.

He did however accept the compliments that rained onto him. 

Walking into the mansion, you are confronted with what can only be described as the target Halloween decoration section. The dimly lit hall is illuminated primarily by the soft, flickering glow of antique chandeliers that have been fitted with blood-red candles. Their warm, dancing flames cast haunting shadows on the cream-colored wallpaper, adorned with intricate, spiderweb-like patterns that seem to writhe in the low light.

Upon entering, you can't help but notice the intricately carved mahogany staircases that rise on either side, their ornate bannisters entwined with artificial cobwebs, and the steps littered with pumpkins and more candles. The velvet drapes on the large windows are heavy and dark, adding an air of foreboding mystery to the space.

Throughout the hall, life-sized, macabre figures dressed in costumes stand at attention, like sentinels of the night. Skeletons in tuxedos and gowns, ghouls with outstretched hands, and statuesque vampires adorn the corners, exuding an unsettling realism.

The air is heavy with the scent of incense and dried herbs, giving the impression of an ancient, mystical ritual underway. A wrought-iron candelabrum hangs from the ceiling, holding a cluster of flickering black candles that fill the air with an enchanting, spicy aroma.

Turning in a circle in the middle of the hall, your mouth falls wide open. 

“Thranduil,” you breathe out “How.. what.. don't tell me the whole house looks like this! No wonder I couldn't find any decorations,” you turn, throwing your hands in a wide gesture into the air and an airy laugh follows, “–you bought it all!”

Thranduil quirks an eyebrow and shakes his head, his hands neatly tucked behind his back. “No,” he starts, then corrects himself. “Well yes, the whole house looks like this, you would be surprised to see I fully committed myself as I now have a coffin instead of my bed upstairs. Legolas and Tauriel inspired me with their fantasies of a haunted mansion, they picked out the majority of what you see, though I shipped most of it into the country from a friend.”

“Because that is so much more reasonable,” you shoot back, skipping over that one part of his answer, still gazing around in wonder, “Where did this friend get these things? They look so real.”

You reach out to one of the skeletons in a fancy suit, barely hearing the: “Wait!” when a loud cackling booms through the hall, a ghostly and eerily sound. The squeak that you nearly scream bounces off the walls in the same way, rounding corners and expanding in reverberation. 

Thranduil is at your side in seconds. He extends his hand just a moment too late to prevent you from approaching the sensor. However, the shock coursing through your body, combined with the warmth of his presence so near, sends your hormones into a frenzy. 

Laughing uncontrollably, you fall into his chest, grasping for your own racing heart while feeling the irregular beat of his through the thin blouse. His cape drapes around you, as he joins in the laughter and lets his chin brush against your shoulder, folding himself across your back.

“I should probably adjust the sound settings,” his breath hits your neck and the thought of his lips (the fangs!!) this close to the delicate and sensible part of you sends a thrill to your body. 

“Maybe,” you answer, sounding very much as flustered as you are. “Or you could hide it somewhere you don't want any guest to wander and use it as an alarm system.”

Thranduil's hand, still holding yours, comes to your waist, guiding your own fingers over the tulle fabric of the skirt and it evokes a delicate and ethereal sensation as your fingers gently graze its surface. “Maybe,” he sounds rough, voice low and raspy, similar to boots sinking into gravel. When you take a deep breath and relax into his touch, let him stretch the flat and warm palm of his hand over yours, the tips of his fingers sinking into the fabric of the dress right on the curve of your hips, his voice evens out:

“I think it has found its purpose right here.”

“And that would be?”

“Luring alluring witches into my arms.”

“Do you plan to use that move on anyone else?” you ask, and suddenly feel his lips ghost over the soft skin on your shoulder.

The lips turn into a smile. “Why should I?” The words feel like they are spoken directly into your skin and the grin with which they are said leaves a heavy and burning imprint in your mind. Your eyes dart toward the ceiling, to the flickering candles as if you would pray to the gods in the heavens above even though the devil is standing right behind you- ready for your command. 

“It has worked once and I find myself quite satisfied with the results it has yielded,” Thranduil's voice becomes even lower, his timbre taking hold on your heart while rattling your bones. One boot shuffles closer, tapping the outside of your shoe gently and teasingly, and you are sure that if you look down you would faint at the sight of the leather boots reaching as high as your hips.

He raises his other hand as well, lets it descend slowly on the other side of your hips and without your hand under it, his touch burns through the fabric. You wishfully hope they will stay there forever, holding you to him and moulding your forms together perfectly.

“Do you know how you can best a vampire?” the question shouldn't cloud your mind over as much as it does, but how could you continue thinking clearly when Thranduil decides to graze the tips of the damn fangs over your neck?

Not at all, as proven by the lack of an answer.

Thranduil continues, either unbothered by the silence on your part or spurred on to unravel you even further.  “There is sunlight, an unfair opponent if one considers that you emit light even brighter. And though I know the consequences, I would gladly burn to ashes for one second in the golden rays of your smile.”

A gasp echoes through the hall, wavering with emotions, and your hand flies to your mouth to bite down on a finger, stifling any sound. 

“Most theories revolve around a stake through the heart. I doubt that would do any good since I lost mine when you came to this town and served me that awful cup of tea.”

You want to laugh but the true meaning of what he is telling you hits you hard enough to press all the air out of you in a shaky exhalation. 

“Then there is holy water,” Thranduil's lips ghost over the juncture of your neck once again, not once really touching skin. The anticipation of what is about to be said, about what he is about to do, tears at your resolve to stand still, to wait and let it happen. There is no one rushing you, no one trapping you in conversation or leading you into awkward fumbling around with words while the others are staring. 

This is exactly what you yearned for. 

There is a cold blow of air as Thranduil takes a breath and then his teeth scrape the skin, digging slightly into the flesh (not to break it, he would never hurt you) and-

his lips touch you, finally. They press down onto the spot where the fangs have been, gently and not moving at all. Just the soft weight of them. 

“I would drown myself in it if I could taste your lips.”

Oh..

Your eyelashes flutter down, brushing the heated skin of the apple of your cheek. A soft: “I wish for nothing else than a kiss” is said into the room, raising the electricity sizzling and crackling.

Before you can even blink, Thranduil's hand caresses your cheek, tilting your head to the side. The difference in your heights grants him the perfect angle to lean in, capturing your lips in an ardent kiss, despite the awkward positions of your bodies, twisted into each other. Any illusions of gentleness from the previous kiss on your shoulder fade, as Thranduil's lips now meet yours with an intense, passionate fervor.

You might have expected that your first kiss would leave you breathless, but the desire and hunger within him not only steals the air from your lungs but also clears your mind, immersing you in a captivating void. He doesn't break away, his lips maintaining their press against yours, and with the hand curling over yours on your waist, Thranduil tugs at you to turn you. The sensation is head-spinning, and if you weren't already descending into the depths of Thranduil, you'd surely have stumbled.

With Thranduil no longer towering over you and no need for you to twist to meet him, he confidently takes a step forward. It's like a well-practised dance, where he leads with precision. Uncertain of where he's guiding you, you surrender to his direction. A step back, a pause as your hands intertwine behind his neck, though it tugs at your arms, and then the next step. Another kiss follows, fervent and insatiable, a hunger that defies comparison.

In the distance, a cheer breaks through the pounding of your heart and the rush in your ears. Realizing it's the children, you manage to disentangle yourself from Thranduil. Even though you long to return to his lips, he, too, wears an apologetic look in his cerulean eyes.

“We should–”

“The children–”

Both of you speak simultaneously, still in such harmony that your words tumble over each other. You gaze at each other, and a burst of laughter escapes your lips, hearty, uncontainable laughter that you attempt to muffle with a hand, though Thranduil still holds you close.

“We should head outside,” he murmurs, a touch of nostalgia in his voice, longing in his gaze, which traces a path from your well-kissed mouth to your eyes.

“That would probably be the wisest choice,” you agree, but your body seems to resist the logic, leaning in closer to him. “Strange, I appear to be unable to detach myself from you,” you jest. Your arms wrap around his waist, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

“I will blame it on you, you captivating witch.”

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 3 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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“I’ve got a body outside a bar on Main, and then you get attacked here.” Sheriff Hicks almost sounds accusing as she looks at Sam while speaking. “You said the call came from Amber’s number?”

Sam nods faintly, a distant look in her eyes. She’s been like this ever since she and Richie came back into Tara’s room, and even though I know I shouldn’t be, I’m worried.

Not only did she almost get killed, she’s also got something on her mind that’s upsetting her. I know because she’s got that telltale crinkle of hers in her eyebrows.

“So?” Amber pipes up next to me. She came in a couple of minutes ago with Sheriff Hicks. “We know he called on my phone before when he attacked Tara.”

True, but it’s still a little weird. Why wouldn’t he just use a burner phone to make the calls?

I glance at Tara to see what she thinks about all this, but she’s just looking back and forth between Amber and Hicks, fear and uncertainty written all over her face. First she was attacked and now Sam.

Who’s going to be next?

“Or, and I’m just spit-balling here. . . You’re the killer,” Richie says and even though I neither like, nor trust him, I have to admit, he’s got a point.

Offended, Amber crosses her arms and stares at him incredulously. She looks like she’s about to say something to defend herself, but then Sheriff Hicks beats her to it.

She turns to him and narrows her eyes. “And where were you wenn all of this happened?”

Richie falters slightly and I can see him tighten his grip around Sam’s hand which he’s been holding ever since they came in. “I was. . . watching Netflix.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. Of course he was, how convenient. . .

Seemingly reading my mind, Amber scoffs and says, “Ooh, yeah. Super solid alibi, bro.”

“So, where were you?” He fires back. Then, he looks at me with raised eyebrows. “And what about you? Hmm? You just so happened to walk around the corner right after Sam was attacked?”

I stiffen and it takes everything in me not to walk around Tara’s bed and slap him. How dare he? I would never try to hurt Sam, or Tara for that matter. I can barely even kill bugs because I feel sorry for them, so how could I possibly hurt another human being like that?

“Excuse me?” My voice is low and dangerous and the only thing that stops me from snapping is Tara who grabs a hold of my sleeve. “How would I even do that? I’m injured, and I literally just got back to the hospital.”

Richie snorts. “So you say, but you wouldn’t be the first psychotic killer to fake getting hurt to divert suspicion from yourself.”

Fury pulses through my veins, but I don’t move or speak. Tara’s grip on my sleeve tightens and much to my relief, Sheriff Hicks comes to my defense while Sam continues to stare vacantly at a spot on the opposite wall.

“It wasn’t Y/N, or Amber,” she states. “Surveillance footage shows Y/N entering the hospital during the time of the attack, and it was’t Amber because I was questioning her and her friends at the sheriff’s station.”

I give her a thankful nod and place my hand over Tara’s, silently telling her that I’m not going to lash out.

“Yeah,” Amber says, leveling Richie with a glare. “I came as soon as I heard, but, you know, the Netflix alibi is good, too.”

I must admit, Amber and I never really clicked for whatever reason, but right now, she’s my favorite person.

Sheriff Hicks lets out an exasperated sigh and hands Amber her phone back. “Okay, both of you, stop it.”

“You’re going to put more cops on her room, right?”Sam’s voice takes me by surprise.

Tara glances at her sister and then back Hicks while Amber and Richie continue glaring at each other.

“Yes.” The sheriff’s face softens. “And I can move you to a private floor. Deputy Vinson knows what he’s doing, you’ll be safe.”

That last part seems to have been the wrong thing to say because Sam bristles. “Like we’ve been so far?”

Oh dear. . .

The air in the room shifts and I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting for Sheriff Hicks’s reaction.

I know Sam can be short tempered and people usually dismiss it, but I fear this time she might have crossed a line. Sheriff Hicks is only trying to help, and Sam questioning said help isn’t doing anyone any good.

“Samantha, let’s step outside.” The tight lipped smile on the sheriff’s face makes me cringe and be thankful I’m not on the receiving end of it.

Sam clenches her jaw and looks at all of us for a moment before getting up and leaving the room with Sheriff Hicks.

Not even a minute later she returns, alone, and stands by the open door with a defeated look on her face. “Well, she remains a delight. . .”

I can’t help the way my lips twitch in slight amusement, and when Sam’s eyes meet mine, a bitter sweet smile briefly tugs at her lips.

“Are you okay?” Tara asks, putting an end to our little . . . moment?

Sam’s eyes dart to Richie, Amber, and then back to me. “Uh, actually. Would you mind giving us a second? I need to talk to Tara.”

“Of course,” I say quietly, squeezing Tara’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

She smiles softly and let’s go of my sleeve, watching Amber, Richie and me file out of the room before Sam closes the door behind us.

“So, you’re a fan of the Hawks?” Deputy Vinson asks when I run into him outside the bathroom.

“What? Oh.” I look down when he points at my hockey sweater. “Yes, kind of. I’m on the team.”

“Really?” He smiles.

“Yeah, but I don’t play professionally yet because I’m currently working on getting my Masters degree,” I explain.

Vinson lets out an impressed whistle. “Nice. So, you’re planning on playing professionally once you’re done?”

I shrug. “That’s the plan, yes, but we’ll see what happens.”

He nods and smiles. “Good for you.”

“Thanks.” I smile back and point my thumb over my shoulder. “I should go. Tara might need something and I think I forgot my phone in her room.”

He nods again and ushers me to get going. I chuckle and turn to leave, feeling my smile drop a moment later when I round the corner and see Richie standing at the door to Tara’s room, clearly listening to what’s being said inside.

“Hey!”

He flinches and steps away from the door, his eyes widening when he sees me.

“What are you doing? Are you eavesdropping?” I know the question is unnecessary, because he clearly is, but I want to make him squirm.

He takes another step back and raises his hands defensively. “What? No, of course not.”

I continue walking toward him, closing the distance between us until we’re almost toe to toe. We’re the same height, so I can’t say I’m looking down when I level him with a challenging stare, yet he seems to be shrinking in on himself the longer I stare at him.

“I was just— I wasn’t,” he stutters, trying to explain himself, but then a shout from inside the room cuts him off.

“Get the fuck out!”

Tara.

A second later the door opens and Sam comes out with tears streaming down her face. She winces when she sees Richie and me and quickly wipes at her eyes while trying to suppress a sob.

What happened in there?

The look on her face and the tears in her eyes remind me of the night eleven years ago when she snuck into my room. I still don’t know why she did it back then, but I have a feeling it’s related to whatever just happened between her and Tara.

Unlike that night eleven years ago though, I don’t make a move to comfort her. Not necessarily because I don’t want to, I do and don’t at the same time, but because Richie beats me to it.

He pulls Sam into a hug and looks at me over her shoulder, daring me to continue my interrogation from before. And even though I would love to do nothing more than just that, I drop it and slip into the room.

If Sam is this upset, there’s a good chance Tara’s not doing any better either, and when I see her, sitting in her bed with her own tears streaming down her cheeks, I’m proven right.

I close the door behind me and quickly make my way to the bed, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I whisper when she moves closer and buries her face in my shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”

“No. . .” She whimpers and hugs my waist. “Sam. . . She- She—“

“You don’t have to tell me what happened.” I cut her off, but she shakes her head.

“N-No, I do. You have to know,” she says, her voice muffled by our embrace.

I raise an eyebrow even though she can’t see it and ask, “Know what?”

Tara shudders and tightens her arms around me. “Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad.“

Five years ago

“There you go, buddy. Sleep tight.” I laugh when Liam groans and buries his face in his pillow. He called me half an hour ago to pick him up from a party because Paige is sleeping at her girlfriend’s tonight and he didn’t want to bother her.

“Thank youuu, I love you,” he slurs and I just pat him on the back.

“I love you, too, dude.“ I go to the kitchen and fill a glass of water before returning to his room and placing it on his nightstand next to some painkillers. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles again and then he’s out like a light.

I leave the apartment, locking the front door, and get into my car to start the short drive home.

It’s almost one in the morning, and I’m exhausted, but I’m glad Liam called me instead of driving home himself.

Yes it’s late, and yes, I’m tired, but I couldn’t have lived with myself if anything had happened to him if he’d gotten into his car, drunk, and gotten into an accident.

My parents woke up when I was on my way out, asking where I was going and when I told them, they simply told me to drive safely before going back to bed.

Now, I’m almost back home, and I can practically already feel the warm embrace of my bed again, but then I spot something that makes my heart stop.

Stumbling along the side walk with a man hot on her heels is Sam. The man keeps grabbing her arm, saying something, and she keeps brushing him off, obviously uncomfortable.

Her movements are uncoordinated and I hate the fact that I know why.

She’s high again.

Without thinking, I drive past them and pull over, stopping the car on the side walk right in front of them.

“Hey! Take a hike, dude,” I say, getting out of the car.

Sam and the man both come to a halt and stare at me. Sam barely even registers what’s going on, her glassy eyes staring right through me while the man scoffs and steps up to me.

“Mind your own business,” he growls. He seems to be in his thirties, has a buzz cut, and has a tattoo of a tiny rose on his temple.

“Sorry— No can do, pal,” I say calmly, trying not to cringe at the smell of alcohol on his breath. “She’s my friend, and you’re bothering her, so leave.”

“Or what?” he asks, smirking and revealing his chipped front tooth.

I sigh. “Or we’re going to have a problem.”

“Yeah?” He laughs and shoves me slightly. “What are you going to do, kid? Hmm? Call your parents? Or—“

My fist connects with his jaw, and a second later he’s on the ground, unconscious.

Was that a bit of an overreaction? Maybe. But did he deserve it? Definitely.

“Y/N!” Sam gapes at me. “W-What did you do?”

Even though she’s high, she doesn’t seem to have lost all of her ability to think straight. She sways on her feet and goes to crouch down next to the man, but I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and pull her back up.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” I say. She smells like alcohol, too, and I don’t even want to imagine the amount of drugs and alcohol she’s consumed tonight.

“No,” she slurs, weakly clawing at my arms. “I don’t— I don’t wanna go home. I wanna go— I wanna go with Josh.”

“Josh?” I ask. “You know that guy?”

“No— I mean, yes a little. He bought me a drink and—”

“He was trying to take advantage of you!” I argue, not letting go of her.

“No, he wasn’t!” she shouts and I cringe, hoping no one wakes up and looks out of their window because of her.

We’re in a quiet neighborhood, and I’m almost certain if someone saw us right now, they’d call the cops because they think I’m trying to kidnap her.

And I wouldn’t even blame them for it, because it definitely looks like it, but I’m really just trying to help.

This isn’t the first time I’ve taken her home after finding her high, and even though I’m used to the protest she puts up, the next thing she says catches me off guard.

“You always ruin everything, Y/N!”

I freeze and try not to let it get to my head, but her words tug at my heart painfully.

She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and loosen my hold on her a little. “Come on, Sam. I don’t want to fight. Just get in the car.”

Much to my surprise, a moment later, the fight leaves her body and she wordlessly let’s me lead her to the car.

I open the passenger door and help her in, making sure to put her seatbelt on before closing the door again and rounding the front of the car to get to the driver’s side.

As I open the door, the man, Josh, starts to regain consciousness. He groans and twists on the ground, making me roll my eyes.

Pathetic.

I know he’ll be fine since I didn’t hit him that hard, so I get in the car and pull back onto the road, leaving him behind just as he’s getting back up.

“I hate you,” Sam whispers a minute later. Her voice sounds clearer than before and the venom lacing her words makes me believe she actually means it.

She’s said it before, especially the first few times I picked her up from a party, but she’s never said it like this before.

It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s safe.

There’s a big chance she won’t even remember saying it tomorrow morning, but I know I will.

Neither one of us says anything else while I drive until I pull up next to the curb by our houses.

Seeing Christina Carpenter’s car in Sam’s driveway, I figure it’s not the best idea to drag her up to their front door and ring the doorbell, so I take her to my house after helping her out of the car.

She’s back to being completely high, head lolling from side to side and steps totally uncoordinated, so as soon as we get inside, I pick her up and carry her up to my room.

I expected her to protest, to tell me to put her down immediately, but she doesn’t. Instead she wraps her arms around my neck and holds onto me while I carry her.

“Alright, here we go,” I whisper when we make it to my room. I’m not afraid of waking my parents because they’d understand why I brought Sam here instead of taking her home, but I don’t want them to worry, so I try to stay as quiet as possible.

It turns out, opening a door with a whole ass person in my arms is more of a challenge than I thought, but I eventually manage to get it open, stepping inside and closing it behind us again with a soft click.

“‘M tired,” Sam mumbles, her fingers curling around the fabric of my jacket.

“Yeah, I bet,” I say quietly, feeling my own exhaustion wash over me. “Just a little longer, then you can sleep.”

I gently place her on the bed and take off her shoes before pulling the comforter out from underneath her.

“Do you need anything else? Something to drink? A sweater,” I ask, but Sam doesn’t answer. She has her eyes closed and it looks like she’s already asleep. When I move to sleep on my couch on the other side of the room though, her hand shoots out and she grabs my wrist.

“Just you.”

I hesitate and try to ignore the way my skin tingles where she’s touching me.

I hate you.

The memory of her words stings and makes my heart ache, but then she opens her eyes and looks at me pleadingly.

It’s the kind of look she always uses when she wants something from me, so a moment later, I cave and slowly slip into bed next to her.

“Thank you,” she whispers and the sincerity with which she says it makes tears well up in my eyes.

First she says she hates me, then she asks me to sleep in the same bed with her.

I’m so confused and exhausted, it hurts, and I don’t know how much longer I can endure this emotional roller coaster.

She changed after that night six years ago when she snuck into my room, and at first I thought it was just a phase, but then her dad left and as time went on, she pulled away more and more, avoiding me until, eventually, she started drinking and doing drugs.

There are moments where her old self shines through, like last week, when we had a movie night with Tara and my parents, but those moments are rare and these days, they’re basically nonexistent.

“Y/N?”

I freeze, her sleepy voice bringing me back to reality.

“Yes?” I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue, but she never doesn’t. “Sam?”

I turn my head to look at her in the darkness and exhale shakily when I realize she’s asleep. I admire her soft features for a moment, taking note of how grown up she looks now that she’s turned eighteen, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Then, I drop my hand on the mattress in the space between us and sigh.

“Good night, Sammy.”

The next morning when I wake up, I’m not surprised to find that she’s gone, just like that time when she snuck into my room.

I figure it’s probably best to give her some space, and let her deal with whatever she’s dealing with, but then, two days later, Tara calls me crying, and tells me Sam has left.

_______________________________________________

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec

[h3arts4harry]

- favourite girl -

-

warnings: ANGST(resolved), sls, TW, self harm, anorexia, hospitals, sewerslide attempt -lmk if i forgot anything

-

y/n is 17 and has really bad mental health issues, she started struggling with self harm and eventually disordered eating at 14 years old. it only got worse when her safety net, her brothers, left to move to LA.

-y/n pov-1:53am-

"just one more" i whisper, swiftly moving the blade across my wrist for the 6th time. "fuck.." i mumble as i stand off the floor. i look at myself in the mirror, staring at the girl infront of me. i cant help but feel sick with hate from what i see. my cheeks are swollen and red from crying, mascara smudged down them from the countless tears that have fallen. my eyes all ugly and puffy. i look down away from my face, down to my body. my monstrous body. how could i look so horrible all the time? how is it possible for someone to be so fucking hideous? my hand moves slowly over my stomach, i hate this. i hate what i see. i hate how i feel. i hate all of this. why do i have to feel like this? i divert my eyes away from one horror to another, the blood from the cuts, a beautiful crimson, dripping down my arm, creating a puddle on the floor. for a moment i just watch as it falls, rippling as it crashes to the floor. then it hits me, i cant leave a mess, they cant find out, im struggling again. "fuck fuck fuck" my heart pounds out of my chest as i fall to my knees, wiping the floor with toilet roll, flushing away the tissue. i carefully place band aids over the straight red lines, then wrapping my arm with a white bandage. i look at myself in the mirror once more wiping my cheeks with a deep sigh. i quickly hide the blade back into the back of my phone case before rolling my long sleeve shirt down, heading back to my bedroom.

-the next morning-11:47am-

i roll over with a groan as a bright light fills the room. "morning sweetie, theres a surprise downstairs for you, get dressed and come down" mum says as she opens my curtains then walking back out the door. i huff as i blindly move my hand searching for my phone, grabbing it and turning it on. the time reads 11:40am. i really have to fight myself to not fall back to sleep. i sit up wiping the sleep out of my face, groggily standing up and walking over to my chest of drawers grabbing out a red hoodie and baggy jeans throwing them on, messily tying up my hair in a loose bun, before walking downstairs.

i turn the corner into the kitchen, "so whats this surprise you said about" i ask with a yawn. my eyes snap open when i hear 3 familiar giggles. chris, nick, and matt were stood there with the biggest smiles that could always brighten my day no matter what. i immediately ran to them jumping into their arms, not have seen them for over 3 months. "hey kid" matt greets rubbing the top of my head, "h-how-when?" i struggle to speak through the shock, "we flew in last night, we knew your lazy ass wouldn't be up by earliest 11 so we got here a couple hours ago" nick says, pulling my into the hug tighter. "i-you- you said you couldn't fly back for another 2 months?" i step back, our hands still holding each others. "we managed to get everything done early and surprise our favourite girl" chris explains, his smile not once moving from his face. i step forward back into the hug again "i cant believe youre actually here, i- i missed you guys so much" i sniffle, a tear or two falling down my cheek. "are you okay kid?" "i-yea" i pull them in tighter "just really fucking missed you guys" "hey! language smalls" chris laughs poking at my ticklish sides, making me double over and step away giggling.

-12:29pm-

the four of us decided to go out for a drive, not having much to do in the house. "yo anyone else really feeling a mcdonalds right now?" chris asks turning to have the three of us in his view, matt and nick agree and matt pulls through the drive through. "hi can we get a double cheeseburger meal with a pepsi, and then- what did you want again nick?" chris looks to the older boy, "same as u works" "and another of the same please, and then- matt?" "ill get a chicken nugget meal with a pepsi please" matt says into the speaker box, "y/n what about you?" chris asks, "i-uh, im not that hungry, can i get just a water?" i fidget with my fingers, "are you sure? you haven't eaten yet today?" "im sure, im just feeling a bit sick" "mhm okay, and can i get a large water with ice please? yea that's all thank you" and with that chris sits down properly in his seat.

"so what you been up to angel?" nick asks from next to me, eating from his fries. "nothing much honestly" i shrug, turning from the window to face him. "really? its been almost 4 months and nothing interesting happened? sorry kid but i dont believe that for a second" matt says, looking at us in the back through his mirror. "i dont know what to tell you guys, i really haven't done anything" i look back out the window, biting my bottom lip. "hows school going? mum said youre grades are dropping again" nick tilts his head, attempting to get a glance of my face, i sigh and slump back against the seat. "smalls? whats going on with you?" chris turns fully, slightly leaning against the dashboard. "nothing going on im fine" i snap, bringing my legs up onto the seat and hiding my head behind them, along with the hood of my hoodie. the boys dont push further and just drive home.

pulling into the driveway, i quickly jump out and start heading straight for my room. "hey kid wait-" matt yells, running in behind me. "leave me alone" i huff as i keep walking, "smalls hold up" chris says, lightly grabbing my wrist. i wince in pain as i snatch my arm back, tears forming in my waterline "y/n?" nick whispers softly, "dont tell me you-" he cuts himself off, silently pleading that chris just grabbed me too tight. only nick knows about my struggles with self harm. i had promised nick that if i ever felt like i had to do it again that i would instead go to him. obviously i didn't. i dont respond, i just look down with guilt. "baby no-" he breaths out pulling me into a tight hug. "im sorry, im so sorry nick i swear i- im so sorry" i apologise between cries. chris and matt look at each other confused then back at us two. "nick? y/n? whats going on?" nick moves back a little, "can i?" i shrug with a small nod, i cant believe this is actually happening. my gaze doesn't move from the floor as nick explains everything. how he found me on the bathroom floor back when i was 15 with a razor blade over my bloody left wrist, and how he helped me clean everything up, and how i swore id go to him, and how i clearly didn't stick to said promise. "oh smalls, cmere" chris's voice sinks as he rushes to bring me into a hug, matt following behind and nick not long after joining.

we all stood there for what felt like hours, them just holding me. "how can we help you kid?" matt asks, "i-i dont know- i mean- i dont even know how to help myself, h-how am i meant to know how you can?" i manage to say between sobs. "shh its okay smalls, we'll figure it out together"

-timeskip-11:48pm-

"laura no- what do you mean we need to come back? we just got here" i wake up hearing nick on the phone, to laura from what it sounds like, i creep out of my room, to the top of the stairs that lead down to the living area where the boys supposedly are. "nick what? put it on speaker" chris says. "theres been a couple meetings that you guys need to be at come up" i can just make out through nicks speaker. "what? no we cant, cant you rearrange them for when we're back?" matt grumpily says down the phone, "im sorry matt, i already tried since i knew you guys were going back to boston, theres nothing i can do, you guys need to be back by tomorrow night" "this is so fucked up, what is this even for? we're needed here and not to be rude but this is way more important than any meeting" chris snaps, not at laura directly but at the situation hes found themselves in. "its a meeting with the big companies about brand deals, like i said i really tried to organise it for a month from now but they wouldn't do it, these guys really want to partner with you guys, theyre offering a lot of money" "fuck, can we call you back laura?" nick mutters, "yea sure, call me back asap so i can book your flights okay?" "yea okay bye laura" and he hangs up. "what the fuck are we gonna do?" matt asks, "im not sure, we cant leave y/n but mum and dad will not let us bring her with us either cause of school" nick thinks out loud, "what if we just dont go?" chris shrugs, "we cant not go chris, dont be fucking stupid" nick claps back in a duh tone. "for fucks sake, how many meetings did she say it was?" "theres three, one on Tuesday, one on Thursday and another on Monday" "what if we go and then fly back like straight after? would that work?" matt suggests "i mean it wouldn't not work" nick shrugs "but we cant leave y/n right now dude, shes struggling and what will happen if we just leave again?" chris pipes up again, to which matt huffs falling back into the sofa. "i dont know what to do you guys" nick sighs almost in defeat, "me neither", "fuck."

i let out a shaky breath before getting up and head straight back to my room, getting back into bed. 'are they gonna leave me again?' 'what if theyre gone for months again' my mind starts to race. i snatch my headphones off my bedside table and place them over my ears, playing my playlist, turning the volume all the way up, attempting to silence the thoughts.

-9:34am-

"hey y/n? kid wake up" i rub my eyes open to see my brothers, matt sat on the edge of my bed with chris and nick stood behind him. "whats going on?" i ask slightly dazed, "we gotta fly back to la but only for 9 days and we're gonna be right back okay?" matt says softly. my face drops, i thought i just dreamt last night. "youre leaving me again?" i mutter, "no- well- kinda? but we're going to come right back we swear" chris rambles. "whatever" i mumble, pulling the covers over my head and turning away from the three. "y/n please, we dont want to go but we have no choice, laura called last night and we tried to get her to rearrange it but she couldn't, please understand that" nick pleaded, i didn't reply, i just stayed still and ignored them. i cant believe theyre leaving me again. "im sorry smalls, please dont stay mad at us, we'll be back before you know it" chris says rubbing my shoulder, they all mutter small goodbyes and leave. after i hear the door shut, i let out a small sob i had been holding in.

-7 days later-

the last couple days have been really difficult, and i mean really fucking difficult. i havent left my room unless it was to go to the toilet, which ive only done like twice. i haven't showered. i haven't eaten, or drunk anything. mum and dad are really worried, they keep leaving plates of food and water outside my door but i physically cant get up to go get it, and even if i did its not like im going to eat it anyway. i hate that im such a burden for them, i hate that im worrying them so much. all i knew was i needed them, i needed my brothers. i tried messaging them in our group chat for help 3 days ago but there isn't much they can do being 5 and a half hours away. i huff, slamming my phone down onto my bed. i cant do this any longer. i push myself out of bed, trudging towards the bathroom, locking the door behind me. i tiredly look in the mirror, a worn out, struggling girl looks back to me, begging me not to do what im about to, but i ignore her silent pleads. i turn to the shelves, reaching for my basket on the second bottom shelf, grabbing a box of meds, then lifting a bottle to reveal a new razorblade underneath. i pick up the blade and put the bottle back into the basket. i fill a small cup we have for rinsing up with water before sliding my back down the cabinet, leaning against it. am i actually gonna do this? what am i saying i cant continue suffering like this anymore. but am i gonna leave without saying goodbye? that's a good point, ill write out a text, something simple so they dont suspect anything. a simple "i love you all and appreciate everything you guys do for me<3" yea thatll work, and i hit send. i turn off my phone, placing it on the cabinet, above my head. taking a breath i take a sip of water and swallow a handful of pills, then another, emptying 2 boxes. shit i really just did that. i look down at the silver blade in my hand, so much power is in such a tiny little thing. i slowly move it over my unwrapped wrist, the recent gashes already starting to heal. i push down hard against my wrist and pull, blood pushes out of the slit like its been waiting to escape. again, i push the blade down and pull. again. again. again. again. again. again. the crimson blood pooling around me. again. again. again. i start to feel faint. shit. am i really doing this? i dont want to die? i just want the pain and suffering to stop. shit shit shit. i try get up but my vision starts to blur, no no no, not yet i cant die just yet-

-the same time but sturniolo triplets pov/ no pov?-

ding ding ding all three of their phones went off. chris checks his phone and sees the notification from y/n, to their group chat, even though hes in the middle of a meeting he opens it anyway;

"i love you all and appreciate everything you guys do for me<3"

for a minute, he smiles at the kind words. but it doesn't last last before his smile turns into a frown, "guys, look" he says shoving his phone into his elder brothers faces, "chris what? we're in the middle of something here, sorry about this" nick apologies, as if chris is a toddler interrupting his parents at work, but his face quickly drops as he reads the message, snatching chris's phone from him, to make sure hes reading it clearly. "im so sorry about this but a big family emergency has just come up and we need to go, ill get laura to contact you, and again im so sorry but we have to go" nick rambles as he packs his stuff up and leaves, matt and chris right behind him.

"nick what is going on? you cant just leave like that, that was the most important meeting out of the three!" laura almost yells down the phone, "sorry laura but i think y/n is in trouble so that meeting can kiss my ass because y/n is way more important, i gotta go" "nick-" and he hangs up. the three boys grab their bags that they still hadn't unpacked from before as they planned to fly straight back after the last meeting, and drove straight to the airport. they rushed in and got straight on the plane.

-5 hours later-

knock knock knock "cmon y/n open the door!" jimmy yells knock knock "sweetie you've been in there for hours, are you alright?" Marylou softly but loudly speaks "cmon lovey open the door for us".

"dad mind out the way" chris says and he runs up the stairs, "oh fuck chris you almost gave me a heart attack" jimmy huffs, moving out of the way, along with Marylou standing next to him. once chris gets outside the door he starts to kick it in, matt and nick are not long behind chris and start helping to kick the door in. it only took around 4/5 kicks with their combined strength for the door to slam open, but the scene revealed on the other side was the worst thing they could've ever imagined. they all froze at the sight. the shriek from Marylou seemed to bring them all back as it rung through all of their ears, "boys call 911 now! and get away from the bathroom!" jimmy yells as he takes marylou downstairs and away, sure his mind was running but he knew he had to get his wife and eldest kids away before he could actually do anything.

its like time has paused, yet moving so fast simultaneously. the blue lights can be seen flashing outside the sturniolo residence, matt almost flies down the stairs and lets them in and guides them to where y/n is laying, with chris next to her, holding a washcloth tight over her wrist, trying to stop blood flowing out. "chris move, the paramedics are here" matt shouts as he follows behind them. what feels like at the speed of light, they take y/n into the ambulance before asking "theres only space for one extra person, or we could take her on her own?" "ill go" "ill go" chris and nick say in sync before death glaring each other. "we dont have time for this, im going, you two talk to mum and dad then meet us there okay?" matt says calmy, although much like his dad, hes freaking out like crazy inside.

"is she going to be okay?" matt asks as the ambulance is racing to the hospital, "please tell me something? anything? i need to know shes going to be okay?" he frantically rambles, "i cant be 100% on whats going to happen but no matter she'll live" the paramedic stood over y/n confirms, "so shes going to be okay?" matt says hopeful, "i didn't say that" and with that whispered statement his heart sinks.

-2 hours later-

the ambulance arrived at the hospital and they rushed y/n in. a doctor met matt in the waiting area to question him and ask what happened. nick, chris, jimmy and Marylou arrived around half hour after matt did. matt then had to fill them in on what he knows, which really isn't much. and from then they have just been waiting for a doctor to come over and say shes okay and breathing, and that they can go see her. jimmy and Marylou had nodded of as its almost 3am but the boys were very much still wide awake, not fully used to the timezone change yet.

"um for y/n sturniolo?" a doctor shouts, the triplets jump up and rush over, "and you guys are?" the doctor questions, "her older brothers" "is she okay?" "whats going on?" they all blurt out over each other, "ah, shes doing okay, but she is asleep still. she has a drip that helps try save her liver and we've stitched up her wrists. she'll physically be okay if all goes well but you might want to get her some mental help, i brang out some leaflets that have different ways to help, here" he says passing over a few leaflets to the boys, "thanks" nick hums putting them in his back pocket. "can we see her?" chris asks "give me like 20 minutes to check everything and ill be right out to getcha" the doctor nods with a polite smile.

-20 minutes later-

"hi boys, so everything is okay, you can now go sit in her room but she is still infact asleep so try be quiet, she needs the rest. shes in room 197, second floor" the doctor finally reveals, "thank you so much" all three boys say in sync before rushing off to the stairs.

"there look 197" nick points the a sign hanging above a door. they slowly walk in and see y/n laying there asleep, connecting to a drip like the doctor had said. "she looks so uncomfortable" nick mumbles walking closer to her. "did they say anything about how long it would take for her to wake up?" nick asks his younger brothers, to which they both shrug, and so they decide to sit and wait for her to wake up.

-hours later-y/n pov-

i slowly wake up and my head feels like its throbbing and my heart feels so heavy, like it weighs a thousand pounds. i lift my arms to rub my eyes but i have a strong pain shoots through both, i squint my eyes open to see bright white lights shining down on me. i look down to my arms and see my left wrist covered in bandages, and my right arm is connected to a drip? where the hell am i? i look around a bit more, with my eyes fully open now and i see the boys asleep, they should be in la still? what the fuck happened? -oh. that explains why i feel so numb.

i feel sick to my stomach, i cant believe how selfish i was. to do that. and to let them find me. my whole body feels like its closing in on itself, my heart pounding out of my chest, my lungs being tightly squeezed to the point i can barely breathe. im such a horrible person, why on earth would i put my favourite people through this? i tightly shut my eyes and let out multiple shaky breaths. my head running wild.

"y/n?" i snap out of my trance, to see matt stood over me, drowning in anxiety. i bite my bottom lip and look down, away from his worried eyes. "kid look at me. please?" i reluctantly look back up to the older boy, terrified of what hes going to say. a moment of painful, awkward, silence passes, just looking at one another, no verbal words being exchanged but everything needed was said. he pulls a small, comforting smile onto his face and leans forward pulling me into one of his hugs, attempting to squeeze out all of my suffering.

"omg y/n youre awake!" is almost yelled from behind matt, he pulls back to reveal a happy but anxious chris. "hey smalls, how are you?" i lightly shrug. nick then walks into the wrong with 4 bottles of water, "i bought y/n some water to for when she wakes- omg y/n!" he drops all 4 bottles and runs over to me wrapping me in his tight embrace.

-timeskip- a month later-

its been hard this past week. i got released from hospital like 3 days after i was admitted. ive had therapy sessions three times a week with Dr Louise, shes nice i guess, it might just be me but it feels like she doesn't understand what im going through or what ive been through. like i get shes there to work and get paid but it feels like that's the only reason shes there, like she doesn't care, but hey, i have my brothers. the boys haven't left boston yet, they told me theyd stay for 2 more months minimum before they had to go back for a couple weeks for work then theyd be back again. i know its gonna take some more time but i really feel like im eventually gonna get better. and its all thanks to matt, nick, and chris.

"hey angel, we spoke to laura and we managed to clear our schedules for the next 2 months so we can stay here with you" nick sits down next to me on the couch, chris and matt mimicking his actions sitting the other side of me. "we told her that our favourite girl is more important than any work stuff and we would risk it all just to make sure our favourite girl is okay" chris smiles, wrapping his arm around my shoulders pulling me into a side hug "we would drop everything in a second to fly back here for you kid." "im sorry, about everything. i love you guys" i say with a small smile. "dont apologise smalls, we love you more than youll ever know, like i say, your our favourite girl"

-

NOTE: sorry im not being too active on here, college is kicking my ass and im js not in the best mental state rn so ive js been a bit distracted? ig idk. i saw that 750 people are now following me and im like speechless, i appreciate and love all of you so fckn much istg🫶

as always feedback is appreciated <333

THANK YOU FOR READING

LOVE YOU HOES

taglist:

@m0r94n @chrisgetsmewetterxo @raysmayhem-72 @junnniiieee07 @sturnzsblog @sturniolo-slvt @mattspolitank @cerismo @chrispotatos @ncm9696 @pvssychicken

[wooziorgans]

hey, handsome! what about something with seungkwan and etl or frenemies with benefits?? i can see a lot of teasing and rage sex... honestly, i would love to be bratty with kwan, to push his buttons and make him put me in my place... if he's bad, i'd be worse :) what r your thoughts?? thank you in advance <3

— brag about it

oh lord i have never written for seungkwan or anyone besides uji rlly so uh. i hope this is okay. this was a nice break from all the other stuff im writing. i don’t think i can truly write mean dom anyone without like the softest aftercare ever so. I hope this is an okay response. this is blond seungkwan suggested but I don’t rlly describe him that much but just imagine he’s blond.

warnings: seungkwan is sooo mean ugh. ass slapping. pussy slapping. orgasm denial (reader). reader called seungkwan gay n it pissed him off (in good fun, not a derogatory way). rough sex. unprotected sex. cream pie. choking (kinda). kinda big dick seungkwan. dom-ish kwan. hair pulling. rough messy blow jobs. gagging. crying during sex from pleasure. crying after sex (from emotions). etl kinda w a very open ending. not that much aftercare but yolo.

“Quit running you fucking mouth.” Seungkwan hisses, his grip on your wrist tight as he pulls you into his bedroom. He doesn’t spare you a single glance as he pushes you down onto his bed. You squeak softly, laughing in his face at his obvious anger towards you.

“I’m not wrong, am I though? You are kind of gay for Hansol.” You smirk, biting at you bottom lip as Seungkwan pulls his shirt over his head. He scoffs in disbelief, flipping you over on your stomach. His hand cracks down on your ass over the tight fabric of your jeans.

You gasp softly before it turns into a long, deeply satisfied moan. Seungkwan just scoffs, lifting your hips off the bed and pulling your jeans down over your ass. He rubs the soft skin with an unnatural tenderness. You turn your head to look at him, but another sharp crack halts the movement of your neck halfway.

“Gay? Yeah, sure. We’ll see about that one, sweetheart.” He scoffs in disbelief. Seungkwan’s hand dips down into your underwear, fingers sliding over the tight muscle of your asshole before they dip down towards your entrance. “God, you’re fucking soaked. Embarrassing.” He laughs at you, tone so sharp it elicits another moan in response.

You push your hips back against Seungkwan’s palm for more friction but he pulls his hand away. You whine softly. All he does is pull your jeans and underwear down further in one go, not quite off of you. You kick them off the rest of the way.

Seungkwan pops the button on his pants, pulling his cock out of its constraints and moving to stand closer to the headboard. “Why don’t we put your big fucking mouth to good use for once, hm?” He sneers, grabbing a fist full of your hair to pull your head up.

You bite your lip to silence a moan. Seungkwan catches you in the act, laughing softly in disbelief as his other hand grabs a hold of your face. His thumb pushes past your lips, against your teeth to force your mouth open, not like it’s much of a fight to begin with. You roll over onto your side, hands grabbing at the belt loops of his pants to pull him closer.

The hand in your hair lets go as he uses it to guide the tip of his cock to your lips. You open your mouth to say something, to tease him, but before you get the chance, his cock is already half way inside your mouth. Seungkwan bucks his hips forwards, forcing more of his cock into your mouth. His hands find your hair again, holding you down as your throat spasms around his tip.

“Not so smart now, are we?” He hisses, a satisfied groan slipping from his lips as his head falls back. He thrusts into your mouth, making you gag softly as tears start to fill your eyes. Seungkwan pouts at you mockingly. “What? Can’t take my cock in your mouth today? Is it too much for you?” He coos, tone so soft it’s almost tender and genuine, but there’s an edge to his voice that tells you he’s not sincere at all.

You nod the best you can with the restriction of your neck, sputtering softly around his cock. Spit drips from your bottom lip onto the sheets of Seungkwan’s bed. He tisks softly, slowly fucking your throat as he contemplates scolding you for making such a mess. You know he won’t though, because if there’s one thing you know about Seungkwan and this weird not-quite-friends-yet-also-not-exactly-civil thing you two have going on, is that there’s nothing he loves more than a messy blowjob.

Instead of scolding you, Seungkwan just forces your head down further on his cock, triggering your gag reflex. Instead of his normal course of action where he’d make you gag and then give you the grace of letting you breathe at least a little bit, he keeps his cock down your throat until you gag so violently he’s worried you might throw up if he keeps you there.

Seungkwan pulls his cock out of your mouth entirely. You whine, gasping for air and blinking away the tears in your eyes. He just laughs at you, climbing onto his bed. “On your back.” Not bothering to take off his pants, he pushes them down to his knees. You roll over, struggling to pull your shirt over your head, but Seungkwan just looks at you with this deadpan stare and you stop fighting with the piece of clothing entirely.

“It’s not so hard to listen to me, is it?” Seungkwan pushes, settling in between your legs.

“You didn’t give me any directions.” You push back, spreading your legs farther apart. Seungkwan pushes your legs apart, delivering a taut slap directly against your pussy. Your hips lift off the bed ever so slightly, and Seungkwan is quick to force you back down.

“Y’know, I really wanted to take my time and prep you properly today, but you’re really pissing me off.” He bites, hand pressed into your thigh.

“Enlighten me, Kwannie. It’s not like I need the prep anyway.” You laugh softly, wiggling your hips against the mattress.

“Hm? ‘Cause you’re that much of a slut that gagging on my dick has you soaked?” He asks, one hand wrapped lazily around his cock, coating it in your spit.

“Nah, ‘cause you’re hardly anything to brag about.” You bite, tone almost bitter. You need him now.

Much to your liking, Seungkwan pushes himself all the way in, filling you to the brim with his cock in one quick movement. You don’t even see it coming until he’s filling you completely. You gasp softly, the stretch of his cock very clear with the way your thighs shake softly as you adjust. You always need prep with Seungkwan. This is the one time you scold yourself internally for running your mouth around him.

“Not much to brag about huh? You can hardly take me, even with how wet you are.” He laughs, giving you a few seconds to settle into the feeling of his cock almost splitting you in half. Seungkwan pulls out a bit, before he thrusts back in, hard and deep. You gasp softly, tears resurfacing in your eyes at the pace he sets.

It’s hard and fast; he’s ruthless. Seungkwan leans over you, hand delicately wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t make any effort to choke you quite yet. All he does is lean down and kiss you. It’s hungry, all teeth and spit and tongue. It would be too messy for him in normal circumstances, but nothing about this is normal.

His cock jack hammers against that spot inside of you, forcing the air out of your lungs as you let out a long, unsteady moan. It’s then that Seungkwan takes his chance to tighten his grip on your neck, fingers digging into the sides to create a pressure so good it has you seeing stars in seconds.

In no time, you feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten. You mumble out a warning to Seungkwan, not even fully aware of what you’re saying yourself.

Just like that, the tightness is gone. Seungkwan releases his grip on your throat and pulls out of you completely. “No, no, no, fuck!” You whine, the tears in your eyes now falling down your cheeks. “I was so close, you fucking asshole.” You hiss, but there’s no real malice behind any of it. You’re too fucked out to mean it. Seungkwan laughs at you, and it starts to infuriate you.

“You don’t get to cum yet. I don’t think you’ve really learned your lesson quite yet.” His eyes narrow, obviously displeased with the way you’re speaking to him. Before you have time to fight him on the subject, he slides back in, tip kissing your cervix softly.

He goes back to his brutal pace immediately, spares choking you for now as he watches the way your expression changes from slight anger to being immediately fucked out. He lifts one of your ankles over his shoulder, changing the angle to hit deeper. You babble incoherently in between moans that sound straight out of a shitty 90s’ porno. Seungkwan bites his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning in response to you.

“You gonna stop being such a pain in my ass all the time?” Seungkwan asks, hand gripping your thigh. You grab at the material of your shirt, pulling it up your torso. You nod, unable to form coherent words. “Answer me with words.” He snaps his hips harder, just to make the task that much more difficult.

“Y-yes, fuck.” You whine, voice hardly above a whisper.

“You gonna start behaving in front of my friends?” He asks. As you start to speak again, he delivers another slap to your clit, though he keeps his hand there, rubbing tight circles over the swollen bud.

“Mm, fuck, yeah.” You gasp.

“What was that? I didn’t hear a yes.” His thumb flicks over the nerve, making your whole body jerk.

“Yes, fuck, yes, I’ll behave.” You mewl, eyes rolling back into your head.

“Good.” Is all he offers, cock hammering into you, nudging the spot inside of you with such force your thighs start to shake, threatening to close from their spread state.

“Close.” You manage to get out in one solid syllable. The hand on your thigh moves back to your throat, squeezing with just enough pressure to make every other sense heightened.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” Seungkwan nearly purrs. Just like that, the building pressure overflows so suddenly that your whole body thrashes with the force of your orgasm. You tighten impossibly around him, sucking his cock in and making it impossible for him to move. Your cum coats his cock, and that’s all he needs.

Seungkwan cums inside of you, a stifled groan against your neck as his pillowy lips mouth at the skin there. He drops his weight on top of you, exhaling deeply as the last of his cum fills you up.

Nothing but the sound of laboured breathing fills his bedroom as the two of you come down from your highs. And then, quietly, a small sniff. Seungkwan almost misses it, misses the way your hands hesitate to find their spot in his hair, or the wetness on your cheeks that wasn’t there before.

Still deep in his post orgasm bliss, he can hardly pay attention to you, but there’s just enough clarity that he notices how stiff your body is, and then a few seconds later, he registers the fact that you’re crying. Seungkwan pushes himself off of you, quickly pulling his boxers back over his softening cock and kicking his pants off. Wordlessly, he lays down beside you, pulling your head to his chest as he carefully strokes your hair.

“Talk to me, Y/N. What’s going on?” He asks carefully, scared to shatter your resolve completely.

“Do you actually think I’m a slut? Or that I’m annoying?” You ask, voice shaky and quiet, hardly above a whisper.

“What? Did I say that?” You nod, a shaky hand attempting to wipe at your tears. “No, of course not. It was just a heat of the moment thing, Y/N.” He stops himself from adding more to that statement, suddenly aware of just how harsh he can be. Seungkwan’s hand carefully strokes your hair.

“‘Kay.” You mutter softly, breaths getting deeper as you start to give into your fatigue.

“I’ll lay off on the degradation. I guess we need to sit down and talk about this.” Seungkwan sighs softly, suddenly feeling guilty. He knows you love it when he’s mean, but maybe the personal attacks are too much.

“Later, ‘m sleepy.” You mumble. Seungkwan kisses the top of your head, eyes staring blankly at his wall.

“Later, then.” He agrees quietly. You crane your neck up to look at him through half lidded eyes. Seungkwan doesn’t even think about it, he just leans down and kisses you.

It’s so incredibly tender and soft, the way his hand finds your jaw and strokes it softly with his thumb. You’re not together, and maybe the tears that slip down your cheeks at the simple action of a tender kiss is enough of a sign that you should put a stop to whatever this is between you and Seungkwan. Later, though, as you both said.

Seungkwan feels the salt of your tears on his lips, and he pulls away from the kiss to hold you. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Shh, I’ve got you.” He coos, fingers tangling in your hair, and you get this gut feeling that it’s all fine.

Maybe Boo Seungkwan is something to brag about.

[pandapetals]

…i have an idea that im unsure on whether or not i can write it myself & i’m OBSESSED with how well you always characterize logan so hear me out

i’m always thinking about the boxing scene in origins, so perhaps some boxer!logan where he’s teaching his girlfriend self defense in the gym after hours? you can make it as steamy or fluffy as you want!

i’ve just been dying to submit a request because i’m a fan of your work <3

AHH, thank you so much. I love your account so much! I have been wanting to write about Boxer Logan for some time so this request is literally perfect.

boxer!logan howlett x fem!reader - fluff, fighting, teasing, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, soft logan, established relationship

"Alright, sweetheart," Logan said, his voice a low rumble that echoed off the empty gym walls. He stood in front of you, hands casually raised. The white tank top he wore clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and the sheen of it caught in the flickering overhead lights. He rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing in a way that seemed entirely unfair. "You gotta learn how to defend yourself."

You fiddled with the straps of the red gloves he’d given you, tugging at them. "I know, Logan," you said, arching a brow, "but do we really need to do this? I mean, c’mon—what’s the point? I don’t want to hurt you."

He laughed, the sound warm and deep. "Hurt me? Darlin’, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried." He tilted his head at you. "But you’re welcome to give it a shot."

You narrowed your eyes, torn between amusement and the urge to wipe that smug look off his face. He looked too at ease, standing there with his hands up and that teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, fine," you huffed, stepping forward. "But don’t come crying to me if I accidentally break that pretty nose of yours."

"Pretty?" He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"You would," you muttered under your breath.

Logan spread his feet into a fighting stance, nodding toward you. "C’mon, then. First lesson—don’t telegraph. You gotta keep me guessing." He raised a hand to gesture toward your shoulder. "See, you’re tense here. Makes it obvious what you’re about to do. Relax."

"Relax? That’s easy for you to say," you shot back, shaking out your arms. "You don’t have to punch you."

"Exactly," he said with a wink. "Now focus. Don’t think. Just swing."

Taking a deep breath, you stepped in and threw a jab toward his chest—not too hard, but enough to show you meant business. Logan dodged it effortlessly, leaning to the side as though it were a breeze that brushed past him. He gave you an almost pitying look, clicking his tongue.

"Sloppy," he teased, circling you like a predator playing with its prey. "That all you got, sweetheart? I thought you said you didn’t wanna hurt me."

You glared at him, your cheeks heating. "Oh, I will hurt you, Logan," you shot back, a spark of determination lighting in your chest. "Just wait."

He chuckled, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "That’s more like it. Now stop aiming for where I am—aim for where I’m gonna be."

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing as you watched him move. He was testing you, but there was something about the glint in his eye—like he was enjoying this, not just the sparring, but you. You tried to read him, to guess his next step, and when he shifted ever so slightly, you swung again, this time aiming lower.

To your surprise, he stepped right into it, catching your gloved hand in his palm with a sharp smack. His grip was firm but careful, and he grinned down at you, clearly pleased. "Not bad," he said, his voice softening. "You’re getting there."

You groaned, tugging your hand back. "You let me get that one."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, the cocky edge returning. "But you still gotta work on your follow-through. What if I wasn’t nice enough to stop it, huh?"

"Nice? You’re about as nice as a brick wall," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from the way he was looking at you.

Logan’s grin softened into something almost fond. "You’ve got more fight in you than you think," he said, reaching out to gently adjust your stance. His hands lingered on your shoulders for just a second before he stepped back. "Now, one more time. And this time, I want you to mean it."

You nodded, steeling yourself. He was still smirking, but there was something else there too—a flicker of pride, maybe, or just the satisfaction of seeing you rise to the challenge. Whatever it was, you weren’t about to let him down.

You shifted your weight, fixing your gaze on his chest as if it were a target. Then, without warning, you lunged forward, throwing your whole body into the punch. He moved to dodge, but this time you were ready—you adjusted mid-swing, your fist just grazing his ribs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him blink, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Well, look at that," Logan said, stepping back and rubbing his side with exaggerated drama. "You almost got me."

"Almost?" you said, crossing your arms. "Pretty sure I felt that connect." 

"Sure, sure," he said, smirking as he leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Next time, maybe try a little harder. You might even make me flinch."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Whatever, let’s just go again.” You stepped back, shaking out your hands like a boxer psyching themselves up.

Logan smirked, circling you slowly, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and challenge. His confidence was infuriating—like he was untouchable, always one step ahead. But as he moved, you caught his focus was on your gloves, like he thought that was all you had to work with.

Big mistake.

You let your shoulders drop, exhaling slowly as if you were done. "Alright, you win," you said, feigning defeat. "You’re too good, Logan. I give up."

He tilted his head, one brow quirking in suspicion, but the grin never left his face. "Oh, c’mon now, don’t quit on me, sweetheart. Where’s that fire I saw a minute ago?"

"It’s gone," you sighed dramatically, letting your gloves hang at your sides. Then, as he paused in his pacing, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you in two quick strides. Logan’s smirk faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he sensed something coming.

Instead of throwing a punch, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a split second, Logan froze. His lips were warm and slightly parted, caught completely off guard by the sudden move. You felt his breath hitch against your mouth, and then—just as he started to kiss you back—you shifted your weight and swept your foot behind his ankle, knocking him clean off balance.

“Whoa—!” Logan grunted as he hit the mat with a thud, his broad shoulders absorbing most of the impact. He blinked up at you in shock, sprawled out flat on his back.

You straightened, grinning down at him as you tugged your gloves off one by one and tossed them aside. “Gotcha,” you said, hands on your hips.

He stared up at you, and you couldn’t tell if he was more surprised or impressed. Then, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle that made your stomach flip. "Well, I’ll be damned. That was sneaky."

You crouched down beside him, trying to look innocent. “What’s the matter, big guy? Can’t handle a little creative thinking?”

“Creative thinking, huh?” Logan propped himself up on his elbows, his grin turning wolfish. “I don’t think that counts when you cheat.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Cheat? Cheat? I think you’re just mad I finally got the drop on you.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” he drawled, his tone playful but laced with a hint of a challenge. Before you could blink, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward. You let out a startled laugh as you tumbled down onto the mat, landing half on top of him.

“Logan!” you protested, trying to pull back, but his arms wrapped around your waist holding you in place. He was grinning up at you now, his eyes bright with amusement that made your breath catch.

“You’re gettin’ cocky, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But I gotta admit, that was a hell of a move.”

You smirked, leaning in just enough to meet his gaze head-on. “Guess you’re not as quick as you thought you were, huh?”

“Careful,” he murmured, his fingers brushing along your side. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might have to teach you another lesson.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back, your voice dropping to match his. “And what’s that?”

Instead of answering, Logan pulled you down the rest of the way and kissed you, slow and deliberate. His lips were warm and firm, and he kissed like he fought—with total confidence and just a hint of something wild beneath the surface. The world narrowed to just the two of you: the heat of his body against yours, the rough scrape of his stubble, the way his hand slid up your back like he didn’t want to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his voice was a low, satisfied rumble. “Lesson one,” he said, his smirk returning. “Never let your guard down.”

[taesancult]

hihi!!! I am the anonie that req for the "7 minute in heaven with bnd", it took me a while to remember that I send a req to u 😭😭😭 but i just wanted to say that I ABSOLUTELY LOVE HOW U WROTE IT, LIKE I AM ACTUALLY OBSESSED 😭😭😭😭 and i think that def from now on I will start coming on here more often for ur stories!!!!!! can we please get a dom! sungho though?😍😍😍

hi cutie patootie, that req actually caused my writing to receive a lot of love i cannot even lie so thank you for requesting it!! and thank you so much for your love <3 i’ll look forward to seeing you in my inbox <3

THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING YEPPI!!! i never get reqs for him or riwoo :(( so it always makes me so happy when someone asks about either of them!

smut under the cut. mdni.

i’ve said it before and i will say it again! he is such a pleasure dom. i could see him so clearly being an acts of service boy, which translates in bed. he’s really persistent on getting things right, a perfectionist if you will, which makes him an amazing partner. he’ll always put your pleasure above his own, and always make you verbally confirm that you finished even if you can barely speak from being so fucked out.

he would be propped up beside you, slightly leaning over you with his right arm underneath your neck. your hands gripping onto his shirt as his left hand works wonders on your body. the whole positioning was so romantic; his body being so close to yours as he pleases you. he would be fully clothed, while you were completely naked; adding to his dominating energy. his fingers would ease into your soaked pussy, going at the perfect pace. he makes sure to study you whenever you had sex. your facial expressions, your whimpers and cries, your body language. he wanted to be sure that everything he does makes his pretty little girl feel good.

he would pay attention to your clit, swirling his middle finger around it, electrifying you. your back arched and your breath was stolen from you. “do you like that?” he whispered with a small smirk as he continued his movements. “l-love it, you’re so good at this.” you whimpered as his finger made its way to your entrance, gliding in and out of your wet cunt. “my beautiful girl.” you winced. he always praised you in moments like this and it was so dizzying. your grip on his shirt would get tighter as he entered another finger; easily gliding the two of them in and out at what he knew to be your preferred pace. your whines became more high pitched and your eyes were tightly shut as he continued, which only meant one thing for him. “be a good girl, and cum on my fingers for me.” he would demand, but kindly like he didn’t want to be too authoritative, just the perfect amount.

UGHHHH he’s just such a good caretaker in bed like he’ll give you whatever you want as long as you ask nicely <3

[be-my-sunrise]

1:40am || oh sion

pairings: idol bf!sion x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff if you squint. minors pls dni

word count: 1,023

warnings: suggestive content, they're just kissing and groping each other lmao

a/n: ik i said i only write for dreamies, but i just physically CANNOT get this gorgeous man out of my head so i had to write something for him lmao. anyways i hope you enjoy!! thank you queen @jenoslutie for beta reading<3

tags: @wispyxjae i hope you like it teehee :3

It has been quite some time since you last saw Sion. He has been very busy with his schedule and album preparations, and he finally gets a day off today, so he invited you over to his dorm to hang out. 

After lunch, you and Sion decided to watch a movie that he had been wanting to watch. At least that's what you were doing.

Both of you start making out passionately before you even know it. You should have known though, because Sion couldn't keep his hands to himself since you arrived. The two of you pull away after a while to catch your breath.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. 

“Me too, baby.”

Sion presses his lips against your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses down to your neck. You tilt your head to one side as he continues to pepper kisses. 

“I miss having your body on mine and the way you feel around me.” He mumbles against your neck. “Fuck. I miss the way you taste.”

Sion slips one hand under your shirt, gently caressing your waist. A moan escapes your lips as he sucks on your sweet spot.

“I need you, baby. Right now.”

“No, we can't do this now. What if your friends come back early?” You let out a heavy sigh and pull yourself away from him. 

“Come onnn~” Sion pouts, looking at you with pleading eyes. “We’re finally alone, and they won't be back any time soon.” 

“I don't–” Sion cuts you off with a peck on your lips. “But, I–” He pecks you again.

“Please, baby.” Sion places his hand on your jaw and swipes his thumb on your bottom lip. 

You lean into his touch and you can’t help but stare at his plump lips. Truth be told, you want the same thing as him. You were hesitant because you don't want his friends to walk in on you and Sion. Not again. 

But, your body craves him. His touch. You need him. You lean forward and lock lips with him.

“Wait,” he mumbles against your lips and pulls away. 

“This means yes, right?” He asks, making you giggle at the way his face lights up.

“Yes, baby,” you pause to climb onto his lap and put your arms around his neck. “Let’s make this quick, shall we?”

You let out a satisfied hum as your lips meet his once again. As the kiss gets more heated, you start grinding on his hardening cock, making him moan. Sion places his hands on your hips to guide your movements. You drag your hands down his chest and abs, feeling his toned muscles. 

You tug on Sion’s shirt, signaling him to take it off. He understands the message and he quickly takes his shirt off in one swift motion, not wanting to part lips with yours too long. You squeal as Sion suddenly lifts you up to lay you down on the couch. He hovers over your body, resting one arm next to your head to support his own weight.

Your fingers find their way to his dark locks, pulling on the strands as he trails kisses down your jaw to your neck. A gasp escapes your lips as he bites the skin, leaving red marks all over your neck and shoulder. 

Sion slips one hand under your shirt and makes its way towards your chest. He grips the soft flesh before pulling down the fabric covering your tits. You let out a loud moan as he continues sucking on your sweet spot while also playing with your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud using his thumb and index finger.

Just when you’re about to get to the good part, you hear feet shuffling at the front door. Sion’s head shot up upon hearing the familiar voices. The panic settles in when the two of you lock eyes, realizing who’s at the other side of the door right now. 

Both of you scramble to sit up and fix your appearances. Sion puts his shirt back on and helps you cover the hickeys he left on your neck with your hair. You put a small pillow over his lap to cover his prominent boner just as the front door swings open.

“We’re home!” 

You and Sion pretend to be watching the still-playing movie as Riku and Yushi walk into the living room. 

“H-hey, guys! Back so soon?” Sion asks.

Riku sighs, “yeah, we’re a bit tired, so we decided to just get home.”

There’s a moment of silence and you silently hope that they won’t notice anything. Yushi clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence.

“Well, uhh, we’ll be in our rooms if you need anything.” He says as he walks towards his room with Riku following him closely behind.

You let out a relieved sigh when Riku and Yushi are out of sight. You share a look with Sion and burst into giggles.

“By the way,” your laughter stops when you hear Riku's voice. You turn to him, who's looking at you and Sion with a knowing look, waiting for him to finish his sentence. 

“You know your shirt is inside out, right?”

Riku then walks away with a smirk on his face. Your eyes shoot to Sion's shirt and face-palm yourself out of embarrassment. Sion laughs out loud, throwing his head back against the back-rest. 

Sion leans closer, speaking in a hushed tone. “Should we continue this in my room?” 

“Hmm… Maybe. Only if you can keep quiet.” 

“I think that's gonna be hard for you, baby.”

Sion looks at you with a smug expression. You raise your eyebrows, taking his words as a challenge.

“Okay, we're doing this now. Let's go.” 

You get off the couch, pulling Sion along with you to go to his room. Yushi got out of his own room just in time to see you slamming the door to Sion's room close and lock it. He turns to Riku, who's standing in the kitchen. Riku sighs and walks towards him, patting him on the shoulder.

“Come on, let's just go to the dorm upstairs and play games with Jaehee.”

[zerun0]

please a Jayvik fic? that would be super cool and awesome sauce so I can pretend s2 didn't happen and they're having fun working as lab partners <3

"For now" — Viktor x Jayce

English is not my first language. Feel free to comment on any of my mistakes and i will update the post, also I more than happy to receive suggestions, and advice on how to improve my work.

— !SFW! — Established relationship, Fluff, Flirting, Garden, kissing. — Word count: — 1,9k (Full uncut version on AO3)

The Hextech lab buzzed with the energy of early afternoon. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the high windows, lighting up the chaotic jumble of notes, tools, and half-finished devices strewn across every surface. Jayce and Viktor stood side by side, arms crossed, looking down at the creature sitting proudly on their workbench, a round, fluffy Poro with stubby legs and an unshakable confidence.

“I trust you two implicitly! ”— Heimerdinger declared, his tiny hands clasped behind his back as he beamed up at them. “This little one has a, shall we say, spirit for exploration, when it’s not napping.”

Jayce leaned forward, hands braced on his knees. — “Professor, are you sure you can’t just take it to your meeting? I mean, it’s not like the Council Chamber is a lab full of fragile, priceless equipment.”

“Oh, nonsense!” — Heimerdinger waved his hand dismissively. — “They wouldn’t understand his unique needs. Besides, you’re the perfect duo for the task.” — He gestured between the two of them, eyes twinkling. — “Viktor with his sharp mind, and Jayce with his...big heart. Surely you’ll manage.”

Viktor arched an eyebrow. — “Professor, I am not certain that babysitti-”

“Ah! Not babysitting! Mentoring!” — Heimerdinger corrected. He patted the Poro, which chirped happily. — “He has much to learn about the world, and you’ll provide him with a safe, structured environment.”

The Poro hopped in place, nearly knocking over a flask of shiny blue liquid. Jayce caught it mid-air with quick reflexes, sighing sharply as he set it back down. — “Safe and structured,” — Viktor repeated dryly but in a low tone, unheard.

“Now, I must be off. Don’t let him out of your sight!” — With that, the diminutive professor bustled out, leaving the two young inventors staring at the small, smug creature that now ruled their afternoon.

Jayce straightened, running a hand through his hair. — “Okay, this can’t be that hard. He’s just a little…fluffy thing. How much trouble can he cause?”

The Poro tilted its head innocently before leaping off the table and darting into the maze of equipment.

“Right,” — Viktor muttered, already reaching for his cane to follow.

— Half an hour later, the lab looked like a storm had hit it.

“Where did he go this time?” — Jayce asked, hands on his hips. “Under the shelf,” — Viktor replied, not even looking up from where he was recalibrating a delicate instrument.

Jayce knelt down, peering into the shadows. — “Come on, little guy,” — he coaxed, waving the brightly colored toy Heimerdinger had left. The Poro eyed him warily, a small item clamped in its teeth.

“Don’t chew on that!” — Jayce lunged, but the Poro darted out of reach, bounding across the lab and knocking over a stack of schematics.

“Jayce,” — Viktor said calmly, — “please do not let him destroy everything we have worked on in the past three weeks.”

Jayce groaned, gathering up the scattered pages. — “Why does it like chewing on stuff so much? What does Heimerdinger even feed it?”

“Chaos, apparently,”— Viktor replied, glancing toward the Poro as it hopped onto one of the tables. It sniffed at a set of neatly arranged tools before pawing at them — “He must be bored. Perhaps we should entertain him?”

Jayce stared at him. — “Entertain? Viktor, it’s a Poro, not a toddler.”

“Clearly, you have never babysat before.” — Viktor sighed and set down his tools. He approached the Poro. With surprising gentleness, he reached out, holding the toy at the perfect angle to catch the creature’s attention.

The Poro sniffed it, intrigued, before pouncing.

“See?” — Viktor said, holding the Poro in place with one hand while it gnawed happily on the toy. — “It is not so difficult.”

Jayce folded his arms, watching with a surprised smile. — “You’re good at this. I guess all those late nights in the lab have taught you patience.”

“Or perhaps I am simply better at adapting than you.” — Viktor’s smirk was subtle, but it lingered.

Jayce chuckled. — “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.” — Viktor replied.

They stood in silence for a moment, Viktor holding the Poro steady while Jayce leaned against the table, watching the two of them. The afternoon sunlight caught in Viktor’s pale features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the focused intensity of his eyes.

“You know,” — Jayce began, his voice quieter, — “you’re always surprising me.”

Viktor glanced at him, eyebrow raised. — “Am I?”

“Yeah. Like,” — He paused for a second — “I didn’t think you’d be the kind of person who’s good with animals. But… you are.”

“Hmm.” — Viktor considered this for a moment before returning his attention to the Poro. — “I suppose I have an affinity for difficult creatures.”

Jayce laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. — “Are you calling me a difficult creature?”

“Do you require constant supervision and occasionally eat things you should not?” — Viktor shot him a sidelong glance.

Jayce held up his hands in mock surrender. — “Okay, fair-”

The Poro squeaked suddenly, leaping from Viktor’s hands and bounding toward another set of delicate instruments.

“Not again,” — Viktor sighed, already moving to intercept. Jayce followed, their shoulders brushing as they reached the table at the same time. Viktor’s hand caught the Poro, and Jayce steadied the precarious setup of tools.

For a moment, they were close, closer than usual. The Poro squirmed between them, but neither moved.

“Jayce,” — Viktor said quietly, his tone neutral but his gaze intent. — “You are staring again.”

Jayce blinked, caught off guard by Viktor’s observation. The air between them felt heavier now. He straightened awkwardly, still holding the resistor, and glanced away.

“I, uh… wasn’t staring,” — Jayce said, his voice not quite as confident as usual.

Viktor’s expression softened just a fraction, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back slightly, shifting his weight onto his prosthetic as his golden eyes lingered on Jayce.

“You are a terrible liar,” — Viktor replied, his voice quieter now, almost teasing.

Jayce exhaled a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. — “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just too good at reading people.”

“That is possible,” — Viktor admitted, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying Jayce as if trying to decipher an equation. — “But it is not often you are at a loss for words. I find it…interesting.”

Jayce’s pulse quickened under Viktor’s gaze, and he suddenly felt very warm in the already stuffy lab. — “You’ve got this way of throwing me off balance, you know that?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. — “And here I thought you were the unshakable one.”

For a moment, silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of the outside world and the occasional chirp from the Poro, now happily chewing on its toy on the other side of the room. Jayce hesitated, then took a small step closer.

“Viktor,” — he began, his voice low, — “I don’t know if I’m just imagining this, but…”

“You are not,” — Viktor interrupted, his tone even, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

Jayce’s breath caught. Viktor rarely spoke so plainly, and hearing him admit it sent a rush of heat through Jayce’s chest. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing Viktor’s forearm. Viktor didn’t pull away.

“Are you sure about this?” — Jayce asked, his voice barely above a whisper. — “Am I reading the signs correctly?”

“Yes” — Viktor broke the silence after a few long teasing seconds.

Jayce smiled, his heart pounding as he closed the remaining distance between them. The quiet hum of the lab seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of their breaths, shallow and uneven. He lifted his hand, fingers trembling slightly as he lightly cupped Viktor’s jaw. Viktor’s skin was cool under his touch, his breath hitching in response.

Viktor’s hand hovered uncertainly at Jayce’s waist before finally settling there, his grip hesitant but firm. Jayce felt a shiver run through him at the contact, his chest tightening as he took in the vulnerability in Viktor’s gaze.

Slowly, he leaned in, his thumb brushing along the sharp line of Viktor’s cheekbone. When their lips met, it was tentative at first, as if testing the waters. Viktor tensed briefly, but then he relaxed, leaning into the kiss with a quiet sigh.

Jayce’s hand slid to the back of Viktor’s neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. Viktor’s fingers tightened at Jayce’s waist, drawing him in as if the space between them was unbearable. It was unlike anything Jayce had expected… soft, electric, and somehow grounding all at once.

Viktor’s other hand came up, tentative at first, brushing against Jayce’s chest before resting there. Jayce could feel Viktor’s pulse through his fingertips, quick and unsteady, mirroring his own. Their movements grew less cautious, lips parting as the kiss turned warmer, more urgent.

Jayce’s free hand found Viktor’s waist, his thumb brushing over the fabric of his coat. Viktor responded with a quiet noise in his throat. He pressed closer, feeling the cool edge of Viktor’s prosthetic against his leg, a detail that grounded the moment in reality despite the overwhelming intensity.

“Jayce,” — Viktor murmured against his lips, the sound low and breathless.

“Yeah?” — Jayce replied, his voice rough as he barely pulled back.

Viktor didn’t answer, instead tugging him back into another kiss, hungrier this time. Jayce’s hand slid down to Viktor’s hip, fingers gripping just hard enough to make Viktor’s breath hitch again.

And then—

The door creaked open.

Jayce and Viktor broke apart with the speed of two guilty schoolchildren, Jayce stumbling back into a stool, nearly knocking it over. Viktor turned sharply, his hand darting to adjust the nearest instrument as if he’d been working all along.

“Ah, there you are!” — Heimerdinger’s cheerful voice filled the lab as he bustled in, utterly unaware of the thick air of awkwardness hanging between them.

“I’ve come back for our little friend,” — Heimerdinger continued, oblivious to the tension. — “The council meeting finished ahead of schedule, and I believe it’s time for a walk, and perhaps a treat!”

Jayce cleared his throat, his face burning as he tried to compose himself. — “Oh, uh, great! He’s… been fine. No trouble at all.” — He shot Viktor a quick glance, but Viktor was steadfastly avoiding his gaze, his attention fixed on the tools in front of him.

Heimerdinger crouched down to scoop up the Poro, who chirped happily at the sight of its owner. — “Ah, there you are, my mischievous little friend! I trust you didn’t cause too much chaos?”

The Poro squeaked innocently as it nuzzled against Heimerdinger’s face.

“No chaos,” — Jayce said quickly, flashing a nervous smile.— “Everything was… under control.”

“Splendid!” — Heimerdinger said, cradling the Poro like a prized treasure. He glanced around the lab, seemingly pleased with what he saw. —“And you’ve made excellent progress, I see. Such dedicated young minds, you make me proud!”

“Thank you, Professor,” — Viktor said smoothly, though there was a slight stiffness to his tone.

Heimerdinger didn’t seem to notice. — “Well then, I won’t keep you from your work any longer. You’ve certainly earned some peace and quiet.” — He gave a final, beaming smile before heading toward the door, the Poro perched happily in his arms.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the lab in heavy silence once again.

Jayce exhaled a long breath, running a hand through his hair. —“That was…”

“Fortunate,” — Viktor finished, his voice dry but his cheeks faintly flushed.

Jayce turned to him, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. — “I thought he was never going to leave.”

Before Jayce could say anything else, Viktor leaned in, his lips brushing against Jayce’s in a quick, soft kiss. It was light, almost tentative, but enough to send a jolt of warmth through Jayce’s chest.

When they pulled away, Jayce smiled, his heart racing. —“I think we’re good,” he murmured.

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile. — “For now.”

[thefairywithboots]

Fool In The Rain (Robert Plant x fem!Reader)

Summary: Takes place in 1981. Robert and our unnamed OC have not spoken to each other in nearly a year, and she has gone through so much emotional turmoil to finally find the courage to end things between them after realizing that they both want different things.

Warnings: Just pure angst. No smut. No fluff. Just pure hurt and no comfort.

Ratings: General audiences, I guess. There isn't any smut. I just needed to write this as a goodbye fic to the fandom.

Author's note: Hi, so lately I have been feeling very tired and burnt out with this fandom, and have decided to give you guy's one more fic before I exit the fandom for good. I'm not going to stop listening to Zeppelin's music because they have literally pulled me out of a depression and saved my life, but this will be the last fic that I write for them (or should I say for Robert), at least for a very long time. Thank you so much to all of my readers, you all have inspired me to write so much this past year, and I love you all so much. <3

@bijouxcarys @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @jimmysdragonsuit13 @tangerine1969

@callmethehunter @firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76

@m-faithfull @dzdndcnfsd @friccinfricks @starstruckfangirlsposts

@elliotts-personal-property @jimmypage7 @teaforqne @chromations @n0quart3r

@elliotironmaidenfan @steadydizzydreamer

1981

I watched as the rain poured down over the streets as I sat in my seat in my favorite coffee shop. I was gripping my ceramic mug, the heat that would normally be unbearable keeping me grounded in reality.

He was supposed to be showing up any minute now. I had called him and asked him to meet me at the café. A part of me was dreading seeing him again, knowing very well that this would be the last time. I was expecting him to grovel and beg for me not to leave, but I had gotten all of the crying out of my system. I wasn’t going to be swayed by his puckered face or crocodile tears.

I saw the tall figure approaching the coffee shop with a large black umbrella. It was hard to see the distinct features through the downpour of rain, but I would recognize his tall, lean figure from anywhere. 

We had not seen each other in nearly a year, the last time we had spoken was at John’s funeral. Our fling had been on and off for the past 9 years. I had told myself that we would be together, that we would be the reason that the other did not have to spend their lives alone. He had promised me the same thing as he held me in his arms after one of many passionate encounters. The hushed “I love yous” he had uttered to me between the sheets…

Robert entered the café, shaking the droplets from his umbrella out before setting it down on the umbrella stand near the entrance. I sat by my window seat, watching him silently as he flashed his beautiful smile at the barista, charming everyone he came in contact with as he usually did. I thought about how many times that same smile had caused me to melt into a puddle at his feet.

His blue eyes scanned the cafe before his eyes landed on me. His hair was a bit shorter than it was the last time I saw him, making him look more mature. He made his way over to my table, leaning over to plant a kiss on my cheek before sitting down across from me.

“Hello, darling,” he said as if greeting a long-term lover rather than a fling whom he had not bothered to see in nearly a year. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Hey, Robert,” I said as the barista approached the table to take Robert’s order.

“Just a tea, thanks love,” he said with a smile. He made himself comfortable, the warmth of the cafe a stark contrast to the cold tempest that I felt raging inside of me. “So, how have you been doing since we last spoke?”

I shrugged. “Fine. I’m going to be opening up my art gallery in London.”

His face lit up. “That’s great, love. I always loved your paintings.”

I leaned forward, trying to make conversation so that this wouldn’t hurt as much. “What about you? Have you been thinking of getting back into music after Led Zeppelin broke up?” Led Zeppelin had broken up the year before; there was no way they were going to continue without John.

Robert smiled in thanks when the barista brought him his tea. “I have, as a matter of fact. I’m currently recording a solo album. I already have a new band together.”

I smiled softly. Despite my resignation from our relationship, I really was happy to see him doing so well especially so shortly after his best friend’s death. 

He must have finally noticed my quiet and sombre demeanor because the smile faded slightly as he took a sip of his tea and set the cup back in its saucer.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’ve called me here?”

I nodded, averting my eyes to the black liquid that was still hot in my ceramic mug. “Yeah… it’s about our, uh… relationship. And the fact that we haven’t spoken since Bonzo’s funeral.”

Robert looked a little guilty. “I’m really sorry, love. It’s been a hard year, and I’m just now getting things back together. For the longest time, I didn’t even want to touch an instrument because how could I without my best friend by my side-“ I listened to him ramble on endlessly about all the reasons he hadn’t reached out. I didn’t necessarily blame him for it. I knew how hard things had been for him; Bonzo was my friend too. 

He rambled on off topic, talking about the new house he had bought, and how maybe I could come and stay with him. Whether he meant for a one night stand or to live with him long-term, I didn’t know. I didn’t let him finish for me to find out.

“I, uh… won’t be coming over to your place anymore,” I told him. Not that I had in God knows how long. 

“Oh?” He sipped his tea, still oblivious to what I was about to tell him. “Then maybe I can come over to yours.” He gave me a wink and a smirk that was meant to be seductive. Oh, how I would have melted before if I had not gone through the internal hell of making this decision. 

I shake my head. “No, Robert…”

For the first time that evening, his eyes met with mine and I saw the light that he had arrived with slowly dim as the seed of doubt was planted in his head. His brow furrowed as he tried to understand. “What are you saying?”

I took a deep breath, deciding to give the cleanest, quickest break that I could. “I’m saying that… I’m tired, Robert. I’ve been tired for the past couple of years. And I don’t want to be strung along while you’re out screwing God knows who. I think… we should end… whatever it is we have.”

The expression he gave me hurt far worse than any amount of groveling or tears could have. It was a look that haunted me; a look of numb shock on his face and wounded hurt in his eyes.

It was a look I had hoped to never have to see again. The look I had seen on his face at John’s funeral.

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“It’s not like we’ve spoken in the last year anyway.”

“I know, and I’m sorry-“ I refused to look him in the eyes when I heard his voice crack. I could not let myself cry. Not when I’ve already gone through so much emotional torment to get to this point. “We’ve been together for nearly a decade… are you really going to throw all of that away?”

I stared into my mug, the coffee now becoming lukewarm. I sipped it to keep from trembling. I could feel every memory of us together flash before him as he tried to process what I was saying.

Now that the coffee was not as hot, I finished it in a few sips.

Robert was staring into his cup of tea numbly as if what I had said gave him a sense of whiplash. My heart ached in my chest as I thought about how he was possibly going through all of the motions of the emotional tempest that I have gone through these past few months. But I knew that this was necessary. I could not keep chasing him around in circles, hoping that he was finally ready to commit only for him to wander off and get into bed with someone else.

I paid for both of our drinks before standing up and grabbing my raincoat. I look down at Robert, who is still staring blankly into his teacup, his expression stoic but his eyes wounded.

“I really do wish you the best in life, Robert,” I say softly before heading out the door, pulling the hood of my raincoat up to prevent my head from getting soaked.

I thought I could see him standing in the doorway of the café as if to yell over the sound of the rain but I couldn’t be sure due to the heavy downpour. Regardless, I didn’t turn completely around to see, as I was already making my way down the steps into the subway.

~~

Robert lost track of time as he sat there staring at the dregs in his teacup, the numb shock of her words still resonating deep within him. He knew how much his behavior over the years must have been affecting her, but he didn’t think it would actually come back and bite him in the arse.

She was finally sick of him.

His first instinct was to chase after her, to beg her to give him another chance. He would promise to change for her, and be faithful to only her.

He ran out into the rain, too numb to even think about grabbing the umbrella that he left at the entrance of the café. He was immediately doused in the heavy downpour of rain, his blond curls drenched. He didn’t care about this at the moment. He was focused on finding her through the mist of the storm, calling out her name as if he could drown out the cacophony of the heavy downpour.

He kept thinking that he could see her through the rain or maybe hear her voice. But when he turned in the direction in which he thought he heard her, she was gone.

He finally realized that he was running through a storm to find her, and that she was already gone. It felt like there was a solid wall of water separating them at this point, and attempting to go and try to find her would be equivalent to trying to swim across an ocean in the middle of a hurricane.

Robert finally made his way back to the café, feeling as if he had lost yet another person so dear to him in his life. The warmth of the café enveloped him; a contrast he didn’t realize until he got out of the rain. His hair stuck to his head, and the barista was looking at him as if he had lost his mind.

“You… forgot your umbrella, sir.”

Robert stared at his umbrella that she held in her hands as if he were waking up from a dream. “You’re right… I came back here for it. Thank you.” He took the umbrella and sat down at one of the tables to at least give his hair time to dry before he went back out into the rain and risked catching pneumonia.

He stared out the window as the other side of the street was invisible through the sheet of water. As the shock of the situation finally wore off, he remembered her face and the sound of her laughter, and how he would never feel her warm body beside him in his bed ever again.

He didn’t realize the tears had begun until the sharp sting in his eyes and the hotness on his cheeks that were a sharp contrast to the coldness in which he had just come out of.

He propped his elbows up on the table, burying his head in his hands and he attempted to collect himself.

He didn’t realize the barista was standing next to him until he heard the soft sound of tea pouring into the ceramic teacup. He looked up, and she gave him a look of pity as she set the cup and saucer in front of him.

“This one is on the house…”

He would have said “thank you” but he didn’t trust himself to speak without sobbing. He took a sip of the tea and felt himself be thawed out from the inside.

He continued to stare out the window, hoping that he might see her walking back towards the shop, but eventually accepted with a deep sense of dread that she wouldn’t.

As he warmed himself with the tea, he thought about how he was going to come back from this. He knew he never truly would. He had loved this woman for nearly a decade. He could never forget about her and the promises they had made. But the only thing he could do now was survive and move on, just like she had decided to do.

[sunshinehunter]

After looking at armor sets from D2 Y1 all the way to now it really

some people who design armor sets really understand how the Shape Language of the classes work and can exaggerate or tweak them in ways while still being On Model if you will.

And some people have no idea wtf is going on and they just make 3 armor sets that fit a theme but break the Shape Language.

Eververse event or crossover ornaments are except from being On Model for the most part because they need to Look Like The Thing they're referencing. Raid armor is also mostly exempt bc raid armor gets... weird.

Titans have the most consistent Shape Language across the years. There are very few 'wtf were they thinking??' moments looking at their armor. When I do see inconsistencies it's done so in a way where the person who made the armor actually like... considered why. It was purposeful (or are event armor). Like Big Shoulder Pads and heavy leg armor is a Titan Thing and its consistent across all their armor. They also have a very distinct helmet Shape Language that idk how many people pick up on but it is CRAZY how many Titan helms are just the exact same helm with some bits added to it.

Warlocks have the most variance of their main armor piece; the robe. Mostly because 1. you can't see their pants most of the time and 2. their arm armor is literally just their lower arms so variation is quite small. They have a few Robe Families that are drawn from repeatedly; open robe around the leg, open robe with a drape in the middle (this one was very popular during the WQ year), fully open jacket. They also have very distinct helmet shapes much like Titans except Warlocks have two. They have the one where it's like a flat plate in the front and then a fin along the top back edge. Very iconic shapes for Warlocks.

This post mainly started out to complain about Hunter helmets and cloaks then I got to appreciating Titan and Warlocks having some On Point Shape Language. So I'm gonna complain about Hunter Stuff as a Shitty Hunter Main

Mostly its in that they're giving Hunter helmets eyes now. A LOT more Hunter helmets have false eyes now where as in the first 6-7 years of D2 there were NO eyes. We had goggles or approximation of goggles or like ski-mask looking things. But now there are straight up just weird eyes on Hunter helmets. Goggles/ski masks/gas masks are part of the Unifying Shape Language for Hunter helmets along with just like Nothingness (cloth over the face, a featureless dome, etc) and have been since D1. So seeing EYES on helmets is fucking weird.

Also Hunter Shape Language has a hood and a cape but I don't think most armor designers... know what to do with it to make it unique. We have a LOT of hoods which are all kinda similar where they just... kinda put a thing on it. Solar cloak, every Solstice of Heroes cloak, whatever the fuck is going on in the Season of Wish cloak. Sometimes the add ons make sense and look good and sometimes... bro what are you doing??? They're doing it more in modern seasons, older seasons don't have this issue. And it just... breaks the Shape Language of what Hunters are. They're supposed to be forward scouts, living in the woods and shit. Do you know how many branches I'd bash my head into wearing this fucking thing???

[grayyylake99]

LITERALLY WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING!!!

Why do people scream HISTORICAL ACCURACY when the og movies were never accurate to begin with???? Yes, it’s a movie about dragons; we know that. But the Vikings in the og franchise NEVER EVEN CALLED THEMSELVES VIKINGS IN HISTORY. There’s so many things that the characters do in the franchise that make sense to us as a Western audience, but were definitely not something they did in real life. It’s just a culture inspired but what we now call the Viking period.

Yes, I was suprised they casted a woman of color as Astrid; yes, I was expecting all casting to be exactly the same as the animated counterparts. But does it really matter at the end of the day? No! Nico Parker has her face shape, she has her beauty, she’s a great actress. I can’t say much because we have not seen her performance yet, but so long as she is true to WHO Astrid is, that’s what is needed.

Nico Parker looks fantastic as Astrid with beautiful braids and blonde streaks. Her outfits look great! I do wonder why she’s wearing red instead of blue in many scenes, but personally, I think they’re capturing the essence of her look in terms of accessories.

I’m not saying I 100% back this movie up. Not matter how positive I may be, as a die hard fan, I never wanted nor asked for a live action adaptation. I do not believe it is necessary and makes it seem like animation is not enough. I wish they re-released the originals to captivate “new” audiences.

I don’t like the castings for the twins, I don’t like how fake the arena looks. I don’t like the “new” take on the HTTYD theme. There’s probably more I’ll have complaints about. But I’m gonna be positive. My young sister is excited. I see her excitement for it. And dang it am I making her watch EVERYTHING in the HTTYD franchise. It’s been fun.

But I still want to see it. I personally see passion being put into by the actors that were excited to be apart of it. I haven’t had too much faith in Dean DeBlois’ writing since HTTYD 3, but I truly see his passion for this world and I, too want to see this project succeed.

I give credit where credit is due and criticize what I personally don’t like. I understand the dislike against it.

At the end of the day, i chose peace over being angry, and will be looking forward to the release date.

“It’s not historically accurate! It’s cultural appropriation! Why doesn’t Astrid have blonde hair and blue eyes?!?”

I mean, Vikings didn’t wear horned helmets OR have American/Canadian/Scottish accents or even ride fucking DRAGONS but I didn’t see any of you cry about historical inaccuracy then. Just say you’re racist and move on.

[pastafossa]

I love you guys. I hope you know that.

Like.

Ok so I posted the new TRT chapter the other day. Obviously. And I had to force myself to do it, to click that final, 'post' button because at that last moment, this big wave of imposter syndrome hit (that had already hit on and off as I'd started working on the chapter again). And it was just this cycle of, 'It's been like 6 months since you posted a chapter or anything other than a couple one-shots and you're out of practice, I bet it's bad, it's probably terrible, I bet everyone's left and no one cares about this thing you love so why do you? What if no one likes it, you're gonna drop this and everyone's gonna god 'wtf is this, pasta? what happened?'' And so I forced myself to post it, took my meds to ensure I slept, and then kinda just bunkered down and slept/hid because I was halfway convinced that all the trauma in the previous six months had just bopped any ability I had to write.

Instead I got this outpouring, of just like, 'WELCOME BACK' and people telling me they're happy that mom is ok (which made me cry but in a good way) and they're sorry Cato passed away (more tears, but comforted tears), but also delightful jokes about the funny lines I put in or screaming over that romantic line or about missing Jane and the dynamics and comments about being eager for the next chapter, and how now I can be one of those AO3 authors with those notes of 'yeah my life blew up so I was delayed, but hey I'm back!' which... yeah. And much like when I first started TRT, I didn't... really expect that at all, and it's made me really emotional.

So if you've dropped into my ask box or the comments or the replies, seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, because the excitement and love and just you all being the best little fam and continuing on this journey of TRT with me - a journey that has now included both Matt and Jane's journey, and a real life journey through a pandemic, a huge move, a passing of two of my pets, my mom's hospitalization and recovery, some heart issues, the cancellation and resurrection of the show, me meeting Charlie Cox and getting him to hold a red thread, my first wood carving event, etc - and I know I say this a lot, but you all really, really help me keep going when things get hard. I'd write TRT for nothing, I would, because I love this story and I intend to see it through, but ya'll just... I love you all tons. I'm hoping to get through the asks and fic comments and replies in the next few days, but I just wanted you guys to know that.

[saltynsassy31]

Frye Fest - Final Countdown

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[19/20]

♡Back when it was just us♡

👋Team Paper👋

Splatfest World Premier 27-08-2022

[Master Post - coming soon]

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hello!! i just want to tell you that your art is so goddamn scrumptious, you are literally feeding my xmen brainrot and I find myself smiling when i see your art come across my feed. I love how you draw charles, pretty privilege and post (lets be fr he's serving every time)

i hope you always have fantastic brainrot and id kiss your blessed hands for giving us the gift of cherik and charles xavier, you are literally an icon

hope you have a great day ahead of you and more!! you deserve it !!

well i'ma absolutely have a wonderful mornin after readin this AWWWW thank you so so much !!!! i haven't been postin xmen long, so it's been really heartwarmin seein the warm reception to my work in the wonderful tags people have been leavin on my posts- and especially gettin to answer the lovely asks y'all've been sendin in (❁´ ▽ `❁) !! im glad people also like my goofy text posts and esp quotes from my brother he really has no right being so funny at the most random times

i hope to be xmen posting a while: ive got at least 60 years worth of stuff to look through and ongoing, so i dont imagine my interest'll wane anytime soon :]] !!