#and she keeps going talking about how she knows what its like to feel used. and sanji's already feeling terrible but now he knows he

[iamquiantrelle]

VIRGIN TERRITORY (chapter 7) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairing: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️✨💕) #wc: 4.1k

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @jessnotwiththemess @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @mufasathatniggatho @kaylalb

# summary: she's been his pa for almost a year and every day is a struggle to function around him, but he'll never see her more than that...will he? and what will happen if he finds out she's also a virgin? masterlist.

The Bernabéu is buzzing with its usual electric energy, but Leila's mind is somewhere else entirely. Carlo's got Aurélien playing as 14 again even though everyone and their mama knows he's better at midfielder, and her phone keeps lighting up with messages from William.

Things with Will are better now – easier somehow since their honest conversation. He's back to sending her memes that make her laugh, pictures of his day-to-day life in London, even some truly terrible dad jokes that shouldn't be as funny as they are. It's nice. Normal. Like they've found some kind of balance.

Except.

Except Aurélien's been taking her on dates every night this week, each one more thoughtful than the last. No more riddles, but plenty of moments that make her heart forget how to beat properly. The 'A' pendant catches the stadium lights when she shifts, a constant reminder of... something. Not quite a claim, but definitely a statement.

She touches it absently as Aurélien makes a run down the field. He's been wearing his heart on his sleeve lately – bringing her coffee before she can make it, leaving little notes in her planner, finding reasons to touch her when no one's looking.

Her phone buzzes again:

Will: Tell Aurél trying to play 14 is criminal

Will: Man's wasted there and Carlo knows it

She smiles despite herself because he's not wrong. But then Aurélien glances up at where she's sitting, that soft smile he reserves just for her making her chest tight, and...

And maybe some choices make themselves.

The final whislte blew, and the 1-3 scoreline feels heavy in the air as Leila watches Aurélien trudge off the pitch. She's already drafting notes about temporarily blocking Divisé Media – the "fans" on there are going to be brutal, and she's seen enough racism in La Liga to know exactly what's coming.

It wasn't even his worst performance, nowhere near it. But he wasn't the Aurélien she knows he can be, wasn't hitting that level that makes other teams fear him, and these so-called Madridistas will use any excuse to spew their hate. They don't care that he's got a whole media room in his house dedicated to Real Madrid history. Don't care about the way his eyes light up talking about the club's legacy, or how he studies old matches like they're sacred texts.

The racist comments are already starting to flood in – she can see them on the monitors in the press room. The same tired stereotypes, the same ignorant takes, the same bullshit rumors about transfers like they're trying to push him out. As if he hasn't bled white since day one.

"You okay?" Jude asks as she aggressively types out social media blocking instructions.

"These fans..." she shakes her head, anger making her fingers tight on her tablet. "They don't deserve him."

"They don't deserve any of us," he says quietly. "But especially not him. Not when he loves this club like he does."

She thinks about the vintage Real Madrid posters in his media room, the way he touches the crest before every match like it's a blessing, how he studies Carlo's tactics like they're gospel.

Her phone buzzes – PR wanting to know how to handle the growing online abuse. Like there's any handling it. Like they haven't been fighting this same battle since forever.

But she knows one thing: she's not letting him near social media tonight.

Not when he's already beating himself up enough.

Not when these "fans" don't understand what real loyalty looks like.

Leila's waiting outside the locker room, already having sent emails to their social team about monitoring comments, when Aurélien finally emerges. His shoulders are carrying the weight of the loss, and she can see he's already in his head about it.

"Don't," she says before he can speak. "Give me your phone."

"Ma puce–"

"Phone. Now."

He hands it over without argument, which tells her exactly how bad he's feeling. Normally he'd at least pretend to fight her on it.

"It wasn't that bad," she tries, but he just gives her a look.

"I played like shit."

"You played out of position."

"I played like I forgot what football was." His voice is tight with frustration. "Did you see the comments yet?"

"No, and neither will you." She's already changing his social media passwords. "Not tonight."

"They're right though–"

"If you finish that sentence, I swear to God..." She steps in front of him, making him look at her. "You love this club more than anyone I know. One bad game doesn't change that."

His eyes find the 'A' pendant at her throat, something softening in his expression. "You're too good to me."

"No, I just know your worth." She reaches up to straighten his collar, a habit she can't break. "Unlike these keyboard warriors who've probably never touched a football in their lives."

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "Take me home?"

The way he says it – soft, vulnerable – makes her heart squeeze. "Of course. But first..."

She pulls out the protein shake she made earlier, the one with extra everything because she knew he'd need it.

"What would I do without you?" he murmurs, taking the bottle.

"Let's not find out."

Because these "fans" might not deserve him, but she's starting to think she might.

******************************************************

The drive to his house is quiet, Madrid streets emptier than usual like even the city knows to give him space. Leila's behind the wheel because he's too in his head to drive, his fingers absently playing with the pendant she's wearing. Every now and then his phone lights up with notifications she's glad he can't see.

"Want me to make you something?" she asks as they pull into his driveway. "Your mama's chicken soup recipe?"

He shakes his head but his hand finds hers across the console. "Just… stay? For a bit?"

The vulnerability in his voice makes her chest tight. This is a different Aurélien from the one who's been romancing her all week – no smooth lines or careful plans, just raw need for comfort.

Inside, Ocho greets them with his usual enthusiasm, picking up on his dad's mood and pressing close. They end up on the couch, Aurélien's head in her lap while she runs her fingers through his curls. She can feel the tension slowly leaving his body.

"The next match-" he starts, but she cuts him off.

"Is not tonight's problem." Her nails scratch his scalp gently. "Tonight we rest."

"We?"

"Yes, we." She tries not to think too hard about how natural this feels. "Someone has to make sure you actually sleep instead of watching match footage all night."

His laugh is quiet but real. "Taking care of me, ma puce?"

"Always."

The word slips out before she can catch it, heavy with meaning neither of them is quite ready to address. His hand finds hers again, bringing it to his lips.

"Thank you," he murmurs against her skin.

And maybe some choices really do make themselves.

They stay like that for a while, Ocho curled at their feet, the city lights casting soft shadows through his ridiculous windows. She's still running her fingers through his curls when his breathing starts to even out, the stress of the match finally catching up to him.

"We should get you to bed," she says softly.

"Stay," he mumbles, already half asleep. "Please."

And lord, the way he says it – all vulnerability and trust – makes something in her chest squeeze tight.

"Aurélien…"

"Just to sleep." His eyes open, finding hers. "I'll behave."

She should say no. Should maintain some kind of professional boundaries. Should remember she's technically still keeping her options open even though her heart's pretty much made its choice.

"I don't have clothes," she tries weakly.

"Top drawer. My t-shirts." His thumb traces patterns on her wrist. "Unless you're scared?"

"Of what?"

"Of admitting this is more than just dates and gifts."

The way he says it – direct but gentle – makes her pause. Because he's right. This stopped being just anything a while ago.

"One condition," she finally says.

"Anything."

"No match analysis until morning."

His smile is soft, real. "Deal."

They make their way upstairs, Ocho trailing behind them like he's supervising. She pauses at his bedroom door, a thought suddenly hitting her.

"These better be new sheets." At his raised eyebrow, she clarifies, "You know, because of..." she waves her hand vaguely, "all your visitors."

His laugh is unexpected. "It's a new bed, actually. New everything."

"What happened to the old one?"

"Got rid of it." He runs a hand through his curls, almost shy. "When you were in Georgia. Wanted... a fresh start."

Oh.

Oh.

"You got a whole new bed?"

"And sheets." He steps closer, fingers finding the 'A' at her throat. "I told you I was serious."

And really, what is she supposed to say to that? To this man who's apparently out here buying new furniture just to prove a point?

"Top drawer?" she manages, and his smile is soft with understanding.

"Top drawer."

And maybe this should feel weird – changing into his Madrid training shirt that smells like him, climbing into his ridiculous bed after taking the world's fastest shower. Maybe she should feel nervous when he slides in next to her, all warm skin and easy smiles.

But instead it just feels… right.

Even if she's not ready to admit why.

Not yet.

Dreams hit different when they become reality. Leila's been imagining what it would feel like to wake up in Aurélien's arms for months now, but her imagination didn't do this justice. He's got her in what's basically a headlock, one arm under her neck while the other's wrapped around her waist, but she's never felt more comfortable in her life.

His training shirt's ridden up during the night, leaving her stomach exposed to where his fingers are splayed across her skin. The heat of his touch makes her whole body warm, especially with how his basketball shorts are barely containing her curves. She should probably feel self-conscious about that, about how much of her is pressed against him, but there's something too perfect about this moment for insecurity.

Every breath he takes moves through her too, his chest pressed against her back like he's trying to eliminate any space between them. His face is buried in her neck, those curls she loves tickling her skin, and she can feel the steady thump of his heart.

This is dangerous.

This kind of comfort, this kind of intimacy – it makes her want things she's not sure she's ready for. Makes her think about mornings like this stretching into forever. Makes her forget about keeping options open or playing it safe.

His fingers flex against her skin and she knows he's waking up. Knows she should probably try to put some distance between them, try to maintain some kind of boundaries.

Instead, she finds herself melting further into his embrace.

Some choices really do make themselves.

Even at seven in the morning.

"You think too loud," his voice rumbles against her neck, still rough with sleep. Instead of loosening his hold, he somehow pulls her closer.

"I'm not thinking," she lies, very aware of how his thumb is now drawing lazy circles on her stomach.

"Mhm." His lips find that spot behind her ear that makes her toes curl. "So you weren't just having a whole internal crisis about this feeling too good?"

"How did you-"

"Because I know you, ma puce." He presses a kiss to her shoulder. "Know how your brain works. Always analyzing, always worried about what comes next."

She should probably be offended that he reads her so well, but it's hard to focus when his hand is sliding higher under her (his) shirt, fingers tracing her ribs like he's mapping territory.

"Aurélien…"

"Just feel," he murmurs. "Stop thinking about William, about boundaries, about what this means. Just be here with me."

The fact that he knows exactly what's running through her head should probably scare her. Instead, it just makes something in her chest warm.

"I need to get up," she tries. "Make your protein shake, check your schedule-"

"Five more minutes." His lips are doing devastating things to her neck. "The world can wait."

And really, how is she supposed to argue with that?

Especially when he's right – the world can wait. This moment can't.

He turns her in his arms, and any thoughts of protein shakes or schedules evaporate when his mouth finds hers. This kiss is different from their others – maybe because of the intimacy of morning, maybe because of how his hands feel on her bare skin, maybe because she's wanted this for so long she's forgotten how to want anything else.

The sound he makes when she tugs his curls experimentally – somewhere between a groan and her name – shoots straight through her. His response is to trail kisses down her neck, finding spots she didn't even know were sensitive until his lips discovered them.

When he hits a particular spot under her jaw, she can't help the moan that escapes. She feels his smile against her skin before he returns to that spot with more purpose, like he's cataloging her reactions for future reference.

Her inexperienced self is definitely not prepared for how this feels, for the way his hands span her waist, for how natural it feels to arch into his touch-

And then Ocho barks.

Of course he does.

Aurélien pulls back with a muttered curse, but Leila sends up a silent prayer of thanks because if they'd kept going… she was about five seconds from making some questionable decisions.

"Putain," he sucks his teeth, forehead pressed against hers. "I'm gonna let him out real quick. Don't move."

The command in his voice makes her shiver, but she also needs this moment to remember how to breathe properly.

Some interruptions are blessings in disguise.

As soon as Aurélien disappears with Ocho, Leila's up and in his bathroom, splashing cold water on her face like it might help her racing thoughts. The mirror shows her exactly what she feared – swollen lips, marks forming on her neck, hair a mess from his hands.

"Get it together," she mutters to her reflection, fanning her heated face. Her body's still humming from his touch, wanting things her mind isn't quite ready for.

This is what she's wanted – being with him, waking up in his arms, feeling his kisses. But that next step? Giving him something she's never given anyone? It feels huge, especially when things aren't completely settled.

She needs to talk to William properly. Needs to make things official with Aurélien before she even thinks about taking that step. Needs to-

"I thought I said not to move?"

His voice in the doorway makes her jump. He's leaning against the frame looking entirely too good for this early, eyes dark as they track over her appearance – his shirt riding up her thighs, her kiss-bruised lips, the way she's clearly trying to calm herself down.

"I needed a minute," she manages, gripping the counter behind her.

"To overthink?" He steps into the bathroom, and suddenly the space feels much smaller. "To talk yourself out of this?"

"Aurélien..."

"Tell me what you're afraid of." His voice goes soft as he stops in front of her. "Is it me?"

"No," she says quickly, because that's one thing she's sure of. "It's... I've never..."

The change in his expression is immediate – something dark and possessive flooding his features as understanding hits. His pupils dilate, jaw clenching like he's physically restraining himself.

"You've never been with anyone."

It's not a question, but she nods anyway, heat flooding her cheeks. She watches his throat work as he swallows, notices how his fingers flex at his sides.

Lord. She thought he was possessive before, but the way he's looking at her now? Like she's something precious and tempting all at once? She might have just created a monster.

"Ma puce," his voice is rougher now, deeper. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"But you're used to-"

"I'm used to nothing that matters." His hand cups her face, thumb tracing her bottom lip with new purpose. "This? Us? Being your first?" His eyes are almost black now. "That matters."

"I need to talk to William first," she admits. "Need to make things... clear."

"I know." He presses his forehead to hers, but there's something different in his touch now – more controlled, like he's holding himself back. "And we need to do this right. No rushing."

The relief that floods through her is immediate. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His smile is soft but his eyes still hold that new darkness. "Though you might need to stop looking at me like that if you want me to behave."

"Like what?"

"Like you want to kiss me again. Because knowing what I know now?" He exhales sharply. "My control only goes so far."

She slips past him, very aware of how his eyes follow her movement with new intensity. At the door she pauses, looking back at him.

"Aurélien?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

His smile is everything, but there's something predatory in it now. Something that says when she's ready, when she's his, nothing will hold him back.

She's definitely created a monster.

But maybe that's not such a bad thing.

******************************************************

Making breakfast feels different with Aurélien watching her every move like she's prey. He's sitting at the kitchen island, coffee untouched, eyes tracking her as she moves around his kitchen in his clothes.

"You're staring," she says finally, cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Can't help it." His voice still holds that new edge. "Thinking about how no one's touched you. How no one's seen you like I have."

The eggs nearly slip from her hands. "Aurélien…"

"Tell me something," he leans forward, elbows on the counter. "How has no one…?"

"It just never happened." She focuses very intently on whisking. "Never felt right."

"And now?"

The question hangs heavy between them. She pours the eggs into the pan, finally meeting his gaze.

"Now feels… different. But also scary."

"Why scary?"

"Because you're…" she gestures vaguely at him, "you. With all your experience and models and-"

"Stop." He's around the counter before she can blink, caging her against it. "None of that matters. What matters is that when you're ready, when you're mine properly…" His fingers trace her jaw. "I'll make it perfect for you."

Her heart's definitely trying to escape her chest. "That's kind of the scary part."

"What is?"

"How much I want it to be you." She swallows hard. "But also… I'm not built like the girls you usually date."

His brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Aurélien." She gestures at herself, at how his shorts are stretched across her hips. "I'm not exactly model size. And when people find out about us…" She trails off, thinking about the headlines, the social media comments, the inevitable comparisons.

"Look at me." His voice is firm. "You really think I care about that?"

"The media will."

"Fuck the media." His hands find her waist, spanning it possessively. "You're exactly my type. Always have been."

"But-"

"No buts." He pulls her closer. "You think I haven't noticed every curve? Haven't thought about how perfect you'd feel under me? How much I want to-"

"The eggs are burning," she cuts him off, face flaming.

He lets her turn back to the stove but stays pressed against her back. "We're not done talking about this."

"About my virginity or my insecurities?"

"Both." His lips find her neck. "Because clearly you don't see what I see."

"And what's that?"

"Perfection." His hands slide down to her hips. "Curves that drive me crazy. Intelligence that challenges me. And the fact that no one's touched you?" His grip tightens, the sound he makes is almost primitive. "Makes me want to show you exactly how perfect you are."

"Aurélien…"

"When you're ready," he promises. "When everything's settled. When you're officially mine."

The possessiveness in his voice should probably worry her. Instead, it makes her feel… safe? Wanted?

"The eggs are definitely burning now."

His laugh is warm against her skin. "Let them. We'll order in."

"You have training-"

"We have time."

And maybe that's what she needed to hear.

That he wants all of her – curves, inexperience, insecurities and all.

His breath is hot against her ear as he pulls her back against his chest, voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes her knees weak.

"Let me tell you how this is going to go," he murmurs, one hand splayed across her stomach. "The first time? I'll be gentle. Take care of you properly." She can barely breathe, especially when his lips brush her ear with his next words: "But after that? You'll never ache for another dick besides mine."

The crude promise sends heat straight through her. Before she can process it, he's straightening up, moving away from her, and licking his lips in a way that should be illegal in at least twelve countries.

"We need to stop by your apartment before training." His eyes are dark with promise. "Get you proper clothes."

And then – lord have mercy – he actually smacks her ass before turning off the stove and heading upstairs to get dressed, leaving her gripping the counter for support.

Her virgin self is definitely not equipped for this new possessive Aurélien.

The Ethiopian pop-up restaurant is exactly the kind of place William would've taken Leila – all warm ambiance and cultural significance. But tonight he's here with Kemi, the journalist he met some weeks ago, and something about it feels… right.

He'd found her card while cleaning out his wallet, remembered how easy their conversation had flowed that day. The text was casual: Heard about this Ethiopian spot. Thought you might want to check it out?

Her response was quick but measured: As friends?

And honestly? That's exactly what he needs right now. Because yeah, he likes Leila – how could he not? But he's not blind. He sees how she looks at Aurélien, recognizes a battle that was lost before it began.

The restaurant itself is a masterpiece of pop-up ingenuity. Traditional mesobs dot the space, these intricately woven tables that make sharing food intimate but casual. The aroma of berbere and fresh coffee fills the air.

"Have you had Ethiopian before?" Kemi asks as they settle at their mesob.

"A few times in London. You?"

"My best friend is Ethiopian. Her mama practically raised me on doro wat." She smiles at his impressed look. "What? Surprised a journalist knows her food?"

"Surprised you're not taking notes for an article."

Her laugh is warm, genuine. "Not everything is a story, William."

The way she says his name – not Wilo, not Saliba – feels refreshing.

Their server brings out a spread that makes his nutritionist's stress levels spike from miles away: doro wat rich with complex spices, tender kitfo that melts on the tongue, various wots arranged like art on fresh injera bread.

"The trick," Kemi demonstrates, tearing off a piece of injera, "is to get the perfect ratio of bread to sauce."

She's right – the flavors explode when balanced properly. It's the kind of food that demands presence, attention.

"You know," she says as they share another piece of injera, "it's okay to take time."

"Time?"

"To heal. To move forward." Her eyes are knowing. "To let go."

And maybe that's what this is – not letting go of Leila exactly, but of the idea of her. Of what could have been if timing and hearts had aligned differently.

"You're pretty wise for a journalist," he teases.

"And you're pretty honest for a footballer." She wipes her fingers delicately. "Most would pretend they're fine."

"Are we having a therapy session over Ethiopian food?"

"Maybe." Her smile is gentle. "Or maybe I just recognize someone who needs a friend."

The server brings more injera, and they fall into easy conversation about everything and nothing – his childhood in France, her dreams of writing a novel, their shared love of art house films that make their friends fall asleep.

"This is nice," he says finally. "Just… this."

"Being friends?"

"Being real."

She nods, understanding. "No pressure to be anything else."

"Exactly."

They finish the meal with traditional coffee. Something in his chest has loosened, like he can breathe properly again.

"Thank you," he says as they walk out into the London night.

"For what?"

"For making it easy. To just… be."

Her smile is worth everything. "That's what friends are for."

He'll always care about Leila, but maybe it's time to care about his own heart too.

Starting with friendship. The rest can wait.

Sometimes the best endings are really beginnings in disguise.

...................tbd

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 13

Lando Norris x sister!reader

Max Fewtrell x norris!reader

Daniel Ricardo x Norris!reader

summary: You and Max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

not proofread

warnings: mention of loosing virginity, no they’re not gonna fuck on the boat, ITS LANDOS. Smut will be marked. Reader is definitely a woman 😔☝️ For the first time, I wrote protected sex 😧

warnings in the smut part: choking, rough sex, virginity loss, use of good girl, fingering, it could be cringe for some idk

series masterlist | previous | next

-

“Max..” Your voice was quiet and your eyes met his “We don’t have to, we’ll go up there and take a nap or anything” You nod, he smiles gently and presses a kiss to your nose “Tell me when I’m crossing lines okay? I’m not gonna loose you because i’m selfish or anything” His tone was quiet and gentle, matching yours.

“I will. I just..” You look down. Max senses that you’re struggling, grabs the forgotten ice cream, puts it back in the freezer and takes you back upstairs.

He pulls you on your previous spot, making you lay your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry” “For what?” “We didn’t..” And we don’t have to. I literally could not care less. If you don’t want it, I don’t want it either.”

You smile at him as his thumb caressed your cheek. You sigh and press your lips together, making Max tilt his head at you “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s fine” He shakes his head “No. Talk to me” You shake your head “It’s okay” “No it’s not. I can only help you when you tell me what’s wrong” “Nothings really wrong..” “But?”

You sigh and fidget with a bracelet Lando had gifted you years ago “It hasn’t changed..” Max looked confused “Changed? What?” “Me, uhm..” “Well, It doesn’t really matter if you do or not. I’m still right here” You chuckle and blush at his words.

“It’s no that” His hand rests over yours “Then what?” “I asked something of you, something you didn’t want.. well..” Max face twists from confusion to realisation “You’re..you never..?” You shake your head “I didn’t know we’d end up here but I never really found anyone I trusted enough”

He stares at you “And where is the problem?” “Maybe you didn’t want-“ “You listen to me now.” He sits up “I wanted you. I want you and I will want you until I take my last breath. That’s how much you consume me. I need you in every way that you allow me to have you. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t be open about this, but I promise you, It’s okay. And we don’t have to. Okay? That’s not why we’re here”

He holds your face in his hands “Okay?” You nod and gently meet his lips.

“We’ve been through enough to not hide something from the other. And we’ll probably go through hell a few times. Especially when the internet catches on, but that all won’t matter cause we’ve got each other.”

You smile and nod “Okay” Max smiles too “Okay. And now we should slowly go back to land. I’m starving” You chuckle “Ay ay, captain” You smirk “Dork” He ruffles through you hair “Hey!”

He quickly kissed the top of your head and heads to turn the boat around. You watch him leading you both back to the land. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

-

yn added to their story

caption: I wish I knew what he tried there, but I have no clue @/ maxfewtrell

reply’s:

lando did he get stuck?

yn no he actually didn’t

lando ohhh, miracle

yn almost tho

alexandrasaintmleux when is your busy schedule free for me 😔

yn always, you just gotta say when you’re free 😔 I think we also need to talk about something that happened yesterday 👀

alexandrasaintmleux ohh 👀

user you and max are hanging out a lot

user you’re with max again??

-

yn and alexandrasaintmleux added to their story

(yn cap: 🦋🤍 | alex cap: 💕🌸)

“But you guys didn’t sleep with each other?” “No I couldn’t.. I mean we talked about it afterwards. And he told me that it’s okay but it doesn’t feel okay”

She smiles at you “You’re finally where you wanted to be all along. It is okay. No matter what the media, what lando, and definitely daniel says. They don’t matter. Did he give you any reason not to trust him?”

“No?” “Then talk to him again. And if you aren’t ready, then that’s okay too.” “Everyone-“ “Shut up.” You blink at her “Stop comparing yourself, please. If I had the chance again, I would’ve rather thought about who I had my first time with. But I wanted to fit in, to loose my virginity. That’s stupid tho. Do it with someone you love, and not do it when everyone tells you to lose it.”

You nod “Alright, alright. Before you start writing poems here.” You chuckle and Alex laughs “I’m sure i’ll write some about the insufferable love you two have for each other” “Me and Max? Talk about yourself with the wannabe fashionista”

“That’s mean” She says but laughs “His pants are the worst! How would you let him go out like that?” You cringe “He likes it I guess. I’ll help him here and there but..he’s expressing himself..?”

“Don’t make me feel bad “ You chuckle but pick up your phone that lit up.

“Who is it?” “Max” She smirks at you “Shut up” “I didn’t say anything” You roll your eyes “What does he want?” “Asking if I was up for dinner tonight. But keegan and morgan would be joining if I was okay with it”

“But you wanted to talk to him” “I’m not gonna talk to him about him talking my virginity in public, Alex!” You whisper yell. She shrugs and you roll your eyes again.

“Maybe you won’t even have to talk” She smirks again “Alex” You whine “Do you trust him?” “Yes” “Do you want it to be him?” “Yes” She smiles as she sips her coffee.

“We’ll see what happens” “Just don’t panic. You’ll be okay.” you nod “Thank you alex” “You know I won’t judge” She winks.

-

maxfewtrell

liked by landonorris, charlesleclerc, angryginge13 and 625.836 others

maxfewtrell recently 🌺👀

user WHO IS THAT

lando I still beat you.

maxfewtrell 🙄🙄

angryginge13 not surprised. He was ogling his girlfriend the entire time

maxfewtrell I was not

lando you were.

user let us innnn

user he looks so happy omg

user this is so cute

user handplacement 🥹

-

You kicked off your heels in the hallway and made your way to the living room. You flopped down onto the couch and you hear a chuckle from behind you “Told you to wear other shoes.” “But others wouldn’t have fit to my outfit” You pout.

“Then you should’ve changed” “So you don’t like my outfit?” “Oh trust me, I love it” You blush a bit as he sits next to you, hand on your knee.

“How was the meet up with Alexandra? More gossip?” “Maybe” Max smiled and closed his eyes. His head rested on the back of the couch as you watched him.

“Everything okay?” He mumbled a few moments later and opened one eye to look at you “yeah, i’m okay” You smile warmly. He smiles, closes his eye and gently strokes your leg.

Either he hasn’t noticed, or he’s doing it on purpose but with each stoke, his hand itched higher and higher. When he got to your thigh, your breath hitched.

You saw max’s lips twitch upwards slightly. His thumb makes a soothing motion over your inner thigh, which isn’t soothing at all (Ykyk that feeling).

“Fewtrell.” He hums “What are you doing?” “I’m not doing anything” He turns his head and looks at you with an innocent smile “I know exactly what you’re doing.” “Then why are you asking?”

* Smut until the next mark *

“Don’t play with me, Fewtrell” “No? But I thought that’s exactly what you wanted” You glare at him “Maybe I don’t want it anymore” He chuckled “No? Then why is my hand trapped between your thighs?” He smirks. Fuck, you hadn’t even noticed that your thighs were pressed together.

You look up at him with a faint blush on your cheeks. His free hand cups your cheek “Tell me to stop and I will” You shake your head “Don’t” “No? You sure” You nod and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes”

That’s all it took for max to let his restraint go. His lips crash into yours “Tell me if I make you uncomfortable or-“ “Just shut up” You breath out. He chuckled, pulled his hand from between your thighs and climbed over you.

His hands were next to your head, yours finding their place on his sides “Max” You say quietly as his lips gently glide over your jaw “Hm?” You raise your hands to his cheeks and pull him in for another kiss.

One hand slowly wanders down to the first button on his shirt, which he catches in his hand. You look at him puzzled “I’m not fucking you on your couch” “Why not?” “Not happening”

He gets up and throws you over his shoulder as if you weighted nothing “Max! What the fuck!” “You’ll live.” You chuckle as he makes his way to your bedroom.

He gently sets you down on the bed and doesn’t restrain your hands from opening his shirt this time. He watched every move of your hands and looks right into your eyes as you push the dress shirt off him.

He lets it fall to the floor as he leans over you again, his lips almost touching yours “Still okay?” “yes” You lean up the last bit to kiss him, making him smile into the kiss.

One of his hands trace your back “Wanna keep it on or can I..” Max eyes you for a moment, keeping alert for any possible discomfort. You breath for a moment “It’s okay” You say quietly.

He smiles and gently opens your dress. It falls of your shoulders as he pulls you up by your hands and strips you off the dress completely.

His eyes roam your body, but instead of being embarrassed, it’s sends a warm sensation through your body.

“Got your wish after all, huh?” He chuckled “Shut up and hurry up” “Patience baby. Everything at its time” You roll your eyes but yelp as Max pushes you back on the bed.

“Up” He says and you move more upwards on the bed as he towers over you. His lips find your jaw once again while one of his hands roams your form.

He trails down your body, keeping eye contact. “Max, please. Don’t tease” “I’m not teasing, i’m enjoying” His hands slide up your sides and stop at your bra “Can I take it off?” You nod and Max opens your bra and throws it off the bed.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He murmured against your skin. His hands gently knead your tits and smirks as you let out a gasp.

He comes up to your ear, gently biting under it, earning a muffled moan “Has anyone ever touched you, baby?” You shake your head, breathless “No? Oh fuck” He chuckled and let his head fall forward for a moment.

Max composed himself again as his hands travel down to the last piece of clothing that’s covering you. He looks at you and you nod. He raised an eyebrow “Yes, max for fucks sake. Stop asking and do something, please”

He smirked and pulled down your underwear, leaving you bare in front of him. You tug at his pants “No, not yet” He gently guides your hand above your head “This is about you, not me” You whine “You can have me later, let me make my stupid decision up, hmm?”

He gently glides two fingers through your folds. You bite your lip to keep your moans quiet, but Max wasn’t having any of it.

“Let me hear you, otherwise I’ll stop” He pulls his hand away and you buckle your hips upwards, which was quickly shut down by max shoving and holding your hips down.

His fingers find your clit and circle it slowly. One of your hands grabs max’s arm. He smiles and speeds up slowly. Your breathing was already unsteady but it wasn’t enough “Max, please” “Use your words. What do you want?”

You blush and clench your jaw “I’m not a mind reader, you gotta tell me” “Your fingers” “oh yeah?” You nod eagerly “Well, who am I to deny you that” He slowly inserts one of his fingers and watches your face for any discomfort.

When he doesn’t find any, he curves his finger upwards. You moan and thighten your grip on his arm “More, please Max” He inserts another finger into you and picks up the pace.

He keeps his thumb on your clit, kissing your thighs in the process. You moan out his name, nothing else than him filling your mind.

“What a good girl” Max raised an eyebrow as you clenched around his fingers “Oh? You like when I call you that?” You blush and hide your face in your hands.

“Don’t hide yourself, come on Baby” He peels your hands away “Eyes on me. You wanna cum on my fingers?” You nod “Yeah? You think you can handle my cock too?” You nod eagerly “Yes, I can”

Max smirks, picking up the speed again and you whine “Aw, are you sensitive?” You push your head backwards into the pillow.

The squelch of the movement inside of you is the only noise filling the room for a moment, making you fist the blanket and max’s arm.

“So good- Max! ‘m close” “Yeah? I’ve got you, cum all over my fingers. Need it” He says and bites the inside your thigh.

The pain pushes you over the edge, your nails digging into Max’s arm.

He slowed down his pace, letting you ride out your high. He pulls out and wipes his fingers on his pants, his free hand gently stroking your abdomen.

You look at him, catching your breath, hair sticking to your forehead. Max chuckled “If you look this fucked out on my fingers, I wonder what my cock does to to you”

You bite your lip and reach out to him, fingers hooking into his belt. Max raised his eyebrows at you but smirks “Go ahead” He nods and you unbuckle his belt. He moves backwards on the bed to stand back up and take his pants off.

“You’re still clothed” You say, sitting on your knees now, tilting your head and pointing at his boxers. Max chuckled “Impatient, are we?” He smirks but you cross your arms “Alright, alright” He chuckled, taking off his underwear too and crawling back above you, pushing you back on your back.

You hold the eye contact but flicker to his lips. His hands reached for the nightstand and takes something off it. “You wanna do it?” You look at the condom. Where the hell did that thing come from and when did he even place it there?

But your thoughts were interrupted when max kissed your jaw “Hm?” “I wanna do it” You whisper “Alright then” He holds the pack up to your mouth and you gently grab it with your teeth, to not damage anything.

You both sit back up, and you rip open the package. You place it on his cock and out of the corner of your eye you can see his hands clenching, holding back from touching you. You smirks and roll the condom down.

Max squeezed his eyes shut and mumbled a quiet ‘fuck’ You keep moving your hand up and down his cock “Sweetheart, no- oh fuck” You thighten your grip slightly, making Max gasp.

“That’s not what- oh” His breath quickens “I’m just making sure it’s on properly” You smile innocently, and before you can say anything else, his hand grips your throat “You’re a minx. I’d be careful if I was you” “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

He smirks slowly and clenched his jaw “Nothing today. This is about you, but don’t think I’ll forget you being a little brat.”

You raise your eyebrows “Me? I would never” “You’ve never and you still..” Max cuts himself off “I forgot, you read” You smile “Not so innocent, are you baby?” He smiles and pulls you in by your throat.

His lips press against yours and he pulls away again, making you try and chase him, which doesn’t work with his hand around your throat.

He gently pushes you back down and presses gentle kisses around your neck, keeping your hips still with his hands.

“Max, please” He raised an eyebrow “Stop teasing. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know what I want. Please, I thought you wanted to make it up to me? “ You whine, making him press his lips together, nodding “I know, I know sweetheart. You’ll get what you want”

He lines himself up with you but looks up first “Tell me to go slower or stop, okay? You got the control on the pace” You nod, hand wrapping around his bicep.

He slowly pushes in, making you gasp. Your nails dig into his arm, making him hiss. Your scrunch your eyebrows together “Wait-fuck. A moment, please” Max stops immediately and looks up “You okay?” You nod “Just need a moment”

He nods and waits for your cue to move again. Your mouth opens in a soundless moan, which makes Max wrap his hand around your throat once again “Come on, don’t go shy on me now, Pretty girl. Let me hear you” You try to stop the restrain on your moans and Max stills inside you, once he’s in by the hilt.

“You tell me when to move, okay?” You nod, pulling him down for a kiss, your fingers tangling into his hair.

“Okay, you can move” He slowly pulls out and trusts back in. Your eyes widen as he continues the movement “Holy- Max” He chuckles and leans his head next to your ear, making you listen to his breathing.

“How are you feeling?” He says, quickly pecking your cheek “Good” “Yeah? Feels good?” You nod, eyes occasionally rolling into the back of your head.

“Told you we should’ve done this earlier- fuck” You grad the arm that is wrapped around your throat “Yeah? Bet you would’ve loved to be fucked everywhere, hm? Having to keep quiet if I actually fucked you in my drivers room, your own room or mine? Or on the italy vacation?”

“I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about” You get out between moans “No? Running around in those dresses, my god. And bending over every time I was around you? Total accident i’m sure” He growls, thightening his hold on your throat.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head once again at his action “you’re fucking filthy, aren’t you? If you like me chocking you, what else is it I will find when I fuck you, hm?” He smirks as you blush “Always the ones you thought were innocent” He chuckled as you silenced him with a kiss.

“Please, faster” Max gladly listens, picking up his pace and reaching down to play with your clit “Max- Oh god”

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do this to you. I don’t know how I kept away from you, but I won’t ever be able to ever again” Max’s breath gets heavier and his head hangs down.

“Harder” “Baby im already-“ “You’re not gonna break me” He lets out a breathless laugh “Jesus, you’re gonna be the death of me” He obliged either way and soon you could feel the pleasure creeping up on you.

Max felt your repeatedly clenching around him as his thrusts don’t falter “Are you close? Can feel you squeezing me so- oh my- fucking tight” You nod “Yeah? Wanna come on my cock? Be a good girl?” “Yeah, wanna be good- fuck”

He smirks at the effect he has on you, but his expression quickly turns into concern as tears roll down your cheeks and he starts to slow down “Hey-hey are you okay?” “Don’t stop, please max. Fuck, keep going”

It was then he realised you were crying because it just felt good “Not hurting, please I’m so close” He nods and picks up his pace again.

This time he picks up your hips a bit which earns him a loud moan “Oh- right there, max” He chuckled but continued pounding into you, as his own orgasm crept up on him.

“Yeah? Finally found it” He says more to himself than you but tries to continually hitting the spot, over and over again.

“Gonna cum, max. Don’t stop, don’t-“ “I won’t, let go baby. I got you, be a good girl” You pulled him down into a heated kiss as white hot please consumed every fibre of your body, your other hand gripping his shoulder, marking another part of him.

Your orgasm triggered his own and his hands grip your hips, probably bruising them slightly in the process.

His forehead rests on yours as you slowly come down from your high. Max slowly pulls out, which earns him a quiet hiss of you.

“Sorry” he mumbled and pulled the condom off to throw it in the trash.

* smut end * holy cow that was long 😭 Anyway.

“You want a bath or just lay here” Max whispered as he cuddled up to you “Just a moment. But a bath sounds nice too” “I’ll quickly turn on the water and be right back” You nod with closed eyes.

A few moments later you hear the water running and Max is back in the room, now in sweatpants “Why are you wearing those?” “Do you know how weird it feels to walk around naked?” He laughs and crawls back to you, pulling you onto his chest “Don’t fall asleep on me now. We still gotta clean you up”

“How can I not when you brush through my hair like that and cuddle me” You mumble “To bad, sweetheart. Still gonna have the bath” You don’t move and max laughs “Do I have to carry you?” “Mhm”

He chuckled again but picks you up “Let’s go then” You keep your eyes closed, leaning on his shoulder. “Can you open the door? My hands are quite occupied”

You smile and open the door. The warmth of the room immediately makes you feel even sleepier. He sets you down for a moment and closes the door.

“Come on, hop hop in there” “Don’t rush me” You say and hold a hand out “Yeah yeah” He picks you back up and you squeal “Max!” He slowly sets you down in the bathtub. He sits beside the tub and holds your hand, head resting on the side and looking at you.

“You’re staring.” “I know. But do you really care?” “No” You smile and look at him. His smile widens “Good.” He sits up properly to kiss you. Your hand draws shapes on his shoulder “Oh” “Hm?”

You chuckle “Did I do that?” You point to the countless scratches on his arms and shoulders “I think you did, yeah” He laughs “Even down here!” He looks at the lower part of his arm “How am I supposed to hide that?”

“Hoodie?” He looks at you deadpan “Hoodie? It’s like.. super hot outside?” “Then you’ll be smoking hot” He chuckled “You’re crazy” “Yet you’re still sitting here” Max nods “Yeah, somehow” You roll your eyes and lay back down.

comfortable silence fills the room. Max’s hand gently caressed your face as you calm down. You were right were you wanted to be, without any disturbance..right?

-

Holy shit. It’s been a while since I wrote smut, so go easy on me. Part 14 is still coming out tomorrow, no worries about that 🤭

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for Tim falling for you

Tim Bradford x reader

warnings:

a/n: im gonna be so honest i love him your honor

prompt: @sacredwarrior88: “May I please request headcanons for Tim falling in love with a female detective who's also a veteran and swore off love and relationships after her divorce?”

you’d just transferred to mid wilshire a few months prior

and from the moment tim heard you complaining about discipline and rookies needing a kick in the ass—he was head over heels

you were also a veteran, he felt a connection with you for that

he’d always make small talk with you

“so, where’d you serve?” -tim

he was cute and all, you just weren’t ready to fall in love again—or ever

“you know, i think tim really likes you, l/n” -lucy

“oh, i know” -you “you don’t become a sergeant in the army and not be able to tell when a boy has a crush on you”

“so? you don’t like him back or something. he’s a great guy, he was my TO. i mean, he’s a hard ass, but like, he’s a great guy” -lucy

“i appreciate you trying to help, but i’m not here looking for a relationship, chen” -you

harper and lopez would rag on him constantly for not making a move

“they just got here, i’ll give it a few more months” -tim

“it’s been a few months, what’s really going on?” -lopez

“yeah, bradford, i never took you for a shy guy” -harper

“we’ve been out for a few beers, it’s just…” -tim

“well, spit it out!” -lopez

“y/n just got divorced and told me they don’t want to get into anything serious—ever again” -tim

“wow, your dream partner just walks into your life and is unattainable by means of hating all men” -harper

“well, you thought you’d never find love again after your divorce and look at how far you’ve come, tim. at least give it a little time” -lopez

“isn’t that what i just said?” -tim

“i get where y/n’s coming from, though. i mean, after i got divorced i was over all men forever. now i’ve got a husband and another beautiful daughter” -harper

tim felt really discouraged, he thought you were perfect for him but he understood that dating a coworker was complicated. so was divorce

but instead of trying to get you, he tried to be there for you

“how’ve you been. new station, new city, new start?” -tim

“it’s fine. taking it day by day” -you

“you know, i could give you some good restaurant recommendations or something?” -tim

“no thanks, lucy beat you to it” -you

“of course she did. you know, she used to be my rookie” -tim

“she told me right after she told me you have a crush on me” -you

tim got red in the face very fast

and you made sure to keep your composure just long enough to make it awkward

“she…she did, did she?” -tim, through clenched teeth

“yep” -you, starting to laugh

“you’re messing with me” -tim

“i’m not, actually. i just think its cute you’re embarrassed” -you “but you already know my story”

“i do. and i hope you can take the time you need before you agree to go out with me, because i don’t think i’m gonna get you out of my head anytime soon” -tim

“ooh, sergeant bradford, i didn’t think i’d get to see this side of you. you’re always tripping over your words with me” -you

“well, i had a helpful talk with some meddling detectives” -tim

“i can take a guess who you’re referring to” -you

“i’d love to grab a beer with you sometime if you’re not ready to date yet, but i’d love to grab dinner with you if you are” -tim

“i’ll give dinner a thought, but for now drinks will do” -you

tim started treating you mostly normal and getting his confidence back since spilling his guts to you over drinks, and the girls were cheering him on every time you were within 20 feet of each other

he started treating you professionally, with a few winks and sly comments here and there

“so, you’re giving bradford a chance?” -lopez

“i’m giving a chance to giving him a chance” -you

“i feel you there, after my divorce i couldn’t imagine dating again, but i’m glad i found it in me to give my husband a chance” -harper

“he’s a good one?” -you

“eh, i’d give him a solid 6 out of 10” -lopez

“yeah? well i’ve been debating taking him up on that dinner, but that six rating really convinced me” -you

you finally found caught tim after shift and gave him the good news and he couldn’t be more excited

really, he’d been planning this date for weeks

and it went amazingly

“can i kiss you?” -tim

“only if you want to” -you

taglist: @summersimmerus //

[keepingitformyself]

older (and wiser): iii

A/N: well here we are! the final chapter of “older (and wiser).” this will not be the end tho! i plan to write a prequel series going more into depth about wanda and readers past, how they came to be, how they fell apart and what not. i do want to to make one more thing clear before you continue reading; this story is meant to be as realistic as possible. meaning the ending may not be for everyone. i specifically wrote this with intent of giving these characters an emotional arc they deserved. so, without further ado, enjoy this final chapter!

synopsis: wanda comes over for dinner one last time.

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader

genre: angst

warnings: it’s gonna be sad lowk. get the tissues ready.

MASTERLIST series masterlist

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

wanda spends most of the night back at her hotel, staring out the large window that overlooks the city. neon signs flicker in the distance, their glow casting fragmented patterns across her room.

she leans her forehead against the cool glass, letting the city hum around her, lost in thoughts of you. she imagines what you could be doing right now. if paul’s arms were wrapped around you, if he makes you laugh the way she used to. a hollow ache settles in her chest as she lets herself sink into the deep loss of not having you anymore.

the next day, early morning, wanda’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. she reaches for it groggily, only to find a message from you at the top of her screen.

come by at 6:30? here’s the address: 150 west 26th street, new york, ny 10001. see you soon!

for a moment, wanda just stares at the screen, her thumb hovering over the message. she exhales slowly, closing her eyes as a wave of uncertainty washes over her. part of her wants to pack her bags right then and there, to book an early flight and leave you in this city behind.

she doesn’t know which is worse. never facing you again or having to sit across the dinner table from you and your husband-to-be.

she spends the rest of the day mentally preparing herself for how this evening could go, running through endless scenarios in her head.

what would one talk about when having dinner with their ex’s fiance? especially when said ex is someone you’re still seemingly in love with.

oh yeah, your fiance used to look at me the same way.

or

of course, i know what her favorite song is. ‘do i ever cross your mind?’ by dolly parton. i performed it for her on our eighth month anniversary.

yeah, i paid the tech guy in the theatre department extra to let me use the theatre after hours.

the thoughts make her cringe, but the bitterness is hard to suppress. she tries to bite back the small, unwarranted hatred she’s developed for paul. everything she’s learned about him—despite her best efforts not to—has been nothing but positive.

he’s generous, patient, successful, and clearly loves you. and wanda knows you wouldn’t be marrying someone who didn’t treat you like you deserved the whole world.

it’s all pathetic in its nature. she should have been over you long by now. but she doesn’t know how to explain to you— to explain to herself—that leaving you is still something she’s trying to process. that even when she didn’t appreciate you enough, you felt like everything to her. you still do.

and she doesn’t know how to make sense of any of it.

by the time the sun sets, wanda’s resolve is still fragile. she dressed carefully, standing in front of the mirror for far too long, fussing with her appearance. she wants to look composed, unbothered. as if seeing you happy with someone else doesn’t feel like dagger to the heart. one that you keep twisting without trying.

at 6:15, she steps outside her hotel and hails a cab, clutching a bottle of wine she bought earlier as a polite gesture. as the cab weaves through the bustling streets of new york, wanda wonders what kind of expression you’ll wear when you see her. will it be warm, nostalgic, indifferent? she braces herself for anything.

when the cab drops her off in front of a sleek residential building in tribeca, she lingers for a moment before buzzing in. the door unlocks with a soft click, leading her into a quiet corridor toward an elevator. she steps inside, pressing the button for your floor with a hand that feels unsteady.

the walls feel too close. the air feels too thick.

by the time she reaches your door, her nerves are frayed. she knocks twice, her heart hammering.

four seconds later, the door swings open, and there you are, beaming at her like no time has passed.

"hi! it’s so good to see you."

before wanda can say anything, you pull her into a hug, warm and familiar. she exhales sharply, caught off guard, but she lets herself sink into it, just for a moment.

when you pull away, she notices the man standing just a few feet behind you, a cat in his arms. he watches the interaction with a patient, kind smile before gently setting the cat down.

“sorry about that,” paul says, laughing as the cat immediately tries to sneak toward the door. "he bolts every chance he gets."

then, without hesitation, he steps forward and grasps wanda’s hands in his own. his grip is firm, his smile genuine.

“it’s really nice to meet you, wanda.”

for a second, wanda is stunned by the ease of his kindness. she had spent so much time building him up in her head as an obstacle, an enemy, but standing here now, faced with his warmth, she almost felt guilty for ever resenting him.

“thank you for having me,” she manages, recovering quickly. she glances around, taking in the space. "you have a lovely home."

then, as if suddenly remembering, she reaches into her bag.

“i brought some wine,” she says, handing it to you. “the expensive kind. i know my stuff.” she huffs out a small laugh, forcing some lightness into her voice.

paul chuckles, taking the bottle from your hands to examine it. “i like her already.”

and just like that, wanda knows this is going to hurt more than she thought.

dinner passes in a blur of polite conversation and well-meaning smiles. paul is gracious, effortlessly kind, and wanda hates how easy it is to like him. she hates that there’s nothing about him to hate at all.

she watches the way you lean into him when you laugh, how his hand absentmindedly finds yours on the table. it’s second nature, the kind of comfort that only comes with time, with certainty.

and wanda knows, without question, that she has none of those things with you anymore.

paul has made it a habit to ask about how you and wanda met. even though she’s sure he already knows most of the story, he’s always genuine in wanting to hear more, especially the parts you tend to leave out.

“you got any funny stories about this one?” paul asks, flashing wanda a pointed smile. “something embarrassing, please.”

wanda huffs out a quiet laugh, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. she has plenty. but as she glances between you and paul, there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. some memories feel lighter than others. some carry more weight than she knows what to do with.

still, when she sees the way you’re watching her; curious, amused, trusting, she decides to tell it.

“oh, i’ve got one,” she says, leaning forward slightly. “back in college, we tried to break into the theatre department after hours. it wasn’t really breaking in, technically, the door was open, but we definitely weren’t supposed to be there. they had this whole wire rig set up for the upcoming peter pan production, and somebody—” she tilts her chin toward you “—thought it would be a great idea to try it out.”

paul turns to you, amused. “why am i not surprised?”

you groan, already bracing for the rest of the story. wanda smirks but continues, her voice softer now.

“so, there she was, strapped into this ridiculous harness, so sure she was about to soar across the stage like some theatrical prodigy. but the second she tried to lift off, the harness jammed, and instead of flying, she was just—”

“i was dangling there,” you chime in, groaning at the memory. “like some tragic shakespearean ghost.”

“and then, of course, security walks in,” she says, shaking her head. “and instead of, i don’t know, explaining, she panicked and yelled, ‘i have done the deed. didst thou not hear a noise?’”

paul bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his drink. “you did not.”

“she did,” wanda confirms, laughing softly. “the security guy just stood there for a second, like he was reconsidering every choice that led him to that moment, then sighed and said, ‘get down.’”

paul grins, shaking his head. “so, what happened next?”

“i had to help her out of the harness before we both got kicked out,” wanda says. “and then we ran. fast.” she pauses, her smile dimming just a little. “ended up at that all-night diner by campus instead. sat there for hours, drinking burnt coffee, still laughing about it.”

her voice drifts for a moment, lost in the memory. you swallow, feeling something heavy settle in your chest, but before the silence can stretch too long, you force out a small chuckle.

“i could’ve flown,” you say, shaking your head. “i just needed a little more time.”

wanda looks at you then, and there’s something in her gaze. something paul doesn’t quite catch, but you do.

“yeah,” she murmurs. “maybe you just needed more time.”

paul laughs again, unaware of the way wanda’s fingers tighten around her glass. “you two were absolute menaces, huh?”

and just like that, the moment passes. the air lightens again, and Wanda takes another sip of her wine. but the memory lingers between you, heavier than it should be.

“did she ever tell you that we watch some of your movies sometimes?” paul cuts in, his eyes bright with genuine curiosity. there’s an eager energy to him, the kind that makes it clear he isn’t just saying it to be polite—he actually wants to talk about her work.

wanda raises an eyebrow, glancing at you. “oh?”

you offer a small, sheepish smile, and paul continues before you can respond.

“i mean, seriously,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “i’m already a pretty emotional guy, but your movies? they wreck me.”

wanda lets out a soft, amused laugh, her fingers absently tracing the stem of her wine glass. “that’s very kind of you to say.” she takes a slow sip before adding, almost offhandedly, “i guess i just have a thing for playing characters in distress.”

paul barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head. “yeah, well, you do it very well. it’s almost unfair.”

wanda smirks, but there’s something thoughtful in the way she tilts her head, as if considering his words. then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she leans in slightly and says, “i take it you’re a crier, then?”

paul places a hand over his chest in mock offense. “absolutely. no shame.”

that earns a more genuine laugh from wanda, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders eases. the air between the three of you feels a little lighter.

when the plates are empty and the conversation slows, paul pushes back his chair with a contented sigh.

“i’ll start on the dishes,” he says, already stacking plates. “you two should catch up.”

you smile at him, appreciative, and wanda feels something twist in her chest. she shouldn’t be here. she doesn’t belong here.

still, she doesn’t move.

you refill your wine glass and lean back in your chair, watching her carefully. wanda swirls what’s left in her own glass, staring at the deep red before speaking.

“maybe i should’ve tried to convince you to run off with me,” she jokes, her voice light, almost teasing.

but when she finally looks up, she sees the way your expression falters, just for a second. you know, both of you do, that it isn’t really a joke.

you let out a small breath, shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “that wouldn’t have changed anything, wanda.”

“wouldn’t it?” she asks, a little too quickly.

your eyes search hers, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like the past is sitting between you, untouched, waiting.

wanda wonders if there’s a universe where you had run off together. if there’s a version of you out there, tangled up in her arms instead of in someone else’s.

she swallows hard. “i wish i had tried a little harder.”

your face softens, but it’s not enough to undo the distance between you. “you couldn’t help it,” you say, voice gentle.

"i could have," she insists, her hands gripping the stem of her glass a little too tightly. there’s frustration in her voice, but beneath it, there’s something raw. regret, maybe.

you don’t argue. you won’t. because the truth is, she could have.

"yeah," you admit, barely above a whisper. "maybe."

silence settles between you. wanda watches as your gaze shifts toward the window, toward the street where people pass by, oblivious to the ache sitting between you both.

she doesn’t know what she was expecting. maybe some kind of reassurance that she still lingers in your mind the way you linger in hers. that if things had been different, if she had been different, this could have been her home, her life.

but you don’t give her that.

paul’s voice calls from the kitchen. “babe, where’s the dish soap?”

you blink, turning toward the sound, and the spell is broken.

wanda forces a smile, downing the last of her wine before standing. “i should get going.”

you don't question it.

you grab wanda’s coat from the rack and walk her to the door. she doesn’t ask you to, but neither of you are quite ready for the night to end without one last moment.

“leaving so soon?” paul asks suddenly, his voice light but tinged with something unreadable. both you and wanda turn to face him.

she nods apologetically, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “i have an early flight tomorrow,” she admits, offering a small, regretful smile.

“oh.” paul’s disappointment is subtle but there, it flickers in his eyes before he shapes his expression into something more polite. “well, it was really nice meeting you, wanda.”

you glance at him, catching the way he shifts slightly, rubbing his thumb over the inside of his palm. a small habit of his when he’s holding something back. you wonder, briefly, if tonight was difficult for him too, if he’s been carrying the weight of this evening the same way you have. you decide you’ll ask him about it later.

stepping forward, you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling the way his jaw relaxes at the familiar gesture. his hand finds yours easily, his fingers warm and steady against your own.

“i’m just gonna walk her out,” you murmur, giving his hand a small squeeze.

paul nods, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he offers wanda another polite smile. “safe travels,” he says, his voice kind, sincere.

as you lead wanda toward the door, you feel the weight of paul’s gaze lingering on you, as if he knows that this goodbye is heavier than it appears.

the air outside is crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city. wanda stands beside you on the curb, her arms wrapped around herself despite the warmth of her coat. the streetlights cast long shadows, and for a second, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of something you’ll never get back.

her uber is a few minutes away. that’s all the time you have left.

she exhales softly, eyes fixed on the passing cars. then, as if she’s been holding it in all night, she finally asks, “do you think we could have worked things out? if we had been different people? under different circumstances?”

the question hits you. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. because the truth is, you don’t know.

maybe in another life. maybe in a world where you didn’t leave the hotel before she could see you, where you both didn’t have to love each other from a distance, where you didn’t have to wonder if loving her meant waiting for something that wasn’t enough.

but this isn’t that world.

you swallow hard, staring down at the pavement. “i don’t know, wanda.”

she nods, as if she expected that answer, but the sadness in her eyes deepens anyway. “me neither.”

the uber pulls up, headlights cutting through the night, and you both turn toward it. this is it. the real goodbye.

wanda hesitates, then reaches for you, pulling you into one last embrace. you don’t know who’s holding onto who tighter. when she pulls away, her hand lingers on your arm for a second too long before she finally steps back.

“take care of yourself,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

you give her a tight-lipped smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you too, wanda.”

she slides into the backseat, and as the car pulls away, you stand frozen on the sidewalk, watching until the taillights disappear around the corner.

and then it hits you.

the weight of it all crashes down at once. the grief, the finality, the understanding that there are some lives you’ll never get to live, some love stories that will never get their second chance.

you press a hand to your mouth as your chest tightens, eyes stinging, but you force yourself to turn back toward the building before you fall apart completely.

when you step into the lobby, you’re not surprised to see paul waiting by the elevator. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t have to.

the moment you reach him, you break.

a choked sob escapes you as you fall into his arms, and he holds you without hesitation, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other wrapped firmly around your back.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs against your temple. and you believe him.

because this was never about leaving him.

you love paul. you’ve never questioned that.

but love doesn’t erase the what-ifs. it doesn’t quiet the ache of knowing there’s a version of you out there who loved wanda differently, who had a life that was beautiful in its own way. one that you’ll never get to live.

paul presses a kiss to your hair and just holds you, letting you mourn what could have been.

and when you’re finally ready, he walks you up.

[spacetimeaccordionfolder]

its sunday and i'm thinking about how Navani kept praying to the Almighty throughout the stormlight archive after finding out the Almighty is dead/ is Honor/ is one of many* other powers (three of which are on her planet) and her husband starts believing in a "God Beyond" who may or may not also be dead considering the comments her daughter's boytoy jester Wit who knows a lot of things keeps making and I'm also thinking about the interaction we get between her and Szeth in Rhythm of War with "do you hate me" "yes" "good" and also the revelation that she prayed for Gavilar's death, and like two hours later Szeth killed him. She hates Szeth for accomplishing something she prayed for, and she still prays to the Almighty. Hey Navani, why do you keep praying to the Almighty? Well you see once I prayed for my husband's death and then guess what happened two hours later. Yeah I have complex feelings about that and hate being in the same area as the assassin who killed him. Yeah i'm going to go burn another glyph asking God for something.

*yeah we know there's 16 shards but does she? I cannot recall.

The different views of religion we see among the characters in stormlight and in the cosmere itself is so interesting. Jasnah's an atheist, Kaladin's agnostic, Navani and Dalinar each firmly believe in one God but they believe in different ones, the way different ardents talk about the Almighty, Sazed's whole thing with religions- especially in Hero of Ages trying to find hope in something. There are people who are perceived as Gods/ religious figures who hate it and those who use it to their own advantage. There are people who become gods that are expected to give themselves up for those who worship them. Some of those gods who ran from that in trying to be people again. A dragon raised in a culture that views dragons as gods, who doesn't want to be worshiped, but holds part of the power of probably actually God. A thief who sets up his death to start a religion - not knowing he would actually linger after death and end up being attached to a god's power, still lingering and being seen as a god centuries later- in order to inspire people to fight against a tyrant viewed as a god. There are people who hope and pray to a long dead god that maybe he will remember them. Kaladin's questioning if there is a god and if god is good, cruel, or simply doesn't care and deciding that perhaps if there is a god, that god is found in the way we care for each other, but really he's trying not to get killed by the Fused currently so he'll leave thinking about religion to those who have the time and care about it more.

[tearsaura]

In the woods, the monster awaits // Eris Vanserra x reader

Based on this comment by @astarionsdurge thank you so much for this prompt! I hope you like it.

picture is from pinterest: tanema3

Word count: 1.2k

The estate was much quieter nowadays. Visiting it served only two purposes: seeing my mother or following up on court business. It always felt cold, which is ironic since our power was quite the opposite.

My father’s office was the furthest away at the highest floor and even that didn’t seem far away enough from us. As I climbed up the stairs and entered his space a few moments later, the familiar smell of his cologne hit me and it made my skin crawl.

“We must check in with y/l/n. The magic on our borders is wearing of. There has been an increase on beasts in the woods and if they get any closer, they’ll feast on the village by noon and on us by the evening.” Beron said without looking up from his papers as I stepped closer to his desk.

Well hello to you too father!

Yes, I am doing alright thank you for asking!

Our army shrinks with every day that passes but you already knew that and you refuse to do anything about it! What will you do when there are none left, even for you?

How are you feeling? Any chance that you step down and free this court from its misery?

My father, the high lord of the autumn court, summoned me at dawn to complain, like he usually did. He did take me by surprise that he decided to do something about it instead of delegating it to someone else. Maybe the thoughts of being a meal for some beasts did worry him.

“Shall I meet up with him today?”

“No, I already scheduled to meet up and I want you to accompany me, I need to have a word with him first but after that it is going to be your problem.” He said, raising from his chair.

With other words, he wanted the people from the village to think that he does care about them. That’s what he usually does: Goes to the poorer villages occasionally, act as if he cares, promises them that he works something out to help them but never actually does it. He wordlessly walked out, his guards trailing after him. I sighed, counted to ten, and went after them.

The horse ride to the boarders went quietly thankfully. I tuned out my fathers talking and took in the lands. The autumn court was beautiful, especially the forest. We reached the said place at the border shortly, and nobody was there. I got off my horse and gave him something to eat before joining my father, who was already seething. It was astonishing, how short his patience ran.

“This is unacceptable. Where is the old man?” Beron complained as he dismounted his horse, walking further into the woods.

Please dear mother, let this man get lost in there and never come back.

“This is a forest, he probably needs some time to find us because it looks all, you know, the same.” I claimed, walking after him whilst keeping my distance.

“I am the high lord of the autumn court! I do not have the time or the nerve to wait on some old Witcher to find his way to the place I ordered him to get to on time. He’s a Witcher don’t they sense people?”

“We don’t. We only sense the magic, or well, the lack of it.” A feminine voice called and as I turned around, I was sure that reality had left me. The unknown woman came towards us, my father taking a few steps back as his guards stepped in front of him.

She nearly made me drop to my knees. There were no words on this world that would do right in describing how beautiful she was. No music could come close to the sound of her voice. Without thinking, I stepped closer to her.

The woman raised up her hands in surrender. “No need to draw weapons. I am not here to harm you, high lord. My father sends me: y/l/n, the old Witcher?” she said, a coy smile graced her red lips. Of course, I personally hadn’t seen her father but her signature light grey, almost white, eyes gave her away as a family member of the witches.

“Why didn’t he come himself? I specifically told him that he should come. One would think that the order of the High lord where to take-” “He went to another weak spot. Sadly, this area isn’t our only problem. It took me a while to find you because the magic is missing in multiple places.”

I swallowed. One leakage was bad, but manageable. Multiple where a bad sign. Something was wrong.

“So, what can we do about it?” I asked, her eyes now fixating on me. They looked just like the sky during autumns stormy afternoons. Very hard to look away from, pulling me deeper into this trance.

“You are?”

“Eris. Eris Vanserra.” She continued to look at me, her head tilting slightly. She had a mole right over her upper lip on the left side.

“My oldest son.” I hadn’t even realised that my father had stepped closer too. “He will take over this matter and you’ll correspond directly to him. Unfortunately, I must go. Court affairs.” He said, before he went to his horse, his guards trailing after him.

She waited for a few moments, watching my father and his guards leaving and as they became a small figure in the distance, her attention turned back to me.

“I feel sorry for lady autumn. It must be tiring to listen to this man for even a second, I fear.”

“You have no idea.” I replied and she gave me another smile. She had dimples.

“So, my father and I are working on resurrecting the old magic that was used. But it is many centuries old and all the tomes we have need to be translated first. We will work with lesser magic until we have it but that would only last days or weeks at most. For the time being I would stay here to make sure that everything is alright.” She said, stemming her hands on her hips as she observed.

She smelled divine. Oranges with a hint of vanilla. He wanted to wrap her scent around him for the rest of his life.

“The Forrest house isn’t far from here. You can stay there.” I blurted, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, that is quite all right I thought about bringing a tent-” “A tent? Absolutely not. You are saving your people with your work. The least I can do is make sure that you have an actual roof over your head.” I said, stepping closer to her. She bit her lip, as she looked up to me, the confidence from before replaced with sudden shyness.

“Thank you, Eris.”

Eris. That’s what did it. I suddenly felt the thin golden thread pulling me towards her and my breath hitched.

Mate.

Must protect her, must keep her safe.

I found my mate. I took everything in me not to blurt it right out.

“Of course.” I whispered, before I held out my arm to her hoping that she didn’t notice it trembling.

“I’ll bring you there.”

[clemelntine]

The Heart killers ep 11 stray thoughts

With accompanying screenshots, cuz I take to many and they can't just go to waste

Once again/still Keen just wants to be included. Now that he has seen Lilly will never see him as equel to his brothers, he is trying to get validation from Bison and Fadel.

Right, cuz you look like you're good at that. We will just pretend that we haven't seen your backbone turn into jelly when you're around Captain

Wait, so they didn't kill him. Where has he been this whole time, in between staging his murder and this scene? Was he just chilling with Nont in Fadel and Bisons kidnapping lair (which they apparently have).

He just knows a guy, casual .

He also just has a whole plan planned out. You'd think he was the one with the training in this shit, not Fadel

The look of concern in his eyes. Because of course, Style was able to spot the slight change in Fadels expression, indicating he was upset/weary/uncomfortable.

Doesn't he say younger brother (nong chai/shai [im not sure how it is written]) here, why would they translate it like that, this makes it seem like he doesnt see Fadel as his brother.

Finally somebody is giving that tattoo the love it deserves.

Facts

Also the first time (or one of the rare occasions) that we see Fadel with genuine, borderline crazy/psychotic anger in his eyes. He's usually the one to be more calm and

Oh, they're using their height, narrowing in on her, forcing her to look up, making her feel small. Stunning, just what she deserves.

-I love you so much; I'd give up my freedom for your safety

-I love you so much; I'd give up my life for your freedom.

Also, btw, 5 years of prison for the number of murders they committed, thats pretty nice. Of course, i wanted them to be free, but looking at it logistically, that is a solid deal

It does imply a timeskip, whomp whomp

Just give me a clear yes or no. Is Bison religious (christian, to be specific)? Cuz this is just a saying and stuff, but also putting it next to all the other christian Bison stuff we've seen, im starting to believe it

Ah, look at that. Fadel got his family (parent), and Bison got his little brother (Babe). These boyfriends are adding way more to their life then you would first assume.

Also, Styles dad immediately suggesting they get married as soon as he realizes they are genuinely dating it ao cute. He has/knows as lil casual-/subtlety as Style does. I guess it's genetic

Omg they are so sweet. Not hiding/secret but private cuz its their communication, their comfort.

I needed this scene to be like an hour long actually, just them cleaning each other with the garden hose, sweetly talking about whatever.

Right. I'm not surprised, I could tell Style was a bitter but like looking at his and Joongs laugh afterwards (and just the absurd inconvenience of it) I'm gonna guess this wasn't scripted, just Dunk. Which.. raises some questions, but we'll keep moving.

Dude was straight up beefing with a child

So he is either assuming hell die a natural death or he's killing himself. Cus i assumed he'd probably die on the job, get killed by someone, but that for sure requires there to be another person. I guess he could also be insinuating that when he dies, he'll be alone in the sense that he is leaving no one behind, no loved ones.

Idk what is sadder him thinking no one would love him when he died or him assuming he'll die by his own hand.

Are they at a graveyard? It doesn't look like it. Because, im not very educated on Thai law, but i can't think it would be legal to just bury someone wherever.

Style earlier the episode saying he'll die for Fadel(s safety) and Fadel saying he'll live for (/with) Style. God, i love them

Glad we are at least acknowledging the absurdity of it.

Are we talking (/joking) about Bison lactating? Cuz that would make that this shows second mpreg/omegaverse reference.

Forever watchfull Style

Forever considerate Style. Even with the garage to work at (and low key co-run) he is willing to give up time, just to keep Fadels dream/passion alive

Did Style fucking make a heart out of the sauce?! Why didn't we get a better shot of that, that is so cute.

So all the other boys his dad mentioned were just one night stands and situationships. Fadel was the first guy he actually wanted to settle down with. (Also, dont take this to mean anything, but it kinda mirrors Joong and Dunk. Joong having had an acting partner before Dunk, but splitting up under unfortunate circumstances, mostly out of their hands. Joong being Dunks' first actor partner, only having had a small unnamed guest role before working together with Joong)

Ive never seen to guys look so sad while eating burgers , like it was actually making me emotional. Cuz there was no big sad outburst or anything, just the everpresent underlying knowledge that this will be the last meal they'll get to share in a long time. Just the subtle sadness in their eyes and the little sniffles. I low key didnt expect them to be this good at conveying such subtle yet intense emotions.

The look in their eyes, i am actually so not okay

Not to be critical or anything but no way in shit that was done by an amateur. Like i get he'd have a pretty steady hand due to his training with guns. Bit not only does Bison usually hold his gun with both hands, it is an entirely different grip and requires such different muscles.

Yo wtf, I wasn't prepared for an emotional scene of just Kant and Style crying

This episode was just so full of cute scenes omg. I have so many notes that are just screenshots of a sweet scene or moment where the only comment I had was just saying aaahhw or some shit. And although I would love to share those with you, Tumblr has an image limit, so unfortunately, this is all I could stuff into one post.

I am a lil weary/concerned with how they are going to finish this all in one episode though. Like we have five years of prison to still cover and only an hour of screentime left.

Favorite scenes

Lillys confrontation was very satisfying

Style and Fadel cleaning eachother of after the paint fight ofc

Kant and Bison in the planetarium (specifically watching the stars)

Fadel and Style at the support group talking things out

Everything in Heart Burger, from the cute cooking together to eating through tears. Absolute perfection.

Kant and Bison tattooing eachother and just the sweetness of that all

And although their goodbye and Kant and Style crying in eachothers arms wasn't fun, it was a really good scene.

Also, there are no in-depth screenshot stats today (this post has already taken too long). Just know I took a total of 245 screenshots (funfact: that is actually more picture than I have of myself on my phone)

[adriberry]

The Meta of Magic in Twst

I apologize dearly for the more concentrated amount of Twisted Wonderland posts today, but I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings after my sister recently got back into the game and we've talked a bit about the story.

It's been hard to organize my thoughts on what I believe is the true origin of magic in Twisted Wonderland. I've wrote a lot of notes about it myself, mostly to use in fanfiction. I'm especially concerned with just how the characters we know as villains in our world are regarded as savors in Twisted Wonderland and why characters like Silver, Rook, and Kalim have golden, glittery cosmic magic while all other characters at NRC have purple, inky cosmic magic. The recent canon origins of magic as told by Lilia to Silver in Book 7 have confirmed some of my theories, so I want to structure my thoughts around that and will probably do so in multiple parts.

I'm sorry if you want to keep spoiler free, but this theory hinges on a few lines of dialogue in a portion of Book 7 which was recently released on JP server.

The Wish

Silver said Lilia once told him that the origin of magic came from a wish- a deep desire to change the world.

Yes, it's cheesy the way Disney things usually are. No, I don't think this is a direct reference to Disney's recent movie Wish (which really is a bunch of Disney animation references, concepts, and themes in a trench coat trying to convince the public it's its own solid Disney Movie, but that's it's own post).

Since the very first Disney animated movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, characters have been singing about wishes and dreams and their deepest desires. Throughout the 100 years of the company's lifespan, it's been touting that dreams are possible if you believe. Disney characters wish on stars and in wells and while belting to no one in particular but the horizon. Disney characters wistfully describe great loves and adventures that they have in their dreams that they chase to make reality. Dreams and wishes are the main theme of every Disney story, so it only makes sense for those to be the strongest themes of Twisted Wonderland.

I've already had a theory that Twisted Wonderland would follow a similar storyline to Fantasmic, so if you'd like to see my take on why the dream hopping in Book 7 is so appropriate now, you can go read the other post. But wishes are a different thing entirely.

There are 3 NRC students whose cosmic magic always got me thinking: Silver, Kalim, and Rook. Most characters' cosmic magic is purple with black specks in it. For these three, their magic is glittering gold. At first my reaction was, "Oh, cute. It's because they're not based on villains!" but this is Yana Toboso we're talking about. She does most things (save for too similar designs for faces) with a reason behind it. And fans have already picked up on a different pattern where Silver, Kalim, and Rook match the knight, pawn, and rook pieces on the chessboard in Leona's room respectively. Why are these characters singled out? Why are there visual differences between their mechanics and the other characters?

On Magic...

Well, I do think it has to do with the fact that they aren't based on villains but it's less of an aesthetic choice than I first thought. These twst characters are based on Disney characters who put faith in others, trust their hearts, and do what's right for no other reason than it's what should be done. And Silver, Kalim, and Rook all do the same. Rook lives authentically even though he spent so much time hiding his true self. Kalim loves Jamil despite the fact Jamil tried to kill him. Silver wants to end the generations long tensions between humans and fairies. They aren't exactly self serving and, though I love all the NRC boys very much, the rest kind of are. Crowley says as much in the Prologue when he praises MC for being able to get Night Raven students to work together for once.

So I think there are two kinds of magic which stem from the idea of "the wish." There is light magic which depends on what's essentially faith, trust, and pixie dust, and there is blot.

We're introduced to magic for the first time via Crowley. Crowley is revealed to be unreliable very quickly as he obviously is taking his sweet time trying to figure out how to get MC home if he really is at all. Based on fan theories and evidence in the text, he might actually be hiding his true identity from us. But in we don't have any of that information in Book 2 when Crowley talks about overblot, so we trust him when he shows us how blot works.

Crowley claims blot generates when using magic. The magestones Ace, Deuce, and Grim are newly given turn dark as they do a bit of magic for themselves. Crowley explains that those with a lot of magical potential need to be careful not to use too much magic or else it'll have negative effects, much like Riddle in Book 1. According to Crowley, overblot happens when you overuse magic.

But Book 2 has a contradiction in it: Ruggie is doing all the magic heavy lifting. He's constantly using his Ultimate Magic to act out Leona's plan. He uses a potion to triple his power and creates a massive stampede of people with magic, but who is the character who overblots later on? Leona- who doesn't use any of his magic until just before he overblots. He doesn't use magic, but he is brought to the brink of desperation and reminded of all his fears and insecurities.

The Blot

Crowley told us too much magic at once causes overblot, but we've seen seven times now how that's not actually the case. Each overblotter was brought to the brink. They were desperate, scared, anxious, isolated- these negative emotions brought them to overblotting. And though their lives were at risk, each overblotter was at their most powerful in the midst of it.

In each case, the person in question was close to achieving their ultimate goals. Riddle wanted perfection and order. Leona wanted to finally be worthy of a win at any cost. Azul wanted power over others because he had been isolated in the past. Jamil wanted freedom and to make his achievements known. Vil wanted real recognition. Idia didn't want to feel lonely again. Malleus wanted to keep his family together. In the moments before they overblot, their dreams are snatched away from them. In desperation, they have nothing else to lose.

Using blot doesn't necessarily lead to overblot, but increases the risk. It puts the user in a position where they're more vulnerable to fears and depression. It's why Crowley's advice for clearing blot in a magestone is just to rest, eat well, and take care of yourself- all ways to self care when you're mentally unwell.

To use light magic- the magic of the wish and the dream- is to put trust in others and to use joy and positivity and hope to achieve your goals. Using blot to the point of overblot is giving into desperation and fear and isolation.

And that is why Silver, Kalim, and Rook are the chess pieces: they- or their magic rather- are the key to defeating Malleus. The day will be saved by hope and joy and friendship. It's so very "my friends are my power" and so very cliche Disney and I can't wait to read up to the very end.

[ofbuoyantortho]

Link was the fresh face, the new guy that stayed out of others business. He was the type of guy to take the whispers the rumors with a gain of salt. He never wanted to assume, he was a decent guy. He his own strengths and his demons he hid from. He was once the boy that survived bone cancer, he had been the kid in the hospital. But that moment of being poked at, of being told the limited chances he’d survive isn’t what defined him. Link was strong, he even was motivated to become the doctor the surgeon that fixes the bones, puts the broken pieces back together. Link didn’t believe every whisper, he wanted that opportunity to see for himself; see who Amelia was. Her merits, her personality that tended to shine through when its just us. 

Link didn’t come to Seattle for a relationship. He didn’t come to meet someone and instantly feel that connection. And yeah he was aware that Amelia was just getting pulled out of a marriage, which brought on those stages of rumors, all those doubts about why he was asking her out. We had one night electric night together; I still felt the tingles from her touch the taste of her lips on mine, and yes I took the rejection with stride but to be sitting here with Amelia she was witty, she was beautiful and I was lucky to get the opportunity to see her and get to know her for who she was now. 

We sat opposite of each other now. A gentle smile that laid upon my lips. I enjoyed to hear Amelia talk, I was interested in her not who her brother was. And all things considered, I knew she’d hold my heart, I liked her and I knew she probably spent most of her career in the shadows of her brother and I hated that for her, And I wanted to touch her hand to show the brunette some support, but I also knew she probably didn’t want any boundaries crossed I wanted to be a gentleman respectful. But I listened and I nodded so Amelia would know I’m here to listen if she wanted be to. “ I won’t pretend with you Amelia. Obviously I don’t live under a rock, I’m aware of who Derek is, but I don’t know anything about him and I know you feel like your in his shadow but I don’t see it that way, The hospital respects you Amelia, and I’m lucky to be out with you here.” A gentleman smile; one he was sure would keep that smile on her face. 

“ Don’t overthink about how you managed this outcome Amelia, she lived, and she’s living the life she wants in the way she wants. It’s a miracle but you’re a superhero. “ Compliment because I truly saw the hero in the brunette, and I know the whispers but Link was a fun guy he’d go at the pace the female wanted. “ I don’t care what anyone thinks. I want to be here with you, I want to explore whatever this can be.” His eyes shined with his words; as he nodded his head once more.

Continued storyline with @ofbuoyantortho

Amelia knew she was not like anyone else. When she had her tumor, one she didn’t know she had until she did the research Carina was doing. She thinks they might have been the one thing that had made her make the decisions he has made up until this point of her life. Amelia knew marrying Owen might have bene due to the tumor and her just feeling like it was the right thing to do. Now, the two of them were barely talking and they were never on the same page. They have never been on the same page, so it was all a mess. Now she was free the tumor and really just learning to live without the rash decisions for the most part. 

That is what made her want to go out the night before and she was looking for anything, but Link, well he kind of caught her eye and there she was sleeping with him the night. Not that Amelia thought it meant anything, it was all about releasing the stress of the job and just everything else that was going on. He was something else and it was all good things being he wasn’t like most guys she had went for. That might be why most of them didn’t work out. Ryan was the one she thought she loved but turned out it was just the drugs talking on that one. Owen was the tumor. 

Not that Amelia was looking to sleep with Link, but it jus happened and she wasn’t complaining. But what she didn’t expect was to see him at work so soon. It was all about her just getting to the point where she can look at him and now, she was going on a date with him. It took her sometime to agree, but she had no one holding her back but herself and not really seeing where things could lead. She has done that for far too long when it came to people because she was afraid tor really just let them see who she really was. But Link, he never rushed her but she felt this pull and so she had to see what it was about before turning him down and not seeing just where this could go. So was she crazy, maybe but she wanted to just get out and be with someone who didn’t like her for what she does but more for who she is and who they want to know. 

But when she got in that car she wasn’t expecting the music that was blaring from the speakers to come out. Not that she as judging, but she was just shocked and had to poke fun at him and the laugh coming from her said it all. She just wasn’t expecting that but Link was different and she can why now too. Amelia’s ears perk up hearing he has chaps and boots and she couldn’t help but smirk. “So — you really do own chaps. How did I know? I mean, you seem kind of like that guy outside of work, but I have to see them. I really do. Because I have to see this for my own eyes being I have never seen that. So, yes, put me on that list please. I need to see it.”

Laughing low and getting to the table for dinner and she was taken back by the place he chose and she sat across form him finally letting the facade cave and letting him see a glimpse of her and why she is the way she is. Her brother was one of her favorite people and yet he was no longer there and she didn’t really know how to comprehend that a lot, but she has come to terms and able to talk about it. “I didn’t get to say goodbye because Meredith took that away from me. She told no one, and she just made the choice without calling me. So that alone made me mad. She is his wife, but I am his family you know? It took so long for me to actually forgive her in a way. But I will never get that chance again and it just makes me mad in a way. So that is why her and I have an understanding but it doesn’t mean I will trust her with things.”

This is the first time Amelia had been open about that and really just telling someone. Maybe he wasn’t the right person, but since they were on the topic she might as well get it all out. “You really are a sweet talking aren’t you? You know how to make someone smile, and that alone makes me feel better then I have in so long. There’s a lot about me and m y life that people don’t know. So, you make me feel like I am in the place I am supposed to be.” Smiling and meeting his eyes she finally looks down at the menu wondering what she should get from this place. “So what do you suggest to eat in this place? I have never eaten here and want to try one of the best things here.”

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[frobby]

i love madoka magica however i dont think we as a fandom talk enough about how tragic madoka herself is. probably because the narrative itself steers you away from thinking about her personally. shes not a character shes a desire that homura has, shes a force of good, shes homura's foil. but those are all madoka's narrative roles but madoka herself as a person is not really looked at because we are viewing this world from an unreliable narrator(homura) who only sees madoka as those things. The best thing homura could have done for madoka was give up on her, to let her go. because every time we go back in time the image of madoka is distorted, she loses more of herself every regression of homura's as she tries harder and harder to save her. We don't even know what madoka originally wished for to become a magical girl in the original timeline. and she actually acts quite differently than the madoka we meet. shes a lot more honest and caring and bold. by the time homura's has reached the actual anime madoka has been reduced by the sands of time to a figment of herself. she has no wants or desires of her own beyond wanting to do good and help her friends and when all her humanity is stripped away is when she finally acends to godhood because thats all thats left of her. an ideal and a faith in her. madoka kaname died a long time ago and all that is left is her ghost.

[thursdayg1rl]

one of the dramas from the wedding was one of the grooms cousins (on the other side not mine) just not wearing the clothes we had made for her specifically

[eclarinet]

same soup... different day

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Thanks For Listening

YA contemporary

a girl who’s the stage manager in her high school theater club is tired of nobody listening to her advice, so she makes an anonymous social media account that people might actually listen to

while also dating her first girlfriend and struggling with her relationship with her best friends

ace MC

[intersexghoul]

Sorry I gotta rant in the tags like a maniac because we have nobody to talk to about this without risking our closest friendship. Nobody is required to read and honestly I'd encourage ignoring it

[straykats]

/meds talk, mental health as well ig, uhhhhhh