#and then I was like you know what I'm not a fucking joke I'm not gonna beg for attention and deleted the messages

[cheyisagirlkisser]

power bottom vi who lets you practice using your strap on her

warnings: 18+ content, power bottom vi x subtop fem reader, slight degradation and praise, clit stim (vi receiving), strap-on sex.

a/n: this is an older request but it's been on my mind for a while!!

Vi watched as you clumsily adjusted the harness around your waist with a skeptical eye. She sighed, leaning back and preparing herself for the worst. She felt bad thinking that, but she knew you. You had been her best friend for as long as you had attended to the same university, and you weren't exactly ever seen with girls. Pretty inexperienced, but adorably eager to please. When you showed up at her dorm with that downturned face, complaining about how you could never fuck a girl properly with a strap because you never get to practice, she found herself offering.

You glanced down at the dildo jutting out from the harness and stifled a laugh. This wasn't supposed to be a joke, though you knew it wasn't all that serious. You did wanna make Vi cum. You needed to be able to actually use one of these, and who better to experiment with than a girl who loves casual?

You tentatively settled between her legs, looking down at her for approval. She raised an eyebrow at you, and your heart did a little flip. "Do you even know how to use it?" She asked.

You scoffed half-heartedly at her accusation. "Yes, I do! I'm frequent LesLez."

"Dude, I did not need to know that."

"Sorry, I just.. well, I'm nervous. I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to do this, and it's making me feel weird." You confessed.

Vi softened a little at that, feeling some guilt for being brash with you. She grabbed your face, pulling it closer. "You don't have to be all dominant, you know." She spoke closely to your ear.

You looked confused, like an old dog being taught a new trick. "What? But I'm the one-"

"Just shut up and let me guide you." She quickly cut off your protest, her tone firm. It unexpectedly made you clit twitch with need.

"O-Okay..yeah." You agreed, steeling yourself.

Vi nodded, relaxing. It wouldn't be as bad to let you practice if she could be in charge. "Okay, just use your fingers on my clit..get me in the mood.." she instructed, letting her own trail down her body and show you what to do. You watched curiously as two of her fingers rubbed circles onto her clit. She then pulled them away, letting you try. You were a bit nervous, but when you glanced up to see Vi bit her lip at the way you touched her, it gave you a bit of confidence.

"Am I doing it right?" You asked, voice wobbly.

She nodded with a soft exhale. "Yeah, just like that."

When it was time for the main event, you felt less nervous. Both of you were. Vi found herself anticipated getting fucked. Maybe you wouldn't be so bad at it. You found yourself feeling like it wouldn't be so hard, and you were chasing her approval.

"Just the tip at first..I'm wet enough to take it." She guided you with eager pants, watching as you parted her slick folds with the head of the strap-on and very carefully letting it slip into her. Vi wanted to tell you that you didn't have to be so slow, but she figured it'd be better for you to be careful than just shove the dick into her and jackhammer-fuck her.

She gasped when she felt it, resting her head against the pillow. "Yeah, see? It's not so bad." She said, trying not to let herself enjoy it too much. This could only be practice. You were only supposed to be her friend.

You, on the other hand, had your head spinning. You eyes were bouncing from the way her pussy took the tip, the way her walls seemed try and suck the rest of the length in. You wanted to bottom out and let her feel every inch, to fuck her and hear her praise you for it. This was definitely getting out of hand.

"Can I fuck you? Please?" You asked, half-mumbling as if you didn't fully want her to process your words, but there was a desperation there that you couldn't hide even if you wanted to.

"Yeah, fuck me." Vi told you, bracing herself.

You didn't miss a beat, slowly pushing into her cunt and letting her adjust to all of it. Vi didn't hold in the moan, and she rubbed her clit with her own fingers to pacify herself from the stretch. It wasn't painful because she was experienced, but it wasn't exactly comfortable yet.

"Fuck me gently at first, don't rush it." She instructed, and you nodded. You reeled back until just the tip remained inside of her, and then slowly pushed back into her welcoming heat. You both moaned, your voice ironically soft and needy, and Vi's deep and raspy. Something about the difference in dynamics had your pussy soaking the harness.

The more you fucked her, the more the practice went from..well, actual practice, to something intense.

"Fuck, you're stretching me so well, aren't you? You like fucking me?" Vi cooed in your ear, her voice making you throb.

You eagerly nodded, a small whimper breaking from your throat as you slammed into her pussy. "Feels so good. Your pussy feels so good."

Vi's legs were wrapped around your waist, and your lips were latched onto her bottom one, sucking on the wet flesh. The room was hot, and you could hear the squelch of Vi's pussy taking you and the sound of your skin meeting.

On a particularly hard thrust, you found her g-spot, making her groan. "There you go. You actually can fuck a girl, can't you?" Her remark was almost condescending, and it ironically turned you on even more. Vi seemed to notice when your thrusts got sloppier, as you got needier. "Gonna make me cum, that's all you're good for," she rasped, and you whined. You whined at that.

"Please, I wanna make you cum. Need to." You whimpered out, fucking her with a newly eager and redoubled effort with the means to try to feel her cum around the silicone cock.

"Just like that, keep fuckin' me. I'm so close." She groaned and smashed her lips onto yours to hide her noises, fearing a complaint to the RA.

When she finally felt her orgasm come over her, her hands were all over your back, nails digging into your skin and making you moan just as loudly. Your breaths were shared, and you could actually feel the wetness mix on both of your thighs when they met, when you bottomed out in her pussy. All you could think about was how your best friend had the best pussy and you never knew. You wished you did sooner, you could be fucking her like this months ago.

You went limp on top of her, both of you breathless and a little sweaty. It felt nice, though. Vi was still in shock that things got so out of hand, but fuck if it wasn't a good feeling to have you laid on top of her like this. It had her a little shaken, trying to figure out how she felt about you. But not long after, the moment was over.

"I've got a physics test to study for, so.." Vi said, voice a bit quiet.

You were a little surprised. You wanted to just cuddle and feel her warmth for a bit, but it seemed like she wanted you to leave. That's what her words implied. So, you silently nodded, getting dressed. You wondered if this would happen again. You couldn't figure out if Vi was thinking the same things that you were, but you knew without a doubt that the friendship would never be the same. For better or worse.

[imsofreakingtired]

touch starved sevika </3

content warning(s): none

"can you see me? i'm waiting for the right time i can't read you but if you want the pleasure's all mine can you see me using everything to hold back? i guess this could be worse, walking out the door with your bags"

~~~

The first time: Sevika was sitting in the corner of the Last Drop, fixing up her mechanical arm. Pretending she wasn’t watching you move around the crowded club, from one person to the next, collecting intel with a professional smile on your lips. You were looking good today, a light dancing in your eyes, a spring in your step. Whenever you laughed at something someone said, Sevika would feel an inexplicable rush of anger at whoever you were talking to. 

And then all of a sudden there you were in front of her, elbows on the table, huffing a sigh.

“These fucking boneheads,” you said. “I’m going insane. Not a single piece of reliable information.” 

Sevika only gave a grunt in return, twisting a screw in her arm with renewed vigor to cover up her surprise at the fact that you were speaking to her. Only thing was, the force caused the screwdriver to slip out of her hand and clatter onto the table. 

“Well don’t go ahead and break your other wrist,” you joked, picking up the tool and handing it to her. 

“Something you needed to talk to me about?” Sevika snapped. Her tone was rough, and anyone else in your position who didn’t know her would have been scared away. But you were undeterred. 

“Small talk is an essential life skill, Sevika,” you said airily. “At least, so I’ve heard. It is a doorway to getting what you really want from people.” 

“And what the hell is that?” 

You only laughed, and stood up. “I’ll tell you later. Clearly you’re busy now.” And as you passed by you rested a hand on her shoulder momentarily. 

Sevika would think of the warmth of your hand for the next few days. 

~~~

The second time: It was past midnight. Silco had sent you to accompany Sevika on a trip down the Lanes to oversee the Shimmer packaging. She walked swiftly, wordlessly. Silco was in a mood; Jinx had gotten into some scrape or another and he was determined to spend the night trying to reason with her. Because of that he had moved his entire agenda for the night to Sevika’s task list. The two of you were already behind schedule. 

But as you walked over a high line between buildings, taking a shortcut to the warehouse, you looked up at the sky and gasped. 

A wind had blown away the smoke from the chimneys, briefly clearing the sky. A multitude of stars glimmered above the tops of the buildings. 

“Sevika, look at this,” you said. 

She didn’t hear you; she hadn’t even noticed you stopped walking and was already near the end of the street. You ran after her and grabbed her wrist. She turned around sharply, startled, automatically looking around for a threat. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

You pulled her back a few steps. “Look,” you said. 

Sevika saw the stars, but her thoughts were on your fingers clasped tightly around her wrist, as if to keep her from breaking free and walking away. You looked up at her, smiling, expecting a reaction. “Isn’t it pretty? When was the last time you saw stars in the Undercity?” 

She felt your hand slip down, your fingers finding hers, but before you could lace them together she pulled away abruptly. “We gotta keep moving,” she said. “There’s no time for this.” 

She pretended to ignore the disappointment in your face. She also pretended that she didn’t give a shit about the stars, that she didn’t wish she had let you hold her hand. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t remember the last time someone touched her like that, as if they wanted her, as if her presence meant something to them. It didn’t matter that maybe she wished time had stopped for a few moments, so that the two of you could stand together and watch the rare clear sky. 

~~~

The third time: You found Sevika in the backstreet behind the Last Drop, leaning against the wall and trying to light a cigarette. She had been in a fight: her face was mottled with cuts and bruises and her lip was still bleeding. You went up and took the lighter, flicking it open and lighting her cigarette for her. 

She gave you a brief nod, mumbled “thanks” around her cigarette. 

“Who did this to you?” You asked. 

She just laughed dryly, blowing smoke. “The question you should ask,” she said, “is what did I do to them.”

“Witty. Who’s after us?” 

Sevika shook her head. “No one. Just some street punks.” 

“Hm. Wait here.” You went back inside the bar and returned with a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Pulling a clean cloth out of your pocket, you took her chin in your fingers, turning her face toward you. She froze. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Hold still, dummy.” You wet the cloth with alcohol and started to clean the cuts. She winced as you pressed the cloth to her skin, but didn’t pull away. She could smell your scent, this close to you, and she blamed the dizziness on the punch she took from the street rat, even though she knew damn well it didn’t do shit to her.  

“There,” you said, “good as new.”

But you lingered, reluctant to let go of her. Tentatively you reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. And inwardly, Sevika cursed herself, because the gesture made her forget every single conceivable excuse to flee the scene. 

thank you @beatdariceee for the prompt <33

[jupitermelichios]

I actively seek out terrible movies, I've seen almost everything Uve Bol has ever made, and I maintain a Letterboxd list called 'movies I genuinely regret watching', so this is a subject I've given a lot of thought to.

Super is the most bleakly nihilistic movie I've ever watched, and has a rape scene it plays as a joke because it's happening to a man. Spawn is so visually ugly it's actually physically painful to look at in places. Snyder's Justice League is over 4 hours long, 3 of those are unecessary slo-mo, and all of them are too dark to see what the fuck is happening. The animated Injustice: Gods Among us movie is so lazily written it managed to take one of the best comics ever written about the insidiousness of facism, and make an accidentially pro-facist movie. Performance famously made one of the actors quit acting in response to being in it, and watching made me seriously consider quitting watching movies in solidarity. Peter Rabbit 2: the Runaway has a moment where one of the characters looks straight at the camera and says "imagine if someone tried to make a soulless hollywood CG movie out of a beloved british children's book, wouldn't that be terrible?", and I'm not even joking about that.

The King's Man is so unfinished and incoherent I genuinely don't know how it got released, and watching Fant4stic feels almost exactly like slipping into a depressive episode.

But despite all the many many terrible movies I have seen in my life, many of which dealt me massive psychic damage, if we're talking massive disproportionate rage, the answer has to be 2014's TMNT.

Is it objectively the worst movie I've ever seen? God no. Is it the ugliest looking? Also no. Compared to Spawn, the hideous beige CGI turtles are practically an artistic masterpiece. Is the most morally bankrupt? Considering transformers 4's stance on statutory rape, it's not even the most morally bankrupt Michael Bay movie.

Does it make me wish I had a time machine so I could prevent the original TMNT comics from being written just so they could never inspire this fucking movie? Absolutely yes.

Is there a very real risk that I would just haul off and punch Michael Bay in the face for inflicting it on the world if I were ever the meet him? God yes.

Would I just walk out of the room and never return if someone told me they loved it? I could be on trial and I'd still at least try to just leave if my lawyer told me they liked it.

Do I think the world would be an objectively better, brighter, happier place if this 90 minute soulless heartless piece of low-key racist cgi garbage was erased from existence? Unquestionably yes, and you disagree we can never ever be friends.

I am fully aware my hatred is disproporiate, bad as the movie objectively is, but there's just something about it that makes me absolutely furious.

What would you guys consider the worst movie you've ever seen? Not something that's fun to make fun of, nothing you ironically enjoyed, I mean just an absolutely miserable moviegoing experience that you paid for, hated every second, and wish you had walked out of and asked for a refund.

For me, no joke, Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted. It did not even feel like a real movie to me. It made me see red! I was SEETHING with anger and annoyance throughout the entire thing, and I cannot for the life of me articulate why. I saw it once in 2012 when I was 15, I remember almost nothing about it now, but it struck a nerve with me like no other movie ever has before or since.

Tell me in the tags, which movie makes you disproportionately angry just thinking about it?

[nobbin0]

... you say you're disturbed about how many disabled people don't consider themselves leftists. There's a reason for that. It's because no matter what the theory says, in practice, disabled people are treated like shit from left of center. Disabled people quite often have to beg for respect in a lot of leftist groups. They also have to beg for accessibility and safety. A lot of leftists use the fact that they are leftist as a stand-in for being anti-ableist, which is not true. And when push comes to shove, when disabled people ask for things like people to wear masks for accessibility, it largely goes unanswered. Not to mention that there are a lot of leftists that are downright hostile towards disabled people. Again, you gloss over the fact that I was doxed by leftists for weeks. I was not joking about that. I was serious. And, ultimately, most groups left of center have the exact same problem, which is that they want to talk around disability but not actually to disabled people. Disabled people are kind of seen like pets or hangers on to group work or movement work when in reality a lot of disabled people have the imagination for group survival. And, I mean that from my core. Disabled people are some of the most creative survivalists out there because we have to be creative and imaginative to survive, to have accessibility to even the smallest of things that non-disabled people take for granted. Every single time you talk about the politics of ableism in left-leaning circles, people automatically assume that you're pro-Republican. But people don't realize that the reason why a lot of disabled people are Republicans, like 51%, is because despite the church being exempt from the ADA, cause they lobbied to be, a majority of the spaces that disabled people have access to are religious. They're religious. Disabled people cannot access a lot of society. Not to mention that like I've said before many fucking times, Republicans are there, like, when you go to these conferences on disability, they're physically there. And a lot of disabled people, particularly white disabled people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, know their politicians, know their Republican politicians on a first name basis. I don't know why people think I'm making that up -- I've seen it, I've seen it with my own two eyes. And that's why I resent election years, when people tag me in fucking Republican videos and Trump supporter videos from disabled people when they don't show up. They don't show up in a lot of these spaces. Like, people are just now realizing that disabled people vote, not only vote but have political opinions that are not similar to theirs. Like, people are shocked when disabled people vote and then simultaneously don't have similar opinions but they wanna pull out a token black disabled person, cause it's an election year and you wanna see that fisticuffs? Come on, show up. Show up.

Transcription of a video by @crutches_and_spice on tiktok. You can find the original video here.

[rosenclaws]

Can you write about flat!reader x any Logan, where she is insecure of basically having no tits (like me) so she wants to keep a shirt on during sex and stuff and Logan notices and stuff lol

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, dirty talk, mirror sex, doggy style, creampie, insecurity, the reader says self deprecating things about themselves, light choking, breast play

a/n: YES YES, I'm flat as fuck and I am super self conscious about them. These mfs look like mosquito bites on god. (I hate them so much bro just let me get some work done PLZ) Anyways Im doing this with Worst Logan bc I love him. Anyways.

Sometimes it was hard dating a man like Logan. It wasn't hard to love him, no not at all. Even with the baggage he claimed to have come with, it wasn't hard to deal with the nightmares or the moments of deep loathing and insecurity. You loved him and because of that being able to help him through it all was easy.

What was hard was dating a man who was over 200 years old and looked like a Greek fucking god.

The first time you ever saw Logan without his shirt was when you were visiting Wade. Logan walked out in nothing but pajama pants. You shamelessly eye-fucked the man before you. He was ripped. Strong arms, a six pack, big thighs, and a handsome face. Even after you started dating and managed to get him on a diet that was more than whiskey and cigars he was still unbelievably hot. You should feel lucky to have a man like that worship you and you love and appreciate him to death. The problem is that you felt like you couldn't compare.

Logan loves you and you know he does but when you're looking in the mirror you can't help but notice you're lacking in one specific area. Your boobs. You were flat and the world seemed to never let you forget it.

Cute tops you could never wear because your chest couldn't keep them up. Jokes about being flat as a board. You couldn't even hold them in your hands. You hated them. Logan never said anything about them but you were always too afraid to bring it up.

So you sat in this limbo of deep insecurity.

"Sweetheart? You still in there?" Logans muffled voice comes from behind the bathroom door.

Shit you didn't mean to be here for so long. A shower had turned into staring at the mirror. You covered them in your hands, pushing them together and huffing when they just looked sad. The events from earlier in the night replaying over in your head.

Ever since Logan showed up in the universe he had garnered some attention. The Wolverine was hard to hide. People would point and whisper whenever they saw him. Gossip about who he was and why he was here. It was all pointless to Logan. Still in the bathroom of the bar you managed to catch a conversation.

Two beautiful women talking about your boyfriend and how badly they wanted him. Talking about flirting with him and taking him home. It just hurt a little. Sure Logan could care less about anyone's advances but yours but they had truly gotten into your head.

Would Logan want someone who had...better assets?

Would he want a woman who's breasts he could hold, squeeze, rest his head on? It was silly but they were the one thing that you honestly just didn't like about yourself so it was hard to think logically about it.

"I'm coming in." Logan's voice calls again. You curse quietly as you scramble to get a shirt on. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this. Logan's eyes shamelessly look you up and down as he enters the bathroom. A small smirk growing on his lips as he leans against the door. You bite your lip as you look down towards the counter.

"Sorry, I just wanted to take an extra long shower." You lie, smiling at Logan.

He hums and pushes off the door. He comes to stand behind you, his arms snaking around your waist. You were dressed in nothing but a shirt and underwear and Logan liked it. A lot.

"Should've joined you. Could have helped get your back." Logan purrs, his growing bulge pressing against your back.

“Oh please we’d still be in the shower if you had joined me.” You tease, slipping out of his grip. Logan furrows his brows as he follows you like a puppy to bed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing sweetheart."

As you lay on the bed Logan crawls in-between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. He purrs as you reach and run your fingers through his hair, scratching his head in all the spots you know he loves.

"Not a bad thing honey, but our water bill isn't a fan." Logan gets up on his knees, a devilish smirk appearing on his lips as his hands snake up your legs.

"Fuck the water bill, If I want to fuck my gorgeous girlfriend I will." You giggle as he dips his head down. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin as he nibbles on your thighs.

"Fuck baby, I can't get enough of you." He kneels between your legs and his hands slip up your body. The moment his hands go under your shirt you flinch. You didn't mean to flinch but you did. It was a small movement but it was there and Logan felt it immediately.

"What's wrong?" He asks as he takes his hands away.

"Nothing." You smile and reach up to pull him closer but he doesn't budge. Curse his super strength. He gives you a look and you sigh.

"It's nothing Logan, it's stupid and small."

"Sweetheart you gotta talk to me," Logan huffs. He's been working on this whole, communication thing and while he's not known for his empathy he can clearly see there's something bothering you.

"I just..." He looks at you again and you fall back into the pillows.

"Its these!" You say pointing to your chest.

"Huh?" "They're small and stupid and I hate them!" You lift your shirt up and huff in frustration. Logan's eyes widen as he stares at your bare chest. A stupid smile forming on his lips.

"I'm not seeing the problem." You put your shirt down and he pouts.

"I'm serious Logan. They're small and flat and...and..." You struggle to find the words as Logan just chuckles.

"So what?"

"It's not funny!" You snap and Logan's face morphs into concern.

"I just, I wish they were bigger is all. I mean sometimes I see other women and...It's hard sometimes." You curl into yourself, your arms covering your chest protectively. It felt silly to bring up right now but the thoughts wouldn't go away.

"Hey, look at me sweetheart." Logan coos. He lays next to you. Gently snaking his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

"Please?" Reluctantly you turn your body to face his.

"There's my pretty girl." He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

"Look I'm not the best at this but I can tell you one thing. You're fucking perfect." He leans in and kisses your neck gently. Your eyes flutter close as he gently rolls on top of you.

"You are beautiful, gorgeous, hot. I could go on and on sweetheart." His hand slips up your shirt and you let him slowly peel it off you. He grins as his lips move down to your chest. His thumb comes to play with one of your breasts while he latches onto the other.

"Logan..." You moan as he teases you like he loves to do.

"I know you hate them but I fucking love them. I could spend hours playing with them, looking at them, sucking on them if you let me." You bite your lip at his dirty words. The insecurities being pushed out Logan's hands.

"I don't care how big they are, what the look like. Because they're attached to my girl and I love my girl." Logan reaches down and rips your panties off of your body. You gasp in surprise as he takes your legs and spreads them.

"Feel how fucking hard you make me." He groans as he grinds his cock against your body.

"Get on your knees baby." You don't hesitate to listen. You get on your knees and face the headboard but Logan has other plans.

"No, I want you to watch your pretty tits as I fuck you." He growls in your ear as he moves you to face the mirror on the wall.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his gruff voice. Fuck he's hot. You're practically dripping onto the sheets already and Logan plans on taking full advantage of that. Slowly he slides his cock into your cunt, taking his sweet time as he stretches you out.

"So good, taking me raw." He says with a smirk. He wraps his hand around your neck to help support you as your legs shake at the feeling.

"I know baby, almost there just a little bit more." He praises.

You nod furiously, wanting to take all of him no matter what. When he fully bottoms out you let out a small cry. He shushes you softly, pressing kisses to your cheek as you get used to the stretch.

"Feel alright sweetheart?" Logan asks and you nod. Slowly he moves his hips, soaking up every whine that falls from your lips.

"Fuck, you're just made for me aren't you pretty girl." You can't take your eyes off of the mirror.

It's pure and utter filth. You're disheveled, tears pooling in your eyes, Logan's hand is still wrapped around your neck. You look fucking hot. You can see his muscles flexing with each devastating thrust. The look of pure desire on his face as he fucks you.

"Logan please I'm gonna come." Your hips start to move to meet his thrusts.

Logan growls as he grabs onto your hips and pushes you into the mattress. All you can do is watch yourself take it as he fucks the life out of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Logan breaks you apart. Your body feels fuzzy as your orgasm washes over you. Logan lets out a loud groan as his hips slam into you and stay there as he comes.

"Fuck...Look at you." Logan sits back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up. You hum as your head falls onto his chest. A tired smile on your face.

"So fucking perfect." Logan hums.

"Right sweetheart?" You mumble something unintelligible and Logan taps your face.

"I want to hear it." You shiver at the intensity of his voice.

"I'm perfect." Logan tilts your head up.

"All of you?" He asks.

"All of me." You repeat after him.

"Good," He kisses your temple.

You sigh as Logan starts to massage your shoulders. The insecurities have been washed away, only bliss left in its wake. Logan couldn't comprehend your dislike for your body, he saw you and only saw the best.

But if you needed a reminder every now and then, he would be happy to give it to you.

[theartisticcrow]

Already just reblogged this but I do this silly thing where I only happen to think of stuff to say after I hit reblog anyways. There's this one guy in my drama class that I just find really interesting. I'm not attracted to him in any way (I'm aroace regardless) and yet there something about him that "attracts" me in a different way, yet I was never able to put it into words.

And while I think being closer friends with him would be cool, it's not even quite that. He's just a really interesting person. He's extremely funny, but now because he's constantly cracking jokes or something like that. He's just silly and whimsical and such an incredible fucking actor. Like it is genuinely unbelievable how talented he is. This talented, super sweet guy has such a powerful stage presence. He can dance, he can sing and he perfectly portrays each and every character he becomes, but sometimes I'm just sitting up on some part of the set on the stage (my school puts on a musical every year and they are very well known for the incredible production quality) and I'm not doing anything, so I just watch people and it's like my eyes are just drawn towards him as he walks through the room. I'm not kidding about the stage presence. I catch other people doing their own thing until he walks by and he immediately grabs their intention.

I was talking to my best friend last week after the fine art showcase (my school does this twice a year, once for each semester and it's a display of the drama and art classes and suchlike) and I mentioned that this guy's stage presence and my friend instantly understood what I was talking about. As soon as you see this guy walk on stage, you can't ignore him.

And this post has almost perfectly captured my feelings towards this guy. Incredible actor and just a genuinely good person too. Yet it's that fucking stage presence that always gets me. I love watching him perform because his performance is always so captivating. I just know he's going to become like a famous broadway actor or something along those lines. I genuinely really want to see where his career goes, because I've never met anyone with more acting/musical talent and stage presence than this guy.

that thing where you're attracted to someone not in a platonic or romantic or sexual way, but in an 'i want to read about their exploits' kind of way

[oh-no-its-bird]

You are making me EMOTIONAL thinking about baby kakashi losing his teeth and not having his dad around to ask about things now, not even specifically for fang reasons either 😭😭

I think I was late and lost my first took when I was almost seven and idk exactly when Sakumo died officially but. Idk. Something something the tragedy of potentially not even having a parent around to explain what is going on when you lose a tooth for the first time

I'm so glad u sent this actually bc I was thinking ab wanting to write a post ab this premise but wasn't sure how to phrase or start it

Kid Kakashi struggling through starting to lose his baby teeth after his father dies <33

Google tells me that children start losing their baby teeth around 6, and the general age I've seen for Kakashi when Sakumo kills himself is usually around that same number, so, it works out!!

You bring up such a good and fun point actually in just. Does Kakashi know what's happening to him? Has anyone explained to him that your teeth just naturally fall out when you're little?

One day, Kakashi goes to class and sees Obito, who's a few years older than him, bragging about how he "just lost my tooth the other day"

And Kakashi quietly goes to himself, "wow this guy is so bad at fighting, he got his tooth knocked out and he's happy about it. What a weirdo."

Obito is IGNORING the judgmental stares coming from Kakashi's direction, assuming Kakashi is just jealous of his super cool milestone of growing up

Thinking maybe Obito even comes over to try to brag about it, but Kakashi just goes "??? Why are you bragging about losing your teeth ??? God, you're such a freak"

And Obito is like, "I know ur just jealous BAKASHI. Because you are still a BABY while I am on my way to being a MAN"

And inside Kakashi, still deeply confused and weirded out, is like, 'why the fuck would I be jealous' but outloud he just glares and goes, "I've never lost any of my teeth because I never lose."

To which Obito loses his mind because he's like 9 and to a 9 year old that sounded kind of sick and how DARE Kakashi try and be cool about this

(In the background, Minato is well on his way to losing his mind trying not to laugh. Rin meanwhile is squinting and doing mental math as she tries to tell if Kakashi is joking or not)

But anyways like. Kakashi later losing his own teeth and freaking the fuck out about it. Is he sick? Is he dying? Should he go to the doctor?

Oh my god wait ok but Kakashi cornering Rin after a training session and demands she help diagnose him bc he doesn't want to go to the actual doctor or ask Sensei for help. And Kakashi admitting she's a "good med nin" and Rin is kinda going omg Kakashi conpliment,,,, life goals,,

But also like Kakashi thinks he's dying and she's SUPER flattered he thinks she can help but she's like. 10. And a med nin in training.

So she's kind of sweating like "omg what are ur symptoms, why do u think ur dying?"

And Kakashi is like my "fucking teeth are falling out !!!!!!"

And Rin is like "woah that sounds super scary and seriou— Hold on a second."

Kakashi goes as far as to take off his mask to show her, which goes to show how desperate he is rn because he'd usually never do that.

And Rin is torn between being tempted to pinch his cheek and pull at it like it's Mochi and also like. She's struggling SO hard not to laugh at this point because she knows if she does Kakashi will literally never forgive her

So Rin has to break it to Kakashi as gently as she can (and without laughing or cooing at his cute kid naivety) that don't worry, you aren't dying, this is normal

Kakashi doesn't believe her at first. But when he does he's suddenly overwhelmed by embarrassment. He will never recover. Hes so fucking glad he didn't actually go to the doctor or to sensei because at least Rin he can swear to secrecy FOREVER

Kakashi has to deal with his suddenly too big for his mouth adult fangs and keeps going to Rin to help heal the cuts they keep leaving on his lips ,,,,

Somehow Obito catches wind of this, and hears "Rin + helping with Kakashi's lips (???)" And thinks they're kissing and loses his goddamn mind in spectacular fashion.

Toddler drama....

Idk where Im really going with this, it ended up taking a life of its own

Uhhh anyways. Moving this conversation entirely:

You can copy pasted this exact concept onto Naruto for a really funny (and kind of awful) au where Naruto loses his first tooth and becomes convinced he's dying

He does actually try to go to the hospital but they try to turn him away, but when he blurts out that he's scared he's dying a particularly mean spirited doctor pretends to examine him then goes "oh no. You really are dying and have a week to live. Boohoo."

Naruto loses his fucking mind and makes a "things I want to do before I die" bucket list and then spends the next week desperatley trying to complete it bc hes convinced he's gonna die on the final day

This list includes but is not limited to:

- become Hokage

- start a family

- eat every single different kind of ramen on Ichiraku's menu

Idk how to make the first and third especially funny but like.

"Starting a family" ending up somehow leading to Naruto very aggressively trying to get literally anyone to hold his hand in a similar fashion to "Uchiha Sasuke's 10 step plan to get revenge" where Sasuke tries to get Shikamaru to marry him in his quest to "live a good life" to get revenge on Itachi, while Naruto hears Sasuke is looking for a husband and very loudly tries to get him to pick him instead

Which is actually a really fucking funny one on its own and now I'm just thinking about that instead, so I'll leave this post here

I got a little distracted, but. Thank you for ur ask !!!

[mewvore]

Hate when I'm shitposting and then go and end up learning something its like when you make a joke and your friend doesn't laugh they hit you with "did you know that..." And for the next 5 minutes your chin is resting on your hand as they go down a fascinating rabbit hole of encyclopedic knowledge and then its like fuck wait what was the joke I lost it

[lenorenevermore99]

Why 457 is actually valid af and not just a "joke" ship

I wanna start this by saying that I'm in no way, shape or form convinced 457 is canon nor I think there will be anything remotely romantic between the two of them in season 3. But people seem to think it's just a joke inside the fandom, while actually, their dynamic is pretty fucking valid and I want to analyze that in this post.

One of the most discussed things (if not the most) when it comes to this ship is the stares.

Some think this is the stare of love, others think In-ho just enjoys seeing him suffer. Well, let me tell you it is neither.

But before we delve into the way In-ho stares at Gi-hun, we first have to go back to talk about Hwang In-ho as a character.

As we know, Hwang In-ho is the Winner of the 2015 Squid Game. He went into the games so he could have the money to treat his sick, pregnant wife, much like Gi-hun who did the same for his sick mother. Both of them won the game, but both of them were too late to save the person they loved from a sad fate.

This lead to In-ho becoming the Frontman. We don't know exactly what happened in the timeframe between him winning and him becoming the Frontman, but we can safely assume that after loosing his wife, In-ho lost faith in humanity. The games have destroyed him, they turned him into the villain he is today.

And the thing is, when he looks at Gi-hun, he sees his past self in him. This was confirmed by both Lee Byung Hun (In-ho's actor) and the director of the show himself.

Or to be more precise, he sees his past self. He sees who he was before the games changed him. And this is what led to his fascination and obsession with Gi-hun, because here's the thing; the games traumatized Gi-hun, but they didn't break his faith and hope in humanity, like they did with In-ho himself.

And this is the thing that, in my view, both fascinates and deeply angers In-ho. Deep inside, subconsciously, he is thinking, "Why were YOU able to retain your hope in humanity? Why were you able to remain a good person when I couldn't?"

In-ho was genuine when he told Gi-hun he wished he'd try to be happy after winning (or to better say, surviving) the games. I find it especially interesting when he tells him "Just pretend it was all a dream."

In-ho wishes he could pretend it was all a dream, but he couldn't. Think about it: he's a billionaire, but he lives in a shitty, small apartment. He doesn't talk to his mother, he doesn't talk to his brother, he doesn't even go visit his wife at the cemetery. Pardon me for borrowing the phrase from The Hunger Games, but he's not living the life of a victor. whether it's because he feels guilty or something else, I guess we'll find out in the next season, but that's not the point. The point is, that In-ho wants Gi-hun to do what he wasn't able to do after he won. He wants him to be happy because he sees himself in Gi-hun.

This is the most important point in this post.

Now I wanna focus on these moments. During the second game, during mingle, and during the lights-out massacre, we see Gi-hun being absolutely destroyed over the players that were killed. He's undoubtedly blaming himself for it. And here we see In-ho staring at him, not with the look of love, not with joy at his suffering, but with sorrow. He's sad for Gi-hun, because he could have spared himself further suffering if he didn't stubbornly decide to go back into the games.

What In-ho is thinking right here, in my view, is; "See? There is no hope. There is nothing you can do. Stop torturing yourself, just give it up already. How much more pain do you have to go through before you give up? Accept you can do nothing and go on with your life. Try to be happy."

Now you might be asking, okay, but what does that have to do with romantic love?

Well let me tell you that these feelings I just described can easily and quickly turn into love.

Many philosophers over the centuries have come to the same conclusion; we see part of ourselves in the people we fall in love with.

"The Front Man believes that Gi-hun is wrong in his way of thinking, but perhaps, he reflects on himself through Gi-hun. He does want to destroy Gi-hun's belief. I felt that a small part of him, unknowingly, might be hoping for Gi-hun's thoughts to be right. And rooting for him in some way."

These words Lee Byung Hun said about In-ho, makes me think of Jacques Lacan's theory in particular (which is a rather complex topic and I will try to summarize as shortly and as simply as I can).

For Lacan, love, at least in the beginning, is essentially a form of narcissism. When we fall in love, we're also falling in love with ourselves. We see ourselves in the other person, but we also see in the other what we subconsciously think we are lacking in ourselves. Which doesn't mean the other person will fix us because, at least according to Lacan, this lack is something that can never actually be "fixed".

And I think that's exactly was is happening with In-ho. He sees in Gi-hun what he's lacking in himself. They were traumatized the same way, but reacted in two completely different manners. In-ho became cruel and disillusioned with humanity, while Gi-hun still believes in humanity and wants to save everyone.

I know that this way, 457 seems like a one-sided kind of love, but that's honestly my personal interpretation of the ship. I think Gi-hun could have fallen for Young-il, for the person In-ho was before the games, if they had more time. But the Frontman In-ho? The person he became after becoming the Frontman? There's no way.

Not all loves are meant to happen, not all lovers get to be lovers. Some are meant to just leave us wondering what could have been. Which is what makes transformative works so fun and interesting! From the canonverse toxic fics to the wholesome alternative universe flower shop fics, I think their dynamic is valid as fuck.

I rest my case.

[femmenature]

Good luck, Babe!

Pairing: Ellie Williams x f! reader (ofc)

Summary: Ellie is your best friend, or so you tell yourself after you're done kissing and doing things that friends don't normally do. But that's over since you have a boyfriend, and you're pretending to be something you're not.

Warnings: Inappropriate language, infidelity, mentions of sex, jealousy.

-

Your “friendly” relationship with Ellie was not easy, even if it seemed quite the opposite when you were alone with no one watching. You couldn't explain when this happened. When you started to see each other as more than friends, your mind blurs as you try to remember when her hands fit so well with yours and when the songs she played on her guitar started to play just for you. You think you don't remember because nerves make your brain melt, and your heart melt too. She's the only one who can do it, and losing control of the situation makes you despair. That's what led you to cut everything off, actually, you don't even know what you cut off. You couldn't define what you had, you were and still are friends. You broke the unexpected news about your new boyfriend with your friends, she was there too. It was an impulsive act because you knew you couldn't tell her alone.

“girl, congratulations I'm so happy for you!” exclaimed Dina happily as she hugged you.

“It's about time, isn't it?” Jesse joked as he playfully undoes your hair.

As soon as Dina broke the hug Ellie's face came into your view. She didn't say anything, her eyebrows were slightly furrowed trying to decipher what the fuck was going on. She looked at you with a hint of sadness but also with a claim, she wanted to claim so many things, she wanted to get angry and demand so much from you. Her heart was ready to tell you to give her back everything you were taking from her at that moment but on the other side she was dying to ask you not to do it, not to leave her, not to give up, to stay with her.

“I'm happy for you, good luck” but that's all that came out of her mouth, it seemed that the last words carried an ironic tone, but only you noticed it, because you knew very well what she was trying to tell you.

After that day it was obvious that your friendship wasn't the same, you didn't hang out alone, you only hung out with Jesse and Dina, and it was better that way. Or that's what you were trying to tell yourself. Your thoughts were interrupted by Dina, who texted you to party tonight. Obviously we were all going to go, she has great convincing power. The problem is that your boyfriend is going too, and Ellie is going to meet him. You had double dates with Jesse and Dina, they ended up being double dates because Ellie conveniently always canceled when she found out your boyfriend was going too. But I guess that changed today, or it would be too suspicious if she didn't come again.

“What are you thinking, gorgeous?” ugh, you hated that nickname. Or you just hated it coming out of his mouth. Because you really liked it when it came out of Ellie's.

You faked a smile and sighed before answering your boyfriend “I was just thinking about the party today”

He walks up to you with a cocky smile “I'm going to be with you, you don't have to worry about it” clearly that's not what you were talking about, but you just let it go. “And aren't you excited? I'm finally going to meet your friend Annie”

“It's Ellie. Not Annie” you roll your eyes, you couldn't help it. You were annoyed by something as simple as him mispronouncing her name. But it's her name. How could he mispronounce it? You couldn't hide your annoyance over something so small and it bothered you. It bothered you to know that you are losing control of the situation with the pronunciation of her simple name. You didn't need her presence to be overwhelmed with emotions and that scares you, it scares you too much.

“Chill, Ellie, whatever” his words were vague, he didn't even care about meeting your friends, he just wants to give you satisfaction by pretending he does. It was time to leave for the party and meet your friends there. It was a house, doors open, people kissing on the front steps, Christmas lights adorning the frames, even though the season was long gone. Plastic cups everywhere, laughter and scattered conversations were the decoration of the place but your eyes were only looking for her. A hand touched your shoulder and as you turned around you saw Dina smiling at you and your boyfriend.

“Finally lovebirds, it took forever” you hugged her greeting her and when you rested your face on her shoulder you saw her. Ellie was behind, looking at you, playing with her hands nervously as she looked at him and then quickly to the floor. As if it was the most eccentric thing ever. You broke away from Dina and waved to Jesse, then did the same to Ellie.

“Finally, its a pleasure Annie, I was looking forward to meeting you” your boyfriend interrupted the greeting with Ellie, smiling with false honesty. You looked at him angrily, you had literally reminded him of her name a few minutes ago, it seemed like he was doing it on purpose. I was about to remind him again when Ellie cut me off.

“It's nice to meet you Frank” she replied coldly, looking him in the eye. Your boyfriend sighed in frustration and reluctantly replied “My name is Mark”

“I guess the three of us have bad memories, hm?” Ellie tapped his shoulder as she passed and escaped the situation, heading for the bathroom

“all three of us?” Mark looked at you in confusion, trying to guess what she tried to say

You ignored his question and decided to confront Ellie once and for all, entering the bathroom without knocking. Her hands were resting on the marble countertop and her head was down. “What are you doing here” she didn't even need to see you to know it was you. She knows your steps, your perfume, she knows everything about you. “Shouldn't you be with your little boyfriend?” she spat angrily.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? did you really have to leave like that? doesn't it seem too obvious?" you pull your hair back in frustration. She looks at you in disbelief “Are you fucking with me? that's what you're going to tell me? I should be complaining about things”

she herself pointed to her chest, wanting somehow to make you understand what she is saying “you come all this way to point out to me that I am being obvious when you didn't even give me a reason to stop being obvious. You just showed up one day exclaiming you had a boyfriend and all I could do was step aside and let you go” her hand went back to the bathroom counter, squeezing it ”when you didn't give me any reason to do so. And I don't know how you do it but it's not easy for me to stop loving you overnight, so I'm sorry for not disguising it the way you would want me to” Her hand reached for the door handle but your back instantly pressed against the door closing it again.

“You know it wasn't the right thing to do, what we were doing” her hand was still on the door handle as she looked you in the eyes “then why are you blocking my way?” she whispered as her heart was racing. And all you wanted to tell her was the truth. Because you couldn't let her go like that, because she's all you want, all you long for, but your mouth said something else “we were nothing, just confused friends.”

She laughed under her breath with sarcasm “Is it so hard for you to say it's love? I want you to tell me something” she let out a sigh ”When you see his face when he gets up, do you recognize yourself? Really, when you look at yourself in the mirror, do you know yourself?” Your eyes betrayed you and looked quickly at the mirror next to you, returning your gaze quickly to her, with a hint of embarrassment ”Because I have no idea who you are. And when you finally wake up from your lie after so many years of living a sham, the only thing you're going to get from me is an I told you so.”

your gaze dodges her and your back peels away from the door , leaving the way clear for her to leave the bathroom “and I really would have liked it to be you. Shit, I really do, but if I have to beg you to stay I guess you don't love me enough, and I just want someone who feels the same way I do” her fingers moved closer to yours, trying to caress them, the distance was so deep even though the centimeters were ridiculously short ”I wouldn't care what they say about us, loving you is never going to be something shameful, I never saw it that way. I never felt it that way, I wish you would understand that and stop being afraid. But I can't force you to feel more love than you do.”

The only thing that sounded after that was the door being closed. The feeling of anguish that dwells in your chest feels so heavy that it drags you down to the cold bathroom floor. You hug your legs trying to protect yourself from your own guilt screaming at you from the mirror. Even though you know your shadow's speech by heart, at the end of the day it is yours. And even if you try to hide it's still there, telling you that you will never be happy if you deny yourself what you really love. Why do you need control? You keep telling yourself that it's natural to be with him when you know it's unnatural to force yourself to touch his face when your heart doesn't want to. And the most real you ever felt in life was with her. It makes you sick to know that you have to go home to him and have to put up with the lack of love you feel, or don't feel. So you get up from the bathroom, and when you see yourself in the mirror, the only thing you think is that you want to know yourself again, and you know who knows you well enough to remind you of who you are.

In a hurried step you opened the door and looked for her through the crowd, not finding her silhouette you left the house, ignoring the calls of your friends and Frank. Her car was in sight, you would recognize it anywhere since on starry nights we drove around in it listening to music. The lights came on, indicating that she was inside, about to leave, and you rushed over, opening the passenger door, without permission, and sat down. “What are you doing? You really have a problem with opening doors unexpectedly” she scowled at you.

“I'm an idiot. And you're right, everything you said to me in the bathroom, you're right. But you were wrong about one thing” you swallowed nervously looking into her eyes with sincerity ”I love you as much as you love me. And yes, fear paralyzed me, the lack of control over my feelings made me make a stupid and senseless decision. I overflowed with love, I really did. And not being able to hold that back and put it in its place I ran away. This is not a justification, nor is it an excuse. I'm just telling you the truth, I want to be me again, and I was never more myself than when I'm with you. I don't want to be afraid of love. I don't want to walk away from you.”

"Then don't do it" her hand rested on your leg, caressing it with her thumb "let me remind you who you are" her hands unbuckled her car seatbelt and she approached me, resting her forehead on mine "let me love you like he could never do" and without saying anything, you kissed her like you never did before. Without fear.

-

I guess she told you so!

[skibasyndrome]

"please, speak to me" for the prompt thingy?🫶

Tinaaaa!!! Thank you so much for sending me this prompt! I'm extremely sorry for taking forever to write this, but here it iiiis.

Because I simply couldn't leave them in their messy little fwb situation, this is a follow-up to this drabble here.

Hope you'll enjoy! 💜💜💜

For the first couple of days, Wille is so caught up in replaying his last night with Simon that he doesn’t fully notice to which extent he’s being avoided. When he does, the realization hits him square in the chest.

Wille doesn’t think that, during the admittedly relatively short time they’ve known each other, he’s ever gone this long without speaking to Simon. They just clicked, right away, became friendly very quickly, became… more than friendly equally quickly. And up till now they’ve never gone this long without speaking, at least a little bit. Wille misses his friend’s presence next to him during the one lecture on postmodernism they normally attend together. And he misses the stupid jokes they tell each other in the cafeteria during lunch breaks. Wille texts Simon twice during the week following the incident. Both times, Simon answers quickly, but the conversations die down just as quickly. Wille knows he’s busy with exams, but this is different. Simon won’t admit that anything’s wrong, continues to throw Wille a quick smile every time they cross paths on campus. But before Wille has the chance to approach him, he’s gone again. It feels like something ended between them. And Wille doesn’t know what to do about it, let alone what to say. He can’t suggest they have sex again. Well. He would like to, but he won’t. Every time he thinks back to Simon storming off, he feels like an idiot. But any other suggestion feels almost more ridiculous. He can almost hear Simon scoff at him whenever he thinks of something new to say. They’ve never done anything else, they’ve been friendly at uni, then spent their time back in the dorms fucking. Anything beyond that feels like an imposition. In front of his mind’s eye, Simon is rolling his eyes and shaking his head at Wille’s suggestion for brunch on Sunday or a couple drinks Thursday night. And so he keeps them to himself, his silly suggestions. But by week two, Wille feels like he’s going to burst if he lets the scenario play out inside of his head another fucking time. He needs to figure this out, needs to fix whatever there is to fix. Right whatever wrong it was that Wille did. Even if this arrangement, whatever it was, is over for Simon, Wille wants them to part on good terms. And not have Simon think badly of him. He feels more than a little silly as he finds himself walking through the halls of the music lecture building. And even while he’s waiting outside of the room he knows Simon’s choir is practicing in, he almost gets up and leaves again two times. Scrolling on his phone is barely enough of a distraction. Especially when, from time to time, a few beautiful notes hit his ear, coming through the large door. This would be a lot easier if he didn’t immediately recognize the beautiful voice. or Or if he didn’t remember what other beautiful sounds that voice is capable of producing, under the right conditions. 

He clears his throat and rolls his neck, trying to banish those tempting images from his mind. He’s about to give up and leave again, go for a walk or go find something else to distract him from his own misery, when the door opens and a couple of students start streaming out. Wille immediately gets up from the random chair he’s found sitting in the hallway, straightens up, feeling weirdly caught and weirdly out of place. Before he can wonder if Simon will even notice him standing in the hallway like a lost little puppy, the door closes again. It leaves Wille standing face to face with the man he hasn’t gotten a proper look at in a very long two weeks. Wille raises his hand for an awkward wave and notices too late that he clearly must’ve interrupted a conversation between Simon and his choir teacher, who now looks between the two of them, visibly confused. Even she must notice that this amount of silence isn’t very normal. Giving Wille another once-over, she retrieves her key from where she was about to lock the door and hands it over to Simon. She tells him to leave it on her desk later before walking off. For a gratingly long moment it looks like Simon is about to run after her. When he turns back around to Wille he looks a little less panicked, albeit no less confused. His bag is casually slung over his shoulder, and something inside of Wille’s chest aches at the familiar picture. Instead of dwelling on it, though, he shakes his head slightly, takes a step towards Simon. “Hey,” he starts and tries to smile, but it must be coming off exactly as weird and forced as it feels, because Simon only nods at him. “Hey.” Simon’s own smile is late, seems a little out of place. Maybe there’s still time to run away. But when Simon opens his mouth to speak, a different sense of panic washes over Wille, so he simply has to blurt it out. “I wanted to see you.” The silence that follows Wille’s confession is clearly taunting him. Simon just looks at him with his brows furrowed. “And I wanted to talk to you,” Wille continues, and maybe it’s the way Simon’s gaze darts back and forth between Wille’s lips and his eyes that makes Wille go on.  “Because I missed you,” he says. And because he’s not made enough of a fool of himself.  “Miss you, I mean.” Simon only nods quickly and, for a second, Wille gets caught up in his eyes. It's been entirely too long since he’s gotten a proper look at them. If Wille didn’t know any better, the idea that he’s spent hours looking at them before would sound ridiculous.

Simon is the first to break contact. He clears his throat. “So…?” he starts, then trails off, lifting himself up and down on his tiptoes. “Can we talk?” Wille is practically pleading and, as if on cue, a student pushes his way past, apparently seeing no better path than going between him and Simon. “I mean, maybe…” Wille gestures towards the room and Simon catches his hint. He gives a curt nod, one that Wille can’t read. But he does turn around, and not to leave. He slips in through the door, Wille at his heels. And before Wille has any chance to take in the interior of the room, or think about what the fuck he’s supposed to do now, now that he’s gotten to this point, Simon is on him. Wille's back hits the door with a loud thud, his chest immediately colliding with Simon's. He lets out a strangles sound of surprise when he suddenly has an arm full of Simon. But even his moment of shock is cut short when Simon’s lips are on his. Finally again. Wille quickly melts into the touch, relishes in the way Simon licks into his mouth, almost like he's been plagued by the same desperate need that has rendered Wille sleepless for these past two weeks. Wille's arms close around Simon's middle, backpack and all, and Wille lets out a sigh of… something. Relief, probably, but also pleasure. This is what they're good at, this is a way in which they've always understood each other. This is what makes sense for them. So much sense that Simon has Wille heavily panting against his lips in no time, so much sense that Wille’s hands easily find their way into the back pockets of Simon’s jeans, like they’re two puzzle pieces. So much sense that it takes Wille a long time, many seconds, minutes maybe, to realize that this isn’t what he came for. Not really, not initially. He tries to pull back, not going far with the wood of the door right behind him. But Simon understands, moves back, then takes a big step away from Wille that causes Wille’s hands to slip out of his pockets. He weakly holds them at his side, suddenly feeling really awkward about just standing here. He clears his throat. “I…” It’s like Simon didn’t only take away his breath, but also his speech. Wille tears his eyes from Simon’s face, from the soft reddish hue on his cheeks, from his wet lips. “I wanted to talk about last time, what you said. I-” Simon interrupts him with a groan. “Can’t we just forget about this already?” He sounds frustrated, angry almost, but there’s a trace of desperation. Wille swallows hard, very unhelpfully notices Simon’s taste on his tongue. While every bone in Wille’s body is yearning to just get back to what they were doing, to get back to what’s always felt good, he knows he shouldn’t. Not like this. Not until he’s tried, not until-

Simon groans loudly again and moves towards the handle, trying to get past Wille. His rib cage contracts painfully at the sight, and his last resolve crumbles. “Wait, please, wait, Simon,” he tries, quietly, too quietly, but, fuck, how else is he supposed to say this. Without thinking about it, he goes in for Simon’s wrist, grabs it, squeezes once, then lets go again, suddenly terrified he’s making it worse. He back away from the door, stops blocking it. “I’m sorry, Simon, I don’t-” “Don’t say it,” Simon rushes out. As quickly as he reached for the door, he’s taking a few steps back again. Wille opens and closes his mouth again, entirely helpless. He’s not fucking following. He shakes his head, trying to make sense of it all. “But what you said then, and when you left-” “It doesn’t matter, okay?” Simon is pacing, and there’s too much distance between them for Wille’s liking, way too much. But he doesn’t want to reach out, doesn’t want to overstep, but, fuck he needs to fix this, he needs to understand, he needs Simon to tell him. He can’t keep wondering if maybe, just maybe…. When Simon stops pacing only to go for the door again, it bursts out of Wille. “Please, just speak to me!” He startles himself with his raised voice, and Simon stops dead in his tracks, head whipping around towards Wille. It’s Simon’s turn to gape at him, speechless.

He juts out his chin in defiance and crosses his arms. Wille’s heartbeat quickens when Simon turns towards him again. There’s a fire in his eyes that makes Wille feel like Simon is the one towering over him. For another few seconds, they just stare at each other, neither willing to be the first to break contact. It’s scary, tense, like any wrong move could shatter everything. Wille decides then and there that he’ll keep this up for hours if he has to, if it means that Simon isn’t going to run away again. But it seems like Simon has different plans. With a long, exasperated sigh, he turns away again. Wille watched his shoulders sag, watches him throw his head back in frustration. When he runs a hand up and through his curls, a silly part of Wille’s conscience wishes he could be the one doing that. “Look,” Simon starts, and Wille steels himself for whatever revelation might be coming his way. His eyes never leave Simon’s face, still. “I’m sorry, okay?” Wille feels his face fall. “I’m sorry that this isn’t what we wanted, I’m sorry that I said what I said, I just-” Simon tugs on his hair again and lets out a frustrated noise. “It’s okay,” he says, and suddenly all the fierceness drains out of his voice. When he twists his head to look back towards Wille, Wille’s pulse yet again picks up speed.

“It’s okay that you don’t want the same thing, it is!” Wille has trouble listening with his heartbeat hammering away at his temples. “We can keep doing this,” Simon gestures between the two of them ”I’ll be fine, I swear, can we just not talk about-” Suddenly, it clicks. Oh. “Stop,” Wille says, quietly, carefully, and it must be such a stark difference in tone that it’s unsettling. Simon immediately quiets down, enough for Wille to take a step towards him. To finally close the distance between them. Wille doesn’t think his pulse has ever been this quick without him nearing a panic attack. Once again, he swallows. “You’re saying that you… like me?” Simon presses his eyes shut, lets his head fall back in a movement of aggravation. “Wille…,” he groans, but there’s no edge to his voice, no hostility. He rolls his head back, looks pained, but he doesn’t withdraw, stays where he is. “Yes, I like you. That’s the whole point, that’s why-” Oh. Wille doesn’t waste another second, doesn’t give Simon any more time to misunderstand him. With a fervor that’s entirely new in its intensity, he rushes forward. One hand on Simon’s neck, the other reaching for Simon’s arm, linking their fingers together loosely, Wille kisses him. He kisses him and kisses him and lets out a pathetic little noise when Simon presses back after a moment, returns the kiss with equal force. Fuck. Wille can’t keep it in any longer. A wave of relief washes over him, strong, intense, warm, just like Simon. Wille giggles into their kiss, breaks away from Simon’s lips. When he does, he doesn’t pull away, rests his forehead against Simon’s. And he simply can’t hold back his stupid grin. “I like you too,” he says and fuck, that feels a lot like butterflies. “A lot.”

Send me one of these prompts for a short lil story 💜

[kawhh]

I love the dark thoughts so much this is just me joking. Poor Luke witnessing Jack's (picked him since they are around each other more) weirdness with his girlfriend.

Luke having to uber home from most team nights out because Jack took his girl home after an hour because someone asked to buy her a drink.

Jack coming in with a Tiffany bag. Luke, "what did you get." Jack, flipping open a small box, "engagement ring." Luke, "it's been two weeks." Jack, staring into his eyes deadpan, "ya, and?"

Luke reading Jack's hockey notes and having to ignore the margins full of her first name with the last name Hughes.

Luke trying to tune Jack out as he fidgets on the couch because she's taking an everything shower and he's been away from her for too long.

Luke at the lakehouse, "should we invite [whoever] down with the rest of the guys?" Jack, "no, he told me we should have it be guys only 'for old times sake.' I don't want that toxicity near her."

Jacks' girl, "it's so nice having a whole summer with you." Jack, "do you want me to quit hockey? I'll do it if you want that for us." Luke, around the corner just trying to eat a family sized bag of skittles in peace, laments about what he did to deserve dealing with this.

MY LOVE. I'M GIGGLING. POOR LITTLE LUKE, HE'S SO CONFUSED.

He's probably up texting Quinn asking what the fuck has happened to Jack. Man thinks he's hallucinating and that his brother surely can't be like this.

He was never like this before meeting you, did he get hit on the head?

Can he swap brothers? Can Quinn come to NJ? He can deal with Jack being shipped off. Anything to get away from whatever weirdness he's got going on.

They have one of those life360 apps on their phone to know where all the family is to make everything less lonely and he could swear he's seen his brother being a creeper outside your apartment for hours before.

What the fuck is wrong with this kid?

He doesn't understand how you aren't running for the hills. He knows he would be.

[deepspaceebabe]

Anything you can spare (Caleb x reader/MC)

TAGS/WARNINGS: Heavy Makeout?, 18+, no proofreading (I'm lazy it's 3am)

SYNOPSIS: A blurb about Caleb Making out with you

It's quiet and still in your apartment in Linkon. Caleb had made time to visit you after coming up with a new recipe to try with you. You both are cleaning up the dishes at the sink after the meal. It's times like this when it doesn't feel like it used to with him. Like how it felt when you were both snotty kids, and you didnt understand how it felt to want Caleb in ways that you hadn't before. The silence and atmosphere is cloaked with the anticipation of a kiss. Without the noise of everything else, your desires are louder than ever. When there isn't anything to joke about, or any memories of the past to bring up. The silence breeds desire for you. As you both finish up the final dish, you look up at him and smile. "Thanks for making dinner AND helped clean up. You really know how to win a girl over, " you say kindly with a laugh. He smiles with you. "Well, you know you're the only girl I'd want to win over anyways," he says, not breaking that smile, looking at you with those kind eyes.

You look into his eyes and can feel your heartbeat in your ears. Your breathing becomes heavy with want. Caleb seems equally as worked up as you. The anticipation reminded you of your time at the skyhaven Amusement Park, where the line between you two became blurred. That dare was a gateway drug, the idea that he would of kissed you on that train had you reeling for many nights. Here in this moment, the scene plays out for what seems like an eternity before Caleb seems to steel himself. He closes his eyes harshly and takes a breath, turning back towards the sink."Pip, I-" he starts, but you don't let him finish. Tugging his arm down, you finally smash your lips against his in a fever of lust. Right or wrong, nothing mattered but the weight of his tounge in your mouth. The feel of his hot hand in yours grounds you and tethers you to this moment. This was real, and you were kissing the object of your desires, the ultimate sin. He kisses back almost immediately, his hands finding your hips as he deepens the kiss. Slight moans come from him as you hold the sides of his face, your tongue dancing with his. "Fuck" he whispers against your lips briefly before moving back in, desperate for anything you'll give him. He grabs your thighs, hoisting you up while never breaking from the kiss. You wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, trying to taste even more of him. You want to devour him, take everything that he'll give you, and more. This small taste of this forbidden fruit is already addictive. He tastes like honey on your tounge, his touch is warm and familiar and everything you could of dreamed of. Caleb moves to the counter and sets you down, slotting himself between your legs as the kiss continues. He moans desperately as you thread your fingers through his hair and grind into him. The lack of oxygen has finally won over your lust as you break for air. You finally take a look at the boy you've known all your life. The deepest blush is set on his face, his beautiful amethyst eyes are hooded as his hair is beyond tousled. His breathing is heavy and desperate, with small moans at every breath. "Please" says quiet and breathless, like a small prayer. You move your hand to his cheek and she shudder at the contact, hes burning hotter by the second. "Hmm?" You hum, brain a bit too fried to give him a full answer. Caleb grabs the hand that his holding his face and leans into it, his eyes squeezing shut as if trying to ground himself. He leans in, forehead touching yours. "I want you. I want whatever you'd give me." He whispers against your lips. "Please, everything I am, everything I was and will be is yours. What can I give you? What do you want?" He pleads desperately. You feel down his clothed chest as he grabs at your thigh. "All of you, everything. Anything you can spare." You whisper back.

A/N: hi sorry I haven't ever written something like this smutty (ik it's pretty tame) I just want to make out with this boy so bad 😭😭 but yeah I hope yall like it!

Edit: I added to it, made it sound a bit better :>

[call-sign-shark]

Aouch... The topic of honour killing made me wince but, once again, is really fitting for Nina. I swear I was scared along with her of seing her parents erupted from nowhere when she lef the bedroom.

To be fair, I feel so bad for Nina's guiltriping herself even though it's perfectly logical. Now that the sexual tension is ease, she must feel so bad for Agnese and also her whole family. "ot to mention that she wasn’t just ruining a marriage, but she was ruining the only chance they had at peace for her own selfishness." fuuuckk she's carrying so much on her shoulders. This is something I particularly liked about Nina: he isn't extra, she's the Mary Sue type, she has been through brutal down, but her pain and the importance of her "good behavior" to her family make her situation suffocating. Unbearable. What pains me is that she thinks of her family 24/7 while all of them are convinced she's just playing the stubborn brat.

"Her mother’s face twisted in a sour expression, and her knowing eyes pierced right through her. “Stefano.”" -> Gosh what a huge scare. I thought her mom had found out for Tommy.

“Listen to me, find a good man. Or your father will choose for you and you’ll never get out of here. You will be cursed, and if you have sons, they will be as well, just like your brothers.” -> Oh my god that part had me on the edge of my seat. I have grown very fond of Marry Ferrante. She's such a resiliant, sad but loving mother despite her harshness. The realationship you created between the two of them felt sincerely realistic -- a bit too much aha and i mean it as a compliment. I sincerely feel something in my heart at each of their discussion. Her declaration to Nina had me stop breathing. I'd never expect her to say such things. She meant to do well for her daughter but still failed to see the core of the problem: giving Nina against her consent to somene she doesn't want. Stripping her of her freedom and rights. That's a bit tragic to see that even with love there is still a wall between these two.

She would burn down the church and everybody in it, including herself. -> Yes queen, this is what I call FIERCENESS.

To keep us on edge,” he added, lowering his voice, the grin seeming to become less amused and vaguely threatening. -> I think Ive never told you that but the way you have fleshed Nina's family left my mouth gaped in admiration. You really did a great job with them, they feel so canon to me. Also I snorted really loud at work at Tommy's "also I fucked your daughter last night". Joke aside the whole conversation between Tom and the Ferrante men sent shivers down my spine. I don't know what's your magic trick but you really made them terrifying in this scene, just like predators circling around a prey.

I'm aching for Nina and Tommy. I cannot imagine how ba they felt, how awful it is to fight against their love. This line "“We made a mistake,” Nina finished his sentence for him, trying to keep her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I made a mistake.”" made me realize how ina is both strong and fragile at the same time. And surprisingly self-beating... His declaration, while beautiful, was like getting stab in the heart in this impossible situation. I understand perfectly why she feels like he makes it difficult.

Her mouth went dry, but she didn’t avert her gaze this time. “It’s all in your head.” -> aouch; can you stop hurting me? However it's tragicqally beautiful how you mirror her words with how she really feels.

ARGHHHHHH THIS ENDING I CANNNN'T. Seriously you're the queen of slow burn and I mean it. I am astonished by your skills, how you handle the pace of your story, the characterization... Just wow.

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

CHAPTER 10

Summary: mistakes were made the previous night, and Tommy and Nina are forced to come to terms with what the consequences of their actions will be.

Warnings: time-typical misogyny, talks of arranged marriage, talks of forced marriage, mentions of killing, mentions of violence, mentions of sex, angst, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s). This is set between season 1 and 2. English is not my first language.

Important information for context: the honour killing and the shotgun wedding at the time in Italy were recognised by the Penal Code and were only abolished in 1981.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gif credits

Dividers credits

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

It took Nina less than a minute to realise that she had woken up in a bed that wasn’t hers, in a room that wasn’t hers, beside someone she wasn’t supposed to be lying with. Memories from the previous night flooded back to her mind in a powerful wave. The passionate but gentle touches, the reassuring words, the adoring glances of that man that had bursted into her life to sweep her off her feet and make her question everything, all in the name of something more intense than anything she had ever felt.

Her eyes trailed over Tommy’s face, tracing the regular line of his jaw, the small scar under his chin, the outline of his slightly parted lips, the curve of his nose, mesmerised by the way his long lashes brushed his freckled cheeks. There was no hint of the stern, cold facade he put on every single day. He looked relaxed. Peaceful, even. Once again, she found herself drawn to that beauty, a beauty that seemed carved from marble by God himself.

Shit.

Careful not to wake him, she got up to collect the stained bedsheet she had tossed on the floor the previous night, wondering how she’d manage to wash it without arousing the suspicions of her mother. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door just enough to make sure no one was in the hallway, half-convinced that her mother or her father would appear from nowhere and find out the disgrace she had brought upon the family.

Just fucking do it, she scolded herself.

After one last moment of hesitation, she walked out the room, closing the door behind her ever so slowly before sprinting towards her bedroom. As soon as she was in the safety of those four walls, she breathed out a sigh full of frustration, nervously dropping the items she was holding to the floor.

What the fuck had she done?

Her gaze was caught by the bloodstain on the bedsheet, red, vibrant. She kicked it in a corner of the room, unable to think under the accusatory looks it seemed to send her. What would she do now? Pretend nothing had happened, again? She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. How was she supposed to act normal around him, now that they had truly crossed the line? How was she supposed to even look Agnese in the eyes? She had betrayed her. She had betrayed her whole family. Not only had she ruined herself, she had ruined herself with her cousin’s future husband. A future husband who hadn’t even proposed yet because of her. Not to mention that she wasn’t just ruining a marriage, but she was ruining the only chance they had at peace for her own selfishness.

The scariest thing was that wasn’t even the worst part. If the thing were to come out, she’d be irremediably deemed as a whore. It wasn’t her reputation she was worried about, it was the consequences her family would face. The consequences she would face. She had tarnished the Ferrante name, and only her blood could wash that stain away.

Normally the options were two: a shotgun wedding or an honour killing, but in her case the choice was even more limited. Because while her father might consider marrying her off to Tommy, uncle Mario would never accept the offence. And everyone in the family would vote against the alliance with the Shelbys. She knew her father and brothers would never actually kill her. They would get angry, maybe even beat her, lock her in the family home for the rest of her days, but never that. They would’ve learned to live with the shame. But she had uncles, and aunts, and cousins who would want to clean their name.

No, the truth couldn’t come out. What had happened the previous night must never get past the walls of Tommy’s room. Even if it meant losing him forever.

That morning, Maria Ferrante was rather surprised to find out her daughter had woken up feeling particularly cooperative and decided to wash and change everybody’s bedsheets of her own free will. She was now hanging them out in the sun, under her incredulous stare.

“Even your brothers’?”

“Yeah, for when they’re back.”

That was new. Nina had always stubbornly refused to even set foot in Salvatore’s and Pietro’s rooms, adamant that it was their responsibility to keep their stuff clean. Maria figured that, just like her, she didn’t like it when her father sent them away on business, and that her worry had taken the shape of rare gestures of fondness. Or maybe she was just keeping herself occupied, as she always did when something troubled her.

The first assumption wasn’t too far away from the truth. Sure, Nina had her own interests behind that sudden prodigality, but getting their rooms ready for their return made her feel like they would, with no doubt, come back. Like nothing would go wrong.

“That cake I found in the kitchen,” her mother inquired again, and Nina had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at her unrelenting interrogation. “Where did it come from?”

“I made it last night. Couldn’t sleep.”

A few seconds of silence followed, and it made her hope her mother was done with the questions. She had never been a good liar, not with the people who knew her well. Her face was an open book on which the truth stood out, black ink on pristine white paper.

“Nina,” Maria’s stern voice cut the air. “I know what’s going on.”

The blood froze in her veins. She thought she had been careful. She was sure no one had seen sneaking in or out Tommy’s room, all hell would’ve broken loose otherwise. There was no way she really knew. She swallowed, sending her a glance, completely unable to say anything.

Her mother’s face twisted in a sour expression, and her knowing eyes pierced right through her. “Stefano.”

Nina had to hold back a sigh of relief. She secured a pillowcase on the line, able to breath again now that she knew her secret was still safe. However, that name alone was enough to deepen the frown on her face, the mere sound of it making her skin crawl.

“You’re worried cause your father wants to give you to him.”

Give you to him. That sentence made her wrinkle her nose. She had always disliked that expression. Give you to him as if you’re a possession to be handed from one owner to another. Give you to him as if you’re a bargaining chip. Give you to him because you belong to me and you’re mine to give.

“I wanted that too,” Maria continued. “I thought he was good, but now I see. These men,” she lowered her tone, as if to tell her something meant for no one’s ears but hers. “They’re all the same. They’re cursed.”

It would’ve been an understatement to say that her words had taken Nina aback. That woman so defined by her role as a wife and a mother had now a look, an anger in her eyes she had never witnessed, that clashed with the meek acceptance she wore on her face every day. “Do better. Marry someone good. Someone honest, with an honest work. Leave this life behind while you’re still in time. I didn’t have that choice,” she shook her head, her features hardening under the weight of a pain that had been suppressed for too long. “I was poor, my family was starving, and when your father came to speak to my father I couldn’t choose. Your father has been good to me, and I grew to love him. But he is who he is and does what he does, and it’s not something easy to live with.”

Nina opened her mouth to speak, but closed it right away. Nothing she could possibly say after that was even remotely worth saying. All of a sudden, she regretted all the times she had cruelly told her she’d rather kill herself than end up like her.

Her eyes widened when her mother grabbed one of her hands and held it between both of hers, her calloused fingers a reminder of the years she had spent working to bring money to her parents. Maria Ferrante never spared herself when it came to show affection to her sons, but with her it was different. Nina had always believed it depended on the fact that she was not the daughter she would have wanted, or on the countless fights they had, or even on some kind of resentment she didn’t know how to justify. But the naturalness with which she brought her hand to her cheek to tenderly caress it carried a motherly love that left her speechless, and almost made her feel uncomfortable.

“Listen to me, find a good man. Or your father will choose for you and you’ll never get out of here. You will be cursed, and if you have sons, they will be as well, just like your brothers.”

Nina took a step back, the rage that had been simmering inside her ever since she was little threatening to rise to the surface and spill out. As a child, she had often imagined that feeling she couldn’t name as a stream of lava that would rise and rise until there was no room for it to grow anymore and it would overflow, implacable, ruthless, destroying everything it found in its path. Even now that she was older, even now that she had learned to recognise her anger, it still felt the same.

“I have a friend from church, who has a son. He lives in Florence now, but he’s here for the summer. I can arrange something-”

“Mum…” she interrupted her, not even listening at that point. But her mother went on, talking fast, as if she no longer had control over what she was saying.

“I can arrange something, and you can leave this life behind. You can come visit, from time to time. On holidays.”

“No one ever leaves this life, you should know it,” she murmured, trying hard to keep her calm. It was clear her mother wasn’t thinking straight, in her desperate attempt to spare her from the same destiny as her. Unaware that she was accidentally pushing her in a very similar direction.

As though that simple statement had managed to bring her back to her senses, Maria blinked, her expression changing.

“I won’t drag anyone else into this mess. And sure as hell I won’t marry a man just to escape another,” Nina said firmly. She wasn’t going to let Spinietta influence her decisions more than she had already did. She wasn’t going to let the fear make her stray away from her morals, her beliefs. She wasn’t going to lose herself.

Back to her composed demeanour, her mother straightened her shoulders, her voice hardening. “You’ll end up marrying Stefano this way. You know it.”

She was aware her mother was implicitly telling her that her father had made up his mind, and that she wouldn’t be able to help her. Yet, she wasn’t scared. Because she’d fight tooth and nail against it. They could drag her to the altar, take the vows out of her mouth by force, it wouldn’t matter. She would raise hell before she let them succeed. She would burn down the church and everybody in it, including herself. She’d die before she surrendered to a life that wanted her bent, broken, obedient.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” she said through gritted teeth.

“But this is what it’s like. It’s time for you to accept it.”

Bad news was received that day. Antonio Ferrante had written from England, saying that two of Sabini’s men had been caught trying to blow up his restaurant. In the letter, he specified that after a civil conversation about the motives of that unjustified attack, the two had walked away in cement shoes. A coded way to say they had been interrogated and then sent sleeping at the bottom of some river.

It was the first open act of war, and the family was worried it wouldn’t be the last. The strength they had demonstrated by thwarting Sabini’s plan and killing his men would buy them some time, but it wouldn’t be enough in the long run. That was why Tommy found himself sitting in Vincenzo’s office, trying to maintain his imperturbable facade as the Italian stood behind his desk in all his height, with a grave expression on his face. Tommy felt like he was studying him, searching for a sign of weakness that he could use against him, that he could use to make him cave. He recognised that look, cause it was the same one he wore whenever he needed to assert his power.

“I called you, Mr Shelby,” Vincenzo started, turning to grab a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. “To remind you of your end of the deal.”

Tommy cleared his throat, sitting straight in his chair. “I intend to propose-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Ferrante cut him off, brushing away the matter with a gesture of his hand. He took his time to pour the brown liquid in two glasses, before sliding one across the wooden surface in front of him and beckoning him to drink. Tommy gladly did as he said, the familiar taste of alcohol feeling necessary to face a conversation he wasn’t sure where would lead.

“You promised us men, in our war against Sabini.”

“And men you’ll have,” Tommy assured, switching to the tone he reserved for business. “As soon as I receive the compensation for the warehouse you blew up.”

That had been the result of strenuous negotiations, and to achieve it, not only had he given up on any kind of reparation for the two pubs under the Blinders’ protection the Italians had destroyed along with the warehouse, but he also had to offer some of his best soldiers. However, the war against Sabini was also in his interest, and the power and money he would gain were worth compromising.

With a single, satisfied nod, Vincenzo took a seat in his leather chair. “I am a man of my word, Mr Shelby. You’ll have your compensation,” he guaranteed, grabbing his whiskey. He swirled the drink in his glass, pondering his next words. “That being said, my brother has expressed his concerns to me…”

Here we fucking go.

“His concerns about your lack of a proposal.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, bringing the liquor to his mouth to stall as his brain formulated an answer. “I still have two days, haven’t I?”

The shadow of a grin grew on the Italian’s face. “And you intend to wait until the very last one,” he pointed at him. “To keep us on edge,” he added, lowering his voice, the grin seeming to become less amused and vaguely threatening. Tommy’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t falter, nor did he break his stare, for the faintest hint of vacillation would make him as exposed as a prey in front of a beast that could smell fear.

But then Ferrante cracked a smile, his tone lightening. “Or to enjoy what is left of your time as a free man before being handcuffed.”

Tommy let out a forced chuckle, tilting his head in agreement. For once, he couldn’t think of anything to say. What could he say? ‘Speaking of enjoying my time, I fucked your daughter yesterday night’? He would have his head right there and then.

He was in deep shit, and until he found a way to dig himself out, he needed to keep up the act. For himself, for Nina. He couldn’t make any decision without speaking to her first.

“I heard you’re a man of your word as well,” Vincenzo spoke again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “So I told him he has nothing to worry about. Don’t make me regret it.”

Although the last sentence held a clear warning, the Italian spoke calmly, as though he was asking him a favour, rather than admonishing him. He talked and acted like a man who didn’t need to make threats, who knew his word was law and no one would dare go against his wishes. Tommy knew that feeling all too well, he had gotten a taste of it during the past year, and it hadn’t taken long for him to get used to it, and to want more. But in that moment, in that place, he was on his own. Sure, his reputation preceded him, and it protected him to some extent, but he was outnumbered and at a disadvantage. So he had no choice but to comply. To take a step back in order to be a step ahead in the future.

“I won’t.”

“Good,” Ferrante leaned back in his seat, more relaxed now that the important stuff had been cleared out. “Cause Agnese is the apple of his eye,” he added, taking a cigar out of the pocket of his jacket. “His only wish is to see her happy.”

Things were far more complicated than Tommy had anticipated, and despite all his efforts to come up with a plan that would cause the least damage, he couldn’t imagine one scenario in which things didn’t go wrong. He could only take risks.

“Ah, daughters have their own special way of giving you a headache,” Ferrante murmured, waving the cigar. “If you have one, you’ll understand. You may go now, Mr Shelby.”

Clearing his throat, Tommy left the office, his mind endlessly mulling over the matter. He had his hands tied, and that feeling alone was enough for him to fume. No, he wasn’t going to have his hand forced, and he wasn’t going to let anyone scare him into a decision.

A newfound determination made its way inside of him. He was Thomas Shelby, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t need to ask anyone for permission. He took whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He made the rules. He held the power. Those people needed him just as much as he needed them, if not more, otherwise he would be six feet under already. He wouldn’t make a choice that would suit everyone, he would make the choice that suited him. Him and the woman who was now carved in heart.

Because Nina would suffer the consequences of their actions as much as him, if not more. He had taken liberties with her, and although he had no regrets, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t have a responsibility toward her.

But it wasn’t just duty. He wasn’t going to make that choice because he felt guilty, or responsible, or because it was the right thing to do. He was going to make that choice because he thought they could make it work. He knew her, and she knew him. She had awakened feelings in him he thought would stay asleep for the rest of his days, she had made him believe that even he could have a chance at happiness. She didn’t look at him like he was a lost cause, or a devil, or broken beyond repair, she looked at him like there was something beautiful in him only her eyes saw. And if those eyes had found even a fragment of something worth saving, that meant that he wasn’t utterly unredeemable, that there was still an amount of good, no matter how small, that had survived the bad.

As soon as he walked into his room, he opened the drawer of his bedside table. The small velvet box was sitting there, next to the gun he had carefully kept hidden since his arrival. He knew what he had to do.

The weather had turned grey. The afternoon sun had been covered by dark clouds, and the air already smelled like rain. Nina had rushed out to take the laundry inside, hoping the storm that was approaching wouldn’t cause the efforts of a whole morning to go to waste. When she had finally come out of hiding - hiding was definitely the right word - she had quite literally ran into Tommy, almost knocking him over in the process, before scurrying away like a thief. And now there she was, still deeply embarrassed by her graceless flight, hurriedly putting the clean bedsheets in a basket.

She had been openly ignoring him all day. Or rather, avoiding him. She hadn’t shown up for breakfast, nor lunch, and she sought refuge in the closest room every time she heard him approaching. She wasn’t proud of that childish reaction, but she genuinely didn’t know how to act. The intensity of her feelings scared her. She was afraid that they would get in the way when the time to push him away came, that she’d yield to him again the moment her gaze met his.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

That deep voice made her hasty movements come to a stop. Her heart raced in her chest as she heard Tommy’s steps coming closer, until he was mere inches away from her.

“Here I am,” she mumbled, not sparing him a glance as she resumed folding the laundry in the basket.

“We need to talk.”

“Be quick, they can’t see us.”

Those words burned on her tongue as she spat them out. It hurt her to treat him like that, when what she actually wanted was to have him close to her again. But did she have any other choice? Indulging in those feelings had only caused trouble. She had to let him forget about her just like she needed to forget about him.

Tommy didn’t seem fazed by her hostility. He put a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her to turn around. The contact roused the memory of his warm fingers trailing over her skin, and a shiver ran down her spine. His eyes searched her face, and there was a tenderness in them, a fondness that left her completely disarmed.

A lightning split the sky, followed by a crack of thunder, and the first drops of rain began to fall, bringing Nina back to reality.

“There’s not much to talk about,” she blurted out, abruptly taking a step back. “What happened yesterday can’t happen again.”

Tommy’s eyebrows knitted as she hastened to collect the rest of the laundry. He reached out to her, but she swiftly escaped his grasp, taking another sheet off the line. “Nina…” he tried again, but the more he got close, the more she slipped away from him. He rubbed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His patience was wearing thin at that point. He clenched his jaw, willing to make one last attempt to get her attention nicely. “Nina.”

Still nothing.

Fed up with that behaviour, he testily collected the rest of the laundry himself and threw it in a mess in the basket under her astonished stare. “Will you listen to me now?”

Surprisingly, there was no anger in his expression, nor annoyance, but there was still a hint of sternness that made her eventually give in. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to speak.

Tommy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, Nina’s piercing gaze feeling like a knife cutting through him, unraveling and exposing the deepest parts of him. “What happened last night…” he trailed off, realising there were so many things he wanted to tell her that he didn’t even know where to start. “I overstepped, we-”

“We made a mistake,” Nina finished his sentence for him, trying to keep her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I made a mistake.”

She shouldn’t have opened up to him. She shouldn’t have gone to his room. She shouldn’t have kissed him. She shouldn’t have led him on when she knew nothing could ever happen between them. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away, she didn’t want to let him see how much she was hurting herself as well, for she could sense that if he got even a glimpse of her real feelings for him, he wouldn’t give up. A futile attempt.

Tommy’s gaze softened at the sight. “Hey,” he whispered, delicately squeezing her arm. “Look at me.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t bear that look full of affection. It almost caused her to break down. The drizzle was intensifying, and she could only hope that if her tears betrayed her, he’d mistook them for raindrops.

He grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to look at him. “We can make it right,” he said reassuringly.

“What do you mean?” she frowned.

Tommy hesitated for a moment, a nervousness equivalent to the one he had felt the previous night awakening in him. His hands started to shake, his heart to hammer in his chest. That was a point of no return which would either seal or break the bond that had formed so naturally between them. A bond he dreaded to lose. A bond he’d never have with anyone else.

Nina’s eyes widened as he took a velvet box out of his pocket, the realisation of what he was about to do crashing down on her.

“No,” she quickly took his hands in hers, keeping him from opening the box. “No,” she repeated, more softly.

“I know it’s a jump in the void,” he said, his hand going to cradle the nape of her neck. “I know. But we can make it work. You and me.”

“Tommy…” she shook her head. He was making it so difficult.

“I want you by my side. I don’t want a wife, I want a partner. Nina, I…” he paused, words getting caught in his throat. “I care about you.”

She squeezed her eyelids shut, pain spreading through her whole being at his revelation. She wanted to bring him close, to feel the warmth of his body against hers, to let herself be enveloped by the sense of safety his strong arms brought. Instead, she forced herself to pull his hand away from her, her fingers briefly tightening around it before letting it go.

“I don’t.”

Tommy looked at her as if she had just stabbed him. Hurt flashed across his face, causing a pang of guilt to hit her in the stomach. God, she felt like she could throw up.

“You’re lying,” he accused her in a hoarse voice.

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

“Stop it.”

Why couldn’t he just leave? Why was he forcing her to inflict all that pain on him? Tommy was the last person she ever wanted to hurt, and in doing so she was hurting herself twice. By being the cause of his sorrow and by giving him up.

His body stiffened, and the heartbreak in his features disappeared to leave space for the coldness he constantly shielded himself with. “Say it. Say you feel nothing for me.” It sounded like an order, but Nina didn’t miss the crack in his voice. “Say it’s all in my head.”

Her mouth went dry, but she didn’t avert her gaze this time. “It’s all in your head.”

She felt empty. That one last lie had taken all the energy out of her, and left her with a feeling of numbness that made her lose all sense of herself.

Tommy nodded to himself, taking a step back. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. “You’re right. This was a mistake.”

With another clap of thunder, the sky broke open and the rain came pouring down. Nina rubbed her own arms in a soothing motion, watching as the lightning spread in the distance, drawing lines of light that flared and vanished into the grey above.

“You should go, Mr Shelby,” she murmured.

A muscle twitched in Tommy’s jaw, and for an instant he looked on the verge of saying something. Then he stormed off.

Nina let out a shaky breath, and the tears she had held back suddenly began to stream down her face. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob, the ache in her chest threatening to tear her apart from the inside. She shut her eyes tight, unable to watch his frame getting smaller and smaller as he walked away from her.

When she brought herself to look in his direction again, he was knocking on Agnese’s door.

NEXT CHAPTER

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

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@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

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Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[xf-cases-solved]

today we are sitting in our office at 6 in the morning thinking about...

that scene in "squeeze" that everyone knows by heart, where mulder asks scully, "do you think i'm spooky?" and it's very cute and weirdly sexually charged like all of their interactions are, but also that scene is really important to their character development actually??

this is episode three, and with the understanding that these two are unhinged and kind of speedrun the whole "i would die for you, you're everything to me, you jump i jump, etc" thing, ostensibly they're still getting to know one another, and, more importantly, mulder's still trying to gauge if scully is hashtag legit. like, his gut tells him that, yes, for some reason the fates aligned and made it so the shadow government fucked up real bad and actually sent him an ally instead of an enemy (and also she's not hard on the eyes either, just sayin'), and also she held a security operative at gunpoint for him just one episode earlier, so i think by this point he does genuinely trust that she doesn't have a secret agenda

what he is LESS certain of, however, is whether or not she is going to want to stick around once she fully understands just what a fucking bummer it is to be fox fucking mulder, resident hoover building loser. like she is this literal genius agent and medical doctor, who's professional and hot and kind, and she could easily have an extremely promising career ahead of her, and he doesn't think she understands just how detrimental it is for her to go all in with him. and this case, with these by-the-book buddies of hers, is the first time they are really facing that issue head on

going back to the aforementioned scene, mulder is testing her. through that whole bit, he's testing her. ("why didn't they ask me about the case?" "bc they're my friends and they're more comfortable with me" "why would i make them uncomfortable?" "bc of your reputation" "rEpUtAtIoN?? who has a reputation???") like he is trying SO hard to get her to stop talking around the issue and just say "they think you're a fucking freak, mulder," which ofc she won't, which is why, when she gives him the perfect set up with, "they think your theories are..." he IMMEDIATELY swoops in and asks, "spooky?"

and then he looks her in the eye and asks, "do you think i'm spooky?"

and he says it in his joking tone, but i fully believe that there is a genuineness there. he already knows before talking to colton and his cronies how the conversation is going to go, and he doesn't care, bc he doesn't care about their opinions, but he DOES care about her opinion, and i think that scares him. i think it's been a very, very long time since he last gave a shit about what someone thought of him, and he's extremely uncomfortable. i think that's why he goes so hard just seconds later with the straight faced "aliens are actually grey" thing with colton. he doesn't do it to taunt colton, or for his own amusement, but bc he wants to show scully flat out, "this is what they think of me, and this is how i am going to act in response. can you handle it? can you handle being a social pariah? or do you think i'm spooky?"

the theme comes up repeatedly in this episode, actually. he outright admits to being territorial over her, but in the same breath gives her permission to work on the case with colton instead of him, bc he KNOWS what a shit meal she's been served by the fbi, pairing them up together, but then she's like, "hmmm, idk, i think you must know more than you're saying and i wanna know what it is," and he is so delighted, bc not only does it mean that she's really committed to finding the truth, not just closing the case as fast as possible, but it also means that she's choosing him over them, and that N E V E R happens

but later in the episode he also makes the remark about how in thirty years she'll be "head of the bureau," which is another peek into his mind grapes, showing us that he's still very stuck on this idea that working with colton & friends is going to make her suddenly come to the realization of "oh wait, what am i DOING with this loser??" he's afraid of that happening, and he's afraid about the fact that he's afraid of it in the first place, and bc this is mulder and scully we're talking about, and neither of them are physically capable of saying what they're feeling, he just keeps making jokes and quips and being a dick to colton (who deserves it, but still), bc the alternative is admitting to scully, "hey, i really like your company and would kind of really very much like it if you didn't leave me for the cool kids agents," and he's not going to do that. not just bc of the vulnerability aspect, but bc he would view it as selfish, bc he fully believes that being stuck with him is bad for her (lol i wonder if that will become a theme throughout the entire series ha ha)

but anyway, turns out his worries are unfounded, bc it turns out scully will take being mrs. spooky over climbing the career ladder any day

"do you think i'm spooky?"

"no, i think you're a fucking nerd, now shut up get me my own desk. if we push them together we can play battleship, and then later we can get to know each other carnally"

or something

they're in love, your honor

this is only episode THREE

unhinged

[cementcornfield]

You should post your thoughts on Ja’Marr and Kyle!! I’m so interested in their dynamic if that makes sense 😅

lmao anon i love you thank you because i was literally just typing a post up by itself. but now i get the benefit of looking like i'm not the ONLY person to care about this. (there's at least two of us!!)

ok so! too much rambling about things that i could no way actually know anything about irl BUT 

kyle and ja’marr being together in paris is VERY interesting to me. their whole relationship is really because like. okay. i have joked that kyle and ja’marr are there to pick out joe’s wardrobe for next year together lmao but like!!! the clothes saga is SUCH a thing with ja’marr. the man has a Complex about joe and fashion and his part in it. we know this. i hardly need to go over the clothes saga with y’all again. but i will because it’s fun for me. ja’marr claims in GQ that he buys clothes for joe all the time and drops them off at 'the house’ for him. which is insane enough if that’s true. then a few days after that article drops (and also joe’s appendix explodes) he says nah never mind i was lying! (“kinda”). and that’s insane too. but whatever, we let it go, there’s football to play. then that offseason tee decides to cause some chaos i guess and confirms that actually ja’marr HAS bought joe clothes ‘multiple times’ so that’s. something!!! (along with TB in that one pivot podcast with all three of them teasing ja’marr about it!!) and then SOMEHOW none of this gets brought up again until a few months ago when ja’marr is just like “yeah actually i’ve been buying him clothes since last year” which is still a year later than he first said he bought him clothes 🤔

ALL OF WHICH TO SAY that ja’marr is fucking weird about this. he may or may not buy joe clothes (i’m still leaning yes on this), and he may or may not want people to know about it. i think he realizes just how intimate of a thing that is, to repeatedly buy someone you care about clothes that you think he would like, that you’d like to see him in. and i think if we go back to my Vision of insecure at times ja’marr, it’s one way to explain his back and forth on this.

but then!! insert kyle, who i believe only became joe’s stylist within the last year. before that i don’t think joe ever really had anyone Official to help him out with specific outfits/styles/branding etc (i’m sure the joe girlies will correct me if i'm wrong on this). and now i can only imagine that ja’marr might be feeling a little…possessive of joe here (what else is new lol ‘that’s my qb not their qb’ type shit). like if we believe he’s been buying him clothes since at least 2021, that’s like…that’s ja’marr’s Thing at this point?? even if it only started happening in 2023, that’s still a long time of "oh hey i saw this and thought of you and will you wear it and when you wear it will i feel a little thrill knowing that you took my advice knowing that you value my opinion knowing that the clothes touching your skin are only doing so because i bought them for you in the first place etc etc." and now here’s joe paying someone else to do it?? and who the fuck is kyle why him why does HE get to do it he didn’t even win a national championship with him in college???? (ja’marr obviously would be more rational than that. of course joe should pay someone to help him out with style as he does events and builds his brand more. but as a fellow Emotional Person myself, the rational response is never the first or strongest one.) 

so like! there’s that. that alone could make ja’marr not inclined to LOVE Kyle, ya know? and then if we want to get really Deep and dive into internalized homophobia of Male Athlete Culture. of my version (MY VERSION JUST MY VERSION THIS IS NOT ME SAYING ANYTHING IRL ABOUT HIM) of ja’marr and how he might cope with feelings and attractions that do not neatly fall in line with what is Expected of him and Has Been Expected of him since he was a kid. like fuck. do we remember how his dad said ja’marr used to like to read with his cousins (who were girls) but then his male friends came around and made fun of him for it, so he stopped reading altogether as a child?? thinking about that still makes my heart hurt! aughhh Gender!! and then even a few weeks ago on stream when ja’marr accidentally said that kyrie was sexy and IMMEDIATELY the chat and his friends jumped on him for it!! like yeah it was all lighthearted and all that but he got all embarrassed and even fucking apologized??? just the immediate policing of language/behavior followed by the immediate apology and moving on to no longer watching kyrie clips lol. crazy!!! Male Athlete Culture is SUCH a trip!! 

and kyle is gay! very much out and proud and not hiding or ashamed of any of it (fucking good for him tbh. i know he’s not Loved in this fandom but like that does genuinely take guts to be yourself like that in a culture like this. and make a career out of it! and he seems to be thriving!) and i just have to wonder like, how many queer people ja’marr really knows well?? the nfl has their corporate pride month bullshit where they celebrate the like 1 out gay assisant coach? 1 out gay FORMER player? if there are more queer people in the nfl, they are not very public about it. so again, how much daily interaction does a typical football player like ja’marr get with queer people?? i do imagine all the connections that are growing with the fashion world help of course! like kyle! who it’s clear he’s at least friendly with, if not the best of friends. and so like, i wonder about how that could stir complicated emotions in ja’marr if we go with my (AGAIN JUST MINE I’M NOT ACTUALLY SAYING ANYTHING IRL) version of him as a guy who has Feelings about male teammates sometimes and struggles with Dealing With That. 

and throw in the fact that ja’marr primarily knows him as this guy who’s always hanging around joe lol. taking over his role as joe’s personal stylist?? being free and open and ALLOWED to be attracted to all these guys, to joe himself!! (and if he thinks too hard about that he REALLY gets in his feelings). and it’s not jealousy really because he knows how important he himself is in joe’s life. kyle’s not replacing their history, he’s certainly not replacing his value to joe on the field, their close friendship, etc. but! he occupies a space in joe’s life that ja’marr can’t touch. he can publicly and proudly buy joe clothes. something that ja’marr WANTS but keeps shying away from. he can feel any feelings and any attraction he happens to have, he’s not hiding any part of who he is. if he thinks joe’s hot, if he thinks joe looks particularly attractive in an outfit he chose for him, he can! he will! he does! and i think that that just HAS to drive ja’marr a little fucking crazy.

so yeah. he likes the guy. they’re friendly. he’ll do a goofy lil dance when prompted by him for social media. but it’s Complicated. it’s Very Complicated. (to me.)