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drgnflyteabox · 1 day ago

Text

red ochre [4]

series masterlist previous || part four -> orchil || part five -> kermes

pairing: viking goap x fem! nun reader summary: double-edged swords, field trips, and wolf figurines w.c: 4.2k tags/warnings: religious & sexual guilt / shame, stockholm syndrome, inner turmoil, suicidal thoughts (minor), violent thoughts, oral (f), dubcon/noncon, stockholm syndrome, reader says "stop" / "no" but johnny continues, reader has some puritanical ideas about sex (virtue, virginity) but shes a nun so give her a break, power imbalance, thoughts of death/afterlife, self hatred, "little" used affectionately not as a size indicator lol

You wake up to the sound of a childs’ babbles the next morning, disoriented and confused - had sister Margery taken in another orphan girl to raise up in the convent? The softness of the bed beneath you betrays your confusion, rocking you slowly into reality as you blearily open your eyes.

Johnny sits at the table, cooing to a baby on his knee. He bounces them as they make sounds, soft happy ones that contrast with his muscles and scars and hair. In your observation of him you think about how a man so coarse-looking could be so soft to lay against, how he could go from sweet to firmer than stone in a moment. How his hands held you down not two days past, and soothed the skin that still ached as you shifted in bed now.

A conflicted series of emotions had risen in you since, and though something had calmed inside you, the primary tide was a pervasive sense of shame and it tended to overpower everything else.

“Who's that?” Johnny says, his voice high-pitched. “Is that my wife?”

He's cooing to the child, but still you burn and twist with too many things to dwell on lest you go mad.

Simon is nowhere to be found, but that's not been unusual in these winter mornings.

“Who's this?” You murmur, sitting up. Your woolen shift is warm, a soft red colour dyed by one of the village women that Johnny told you he'd traded for specially. Red ochre, he’d said, fingering the cloth. A beautiful muted red kind of colour.

A little like dried blood.

“Gaz's bairn,” Johnny says. “His house is gettin’ invaded by some rowdy boys, and the lasses’ are at the river.”

He must see the confusion on your face, because he adds, “boys are gettin’ ready for a hunting party.”

The baby shrieks, clapping clumsily as Johnny lifts a carved wooden toy up to them. He crinkles his eyes, looking between you and the baby. You want to discourage whatever thoughts he's having, so you stand and move to the fire, away from his wandering blues.

“Should I make something?” You don't dare look at him.

“So sweet of ye,” Johnny hums. “The baby eats eggs.”

You nod.

As you steadily become more awake, thoughts begin to cloud your mind.

Guilt is strange; it spreads like a plague, tainting anything you've decided to take some control of. Cooking, chores, talking cautiously with the men or allowing your heart to soften. The poison has grown from your first peak, spreading outward from your core and into your mind, leaving you worse off.

Simon hadn't done anything else, nor had Johnny. You'd cooked them lunch and breakfast, asked for sewing equipment for mending and receiving it promptly after. From Gaz's woman, Johnny had said. She says hello. Any contact outside of Johnny or Simon hadn't once crossed your mind, especially not since having sat on Simon's lap at the feast like a prize.

But you were a prize, a stolen woman, taken to wife. However you spun the narrative it was hard to get past that fact and harder still to get past that it might fulfill something inside you that nothing else could or could've. That perhaps you were tainted, and the taking had been because they saw it in you somehow. Sniffed the false servant of God as you worked, not anything by coincidence but guided by some instinct that told them you were just as bad.

Your little book, the one you missed dearly, the one piece of physical evidence that damned you.

Though God had never spoken to you back, you'd imagined in the convent that when you passed he'd simply show you the blasphemous, lustful evidence of your filthy mind and send you to burn.

Now you knew that He wouldn't have to do that. You'd simply burn without any chance, damned worse now by your treacherous cunt.

“-nun? Where's my little nun gone?” You turn, startled. The eggs are crisp, and darkening by the second.

You hurry to pull them out of the hot fat as Johnny watches you, still cooing and bouncing.

“Sorry,” you slide him a nearly burnt egg. “Can the baby still eat them?”

“Should be fine,” he tears the egg with his fingers, offering tiny pieces.

It's hard, but not too tough or burnt. Just browned, fried and crispy. You wonder if this could count as a sin, how nearly wasting food would weigh against coming on the fingers of a viking heathen.

The hopelessness gets you sometimes, gets you as you try to sleep and in moments like these. What option do you have? Adapt, or what? Sure, it's probably better to take advantage of their lack of extreme violence and make your predicament as best as possible, especially without an escape route and without the strength to fight them.

You feel watched, judged, observed on all sides. Giving in and navigating how to be a viking wife might be better than resisting forever, but the unseen eye of divine judgement and its gaze rests heavily on you. In fact, it's like it seeps into you through your skin and connects with the shame to compound both feelings.

“There she goes again,” Johnny says, but you hear him this time.

“I'm here,” you say. The baby smacks their lips, enjoying the egg despite its texture.

“No ye aren't,” his blue eyes are piercing, cutting through the fog of unease. “Ye getting all worked up again? I better not catch ye out back again.”

You shake your head, though he's right to think that way. Cleansing yourself has been on the back of your mind, not only the holy kind but what they can bring you with a different kind of force.

There's the sprout of desire that's grown bigger and bigger, as if some dry seed had always resided inside you and they had watered it back to life.

“I'm not,” you finally say, though too much time has passed and it's clear Johnny doesn't believe you.

The door opens and you're saved by the interruption. A new anxiety forms as multiple people enter, curling suddenly like a hook. Simon, Gaz, Gaz's wife and Price step in.

“Tyra,” Gaz says. “Where's my little Tyra?”

The baby shrieks again, reaching her hands out. You see the resemblance to both Gaz and her mother now, seeing them up close again. She claps for Gaz, her mother behind him and smiling at you gently.

“How are ye, Kari?”

“I'm well, thank you,” Kari says. She's always so soft, so glowy every time you see her. No wonder Gaz has scooped her up, you think you'd have also planted a baby in her belly if you were both able and a viking. Such thoughts sometimes arrested you at random in the convent, admiring the other women and dismissing them as silly.

You try not to put more weight into them now, as it doesn't serve your predicament.

But still, you admire Kari.

“And you?” her eyes soften.

“Well,” you parrot. There’s no way to explain how unwell you really are - or how your well-ness is causing that unwellness. It's confusing enough for you.

“She's settling in,” Simon says. He's trading looks like Price, whose beard is becoming a little overgrown.

Gaz takes Tyra, who babbles happily. For a moment it's like this place isn't all evil and temptation, but also love and care. It's easy to get lost in the image of Gaz and Kari making kissy faces to Tyra, who is unknowing of the world and happy to be in it.

They don't linger long. There are words exchanged that you don't pay attention to, hands clapped and Tyra kissed goodbye. You learn that she's nearly two, still a baby but getting bigger. Price teases the couple about their next as they leave, making Kari laugh a hearty laugh that fills you with warmth.

It evaporates a little when you're left with Simon and Johnny and silence, the atmosphere changing to something unfamiliar. This boundary you'd crossed with them has left you someplace awkward, with you mostly lost in your head.

Simon is good at getting you out of that space, but he's been gone often since the incident and Johnny's intensity tends to push you further inward.

He comes up behind you, now, and sets his heavy hands on your shoulders.

“She been like this all day?” He asks Johnny, who hums affirmatively.

Simon leans down, lips brushing the top of your head, hands squeezing your shoulders, before he pulls you backwards into his torso.

“Your god speaking to ya?” He asks.

“No,” you say honestly. “He's silent.”

“Silent, eh?” There's a chuckle, then two. They're heathens, you remind yourself. Heathens.

“Lamb, why don't ye spend some time with the wee lady Tyra?” Johnny scoots forward on the bench, touches your knee, smiles.

“Might do you some good,” Simon agrees. “‘specially since we're goin’ on a hunt.”

You pause.

“A hunt?”

Johnny nods.

“I'll be stayin’ behind,” he says. “Watch our little nun.”

Simon finally sits behind you, hands sliding from your shoulders to the softness of your upper arms, still squeezing.

“It's past time,” Simon says quietly behind you. He explains the yearly hunt, the walrus in the right location, the ivory they will sell and the oil they will gain for use. There's a whisper of something there, maybe longing, maybe not. You can't tell, not with his aloofness. He's closed off as a default, but he rubs your arms like he's comforting you and you decide to take it as such.

There's nothing left for you to say, so you just nod. You're still trying to resist taking on an intimate role, a wifely role, something that will make them think you've given up. You haven't yet, you might not. You have options, even if they're unpleasant or permanent.

A shiver passes through you. That isn't what you want. You're stuck, but you have to rationalize: it isn't what you thought it would be.

You've felt good. You feel good now. The remaining pain comes from the twisting, growing shame that slowly turns in a circle and ensnares your insides.

That, and the taking. It still feels unfair, feels wrong. If you think on it too hard you start to feel like a thing, not a person.

Johnny seems regretful that night, a mix of pride and love for Simon warring with his need to stay home with you. He sleeps in the middle, leaving you near the wall and opting to join hands with Simon through the night. These moments humanize them to you as well – to your distress, and to your softening.

They love each other in the way you've seen some of the villagers love each other, in the way that love is universal; it's a little different, because they're different, but it's tender nonetheless.

Love is luck, you think. Luck enough to find someone to be tender with in a world that is hard to live in, that is so utilitarian, so survival dependent.

Simon leaves the next morning with a group of hunters. Price leads the pack of them, slapping the backs of some of the younger ones who for them it'll be their first or second winter hunt, encouraging them. It's a mixed group with both men and women, younger and older, seasoned and green.

You stand beside Johnny at the door, watching the group move through the village until they are gone. Johnny tells you that they’ll ride horses, but they’re further out. Lest we smell the horse shite, he laughs. Got enough on our plate with Si. The joke has a thread of longing in it.

You’ve never been truly alone with either of them, you realize. Sure, a few hours here and there, but never for the days that Simon plans to be gone. Never slept alone with either of them.

Simon has been somewhat of a buffer, even if he’s the one who initiated the incident and carried it out. He balances the infinite well of restlessness Johnny has.

It’s frightening and comforting all at once. For one, you don’t feel like a bug pinned by its wings, even if that means you’re even more anchor-less than before. Simon is solid despite his surliness, and without him to steady the dynamic you worry.

“Ah dinnae know what to make,” Johnny bemoans. He wants to prepare some kind of gift as a surprise. “Already got too many statues.”

“Statues?” you ask, tilting your head towards him.

“Aye,” he nods, moving to a far corner of the house. He produces a little leather pouch, then little carved wooden figurines. One of them is a wolf, the other a bird.

“You made this?” you take one delicately in your hand, as if it would break. Statues, he said. They’re cute, clearly having been made with care.

Turning the wolf in your hand, you admire the polished shine of the wood.

“Aye,” he says again. “Si’s got too many.”

He spends a portion of the day puttering about, stoking the fire, sharpening various tools. You can’t tell if he’s restless because Simon is gone, or if you hadn’t noticed his restless nature as much because Simon was his outlet.

An urge rises in you, that screaming urge you know more intimately than anything else, awakened and restless like a hungry beast – it stirs as Johnny stokes the fire, crouched and with his back to you.

The only way to go if not out is in and you won’t. Push him in, you think. If you want out, push him in.

But you won't. There’s darkness at the core of you to be sure, but not that kind of darkness. Not the kind both he and Simon are steeped in. Violence, sadism maybe.

That would make you the other side of the coin.

The same swirling pattern of thoughts plague you even as Johnny serves you fish and more turnip for dinner, even as he pulls you into bed for that night and wraps himself around you.

You want to kick. To scream. To have a fit. Some insane, perverse fit; something that would have earned you an exorcism or an execution in the village. These thoughts come unbidden to you as you try not to feel the grasp of Johnny’s hand to your waist, nor the scruff of his beard on your throat.

Your identity has shifted, already. You aren't dead inside, not anymore. Not hoping for some outer force to take you away.

An outer force has taken you, and now you wrestle with the ramifications on your spirit.

It's unclean now, surely. But hadn't it always been?

Hadn't you willed this?

Happy faces appear in your mind. Kari. Tyra. Gaz. Price. Johnny. Simon is too hard to read, but the way he treats Johnny is enough to convey some kind of contentment.

And then the look at breakfast. The baby. Johnny’s gentle cooing, his attention. Simon’s hands squeezing you, reassuring you.

They contribute to the degradation of your spirit, to each rend of the glue that has held you together since first consciousness.

You try to hold onto the fear from before. Their words from before – behave and we won’t kill you. Does that still apply? Are you still under an ever present, looming threat? Were they only trying to get you moving?

Some part of you shudders to realize that it doesn’t feel that way. Even when they had sprung it on you to marry you, you hadn’t felt the same mortal fear as when they had absconded with you.

No, it had been hurt. Disappointment. The fear had shifted with your identity, staying present but becoming unfamiliar.

The you that they had taken was unfamiliar too. She’d have never built snowmen, nor ground her pussy into the hand of a viking and relaxed into another’s hold as you are now.

You wanted to live, you think. Even then.

A couple days pass. Johnny finally finds a suitable enough gift for Simon, a double edged blade he’s carving and sharpening.

The sight of it makes something tighten in your chest, so you avoid looking at it.

Between you both, it’s less awkward than you worried about. You come to a different understanding of him, one that comes from watching his independence without Simon. They truly do fit together, you think. Complement each other.

What about you? Are you here for them to have other options? A cunt, you think crudely. Something that gets wet without extra effort, something easy. You’ve certainly not made it hard. The thought puts you in another stink, frowning down at the pair of linen summer pants you’d found and started to mend.

“What’s this face ye got on?” Johnny steps up to you, setting the heavy blade on the table, and sitting.

You don’t speak, you just sew. Are you just a womb? Is that it?

“Awe, lamb,” he leans forward, hands finding the tops of your thighs and leaning on them. “So sour.”

When you still don’t respond, he reaches to take your sewing. You lose some bearing and prick him with the needle, frissy that he’s trying to take you out of your ruminations.

Provocative.

“Och,” he waves his hand, then laughs. “Prickly, are we?”

He forces the fabric from your hands, squeezing your hand until it opens with the needle and thread. You make some kind of irritated sound, like a growling cat, still half in reality and half in your mind.

“Ye’ve been stuck,” he pokes your forehead. “Stuck here, eh? Let me fix that.”

And then you’re pulled up to your feet, steered to the bed, and pushed before you can adapt.

“Simon’ll have’tae forgive me,” he murmurs. You’re sat on the edge, looking down at him with a frown.

“What-” you make a strange, caught off guard squeaking sound as he pushes you by the shoulders, lifting the edge of your dress.

“Sh,” he says sharply. “Should’a done this days ago.”

“Wait- don’t-” you slam your knees shut, trying to sit back up. Something sharp you can’t name explodes outwards from your chest, sharp spikes pricking your lungs and your heart, twisting.

Your struggle is mostly futile, though it’s easier that Simon isn’t here. Your arms flail, your legs scoot you away up the bed.

“Noo-” you try again. Your fear stems mostly from the uncertainty of what he’ll do, of the fear that he’ll steal the last true thing you have; your virtue.

“Relax,” he strong-arms you into lying down, arms crossed at your chest and his huge hand keeping them pushed down.

He positions himself parallel to you, replacing his hand with his bigger knee, his face right where he wants it.

“Ye should’ve asked me, lamb,” he murmurs, then kisses the hair above your pussy. Your stomach tightens, breath coming out in strained gasps from the combined weight of his knee and your shame.

You’re wet.

“I won’t smack ye if I don’t have tae,” he says. His hands rub up your hips, then your thighs, before coming up to your pussy and spreading your lips open.

Your clit strains in the open air, a cool breeze from the gaps in the door making it jump. He watches for a moment, cruelly, listening to the sound of your laboured breathing.

Then he dives in, tongue first. Because of the angle, his tongue dips down towards your hole while his lower lip catches your clit, making you gasp.

“Let me,” he hums, pauses. “Let me take care of ye, lamb.”

And God, he does. Johnny licks over you like a starved man, sucking your labia before flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit again as sounds come out of you like someone is pounding a fist into your chest.

He slurps your wetness obscenely, using his fingers to scoop whatever leaks from your hole as best he can and bringing them to his mouth to suck clean. He murmurs fervently about how good you taste, how he can smell the desperation from you.

“So neglected,” he sucks the wetness from your hair, even. “Forgive me.”

He’s talking to your cunt again, leaving you trembling against the bed and tightening, tightening, rising, rising–

He stops.

You damn near scream, but the sound gets trapped where he’s still putting his weight on you.

“I’m gonnae move, and yer gonnae stay right there all sweet for me, aren’t ye?” he turns to look at you, and though you can hardly see him you nod.

He lifts off, making you grunt involuntarily, then switches positions so he’s on his hands and knees nearly on top of you.

“Open those legs,” he says. Leans down to kiss your sternum over the fabric of your dress. “Let me ease yer mind.”

You can feel yourself falling further from grace, but God help you – you open your legs.

Johnny keeps eye contact as he slides down, getting on his stomach with those piercing blue eyes cutting through you.

When his mouth touches your cunt again, you feel yourself start to shake, growing more insane by the second. His tongue touches your hot, swollen flesh, dragging wetly against everything sensitive. He’s like an animal, you think. A heathen. No wonder these people have not seen God’s light. No wonder it does not reach here.

Something so sinful, so good, couldn’t possibly exist in the puritanical world you’d been taken from.

God, you think again, body twisting against the sheets, is this really what they kept from us?

“Please,” you cry out. Please stop? Please continue? It’s a plea for more than just Johnny, more than God. It’s a question that burrows deep in your mind and begs you to understand yourself, to untangle, to feel and release.

And oh, you’re breathing, breathing in, breathing in perhaps for the first time in your life. You wrench his hair in your fists, uncaring, screaming into the cold winter afternoon without a care. Your back arches, tilting your cunt further into his face, legs straining, gushing. Blood rushes in your ears, deafening you, once again turning the world into a small point where you can neither hear nor see.

All you can do is feel, ride, undulate. This is that fit you’d wanted earlier, it’s some insane hysteria, some sin that feels like ecstasy.

Your nipples tighten, stimulated by the chill of the air and the scratch of your woolen dress. Your peak is maddening, drawn-out and pushed further by Johnny’s lips suctioned around your clit and sucking in hard.

The moment you truly finish, when the stimulation turns to discomfort, you release his hair and push at his head.

“Stop,” you gasp. “Stop it.”

He doesn’t. His hands find your thighs, holding you open, running his tongue from your clit and then piercing it into your hole. His nose rubs on you, and though tears spill from your eyes you grind into it, crying for him to end it.

“One more,” he grunts.

“No,” you moan. Then you peak again, mouth open in a silent scream and eyes screwing shut, the fusion of sharp, near-painful pleasure and actual, overstimulated pain brings you a climax you could have never imagined of on your own.

You weep again as he pulls away, feeling raw and tender.

Boneless.

You wake in the middle of the night bundled and in both furs and arms. You’re pleasantly sore, pulsing a little still between your legs where Johnny’s thigh keeps you company. He’s so warm, so comfortable, that it’s easy for you to fall back asleep.

You wake again in the early morning, so early that the light of dawn hasn't yet breached the cabin.

Johnny snuffles behind you. Nose on your shoulder, hands migrating to rest just below your breasts.

“Mmmlamb,” he murmurs.

Your muscles are heavy, still. Weighed down with relaxation. It's true that you had gotten worked up, and that his actions had helped. You don't find any shame, not now. You've found a rare pocket of respite.

Simon is due back in a day or two unless there are extenuating circumstances. A winter storm, maybe. Or an errant predator.

What would life look like if he never returned? It’s an uncomfortable thought. You’re still on the edge of how you feel, teetering between extremes, but you rely on them both for survival.

Where could you go? Even when you’d ran, the plan had been borne of heart, not mind. Without Simon or Johnny, you’d be in a terrible precarious situation.

Without Simon permanently? You weren’t sure.

You very slowly extricate yourself from Johnny’s arms, sliding out of bed and into the cold air. The fire is just coals, so you add a few pieces of wood and stoke it for the day. In the dark, you can see the reflection of the fire in the sword Johnny had left on the table.

You pad to it, staring, curious and afraid. It looked orange from the fire, only darker. It looked like your beautiful red ochre dress, your blood dress.

You reach your fingers out and stroke along the blade, breathing shallowly in the dark.

Dawn breaks.

#Johnny's mouth🤝hitachi magic wand #sorry this took a while #nun finally gets her pssy ate<3 #she deserves it #this chap is very johnny-heavy #someone get him brown eye contacts please he's scaring the nun</3 #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #cw dubcon #cw noncon #18+ mdni #red ochre

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mythicmanuscripts · 1 day ago

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..reader changing their signature clothing/accessory/whatever color to blue after marrying Aemond

Oh my god anon you are an absolute genius, I love this so much.

Nothing NSFW in this, just soft fluffy Aemond. Enjoy lads!

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Firstly, I've always found it interesting how Aemond has a sapphire in his eye and not an emerald? Even if the sapphire was a random choice, he absolutely could have gotten an emerald to replace it once it became clear that the war would end up being blacks v greens.

Yet for some reason he never did. He says he wishes to serve his house yet he does not wear the color of his house? He didnt just not choose a colour, he actively chose a color other than the color of his house and would have had plenty of opportunities to swop it but always chose not to.

I've always thought that the choice of sapphire was a way of him distancing himself from his family, of showing how he isnt quite like them, isnt quite a green in the same way they are.

It's this that makes me think you choosing to wear blue would be so meaningful for him. When you first agree to the match and the wedding planning gets underway, you wear green. Of course you do, you're joining that family, you have to be seen as loyal to them. In particular you have to make sure you're seen as loyal to Allicent, that you're wear their green, their symbols, showing your integration into their house.

After the wedding, you slowly become closer with Aemond and begin to learn about him. You start to hear stories of how it was growing up for him, how he lost the eye, how he hates being the second son. He has so much more to him than you first expected.

You don't pressure Aemond to take off the eyepatch. You want him to be comfortable with you and that means you can't break his trust, ever.

But once he does take it off and you see the sapphire, you know immediately what you must do. You're able to make that choice now because you're part of the family. You no longer need to be on your best behaviour to ensure the match isnt called off. You're married to Aemond now. You don't need Allicent's approval to secure your place here anymore.

So you start to look for blue clothing items, in particular you look for that deep sapphire blue. You get necklaces and bracelets with sapphires, you get new dresses that are deep blue, coats and scarves too. Aemond doesn't notice the new clothes arriving, until one day you join him for lunch and you're wearing all blue.

He stares for a moment, awestruck, and then just says you look beautiful and things go back to normal. He thought this was just a new outfit you had gotten somehow, which is perfectly fine with him you can buy whatever you want. But then a few days later you're dressing for an event you must attend with him and again he sees you put on blue? This time he even sees you put on a necklace with a sapphire inside.

He forces himself to look away and refuses to even look at you for the entire event. You think you've done something horribly wrong, especially when he seats himself at the very end of the row of seats and you are forced to sit two rows down from him all on you own.

He leaves before you do, and so you when you watch back to your chambers alone you're surprised to see he is already there. You ask him what was wrong, and he just takes off his eyepatch and pulls you into a hug, crying softly into your shoulder because you've chosen him. You and him have your own side in this war, and that is the side that will prevail.

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon imagine

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chaostudee · 10 hours ago

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our little secret, liam lawson.

summary : y/n y/ln is liam's secret girlfriend and when she learns she is pregnant she decides to make a private insta to document her pregnancy. it isn't until their daughter arrives that liam introduces her to the world. faceclaim : zara goedemans warnings : language, pregnancy. a/n : ik alot of people do not like liam at all so i was scared to post this....but to those who do like and appreciate him this is for you 🫶

liamlawson so glad to be back on the grid again

liked by maxverstappen, yukitusonda, francocoplainto and 828,442 others.

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, kikagomes, liamlawson and 126,829 others.

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f1fan y/n is the queen on insta because every time she always manages to make her posts aesthetic

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messages between alexandra and y/n

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y/npriv. made this acc to document my pregnancy journey solely for the most important people in my life, i love you all

liked by liamlawson, yourbff, yourmum, alexandrasaintmleux and 431 others.

liamlawson a bit of credit for the photos would be nice 😒

yourbff im so excited for you, you were meant to be a mummy

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alexandrasaintmleux you are acc the cutest and i can't wait for little one to arrive

yourmum i'm so proud of you my sweet girl 💗

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y/npriv had cravings again 🙃

liked by liamlawson, yourbff, yourdad and 262 others.

liamlawson i wish i was there to help baby im sry :,(

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y/npriv first gp and i loved it :)

liked by liamlawson, yourbff, yourmum and 320 others.

yourbff the pregnancy glow 😍

liamlawson my angel girl

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liamlawson the first of many gps btw ;)

yourmum my gorgeous daughter ❤️

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y/nusername i love ice cream

liked by kikagomes, alexandrasaintmleux, liamlawson and 362,992 others.

user56 liam in the likes whattt

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kikagomes i aspire to be you

user45 your aesthetic is so pretty oml

user12 omgg y/n pls start a youtube channel i beg

f1fan i wish i was this pretty

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/npriv. baby shower

liked by yourbff, liamlawson, yourmum, alexandrasaintmleux and 407 others.

yourmum my beautiful daughter 🫶

yourbff hope you liked it (i planned it for months)

y/npriv. i loved it!!! i acc lysmmm

liamlawson you're perfect baby

liamlawson how did i get so lucky

alexandrasaintmleux pink is defo your colour

alexandrasaintmleux i can't waitt to meet her 💗

y/nusername

liked by liamlawson, carmenmundtt, kikagomes and 542,927 others.

user73 flowers from who?!?

carmenmundt so happy for you <333

user72 her smile omg im obsessed

username222 awww she looks so happy

username90 girl we know you got a man show us plssss

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

liamlawson the last few weeks

liked by yukisunoda, alexalbon, maxverstappen and 251,639 others.

user67 not liam and y/n both soft launching in the space of an hour.....a coincidence, i think not.

f1fan no.1 lightning mcqueen fan

user23 liam defender forever i fear

user00 i am speed

f1girl soft launch...okay liam i see u 🤭

justaninchident okay im the biggest danny ric fan but honestly how can u hate on liam he is so cutesy

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

liamlawsonfan liam's stream last night!!

liked by f1girl, justaninchident, f1fan and 127,928 others.

user72 at this moment he knew....he fucked up

user782 WAIT SO HE 100 PERCENT HAS A GF

f1fan okay has anyone been on twitter because now everyone thinks that y/n is pregnant?!?! wild.

user62 i wouldn't believ any of it tbh

user00 plsss it was so funny and the way he just carried on right after like nothing happened

f1lover f1 twitter can be so crazy at times because wdym people are saying that liam is going to be a father 💀

f1 BREAKING NEWS

liked by f1fan, f1girl, justaninchident and 237,921 others.

user72 WHY

username56 so strange that they didn't say why??

f1fan okay excuse me CAUSE WHAT

user89 waittt who's going to replace him

justaninchident 👀

user99 *sighs*

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/nusername mummy loves u sm

liked by liamlawson, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymunihe and 1,628,926 others.

user HOLD ON WHAT?!?

username girl u have some explaining to do

alexandrasaintmleux she's gorgeous y/n you must be so proud 💗

lilymunihe im sobbing acc

user829 is it liam's?!?!

f1fan congrats y/n !!

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

liamlawson i love u sm my sweet girl

liked by y/nusername, maxverstappen, oscarpiastri and 9,620,625 others.

user72 WTF

username WAIT IS THIS LIAM HARD LAUNCHING HIS DAUGHTER

f1fan im so confused rn

user12 huh?!

f1lover chattt what is going on

maxverstappen congrats mate and congrats to y/n aswell

user88 damn ig f1 twitter was right for once

user99 and before gta 6 💀

taglist⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn @sweetestgirlintown111 @mxryxmfooty @hadidsworld @llando4norris @heavy-vettel @seonghwaexile @love2readd @nichmeddar @depressedriches

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teddypines · 2 days ago

Text

The pretty things in life

------------------------------------------

Summary: Y/N needing comfort after a long day and Logan being a carrying husband. Making sure his wife got all the love she deserves after a tough day.

Lost of fluff and use of multiple nicknames (Bub, kitty, Kitten).

Husband!Logan x Wife!Reader. Reader is a snow leopard mutant/hybrid in this, other feline creatures are possible too.

Note: happy New year everyone!! (This was totally not posted on accident)

Pictures and art from Pinterest, credits to the artist. I just put it together.

Words: 2097

The little poem at the end is from the book 'Pillow Thoughts' by Courtney Peppernell.

------------------------------------------------

Today wasn’t the greatest day, everything just seemed to go wrong. The children were louder than other days, the noise being a bit too much for Y/N’s sensitive ears, but she was going to finish her lessons. Already looking forward to cuddles in the nest with Logan after dinner. Needing her hubby for comfort, wanting to be wrapped in his arms and sent. But that sadly had to wait for a bit, only two more lessons to give and then she would be done.

“Next slice, please, Kurt.” Y/N said before Kurt tapped the laptop for the next slide of the presentation. “And here we see a painting of heterochromia. See how the artist put detail into every little coloured dot on the eyes.” Y/N explained as she looked at Kurt, giving him a little sign to put on the next slide. Until one of the teen’s put up their hand. “But miss what does this have to do with art?”

“Good question, Alice, we are going to try and paint something as close to it's real life counterpart. Get it to look as realistic as you can, put in details that someone might not see at first. You can try to use different perspectives, see it in a different light and color. Just put on canvas what you see as best as you can.” Y/N explained as she showed the children a piece of art she did showing the beauty of something small yet so bright in color because of the lighting, in this case Beast's blue fur. “And if this doesn’t work for you, then do something else, be creative but keep the overall details in mind, it doesn’t even have to be big. Just paint or draw what you see.”

With this the children went to work on their art as Y/N left the classroom to get a cup of tea and a few moments alone. Of course giving a few students the job to keep the others in check. Not wanting to come back to a destroyed classroom.

Standing in the kitchen as the kettle boiled, thinking about how she could make it to the end of the day without feeling too overwhelmed. Unconsciously rubbing the ears on top of her head. Her tail moved around nervously in a way to try and calm herself down. She was so deep in though she didn’t even notice Logan slipping his arms around her waist.

“What ya thinking about, bub?” He asked, making Y/N jump out of her thoughts. “Just what I have to do to survive the rest of the day.” She answered while leaning back against Logan, her tail going around Logan's leg to ground herself against him. “Awh, is my kitty a little overwhelmed and overstimulated?” Logan asked with a small smirk on his face. Which made Y/N grumble a bit in answer, knowing the tone in her husband's voice all too well. She reached up to grab her teacup from the cupboard.

“How about I join you for your lessons, that’s your last lesson of the day, right?” Logan suggested after kissing Y/N’s shoulder. Wanting her to know he was there for her, even in her overstimulated situation.“No, have one more after this one, but you don’t have to join me, you have your own classes.” She answered. Putting her tea bag into her cup, putting in the boiled water right after. “I finished for the day.”

“Really? Owh, yeah, it’s wednesday.” Y/N realised as Logan took her mug, starting to lead Y/N back to her class, his hand on her lower back, just above her tail. Just a little bit of comfort he could offer her. “Come on love, after classes have ended I'll cuddle with you.” Logan promised with a smile on his face. “In the nest?” Y/N asked, giving Logan big kitten eyes. “Yes, in the nest, bub.”

<---------------------------------------------------->

Logan stayed by Y/N’s side as she helped the children with their art and taught the next class. He didn’t say a single word, he just looked grumpy with his arms folded over his chest and his feet on the desk. Some of the children did see a small glimpse of a smile on Logan’s face when Y/N looked back at him while she explained something about inspiration and making art about the things and/or people you love. Logan’s gaze made a few of the children giggle, and some of the girls just wished someone would look at them like how Logan looks at Y/N. He just really loves his wife and it showed.

If Logan could make art like his wife, he would make art about her, show her how he sees her every day, how beautiful she really is. Bring out her best features, her glowing eyes, her hair and those fluffy ears. That idiot tail that always found a place around his leg or her legs and the thighs he loved to nap on when he allowed himself. Sadly no one would ever see the way Logan sees Y/N since he sucks at art and photography doesn’t do her justice.

<----------------------------------------------------->

After classes had finally ended for the day and the kids had left the classroom, Y/N sat down in Logan’s lap and let out a sigh. “Good job, bub, you’re done for the day.” Logan whispered into Y/N’s ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Gently holding onto her as she lay her head on his shoulder. “Yeah… Now I want to go to the nest and cuddle, I really need cuddles right now.” Y/N responded as she buried her nose into Logan’s shirt, his scent calming her down a little. “And I could really use some dinner and a good drink, right about now.” She added. “Then let’s get you some dinner first, get you in the shower after and then we can cuddle in the nest.” Logan answered, taking charge. He knew exactly what Y/N needed when she was tired, so he was going to take care of her.

Logan wrapped Y/N’s arms around his neck and her legs around his waist before standing up from the desk chair. Holding her close to him, as he carried her. “What do you want for dinner?” He asked after getting out of the classroom and into the hallway. “Pasta, the good one.” Y/N answered. Logan grumbled a bit as Y/N answered, he knew which pasta she wanted. The only problem with this was that he didn’t make the pasta the way Storm made it. So he only had one choice, hope that Storm was making dinner tonight and that it was the pasta Y/N wanted and that she wouldn't get overwhelmed even more if it wasn’t the pasta she wanted. Y/N wouldn’t but Logan just wanted his wife to have the pasta she wanted.

As Logan carried Y/N to the kitchen, some of the children ran past the two. Also going to the kitchen for dinner. Bickering with each other about what they thought they were going to get for dinner.

When Logan walked into the kitchen with Y/N he saw that it was Jean and Scott by the stove. Logan groaned a little when he found out it wasn’t Storm who made dinner. “What are you two making?” Y/N asked Jean as she looked over Logan’s shoulder, not really minding that it wasn’t Storm making dinner. "Lasagne." Scott answered, putting more sauce in the dish. Logan sighed in relief, lasagne was pasta too, that was good.

“Yeah, and we have garlic bread on the side and some salad if you want to be healthy.” Jean continued Scott's answer. “It will be ready in about forty minutes.” She added, already have read Y/N's thoughts about how long it was going to take until it was done. Y/N groaned but accepted It would take a little more time. “Logan? Can we shower now instead of after dinner? We have the time.” Y/N asked Logan, actually liking that they had time to shower now instead of after dinner. Logan nodded his head and took Y/N to their room after telling Jean and Scott they would be back for dinner.

Some of the children in the kitchen grumbled that they had to wait almost an hour before they could have dinner, not liking that dinner was later than usual. Not really caring that some of the adults had a mission or other adult tasks to do which made them start on dinner a little later.

<----------------------------------------------->

Once in their bathroom Logan sat Y/N on the counter next to the sink. “Need me to shower with you, love?” Logan asked between gentle kisses on Y/N”s head. “Yes, I would like that, please.” She answered to which Logan nodded. “Alright, let me get some fresh towels and then I'll help you undress.” Logan said as he whipped underneath Y/N’s eye, brushing away some sleep. He stepped away from her and started to grab enough towels. Y/N on the other hand wasn’t really patient and got off the counter, already undressing herself and putting her clothes in the laundry. She made her way to the shower and turned it on, waiting for the water to become the right temperature.

“Hey, I was going to do that for you kitten.” Logan laughed once he saw his wife already undressed and underneath the warm water of the shower. He placed the towels on the heater next to the shower before undressing himself. “Just wanted to be in the shower already.” Y/N explained as she appreciated the way Logan was undressing. Logan rolled his eyes playfully. “Such an inpatient and naughty kitten.”

Y/N gave Logan a tired smile as he got into the shower with her. Placing her right hand onto his chest. holding back the desire to just press her face into his pec’s. Logan placed his own hand over Y/N’s, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. He looked down at Y/N, seeing just how tired she really was right now and how much the shower was helping her relax. Not a single word needed to be said between them. They just showered in the comfort of each other, Logan helping Y/N was her hair, ears and tail before she helped him wash his. After doing the whole shower routine Logan just held onto Y/N for a few minutes, just letting her know he was here for her, letting her lean on him. Telling her he loved her and other sweet nothings.

Getting out of the shower was difficult, but it happened because tummies started to rumble. Logan helped Y/N dry off and got her into some comfy clothes, his shirt and her favorite comfy pants. He dried her hair and fur, brushing it after. He got some comfy clothes for himself before looking at his watch. “Dinner will be ready soon, bub.” He announced. “Okiedokie.” Y/N answered as she reached out for Logan’s arm. Holding onto him as he led the way back to the kitchen. Logan was secretly liking how clingy Y/N was right now, she usually is when tired, but now she was just a little extra clingy and he loved it.

<------------------------------------------->

Dinner was nice, a bit loud because of the inpatient and hungry kids, but the lasagna was amazing so that fixed everything for Y/N. They stayed a little longer at the dinner table for ice cream and talked about everything and nothing. Well it was mostly Logan and Y/N listening to the other, but they didn’t mind, it was nice to listen every once in a while. After dinner Logan carried Y/N back to their room. Gently laying her down on their nest, laying down next to her after she was settled. Logan made sure Y/N was tucked against him, holding a plushie he gave her for their first anniversary. Warm covers and blankets over the two of them before he kissed her head. “Sweet dreams, Love.” He whispered before watching her fall asleep. She was clearly too tired to stay awake to long for the cuddles she wanted.

Logan admired Y/N for a few minutes, looking at her fluffy ears and her cheeks. The way the bedside lamp made her face glow. She really was the prettiest thing he had ever sat his eyes on. “Of all the maps in the world, the only one I will follow is the map to your heart.” Logan whispered against Y/N’s forehead before leaving a kiss. He turned off the lamp and closed his eyes. Happily falling asleep in their nest, letting the comfort and warmth take over.

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rainbow-sunshine-unicorn · 2 days ago

Text

A long time ago, after I posted my Neddy learns about Anthony’s Dad Lore drabble, I got an anon ask for more “grown ass Kanthony”. I can’t find the ask now and this soooo late, but I hope you still enjoy some geriatric Kanthony!!!

Anthony couldn’t quite remember how it started. He didn’t know when he began collecting them like tokens. The creases next to Kate’s eyes deepening when she smiled, the hints of grey peaking out as he ran his fingers through her soft luscious hair. Signs of a life well lived, a happy one, a long one. And he collected each bit, every time he managed to catch a glimpse, he stored them in his heart, to thank the lord, the universe, or whatever divine entity had granted him the privilege of not just growing old, but growing old with Kate.

Once upon a time, before Kate, when his life was just somehow… less, less vibrant, less joyful, less worth living, he remembered panicking upon finding a singular strand of grey hair sprouting right at the crown of his head. It had seemed like an ugly reminder that the finish line was approaching and he was not fast enough to outrun it. He did not have his affairs in order, the arrangements for the estates were still incomplete and his plans for his tenants were still unfinished.

But now, much like everything in his life after Kate, including his own self, it was different. Nowadays, the white hair was an excuse for him to tease his youngest son that his mischief was turning his father grey. Every ache was an excuse for his daughter to offer to kiss it better. Every ache was an excuse for his oldest to playfully rib him. Signs of a life well lived.

However, he still knew that his wife carried them off much more gracefully.

Which is why when he came upon Kate laid down in the middle of the day, with a physician at her bedside, he felt the once familiar fear creep through him, numbing him from fingers to his toes, chilling his heart. He couldn’t help but wonder if his gratitude had come across as gloating and now Kate was being punished for it. He felt frozen, unable to move, step over the threshold of his bed chamber and face whatever grotesque reality he met there.

His eyes were trailing frantically around the room when his gaze collided with Kate’s. The hum of panic in his brain cut off abruptly.

Because his wife was blushing. A fascinating shade of purple under the warm brown of her skin. He had seen it before but each time, he still felt as fascinated as he had the first time he’d seen it.

A few weeks after their wedding, after many letters to Mary and an unreasonable amount of visits to an ambassador from India, he had finally learnt to say I love you in Kate’s native tongue of tamil. One day, as they lazed around their favourite drawing room at Aubrey Hall, after supper, he’d said it, rather abruptly, clumsily forming the words just as he’d practiced. And then Kate had giggled, the sweetest little laugh he’d ever heard, flushed that beautiful hue of purple he would swear was his favourite colour till the day he died, and, buried her face in his shoulder. He felt thrilled, fascinated, enchanted. He finally understood the concept of eureka his philosophy professor at Oxford had tried so hard to teach him.

Later, when his chest was no longer so puffed with pride that his waistcoat was in imminent danger of bursting open, Kate would tell him that it felt more intense when he said it in tamil, excessive in its devotion. And he’d rush to assure her that he meant it in an excessively devoted and besotted manner, and then Kate would smile in a way that made her eyes shine and made her lips look kissable.

Shaking off that pleasant memory of one of the best days of his life, he blinked at Kate.

The physician, a crotchety old man who’d tended to all the Bridgertons at Aubrey Hall, for many years now, simply cleared his throat, bowed to him and walked out with remarkable speed. Momentarily distracted from Kate, Anthony frowned at his retreating figure.

But then as always, he turned back to Kate. Who was now smiling a secret smile at him, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

“You’re going to have to buy 50 more dolls to keep things fair ”

And just like that Anthony’s list of signs of a life well-lived, his forever with Kate, grew exponentially longer.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sharma x anthony bridgerton #kanthony #kanthony fic #bridgerton fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #I’m so sorry to the og anon #due to certain weirdos flooding my inbox I can’t find your ask atm #but I still hope you enjoy it #I love my old ass Kanthony still getting their freak on

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ultramaga · 2 days ago

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"Zendaya and Zoe Saldana have more or less the same body type" True, but Zoe can act, which is why she could project the character through the mask.

Although frankly I do think Zoe was more beautiful in the face.

She seems a lot more genuine. Zoe also understands how to use her body. I don't recally images of Zendaya that match, say -

If big tits were my metric, then I'd be pushing

Spectacular bosoms are dime a dozen, but star qualities are rare.

"t I sure hope you weren't implying Halle Berry is getting remembered for any stellar performance" But she was - which is why that gif was uploaded to tumblr. I didn't do it. She was good at being sexy. She was wooden at other things. That's fine - plenty of movie stars had a niche.

Charles was mocked for decades because of his lack of range.

Another European success, was Sergio Leone's Spaghetti WesternOnce Upon a Time in the West where played one of the leads.[116] Bronson had turned down Leone prior to this film for the lead in 1964's A Fistful of Dollars.[117][118] In Italy, the film sold 8,870,732 tickets.[119] In the United States, it grossed $5,321,508,[120] from 3.7 million ticket sales.[121] It sold a further 14,873,804 admissions in France[122] and 13,018,414 admissions in Germany.[123] The film was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant".[124][125] The film is regarded as one of the greatest Westerns of all time and one of the greatest films of all time.[126][127][128][129] Leone called Bronson "the greatest actor I ever worked with".[130]: 123

Bronson could do one character very, very well.

"Personally, I still think her career is young." I disagree - she's 28. In what performance did she stand out in? 28 is pretty old for a starlet. Time's a'tickin'. She was a child actress, she did theatre, and yet - she made no impact. Who cries over her performance in Spiderman? Well, Spiderman fans who miss Mary Jane, but apart from them? I'd say Tom Holland's a better actor.

I had a look at the gifs uploaded to tumblr, which mostly consists of her target audience nowadays. She's got a lot of gifs, and pretty much the same expression in each one. Sullen, bored, maybe a bit sad about her career. She's not really emoting, which is fine for an action hero, who is stoic and cold, but she's supposed to be playing the sort of woman men would die for.

All those years, and what has she done that will be remembered?

She was given part after part because she had the right skin colour. That was it. She was the non-threatening, bland, not too black, not too different, not exotic, not imposing, not interesting, just generic milk chocolate, and she was smeared onto everything.

I couldn't stand Grace Jones, I never thought she was attractive, but man, there were moments where she was brilliant. Take Conan the Destroyer. She played Zula, a warrior who relied on skill rather than brute force.

She seriously looked the part. I'm not sure she was acting.

She was old, and still touring, and still getting attention because she knew how to be commanding.

Here's my prediction - Zendaya will continue to be in everything, and everything will continue to decline - until it stops and reverses. It can't continue. She's been put in big movies, but she cannot carry the weight of those roles. She's not hot enough, charismatic enough, versatile enough, in any way enough, to be a STAR.

You know who she reminds me of?

Tessa Thompson.

She was being shoved into everything for a while there. What is she in now? She just seems to have vanished. She was sleeping with top hollywood figures, and the casting couch seemed the only explanation for her career.

And then one day, she vanished. Her youth was gone. And Zendaya took her place.

Compare that to Rosario Dawson.

She was a sex bomb. I can't even show you some of the images she became famous for - full frontal nudity, or clever use of prosthetics, take your pic.

Look at that resume. That's a proper movie star, that is. Her looks faded, and she kept going. Do I think she's the best actress? Nope. But she is good enough, and was so gorgeous that she made her mark, and can coast on that for the rest of her life.

youtube

There's clip after clip of Rosario Dawson, clips on endless loops across the world, because she didn't just look pretty, she didn't just have big boobs and a tight bod, but she could project sensuality, that was enough.

Zendaya? She just projects grey noise.

Now nobody can argue with aesthetics, you can say that mcdonald's thick shake is the best drink the Earth has produced, but I think - despite decades of training - Zendaya can not emote - she has nothing special in her voice or the way she moves, and if you find her sexy, so be it, but I think she's been carried for her whole life and the moment that support is gone ...

She'll be the girl who was in those movies, you know, the ones with ... uhhh .... she was big at the time....

I must've missed something bc can anyone tell me why everybody's talking about The Odyssey lately

#Youtube

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unlikeable-female-character · 2 days ago

Text

This is the first fic I have written for many many years. After rediscovering this place earlier last year and finding all the amazing Logan fic I was inspired to try my hand. This is part of a larger story that I can’t quite work out - I have bits and pieces of it but can’t quite weave it together. But I wanted to post something just because I feel quite proud of having written anything at all

This is an Old Man Logan! X reader story, set in some alternative universe where Logan doesn’t die at the end of ‘Logan’

it’s pure fluff with an allusion to sex and mention of pregnancy. Hope that you like it!

***

It was fair to say that if Laura could have floated away with sheer joy she would have done. Several times you and Logan have to sit her down and try to calm her. It lasts for a few minutes before she begins bouncing again. You give Logan a look and he just shrugs, smiling but defeated

‘Let’s get dressed then we can head down to the chapel,’ you suggest

‘You think that’s going to calm her down?’ Logan says

‘No not at all,’ you laugh, ‘but we need to get changed and the mood she’s in it’s going to take twice as long’

You grab Laura and take her off into the adjoining room, looking back over your shoulder at Logan

‘Your suit is in that bag,’ nodding towards the garment bag hanging in the open closet

Just over an hour later you and Laura come back and Logan can barely breathe at the sight of you both. The 50s style tea dress you’d found in the thrift store hugs you in all the right places, the colour a dusky pink. You have pinned your hair up and placed a few flowers liberated from the hotel room vases into the messy bun. Laura’s normally tangled hair has been pulled back into a slightly wonky French plait (she couldn’t sit still long enough for you to finesse it) and is wearing a dress with a skirt made up of more layers of tuile and flounce than either of you could count. She twirls in front of Logan, making the skirt puff out. He smiles, for the first time in a long time the smile reaching his eyes

‘You look beautiful,’ he says, then looking over at you, ‘both of you’

You walk to him and reach up to adjust his tie, dark blue against his crisp white shirt, a match to the dark blue suit you had found him. A little tight across the shoulders maybe but not enough that anyone would notice. He’d trimmed his beard, not back to the mutton chops you knew he used to sport but just to make himself a little tidier. You run your fingers through the soft hair and pull him towards you for a kiss

‘You look incredibly handsome,’ you whisper against his lips.

You swear you see him blush. Plucking one of the flowers from your hair, you tuck it into the button hole on his lapel.

‘There,’ you say, smoothing your hands down the front of his jacket, ‘Well troops, are we doing this?’

‘Yes!’ Laura yells and grabs your hand.

Logan gives you his arm and you link yours through it

‘Looks like we are,’ he says softly.

***

And then - you’re married. Logan slips the pawn shop ring on your finger and you swear you can feel him tremble. You’re sure you fare no better as you slip the matching one onto his finger. At that point you’re fairly sure Laura would have popped with excitement.

‘You may now kiss the bride,’ you both hear and Logan wastes no time in doing so. In fact the kiss possibly goes on for longer than is comfortable for the others in the room. But you don’t care. You can faintly hear Laura cheering but otherwise, your entire focus is on your new husband

Back in the room, you order room service - burger and fries for you and Laura, a steak for Logan, ice cream sundaes and brownies for dessert. You aren’t sure when you’ve ever felt happier. You keep glancing over at Logan, constantly reminding yourself that he is your husband now. Laura is your daughter. And this life of yours, together, is a whole new adventure

***

Finally Laura flags. The excitement of the day has finally worn her down and she’s finding it harder and harder to stay awake. Logan picks her up and you follow him into the adjoining room.

‘She can sleep in her dress,’ you say, ‘I’m not waking her up now’

You do pull off her shoes, and then tuck her into the bed. As you wander back towards the door to your room, you see Logan reach out his hand. You take it with no hesitation and he pulls you to him, planting the softest of kisses on your lips. You smile into the kiss and the excuse yourself to use the bathroom.

Logan is pouring himself a drink and gestures the bottle at you as you return. You shake your head

‘No thank you, but don’t let me stop you,’ you smile

Logan quirks and eyebrow but pours himself a good measure. Into another glass he pours a can of soda and hands it to you, clinking his glass against it.

‘Congratulations Mrs Howlett, you made an honest man of me,’ he grins, and circles his arm around your waist, pulling you to him

‘Honest, huh?’

‘Well,’ he smirks, ‘we can work on that’

You both drink then Logan leans in to kiss you again. He tastes of whisky, the cigar he smoked earlier, the sweetness of the chocolate he’d eaten. As much as you love when he fucks you, sometimes just his kisses are enough. He kisses like a man who doesn’t know if he’s ever going to experience it again. Putting his glass down, he takes your face in his hands and deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Your arms snake around his neck and you mould yourself against his body.

Breaking apart, with reluctance, you smile at him.

‘I guess we should get on with the wedding night,’ you say

Logan smirks

‘Think we might have practised that a few times already,’ he says sighing, ‘it’s been a long day, we don’t have to’

You smile up at him and then reach a hand down to where there is a definite bulge in the front of his pants. He shifts a little as you squeeze him

‘Oh don’t we,’ you smile

‘Well…,’ he grins, tucking a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, ‘I guess we could..’

You turn and Logan helps to unzip the dress, pushing it down off your shoulders, over your hips until it puddles on the floor around your feet. You stepped out of your shoes earlier in the evening but you’re still wearing the stockings you bought. Logan is looking down at your legs, brushing his fingers over the lacy stay ups

‘I can keep them on if you like,’ you say, your voice huskier than you expected it to sound. The look on Logan’s face makes you think that he would like that very much.

***

After, you and Logan lay in the crumbled sheets of the bed, spent but happy. You have your head resting on Logan’s chest, running your fingers slowly up and down his stomach as his arm snakes around your waist holding you tightly to him.

‘When were you going to tell me?’ He asks after a long silence

You raise your head and look up at his face. He’s staring down at you under lidded eyes

‘Tell you what?’

He brings his other hand from where it has been resting behind his head and spreads it over your belly

‘This’

You move your hand to cover his and look down at them both

‘I wasn’t..i wasn’t deliberately keeping it from you…I…’

He lets out a small laugh

‘I know. I’m just amazed you didn’t think I would work it out. Well…eventually’

You grin at him

‘I should have known better I guess.’

He smiles back

‘Yes you should’

You place your head back on his chest but don’t move your hand from his

‘I was scared. Not of what you’d say but…’

‘I know I’m not ideal father material,’ he says , ‘nor husband material. This whole thing, since you came into my life, it’s been…’

He stops, not sure what to say next. You stroke his cheek and sit up to look directly into his face

‘If I didn’t think you were the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, Logan Howlett, do you think I would be laying here now?’ You touched his hand still resting on your belly, ‘and this is just…just a miracle I never expected to happen’

Logan sighs and pulls himself up to sit against the headboard of the bed

‘I’m 200 years old, sweetheart. You and Laura and this one,’ he stroked the barely there bump, ‘are the best things that have happened for me in all that time….but I think…I know…I’m dying. I shouldn’t…’

You put your hand over his mouth and stop him from saying anything more. You further stop him with a kiss

‘I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it. I would not be here, in this room with you, wearing this ring. I don’t care if I have a day with you or another hundred years. I just want to be with you for as long as I can be.’

Logan pulls you closer to him and holds you tight. You aren’t sure if he’s crying until you feel the dampness on your neck. You just hold him, let him cry. Let him realise he is worth all this. Because you know that he is.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #old man logan x reader #logan howlett x you

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sjsmith56 · 2 days ago

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Anniversary

Summary: Bucky visits his wife, a patient at a specialized hospital, to celebrate their anniversary.

Length: 4.1 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC (wife), named OCC (children), Sam Wilson, named OMC (doctor), Shuri, assorted Dora Milaje.

Warnings: contains description of severe emotional trauma and PTSD, which may be triggering. Bucky experiencing major angst.

Author notes at end to avoid spoilers.

Today was Bucky's anniversary. It had been 10 years since he got married to Angela, his angel. He still remembered how she looked as she came down the aisle on her dad's arm, her eyes focused on him. Her bouquet of gerbera daisies, their distinctive bright colours setting the joyful tone for their wedding, was nestled in her other arm. There wasn't a dry eye in the house when they spoke their vows to each other, promising to love and cherish each other through better or for worse, through sickness and health, until death separated them. Their first dance at the reception was to You Are So Beautiful. She was everything he ever wanted, and he thanked the fates for bringing them together.

As Bucky came out of the shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist, he looked at himself in the mirror. There was more grey in his beard now, as well as a few stray strands in his hair. His aging process was slower than most humans, but it was still there, and he didn't mind. Neither did Angela when she first teased him about someday being a silver fox. He carefully trimmed his beard down, making it look neat. Next, he brushed his teeth, then he styled his hair, making sure it was just like his wife liked it.

He began to get dressed, pulling his pants on then his dress shirt. Before he could button it there was a small knock on the door, and he zipped up his pants before opening it to his son Jamie, and daughter, Emma, aged 8 and 6. Sam was behind them.

"Sorry, but they wanted to see you," said his friend, apologetically.

"I was going to say good night before you left," he said gently to the pair, sitting down on the bed facing both of them. "Why the long faces?"

"Why can't we come?" asked Emma.

"Because this is a special occasion for Mom and me," he replied softly. "We've been married for ten years. You'll see her tomorrow and you can tell her all about what you and Uncle Sam and Auntie Jade do tonight."

"Why can't we see her tonight?" asked Jamie, fidgeting with his hands.

"Oh, bubba, it's just how it is," answered Bucky, stroking his son's head. "Tonight, it's just me and your mom. Tomorrow, it will be all of us. I promise."

He hugged them both, looking up at Sam's sympathetic face. It was hard for the kids to understand that their visits were difficult for their mom sometimes. For them to see her tonight could make tomorrow almost unbearable for her. Cradling their faces in his hands, Bucky kissed their foreheads, then walked them out to the living room, where Sam's wife, Jade, was waiting with the kid's overnight bags. He kissed her on the cheek then hugged his kids again, wishing them all a good night, as they left.

Back in his bedroom, he finished dressing, putting Angela's favourite tie on, then the watch she bought him for their fifth anniversary. He packed his overnight bag, and took another look around the bedroom, sighing at how empty it seemed.

On the way to meet his wife, Bucky stopped at the florists to pick up the bouquet of gerbera daisies, remembering his wedding day once again when he saw them. Every time Bucky came to see her, he brought them, hoping that she would notice and give him a sign that she heard him or knew it was him that was visiting. Half the time she did. Those were the best visits.

It didn't take long to get to the facility. He parked, grabbed his overnight bag and the flowers, and strode up to the door. Inside, he checked in at the reception desk, where the receptionist looked up at him.

"The doctor would like to see you before you go in," she said. "I'll call and let him know you're here. If you could just check in at the unit desk, he'll be there."

Bucky wondered why the doctor needed to talk to him, hoping it was just a check in and not a warning. He took the elevator, coming out just down the hall from the unit desk. Doctor Fletcher was waiting, smiling kindly at Bucky as he approached.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"I just wanted to see you before you entered the unit," said the doctor, motioning for Bucky to come with him. He ushered him into an office and closed the door. "There was an incident just a short while ago. Since you were coming anyway, we didn't call."

"Did she hurt anyone?"

"No, but it was a severe flashback," he replied. "She had to be sedated. I know tonight is a special night, but we had no choice. She's awake but right now is non-responsive. I'm sorry."

Bucky breathed out, clamping his jaw tightly shut. He couldn't be angry at the doctor as they took such good care of Angela but sometimes when she remembered her trauma she reacted violently. As the doctor recounted what happened, Bucky listened, looking down at the floor. Sometimes, it was a struggle to dampen his own emotions when he thought of all that happened to her, but it was important to her well being that he appear calm when he was with her.

"You ready?" asked Dr. Fletcher. "You're still welcome to stay the night, just be prepared for a recurrence."

"I do wish to stay," said Bucky. "We haven't ever been apart on our anniversary and I'm not about to start now. What about the kid's visit tomorrow?"

"We'll assess her behaviour in the morning and decide then," he replied. "We'll turn off the internal cameras for your privacy as soon as you're in there."

Bucky nodded in agreement, then followed the doctor out of his office. They went through two locked doors then came up to another door. Doctor Fletcher looked up at the security camera and nodded. The buzzer on the room door sounded and the lock clicked open. Bucky opened the door, stepping inside and pushed the door closed, hearing the lock click and the buzzer sound. Up in the corner, the camera light went off. Angela was seated in an armchair by the window. She wore a dress, and someone had done her hair.

"Sweetheart?" asked Bucky, approaching her slowly, putting his bag on the dresser.

She didn't look at him or respond. Slowly, he positioned himself in front of his wife and kneeled in front of her.

"Hello, my darling," he murmured, touching her hand with his hand. "I brought you your favourite flowers for our anniversary." Her face didn't change, not acknowledging his presence. "It's our tenth anniversary, Angela."

There was still no response, and he sighed. Standing up he opened a cupboard and brought out a plastic vase, filling it with water in the bathroom. After unwrapping the bouquet, he placed the flowers in the vase and put it on her dresser. Taking his phone out he brought up the playlist of music played at their wedding and started it. Then he dragged the other chair over to sit next to her and reached for her hand. As the music played, he told her the story of how they met.

"I was looking for a specific album from the 1940s," he began. "For weeks I had searched the internet for someone who had it and you put up an ad on one of the websites, as you were selling your grandparent's record collection. I showed up at your place and you had a treasure trove of music that I loved. I offered to buy it all and the price you quoted was outrageous, but I didn't care because it was the music I grew up listening to, dancing to, and making love to. We reached an agreement for me to pay you in instalments. Every month I would meet you, pay you a portion, then you would give me another box of records. About three months into our little transaction, you asked me to stay for a drink and we played some of my favourites on a record player that you bought. We had such a good time, as I had a story for just about every album you played. When I got home, I realized that I forgot to pay you, and I drove back. That was the first time we kissed."

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed them. Her fingers flexed as he did it and he looked at Angela's face. She had a slight smile on it.

"You called me a few days later and asked me over for dinner," he continued. "We danced and I stayed until breakfast. When I moved in a month later, I didn't have to pay for any more records. You took the ad down, which irritated another buyer who tried to outbid me. We got married six months later. Since then, it's been ten years, and I love you as much now as I did then."

"Bucky?"

Her whisper was barely audible, but he heard her.

"Yes, my angel. I'm here."

"I'm sorry."

He kneeled before her again, looking up into her brown eyes that struggled to focus on him.

"You don't have to be sorry for anything, sweetheart. You just had a bad day."

"I remembered." His hand went to her cheek, caressing it gently. She blinked then took a shuddering breath. "They hurt me to hurt you."

"Yeah," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. They'll never hurt you again. I made sure of that."

Angela's eyes squeezed shut and she whimpered, the sound piercing Bucky's soul. Those bastards destroyed so much of her when they took her. In the few days it took to find her they ripped her apart physically, emotionally, and mentally, as part of a targeted effort to bring him to heel. All because he said no, that he was done with killing, done with everything he ever did as the Winter Soldier. At the time he meant it, then they took Angela and there was no stopping him when he caught up to them.

"Sweetheart," he murmured. "Do you want to sit on my lap?"

Her head nodded slightly, and he helped her up, then took her place in the armchair, gathering her onto her safe place, close to him, surrounded by his warmth and his strong arms. As her hand slid into the gap between his shirt buttons, settling on his chest, he smiled that she still felt comforted by his skin.

"Sing," she whispered.

He stopped the playlist, cleared his throat, and began to sing her favourite lullaby.

Hush little baby, don't say a word, Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird.

And if that mockingbird don't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring.

And if that diamond ring turns brass, Papa's gonna buy you a looking glass.

And if that looking glass gets broke, Papa's gonna buy you a billy goat.

And if that billy goat doesn't pull, Papa's gonna buy you a cart and bull.

And if that cart and bull turn over, Papa's gonna buy a dog named Rover.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark, Papa's gonna buy a horse and cart.

And if that horse and cart fall down, we'll you'll still be the sweetest baby in town.

She gave out a sigh and burrowed further into his chest. They sat like that for some time, listening to each other's heartbeats. He kissed her head, breathing in and out calmly.

"How long?" she asked, like she did every time he visited.

"Two years," he answered. "You've been here two years."

"When can I go home?"

He felt his eyes burn and throat tighten at the question and struggled to answer, afraid that his voice would crack. But she deserved the truth, always.

"When you're better and you stop trying to hurt yourself and the kids," he replied. She was quiet and he knew she was blaming herself. "It wasn't your fault. They know you love them, and they love you."

"I'm sorry," she whispered again. A sinking feeling filled Bucky's body as he waited for the next words. "I remembered. They hurt me to hurt you."

"Yes, they did." He swallowed. "I'm so sorry but they'll never hurt you again. I made sure of that."

She was quiet again then she spoke and asked him a new question that threw him off for a moment.

"Did you hurt them back?"

"Yeah, baby, I did. I hurt them bad."

"Good."

After several more minutes of silence Angela pulled her head away from Bucky's chest and looked at his face. She placed her hand on his cheek and smiled at him, making him smile back.

"Hi Bucky," she said. "You wore a suit."

"Hi sweetheart," he whispered. "I wore a suit because it's a special occasion and I love to see you smile."

"Is it our anniversary?" she asked. Bucky nodded and glanced back at the flowers, drawing her attention to them. "Gerbera daisies. Just like on our wedding day. Can we dance?"

"Sure."

They stood up and he searched for You Are So Beautiful on his phone, placing it on the table near the armchair. Taking Angela in his arms, Bucky bent his head so that they were cheek to cheek and began dancing. Holding her was so amazing and for a moment, he could almost imagine they were dancing at their wedding again. Then the song ended, and another one began, and Angela suddenly pulled away, looking around at her surroundings.

"Where am I?"

"You're in a safe place," he answered, hoping this was just a question and not the beginning of another episode.

"No, no." She backed away, looking more and more confused. "This is a prison."

"No, sweetheart, it's a hospital," replied Bucky. "They're trying to help you, remember?"

"NO!"

She pushed him away and tried to get to the door. Bucky wrapped his arms around her, but she turned on him and began scratching at his face, crying for help. He could hear the intercom turn on before the sound of Dr. Fletcher's voice. Looking at the door, he could see the man's face in the small window.

"Mr. Barnes, we need to intervene. You're bleeding."

"I'll heal," said Bucky. "Please, don't."

"It will just get worse. You know that. Let us do our job."

His face crumpled as he nodded, and the door buzzed then the lock clicked, and three men came in to take Angela under control. She kicked and screamed at them as Bucky was ordered into the corner of the room. He had only witnessed this a handful of times, but each time tore him apart. For all his super soldier abilities he couldn't handle Angela when she got this bad. He couldn't fix what her abductors had done to her. Only time and professional care could do that, and even that wasn't certain.

Slumping down in the corner, he covered his ears and closed his eyes unable to listen or watch them as the three men gently but firmly held Angela still while Dr. Fletcher injected her with a sedative. It took only a minute for it to take effect then her head lolled back and two of the men lifted her onto her bed. One removed her shoes while the other covered her up with a blanket. The third waited at the door while his coworkers left, leaving Bucky and Dr. Fletcher in the room. He bent over in front of Bucky, looking at him with compassion.

"Let me check your face."

"I'm fine," said Bucky, slowly standing up.

"You're not. Please, come into the bathroom and I'll make sure nothing is too deep." Allowing the doctor to lead him in, Bucky sat on the shower chair while the doctor examined his scratches. "They are superficial, but we should clean them. You have blood on your shirt."

He prepared a facecloth for Bucky, then watched as the super soldier cleaned his face.

"She's not getting better, is she?" asked Bucky.

"Healing doesn't happen in a straight line," said Dr. Fletcher. He sighed. "I'm not sure that anything we're doing here is helping, to be honest. Have you approached your friends in Wakanda for help?"

Bucky nodded. "They believe they can help her, but I'm not allowed to leave the country, and I won't send her there alone." He pulled up his pant leg, showing the ankle monitor. "I should be in prison for what I did to the kidnappers, but the judge was lenient with sentencing and allowed me to be at home to look after the kids. If I try to leave, they'll come after me. They'll send a black ops team into Wakanda to extract me. I can't do that to them, and I can't live a fugitive life again. It's no life for a wife and family."

"Mr. Barnes ... Bucky." Dr. Fletcher exhaled loudly. "She has talked of suicide and frankly, I'm afraid she will succeed, despite all our precautions. If they can help, isn't that worth your freedom? From what I've seen of you, your wife means everything. I can talk to whoever will listen and try to make them understand that your wife's recovery needs to happen in Wakanda and that she needs you with her. But if they don't agree, then I think the time for drastic action is on you."

He patted Bucky on the shoulder, then left him in the bathroom, checking briefly on Angela before closing the room door behind him. Still in the bathroom, Bucky wiped some tears from his face then took off his jacket, tie, and dress shirt, staring at himself in the mirror. Returning to the room, he took a T-shirt and sweatpants out of his bag, and changed into them. After turning all the lights off, he slid into bed beside Angela, cradling her in his arms before kissing her on the forehead.

"Happy Anniversary," he murmured.

One year later

The Wakandan diplomatic jet approached JFK airport. Inside, Bucky sat, holding his wife Angela's hand, their daughter, Emma, on her lap, while Jamie, their son, looked out the window, still captivated by the view from above. The announcement to buckle up for landing came and he made sure both kids were strapped in before turning his attention to his wife.

"I'm fine," she said, pointing to the seatbelt. "See? I managed it all by myself."

"Just making sure," he smiled as he belted himself in. He looked over at Shuri and Ayo, both of them smiling knowingly at them. He could have been flippant, but he was too grateful for that. "Thank you again for all that you did. I'm forever in your debt, once more."

"There is no debt, White Wolf," said Shuri. "Living the life you were meant to have will be payment enough." She looked at Angela. "Remember to always wear the kimoyo beads, even in the shower. Any episodes of PTSD will alert us, and we can apply corrective measures immediately."

"I will. Thank you for taking care of me. I'm going to miss living there but it's time my parents got to see their grandchildren again."

"You are always welcome to visit and bring the grandparents," smiled Shuri.

Nomble came out of the cockpit and sat on a nearby chair, shaking her head in disgust.

"The authorities requested permission to board the jet to place Sergeant Barnes in custody. I took the liberty of reminding them this is a diplomatic aircraft, and any incursion could be construed as an aggressive act. They will be inside the terminal, but I believe they wish to take him before the press has a chance to ask him for comment."

"Well, that's not going to happen," said Shuri, looking at the other members of the Dora Milaje accompanying them. "Make sure that Sergeant Barnes and his family are within the security perimeter."

"I don't want trouble," said Bucky.

"Too late for that," murmured Yama, loud enough to be heard by all of them.

When the aircraft landed and the Dora Milaje set up their guard formation, Bucky and his family were placed immediately behind Shuri, as they walked into the terminal via the passageway. As they approached the arrivals lounge inside, they could see an assortment of police and federal agents waiting to take Bucky into custody. Shuri walked right past them, and the Dora Milaje gave no space for anyone to slip between them. They proceeded through the doors to immigration and customs, entering the diplomatic line. Even though Bucky and his family were instructed to enter a different line, Shuri ignored it and declared the Barnes family as being under her diplomatic immunity. The agent on duty looked questioningly at his supervisor who sighed, then nodded his head, not wanting to cause a diplomatic incident with the formidable women warriors. As two of them were delegated to collect the luggage, Shuri led the others out to the public arrivals area of the terminal where the press was, along with Sam Wilson.

While the Wakandan group faced the others, preventing any law enforcement from entering their perimeter, Bucky kneeled and hugged his son and daughter, stroking their heads with affection.

"I have to give myself up now," he said. "Remember what I said about listening to your mom and Uncle Sam, and Auntie Jade. If anyone says anything bad about me, you just walk away. I'll fight my own battles on this, okay?"

They both tearfully nodded and kissed him on the cheek, receiving forehead kisses from him. He stood up and faced his wife, their eyes glistening.

"I just wanted you to get better," he croaked, as his voice broke. "You're everything to me and it will be worth it." He looked at Sam who nodded and smiled at him. "You'll be okay living with Sam and his family in Delacroix. Matt and Foggy will meet me at the arraignment. With luck I could be out in a couple of years."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No, don't be, not for this. I would go to hell and back for you."

They kissed each other deeply, their tears mingling together, then Bucky smiled at Shuri, giving her his vibranium arm for safekeeping. He stepped away from the protective circle of the Dora Milaje, offering his one hand to the ranking police officer there. They couldn't cuff Bucky in the normal way, so an officer cuffed his left hand to Bucky's right and led him away, followed by several other officers, photographers, and reporters. The rest remained there as Angela and the kids joined Sam, receiving hugs from him. After several calls for a comment, he looked at Angela, who nodded for him to speak. It took several attempts as he struggled to keep his emotions in check then he looked out over those who were there.

"What you just saw was a husband and father, who voluntarily gave himself up to the authorities to face charges of escaping custody. He deliberately cut off his ankle monitor to take his wife to Wakanda for treatment she couldn't get in the United States, and even though her doctor fought for Bucky to be allowed to go with her, the authorities didn't trust him to return when her treatment was finished. They only saw the Winter Soldier when they made that decision. They didn't think James Buchanan Barnes was honourable enough to return. You just witnessed how wrong they were. Even more remarkable is that today was their 11th wedding anniversary. How many of you would do the same?"

He wanted to say more but Jamie tugged his hand.

"I want to go now," he said, looking at the reporters.

Sam faced the press again. "We're done."

One month later

News update.

Former Avenger James Buchanan Barnes was released from custody today, after receiving a full pardon from the President. Barnes, who deliberately escaped from house arrest over a year ago in order to accompany his wife to Wakanda for psychiatric treatment that was not available in the United States, declined to comment but his lawyer, Matthew Murdock, did say that his client was looking forward to resuming a quiet life with his family.

In related news, former CIA Director Valentina de Fontaine, was named as the person responsible for the abduction of Angela Barnes, wife of James Barnes, over three years ago. A spokesperson for the Justice Department said the case was never closed, despite the deaths of the abductors upon the rescue of Mrs. Barnes. Fontaine, known as the queen of black operations before her CIA appointment has proclaimed her innocence on these charges. She has been placed on house arrest pending her trial.

🌸 🌸🌸

Author notes: I admit that I have no experience with mental health care in a hospital setting. In this story I have imagined that this psychiatric hospital is very specialized, providing a high level of personal care. The image of the hospital room is from an actual mental health facility in another country. Angela's trauma is so deep that they have been unable to be little more than caretakers, keeping her from harming herself. I was more concerned with showing Bucky's devotion to his wife, as he honored his wedding vows and broke the law to help her.

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #honoring wedding vows #mental illness #emotional trauma #ptsd #devotion

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not-xpr-art · 2 days ago

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Inside no 9 - Series 4 painting studies ~

Here's the next set of individual paintings for this series!! Less of a neat post than the others since there's technically 7 episodes in this one (because of Dead Line lol)

My Zanzibar painting is maybe a bit of a simple screen shot, but I just couldn't find any in that ep that weren't overly complicated lol... Plus it is a very pretty shade of green so it adds a nice bit of colour to the series!

Testament to how much Bernie Clifton's Dressing Room means to me that I was actually getting emotional painting that one pfft... There were SO many options I could have picked for that ep but again, the simplicity won out and I love how it's still very recognisably them whilst also being really aesthetically beautiful!

I can't remember who pointed it out, but someone mentioned how if Viktor had actually fallen in that scene then his nose would actually be pressed up which isn't something I thought about before lol! Realism aside, it was a joy to paint such a silly shot!

So I actually started doing two different drawings of Nick from Tempting Fate only I was really struggling to get his face right fsr so gave up and went for a much easier shot that still featured the hare and guys it honestly ended up being my absolute favourite out of all of them lol!!

My Dead Line piece really just tells me I should draw more older people tbh! Especially if they're holding knives lol

As always thanks to everyone for the love on this series <3

#inside no 9 #in9 fanart #artists on tumblr #digital art #art studies #painting studies #first post of this year!#i am glad i decided to post them today and not yesterday #since i heard the tags were a bit broken pfft hopefully they're working alright now!

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capseycartwright · 6 hours ago

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tagged by @livingincolorsagain to do a 2024 fic roundup and i am v late but hope u forgive my tardiness i have been enjoying a new year rot of the highest order. anyway apparently i wrote a whole heap of fic this year and didn't realise it until i made this post.

april

every little thing the sun shows, well it’s worth it

Buck should – he should be freaking out, right? He’d lived thirty-two years of his life without coming close to kissing another man, and it should be making him freak out that tonight, he did – but Buck felt flooded with the oddest sense of calm he’d ever experienced in his life.

He’d kissed a man.

or - after his kiss with Tommy, Buck goes to Hen.

stay close, little brother

hen and maddie share a quiet moment of pride about their little brother at the buckley-han wedding.

may

all roads lead to eddie diaz

Eddie inclined his head slightly. “He is,” he hummed in response. “But it sounds more like you’re wanting to pick a fight here than discuss our mutual appreciation for how great a person Buck is.

Tommy, at least, looked slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” he admitted. “The way you feel about him.

or - eddie and tommy have a revelatory conversation about the buck of it all.

july

a sky full of stars

Christopher Diaz had always loved fireworks - the pop, and bang, and the way they would light up the sky with bright colours. His dad didn’t like fireworks though. His dad was afraid of them.

or, even in Texas, Christopher worries about his father spending the Fourth of July alone. So he texts Buck.

can't ignore the crazy visions of me in la

Margarita-drunk Buck ruminates on how beautiful Eddie Diaz is while his best friend is dancing to Chappell Roan. That's what LA pride is for, right?

- or, alternatively: Eddie spends his first pride as an out queer man in a gay club, and Buck is in love with him about it.

october

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins)

Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.

Eddie couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he thought the words. If he couldn’t be a bit silly while having a sexuality crisis in a Catholic church – when could he?

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight.

knowing damn well i haven't been touched by you

Buck’s been having a really weird year. Buck died, and he realised he was bisexual, and he got a boyfriend, and Christopher left and went to Texas after he walked in on Eddie kissing his dead mother’s doppelganger, Eddie had grown a depression mustache, and Gerrard was back at the helm of the 118 and Buck felt like he was starring in a Netflix Original about how a perfectly normal, functional, member of society was driven to commit murder.

- or, Buck's got a boyfriend, Eddie comes out and starts dating men, and Buck loses his entire mind, actually.

november

miss me, but let me go

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me.”

On November 1, Eddie builds an altar for Shannon and finds a way to let her go.

you're my sun, my moon, my guiding star

“Fine, let’s have it your way then,” Eddie slammed his phone down on the kitchen table. “You set me up a dating profile then – Hinge, Grindr, whatever you fucking want, Buck. Set me up a dating profile, and you pick which random man I need to sleep with to make it so you feel okay about wanting me.”

in which evan buckley gets dumped, gets drunk with his best friend, realises he's in love with said best friend, and lets his abandonment issues get the best of him. because your first is never your last, right? so buck can't be eddie's first: he needs to be his last.

december

i'll be home for christmas (if only in my dreams)

It was a silly thing, Buck had started, right when Eddie first got to El Paso – we’re looking at the same sky, he’d quipped, on one of their nightly Facetime calls.

Even when they were far apart from each other, they were still able to look up at the same stars, and if they just remembered that, maybe the distance between El Paso, and Los Angeles, wouldn’t feel so cavernous. That’s what Buck had promised him.

simply having a wonderful christmastime (maybe)

Eddie's family were about to arrive for the first Christmas they were hosting in LA as as couple, and, well, Buck felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack so great it would be in the Guinness Book of World Records for the destruction it was liable to cause.

or - the buckley-diazes are hosting christmas for the first time, and buck is freaking out, a little. he has a good reason, he swears.

see the lights, hang the stockings

Eddie finds out that Buck has never ever had a Christmas stocking of his own. He's very determined to change that and share a few Diaz family traditions.

everyone has probably done this already so apologies but tagging @doeeyeseddie @thatbuddie @clusterbuck @hattalove @mellaithwen @sibylsleaves @piningbuddies @eddiebabygirldiaz @hotshotsxyz

#if you remember two other fics i wrote in april no you dont #but if u do i only orphaned them not deleted so if u can still read them if u want #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic

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defuckingthrone-dot-com · 2 days ago

Text

One more night gone 🌻

Summary: Based on the song Hello, I’m in Delaware by City & Colour. Navigating the hardships of having a rockstar boyfriend and feeling just a bit small when he's away on tour.

Pairing: Noah x Reader

TW: talks of being sad and alone.

AN: maybe someday I’ll write something longer for now this will do? Lol I might make these into a little series. I have another one of these with another song that I love that I’m working on as well. @concretejunglefm has seen my WIP list, and I hope I can get all of my ideas into something cozy and fun for yall to read.

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

READERS POV

Watching Noah go on tour was always a bittersweet feeling for me. I loved seeing him accomplish all of his dreams and having the time of his life. I loved seeing him so happy about doing what he loved. But I also i hated that i felt so alone when he wasn’t around. Yeah I had family and friends that I could easily call to come over but it didn’t fill the void that I felt when he wasn’t at home with me.

“I will see you again” I heard through the speakers of my phone. I was currently on FaceTime with Noah, I admití that I wasn’t really paying attention to anything that he has said to me in the last 5 minutes.

My thoughts where hazy and I was feeling under the weather ever since he left for tour a week ago.

“Babe…are you okay?” I heard him ask me with a bit of concern in his voice.

“Sorry..I just.. it’s so dumb. Forget it, how everything going?” I asked trying to change the subject.

I indeed felt dumb even bringing up the subject of how I felt, I didn’t want him to feel guilty for doing what he loved.

“Y/N you do know you can tell anything..right?” Noah asked making a long pause to make sure I would answer.

“Yes I know, I just don’t wanna make it seem like the end of the world” I paused for a moment “ I miss you so much you have no idea, I just feel so little when your not around.”

I could see the apologetic look in his eyes, and it broke me even more to think that it was he might have felt a bit guilty for leaving me.

“Please don’t think that I’m saying all of these to make you feel guilty or any of that sort.” I said “I love that you get to do what you love and I’m so proud of everything you have accomplished, I just wish I was able to go with you this time around” i let out a little laugh trying to subside the little ache growing inside me.

Noah took a breath before speaking to me again.

“I know baby, I miss you too, I wish you were here with me” I could hear his voice break as I looked intently at his eyes through the screen. “I don’t want you to feel alone, 17 more days and I’ll be back home”

I didn’t want to continue on the subject because I couldn't even stand myself when I got overwhelmed with my feelings. So we continued to talk about everything else that had been going on since he left.

But in my mind 17 days felt like a lifetime, a lifetime without Noah. 17 days without getting to see his face, 17 days without waking up to him in bed. 17 days of not being able to have his intoxicating scent around me.

For now I laid in bed, I had put on one of Noah’s t shirt, which fit me like a dress, but for now is the only way I could feel close to him. It made the wait for him a little more plausible.

NOAH’S POV

It had been almost an hour since my FaceTime call with y/n and all I could think about was her sad eyes. I hated not being able to be by her side.

I know the feeling of being alone and small all too well because I too felt the same when she wasn’t around. I always had this internal battle with myself of whether I should take a step back and be more involved in our relationship.

The boy and I were currently heading to the next city on our tour. We had 17 more days to go. 17 more days till I get to see her beautiful face.

“You okay, man?” Jolly asked, a bit intrigued.

“Uhh yeah, I’m alright” I said giving him half a smile.

“Doesn’t seem like it, do you wanna talk about it?” Nicholas chimed in emerging from the bunk area of the bus.

“I'm really okay, it’s y/n” I said

“Is she okay, what’s wrong?” I heard Jolly’s voice again with a tone of concern.

“Physically nothing. Mentally she’s having a hard time being alone” I took a deep breath. “I don’t like being away from her so long”

“I get it, it's tough being far away from our loved ones, but we gotta be strong,” Nicholas says, grabbing my shoulder.

“Yeah I know, sometimes it just feels like my life is passing by, with every exit sign, with every departing flight. It’s hard with so much time apart” I paused for a moment. “Sometimes my body aches and it hurts to say”

I could see the sympathy in both of my friends faces but I appreciate it the most that they were listening to me and I could vent to them without any sort of judgement.

“…. And I wish I weren’t here tonight…only tonight I wish I could be with her. But this is my life” my voice almost breaking. ”I don’t want to sound ungrateful I love what I do, I love what we do together, but sometimes is tough on both of us not being able to experience it together”

“Don’t worry Noah we will be home soon, and hey maybe next tour she’ll come with us” Nicholas says with a smile on his face.

“Yeah I hope so, thanks guys for listening to me” I tell them both.

“We’re here for you” Jolly tells me while he stands up and heads into his bunk.

While the rest of my mates where already asleep in their respective bunks I was in the living room area of the bus. Taking all of the scenery that's passing by through the window. I saw the sign which read we were already in a new state.i decided to text y/n before I went to sleep.

Hello, I’m in Delaware. 16 more days till we’re together. I love you. ❤️

#bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian #Noah fan fics #Spotify

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