#but NOOOOO he didn't do fuck all

[noperopesaredope]

I love him but also yeah pretty much

i hate him bro DO SOMETHING

[hauntingblue]

Episode 8 I am so scared....

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Sounds like you've got a right bitch of a co-worker based on those post tags lol

ajfksdljf TT0TT Oh that was like my 3rd version of a post I made. I had to talk myself down and censor myself akljsdflkfa orz

But yes he really is. I cannot stress it enough that everyone hates his guts and he's created such a hostile work environment.

[byfulcrums]

i cope with the absolute trainwreck that is jjk rn by mocking sukuna all the time with my friends (they have no idea who he is)

[todayisafridaynight]

Especially because in the end... Arakawa loses his son in small ways that just Accumulate... but Jo's the one who even gets to outlive his son... AUGH. THROWING MYSELF INTO A WOODCHIPPER

Also while going through old messages, I saw I actually had a dream back in 2021 that Jo came back in LaD8. I mean sure he had "longer hair" and "a new outfit NOBODY liked except me" and was Unserious like RGGJo whereas in the actual teaser he sounds more depressed than ever but I'm still taking credit alright... the vision came to me...

And in a Hell Will Freeze Over Before This Happens I Just Like To Think About It way. I want him in my goddamn party and I have for all of Y7 so it's not related to the new game. I don't care. I want to find out what his favorite flowers are I want to take him to Every Movie and get his commentary on all of it I want to take him out to eat and watch his little itadakimasu animation play out I want to have the most light-hearted and inconsequential conversations and I want him to chime in I want to exhaust every option on his Drink Link I want to unlock his sickass tag-team moves I want to wear True Hero and fight by his side I want to shower him with so much love and affection he won't know what hit him (<- channeling Arakawa tbh)

its just insane because from a metaphorical sense arakawa 'outlives' masato in that he becomes aoki and like. That's One Thing, but then Of Course. There's Jo. //stuffing my mouth with wet cement// like OHHHH the pain never stops it never ends,,

mate i think your brain was just tryna manifest RGGJo to make a come back through y7 ☠️☠️ CREDIT WHERE CREDITS DUE THO BUT DAMN would have been. THE MOST interesting change to his character though.... on the real.... because yeah he just sounds so tired from the trailer so far （；´д｀）would be hilarious if instead of entering a Super Depression arc bro's just. Yeah Alright Fuck It. What Can We Do Now Amirite. walk right out the cell with the white suit and snake-patterned lapels and all ☠️☠️

OK BUT MOST VALID RANT EVER. MOST VALID WANT EVER. would really just have the vibe of dragging your jaded uncle around the city i would died to have that,,, 😭😭

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

The video quality is shit (although it may be better in the video on YT of the whole show that this is from), but I have had different parts of this song stuck in my head at least once a day for the past week or two, so I figure I may as well share the song that won't fucking leave me alone. (It's okay though, because I LOVE this song, but I'm also wondering @ my brain 'WHY THIS ONE IN SPECIFIC?' This is one of my very favorite songs off of The Crossing, but even The Crossing isn't my favorite Big Country album, so...if I could get other songs that I like even more stuck in my head so frequently, that would be better, but I'm still not exactly complaining...) I, however, will complain that Big Country stopped playing this song live after 1984, because Stuart's vocals in this performance are soooooo lovelyyyyyyyyyy!

[sachermorte]

so the thing about english is that people think it's so divorced from other germanic languages based on like. words. I've even heard people try to insist that english is a romance language. because of that whole messy business in 1066 with out-of-wedlock willy and his band of naughty normans. and now a good chunk of the vocabulary is french or whatever and they're prestigious so not using them makes you sound like a rube and this and that and the other

and yes william the conqueror will never be safe from me. I will have my revenge on him. he fucked up a perfectly good germanic language is what he did. this will be me in hell

but the thing is that most words in, say, german do have a one to one english equivalent. not all hope is lost, for those who still dare to see it. it's just that you 1066pilled normancels aren't looking in the right place

dog (en) ≠ der Hund (de) but der Hund (de) -> hound (en)

look with your special eyes. that one was easier. not all of them are this intuitive because of semantic narrowing and broadening and waltzing and hokey-pokeying and whatever else. I'll give you a few more

animal (en) ≠ das Tier (de)

aha! you think. I've got him on the ropes now.

but then

das Tier (de) -> deer (en)

nooooo!! you whine and cry in gay baby jail. the consonants are different!!! listen to me. listen, I say, putting both my hands on your shoulder. /t/and /d/ are the same sound. you just put your voice behind one of them.

nooooooooo!! you wail. deer are animals but not all animals are deer!!! listen to me. LISTEN. they used to be. animals used to be deer. that's just what we called them. it was a long time ago. it was a weird time in all our lives. it's okay.

let's try for a verb this time

to die (en) ≠ sterben (de) but sterben (de) -> to starve

same principle with the consonants, we're just changing a stop (where we completely stop the airflow and then let it through) for a fricative (where we still let some air go through. idk where it's going. maybe to its job or something.)

to starve used to mean generally to die, not just to die of malnourishment. we do that a lot. we take one word for a lot of things and make it mean one thing. or take one word for one thing and make it mean a lot of things. this is common and normal.

"okay but roland," you say, suddenly coming up with an argument. "what about tree? trees are super common. I don't think we'd fuck around too much with that. the german word is baum! what about THAT?"

"when did you learn german?" I ask, but then decide it isn't relevant right at this very moment. but fine.

tree (en) ≠ der Baum (de) but der Baum (de) -> beam (en)

beam??? you ask incredulously. beam???? BEAM?????? you continue with the same tone and cadence of captain holt from brooklyn 99.

yes. beam. like the evil beams from my eye I'm going to hit you with if you don't stop shouting.

but the vowels!!! you howl.

listen. listen to me. the vowels mean nothing. absolutely nothing. they're fluid like water. it got raised in english.

"WHAT DOES RAISED MEAN"

it doesn't matter right now. they were raised better than you, at least. stop shouting. open your eyes and see what god has given you. they're the same word.

"they're NOT the same word. they mean different things!"

we've been over this. they didn't used to. a beam was (and is) a long solid piece of wood. much like the long solid piece of wood I showed your mother last night.

FAQ:

Q: could english be some kind of germanic-romance hybrid?

A: do you become a sexy thing from the black lagoon just because you dressed up as one for halloween? english may have gotten a lot of vocabulary from norman french, but its history and syntax are distinctly germanic. that's what we base these things on.

Q: okay but what does it matter? this doesn't actually affect my day to day life

A: you come into my house? you come into my house, the house of an autistic man living in vienna austria and studying english linguistics and you ask me what does it matter? sit back down. I was going to let you go but now I have powerpoints to show you

Q: you're stupid and wrong and gay and a bad person

A: I know it's you, Willy

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - Part 1

Prompt: Dan kills the joker and unintentionally becomes a crime lord

Dan didn't mean to become a Crime Lord. It wasn't his fault that the Joker was fragile and easily killable with one punch to the head. He didn't know that the seemingly immortal clown was easily killed once the impact practically snapped his neck. So yes, Dan didn't mean for this shit to happen. Not when all he wanted to do was go to college, make sure Danny and Elle weren't attracting trouble back in Gotham academy.

It wasn't his fault that the crazy bastard thought it was a good idea to nab his siblings and try to use them for ransom. It's not his fault that his first instinct was to introduce his first to that pennywise knock-off. It'd not his fault that this city was haunted by vengeful ghosts that wanted to tear that motherfucker to shreds.

They were supposed to lay low after the mess with their parents and their name changes.

But nooooo!

They had to have an absolute hatred for clowns and now he's somehow made himself a crime lord. Why the fuck were the Joker's goons so fucking stupid?! They either tried to kill Dan for killing their boss or they tried to fall under him and make him their new leader. It was like a fucking cult in his eyes. Seriously, what the absolute fuck was going on with this shitty city?

It's not like he could call Jazz and say "Hi sis! I killed a crazy clown and I'm now the boss of his weird goons. I also might end up on the local vigilante's hitlist."

Yeah, no. He's not doing that.

But this might not be so bad... Not really. Being their boss could be treated as a source of income if he utilized the Joker's shit properly. I mean, he couldn't always rely on the fruitloops money, not when Vlad could turn traitor and use the money against them. He needed to find a way to support his siblings, one way or another.

And Clockwork did say to get a hobby. If not mass genocide then he could resort to carefully planned crime. Yes. This could work. He'll make it fucking work for the sake of his siblings.

Besides, if he was a crime lord—in motherfucking Gotham—he doubts that the GIW will even try to fuck around in a city where a ghost controlled some part of the criminal underworld.

Oh... Oh, he was gonna fucking do this.

(Clockwork watched as his most troublesome child shifts from world ender to crime lord. At least it was an upgrade from mass genocide.)

Nightwing didn't particularly know what to make of this mess. There were rumors of a new crime lord, of a new rogue.

One day, Joker's body was dropped into the harbor and found by the workers, all confused and scared as to why the Clown Prince of crime was dead in the water. It was humiliating in the Joker's standards, to be discarded like trash into the sea rather than have his body displayed for everyone to gawk at. The clown would have adored being glorified but whoever the hell killed him knew this and fucked the guy up bad.

His head snapped and his corpse tossed out like leftovers.

Jason had laughed, outright celebrated and Crime Alley was as festive as it ever was with the Red Hood blasting music through the streets and partying like there was no tomorrow. All of Gotham was celebrating, parading through the streets with pinatas that looked like the Joker. Harley would drop down from whatever roof she was on and swing her bat at the pinata, spilling red candy as everyone cheered and laughed. It was morbidly glorious.

But the festivities didn't erase the fact that someone had killed the Joker and knew what to do to disrespect him in the worst ways possible. It wasn't long until Joker's old lackeys were rallying to someone—a new boss. It wasn't odd for goons without bosses to move on to find different jobs, but for all of Joker's old minions to work for the same person? This was definitely the guy who killed the Joker.

No name, no appearance, nothing. Just quiet activity with organising his new goons to do strange errands. Stuff that didn't point them in the direction of criminal activity.

"You got anything?" Dick murmurs as Tim slouches over the batcomputer, watching as his younger brother sneered at the screen.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He snaps, "All footage of this new rogue is immediately corrupted."

Babs hums, "And it's not like it's altered after it's been taken. The distortion happens live. They either have some tech on them or they're a meta who can avoid cameras." She adds, taking a leisure sip of the tea Alfred kindly offered them. "Whoever this is doesn't leave a trace aside from this shitty footage."

Tim groans, "I officially hate this guy!" He almost tosses his mug out of anger, shaking his head.

"Does Jason have any info on this one?"

And like the fucking menace he was, Jason pops up without another word. "He goes by Wraith." No one was startled, just sparing him a glance before nodding.

"That's it?"

"The goonions adore him." Jason shrugs, "Guy's been quick. Dealing with shit like Black Mask and other trafficking operations. Some of the kids he's saved wear clothes that have this specific symbol on them. It's a good tactic mind you. Tells people to fuck off and don't come anywhere near the kid or else he'll sic whatever bullshit he has in someone."

Dick narrowed his eyes, "Is it effective?"

"Hell yeah! One of the kids got kidnapped just last week. I went to save the poor thing but he walked out of that warehouse while the kidnappers were bleeding and sobbing." Jason once again grins, "Little Tommy threatened me if I try to arrest Wraith."

"So more anti-heri than villain. Good enough, at least." Dick sighed, shaking his head as he narrowed his eyes on the screen. More distorted footage.

"Thanks for the info, little wing."

"Just updatin' you guys. Heard some rumors that Harley's on the hunt for Wraith to thank him."

Great...

It's been a solid two months since the death of the Joker. Batman and the rest of his birds were increasingly wary of the Wraith and his two new associates that went by Phantom and Specter. No footage on the three could ever be recovered, making them all assume this was the work of a meta.

Most of them weren't sure if this guy was a threat or not. Red Hood, on the other hand, had a fairly positive opinion on the guy who's been hanging traffickers by their legs and immediately staking their claim on the kid to keep them safe.

The new crime lord was slowly dismantling the criminal underworld and building it back up to their design.

"FUCKING HELL!" Dick glared at the screen again, "That's Wraith's doing, isn't it? No way did the Riddler blow up that building."

"Wraith's only been dealing with traffickers so far. Why would he do this?" Steph murmurs, staring at the recording of a building that had suddenly went off. Numerous were dead, some barely survived.

"That's the motherfucker's symbol." Dick pointed to the glowing green symbol that looked liked a fire with some obscure letter they couldn't really make out. (Was it a D or a P?)

"Okay... Why would Wraith blow up a building and kill everyone?" Jason immediately asked, seeming to be defensive of the man. "He doesn't just kill people, Dick."

"Even so..." Bruce grunts, clearly displeased with the bloodshed. All that death...

"We're going after him." Bruce announced, "I'm not putting of the Wraith investigation anymore."

Dan stared at the pictures of the bodies, pudding out smoke without a cigarette in sight. His new minions—they preferred the term goons—were clearly apprehensive and continued to observe their new boss's expressions. This explosion had been his first act of pure and utter violence, a massacre of sorts.

He glances at Danny who melted out of the shadows, startling his goons.

"Can't say I'm not upset but I get why you did that shit." He begrudgingly admits, sitting across Dan. Phantom was a reluctant associate to his new organization of crime—ish.

"They weren't just trafficking kids, squirt. Pimping them, killing them and selling their organs, hosting matches and making meta kids fight to the fucking death." Dan clicked his tongue, "No redemption in that, Phantom."

"I get it, alright!" Danny snapped, "But the you've gotten the direct attention of the Bats now. They're gonna come for us, Wraith."

"Boss?" One of the goons—Dan remembers him as Jeremy Nelson. One guy just trying to support himself and his kid, trying to keep his sweet little daughter in school with as much money as he could get. Dan remembers giving the man a raise and a jacket with their family's symbol stitched into it—one for little Marigold.

"I'll deal with it. For now, you guys spread the word on that shit. I don't want anyone thinking I killed a bunch of kids." Dan growled, "My reputation can burn for all care, but like hell am I letting people think I hurt kids."

With Jeremy leading the other goons, he nodded and hurried out of the office to spread a word. The former Joker goons had taken a liking to their new boss, preferring his ways rather than their dead one.

"Jazz won't like this, y'know." Danny sighs, "I'm not gonna tell her. Never. But she'll find out, one way or another."

Dan frowns, "You think I don't know? It's Jazz, Danny."

"Yeah, yeah. I just didn't expect you to be like this. Crime Lord and everything."

Dan snorts, "I was the world ender, brat. This is mild compared to what I've done."

"Yeah, sure."

He shook his head, "You've got your own problems, brat. The Observants are still fussin' about you being king, your majesty."

An identical scowl looks back at Dan, and he's reminded that this kid is him. An alternate version of himself and yet they were brothers now. "I know. You killing the Joker fucked some stuff up. Apparently, the motherfucker was cursed to hell."

"Meaning?"

"He's got a lifetime of people in his shadow. Vengefu souls that want him dead." Danny huffs, "Had to deal with the paperwork cause everyone's wantin' a taste of him. I'm workin' on letting Walker release him so his victims can execute his soul."

"Cruel, little king."

"I'll give you his file. Bastard deserves to have his soul destroyed." Danny viciously grins. And once again, best reminded that this twerp is him. They were one and the same, different as well.

"Alright, alright. Fuck off now. We've still got some bats and birds to deal with." Dan immediately showed him away, noting Danny's eye roll.

"Better prepare a birdcage then."

Part 2 | Masterlist

[werecreature-addicted]

Always thinking about whatever monster is capable of using their claws to tear a hole through your stockings where your wet heat is, werewolf or otherwise: They're too impatient

werewolves are of course very good, but many monsters have sharp claws and big tounges to fuck you with.

Imagine, a seven-foot-tall Orc husband who wants nothing more than to spend all day with you in bed making you cum until you go limp and pass out from pleasure. and depending on your boundaries, maybe a little after that too.

But nooooo you can't stay in bed getting fucked all day. you have to "do housework" and "run errands". or whatever. Your orc husband does understand that if you spend your time on his dick instead of doing dishes and buying groceries it will make his life worse, but it's hard to care about stuff like food when he's thinking with his cock.

He follows you around as you jump between tasks trying to find a large enough window of free time for a quicky. He thinks you're so cute when you act like his little housewife it only makes him want to fuck you more. but you stay too busy to take a quick load of Orc cum.

By the time you finally consider your work done for the day, he's on edge and his nerves are shot, he feels like he's going to burst just looking at you. you try to sit down on the couch but half a second later you're snapped up and thrown over his shoulder. It's finally his time to have some fun.

He tosses you on your shared bed on your hands and knees, spreading your legs wide apart, and slashes at your clothes with his long talon-like nails. He presses his mouth to your exposed cunt and moans at your taste, he pushes the remaining scraps of your clothes away while keeping his mouth on you, unwilling to let go of your sweet pussy for even a second now that he has you where he wants you.

He's happy like that making out with your pussy, gripping onto your hips with one hand and jerking off his poor ignore cock with the other. He growls to himself as he listens to your pretty moans of pleasure as you buck your hips back against his face, trying to fuck yourself back on his thick tongue, groaning in satisfaction when you cum, gushing on his mouth, dripping down his chin. Then he swaps his tongue out for his fingers, dipping his mouth a little lower to suck on your clit.

You whimper and protest weakly the feeling was too much this soon after your first orgasm, which just makes him laugh to himself. "would you prefer if I just fucked you right now without stretching you out?" he asks teasingly. That shut you up. Silly little thing, you didn't really think you'd get away with only one orgasm after teasing him all day, did you?

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 3

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Finally landing in LA, your boots hit the ground and you’re off in a whirlwind of getting prepared. During rehearsal, your agent shows up causing a ruckus. After you take a break, you wake up to the sound of desperate pounding on your door.

Word Count: 6,676k

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: WHEW. Sorry for my absence yall. My brain got hands. And I didn't mean to scare folks away! You can absolutely ask about my fics! Asking for an update just doesn't help. But sharing your love for it motivates me a lot faster! And you can thank @onherereading for gently bullying me to post sumn! LOL, love you. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Male dancers lifted you into the air and you continued singing the hook to your most popular song, “Eat It”. It stayed on the charts, week after week, remaining strong and steady. And it was the song that most got you in trouble for the explicit lyrics. 

You sang, testing the sound as well as the choreography on stage. Coming to LA had been a non-stop shit show of rehearsals and talk shows and radio interviews. God, you were tired. And you wanted to lay down and pig out in front of the TV. But nooooo.

Plus…well….you weren’t feeling particularly sexy at the moment. Terry rejecting you the other night shook you up more than you cared to admit. Why would he reject you? You were beautiful, smart, and funny on a great day. And yet, nothing.

There were just lingering glances and moments where it looked like he wanted to say something but never did. You didn’t like the cold front you suddenly found yourself in so you kept yourself busy, distracted, and left no room for you to be left alone with him for longer than a minute or two. 

But the hit to your confidence bruised. You didn’t feel normal. Like none of this was real. It was a cruel illusion that could be snatched away from one viral tweet, one public meltdown, or one scandal to torpedo your career. The stalker ate away at your life until you couldn’t even get a guy to fuck you stupid. 

It was embarrassing. It was stupid. He was stupid. 

“Stop! Stop! What the fuck is that?” A booming, obnoxious voice echoed in the empty stadium. 

“Down boys,” you said. The male dancers moved safely, bringing you back down to stand on your own two feet. One of their hands lingered a fraction too long, but you didn’t know if you were being paranoid or not. 

Jake, your stupid agent, came huffing down the front area aisle, a skinny tie swinging behind him. “What the fuck is that? What are you doing?” Jake demanded. He stomped onto the stage and approached you.

“Lower your fucking tone, I’m not a child,” you said. You sneered at him and then crossed the stage, taking the three steps down to the backstage area. You refused to be chewed out in front of your team.

Jake stomped angrily behind you. Terry leaned against the wall near the exit but when he saw you approach, he straightened up. You looked away from him quickly, not wanting him to see what must be written all over your face whenever you looked at him. 

“Who do you think you are?” You asked, pulling on that bitchy persona. 

“The man making sure that fat ass stays rolling in money. You are selling a fantasy up there. Every guy needs to feel like he’s fucking you and every woman needs to feel like they want to be you,” he said.

“Really, tell me more about the job I’ve been doing for years,” you said.

“Thanks to me, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget that,” Jake spat, pointing his finger in your face. Ugh. You smacked his finger away and crossed your arms. Jake was back on that shit. His neck and face was flushed cherry red, his eyes were glossy, and he sniffed every two seconds like he smelled something bad. 

“You can’t stay sober for two fucking seconds, Jake. Is that what happened at the club?” That would explain the bullshit he pulled.

“Hey. You’re fucking welcome. That free publicity gained you a million more followers and featured on Spotify. Who takes care of you?” Jake asked, spreading his arms wide. 

You were so disgusted, you didn’t know what to do with him. Ugh. You breathed through your nostrils, centering yourself on the feeling of it rather than wanting to wring Jake’s neck. 

You leveled him with a glare and leaned in. “I take care of you, you piece of shit. And if you pull something like that again, I’ll fire you. Stay off the drugs, Jake,” you said. The last thing you needed was to end up on TMZ, because your agent was out on another embarrassing bender. 

Jake pressed his lips together and threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. Look at me. I ain’t on no shit, okay. I heard you the last time. Clean my act up and I can stay, right? I got a suit on and everything,” he said. He spread his arms out and smiled but you weren’t in a smiling mood.

Jake pouted and wrapped his hands around your waist. A waft of cigarette smoke burned your nose and made your eyes tear up. Terry pushed away from the wall but you held up a hand to him. “Remove your hands before I break your fingers,” you said, as calmly as you could muster. 

You didn’t have time for this fucking clown. And where the fuck was Joya or Mirage? They knew better than to let Jake near you while you were in work mode. 

Jake squeezed your hips once before he removed his hands and held them up like he was so innocent. He grinned and looked down his hooked nose at you. “Just remember what’s standing between you and popping your pussy for any producer that wants to sniff after you. Clean this shit up, we have money to make,” he said lowly for your benefit. 

You didn’t know how much Terry could hear but it stung either way. Jake loved throwing that shit in your face. Loved making you think that you were some gutter rat that no one wanted. Grammy Bean wanted you. You were somebody. And no agent was going to make you feel less than. 

“Make them think they’re fucking you while you’re up there. Jesus Christ,” Jake said, needing to have the final word. He took off, disappeared to go yell at somebody about something. 

You rubbed your head, fighting back tears. Got dammit. Once you let the dam fall, the whole thing came crashing down. You didn’t have time to cry right now. Now when everyone was expecting you to lead them. 

“You okay?” Terry asked. 

You tilted your head back and swiped at your eyelids, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. The one blessing about rehearsals was that there was no make up or restrictive clothing. You sniffled once and then straightened your shoulders, rolling your neck to get the kinks out. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Terry, thank you,” you said.

“So we’re back to Mr. Terry?” He asked softly. 

You risked a glance at him. He squinted at you, his face tilted down. You held each other’s gazes for a second longer than what was polite. You went to open your mouth when Mirage tumbled down the stairs and stopped short of where you were standing.

“Jake’s ready to see it again,” she said quietly. 

You turned away from Terry’s intense eyes, and nodded. “Let’s give him a show then,” you said.

You went back on stage and talked to your dancers, letting them know that you were going full out. You signed to the sound engineer to start from the top. 

The choreography began with the dancers standing in front of you. Once the opening lyrics started, you moved around the stage singing and rapping about men catering to women’s needs for once. That if they can’t eat it right then there was no reason to let them hit. 

The male dancers lifted you during the hook, supporting your weight while you sang and rubbed your hand along your body. You were a master at pretending. At working off the energy in the room. 

You fed off of the song and the lyrics. Embodied what you were saying. Pulled on your inner sex goddess to coo to the invisible audience. Even though you wore your favorite blue joggers and a tank top, you felt like you were scantily clad in your performance outfit. You were selling a fantasy. A fantasy that everyone wanted a ride but no one met the height requirements.

The dancers put you down and then held your hand up while you dropped it low on one of them. From this angle, you faced the side of the stage where Terry stared at you. Stared as you rapped and sang about getting ate out and having a super soaker to make him drown.

He may have turned you down the other night, but the heat of his gaze made your belly flip. Made you move harder, rap faster, and sing better like you were a siren luring men to do your bidding. 

Your eyes almost never left his as you pretended to sing to him and make him think about what he turned down. Let him think on it. Because he couldn’t have you now. You were off the menu. 

He was too far away and you were moving too fast to get a good read on his expression. He stood stiffly, feet shoulder width apart, and his hands clasped in front of him. As the song drew to a close, you winked at him before tilting your head back and belting out the final notes.

When the song ended, you tore your eyes away from the intense static of his stormy eyes to the sound of clapping from somewhere.

“Yes! Yes! That’s what they’re coming to see. Do that! Exactly that!” Jake yelled out to you. 

“Take a thirty everyone,” you said, panting from going full out for rehearsal. You stood on stage with your hands behind your head, panting, trying to catch your breath and cool the desire low in your belly.

Fuck. Singing to Terry like that affected you way more than you realized. It maybe wasn’t the smartest move in hindsight. You just needed a good twenty minutes to get yourself off.

Joya climbed onto the stage to hand you a bottle of water and some orange slices. “I put some more fruit in your dressing room in case you wanted it,” she said. 

“I love you, seriously,” you told her with a smile. 

She clutched her calendar to her chest and beamed at you. “I love you too, miss lady. Though you’re probably going to hate me now. They need you back for another fitting. Francois changed his mind,” Joya said.

You emptied the bottle of water she handed you in one fell swoop and wiped your mouth. “This is bullshit. We made a whole schedule to make sure everyone, including me, was happy about this tour,” you said.

You hated to sound like a whiny brat but fuck. It seemed like more and more things were getting added onto your schedule, things you didn’t approve of. You weren’t a machine. Did they expect you to keep working until you collapsed on stage? 

Joya smiled and rubbed your shoulder. “I’m gonna check with Mirage and see what we can do about sneaking you some off time. We have a week before the LA leg starts. Surely we can move something,” she promised.

You sighed. “I don’t want you to do all that extra work. I need to yell at Jake some more. He can’t keep adding in stuff last minute. I’m so fucking tired, bro,” you told her.

“It’s our job to make sure you’re good. Let us,” she said. She took your empty water bottle and scurried off to tend to her duties. 

The dancers were all standing around talking and laughing. Stage hands moved around the stage, talking into their microphones, and moved prop elements as they did so. As much as you wanted to join the dancers or speak to the choreographer, you also wanted two minutes of peace. 

But that meant…stepping past Terry. You rolled your shoulders. You were a big girl. You could handle rejection. It wasn’t the end of the world. 

You turned and headed off stage, taking three steps down to the main floor. There were boxes and studio equipment spread out back here, each tagged with different colored tape. Terry eyed you as you approached.

“I’m just heading to the dressing room for a few,” you told him. 

He nodded and fell in step behind you as you walked through a set of double doors, then into a plain hallway backstage. Stage hands moved around but they all moved with focus and purpose. Your sneakers squeaked on the shiny floor. Terry was so quiet behind you, you were tempted to look back to make sure he was still there. But you also got the funny sense that if you did, he’d disappear.

When you approached your dressing room, you hesitated one step from it. Logically, you knew that there was nothing in there. Terry had his team triple the security around you and you hadn’t heard from your stalker since that incident.

It’d be so much easier if you knew what they were after. Did they want to be with you? An obsessed fan you could deal with. You just ignored those wackadoodles until they made themselves known somehow. 

Did they want to kill you? Clearly he had a way to get in and out unseen. Was he someone on your team? You didn’t want to turn into a paranoid loon, looking at everyone with suspicion and further isolate yourself. But fuck.

“Would you like me to check?” Terry asked.

You stared at your navy blue door and bit your lip. Yes….no….you wanted to be brave. Wanted to handle this yourself. But you didn’t know if there would be some other disgusting rendition of your dead face staring right back at you. 

You took a deep breath and prepared to tell him no. Terry stepped forward. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You deflated with a sigh. “Can you check please?” You asked.

Terry moved around you and then unsheathed his weapon. He held it down and away from him and then opened your door. He went in first, moving around the space, holding the gun up. You stayed outside of the door, watching him flit through the crack of the door jam. 

The air turned colder now that he wasn’t beside you. The hallway seemed to close in on you, getting smaller and smaller. Your breathing turned choppy, looking down one way and then the other. 

When you simply couldn’t take another second, Terry emerged from your dressing room and holstered his gun. “All clear,” he said.

You nodded and refused to look at him. “Thank you. I just need some alone time,” you said.

You shuffled past him and he held onto your wrist to stop you. You didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to face him. 

“You don’t have to be formal around me. If I crossed the line the other day, I can transfer…”

“No!” You practically screeched and turned to him finally. You licked your lips and smiled. “I mean, no, no. If anything, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made it uncomfortable –”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m the boss, you’re in my employ. Please, don’t think nothing else about it. Okay?” You asked.

Terry’s jaw flexed but he nodded. You snatched your wrist away and entered your dressing room, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been. It was as if he seared you with his light grip and the burn lingered.

You damn near slammed the door in his face, locking it behind you. You just needed a second. A moment to breathe and not have to be “on” for people. 

You crossed the small room to the black leather couch and sat down. The coolness of the leather did precious little to calm you down. You weren’t in danger. You weren’t immediately in danger. 

Terry checked the room, he came highly recommended by the firm, and so far, he had been nothing but the consummate professional, taking your safety seriously. 

As you sat there, however, it just drudged up all the horrible shit from your past. Breaking away from your user family. On your knees begging producers to give you a chance, only for them to use their position and power to solicit sex. One talk with Jake shook you up so bad that it reminded you that every day you breathed was a gift, thanks to what you had to do to survive. 

But it had been a long, long time since you had to be this on edge. This hyper aware of your safety and mortality. Someone out there wanted to cause you harm. They wanted you mentally, emotionally, and physically cowering.

Even as you knew that, even as the logic of it settled in your bones, the only thing you could think was that someone wanted you dead. Someone deemed your life less than theirs. Someone felt angry enough about your existence to make your life a living hell and ultimately, remove you from this plane of existence. 

It chilled you to the bone. To your absolute core. One wrong move and then this would have all been for nothing. All of the struggles, all of the navigating, all of the ways you had to scrimp and scrape to be somebody. 

In the end, you were the same, lonely teenager who didn’t want to be invisible anymore. 

The sweet scent of fruit reminded you of Joya’s thoughtfulness but you were too sick to eat anymore. Maybe you just needed to lay down. You scooted along the couch until you could recline. 

You shoved a throw pillow behind your head and closed your eyes. You just needed to breathe. Just needed to focus on that and nothing else. Nothing else. Just that.

You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth. You felt your body sink further into the couch and before long, you were out like a light.

Loud banging disturbed you from your sleep. You woke up in a pool of cold sweat running down your neck and into your tank top. You groaned and blinked into the harsh overhead lighting. 

Your eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep and eye crusties, as your eyes swept through the room. There was a director’s chair in front of the vanity, lit up by giant light bulbs all around the mirror. The countertop was littered with makeup, tissues, and hair products. 

Dressing room. “Fuck,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. 

The banging continued, sounding louder than normal. “I’m up, I’m up, I’m sorry!” You groaned. Fuck, you felt like you had been drugged.

Your rapid heart beats only sped up as you thought about what you had earlier in the day. Had you been drugged? Was it Joya?

The banging increased and the door shook with the force. It disrupted your thoughts enough to know that Joya would never, ever do something like that to you. Besides, she’s had years to take you out. 

You still made a mental note to give her a pay bump. Mirage too. You keep them happy and they’d keep you happy. 

Three succinct booms hit the door and you jumped up. “Okay, I said I was sorry! Damn! It couldn't have been more than…” You stood up and crossed the room, unlocking the door to discover no one on the other side. “Ten minutes.” 

You stepped out of the room and looked both ways down the empty hallway. Terry was nowhere to be found. 

“Terry?” You stepped further into the hallway but it was as quiet as a tomb. The space felt empty and that freaked you out more than anything else. 

How long had you been sleep? Why did no one wake you? Where was everyone? 

A tremor made your hands shake and your fingers turned numb. Did…no one care? If they couldn’t find you, did they all just pack up and leave? 

“This isn’t funny,” you called out but there was no answer. Not even an echo. Your throat turned dry as you made your way back to the stage. Maybe everyone was having a team meeting. Maybe Joya and Mirage found a way to give you some breathing room.

You pushed open the door to the stage and walked up onto it, only to discover no one in sight. The main stage lights were off, leaving the stage bathed in a swirl of blues, purples, and reds. 

You shielded your eyes. “Hello? What the hell!” You yelled. This was beyond fucking uncool. And your phone was either in your room or with Joya, so you had no clue what time it was.

Panic clawed its way from your belly to your chest, scratching your insides with thick, angry nails. Did everyone just…forget about you? 

You brought your hand to your chest as if that would do anything. All it did was call attention to your thumping heart, beating incessantly. Everyone forgot you. No one needed you. 

“Okay, okay, okay, that’s okay,” you murmured to yourself as you paced around the stage. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. 

If everyone left, that was okay. You were paying them to care, but it didn’t mean that their lives ended just to serve your overinflated ego. You would just…go find your purse in your room. You would grab your phone. Order a car to take you home. Easy. Simple. You had this. 

You told yourself that as you left the empty stage, back down the stairs, and away from backstage. You headed down the hallway, rubbing your sweaty hands on your joggers. You were just stressed, that was it.

You approached your dressing room, it had been left open from when you left it. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there. But…still.

You approached cautiously, wondering what the fuck was going on. How did everyone just leave like that? No matter their personal lives, this was unprofessional as fuck. If they called it early, they should have had the decency to let you know. And why would Terry abandon his post? It was quite literally his job to guard your body.

Highly recommended, yeah right. 

You made it to your dressing room and peered inside, stepping inward to check behind the door. Good. No one there. You stepped further into the room before it dawned on you that if no one was there, if no one was around…who the fuck banged on the door? 

You turned slowly just as a bat came swinging towards your head. You leapt out of the way with a scream, throwing yourself against the vanity. 

A figure dressed head to toe in black lifted the baseball bat to his shoulders. The figure was on the small side, but broad. Had to be a man. 

“What do you want from me?” You yelled. You moved the director’s chair in front of you, to deter the figure. He only kept advancing, holding the bat like you were the game winning ball and he needed a home run. 

You lifted the chair and threw it at him, running from the room. Facing three possible directions, you forgot where the exit was. You also forgot how to read, because there were signs but it didn’t make any sense at the moment.

The figure groaned and it spurned you to run, to flee, to find the exit however you were able to. Thundering footsteps boomed behind you as you ran away. Your lungs felt like they were going to go flying out of your mouth. They burned and ached as you ran and ran.

All of the exercise and training you kept up with did fuck all when faced with an actual attacker. Your brain was mush, operating on some basic instinct to survive. You were supposed to be smarter than this, right? 

You risked a glance behind you just in time to see the bat swinging for your head. You fell to the floor to miss it, landing hard on your thigh, and then scrambled across the floor to avoid another swing for your head.

You pulled nearby crates towards you, dollies, and anything else you could pull. One of the crates managed to trip up your attacker. You rushed to your feet, running through the nearest door.

The door banged open against the wall, echoing in the larger chamber. You made it back to the stage and those same lights blinded you as you ran across the stage. Your body felt stiff, achy, as it wanted nothing more than to stop and evaluate.

Stopping meant death. Stopping meant that your attacker had another chance to get you. 

Stopping meant – you were pushed forward and you fell, sliding across the stage. Your chin bounced against the hard floor and you groaned as your teeth clacked painfully. Pain shot through your jaw and you groaned.

A strong hand gripped you by your ponytail and yanked. You screamed as your head was pulled backwards. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be what took you out. This couldn’t, this couldn’t–

You kicked and flailed until your shoe connected with something. There was a harsh, low growl as the grip around your hair lessened enough for you to break free. 

You got to your feet, thigh screaming in pain as you limped back to your dressing room. If nothing else, you could lock the door and call for help. It was your final hope. You weren’t going out like this. You didn’t need anyone.

You limped past the door to the hallway, stopping long enough to bar it momentarily with a cart. It wouldn’t hold the attacker for long, but it’d buy you some time. Fuck. Everything fucking hurt. 

Liquid dripped down your chin. You swiped at it and it came away red. You groaned as you stared at your own blood. Literally at your life leaking from your body. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you huffed as you limped to your dressing room. 

Metal double doors slammed up against the crate you pushed against the door. You looked back to see an arm flailing through trying to push the crate. Fuck, fuck. Your vision turned blurry as you limped.

It seemed like every step you took only made the dressing room seem further and further back. It looked so far away, like you were never going to find salvation. 

“Someone! Please,” you called out.

You tripped over your shoes and went tumbling forward, landing awkwardly on the same thigh that already cried out with pain. You sniffled as tears ran down your face. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to fucking do.

The crate crashed against the wall as it finally rolled free. “No!” You yelled out, finding enough strength to get back to your feet. So close, so close, so close, so close –

Your name echoed down the hallway as a thunder of boots ran closer to you. You turned around, expecting to see your attacker and that damn bat, but there was no one behind you. Nothing.

You shook violently and swayed to your right, nearly colliding with the wall. You held out your hand to stop your entire body from crashing against it and then used the wall to hold yourself up. 

The storm of boots turned the corner. Terry lead the charge and checked your room first and then swiveled. He called your name. Fuck, you’d never been more happy to see someone. 

“Terry!” You yelled. 

His head snapped in your direction and he crossed the hallway in long, determined strides. You swiped at your tears and leaned on your good leg, trying to make yourself look less pathetic.

Terry slowed as he approached you, holding up his hands. He stopped short when he got a good look at you. 

“Who the fuck did this?” He asked, his chest heaving with harsh breaths. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” you said, your voice pitching higher and higher. You began to slide down the wall, all fight leaving you completely. He was here. He was here. He didn’t forget about you.

Terry caught you around your middle, shouldering most of your weight. He reached out and gently cupped your face, moving it from one side to the next. His jaw flexed as his eyes scanned over you, taking in all of your injuries. 

He was joined a second later by members of his team and the studio security. Questions were lobbed at you in rapid succession but your brain had turned cloudy. 

“You’re in shock. She’s in shock, back up!” Terry yelled. The mass of bodies dispersed as Terry half-carried, half-walked with you to your dressing room. 

“I woke up and there was no one–”

“Shh, shh, not yet,” he said. 

Just this once…this one brief moment, you let yourself lean on someone else. Terry handled everyone with all the command of a general, parting the sea of looky-loo’s, likely taking photos of you at your most vulnerable. 

Fuck, this was going to end up on TMZ. You groaned at the thought. Terry helped you into your dressing room and then sat you down on the couch. He produced a jacket from somewhere and draped it across your shoulders.

You shook so badly. You were freezing, sore, and achy. You wanted to crawl up like a little baby and never see the light of day again. 

What was the reason? What was the fucking reason? Who the fuck went through the trouble of all of this? What the living fuck? 

All you ever wanted to do was sing and now…you didn’t even have that. The last thing you wanted to do was quit. The very last thing. Singing was your passion, your very being. It was the reason you woke up day in and day out. Because for three hours or so on stage, for hours in the studio, for every interview and fan interaction, you never felt more alive than when you were singing. 

And someone hated you enough to take it away from you. Your mind spun with crazy scenarios. This had to be a deranged fan. This had to be one of those crazy moms who blamed you for corrupting their youth. This had to be someone.  

Someone tangible. This was the work of one person. A smart, deranged person, but just a person. Someone who bled. Someone you managed to fight off. 

Distantly, Terry’s deep timbre barked orders but you weren’t paying attention. You wanted to sleep. 

“Let them through!” Terry’s voice boomed. You jumped from the sudden explosion, before Mirage and Joya squeezed past Terry.

He stood as a stop gap to the onslaught of activity outside the dressing room. No one was getting through him if he had anything to say about it. But then why did he abandon you earlier? 

Mirage and Joya hugged you gently, careful of your injuries. They treated you with kid gloves and that pissed you off more than anything else. You weren’t a fragile flower. You fucking survived. 

Joya cried, swiping at her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We were told to leave and then we couldn’t find you and then I remembered that I had your phone and we couldn’t even call you–”

You hummed. Even if you made it to your dressing room, there was no phone in here to help you. If Terry hadn’t come when he did, would you be dead right now? 

You hated that you had to rely on others for your safety. You hated that you were a second away from being permanently removed from this earth and it was only by a stroke of dumb luck that the idiot was scared off. 

Joya and Mirage filled you in on their side of things. They were waiting for you to return when one of the guards told everyone to clear out. There was a bomb threat that had been called in and they needed to sweep the building to get everyone out. 

But why didn’t Terry take you with him? 

Your eyes kept glancing over to him as he coordinated with the police and with his team to secure everything back down. His menacing scowl intimidated those around him as he barked orders and commanded everyone. 

Terry glanced at you from time to time. He would give one nod of his head and you returned it. But his whereabouts were more concerning to you. Over the past year, he had been your constant shadow. Nothing fazed him. Nothing tore him up. So where the fuck did he go? 

Terry re-entered the room and stopped short of you. He dropped down into a squat so that he could look you in the eye. “Feel up to talking?” 

You took a deep breath. “Not really. But I know I need to,” you said. The question you most wanted to ask stuck in your throat. You were to afraid of the answer. 

“You don’t have to. We can tell them to meet you somewhere else,” he said. 

You shook your head. “I’m a big girl. I want to get it over with,” you said.

His chin dipped once as his eyes roamed over you. You must look absolutely horrendous. To his credit, he didn’t say anything as he stood and went to the door. He waved to someone and then two men followed behind Terry into your dressing room.

The room grew stuffier, filled with too many bodies. Crowding your space. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands to ground yourself. You were safe. You survived. 

One of the men introduced himself as Henry Bell, a detective with LAPD who was coordinating with the detective in charge of your stalker case. Because you were hopping through multiple cities, it was hard for any one detective to handle it. 

The other man was Patrick Rollins, head of security for the venue. The men asked you to run through what you remembered and what happened. 

You pulled the coat around your shoulders and Mirage and Joya scooted closer to you but you still felt alone. Abandoned. Cold. Like the heat of their bodies couldn’t penetrate the dense fog around you.

You pushed that from your mind as you told them what happened, starting from when you woke up to when Terry found you. You glanced at him as you spoke, wanting to see his reaction yet still afraid of what his excuse was.

He didn’t owe you a damn thing. But you still needed to know why you weren’t important enough to take with. 

They asked more questions, pushed to see if you recognized anything about your attacker. You kept telling them no, getting more agitated the more they asked. How many other ways could you say that you didn’t recognize the loser? 

“Alright, you should have enough,” Terry said. 

“We still have questions–” Rollins started.

“You have enough for now,” Terry reiterated. Rollins sized up Terry but Terry didn’t blink. Didn’t move. He merely kept his open stance and faced the detective and head of security. 

Rollins pushed boyish blond hair out of his face and then nodded. Detective Bill rocked back on his heels and then shoved his notebook into his coat and clicked a pen. “If you think of anything else, let us know, please,” he said. “And I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

You nodded to them and mumbled your thanks. They left with lingering, heated glances with Terry. He saw them out and then he half closed the door. 

“There’s a few things I need to handle and then we can get out of here.” 

You nodded, staring towards your shoes. Everything fucking hurt. You just wanted to turn into a giant baby. But people like you didn’t get to be coddled. You didn’t get to be human. It shattered the illusion and the fantasy.

You picked at the dry blood on your chin. Angie was going to kill you for messing up your face. You sighed and leaned forward.

“Do you have a headache, babe?” Mirage asked. 

You nodded. “I’ll check with a paramedic. They should be here by now.” Mirage stood up and grabbed Joya by the elbow. She protested for half a minute but you didn’t see what Mirage did to make Joya grow quiet. They left the room, leaving you and Terry alone. The last time you had been left alone together didn’t exactly go as planned. 

“Hey,” Terry said. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and then reluctantly looked at him. “How are you really doing?” 

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you said. 

He crossed the room and then dropped into a squat. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You rolled your eyes but you smirked, refusing to smile at his words. “Everything hurts. But I’ll be okay,” you said. 

He nodded. You held each other’s gazes for a moment, just taking him in. His eyes scanned over you, jaw flexing. You didn’t know what he saw. Probably a terrified mess.

“I should apologize–” he started.

“Where were–” you said at the same time. 

He shook his head. “The bomb threat smelled like bullshit so I left a guard to watch you while I checked it out. I was locked in a closet and by the time I burst free, everyone was gone. I went looking, but the guard left his post. Fresh out the military, the bomb was triggering,” he said. His jaw flexed after he said that. 

“You couldn’t know it was triggering,” you said. Well, that explained that. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. An undying apology while he was on his knees? For him to acknowledge that he never would’ve left you voluntarily? He didn’t owe you anything. No one did. 

“He left his post. He’s fired,” Terry said with venom behind his words. 

You smiled ruefully. “That’s a bit harsh,” you said.

Terry blinked at you and you decided to drop it. Apparently, it was important to him and you didn’t know enough about the nuances about this stuff to comment. 

“We’re going to find this motherfucker,” Terry promised.

“Thank you. For coming when you did,” you said quietly. 

“I’m not leaving your side again,” he said. 

Your teeth clicked shut, drawing attention to your bruised chin. You didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t supposed to leave your side earlier. But he did. You settled on a nod. 

Terry lifted from his squat and then returned to his duties, ordering people around, coordinating with others. 

Everything else moved along in a blur. First, you were checked out by a paramedic while Terry watched him like a hawk. You were treated for the scrape on your chin and your thigh was merely bruised. No sprains, no injuries. The paramedic called you lucky. Yeah, right. 

Terry managed to escort you to a truck that had been brought round back and off to the hotel room. The city nightlife went on without you. Though you did pass by a restaurant in downtown LA that played your latest song with Lord A.K. That sort of made you smile. 

You didn’t remember much about the ride to your hotel room besides one minute you were at the venue and the next you stood inside your hotel doorway while Terry checked around. 

“We’ll switch hotels tomorrow. For now, you can rest.” 

You nodded and went to your room without a word. Though you did stop just outside your bedroom. 

“Terry?” You asked.

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You huffed with a smirk and then turned to him. “I want to learn how to defend myself. Will you teach me?” You asked. 

It wasn’t enough to survive anymore. It no longer suited you to just wait around for this lunatic to kill you. Clearly, your security wasn’t up to snuff. Clearly, this person could get to you at any point and at any time. The only person who could save you was you.

“If that’s what you want,” Terry said.

“That’s what I want.” 

Thank you, my loves. The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2

Taglist:

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[pha55ed]

Winter Wonderland || F1/F2

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, max, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: decorating your home together for the holiday season with the drivers

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

Very vintage, and rich looking

It's a true money style of richness, with a big ass tree filled with presents underneath it

There's even ribbons on all the gifts

Why? Because his mom and other family members are so rich and retired that they're fucking bored and added it

Most likely you live with him and he just reuses the same ornaments and stuff from last year

But you don't care, it's so pretty

But!!!! You two get a little custom ornament that's really cute

Probably your anniversary date or smth on it

Charles Leclerc | 16

A nice rich Christmas too, but more sleek and modern-ish

He loved decorating as a kid with his siblings but now that he has his own tree??? Man that's so much work

He'll let you take care of the tree and most of the decor, but he doesn't just sit on his ass

He'll help pick the items, theme, etc

And also help put up the heavy duty stuff, like lights around the house and stuff

But putting each and every flower into the reefs??? Oh noooo he's suddenly so soreeee nooooo

After like 10 ornaments, he's suddenly complaining and saying "my physical therapist told me it's bad to do repetitive motions"

He's a liar but you don't even care, cause he bought everything for you

And he'll give you constant praise in person and online for your decorating skills

Lando Norris | 04

Frat boy party vibes but honestly,,, I fuck with it

Tons of colors, lights, and it's so fun to look at

Loves decorating with you and making it very chaotic

And also very ghetto...

This man doesn't even use staples or tape to hold up the lights on the wall

Why? Because he couldn't find any and didn't wanna go out to get them

So now your lights are being held up by wood glue... or your eyelash glue that he stole... or any random sticky substance...

No he doesn't use old condoms, don't think that

Oscar Piastri | 81

He don't gaf

However YOU want to decorate, he obeys

Whether that's an all pink tree, ugly ahh skinny tree that holds one ornament, or the biggest more extravagant Christmas ever

If his beautiful partner tells him to stfu he stfu, like a good boyfriend

And even better???

He not only pays for any decoration you want, no matter how expensive or stupid it is (he just loves seeing you happy)

But he also helps put up and cleans EVERYTHING

He's up on the roof decorating, cleaning the fireplace just to make it pretty, and even re-arranging the entire living room just for you to have the perfect spot for the tree

Some call him whipped

I call him a real man

Max Verstappen | 01

He also don't gaf

But, not in the Oscar way

He fr doesn't gaf at all

Expect an ugly ass tree, or most likely not even a tree

If you're lucky, you'll get the strip of reef in the pic above

But there's a very high chance that you'll just get a printed photo of a Christmas tree that's hung on the wall

BUT he does love stupid Christmas decor

So things like a funny statue, a creepy elf on the shelf, etc are all very welcomed

Luckily, Max isn't an asshole and will 10000% celebrate however you like at all

He's just gonna follow your lead and do whatever is needed from it... With minimal effort firstly...

Oliver Bearman | 87

Like Max, but really cute and funny

He has the Christmas spirit and loves it very much

One thing he did that's very very cute is that he ordered those big inflatable

But he didn't check the size...

So now you have a 35feet tall Satan in your yard!!! Yay!!!

He's in the Christmas spirit and he got the right idea

Maybe he doesn't have the skill to decorate it,,, but he has the spirit!

Paul Aron | 17

A classy and modern Christmas

Most likely white and a bit of a snow theme going on

Mixed with black too, cause that's his aesthetic ya know

He's very active when it comes to decorating

Always helping you pick what to get, which matches each other, etc

He's also very worried about the measurements, so he always makes sure to take note of the space you have to make sure everything fits

Also helps you put everything up, it's so sweet and domestic

Like: he holds your waist while you stand on the ladder to put the star up

Pepe Marti | 21

I'm mad at him rn cause why is every photo of him so bad

But he's so painfully unaware of the fact that he's tall

The tree only has ornament son the top

All the lights and decorations are put where you can't even see

And he keeps assigning you tasks that you cannot reach

Which he learns to take note of, always laughing at you before saying sorry

The decoration is very warm and homey

Definitely the type to bring over his friends to have dinner all together

His home isn't crazy decorated, but still nice and cozy

Which perfectly matches your relationship's vibes

[evilminji]

Oh... my god? Ghost Reporters.

Imagine it. Their office is in the Zone. They literally FEED of hunting for The Next Big Scoop! And Revealing The Truth! Every honest reporter that got silenced for getting a little too close to the facts. The bloody, beating, heart of societies underbelly.

Every Lois Lane that had no Kryptonian to stop some rich and powerful jackals putting them in the ground.

Well Death sure didn't stop THEM! They STILL want answers! But now they have co-wokers. Oh~ and SUPERPOWERS! And best part?

The newly appointed KING is going too and from the living world. That must mean it's okay now, RIGHT? Your majesty? You're not a RAGING HYPOCRITE, aaaaare you? :) 🎤

And... look. Danny knows full well what these piranhas are up too. He's not stupid. But Madeline Fenton raised a lot of things. Fool? Not one of um. That a LOT of reporters with sharp, sharp teeth and bloodlust in their eyes. He wants to half-live.

He compromises. Illusion of control and all that. Yeah, yeah, they all tooootally respect his authority etc. Give them Them Scoop! He, wisely, gets the fuck out of the way. Whoosh! Off they go!

Thats.... probably gonna be a problem. *siiiiiips his morning coffee* But it's not HIS problem. Not right now.

And? Suddenly all these politicians and business leaders are getting fucking AMBUSHED. Oh? You thought you'd get soft ball "aren't I a man of the people. Buy oil!" Bullshit questions? HA! Where were you on June 27th, 1978, at-

And "according to YOUR words, exact quote as follows-"

Just? They BEAT the leader with the STICK. "Oh but you'll lose access". They'd love to see HOW! They can go through WALLS! Answer the question, coward. "Your gonna make powerful enemies!" Oh nooooo, what are they gonna DO?

Shoot us TWICE?

Hey Mr. Family Values! How's the three mistresses your wife doesn't know about?? "No comment"? That's fine. We already have THEIRS. >:D Good luck with your upcoming election!

And like? As newspapers are shutting down and turning clickbait all across the country? This ONE(1) tiny, middle of nowhere town? Somehow has a horrid, horrid, ARMY of Satan's own Reporters. All apparently willing to die for the News. Throwing themselves at dictators and Supervillians alike.

"We see no God here but the Truth" is literally their papers MOTTO.

The damn thing is basicly a BRICK. You get a paperback of news. Entire planet AND THEN SOME. How?! How are they reporting, IN DETAIL, on the break down of talks between two planets 16 galaxies over? Hal says it's accurate. But what Earth paper would even HAVE that information?

And?? The whole town treats this as normal? There are human children, complaining about the weight of papers, because it makes their paper routes a pain in the ass. Soccer moms discussing alien celebrity drama. Farmers muttering over foreign unrest and how it will impact their corn harvest.

Fucking Lex Luthor, clearly deciding to roll with it, coming to sign himself up for a paper. Gaining a new life long Nemesis upon meeting Vladimir Master, whom he decides is both hot and unbearable. Someone is heard shouting "oh god, there's TWO OF THEM!"

And?? Look. Clark isn't MAD. Or JEALOUS. Nor is he in a secret Reporting War with Jerry from the Amity Chronicle. Because that would be petty and childish. He's just SAYING, maybe they should check the place out!

Maybe Jerry is a DICK and deserves it, is all. (Lois stop laughing.)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

[twilightkitkat]

Part 2 of thinking about the reaction another universe's Logan would have to meeting Wade. To Wade and Logan's relationship.

Part 1 , Part 3, Part 4

---

It'd been a few days since Wade had revealed the truth to Wolverine.

He'd expected things to be awkward, for them to fight over it, for Other-Logan to pull away so that his previous annoyance-indifference would look warm in comparison.

But, shockingly, things had gotten... easier?

Wolverine seemed more comfortable with him, becoming more talkative than before (which wasn't exactly hard to top, but progress is progress). Instead of yanking away the second Wade got too close for comfort, he'd let him brush by him, close enough that Wade could feel his body heat through the seat. Instead of sitting a respectable five feet away at all times, Other-Logan now sat at a friendly distance, close enough to sling an arm around his shoulder if Wade was in a particularly masochistic mood.

It was nice to feel like he had companionship in a world where he knew no one. It was comfortable. It reminded him of his own Logan sometimes, when he could close his eyes and drown out his thoughts and pretend that he was on a mission with Logan in his world instead of in the middle of fucking nowhere with a shitty knockoff.

Well, "shitty knockoff" is a harsh way to put it. This Logan wasn't that bad (he was certainly less anger-prone than his counterpart). It just... wasn't the same. It's like wanting a bowl of Lucky Charms at 2am so you go to a Dollar General and buy a copycat brand to satisfy your craving. Yes, it's similar, but no, it isn't the same.

And fuck, did Wade feel his Logan's absence.

It'd especially hit at night, when Wade was used to curling up on the pull-out couch with Logan beside him and pretending that he was shuffling closer so he wouldn't fall off the edge.

(They both were able to sleep in far more precarious positions. A perk of the job. But under the veil of darkness, they were able to pretend that they weren't vying for touch just to have it. To feel the warmth of someone else next to them. To know that they were both alive and safe and, despite everything, here with each other.)

But, even if Wade curled in on himself at night, feeling the chill in his bones despite the luxurious blankets in the mansion or whatever insulating sleeping bag he was using, he was fine.

So fine, in fact, that it didn't bother him at all that it'd been nearly a week since he arrived in this universe. Not that he was counting. (He was.)

Logan was probably fine. Wade would send him a message or something, let him know that he was okay and that the mission was just taking longer than expected, but interdimensional texting hadn't yet been invented. Or, at least, the TVA bastards were cheap enough to not let him access it.

Besides, they'd been making progress. They were finally working their way up to beating The Big Bad, to telling whatever evil organization was plotting to destroy this timeline to fuck off and go to hell.

As a matter of fact, they were on their way to a particularly promising lead right now. All the henchmen they've managed to get information out of seemed to point their fingers to the same place, some discreet nuclear power plant that had been shut down a decade ago. (Real original, guys. Why don't supervillains ever set up base in a less stereotypical place? Like a public park or an Olive Garden. But nooooo, it always had to be the shady abandoned government facilities.)

"You seem to be thinking real hard over there, bub," Wolverine remarked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Oh, y'know, just the usual, like what your abs would taste like if I covered them in whipped cream. Would it be more salty, or sweet? Do you think they'd taste metallic if you'd been roughed up lately?" Wade slid back into his typical persona instead of lingering on his unhelpful desire to mope around until he could go home.

Other-Logan snorted. "I think you're thinking way too hard about my abs when you should be focusing on your plan for when we get to the base."

Wade pouted, "Awwww, c'mon, Wolvie, don't you know that my pleasure comes before our job? You only live once, fuck capitalism and all that."

"Without capitalism, you wouldn't have the money to get 'pleasure,'" Logan deadpanned.

"Ah yes, you're right. I'm but a humble servant to the almighty Capitalism King. I shall kill and show no mercy as long so long as my king asks for it." Wade clutched a hand over his heart dramatically, voice imitating sincerity but a few pitches too high.

Logan just shook his head and chuckled, trying and failing to suppress the grin that threatened to stretch across his face.

It looked good on him. A far cry from the serious, no-nonsense, version he'd first encountered. Who knew all it took to have someone open their heart to you was revealing you were besties in an alternate universe?

"We're here," Logan grunted, smirk falling off his face as he climbed out of the vehicle.

"Fucking finally! One hour longer and I think I'd puke all over your shiny yellow suit," Wade whined obnoxiously. Logan elbowed him harshly in response. Ouch. Manners.

The base was exactly what you'd expect. Just run down enough to not attract suspicion but just well-kept enough to be home to some freaky villain technology.

And, also as expected, as soon as they entered a blaring alarm went off. Flashing red lights and all. Just great, exactly what he needed today. Wade was definitely going to end up with a headache by the end of this raid. They're lucky he didn't have epilepsy or he'd sue them.

Wolverine didn't seem to be faring much better, judging by his furrowed eyebrows and how he was barely holding back a grimace.

They make quick work of whatever lackeys they find as they tear their way through the halls. They'd definitely improved their synchronization during the time they'd spent fighting together (mainly on Wolverine's part).

Finally, they arrive at some sort of convoluted metal dome with a suspiciously alien-looking machine in the middle. It didn't seem to be an exact replica of the Time Ripper Wade knew, but it was close enough to make an educated guess about its purpose. (An educated wish, some may say.)

Unfortunately, it wasn't left unguarded.

Some old-looking bald guy (never a good sign) with a metal arm (again, never a good sign) was holding a suspiciously futuristic gun. (Who is this, Cable's long-lost twin with a receding hairline gene?)

Deadpool unsheathed one of his katanas, gripping his gun tightly with his other hand. Wolverine shifted into a battle stance beside him.

"And what do we have here?" The man drawled, his piercing gaze sweeping over them both. "Deadpool and... Wolverine? An interesting team-up." Despite this, he didn't seem too surprised. If anything, he seemed to be glancing warily at Wolverine beside him.

"I don't have time to listen to your monologue, how about you just undo whatever fucky-wucky stuff you did to the timeline and we all head our separate ways, yeah?" Wade was nothing if not merciful for offering this fucker a chance to stand down before it got ugly.

"I don't think so," the man huffed, as if he found it amusing that he'd even suggest that. He was starting to get on Wade's nerves.

"Then let's cut the chit-chat and get straight to the ass beating." Deadpool nodded at Wolverine, who smirked almost imperceptibly.

They both lunged at the same second, Wolvie swiping at the bastard's head while Deadpool fired at his legs and torso.

Oh fuck, this guy has a regenerative healing factor too, Wade groaned internally when he saw the bullet wounds stitch themselves up. Just his luck.

The battle was more difficult than expected, but they managed to hold up fairly well by bouncing off each other's attacks. When Wade moved in, Logan moved out. When Wolverine sunk in his claws, Deadpool fired his gun or slashed with his katana.

That was until the bastard injected himself with some sort of serum, like a heroin addict stopping to shoot up during a fight.

That better not be what I think it is, Wade grimaced.

It was exactly what he thought it was.

Fighting a meaner-looking, more equipped version of Cable was hard enough, but on steroids? Wolverine and Deadpool soon began to lag behind. Even their teamwork couldn't help much when the opponent was that much stronger and they both were becoming exhausted.

However, Deadpool saw an opening. The fucker wasn't guarding his flank properly. And so, without warning, he flipped over the asshole's head and slashed at his side at the same moment Logan sank his claws into his neck. (Yay, teamwork!)

It seemed to hit some sort of weak point because the man slumped down onto the ground, unconscious. Wade sighed in relief and walked over to Logan.

"Hey man, I don't know about you, but when we get out of here I think we should get some chimichangas to celebrate—"

Bang.

Wade was flung into the wall with the sheer force of whatever futuristic weapon the man shot him with. Fucking rat bastard.

His head began spinning with the force at which he'd been full-body slammed against the wall. His vision was blurred and it was hard to make out shapes, but it seemed that Logan was having the same issue, given the red, blue, and yellow spot on the wall opposite him.

His vision was dancing with black dots and colors bled together, but through the haze he could make out the man they'd fought getting up and limping away, seemingly talking to someone as he did so.

Wade groaned and tried to lift his hand up to feel the wound on his head when he noticed. There were fragments embedded in his suit where he'd hidden it.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

In his haze, he managed to yank the tattered remains out of a device from his suit. Oh shit. It was broken.

How the hell was he supposed to get home now?

He didn't have time to linger on the question before darkness overtook his vision.

---

Logan paced back and forth on the shitty hardwood floors of their one-bedroom apartment.

Where the hell was he?

Wade was supposed to be back a month ago. Hell, the mission was only supposed to take a day and he said he'd be back for dinner that night.

But then that night passed, and Wade didn't show. Logan had waited at the table, bouncing his lex anxiously (although he'd deny it if anyone asked) long after Al reluctantly went to sleep and Mary Puppins settled down for the night. He remembered waiting, staring blankly at his plate but unable to stomach a bite, until he finally decided to put their food in the fridge to reheat later. He felt vaguely nauseous at the idea of eating peacefully while Wade was still frolicking about, fighting bad guys (and potentially getting hurt).

Logan fell asleep in that position, his head resting on his arms, hyperaware and jolting awake at the slightest sound. Waiting to hear the jingle of the doorknob and the sound of Wade shuffling in.

When Wade came back, Logan would tell them that he didn't care what the mission was about or what type of universe it was, he'd come with him next time. No room for arguments. He'd rather be bleeding and bruised by Wade's side than feel the gnawing emptiness and anxiety of being apart from him.

Logan never dealt well with separation. Not when it came to Wade. The only person who made this universe he'd barged his way into a home. The one who'd looked at him—a pathetic, miserable, drunk, mess—and still asked him to come home with him. The only person to make him feel like he belonged somewhere, to someone. That he wasn't just an unwanted, shunned monster who could only be loved for the destruction he could cause.

When Wade was gone, it felt like he was alone again. Like he was back in that shitty universe where even the fucking bartender refused him service unless he begged. Where everyone mocked him or shied away but nobody looked him in the eyes.

Wolverine was used to being alone. He'd been alone, in one way or another, for as long as he could remember.

But that's why he latched violently, viciously, desperately, onto the first lifeboat he could. The first person to yank his head above the water and welcome him onto their raft without expecting anything.

The next morning came and Wade still hadn't come back.

Logan tried to convince himself that it was just taking a second longer, that maybe he'd encountered an obstacle, that everything was still okay.

(Don't be overbearing, Logan. If he sees what a needy, writhing, mess you are then he won't want to be around you anymore. He'll finally wise up and leave you behind like everyone else. Like how you deserve. He'll finally see you for the pathetic creature you are instead of the delusion of a man he's been holding onto.)

But then that day turned into two. Turned into three. Turned into nearly a week in which he hadn't heard a word from Wade.

(Accept things how they are, Logan. Take the warmth you can get and savor it, clutch it so tight to your chest that your fingers bleed, and don't ask for more. Don't ruin this.)

Blind Al had tried saying something, once, about how Wade might just be running that. That he was having troubles, you know how it is (but even she had a worried crease to her brow, the slightest bit of hesitation that spoke volumes). Logan had grunted something he couldn't remember and kept pacing.

It felt like every day was an endless loop. Wake up, choke down what food he could, and wait anxiously. Wait to see if Wade would stroll through the door.

Until one night, he snapped. He'd just gotten out of the shower (the first he'd taken in a while, with how difficult it was to focus on anything but Wade Wade Wade Where is Wade Where—) when he noticed Wade's shitty music box was playing. The one he had of him.

He saw red. The next thing he knew, he stood in a completely trashed living room. Chairs were knocked over and splintered, bottles were shattered, and blood was splattered across the walls from where he'd raked his claws up and down his arms in a desperate attempt to get out of his skin because it was burning so badly and he just wanted to crawl inside Wade instead of being trapped in a useless fucking husk of a mindless animal—

He barely scraped the room back together by the time Al got back. He knew she was able to tell, but she didn't say anything. Just sat down on the tattered couch and murmured something that suspiciously sounded like Wade's name.

Logan was barely functioning. It was a Good Day if he managed to eat, shower, and not drink himself into a stupor by night. Every day that went by made the knot in his stomach twist further until he could barely remember what it felt like to not be on edge constantly.

(He knew it was pathetic. That he should be better than this. That he shouldn't need Wade to babysit him to make him want to eat and sleep and shower and do all the things that normal people were expected to just do. He knew that he shouldn't revert back to a state of depression and anxiety when he was gone but Logan didn't know what to do. He'd been fucked up for so long that he didn't know what okay meant anymore, didn't know to just breathe without clenching his teeth and forcing his lungs to expand and contract.)

(The only time he got relief from the reminder of who he was and what he'd done was with Wade, who knew him and still somehow wanted him. Who made him feel normal, like he could just be Logan and live a domestic life as a borderline househusband in their apartment. Who made him feel like he had a future and a chance at happiness again.)

At first, he could convince himself that it was just the mission holding him up. That he was being unreasonable. (Why didn't Wade just take him along to begin with? He'd let Wade talk as long as he wanted, take the lead, and annoy him however he liked as long as he could be with him.)

But then doubt began creeping in. What if Wade realized that he really was the Worst Wolverine? What if this universe's Wolverine was better than him—nicer, stronger, less fucked up—and Wade preferred him. He wouldn't blame him. Hell, he knew Wade only settled on him because of a time crunch and the fact that he didn't claw his eyes out immediately. If Wade had more time, he would've gone with a better option.

(Logan chose to ignore the instinctive dread he felt at that thought. What if Wade hadn't come for him? What if he found another Wolverine and he was left to be drunk and miserable for the rest of his life, never knowing Wade's presence? The thought made him physically ill.)

But Wade, despite what people said, was a man of his word. He kept his promises and tried to avoid lying. Even if he did decide to fuck off and find another Logan, he'd tell him first. He'd let him know, at least.

As the time crept closer to a month, Logan's anxiety reached an all-time high. If Wade was taking this long, something must've gone horribly wrong. He's in danger.

Logan couldn't pace back and forth anymore, listening to the TVA rattle excuse after excuse when he called them to ask for an update. (It's confidential, they said. Don't worry, they said. Eventually, they got so used to him calling—without fail, twice a day, once in the morning and once at night—that they'd immediately forward him to the line he needed. And they'd always give the same excuses.)

Not anymore.

Logan was going to find Wade, even if he had to rip the whole fucking TVA or multiverse apart to do so.

---

Wade groaned, slamming his forehead against the counter before eating another spoonful of cereal.

The X-men still hadn't found a way to fix his universe-hopping device. To be fair, back in his universe it'd taken a while to fix Cable's time-jumping one, and Wade's sure that dimensional travel adds a whole new level of complexity. The TVA does not fuck around with their technology.

That being said, at least the rest of the X-men were starting to take the timeline issue seriously. They'd finally all decided to pitch in and try investigating on their own time.

"Look alive a little, bub, we're going on a mission today." Logan eyed Wade as he continued to eat his high-protein classic bacon and scrambled eggs breakfast.

The other X-men eyed them curiously. Logan had been acting differently as of late. Ever since Deadpool had come to their world and began hanging around him, he'd softened around the edges. He'd become a little more open, actively engaging with conversation instead of tuning in and out.

It was... nice to see him close to someone. To see him look at someone with an odd sort of affection visible in his eyes. Even if it was a little jarring.

(A few wondered what Wade had done to earn his affection. How a single man could swoop in and do what they'd been trying to do for years. What was so special about him? Why couldn't they reach him earlier? What were they doing wrong?)

It was good to see him be close to someone. Even if it stung a little that Wade made more progress in a month than they'd made this entire time.

Aside from that, the X-men had been able to interact with Wade more ever since he started spending a bit more time at the mansion.

When he'd gotten knocked out and his dimensional travel device broken, it'd taken a few days for him to fully regenerate (and mentally recuperate). During that time, him and Logan seem to have developed an odd kinship. A casual, friendly relationship where they eat meals together and occasionally, in between missions, watch shows together, or just... talk.

It was a little unnerving to see Logan so willing to act almost domestically with someone else. Of course, the X-men had managed to coax Logan into hanging out with them more casually. And sometimes, they'd gotten the privilege of seeing how his shoulders would relax and he'd become content to just listen and soak up the company. But those occasions were few and far between, and Logan's default state was to keep a certain degree of distance.

Wade had begun to interact with the other X-men, too. He'd taken to teasing Colossus to pay him back for the many headaches he'd given him in his world. Logan often trailed a few steps behind, trying and failing to pretend to be engaged with something else while keeping an eye on Wade. It'd be endearing, almost, if it wasn't so out of character for him.

Unfortunately, after the villain had escaped, their luck seemed to dry up. They'd only gotten a few leads since, and all were dead ends. With too much time to spare and too much pent-up energy (and anxiety to some degree over being away from his world for so long), Wade accompanied Wolverine on a few of his other missions.

Wade sighed and pushed away the remainder of his cereal. Well, there went his appetite. Thinking about his world and his Logan was a surefire way to kill his mood.

(It made him feel sick to think about how Logan was faring without him. To question when he'd get to see him again. To remember that this wasn't His Logan. It was always uncomfortable to be away from him for too long, to feel the same loneliness settle inside him like an old friend. What a joke. He saved the world just so he could whine about how he wanted it to revolve around him.)

(Logan never made him feel that way. He understood how it felt to lose everyone and still tremor at the thought. He understood the struggle of knowing you'd outlive everyone you love. He understood because they'd been through it together. Because they'd shared their pain and their feelings and their hearts and bared themselves, raw and vulnerable and bloody, before each other and still sacrificed themselves for each other anyway.)

"Not in the mood?" Logan asked. "Y'know, we have other types of cereal. Think they keep Captain Crunch or Cheerios or some shit around here."

And Wade almost screamed in frustration.

It was so stupid. Logan was trying to help. But Other-Logan wasn't His Logan.

His Logan knew that he hated that type of cereal. That he drenched his pancakes in syrup. That he was a picky bitch with food and would only eat certain brands. He'd learned to cook food just for him so that he could eat comfortably.

He was about to take a few centering, deep breaths (never claim he doesn't know how to be zen) before an alarm blared.

"There's been a break-in in the main lobby of the mansion!" someone shouted.

Huh. That's a convenient way to get information. A very good way to move the plot along.

The X-men around him were tense, drawing their weapons and preparing to investigate who dared intrude. Wade got ready too, drawing his baby knife just in case. (Not that he really can take the moral high ground here, considering he did the same just a month ago.)

Other-Logan glanced at him from the corner of his eye and Wade nodded. The two slinked along the walls, braced for an attack.

Loud crashing noises could be heard from the lobby. Furniture slammed against the wall, shattering into a million splinters (strong ass motherfucker, it seems). There was yelling and screaming and... growling?

The cacophony got louder as they drew closer. Except, Wade began to recognize the sounds. They were distinct, clear, and... familiar.

Too familiar.

Holy shit.

"Logan?" he breathed, and then he was darting out from behind the wall even as Other-Logan let out an aborted shout and attempted to grab his arm.

He slipped through his grip and turned the corner, and lo and behold, there he was.

His Logan.

He was snarling, claws unsheathed and raised to attack the people who swarmed him. They all seemed terrified and incredibly confused (given that he had the same face as one of the X-men themselves), but seemed to recognize him as an enemy and were making a quite frankly pathetic attempt to fight back.

He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead and eyes darting around anxiously. He had a feral look on his face, like a cornered animal that had just escaped his captors.

His eyes were somehow distant and hyper-focused, as if he was running on pure adrenaline without really registering anything.

He looked furious. He looked serious. (He looked scared.)

It was the sweetest sight he'd ever seen in his life.

"Peanut!" Wade shouted, pushing through the people who crowded around.

Logan's head snapped in his direction immediately, body trembling.

"Wolvie! Babygirl!" he continued to yell out nicknames as he drew closer, finally elbowing past the last line of unhelpful bystanders.

"Logan," he murmured breathlessly, reverently, at finally getting to see him again. To see him up close and personal.

As soon as he muttered the word, Logan pounced.

From behind him, Other-Logan and a few of the X-men yelled for him to move out of the way, that he was hostile.

But Wade knew that face. Knew those eyes.

This wasn't just A Logan, this was His Logan.

(His Logan, who knew how he liked his pancakes. Who listened to him rant about stupid conspiracy theories and children's shows. Who had gone through hell and back with him just to help him save his family. Who he'd slowly, painstakingly built a home with.)

And so Wade simply opened his arms and offered a shaky, wet, smile as Logan barreled into him, wrapping around him like he'd die if he let go for a second. Digging his fingers (with the claws retracted, luckily) into his back and gripping onto the fabric of his suit like a lifeline. Shivering against him as if he were a man stranded in a blizzard, finally able to huddle up against a fireplace.

And oh.

Logan was crying, hot tears trailing down the curve of Wade's neck and soaking his suit as Logan nuzzled closer, desperately.

When Wade went to stroke the back of Logan's head and brushed against his own damp face, he realized he was crying too.

He'd been trying so desperately to push down his feelings. Of frustration, of anger, of sadness (of fear). To pretend he didn't miss Logan like he missed air, to pretend that the separation wasn't putting him on edge.

He knew that Logan would worry about him. Wade wasn't that oblivious. But he didn't think Logan would be nearly full-body sobbing against him, rocking back and forth, trying to convince himself that Wade was real.

"Please, never do that again. Don't leave."

And oh.

Wade knew that Logan cared. Knew that Logan would be upset, would miss him, if he disappeared or died. Logically, he knew that.

But Wade was used to being seen as annoying. To being someone people could begrudgingly tolerate, maybe occasionally find funny, but never actively want. Was used to being seen as lesser.

Physically, he was a freak. Mentally, he was a wreck. Emotionally, he was one bad day away from trying (and failing, yet again) to end it all.

He didn't understand how someone could want him. Could need him. Could make him their whole world and cradle it in their hands like his absence would be the collapse of their very foundation.

And yet, here Logan was.

When Wade considered it, it was obvious in hindsight. Logan may respond to his insults, and may be up for a fight, but he never actually seemed to be bothered by Wade. When Wade called him stupid nicknames, he may grumble out a response, but never showed actual annoyance. When Wade slung an arm around his shoulder, he'd let it rest there or lean in closer instead of pushing it off. When Wade goaded him into a fight, he'd rise to the challenge but never unsheathe his claws unless Wade drew out his knives, too.

In fact, he'd only shown true irritation when they'd first met. When Wade had kidnapped him and turned his life on his head. When they were struggling under high-stress situations while Logan grappled with grief.

Logan... more than cared. More than tolerated his existence. More than reluctantly put up with him.

The realization was so obvious and yet it hit Wade like a freight train. This whole time, he'd been trying to convince himself that his feelings were one-sided, that he was abnormal for latching so hard onto Logan while he only humored him in response.

He'd let his self-hatred blind him to the most obvious fact of all: Logan needed him too.

He clutched Logan's back tighter, murmuring reassurances and apologies into the top of his head.

"I'm not leaving you, Wolvie," Wade whispered, "you'll have to kill me to get me to stop haunting your ass."

Logan grumbled, "You aren't allowed to die on me. You can't leave. Ever."

"I won't, I won't. You came and got me. I'm not going anywhere."

While Wade and Logan had their reunion, the crowds were herded away until only a few X-men remained. They stared at the two, bewildered.

"...Is that seriously Logan?" Jean murmured to Scott.

"It looks like him... but..." he gestured to the scene in front of them.

They'd never seen Logan break down before. Had never seen him so vulnerable. He'd never let anyone as close as he was to Wade, right now. Not even a fraction as much.

They cast contemplative and vaguely concerned glances at their world's Logan. He was staring hollowly at the scene in front of him.

It was so... odd to see himself like that. Open. Emotional. (Safe enough to let himself be that way.)

Wade had never acted that way with him, either. Tears welling up in his eyes, looking at Logan as if he hung the stars in the sky and set his universe back in balance again.

(Logan looked back at him with the same fervency, as if Wade was his universe. The stars and the sun and the planets all in one.)

It made that familiar envy curl in his gut. Before, it'd been muted by the fact that Wade's Logan was just a story. He was the one physically with him, able to get to know him and learn about him and get his undivided attention and time.

It felt nice. To be understood. To be able to treat someone as an equal, a companion, without worrying about them pulling away if he revealed too much. He'd gotten used to Wade's presence, to the comfort it brought.

However, it looked like he was going to have to confront the version of him that made it all possible.

Wade and Logan had finally calmed down, holding each other more loosely and letting the tension bleed away. Logan nearly collapsed onto Wade as he came down from the adrenaline high, feeling the exhaustion and anxiety of the past month hit him all at once. He was in Wade's arms and finally able to process his emotions now that he was home.

Other-Logan approached them carefully, schooling his face into the typical mask of calculated indifference.

However, despite that, there was a sharpness to his tone as he tersely spoke to his counterpart, "Nice to meet you, other me. It seems you've managed to find your way into our mansion."

"Yeah, well, the mansion was holding something of mine, so let's call it even," Logan near growled, glaring at himself.

It'd almost be funny if not for the tension crackling in the air between them.

"Woah, woah, woah," Wade placated, "we've all made our mistakes. I'm guilty too, your honor. Let me just have some time alone with dear Wolvie here and we can all have a group therapy session later to talk about our feelings."

Other-Logan looked at Wade, a searching look in his eyes. Wade met his gaze steadily, smiling slightly to reassure him that it'd be OK.

Finally, he sighed and moved away to let the other X-men gawk.

It was going to be a long night.

[dilfl0v3rss]

Hear me out 😮‍💨 - ony and y/n get in a argument but ony in the wrong and he look for a way to apologize

omg yessssssss bc usually we be the ones in troubleeee. i like how you thinking boo. we gon use basketball player!ony for this one since a lot of people liked it. aight so boom...

the argument

cw: smuttttyyyy

word count: 2.6k

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

it was eleven o'clock when your boyfriend finally decided to come home. he had his duffle bag on his shoulder as he roughly kicked off his crocs at the door. you can tell he had an attitude, probably due to something that happened at practice, but so did you. it had been about a month since the the two of you have had so much as a movie night together because he's been so caught up in basketball and school. this was no where near your fault given that you've tried to spend time with him at every opportunity you had, but ony always had an excuse.

"can't mama, finna go to the weight room wit the guys." or "another time baby. coach had us running like a track team at practice." and other excuses like that caused you to stop even trying. and the worst part was, he didn't even notice. ony continued to come home late into the night because of basketball and leave early in the morning for class without batting an eye. tonight you've had enough. he promised to be home by eight since he only had practice from three to six, but lo and behold, this nigga didn't come home until eleven.

"do you know what time it is?" you stood up from your seat on the couch, placing each of your hands on your wide hips. you had to stop yourself from swinging on this nigga when you heard him mumble an "oh my fucking god" after sucking his teeth. "excuse me? you got sum to say nigga?" your were ready to scream. how could he have an attitude right now when he's the one completely in the wrong. he could've at least called to let you know he wouldn't be able to get home on time, but nooooo. he says nothing, and now he comes in the house acting like a child.

"ion got time f'this y/n. i been running around like a chicken wit its fucking head cut off all practice because niggas on the team don't know how to make simple jump shots." you scoff as you heard his excuse. "so first, you come home three hours late. don't call or text me to let me know that you were even coming late. and now, you come in here, don't even apologize, and have an attitude? that's cute. you sleeping on the couch."

your words must've set him off because ony immediately started raising his voice. "here you go wit that shit bro. the world don't revolve around you y/n." you started getting into his face. "i never said it did, but m'not finna sit here and act like ion deserve at least a little of your time. i'm your fucking girlfriend ony. don't you think it's a little odd that you be picking literally everything little fucking thing to do instead of spend time with me?" you can tell you struck a nerve when he folded his lips, looking straight ahead as if you weren't even there.

this was something ony did to keep his anger at bay since he was known to have a really bad temper. "chill wit allat cussing lil girl. m'not finna go back and forth wit you cause you being clingy." you was on ten at this point. you just told this man what he was doing wrong and all he registered from it was that you were cursing? "are you kidding me? you know what? you can have the bed. m'finna just go since m'so 'clingy'. when you ready to be a man and talk then you can call me." you went into your room and grabbed your PINK duffle bag before heading to your dresser to start packing.

ony watched as you stuffed clothes from each drawer into the bag, not even looking at what you were grabbing as tears blurred your vision. as soon as the words left his lips, he immediately regretted them. you had every right to want to spend some time with him given how much he's been neglecting you for other things. he let his stupid attitude get the best of him as soon as he walked into the door. he knew he should've apologized once he got home, but, being the prideful man he was, he decided to just make things worse by being a dickhead.

and now the woman that he loves is crying, trying to leave the house because he doesn't know how to control his emotions. before he knew it, you were at the door. holding your phone in your hand as you dialed your friends number for her to pick you up. ony listened to the phone ring twice before the girl known as eboni answered. "hello?" he wasted no time snatching the phone from you, hanging it up and putting it in his pocket. "the fuck you doing. gimme my pho-"

"you not leaving me y/n."

you looked up at him and were surprised to see water in his eyes. of course the tears never fell because ony never liked to cry in front of anyone, but the fact that they were getting to this point was surprising. you sigh calmly. "m'just gonna stay at eboni's for a couple days until you get your head right." you felt his strong arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as he spoke. "my head is right y/n. i was being selfish and stupid and prideful. i shoulda called or at least said 'sorry' when i got home, but i didn't. i called you clingy and invalidated your feelings. m'sorry furreal baby please just-....just don't leave me."

ony felt you shuffling so you can wrap your arms around him as well. the two of you staying like that for a while before you broke the silence. "i'd never leave you baby, just want you to be a little better wit your time management." he squeezed you tighter. "i will mama. i will" as the two of you loosened your grips on each other, ony lightly gripped your face in his hand before giving you a bunch of soft kisses on your lips, forehead, and cheeks. you were a giggling mess before you lightly pushed him away, making a fake serious face. "you still need to make it up t'me. what you said was mean."

a smirk crept on your boyfriends face as he led you to your bedroom. "ill make it up t'you right now baby." ony lied you down on the bed, removing his clothes until he was only left in his boxers. "take allat off mama i got sum else for you to wear." you gave him a confused look before eventually just shrugging your shoulders and removing all of your clothes. you lied naked on the bed as you watched ony pull his jersey out of his bag, bringing it to you. "put this on." was all he said before you gave him another questionable look.

"cmon pretty i wanna make love t'you wit it on." you had no idea what he was getting at, but you put in on anyways. ony was way bigger than you so the jersey was almost like a dress on you, stopping right below your ass before he lifted it up over you stomach and lied you back down. his body between your legs as he looked up at you. "ready?" his breath instantly touched your pussy, making you jump. before you could even reply, ony got to eating. he licked and sucked your clit like a starved man. long middle finger prodding at your entrance before he slowly pushed it all the way in .

your back arched off the bed as he kept sucking on your clit, middle finger reaching deep inside of you while you moaned his name like a prayer. "f-fuck onyyy" he moved his eyes towards your face, taking in your beauty before removing his mouth from your heat. "look at me baby. wanna see those pretty eyes." you slowly opened your eyes, pretty black lashes fluttering as you tried your best to focus on on him. a small smile crept onto ony's face as he added another finger into you, middle and index fingers digging you out as your eyes rolled to the back of your skull.

there's no way you could keep them open when he's making you feel this good. maybe you should get mad at him more often. your back was still arched off the bed before you felt your lover place his large hand on your stomach, pushing it down as he started fingering you faster. you felt your orgasm approaching as ony held his fast pace, licking and sucking on your clit to bring you to the edge faster. "ahghh...ohh my goddd...oouuhhh shit." you were losing it, hips fighting ony's hand as they twisted and turned all over the place. "i know mama. i know....jus let it out for me." the coil in your stomach snapped, liquid ecstasy flowing out of you and all over your mans face.

you shook in overstimulation as he kept eating without batting and eye. ony's fingers still held their fast pace as your hands flew to his head, trying to push him off and move back from him before you made an ever bigger mess. he bound both of your wrists in his hand before laying it back down onto your stomach. "stop runnin’ mama. m'not done." you were moaning so loud you had to make a silent prayer that the two of you don't wake up with a noise complaint notice on your door in the morning. "f-fuckk daddy ima make a mess pleaseee." you whined, but ony ignore you.

it actually felt like he started getting rougher. licking and sucking your clit harder while his fingers were now pounding into you. before you knew it, you were cumming again, making the mess you were trying to warn him about. you squirted everywhere from his face to his chest, some of it even running down his body and wetting up the waistband of his black briefs. ony sat back on his knees he looked down as your disheveled state. "look so pretty." he mumbled before pulling his underwear down right until his dick sprang free.

his hard length slapped onto his stomach before bouncing up and down due to gravity. doe eyes followed its movements. ony chuckled as he watched you become entranced by his dick. "y'ready mama? if its too much jus scratch my back cause m'not stopping until this this whole bed is wet." you nodded your head he lined himself up with your entrance, sucking his teeth at your lack of vocalization. "cmon baby talk t'me. you ready for daddy to make love t'you?" you look up to see his brown orbs already staring down at you. lips curved into a soft smile as he awaited your reply.

"yes. i want you t'make love to me" ony’s smile widened before he pushed himself into you slowly. eyes never leaving yours, reading your expressions to know when to stop to let you adjust. you were grateful for this because he was nowhere near small, and his girth alone would had you ready to cry at times. soon enough, the space between the two of you was completely gone. dick fully sheathed inside your pussy as ony waited for you to give him the okay to move. the two of you never broke eye contact through all of this and once you gave him a small "okay" he wasted no time.

slowly stroking you as he stared into your eyes. it was like the two of you were taking a look into each other souls. he began picking up his pace, pounding into you the way he knew you loved which caused you to tear up from the pleasure. "how it feel baby?" your back arched into him. the two of you stomach to stomach as ony intertwined both of his hands with yours. you couldn't even speak, using jumbled moans to reply. "aahghh...mmmughh." your eyes were at the back of your skull as you felt the tip his dick begin to kiss your cervix, making your legs open wider as you freed your hands from his and raked them down his back.

ony continued his onslaught on your pussy. letting you scratch up and down his back as he lied his hands flat next to both sides of your head, pounding into you harder. "mhmm sing f'me baby." you screamed as you felt your orgasm come out of nowhere. squirting once again on his dick, but he didn't stop. he fucked you through it, letting your essence splash all over your lower halves as he continued to look down at you. you were absolutely stunning. tears running down your cheeks as you looked up at him. bottom lip being tugged on by your teeth as your body jerked from his hard thrusts. "made my pretty girl cry. you should never be cryin'. daddy can't give you those babies if i be making you cry like that." he groaned before pressing his hand on the big number three on his jersey. he was so deep in you he felt the bulge he was making in your stomach under his hand.

your tears reminded ony of how you were earlier. angry and ready to leave him after he hurt you with his cruel words. he vowed to never do nothing that dumb again. "you only supposed to be crying from pleasure, never pain. m'sorry mama. s-so sorry." you began to spasm around your boyfriends dick, fourth orgasm of the night ready to come out. ony felt this and sped up, feeling close to the edge as well. "you forgive me baby?" his eyes never left your face as you whined out your reply. "i-i f-forgive you daddy. i f-forgive you." you smiled up at him, shakily putting your hand on his cheek. you caressed his dark brown skin as you felt your orgasm approaching. "i wanna cum together papa."

ony kissed into your palm before leaning down and softly kissing your lips. "cum mama. m'right there wit you." the both of your threw your heads back in unison as he gave you three hard strokes before stilling inside of you. cream leaking onto his base as you felt his hot load fill your pussy. you stayed like that for awhile, kissing each other while you caught your breath. ony saw your eyes flutter as you fought off your sleep. removing his jersey from your body before carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. he sat you on the toilet the turned on the shower. "need you to pee before i can let you get in." after you peed then the two of you showered together, ridding each others of the evidence of your earlier activities.

as you got dressed, ony changed the sheets and remade the bed so you wouldn't have to lift a finger. he then carried you to the bed, knowing your legs were probably still a little week before laying you on top of him. "mama?" he grumbled, you can tell he was getting tired as well. "hmm?" "im real sorry okay? never ever meant to hurt you." you lightly chuckled while tracing different shapes on his chest. "i know baby. and i know basketball and stuff could be time consuming and you just wanna do your own thing sometimes, but i just wish you'd give me just a little of your time y'know". ony rubbed on your lower back as he hummed in agreement. "ima do better. tomorrow i got early morning practice so im all yours after class. how that sound." you looked up at your boyfriend. he's doing better already. "sounds great."

[juanarc-thethird]

A friendly Call Of Duty game.

Team JNPR and Team SSSN are playing each other in a friendly manner.

2 vs 4

Neptune: *Shoot from a balcony*

Nora: *Gets kill*

Nora: Oh shit! They got me!!

1 vs 4

Sun: Nice! And with Nora there are three. Only Jaune is left. Has anyone seen him?

Scarlet: *voice chat* Nop

Sage: *voice chat* Not at all

Sun: Neptune? Can you see something from up there?

Neptune: *voice chat* Let me see...

Neptune POV

Neptune begins to see the map through his scope, but suddenly he is caught by someone from behind.

Neptune: The fuck?!

Jaune: Shh, Shh, Shh, I knew I'd find you here. You feel that on your back?

Neptune: What?

Jaune: That's a nine. But that's no millimeter, son.

Neptune: NOOOOO!!!!! *He screams like a little girl*

1 vs 3

Sage: *voice chat* He got Neptune!

Sun: Everyone, go to where Neptune was!

Sage: *voice chat* Understood!

Sun: Scarlet, did you hear me? Scarlet?

Meanwhile

Scarlet is trapped just like Neptune.

Jaune: *voice chat* Looking like a double-wide surprise... god damn~

1 vs 2

Sage: *voice chat* He got Scarlet! He got Scarlet!!

Sun: Don't panic! It's two against one! We can still win!

Sage: *voice chat* Yeah, you're right. We can still- wait, what was that?!

Sun: Sage?! What happen?!

Sage: *voice chat* Oh shit! He's here! He's he-!!!!

1 vs 1

Sun: Sage?! SAGE?!!! Damn it! Where are you Jaune?! Show yourself, you coward!

At that moment Sun was caught from behind

Jaune: *voice chat* Did you call me?

Sun: *Scared* Please Jaune. Not like this… Don't Diddy me… I'm begging you.

Jaune: *voice chat* Oh… you think I'm gonna make you like Diddy. Ha ha ha. You know… Diddy didn't learn this alone. He learned it from somebody else. Do you want to know from whom?

Sun: W-Who?

Jaune: *voice chat* Me~

Team JNPR Wins!

Meanwhile in Team JNPR's room

Nora: Jaune, what the fuck!

Jaune: It was just a joke! Jeez

------------------- I just saw the new proximity chat they made in Call of duty, and that is wild!🤣🤣🤣

[leclercloml]

Enchanted to meet you | CL16

part 1 , part 2

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x singer!reader

Summary: cheating in never a option it's a choice, a choice that he made while she loved him with her whole heart but you know there's nothing that she do better than revenge.

Genre: SMAU

warnings: google translated french, grammar mistakes, incorrect time line to match the story line, A LOT of charles slandering (I'm sorry my love)

Author's note: important! this is not any kind hate towards alexandra she's a beautiful woman from inside and outside this is all fiction and if I see ANY hate toward her in comments you'll be blocked...and also this fic is slandering our it boy as well, so don't attack me for that because I love that guy sm, my username and profile should explain a lot, that's it hope you y'all like it 🫶🏻

fc: Gracie Abrams

celebnews

liked by username, username, username and 46,29,38 others

celebnews do you believe in fairytale? Well...no not anymore, the popular singer and songwriter Y/n L/n and formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc recently made their relationship public, they were also given the nickname called "the it couple" everything seemed perfect and fairytale and rainbows until few days ago Charles was spotted with a girl on his yatch which sources says is an arts student named Alexandra saint melux and the duo looked pretty comfortable around eachother, or more than comfortable meanwhile y/n was in new york for her work, thoughts on this?

view comments

username say sike rn.

username THE AUDACITY OF SOME MEN

username literally not even a proper month.

username all these while she was working her ass off??

⤷username yup...she was in nyc.

username cheating is never a option, it's a choice.

username men really can't handle a successful women now can they?

⤷username not all men.

⤷username yup, but somehow always men.

username If I had a nickel for every time charles leclerc cheated on his girlfriend with her friend, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

⤷username FRIEND?? Y/N AND ALEXANDRA WERE FRIENDS??!!

⤷username apparently yeah, that's how Charles and Alex met in first place?

⤷username yup, y/n and Alex we're friends and when y/n started dating Charles, she moved to monaco and I guess there she met alex in a art show or something and then they both become really good friends and y/n, charles and Alex all three of them used to hangout together, there are many pictures

⤷username how did I not know this?

⤷username because it was not much of a big deal, we all thought they're all just friends hanging out together.

⤷username that's honestly so fucked up.

username once a cheater always a cheater.

yourinstagram added to story

view replies

sabrinacarpenter babe this is not you.

conangray I'm coming over rn.

username babe nooooo!!

username charles marc herve perceval leclerc count your days.

oliviarodrigo pick up my call.

iMessage

instagram

yourinstagram

liked by carlossainz55, rubendias, sabrinacarpenter and 39,739,828 others

yourinstagram I would rather spend my time a honest whore rather than a dishonest lover. (ps: that wasn't me on my story, i don't cry over disappointments 🥰)

view comments

sabrinacarpenter honest whore are so much cooler too.

⤷yourinstagram exactly.

landonorris thanks for that ps i was actually quite concerned

⤷yourinstagram nah don't worry Lan.

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⤷username don't mention his name here.

conangray men are for ruining your lipstick not your mascara.

⤷username tell em conan!

rubendias he's not worth your tears anyway 💙

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⤷username I'm new to all of this can any of you explain how ruben and y/n know eachother??!! I'm a massive city and y/n fan and i didn't knew that they were bestfriends??!!

⤷username for 4 years actually, they met in 2019 when ruben was at Benfica B, as much i can remember y/n was in protugal for her very first tour and I think ruben attended that concert and then y/n attended his match and both of them become friends and then they got super close and then after ruben moved to manchester city, y/n started to attend his matches more often and slowly they became bestfriends.

⤷username that is actually so cute 😭😭💙💙

oliviarodrigo what a beauty.

⤷yourinstagram oli you're the best 💜

username bro actually fumbled SO bad

carlossainz55 reina ❤️ (queen)

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lilymhe beautiful, gorgeous, cutest, attractive, adorable, charming ,dainty, delightful ,pleasant, pretty

⤷yourinstagram LILYYY!!! ILOVEYOU!

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⤷alex_albon can I join? Please?

⤷lilymhe nah it's a girl dinner.

⤷francisca.cgomes I'm joining you all.

⤷pierregasly pleaaaseeee!!!!

⤷francisca.cgomes no.

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⤷oliviarodrigo two**??

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⤷yourinstagram thanks domi 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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username mother.

yourinstagram

liked by rubendias, lilymhe, szoboszlaidominik and 48,938,940, others

yourinstagram girls dinner ft. some stupid boys🥂 (they begged us to come)

tagged; sabrinacarpenter, oliviarodrigo, lilymhe, alex_albon, pierre_gasly, francisca.cgomes, rubendias, carlossainz55, landonorris, szoboszlaidominik

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oliviarodrigo your sports friends are cool i guess, but their girl's are cooler

⤷lilymhe you and Sab are super cool as well! It was awesome meeting you guys.

⤷sabrinacarpenter the pleasure was all mine ✨

rubendias finally! reunited and happy!

⤷yourinstagram reUNITED and happy 👀?? Nah buddy I don't think so

⤷szoboszlaidominik lmao 💀.

carlossainz55 I INFACT DID NOT BEGGED YOU! you told ME to tag along.

⤷yourinstagram AND you didn't wanted to????

⤷carlossainz55 I'm not saying that....

⤷username and i oop-

⤷username if i speak now.

⤷username shhhh

francisca_cgomes could've been better without those idiots tbf.

⤷yourinstagram ikr

⤷pierregasly WOW you're literally MY girlfriend

⤷francisca_cgomes says who?

⤷username lmfaoo iconic iconic iconic.

landonorris your footballer friends are amazing ngl.

⤷rubendias i have a name.

⤷szoboszlaidominik me too.

⤷landonorris my bad g.

⤷username fuck everything DOMINIK AND RUBEN interaction is what I'm living for.

lilymhe you're so beautiful marry me please

⤷yourinstagram yes yes yes!!!!

⤷alex_albon yeah.....no.

⤷lilymhe who are you?

⤷username I'm loving this wayyy toooo much

maxverstappen1 where was my invitation????

⤷yourinstagram sorry maximus, it was like a last minute plan

⤷username maximusss 😭😭

username literally the entire grid and their girlfriends are on y/n' side

⤷username as they should.

username even max is team y/n, my guy just can't stop taking W.

username this is the defination of iconic.

username dts gonna be so fun.

username can't wait for next gp.

celebnews

liked by username, username, username and 386,892 others

celebnews when at some point we all thought Charles Leclerc was regretting his decision or mistake, he infact was not, yesterday charles leclerc and probably his new girl alexandra saint mleux was seen leaving a fancy restaurant in Monaco, few fans said that the 'couple' seemed very happy and after that they both left to charles appartment in his custom pista, that's a very shameless behaviour. thoughts?

view comments

username this guy have 0 shame

username disgusting, absolutely disgusting.

username tbh we don't care, y/n is living her life with her friends and his teammate lmao.

⤷username ikr like no one even cares about this guy 💀.

username bro realised he fumbled hard and have 0 chances of a second chance so bro settled down.

⤷username real

username we do not care, y/n got multiple guys who would treat her way better than this sore loser.

⤷username yeah?? like who? no offense but Charles better than all of "her guys"

⤷username yeah not really, Carlos his teammate certainly beat him this season, Lando his rival out performed him as well despite being in McLaren, Ruben and Dominik actually good at what they do, so I can assure she got a lot of guys who is better than him and imagine defending a cheater who shamelessly admits it and literally start hanging out with his side chick.💀💀

⤷username ate her up lmao

rubendias who?

⤷username KINGGGGG

⤷username defending his girl on and off pitch.

⤷username rubennnnnn

username bro's smashing (in walls)

⤷username lmfaaaoooo

username can't spell charles leclerc without L, L and L.

charles_leclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux , joris_trouch and 38,395,689 others

charles_leclerc there's a thing called privacy.

view comments

lilymhe there's also a thing called loyalty.

⤷username queen ate him up.

⤷username the L in lily stands for legendary.

⤷username y/n's no.1 defender.

⤷username i love this woman sm 😭

username yeah you wish it was because if it wasn't then you'll never be caught cheating.

carlossainz55 lmao.

⤷username ohhhh hell yeah vegas is gonna be verrryyyyy interesting

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⤷username ⛴️🛳️🚢

⤷username guyssss.....what if....

⤷username yes!.

⤷username damn...i kinda wanted her to get with ruben but carlos would work too....

⤷username OHHH DTS WHERE ARE YOU NOW??!!

username face of a cheater

username imagine crashing every race and then having the audacity to cheat on a successful woman who's actually good at what she does, lmfao.

⤷username bro FUMBLED HARD.

username ew.

username y/n should make a song about this cheating ahh loser.

liked by landonorris

⤷username landooooo????!!!

⤷username Lando what do you know???

maxverstappen1 atleast be honest with yourself.

⤷username EVEN MAX LMFAAOOO

⤷username if i was charles leclerc I would've locked myself in my house.

username bro fucked up very badly.

username bro have balls of steel to come on internet and post this.

username no offense but this twig cheated on my girl???

⤷username ik sweetie ik, a strange world we live in.

username oh the music is coming y'all, I can feel it.

yourinstagram

liked by carlossainz55, rubendias, sabrinacarpenter and 39,838,973 others

yourinstagram welllll you guys called it, new one coming...soon 👀.

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sabrinacarpenter ohhhhhhh myyyy goooooddd!!!!

⤷username my exact reaction.

⤷username sab is one of us.

⤷username supportive queen.

oliviarodrigo a hint? Is it sad or a absolute menace???

⤷yourinstagram guess we'll find out soon.

⤷username I'm really craving sad tbh....

⤷username oh she would destroy him in sad genre.

carlossainz55 can I say that I was the first person to hear that masterpiece??

⤷yourinstagram no

⤷carlossainz55 okay (I was)

⤷username ahm ahm...

⤷rubendias excuse me?!!

⤷username so we all know it's gonna be a masterpiece.

⤷username well it always is, every music she makes is a work of art.

rubendias still hurted by the fact that carlos heard it before me but okay I can't wait to enjoy it with the whole world.

⤷yourinstagram sorry rubs but he wouldn't leave me alone!

⤷carlossainz55 ACCUSATIONS!

⤷username so we can all feel it no?

⤷username shhh don't jinx it

szoboszlaidominik can't wait for it gyönyörű (beautiful)

⤷yourinstagram thank you domi!!

username SCREAMING CRYING

username finally!!!!! I've waited months for a song from mother.

username mother mother???!!!!

⤷username that's a band.

⤷username girl-

username i can't wait for it.

username song of the year.

⤷username it's not even released yet??!!

⤷username OK, and??

username oh my god I used to pray for times like this.

username finally the queen is back. (She never left)

username oh how I love being a y/n stan.

username finally!!!

╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾

ps: I finally did it! Thank you soooo much for waiting! And yes there will be part 4 AND once again this is no hate to charles or alexandra this is all just fiction so take it lightly, thank you 🫶🏻