#but also because how they would argue all the time they argue now

[hedgehog-moss]

The cherry tree I planted in front of the greenhouse blossomed for the first time this spring! A round of applause!

The wind always blows from the valley so I planted this tree strategically so that in spring a delicious smell would be delivered in my living-room through the windows, and around the outdoor table where I work, and it worked :) I estimate that it improved my quality of life by 11%. A light spring breeze carrying a cherry blossom smell is the kind of thing that stops me in my tracks ten times a day and makes me close my eyes and take a deep breath and think oh, life is good.

More tree updates: I talked in this post from 2021, then this one from 2022, about how I hoped to plant a 'fruit tree path' in the woods behind my house—this project is still ongoing and, well, hasn't borne fruit yet, but has finally blossomed. My Fruit Alley now boasts 10 trees, and looks like—what it is, a small opening in the woods that I have to deploy heroic and sustained efforts to keep open, because the woods try to reclaim it year after year, patiently, like a slow green tide.

The white thing in the middle is one of the tarps I've been using to smother brambles, I move them every few weeks and it works pretty well. I also use cardboard, but in the spring it's hard to keep up with the sheer rate of growth everywhere. Of course the main enemy is the army of broom that you can see in the distance, all yellow and cheerful-looking at the moment. I mostly fight them in the winter, every year I manage to push them back a few metres...

Here's a photo where you can better see some of the trees :

In total I have planted 2 apple trees, 1 quince tree, 1 mirabelle plum, 3 red plums, 1 nectarine tree, 3 cherry trees. I'm really glad that all of them survived, as I was a bit worried about damage from deer or boars. I did lose 2 chestnut trees that were destroyed so savagely I have to assume it's wild boars, but I had planted them much farther away in the woods and I won't make this mistake again. I now have two new baby chestnuts and I planted them near the greenhouse (downhill):

I think I'd never seen nectarine flowers before, they look exotic! I also discovered this year what quince flowers look like:

The only tree that didn't bloom was the smallest apple tree, and honestly that's her fault because for some reason she decided to make tender new green leaves in the middle of winter, so she pretty much exhausted herself for nothing. And you can't blame climate change and seasons being weird for this, because it was a cold and snowy week and no other nearby fruit trees were making any leaves. The confused apple tree is a New Zealand cultivar, so I suppose you could argue she thinks she's still in New Zealand, except she's never been to New Zealand in her life, she was born and raised in France, she doesn't know New Zealand exists. The only possible explanation is, I suppose, a deep-rooted yearning for their ancestral homeland among New Zealand apple trees.

I was a bit concerned when this tree then failed to produce any leaves in the spring, I worried she might be hopelessly hemispherically-challenged, but then I went back to check two weeks later and she was finally green! In a seasonally-appropriate way!

Other trees I've planted, not in the fruit tree path: a persimmon, but it died very quickly :( I will try again; a goji berry shrub, which has been here for two years and seems to be doing well, but so far no sign of berries; and in front of my house, an amelanchier (un arbre dont ma mère n'arrive jamais à se rappeler le nom et qu'elle persiste à appeler "le mélenchon"):

Finally, my last piece of important tree-related news is that I had the hazel tree near my house removed this winter:

I asked the guy who was working on the road nearby with an excavator digging a drainage trench if he could do it, and it took all of 10 minutes, like picking a flower, it was impressive!

And the reason I wanted to remove it is that there are hundreds of hazel trees in my woods and I wanted something different in this spot by the house. Unfortunately for this deserving hazel, it just wasn't special enough.

So I planted a tiny ginkgo :) And now I just have to be extremely patient as I wait for everyone to grow.

[leclerc-hs]

a lifetime of summers - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which every summer, at the villa your families rent together every year, gives you a version of charles OR you and charles are childhood best friends with a complicated history. warnings: angst, language, childhood friends with complicated history, smut, angst, yearning, etc... idk what I'm missing, NOT PROOFREAD (prob typos or things that might not make sense), lots of back and forth, messy messy messy, also cute, jealousy jealousy, seriously lots of YEARNING, them being stupid also word count: ~8k author's note: this idea came to me a few days ago and i've spent as much time as possible working on it since (in between carlos version). y'know when the creativity just hits right and the words pour out of you?? that was me with this. i hope you guys like it!!!! xoxo ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Age 7.

“I’m gonna marry you one day.”

The villa smells of sun lotion and salty air.

Your dad’s playing music through some tiny old speaker he brought. And the adults are laughing too loud over their drinks.

The sun is beginning to sink, but it’s still hot. 

You’re sticky with juice, hair tangled, and bathing suit clinging awkwardly.

Charles is chasing you. A water balloon in his hands.

You shriek, running against the hot stones. Smiling so hard that it hurts.

“Y’already got me twice!” You shout in between giggles. “S’not fair!”

Charles appears closer. Face sunburnt. A smile tugged on his lips. “You cheated at Candy Land!”

“You cheated first!” 

“Because you always win!”

And he raises the balloon over his head.

“If you throw that, I’m telling maman you said a bad word the other day.”

His smile drops. “I did not!”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Uh huh…you said ‘shit’ when you hit your funny bone.”

“It hurt!” He argues.

You stick your tongue out. 

And then he hesitates. Looking at the balloon. Then at you.

Throws the balloon anyway.

It explodes against your stomach. Cold water soaking you.

And you gasp. 

Then lunge for him. Chase him all the way into the back yard, shrieking. Laughing so hard that you both struggle to breathe properly. 

And eventually you both collapse into the grass. Side by side. Near the lemon tree. 

There’s a few moments of silence. Both of you panting from trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Because you’re funny. And you like ice pops. And you beat me at Mario Kart once.”

You look at him. And he’s staring at the leaves above your heads. Arms touching.

“I don’t think that’s how marriage works,” your voice soft.

“Don’t care.” He shrugs. 

You roll your eyes. “Okay. But I don’t want to wear a dress.”

“Fine. But you have to split the cake with me.”

“Only if it’s chocolate.”

“Well duh.”

And you both fall asleep like that. In the grass. Smelling like chlorine. Sticky with sugar.

-

Age 12

“Why are you being weird?”

The summer heat is burning.

Heat clings to you like a second skin. And you’re still dripping from the pool. The stone tiles are too hot to stand on for too long, so everyone moves around them quickly. Your hair is wet. Trying to read a book, but can’t focus.

Because Charles won’t stop staring at you.

Well, he’s technically not staring. But he’s in the pool in your direct eyesight. Hands behind his head as he sits on a float. Sunglasses almost too big for his face. Smirking.

And every so often, he splashes water your way.

“Would you stop?” You snap. Wiping the water off your ankles.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. Blinking. Innocent.

You groan, falling back on the lounger. Trying to ignore him.

He floats closer. “You haven’t turned the page in almost twenty minutes.”

“That’s because you’re distracting me.”

And he grins. A full sheepish grin. “You think I’m cute.”

You don’t answer. Keep your eyes on your book.

“Y’gonna tell your friends I have a six pack now?” He calls out.

You raise your eyebrows, “Six pack of what?”

“Muscles.” He says. Dead serious.

And your mouth twitches. “Your voice still cracks.”

Charles slips off the floatie. Swims to the edge and rests his arms on the ledge. Chin on his forearm as he looks at you.

“Yeah? And what does it do to you when I say your name?”

Your breath hitches.

“You’re blushing.”

“It’s the sun.”

He laughs. And you throw your book at him. 

He ducks under the water. And when he resurfaces, grinning…you’re trying so hard to not smile. And he knows it.

“Why are you being so weird?” you ask.

He shrugs. 

“You’re just starting to notice me now.”

And you don’t answer.

And later that night, when you’re brushing your teeth. Still burnt from the sun. You wonder what he meant.

You don’t ask.

But you do start to.

-

Age 15

“That didn’t count.”

“So kiss me again.”

The villa is quiet. 

Your parents and his mom stay up talking. Your siblings long asleep. Arthur passed out on the couch. 

A few candles flicker near the steps, but most of the light is coming from the moonlight.

You’re barefoot. The grass cool and soft beneath your toes as you walk to the lemon tree. The one where you and Charles always meet when its too late and you’re supposed to be asleep.

He’s already there. Leaning against it. 

He looks different this year. Taller. A little bit sharper. More grown into his body.

He glances at you. “Took you long enough.”

“Had to sneak past my sister.”

He grins, holding up a bag of chips. 

And you sit beside him. Your shoulder brushing his. 

Talking about nothing for a while. Catching up on the weeks you aren’t together. How he kissed a girl in Monaco and it was fine but also kind of awkward. And you pretend you don’t hate hearing it.

You tell him about the boy from school who tried to hold your hand during a movie when you went with your group of friends.

Charles almost immediately demands his full name. And address.

And you laugh.

He tosses a lemon up and catches it. Again and again.

“I heard you tell Joris that I was in love with you.” You say.

And he glances at you. “I did not.”

You narrow your eyes. A smile on your lips.

And he shrugs. “I said you were obsessed with me. S’not the same.”

And you laugh. Then scoff. “You wish.”

You shove his arm. And he grabs your wrist before you can pull it back. Fingers wrapping around you. Warm. Familiar. But somehow different.

Neither of you speak for a few moments. Just take in the sound of the cicadas, the faint chatter of the adults on the terrace.

“Y’ever kissed anyone?”

And your stomach twists. Look away. “No.”

He nods. “Me either…at least, not really.”

Silence.

And then he says, “Wanna try?”

You look at him. But he’s already looking at you. And he looks nervous. Hopeful. Like he’s been thinking about this for a long time. Nothing like the boy who used to throw water balloons and stick paint in your hair.

You nod.

And it’s awkward. Your noses bump. One of you breathes too loudly. His hands tremble at your cheek. 

But it’s sweet. Slow.

And his lips are soft.

And when you pull apart, you both stare at each other. Lips a little rosier than before.

“That didn’t count.” You whisper.

And he blinks. “Why not?”

“There was no tongue.”

And he grins. Slowly.

And then pulls you back into him.

And this time….it’s real.

-

Age 17

“This doesn’t have to mean anything.”

The villa’s light glow behind you. Laughter echoing from the kitchen where your parents and his maman are finishing a bottle of wine.

You and Charles are on the terrace. Barefoot. A shared bottle of win between you. Practically empty. And his leg brushes against yours every time he fidgets.

It’s the first summer where you’ve both been allowed to really drink. Not just a stolen sip of a half-empty bottle found on the kitchen counter. Or a watered down spritz. Real drinks. Poured and given to you like adults.

And you’re a little tipsy. Cheeks warm and rosy. Limbs loose. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” you glance at him.

He nods. “Jus’ thinking.”

“You do that?”

And he laughs. “Shut up.”

You smile. Taking a small sip straight from the bottle before placing it back down. “What are you thinking about?”

He hesitates for a little. “Uh…that night last year.”

You don’t have to ask which night. You already know.

The night behind the lemon tree. His mouth on yours. And you think about it often.

“Me too,” You admit. Soft.

And he looks at you. Watch as his gaze dips to your mouth.

And then he’s leaning in.

The kiss is soft. Deeper. Not rushed. And his lips are warm. Tastes of wine and something sweet. Like the fruit you guys were picking at earlier.

When he pulls back, his voice cracks a little bit. “I want you.”

You don’t answer. Just smile soft. Pulling his hand into yours as you drag him into the villa. Into the bedroom. 

Your clothes peel off slowly. Clumsy. And he’s careful. Like he’s afraid if he moves too fast, it’ll ruin the moment. 

“Y’sure about this?” He whispers.

You nod. “Yeah…want it to be you.”

And he closes his eyes for a second. Like his heart is in his throat.

And then it happens.

It’s slow. Messy. You both laugh when your arms bump. And he curses softly when he cant get the condom wrapper open. But then he’s inside you, and your laughter becomes hushed gasps. Fingers digging into each other.

“Y’okay?” He mutters. His forehead pressed to yours.

And your nails dig into his back. “Yeah.”

And then he kisses you again. Harder. Holds you closer.

Later, when you’re both lying tangled in the dark…you feel his fingers tracing your skin. Both of you enjoying the silence.

Then a good few moments later.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything.”

You swallow hard.

“Yeah.”

-

Age 19

“Y’gonna dance with him again?”

“He asked.”

“You let him kiss your cheek.”

“You fingered me in the kitchen pantry last night.”

“That’s different.”

You’re barefoot in the sand. Music loud. And Luca…or maybe it was Leo? You weren’t sure. Had his hands lightly on your hips. Flirty.

You’re laughing at something dumb he said into your ear. And then you feel it.

The heat. The stare.

Glance over your shoulder and…

Charles. Leaning against the beach bar. Beer in hand.

Eyes on you with a glint in his eye like you’ve offended him.

You try not to react. But the next time Luca spins you, you pull away with a smile and a I’ll be right back.

You only make it a few steps before Charles intercepts your path.

“Having fun?” He says. Trying to be casual. But his voice is too tight. Too bitter.

“Yes.” You brush past him. And he falls right into step with you.

“You’ve got weird taste in music.”

“That’s not my music taste. It’s called dancing.”

And he scoffs.

You walk to the side of the bar. An more private are. Grabbing his shoulder to face you.

“Are you okay?” Voice sweet. Gentle. Caring.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re glaring too much.”

And looks at you. “I just think it’s funny.”

“Oh, here we go.”

“I mean, you don’t even like that song.”

You cross your arms against your chest. And he steps closer.

“You let him put his hands on you.”

You raise a brow. “So?”

“So…you let him touch you. Kiss your cheek”

And you laugh. Soft. “You fingered me in the kitchen pantry last night, Charles.”

His jaw clenches. Hands twitch. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

You take a step closer. Testing him, And he doesn’t budge.

“It’s not the same.”

You stare at him. His cheeks are sunburned. And his eyes are so green it makes your heart rate spike. So handsome.

“So I’m not allowed to dance with a guy I’ll never see again?”

He runs a hand over his face. Grazing the slight stubble on his jaw. “You’re not just dancing.”

“No,” You admit. “But you’re not just fucking me either.”

His eyes widen. Slightly stunned.

And you don’t back down. Step even closer until your chests are touching.. “You don’t wanna talk about what this is? That’s fine. But you don’t get to act jealous then.”

“I’m not jealous.”

And you grin. Snort. Just a tiny bit.

“Okay,” he says. Throwing his hands up. “Maybe I am.”

Your stomach twists.

“I just…I don’t like seeing you with other guys.” His voice is low. 

“Well…it’s not like you don’t talk to other girls, Charles.”

And then you leave him standing there. Alone.

-

“Wanna go out for a bit?” He asks. “Just us?”

And you say yes without even thinking.

You’re on a light blue towel, sunglasses over your face, pretending to read a book. Charles is stretched out next to you. An arm tucked under his head. Throwing grapes in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth.

You glance over just as a grape hits his forehead and falls into the sand.

“Impressive.”

He laughs. “The wind interfered!”

He tosses another grape. Misses again. 

And you burst into laughter.

“I’m warming up.”

He laughs with you. Giving up and rolling onto his side to face you.

He squints his eyes at you. “Do you have sunscreen on?”

“Yes.”

“Are you positive?”

Your brows furrow. “Why?”

“I think that….” His hand reaches for the bottle of sun lotion, flicking it open. “That you missed a spot.”

He squirts some into his hand, a smirk on his lips.

“Back off.”

And he reaches for you, smearing it all over your chest. You shriek, tossing your book into the sand beside you.

And somewhere between this sun lotion assault, you’re both breathless and laughing so hard.

He pins you down, dropping heaps of sun lotion onto your skin.

“Truce,” You laugh. Stomach burning from laughter. 

He nods. Smiling. Rubbing the sunscreen into your skin.

“Don’t want you to burn.”

You throw a pile of sand at him. And he doesn’t even flinch.

-

His cock is already buried inside you. Deep. Thick. Fucking aching.

“God, you’re fuckin soaked.” He groans into your neck. Hand pressed into your stomach. 

You claw at his back. Back arched. Legs spread. Shaking every time he hits that spot in your tummy just right.

He looks down at you like he’s overwhelmed. Like he doesn’t understand how you can feel this fucking good.

“Swear to God,” He grunts. Pulling back slow, then snapping his hips forward. “S’like your pussy jus gets tighter every time.”

Your mouth falls open. Gasping.

His hands slip under your thigh, pushing your knee into your chest. Fucking you deeper.

And then he moans.

“Jesus….fuck.” He chokes out. “Y’feel that?”

You sob out. 

“I’ve been inside you like a hundred times this summer and it still feels like fuckin heaven.”

His forehead drops and presses into yours. Voice rough. 

“M’not gonna last.” He huffs. “You’re too wet. Too fuckin tight.”

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Don’t stop…”

“You’re fuckin milking me.” He cuts you off. “Y’gonna come? Please come on me. C’mon baby…please, yeah? Please let me have it.”

And you fall apart. Gasping. Shaking. Coming so hard around his cock it makes his head fall back.

And he swears. Filthily. French tumbling out go his mouth.

And then he’s spilling inside of you. Chest pressed to yours. Hips jerking.

He buries his face in your beck. Collapsing on you. 

And neither of you speak for a bit.

Just catch your breath. Comfortable silence. Holding each other.

Eventually, he reaches up. Tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

Then whispers into the dark.

“I like it here.”

And he doesn’t elaborate.

You don’t ask him to.

-

Age 21

“He seems tense.”

“He’s fine.”

“He didn’t even blink when I mentioned that guy from Madrid.”

“I told you not to bring it up.”

Your best friend’s been here for five days and already the villa feels different.

She means well. But she talks fast, drinks fast, and has no filter. 

She also loves to talk about your love life.

The one that you’re apparently “thriving in”.

“So wait,” she says over breakfast, digging her fork into her food. “You never texted that guy from Madrid back? Y’know the one with the sexy voice?”

Across the table, Charles is picking at his plate. Fork pausing. Just for a little bit. Enough for you to notice.

You look at her, “No.”

“Why not? He was so hot.”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

“But he was so into you…” She takes a sip of her drink. “What about the Italian one? The one you really liked.”

Charles cuts into his eggs. A little bit harder. Knife scraping the plate.

“He ghosted.”

“Ugh, yeah total loser.” She laughs. “Oh my god, remember…what was his name? From the bar crawl.”

“Liam.” You choke out.

“Yes! Liam!” She snaps her fingers. “Didn’t he pick you up at the bar? Like just threw you over his shoulder?”

You laugh, slightly embarrassed. Nodding.

Charles sets his mug down a little too hard.

And then he stands. Takes his plate to the sink. 

And walks out.

“Was it something I said?” Your best friend asks.

-

You find him in the kitchen later. Your best friend is lounging out by the pool and you slipped inside to grab a water.

He’s rinsing the plates. Back to you. But his jaw is clenched tight.

You lean against the counter by him. “Hey.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just keeps scrubbing the dishes. A little harder than before.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” He says. “Just didn’t realize breakfast started with a running list of every guy you’ve fucked.”

You wince.

And he breathes deeply. Dropping the dish in the sink. “Sorry…that was, uh harsh.”

You give a tiny nod.

“I just…” He turns off the water. Looks at you. “Didn’t know it was like that?”

“Like what?”

He shrugs. 

“Is it a problem?”

He stares at you. Sucks his bottom lip in for a moment. Like he’s deep in thought. Before finally saying…

“No. It’s not my place.”

And there it is. 

You step back. “Right.”

And then you’re turning around, reaching in the cabinet for a glass. “Still going to the bonfire later?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, if you still want to.”

“Cool,” Your voice is light. 

-

Age 22

“You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’m just tired.”

The long table on the terrace is full.

Extra chairs from inside scattered around it, one of your younger cousins crawling underneath it.

Your dad is asking your mom if there’s more grilled vegetables. Meanwhile your sister insists on telling the story about the jellyfish sting again.

“And she was crying so hard, she had actual snot bubbles on her face,” She says. Laughing.

You lift your hand, “I was six!”

Charles laughs. “You thought you were dying.”

“I thought it was venom!” You laugh. “And no one even helped me.”

“We were too busy laughing at the snot,” He says. Looking at you. That familiar grin pulled on his face, eyes crinkled. Like it was just you two.

And then Alex leans into him. Whispers into his ear. And whatever she says makes him smile wider. Makes him shift toward her without even thinking.

You chug your wine.

“I love that photo,” Alex says softly. And you glance at her to find her already looking at you. “The one of you and everyone in the inflatable pool. You’re the only one not smiling.”

You curl your lips. “We were sinking.”

“It’s so funny though,” She says. “You look so unimpressed by them.”

“She always looks like that,” Charles chimes in. “Probably came out of the womb judging people.”

You narrow your eyes, but the smile pulling on your lips gives you away.

Alex laughs. And your mom’s already popping open the next bottle of wine. 

And it would be perfect.

If it weren’t for Charles sitting across from you, arms wrapped around another person. Like he’s not yours anymore. 

You ask Alex about her job, and you mean it. She answers so soft and kind that it almost makes you hate her. Almost.

But you can’t. Because she’s nice.

“She’s good for him,” Your sister whispers under her breath, leaning toward you. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

You nod. “I’m just tired.”

Eventually, dinner ends. Alex excuses herself to help your mom bring out dessert. And Charles follows.

And when they come back, head thrown back laughing. 

He sets a slice of cake in front of you without a word.

And you thank him like its normal.

-

Someone suggest drinks at the beach bar. Something to do. The one with the bulbs on string down the street. 

You come barefoot, some sweet drink already in hand. Alex walks beside you, her wedges hooked in her fingers, hem of her dress brushing her knees.

She’s pretty in a way that doesn’t feel threatening. Not showy. Just perfect.

Inside the bar, you spot Charles leaned against the bar with a beer, grinning at something Arthur’s saying. And he’s wearing that linen button up that you used to tell him he looks like a recently divorced rich guy in. 

You find yourself smiling.

Alex touches your arm. “Hey…you want a new drink?”

You shake your head. “I’m good for now.”

She nods. A small smile on her lips.

“I was really nervous to meet you.”

You blink. Eyes slightly wider. “Me?”

She nods. “Charles talks about you all the time.”

You freeze for a moment.

“Yeah,” she smiles. “Not like in a weird way. Just like you’re part of the picture. In his life. Almost every story he tells involves you.”

You don’t know how to respond.

“I’m just glad you’re not..uh, like intimidating.” She laughs.

And you laugh back. “I save the intimidation after a few weeks.”

She smiles. “So I’ve still got time?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

And for this moment, you like her. Even if it hurts.

Because she’s kind.

Because she doesn’t know that you and Charles shared a bed when thunderstorms were scary.

Because she wasn’t there the summer he kissed you against the sand and told you he’d never want anyone else.

You chug your drink.

Later, you’re all gathered near the back of the deck, huddled around a wooden table and wobbly stools. Someone ordered a side of fries. Someone else ordered a round of shots no one really wanted but drank anyways.

You’re pressed between Charles and your sister. You’re laughing. Tipsy. Warm.

Charles is teasing your sister about something but you’re not really listening. 

And that’s when another guy slides in.

Not dramatically. Just casual. Confident.

He’s tall. Tanned. Cute. 

He talks to the guy beside him, someone you’ve definitely seen before, and then turns to you. 

“Did I hear something about you getting stung by a jellyfish?”

You smile. “Unfortunately.”

He nods. A grin. “Survival stories always get me.”

“Tragic,” you say.

He laughs. “I’m Nick.”

You take a sip of your drink, tilting your head. “Do you open with tragedy stories for flirting a lot? Or is it just me?”

“Only for girls who look like they bite back.”

You grin. Slow. “You say that like its a challenge.”

“Depends,” He shrugs, gaze dropping to your bare legs, then back to your face.

“On?”

“Depends how hard you bite.”

And you laugh. Like really laugh. Hard. Head falling back. And then you feel it. The way Charles stills beside you. The way his fingers grip his cup just a little bit tighter.

And Nick leans in closer. More private. “So…what other tragedies should I know about you?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“If you want facts or warnings.”

He raises a brow. “Any preference?”

You place your cup down on the table. “I like a little risk.”

And Charles says something to your sister now. A little louder. Like he’s trying to distract you.

You don’t bother to look at him.

Nick grins. “And just how dangerous are you exactly?”

You grin back. “Pretty dangerous.”

He laughs. “Good.”

You both just stare at each other for a little. Grinning.

“You dancing?” He asks, nodding his head in direction of the dance floor.

“Are you asking or telling?”

“I’m hoping.”

You slide off the stool.

“Let’s go tragedy boy.”

And as he takes your hand. Leads you into the crowd. You catch Charles’s eyes.

Watching.

Burning.

-

The music’s slowed a little. Just swaying to the music, instead of the rapid jumping you were doing earlier. 

Nick’s hand rests at your hip. His other is holding your drink while you talk with your hands.

“You can’t seriously think pineapple belongs on pizza,” You yell over the music.

Nick grins. “It’s good.”

“You’re weird.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

And you laugh, bumping your shoulder into his. He leans in, speaking into your ear.

“You know your friend’s been staring at us for like ten minutes, right?”

You blink. “Huh?”

He tips his head. Over your shoulder. And you turn just a little bit. Just enough to see Charles still sitting at the table.

Drink in hand. Not talking. Not even blinking. Just looking.

You breathe out, turning back. “That Charles.”

Nick raises a brow, nodding. “Ahh.”

“Don’t read into it.”

He watches you.

“He has a girlfriend.”

Nick hums, a teasing grin. “He doesn’t look like he remembers that right now.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Cool.”

You shrug. “You don’t believe me?”

He smiles. “Doesn’t matter what I believe. Just means if I kiss you, he might kill me.”

You laugh. “You’re awful.”

“You’re still here.”

And you look at each other. Smiling.

You kiss him. Not because you’re falling for him. But because you’re single. Because Charles brought someone else. Because he gets to have her. Because you’re tired of thinking about him.

So you kiss him to feel good. To forget. To remind yourself that you’re free.

Hands in his shirt. Hands on your waist.

And you let yourself lean into it.

Enjoy the uncomplicated.

And for a few moments…it almost works.

-

Age 23

“You brought him here.”

“Yeah. Remember you said he wouldn’t last.”

You’re late this year.

Flight was delayed. Rental car place was too busy. And by the time your feet hit the familiar stone of the villa’s terrace, the sun is already low in the sky.

Theo’s beside you. Rolling your suitcase like a pure gentleman. He’s good. Kind. Gets along with your parents. Laughs at your sister’s jokes. 

And still, your heart flutters when you hear his voice.

Charles.

Laughing louder than necessary. As if he wants you to hear it.

You follow the sound. Trying not to think about the last time you saw him. A few months ago in Monaco. A hotel room you both swore you wouldn’t end up in. Both seeing other people. Both pretending it didn’t count.

And it wasn’t even the first time.

Since last summer, it’s happened a few times too many. Whenever him and Alex called it off. On and off. On and off. You slipped between the cracks. A quiet fuck in your apartment. A drunken make out at a birthday party. You pressed against the shower tiles. Bent over his kitchen counter.

Always followed by soft smiles and easy goodbyes. A promise to act normal. 

Best friends first.

And the moment you step further into the terrace, you see him.

Charles standing against the bar, shirt unbuttoned. Tanned. Holding a drink with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how hot he looks.

And worse…Alex is next to him.

Beautiful of course. Sundress swaying. Hand on his chest like it belongs there.

He notices you before you can even speak. Smile faltering for a fraction of a second. Just enough for you to really feel it. And then it’s back.

And he lifts his glass in a salute. “You’re late.”

Alex smiles. “We thought you weren’t coming til’ tomorrow!”

You smile back. She was always so nice. “Surprise!”

Theo steps forward. Hand extended with that charm that always made it hard to hate him. “Hey…Charles, right?”

And Charles doesn’t hesitate. Shakes his hand. But its the same one he uses with driver’s he never liked. “Yeah. We’ve met.”

And it hits you like a knife to the ribs.

You remember that night clear as day. Theo was still new. Only a few dates in. And you invited him to a party. 

Charles showed up late. And barely looked at Theo. Offered him a lazy smile before finding you later into the night. Pulling you into his car thirty minutes later and fucking you in the back seat.

And Theo’s smiling. “Nice to see you again.”

Charles smiles. But his eyes stay on you. Never leave your face.

Alex swings her arm into his. “So glad you made it. Saved you the good room too.”

You smile at her. “That’s sweet of you.”

Charles lifts a brow. “Didn’t know you needed a good room to enjoy yourself here.”

And you hum. “Guess I’ve gotten a little pickier.”

He takes a sip of his drink. “Since when?”

And you shrug your shoulders. “Since I started dating someone who doesn’t forget my birthday.”

And it hits him like a bullet. You see the way his jaw shifts. Swallow.

Theo’s hand slips onto your lower back. Whispering softly into your ear. Nothing specific. Just something that makes you smile.

And Charles swear’s he might just vomit.

-

The ocean is calm. Waves hitting the rocks. A few birds chirping. Air cool before the sun is fully up.

You slip out of bed, letting Theo sleep. Making your way down the stony path that you walked hundreds of times. Towel slung over your shoulder. Hair twisted up in a clip.

And you’re halfway across the sand when you see him.

Already waist deep in the water. Back facing you. 

You freeze. Debating if you should turn around. 

But it’s too late. He see’s you. And his face shifts into something. Longing? Guilt? You’re not sure.

“You’re always here early,” He calls out.

You drop your towel, walking into the water without glancing at him.  “Not always.”

He watches you. You can feel the burn of his eyes on your skin. “You do when you’re avoiding me.”

You glance up. The water cool against your skin. “Who said I’m avoiding you?”

He shrugs. “History.”

You reach him in the water. You both stand there, not touching. Not moving.

Eventually…he speaks.

“He’s staying the entire time?”

You raise a brow. “Are you asking as my best friend or something else?”

He doesn’t answer. 

You move a little closer. “You said he wouldn’t last.”

“I was wrong.” His voice is low. “Clearly.”

He swallows. Looks away from you. “Does he know?”

And your stomach twists. “Know what?”

He doesn’t say anything. Lets the silence tell you.

You feel your throat tightening. “He know’s we’re close.”

“Close.” He repeats. Half snort, half laugh.

“Best friends.”

He turns to fully face you now. Jaw clenched. 

“Right. Just best friends.”

You don’t respond. Because what else are you supposed to say? That you still feel his fingers dig into your skin. That no matter how many nights pass, you still wonder what this could’ve been if you both spoke up all those years ago.

He steps closer. Too close now.

“Y’still taste like that shitty rosé we used to drink.”

And you blink. Trying not to smile. “You’re not funny.”

“Not trying to be.”

His fingers brush against your shoulder. 

“You have a girlfriend.”

And his eyes look sad. He breathes loudly. “And you have him.”

-

The villa is loud tonight. Music is blasting. Too many drinks are being poured. Bowls of snacks turning stale.

All of you are packed into the living room. Sunburn. Sprawled into chairs or the floor. Hoodies thrown on. 

Your families are here. Everyone laughing and shouting. Bickering. Like its still 15 years ago.

Theo sits behind you on the rug, legs wrapped around you. Hand resting on your hip. And he’s been sweet all evening. He fits.

Yet every time you crack a joke. Or win a game. It’s Charles who looks at you first. Like he’s your person.

His leg bounces restlessly. 

“Alright,” Arthur announces. “We’re playing that game again. The one with the acting.” He holds up a deck of cards.

“Y’mean charades?” Alex asks. Soft.

“No.” Charles says. “The one I always win.”

And it’s you rolling your eyes now. “Y’mean the one you always cheat during?”

He leans forward. “I win.”

Theo laughs behind you.

Your sister tries to act out like Snow White. Falling over and laughing when Arthur misreads a motion. Theo keeps guessing too many times. And Alex’s impressions are almost too good.

And later…when the game’s over. You find yourself in the kitchen, stacking freshly cleaned glass and bowls onto the drying towel.

Humming to yourself.

And Charles leans against the doorway, arms crossed. Watching you with a lazy grin. 

“You two are cute,” He says.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be weird.”

“M’not.” He shrugs. Pushing off the archway and stepping closer. “It’s just…uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You let him touch you a lot.”

You pause with a glass in your hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

And he smiles. Tight. Not genuine. “Nothing.”

“You’re being weird.”

He raises his hands. Says something mocking of Theo.

And it has you gasp lightly. “You’re such an asshole.” You try not to smile.

He steps even closer.

“Yeah.” He whispers. “But I’m still your favorite.”

And then he’s stepping beside you, taking the glass from your hand and dries it.

Finishes washing the dishes with you in silence.

-

“You’re staring again.”

“Yeah. Looks like you’re having fun.”

“Jealous?”

“Of him? Never.”

Silence.

“But of you? Maybe.”

The bar is tucked into the cliffs. A grand view of the sea. Well lit by bulbs on strings.

Everyone’s dressed for the night. Sun-kissed. Hair soft and flows. Laughter echoing. 

You’re on your second drink. Lightly buzzed. Your dress clinging to you just right. And you feel good. Happy.

Theo’s spinning you around. His hands warm on your waist as you move slowly in the corner of the makeshift dance floor. He’s not much of a dancer. But he’s trying. And in the end…that’s all that really matters.

He leans in close. “Y’look so beautiful.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

“I mean…y’always do.” He grins. “But-“

You don’t let him finish. Kiss him. Easy. Soft.

And when you pull back, you catch him in the corner of your eye.

Charles. At the bar.

Sitting with Arthur and Alex. Drink in front of him. Head tilted.

And he’s watching you. Not listening to either of them.

And when you’re eyes meet, he lifts his drink.

A challenge.

And later when you slip away from the loud music. He’s there. Leaning casually against the table. Shirt undone just enough to make your throat dry. 

“You’re having fun.” He says. A statement. Not a question.

“Isn’t that the point?”

He nods. “Theo’s a big fan of spinning you around like you’re some prize.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s called dancing.”

“More like claiming.” He huffs under his breath.

And you look at him.

Hard. 

Trying to read him. 

“What’s your problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Eyes dropping to the floor. Then to his half empty drink. 

“You kissed him.” He still isn’t looking at you.

You squint your eyes a little. “Yeah. I did.”

He swallows. Harsh. “Cool.”

You laugh. Dry. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m the ridiculous one?” He finally looks at you. “You’re out here making heart eyes at a guy you know won’t last more than another year.”

Your mouth falls open. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to know him. I know you.”

And he steps forward. Voice dropping.

“And I know that’s the same dress you wore the night I…”

“Charles.”

You both go quiet. 

Alex’s frame flickers by. Laughter erupts. People keep dancing.

“Whatever. You’re right. Have fun with your fling.”

You narrow your eyes. “Jealous?”

He smiles. Sad. “Of him? Never.”

A moment of silence. And his gaze drops to your mouth. Stays there.

“But you? Maybe.”

-

The trip is winding down. Bags are beginning to be packed. Towels still damp. Nights slower. Everyone pretending that they’re not ready to be home.

The sky’s dark. Everyone’s inside finishing up packing. Winding down.

You slipped out.

Without thinking, ended up here. The lemon tree.

The same as always. 

You hear footsteps. Uneven. Dragging.

And you turn. Charles.

He’s drunk. Swearing under his breath as he loses his footing. A bottle dangling from his hand. Shirtless. Barefoot.

His eyes meet yours and there’s something bitter in them. “Of course you’re here.”

You breathe. “You’re drunk.”

“A lil’ bit,” His words slur. “Celebrating your last night as someone else’s girl.”

You cross your arms. “We’re not doing this.”

But he’s already walking closer. 

“Y’know….s’kinda funny.”

You don’t speak.

“How he holds your hand like its somethin’ delicate. Like you’re some untouchable thing.” He takes another step closer. Voice shaking.

“I’ve had you on your knees on the kitchen floor.” He says, bitter.

Your heart pounds. “Stop.”

“In the pool too,” He slurs. “Begged me to not pull out. Said you wanted to feel it. Feel me.”

He doesn’t even let you speak. Just rambles on. Slurring. Drunk. Angry.

“Had you in every room in that house,” He grunts. “Fingers shoved in you while our parents set the dinner table. Bent you over the bathroom sink. Panties still halfway up your thighs because you were too desperate to wait.”

“Charles…”

“The pantry…remember that one?” His voice drops lower. “You were so wet it dripped onto the floor. Had to stuff my fingers in your mouth so no one would hear you cryin while you came.”

“Don’t do this.”

“I fucking have to.” He snaps. “Because I can’t fucking sleep this entire trip knowing he gets to touch you.”

You swallow. “I’m not some prize.”

“No. You’re worse.” He spits. Stepping close enough that his chest is close enough and you have to crane your neck to look at him. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and you handed it to someone else like I never fucking existed.”

“Stop it.”

“He doesn’t know what its like to hear you lose control. How you cry when you come. Shaking and begging.”

And your breathing hard now.

He leans in. Bending down to be eye to eye.

“He gets to hold you in public.” His eyes are glaring. “And I got your thighs shaking around my face while you said my name like a fuckin’ prayer.”

You don’t speak. Can’t.

Silence for a few moments.

And then…

“Tell me.” He slurs, small grin tugged on the corner of his lips. “Tell me which of us you think about when you touch yourself.”

You slap him.

Hard.

And his face whips to the side. He breathes heavily. Like he’s trying not to cry. Or scream. Or grab your face and kiss you.

He swallows.

“He gets you in the daylight.”

You don’t speak.

“He gets the sunlight.” 

And you whisper back. Soft. Heart breaking. “You only met me in the dark.”

You walk away barefoot. Tears forming in your eyes.

And Charles?

He stays at the lemon tree until sunrise. Alone.

-

You don’t talk for three months.

Which is considered a lifetime for you and Charles.

And then on a random weekday at nearly three in the morning, he sends a photo of the lemon tree in the winter.

No message beneath it.

You don’t answer.

Not for a day. Not even for three.

But then, on a random day the following week, you send a photo back.

A shot of your bedroom wall. A blurry photo of your hand holding a book in the corner.

Can’t sleep.

And the three dots appear before you can overthink it.

Me either.

And that’s how it begins.

You don’t FaceTime each other. At least, not at first. 

You fall back into a rhythm neither of you thought would come back. Almost normal. The funny kind of banter you guys always had.

Charles broke up with Alex. You broke it off with Theo.

Neither of you really said why.

-

Age 25

“Don’t sit in my chair.”

“This isn’t your chair?”

“I licked it.”

“You haven’t changed.”

“You haven’t either.”

The sun is long gone. You’re curled up in one of the cushioned chairs on the front patio. A half finished glass of wine on the stone table beside you.

The front door swings open.

“Don’t sit in my chair”

He doesn’t even hesitate. Charles drops into the cushion next to you. Barefoot. Hoodie swallowing him.

“This isn’t your chair?”

“I licked it.”

He makes a funny face. “You haven’t changed.”

And you smile. “You haven’t either.”

And its easy. The way he stretches out, folding his arms behind his head. Like nothing ever happened. 

You sip your wine.

His knee bumps into yours. Gaze on you.

“Thought it’d feel weird.”

“It did…for like,” You pause. Whisper. “For like a day.”

He holds your gaze. Doesnt look away. Smiles.

You break the tension first. “Maman said you still haven’t unpacked.”

He shrugs. “I’ll get there.”

“It’s been almost a whole week. That’s psychotic.”

“You’re just mad I haven’t asked to borrow your good smelling shampoo yet.”

“You are so not borrowing that.”

“I already did.”

You elbow him in the side. Laughing. Body shaking. He laughs with you. Head falling back.

He clears his throat. “I missed this.”

And you bump your knee back into his. “Rematch tomorrow?”

“Candy Land?”

“Don’t cheat.”

“I didn’t cheat.”

You narrow your eyes, smiling so hard. “You’re the worst.”

-

Monaco, Age 26

Your back hits the wall of his apartment. 

Urgent. Focused. 

Like he’s waited for forever to get you alone again. And doesn’t want to waste a single second of it.

His mouth is hot on yours. Hands at your hips. Your thighs. Slipped under your dress. And you’re clinging onto him like he’s a lifeline.

You can still taste the champagne on his skin. Skin warm from the race. But his mouth is desperate against you. 

He groans against your lips. “Thought about this almost every night.”

You gasp when his fingers curl around your thigh. “Stop thinking.”

And he’s about to take you right there. Dress bunched at your waist. Pants halfway down. But then you press your hand to his chest.

He stills. Panting. Flushed.

“I need to say something first,” You breathe.

He waits. Hands still gripping you.

And you look up at him. The man who just won Monaco. The boy you’ve known who’s been chasing that dream since you can remember. The one you loved. Hated. Missed.

“Your dad would be so proud of you.” You whisper.

And you feel his chest rise. Jaw clench. Fingers curl harder into your skin.

“I’m serious.” Your voice is soft. “Not just because you won. But because of how you’ve carried him with you.”

And his eyes are glassy.

He swallows hard. “I heard him.” His voice soft. “Right after I saw that checkered flag.”

You bring your hand to his check, pressing your palm. And he leans into you.

And then he’s kissing you again. But its different.

Still hungry. But more grateful. More claiming.

He whispers I love you into your mouth. Again and again. 

He whispers it when you tug his shirt over his head. When you lift your hips to pull your panties off.

Whispers it into your skin when he touches your bare skin. Like he’s seeing it all for the first time again.

And when he sinks in, he groans. Leaning over you, gripping you like you might just slip through his fingers.

“Y’feel like fuckin heaven.” He mutters against your lips. “You are heaven.”

And then he starts moving. Not fast.

Slow. Deep.

“Squeezing me like you missed it,” He huffs. “Did you, hm? Did you miss me?”

“Yes…” You pant. “Fuck…yes.”

He kisses your throat. Hot open mouthed kisses at the corner of your jaw. Hips rolling into you. Each thrust making you cry out.

“I love you.” 

He thrusts.

“I love you.”

Another.

“Not just tonight. Not just now. Always.” He cries out.

And you clench around him. Yelling out as your orgasm builds too fast.

“C’mon that’s it..” He breathes. “Come for me. Let me feel it, yeah? Let me have it…please baby.”

“I love you,” You gasp. “I love you…I love you..”

And then you’re coming. Body shaking, mouth falling slack as he fucks you through it.

Following seconds later, spilling into you.

He collapses over you. “Fuck. You’re it for me.”

You hold him close.

-

“You still take it with milk?” He asks, voice soft. 

You nod.

He hands you a mug. His fingers brushing against yours.

You sit on the couch together. Close.

“I keep thinking about the lemon tree,” You say. Cradling the mug in your hands.

He looks at you. “Yeah?”

You nod. “How many summers we sat there pretending everything was normal.”

He huffs a soft laugh. “We were idiots.”

You smile. “Still are.”

“I’ve loved you since we were kids.” He says quietly. “Since you made me sleep outside by the lemon tree because you said it wasn’t fair that only the birds got to live outside.”

You laugh, heart clenching.

“I’ve loved every version of you.” He continues. “The snot version. The barefoot version. The one who laughs too loud after a few drinks. The one who tried to date other people. The one who…the one who kissed other people in front of me because I waited too fucking long.”

You pause. Placing the mug down on the side table.

“I was scared that loving you would ruin everything.”

He pushes you hair behind your ear. 

“I love you too.” You whisper. “You idiot.”

He laughs.

Leans in.

Kisses you.

-

Age 28

“This is where I almost lost you.”

“And now it’s where you’re asking to keep me?”

“No. Not asking.”

“Oh.”

Its late. 

You’ve changed into one of Charles’s old shirts. Barefoot. As usual. 

He finds you standing at the edge of the yard. 

Where the broken stone path curves. Where the grass bends. Where the lemon tree leans.

You hear him before you see him. His footsteps always so loud.

Neither of you speak. He wraps his arms over your shoulders from behind. Your back to his chest as he nudges his head into the space between your shoulder and neck.

You hold his arms. Swaying to the light breeze. Staring at the lemon tree together.

“This is where I almost lost you.” He says.

And you glance at your side to him. 

“And now it’s where you’re gonna ask to keep me?” You say, laughing. Teasing. Soft.

He smiles. Small. Shaky.

“No.” He says. Unwrapping his arms from you. “Not asking.”

And then you’re turning towards him. 

And he drops to one knee.

Just like that.

Just him in the grass. Kneeling by the lemon tree. Choosing it to be the place where he does the most important thing he’ll ever do.

Your breath catches. And his hands tremble as he pulls a ring from his pocket.

“I wanted to do this right.” He says. “I want to choose you the way I should’ve all those years ago. Not just when it’s easy..or when we’re alone. But in front of every version of us we used to be.”

Your throat burns.

“I want every summer.” He whispers. Eyes glued to you. “Every winter. Every fight. Every make up. I want to kiss you goodnight when we’re tired. Want to raise mini versions of us.”

You laugh. You cry. And you’re nodding before he even finishes.

“I want you forever.”

And then finally, “Will you marry me?”

You fall to your knees right there in the grass. In front of the lemon tree. And kiss him hard enough that you both fall into it. Laughing. Like little kids again.

“Yes.” You whisper against his lips. “Always. In every lifetime…yes.”

taglist: @softtdaisy @zicosbitch @esmeextraa @evie-119 @teamnovalak @leclercmylove @skylyn-vais @tabisswag @annaswrites00 @chaconadine @sassy-persona @im-an-overthinker @ptrickbateman @angelique-rose-valentine @agmoon03 @whistlef0rthechoir @bvbyacid-666 @jenxjar @crazynyctophilia @theoriginalsfan124 xoxo love u all :)

[alpaca-clouds]

See, I would argue the main issue is - and always was - that American "Christianity" is not really recognizable as "Christianity" to old world Christians, as it conceived by people, who never learned fundermental history and had no true understanding how to read the bible.

Most of the American-made fractions of Christianity basically came to be, because some people who already had an "off" belief about the bible, went to the Americas to escape religious percecution (due to European Christians at the time being very much: "You only are allowed this one specific flavor of Christianity"), and then sat together and went "crazy" (at some times literally) about interpreting the texts. These interpretations were then based on a specific translation (as non of them could read the Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic of the original text), that also very much ignored historical context, often leading to stuff where they would take something that pointed to a specific thing that historically happened but they had never heard about, and extrapolated it.

You know, for a long time I always was on the side of Luther in regards to "everyone should interpret it on their own". But now I see that this is and always will be bullshit, because you cannot interpret the bible based on a version that has been at least through three layers of translation, while you are a person who has not even been thaught that indeed a lot of things can never be translated 1 to 1, due to languages having concepts that do not exist in all others.

And the main issue with those American interpretation based mostly on one specific translation is, that many of the interpretations ended up being: "Oh, we are superduper special and everyone else sucks."

I think people mean well when they insist that America isn't a Christian country but it just obfuscates the situation and makes it more difficult for minorities to frame their experiences. America is a fundamentally, structurally, ideologically Christian country from top to bottom. It's exhausting, it's suffocating, and it's the truth. Nearly all political forces, pop culture phenomena, and major life philosophies here are either built on Christianity or propped up as subverting Christianity in a way that is, of course, still entirely about Christianity. Leftwing movements here that are ostensibly hostile to Christianity still ultimately structure their worldviews around their own versions of salvation, rapture, original sin, eternal judgement, heaven, and hell. Most people here fail to see Christianity all around them, influencing every facet of American life, for the same reason that a fish can't see water.

[heartyluv]

I LOVE how you write the lads guys!!! May I please request taking advantage (in a kind way, of course) of zayne’s medical expertise and asking him silly medical questions? Just like really random stuff! lounging around with him at home or being out and about while asking those questions would be so funny and I’m sure he would kind of like it lol

Note: This idea is too cute, I love it. Thank you so much, luvly. I felt like this works best as headcanons, so I hope that’s okay. 😚 Enjoy!

Creds to @/strangergraphics for the dividers!

Warning: Just a brief explicit headacanon after you and Zayne have been intimate.

Zayne/Reader

✴︎ Dating a doctor meant that you officially had a walking medical encyclopedia for a boyfriend and you had no shame in utilizing his knowledge. Thankfully for you, Zayne was always happy to deliver whenever you asked him all kinds of questions.

✴︎ I feel like when you start getting comfortable enough to ask him, it’s really simple things. Like it’s questions about your personal health at first. You’ve definitely asked him something like; “Babe, how do I make my headaches go away faster?” and “What do you think are the best vitamins I should take so I don’t have to keep taking gross ones that aren’t doing anything?”

✴︎ Not only does Zayne answer your questions, but he gives you some deeper insight so that you have your own knowledge about things. And you like learning from him—especially because of the way he looks at you as you stay hooked onto his every word.

✴︎ He loves the little text messages you send him. You ask him something almost everyday, sometimes even attaching a photo for reference LOL. I picture you at the supermarket, stumbling upon these new health beverages that you want to try out. But if your Dr. Zayne says that they’re simply drinks full of more sugar than actual benefits, you’ll have zero problem putting them back on the shelf. “Do any of these actually work for gut health? I sent you the nutrition label. What do you think?”

✴︎ I believe he always takes your questions seriously, but you have moments where you ask him something so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. “Zayne, babe… I ate like three apples and a pomegranate, and now my mouth feels weird. Am I dying?” Don’t catch him on a day where he’s feeling goofy either, because he might scare you a little bit.

✴︎ “You may have oral allergy syndrome, my love.” Just imagine his tone being dead serious and the silence that follows. And when you start losing it over the phone, he tries to calm you down, but he’s just smiling so hard at your theatrics. When you search it up and you start worrying if you’ll ever be able to eat another mango again in your life, he tries to suppress his laughter, all while attempting to soothe you at the same time.

✴︎ You’ll be walking around while you guys are on a date and will randomly ask him how many calories does he think you’ve burned, just to see how accurate he is compared to your walking app that tracks all of that for you. Not only does he get incredibly close, he’s also able to do the same with the amount of steps you’ve actually taken.

✴︎ “Quick, we’ve been walking thirty minutes, normal paced. How many calories? Go!”

✴︎ Just wait till you start watching one of those medical shows. You never watch an episode without him because you have to know how accurate the writing is. He’s gotten through three seasons with you and sometimes, he’d answer questions before you even asked because he just knows you so well. And you legitimately learn so much that even you start pointing out unrealistic things yourself.

✴︎ “That doesn’t even make sense. He was hit in a major artery, wasn’t he Zayne? He shouldn’t even be able to argue with a doctor right now.” He’s so proud of you, by the way. How information sticks with you. And honestly? He finds it sexy—particularly knowing that he’s the reason why you know the things that you do.

✴︎ Times when you try to eat healthier, you always ask him how many calories something will be if you take something out or off. Like you’d still eat junk food or foods that aren’t exactly healthy, but you wonder what the difference will be if you add a vegetable. LOLLL.

✴︎ “Zayne, if I put only mushrooms on the pizza, is that better?”

“Honey, I think it’s best to just discard the pizza entirely in order to properly fulfill the goal you intended to reach.”

“But Zayne…It’s Friday and it’s pizza.”

✴︎ Some more questions off the top of my head from you would be; “If I eat more carrots than usual, will the decrease my chances of having to wear those thick bifocals when we’re old?

“If I’m on top more often when we have sex, will that tone my thighs out more?”

“How is it possible to drink a gallon of water a day? There’s just not enough time to drink all that liquid.”

✴︎ Omg, you totally believe that ginger is like the cure all and you even make him eat a raw slice of it a day LOLLLL. He admits that it has its benefits, but when he tries to tell you that you have to do more than just eat ginger, you listen, but you’re still so insistent about it.

✴︎ “Despite the benefits and your complete belief in the sacred ginger, love, please make sure you continue to take your daily supplements. Add to your regimen so that you improve your health—don’t take from it believing that something is an optimal replacement.”

✴︎ This one is a little explicit. But, I imagine you and him finish having sex, he’s on top of you, both of you already came and feel good. And even when you’re breathless, even with the glorious man above you, you can’t help it when you ask: “Do you think we’ve met our quota on physical activity for the next few days?”

✴︎ Zayne can’t help but laugh, leaning down to kiss your neck. But he’s also filthy enough to move his hips just a little, hinting that he in fact could go again and says, “I think it’s best to try again… One more time, just to be safe. I’m sure the quota will be more than met once I’m finished with you.”

✴︎ Of course you’re going to let him fuck your brains out again. Why wouldn’t you let Dr. Zayne take care of you? What kind of patient would you be if you didn’t?

[gojosatoruhumper]

I’m worried | Yeon Si-eun x reader

Summary: Si-eun always was and will be afraid of something happening to Y/n.

Warnings: swearing, fighting, angst, fluff, comfort, parental conflict.

Wc:2.8k

Based on this request

Notes: Let’s pretend Si-eun didn’t get hit by the truck🥰🥰

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It all started when you were little. Your and Si-eun’s mom were good friends, so of course they would bring you to their house when they met up.

At first Si-eun didn’t exactly like you, he felt like he was forced to hang out with you. Your character was too much for him, always talking, always asking questions.

It always amazed you how Si-eun was so smart, way above his age kids in studies. As long as you have known him, he always had his head in his books.

And gradually, he started to engage with you more, answering your asked questions in detail, helping you understand questions you couldn’t get the hang of.

You started nagging your mom, ‘When can we go see Si-eun?’ ‘Can we go out with them today?’. As you both grew, you grew closer. He started opening up to you, little by little. At that moment you felt so close to him, how such a boy, who buried his emotions so deep in himself, could unbury them with you.

He sometimes talked to you about his parents, how they were always arguing and yelling at each other. In a way, he felt like it was his fault. Even if he didn’t show it, he was very sensitive and took everything to heart.

And with every deep talk with him, you would stay by his side, listening to him. He was always an observer, listener and not a talker so you would make him feel free to talk with you whenever about whatever.

And when his parents split up, your moms weren’t as close, not meeting up for their weekly coffee, only catching up once in a while. But you and Si-eun stayed close, the closest you have been.

He always cared for you, just as much as you did for him. You showed it more, but you could see right through him. When you were having a bad day, stressing over school he would always try to cheer you up somehow, or at least be by your side.

Even through texts he could sense something is wrong. You didn’t want to interfere with his studies because you knew how important it was for him. But at moments he didn’t even care. He even skipped cram school sometimes for you, which surprised even you.

You unraveled feelings from so deep in him that without you, he knew he wouldn’t have even know to feel them. You were the first one to confess, even though you were scared. Maybe you caught the signs wrong, maybe he felt like you were just a shoulder to lean on, and a person to laugh with, nothing more.

But you were so wrong. That day he asked you to be his girlfriend.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You couldn’t be happier, you didn’t know what would you do without him. Your parents were also happy, mostly because he helped you with school work, but also because they saw how much you cared for each other.

When you met his friends for the first time, they almost thought Si-eun was joking about having a girlfriend, it didn’t seem like him at all.

But with his new friends, he started getting into fights. You were worried for him. When he didn’t want to go home, dark and almost unwelcoming, he came to your house. Bruises were on his face, cuts on his lips.

You would take care of him. “Si-eun what happened now? Are you okay” you said, stepping aside to let him in. “I got into a fight again” he quietly said, looking down. “Come here” you hugged him hard.

You never scolded him for getting into fights, people were cruel and were asking for it these days. You understood where he was coming from.

You were now both on your bed, changed as he laid on it, head on your lap. You carefully cleaned his wounds, putting a bandaid on. “You know, I think I should study to become a nurse at this point” you said, laughing.

He also cracked a smile, he knew a medical degree would suit you, you cared for people a lot. You stood up, trash from the bandaids in your hand. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to take a shower” you announced, turning away.

He laid in your quiet room, his outside clothes neatly folded on your desk, your almost finished homework spread out beside it. He sat on your table, look down at it. He couldn’t help but smile, your homework was done perfectly, just how he explained it to you a couple days ago.

He felt your phone ring, who could be calling you at this hour? He took it in his hand as an unsaved number was on the screen. His guts told him to answer it, so he did.

“Y/n?” He stayed silent. “It’s Young-bin, tell your little boyfriend to not throw a fit like that again, you should teach him better, huh? You don’t want him hurt, do you?” The boy on the other line continued, Si-eun’s hand gripping the phone from anger. “Teach him better, you’re going to pay for what he and his friends did”

He listened, anger filling him. “Leave her alone” he said, hanging up. He blocked the number, deleting the call from the call history and putting the phone where it was.

At this point Yeong-bin knew Si-eun’s weak spots. Si-eun couldn’t shake off the fact that you were the next target.

You opened the door, him looking up at you. “You tired?” you asked him as he nodded, hands on his lap. You sat on your bed, pulling the blanket over you, of course making space for him.

He got in next to you, hugging you close. You smiled to yourself, whispering “goodnight” closing your eyes. He didn’t say anything back, just hugging you tighter. He was sleepy at all now, all he could think was punching Young-bin so hard he wouldn’t even think of you again.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next day came, you were both in bed. The birds were starting to chirp, sun rays heating up your faces. Since it was sunday, you convinced him to spend the day with you.

You both talked, he helped you finish the homework that you didn’t get to yesterday. He felt joyful when he was with you, not showing it that much but you noticed.

He heard his phone buzz and he got nervous, what if it was Yeong-bin again? He looked at the message, relieved seeing Su-ho’s name come up. “Do you want to go get lunch with Su-ho and Beom-seok?” he asked, looking up at you as you were playing on your phone.

“Yeah, sure we can go. But I have to get ready first” you said, getting up. You picked an outfit, getting an opinion from him. He kept some clothes at your house for days like these, your scent on them.

At the diner, Si-eun still couldn’t stop thinking about that phone call. He held you close, from time to time looking around as paranoia filled him.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Monday came, he got up early. He put on his school uniform, leaving his house quickly. He knew the only way to get Yeong-bin alone was when he got out his house in the morning, since he transferred schools.

His feet brought him to Yeong-bins neighbourhood, he knew where he lived since he over heard him one time with his friends.

Si-eun stood behind a corner, waiting. When the guy came into view, rage filled him again. Si-eun took him by the collar, clutching it. Yeong-bin was a coward, eyes filling with fear.

“Leave her alone” he repeated his sentence from two days ago. Yeong-bin pushed him, trying to act all tuff. “Yeah? Or what?” he provoked.

He didn’t answer, just grabbed his now wrinkled collar again, smashing his face into the brick wall. “Or this” he said through gritted teeth as the guy tried to fight back but was unsuccessful. Si-eun kept hitting his face into the wall, blood splattering onto Yeong-bins uniform.

He finally let go, the guy dropping to his knees. Si-eun looked down, staring. He turned around as he heard him yell. “You asshole, you will regret this.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Beom-seok turned his back to Si-eun and Su-ho. Si-eun was transferring schools and moving in with his mom. Su-ho was in a coma.

Your heart broke at the sight of Si-eun, he didn’t want to leave Su-ho’s hospital room. He cried next to you, clutching your shirt.

But apart of Si-un was relieved that you didn’t get involved into this. Beom-seok left you alone. “Y/n, this is my fault.” he said, sitting up right, the room quiet. “If I got there in time, he would’ve been fine” he looked down.

“If what I should’ve been the one in a coma” his hands balled in fists. You put your hand on his shoulder as he looked into your eyes.

“Si-eun none of this was your fault, you should know it” “Neither of you deserved what happened” you glanced at Su-ho, feeling bad for both of them. “He will be okay” you reassured him, hand rubbing circles on his back.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You and Si-eun spent the summer together, every day. He wasn’t the same as he used to be. At first he didn’t even go out of his room, but you always stayed. You talked to him, brought him something to eat.

You both visited Su-ho every other day later on. Si-eun changed, but he tried to not push you away, he knew it would only make him feel worse.

Slowly he got a little better, but not quite. After all of this, he realised he should value you even more. He was moving to his mom’s house, and you helped him pack.

You and your mom had helped him move, Si-eun carrying the last box. “Hi Y/m/n!” “How have you been? It’s been ages” Si-eun’s mom hugged your mom as you and Si-eun went into his new room.

You helped him unpack everything, making it feel like home. Or at least you tried to. You sat on the bed, exhausted. Si-un sat next to you, looking around.

“Hey, it’s not so bad is it?” you look over to him. “I guess so..” he quietly said as he felt a kiss on his cheek. “And we won’t be that far away” you scanned his face, dark circles under his eyes.

You closed your eyes, resting your head on his shoulder. “Let’s take a nap” you murmured, yawning. You laid on the small bed, barely fitting both of you. He let himself close his eyes, feeling comforted and secure with you hugging him, he really needed this.

With closed eyes Si-eun softly spoke “I’m worried”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The school year started, and you still saw Si-eun every weekend, whether it was him coming over to you or you to him. The dark circles got worse, your heart ached. He did tell you he slept better when you were with him, so you always tried to be there as much as you could.

He still talked about Su-ho and you couldn’t lie to yourself, you missed him too. His jokes were funny and he always made you blush with his comments about you and Si-eun, he was a good friend to both you and him.

He got into a little trouble here and there but most importantly - he found friends. Little by little you could see the tiniest spark come back in him. You felt happy for him.

Until Na Beak-jin and his union started bothering him and his friends, Hu-min, Hyun-tak and Jun-tae. His fear grew. The fear of them coming to get you.

Every buzz of your phone caught his attention, what if the union texted you? When you were together outside paranoia was swirling in his head, looking around more than he should. He kept his phone close at all times, waiting for a message from you, what if you needed his help?

Unknowingly to him, one day his nightmare came true. It was tuesday, the sun was shining and it was beautiful day out. You said goodbye to your friends and headed home. You were walking on the asphalt as a guy with glasses stopped you.

“Hey beautiful” he said, hands in his pockets as he blocked your way. You stood there confused, looking up. “Can.. Can i help you..?” you asked unsurely. He came up close to your face, inspecting every detail. A sick smile spread onto his face. “Ah I can see why Si-eun took a liking to you”

You stood frozen, even more confused. His smile didn’t look welcoming at all. “Move, you’re in my way” you said, clutching your backpack straps. “No need to be so rude, Y/n” he calmly said, watching your reaction. You didn’t tell him your name.

“I’m Seong-je” he continued, putting a cigarette in his mouth. “I came here all this way to meet you, and this how you treat me?” he grabbed your hair roughly, bring your face up to his.

He took his phone out as he opened the camera app, putting his hand up, facing the camera so both of you were in frame. “Smile, for that boyfriend of yours” he said, snapping the picture. His hand was in your face, confusion, fury and fear printed on your face.

“There” he said, his hand leaving your presence as he took the cigarette. “As I said I only came here to say hello” “We will see each other soon” he smiled with that sick grin, turning around and walking away, who was he?

Si-eun’s heart sank at the photo he received. His eyes focused on you. He could see you were in your school uniform, picture taken not far from your house. Seong-je came to you.

He felt at fault, you were unsafe because of him. Na beak-jin sent him, Si-eun knew. If he didn’t take further action, he knew something worse could happen to you, his friends.

Si-eun quickly pulled his phone, calling you. “Y/n are you okay?” he asked once you picked up the phone. Your voice was shaky, quiet. “Yes, but what about you?? Is everything okay over there” you asked.

“Yes, do you want me to come over?” he raised his voice, he felt so guilty. “If you can, yeah” you smiled to yourself.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The day came. The big fight to finally end the conflicts, to put the union to an end. With Su-hos intelligence he came up with a plan, calculated the probabilities of them winning.

Si-eun came to the fight just on his planned time, when Hu-him was already on the ground, barely breathing. Anger filled him, those deep eyes now dark, face emotionless. He took the brass knuckles out of his pocket, putting it on.

“Yeon Si-eun” Beak-jin said, face bruised up. Si-eun’s fear of you getting hurt, turned into anger. “I’m here to fight, not talk” he contained himself, calm. Beak-jin was the first one to throw a punch, he dodged it.

Si-eun kicked him, grabbing his blazer with a strong grip. The taller one threw punches until one finally hit Si-eun. Face burning, he went to his leg, smashing it with the metal.

“Yeon Si-eun!” Beak-jin screamed, kicking him. Na Beak-jin deserved to suffer. Si-eun stood up, hair messy and uniform now muddy. He punched Beak-jin, him holding up his nose.

He took Si-eun by his tie, showing no mercy. He punched and kicked him, screaming with anger. Si-eun was knocked to the ground, eyes blurry and moves sluggish.

No. He couldn’t give up now, he had to stand up, for you. He got onto his feet, unsteady. His wet uniform stuck to his skin. He grabbed the other’s hand, twisting it. His face scrunched in pain as he felt a punch knock him onto the ground.

Si-eun strangled his body with his legs, repeatedly punching his open wounds. Beak-jin couldn’t even fight back anymore, eyes closed and barely any oxygen coming into his lungs.

Hu-min stood behind them, he didn’t even need to intervene as they planned, this was it. They won.

Unknowingly, you had came to see him, he wasn’t answering his phone and you had a gut wrenching feeling something was wrong. At first you texted Hyun-tak but when you were unsuccessful you tried contacting Jun-tae who luckily answered, texting you an address to go to.

Guys started cheering, though the union stayed silent. After a while they started leaving, Si-eun stopped. He stood alone, looking back.

Until he heard your voice. His head immediately turned to you, he felt relieved. You ran to him, as he opened his arms out for you. He has never hugged you so tight before, a smile spreading across his beaten up face, stinging.

He didn’t need to worry anymore, at least for a while.

[marauroon]

hiii i saw that u were asking for reqs and i loved reading ur best frenemies fic with remus, i was wondering if you would be open to writing about that dynamic more. like maybe they're in the same friend group so they're in close proximity but they can't stand one each other and maybe the reader got stood up or something and remus is there or really whatever you want. Anyways thank you for your work, i really enjoy it

── .⏾ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐫.𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧)

you didn’t even really invite him, but the fact he didn’t show up still put a damper on your mood. remus thinks it’s killing the whole room’s vibe.

remus lupin x frenemy!reader | 1.2k | h/c? | masterlist.

a/n | went back to the og og ship for this one, shout out to blackinnon

There’s something aggravating about someone who’s simultaneously the smartest in the room and also the most infuriating. Sure, maybe he’s handsome in a very I-read-sad-poetry-by-lantern-light way, but that only really makes it worse.

And, unfortunately, thanks to Marlene’s thing with Sirius (on again, off again, like the world’s most emotionally exhausting lumos charm), you are now in proximity to said infuriating boy far more often than you’d like to be.

It’s become a balancing act, really—sitting at the Three Broomsticks with your best friends on one side and the Marauders on the other, trying not to glare directly at Remus every time he says something clever. You think you’ve managed rather well. Mostly. Until now.

Because today, of all days, your maybe-date didn’t show.

You’re not even sure you’d call it a date. You’ve been talking with Michael Rossiter in Herbology for a couple of weeks, mostly about plants but sometimes—when he was feeling cheeky—about music or Quidditch or the way you looked when you were annoyed with your mandrake.

He wasn’t brilliant, but he had nice eyes and a decent laugh and said, when you told him you were going to Hogsmeade with your friends, “Maybe I’ll see you there then.”

You'd smiled. Told yourself not to get too giddy. And yet, here you are. Giddy, then deflated.

The booth you’re all crammed into is loud—Marlene is practically on Sirius’s lap, Mary and Dorcas are exchanging knowing looks, and James is loudly arguing with Peter over the latest Wimbourne Wasps game. And Remus—Remus is directly opposite you, because of course he is, because of course Sirius just had to say, “Oi, Moony, let the ladies have the bench side, be a gentleman,” and Remus just smirked and obliged, sliding in across you like he belonged there.

You’ve been waiting. Watching the door. Laughing too loudly at Mary’s jokes. Pretending to sip butterbeer just to keep your hands busy. And when Michael doesn’t show—when it becomes obvious he’s not going to—you shrink a bit. Quiet. Withdrawn.

And Remus notices.

Of course he does.

"You know, for someone who supposedly convinced a boy to change his Hogsmeade plans just for her,” he drawls, not even looking up from his drink, “you’re doing a marvellous impression of someone who’s just been stood up.”

You don’t answer. You don’t even look at him. You just keep your eyes fixed on the window, watching the steam fog up the panes.

Remus pauses.

Usually, this is the part where you snap something back—about his sad little jumpers or the way he chews the ends of quills like a stressed-out academic or how he’s basically a walking dissertation on how not to relax. But you don’t. You sit still, hands clenched in your lap.

The silence between you grows taut.

Remus frowns. He nudges you with his foot under the table—annoying. Like a brother, if your brother was your intellectual rival and also kind of handsome in a way you wish you didn’t notice.

“Oi,” he says, quieter now. “What’s wrong?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, still not looking at him. “You wouldn’t get it. And I don’t want you to.”

That gives him pause. He turns toward you fully now, leaning on one elbow. “Alright, that’s a bit harsh.”

You shrug.

Then he sighs, long-suffering and dramatic. “Who was it? The boy. No, don’t tell me— Rossiter?”

You glance at him, surprised. “How did you—?”

“Everyone saw you flirting over flobberworms in class last week,” he says, deadpan. “He told Sirius he was thinking about asking you out. Got all red-faced about it, too. It was tragic.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “Merlin.”

“He’s a right sod, you know.”

You lift your head just enough to glare. “That your professional opinion?”

Remus shrugs, grinning slightly. “My personal one. But it’s backed by a great deal of observational research.”

You huff. “You don’t even know him.”

“I know him better than you do,” Remus says, slumping back into the booth. “Do you know his mum still buys his underwear?”

You blink.

“I’m serious. Thomas the Tank Engine ones. We saw them last year when someone hit him with a jelly-legs jinx and his trousers fell down on the Quidditch pitch. Looked ridiculous.”

You can’t help it—you snort. It’s brief, but it’s real.

Remus perks up like a cat that’s just caught movement under a curtain. “And I once caught him picking his nose.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re making this up.”

“I wish,” he says, grimacing. “We were in the library and he was just mining. Like he thought no one could see him. It was vile.”

You giggle. You actually giggle.

Remus looks triumphant. “And they say I’m the wild animal.”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re awful.”

“Only to those who deserve it.” He pauses, then adds, more gently, “You really thought he was coming?”

You nod, shoulders drooping. “I mean… he said maybe. He was sort of flirty about it. I thought—” You cut yourself off. “Doesn’t matter.”

Remus doesn’t say anything at first. He leans his head back against the booth, watching you. “I hate that you’re sad,” he says eventually. “You’re annoying when you’re sad. It’s harder to make fun of you.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile’s still there. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know.” He nudges your arm again. “Still sucks, though.”

The warmth in your chest surprises you. You look at him again, properly this time, and there’s a softness in his eyes that doesn’t match the usual sardonic glint.

It’s disarming.

You blink, glance away. “Thanks, I guess.”

He grins. “Don’t get all emotional on me. I might have to start being nice to you regularly and that’s not good for my image.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” you say dryly.

“Unimaginable.”

Sirius leans over suddenly, draping an arm across Remus’s shoulders and nearly spilling his drink. “Oi, Moony, you pulling or pining?”

Remus doesn’t even flinch. “Trying to comfort someone after being disappointed by the tragic shallowness of her romantic prospects, actually. Something you’d know nothing about.”

Sirius pouts. “Rude.”

Marlene snorts. “Let her be. She got stood up, she’s rightfully upset,”

Sirius frowns. “Who stands you up?”

You wave him off. “Doesn’t matter.”

But Remus answers anyway. “Michael Rossiter.”

Sirius sits back like he’s been slapped. “Rossiter? No. That absolute knob?”

“You see?” Remus says, gesturing. “It’s not just me.”

“Bloody hell,” Sirius mutters. “Should’ve hexed him when I had the chance.”

“You did hex him,” Remus points out.

“Not enough, apparently.”

[russellbee]

MEETCUTESNYC LESTAPPEN VER. (MV1, CL16)

charles leclerc x driver!childhood friend!reader x max verstappen (no team or gender specified) summary. you, max, and charles are approached by the meetcutesnyc instagram account, and this is how it goes. (1k) warnings. should be none!! andi's note!! obviously this is not the oscar fic i was working on but i keep seeing these reels on ig and i got inspired :) — if you don't know what i'm talking about the account is meetcutesnyc & they go up to couples and ask them how they met, etc.

nav+masterlist

meetcutesnyc Sports Rivals

["Excuse me." You, Max, and Charles all look up at the sound of his voice. Max has a blank look on his face, expecting a fan interaction, while you and Charles both look a little spooked. "Are you two a couple?" The person behind the camera gestures to you and Charles.

Max snorts, "All three of us, actually." You roll your eyes as Charles nods. "That's awesome. Would you guys mind telling me the story of how you all met?" Charles visibly lightens up, and he nods eagerly.

"I will tell the story."

The camera cuts, and now you're all standing along the edge of the sidewalk with Charles in the middle. "I met them both in karting when I was seven, but they met when they were younger. They hated each other, and at first, I played the mediator, for a while, actually. But then, Max really started to get on my nerves." Charles laughs a bit, his cheeks turning rosy. "So we," He gestures to you and him, "Became his number one hate group. He was our enemy." Max rolls his eyes at 'enemy' before interjecting.

"I was their enemy because I was better, of course." You and Charles both begin speaking over each other, arguing about your skills. Max just laughs as you both go on. Eventually, Charles calms down enough to continue. "Then, it was 20, uh, 2015. They come up to me and say that they went out on a date with Max-- him of all people! I was outraged. First, he got an F1 seat, then he got my crush, too? Oh, it was horrible. It destroyed me."

You shake your head, an amused smile on your face, "He's being dramatic, he literally asked me out the next day." Charles gasps. "I am telling the story, let me continue."

"So, I learn of this and then I go to Max and tell him about my feelings for them. Then Max just goes 'oh I like you too if you're cool with that'. I was shocked! Who wouldn't be? So, the next day I go up to them and I ask them if they want to go out on a date with me and Max. Obviously, they said yes. And now we are here, many years later."

"What's the secret to ten years together?" Max's face scrunches up in response and he turns toward the two of you. "Has it really been ten years?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Before they can start bickering, you answer the the original question. "We work together so it's really easy to see each other, but when we don't that's a little hard, obviously. But, I think our rivalry keeps things going, even during the off-season, we're arguing or joking about something that happened 13 years ago."

"Racing against each other definitely makes it very interesting. Adds some fun to everything, I think." Max teases, his eyebrows raised. "It's also just nice in the summer; we go on vacation and don't do anything. We just enjoy our time together," Charles adds.

"And what are your names?"

"Charles." "Max." "Y/n."

"Thank you." You wave toward the camera, and the video ends.]

view comments

user charles and y/n being the original max haters...yeah i could've guessed that lol

user the funniest part is they're like his biggest defenders now 😭😭 user the verstappen hater to max defender pipeline is in fact very real, no one can resist his charm ↳ user loser cat dad charm ↳ user user duh ofc user gax rivalry at the end of 2024...where he mentioned how y/n and charles would do anything to defend max...uh huh, yeah cool

user charles being so excited to tell their story 😖 he just knows everyone will eat it up

user and i did. i've watched this video 30 times now and it just keeps getting cuter

user "adds some fun to everything" oh yeah i'm sure it does max 😼

user never forget las vegas 2023...i have those pictures saved to a special pinterest board that i look at every day ↳ user and las vegas 2024...i can't wait for november, las vegas has become their number one race for being insanely hot in public user max always needs to add an innuendo if he's in an interview with either of them 💀

user i was today years old when i learned they've been dating for ten years...i thought this was a recent thing

user you and max apparently 😭 user it's been recent publically, but everyone kinda assumed they've been dating for a while just bc of the way they act

user playing the y/n champagne pour edit on my tv while i watch lestappen interviews on my phone

user #1 y/n edit, good choice user every time i see anything related to any of them, i'm opening my camera roll to watch the edits i've saved

user max looked so offended when the guy didn't realize all three of them were dating 💀 how obvious does he think their relationship is

user literally everyone knew before they announced it lmao ↳ user how do you think they look to an outsider tho? not everyone's an f1 fan ↳ user never forget ted kravitz interviewing y/n pre-silverstone 2022 where they jokingly said they were gonna crash into charles for 'leaking their relationship' and then having to do damage control later when they actually (accidentally) crashed ↳ user user watching those interviews seasons later actually had me crying 😭 literally no one would believe them

user watching this makes me wonder how the grid deals with third-wheeling them all the time, it must get tiring at a certain point

user they seem so fun to be around tho, they're always bickering 🥲 user please tell me you've seen those compilations on yt of clips of the grid being annoyed/rolling their eyes at them whenever they're around 🙏🙏 ↳ user OMG??? i'm about to run to youtube i need to see this

[lecl1ercswif7ie]

I Care Buck

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader ! The New Avengers x Reader

Summary: After your first mission you tell Bucky to blowout his hair with your Dyson - The rest of The Avengers are shocked he doesn't oppose.

Author's Note: This is my first fic, i'm sorry if it's a bit weird, english is not my first languange and i'm kind of nervous of writing here 🙈 Enjoy the fic!!

-

Mission complete.

If you could call “barely surviving a shootout, a crumbling building, and Walker setting off the wrong grenade” a mission success. Still, somehow, no one was dead. That was a win for the New Avengers.

Back at HQ, the vibe was what you’d expect from a barely-functional team of chaos gremlins.

Ava and John were already at it again, arguing over tactical choices like they hadn’t just spent the last six hours screaming into comms.

“I’m telling you,” John said, arms waving, “you rushed the flank too early!”

Ava raised her eyebrows and bit out, “I rushed the flank because you set off the charge early, you toddler in a bulletproof vest!”

“Idiots,” Yelena muttered, flopping on the worn-out couch and covering her eyes with her arm, “please shut up. Some of us are trying to disassociate in peace.”

Bob sat nearby, legs crossed, calmly reading a thick novel. He was somehow the calmest man in the building — maybe in the world. “Let them bicker,” he murmured, not looking up. “It’s almost rhythmic now. Like jazz.”

You snorted from your corner. Bucky was standing silently nearby, arms crossed, leaning against the far wall like he didn’t want to admit he was tired. His dark hair was tousled, sticking out from where it had been flattened by his mask and ruffled by wind and debris. He looked… adorable.

But he also looked like he’d walked through a wind tunnel.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling and walked over, Dyson Supersonic in hand.

“Okay, soldier,” you said, pointing to the stool near the table. “Sit.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Your hair,” you said. “It looks like a bird tried to nest in it. I’m fixing it.”

“You’re gonna use… that thing?” he said warily, eyeing the Dyson like it might explode.

You grinned. “Relax. You’ve fought alien warlords. You can survive a blow dryer.”

A snort escaped him. And then — miraculously — he sat. You plugged the Dyson in, brushed your fingers through his damp hair, and got to work.

—

About five minutes in, Bob looked up from his book and said, “He’s letting her do his hair. It’s happening.”

Yelena didn’t even open her eyes. “What’s happening?”

“The slow-burn,” Bob replied, turning the page. “They’re finally getting there.”

Alexei popped his head in from the kitchen. “What are we betting? I say they kiss before next mission.”

“No way,” Ava said, arms crossed. “Barnes is emotionally repressed and Y/N’s too polite.”

John laughed. “$10 says it happens by the end of the week.”

“$20,” Bob added, “if they don’t even notice they’re basically dating already.”

You ignored them all. Mostly. Your fingers were threading through Bucky’s hair, drying and smoothing it as you guided the Dyson gently. He looked… relaxed. Kind of. Except when his metal hand kept twitching every time you got a little too close to his ear.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He grunted, “Yeah. Just… not used to people touching me like this.”

“Like how?”

“Like they care.”

You looked at him, your hand still in his hair. “I care, Buck.”

His eyes met yours then — and you swore your heart skipped.

From the couch, Yelena groaned loudly. “Oh my god, would you two just kiss already?!”

You flushed. Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “I feel like a stray puppy right now.”

“Yeah, well,” you smirked, “you’re a cute one.”

—

Later that night, the HQ was quieter. Ava and John had gone off somewhere to probably yell at each other in private. Yelena was asleep on the couch, Bob was still reading, and Alexei was snoring in the recliner.

You were in the bathroom with Bucky, showing him how to use the Dyson properly. He watched you with that same intense stare he always had — like he was memorizing everything.

“Okay, see the cool shot button?” you explained. “Locks the style in place.”

He pressed it. A little too hard. The blast of cold air surprised him and he jumped slightly.

You giggled. “Scary, huh?”

“Not scared,” he grumbled. “Just… surprised.”

“Mmhm.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then: “Thanks for doing this.”

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Anytime.”

His hand caught yours as you went to pull away — metal fingers warm from the dryer, his grip gentle but steady.

“You know,” he said, eyes locked on yours, “I don’t let just anyone near my hair.”

Your breath hitched. “Good thing I’m not just anyone, then.”

There was a beat.

You both leaned in slightly—

And from the hallway: “If you’re not kissing, then at least make popcorn!” Alexei yelled. “Some of us are invested in the subplot!”

You and Bucky broke apart, laughing quietly.

“Stray puppy, huh?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“Only if you’re the one taking me home.”

-

kinda nervous to post this haha, i tried my best okay? but i think i made justice to the whole new team with unstable people trying to live togethere

[gatorbites-imagines]

Dear gator.............I LOVE THE LAST POST WITH WOLVERINE!!!!

Sir.....may we get more of him???? Like the same AU or something else? Like reader is as old ad him and they (mostly Logan) finds comfort in R (his) arms? He knows that someone may live as long as him and that makes him happy as he knows he will outlive most of the x men in some way or another?

LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE!!!

Logan Howlett x mutant male reader 

Headcanons 

If I remember correctly, I got this request after writing about feral mutant reader and Logan, so thats what im going with. 

Maybe reader has a similar mutation to Logan, healing factor and all, he just doesn't have the adamantium bones. Hes got a quick healing factor though. 

You two being equally old means you two have been together for a very, very long time. It means you two know each other like the back of your hands, and you two can coexist without needing to speak. 

Being feral mutants also helps in that regard, as you two are able to communicate with scents. It has nothing to do with being feral mutants, but you guys can also just grunt or huff, and the other will know what you mean. 

You two are probably kinda codependent after so long together. Sure, you guys split apart for periods of time to do your own thing, but you always end up back together.  

Being apart for longer periods of time make you both itchy. Your friends and allies can always tell when this is happening, cuz you both get extra grumpy and grouchy. 

Having a partner who's been there all along helps keep a lot of memories alive too, because things are worth remembering now. 

Logan will always say he's forgotten the first time you two met, or when he fell in love. But those memories are still clear all these years later. 

Being together for so long also means that you are each other's comfort. Somewhere you can both go and find solace and love when the world falls apart. 

With you not having the protection of the adamantium, Logan will at times get antsy when on missions, especially when he sees you in pain from broken bones or the likes. 

You and Logan will always scent each other. Its a very normal sight in the X-men to see you sitting on the couch, and Logan will stop behind you to rub his chin on the top of your head. 

Or the times where you will snuffle Logans neck and shoulders before you start nibbling on him a little, just to make the scent stick longer. 

Theres no his or yours, and all your friends and allies know this. When it comes to laundry, food or drinks, there is no need to struggle who owns it. Just dump it all in your shared spot. 

This would probably result in Logan having a broader amount of outfits, outside of white tank tops, boots and jeans, since he will wear what you buy and wear. And vice-versa. 

Logans a grumbly guy, we all know that, but he allows himself to be vulnerable with you. 

Being together for so long, and having known each other from the very beginning, means that Logan feels he can be open and himself with you. Theres no need to pull up his defenses for someone whos been with him every step of the way. 

You guys probably have similar trauma and have been through similar things, and you understand one another on a deeper level that cant be matched. 

This is also why Logan allows himself to be such a cuddlebug when you guys are alone in your shared room, or whatever motel you two are staying at. Or even in some cave or tent in the middle of nowhere. 

Aging as slowly as you guys do means you have lost a lot of people, and you will continue to lose people, a fact that never stops hurting. 

But being able to be held by you, to hear your heart and smell your scent, to feel your warmth wrapped around him, makes it hurt a little less. 

And of course, it goes your way too. No matter how much time you two spend apart, knowing that Logan will always be there, waiting for you. 

Even the times where you guys have argued and not seen each other for years, you still accepted each other and just held on. This also just means you two are a lot more protective when things go down, but thats to be expected. 

[antianakin]

I don't think the story being about Mon and Luthen means that only their efforts should ever be recognized or that they should be touted as if they're the sole people to have brought the rebellion here and that no one else had any real contribution to make of any value.

Nor am I actually arguing Bail should've had a bigger role in the show. Honestly, I think he probably should've had a SMALLER role in the show. I think it would've been VERY easy to write him out and just not deal with him at all if they didn't actually want him in the story and wanted to keep it laser focused on the characters they actually cared about. You don't NEED to see Bail during Mon's escape from the Senate, it could just as easily have been shown as Mon going to Luthen for help one last time because of how badly Ghorman has shaken or something. Or Luthen choosing to show up because somehow he's heard through his sources that she's going to make a statement or he just knows her well enough to know that this is something that is going to push her to make a statement. I'm not even upset that they chose to have Cassian be the one to save her on Coruscant, and there's canonical reasons why he can't be the one to deliver her so they had to come up with an excuse for it, but there are ways to do that that don't go like "Yeah we got told that Gold Squadron is taking it over even though their own teams botched the first part of the mission and we're just being cut out."

I also don't think he needed to be on Yavin in the last arc at all. He's had next to no impact on Cassian's story and the two of them don't even speak in Rogue One. What does it serve for us to know that they didn't get along when Cassian's conflict with the rebellion can just as easily be shown in his relationship to Draven or even Mon Mothma?

And personally I don't think that the Maya Pei brigade arc adequately explains anything about how Luthen ultimately "chose" Yavin for anything. Cassian knows them already, so clearly Luthen's aware of a rebellion on Yavin long before that mission and hasn't actually tried to set up a base there. Luthen never seems interested in setting up a base at any other point, we never hear him talking about it in any other scene, we don't get to see Cassian reporting back about Yavin or anything like that, either. So at best we're given like Point A of a storyline (Cassian was on Yavin once) and then Point D or E of a storyline (Yavin is now a rebel base) and somehow I'm just supposed to fill in points B and C (somehow Luthen is involved in the rebels being on Yavin as a base) on my own with whatever headcanons I can come up with, but those points are also very important to the emotional narrative because Luthen's involvement in that is key to Cassian's argument in this scene that Luthen is the core of it all and they therefore it to him to believe his information. But that story feels really haphazard and patched together to me, so it doesn't hold any emotional weight when Cassian says "None of us would be here on Yavin if it weren't for Luthen" when it feels like it's coming out of thin air instead of naturally built up. I'm glad you feel like you can fill in those gaps yourself and it doesn't bother you that you have to, but it does bother me.

We've clearly just got different feelings about what the show is trying to say about Bail vs Luthen, and the one thing you chose not to address is Tony Gilroy's words from his interview stating that Mon and Luthen were the "real founders" of the rebellion, which DOES feel to me like it's sort-of dismissing Bail and the established canon that he is in fact the father of the rebellion and while other people certainly CONTRIBUTED, they are not more of a founder than he is or more REAL of a founder than he is. Bail feels shoved into this narrative because they thought they couldn't get away with NOT showing him rather than because they actually WANTED to show him and pay respect to a character who's been around in the narrative for so long. It feels like he got put in there so that they could lift up Mon and Luthen by comparing them to him.

And you're clearly not going to agree with that take, and it might be a bad faith take, but it's the feeling I got from watching it and it soured me to it and unfortunately your personal explanations for why it works for you just don't work for me. I generally get why they did it, what the in-universe explanations are for why certain things happen, I just don't agree with it from a character and writing standpoint.

It seems a little hilarious to me that they have Cassian making the argument that the only reason any of them are here, the only reason the REBELLION exists at all, is because of Luthen... and he's saying it to BAIL FUCKING ORGANA.

I'm sorry, but while I am happy to accept that Luthen did do a LOT of things to keep the rebellion alive and likely recruited quite a few of the people on Yavin to this cause himself and trained them up, there are just as many if not more who are there explicitly because of BAIL ORGANA.

Bail Organa who began fighting the Empire the moment he showed up at the Jedi Temple the night of Order 66 and turned around to save any Jedi he could and then became a GETAWAY DRIVER as Yoda went to assassinate the Emperor and then proceeded to agree to take in Anakin Skywalker's child in order to hide her from the Empire.

Bail Organa who has literally been shown helping recruit the entire Ghost Crew and likely brought on the entire Phoenix Squadon and theoretically the entire Gold Squadron. Bail Organa who was the one who helped Riyo Chuchi try to fight for clone rights. Bail Organa who saw Ahsoka Tano on Naboo for Padme's funeral and immediately turns around to offer her a chance to join the rebellion which she does eventually choose to take. Bail Organa who eventually does allow his own DAUGHTER to join the rebellion and run missions when she's old enough.

You cannot convince me that somehow Luthen Rael is MORE responsible for the creation of the rebellion and its existence and people's involvement in it than Bail Organa. You can't.

[wlwsoccerfics]

A North London Love Story: important talks, physical therapy & lots of love

A/N: this Is Part two of A North London Love Story. Please read the First one so this makes sense.

Summary: you are Renées daughter and play for Arsenal as well. You are also married to Alessia.

"it's not as bad as it looks." You just said. Both your wife and mama looked at you.

"what's that supposed to mean?" Alessia wanted to know.

"i just need to give my knee a little rest for like two weeks and then i am good to go. It is nothing serious. I over stretched it..don't worry i will be ready for the Champions League Final." You let them know.

"i personally will make sure you stay on track with your recovery and not try to Play stuff down." Your mama answered.

"me too. obviously." Alessia told you. You sighed softly.

"noted. now can you please stop worrying so much? I mean both of you by the way!" You let them know.

"well i am your wife. It's literally my Job to do so!" Lessi answered.

"and i am your Coach and mom, so same." Your Mama said.

"i am not gonna win this conversation, am i?" You asked.

"there is nothing to win. but you won't get out of us worrying and watching over you!" Your wife informed you.

"that's right!" Your Mama stated.

"so you Gang up on me. I See how it is!" You said teasingly.

"exactly. We both do it in your best interest." Alessia let you know.

Alessia took you home after that conversation and helped you onto the Couch. Placing a pillow under your knee.

"Just rest. watch some TV and let me take care of you!" Alessia answered.

"Babe i didn't have surgrey or anything. I can do some stuff on my own!" You let her know.

"don't argue with me on that one! You need to rest up. We need you in the finale against Barcelona, Babe! I know your Mama agrees on that." Alessia answered.

"okay Love, you got me with that one!" You replied. Of course you wouldn't want to miss the Champions League Finale. Because playing Barcelona was always such a thrill. And you wanted to win.

An hour later you were asleep on the couch. Your Mama checking in on you with your wife. They were on the Phone.

"is she giving you a hard time?" Your Mama asked your wife. Alessia chuckled softly.

"Always! But that's part of why i love her!" Your wife stated.

"i am quite glad she listens to you though. She had always been stubborn. Even as a little Girl." Your Mama answered.

"i do totally believe that!" Lessi said and smiled to herself. "she is sleeping right now though." Your wife added on.

"that's good. Means she isn't trying to secretly work out!" You Mama said. They talked for around twenty more minutes on the Phone before ending the call.

After you had a quick shower, some Pasta Alessia made for Dinner the two of you cuddled up in bed.

"i really hope to be back for the Champions League Final. And i hope we win. Want to Go on a break with a bang." You let her know.

"we can always wait another season to try for a Baby, love." She told you. The two of you had the plan to try for a baby after the Champions League Final. No one knew yet and you would be the one carrying it.

"No, i really think this is the perfect time. If you still are up for it, liefje!" You said softly. She smiled at you.

"then you better get your rest so you can kick some Butts in the final and then we make a Baby!" She told you and kissed you. You pulled her on top of you. Wrapping your Arms around her. Talking for a little while longer before you ended up falling asleep like that. She always made sure not to hurt your knee.

You drove to practice with her every day. While she did Training with the rest of the Team you went to Work with the phyiso Team. All of sudden your Mom showed up. Kind of upset that you kept getting hurt from her. Which you only did cause she was worse then your Mama when it came to you getting hurt.

"y/n Matilda Ruth Slegers-Russo, you got hurt 3 days ago and i have to find out from your Mama! Why didn't you tell me?" Your Mom asked. You looked at your Mom.

"i am sorry. I didn't want to worry you!" You replied, biting down on your bottom lip.

"you May be an adult but i still am your Mom and i will always worry!" She told you. Which was valid.

"sorry Mom. It won't happen again. From now on i will tell you! I mean i hope there won't be any more injuries If i am honest." You admitted.

Your Mom was staying for your physio appointment and then joined the rest of the Team for Lunch with you.

"Less, thank you for talking some sense into my daughter!" Your Mom stated, cause she found out that your wife made sure you didn't go crazy with pushing yourself. Alessia smiled softly.

"wasn't easy. I mean she is only so stubborn cause she wants to be succesful! Which is something i understand. but i don't want her to Hurt herself even more cause of that mind Set!" Your wife replied.

"my daughter has always been stubborn." Your Mom answered. You sat next to your wife and Leah. Your moms and Kim were also at the table.

"excuse me, is it 'bullying y/n day'?" You wanted to know.

"we are just pointing Out how dedicated you are!" Your wife answered.

"nice Safe, less." Leah mumbled out. Kim chuckled softly.

"we Love you for being stubborn. Even If we get Grey Hair from it!" Kim stated. You laughed softly and so did everyone else.

After twenty minutes you went back to practice at the Gym, joined by your Mom. Everyone else went back to the Pitch to get ready for the Match against Manchester United.

[angelic-sawyer]

In Times Like These

Chapter One.

GIF by @pedropascalsx

Summary: Joel offers safety. You offer hope. Yet, love is a luxury neither of you can afford.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warning: Mature themes, Sexually explicit content, Canon-typical violence, A lot of talk regarding mental health. Please read with care.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: This is my first time posting on Tumblr! I apologize for any technical errors.

MY AO3

“In the desert there is no sign that says,

Thou shalt not eat stones.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

In the sunrise lies the solace. The consolation that as long as your lungs eagerly swell with the oxygen inside them, as long as your body can differentiate heat from cold, the world can exist for those who were lucky, or rather - unlucky, to survive the outbreak.

What seems abhorrently unjust is that the clouds still form various shapes in the sky, that the harebells and asters grow above the ground, decorating the fields along the cordyceps swarming in the wilderness, sucking the soul out of those who’ve been unfortunate enough to forget their previous lives.

What is absolutely unacceptable is that humans dare to have feelings. Inequitable it is, to feel love and seek love in a world where people lose the sense of belonging, the sense of being alive, of being able to think and move without the parasites occupying their brains shamelessly.

You, also, so barefacedly expose yourself to neediness. You can’t help it, and no one can - you comfort yourself. It is within humans to seek, to beg even when it feels shameful, even when the fear of mockery is overwhelming your senses. It’s unexplainable, makes you feel guilty, for all prohibitions are founded upon a denial of our desires.

You look ahead at the man in front of you, who’s wearing a dark green shirt even though the half of fall has passed and it’s getting chilly. You feel it when the tips of your fingers feel sensitive in the evenings. The wind would be unnoticeable if it wasn’t playing with Joel Miller’s curls as he turns around, talking about the route you can take to get to Jackson before the sun sets.

The sunsets aren’t as romantic as they used to be. They’re rather… a form of warning. The reminder of those lost to the demise.

“We can continue straight.” He says, his voice steady, like a man certain of himself and his skills. “There’s a shortcut near the park. I don’t think we’ll have any problems.”

He’s talking more than he usually does. Perhaps because you got scared for the first time in your life. Perhaps because fear settled in your bones and overstayed its welcome, making your hands tremble even after the bitten man was dead.

It’s never the infected you can’t kill. It’s always those about to turn. The hopeful look in their eyes as they beg, as if it’s just a common cold and you’re holding a bottle of drugs used against inflammation. In reality, your hand has to grip the M16 assault rifle. Your limbs do it so instinctively that it almost makes you feel ashamed, guilty for subconsciously fearing the hands that have once been a safe haven for someone, now a source of infection.

This was the first time you ever killed a human. A human, not yet a monster.

You nod. “However is better, Joel. You know the best.”

Joel nods too, moving in the direction he waved towards a minute ago. You follow, your boots pressing onto the mud, your weapon suddenly feeling too heavy for your body.

Joel Miller, who’s been forcedly assigned to you during patrols, always walks ahead of you. He’s always been the one arguing with Tommy about the tasks assigned to you, never claiming that you can’t do them, only stubbornly stating that it’s too dangerous for anyone but him. But you were raised in the apocalypse, you’ve been shushed when the clickers walked in circles around you, you’ve been taught how to shoot before you knew how a mattress felt beneath your body as you slept.

Joel Miller, the lonesome man who shared a sleeping bag with you, kissed your lips, your eyebrows, your nose, as his fingers pumped in and out of you, as his mouth morphed into yours to swallow your sounds, and then in the morning told you it wasn’t right.

You blink.

Joel glances at the rifle in your hand. “Do you know how that works? I think you had somethin’ else when you were protecting the gates.” He looks up at your face when you don’t answer. “It can fire in three-round bursts—“

“I know how it works, Joel.” You interrupt. If there is one thing you hate, it’s the pity. And he pities you.

Now he sees you as a silly young girl - you think - too scared to pull the trigger on someone whose eyes slowly turn lifeless. He feels as if you have to learn how to watch the world outside of the gates. But he simply nods.

—

The rain pours outside, which makes the house assigned to you feel like the coziest place to be in. That would be so if there wasn’t chaos stirring inside your soul, gnawing at your body.

Joel Miller, ever so calm and stoic, felt too strict, too vile when he yelled at you to kill the man with a bite mark adorning the skin near his cheek. Joel’s tone, never scared or uncertain, made it all feel as if you were to kill a parasitic bug that’s been destroying the plants. Perhaps that’s exactly how it feels to him. To see a clicker jolt from the bullet you’ve shot and fall frozen onto the ground is one thing, to raise your weapon against someone still conscious enough to recognize hope and solace, is what makes your leg bounce.

Yes, it is raining so hard that you almost feel like nature is expressing your inner turmoil. Surely, it’d be best if you went to sleep. But all that your body agrees to do is stand up from the couch, grab a coat, and leave the house.

Your feet lead you to Joel Miller’s house. Your hands make you knock on his door.

And he opens soon after, as expected - as a man trusted by all, respected by everyone, and as a person who has gathered people who depend on him as if it’s so easy in this world.

It’s what you’re doing.

His eyebrows raise, but instead of asking, he steps aside to let you in.

Careful not to wet the carpet in the hallway, you immediately take off your coat and hang it on the coat rack.

Joel stands, watching you wordlessly, as if you being there is the most appropriate thing ever. He doesn’t question things, especially now, when he’s sure that you’ll tell him anything he wants to know.

“Teach me.” You breathe out, an embarrassingly eager tone is evident in your voice.

His brows furrow. “You’re a great shooter, you ain’t got anythin’ to learn.”

“Teach me how to not torture myself after killing a person.” You say.

Joel sighs, looking at you with a frown, his hands on his hips. His eyes show understanding and you feel small. Your mind wonders if he’s ever felt scared like this and it immediately denies the possibility.

Joel Miller, of all people, hasn’t been scared. Has never been hesitant.

You’re sure of that.

“He wasn’t a person.” He mutters, brows furrowed, face otherwise stoic. “He was a threat.”

“Teach me how to not torture myself after killing a threat, then.”

He lets out a breath, looking somewhere behind you as if he’s trying to find the right words, as if you can be easily broken. “This is why I tell Tommy not to let young folks do things like this. All I get in return is a glare.”

You swallow, your fingers worriedly toying with the zipper of your jacket. A nervous habit that presents itself clearly for Joel to notice, but you can’t stop it.

Joel motions to the couch and you sit down. He settles on the sofa in front of you.

“First things first —“ He starts, his eyes searching your face for a moment, as if sizing up whether you’re ready to really let his words into your brain. “It’s the fear that’s makin’ things harder for you. The sooner you start realizing that they ain’t your friends and neighbors, the better. No need to feel sorry for rabid animals. You keep that in your head, and that’ll be half the battle right there.”

The sooner, the better.

The darker, the better.

You nod, your gaze moving down to your lap as he continues. “I know for sure you’re good with your rifle. I’ve seen how you shoot. So I ain’t gonna talk much about that. All you need to wrap your mind around is that they ain’t got feelings. Only fear, maybe for a minute before they only learn the taste of hunger. Then that’s all they know.”

You hum, looking up to face him. “Everyone’s hungry. Perhaps for different things.”

“True.” He concedes. “But most folks don’t kill for that hunger.”

You tut, and it seems almost funny, how you express disapproval toward a man twice your age. “Humans don’t kill?”

“That ain’t what I meant.” He mutters, annoyance lacing his words as if he despises the idea of being misunderstood. “There’s killing for someone or something, and then there’s killin’ for the thrill of it. You won’t understand it.”

You watch him. He’s toying with his own hands, ironically mirroring your nervousness, or perhaps - the unbearable need that feels almost carnal in a way that’s repugnant and shameful. Your eyes move to his shirt, the optic nerves sending signals as jolts to your brain, making you almost feel the rough material of his flannel shirt creating a stark contrast to the softness of your skin.

“I’m almost the same. And you are too.” You tell him, not avoiding his gaze like before. “You say they’re shells, puppeteered by the cordyceps. I was raised in the QZ, then came here. I don’t know how it feels not to fear for my life and also question my existence—“

“That ain’t the same.” He interrupts. “You breathe, you feel, you care. They don’t have that. You have a lot. There ain’t solace in playin’ with death, that you can trust me on.”

You swallow all the words swimming in your spit, underneath your tongue. Instead, you feel the urge to wear your heart on your sleeve. “I haven’t felt cared for. That’s what I… seek. Makes me dream I could spend more than just my early childhood in the world before the outbreak. Everything now seems… rushed— no, not exactly rushed. Just…”

“Shallow?” Joel finishes, making you nod. Your eyes fill with hope, that finally someone understands, that for once you’re able to express yourself in the most vulnerable way possible.

“How did marriage feel?” You ask.

He scoffs, as if you’ve offended him. “Pain in the ass, I’d say.”

“Love?”

He purses his lips, glancing down at his hands. “Warm. Like everythin’ will be fine as long as your person is alright.”

Your person.

Your thoughts form a tumultuous mess and for a second, you’re afraid that he might see the internal struggle reflecting on your face. And perhaps he does see, maybe that’s why he doesn’t move away when you lean forward.

For all you know, that might be the reason why his knuckles brush against your temples, moving the hair from your face ever so gently. Maybe it’s the way you pinch your eyebrows together that forces his vocal cords to work and speak. “You ain’t gotta worry about not being loved. You will be.”

“I worry about not being lovable.” You whisper, cheeks reddening with shame. Shame that it’s all you worry about in the apocalypse. “That’s different, Joel.”

His hand cups your face as he frowns. “You got me worried sick when you went quiet and shaky on the patrol today, y’know?”

You stare into his eyes, nodding slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He whispers, pressing his forehead on yours ever so gently. “Sweet girl.”

You bite your lower lip immediately, your chin embarrassingly trembling as you close your eyes. His thumb rubs the skin above your cheekbone.

“Don’t cry, darlin’.” He mutters, kissing the tip of your nose. “I hate seeing a tough girl like you cryin’.”

The kiss feels as burning as it did that night.

“Joel.” You whimper, nuzzling into his jaw.

“I know.” He answers immediately, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer.

He lets you feel his body temperature. His smell fills your nostrils. You can only name the smell of coffee. Other comforting scents swirling through one another, adorning his jacket, are mixed so much that it’s hard to tell what he smells like exactly.

“What do you need, sweet girl?” He whispers ever so gently. “What’d ya need to feel?”

“Anything you wanna give me.” You whisper back, your hands finally touching his face.

His hand slides to the back of your head and he kisses you, making your eyes flutter closed. The heat spreads from the deepest cavity of your body and envelopes your whole being.

You sometimes imagine that lust tangles into your organs the same way that cordyceps crawls inside the brain.

Joel’s hand on your back moves you towards him, making you straddle his lap as he mumbles against your lips. “C’mere.”

His hands rub against your jeans, then find their place on your waist, his thumbs pressing against your skin. Being in Joel Miller’s arms means that you’ll be treated as if you’re about to disappear. And it makes you feel alive.

“I think I was born with this— enormous need for affection.” You whisper when his lips part from yours, finding their way along the nape of your throat.

“That all it takes, sweetheart?” He asks, smirking.

“Stop mocking me.”

“Not makin’ fun of you.” He tuts, looking up at you. “Only wanna know what you want.”

“Sex.” You answer immediately like you’re following a memorized script.

His hands slide under your shirt. The feeling of his thighs under yours is almost overwhelming. You’re already so needy, so eager, so desperate—

“Be more specific, sweetheart.” He says, his voice quiet.

How can one acquire such stoicism?

You let out a whimper, shifting in his lap. “You inside of me, Joel. Like on that patrol. But without you denying me yourself afterward.”

He looks at you. He’s so close that you can see every freckle, wrinkle, every strand of the gray hair almost hidden in his facial hair. He looks at you as if you’re so fragile that he won’t even dare to think about pushing you away again.

One of his hands begins to move up your body, his fingertips tracing lightly across your skin. “Can I take this off?” He asks quietly, tugging at your jacket.

You nod immediately, helping him remove it, then take off your shirt without him having to ask.

His gaze roams over your bare chest, his fingertips trace your collarbones delicately, as if he’s handling glass. Then, as you hold your breath, his thumbs move to your nipples, softly rubbing around them before he leans in, kissing your sternum. You close your eyes, hand tangling in his hair, bringing him closer, like he’s to diffuse into your skin.

“Beautiful girl.” Joel whispers, peppering kisses on your breasts, darting his tongue out to make you a whiny, squirming mess on his lap, to make sure you’re so embarrassingly wet that you’ll have to hide your face in the crook of his neck as you did on that patrol.

His hands undo your belt effortlessly, unzipping your jeans. You raise yourself from his lap to help him take off your pants. Not your underwear, though. He wants to smile almost pitifully when he slowly drags it down your legs, he plans to watch the thin string of your arousal stick to your panties and then coat your inner thighs. He has to shush you when you whimper, when your hips buckle helplessly, your pussy aching for his touch.

You grip his biceps when his fingers dip inside of you, but they don’t give you what you need. Instead, Joel takes his fingers to his mouth and licks, humming. “My sweet girl.”

The two of you share your taste when he kisses you deeply, tilting your head in the way that he wants, his hands undoing his belt and zipper before you can acknowledge.

There it is, under his palm as he tugs at his boxers. If you didn’t know better, you’d think Joel’s being desperate too, wanting to be inside of you as soon as possible. If you didn’t know better, you’d moan something that’d make all this feel like lovemaking, that’d make him bite your chin as he rubs the tip of his cock along your entrance and then pushes it in slowly.

Your pussy clamps down around his cock as your stomach churns deliciously. Joel grips your hips harder, helping you move down his cock as his gaze focuses on your tits. Before you start to actually move against him, you slowly raise yourself up, your pussy clinging to his shaft as you move. Inch by inch, Joel’s cock moves out of you, gleaming with your arousal. The sight makes him groan, his large palm mindlessly gripping your bare hip, then moving to your breast.

You rotate your hips in circles, taking him deep and holding him there. Your inner walls flutter around him with each deliberate movement, his grunts making your pussy clench. Joel’s hand comes to rest on your back for a while, then slides up to your neck, gripping it there, kissing you deeply again.

You start moving faster, your lips breaking apart with each snap of your hips. His other hand reaches to grab your ass and help you bounce on his cock. The room fills with quiet grunts and moans and the sound of skin slapping.

The rain outside is long forgotten. Everyone in Jackson is asleep.

“I’m— close—“ You pant, your hand resting on his flannel shirt, right above his heart.

“Already, baby?” He groans, his hand sliding up to caress your face, keeping your hair out of it.

You nod. You know. You were just so desperate, envisioning his touch whenever your mind decided to wander.

“Come on, then.” He whispers. No, he coos. “Lemme see. Lemme feel, sweetheart.”

You whine, your movements becoming erratic as you chase your orgasm.

“That’s it.” Joel breathes out, holding your face so you can’t look away. “Use it, sweetheart. Let yourself calm down. You’re ruinin’ me so well.”

You squeal, gasping for air, your pussy clamping down rhythmically around his cock. You feel the sweat on your bare body, clinging to your skin like the sweetest nectar. You see his face, his mouth slightly open, enjoying the sight of your ecstasy. It makes you shudder. To have this big man under you, rooting for your pleasure, understanding that you need him but not in a way that grants him some kind of intoxicating power.

No. In the way that he can become a savior. A shelter where your sadness can reside.

Joel’s cock swells inside of you soon after, his hips jolting upwards as his calloused hands hold your hips down. His warm cum mixes with your own release as he grunts, eyes shut close as he empties his load inside of you.

He wraps an arm around you, letting you rest your head on his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “How do you feel, sweet girl?”

You just hum, eyes closed. His fingers caress your bare back, his cock slowly softens inside of you, and you feel safe. You feel like whatever Joel says about you or to you can turn into truth, even if you’ve yet to overcome fears that live inside of you. As long as Joel believes you are fearless, you can play the part.

[rekino2114]

A/n:this is incredibly self indulgent but I don't care I had a bad day and my teacher sucks so this is my way to rant and get my revenge (and also I'm just really enjoying writing for the horsemen girls so there's that too)

I was just thinking that 3 of the 4 horsemen of apocalypse, the strongest devils in existence who could destroy and murder basically everything and everyone like it's nothing.........are just normal students. Especially after they met you and abandoned whatever plans they had in mind to stay with you, they just go to class, study and do normal student stuff

So imagine you jokingly saying that you wish your teacher would die and your devil girlfriend taking that 100% seriously

Yoru would definitely be the most excited about it, she's actually been waiting for you to ask her to kill someone for a long time..... murder is kind of her love language.

"Sometimes I just wish my teacher would just drop dead in the middle of class y'know? She's so angry all the time for no reason"

"Which way?"

"Hm?"

"Which way do you wish she would die?"

"I dunno, i wasn't serious anyway"

"Damn you're really making it hard for the hypothetical murderer"

"........I know saying that is definitely not going to change your mind but....can you please not kill her?"

"Why did you assume I was going to?"

"Cause you asked me which way I would like to see her die.......and also I know you"

"It was just a hypothetical"

"Whatever"

The next day your teacher is mysteriously missing and yoru just casually happens to have a new weapon that she shows off to you while smiling

Fami would be confused at first, after all you were the one who showed her how great life was and how valuable human lives were, but she didn't argue at all since well....you were the one to say it

Fami's moral compass is basically "Whatever y/n says is right" you are like the one person (except her sisters......most of the time) that treats her with love and basic respect so she would literally do anything you ask her to do just so you don't leave her (like you'd ever do that) including killing people.....it's not like she wasn't planning mass genocide before she met you anyway

"H-huh r-really?"

"Hehe, that would be nice wouldn't it?"

"....o-ok, I g-guess I c-could try"

"...what?"

"B-but then i-i'll be late for our date tonight, c-can you wait o-one more day please"

"......wait for what?"

".....for her......s-salvation"

"...........were you thinking of killing our teacher?"

".........i-is that not what you wanted?"

"No, it was just a joke"

".....oh........t-then no, i-i would have never t-thought about that......hehe.......eh"

"..................."

"W-wahhhhhhhh!!!! I-i *sniffles* I'm so sorry y/n......p-please don't break up with m-me!"

"I-it's fine fami"

Death will just nod and look at you like you asked her to take out the trash or something

To be honest she already thought about killing her the moment she saw the teacher was being too mean and harsh to you (and because she told her she couldn't eat in class) but never went through with it cause she thought you'd be angry with her if she did that

But now you actively said that you wished she'd die so there's nothing stopping her. She casually continues your conversation while sending falling devil to take care of the teacher

"Maybe we'd even get some days off from that, I doubt that's just magically gonna happen though"

"...................."

"....death, why are you looking at me like that?"

"...did you...not just say you wanted her to die?"

"Well yeah but it was just a joke"

"....................."

".....death what did you do?"

"Sorry, it seems I still don't fully understand human humor"

".....oh my God did you actually just kill her?"

"I could go and see what parts of her remain......I did ask falling to be brutal because she insulted you thought....so it's probably not much"

"...........*sighs* it's.....it's alright, she was awful anyway"

[bloodanna]

Yes!

I think one of my favourite things about this Manga is the care and patience that the story has when it comes to these two and especially Hirano.

Like, I would argue that in many ways Hirano and Kagiura fall naturally into a relationship that is something beyond "normal" friendship.

Something that looks/acts more a "normal" romantic relationship.

The only thing is that neither of them can/are willing to just put a label on it for fear of losing the other. For fear of "getting it wrong".

And I love that.

It feels so real. Like, I legit remember being in college and having someone confess that they liked me and then me angsting about it for, like, a year+.

Because what if what I feel isn't actually what they feel? Maybe it's too much or too little.

What I lose them in my life? I couldn't handle that.

What if I love them wrong? When they deserve so much to be loved properly.

Meanwhile we'd see each other every day, often shared a single armchair, and when they graduated we wrote back and forth all the time (like, we filled 2 - 3 Google docs to the point of being unusable due to lag....) and had scheduled weekly calls.

We were insane while being "just friends" and I feel like 'Hirano To Kurigua' is a manga gets that situation so well. It gets the feelings and the confusion and the angst and the joy of wanting while also having no words for exactly what/how you want. Especially when one of you in the situation is Allo and the other is Ace.

It feels like it gets the constant negotiations and concerns such a relationship can bring up/require and I think it is navigating them in such a kind, patient, and loving way.

Like, Hirano's retreating into himself when he asks if being in love means wanting to kiss someone and again when he asks Kurigua if kissing is something he wants and the initial answer is yes (before they each clarify)... I legit had to pause my reading each times because it was such a real and devastating reaction portrayed so poignantly and because I remember navigating those feelings of "Doing Love Wrong".

(Hint to younger me, Hirano, and anyone out there who needs to hear it: if you "want to love them back" so badly that it causes a ache in your heart... you probably already do. Now you get to tell them and work with them to negotiate what that looks like and find out if you can fit/grow together.)

Anyway... I have no idea if any of that made sense/added to your post or if it was just ramblings, but yeah... The story/characters give me so many feelings and thoughts. XD

I love what this Manga seems to be trying to do and I love how kindly it is doing it and I also hope that the MCs end up getting to be weird about each other for forever in a relationship that actually works for both of them.

some thoughts on the “…it doesn’t make my heart race, though.” line in hirano to kagiura:

so like. the way that this line is framed, it’s white text on black, and it starts with an ellipsis—immediately we’ve gone and established that it’s a serious, hesitant thought, and it’s not… Good, right. you don’t frame positive thoughts like that.

this line, though, made me Really Happy. and this is because I’m a big fan of aspec hirano as a headcanon. and when I read this line in ch 22, the first thing I thought of was how asexuality doesn’t always correlate with being sex-repulsed. now. I will not call myself an expert in asexuality or anything, but my understanding is that like… sex is many things, right? sexual attraction might not be a motivator, but sex is also many other things—a moment of intimacy, a shared activity, a form of pleasing a partner—and so there’s a certain kind of pleasure to be derived from it nonetheless.

extrapolating from there, something that’s interesting to me about the hirano & kagiura relationship is that, at least from an outside perspective, hirano & kagiura were having a loving roommate relationship until one day, kagiura honed into his own sense of desire so hard that everything got thrown out of balance. now they don’t move in the same sync that they used to. so kagiura overdraws romantic boundaries and doesn’t touch him outside the confines of his 10-second rule, because to do so more would cross a line (and in ch 6, his love fortune advises against that), and now everything is strange. but the thing is… even before kagiura was consciously having the I want to kiss him thought, he was in love with hirano.

all this to say: a lack of heart racing is not necessarily a lack of feeling. hirano likes to make kagiura happy. he gets genuine enjoyment out of it to the point that he wakes kagiura up every morning without much fuss. and it’s because he adores him! and because he thinks of kagiura as a dear and positive force in his life.

“…I guess he wasn’t going to touch me then” that is not rejection. and moments like this recur constantly—kagi encroaches, and hirano is not necessarily receptive but not against it, and then kagi draws back, bracing, way before he needs to. and we leave hirano in the lurch, unsure how exactly to bridge this gap that’s been set between them. sasaki to miyano also dealt a lot with ideas of romantic expectation, and I feel like hirano to kagiura does the same, too. romance, relationships, touch—the definitions of how these things changes with every person.

kagiura starts the series thinking that his ideal relationships is the one his parents have. that’s what he wants with hirano, and the do you want to kiss him? question doesn’t flicker into his thoughts until niibashi confronts him, because I imagine he’s not thinking about aspects of physical desire when thinking about his parents’ relationship. so he has to reevaluate, and then he wants, bargains a strange framework with hirano, who… as best as I can tell, has no real model for a romantic relationship. what does he want? because he does want kagi, in some fashion or the other. that much is clear to me.

we already see flashes of this. he wants kagiura to stop flinching around him. he can’t just think about it, he wants to try, with him (ch 23b). a relationship is two people. kagi can’t cross the line on his love fortune, but hirano can. right now, we’re not at a point of romantic reciprocation, but there is reciprocation.

…honestly, it’s rare to read a story that feels so patient with its characters, like this. one thing I love about hirano to kagiura is that hirano’s “resistance”—his lack of feeling, his frustrations—feel real. I don’t read through every chapter feeling like the manga is just waiting for him to “give in,” I see navigation and negotiation of feelings.

personally, I hope they find a happy medium where they’re both satisfied, but hirano still doesn’t entirely “get” the way kagi feels from tip to toe. but my personal ideas aside, I’m just excited to see where they go.

[raayllum]

Why you can't just regulate dark magic: a practical thought experiment.

A few times in my many years in TDP fandom I've seen the idea presented of "Dark magic can be sustainable, it just needs regulations". This idea, to be clear, isn't inherently a bad one — but it is one that's never quite jived with my understanding of the series, even in the earlier days. So this meta is an attempt to explain 1) why I think said idea simplifies/ignores some of the pitfalls that would arise if they try and 2) doesn't adequately dress some of the core issues that result from dark magic use.

For fairness' sake, I'm going to only loop in the first 3 seasons of TDP's treatment/lore about dark magic, so no "Aaravos possession" or "it rips a hole in your spirit/soul" among other tidbits from arc 2. I'm also not going to argue on the basis of "well we SAW that humans could've regulated it but Chose not to in S7" on account of 1) it being from later seasons and 2) I'd wager some of the sustainability argument is upset with "the show Chose to portray it this way" which exists somewhat outside in-universe rationale. Cool? Cool.

Now, let's dive in:

First off: dark magic's pull on the external environment, which is what the sustainability argument typically focuses on.

Part of the regulations argument that always felt wonky to me was the subset assumption that regulations would, or could be, uniform across the board, and whether it'd exist in just the Pentarchy or in all of Xadia overall.

For starters, if it is just in the Pentarchy, while we know some spells can be done with purely human / non-magical body parts (hearts of cinder, the paralysis cure spell, seemingly tracking spell, Claudia's initial healing spell that involves grasshopper goop), the majority of what we see cannot be (i.e. Clauida's eye of griffon spell, ash defensive spells, fire spell). A reliable cure for famine, for example, requires travelling into Xadia—which, even if regulated amongst the Pentarchy, would still be unpermissible—so more 'greater good' spells would typically rely on legally forbidden Xadian components anyway. There would be a huge restriction on what could be done under dark magic as well as a huge spike in acquiring human body parts (possibly through human trafficking) or taking from the Pentarchy ecosystems to maintain consistent dark magic use (more on this change later).

Secondly, what we see within the first three seasons is that not all magical beings fit neatly into person or not a person category. Animals like Phoe-Phoe and Bait are highly intelligent and communicative; some dragons can talk but not all can't. The Magma Titan's personhood is directly called into question and neither confirmed nor denied, but just because they don't speak the setting's lingua franca (or at all, given that we do have mute characters, like Amaya) doesn't mean that they're not a person.

Distinguishing who is acceptable spell parts on the basis of perceived personhood would be a slippery slope: does a non-talking dragon count or not? What happens if one kingdom decides dragons are off limits, but another doesn't? All of those mages are still going to be crossing over to go hunt them for spell parts because if there's widespread regulation and/or supply and demand (whichever comes first, honestly) they'll have extra incentive to do so... unless the border kingdoms, like Katolis and Duren, don't let them through... which lands us more or less back to where we are in canon in terms of "you can't cross over into Xadia to organ harvest whatever you want" except with humans enforcing it explicitly rather than just Xadia. And if mages do cross the border for plants or animal-animals, there would need to possibly be elven guides assigned to them to ensure they keep to the legal boundaries (similarly to how Lujanne is assigned to the Nexus) or a centre of commerce for bartering... but even that centre would have to upheld by either 1) humans under supervision or 2) elves, who then get to directly control what goes in human hands regardless Again.

The other bigger part is that within TDP canon — throughout, but in the first three seasons... There just aren't that many dark mages. Katolis and Duren should, by all manner, have the most because they're close to the Border and therefore magical ingredients. We know that all the Pentarchy monarchies have mages working at court in later seasons / supplementary material (Neolandia has Tressal, Evenere has an unnamed High Mage, Aanya in S7 reveals she has mages, and Katolis has had a High Mage for presumably 300ish years) besides Del Bar. But Claudia never mentions going anywhere to buy supplies and we don't see the threat of dark mages in any of the towns the kids stumble through in S1 (Ellis') or S2 (the port town, the dragon town which is just hours away from the border); Lujanne never mentions scaring mages away in particular, and despite Viren's magic being very useful in a lot of circumstances in Katolis' immediate history, his daughter is the only other mage adjacent person at court. There's no mention of mage schools or groups of mages work together; Aanya's mages might be a newer thing since her mothers didn't rely on theirs, or they were relying on the crystals > the kind of mage that would know how to rejuvenate the land.

What this can tell us is that there just aren't a lot of dark mages in the Pentarchy. On the one hand this makes sense — the training takes time and expertise to learn, access to numerous tomes and ingredients (as discussed above. On the other hand, it indicates that if dark magic was regulated and became more widespread, there would need to be an increase in mages to fulfil the needs of the people relying on them.

This is more speculation based territory, admittedly, but does make sense. The more useful and reliable a thing is, the more it will be used and relied upon for whatever ends it's effective for. If we took Claudia's basic healing spell that involves only grasshopper goop + flowers (presumably just Pentarchy land ingredients) and treat it as a fail safe for... body aches or a consequence of hard labour (something that'd be useful for a farmer, say), then yeah, people would have reason to want it and pay mages for their services. The more common it became, the more mages you would need, not necessarily just from a geographical standpoint, but from an individualized one

As this is where we get into the bigger issue that the sustainability argument doesn't address (or at least, doesn't address as much: dark magic doesn't just have the potential to hurt the environment/ecosystems and survival of magical species. It also takes an immense toll on the caster's body.

S5 confirms that first time dark magic uses causes the nightmare coma, but this is already indicated in S2, so I'm counting it here. What this means is that dark magic has a very high entry cost. Regardless of whether the spell is big or small (i.e. Callum's first foray was very simple and should've been non-taxing) can send you into a dream coma you may not ever wake up from. It would also mean needing someone to look after your body in a safe and secure care unit of sorts (again, maybe a centre) so you don't accidentally die while passed out (pulling a bit more from scenarios presented in 5x02, admittedly, but still).

But okay, you survive the nightmare coma, and then you can do dark magic whenever you want provided you have the right ingredients for your spells. Great. Each spell that you do throughout your life gradually alters your appearance and breaks your body down steadily from the inside... even if you're using dark magic for good reasons, and while impacted by the scope of the spell, there are no spells that do not affect your body at all.

So there's two options for widespread usage: dark mages are willing, due to pay maybe, to routinely chip away at their bodies for other people's woes and worries (although that may preclude the farmer example from before, as the agricultural class maybe won't be able to afford it?) OR dark mages with expertise rent other dark-magic-coma survivors out with pay (likely those too desperate to choose otherwise) and give them the spells/ingredients to use, but do not do the spell themselves in order to preserve their own body. (This not a new thought, either; more on the cult implications of that here & here.)

Another alternative could be — if we draw from S6 — that mushroom salves made by Earthblood elves can help stave off dark magic corruption, but we don't know if that can apply to regular user dark magic corruption in addition to what we see in canon (dark magic corruption not from usage, but from primal corruption and exposure outside of usage). A dark mage could also pick other routes (purification under the Sun Forge if they ever have a great orb again, or the star ritual) but the former is very painful and the latter is a 1-use-only.

If we're generous and go with the Earth salve one, though, that requires regular usage and upkeep while also not exacerbating the corruption. It also requires rest. This means that you could push a mage to their breaking point and then work them back down, but that'd require a large and experienced workforce to 1) replace them during the recovery period, 2) take care of them during the recovery period, and 3) transporting the goods from Xadia to the Pentarchy and/or tending to an easily accessible batch being farmed within the human lands.

All of this to say — given the toll it takes on a dark mage's body, that alone is an understandable reason as to why there aren't a ton of dark mages and most people aren't willing to take that task on vs primal magic, which while the path there can be gruelling, does not negatively affect you once you're there or for repeated spell use.

TLDR; while there could be ways — if we went the logistical > the thematic route that TDP evidently prefers — to create sustainable sources for dark magic ingredients within the human lands only (and with a ton of other caveats and political maneuvering), these sources would not adequately address the practical barriers to entry that dark magic creates in terms of repeated harm to the caster's body, and the people who would likely be pushed into the roles of the caster. Even a world built to function with dark magic as a core integrated/accepted part of it would not be free of problems, and would create some deeply interesting and/or horrific circumstances to explore. Yet again, no matter which way you slice it: dark magic encourages human and Xadian trafficking all around like crazy.

[cementcornfield]

More thoughts because i'm obviously not done with Today

but like...ja'marr's been talking about wanting to be more of a Leader after getting this contract. hell, i would argue he was displaying a lot of leadership last season and even the season before that when joe went down! he's been known to get the guys in the right position on the field, tell them what route joe needs them to run (without joe having to say a word to him! btw!) and encourage and help them after the play is done and they're sitting on the bench together!

and now today, with the different twitter videos of ja'marr actually leading the WR drills, cheering on the younger guys, and!!! the biggest thing, leading the huddle, which he's never done for the whole team before! (he's done it with just the WRs plenty, but this is EVERY GUY on the team looking at and listening to him!) and you can SEE how visibly just like...giddy he is throughout the whole thing?? excited?? nervous?? but he does GREAT. all the guys (not just joe, which i was primarily focused on before for obvious reasons!) all of them looking at him with such fondness and joy as he does it!

so yeah, he's been wanting to be a leader, but he's also been NERVOUS about it too. in previous interviews he's talked about how it doesn't come naturally to him. how he can be more reserved and mostly has just wanted to let his play do the talking. and i mean we all remember that Adorable moment when joe tricked him about the coin toss before the titans game?? when he told him last minute that zac wanted him to do the talking (and then grinned to himself for ten seconds while ja'marr freaked out about it before telling him he was just kidding <3) so yeah, we can infer that making this step is something that DOES scare him a bit!

but, again, he did it!! he did well leading the drills, he did well leading the huddle!! he was scared, but he did it anyway (and isn't that how we all grow??) and i dunno maybe....in keeping with the theme of doing things he Really Really Wants to do but has been scared or hesitant about before, he looked at joe (who was clearly doing some combination of sweetly congratulating him and teasing him at the same time), and just said "fuck it" and hopped on over there and lifted him straight up in a huge bear hug 🥹