#but dream has basically done all of this too

[hanihomed]

Read it once in your life, and never regret it.🖐️✅

Are you bored with posts asking for help from Gaza? You are right, but imagine our situation as we live this war day after day for 15 months!! do you think we're tired too

I have been injured for 12 months and my condition is as it is every day there is no treatment or medicine my condition is as it is every day it gets worse no food or drink in Gaza every day we die of hunger The most beautiful thing for a person is to have a family and a family, but unfortunately my wife gave birth to her daughter Mariam and she died as a result of the war on Gaza.

What is the fault of our children to deprive their childhood of their most basic rights of education, food, drink and fun? They have lost all their childhood memories in our destroyed house.

My father is an older 75 years old, a hypertensive patient who also needs treatment and attention, lost his home, he does not have the ability to walk

Asking for help is not easy, it is very embarrassing, especially for a family that is used to living a decent life. We used to help others, not ask for help.

But the war has turned our lives

I have been Hani for the past 15 months and I have been infected and unable to meet the needs of my family, but my wife has been struggling to get healthy food for my children and medicine for my injury and my elderly father, whose weak body has been attacked by infection and anemia. Where prices have risen 10 times and are very, very expensive, everything is done. As you read my letter, my family and I try to survive through all kinds of suffering.

What was once a beautiful dream and reality is now a nightmare. Hunger is one thing, but hunger and conscription forced you to flee in the middle of the night when tanks suddenly arrive in your area, and you run away to save your life while I am injured and unable to move a difficult and indescribable feeling, I want to flee and my father and my fear for my children and my wife is something tiring and sad to describe all that while we are under fire, leaving behind all his daughters for years

Can you feel my broken heart now?? Can you imagine what I'm going through in these moments? We desperately need your help in the hope of escaping Gaza and reaching safety to save my life from my serious injury and save my family from danger and explosions.

You may feel helpless for this genocide, but you can certainly save my family.We appeal to your merciful hearts to help us escape this catastrophe, which the human mind cannot bear

I know that you share my story out of love and humanity, and I am really grateful for that❤️☘️🙏.

Please share our campaign with your family and friends

The cost of monthly treatment to buy treatment and painkillers for my injury is $ 700 A bag of flour costs $250 and is the main source of food for my family and is required daily to make bread. We live in a tent and my children are shivering cold. All I can do is pray.

Please, don't just watch or share so a small donation can be a lifeline for a hungry or sick child who is suffering🙏🙏

Please help us get out of life's crises and the woes of war

Read more about us in the following link, please donate to us on it and share it 👇

Please help us get out of life's crises and the woes of war

Thank you to everyone who supports us in these difficult circumstances, thank you for your humanity and sympathy with us, may God make you happy throughout your life 🙏

Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #99 ) ✅

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

[shardthefuckingwhajje]

i have stolen this for my au, except uhhhh

basically jevins cult is all about worshipping sleep (no this is not a serious au) and at the end of sevice/gathering (usually ends in like. looking into mirrors and highly dosing sprunki melatonin (the equivalent with a very high ld 50 compared to human melotonin), then going to sleep for the night (they do wake up, the other cultgoers have their own village or smth but jevin just wanders the eepyness church)), instead of going to sleep, he decided to perform a ritual only usually done in emergency (basically resurrection, usually done with a dead member's organ) using a teddy bear (yknow. sleep item) and his own blood (he doesnt s/h hes probably diabetic or smth)

because of the sleep item, sky does have powers such as levitation, dream control, mild weather control, etc

dna wise sky is effectively a mewtwo; a clone (of jevin) with enough material from another thing (a teddy) to completely change its appearance (not too drastic tho, he is still visibly a sprunki)

jevin has since forgotten about this, not tunner is his adoptive father

Basically how Sky was created in this AU

Jevin used a teddy bear and his blood then used black magic to create Sky. Being created using a teddy bear would probably explain why Sky loves them so much.

Fun Fact: Since Sky was created using black magic, he has some magical abilities. He can make any teddy bear look like one of the other Sprunkis if he wanted to. He can also float like a cloud. He can create clouds. He also has some negative powers but they only happen when he gets mad (which is really rare), like giving others nosebleeds and headaches.

[mumms-the-word]

Hi! This might be stupid but I am still a little confused how everything connects. The titans and the Evanuris and the blight especially.

Are you able to explain at little at all?

Oh dear sweet anon don’t worry, I’ve got you. I spent days trying to make sense of everything in my head so there is no shame for being confused—I was also confused for a minute because Veilguard blasts new lore at you with all the speed and quantity of a water from a high powered water hose. It’s a LOT.

So buckle up and I’ll explain briefly thoroughly but with humor, because I have not much to do this Christmas Eve (for the first time in a while). But if you're interested in a full lore dive with pictures and so on, like I've done with BG3 lore dives, let me know!

Under the cut for spoilers!

Okay so most of this comes from Solas’s murals in the lighthouse, which they show us out of order because the first three basically confirm what we learned in Trespasser, and then the next two really drop the lore bomb on us. There’s other stuff we learn from codexes, too, but the murals and the debriefing sessions from the companions tell us the majority of the information.

So, briefly: In the beginning there were mortals, spirits, and Titans. Some spirits, like Elgar'nan (formerly Tyranny or something) decided they wanted physical bodies, but they wanted their physical bodies to be powerful and capable of great feats of magic. So they stole the blood of the Titans (aka lyrium) to build their bodies.

Keep in mind, the Titans were probably one of the first primordial beings in Thedas and they are huge. They're the size of mountains; the lyrium veins that run through mines and caves in Thedas are their literal blood vessels. And (this gets into some codex hints and is partly headcanon) it sounds like lyrium in a pre-Veil, pre-war-with-the-elves world must have been INSANELY powerful and capable of all sorts of wonders. Like building physical bodies to house spirits and make them powerful people, as one example. Powering eluvians is another example.

Now, I imagine that casually stealing someone's blood is bound to make anyone angry (and isn't it so interesting that some of the first magic in Thedas was technically blood magic? but I digress). But it sounds like the first elves, the spirit-born elves like Elgar'nan and Mythal, didn't just take the blood, they straight up killed Titans, too. According to Elgar'nan's concept art way back in the early development stages of the game, the red crystals on his collar (he has them in the game too) are trophies from every Titan he's killed. That's a lot of Titans.

So we have a war between the elvhen (those who used lyrium to build bodies for their spirit selves) and the Titans (who are reasonably angry because they keep getting hurt and killed). Things get desperate, the Titans are winning, and the only way for the elves to win the war, according to Mythal, is to craft a relic and a ritual capable of mass-lobotomizing the Titans. If you can't kill them, neuter them. Or...something.

So that's what she and Solas do. Together they make the blue lyrium dagger (yes THE dagger we keep hauling around) and Solas says that with the proper ritual they can use it to sunder every Titan from their dreams.

Basically? He made every Titan Tranquil, but worse than Tranquil, because he sort of stole their entire minds and separated them from their bodies. That's even worse than being Tranquil. Imagine if your entire consciousness was forcibly ripped from your physical body and them sealed away in a cage. That's what Solas and Mythal did to the Titans.

Now, we're still in a pre-Veil world, so the physical world and the Fade are overlapping and all the same and so on. Basically, everything is magic and magic is everywhere. This includes the Titan Dreams, which are now some kind of living, magical force no longer anchored to a physical body. Also, their dreams were stolen in the middle of a war, so you can imagine that these dreams are probably not pleasant or peaceful to begin with. Cage up these angry dreams, leave them to stew for a few centuries, and you just know they're bound to turn into something bad.

Well, that's exacty what happens. As Solas says, these dreams will go on to become a "disembodied blight of pain and anger." Therefore, we have the Blight. The Big One. The Mother of all Blights.

But! Somehow, when they first sunder the dreams from the Titans, they seal away this Mega Blight. Problem solved! The Titans are quiet (lobotomized, not-quite-dead, etc) and the elven people are safe. And the Blight is sealed! All is well.

Except, well, no, the elven people are now being enslaved by Elgar'nan and some of the other Evanuris who are a bit drunk on power from killing one of Thedas's most powerful primordial forces. Solas is like "Sorry this isn't actually what I signed up for" and rebels against all of them, including Mythal. Rebellion ensues. Solas becomes Fen’Harel. Elvhenan grows into an impressive empire for the elves.

But the Evanuris still want more power! One of them, Andruil, stumbles upon the Blight again (according to a Dalish legend which may or may not be real, but we're going to pretend it is). Mythal steps in and it gets resealed and sorted, but now the Evanuris have had a taste for what the Blight can do for them.

So now they're actively looking for ways to break into the Blight so they can use it for themselves. Solas catches wind of this, goes to Mythal, and is like "I know we're on opposite sides here, but the other Evanuris will listen to you, and if they don't, you should join me instead." She's like "Don't worry, babe, I'll talk to them."

And then they stab her with her own lyrium dagger and she dies.

And also they might have released...a tiny bit of the blight? Because we see Ghilan'nain messing with it during Solas's rebellion memories.

So, shit, now they have the Blight, and they're using it, and Mythal is dead, and things are REALLY REALLY BAD NOW.

So Solas is like "There's only one thing I can do here" and he stages an attack on Elgar'nan's citadel so he can steal the dagger back (this is the third Solas memory in the Crossroads) and then prepares a ritual to seal all the remaining Evanuris into one big glittering golden palace thing along with 100% of the Blight and use the life forces of the Evanuris to create the cage that will trap them there.

The goal? Cut them off from the Fade, seal them up with the Blight, let them get corrupted and rot for eternity, the end! Evanuris get stuck in a small bubble with no Fade and all Blight, the rest of the world gets the Fade and peace.

Yeah that…didn’t work.

What actually happened is the ritual failed somehow and instead of locking 7 wackos in a singular little prison with no Fade, Solas trapped them and the Blight in the pretty golden palace and also trapped all of the Fade in a very BIG bubble with the Veil between it and the rest of the world.

This is how he created the Veil. By accident.

So now we have the Blight and the Evanuris in a golden city and we have the Veil.

Also, he trapped the Evanuris, but he didn't trap the dragons they had bound their souls to. These dragons, which would go on to become the Archdemons who run the Blights in Thedas for several centuries (and five Blights), went into some kind of hibernation. I think? But also they became the gods that the Tevinter Empire worshipped, so maybe they weren't in hibernation yet. No idea! Point is, their dragons/The Archdemons were still around in Thedas, and the Tevinter people were like "those guys are rad, they are our gods now."

And also at some point the dragons went into hibernation below the ground. Unclear when.

Now fast forward a few centuries. The Evanuris have been whispering to the priests who worship these dragons/Archdemons and tempting them to break into the Golden City (unclear if they think the Maker built the Golden City by this point or if that came later, I'd have to check the timelines, but it doesn't matter right now). Eventually several magisters/priests are like "yeah! we should do that! Let's break into the Golden City and claim untold levels of power!"

Except what they actually did was break into a Blight Prison with seven Evanuris wackos, get immediately zapped by the Blight, and cast back out into their own world. We know this from the Chant of Light.

These magisters became the first of the early modern darkspawn, the pests we've had to fight for three and a half games, and thus the First Blight began.

So, long story short, Solas and Mythal created the Blight by separating Titans from their dreams and then letting those dreams fester in a cage for a while. Then the Evanuris tried to use the Blight and Solas got Mythal to try and stop them. But they killed Mythal and kept using the Blight. So Solas used their life forces to trap them and the Blight in the Golden City, and also accidentally created the Veil when he did so. And then a while later the Tevinter magisters broke into the Golden City and started the slow chain of events that led to Veilguard.

Hope that helped?? 😂 sorry it was so long winded

[greatgoddyke]

gggfied some old ocs (ramblings about thought process + (hand gestures) about the story under cut)

started with the idea of turning reverie into a ggg oc n worked from there to make a fake level

reverie being the god of safety came immediately initially i had trouble figuring out how to go about with them bc my og idea felt too similar to what we're told is going down in buzzhuzz but focusing back on three specific elements of og reverie helped a LOT n gave a lot of direction those elements being escapism dissociation and fire

the level takes place in the wunderholz hotel which is currently in disrepair and only being operated by one person ie the receptionist cupid d. andrews as the rest of the staff are doing literally anything else as the request of reverie before their domain became basically inaccessible

location was vague originally all i had in mind was wanting there to be physical danger throughout the level similar to the finale of milldread so originally it was gonna take place in a forest (hence the hotel being named wunderholz. literally just wonderwood in german) n the danger element was just gonna be that the forest was on fire but that doesnt really work bc like. fire department?? + extremely visible + would easily spread to the other areas so it needed to be something less obvious n not as clear of a fix-it bc its supposed to be tied to reverie (like miss mitternacht's flood n cobigail's vines) THEN remembered the shining (book not movie) which snapped into place the danger being an overheating boiler n the level taking place in a hotel

other stuff reverie was chief of safety when the hotel was being built (which they got elected for) their domain is in the basement right next to the boiler (formerly n still kind of employee breakroom) n in universe it wasnt originally supposed to be a hotel but construction got switched to one after reverie ascended (pretty cool to have a god in ur basement tbh) also hobbyhoo implies that the letter shenanigans have been going on for at least a few days bc of the last few episodes sucking n im running with that for this with it being like two weeks or so

marcelee d'vonair used to be a sfm oc whos design i never nailed down her thing back then was just she was an uninspired fashion designer n u gave her some photos of fashionable habitants to cheer her up marcelee now is the chief of safety at the hotel n the one in charge of the boiler but is instead outside chatting about fashion with vib during the level and you have to get vib away from her for the end sequence (crucial thing vib is actually working on stuff while marcelee is all talk n dodging questions)

she n cupid are (currently until i play with things further) the only reverie followers in the level (bc other followers typically go into fields more immediately relevant to maintaining safety (osha god) like repairmen or health inspectors) n were the two that were (attempting) to keep the hotel in shape during reverie's absence until a few days ago where the stress of not being able to fix the boiler (+ inability to get help from specifically reverie) got to marcelee n she stopped trying n avoided the issues by dreaming up fashion ideas (n not doing anything bc its safer not trying than it is to fail)

cupid's changed the least of the three hes just been redrawn in the style n had his story adjusted accordingly (rip stupid paper bag he used to have 😔���️) hes the character godpoke would be interacting the most with n provides the hints for progressing (for reasons that will become clear when we get to reverie) n he also provides the obligatory flirt line with his greeting ("hey sweetheart!")

for the last few days cupid has been solely responsible for keeping the wunderholz together which hasnt been going very well bc hes just one person n while he has the knowledge of all the stuff thats done to keep things running he doesnt have the practical skills or experience to fix things like leaks (which the hotel needs regularly bc its oldddddddddddd) or The Boiler so hes stressed n no one's listening to him bc hes just the receptionist what does he know n he can't leave to get help bc everything Will fully fall apart if he goes (believe it or not this is actually much better than his situation in his og story. mostly due to it being significantly shorter but still) and is deeply grateful for godpoke's help although was startled by them initially bc their room is... "unavailable due to damages"

the entrance to the basement is superficially blocked off with a paper danger sign (similarly to the woodboards in front of mitternacht's entrance) n u just get rid of it with megapon after cupid gives the ok for godpoke bc well they have a mask so they should be fine

hearthy haunt is a lush green forest with a fireplace (? is it still called that if its outside) thats perfect for cozying up n unwinding however that is not the hearthy haunt you get to experience during the level as the place is filled with smoke obscuring everything from sight and rendering the area near uninhabitable

reverie themself is completely out of it not even aware that someone else is in their domain (or whats happening around them) n unfortunately this means that reverie isnt too much of a character for the level (marcelee n cupid are more prominent to fill the story gap) but is used as a puzzle solving mechanic by throwing stuff at them to steer their daydreams to get specific lines to twist n stretch (was also thinking maybe that u have to suck up some smoke with megapon to be able to hear their responses similar to drying sirena off but that sounds Really Annoying mechanically so probably not)

dont really have specifics in mind for whats said in the letter reverie received just like what its about n what its angling for the angle is to get reverie out of the picture obviously so the rift can continue to open but the means is emphasizing the disharmony between gods (that are literally a result of the letters) n doing so heavily on the disconnect between thespius-click clack n bauhauzzo-huzzle mug bc those are the dynamic duos!! we're really screwed if even they arent getting along!! n the letter being more.. sympathetic ig by being about letting people live in blissful ignorance that end times are near cause theres no way we- i mean you would be able to close it without the other gods help it's best to just give up n try to have fun with the time you have which results in reverie trying to see the logistics of only 3-4 gods closing the rift by themselves coming to the conclusion it wouldnt work (didnt talk to the other gods bc well the god of innovation is in a quarrel n as the next best thing they dont think they stand a chance) n asked the staff to do as they please before lying down n giving up bc its safer to leave them now than to watch everything end

end of level stuff end sequence (ie getting the milldread berry or romantic bulb) is triggered by getting a whistle from the boiler (it gets louder n more shakey as the level progresses. also can be used as a flirt line on other characters bc i think that's kinda fucked up) n throwing it at cupid netting the line "THE BOILER'S BEGGING TO BURST!" to then throw at marcelee who cracks admits to avoiding her responsibilities (n cupid) forms an evacuation plan n gives the two final lines to throw (in the order marcelee says them "oh reverie... looks what's been done." (shes not addressing reverie here its more like shes saying oh dear) n "i'll get everyone outta here lickety-split!") which are thrown reverse order at reverie to shock them out of their episode and reveals what remains of hearthy haunt

reverie's domain is desolate the once tranquil woods is now charred logs and ashes with only the hearth and reverie themself being left standing

surprised by godpoke being there reverie reflexively puts on their psa bravado but still somewhat dazed n the destruction clear around the two its dropped quickly while reverie puts the pieces together of what's happened n bides godpoke farewell while drawing together some cleanup plans

leaving their domain has a quick cutscene of the boiler stabilizer now no longer being superheated by the fire n you go back upstairs n outside for the final cutscene of the area where everyone rejoices upon realizing the boiler's not gonna blow

goodbye dialogue stuff reverie's is about prioritizing getting some stuff that needs to be fixed done before they leave for the rift how they shouldnt have given up without a fight n a joke about how reverie has literally no idea who godpoke is (as in joke to us reverie isnt making a joke. they refer to godpoke as puppydog tho bc they dont know their name) marcelee laments leaving cupid to deal with things by himself n being too ashamed to get help from another town but remarks they did at least help vib brainstorm some outfits cupid is SO relieved that everything worked out n the line about godpoke's room comes back with cupid revealing that its unavailable bc its where cupid was staying as he wasnt able to go home during the whole ordeal jokes about giving godpoke a share of their next paycheck bc they never clocked out n have been working overtime "but seriously sweetheart at least let me comp your room... whenever i get it fixed up that is." (if the sweetheart line was used on cupid the paycheck joke is replaced with him offering a pity date)

n thats all for the story other misc stuff both cupid n marcelee capitalize They/Them when referring to reverie n while theyre both followers of reverie marcelee leans more towards it being bc she's a fan of reverie as a person while cupid is more about what reverie represents vague idea for bizzyboy video for the area is about deferring to authorities n professionals ie what they position themselves as (styled like schools psas about calling 911 in emergencies. bizzyboy home invasion skit) idk how much more i'll do with this outside of doodles but if this was an actual legel there'd probably not like a lot of interactable npcs in the area with some being bizzyboy van driver adjacent as in theyre in the environment to show theres people n in my mind theres one interactable npc thats a family on vacation (even got a specific set of old ocs in mind for them) but functions like a normal npc outside of their dialogue (as in u throw something at the family n they all react to it rather than each character being a separate npc) cupid is nonbinary n gendered language is a mix of neutral n feminine (he/him only for pronouns tho) n capochin is the only character who the sweetheart line doesnt work on as a flirt line bc he recognizes it as cupid's voice n immediately (and vaguely) complains about something that happened before godpoke arrived (i have something specific in mind but its funnier to leave it vague. capochin is the only bizzyboy in the level that doesnt appear inside the hotel for related reasons)

reverie's relationships n views of the other gods was decided entirely based on reverie being the god of safety so theyre extremely fond of bauhauzzo huzzle mug inspekta (ruh roh) n king bc theyre all gods of things important for safety (+ bonus industrial revolution for buzzhuzz duo) n then for the rest reverie doesnt like cobigail bc she likes scary type pranks n reverie doesnt (wimp 😔✌️) neutral towards thespius n click clack n neutral leaning positive towards miss mitternacht bc of her being the oldest god so they should show her some respect

[quigzahhutt]

📓!

Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about!

ok. have you ever watched parent trap. yeah this is basically that but with Franco and sargebon

I like to think that Franco is definitely aware of how much Alex cares about Logan. he's such a little fanboy that theres no way he hasn't noticed the difference in how Alex treats him vs how Alex treated Logan. it doesn't upset Franco at all because. well. if he was horribly in love with his teammate and then said teammate gets replaced by this new kid? yeah Franco would feel a little constipated too

so I imagine that Franco goes into this completely unaware of how badly Logan's replacement actually hit Alex. hes mostly just focused on his own lane and i mean. can you really blame him? he just achieved his dream at 21 years old; he gets to represent his country at a level of competition that nobody has done since the early 2000s. Franco has way more to worry about than the life of the guy who he just replaced

and it sucks, sure. Franco liked Logan a lot; he helped him in Silverstone, he made sure that Franco felt comfortable in the car and the garage and the team environment. Logan was really the first teammate Franco had in williams, in a strange way, so of course he feels sad that Logan was let go in the way he was, but this is in inherently selfish sport. he can't allow himself to dwell on these things

but then he starts seeing how affected Alex is. how he's constantly snuffing out francos jokes with these pitiful little laughs, or how he just seems generally constipated around him, swallowing things down every now and again like he doesn't even want to humor Franco. its a little funny, because before, Alex had no issue joking around and including Franco in their little bits, so something has obviously changed

and so Franco starts trying to solve the puzzle, figure out why Alex is being so flaky. he maybe asks around with george or even James, because he seriously can't be the only one who's noticing this, right? and then someone points out that Alex isn't really acting all that different around them, so maybe it's just a Franco thing

and that kind of turns into a spiral because. well. Franco really likes Alex, and it kind of really sucks that Alex doesn't like him, and what did Franco even do? he hasn't even really hung out with Alex except for videos, or maybe the few times he was with Logan-

oh. now that's a thought

and Franco has the brilliant idea to talk to Logan instead. it's nothing pushy or suggestive, more just... checking on him. because Franco really does care about Logan, and he feels kind of silly now for not even thinking of checking on Logan before

they talk and Logan seems okay, maybe not great but he's better than Alex, that's for sure. maybe. well maybe not. because when Franco says something about Alex, the three little dots keep disappearing and reappearing before Logan eventually just... stops typing, and leaves Franco on read for a few days. and then weeks. and then, fuck, Franco is back to square one

and so maybe Franco brings Logan up to Alex one day to just test the waters, ask if they've talked at all recently, and Alex gets really tense, and asks why hes bringing him up now, or why he thinks that its relevant. its already done; Logan is back in the US already and Franco is here now and so it doesn't matter and he should just leave Alex alone

but this is Franco. and Franco is stubborn and charismatic and so of course he manages to get through to Alex, and it's maybe a whole big thing, maybe it isn't. Alex is upset, but not at Franco, it's more just residual... bad vibes. like Alex ate something funny and for whatever reason it's all Logan's fault

and then shit keeps happening, and the weekends are getting harder, and in a weird way it doesn't take as much of a toll as Franco expected. if anything, the difficulty helps him and Alex get closer, and it doesn't feel like Alex hates him anymore because now at least he's talking to him

and because Franco is stupid and doesn't always think about what he's saying, he eventually just asks what happened with Logan because, y'know, him and Alex are maybe friends now? and although Franco asks, he kind of has an idea about what happened already

he assumes that Alex and Logan had something more going on, the kind of relationship in motorsports that Franco never really had with someone because he could never stick around long enough. Franco was always one of those drivers that went between teams and series and yeah he has friends, but he's kind of okay with it just staying like that

so he can't really understand how Alex feels, but it's kind of eating him up, and then when he asks it's.. fine. it's chill. maybe Alex sighs a little louder than normal, but then he explains everything. how him and Logan were together but not really, how Alex knows that he loves Logan a lot more than Logan does for him

and Franco feels really silly because I mean. watching from a distance, it didnt look like that at all, because Logan looked like he loved Alex a lot, and he seemed absolutely devastated when Franco asked about it. its a strange thing to think that Logan doesn't like Alex at all

and Franco says that. obviously. because his brain to mouth barrier doesn't really exist, and Alex laughs right in his face, which Franco kind of expected because thats usually what people do when he says something without thinking, but then Alex stops laughing and begins looking horribly constipated (again)

Franco decides to shut up after that, which is vaguely impressive for him considering he has about twice the amount of questions he had before all of this. so instead of bothering Alex (who looks REALLY sad now) with those questions, he bothers Logan instead. and maybe its because they're talking through text, but he seems considerably more comfortable answering said questions, which is nice because it helps Franco realize that. oh god. there has been a horrible miscommunication

Logan thinks that Alex was getting tired of him, that he was getting sick of Logan's dwindling energy, but Alex thinks that Logan didn't love him. and Franco thinks that both of them are colossal idiots. and so he hatches a plan

he's going to get them back together. somehow. he doesn't actually know how but what he does know is that Logan just got employed so he might be in high spirits which will make this all a lot easier. hopefully

cue an awful lot of blunders and hijinks in which Franco tries and somewhat fails, somewhat succeeds in getting Logan and Alex to interact, and one thing leads to another and the both of them eventually realize that they got it all wrong and that maybe Alex does want Logan around and that Logan loves Alex in the same way and it's all thanks to franco

[bookiezzz]

arguing with dsmp fans is a competitive sport actually and im winning

[yuwuta]

PLS PLS PLSSSSS keep talking about kids with olympic athletes! gojo and nanami pls pls pls i have to Know. everything u wrote about yuuta was already so so cute

(prev olympics au here)

the gojo twins are hilarious because your baby boy looks exactly like satoru, but has very little of his personality—it seems like the only things he inherited was satoru’s love for sweets and love for you. still, even though he’s a strong swimmer, he much prefers to relax in his floaties alongside you if you’re also in the pool, or chill by your side on a lounge chair, glasses too big for his face keeping the sun out of his eyes as he shares his smoothie with you, and asks to borrow your phone to take pictures of his sister and daddy in the pool. 

your baby girl on the other hand… she might have your face but she’s got satoru’s everything else—his competitive streak, his confidence, and definitely his mischievous nature. she’s the one who tiptoes into your bedroom at five in the morning, tapping at her daddy’s shoulders, and putting her little finger over his lip to shush him before he can wake you up; she’s always the one to convince satoru to take her swimming the backyard at the crack of dawn, and why by the time you and your baby boy wake up, she and satoru are already past warm up laps and swimming lessons and onto who can make the splashiest canonball competitions (she always wins because while her tiny body can endure a belly flop, satoru’s years of training physically doesn’t allow him to do it… and maybe because he’s not so competitive when it comes to his baby girl, he’ll always let her win). 

kento’s professional judo career honestly doesn’t last very long. after his first olympic games, you two start dating and he proposes just after he wins gold the second time he’s in the olympics; he does maybe two more years of national competitions while you’re pregnant, and decides that the intense training for the next two years in preparation of a third olympic competition isn’t worth missing time he could spend with you or your baby girl—plus, with all the money he’s made from competitions, winning gold medals, brand ambassadorships, commercials, and collaborations, he had enough money to provide for all of your for the rest of your lives. so, that’s what he does (his dream has always been to be a househusband, anyway...) his previous salaryman career comes in handy when deciding how to invest his money, how to buy a house, how to take care of his friends, how to set up a fund for your daughter, and an extra account or two… just incase more babies come along… 

by the time your baby girl is four, she’s already kento’s biggest fan. she loudly and proudly proclaims to everybody that her daddy was basically superman and won all the shiny trophies and medals in the house from when he was being a superhero. if anyone recognizes kento when they’re out together, she always confirms their suspicions, proudly boasting, “yeah kento is my daddy! he’s a winner!” it always makes kento’s heart swell to hear her praise. he doesn’t compete professionally anymore, but he does train from time to time, and has taken on a few mentees, and your daughter LOVES to watch him coach/train. she’s got her own uniform that she always puts on whenever they go to the gym together, and gets so excited when kento or ino or yuuji pretend to spar with her. 

she’s honestly kento’s mini figure. she’s respectful and reserved, but strong and knows when to fight and how to use her voice. there’s a time when he gets a call from her school saying that she got in a fight, the principal frames it as your daughter needlessly pushing around an older kid, but your daughter is certain in her words when she tells her dad that it was because the kid was being mean to the younger kids, and to her. kento doesn’t say a word to the teachers—doesn’t even fight them sending her home early for the day, because he’s happy to scoop her up and take her out for ice cream and tell her that he’s proud of her.

[astramachina]

this weekend has been THE weekend for weird coincidences.

[probablyasocialecologist]

All the takes are correct and yet they also miss the point. Yes, it was insane for the Democrats to think they could win by running a soulless candidate, without a shred of progressive policy vision, pursuing endorsements from neocon war-hawks everybody hates, while arming and funding a genocide, and belittling and crushing those who have enough morality to protest it. It is enraging that the Democrats are so smug and blind to this. But these are all just symptoms. The deeper reality is that liberalism has failed, liberalism is dead, and people urgently need to wake up to this fact and respond accordingly. It is a defunct ideology that cannot offer any meaningful solutions to our social and ecological crises and it must be abandoned. Democrats have proven over and over again that they cannot accept even basic steps like public healthcare, affordable housing, and a public job guarantee - things that would dramatically improve the material, social and political conditions of the working classes. And they cannot accept a public finance strategy that would steer production away from fossil fuels and toward green transition to give us a shot at a liveable future. Why? Because these things run against the objectives of capital accumulation. And for liberals capital is sacrosanct. They will do whatever it takes to ensure elite accumulation, it is their only consistent commitment. At home, they suppress and demonize progressive and socialist tendencies. Abroad, they engage in endless wars and violence to suppress input prices in the global South and prevent any possibility of sovereign economic development. The Democrats have done all this purposefully and knowingly, for my whole life, not as some kind of "mistake" but in full consciousness that it is in the interests of capital. And because liberalism cannot address our crises, and because it crushes socialist alternatives, it inevitably paves the way for right-wing populism. They know this pattern, and yet they risk it every time - this election being only the most recent example. They did it in 2016, when they actively crushed the Sanders campaign and sent Trump to the White House. They do it because ultimately they (and I mean the liberal ruling class here) don't really mind if fascists take power, so long as the latter too ensure the conditions for capital accumulation. They 100% prefer this to the possibility of a socialist alternative. So, progressives have to face reality. The dream of "converting" the Democratic party is dead. This is now a fact and it must be accepted. The only option is to build a mass-based movement that can reclaim the working classes and mobilize a political vehicle that can integrate disparate progressive struggles into a unified and formidable political force and achieve substantive transformation. This will take real work, actual organizing, but it must be done and that process must begin now.

Jason Hickel

[salemlunaa]

STOP WITH THE NEEDINESS ❦

wanna shift? let me put you out of your misery

This is the only method you need to induce pure consciousness/ tap into the “I AM”/ tap into the void:

relax, deep breathing

affirm “I AM”

relax some more

detach, get lost in the darkness of your closed eyes

you’re done, you’ve shifted

there are no if ands or buts, there’s no “i was so close”, “it just doesn’t work for me”. this method cannot fail, there is no such thing, at all, it’s you who focuses too much on the symptoms, it’s you gets upset when “nothing happens” before rolling over to go to sleep just to endure another day in your shitty reality. it’s you who fails to see your own potential and it’s only you who can change that

this is the basic method that works for anyone with a conscious and subconscious mind,

it’s not anyone’s fault that you’ve decided to overcomplicate it

that’s the basic fucking template you don’t need shit but yourself

stop with the neediness it’s getting kinda pathetic

You dont need to follow some stupid 10k affirmation challenge

You don’t need to follow any challenges lasting weeks

You don’t need subliminals or waves or a guided meditation

You don’t need to ask bloggers the same shit and vent about how you “just can’t do it”

You don’t need to lucid dream

You don’t need any of this

again the basic template is only difficult to you because of the over-complication of it all

Let me give you an example: Imagine you’re a baker and there’s this iconic legendary baker who has this incredible, world famous cake, they give the world a recipe to it and it’s quite simple. how can such a simple recipe impress the taste buds of so many? it doesn’t matter about the how or why, it just does. But so many bakers around the world, including you, are scared of not impressing their customers so they add all this other shit to the recipe that was perfectly fine. And it just makes everything so complicated, all because they don’t trust that the original recipe will be able to impress and satisfy their customers.

That basic recipe is the “method” that Neville gave to us, he didn’t have tumblr, he didn’t have youtube to binge fucking yoga nidra meditation videos. He didn’t have a phone to inhale subliminal after subliminal like it’s a full time job. He didn’t have bloggers shoving 10k challenges down his throat, and guess what, he was just fine! Stop overcomplicating the recipe, all you need is the mind. You don’t need a fucking routine, all you need is you

But I know there are some people who will look at this, scroll past and still scan their feed, scrambling for an “instant method” like some junky. And to that i say, go ahead, waste your days overcomplicating the act of shifting consciousness, waste your days overconsuming, doomscrolling, complaining. The law and the art of shifting was always real and will continue to be real while you sit there with absolutely nothing, so go ahead. Rack your brain to the point of a headache, to the point of insanity trying to understand what’s right infront of you, you’re only doing yourself harm.

shifting consciousness/ the “I AM” state/ the void is a basic ability, it’s like breathing, just fucking do it

IT’S A BASIC ABILITY, YOU DONT NEED POINTERS 🎀💋

[aria0fgold]

I don't know what I'm doing with this fic's story anymore at this point, I'm just doing feck all but somehow it's also so fun to just... make it a lil wacky.

[bamjio]

❛ 𝗷𝘂𝗶𝗰𝘆! ❜ ━━ ✿⠀wolverine nsfw headcanonns.

Wolverine x female!reader

warnings !! ━ suggestive content, voyeurism, kinks, mentions of wade n other xmen members, lovesick Logan teehee, specifically Hughs' wolverine.

❛If you could see it from the front, wait 'til you see it from the back.❜

( wtf happened to me this is the fastest update I had probably done ever since WVD came out. )

Start of strong start of tough,

LOGAN HAS A MASSIVE DICK, you've seen it and he knows it. def loves teasing you too, when you give him oral, he wants you to take your time— sometimes. most of the times he's a sex devil, obsessed with seeing your hardworking struggled face, eyebrows furrowed and eyes determined. Logan hates to admit it but he wants to shove his cock down you and seeing your face. won't admit because he's not freaky outside.

gives the best head in the whole dimension, loves seeing you arch, he def knows where your spots are, multi tasking at its finest, fingering and eating you out is definitely something, his only goal is making you either squirt of cum, doesn't matter loves it when you make that sound everytimes you're close. he's 99.9 Selfless when it comes to giving, all he wants is your attention, not caring if his dick exploded from holding it in, deep inside him is a man that def wants to tease and edge you, but he's known to you as a nonchalant man, unless he's desperate — hell definitely be a beast.

did I mention that he's quite rough? not too rough, but perfectly rough. he adores it when tears run out your cheeks begging him to keep on going, although he is naturally rough, he knows his limits, it's like autopilot tbh. puts you to missionary everytime. He's not a lazy man he knows how to move, and his stamina would definitely last up to many hours. An old man with a young energy, how nice is that.

have I mentioned he has deep fantasies? He's the type of boyfriend that won't mention it till you do— he had desires of maybe fucking you in charles' mansion, he doesn't mean in a room, he means infront of his colleague, yknow? but he keeps that fantasy deep behind, Charles knows about his little dream, finds it fascinating. only person he told about it was probably Hank. He also has this predator and prey kink that ONLY works for you, you running for your life and him chasing you down, basically fuck or die type shit— except he'd rather not kill you.

he gets turned on whenever you're training or fighting, doesn't know why but he definitely loves the sweat on your face and the look of distraught, he wonders sometimes if he's okay, wade calls him lovesick because he's like a little puppy following you and finding you very amusing, not to mention he's very obedient too, wade tells him he's a "pup in a big man's body when it comes to y/n" he doesn't deny it, he likes it.

One secret— you two fucked in the mansion and almost got caught, risky but he'd do it again.

Two secrets— he unintentionally told wade that he had thought about him and wade fucking you.

Three secrets— he has pictures hidden, different boxes in different occasions full of your pictures.

HELP, MY PUSSYS' GONE CRAZY!

First post that I felt 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, will make a sfw version of this and will make a wade nsfw version, probably the last time I make nsfw hcs, don wanna go overboard to being 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.

[jaybirbie]

DP x DC idea ( feel free to add on)

Alfred Pennyworth was a dangerous man.

He was also a wise one.

He knew when he was bested when his time would finally come.

Alfred was living on borrowed time, decades past from when he should have pasted.

Instead, he was pulled from deaths grip by a man like being, whose form kept shifting. But Alfred would never forget that face, those eyes, and that scar.

How he woke up from wounds that had disappeared as if they were never there.

One would think it was a dream, made up from a near death experience.

But not Alfred Pennyworth. He awoke, and he knew that a deal of sorts had been struck. For what, Alfred had no recollection, just that the Man-being would be back one day and that he wouldn't be able to do anything about that.

So when one night a familiar shiver crawled up Alfreds spine, he placed down his knife on the cutting board.

Taking a second to mourn, he looked to the unfinished post-patrol snack his family wouldn't eat once they returned, and found the butler was no longer there.

Alfred knew they tear apart the city looking, but he hoped for their safety, this deal ended with him.

He arrived in the entraceway just as a single light knock sounded at the door.

Taking a breath, Alfred smoothed his suit out and straightened his tie before, as he has done hundreds of times, opening the door and welcoming the guest to Wayne Manor.

But there was no Man-being awaiting him.

Instead, a bright pair of green eyes looked up at him through a small head of white hair.

The small tot held out a letter with his name on the front. Unfolding the letter, Alfred read carefully.

Alfred Pennyworth

I am collecting on our deal.

This is Danny. Makes sure he makes it to adulthood.

I know your the best person for the job.

After all, you've raised the Batman.

Good luck

CW.

Or basically, Alfred gets saved by Clockwork, who strikes a deal with him.

Or Clockwork really needed to have someone raise Danny, and this boy is way too chaotic for most to handle. But this Pennyworth just might be his best option.

[xiaowhore]

genshin men as shoujo tropes.

characters. neuvillette, wriothesley, & alhaitham.

note. in celebration of the shoujo renaissance (and also bc im having a hard time finishing the drafts i left half a year ago) i present to you the ideas i had while half-asleep this morning. i dunno if this will ever be a consistent series but here are the first 3! (heads up: female pronouns will be used in this fic!)

neuvilette ; the duke

it has to be said. he's the duke of the north.

you belong to an aristocratic family, but you're basically neglected due to being your father's illegitimate child with a maid and your younger sister is much better than you at every way there is. appearance, etiquette, and intellect—she is far more superior than you at these aspects. countless men ask for her hand in marriage, while none asks for yours.

but honestly, you didn't want to be wed to a noble. you dream of being a commoner, free from the clutches of your family who looks down on you and solely dotes on your sister. you could be a baker perhaps, since you've always had a hobby of making sweets.

yet your parents suddenly announce you're now engaged. and to the duke of the north, of all people! he has made a great contribution for the war against the monsters within the continent, but he is more known for his ruthlessness and harsh temperament. if you were to be his wife, what would happen to you? the duke holds a lot of power, but no one wants to marry him because they're all afraid of him, you included.

as you're being sent to his castle by carriage, you're already trying to comfort yourself. at least you're away from your family now. he couldn't possibly be worse than them. and as ruthless the rumors all say he is, duke neuvillette is not the type of man to beat a woman who has done no wrong.

your first dinner with him is completely silent. the clacking of cutlery pierces through the air, the only sound you can hear other than your heart rapidly pounding in your chest. your head is bowed, too fearful to meet him in the eye, but you can't help sneaking glances at him.

the duke doesn't appear in most events hosted by nobles, too busy defending his territory from monstrous creatures to attend. but you see now that those rumors about him being unsightly could not be any more false. his long hair drapes over his shoulders, not a strand out of place. his gaze is calculating, a fascinating blue you can't look away from, and his nose cuts a high angle—he'd look fetching if he wore glasses as he does paperwork. really... how could this man be your husband-to-be?

as you're busy worrying over how you shouldn't offend him and appreciating his appearance, neuvillette is trying his best to appear calm. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, whose hand was promised to him if he won against the dragon slumbering in the northern mountains. the woman he had yearned for years on end, the woman who gave him strength as he was on the verge of death during the war, the woman who doesn't remember him anymore—

but he promised you long ago he'll make you the happiest woman in the world, and he's intent on keeping his vows.

neuvilette may appear stoic, but he's nothing but sweet to you. he accompanies you at every opportunity he isn't busy with work, spoils you rotten, and makes you want for nothing. word spread throughout the land that duke neuvillette couldn't be any more smitten with his wife, erasing all rumors that claimed he was heartless. you were intimidated by him at the start, but as you spent more time with him, you learned that there was no reason to be.

...however, that only applies to you. although you never said it outright, neuvillette can tell your family didn't care for you properly. he already had reservations with them, and now he has other reasons to be angry.

when your sister comes to his residence and claims there was a ��mix-up” in the marriage, that she should be the one wed to him and not you, he is furious.

but there's really only one ending for this story—after all, his heart only belongs to you.

wriothesley ; the bodyguard

you're the only granddaughter of a yakuza leader and wriothesley is your bodyguard who will protect you no matter what. (not claiming ‘a girl and her guard dog’ energy; there are plenty of other mangas who have this trope too.)

you're just an ordinary girl with a very extraordinary family but you want to live a normal life free of violence and keep your family background a secret. you beg your grandfather to let you attend classes at a normal school, and he allows you in one condition: wriothesley must be with you at all times.

so yeah. this tall and absolutely ripped guy is behind you every time you walk to school, in the corridors, on the way to the cafeteria, and the only time he isn't following you is when you go to the restroom.

very protective. never lets his guard down when you're talking to boys. doesn't understand what you see in the handsome guy that everyone likes when his looks aren't all that great (he's just jealous).

“let's go home. it's about time for the car to arrive... what do you mean you still have something to do? ...there's someone waiting for you at the rooftop? you found a love letter in your locker? ...i'll wait for you at the door.”

he does wait for you at the door, but he also tries to hear the conversation you're having. and maybe he scoffs a little when he sees the guy who's trying to vye for your attention, because clearly wriothesley worried for nothing.

there will be a lot of dangerous events involved (i.e. kidnapping for ransom, attempts to kill you as revenge, wriothesley's enemies trying to harm you because you're the person he loves etc.) but wriothesley will save you each time.

“i'm right here,” he says as he cradles you in his arms, hugging your trembling body. “you don't have to fear anything now.”

it's nothing serious. just a pathetic attempt at kidnapping by a bunch of idiots who want ransom money. you're safe and sound in the car, waiting for him to finish his business with the delinquents, but that fact doesn't make his anger fade at all. “if i see a single scratch on her, i'll kill you.”

his head is bleeding, dripping crimson over his right eye, but all he sees is your bound wrists, the bruise on your cheek, the blood on your lip. he's out of bullets. you're both surrounded by henchmen. he has a single blade in his pocket. still, he roars with uncontrollable rage, “no one touches her!”

(very important detail: he calls you “my lady.”)

alhaitham ; the nonchalant male lead

he's definitely the cold guy who's (at first) rude and blunt to the female lead.

you've liked him since you were kids. your moms are best friends and you live next door to each other. both of your parents seem convinced you're going to end up together, but he rejects every single one of your advances—not that it discourages you from trying again next time.

you try to walk to school with him even though he always goes to the library too early and you're the furthest thing from a morning person. you offer him the best parts of the lunchbox you cook for yourself. you give him a cold drink after gym class. you invite him out to the mall during the weekends to hang out. you doll yourself up everyday with cosmetics and accessories in hopes that he'll think you're pretty.

but alhaitham always just looks... disinterested. especially during dinners where both of your families are present and his mother teases him about dating you for what seems like the nth time that night.

and you know he's not obligated to like you back or anything. but you still want to get his attention. you want to improve yourself to get him to like you.

alhaitham may come across as cold-hearted, but he buys you bread from the convenience store on the way to school because he knows you missed breakfast just to go with him. he keeps an eye out for any stray balls hitting you during gym class because for some reason you attract them like a magnet. he often declines your offer to go outside during weekends, but he's willing to tutor you for the test scheduled next week.

so you like to think of yourself as someone special. because surely, he doesn't do these things for anyone else, right? you must be one of the closest people to his heart, right?

but then the pretty girl from the class next door confesses to him, and you think you've lost your chance. she's tall and gorgeous, her clothes are always the latest fashion, and you're pretty sure she's around the same student rankings as alhaitham. they're talking by the cherry blossom tree, and no one can hear what they're saying behind the wall you're hiding from in your quest to eavesdrop on them.

but then alhaitham leaves first, not giving her a single glance after what you assume to be a swift rejection. the girl isn't crying, but she looks a bit shocked as she returns to school, not expecting the turn of events.

your classmates don't even pretend to be decent; all of them are asking her what happened. “he says he's not interested in dating, that's all.”

and at that, you sigh in relief. even if you're not special to him now, no one else is either.

you don't notice her looking at you, envy burning in her gaze. she didn't say any lies—but she did omit something important.

“i think... i like someone now. the most important person to me.”

[mv1simp]

I love your stories so much, please write more dark manipulative Max, maybe something with mindbreak or bimbofication of an innocent reader? It would be fun if she was Toto's daughter and Max so holds it over Toto.

this is for all the dark!Max/toto’s daughter/bimbo/mindbreak reader requests all you freaks have been requesting 😼😼 for the first time i have something for the dark!lando girlies!!

Double Fantasy ♥️

Max Verstappen x Lando’s Fuckbuddy!Reader

I can tell that you think that I’m right for you, I already know that it's not true, but girl I'll lie to you (even though it's wrong)

Recently becoming a media executive for the FIA, you can’t deny that your dream job has given you access to your dream men. Sadly, your top pick, Max Verstappen doesn’t look twice your way - not interested in the daughter of Toto Wolff, who he openly dislikes. But you gladly enjoy your consolation prize of being Lando Norris’s fuckbuddy. You didn’t realise just how far Lando planned on extending your arrangement when he pisses the Dutch champion off one step too far - and now needs to figure out the perfect gift to give Max and make amends.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark! max, dark! Lando, but bimbo!reader is into it lol, have done a twist on the usual innocent! reader, she’s toto’s daughter also, dubcon, blindfold, BDSM, no threesomes sorry I can’t share max with anyone else, WC 5.6k

Multiple heads turn your way as you make your way down the FIA garage, your YSL black and gold heels clicking smoothly on the floor. You can’t hold back the pleased smile on your pink glossed lips at the appreciative glances over your curvy figure. At 22, you’ve landed your dream job as a marketing and media executive for the FIA. Glowing recommendations, a perfect GPA and of course a touch of good old fashioned nepotism via your dad, the Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff, landed you here, dressed in luxury outfits and regularly networking with some of the richest people on the continent. What can you say? You’re a material girl, after all, with a pleasure for the finer things in life.

And that included an appreciation of rich, powerful men that you inherited as a result of a strict and emotionless father who preferred to spend his time running a motorsports corporation instead of at home. Daddy issues, one might even say (actually your therapist had said exactly that.) So the Formula One grid, filled to the brim with hot, millionaire drivers who have no issue flirting with the new pretty little toy on the paddock, was the perfect place for a girl like you to work. You definitely had your fun, arriving a few months ago for your first day, dressed in a tight yet full length maxi dress, giving you the perfect blend of sexy and demure that had much of the paddock panting after you.

But you were a girl with a taste for luxury - you weren’t going to settle for any dirty mechanic or plain news reporter. No, what you wanted more than anything, was to get the best of both worlds like your lucky bitch of a stepmom Susie Wolff had done - FIA executive and WAG of the hottest and richest team principal. Even you had to admit, apart from your dad, the rest of the principals were a little bit too far on the balding old men side. But the drivers, you thought wickedly, the drivers were a completely different story. And they knew they were some of the most desired men on the planet, with their fame and status. Their egos were sky high - especially since multiple women would be throwing themselves at them every race weekend or media day. So you had made sure to play the game very, very carefully - unlike the other sultry models on the paddock, or conservative women dressed head to toe in basic team gear, you were the very picture of innocence with your sweet makeup and dark curls, cute girly dresses and heels, all shy giggles one minute and then serious, no nonsense businesswoman the next to keep them on their toes.

A lot of the drivers ate it up, too, flocking to Toto Wolff’s pretty daughter when they’d see you doing the occasional post race interview or brazenly flirting with you at a drivers’ meeting. But the one man who you truly wanted, the 26 year old in the Redbull gear with 3 world champions and a multimillionaire contract to his name, with intense blue eyes and thick thighs and broad shoulders, with a deep voice that sent shivers down your spine one second then flutters in your heart the next when you’d hear him laugh - he was the man who didn’t look twice your way. Despite your attempts to flutter your eyelashes, wearing tight outfits and bend over just so in a certain angle, or pressing your generous tits up against his bulging biceps as your breathlessly whisper Congratulations on the win, Max he wouldn’t even show a flicker of reciprocal interest. You were the daughter of Toto, after all - a principal who he was quite well known in the media for having ongoing disputes with for numerous years. As if Max Verstappen was going to be seduced by the likes of a gold digging daughter who was probably just as two faced as her father.

You’d pouted for weeks, growing bitter with jealousy at seeing Max instead walk around with Kelly, a pretty, tall and slim model who’d apparently outplayed you. But to your delight, you stumbled upon the best consolation prize. With all your pining you hadn’t realized you’d snagged one of the hottest and most desirable drivers on the grid - McLaren’s Lando Norris. Well, snagged was one way to put it - after all, a playboy like him was hard to pin down, especially when he knew how much pull he had over women. But you’d thought about that to, even going so far as saving your virginity like the perfect daddy’s little girl you were. Lando ate it up, twistedly enjoying getting to corrupt the paddock’s pretty princess, the one everyone wanted to get a piece off. So unlike the other women he slept with, the ones kept secret and hidden from the media, you were his favourite toy - one that he paraded around whenever you’d be in the same city. Not quite a girlfriend, of course, he was far too much of a flirt to put such a label on you so soon - more of a friends with benefits, a high maintenance fling, a fuckbuddy, some might call it.

And once you had your manicured hands clinging onto his arms at the races you sure as hell did not plan on letting go. Toto was not overly happy at the news that his eldest daughter was involved with a driver, of course, but had accepted it as Lando was still a good choice compared to many of the other drivers he wanted you to stay well away from - like Mad Max. So you stayed loyal to Lando, not wanting any rumours about you flirting with multiple drivers to impact your dad’s important reputation. You’d only flutter your lashes at Lando, kissing his cheek diligently with your glossed lips, sending the naughty photos of you in expensive lingerie just for him - because the rewards you got as his paddock arm candy were just too good. Always making sure your face was well cut out from any pictures, of course - you would die if they got leaked and your father found out.

But being Lando’s fuckbuddy came with a whole line of luxuries you’d quickly grown accustomed too. Tickets to whatever show you wanted, the finest food at the most expensive restaurant, the papparazzi going crazy at whatever outfit you’d wear when clinging onto Lando’s arm, and of course one of the most coveted men in the world between your legs, teaching you how to come apart on his fingers. That’s right, his fingers, and very rarely his cock, because you needed to secure that diamond ring, after all. And you sure as hell weren’t going to give him wife privileges 24/7 when he hadn’t even made you his official girlfriend yet. So instead you tried to push him to the limits, testing his patience to give up and retire his playboy ways if he finally got to bury his desperate dick inside your heavenly tight pussy again, after having taken your virginity.

Truly, you had outdone yourself, you thought, as every passing race this season Lando got more and more tense as tensions for the World Championships grew, with McLaren finally being able to threaten the Verstappen Red Bull reign for the first time in years. And with each passing race, he couldn’t relieve the tension enough, trying to furiously fuck his way through all number of vogue models but somehow always finding himself back with you, desperately begging to be let in between your soft thighs. And like always, you’d blink innocently and coo that you felt too shy, wasn’t last time enough, you didn’t want to ruin yourself for the man you were going to marry, remember?

And Lando would groan, because as much as he wanted you, he also knew there was no way in hell he was ready to take you to the altar over this. Although it had been getting harder and harder to resist, lately, because although you were truly so talented with your small hands and sweet, drooling mouth, he would endlessly replay the heaven that your pussy had felt like the rare few times you’d let him enter you with his cock.

But as the season went on even you couldn’t calm Lando down, especially after the Zandervoot race. Tensions were at an all time high between him and his normally good friend Max, after Lando stole his home race under him and even sealed the deal by throwing the Dutchman’s simply lovely phrase back at him cockily. Max was well and truly pissed off at Lando then, not even turning upto their weekly Padel games or replying to his texts. Although Lando wanted to win the championship, he also wanted to remain good mates with Max - especially because he knew being on Mad Max’s bad side always ended with the opponent finding themselves crashing into a wall at the next race. So as he pondered just what he could do to get his friend’s forgiveness, a wicked idea came to him, one night when he was out at a Monaco nightclub with you and had run into Max partying with his friends. He’d tried to talk to Max, but had been rudely ignored, so instead Lando stood off the corner, rather crossly glaring at the Dutchman, when he noticed you’d disappeared from his side to tipsily wander to the bar and get another drink.

He was about to go help you when he saw you stumble, maybe take you to the bathroom for a quick sloppy blowjob - but was suprised to see Max appear at your side, his intense blue eyes watching your tinier frame carefully as he rested a large palm over your plump ass to secure you. And Lando watched as you giggled happily, twirling your hair as Max handed over his black Amex to pay for your drink, rewarded with a lingering lip glossed kiss on his cheek from you, before you scampered back over to where Lando was hidden in the shadows. And as you loyally returned to Lando’s arms, whispering that you were going to make him feel so good tonight, he seemed so tense, the Brit found himself ignoring your seductive words entirely to instead focus on how Max’s hungry gaze lingered on your ass as you had strutted away from the tall blonde man. A sinister grin appeared on Lando’s face as he pieced it all together. He’d always thought it was weird that Max chose to completely ignore you, given that he normally was a friendly guy off the track. Turns out his good mate was just trying to avoid getting involved with Toto’s paddock bunny of a daughter, huh?

Turning his attention to you, Lando whispered if you could pretty please try out something new for him tonight, because he was really stressed, okay? He watches you nod eagerly, foolishly thinking your plan to get Lando so desperate for you that he was ready to put a ring on your finger was working. Too bad you had no idea that instead, your fuckbuddy was thinking about how he’d just found the perfect present to gift to his angry rival.

So that’s how you found yourself in a plush hotel bed later that night, all dressed up in a pretty white lace and mesh set and still in your heels, your eyes blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back. You eyes had gone wide with excitement, thighs clenching when Lando had pulled the ropes out, and you’d had to blush and act all innocent when secretly you couldn’t be happier that you were drawing out the dirtier desires in Lando. Because that meant he was falling for you all the more, right?

You had no idea about the private conversation your fuckbuddy had been having with the driver you’d previously desired, just outside the club in a dark alleyway, where Lando had finally cornered Max to apologise. The furious Dutchman had, as expected, been in no mood to hear it - but had stopped in his tracks and turned around when Lando slyly suggested that as he had taken something of his, it was only fair that Max get one of Lando’s precious things in return. Like maybe…you?

At the mention of your name, Max furrows his brows, telling Lando he wasn’t interested in the latest toy on the grid who spread her legs for whichever driver gave her some attention. Oh, Lando all but purred, that’s the catch, mate. She’s basically still a virgin, was one when I met her, only let me fuck her a couple of times, wants to save herself for the one or some shit. But I trained her how to use her holes, and fuck does she know how to suck a guy off with that sweet mouth of hers.

That’d caught Max’s attention, and he smirked to Lando, calling him a fucked up asshole for selling out the girl who was loyal to him like this, who was Toto Wolff’s daughter, no less - a powerful man someone like Lando wouldn’t want to make an enemy off. The Brit shrugged. Toto’s never going to find out. What’s mine is yours, mate. Enjoy. And with that, he tossed his room key to Max.

That night, Lando didn’t feel bad, not even one bit, as he tightly wound the rope around your delicate little wrists, knowing that you loved to act all innocent but secretly kinky shit like this has you dripping. Especially if you were going to be ruined tonight by a man who you secretly still had desires for - and Lando was certain you did, judging from the way he’d seen you look at Max like he was a God you wanted to worship on your knees. Really, he was being a good friend to you both by letting it happen - just this once of course, he wasn’t going to just hand you over to his track rival after putting in so much work to train you to be the perfect sex toy. So he’d left you there all alone in the room, abruptly saying he had an urgent call and would be back.

The drinks you’d had earlier certainly had their affects on you, making you whine against the tight ropes on your flushed and sensitive skin, almost grateful for the blindfold as you felt overstimulated already. When you finally heard the hotel door reopen, you sighed in relief as your fuckbuddy - soon to be boyfriend, you hoped! - finally came back. In your wildest fantasies you’d never have guessed that instead of Lando locking the door, Max stood in his place - and had taken one look at your tempting, restrained form and realized that the sly Brit had definitely not told you about his plans for tonight. Keeping you blind and tied up while you were tricked into thinking it was your beloved Brit entering you and not your daddy’s enemy, Max Verstappen? It was so dirty that Max got an instant hard on. He’d seen the looks, the touches you gave him too - they were rather hard to miss, after all. But he’d played aloof, not wanting to give into your gold digging ways - but he’d admit that he’s been rather disappointed when he found you’d settled for Lando instead. You’d surprised him with how loyal you remained to the McLaren driver, dutifully remaining by his side and avoiding Max’s intense gaze when it would occasionally flicker over to you. But when the alcohol had loosened your inhibitions tonight, Max had seen the desire in your blown pupils, in your hardened nipples that peaked just at the edge of your dress, and had cockily smirked at the realisation that Lando’s little toy, Toto’s precious daughter - that she was still lusting after him.

And now that this opportunity had presented itself….well, let’s just say that it had Max grinning wickedly as he plotted up all the ways he could walk away with both you and the world championship from Lando this year. That would certainly teach the younger male to mess with what was his, wouldn’t it? And even better, it would put that arrogant prick Toto in his place, keep him from daring to speak out against Max in the media when Redbull trashed Mercedes - because his adored little daughter would be spending the race weekends on her hands and knees for the Dutch world champion, if Max had anything to say about it.

So that’s how Max found himself at the foot of the bed, stripping off his clothes and lazily jerking himself off as he watched you squirm underneath your ropes, pouting as you couldn’t do your usual bit of trailing teasing hands all over Lando and rile him up. Baby? You crooned, tilting your head in the direction you thought he was in. Aren’t you going to-Oh!

You felt his warm, large palms cup your cheek, tracing your glossy, pink lips and you automatically poke your tongue out to circle his finger. Good girl, he sighed, the words making your tummy flutter. He sounded a little different to usual, his voice deeper, lower, but it was hard to think clearly over how much your head was pounding from raw desire, and you liked how he sounded tonight. You were feeling really horny and couldn’t wait for him to finally fuck you too - having had to desperately ride your tiny vibrator after stopping Lando fucking you multiple times this month.

His hands continued their path, trailing over your delicate throat and teasingly encircling it with his large hand, making you gasp - you hadn’t remembered it being quite so large that it wrapped around the whole width of your neck. But maybe your senses were more attuned now since you were blindfolded? It felt really good.

You promptly forgot to think about that any longer when those large hands moved downwards, roughly palming your bouncy tits and making you giggle from his attention. He teased and squeezed them, tugging down on the lace to free them in the open air, twisting on your hardened cute nipples. You squealed from the abuse to your overly sensitive areolas, distracted, and didn’t notice when your hands ended up being untied - only to be guided to a very large and hard cock.

Baby, you’d giggled, it’s been so long that you’re even bigger than I remembered. He swore under his breath as you diligently jerked him off with your two small hands barely wrapping around his length, spitting on it cutely to ease the glide. And then he’s rubbing his leaking cock all over your tits, slapping them with it and chuckling darkly as they jiggled, all wet from his precum. Before you know it, you were drooling and suckling all over his cock, sweetly moaning how good he tasted, even more than last time. Suckling his balls and then licking all the way the very tip, just like he’d taught you, placing messy lip gloss stained kisses down the wet shaft before sucking them clean off. You made sure to pay extra attention to the thick veins that ran underneath his length, even the new ones you hadn’t felt before, because he’d told you it drove men wild.

And when he grabbed your pretty curls, you let your mouth go lax so he could pump his full length furiously down your inviting throat, groaning how much of a good girl you were, maybe your full time job should be sucking his cock instead of trotting about the paddock. You moaned excitedly at the idea, and when he cums, all thick and creamy, you obediently swallow it all up.

Look, daddy, you say rather sluttily, dropping your mouth wide open, tongue out as you showed him how well you’d drank all his cum. Fuck, that’s so dirty, calling me and your father the same name, huh? Should’ve known you’d be into kinky shit like this.

You scrunch your brows cutely in confusion, not sure what he meant by that because you’d called him daddy many times before. But you don’t get to ponder too long because you suddenly hear the sound of a camera click and can see the flash go off through the blindfold. Your tummy lurches, because Nooo, baby, no photos, please, what if my dad sees-

Your pleas are ignored as you’re being lifted by two broad arms and tossed onto the bed, your hands dragged up and over your head as your wrists are tied to the headboard. You’re whining, asking him what he was doing, this was too much, you wanted to see him now, to touch him, but again you don’t get an answer.

Instead, you feel his thick fingers hooking around the sides of your soaked panties and sliding them off, lewd strings of your wetness clinging to the lace as it’s pulled away. Then you hear him deeply exhale a fucking hell, making you blush as strong hands grasp your ankles and push them far apart so your intimate parts are exposed for his hungry gaze.

That’s all the warning you get before there’s a foreign sensation of his warm breath blowing on your puffy folds, making you gasp, and before a broad tongue licks a stripe clean up your pink slit. You squeal in suprise, again stupidly babbling and asking what he was doing, because normally Lando didn’t like going down on you, finding it too much effort for a quick stress relieving fuck - he much preferred having you suck him off instead.

But the mouth currently lapping at your folds seems to have realized just how unfamiliar this pleasure seems to be for your sensitive cunny, because he buries his face right in, licking and slurping up all your dripping wetness. You thrash against your restrains, incoherently moaning because it feels so good baby, mmmh, why didn’t he do this more?

He laughs huskily, still buried inside your folds, and the deep vibrations make you almost cum right then and there. Your whole body is burning up with need now and you’re begging for him to put the condom on and slide in it, daddy, please, you needed it so bad-

You both moan as he finally sinks home, your creamy pussy gushing around him as it welcomes him in. You feel breathless at the size of him, because again he’s bigger and thicker than you remembered - not even just his cock, but his whole body, his bulging biceps and broad chest being able to hold you down with ease. You let him know it, too, whining that he’s so strong, it was really hot, had he been working out more?

That made him laugh again, lips grinning right by your ear, as he tilts your hips up to meet his and starts fucking your gushing pussy roughly. Through your euphoric daze, you feel familiar butterflies swirl in your stomach at the deep laugh, the accent sounding so different from Lando’s but still familiar to you for some reason - yet you still couldn’t quite place it. It was impossible to focus with the way he was thrusting into you, his hands pressing your hips down into the mattress in a bruising grip, making your tits bounce with each pump, your breath come out in soft pants as you gasped for air. You’re about to cum, you can feel it, the intensity building up-

And then, finally, he takes off your blindfold. Your brown eyes take a second to adjust to the bright lights - and then you widen them in pure shock as you realize just who’s wide cock was splitting you open.

You scream as Max grins wickedly down at you, pulling back to leave just his leaking tip inside your tight cunny, before slamming back in and, setting a bed breaking pace and drowning out your panicked wails with the loud banging of the headboard against the walls. You’re doing so good for me, schatje he croons, his voice sickly sweet but his actions pure evil as he grabs your dirty panties and meanly shoves them past your plush lips. Grabbing your soft thighs, he tosses them over his shoulder as he bullies his cock into you even deeper from this angle, repeatedly hitting your poor cervix. Tears pool in your brown doe eyes as you look at where he enters you, horrified as you see he’s making you take his cock raw - something Lando and you never did despite how hot it sounded as a baby outside of marriage would be too much for both of your families. You cry and wail and scream, tears streaming down your face at the embarrasing and degrading treatment you’re experiencing. Really, it’s such wicked and sinful behaviour and you should hate Max so much for this, hate Lando for leaving you all tied up and alone and defenceless against his evil and twisted rival to take advantage of you like this, to bully your practically virgin cunny with each deep thrust from his massive cock.

So why are you rapidly reaching your orgasm even faster than before?

Max has apparently learnt the signs of your pliant body underneath him far too quickly, because he slides his thick cock out of your swollen cunny and instead rests it just on top of your folds. Almost lovingly wiping your tears away with a flick of his thumb, he demands that you beg for it, for his cock to split you in half, to cum inside you, for him, Max, to be the only man you ever let inside your sweet pussy from now on.

You frantically shake your head, your muffled no no nos an obvious contrast to what you secretly wanted, as you’re simultaneously bucking your hips up against his hard length, drenching it in new slick. He smirks, leaning down so your foreheads meet and sweetly kissing up your tears. Despite the depravity of the situation, you’re finding yourself blushing from the unexpected gesture. Schatje, he whispers darkly, sending shivers up your spine because you’d always gotten jealous hearing him call other women that, you’re making this so much harder on yourself. It’s going to be so fun to watch you fall apart for me.

With that, he agonisingly tortures you, dragging just his tip through your folds again and again, slapping your throbbing clit with his head, biting and sucking on your sensitive nipples that leaves you arching your back into his talented mouth. You’re struggling to make sense of what’s going on, of trying to keep coherent. All that hard work and patience to try and lure Lando in was gone the very second your pussy had welcomed Max into it, because you knew Lando would never take you back if he found out about this. Your desperate brain reasons that then, it shouldn’t matter, right? It was too late for you and Lando. And now, you had Max Verstappen using your pretty body however he wanted, making you fulfill all his twisted desires. If you showed him how good you could be for him, be the perfect little pet for all his frustrations to be let out at, maybe he’d keep you around…permanently?

Max didn’t miss the dazed look that had overtaken your wide doe eyes as your whines quietened down. Guess all his teasing had finally melted that scheming brain of yours. Yanking your panties out of your mouth, he asked you if you were ready to behave and ask him nicely.

You nod obediently, looking at him with heart eyes as you confess that his cock felt so good, so addictive, you don’t think you could ever go back to Lando after being stretched open so wide, and could he pretty please fuck you hard and good?

Max growls at your submissive words. You’re offering yourself up to me so sweetly, baby. How can I say no?

He unties your aching wrists, running his soothing palms over the rope marked skin, bending down to give you a passionate, open mouthed kiss. You greedily slurp at his intruding tongue, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure as he lines himself up at your entrance before easily sinking into the wet folds. This time, he doesn’t stop his wicked thrusts, not when you’re squirting on his cock, eyes rolling to the back of your head, not when a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock from your cum, not when you’re tangling your hands in his hair and whining that it’s too much, you’re going to pass out.

He only stops once he’s tensing above you, one hand squeezing your neck and the other gripping the headboard as he drains his entire load into your tight cunny desperately clenching around him. Yours is truly the sweetest pussy he’s ever fucked. He’s never letting you go. He cums so much that it spurts out past your pussy lips, all over your soft thighs.

After a while, when he’s done whispering praises into your ears, your gooey brain soaking it all up, he slides out of you, admiring how his cum leaks out of your cunny that had treated him very well tonight. He places a gentle kiss to your temple and lets you doze off for a bit. It takes you a while longer to come to your senses, and when you sit up, you gulp down the glass of cold water that has been placed on the bedside table. You see Max spread out on an armchair across the room, shirtless and in some grey sweats, smirking at something on his phone - but he looks up when he hears you and lets his gaze drift down your marked up body. You flush under his intense ice blue eyes, heart fluttering at finally getting attention from the richest and fastest driver on the grid.

He beckons you over, calling you his pretty schatje, and in your blissed out state you obediently crawl over to him on your hands and knees, settling in between his spread legs and resting your head against his large thigh. And when he tells you that you looked so cute crawling for him, maybe next time he’ll get you a leash and collar with his name on it, hmm? you bite your lip and shyly nod, telling him of course, you’d do whatever daddy wanted.

He grins darkly, pleased with your submissive response, knowing you’re completely his. Forget Toto, forget Lando, the only man you’d ever be loyal to from now on was him. So you eagerly open your juicy lips wide at his command, drooling all over his cock to clean up the sticky mess your pussy walls had left behind. And when he points his phone at you, hitting record, you glassily stare straight at the camera, letting it capture how you hollowed your cheeks and licked up the creamy ring coating the base of Max’s cock. Gonna send this to your father if he keeps lying about how I’ve going to sign a Mercedes contract next year, Max teases meanly. Or to Lando if he tries to overtake me on the track again. You whine at him, brown doe eyes distressed, and start deepthroating him even faster to please him more, hoping if you did he wouldn’t show your daddy or ex fuckbuddy how much of a slut you were for the champion driver.

Being on your knees and obediently blowing Maxie was a position you became very familiar with. Because like he had wanted, every race weekend you would break your FIA contract clause of remaining unbiased and be dressed in a skimpy little outfit in Redbull colours, your lush tits pushed against Max’s thick biceps as you clung onto him through his paddock walk. Max couldn’t resist smirking at the Mercedes garage where Toto would glare, arms crossed, at the sight of his well accomplished daughter following the reckless Redbull champion around like a lost bunny. Placing a possessive large palm across your ass as he guided you into his private jet, giving it a good squeeze, Max made sure the paparazzi caught a good pic of that, too, for your father to see later when he opened Twitter.

And Lando, who knew how much Max despised sharing his toys, skulked from his seat when he saw you entering Max’s plane for the ride back to Monaco. He’d make sure to never make the mistake of flying in the Verstappen jet again, he thought as he moodily shoved his headphones over his ears to drown out the filthy sounds and desperate moans you let out as Max fucked you raw on the other side of the cabin divider. You’d never let Lando fuck you in such a public place or so often, no matter how often he’d begged you.

Fuck it, might as well make the most of it, the Brit thought once he stopped moping and realised his music wasn’t going to block out the obscene squelches as his rival continued to greedily bounce your creamy pussy on his thick cock. Shoving his hand down his pants, Lando slowly started jerking himself off, smirking when he sees one of Max’s air hostesses blush and bite her lip when he catches her looking. Apparently he hadn’t learnt his lesson of keeping his hands off what belonged to the Dutchman after all, because soon he’s thrusting into the hostess’s willing mouth with the same rapid pace that Max is fucking you with.

Your father had always said birds of a feather flocked together, after all.

—————————————————————————

A/N: POST FIC CLARITY HIT HARD IN THIS ONE AHHHHHH 😳😳 hope this satisfies the dark max hoes (yall are so real for that)😼😼 as usual let me know what you think and send in more requests!

[harryslittlefreakk]

recipe for disaster

summary: y/n is a stubborn, clumsy baker and harry is a stubborn, overbearing firefighter

warnings: none!

wordcount: 4k

a/n: hi my friends 💐 this is basically just setting up the story lolll it was meant to be longer but who has the time for that!! stay tuned for part 2 <3

masterlist 🫶🏼

Nothing felt better than a warm shower after a long day. Steam swirled all around you, the hot water pounding away the day’s fatigue - the morning rush, the non-stop hum of the mixers, the relentless work to keep trays filled with gingerbread men and warm cinnamon rolls.

You had always been proud of the bakery. The satisfaction of seeing customers bite into your creations - it was all yours. Every flaky croissant, every gooey cinnamon roll, every crusty loaf bore the unmistakable mark of your hands.

And that’s why, no matter how many times Claire told you to hire some more help, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “You can’t keep this up alone,” she’d said in mid-October, standing in the doorway of the kitchen while you worked. You were wrist-deep in bread dough, kneading away as though the flour had wronged you.

“I’m fine,” you’d replied, the words curt and clipped. “It’s my kitchen. I’ve got it under control.”

Claire didn’t look convinced. She never did. “Christmas is coming, y/n. Orders are already piling up, and it’s not even December. This is too much for one person.”

You waved her off, refusing to look up. “I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.”

But you hadn’t done it like this before. Back then, the bakery wasn’t so popular. There weren’t stacks of orders for holiday cakes, tins of cookies, and towers of Christmas pies. There wasn’t the constant pressure of phone calls and emails asking if you could squeeze in “just one more order.”

By the time December rolled around, you were drowning.

The days started earlier and ended later, the hours slipping away as you raced to keep up. You woke in darkness, stumbling into the bakery before the sun rose. Your hands ached from kneading, your back throbbed from bending over the ovens, and your head buzzed with the endless list of things to do. And yet, you’d refused to admit you needed help.

“I’m worried about you,” Claire had said one night, her voice soft but firm. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen again, watching as you haphazardly piped frosting onto yet another tray of sugar cookies. Your shoulders were slumped, your apron streaked with berry juice and chocolate.

“I’m fine,” you’d mumbled, though even you didn’t believe it.

“You’re not fine. You’re exhausted. You’re going to make mistakes.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, louder than you meant to. The words echoed in the kitchen, the air growing heavy. Claire didn’t reply. She just shook her head and left you to your chaos.

She was right. You knew she was right. And you knew that she’d snitch to your brother, who’d stop by to ask why you weren’t listening to his wife. Only to be followed by your parents, who’d ask why you weren’t listening to your brother.

They only cared for your well-being. They wanted you to succeed as much as you wanted to succeed. But you didn’t remember a time when the bakery wasn’t your baby. It had been your dream, your refuge, and your pride all wrapped into one - a living, breathing extension of yourself. The idea of sharing that, of letting someone else touch what you had built, felt like carving off a piece of your soul.

You squeezed your eyes shut until the screams of voices and thoughts were tiny whispers in the back of your mind, letting the water cascade over you, enveloping you in its warmth. The sound of the spray drowned out the noise in your head, a momentary reprieve from the chaos of orders, burnt loaves, and your own stubborn pride. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the water, the steam curling around you, and the faint rhythm of your breathing as you tried to piece yourself back together.

Every muscle ached, but the heat soothed it all into blissful numbness. It was pure paradise - at least until a rock came flying through your bathroom window, shattered glass crashing all over your tiles. What the fuck?

You turned the shower off with shaking hands, adrenaline coursing through your body. The cold winter air filled the room quickly, the evening wind whistling through the smashed pane.

You slipped your robe on with a groan, the fleece clinging to your damp skin.

That’s when the sound reached you - the incessant wailing of the smoke alarm from downstairs. Your stomach dropped. The bakery.

You’d sworn to be more switched on, to actually check the ovens before you retreated to your apartment. But the days were long, and your brain was goo by the time you waved the last customers out of the door.

The floors were wet beneath your feet as you slipped and skidded down the stairs, your mind cycling through every possibility of what would await you. A burglar who decided to commit arson? Your entire kitchen alight? The flower store next door burned to the ground, your beloved bakery an unfortunate casualty?

You reached for the light switch tentatively, your eyes landing on a curl of dark smoke seeping from the oven door. The entire bakery was dim, your soft lighting no match for the cloud hanging over the room.

That fucking deafening beeping was doing nothing to calm you down. You grabbed the broom, jabbing at the smoke alarm, and of course, missing the button every time, your hands shaking as the panic turned to adrenaline in your veins. Your free hand flapped wildly under the sensor, desperately trying to just Stop. The. Beeping.

“Hello? Let me in!”

A deep, husky man’s voice. The same man who was also pounding on your front door, his face pressed up against the glass.

If good things came in threes, how many bad things were you supposed to get at one time?

Your priorities might have been skewed, as they usually were, but getting rid of the axe murderer at your door was suddenly the most important thing in the world to you.

You charged towards the door, broom still in hand, throwing it open with a noise not too far from a growl. “It’s really not ideal for you to murder me right now! Come back later,” you shouted over the smoke alarm.

“I’m not- what?”

Okay, the murderer had a hot voice. But he was still a murderer. You pushed the door closed with your shoulder, but he wedged his shoe in the doorway, halting your attempt to shut him out. You glared down at the offending foot, your grip on the broom tightening.

"Look, I'm just trying to help," he said, holding his hands up. "I’m a firefighter. Saw smoke pouring out of your oven.”

“Help with what, exactly?” you shot back, trying to ignore the way his broad shoulders filled the doorway, or how his green eyes sparkled with the thrill of, presumably, rescuing reckless strangers. “Didn’t know firefighters made house calls.”

“Only the off-duty ones with nothing better to do,” he replied, a hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. "Now, can I come in and shut that alarm off for you, or are you planning to fight it out with your smoke detector all night?"

Reluctantly, you let go of the door, allowing him to step inside. He wasted no time reaching up to the beeping menace, silencing it with a practiced jab at the button. You couldn’t help but notice the sleeves of his t-shirt tighten around his arms as he reached up, the sliver of tattooed skin poking out from above his belt.

"Thanks," you muttered, crossing your arms as he looked back to you, his eyes sweeping over your chaotic kitchen, over your clearly naked body, and then back to your face, as if assessing the full scene. The corners of his lips quirked up as he turned to the oven, waving a hand at the remaining smoke.

You sighed, letting the last of your defenses fall. “You’re really not going to murder me, are you?”

"Not today," he chuckled, a low, warm sound that filled the small space. Your eyes caught on the way his strong hands moved, sure and gentle as he maneuvered around your kitchen. You leaned against the counter, pretending you weren’t staring at the way his arms flexed under the faded fabric.

He caught you looking, and to your utter embarrassment, he gave a small grin. “So… what exactly was this supposed to be?" he asked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he stepped closer, holding the charred remains of whatever had been inside.

“Oh shit. Mrs Fuller’s birthday cake,” you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. “I completely forgot I was baking that.” Great. Just another obstacle in the way of your early night.

“Hey, sorry about the window,” he murmured.

“Hm?” you asked, your voice distant, not really processing his words.

“The window,” he repeated, gesturing upward, your gaze following his hand to the ceiling. “Was only trying to get your attention,” he continued, his voice dipping into something apologetic. “Didn’t mean to break it.”

You shook your head, finally dragging your focus back to the mess in front of you. “It’s whatever,” you muttered, keeping your tone neutral, though your chest ached with the effort. “Just another point on my to-do list. Thanks for…” You gestured vaguely at the bakery, your voice trailing off.

“I can come by and fix it,” he offered, his voice tentative, like he wasn’t sure if you’d bite his head off or accept the help.

“I can do it,” you snapped, your words sharper than you intended. The burning behind your eyes grew stronger, and you could feel your control slipping. You needed him to leave, needed the space to let the tears spill over before they choked you entirely.

When you glanced up, you saw the change in his expression. The slight upturn of his lips faltered and turned into a somber frown. He looked at you like he wanted to ask something but thought better of it.

“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, the heat of guilt flushing your face. “I’ve got it covered. Thanks, though.”

For a moment, he stood there, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. He glanced between you and the broken cake, the smoke still lingering above, and something in his eyes softened. He looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it, nodding instead.

“Alright,” he said, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “But if you change your mind…”

“I won’t,” you cut in, desperate now. “It’s fine.”

He hesitated, his brow knitting tighter as if he wanted to say something else, but after a moment, he nodded. "Alright. If you’re sure."

You nodded back, barely looking at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if holding yourself together. The silence between you stretched until, mercifully, he turned and walked away.

The door creaked slightly as it began to close behind him, the faint sound of his trainers scuffing against the floor fading. You thought that was the end of it, but then the footsteps stopped. For a moment, the room held its breath, the silence pressing down like the weight in your chest.

Then, the door eased back open, just enough for him to lean his head inside. His dark eyes met yours, hesitant but determined, like he wasn’t sure if this was a mistake but decided to do it anyway.

“Harry,” he said, his voice soft but clear as it cut through the stillness. He lingered there in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame, his shoulders tense as though bracing for rejection. “That’s my name. Harry.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but not far from it. You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden reappearance, the unexpected vulnerability in the way he said it. He waited, his eyes searching your face for some kind of response.

Your lips curved, just barely, into a weak but genuine smile. “Harry,” you repeated softly, like you were trying the name on for size. Then you added, “I’m…” Your voice faltered for a split second, but you pressed on, offering him your name in return. “Y/n.”

A spark of something warm flickered in his eyes, a hint of relief mingled with curiosity. He nodded once, as if committing it to memory, before straightening up and gripping the edge of the door.

And then he was gone.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the counter. Your knees felt weak, your chest tight, and the dam you’d been holding back began to crack. You stared at the mess around you, the cake you’d worked so hard on reduced to a heap of blackened crumbs, the endless pile of orders still waiting for you, and the tears you’d been fighting finally broke free.

It wasn’t just the window. It wasn’t just the cake. It was everything. The weight of trying to do it all alone, the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin, the constant feeling that no matter how hard you worked, it was never enough.

You slid down to the floor, your back against the counter, letting the sobs come. For a moment, you allowed your emotions to swallow you, the frustration, the helplessness, the crushing loneliness. But even as you cried, part of you knew this couldn’t keep happening. Something had to give.

You pulled out your phone, typing a quick text to Claire. we’ll start looking for help tomorrow. promise.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, slumped against the counter, staring blankly at the mess surrounding you. The tears had stopped at some point, leaving behind a dull ache in your chest and the gritty sensation of salt drying on your cheeks. But soft rapping on the door pulled you out of your misery.

Wiping at your face with unsteady hands, you forced yourself to your feet, every movement feeling heavier than the last. When you opened the door, there he was: Harry, standing in the dim light, his arms full of cardboard, duct tape, and what looked like sheets of plastic.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice raw and quieter than you’d meant it to be.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he nudged his way past you into the bakery, not waiting for permission, and glanced down at the materials in his arms. “You can’t leave the window broken in this cold,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Harry, it’s fine—” you began, stepping toward him, but he cut you off without looking up.

“It’s not fine,” he said firmly, his voice calm but resolute.

You stared at him for a moment, his gaze hard as he looked back at you.

“Come on. Help me with this window,” he murmured, waiting for you to lead the way upstairs. When you didn’t move, he shifted the materials in his arms, freeing up his right hand before reaching out and pulling at your wrist.

It sent a chill straight through you, sharp and unexpected.

You froze for a second, your breath catching in your throat. His touch was fleeting, a playful tug, but it left behind a heat that spread across your skin, unbidden and unwelcome. You pulled your hand back too quickly, clutching it to your side as if it had been burned, though the sensation was far from painful.

He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He kept waiting, his focus unwavering, but you couldn’t say the same.

There was a hum beneath your ribs now, something restless and alive, thrumming just below the surface. Attraction. You recognized it immediately, though you almost wished you didn’t. It didn’t make sense. You barely knew this man. He wasn’t someone you’d invited into your world, not really, and yet here he was - ready to fix your window, trying to fix your life, filling your space, making you feel something you hadn’t expected and didn’t know how to handle.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to push it down, to smother the thought before it took root. It was nothing. A moment. A reaction to being exhausted, overwhelmed, and vulnerable. But when he turned to look at you, his gaze steady and clear, it was all you could do to keep your knees from buckling.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and soft, and you swore you could feel it reverberate somewhere deep inside you.

“Fine,” you said too quickly, your voice tight and uneven. You cleared your throat, pushing past him to the stairs. “I’ll show you the bathroom, but I need to get started on redoing this cake,” you told him, cocking your head back towards the kitchen.

Harry raised his eyebrows, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “No.”

His hand pressed into your lower back, pushing you closer to the stairs. “I know better than anyone that being tired in the kitchen is a bad idea. When does Mrs. Fuller need her cake?”

“Tomorrow evening,” you mumbled, hesitating as your toes hovered over the first step. Your voice was low, almost apologetic, but the weariness that gripped you made it impossible to summon anything stronger.

“Then you can deal with it tomorrow,” Harry said firmly, cutting off any protest before it could begin. His tone softened just slightly as he added, “After you’ve had a full night’s sleep.”

You turned back to face him, scowling instinctively. You were used to handling things on your own, not being told what to do, no matter how reasonable the suggestion might be. “You’re kind of overbearing, you know that?”

Harry only grinned, his expression as maddeningly charming as ever. “Wouldn’t be doing my duty if I wasn’t.” The hand on your lower back nudged you gently, urging you up the stairs as if you were a stubborn child refusing to go to bed.

You bit down on your lower lip, the indents of your teeth starting to feel like a permanent feature. As much as Harry was overstepping, he was clearly just as stubborn as you were, and it felt good to have someone forcibly taking care of you - not backing off in the hopes that you’d come around to their suggestions.

“In here,” you murmured when you reached the top of the stairs, an icy chill already filling your apartment. “I’m sure you can work out which one it is.”

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as Harry slipped past you, your heart almost stopping as you realised for the first time that you were still just in your robe, a deep flush creeping up your cheeks, the scarlet heat of embarrassment burning through you just as Harry’s gaze flicked back toward you. His eyes swept over you briefly, lingering for only a moment at the hem of the robe before he cleared his throat and turned away.

“I’ve got it from here,” he said quietly, his voice steady and measured as he moved toward the window. He nudged a shard of glass away from your bare feet before giving you a pointed look. “Go on.”

You hesitated, torn between retreating to your bedroom and stubbornly insisting on staying. Ultimately, the embarrassment won out. You turned quickly, rushing to your room, your mind racing as that small, insistent voice in the back of your head screamed at you to not pull on your ratty old pajamas.

And yet, despite the voice, that’s exactly what you did. A threadbare cotton t-shirt and a pair of faded sweatpants found their way onto your body as you sat heavily on the edge of the bed, cradling your face in your hands.

There was a man in your bathroom, a man who quite clearly only wanted to help you - the same man you’d practically forcibly removed from the property. The same man that was causing some sort of chemical imbalance within you.

You’d have to grovel if you ever wanted to see him again - as if he’d ever want to see you again. You’d done nothing but snap at him and act like he was inconveniencing you.

Harry had seen you at your worst, your very worst, and you weren’t entirely sure you owed yourself the chance for him to see you at your best.

But you wanted him to.

You shook your head, forced yourself back to your feet and padded toward the bathroom. You stopped in the doorway, stunned, as he worked quickly, fitting cardboard over the shattered glass, layering plastic sheets on top, securing everything with careful strips of tape.

“I could’ve done it,” you muttered after a moment, your voice shaking despite yourself.

He glanced back at you briefly, his strong hands still busy with the repair, a smirk on those taunting lips. “Maybe. But you didn’t.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you stayed quiet, staring at the makeshift patch and the man who had put it together. The tightness in your chest eased slightly, though a storm of inner turmoil was brewing.

“Thanks,” you said finally, the word coming out soft and uneven.

He nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Don’t mention it.” He hesitated, glancing at you with a look that felt entirely too knowing. “You should take a break,” he said, his voice gentler now. “Get some rest, maybe. You look... worn out.”

You huffed a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a scoff. “Gee, thanks,” you said, trying to mask the lump rising in your throat.

He flashed you that dimpled grin, straightening up as he placed the last strip of tape on the window.

“That’ll hold for now. But you’ll need to get it sorted properly before the weather turns,” Harry murmured, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

You followed him back downstairs, reiterating that yes, you’d get it sorted. Yes, you’d stay out of the kitchen that night. Yes, you’d double check how to work your alarms. Yes, you’d double check the ovens before you went upstairs. No, you didn’t want your business and home to burn down.

He turned to you when he reached the door, his green eyes laced with sincerity. “Take care of yourself, y/n. Seriously.”

And then he was gone, leaving behind a patched window and an unsettling quiet. But for once, you couldn’t find a reason not to follow the advice given to you. You were exhausted, and suddenly desperate to dream of the firefighter who’d all but swept you off your feet.

thank you so much for reading 🤍

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