#everything is worse than it ever has been!

[cod-bin]

when the fever takes me

alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

summary: when your heat hits simons always right there to care for you

cw: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom!simon, sub!reader, simon probably has a breeding kink, let me know if i forgot anything

wc: 2k

your heat hits like a freight train.

it’s sudden—your body flushed, aching, scent spilling out into the air like wildfire. you’re panting, curling in on yourself on the couch, biting your fist to muffle the desperate sounds. you hadn’t told anyone. you’d thought the suppressants would hold, but they didn’t. and now you’re trembling, needy, and so unbearably alone.

until there’s a knock.

no—not a knock. a bang. the door flies open, and you barely register the scent first—alpha, heady and grounding, all dark cedar and danger and home.

“simon—?” you gasp, voice hoarse.

he’s already inside, door slamming behind him, breathing hard like he’d run the whole way. “could smell you halfway across town,” he growls, pulling off his mask, eyes glowing gold with barely restrained instinct. “why didn’t you call me, love?”

you whimper, pressing your thighs together. “didn’t wanna bother you…”

his voice drops low, lethal and soft. “you think i’d call this a bother?”

he crosses the room in two strides, pulling you into his arms. his hands are large, warm, wrapping around your shaking form like armor. his scent wraps around you, instantly calming the chaos inside—but it also makes the need worse. the ache pulses between your legs.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin, teeth grazing your neck. “i’ll take care of you. gonna make it better.”

you sob into his chest, relief and arousal crashing together.

“please, simon—need you—need your knot—”

and the control he’d been holding onto snaps.

he pins you down gently but firmly, his lips brushing your temple, his hands already stripping away the barriers between your bodies.

“shh. you’re mine. gonna fill you up nice and full,” he growls, “until that pretty little body stops shaking.”

you barely have time to breathe before he’s kissing you—not soft, but deep and claiming, his mouth moving against yours like he’s trying to pull every little whimper from your lungs. his hands are everywhere—one tangled in your hair, the other sliding down your body like he already knows every inch of you.

“smell so fuckin’ sweet,” he growls into your neck, dragging his nose along your scent gland. “driving me bloody mad.”

your back arches, instincts flaring, legs parting with a desperate moan. “then take me,” you whisper, trembling. “need your knot—please—”

“yeah, love. i know,” he murmurs, voice rough but coaxing. “gonna give you everything. but i need you to breathe for me first. can you do that?”

his hand slides under your shirt, palm pressed flat against your belly. his touch is grounding—just like his voice, gravel-rough but steady. the kind of voice that could talk you down from the edge, or shove you right over it.

you nod, panting through your heat-fogged haze. “i’m okay. just—need you.”

he strips your clothes off slowly, reverently. every inch of exposed skin is met with his mouth, his teeth, his praise. “so fuckin’ beautiful… all mine.”

when he finally pushes inside, your entire body arches off the bed���full, stretching perfectly around him. he curses low and dark against your neck. “tight little omega—meant for me, weren’t you?”

you can barely answer—just broken moans and your nails dragging across his back as he begins to move, deep and slow, grinding into that perfect spot that makes your eyes roll back.

“gonna knot you so good,” he pants, rutting harder now, scent marking you with every thrust. “you won’t even remember what it feels like to be empty.”

you sob with pleasure, overwhelmed by him, by the heat, by the sheer rightness of being wrapped around him like this. and when his knot begins to swell, locking him inside you, he holds you tighter than ever.

“mine,” he growls, burying his face in your neck. “my omega. gonna keep you filled ‘til it takes.”

you cry out as you come, body clenching around his knot, and simon follows with a hoarse, broken sound, grinding into you as he floods you full.

and then—

silence. just his weight over you, his breath in your ear, his arms keeping you safe.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers again, softer this time. “always.”

your body is still trembling, slick and warm around his knot, but the urgency has faded. in its place is a deep, heavy fullness. contentment. safety.

simon hasn’t moved—won’t, not while he’s still locked inside you. he’s cradling you close now, chest against your back, one hand lazily stroking your hip, the other cupping your lower belly like he’s already imagining you round with his pup.

“did so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and thick, brushing lazy kisses along your shoulder. “took me so well… made for me.”

you hum softly, eyes fluttering shut, body still pliant from heat and pleasure. “you always know what i need,” you whisper. “even when i don’t.”

he exhales through his nose, pressing his forehead to your neck. “felt you in pain from the second it hit. couldn’t sleep. couldn’t think. just you. always just you.”

your fingers find his where they rest on your belly, lacing together. “you came for me.”

“‘course i did,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “you’re mine. you don’t go through this alone. not ever.”

there’s a pause—quiet and tender. the room smells like him now, like home and heat and love. his knot is still firm inside you, pulsing gently, keeping you connected.

“you ever think about it?” you ask softly. “about… pups?”

he stills for a moment. then his voice, hoarse but steady: “yeah. i think about it.”

your heart stutters.

“think about you waddling around the flat, growling at me ‘cause i won’t stop feeding you,” he chuckles, breath warm on your skin. “think about holding them. protectin’ you both. giving you the kind of life you deserve.”

you twist just enough to look up at him, eyes glassy. “i want that. with you.”

something in him breaks a little—softly. reverently.

“then we’ll have it, love,” he whispers, kissing your temple. “every damn bit of it.”

and there, tangled in his arms, still full with his knot, you drift off—safe, marked, and finally, utterly loved.

you wake up sore.

not painful—just that warm, heavy ache that comes from being filled, knotted, claimed. every part of you still hums with the memory of his touch, the press of his body, the scent of him still clinging to your skin and the sheets.

simon’s already awake. he hasn’t moved much, but his arm is snug around your waist, and his nose is tucked into the curve of your neck like he never wants to leave.

“mornin’, love,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and something more—something fond.

you hum softly, stretching a little before wincing.

he notices immediately.

“you hurtin’?” he asks, instantly more alert, leaning over to brush the hair from your face. “too much last night?”

“no,” you say, voice raspy. “just sore. used.”

his eyes darken, but not with lust—with guilt. “should’ve gone easier,” he mutters, jaw tight. “you were in heat, i got selfish—”

“simon,” you whisper, catching his hand. “you took care of me. you always do.”

he still doesn’t look convinced.

so you add, softer, “i liked being yours. still do.”

that breaks him a little. his shoulders relax, and he kisses your forehead so gently it barely lands.

“c’mon,” he says after a minute, scooping you up without effort. “gonna get you cleaned up.”

“i can walk, you know,” you mumble against his chest.

“don’t care. you’re mine to carry.”

he helps you into the shower, warm water cascading over both your bodies as he holds you upright. his hands are careful, reverent—washing your hair, rubbing gentle circles over your back, whispering little praises against your skin.

“such a good girl… so sweet for me… love seein’ you like this, all soft and safe…”

he dries you off in a towel that smells like him, kisses your temple, and then carries you back to bed.

but instead of letting you sleep again, he disappears for a few minutes.

when he returns, he has a tray—tea, water, toast, fruit. and pickles.

you blink at him.

“what?” he says, smirking faintly. “you get weird cravings when your hormones are wild. figured you might want a few.”

you laugh—weak and breathless, but genuine.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re my omega,” he replies easily, sitting beside you and feeding you little bites like you might fall apart if he lets you lift a finger.

you let him.

because there’s nothing safer than this—wrapped in his scent, belly full, heart steady, and simon watching you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.

“gonna rest today,” he murmurs as he lays down behind you again. “i’ll keep you warm. protect you. feed you. whatever you need.”

you reach back to hold his hand. “what if all i need is you?”

he presses a kiss to your shoulder, voice so low it barely makes it out.

“then that’s easy. you’ve got me.”

—————-

☆taglist☆

@h0lydrag0ns @forrest-of-the-fae

a/n: get added to the taglist

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. PLEASE READ AND LOOK UP DEFINITIONS OF WARNINGS FOR FURTHER CLARIFICATION. HUGE TW FOR THIS CHAPTER. CSA (only mentioned, not described), angst, fluff, fighting, physical altercation, lying, and more.

A/N: This is long as fuck and have fun on this emotional rollercoaster lol this is barely proofread btw

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P24: Too Soon?

A week. My mom would be gone on some work trip for an entire seven days.

I really don’t believe it. Part of me always thought she would lie about them being ‘work trips,’ but now I was sure. What kind of work trip didn’t have cell service?

She’s lying. I know she’s hiding something, I know deep down this probably isn’t the first time she’s done this before. But that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is that she that she left Byalen in charge to ‘watch’ me—like a fucking babysitter, since I couldn’t be trusted anymore because of the time she caught me coming home with Chris early in the morning.

Fucking hypocrite. 

Sure, I wasn’t telling the truth—but neither was she. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. 

Currently, I’m on my bed, staring up at the ceiling as my phone rests on my stomach. Chris’ voice echoes through the device. We’ve been talking for hours. I really want to just go over and see him—see my boyfriend, but I can’t. Not while I’m being fucking babysat. 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna sleep over? You need to sleep.” Chris says.

God, the offer is tempting. All of me wants to say yes, walk over to his house, and cuddle up in his arms. But I can’t. I’ve slept like shit for the past three days and it keeps getting worse. I need him to hold me in order to feel okay, I wanna sleep in a house that feels like a home too. 

It’s not even just him. It’s Jimmy, it’s Matt, and hell—even Trevor. I love being around them, it makes everything feel so much easier. 

I huff, shaking my head against my pillow as I roll my eyes. “I can’t, I’m being fuckin babysat at 18 years old.” I remark. 

A wave of silence washes over for a minute. I can practically hear Chris thinking, the slight vibration of a curious hum sounding through the phone. My fingers callus over my lip, the slight graze of my nails making the muscle tingle in a way that mimics how Chris’ lips feel against my own.

Fuck. I miss that. 

It’s like he has something that I need and crave all the damn time, like he possesses some sort of energy that makes my body feel better—lighter, even. 

“Well…what if I came over there?” He offers. 

My eyebrows twist together. I lick over my lip, gnawing on the muscle as I think of his statement. 

“But…but what if we get caught?” I question. 

I could imagine it. Baylen would see Chris and all hell would break loose. 

I doubt he’d cover for me, he’d probably enthusiastically go telling my mom the second she walks back into the house. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh. “Has he really ever bothered to check in your room? I mean, even if he does, I’ll just hide in your closet or something.”

“That’s kinda gay, bro,” I joke, gnawing on my lip as I hear Chris let out a fit of chuckles that make my heart echo in my ears. 

I love being able to do that. Hearing him laugh—making him laugh, it all feels so pure. It honestly feels as intimate as him in between my legs, just in a different type of way. 

Either are addicting. It was hard to miss only one or the other, I craved both. 

I wanted to feel the euphoric relief from his touch. I wanted to laugh with him to the point where I couldn’t think of anything except how bad my stomach cramped from giggling. 

I wanted everything and all of it—I just want him. 

It’s only been a bit over a week since we made things official, but god—I could feel emotions building so rapidly, so much that they felt like they were consuming every corner of my mind.

Some of it made me sick. 

I never felt this way with Ryan, my ex. The butterflies were there, but not to this extent—not to the point where I caught myself trying to imagine he was holding me in order to fall asleep. 

“Do you want me to come over and not?” Chris remarks, pulling me back to reality as his voice echoes through my phone. 

I bite back a sore smile, humming in approval, “Yes please.” 

___

It feels good like this. Every inch of my body is content, my limbs melted in his hold as I let myself breathe in the fresh air from the cracked window in my bedroom.

His hand is combing through my hair. I hear him clear his throat, his chest rumbling as he begins to speak, “So, um…I…I’ve really missed you.” he says—again.

My lips tug into an unrelenting smile. We’ve been cuddling for hours and he’s repeated the same statement at least ten times. 

It should be annoying, but it’s not. It makes me feel warm—it makes me feel a part of the moment, like every wave of the breeze is infiltrating the pores on my skin to ground me with a profound amount of peace. 

“I missed you too.” I reply, scratching my nails over his chest as I let out another hum of contentment. His lips press against the crown of my head, a lingering kiss placed on my scalp as I feel his warm breath tickle into my hair. 

It’s dark now. We should be tired, but we’re not. A short nap had rendered us a bit sad since we wanted to watch the sunset together, but it was okay since now we got to watch the night sky illuminate with a crescent moon and thousands of stars varying in vibrance. 

I wonder who’s watching. Maybe my dad is one of those stars, maybe he gets to see me finally living after all these years without him. 

The gap of his presence still aches in my heart, but it’s not as exhausting. A tiny splinter of a gap still remains in the pumping muscle, but it seems to be soothed by the added layers of security from Chris’ arms around me. 

“What’re you thinking about, pretty girl?” Chris asks, combing through my hair. 

I crane my head to stare up at him, sparing a soft smile as I give a slight shrug of my shoulders. “I just…” my words float into the air, unfinished as I gulp the lump in my throat that seems to build with how his eyes are piercing into me. “-I really like this. I…really like you…being here with me. It’s just–” 

Chris leans down, pressing the tip of his nose against my own as he blinks, his eyes lashes fluttering against my own with a ticklish sensation that makes a soft sigh fall from my lips. 

“-good. I’m glad you like it because I love it. You don’t understand how much I missed holding you, really,” he whispers, his breath fanning across my lips in a way that makes my stomach swarm with warm butterflies. “-this makes me so, so, so fuckin’ happy—holding my girl, in my arms—”

“You’re never gonna stop saying that, huh?” I tease, biting on my lip as his eyes open and gleam into my own.              

Chris purses his lips, shrugging. “Nah. Getting to call you my girl?” he puffs, his eyes going with before he offers a playful smile, “-could never get old to me. Makes me feel all….” he wraps his arms tighter around me, pulling a gasp from my mouth as he pulls my chest plush against his, “-warm.” 

Ugh. He feels the same way I do—maybe even more so. 

I let myself bathe in his stare, the reassurance of his gaze making me feel like moonlight—calm, radiate, and important. Part of me doesn’t wanna speak at all, the fear of this exact moment ending making my heart pulse in my chest with a sharp sting. 

But it’s okay. 

It’s okay because I know there will always be more moments like this with him. It’s okay because there’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll ever let me feel anything less than cared for. 

Words linger on the tip of my tongue, words I know I shouldn’t say—not yet, at least.

But it’s true. I love him, I really, really do. I don’t know when the realization happened. Honestly, I think it might’ve been when we first met, like some sort of cautious feeling that was warning me of destiny. 

Chris licks over his lips, his smile fading into a serious look as he swallows thickly. “I…I know we haven’t been official for very long, but—I…I feel things for you, I feel so much it hurts,” he breaths. 

My breath halts in my chest, my ears ringing as my bones seem to vibrate inside my body. He feels it too. It’s like everything about us is connected, like everything is falling into place so effortlessly it feels like magic. 

“I…” The words fall flat on the tip of my tongue, my eyes glazing over with pure emotion as I let my eyes wander over his face.

It’s so comfortable. All I can hear is our hearts beating in sync, the way my entire soul is burning for me to say it—say everything. 

“I love you.”

My eyes widened in shock. The words had rambled off my tongue so rushed, the devotion hanging in the air with an accompanied echo of his own voice. 

“Oh.” 

Our words are still in sync. We both let out a small laugh, the giggles falling quiet as we just breath in each other’s presence. 

“I guess that wasn’t as scary as I was making it out to seem, huh?” he tuts. 

I shake my head, laughing under my breath as I shrug, “-I guess so.” 

___

Chris’ POV

I keep waking up. I’m not sure what time it is, but it’s like my body doesn’t want to sleep, even though I’m very comfortable, I just wanna look at her in my arms. 

The slight sound of crickets echoing with the cool night air makes me sigh. My eyes drift over to her nightstand, her empty water bottle catching my attention. She had jugged all of it and fell back asleep within an instant a while ago, waking up a bit later, disappointed to find the bottle empty. 

Maybe I should fill it for her.

Yeah.

Slowly sliding away, I wince hearing her let out a small whimper, reaching out for me as I stand up fully. Her eyes peek open. I pet over her shoulder, cooing, “-hey, go back to sleep—’m just gonna fill your water, okay?” 

She nods hazily, her eyes falling shut with a slight scowl printed on her face. 

God, she’s pretty.

My stomach flutters with warmth as I watch her bottom lip pout slightly, her arms reaching out and tugging the pillow that was beneath my head into her hold as she greedily takes a large breath.

Fuck.

She’s barely awake and she still wants me. 

With light steps, I carefully make my way out of her room, venturing through the halls in hopes of finding the kitchen. It doesn’t take long. I walk into the tiled room, the cold flooring against my feet making me miss the warmth of her touch. 

“Ugh,” I sigh, walking over to the sink and filling the bottle, trying to tilt the object to create as little noise as possible. 

My lips roll together, my mind racing with thoughts as I reminisce on earlier. I was so scared to tell her that I loved her, I was scared it was too soon, too much, or purely insane to feel so strongly when we only made things official a bit ago. 

But she said it at the same time, and somehow that was better than her saying it back. 

“Who the fuck?” 

My eyes go wide as I screw on the cap to the water bottle. I turn around, finding her brother with messy hair and sunken eyes staring at me with a scowl. 

Fuck. 

“Shit.” I mutter, squinting my eyes shut in hopes I’m just having a nightmare. 

But no. 

I open my eyes, he’s still there—closer. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he interrogates, his shoulders broadening as his nostrils flare with an angry huff. 

“I, uh,” I look towards the hallway, mentally cursing myself as I think of her getting in trouble because of me, “-I’m Chris. I’m…uh—”

I don’t get the chance to finish. Baylen’s eyes shift to the bottle in my hand, his tongue prodding on the side of his cheek as he shakes his head disappointedly. 

“What? Are you her boyfriend or something?” he asks, lips tugged into a straight line. 

Gulping, I nod. Surely me being her boyfriend is better than being a stranger breaking in, right?

“No.”

The fuck?

My brows furrow together at his statement. Baylen seems to analyze the confusion on my face, shrugging as he repeats the words with a more tense voice, “-I said no.” 

“What? No? Hate to break it to you, but that’s not really your decision.” I point. 

No wonder she can’t get along with him, he’s a prick. He barely acts like a brother, yet he’s trying to dictate our relationship? 

Fuck that. I’ve done more for her than he has with a fraction of the time. 

I mean, how hard is it to be there for his sister? 

After losing my mom and Nick, no matter how distant or hurt I was, I still hugged Matt when he needed it. I might’ve grown distant, but I never grew heartless.

Baylen couldn’t even suck it up to play video games with her. 

His face contorts with distaste. I let out an angry sigh, my eyes rolling while he let out a scoff. 

“She’s my sister. I’m the one who gets to look out for her, not some guy she’s known for what, a couple months?” he remarks, a slight snort echoing at the end of his sentence. 

His words seem to make my heart pummel against my chest with rage, the statement making my blood boil as I lick over my teeth. “Look out for her? You can’t even sit down and play a video game with her for more than five minutes. Just…” I shake my head, watching as his face shifts into shock before the fury in his eyes starts to become more intense, “-it’s whatever.” 

Baylen clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, shaking his head, “Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

My nose twitches, my eyes squint as my jaw becomes tight. Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to? 

“Oh, I have no idea what I’m talking about?” I huff, my brows lifting as I let out a dry laugh, “-no, you have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re an awful fucking brother, you have no say in anything when you’re treating her like…like a fucking dick.” 

His jaw clicks. Baylen stalks forward, his hands twisting in the collar of my shirt as he yanks me to the side, pushing me against the wall as his eyes glare into me, the anger radiating off of him making the ache in my head from the impact seem less apparent as I drop the water bottle and clutch onto his wrists, trying to yank him off of me. The loud clunk of the bottle hitting the ground makes me wince. I huff at his unrelenting grip, taking a heavy sigh as I try to calm the pulsing anger in my body. 

I can’t hit him. She cares about him—even if he hurts her, I know that would make her upset.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeats, his voice dangerously low as he pushes me harder against the wall.  

“You abandoned her when she needed you most. What kind of brother does that?” I spit, the emotions in my voice leaking with a bit of hypocrisy. 

I wasn’t always the best when it came to comforting Matt after my mom and Nick had died, but at least I came around. Someone had to knock some sense into me—that someone being my dad, but it didn’t seem like anyone was ever gonna set Baylen straight. 

“You—you don’t get it. Stop. Just—just shut up,” he yells, shoving me even harder as I feel the back of my head pulse. 

“I do. Just…ow, fuck—” I hiss, the pain becoming evidentally apparent as my skull aches, “-I lost some of my family. Someone had to knock some sense into me. She—she’s your sister, you both lost your dad, she’s hurting and—shit.” 

It fucking hurts. The back of my head is pulsing, an echoing pain bursting through my forehead as I try to move, only to have him shove me harder. 

“I didn’t lose anyone. You…you don’t understand.” 

My eyes peak open, curiosity accompanied by pain as I hear a slight crack in his voice. His face drops with sadness, the anger fleeting into some sort of sullen emotion as he swallows thickly. 

“You…you don’t understand. That man—he’s not my father. He’s a sick excuse of a man that traumatized her and she doesn’t even fucking remember,” he spits. 

“I…what?” I breathe, my chest tightening as Baylen loosens his grip around the collar of my shirt, his lower lip wobbling. 

“I’m never supposed to tell her. I…I have to hear her mourn a man who would…who’s the reason she’d have to sneak into my room—he’s the reason she could never make it through the night without having an accident. Something was wrong—everything was wrong.” 

“What—what’re you saying?” I ask, my mouth falling open as I let my hands fall from his wrists. 

Baylen’s eyes sink with sadness, his cheek hollowing as he gulps. “She wasn’t potty trained for a long time. At first, I didn’t get it. But…but…he was touching her, her body was showing all the signs of sexual assault, but I was just a kid, I didn’t…I—by the time I understood what had happened, it—it was too late. Now I have to hear her mourn a man who is the reason I feel—he’s…he’s the reason I can’t comfort her, he’s the reason I can’t look at her,” he says, his head tilting as his face scrunches with pain;

“He’s the reason I hate myself—the reason I can’t let myself get close to her without seeing how much of a failure I am.” 

Oh.

[frownyalfred]

i don’t know if the tim & damian dynamic has been picked apart in dragon au yet but i think their canon disagreements REALLY make sense in that setting— tim, mostly human with some dragon blood who has trained SO much just to be able to really see bruce vs damian who is struggling w his al ghul leviathan/ wayne dragon genes constantly battling… i feel like damian’s insecurities about not being able to shift would really be amplified by someone who can’t shift AT ALL being better than him, from his perspective. maybe damian feels like bruce is obligated to hoard him as his sire but wouldn’t take him otherwise, so what better way to prove his worth in the hoard than becoming robin? but then for tim, being replaced by damian as robin, i have to imagine that would open up some old hurts about if he was EVER dragon enough

You're so right, and I'm gonna make it even worse: what if Bruce doesn't hoard Damian? Maybe he doesn't hoard dragons on principle because of Ra's, maybe that's just not how his hoard in Gotham works, maybe it's only humans, etc. So Tim is hoarded, because he's not a fellow dragon or a mate, he's a person in Gotham with dragon blood. And Damian isn't. Imagine all the issues you noted above plus that hanging over Damian. Of course it's because Bruce views him as his child, his own blood, and that's why it's different from hoarding -- but that isn't easily apparent from the outside. It must be crushing.

Meanwhile Tim might feel like he'll never compare to a "real" blood son, not realizing that he isn't hoarded like Gotham is hoarded. He's at the top of the hoard like Alfred is, cherished beyond almost everything else. He's family to Bruce through that, even if it's not called family right away. Imagine thinking Dick isn't family to Bruce because he isn't his own blood and dragon?

[delicateperspective]

I think people who assume Harry is completely free tend to overlook a lot—especially things he shows during his concerts and in some interviews. Starting with the queercoding, but also those really vulnerable moments. You can literally see it in his face what it means to him when he waves a rainbow flag. And when he says things like “that doesn’t happen to people like me”—it’s heavy.

And I don't blame them because Harry's public image has been pushed very hard, especially with dwd and that stunt with the director. But If you really pay attention to the details, it’s pretty clear that Harry isn’t fully free. He’s just doing what he can, playing the game with everything he’s learned along the way.

I’m sure he’s negotiated as much freedom as possible over time, and what we see is a gradual result of that. I really hope in this next chapter, with all the leverage he’s gained, he’s been able to secure even more freedom.

I honestly just wish the best for both H and L.

yes exactly. you put it so well — that’s the thing about public perception. in order to see H & L the way that some people do, you have to be willing to accept a version of events that genuinely doesn’t make sense unless you ignore… well, everything.

to believe that version, you have to believe that:

harry was a womanizer from the very beginning. that he dated half the girls at bootcamp and then moved on to older, high-profile women who just happened to boost his image (taylor, kendall, olivia). that he’s a commitment-phobe who’s never had a long-term relationship. that he leans into queercoding and wears obviously queer clothing just to sell albums — even when he doesn’t know he’ll be photographed. that he writes intimate songs about home, about loving the same person through every season of life — despite having no personal experience with any of that. and that he deliberately distanced himself from the other boys in the band — especially louis — because he thought he was better than them.

louis, meanwhile, apparently changed his entire personality between 2011 and 2013 for no reason. that he got angry at a magazine for implying he supports LGBTQ+ rights. that he got a triangle on his achilles heel because he just… liked the shape. that he wears t-shirts and brands with overt queer symbolism (Tchaikovsky, All Out, Only the Brave, Maison Margiela) without realizing or caring what they mean — even though he loves fashion. that he used to call himself “camp” and “flamboyant” all the time, but only as a joke. and that he had a long-term girlfriend during the band, which is clearly why no fans ever had a shot — not because he was gay.

and that’s just the surface level stuff.

the more you pay attention, the worse it gets.

you have to eat a lot of narrative gymnastics to believe that version. honestly? in some cases, you have to make more illogical leaps than even the most unhinged larries do. you have to completely discredit every contestant who’s ever spoken out about x factor. every person who’s criticized modest management. every lyric change — like: “women just don’t feel right”, “i’m hoping someday i could be open”, “i can’t compete with my boyfriend”, "hopelessly devoted to Lou", etc. — has to be chalked up to coincidence or queerbaiting or… misheard. and you have to believe that none of it means anything — even when it obviously does.

i’ll always go back to the metaphor harry gave us in the As It Was music video — the red pill and the blue pill. just like in The Matrix: the red pill means you wake up and see the truth. the blue pill means you stay in a comfortable illusion.

so many people would rather take the blue pill. and honestly? i don’t blame them. it’s easier. it’s lighter. it doesn’t force you to confront how corrupt the industry is. how normal homophobia still is. how much trauma they endured. to accept that kind of truth — especially about people you love — takes a toll.

because once you see it, you can’t unsee it. you’ll always question the narrative. you’ll always feel that unease when something doesn’t add up. you’ll always see through the bullshit.

and yeah — sometimes I wish i could close my eyes too. especially in this world, in this moment, where everything is already so heavy. but i can’t.

so we keep paying attention. we keep listening between the lines. we keep hoping the next chapter brings them more peace, more truth, and more freedom.

because they’ve earned it. and they deserve it.

[sparrows4bats]

It occurred to me that my Demisexual Damian post from Jons POV is so funny, Jon Kent is a simp.

So Jon knows Damian is on the ace spectrum before they even start dating. He had mentioned it when they were younger. How he views people and relationships differently and how he doesn't mind the idea of sex at all, but he could never sleep with someone he doesn't have a deep emotional connection to. That even imagining it feels odd.

That's more than fine with him because Damian likes romantic gestures, kisses, and cuddles, but Jon very carefully doesn't bring up sex.

He doesn't need it, just being able to even touch Damian is so incredible that Jon pinches himself every so often to make sure he hasn't been trapped in an illusion that gives him everything he ever wanted.

(But God, He wants to see how Damian looks when he feels so good he can't hide it. Jon wants to see what makes Damian tick and use it until he begs for more.)

It doesn't help that he has the most attractive boyfriend in the universe. Sometimes, when Damian trains, he is so graceful and flexible that Jon needs a second to remember how to breathe again and fly to the Artic for a few minutes.

But he was raised to be a gentleman, and what he has with Damian will always be so much more than sex. So he happily waits, and he falls in love a little more every day.

Then Damian demands sex out of nowhere. Jon is wrapped in a towel after a fight, and Damian is in those tiny shorts and Jons old hoodie.

Jon isn't sure he isn't dreaming, but when Damian asks again. 'Preferably now' It's a miracle he doesn't fall to his knees and beg.

He kisses Damian so hard and says yes so fast he is glad he didn't accidentally use his powers, but when Damian looks up at him with big green eyes and asks, 'Now?' Jon has to drag them over to the bed before they end up having sex for the first time on the floor.

(Jon was right, Damian is so otherworldly when he loses control in his pleasure that he never wants to look at anything else. Never wants to do anything else but stay there with Damian underneath him.)

Afterwards, when he is staring at Damian, who is out of breath, gorgeous with messy hair, and hickes on his neck. Jon realises, not for the first time, how lucky he is to have this amazing person in his life. He would give Damian world if he asked.

After their first, second, and third times that night, It's like the dam broke.

Jon can't keep his hands to himself. Thank God Damian is just as bad, if not worse. Once he realises the effect he has on Jon, he exploits it mercilessly. (Jon loves it)

But it does lead to a few awkward moments, like his Dad asking him to please keep it down. (Super Hearing is a bitch but his Dad does stop checking on him as often) And that time Dick catches them almost going at it on his couch.

It all ends well enough, though. He convinces Damian to marry him as soon as possible. (The honeymoon is amazing.)

[charliegyrth]

Fat Camp Reunion - Part 2

Jacob's Incredible Story

Read Part 1 here. (So far, Phillip the narrator has gone back to his childhood drama camp to discover that everyone there is now obese. He has no idea why, but he's about to find out thanks to Jacob, his first boyfriend.)

***

I got a little lost on the way to the cabins. The trails were exactly the same, but I was too overloaded with thoughts to pay attention. Finally, I made it to the cabin with a big number 4 on its door.

It looked like all the other cabins, small and wooden with wide windows on either side of the entrance. The only difference (besides the number) was a mobility scooter sitting on the porch. That was my first hint of what I’d see inside.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. I braced myself for what I’d find.

“Phillip!” a familiar voice shouted.

“J-Jacob.” My breath caught in my throat.

I’d seen people this big before. Not in real life, but on those trashy reality shows. My 600-Pound Life or Half-Ton Fiancé or whatever. (I’d never actually watched those shows, of course, but you can’t escape their commercials.)

Jacob sat on one of the cabin’s beds, his massive body filling up most of the mattress. His arms and legs looked useless, covered in Michelin Man rolls. His belly was huge and shapeless, spreading around him in all directions, and his chest (once sporting muscular pecs much nicer than mine) had sprouted drooping sacks of fat with fist-sized nipples that were more-than-visible under the thin fabric of his food-stained shirt.

I thought the other guys were huge, but Jacob outweighed all of them by at least a hundred pounds. Could he even walk anymore? He must be able to, since his mobility scooter was parked outside. He must’ve been able to make the ten trudging steps from the door to the bed.

I was horrified. And sad. I felt so, so sad for him. I might’ve elevated my memories of him in my brain, but he used to be the most handsome, the most naturally athletic man I’d ever known. Now, he was buried.

And the saddest part was that, despite how soft and weak his body was, his face was still recognizably Jacob. He had a new slab of flesh under his jaw, but overall, his head didn’t look nearly as fat as the rest of him. (And he still had the same adorable blond curls.)

I think that made everything worse. If his face had been as unrecognizable as his body, then maybe I could handle what he’d become. Instead, all I saw was my first love, my beautiful Jacob, trapped in fat.

“Sit with me,” he said in his familiar voice. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

I didn’t want to sit with him. I didn’t want to touch him, because that would only make all of this real. And even if I wanted to, there wasn’t any space left on the mattress.

I remained standing in the middle of the cabin. “Jacob, what happened to you?”

“I grew.”

That answer made me gulp.

“Please sit,” he tried again. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Slowly, I approached him. I looked into his eyes, seeing the same wide-open, trusting expression that I’d falling in love with all those years ago, and I sat next to him. I couldn’t avoid feeling his side-fat. He felt so warm.

Neither of us said anything for a long time. It was awkward.

Finally, Jacob spoke. “You look great. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone your size.”

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer. “Can I… feel you?”

“Okay?”

He raised his hand to my chest and slid his sausage fingers across my pec. “Wow. That’s hard.” His voice sounded intrigued, as if he couldn’t even remember when he had muscles just like these.

“Thank you.”

He felt my stomach next, tracing his fingers between my (very slight) abs. “Huh,” he said, like he was studying me.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” I said.

Jacob took a deep breath and then (finally!) he gave me some answers. “The year after we went to Sunrise Pines, a new company moved to our town. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Moulton proper before…”

“I haven’t,” I interrupted him. I’d only been to the camp itself, not the town nearby. When my mom dropped me off here, we didn’t even drive through Moulton. We just took the freeway.

“Well, back then, Moulton was really struggling. It was a mining town, but the mines closed in the 90s and our population started shrinking. And then we got a new factory. Sweet Cheeks Confections. Ever heard of them? They make donuts, snack cakes, a whole bunch of packaged stuff.”

I shook my head.

“Well, they’re great. You’re really missing out.” He placed his hand on my thigh, still curiously feeling my hard muscle as if he’d forgotten what it felt like. “So once the factory opened, a lot of the locals started working there. And our shops were filled with their products. Everyone loved ’em.”

“And that’s why your whole town got fat?” I asked. It seemed crazy that extra snacks on store shelves would lead to such extreme obesity.

“Nope. We got fat because of their advertising campaign.”

“Huh?”

He paused his story. “Um, can you hand me some of those?” He nodded toward a pile of brownie boxes on the dresser next to me. Each one had the bright pink Sweet Cheeks label. I guess I had seen those at 7-Eleven before.

I grabbed a box and handed it to him. More accurately, I placed it on his belly.

He bit his lip, a bit embarrassed. “Um, all of them, please. I haven’t eaten in an hour.”

There were four more boxes on the dresser. I piled them up on his belly while his tore open the first box. I watched as he shoved the first brownie into his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed. Then he shoved in a second and a third.

“Okay,” he said, the burst of sugar giving him the energy to continue. “So the advertising campaign. Sweet Cheeks wanted to increase its local sales, so they started giving out free samples and hosting eating competitions every weekend. When I first heard about the competitions, I thought they were stupid. But then I learned that Sweet Cheeks would be filming the contestants and using the winners for nationwide commercials. As an actor looking for my big break, I couldn’t pass that up.”

He ate a couple more brownies stacked on top of each other.

“When I signed up for the first one, I was about your size. How much do you weigh? Like 250?”

That number made me choke. “250? I’m… Dude, I’m 170.”

“Oh. Sorry. It’s been so long. I guess I can’t really think in such low numbers anymore.” He glanced down at my torso. “170. Dang. Yeah, I weighed about that much. But I really wanted to win. To get famous or whatever. So I just went for it. Stuffed myself senseless. Beat four other contestants, all much bigger and older than me. It was at our town park. Cameras everywhere. Best feeling of my life.”

“So they put you in their commercials?” I asked. I didn’t remember this at all.

“Sadly, no. They had competitions every weekend. I kept going back. I kept winning. Every time, the Sweet Cheeks reps gave me trophies and made me pose for a bunch of photos. They had me sign contracts so they could use my eating footage for their ads, but those never happened. They went in another direction.” He held up one of the brownie boxes (empty now), tapping his thumb against the smiling cupcake mascot. “They thought that this cartoon guy would sell more.”

“Okay?” I said. I still didn’t understand where this story was going.

“I didn’t get famous,” he said as he opened up the second box, “but I didn’t care anymore. I had attention. You remember what it was like on the stage, watching an audience laugh at your jokes and hang on every word. Well, the crowds at these competitions were like that times 100. Every bite I took was riveting to them. The cheers. The chanting. The fucking signs that they held up. I know it was just in Moulton, but people loved me.”

“For eating brownies?” I asked. I was watching him eat brownies right now. He seemed to shove them in between sentences, so fast that he barely had to stop talking. I didn’t feel like cheering at all. I just felt sad for him.

“For eating everything,” he said. “Every weekend was different. And I don’t know if you knew this about me, but people sort of follow my lead.”

I did know that. Back in camp, everyone wanted to be like Jacob, myself included. He was magnetic.

“So one-by-one, all my friends who were suspicious of Sweet Cheeks eventually gave in. That first eating competition had four people. A month later, we were up to twenty. After that, hundreds. All the guys at Sunrise Pines signed up. People in town made bets. Everyone had their favorite eaters. But I’m proud to say, no one was as skilled as me.”

He placed his second brownie box to the side. He’d eaten that entire thing without me realizing. Now he was onto the third.

“I started gaining weight pretty quickly,” he said. “Muffin top first. Then moobs. I was deeply conflicted about that. I had this really messed up image of what an ideal body type was. No offense.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I’m pretty sure he was telling me that I had an “ideal body type,” which was a compliment. But he said it in such a negative way.

“Had some doubts for a while, but when I walked around Moulton with my new belly on full display, literally everyone who saw me gave me these congratulatory belly pats and gushed about what big fans they were. They saw my gain as this badge of honor, and I started to see it that way, too. So I kept eating and growing. And the rest is history.”

Damn. This entire story was ridiculous. And the casual tone of his voice made everything seem so much more ridiculous.

“Is everyone in Moulton fat?”

He thought for a second. “Yeah. We are. Eating competitions are part of our culture now. Not just the officially sponsored ones—Sweet Cheeks stopped hosting events years ago—but, well, every meal is sort of a competition. You probably noticed that in the canteen.”

I thought back to all my old friends sitting on their fat asses with massive piles of food in front of them. I thought about all the empty plates, too. They weren’t just eating lunch. They were out-eating each other.

It’s crazy that one company’s gimmick had transformed an entire town. And honestly, I know that the effects wouldn’t have been so drastic if Jacob hadn’t been involved. He got sucked into competitive eating, and everyone automatically followed him like they always did.

He threw the third empty box to the side. He had crumbs all down his stained, white shirt, most of them collected in the depression between his overflowing moobs.

“Are you happy?” The words surprised me as they came out of my mouth.

He looked me right in the eyes. “Phillip. I’ve never been happier. Everyone I meet is in awe of me. I’m a star in my own town, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“But… I mean, can you even do things anymore?” I knew that was an awkward way of phrasing my question, but I had to ask. Aside from shoving things into his mouth, it seemed like all this weight would make most movements difficult.

He half-smiled in a very flirty way. It was the look he used to give me when he took me behind the amphitheater to make out. “I can do plenty of stuff.” Then he chuckled. “Yeah, there are limitations. You’ll probably need to help me get off this bed, for example. But I have my scooter. And I have plenty of fans who’ll do anything for me.”

That last comment filled me with a surprising amount of jealousy, and I didn’t know why.

As he demolished the fourth box, shoving in brownie after brownie in conveyor-belt speed, his eyes remained locked on me. He was studying me, gauging my reactions. If I weren’t here, he’d probably still be eating, but with me sitting next to him, he was using these brownies as some sort of test.

That left me with one question left, probably the most important one. Why had he invited me here? I mean, he’d sent me a personalized invitation. He’d planned this whole reunion, yet he wasn’t even hanging out with our other friends. He was in the cabin. With me. Eating for me. Telling me his story.

Did he expect me to like what he’d become?

What was I supposed to say right now?

The last of the brownies slid down his throat and he let out a deep, contented burp. Didn’t cover his mouth. Still watching me, waiting for a reaction.

My brain was short-circuiting. All I could do was look into his beautiful blue eyes.

His familiar eyes.

His expectant eyes.

His face was still so handsome. And his overflowing body, angled toward me as much as it would allow him… I don’t know, I felt like he was presenting himself to me, showing me the hundreds and hundreds of pounds that he’d built on himself.

What did he want me to do?!

When it was clear that I wasn’t going to say anything (that I literally couldn’t), he finally cut to the chase: “Everyone loves me in Moulton. An entire town either wants me or wants to be like me. It’s amazing. But for a while now, I’ve been thinking about you, about what we used to have. I should be in the canteen right now, showing everyone who’s still the champion. But I choose to be here with you. This is the first meal I’ve skipped in years.”

He didn’t count all those brownies. They were just a snack to him.

“I don’t know what to say.” (That was the understatement of the year.)

He took a deep breath, though it got interrupted by another slight burp. “It’s been a long time since anyone looked at me the way you’re looking at me now. I can tell you’re confused, scared. Maybe disgusted. And that’s okay. But you’ll be here for the weekend, and I just want you to keep an open mind. Can you do that?”

“Okay,” I said, though I still wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking.

“No pressure,” he added, sensing the uncertainty in my voice. “But it would be nice to try a few things. Feedings or whatever. I have a feeling you’ll like ’em.”

Before I said anything else, he slid his massive body toward me and kissed me. His belly flab covered my lap. His thick hands held my face.

I was butter. I melted into him, all the memories from what we once had came rushing back. And somehow, I enjoyed the sensation of his new body squish against me. I was his.

He ended the kiss much too soon, leaving me breathless.

“Knock knock,” someone shouted outside our door.

I instinctively pulled away from Jacob, though I didn’t have a lot of room. The edges of his belly were still resting on my thigh.

“Come in!” he shouted, though he was smiling at me as he said it.

The door creaked open and Eugene walked in first, carrying a tray of lasagna. Then a few more guys came in with equally large trays. Then a few more.

“Room service,” Jacob explained to me. “Told ya I had help.”

Bobby, the last one to enter, brought in a fold-up table that he assembled in front of us. Then everyone set the food on top, like ancient islanders making offerings to their chief.

Jacob was beaming from ear to ear. Despite all the sugar that he’d wolfed down, the sight of this spread caused his stomach to rumble. “Well,” Jacob said to me. “Open mind, right? Wanna help me finish my lunch?”

On one level, I did. For curiosity alone, I wanted to see him in action. But on another level, I really needed to clear my head. “Actually, I’m gonna go for a walk. I’ll, um, be back.”

He didn’t seem disappointed. I appreciated that. “Suit yourself. But if I’m not finished when you get back, you’ll help me, right?”

“Okay.” I hurried out of there. None of the other guys left. They had already finished their lunch, and now they were ready to just sit back and watch.

As I closed the door behind me, I heard slurps and chews. And one guy (Frankie, I think) muttered, “Damn.”

I spent the next fifteen minutes wandering around the camp by myself, recognizing all the old places and enjoying the fresh air. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jacob, though. About our kiss, and the way his belly felt, and the way he made my heart race.

And now I’m back in my car, writing this all down for everyone to read.

I��m so freaking conflicted. For the next two and a half days, I’ll be here. I’ve already decided that I’ll be true to my word. I’ll keep an open mind. And yeah, I’ll partake in the feedings.

What I haven’t decided (and why I’m asking for your help) is whether I’m going to just feed Jacob or whether I’m going to let him feed me too.

I can see myself learning to appreciate his body and maybe help him continue to grow it. I’m definitely open to that. But if he wants to turn the tables and feed me, if he expects me to start catching up to everyone else here, would that be a step too far?

Please. Tell me what to do. Your advice will definitely affect how I spend the rest of the weekend (and maybe the rest of my life, too.)

This weekend, should I feed Jacob or should I allow him to feed me?

To Be Continued...

Hi, everybody! Charlie Gyrth here. I hope you liked the story, but I'm serious about that final question. I'm ready to write a continuation, but I have two possible paths to take and I wanted to see which one would be more interesting: Phillip as encourager or Phillip as gainer. Let me know in the comments.

[fennec-foxhound]

Fennec is back and worse than ever.

Someone had recently discovered a blog and after finding out past initial suspicions that they had mysteriously blocked a few of Fennec's victims, they were looked into further. The people blocked were victims that had never gone public about what Fennec did to them. Victims that nobody would know were tied to Fennec unless the blog doing it was Fennec himself.

This blog was also able to be found by searching up Fennec's various usernames on different search engines. Certain users interacting with them, art posted to this blog matching up with Fennec's previous art style, the constant links to Fennec's old identities and correlating blocks all led to this blog being confirmed to 100% be Fennec.

The blog's name is @sunteasonnets and has both a Tumblr and this carrd.co link to other socials. Fennec's original accounts were more reserved all things considered, but the things he has posted and the people he's interacted with are questionable at best and very, very concerning at worst.

The biggest red flags for me were the new inclusions in his public intro for the blog, especially when knowing about his history of manipulating vulnerable minors for personal gain.

So this adult who has:

Purposefully riled up minors to have them fight for him.

Lied to and manipulated minors for personal gain, both about adults and other minors that they were friends with.

Created a server that was exclusively for minors that were victims.

is now saying that he doesn't like psychiatric systems and needs to make the distinction of "pro contact paraphiles" in his block list. That latter point is a HUGE problem for someone who has dedicated a lot of his time to be around minors. This isn't even considering that the majority of people interacting and being friends with his new blog and persona are all self-identified proshippers of varying degrees. A lot of them reblogging posts defending specifically incest and pedophilia ships.

What scares me the most about all of this is that he is still looking for people to drag in.

Pairing all of this with how hard he's trying to differentiate this new persona from his previous, the idea of Fennec looking to build up another community is now more scary than it has ever been before. He is exhibiting very concerning behavior and awareness of how bad it is based on how hard this new blog tries to hide from his previous identity. Ironically, blocking me and other unnamed victims was what got everyone to realize who this was.

If you are a young mutual of @sunteasonnets , GET AWAY FROM HIM. If you are still someone, especially a minor, who is in contact with Fennec, GET. AWAY. FROM HIM. This is someone who is now exhibiting much more dangerous, predatory behavior.

After seeing how Fennec behaves under this new persona, his motivations for doing everything surrounding not only Courtney but his established server The Olive Grove have changed for me.

[sillysonata]

Not going to upload the next chapter till next week prolly cuz I got some personal stuff,, but I felt like dumping some missing hero ideas here (mostly just involving the triforce trio cus I’ve been thinking bout them a lot lmao) so why not !!

1. Zelda was so scared of the fact she was deeply in love with link not only because of the logistics but because of what it said about her, she wants to be taken seriously and wants to be a good and wise ruler more than anything and by letting her feelings get in the way for some servant makes her feel as though she’s failing her kingdom in some way.

2. When link and Zelda meet again she is terrified because of the rumors circulating around her being in love with a servant, and she knows deep down she cannot be with him even though she loves him more than anyone. perhaps its at a point too where link is so deeply enamored with sheik that he confronts Zelda about the rumors of her liking him, and he assures her that he is not heartbroken because he already has found true love with sheik. Zelda of course feels even worse because he does not her as much as him; yet marrying him would not benefit the kingdom in the slightest (before she knows he’s the hero, ofc. & even then social status is kinda a big roadblock too)

3. Link ends up sparing Ganondorf even after everything, but for once it’s not as a kindness to Ganondorf; but a kindness to himself. That even after 20 years of cruelty, he would never stoop as low as Ganondorf has. So Ganondorf and by extension Ghirahim are stripped of their titles, of all the wealth they stole which is given back slowly and are forced to do all the manual labor they made Link do as a way to repay all their debt, which is for the rest of their lives

4. In the end link heartbrokenly accepts that he’s fine with not marrying Zelda (he’s not) because he’s not royal, he’s not even a hero, he couldn’t even spill evil blood. But Zelda wants to marry him anyway, as the demise has been defeated, and it won’t ever rise again. big dramatic kiss scene happens fr!!

5. Link becomes prince consort, bc I like the idea of this Zelda being the highest ruler of hyrule who never needed a king but a partner who supported her. Also idk link barely just got to civilization so king would be wayy too much. Prince is just a more fairytale ending title to give him too lol

6. In the end it would be funny to tie the whole theme of legacy and power together with Ganondorf’s arc, who so badly wanted to be remembered as a powerful, god-like ruler who could not be touched by even the hero and princess themselves; only for him to just be remembered in history as some bitter cranky stablehand lol. And by extension Zelda and link are not remembered as courageous hero and wise princess, but benevolent queen and her beloved prince who brought a peace to hyrule for decades to come. This era of Hyrule is considered “forgettable” because of how serene it was and how it seemed there was no hero, princess, or demon king.

[cutielando]

is mclaren the new redbull?

i've been holding my tongue a whole lot ever since the beginning of the season, but Miami has just made me lose it.

mclaren seriously needs to get a grip and get their priorities straight. ever since australia, they have done nothing but fuck up lando's races with shitty strategy calls, missed pitstop opportunities and stupid radio messages.

yesterday, after the whole turn 2 fiasco between max and lando (which max should have received a penalty for), zak brown went on to give an interview after the race to say that he respects max and to keep defending him? over his own driver? excuse me?

mclaren would be nothing without him. he bleeds papaya, he is loyal to that team beyond belief when, maybe, he shouldn't have been.

he's helped rebuild that team, sacrificed years of his career (from 2019 to the second half of the 2023 season) driving a fucking tractor, all while helping mclaren find their path again and come to have the best fucking car on the grid. need i remind them, if lando hadn't been so focused and calm during the Abu Dhabi GP last year, mclaren wouldn't be champions? oscar got taken out of the contention for a win because of max, everything was riding on lando and he delivered an absolutely amazing performance.

how can you even say that oscar is a better driver than lando when he came to the team when they were already finding their footing? he only had a bad car for half a season in 2023, whereas lando drove a tractor for almost 4 and a half years. how can you say that????

i like oscar, believe me, i do, but this is not fair. backing him up and doing everything in your power to prioritize oscar's race and hanging lando out to dry? in jeddah, lando was looking to extend his first sting, having just taken the lead and finally driving in free air, and then what happens? oscar complains about the dirty air from lando and mclaren pit him, therefore oscar becoming the leader once again and winning the race.

this is not fucking fair, and this shouldn't be a thing. the whole "two number 1 drivers" mentality is bullshit and is going to end up doing more harm than good. if you keep saying that you have two very good drivers, then you should also give them the same treatment.

even andrea stella has said in an interview yesterday that lando was the fastest car of the two during the entire race, and yet here zak is, kissing oscar's ass and backing up max????? who singlehandedly ruined lando's race when he pushed him wide at the start of the gp?

i can understand why adam norris looked so mad and disgruntled by zak brown the entire weekend he's been here. i hope lando doesn't renew his contract once this one runs out.

he deserves a better team. he deserves a team that backs him up, that speaks up for him, that defends him from all the hate he gets for his mental health struggles and constantly being belittled in comparison to oscar.

this is not fair. this behavior is not fair.

things have been very shady at mclaren for a good while now, and it seems shit is getting even worse right now.

lando is clearly on his own. his team treats oscar like a king, while treating lando as if he was a rookie. LANDO BUILT THE TEAM AND HELPED THEM REGAIN THEIR DOMINACY.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS ON ABOUT?

i am very sorry that i am saying this, but if lando wants a fair and clean chance at a WDC, he needs to leave mclaren.

that team is not going to help him achieve his dream.

that team is nothing anymore.

[howiswhatawhy]

WYD Now? - Bucky Barnes x reader

Pairing: childhood bestfriend! Bucky x singer! reader

A/N: I love him so much your honor. Literally can't stop writing for him. This is based on WYD Now? by Sadie Jean. It's such a beautiful song, I couldn't stop listening to it ever since I rediscovered my Bucky playlist. I put more thoughts into this than the last fic and I hope you like it<3

Playlist in question: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5A4PA2qyqdiJJibwfeaojl?si=236b0a08fd0f4670

Summary: You think you see Bucky watching your show after years of no contact. It's probably just your imagination, so why can't you shake off this ache in your chest? Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: fuckboy bucky, whole lotta angst + much more longing, childhood bestfriends to strangers to lovers. not proofread (again)

I saw you in the back of my show last night

Standing underneath the exit sign

I know it wasn't really you though

'Cause you were always in the front row

The stage light shines almost blindingly. You’re used to it now, though. There was a time when it was overwhelming, almost daunting, to be in the eyes of so many people. Back then, Bucky was your rock. The anchor that kept you grounded. The calm in a world full of storms. 

But now, the thrill excites you, the heat of the spotlight feels like home. You’re not sure which you crave more, the rapt attention of a thousand strangers or the careful, loving gaze of just one person. Your person. Bucky. But if you just let yourself really listen to your heart, you’re almost sure you’d choose the latter. 

Almost.

Your gaze drifts beyond the crowd, past the stage lights and into the shadows at the edge of the room. That’s when you see him. Leaning against the wall beneath the dull red glow of the exit sign, arms crossed, eyes on you like he never left. Like he never broke you.

And then, he’s gone.

You’re probably just imagining it. Bucky wouldn’t be here, he had better things to do than to haunt your show like a ghost. There was a time where Bucky would be at every front row seat of your shows. Granted, the venues were small, maybe three rows total, but he was there. Always.

You don’t really know what happened. It doesn’t matter anyways. How could anything matter that much—enough to cost you him? But what’s done is done. There’s no taking it back. No turning back the time.

So now, you focus on the moment. Focus on performing. Because that’s what you do best. Perform. In front of thousands of eyes. In front of no one. In front of the mirror. You perform. Pretending to be okay.

——

And I've been looking for love online

And maybe some of them are real good guys

They're never gonna be like you though

You set the bar above the moon so

It’s not like men are all bad. It’s just that they’re worse, comparatively, when your bar was set by Bucky Barnes. And you did try to find love. Tried to move on. Tried everything just to feel something. But nothing you did ever came close. Close to the way he made you feel when he held you when you thought the world was against you. Close to the way he made you feel when he accidentally brushed his hands against yours, and it felt like lightning had just struck you both. Close to the way he made you feel just by looking at you, like you’re the only damn person in this Earth. And to him, that was true. It is true. At the very least, you’re the only person that ever mattered to him. You were his world. His safe place.

But none of it matters now.

Because even as you stand here, surrounded by the lights and the crowd, that feeling is gone. All that’s left is the echo of it. A memory of what once was, and the ache of never finding it again. 

You try to move on, to pretend you don’t still hear his voice in your head, whispering that you’re not alone, that everything will be okay. But the truth is, no one has ever made you feel the way he did. 

No one ever will.

——

Now that you finally got the job you like

I'm making money off the songs I write

I know you said that I could call you

I wonder if you wanna call too

Someone said he was doing well. That he finally got into that company he wanted and he finally escaped the hellhole. You heard it through a friend of a friend, like a whisper in the wind. You wonder if he’s really happy. You hope he is. You really really do.

You’re doing alright too. In a way better place than you were before. Sometimes it all feels like a dream, a mixture of your worst nightmare and the version of your life you used to write about in your journal when you were fifteen. He said you could call. You remember the way he looked at you that night — tired, unsure, but still trying. “You know, whatever happens… you could always call me, right?” You nodded back then. Maybe even believed it. But people say a lot of things they don't mean. Still, some nights your fingers hover over his name. Just in case. Just in case he meant it. Just in case he still would pick up.

——

Now that the future doesn't feel so far

It doesn't seem as wrong to want what's ours

And after everything that's happened

I wanna put it in the past tense

People grow. They grow and they change and nothing is ever constant. You knew that. You knew that better than anyone else. Even if sometimes you felt like you might forget about it, the constant ache—the ache your father left when he walked out the door—never truly let you. It sat there, quiet but insistent, like a low hum beneath every laugh, every moment of joy, every silence. 

That didn’t stop the teenage you from hoping, though. It didn’t stop you from looking at Bucky like he was the exception to every rule, like maybe he’d be the one to stay. You held onto that hope with both hands, white-knuckled and desperate, because something about him made you believe in forever, even when you knew better.

You and Bucky stopped being friends three years ago. Though if we’re being honest, you and Bucky stopped being friends long before that. Not if you count the longing you carried like a secret, folded tight in the corners of your heart. Friends don’t look at each other that way. 

And he looked at you too. God, he did. In the way his gaze lingered when you talked, in the way he remembered things you said in passing like they meant everything. But Bucky Barnes was a walking contradiction. He flirted with everyone, kissed girls at parties like it didn’t mean anything, and smiled at you like you were the one exception. You never knew if you were special or just stupid.

And you were both too proud—too scared—to ask.

The night everything fell apart, it wasn’t a fight so much as a slow, sharp unraveling. You watched him leave that party with someone else. Again. And for once, you didn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. You didn’t smile through it or wait up or brush it off when he stumbled back into your life a week later with a half-assed apology and tired eyes.

You didn’t say anything at all.

Then, something shifted. You stopped answering his texts right away. Stopped showing up to places just because you thought he might be there. You started saying no when he called late at night, asking if you were up, like he hadn’t just spent the evening with someone else. You weren’t cruel, you never could be, not with him, but you were distant. Careful. Like someone learning not to touch fire, even if it still called to you.

Bucky noticed. Of course he did. You saw it in the crease between his brows when you laughed a little too loudly at someone else’s joke, felt it in the way he started watching you from across the room like maybe you were slipping out of his reach. And you were.

He tried, in his own way.

Cornered you in the kitchen at Sam’s birthday party, leaning against the counter like it wasn’t taking everything in you not to look at him. Like he hadn’t been circling you all night, waiting for a moment when you weren’t surrounded by other people. Other distractions.

“Did I do something wrong, baby?” he asked, soft and unsure in a way that didn’t match his usual confidence.

Baby.

There’s that word again. Your heart stuttered, traitor that it was.

But you didn’t show it. Just shrugged, cool and quiet, like the sound of that word didn’t carve straight through you.

He called everyone that. Baby. Sweetheart. Doll. It didn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you told yourself. That’s what you clung to when your throat got tight and you couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

��No,” you said finally, voice calm. Distant. “You didn’t do anything.”

But your chest ached with everything you didn’t say.

You wanted to scream yes. Yes, you did. You made me feel like I mattered and then reminded me I didn’t. You made me believe in something, and then left me to carry it alone. But instead, you stayed quiet. Because if you said any of it out loud, you weren’t sure you’d survive hearing his answer.

He stood there a moment longer, waiting. Watching. Maybe hoping.

Then he nodded, pushed off the counter with a quiet sigh, and left you there with your silence.

And eventually… he stopped trying.

But some things don’t end just because you stop talking.

The wanting never really left you. It dulled, maybe. It muted itself into something quieter, more manageable. Something you could pack away between polite smiles and half-meant goodbyes. But it never died.

Because every time you hear his name, your heart still flinches. Every time someone mentions him in passing, you feel your pulse skip like it used to. You still remember the sound of his laugh, the shape of his mouth around your name, the way it used to feel like you were the only two people in the world.

And you’re tired. Tired of feeling like nothing could ever compare. Tired of longing for the ghost of him. No, not the ghost of him. Tired of longing for him. The real him. You’re tired of pretending it was only ever a phase. A crush. A moment you’ve outgrown.

It’s been 3 years of missing him and many more years of longing for him. So you decided you had enough of it. You tried getting rid of the wanting, but it didn’t work. You tried distracting yourself, that only made you miss him more. You tried being mad, really mad. Told yourself he didn’t deserve that kind of space in your chest. That if he wanted you, he would’ve said something. Done something. Chosen you. And that just left you feeling unwanted.

But there’s one thing you haven’t tried: talking to him.

So you do.

You don’t think. Don’t overanalyze or rehearse a speech in your head. You just pick up your phone and press his name before you can talk yourself out of it. Before fear and pride and all the years between you can pull you back under.

It rings.

Once.

Twice.

“Hello?”

Fuck. dontcrydontcrydontcrydontcry.

“Doll, you okay?”

And you just sob.

——

‘Cause I don’t wanna be 20-something

And still in my head about

17 in my bedroom talking

It took Bucky exactly 9 minutes to get to your place. You didn’t even tell him where you were. Didn’t need to. The moment he heard your sob, he didn’t hesitate. 

“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me, okay?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t, not with the lump in your throat and the way everything you had been holding in was spilling out. But you stayed on the line, the sound of your shaky breaths mixing with his muffled voice on the other side.

You barely remember the time passing. You only know the next thing you hear is the sound of your doorbell ringing—quick, urgent.

Bucky.

You rush to the door, barely pulling it open before he’s already there, eyes wide with concern. His face is soft, but there’s something tense in the way he looks at you.

This brings you back to when you were 17. Crying in your room over something small that happened. Bucky would hold you and wipe your tears away. Then he would try to talk about everything and nothing at the same time, to get you out of your head. And it worked. Every problem felt small when you have your Bucky Barnes next to you.

But you’re not 17 anymore. And it’s hard for Bucky to comfort you when he’s the reason for your broken heart at the first place. 

“Tell me what’s on your pretty mind, sweetheart,” Bucky tries.

He says it like it’s still easy. Like no time has passed. Like you haven’t spent the last three years trying to forget the way his voice used to sound wrapped around your name.

You blink at him, eyes glassy, heart pounding so loud you swear it fills the whole room. You want to yell at him. Kiss him. Tell him to leave. Beg him to stay. You want to do everything and nothing at the same time.

“You,” you whisper. It’s all you can manage at first. “You’re what’s on my mind.”

His face shifts. Like the words punch the air out of his lungs.

“All the time,” you add, voice breaking. “You’ve been on my mind for years, Bucky. And I tried—God, I tried so hard to forget. To move on. But it always comes back to you. It’s always you.”

He steps forward, cautiously, like you’re made of something fragile and he’s finally figured out he’s been the one cracking you all along.

“I didn’t know,” he says, voice low. “I swear, doll, I didn’t know it hurt you that much. I thought…” He trails off, jaw clenched like he can’t bring himself to finish the thought. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

You laugh, bitter though you don’t mean it to be. “I wanted you so much it hurt.”

And maybe that’s all it takes. For everything to unravel. For the silence to finally shatter. Because when he reaches for you again, you don’t pull away.

——

You said that by now we’d

Paint the walls of our shared apartment

You’re still everything I want and

I think we can work it out

“I used to picture it, you know,” he says, voice low. “What it’d be like if we ever figured it out.”

“Our place,” he says. “Some shitty apartment with a leaky faucet and bad lighting. But we’d paint the walls. Together. You’d pick the palette, I’d botch the corners.”

The image of it burns your brain. God knows what you would give to have that. The sheer domesticity of it all.

Bucky had been everything you’d ever wanted. He is everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And maybe that’s the problem. Dreams aren’t built to last in real light. Not when they’re made of “almosts” and “what ifs.”

But he’s sitting next to you now, limbs tangled and his thumb is brushing your cheek. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks next. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice barely more than breath. “For the way I hurt you.”

Your eyes stay on him, even as his stay fixed on the floor. His thumb stills against your skin.

“I didn’t mean to. I just... I didn’t know how to stay when things got hard. Didn’t know how to hold something good without breaking it.”

He’s quiet for a long beat, thumb stilling against your cheek. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, like it’s scraped against something sharp on the way out.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” he says. “Back then, I really believed that. I thought you were done. So I didn’t push. Just let you leave and followed you around like a shadow, watching from the edges, never able to find the courage to fix what we had."

You blink, caught between disbelief and the ache that’s never quite left.

“I should’ve asked. Should’ve fought harder,” he continues, voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t know how. And maybe I was scared too. Scared that if I looked too closely, I’d find out I was the only one who felt everything I felt.”

You take a shaky breath. It feels like the first real one you’ve taken in years. “I wanted you,” you say quietly. “I still do.”

His eyes flicker down to your mouth, then back up again, searching your face like he’s making sure this is real. Like he’s afraid to ruin it by wanting too much.

“You still do?” he whispers, almost disbelieving. You nod, just once. “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes.

He leans in slowly, carefully, giving you time to pull away, to say no, but you don’t want to. Not when it’s everything you’ve been wishing for all your life. You tilt your face toward his, eyes fluttering closed just as his lips brush against yours. It’s not rushed or desperate. It’s quiet. Careful. Reverent.

His hand slips from your cheek to the back of your neck, cradling you gently as he deepens the kiss, just slightly, just enough to feel like home. And when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “I missed you,” he murmurs. And you allow yourself to dream once again, a much more real and grounded dream. Maybe we could work it out this time. He leans back a little, studying you with that half-grin that used to undo you. “So,” he murmurs, like he’s trying not to smile too much, “what are you doing now?”

[lunajay33]

Not as Planned

•🤍🧺⛓️‍💥🪽•

Summary: Kozik was your world and with a baby girl on the way everything was becoming clear, but you worried for his safety with the cartel, happy being both of your best friend he was always there to reassure you, but what will the future hold?

Pairing: Kozik x f!reader, Happy x f!reader

Included: Pregnancy, Character Death:(, Depression, Grief, Flashbacks, Fluff, 18+

•Masterlist•

The moment I met Kozik in Tacoma I knew, I knew he was my soulmate, he moved in next door and the rumble of his motorcycle intrigued me, I always was weak for a strong tattooed man in a bike and this was my chance to live out that dream

When I went over with a batch of cookies he was smiling brightly as he answered the door, he invited me in and from that point on we were inseparable, I knew what he did and it didn’t bother me, as long as I got to be with him

He introduced me to his club, where I got to meet some guys, some were okay, civil about me, but through that I met Happy Lowman, he was one of Koziks best friends and over time he became mine too, he was stand offish with me at first but Kozik told me that’s how he is with new things

But after many nights of them both staying over at my house and the many meals and desserts I filled their bellies I won him over, now he was like a welcome third wheel in our relationship, there for when I needed advice on Kozik or just when I needed moment of silence with a good friend he was there

All three of us made the move to Charming to the Redwood charter, they wanted a smaller area and of course I went with them, that where I got to meet the guys, Tara, Lyla and Gemma, they were glad to have another girl around the place

When I found out I was pregnant 7 months ago Kozik was over the moon, very nervous but so excited to grow a family with me, always joking that the baby would be protected constantly because it has a psycho uncle

And that leads to now

Sitting at the bench outside the clubhouse as I twist the gold band around my ring finger, waiting for Kozik and the rest of the guys to pull into the lot after another gun run for the Cartel

“Sweetheart all this stress isn’t good for the baby” Gemma states as she comes to stand by the table

“I know but I can’t help it, ever since I found out I’m pregnant I have this constant fear he’s gonna get hurt, worse than the usual” she rubs her hand up and down my back

“Oh honey we all feel that way, but the guys have each others back out there, your knight in shining armour will me riding through those gates any minute” and just like that we hear the distant rumble of motorcycles

One by one they pull into the lot and soon they’re all getting off, I wobble over to Kozik and throw my arms around his and his arms immediately wrap around my waist

“Shit I missed you baby girl” he sighs into my neck and I knew it was a rough one today for them

“I missed you too, I get so scared everytime you leave, I feel like you take a part of me with you and if you don’t come back I’ll never be the same” I’ve gotten alot more emotional in these last steps of my pregnancy but every word I spoke was true

He’s everything to me, always has been, not many people find their soulmates and luckily I came across mine, he pulls back and places his hands in the sides in my baby bump

“You know I’d never leave my girls”

“In this life style, it may not be your choice” we look at eachother for some time just admiring what we have when Happy comes and claps a hand on both our backs

“Come on love birds, do you need to declare love everytime he comes back” he groans glaring at us both only making me laugh, knowing deep down he was jealous of getting no attention

“I missed you too happy” I smile pulling him down into a hug, he’s not a touchy feeling emotional guy but he held a special spot for his best friend, he held on a little longer than usual meaning even Happy was stressed about whatever was going on which had to be bad

“Come, you boys need to relax”

We walk inside and Rat is already ready handing them both a beer, quick to grab and water for me

The both slump down in the old couch letting out big sighs as I try to maneuver a way to sit without falling backwards with my huge belly since the couch was so low

Soon feeling four hands on me helping guide me down till the ache on my back is gone and I’m nestled into the soft leather and between the two most important men in my life

“How is she today?” Kozik asks wrapping an arm behind me so I could rest my head on his shoulder, happy taking my legs and resting them on his lap as he continued a conversation with Tig who’s at the table next to the couch

“She’s good, she was kicking alot more, definitely missed her daddy today” I hold his hand in mine across my belly, moments like this I cherished, being in his arms surrounded my people I love

“She’s not the only one, I can tell, you’re stressed the doctor said that was bad for you both”

“I know but I can’t help it, you guys aren’t just in risky stuff anymore, it’s straight up dangerous…..it scares me” I feel happy rub up and down my leg soothingly even if he wasn’t in the conversation I know he could hear my worry, he always had his own way of showing affection and comfort

“Just promise me you won’t put yourself into unnecessary danger, make another guy do it I don’t care just…..don’t go all macho and end up dying leaving me and Lily alone”

“Okay I promise, now relax you’re running your head wild, we’re back, I’m back……I love you baby girl” he whispers into my hair

“I love you too Kozik”

•

I walk into the club house with a container of fresh brownies for the guys knowing how famished they get after being hungover, the opposite of most normal people

“Thank god our saviour! Koziks got himself a lucky one” tig yells out and the guys swarm me taking brownies, bringing one over to Happy and Kozik at the bar

“Feeling under the weather today boys?” I mock not being able to help but smirk as they rub their heads

“I love you baby, but please be quiet” Kozik groans as he slowly stuffs his face with brownies

“I second that” happy grunts

“Sorry” I hold my hands up in mock surrender, we all sit in silence for a while but there was something in my mind only the two closest men in my life could answer

“Can I ask you both something?” The change in my voice had them both looking to me, Kozik hand immediacy coming to my thigh

“Everything alright?” Happy asks, his voice grumbling

“I guess I don’t know ever since I’ve gotten bigger I don’t feel well…..as desirable anymore, will all these skinny perky croweaters around it’s hard not to compare” the were silent before they both bursted out laughing

“Guys I’m serious”

“Trust me baby, you’re the sexiest you’ve ever been”

“Yeah definitely up my alley” happy days earning a arm smack from Kozik

“Hey im just saying, she’s hot, we’ve been over this”

“Creep, she’s mine buddy” Kozik scoffs jokingly as he looks back at me

“But he’s right, you’re smoking baby” he brushed my hair back, his fingers brushing my cheek

“Maybe you just have to show me” he perks up like he wasn’t just completely hung over, picking me up bridal style and running to his dorm, leaving a trail of laughs in our wake, and Happy feeling left confused at the bar, these foreign feelings for his best friends girl who was also his best friend

•

Clay had Happy, Miles and Kozik going on a run having to keep the guns at Happys mom and aunts house so I thought it would be a fun little trip to tag along, I drive behind them, miles in the truck, happy and Kozik on their bikes and me in my own car because they didn’t want me getting in the mix if something happened

Soon we’re pulling up to Happys mothers house and she comes out with her sister, bright smiles as usual, always happy to greet guest, how happy came from her I’ll never know

I walk up to the house with Kozik at my side, happy and miles ahead of us

“I’m so happy to see you mijo” she beams pulling happy down to kiss him on the check

She turns to me and laughs as she gently touches my bump

“Oh chica you’re glowing, congratulations to both of you” she kisses my cheek and pulls me into a hug

“Thank you ma’am! We’re very excited for her to join our little family, Happy won’t say it but he is too” I whisper the last part to her as the guys have gone inside to eat

“You know sometimes I wish he got to you first, eyes never lie honey, and I know my son, I see the way he looks at you” my heart flips at her words making me feel flustered

“Happy? Like me? I don’t think so”

“I’m just saying I wish you were my daughter in law” she leads me inside to the table leaving me stunned but u try to brush it off as I sit next to Kozik, my plate already filled

Happy like me? That’s insane he’s koziks best friend and mine, plus I’m not really his type, atleast I don’t think I am

•

After dinner I helped clean up even though Kozik and Happys mom tried to stop me I couldn’t just sit their while everyone cleans up, that’s not me especially when I’m a guest

Placing the last plate in the dishwasher I stand up placing my hand in my lower back sighing

“Your back again?” I hear happy ask behind me, leaning against the counter with a toothpick in his mouth like usual

“Yeah, she’s getting heavier really strains my back, kozik helps by holding her up sometimes but he can’t hold me all the time” I laugh and his eyes travel to my bump

“Your mother had some interesting to say earlier” I say filling the silence

“Oh yeah?”

“She said she wished I was her daughter in law, I’m thinking she’s wanting you to get yourself a nice lady Hap” I smile taking his upper arm and we walk out to the living room where Kozik and Miles are sat watching a boxing fight, Happys mom and aunt gone to bed

“God I’m tired” I sigh sitting next to Kozik and slaying across his chest cuddling into him as he wraps his arms around me

“You work yourself out too much Angel, the doctor said you have to take it easy”

“Yeah yeah well I wasn’t gonna put all the work on Happys mom, even though I’m pretty sure she wants to keep me around”

“Sounds like she wants happy to steal you ol lady man” miles chimes in making Kozik laugh

“Yeah I’d like to see him try” happy doesn’t say anything just watched us both with those intimidating eyes

“I’m crazy, not crazy enough to steal another man’s ol lady” he grunts looking back to the tv

“Awe see he does love us” I joke making Kozik and miles laugh and the rest of the night is quiet…..comfortable

•

The guys loaded up the truck and I sat out watching them as I drank some iced tea, Happy comes out grumpy

“Who made pancakes it’s a mess”

“I did” miles says as they strain to lift the crate into the truck but watching my man’s arms flex was quite the show

“You gonna clean it up?”

“Have your mom and aunt”

“They’re not your maids” I could here the anger in his voice

“It’s okay I can do it” I say trying to ease the situation but trying to stand seemed harder as u huffed when I finally stood up straight

“No he made the mess he cleans it up” happy grunts

“Go he hates messes and my woman isn’t cleaning up after you” Kozik pushes and miles huffs as he walks inside leaving the three of us

“You’re to nice, he’s gotta learn” happy says as he puts his hand on my lower back and helps me sit back down, they join me sitting in the lawn chairs facing me

“I know I just wanna help you guys, I know how much stress you guys are under and it worries me sick when you’re both out there, me cleaning up some messes is the least I can do” Kozik brushes back my hair cupping my cheek

“It’s not your job Angel, I love you but you’re so stubborn, I love it but you’ve gotta relax at least until Lily is born”

“Think of the lil girl” happy says with sincerity in voice, which was a rarity

“Okay…I’ll take it easy”

“Good, and you have nothing to be worried about, we’ve got eachothers backs out there right Hap” he grunts in agreement and I feel a bit more at ease

Happys mom comes out with a bundle of clothes in her arm making her way towards me

“Mija, I’ve dug out some of Happys baby clothes, you should have them” she laid them in my lap, little onesies, beanies and handmade blankets

“Oh Mrs. Lowman I can’t these are your memories, keep them for when happy has children” she shakes her head patting my shoulder

“I want you to have them, your important to happy and his dear friend, keep them mija” I look at happy to make sure it’s okay and he nods and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face

“Thank you so much, I’ll take good care of them” she kisses my cheek before going back inside, I hold up a onesie and it’s so tiny

“Awe happy you must’ve been adorable” I tease and he snatches it from my hands as me and Kozik laugh

“You’re lucky you’re my friends old lady” he scoffs but I can see the subtle hint of a smile

•

The day had come where they were moving the guns so I was gonna head back to charming and wait for them there

Miles gets in the truck and I hug Happy, whispering in his ear

“Please watch out for him Hap, and be safe” his arms squeezed a little tighter leaning back he nods and gets in the truck

I turn to Kozik and his arms are immediately around my waist and I’m holding him tight, breathing him in

“Be safe baby, we will be waiting for you, me and our little girl okay”

“I’ll come back to you angel, I love you so much” being in his arms was my favorite thing in the world he always made me feel safe

“I love you too, with every fiber of my being”

He looks down at me gently holding my face in his hands and I do the same to him

Pulling me into a hard passionate kiss I never want to leave, when we separate I’m out of breathe making him smirk

“We’ll finish that later” he hops in the truck and they’re off, I watch as the truck drives down the road and I can’t help this awful feeling in my stomach

“Before you came they were just two men struggling, you know Koziks past and happy well he was a bit out of control, but when you came it’s like they both found something to ground them, they’re lucky to have you mija”

“Thank you Mrs. Lowman, you’re so sweet to me, I’ll be sure to visit again soon”

She gives me a bag of homemade cookies and I pack up my car and drive home and all I can think about is the two most important men in my life

•

Part 2 soon, it’s gonna get angsty, it’s gonna be a rollercoaster, if you wanna be in the taglist comment!!

Taglist: @mamawiggers1980 @samcrosfaith

[rdmasevi]

Between the Lines

Title: “Between the Lines”: A Formula 1 fanfiction

Pairing: Max and Charles x Reader Male

Genre: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Romance

Sports/Drama

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, Temporary breakup, Heartbreak, Swearing, Mild mentions of anxiety/stress.

Summary: After a whirlwind relationship with Max and Charles, the male reader—also an F1 driver—is devastated when they end things, calling it an “experiment.”

The Monaco GP weekend had always been special—electric streets, golden light spilling across the harbor, and the ghosts of legends watching from the tight corners of the circuit. For you, it had meant even more this year. You weren’t just climbing the ranks as a promising driver anymore.

You were in love. Or so you thought.

Charles and Max had come into your life like a whirlwind—fiery, intense, magnetic. The paddock whispered when the three of you started showing up together more often. You had heard the rumors about Max and Charles’ past, the hidden relationship that had fizzled and reignited more times than anyone could count. But when they told you that this—you—meant something new, something real, you believed them.

Until today.

—

They asked to meet after FP3. You expected tired smiles, strategy talk, maybe a joke from Charles about your overtake attempt in Turn 8. Instead, they looked serious. Closed-off.

“Let’s sit down,” Max said, voice low, unreadable. You followed them into the Red Bull motorhome, heart already racing.

Charles sat beside him, eyes darting to yours and then away. “This isn’t easy. But we… we need to be honest.”

Max was blunt. “This thing between us—it has to stop.”

You blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Charles’s voice cracked slightly. “You were part of something we needed to understand. To move on from what we had before. But this—”

“It wasn’t real,” Max said. “Not like we thought. You weren’t supposed to be permanent. You were… helping us figure things out.”

You stared at them, frozen. “So I was a placeholder? A… test run?”

Neither spoke. That silence told you everything.

You stood slowly, your pulse deafening in your ears. “You lied to me. Made me think I mattered.”

“You do,” Charles said, standing quickly. “But we can’t keep doing this. It’s better now. Cleaner.”

You didn’t wait to hear more. You walked out, shutting the door behind you with a calmness that betrayed the storm inside your chest.

—

That night, Monaco glowed under a thousand lights, but you couldn’t breathe. You ignored the afterparties, the glances, the half-hearted congratulations on your P6. You kept your helmet on longer than you needed just to hide the glassiness in your eyes.

You sat alone on a balcony overlooking the track, barely noticing when someone walked up beside you.

It was Lewis.

He didn’t speak at first. Just leaned on the railing and let the silence sit between you like an old friend.

“You’ve looked better,” he finally said with a half-smile.

You scoffed. “I’ve felt worse.”

Lewis turned, folding his arms. “People make mistakes. Especially when they’re trying to run from what they feel.”

You glanced at him. “You think that’s what they’re doing?”

“I think Max and Charles are two of the most emotionally reckless people I’ve ever met,” he said with a smirk. “But I also think they’re idiots for letting you walk away.”

You exhaled slowly, the first real breath you'd taken all day. “I don’t want to be someone’s mistake.”

“You’re not,” Lewis said. “You’re the wake-up call they didn’t know they needed.”

—

The races rolled on. Canada. Austria. Silverstone. You buried yourself in the cockpit, pushing your car—and your pain—past the limit. You started racking up podiums. Carlos raved about your control in the wet. Lando told you you’d become “scary fast.” Even Toto started circling you like a vulture during contract season.

You didn’t talk to Max and Charles. Not until Belgium.

It was raining after qualifying. You’d just pulled into the paddock when you saw them—waiting. Soaked. Tired.

“Can we talk?” Max said.

You didn’t respond. Just stared.

Charles stepped forward. “We messed up. Bad. We thought we were trying to protect something between us. But what we had with you… it was real.”

Max nodded. “We panicked. We defaulted to what we knew—each other. But it wasn’t the same without you.”

You crossed your arms. “Why now?”

“Because nothing feels right anymore,” Charles said, stepping closer. “We didn’t just lose a partner. We lost the person who made this whole thing actually work.”

“And now you want me to just… what? Forgive you?”

Max looked straight at you. “No. We want to earn you back.”

—

It wasn’t simple.

But it was real.

Over the next weeks, it was the small things—Charles showing up at your garage with coffee before the race. Max standing by your pit wall even after his own DNF. The apology text at 2 a.m. from both of them, signed, “For once, we’re not screwing this up.”

You didn’t say yes right away. But you didn’t say no.

And when you finally stepped onto the podium at Monza—P1, the Italian anthem ringing loud—Max and Charles were both waiting at the bottom of the stairs. They didn’t say a word. They just held out their hands.

You took them.

Maybe this wasn’t the cleanest story. But it was yours.

And this time, they weren’t running.

They were home.

My main masterlist

[frownyalfred]

How do you think the batkids would handle having a broken foot/other and being in recovery for a long fuckass time because I broke my foot skateboarding and that shit sucks. Everything feels so humiliating when you need help with it even as a normal, not fucked up sense of pride human being. How about someone who's usually fighting Killer Croc and other crazy dangerous criminals suddenly needing help with way more things than they'd ever allow normally. Even worse if they broke it outside of vigilante activities: like Tim breaks something skateboarding and he can't even say, "haha, yeah, that's Killer Croc for you," he has to do the mumble of shame that he was doing some completely normal mundane thing.

They would either pull a Bruce Wayne and try to walk on it anyway (horrible idea but depending on the break, theoretically possible just very painful) or quietly let Alfred help take care of them when he offers. Accepting help from your siblings is a last resort.

Alfred is there to save the dignity of many people in that Manor, Bruce chief among them. He's there to help with the embarassing moments, which isn't just things like hobbling to the toilet -- it's also the moment when you try to get up a week and a half in and rip your stitches and triple your pain levels and Alfred finds you trying very hard not to cry slumped against the bed.

I think the most cathartic option is actually Bruce quietly stepping in for Alfred and giving "permission" for said Robin to be weak, in pain, etc. Alfred's help is kind, but firm. Bruce's help is borne from understanding exactly where you are because he's been there. And you bet he's going to carry Tim back to bed if he sees him trying to walk on that broken bone (Bruce will continue to do this but his kids may NOT).

[god-syndicate-if]

So this totally doesn’t have anything to do with my irl drama, but how would the ROs react if they saw MC get their feelings crushed by someone they liked?

Eyyy, It's been a while since I answered RO asks like these so I'll do that for now since I'm not able to write at the moment and these are always fun. Also good luck with the heartbreak! Eat some bread and cry!

So this is written by me assuming they're in a crushing stage.

Riley: Kinda avoids you like the plague for a bit. And eventually they'll come around and try to make you feel better by including you in activities and conversations even if its clear you'd rather not. They're not great at comforting sad people. If they didn't have feelings for you then they'd just leave the moment you started crying.

Franco: Arm around you, dresses you up, takes you out to party with him for a long time. Like you guys start at 5pm, and only at 5am when you're exhausted (and probably drunk, if you're into that) does he sit you down and force you to talk about it. It would be a very nice talk, the type you can only have when you're too tired to really explain everything. But he'd get it and by the end you'd feel like you lost a weight in you.

Sigourney: Comfort food and comfort films at home. She will be absolutely furious that someone would hurt you and would be more than willing to absolutely talk shit about them, in fact she'd encourage it.

Dame: Honestly is probably extremely bad at this. They'd be secretly delighted that you'll probably be moving on now. Their attitude towards you in the open won't change much. Honestly the only time they'd actually do something comforting (when they arent in a relationship with you) is if they actually catch you in a vulnerable moment. Either crying, or close to it. They'll stand/sit vaguely next to you and say nothing at all. They are the least equipped to deal with emotions.

Rebel: Does the standard "want me to kill them for you" routine before deciding that what you need is to take your mind off your heartbreak and gladly volunteers themselves to "help" you. Rebel would probably actively make things worse for your emotions, tbh. Not intentionally, I don't think. But they are a bit selfish and this is an opportunity if there ever was one.

Harper: Has seen your heart broken before and knows the steps you need to move on quickly. The type of person to go through your messages with you and basically map out how much of a scumbag the other person was, all while hyping you up of course. They do this same routine over the course of a few days because they know that repetition will make you remember it and internalize it.

[haredjarris]

The Substance is a documentary ✌️😊

[zvahlne]

THERE'S MORE???? I MISSED THESE???? i'm so happy rn

now. that said.

i am sensing that soon i need to make an actual lore post to explain all of this. but for now! (note: this one is definitely sad i gotta talk about her dying LMAO so. prepare? got a little into this one..)

first, context, recap, pre-gene breakdown, emma and him were never close, but she was incredibly close to dante. she only spent time with dante, and really only even talked to dante, out of everyone in boboros. it wasn't personal, she was just a really shy, quiet kid, and dante was the only one she felt safe with... but gene took it personally. he tried to force that relationship, but predictably, that did not work! it only made the situation worse. (i want to note though - he wasn't awful to her during this time. it's more like a distant family member who really wants a hug at a family gathering and gets a little pushy about it, but all the time)

it's sad to me, because if he'd waited and let her initiate, if he hadn't scared her away, she would have loved him just as much. she did love him, before everything...

gene took her with him after getting his revenge on dante. after finding that he couldn't manipulate emma's memories, next best thing was erasing dante's memories of her (if he remembered her, he would know that someone remembered him. that's no good!). emma would NOT shut up about dante (this is, unfortunately, the most she's talked to gene ever) and he was 1. worried that might ruin his awesome cool revenge if he just let her be and 2. pissed him off. but he didn't want to flat out kill her, because despite everything, she was his little sister. something in him loved her still.

so he proceeded to erase everyone else's memories of her too, so that FINALLY, there would be no one she could talk to but him. oooh gonna hide behind dante's legs instead of talking to gene?? TOO BAD, he has no idea who you are! gotta talk to your big brother gene now, idiot!

absolutely deranged of the man but you know when you're having an evil breakdown and getting revenge on your village who wronged you you may as well go all the way yk

so now emma is a little girl no one remembers, and so gene takes her BACK WITH HIM to the nether. it's awful for her. he thinks it's pretty shitty for him too! it's hard taking care of a kid and it's harder taking care of a kid in the nether. it doesn't help that emma hates him, and doesn't even thank him for the work he's putting in here! wow! and she still won't shut up about fucking dante! HE DOESN'T REMEMBER YOU. GET OVER IT.

he's less human than he was when he took her with him originally, and he's getting frustrated. and now, he's had a thought. she'd be easier to keep 'alive' if she was a shadow knight... and if she dies, well. that solves the problem too!

(the vastly preferably end is that she comes back, but he's hit a point that he thinks he's ready to accept the alternative. personally, i think he'd have been more upset than he realizes if she hadn't come back)

and so...

emma died in the nether. i've cycled through a few deaths over the years (current thought? fell in lava. but it could have been mobs, or even other shadow knights). that's not the important part: the important part is that gene lets it happen. he doesn't make it happen, he doesn't do it himself - but he stands by while it does. he watches. and emma knows this, she saw this, her last living thought was desperately wishing for her big brother to save her, and her first unliving thought was that he didn't.

for gene's part, he did encourage the shadow lord to make emma a shadow knight for him to mold! that's... something...? but he didn't get confirmation on that before he let emma die; he just floated the idea, and let it turn out how it may...

emma was filled with enough hate for gene, that even as young, and completely untrained as she was, she was brought back. she's told him this, that it was hate for him that brought her back - and he's shrugged it off. whatever keeps her here.

whether gene killed emma is up to one's own interpretation... he would say he didn't! she got herself killed. he'd saved her enough times. and she came back stronger, he even trained her, so he did her a favor.

...emma never says he killed her, either. she thinks it's worse that he just watched. she'll never forget that moment. there was no urgency on his face. no distress. only intrigue. morbid curiosity. like he was watching a bug struggle in a spiderweb, wondering if it would wiggle out before the spider devoured it.

THIS IS MY SECOND TIME WRITING THIS POST BECAUSE TUMBLR CRASHED AND KILLED IT

@plutoonwheels tags:

QUESTIONS ABOUT EMMA?? IS IT MY BIRTHDAY???

mcd emma lore under the cut but first a sketch of her<3 she's not usually smiling but she can smile for this post. as a treat

did dante's lore go to em?

nope !! gene still did all the "someone needs to remember" stuff... emma was always meant to be an addition to the lore, not a subtraction... i partially came up with it as a kid because i thought it was a clever way to explain why dante would never have brought up emma - he doesn't remember her! so he CAN'T mention her!

but SHE remembers him - so actually ("crazy for Dante if his sister turns up as a guard and he's just gotta pretend he doesn't know her"), SHE'S the one pretending not to know him! the first person who finds out she knows dante is laurance, because laurance sees her staring with a deep longing sadness at dante all the time and assumes she's yearning romantically... to which she protests in horror "?!? HE'S MY BROTHER!??!" without thinking and then she has to explain EVERYTHING to him lmao

(i fear dante is like. the last to know. because she keeps telling everybody not to tell him. then when he finds out, he doesn't believe it, and gives emma the cold shoulder while he tries to sort it out. she lets him, because she's not sure he should be talking to her anyway... but it wasn't meant to be forever! dante just needed a few days to process! but... then he doesn't see emma for 15 years. haha .)

they make me so sad

is emma a knight of phoenix drop?

her lore is currently undergoing a little reworking now that i'm better at writing + rewatching diaries, and this is one aspect i'm reconsidering, BUT - at time of writing - emma is not a knight of phoenix drop at any point! she kind of is in everything but name - she'll do anything to protect aphmau and phoenix drop, and has the means to do so, and is close with many of aphmau's knights. but she doesn't like fighting, and she doesn't want to be considered a knight.

gene was a knight. she never wants to be like him.

that taste will never get out of her mouth. and she wasn't officially trained as a knight; any training of that sort was from gene in the nether. so she really doesn't like associating with it, and she isn't technically qualified.

at the same time...

dante is also a knight, and she could never be good like him.

somehow she's torn between "i don't want to be a knight because they're bad" and "i don't deserve to be a knight because i am bad".... and BOTH feelings are fueled by her family issues!

so she doesn't consider herself a knight, and rejects any suggestions she should officially become a knight of phoenix drop. she doesn't need to be a knight to protect people she loves, so long as they allow her to <3

(if she DID ever become a knight though, i think it would be between s2 and s3! which is an era i haven't really explored for her with canon in mind so i plan to get to that tehee)

as for the last name - if you're willing to loan that to me i actually LOVE that, "emmalyn alighieri" is so pretty??? and i love the explanation ..

okayyy tysm for reading if you did!! as i say every em post. i love emmalyn questions. if you ask me an emmalyn question i will be so excited.... everyone who has taken an interest in emma, you're so cool forever <3333