#he is done with their sh!t but he still loves them

[quackkaz]

Remus : Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it!

Virgil : Remus, no—

Janus : Mistlefoe.

Virgil, sighing : Please stop encouraging him…

[luvs4matt]

Can you do headcannons about all the times matt and reader got caught

𝟑 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓

with love and stems, cherry ღღ

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭.

matt was laying down with you laying on top of him as you bounced up and down on his cock. your head was buried in his neck muffling all of your moans and crys of his name.

his hands were gripping your waist helping you, his head was buried in your shoulder with his eyes clamped shut “you’re doing so good for me honey” he praises.

you let out a louder cry as your pleasure increased “sh sh sh, don’t want them to hear do you?” you struggled to speak from how matt was now meeting your hips in the middle “n- no sir”

“then stay quiet baby” little did you know, chris stood in shock in the doorway as he watched this whole interaction happening. he originally was going to sneak in the room to scare the couple.

but when he seen the situation, he was too shocked to move. he seen you cum all over matt, and that’s when he realized what he is seeing and doing, quickly leaving the scene quietly.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭.

matt had been edging you for the last hour, he was using a vibrator on you to make the feeling more intense. you were sore from all of your ruined orgasms “you wanna cum princess?” you rapidly nod your head, begging to release “yes! yes yes yes! please! please!”

“10…” he starts counting down

“9…” you aren’t allowed to cum until he was done counting down

“8…” you had been so desperate for your orgasm that it hurt

“7…” you were using all of your strength to hold back

“6…” only six more seconds, can’t be that hard, right?

“5…” a front door slams but neither of you acknowledged it

“4…” you let out a scream from matt suddenly sticking a finger inside of you

“3…” nick and chris hear your scream

“2…” they start to run towards matts room to make sure you’re okay

“1…” chris and nick burst through the door

“cum.” both you and matts head look at the door

“oh my god, i- I’m so sor- ah fuck! no no no! i- i’m c- oh my god!” your orgasm hit you unexpectedly

your hips lift off of the bed as you turn on your side, trying to get the vibrations off of you but they won’t. of course your hands were handcuffed behind your back, and the vibe he was using on you wasn’t handheld.

“please! take it off! take it off!” chris had almost immediately ran out of the room when he walked in on you, while nick is still standing there frozen “not yet hun” he looks back at the door to see nick standing “you can go now!” matt yelled

“oh, yeah, right.” he hurried out of the room, grabbing his laptop to find a new therapist.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

your back was against the couch as matt made slow, deep thrust into you. “you feel good baby?” his voice was low so no one would wake up and catch you at 1 am.

“y- yes” you whimper, your moans were muffled by either biting your lip or matts hand over your mouth “being such a good girl f’me” chris walked up the stairs quietly hoping to wake no one up.

he walked by the couch, not noticing you, and you didn’t notice him. he was getting close to the fridge to grab a drink, but came to an abrupt stop when he heard your moans and whimpers.

“matt, i- i’m gonna cum” he quickens his thrust a bit more “can i? please” he places soft kisses on your jaw “go ahead baby”

“t- thank you” your noises start to pick up in pitch the closer, and closer you get to the edge “open your mouth” he demands. you expected him to spit or stick his tongue in your mouth, but instead he stuffed your panties in your mouth.

“gotta keep you quiet honey, don’t want chris to hear how pretty my girl sounds.”

chris felt weird for hearing all of this go down, but he felt confused for why matt mentioned his name. he stood in the kitchen, listening to your muffled moans as you reached your climax.

matt continued to thrust into you, which got you over stimulated. he could tell you were trying to say something so he removed the panties from your mouth “t- too much matty, i- i can’t”

your voice cracked while tears built in your eyes from the overstimulation “yes you can, give me one more then ill stop, understand?” your whimpers start to get louder again “y- yes sir”

he stuffs your panties back into your mouth. he watches your face contort in pleasure, your third orgasm of the night approaching (matt the munch), but this one was different, it felt like you were going to pee.

matt could tell that and started rubbing your clit. his orgasm was approaching just as fast as yours “you gonna let me cum inside of of you? hm?” you nod your head, desperate for him to fill you.

chris walks to the first step, standing behind the wall. “fucking shit, i’m cumming baby, cum with me, i know you wanna squirt all over this cock” you feel him finish inside of you which triggered your release.

your juices fly out from between you two with a loud moan from you and a loud groan from matt. chris finally walks down the stairs to his bedroom, he should be disgusted from what he has heard but he can’t help it when he takes care of his ‘problem’ by thinking of your noises, your words, your reactions, he can’t help but want to be the one cumming inside of you.

he never got his drink.

© luvs4matt

[obscurevideogames]

Tumblr’s Core Prodct Stratgy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on trying to keep our sinking ship afloat for as long as possible. This means desperately trying to copy every new fly-by-night social media app that some multi-billionaire sh*t out during their daily Peloton routine. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. If you find the things we say here worrisome, please understand that is our exact intention. You've outgrown our target demographic. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

The Diagnosis

It's lookin' pretty bad y'all!

After somehow losing hundreds of thousands of users during the great pr0n purge of 2018, we started to wonder if anything could be done to get back to where we were. We even brought in a management consultant who charged us a ridiculous amount of money. It would make you sick if you knew how much, but we got a few nice meals out of it at least. Anyhow, we handed this guy the app, and HE HAD NO IDEA HOW TO USE IT! It was f*cking hilarious! But suddenly it all clicked -- our users are a bunch of stupid idiots who can't even do basic arithmetic. I mean, they spend all day looking at their phones, so what do you expect?

Tumblr’s best feature is its unique content and vibrant communities. But who cares, right? We're just as happy getting traffic from people sh*t-posting memes, vague-booking, giving out-of-context hot takes to news events, and spewing whatever random thought is in their head at the moment. Plus that stuff doesn't p*ss off Apple.

To keep this thing going we need new people. And by "people" we mean teenagers, like we used to have back in the good ol' days. Unfortunately we're all in our 40s now, so we have no idea what they want. But teenagers are so cool! Imagine if they talked to us like we're one of them? We're getting hard just thinking about it.

Our Guidng Principls

To make Tumblr cool again, we must address these huge glaring issues.

People can look at a blog without logging in. How is that fair to all the poor schlubs who had to fill out forms to get an account? Also we haven't figured out a way to force ads onto the personalized pages yet. But we swear that's not the main reason.

People can see content they are looking for or linked to. People can keep up with blogs they follow. But the problem with this is, people don't know what they want. We know what they want! We're smart. We wrote this damn site, remember?

Promote posts that incite pointless conversations. Posts that are guaranteed to bait every troll into responding. Isn't that why all your Magat relatives love Facebook so much? We can do that!

P*ss off your content creators in every way possible (see #2).

Create algorithms that throw an unending barrage of irrelevant content in your face. Have you seen Instagram lately? We could do that so easy!!!

The app is slow. The website is slow. Obviously this is because of GIFs. Facebook and Instagram don't allow them, so why should we?

Conclusion

Our mission changes on a day-to-day basis. Right now we're super jealous of all the attention that new Threads thing is getting. We're still not sure what it is, but we're gonna download it after work.

[changetyre]

Heyyyy I just read something with Lando and he says “I wasn’t asking” and I’m going to need moreeee please & thank you 😍

F*ck you!!! || Lando Norris x Reader ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: You absolutely despise the way Lando can having you screaming in anger and then pleasure in a matter of seconds…right? Part 1 Here

WARNINGS: **18+**, hate sex

A/N: I love me some hate sex, denying your feelings kinda fics

It was the worse feeling in the world, no doubt. Your first victory was right there, your hands ready to grasp it you could touch it with the tip of your fingers only for it to be ripped away from you.

The race had gone perfectly, exactly as you’d planned both you and your team had done an excellent job in what was undeniably one if the not the best race of your career, making your way up from P12 after a bad qualifying.

No further action

You read and re read the text ready to waltz into that damned stewards office and give them a piece of mind right before lighting the damn building on fire. That’s the amount of rage you felt right now.

Some part of you was absolutely ready to spend the rest of your life behind bars if it weren’t for that idiot of a man you so very much loved to fuck showed up in your drivers room.

“What the fuck do you want?” You scoffed, right about ready to slap him too.

He’d been the cause of it, happily taking the victory for himself without a care that he’d cost you your race and first and well deserved victory completely.

“I came to apologize.” Lando spoke, a smirk on his face that you wanted to wipe off but a fucked up part of you still enjoyed.

“Fuck off.” You shoved him out of the way as you continued grabbing your things scattered around the room to pack them.

“I am really sorry.” Lando repeated.

“Right you really did look sorry when you were happily spraying champagne up on the podium posing for any camera that pointed your way.” You bit back.

“Let me make it up to you then.” Lando grabbed your waist stoping you from moving around the room.

“Don’t touch me.” Lando almost believed you meant it if it weren’t for the fact you made no attempt whatsoever to get his hands off you.

“Wanna touch me instead baby?” That stupid confident smirk appeared on his face again.

“Fuck you!” You huffed angrily looking up at him.

“I bet you do.” Lando laughed before pushing his lip on yours.

You moaned in annoyance but once again didn’t try hard to push him away. Lando basked in the way you accepted it and tried fighting for dominance with your lips which only for today he’d be okay with giving you.

“I hate you.” You whispered as you yanked Lando’s hair back allowing you to trail your lips down his neck.

“I bet you do baby.” Lando only spurred you on as he felt you leaving marks across his skin.

“I do…so fucking much.” You almost moaned the words this time as you ripped Lando’s shirt off him letting your lips continue their journey downwards before yanking his pants down too.

“Show me how much darling.” Lando knew he had to be quiet, despite the fact that your little adventures weren’t secret to many anymore being victims of your loud ventures around the paddock after a day like today it didn’t seem wise to give people more to talk about.

You didn’t feel like prepping him, you quite frankly didn’t care for anything other than taking out your frustration on him, to make him whine and ache at your hands.

So as you began harshly sucking on his length you basked in the way his knees buckled from under him forcing him to find the nearest support to keep himself upright.

He tried to sit down but you were quick to deny him that luxury.

“You sit down and I’ll stop.” You threatened and you reveled in the way he obeyed, straightening up and his eyes begging for more.

Your own cheeks hurt with how hard you sucked him and you knew he wouldn’t last long, and you watched for the tell tale signs carefully.

“Sh*t that’s so good baby.” Lando panted as he gathered your hair in a ponytail.

His head fell back in pleasure, as he tried his hardest to contain the loud moans that wanted to escape his lips.

“I’m almost there…keep going…ah…ugh!” Lando’s groans got louder.

Just as he was about to release you stopped.

“WHAT THE-“ Lando absolutely hated the feeling, the ache that settled in his core with his pleasure being ripped away right at the last second.

“Feels shit doesn’t it.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You little-“ Lando hated the fact that he for 1 second believed you’d make him feel good and forget about today.

“Have fun taking care of that.” You poked Lando’s rock-hard dick before getting up, grabbing your bags and leaving him.

[lexirosewrites]

Hey happy slick sundays! This is inspired by a Drabble by wheatnoodle and your fics, hope you like it.

*in this universe the upside down never happened but Steve still became pack mom to all of the kids and saved them from various situations*

The Corroded Coffin boys have just had about enough of it. Every session it was “Steve this” and “Steve that”, the pups could not seem to shut up about Harrington and they had all about had it. They didn’ t care that he was an omega and they didn’t wanna hear about how the King had supposedly changed. According to the kids rainbows shot out his ass and everything he touched turned to gold.

It was with these thoughts in his head, intensified by just having finished their weekly dnd session, that Gareth got thinking. The four older boys kicked back and within minutes he couldn’t hold back the vitriol from pouring out his mouth. “There’s no way I can take much longer of that guys” Gareth said while running his hand over his face. The others already knew what he meant as this wasn’t the first time they had sat back and complained about the ever present Steve shaped stain in their lives. Jeff sitting forward gets a contemplative look on his face, “there has to be some kind of way to deter him from hanging around, I mean the pups need a wake up call on who they idolize”. This thought would then spur them all into trying to figure out how to get back at Steve while showing the pups who he truly was on the inside. A spoiled, stuck up, and rotten omega.

You see even during his reign, there had been rumors. No one really took them seriously at first because being the most popular omega in school meant stories true or false circulated daily. But there had been one rumor, one that at the time, they had all laughed at and joked around about. One that they could maybe use to their advantage; that King Steve had a crush on Eddie the Freak Munson and that’s why he avoided him at all costs. The rumor was started by Tommy of course and while the boys weren’t sure it was true (it was) there were signs present day that it might just be. (Steve blushes like crazy around him, compliments him, bakes something for every dnd session, the list goes on)

All that to say Gareth gets the brilliant idea that Eddie should just try and romance Steve. I mean he dated just about anything that moves, and the pups were joking about a dry spell lately (coincidentally lining up with when Eddie and him started interacting more), so this could be their golden opportunity. Get all the dirt they can on sir highness to prove to the pups to drop him, make him fall in love, and then leave him in the dust when it’s all said and done. It was a genius plan.

Well that is until Eddie is 3 months in and Steve still hasn’t wanted to have sex because he doesn’t want this to be like all the other times. And they’re 4 months in and him and Wayne are watching the game while Steve cooks them all dinner in the kitchen. And then they’re 5 months in and Eddie realizes that Steve is maybe one of the best people he will ever be privileged to know, and oh god fuck he’s in love, he wants to mate him and pup him and spend everyday just watching the sunshine that is Steve Harrington. But the guilt sits heavy in his stomach, like he swallowed too much lake water and he’s waiting to finally throw it back up.

And Steve finds out of course. While the other boys had come around to Steve, finally seeing that he wasn’t the bad villain they had always thought him to be, Gareth had also been struggling. Realizing what a horrible suggestion it had been to begin with, learning about Steve’s home life and past relationships, he felt they had to tell him the truth. Unanimously they decide to tell Steve, all of them together. And it goes just about how you’d expect it. Steve left absolutely gutted, his omega weeps because the instincts that he followed that led him to Eddie hurt him just like everyone else had in the past. Trying to hold it together through his shame and embarrassment Steve tells them that he’s sorry. He’s sorry that he was ever the kind of person they thought deserved this. Sorry that he had hung around so much. Sorry that he was there at all. Still putting others before himself Steve tells them not to tell the pups about any of it, that he won’t be mentioning it either and they can all just move on with their lives. He won’t come around anymore, he won’t show his face when he drops off the pups, and he’ll even ask them not to mention him to them if they want him to. He even ends it with saying that maybe one day they could be friends, just friends, but that’s not right now and he needs time to even speak to any of them again after this.

After that life goes on. Steve isn’t quite the same after though. He doesn’t date at all, or mention his dreams for the future like he used to to Robin. There is no talk about his dream Alpha, (who had always sounded like a description of Eddie) or details about his fictional hoard of pups. Eventually he leaves Hawkins in tow of Robin when she leaves for Chicago; he works retail until finding his calling volunteering at an animal shelter to which he then gets his certifications as a vet tech.

It isn’t until years later that Steve comes back to Hawkins. Mrs. Henderson started developing some health issues, and there is no way he wasn’t gonna be there for her and Dustin. Dustin who still doesn’t know what happened all those years ago, none of them do. Eddie’s still in town, working as the head mechanic for thatcher tires, and he still talks to all of the pups.

Of course they end up running into each other, what else did Steve even expect. It’s hurts at first to know his heart still flutters when he sees Eddie. That even after all this time, and what he did, the omega still couldn’t help but feel that pull. They’re both in their late 20s now, Eddie a little closer to 30 every day. Both of them maturing in different ways while being apart. It doesn’t take long for them to start a tentative friendship.

A year later and Steve has settled back down into Hawkins. He works at Hawkins Animal Hospital, has a little one bedroom apartment, and he spends an unreasonable amount of time with Eddie when he isn’t at the Hendersons.

Ultimately it’s Eddie who breaks, he can’t stand them talking around the elephant in the room that is their feelings for each other. He professes that he never stopped loving Steve, that he was the first person he opened his heart to and how he would never forgive himself for hurting him the way that he did. He wants another chance and will jump through whatever hoops set out for him if it means that they can be together. Steve is floored by this confession, fully believing that he was the only one that had ever harbored any romantic feelings to begin with.

Steve despite his disbelief takes what Eddie says seriously. If he claims he will jump through hoops to prove himself, then let him. If Eddie is prepared to marry, mate, and move in with Steve right away then they will. But if not they can forget all about it and just go back to normal. Of course not even thinking about it Eddie grabs Steve, and to his surprise, immediately drives them to the courthouse.

my chest fucking hurts and i’m gonna cry about this. i love the angst and hurt so much😭 steve’s heartbreak and feeling worthless and eddie being in love but ruining it from the beginning!!!!!! delicious!!!!

also you guys know i appreciate a good “dating someone as a prank” fic since i wrote one two years ago just to hurt my own feelings😅

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.19. UNSPOKEN CONFESSIONS

"it wouldn't break your back to stand beside me."

from superstar sh*t by dominic fike, left at the umeda sky building, osaka

“are you gonna tell me where we’re going yet?” he asks as the train starts to move, their arms brushing as they both lurch to the right from the sudden change in force.

it’s taken everything within her not to immediately spill out her entire heart to him. the moment she opened the door and saw him, she couldn’t think of anything but all the art he’s been sending her for the past two years– of all the places he’s taken her. she knows he’s done so much for her, and she tells herself she needs to do the same. she needs to wait until they get to their destination.

“nope,” she hums giving him a bright smile. thinking of what she’ll say when they finally arrive (she’s trying not to refer to it as her impending doom) makes her feel surprisingly calm. perhaps, compared to the amount of stress that's been building up for the past four years starting from when she first saw him at the vending machine, the thought of actually getting out her feelings isn’t as bad. “but i’m sure you can guess. you’ve got the train we’re going on, and i’ve mentioned something about what we’re going to do before.”

he looks at her, brows raised and his lips quirked up into a smile like hers, as if her mood is rubbing off on him. he started off the day feeling quite lethargic, but ever since her texts, he’s been feeling more energetic. his heart’s been racing almost every time he looks at her, and he’s reminded of the texts he sent her two nights ago, and how she responded. she's been tweeting about him, saying she’s missed him, and he has yet to bring it up. depending on where they go, maybe he’ll find the time to bring it up today. “do i get to know what stop we’re getting off at? and when did you mention it? like in the last week or…”

she purses her lips in thought, looking ahead of them, out the window and the bright city passing by them in a blur, “no, you don’t get to know. and i think i mentioned it….within the last two years?”

he lets out a laugh that has her turning back to him, confused as if she hasn’t given him the biggest time frame ever to work with. “within the past two years? yeah, i think i’m better off just waiting until we get there, actually.”

“i guess that’s fair,” she says, letting out her own laugh, glancing down at her own phone to double-check what stop they're getting off on. 

the rest of their ride is quite relaxing. she finds it simultaneously hard and easy to talk to him; she’s giving him curt answers without meaning to, as most of her focus is directed towards thinking of what she’ll say to him in the next hour. but he notices and opts for a quiet game they often play on long train rides instead. he kicks the side of her shoe with his foot and she kicks him back. it’s a game that usually gets out of hand, and soon they’re knocking knees and hitting each other through fits of laughter before they try to calm down– an old lady is giving them the eye from across the train and only shakes her head when they both try to straighten their clothes, acting composed.

he smooths down her hair without thinking twice about the action, but the feeling of his hand on her makes her freeze. her face turns red and she can’t bring herself to look at him, instead pretending to be distracted by something on her phone, when she’s really just staring at the map on her screen.

the train slows to a stop and she stands up, turning to glance quickly toward him to make sure he’s following. he walks behind her as they step off the train where she momentarily stops, trying to navigate which direction they’re supposed to be walking in while he looks up and around, taking in his surroundings. his brows are knit, like he’s trying to figure out what could have possibly brought them to this area of osaka.

“and you still won’t tell me?” he asks, walking alongside her when they start moving again. he tries to peek at her face, but she's still refusing to look up at him from her phone and he’s not entirely sure what he’s done to make her suddenly act so shy again.

she’s a mess and she knows it. and she knows she’ll continue to be until she talks to him, so she only shakes her head. “no, i’m not ruining the surprise. but you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

the walk is short. it takes them just under 10 minutes and after crossing a busy road, they're walking through a trade center next to a tall building towering high above them.

rintaro walks next to her, but his head is tilted back as he looks up, and she can’t help but admire him from the side. “a skyscraper?” he observes aloud.

she nods, “it’s the umeda sky building. have you not heard of it before?”

he looks back down at her, yellow eyes sharp as always as he stares at her, and she tries her best to keep her composure under his gaze. “no, i haven’t. what are we here for?” he asks, tilting his head. “it's cool, but i’m just curious. you seem like you have something planned.”

she bumps shoulders with him, feeling like for once she gets to be the mischievous one, hiding something from him, “i do have a plan! i guess you’ll just have to keep walking with me, and find out.”

he’d walk with her to the end of the earth and he wouldn’t utter a single word of complaint about it if he had her. he almost thinks to tell her as much, before he holds himself back, continuing to look at her while she turns forward, trying to find the entrance to the tower.

they take an elevator up at least 30 floors, the both of them watching a small screen at the top of the elevator that counts how high up they are in the sky. afterwards, a long escalator takes them up even higher. it’s a little dizzying, seeing the ground so far below her, and she ends up stealing glances at the boy beside her instead. he seems intrigued by the height and sights below, and as they step off the escalator, they stand at a window and watch the sight of the city below them.

she’s feeling a little brave, and hell, she’ll be confessing to him later today anyway, she might as well start giving him hints. subtly, she tugs at his hand, pointing to her right with her free hand when she has his attention, “there’s a cafe over here if we want, and then we’re actually here for something else.”

he nods and follows her, but she keeps her hand wrapped around his. the contact is making his breath shorten. he’s torn between holding her hand back or just letting her continue to drag him along, but he decides to intertwine his fingers with hers and when she looks back, lips curved into a smile, he’s glad he took the risk.

the cafe serves drinks and ice cream, and they settle on just a matcha ice cream, with two spoons to share. they talk a little more, sitting at a high table with the sight of the bustling city below them right outside the window before she pulls him along again. they walk through a doorway to a balcony outside where a breeze is gently blowing through. they pass by a security guard, clad in a white button down, who is leaning against a railing when he sees it.

a level below them, there's a fence with an assortment of padlocks on them and it pieces together. the day he asked her to take him to the darkroom with her, and the conversation they had on the way there. she follows his gaze down to the fence and they both stop, looking over the railing from where they are. “do you remember now?” she asks, watching as a couple walks out from the floor beneath them, a locket in hand as they search for a place to put it on the fence.

‘i don’t think i’ll ever forget a word you say to me.’ he wants to say. so many words have gotten caught in his throat today, all of them unspoken confessions. “yeah. i remember now,” he opts to say instead, eyes following the same couple she is, as they bend down to attach it to the fence together. "couples leaving a mark on their city. a lock symbolizing their love that will last longer than they were," he recounts from their conversation years ago.

“wanna put one on with me?” she asks, looking him straight in the eye. 

every noise dies out for a second at the question. is this where he’s supposed to tell her he likes her? way more than a friend? and that she shouldn’t ask him to put a heart locket on a fence that will be there for the rest of their lives and even after when he doesn’t see her as just a friend? because she’d tell him if they were putting this locket on together as something more than friends, right?

“sure,” he ends up saying, because no matter how much he worries about his feelings and how he shouldn’t be doing this to her, he can’t help it when it comes to her. he’s selfish, and he wants to do everything he can with her. he wants to be with her every second of the day.

his hand is in hers again, and he decides to take the chance, rather than worrying about how he'll overthink the moment later. wasn't this what his entire high school volleyball career had taught him? the banner that hung behind him at every game; telling him to live in the present, rather than thinking about memories. he holds her hand just as tightly as she is, and they practically run down a set of stairs, coming to a counter, a sign reading HEART LOCKS hanging on the wall behind it. underneath the sign is an opening in the wall, where heart-shaped lockets are hanging, organized by color. 

they decide on a pink one, and they’re given a blade to engrave their names onto it. she etches her name into the back of the padlock first before handing it to him, and he feels the pit of guilt gnawing at him as he writes his own name. he shouldn’t be doing this when he feels differently from her than she does, but when they give the blade back to the worker and she looks up at him with a smile, the locket in both of their hands, all of his worries melt away again.

like the pair they saw earlier, they walk outside and along the fence, looking for a place to put their own locket. they decide on a high rung of the fence, and they both close the padlock around it together, his hands over hers.

when they step back from the fence, both unable to look away from the lock, she tears her gaze away first, looking at the boy in front of her. this is the moment she’s been waiting for. “rin,” the words spill out of her mouth before she’s truly ready, but he looks away from the lock to her, giving her his full attention, and she can’t back down. the script in her mind that she’s worked so hard this whole time to form fades away, and she decides to just go for it. “i like you.”

his breath hitches at the words, and he swallows heavily, frozen in place. his eyes dart back between her and the padlock, mouth opening slightly. “y/n–” the only thing that comes out of his mouth is her name, but she cuts him off before he can finish.

“wait– please– let me finish. just hear me out until the end, please. i don’t want to get any of this wrong.” his lack of response is causing her confidence to dwindle with every second, and she nervously pulls at her fingers out of habit, but he gives her a small nod and she continues, “this is gonna sound really stupid, but i’ve liked you since high school, honestly. i’ve wanted to tell you for so long but i’ve just been scared. and then i found out you’ve been leaving art about me in other cities and i felt selfish. like this entire time i've been wrapped up in my own head and it's been preventing me from giving you clear signs about how i feel about you when you've been doing so much for me. and i’m sorry but god– i’ve liked you since we’ve met. i’ve been drawn to you ever since. even after we graduated, my feelings hadn’t gone away. but i didn’t think you felt the same way– i mean you’re just completely out of my league. you’re so talented and i feel like i don’t deserve everything you’ve done for me. all the time you’ve spent with me, everything you’ve sent me, all the places you’ve shown me– you're too good to me. but this is my way of trying to give back to you for once. and i wanted to take you up here to confess– although i guess i shouldn’t have forced you to sign a love lock with me before doing that–” she laughs nervously at her own mistake, and he laughs with her, out of his own anxiety.

and because she’s cute, for thinking there’s any chance he doesn’t return her feelings. he doesn’t think there’s any words that could explain to her the yearning in his heart for her, that’s been pulling her towards him in the same way ever since he first saw her. so instead, he steps forward, hands lifting to run through her hair and gently hold the sides of her head to pull her close before he kisses her.

her eyes widen in shock initially, but soon enough she's squeezing her eyes, reaching up her own arms, wrapping them around his neck and pulling him closer. their noses knock into each other, but neither of them can care. their heads are dizzy and light without oxygen, but it’s like they aren’t even close enough, despite their bodies being flush with each other.

he only barely pulls away when he’s forced to catch his breath, but his face is still inches away from her own, pretty yellow-gray eyes boring into hers. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that for,” he says, lips brushing against hers again as he talks.

the corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles, unable to do anything but laugh again, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that. and it still feels unreal.”

“i can do it again,” he replies quickly, not even giving her the chance to respond before he’s kissing her again, hands holding onto her sides.

his lips against hers feels like everything she could have asked for. it’s more vibrant than any picture she’s ever taken, and despite her eyes being closed, the feelings it gets across is more powerful than any sight she could ever see.

when they pull away again, they’ve ended up against a railing, her back pressing against the cold surface as they both hold each other close.

“and just for the record,” he says, a teasing smile on his face, still unable to look away from her, “i think i would’ve stopped you before we signed a locket together if i didn’t feel the same way. just a thought.”

her cheeks flush, and she feels like she’s been brought back to reality, her eyes averting away from him as the grip of her arms around him loosens.

“hey,” he has a hand on the side of her face that draws her attention back to him, and she finds herself reflexively pressing gently into the palm of his hand, “keep looking at me. i’m not letting you out of my sight now that i have you, and i’ll give you my whole confession too.” she laughs, continuing to stare at him, finding herself admiring every small feature of his face. she’s never been this close to him, but now that she is, she finds herself memorizing every curve and line of his face. “i’ve liked you for just as long, you know. sometimes you being there for our games would mess me up. i’d keep looking at you and eventually kita caught on and chewed me out. but i thought it’d be weird if i told you in high school, because we never talked so i didn’t think you’d return my feelings. and then at graduation, osamu lectured me too and i decided when we got to college i’d finally get to know you. i was really surprised, honestly, when you let me follow you around the photography department, and take you on walks at night around the city, and would let me bother you your entire shifts with osamu. and you deserve every single thing i've given you and more. but i thought you just considered me a really good friend after everything we did together. i thought i'd completely messed up and gotten myself stuck in the friendzone forever. and honestly, i was going to be happy there. i was gonna be happy as long as i had you–but i’ve thought about you every waking second. i’ve wanted to be with you since i met you.”

she can’t help the way her face softens at his words, and her heart is beating faster, she does the same thing he did after her confession. she pulls him in for another kiss, and he’s quick to reciprocate it, a hand pressed against the small of her back, keeping her from the railing. 

when they break for air again, they remain in each other’s arms. it’s an unspoken, mutual thought they’re both having: ‘now that i have you, i’m never letting you go. it’s been too long.’

she ends up running a hand through his hair, combing it back, and he’s admiring her face, taking in every single detail.

“well, osamu will be happy finally, won’t he?” she can’t help but joke, and he chuckles.

“yeah, he’ll finally stop getting on our ass all the time, that’s for sure. maybe that’s why i’ve been so tired lately. he’s been the one giving me a headache this entire time,” he says, finally taking his eyes off her, only to lean closer, nuzzling his face into the side of her neck while she holds him close.

“he meant well,” she says halfheartedly, running a hand through his hair. “he has been with us these entire four years as well. so has atsumu and omi. they got sick of it and told me about your graffiti.”

his head snaps up in surprise at the mention, “they’re who told you? those little shits, atsumu can’t keep a secret to save his life, i should’ve known. but omi–”

“well–” she cuts him off, trying to defend their friends, “atsumu was tired and was running his mouth and accidentally ended up saying it, so he doesn’t have an excuse. but then i pulled in omi to the conversation and forced him to confirm it, so you can’t blame him.”

rintaro rolls his eyes, “whatever. they both still betrayed me, and omi almost gave me away with the flower box, didn’t he?”

“speaking of which,” she says, looking at him with a smile, “you need to take me back there. you promised to give me those flowers, you know.”

he returns her smile, a lively glint as always, and she can’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be than his arms. they’ve always been on the move, wandering around new places, and going new places, yet it never bothers her. she has him with her. he is her comfort, her walls to keep her safe, and her home. “we can go now, if you want.”

“let’s do it.”

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

everyone thank osamu for his service that man was definitely one of the people pushing the hardest for suna and y/n

THEY KISSED (finally) <3 i hope you enjoyed!!!! and that this wasn't a super underwhelming chapter or anything :)

the umeda sky building is a real skyscraper in osaka where you can legally put love locks on a fence <3 it's only purpose is for love locks! it's vv cute <3

i watched a 12 minute video last night of someone touring the building so i could see what it looked like LMAO

when suna was leaving to see y/n the rest of his roomates were in bed but they heard the front door unlock and all peeked their heads out to see who was leaving

i did make moodboards for love notes as a whole, one each for suna and y/n, and one for them together <3 you can see them on the masterlist if ur interested!!

one chapter left!! let's go epilogue <3

taglist: @0moonii @iluvmang @bluebeanbee @wyrcan @oyasumeii @zumicho @gyuijns @nbcvs @milkteade @eggyrocks @guitarstringed-scars @makkir0ll @mylahrins @cherrypieyourface @vivian-555 @sharkerino @r0seandth0rns @staileykout @lunavixia @thvvluvr @elliott0o0 @wolffmaiden @rockleeisbaeeee @toges-cough-syrup @cnnmairoll @ryeyeyer @hibernatinghamster @localgaytrainwreck @lemonocity @bows4life @sereniteav @madiexuberant @eclecticeggknightpsychic @phoenix-eclipses @sonicsolos @httpakkeiji @brkfclub @snail-squasher @starry-magicshop @cr4yolaas @kitnootkat @zzzlevislothzzz @iluv-ace @iluvaquaphor @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @applepi25 @twiishaa @girlkissersco @sleepystrwbrryy @encrypta  

[boysmentfs]

An unexpected change.

Today was the big day that Josh had been waiting for, for a long time, since his favorite K-pop boy band announced that they were going to give a concert in his country, Josh started saving money to go see them and today was the big day which they were going to perform in the auditorium, josh was dying of nerves, from that day he heard their music, he fell completely in love with their voices, their visuals, their dances and their bias (his favorite member) It was Jeno, From the day he saw him he fell completely in love with him and today was the day to see him face to face! Josh had also won a ticket to see them backstage, which meant he could go into their respective dressing rooms and that made him even more nervous.

Today, like every day, he got up, took a shower since today was an important day and he didn't want to go around smelling/looking bad, he brushed his teeth and combed his hair, once he had done all that, he left the bathroom, He went straight to his closet and began to think about what to wear... Since the representative color of his favorite side was blue and red, he put on a blue shirt and some red jeans while on his feet he put on something comfortable, some Nikes shoes, Since there were still a few hours before the concert would start, he had a breakfast, He helped his mother wash the dirty dishes, he watched some of his favorite series and so on, until the big moment arrived, The clock showed 6:00 p.m., there was 1 more hour left until the big concert of his life, but since he was lucky enough to meet them in the locker room, he had to arrive earlier, So he told his mother that he would take him to the stadium and that was it, the two left the house, got into their respective car and Josh's mother drove to the stadium where the boys would perform.

Once Josh and his mother also arrived to the concert, his mom accompany him, but Josh didn't want to.

"Mom... I'm not a child anymore, I'm 18 years old, I can go in myself, did you know that?"

Josh's mom just pouted as she ruffled his son's hair.

"Very well, it seems to me that you are already a grown man, honey, for this once I will let you go alone, Just because I don't want to ruin or embarrass your big dream, but you know, I'll be here waiting for you until the concert is over, okay honey?"

"It's okay mom! I have to go" and with those last words Josh ran to the stadium to get to the boys' locker room.

Once inside, Josh was shocked, The hallway was quite nice and big, once he continued walking he found the doors of the band members.

"Chenle" It said the left door, "Jaemin" said the right door, "Jisung" said the other left door, "Haechan" said the other right door, there were only 2 members more doors left to finish, "Renjun" said the last left door, "JENO" said the last right door, The most curious thing is that in all of them you could hear that the respective members of said doors were inside getting ready, while in Jeno's, nothing could be heard, So Josh's curiosity made him open Jeno's door/room, When he opened it, Josh was shocked, the light was on while what looked like the outfit that Jeno would wear at the concert today was on the couch, The outfit was made up of a black sleeveless vest, a bronze "chain", black boots, black pants and a black belt, So Josh started asking himself several questions... But in the end he concluded that maybe Jeno was coming late, so Josh had to leave the room now, he didn't want his great idol to come and see a "stranger" inside his locker room, So just when Josh was going to leave the room he saw that the door was stuck, he was trying to open it, but the door didn't respond.

"Oh sh*t, now I'm stuck in Jeno's locker room and he can come any minute, what's going to happen when he sees me? I'm going to miss the concert."

and boy was that true, when Josh took out his phone to check the time, it was 6:25 p.m., there were only minutes left until the concert would start and Jeno still hasn't arrived and to make matters worse he got trapped in his favorite idol's locker room.

"Well... It seems like I'm going to miss the concert of my dreams, but now, it doesn't matter, now what am I going to do to not get bored until he arrives and he sees me in here?"

Josh thought and thought and came up with a great idea! It wasn't like every day he would be stuck in his favorite idol's locker room, and having Jeno's clothes in front of him, he began to think about putting them on, It was his time to feel his idol's clothes on his body so he began to undress without fear that Jeno would arrive and see him and he began to put on the outfit from Jeno's concert today.

The first thing Josh put on was the black socks, which were clearly a little big on his feet, since given his height he didn't have that big feet, while Jeno did, since he was tall, The next thing he put on was Jeno's boots, a rather pleasant smell coming out of them, But like the socks, his feet didn't fill the boots completely, so he had to walk carefully so that his foot didn't come off and fall to the ground, While Josh was grabbing Jeno's pants he didn't realize that his feet were beginning to lengthen to fill the boots and socks and without realizing it, he was now filling the boots.

When he put on the black pants he realized that he had to take off the boots, since with the boots the pants wouldn't fit, so Josh took off the boots and realized that his foot It looked... A little different, but still, he didn't care and pulled up Jeno's pants, once he put the pants on, he put Jeno's black boots back on, Jeno's pants were quite baggy and big on him, since their heights were quite different, but strangely Josh began to feel comfortable in the pants, He grabbed the black belt and put it around his pants and his waist.

When Josh grabbed the black sleeveless vast, he started to feel strange, began to grow in height, Going from 166 cm to 177 cm, Now the pants were tight and tight, it felt strange for Josh to look down, since before he saw the floor closer and now he saw it a little lower, But he didn't give it any importance, so he put on the vest, exposing his thin arms without muscle, all that was left was to put on the "chain" to see himself in the mirror and see how he looked with the Jeno's outfit, He grabbed the chain and put it around his neck while his hair began to change color, going from black to purple and he also trimmed himself a little, when he put on the last accessory of the outfit he turned around and what he saw left him in shock.

But before he could speak his body started to hurt and burn too much so Josh had to sit on the couch while he had his arms crossed, between the burning and the pain he couldn't stand up, As he writhed in pain, he didn't notice how his skinny legs began to become toned and muscular, while his small layer of hair ceased to exist, His feet began to sweat, as the changes continued, now on his upper body, his back began to expand while also becoming muscular, As if being in the gym all day was what it was all about, his once skinny chest began to expand and thicken to give way to two very well-worked pectorals, His torso also expanded, what was once youthful now looking more adult and masculine, His stomach also started to hurt while a pack of abs appeared on his stomac while a beautiful v-line began to appear on the sides of his waist.

His once delicate hands began to expand while his fingers began to lengthen to give him the hands of a real man, his arms began to fill with all kinds of muscles, Triceps, biceps, deltoids, Now his biceps looked the size of a ball and, boy did the vest look better on that muscular body now, His once tanned skin began to change to become white while his knuckles and elbows were painted pink due to his skin color now being very white, Veins exploded all over his body, from his arms, to his abdomen and legs.

His once average-sized package began to lengthen and thicken as it went from 6 centimeters to about 11 large centimeters, His clothes began to change, his white boxers began to turn into black designer boxers, while his ass was now two beautiful, fluffy, well-crafted bubbles, It wasn't long before the transformation was over, his face began to hurt and his bones began to creak while his face was reconstructed, His beautiful, big eyes became smaller while his nose became cuter and just the right size, his lips became pink and more kissable, His jaw also changed, the little baby fat he had began to disappear to make way for a beautiful, sharp jaw.

The pain and burning disappeared, Josh was grateful for that, once the pain disappeared he looked in the mirror and saw how he had become Jeno, his favorite member of the Korean band, But his happiness didn't take long when his head started to hurt, because his old memories were being erased and new memories were entering his mind, Joshua clutched his head while new information appeared in his head, giving him new memories, new skills, and a new language.

He was no longer the 18-year-old American Joshua.

Now he was Lee Je No The K-pop idol that boys and girls loved thanks to his voice, his visuals and his body and that he and his group "NCT DREAM" were currently on tour in the United States, He was born in Korea and from a very young age showed interest in music and dance, now at 24 years old he was a sensation inside and outside of Korea, He loved his group and its members and especially Jaemin, he also loves food and the gym, that's why the body he has, Once Jeno's headache went away, someone came and knocked on the door, it was one of their members, Haechan.

"형... 나야 해찬아, 준비는 됐니, 아니면 아직 멀었나? 이제 곧 공연이 시작된다." “Hyung... It’s me, Haechannie. Are you ready or is it still too far? Our Concert is about to start.” Haechan said.

"나는 준비가 끝났습니다! 오늘 밤은 잊을 수 없을 것입니다" (“I’m ready! This night will be unforgettable.”) Jeno said, as he stood up from the couch and fixed his hair, it didn't take him long to come out of his dressing room and join the guys from the band, ready to give the concert of their lives.

They gave the concert and Jeno took off his vest to reveal his big, muscular body while his fans took photos. Once the concert was over, the boys returned to their hotel, Once everyone was there and opened their social networks and Jeno found a photo of him from today's concert, while he saw the photo he just smiled.

This was the photo that Jeno saw of him:

Jeno had made today's concert unforgettable as he himself said.

[imagineinside]

Eternal Claws (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Chapter 2

Chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/imagineinside/760089693618618368/eternal-claws-logan-howlett-x-femreader-chapter?source=share

A/N: First of all, thank you guys for all the love on the first chapter! I was very worried about if people would actually enjoy the story I have planned for you and Logan ;). This next chapter focuses now on the grown reader, who is more mature and confident in herself. Please let me know if you want to see any specific tropes or moments in the future chapters, I am keeping the storyline rather broad as I continue building this world. :D

Summary: At a young age of 16, you find yourself saved from a group of hunters by no other mutant than The Wolverine, who reluctantly becomes your protector during your first heat. As weeks pass and you recover, a complex bond forms between yourself and the powerful mutant who had saved you.

Seven years later, now a confident young woman with refined mutant abilities, you encounter Wolverine again. Despite your growth and newfound strength, old feelings resurface as Wolverine returns from a secretive mission. As you navigate the challenges of your powers and your unspoken connection with him, you must come to terms with your past and the burgeoning feelings that might redefine your future.

Current Applicable Warnings: 18+ (semi-explicit story), canon-typical violence, age gap (like 200+ with a 25 yr old), Alpha!Logan, Omega!Reader, a/o/b universe, sexual tension cause I live for that sh*t, pining, past (complicated) relationships, angst, fluff, more to come.

Word Count: 3,102 the hair flick makes me feral

Seven Years Later

Jumping out of bed, you completed your daily routine: rinsed off in the shower, brushed your teeth, and took your inhibitors before going to meet Cyclops and Jean in the cafeteria. You had met the two other mutants pretty early into your career at the school, and trained with them since then. They were rather taken aback by your mutation at first, with stealing life to provide it to something else and all, but they had grown to see the benefits.

You don’t see the Wolverine very much anymore, though he did teach your History courses up until you turned 18. Once that point hit, after your 18th birthday, you two developed a rather… complex friendship. If anyone had asked you if you were friends, both of you would have denied it. 

But those late night sparring sessions, where Logan would push you to the point of burnout, where he would inevitably carry you back to your room once your legs gave out… those moments told a different story. Or the morning after where he would wake you up with a knock on your door and hand you a stack of pancakes with chocolate chips, just the way you liked it. And you would ask him to stay to keep you company while you read. And even though he would never admit it to you or anyone else, he loved the calming sound of your voice reading to him in the early morning.

And perhaps he was there for entirely selfish reasons.

You lived in that blissful existence until Professor X sent Logan overseas for a confidential mission. He had been gone for nearly three years without a word to you or anyone else. Though who was counting, right?

You had noticed a while back, before he left the school, that Logan liked to hang around Jean a lot… but you didn’t let it bother you at all. 

Not at all.

Not.

At.

All. 

Your dear friend, Jean, had grown breathtaking over the years, her powers right alongside her. Any Alpha would be attracted to such a powerful Omega, it just makes sense. Still, you can’t help but feel a tad sorry for Scott. The Beta has done everything to keep up with Jean and Logan.

Of course, you have grown into yourself as well over time. The past three years especially. Your face lost its childish features, your curves becoming more defined every year. The rigorous training you had put your body through over the last seven years had filled you out nicely, though that was only a positive side effect. You just never wanted to be as weak as you were before. Ever again.

Walking into the cafeteria, you surveyed the crowd of fellow students and teachers alike, but you were surprised to see a second set of shoulders sitting beside your redheaded friend. Clad in a leather jacket with spiked hair. Logan wasn’t supposed to be back for another couple of months, at least according to the Professor.

“Logan,” His name left your mouth in a puff of air. It felt as if you were seeing a ghost after such a long time. Part of you thought he may have just up and vanished when he had left for that mission. Seeing him again felt… surreal.

The Wolverine turned in his chair, brow raised in that way it always was, though it fell when his piercing gaze landed on you from across the room. For a moment that lasted no longer than a heartbeat, you were afraid he would somehow not recognize you. But it was like the Professor had frozen everyone around you for an instant, everything else simply fell away. You could feel that stupid childhood crush come creeping back to the surface. 

He spent your first heat protecting you, so what? That was his job. You were too immature for him then, he probably still thinks about you the same damn way.

“Vitalia,” Logan called out your codename in a way of greeting, that look in his eyes making you feel invincible for a brief moment. Then the powerful mutant was rising from his chair and moving through the busy cafeteria to get to you. His shoulders moved in that same powerful way they always had, with a confidence that made your knees feel weak. When he finally stopped before you, you were toe-to-toe with each other. Jeez you had forgotten how tall this man was. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again,” he whispered before reaching down and wrapping his large arms around you in a bear hug you had forgotten always felt so good.

You didn’t fight as your eyes fluttered closed and you took a long, deep breath of his pinewood and leather scent. A scent that reminded you of comfort and home. A scent that you haven’t smelled since the day he left.

The Professor had locked Logan’s room upon him leaving the campus. At the time, it felt like just another nail in the coffin to you that the Wolverine was gone. But over time, you just wanted to smell him again, and cursed the fact that you couldn’t walk into his room to see and smell all he had left behind.

It was rare for you two to hug, though not unheard of. Despite your childish hope of having Logan as an–ahem–intimate partner, in your mind hugging was a line you rarely crossed with each other.

For the Wolverine, though, he just needed to make sure you were kept safe. You meant too much to him to let you go. But you didn’t know that… yet.

“Where did they send you?” You gently asked him as you rubbed at his back. 

It was a common occurrence for him to come back from missions, or–hell–even come to your room after a night terror looking for comfort. The first time it had happened, you think you were almost 20 at the time, he had just returned from a failed rescue mission for a young mutant boy. You were just getting ready for bed when a hard knock sounded at your door. Thinking that it was Jean returning your Math textbook, you opened the door, only to find a towering, battered looking Wolverine on the other side.

“Can I come in?” He had asked, his voice dark and hoarse.

You nodded for him to enter, closing the door behind him.

“What’s the matter?” You asked him as you pulled out your desk chair, not sure if it was the right time to take a seat next to him on the bed.

Logan swallowed, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “He didn’t make it.”

“The boy you were sent to find?”

All he could do was nod his head.

“Lo, I am so sorry,” you replied, tears pricking at your eyes. “Whatever happened it wasn’t your fault.”

Logan gritted his teeth together, his forearm flexing as he clenched and unclenched his hand over and over. Though you weren’t afraid of him, you never could be. “The townspeople… Not only was he a mutant but he presented as Omega.” A sob ripped from his throat, a sound you had never heard him produce before. “He never stood a chance.”

“Oh God,” you couldn’t say anything else… do anything else. You didn’t want to know what– “Do you need to stay here? I can sleep on the floor.”

He gave a solemn nod and ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Thank you,” came his response. You gave him a sad smile before rising to gather a blanket and pillow for the floor. Before you could get very far, Logan’s large hand was holding your cheek and his thumb rubbed away a tear streaking down your face. His hazel eyes felt like they were piercing through you, as if they were trying to capture you a million times over. Like he was afraid you would be gone the second he blinked. “I’m so glad that it wasn’t you… It wasn’t you.” He repeated, as if needing to prove it to himself.

You laid awake that night, listening to his heavy breathing as he cradled one of your shirts that he had asked for close to his face. By the time you fell asleep, you woke again to your door being shut closed, the shadow of Logan disappearing down the hallway.

You tried to ignore the fact that after leaving your room at night, he would move down the hall and knock on Jean’s door. You never told him or Jean that you knew what they were doing. It wasn’t worth the heartache for you. You just wanted to be there for a close companion, a friend… of sorts.

“They sent me to Russia,” he grumbled into your shoulder before straightening up and untangling his arms from around you, “I went in to infiltrate an illegal mutant testing program. And to free Professor X’s old friend…” As his voice trailed off, you got the hint he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it further. 

Instead, you gave him a watery smile and, before you could truly think about what you were doing, you rose onto your toes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Welcome back, old man,” you whispered, only pausing enough to watch his nose twitch and his pupils expand to the rim, an animalistic look hidden in his eyes. You quickly turned away to try to hide the fact that your cheeks were quickly turning a shade of red.

But he caught it, he always did. And he would keep that look of yours ingrained in his mind, somewhere deep inside for him to peek at when he needed it the most.

You cleared your throat and strode towards the table, “It must be nice to catch up with everyone.”

“I came here to find you first,” his response had your steps faltering and mind reeling. You would have thought he wanted to see Jean or Professor X first, not… you.

You had to come to a complete stop when you saw the plate that was waiting for you at your normal eating spot. A stack of… warm chocolate chip pancakes.

You never stood a chance against the current of waterworks that came pouring out of you. Turning and sobbing into Logan’s chest, your heart so full of joy and relief that he was here.

* * *

“God I wish you never came back,” you spat at Logan from across the ring, spitting blood from your mouth onto the gray floor. The tooth he had knocked free hurt like a bitch as it regrew into place.

Over the years, especially these last three, you’ve been growing more and more with your mutant abilities. And apparently, with the ability to control life and all that, you can heal yourself at speeds that rival the Wolverine.

“Since Professor X told me you can heal now, I don’t have to hold back.” Logan laughed as he lunged forward, this time with two claws out on either fist. You made a mistake to block your upper body as he jammed both sharp ass knives into your legs, making you yell out in pain.

You solidified your place on the ground behind swinging you right arm upwards, hitting him in the jaw hard enough to knock him backwards and to get those damn, stupid fucking adamantium cat claws out of you. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re talking out loud again.” Logan called as he rose from the ground, both his claws retracting into his arms.

“Good, I hope you know how much I hate those things.” You seethed back at him as you walked from the ring to grab a drink of water. “Those fuckers have pierced holes in my mattress and sheets far too many times.”

Logan’s hearty laugh followed you to the bench, making it impossible to hide your own smile spreading across your face. “Hey, at least you’re strong enough to walk out of here on your own two feet now.”

Your smile falls faster than it started. “Yeah,” you sighed, “at least that.”

“You have gotten a lot stronger since the last time I was here.” Logan said, his voice coming from close behind you. For a brief moment, you thought you felt the ghost of a touch around your waist, but when you turned around there was nothing there. “Listen, um…” he let out a harsh laugh, almost like a scoff,  “I’m not very good at this kind of stuff which you know, but… I am sorry I left for so long.”

Maybe two years ago you would have relished those words. An apology coming from the big, angry Wolverine. But now, it just made you feel like a child. It made you feel like you were just a kid he felt like he was in charge of still. “I can take care of myself, Logan.”

“I know that,” he rushed to say, “I didn’t mean to imply you–”

“Scott, Jean and I are being sent on a mission.” You let the words tumble out of your mouth into the space between you. It felt like acid pouring out of you, leaving steaming piles on the floor that you could no longer cross.

“What?” Logan asked, shaking his head.

“Professor X wants us to go on our first mission.”

“No, I heard that. It’s just… you’re too young still.” Logan growled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I’m going to talk to the Profess–”

“Please, don’t!” You begged as you grabbed onto his arm when he turned to leave. Thankfully, it stopped him in his tracks. You looked down at where your hand was clasped around his wrist and released with a hiss, as if the touch had burned you. “I need this, Logan. Jean and Scott do too. I mean, it’s not their first mission but they need more experience out there.”

“When’s your next heat due?”

You felt yourself bristle at him, a growl crawling up your throat, “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you go out there on a mission if your heat is coming soon.” He growled and snapped his teeth at you. The look in his eyes made you recoil back into yourself, you hated when your secondary gender bowed to his. You weren’t any less powerful than him, so why did you feel like you had to listen to him? You didn’t even feel this way with the Professor.

“You don’t get to decide that for me!” You yelled back, despite your Omega reeling back from yelling at an Alpha. God, you hated those words. “You let Jean go out there even though she’s an Omega.” You hated throwing your friend's name out there just to prove a point.

Logan scoffed and tossed his head back, “That’s completely different, Vitalia.”

“What, because you’re just sleeping with her?”

A deadly silence fell over the otherwise empty training room.

Logan breathed heavily and took a step towards you, making your knees bend against the bench behind you and you fell to the wooden surface. “You don’t know shit about that,” he said, his voice eerily calm.

“And you don’t know shit about what I’m capable of.” You said, your voice losing its vigor as tears pricked your eyes. “You were gone for three years, Logan. Do you have any idea how much I needed you?”

“I know,” he replied, his voice retreating back to its calm, bassy tone.

“But I’m not the same little girl anymore, alright?” You begged to be recognized, your voice becoming watery with the tears in your eyes. “I need this mission.”

You watched Logan’s Adam's apple bob in his throat as he stepped back from you. “I know.” He reached forward and offered a hand to help pull you up. Hesitantly, you laced your hands together and tugged upwards, rising from the seat. “Just make sure to be safe. And come back to m–to us.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved at his shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I will, dad.”

“Hey,” he snapped at you as a smile played on his lips, “we talked about that.”

“I know, I know… it reminds you how old you are, old man.”

“Wow, you’re really asking for it aren’t you?”

You giggled to yourself and swayed your hips as you walked towards the exit (completely missing the way Logan watched every sway of your hips like his life depended on it). “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said with a wink.

A quick growl behind you was the only warning you received before you were tackled to the ground, an assault of tickles roaming across your ribs and under your armpits. Your laughter was contagious as it bounced around the room, Logan’s own baritone laughter mixing with yours. He hadn’t felt joy like this in so long. “I yield, I yield!” You yelled out.

His fingers stopped roaming as your laughter died out, and you realized how compromising of a position you were in during your attempt to escape. Logan was nestled between your legs, his torso keeping you spread open beneath him. And it just became inappropriate for your friend to have his shirt off, a heat forming in the bottom of your stomach as your eyes grazed along his happy trail that disappeared beneath his gray sweatpants. The need to peel down the band on his pants to see what that trail led to was overwhelming. You watched his pecs twitch as he leaned backwards, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. You wished he would reach around you and pull you closer to him, let you grind against him until you found a release that would have you screaming his name…

Fuck, you forgot he can sense your arousal and heartbeat.

You watched his pupils dilate for the second time that day, his eyes darkening as his grip tightened on your hips…

Clearing your throat you pushed away from him, and he let you go with little resistance as you slipped through his hands. “I’m gonna take a shower and meet Jean and Scott to go over mission details.” You weren’t sure why you felt the need to tell him that, but watching as he sat there looking wrecked because of you made your heart do something very strange.

Giving him one quick nod, you walked out of the room, running away from the man who had the power to destroy your heart.

Taglist (omg I can't believe I have one of these, love y'all): @kingdomhate , @sadslasher13 , @bontensbabygirl , @ferkillia , @coocoocachoogotscrewed , @craftycaptain.

[eugenedebs1920]

You know!? It ticks me off this perception that Donald Trump, J.D. (Jerkin Dicks)Vance, even Musk, is somehow manly. I mean, Trump and Ol Jerkin D wear more makeup than my wife! You can’t say that’s all just for television. Musk looks like if Smeagal had only kept the ring for 250 years as opposed to 500. His Prrreeeccciooouussss. None of those guys project masculinity. It’s the varsity cricket team and their weird gangly friend.

Does anyone remember when Trump tried to act like he knew how to use a shovel 🤣🤣🤣 That sh*t cracked me up!! Like ‘MFer, where have you seen someone attempt to shovel like that!?’

Then J. Dick Vance projects uncertainty in his sexual identity. It cool if your gay, but don’t fight being gay so much that you are viscous to women and marginalize those who’ve figured out who they are and are not overcompensating for it. it’s coo Jerkin D! We’ll still hate you either way.

I’m pretty sure Musk is a supervillain. But like if Dollar General had a comic book action figure series.. He’d be the main villain in that. Corneal Creepy McBillions, somethin like that.

These guys definitely got picked on in grade school and vowed to get revenge by making everyone else miserable. Thanks bullies! 😑

Speaking of. If you haven’t constantly put people down, talk sh*t on people, (I realize the irony as I’m sh*t talking these f*cks but, physically I don’t think any of them could take me, but power wise, what they could have done to me!! They’d ruin my world..) pinpoint and pick on a vulnerable individual or group, pretty much, if you get hard by making people laugh at or join in on teasing or bullying someone, that itself reeks of insecurity. It shows the flaws in yourself, you’re hiding by putting those flaws onto others before someone sees them in you. Trump is the master of that! If he accuses someone of something, he’s definitely guilty of it.

It doesn’t make you any less of a man to be kind. It’s isn’t a feminine to treat women with respect. It doesn’t make you macho to be a prick. Being racist and ostracizing immigrants doesn’t protrude masculine traits.

You know what women find sexy. Confidence. Knowing who you are, what your values are, compassion, knowing the difference between proper and improper, and sticking to those principles regardless what others would say or entice you to do. Being a good person, because that the good thing to do, proud of oneself, but knowing there’s always room to grow and learn.

I certainly don’t see what’s would constitute being attractive when you are borderline in a cult, infatuate with a 80 year old politician who bankrupted casinos, been accused by 23 women and adjudicated for sexual assault, shameless grifter, hateful, cruel, racist, bully f*ck. It’s just, sorry to say it, weird.

I have a heart and care for people, I build houses for a living. I believe in equality and the rights for EVERYONE, I can rebuild an engine. I think women are people (who knew!?) and should be in control of their own destiny, I am pro 2nd amendment and love to go shooting.

I’ve been in bar brawls, climbed mountains, go hunting, chop wood, ride atv’s, snowboard, go 4wheelin, camping, have a big beard, drink beer, and I think everyone is entitled to dignity, despite their sexual preference, race, religion, gender, what their hair looks like, whatever. Why? Because it’s basic human respect.

The last 2 times America actually won a war it was Democratic (BIG D 😉) administrations. The only 2 presidential administrations to not add to the deficit in the last, nearly 60 years, were both big D Democratic administrations. Democrats passed the Civil Rights Act, all the racist Dixiecrats jumped ship and became Republican. Democrats nominated and elected the first African American president. We have TWICE nominated a woman at the top of the ticket.

While Republicans are whining about having to wear a mask LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE DID, Democrats passed legislation to address the problem of unemployment, of vaccinations, of shipping logistics, while they were at it passed a HUGE infrastructure package, invested billions in green energy (our future) and ensured national security by manufacturing the technology materials needed to be the best in the world. Simultaneously creating a ton of well paying, respectable middle class jobs.

The right is too busy talking about Jewish space lasers, and checking out Hunter Biden’s junk, and keeping weed illegal, and worrying about bathrooms and sh*t.

How is that manly at all?! Acting like a bunch of whiny immature kids! They even whine when they win!! It’s stupid! It’s a waste of time, money and energy. Just grow up and do the job you’re elected to do!

So yea… I would say the right isn’t the vision of manhood they pretend they are. It’s overgrown children, spoiled to the core, acting out because they want it their way 😤

What shows manliness is doing your job, and doing it to the best of your ability. Being a kindhearted person and willing to help someone in need. Being true to yourself, and in turn others. Being knowledgeable yet willing to learn. Being brave, but admitting when you’re scared.

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 8 - Je N'en Connais Pas La Fin

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: tiny dash of spice… making out, hands wandering. Light angst, emotions, late-night confessions.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Please don't be mad at me about this - I could not go with the cliche of wedding night. These idiots just need one more night to get their sh*t together. Sorry, and yes, as penance, Chapter 9 will be posted very soon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939 

A nervous energy ripples through your limbs as the four others leave, traipsing across the garden to the neighbouring cottage, leaving you and your new husband alone. Still waving awkwardly from the patio as they all disappear from view. A chill passes through you, just noticing how cold the night air is, autumn drawing in and without the warmth of Benedict holding you in some way, as he has been the past few hours. You startle slightly as he interrupts your reverie by chivalrously wrapping the faux fur stole around your shoulders.

“It’s my something borrowed,” you blurt, unsure what else to say.

“Eloise?”

You just nod, too nervous all of a sudden to look up at him.

“Let’s get inside,” he suggests, observing even the extra layer does not halt your shiver, gesturing to the kitchen door.

You walk awkwardly past, catching a whiff of his delicious scent that you woke up to this morning, the involuntary urge to sway into him intense.

You drift to the living room, Benedict wandering to the gramophone, putting on a mellow jazz record before taking a seat; part of you sad he chooses the armchair, not the sofa beside you. 

“Well… that was a day,” he understates in his usual affable manner.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you,” you respond earnestly, looking down at the simple band on your finger by reflex. “It’s all thanks to you that I have a chance to escape while I still can.”

“You would have done the same for me,” he demures with a quiet certainty that makes you yearn to touch him. 

Instead, you exchange slightly awkward smiles, the mantlepiece clock ticking sounding so loud, even with the music playing.

“And I'm sure you will get home one day,” he assures. “Your family, I'm certain, miss you… and... And your fiancee,” the reluctance in his words evident.

“I’m not sure a married woman can have a fiancé anymore,” you remark; the lash of guilt every time Stanley’s name is invoked lessening with every moment you spend alone with Benedict.

“You can once you are a single woman again, as soon as you are safe,” he counters softly, so altruistic in his manner your throat almost itching with unspent words—a want to yell. No! Fight for me! I want you more than I ever will want him!!

“You yourself said on the train that perhaps there is something better out there for me,” you respond cautiously. “The longer this adventure runs, the more certain I am of that.”

His mien is profound as you finally raise your eyes to his, wanting so much to say more but feeling too tongue-tied and cowardly to be that selfish, to declare he is what you want. 

He shakes himself a little and leans back into the armchair as if resetting himself and the line of conversation. Like he senses the mutual danger lurking there.

“Tomorrow, when we sail… they will likely notice the date on our marriage certificate,” Benedict counsels gently. “That may raise flags about the authenticity of our union.”

“What can we do to assuage them?”

“Come up with a plausible story. Be physically affectionate. They may ask no questions, or they may ask as many as they wish,” he warns, “especially of you. They may ask you about…” Benedict pauses, his face flushing a little, “… intimate matters. They have every right to ask if the marriage has been consummated.”

You feel yourself flashing hot as he says it. “I should lie?” you whisper.

“You should say whatever you think will make them believe we are a real couple,” he obfuscates.

“I’m a terrible liar…” you confess, blushing when you realise your words could be interpreted as an invitation to be intimate. And on this, your wedding night. 

His gaze is heavy. “You can do it y/n. Your freedom and safety may depend on your ability to convince them you love me... And I you.”

I think I might, your mind screams.

“I know… I… think I can do it,” you falter, replaying every kiss you have shared. “We seem to have done a great job convincing Jerome and Marie…”

“They are not looking to see artifice,” he counters. “British soldiers will be.”

“Sh… should we practice?” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it, champagne again taking your tongue, a deep flush spreading over your skin as you realise it.

“Y… yes, I think maybe we should,” he agrees very quickly. 

He stands somewhat awkward, peeling off his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves, leaving his waistcoat. You find yourself again mesmerised by him, as you were that night in Paris, wanting to run your hands over the flex in his arm muscles. In fact, you are so distracted you don’t even realise he is proffering you a hand out of the chair. You spring up to your feet without his help, the idea of touching him right now entirely too distracting, which seems to amuse him briefly before his expression turns sincere.

“We have kissed, but not as lovers, as married people would. We... we may need to do so, casually, of course, within sight of those allowing boarding,” he opines, even as your heart speeds up, realising what he is saying.

“You think we need to… practice more kissing? Now?” you are mildly annoyed by how stupefied you sound.

“Yes,” he confirms, drawing closer, “passionate, real kissing.”

You are looking up into blue eyes and a gorgeous face as fingertips loop around your wrist as if checking your pulse.

“Grab my wrist if you want me to stop,” he tutors softly, so gentlemanly in his approach, even as you fret that he can feel your heart rate hammering hard in your veins.

Once again, time is in slow motion as his lips descend. At first, the kiss is breathtaking but still chaste, like previously. But then there is a noise in the back of his throat that makes the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end; his lips part yours, a wave of damp heat as the kiss deepens. His tongue swipes yours tentatively, a tease before you mirror his moves. He tastes of champagne and something else that is entirely him, an impulse to bite the inside of his cheek. And then it’s abruptly fervent, wanton - like a dam has broken - his hands gripping the crest of your hip bones, each finger an insistent dig into your flesh.

Finally, given the permission, you don't hold back. Pushing into him, one hand grasping the buckled loop at the back of his waistcoat that cinches it to his slim form, the other winding around his sturdy neck, encouraging him to lean down further, take from you. The kiss seems never-ending, a rolling wave of to and fro, a dance not unlike the one in the square just last night. Those fireworks still explode, but this time, it feels like those ones that are so powerful they knock a punch to your solar plexus, a ricochet you feel physically,

His hands slide up your back, a sensual drag that makes you moan into his mouth, a noise he greedily swallows. But he stops as they reach the faux fur wrapped around your shoulders and reluctantly breaks the kiss.

“Please, take this off,” he implores, “I cannot do this with you wearing my sister's clothing,” he points out with a cringe that creases his face charmingly.

Your responding giggle causes him to break into a lopsided grin, and wordlessly, you untie it as he watches, pupils blown. When you push it back off your shoulders, it hits the rug behind you with a soft whump, and your instinct takes over, rocking onto your tiptoes, one hand sliding into the lush hair at the back of his head and bringing his face back to yours. 

The minute your mouth opens to his, you are heavy and weightless all at once, not unlike that wooden roller coaster on Coney Island that made you see stars. Your nails flex on his scalp as his hands slide over your dress, looping low around your hips, tugging you snugly into his body as your tongues tangle. 

This.

This must be what the girls whisper about—a tart metallic boiling in your blood, a heavy tug deep inside your pelvis that needs relief. A wanting so physical it almost hurts, a hunger that makes you feel reckless, liable to behaviour you could never justify, a pure carnal caprice. But all too soon, he is pulling back, a need to breathe, even as he does so inches from your face, his eyes locked on yours as they flutter open.

“Again,” you murmur, uncaring how gossamer thin your excuse is, just wanting more. 

His eyes are glittering as he complies. Kissing like a wild storm now, hands hot through the thin, cool silk fabric. And you cannot stop the noises you make, shameless and breathy, right into his open, wet, questing mouth. Pressing hard against his body, a solid warmth in his trousers promising things you need so badly you crave to curl around him, open yourself to him. 

You have never felt this before. A tingle under your scalp that vibrates all the way down to your toes. A want to take and be taken. To bite and be bitten. To ride and be ridden. For him to rip your dress from your body and throw you onto the sofa—a yen that feels not entirely human and definitely not civilised.

It's like he senses your thoughts have slid somewhere wild, or perhaps his have too, as when he pulls back, he is panting, and there is a quaking in his entire being like he is crackling with energy.

“Please. Go.” His voice is ragged, deep, almost wrecked. “Please. I… I can’t do this anymore,” his voice cracks a look that is at once hungry, aching, and barely contained restraint.

Please don't be a gentleman now, Benedict. Please. No. God. Not now. Don’t.

“I’m s…sorry,” you stutter, feeling guilty you have pushed it too far but utterly unmoored by the searing passion and the sting of his rejection, albeit reluctant. 

Even you can see the war in his being, physical desire being muzzled by the gentleman he was clearly raised to be. Knowing if you stand here much longer, something will happen that one or both of you will regret. Your wedding ring seems to burn your skin as you turn around and shrink away, leaving the room, not daring to look back, knowing he has also turned away with ragged breaths.

As you climb the stairs, feet feeling leaden, your body in utter turmoil, you hear the discordant scratch of the gramophone being halted. You undress in a daze, swearing you can still feel the heat of his handprints through the silk of your dress. Climbing into the bed approaching numb, champagne swirling unease in your gut with all the rich foods, an oily disquiet that means it takes ages to settle.  

You lay there fitfully for what feels like hours, tossing and turning, picking over the minutiae of every moment with Benedict - tonight and all the nights and days before. Seeing possible signs that make your heart clench. 

Could it be that he is not doing this all for show? 

It's a seizing thought that catalyses your body: it has you up on your feet and rushing down the stairs in your nightgown, breathless and stumbling. But when you round the corner into the living room, all your courage to declare it is sapped by the sight of Benedict sleeping, curled slightly, looking smaller somehow, his back turned to you, face buried into the back cushion of the sofa.

Instead, you back away, padding to the kitchen to take a glass of water, hoping the hydration will stave off the worst of a hangover; the water is a relief to the tumultuous, racing feeling as you stand on the large slab of earthen tile gleaming in the moonlight, cold underfoot. You pour another glass for him without thought.

Tiptoeing back into the living room, careful not to wake him, you crouch beside him to leave the glass of water within easy sight and reach should he stir. But you find yourself unable to leave without saying something. The temptation to confess to his unconscious self is impossible to resist, the grip on your own glass so tight.

“I’ll never be able to repay you,” you murmur to his back, fingers itching to trace over the bare skin of his shoulder blades where they peak out of the blanket. “For this unbelievable act of kindness and generosity. And yet… god, this is so selfish,” you flick your eyes up to the ceiling to stem a tear you feel gathering, “… still I’m greedy. Always wanting more. Wanting…. Wanting to never return to my old life. Wanting to run away. Wanting this… Wanting this to be real.” 

The last phrase is barely audible, but still, you are instantly horrified that you confessed it out loud, even to his unconscious, sleeping frame. And you know you must leave.

God, what is wrong with me? What is this? Temporary insanity? Too much alcohol, a fake wedding and an impending war are not a good recipe…

It’s a silent internal lament as you stand up and withdraw, self-chastisement echoing so loud in your head. And yet, you can't resist a parting sentence from the doorway.

“Goodnight, Benedict, you are truly the very best of men...”

—

What you don’t see as you slowly climb back up the creaking wooden stairs is Benedict’s eyes blazing open, a look of utter astonishment claiming his face as he twists around and stares at the doorway you left by, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He was never asleep.

And he heard every single word.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 42 all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

42. home sweet home  

Although all you wanted in the world was to return home when you were trapped in The Continental, you find as you pull up the driveway you suddenly feel the tiniest bit of trepidation, just a hint of nervousness for living alone in this isolated mountain retreat here with John.

You want to trust him with all your heart, blithely steadfast in your confidence as much as your love. But there is a tiny whisper of doubt creeping up from the dungeons in the back of your mind.

You do not think John is insane. You do, however, believe he experienced a bit of a psychotic break in the days when he first took you, a bomb loaded with the pressures of past battle trauma, excruciating grief, and fear of losing control-i.e. you. 

He’d been so good to you in the city, but the last time you dwelled in this glorified cabin, you cannot forget that up to the last hours, you were a prisoner. 

Now, you’ve agreed to marry this man, and he holds your hand as you walk through the door on your own power, like things were always normal between you.  

Maybe you’re the crazy one, because you resolve to lift your chin and plow forth as though nothing bad had happened here. What you want is here in the present, and shining in the future. What do you have to gain, by dwelling on the past? You will put it behind you. Not forgotten–but forgiven. You know that is the only real way your love will survive–will thrive. Yet you also know, deep down, this vow you make to yourself will be easier said than done. 

You bring in your suitcases, and look over the repairs that were finalized while you were gone. It all looks essentially good as new. The bullet holes in the walls have been patched. There’s a new rug in the great room; there was no getting the blood out of the old one. 

Dog seems happy to be home too, trotting around and sniffing, making sure all is in its proper place in his domain.

You lose track of John in the big house; when you go searching for him, you find him just standing in the kitchen, staring at the place where one of the intruders had nearly ended him with a knife–before you shot them in the throat. Certain he’s having one of his flashbacks, you call out to him in a gentle voice, trying to talk him back from it without startling him. You’re no doctor, of course, but you may have fallen into some Google spirals about how to care for someone with PTSD at the Continental. 

Finally he responds to your voice, turning towards you with a haunted look in his eyes. “It’s ok,” you soothe him, reaching for him now that he’s woken from his trance. “We’re ok.” You think you actually believe it, too. He wraps you up in a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair and breathing deeply. You stand like that in the kitchen, just hugging, for what feels like an hour, but is probably only five minutes. 

“Do we…need to go somewhere else?” you ask quietly, sad at the thought of leaving the cabin, but wondering if fresh surroundings might be better. 

“No,” he insists. “Unless you want to.” Offering you this choice even just a month ago would have  been an impossible thing for him. 

“I’m fine, so far. I still like it here.” 

He nods, and presses his forehead to yours. “Y/n…” He sighs. “When I lost Helen, I wanted to die. Then, I wanted to survive, but just to kill. But you…you made me want to live again. It’s all I could think, while I was fighting. I want to live. For you.”

You kiss him softly; soon it grows into a heady lock of lips, John’s arms around you lifting you to your tiptoes. Between kisses he asks, “Can I take you upstairs?” 

This is the thing that gives you pause. Maybe the kitchen is the traumatic room in the house for John, but that luxurious bedroom upstairs has been your personal Bastille for the past months, and for a moment you freeze, finding that you are afraid to take the leap of faith with him. 

It’s his turn to offer comfort, when he notices your reluctance, and just maybe interprets it correctly. “It’s alright,” he assures you. “Come with me. Let me show you something.” With your hand in his he leads you up the stairs. Your steps are slow, but he doesn’t drag you along, being patient with you. When you cross the threshold of the bedroom your heart is pounding in your chest like it damn well means to escape through your ribcage, but you force yourself to take one more step with him to the keypad by the door. 

He starts punching in a long sequence of numbers, then he takes you utterly by surprise when he presses your hand to the sensor. The keypad is mounted so high you can barely reach it.  A few moments later the little green light flashes. “There. See?”

He shuts the door and you jump at that familiar, dreaded, click. “John?” You hate how small and needy your voice sounds. 

“Put your hand up, honey.” 

With your heart in your throat you reach up to touch the sensor, reluctant as though you almost suspect a trick. But then the lock on the door clicks open. 

You aren’t proud of the sob of relief that escapes you. John catches you up in his arms again, holding you. Until he wrapped you up, you didn’t realize that you were shaking. “There now, see?” he says soothingly, just like you’d spoken to him in the kitchen. “It’s yours, honey. Everything I have is yours.” 

A long, brittle sigh escapes you as you bury your nose in his neck. It doesn’t really register for you, what he means by that statement. All that matters are his arms around you, and that fucking door is open. “All I want is you,” you tell him, and you mean it.

“You’ve got me. I’m ok. Are you ok?”

You nod, offering a watery but genuine smile. He kisses your cheeks, which you didn’t realize were wet with tears. “My sweet girl. You have the biggest heart. What are you doing with a devil like me?” 

Your laugh sounds shaky too–did he forget that at first, he didn’t really give you a choice? “Having the adventure of a lifetime?”

He huffs at that, as amused as you are. Suddenly you are weightless as he hoists you in his arms, and takes you to the bed. 

He doesn’t say it aloud, but you fancy that you feel it. Every kiss he presses to your aching skin, every soft caress, feels embedded with apology, and you accept it. With open arms, you take it all. 

***

You wake before John from your post-coital nap. It’s late afternoon. You can tell, from the sideways light streaming through the windows. Quietly you slide out of bed, picking up your clothes in a bundle because you haven’t unpacked your robe yet from your suitcase. You dress downstairs, so you will not wake him. 

Knowing someone will have to go to the store soon, you browse the pantry for a snack, finding a granola bar. You go stand by the windows while you eat it, looking out at the forest. That is when, out the corner of your eye, you realize the light on the lock control on the front door is green. 

You can’t remember the last time that happened. 

When you’d unwittingly wandered into Wick’s lair after that hike for coffee and sundries? It wasn’t even quite a year ago, but it feels like a lifetime. 

You cannot stop yourself now. Your feet move on their own to the door, trying the knob. 

It turns freely, and so of course, you pull. 

The portal swings open, so naturally, you step outside. 

The early fall air is crisp, and has never smelled so sweet. You lift your face to the sun, soaking it in. 

Have you arrived? Is this the life you always wanted for yourself? 

You decide to wander, just a little. You walk around the driveway, stretching your legs, and then you meander to the edge of the woods. It’s almost as though the trees are calling you. You take a step, and then another, until you are in the forest, and you are happy. 

You’re not really gone long. Maybe twenty minutes, all in all, just a tiny little ramble. You pass back through the front door as quietly as you can muster, not wanting to wake John. You start, when you find him sitting at the kitchen island, with his head in his hands. You are startled, when you realize he’s been crying. 

“John?” You practically leap across the floor to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He grabs you up in arms, holding you so tightly your ribs creak. “I thought…you’d left,” he admits quietly. He squeezes you again, shuddering as he buries his face in your hair. He doesn’t say more, but you think you might know the rest. The fact that he was sitting in the kitchen, and not tearing through the woods after you…if that was your decision, would he have let you go? 

You freeze, your breath ceasing, your very heart screeching to a stop in your chest. 

This man. 

How is it possible, for so much love to fit inside your insignificant shell of a body, for this man?

You draw back to look at him, really look at him, those mocha dark puppy eyes that tear your heart to shreds fixed on yours. “I’m never going to leave you, John.” It spills from your lips before you can even think about it, but once its out you realize it’s absolutely true. After everything he put you through…you still just know you will never be happy, without him by your side. Nothing and no one else will do. 

A psychologist would have a fucking field day with you. They would say things like Stockholm Syndrome and shared trauma bond, abandonment issues and codependent relationship. You would tell them to fuck the fuck off–and that Stockholm Syndrome is made-up bullshit devised by two male psychologists in the seventies to describe ‘hysterical female behavior’. 

You’ve known people who have made worse decisions for much less reward.

“I will always come back to you,” you tell him. “You’re stuck with me now. Like…a wart that won’t go away.” 

This makes him laugh, and it’s such a beautiful sight. You kiss his tears away, then his mouth. It soon turns into another tonsil-inspecting affair that leaves you both breathless. “I’m going to have to take you back upstairs now,” he says with a sniff, only half joking. 

“How about you take me to the grocery store? It’s going to be dinner time soon.”

He chuckles at that, nods, and kisses your forehead. “Okay.”

It’s almost like you’re an old married couple already.

[nazrigar]

Transformers Allspark: Megatron's and Codexa's Work Buddies.

So my AU finally has name: Allspark! A reflection that it's a story about family, generations and the legacies that come with.

This post is focusing on Megatron's and Codexa's work pals.

Megatron is a miner in one of the most productive places for Energon in all of Cybertron, while Codexa is an archivist in the Temple of Primes.

From Megatron's side:

Jazz: Logistics officer. A bundle of fun, and lover of music and culture. He has a rivalry with the killjoy of Soundwave.

Soundwave: Communications officer. The guy who's responsible for everyone commnicating with each other. Lover of excellence, but also thinks Jazz is an annoying sh-t.

Brawn: DA BOSS. He's the manager of this entire unit. Small in size, big in personality, mightier than most bots. Respect his authority.

Blackout: AKA THE BIG GUY. The man who transports Energon in-and-out. A giant of a man with a strong sense of comraderie.

Shockwave: Former senator and scientist, but got empurata'd for reasons unknown. Thankfully his personality is still intact, however he's doomed to be a glorified processor. Suffers constant boredom and annoyance.

Lugnut: Lugnut is Lugnut. Not bright, but acts as security to make sure nobody is thinking of doing anything rowdy. Loves his job.

From Codexa's side:

Mistress of Flame: Speaker of Solus, and the primary teacher of the ways of Solus Prime. Aloof and none-too-personable, but can be inspiring when need be. Her presence on Cybertron is a signal of Caminus' interconnectedness with the home world.

Dai Atlas: Calm, Steadfast, and one of the mightiest warriors to ever live. A lover of peace who makes sure that his temple is a sanctuary for others.

Cyclonus: The professional Unicron's Advocate, a woman with knowledge of all the holy texts and philosophical tenents, and it's her job to poke holes in each, thus ensuring that society never takes one philosophy too seriously.

Star Saber: THE Paladin of Prima, who holds the Compendium of Prima, a holy book that talks about the life (and failings) of the great Paladin of Primes. Wise and powerful, but also witty with a sharp tongue if needed.

Tigraton: Originally a pilgrim who came to the temple to be closer to one of Onyx's relics, decided it was better to stay as an advocate for beast formers everywhere. Deeply spiritual and introspective.

Pyra Magna: Temple Guard, unusually more cynical in comparison to the others. She has seen much, and hasn't done prayers in a long while, but the Custodians of the Temple of Primes are family and she'll do anything to protect them. Anything.

[cfr749]

Initial Thoughts on Chenford in 6x07

All right... I'm feeling... a lot at the moment, so just sharing my initial reactions before seeing anyone else's. I'm sure my feelings will evolve. Also this turned into a GD essay and I'm sorry.

The Good

Grey acknowledging that Lucy was going through a lot ABOVE & BEYOND the break up. I just wish he'd mentioned the shooting, too. Lucy deserves to be more than her relationship with Tim and I need to actually see that in the future.

Lucy laying out 2 key things in her conversation with Grey - how easily Tim walked away and that he had no right to make that decision for her

Prior to the last scene (see The Ugly below), I thought Tim's interactions with the therapist were reasonably well done; if only therapy was that easy in real life lol

"You've always got a home with me" - I loved this final scene between Lucy and Tamara. I don't really have feelings either way about Tamara at this point, and this still hit me right in the heart.

Smitty's poll made me laugh, but also another solid indicator that these writers / producers do in fact really enjoy laughing at the expense of the fandom and shippers (which, whatever, I don't care that they do, I'd prob do the same; but it does irk me when people act like these writers should be worshipped because of all the things they "give" us)

The Tim

"I'm not depressed. I broke up with her."

"I was her TO." Not her friend, cuz god knows Tim has yet to deal with the fact that he started banging his former Rookie I suppose.

I dunno whether to put this in The Good or The Bad at this point; it depends on where they take it, so instead Tim gets a section all about why he's a dick.

To be clear, I do not like that Tim is a dick. But I actually do kind of like that it is very clear TO THE AUDIENCE that Tim is being kind of a dick. Do I still think people will bend over backwards to defend him? Of course they will.

From my perspective, I love Tim, I understand that he thinks he's doing the right thing, and has lots and lots of trauma. I've never seen Tim as a character that magically healed at some point between Seasons 1 & 5 (please see his storyline with his dad, his ongoing issues with UC work and unwillingness to confront or deal with them, his feelings about therapy historically, his inability to dump Ashley, etc. etc.). He's never been perfect and he doesn't need to be.

All of those things are true. None of those things give him a free pass to be kind of a dick. He still has to take accountability for how he treated Lucy (which, to be clear, was like sh*t).

The Bad

Lucy being petty AF with the invites to Tamara's dinner - let her be ANGRY, but give me villain Lucy over this dumb sh*t.

Lucy having no one other than Grey to talk to.

Others acting like Lucy is actually kind of pathetic (why do these writers love sh*tting on her so much? girl could not be down and kicked any harder at this point) -- Celina / Nolan and the double dumping crap, Lucy thinking Grey paid actors and him telling her she was out of her damn mind

The last interaction between Lucy and Tim. I am so angry for her. I needed to see that from her, but instead it felt kind of like her being dumped / a kicked puppy all over again. We got it, thanks. What's next? Lucy being incredibly happy with the hottest man on earth? I'm here for it tbh. Lucy plotting Tim's murder? Also here for it at this point. LOL.

The Ugly

I could not hate the implication of that final scene with Tim and the therapist and the door shutting more. There was ZERO reason they couldn't have had him show up during the day, and it actually disgusts me that they are pushing this line again, but especially with Tim. I am literally NEVER this dramatic, but in this case I really hope they did that to just get a reaction, because if anything were to actually happen between Tim and the therapist, I'd be 100% done with this ship and show as would a whole lot of the audience (I think). If I kept watching, it would only be to see Lucy be absurdly happy without Tim.

Well, what'd I miss? What did y'all think?

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter Five: Cats, Cluelessness, and difficult communication

Max Verstappen x Reader x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris

Chapter Summary: a brief interlude in the off-season before 2020, Sebastian adopts Charles, Max struggles to communicate his feelings, and the reader makes a new friend 👀

Warnings: mentions of SH, reader over does it again, seizure like episode, Lando is awkward, Charles is awkward, Max can't do feeling well yet, jos verstappen

Notes: ah yes, the gang is all here now. I have more action coming in the next part. Maybe also some fluffy stuff. I've been trying to get some blurbs done for what isn't shown in the long chapters because I've had to cut down on some things. I would love to give y'all some content of our duo, trio, or quartet doing something specific.

Previous <-

Masterlist

The end of the season means a bit of a break for the drivers. A chance to spend some time with their families. For her, it means spending time with Sebastian and Hanna in Germany.

The trio had wanted to officially introduce themselves. They knew, but the three barely got a chance to interact all together. It would be nice to catch up anyways.

They are all sat at the dining room table. Even the littles wanted to join in on the conversation. Mostly they spout of randomness as they listen but it’s still endearing to everyone.

The three are sat in a row. Charles far left, the female in the middle and Max on the right if her.

“So I’m curious, who gets the middle of the bed?” Seb laughs at his own question. Hanna playfully hits his shoulder. Charles and Max both look at her. She just rolls her eyes as they both start laughing.

“Are you three moving in together?” Hanna asks this time. Genuine curiosity, unlike her husband.

Charles almost chokes. He hadn’t thought about it.

He’s thankful he’s not the first to answer. “Are you saying you want me out?” It’s a playful question from the girl. She’s smiling like an idiot at the banter.

“Of course not. You’re welcome here forever.”

Max swallows his food then joins the conversation. “We were actually planning on moving some things to my apartment since we’re here.” Now Charles feels out of place. Was he not asked yet for a reason? They hadn’t been together long so it would make sense. “Charles lives in Monaco already so I figured his things would be easier to move.” Max explains.

Now he’s confused. Something Max can clearly see. They make eye contact for a moment and Charles is left a mess. “Unless you don’t want to anymore?”

Charles is shaking his head no at lightning speed. He definitely wants to. He’s tired of living alone and throwing himself pity parties over breaks. Plus, he learns he sleeps better when he's not alone.

~

Moving feels more sentimental to her this time. She had more stuff than when she was fifteen.

Sbeastion offered to let them fly private with him to help move her stuff to Monaco. She wanted to, but it was unnecessary. Most of her belongings that she needs fits into an extra suitcase.

Max and Charles both kept asking her if she had anything else. It was getting on her nerves a bit.

Hanna and Seb had done the same thing when she first came to Germay. Though she had less then. Hanna had taken her to get some new clothes because her t-shirts all had holes in them.

Flights were weird. The first class has two seats for each row, meaning that one of them got to sit somewhere else. They often played musical chairs on the plane because of this.

She'd always had an affinity for even numbers.

It was an interesting dynamic they had created. Charles and Max are barely a month apart, and she's just turned nineteen. They get to do things she can't yet. But she's gentle and knows exactly what they need and is far to gentle for what she's been through.

Charles felt that he was playing catch up with the other two. He was new to this and still new to them. He, however, was the best at communication between the three.

Max, having grown up in an interesting family setting, is aggressive and protective. His communication skills are lacking, but he would do anything to keep his significant others out of harms way.

Today was one of those days that Max was struggling communication wise. It had started after an intense phone call where the other two were attempting (and failing) at deciphering dutch.

She'd offered to sit next to him if he needed consoling, but he decided to sit further away from the two. Leaving them to figure out what happened.

This had brought the thoughts of even numbers. If they were flying with four of them, Max wouldn't be able to mope alone.

"Do you think it was Jos?" Charles asked. His eyes had been on the Dutch for most of the flight.

"I would assume so given that he was speaking Dutch, and he doesn't do that with many people."

Both sigh. Jos had been on Max's ass about moving up into a championship title. Che was ready to have some words, either him, next time they were together, and Charles was going to start making a point to celebrate every placement in a race.

It didn't take long to get to Max's apartment. It's not the most luxurious, but it's comfortable. He's planning to get something worthy of the three of them after he gets a title.

Max had successfully locked himself away in his bedroom. The other two left to figure out what he needs. Maybe it is just a time thing?

"Is he usually like this after a call with Jos?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "It depends on if he's praising or berating."

"Can we help him?" Charles is eyeing the closed door and her. His brain working out every way to get him to open up.

She smirks. There always one thing that cheered up Max.

~

Max was choking back tears. He felt weak. Like he was never going to he enough.

He felt bad for stomping off the way he did, but he didn't want his partners to see him like this.

He hears the soft rape of knuckles against the door. "Mon Amour? Can we please come in?"

He grunts, but the Monegasque takes it as approval.

Charles peeks his head in. His gentle steps are coming closer to Max. He doesn't look up. He just keeps his head buried in his pillow.

Charles doesn't say anything, which he appreciates. Just sits down on the edge and lets Max's body dip towards his. Then he's running his fingers through Max's hair.

It's not long before another set of footsteps are padding into the room. These ones softer then Charles, telling Max it's y/n.

She's successfully moved both Jimmy and Sassy into the room from their hiding spots and is holding his favorite movie. She sneaks in and closes the door behind her.

They spend the next couple of hours lying in bed with the cats and watching their movie.

Max feels himself calming down. They don't talk about anything. Aside from occasionally copying the lines from the movie they've watched far to many time.

It's after that he feels like he can say something. His mind finally grounded back to reality. "I'm sorry for shutting you both out. I was just... agitated, I guess."

The Monegasque has his fingers back in his hair in an instant. "It's okay, you needed space. Do you want to talk about it now?"

The youngest places sassy on his chest as a way to comfort him. Her hands intertwine with his.

"Just frustrated that my dad thinks I'm not trying. He started spouting that I'll never get anywhere at this rate."

"That a lie. Jos is obviously lacking brain cells." The youngest pipes. "I can throw him into a wall if you want?"

The idea actually makes him smile.

~

Charles was the next to move things in. Though it was mildly awkward explaining to his family why he was moving somewhere else.

Turns out he can't keep a secret. His family is accepting. Pascale welcomes both into her home. She takes a particular liking to the quiet girl who is still always between the two older boys.

His stuff takes up more of the apartment than hers. The contrast of red and blue is now showing everywhere.

"If Charles is red, Max is blue, and I'm always in the middle, does that make me purple?" She spouts while unpacking a box of ferrari shirts.

Max spits out the water he was drinking. Charles starts wheezing. And she is laughing at her own comment.

"Where did you come up with that, Chéri?"

"Just a thought I've been sitting on since we started dating."

"You're not wrong, though." Max is wiping his mouth clean from the water.

~

It's weird going places together. Not errands and things, but social gatherings. Charles has asked to keep things private for now. He's not fond of the questions people have about the nuances of their relationship.

They came and left separately. Usually, depending on who wanted to leave first, the other would wait about fifteen minutes.

A few months into the break, Lando Norris decides to call Max and invite him and his lover to a party. He does the same for Charles a minute after he hangs up with Max.

The three of you have to hold in your laughter as Charles tries to get through the phone call listening to the same details.

Despite what Lando said, this was not the type of party any of you are used to by now. At least not Charles and Max. She'd been to few and got overwhelmed by it all pretty quickly. Sometimes, she'd use it as an excuse to get the boys out of the apartment so she could have the cats to herself and play around with her powers.

Charles and Max both hate it when she does it alone. They've found her on the floor passed out on multiple occasions. She doesn't care, though. The visions and nightmares of her father were more reason to keep going.

Regardless, this party is small. Just a few drivers who had been in town or live in Monaco are here with their partners.

Kika and Pierre, George and Carmen, Alex and Lily, Carlos is here along with Daniel. Charles is seated in a solitary chair. The couches have been taken. Daniel and Lando on either side of him.

It feels nice and intimate in a way. She hadn't seen many drivers just get together to hang out like this.

Charles is ever the gentleman and offers her the chair, which she takes. Him and Max are now making themselves comfortable on the floor in front of her.

They're eating, drinking, laughing, and sharing stories from the past. It's nice and relaxing.

She taps Max's shoulder, alerting him that she's going for water and asking both boys if they need anything to which they reply no.

She spots Lando in his kitchen getting a drink. It's not an alcoholic one, just juice that looks like it could be alcohol.

She turns on his tap for water, and Lando jumps out of his skin. His eyes rapidly look between her and his cup.

"I like to mix my alcohol with juice...?" His voice sounds unsure. Does he think it's not okay to just have juice?

"Juice is a good choice, in my opinion. Alcohol is strong and feels funny sometimes."

Lando visibly relaxs. "Promise you won't tell anyone? They laugh at me sometimes when I do this."

"I promise."

~

Lando was around more after the party. He seemed comfortable around her and Max. He'd opened up about his anxiety to them and played far to many games with Max.

What they were not expecting was for Lando to show up at their apartment door at three o'clock in the morning. His breathing uneven body shaking like a leaf.

She knew what this was. She'd had plenty of panic attacks.

She guides him inside to the couch and is trying to asses the situation. Get his breathing to calm down so he doesn't hyperventilate.

It takes ten minutes until he's calm.

"Did something happen?"

"Just a nightmare, and I couldn't calm down after."

"Did you walk here?"

He nods his head yes. Exhaustion flooding his eyes.

"Is Max asleep?" He asks.

"Should be. He sleeps like a rock most of the time." They both giggle. Lando is now able to relax in a calm environment.

They are interrupted by two sets of footsteps. Charles and Max come barreling into the living room. Panic on their faces one minute and embarrassment the next. Lando staring at the with the utmost confusion.

The older boys are shirtless and in sweats. Max's arm protectively outstretched in front of Charles.

"...oops."

~

Lando is not stupid. He may be the youngest on the grid currently, but he's not stupid.

He saw how the three of them looked at each other. Charles definitely touched them both far more than what friends do.

Originally, he thought he was crazy for watching them. Yet he couldn't help but be intrigued. How they all interacted. How they just flowed together.

Now he sits on their couch. Max looks like he's guarding Charles and y/n. The Dutch has yet to sit down and is leaning against the wall. Charles is sitting across from him with the females head in this lap. His fingers running through her hair.

It's a terrible feeling. Like he's left out of whatever this is. Three of his best friends spend all their time together, and he's just here. Young and naïve Lando.

"Did you have a feeling this would happen, Mijn liefje?" Asks Max from his perch on the wall. She shakes her head no in response.

Lando had heard about her knack for predicting future outcomes. He'd heard rumors about magic and tarot cards, but she'd never said anything to him.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here in the extra bedroom, and I can't take you home in the morning."

"That sounds nice, thank you."

~

She woke up exhausted. She felt guilty for not having warned Max and Charles. Her mind to far gone that they were mad at her. She spent her night trying to get any glimpse of their future but didn't get anything useful.

She hid herself away in the master bathroom. The wet towel and the floor her new best friend.

She could smell breakfeast. Max is cooking for all of them. They learned quickly not to let Charles cook. Lest they all die.

She was in bed with them this morning. Only crawling out from their hold when she felt them stir.

Every question puts her further into the fog. Was she going to lose them? Are they upset with her? Is Lando okay with them? Would he tell people?

It's too much for her head.

She goes for another attempt. She knows she's overdoing it. The further she goes with less time in-between brings her closer to the edge of her body going numb.

Nausea creeps into her stomach, but she sees them. Further down the line. Happy and four.

Four? This could be shocking, and yet somehow, she already knew. Her mind just needs a but of confirmation that it's possible.

The nausea gets stronger. Her nose is bleeding heavily. She pushed it past the limit.

They won't mind, though.

~

Max is making breakfast and quietly humming to himself. Charles has his hands on his hips, the two of them swaying back and forth to the tune.

"Do you think I should go check on her?" Charles mumbles into his shoulder.

"She may want space after last night, she was taken off guard and might need to peocess." He explains, then turns his attention back to the pan.

"I'm worried, though. She was crying last night after Lando went to bed, and I don't think she slept."

Lando slides around the corner. His face lighting up at the smell of food. "Can I... can I have some?"

Max laughs at the Brit's excitment. "Of course. I made enough for all of us."

Lando sits himself on top on the counter. Watching the Dutch and Monegasque lean into each other. He takes notice that someone is missing. "Is y/n okay?"

Both boys sigh with heavy concern. "She had a rough night." Explains Charles. His body is fighting the urge to go get her. "I can't take it anymore, I'm going to check on her."

Charles leaves Max and Lando in the kitchen. His legs taking long strides back to the bedroom.

"So you guys all sleep together? Not like sexually- I guess - I mean at night to sleep."

Max smiles at the Brit. His curiosity was nothing he didn't expect. "Yeah, we pile into the same bed at night. All of us sleep better that way."

Lando hums. His palm rubs his face with anxiety. "Would you ever add a fourth?-'m asking for a friend..."

Max already knows. Somehow, someway, he already knows where this is going. "Depends. It took months of discussion before Charles joined us. But I'm sure if the right person came along, we'd be open to it." Max turns around to face Lando and shoots him a reassuring smile.

Lando's cheek tint pink, and Max knows exactly what he wants.

~

Charles leclerc is usually someone who panics. This time was no exception.

He'd seen plenty after his six months of being together with his partners. Particularly how the femal among them is prone to violent behaviors against herself. He's seen all of her powers now and how they affect her if she uses them too much. He's been there to help soothe her after night terrors while Max fetches her water.

He was glad she opened up to him about her past more. He knew the generally what had gone on but no details, nothing like what he knew now.

The prospect of her father coming back for her at some point is what drover her to the breaking point on most days.

Now, Charles is faced with a locked door and the sounds of thrashing from the other side. He'd tried picking the lock, something him and Max both learned to do after instances like this, but his hands are far too shaky to maneuver the pins.

So he does the only other logical thing and breaks the door down. Only enough that he can lean it somewhere and not let it fall on her, but it felt cool to kick it in.

Charles has seen a lot of things, but this is completely new. Her muscles are tensing at a rapid speed, and her eyes are rolled back into her head. Her breathing movements are unatrual.

"Max!"

It takes ten seconds, and he's there. His body and mind reacting to the situation. He's trying to hold her in his arms. Attempting to wake her up from whatever trance she's in.

Max hisses through his teeth when he touches her. Her skin in his searing his hands. Yet, he pushes through.

Charles feels helpless. "What can I do?"

"This has happened before. She must have forced a vision. She'll come out of it, we just need to make sure she dosen't die in the process."

The two boys are then lifting her body of the floor. Charles now carries her to the bed while Max runs around grabbing things. Mostly ice to cool her down. Charles rambles on to her about nothing and everything. Max said they should talk to her, giver her some to help bring her back.

Both of them forgot they left Lando in the kitchen. The Brit left to finish making breakfast in light of their emergency. Again, they are shocked to see his pale face watching the scene unfold before him.

"Can I help?" Is all he can manage.

"Do you want to trade places with me? I think the liquid benadryl might help."

Lando is taking over for Max tentatively. He takes the ice pack from the Dutch and places it on her forehead.

Lando can see the sweat and tears mixed with fresh blood. It's scary, and he's nervous. Why are they not taking her to a hospital?

Normally, she's the one calming him down. She always knows exactly what he needs to hear. He's not been in this position, and it scares him to see her like this.

He slides one hand down to her bicep. His fingers tap out the melody to her favorite song. A trick she used on him to bring him back to earth when he got in his head.

About halfway through, she's sucking in a breath, her body sitting straight upwards. Her eyes are no longer stuck to the inside of her head. She's still sweating like mad, and her body is twitching, but she's awake.

She's breathing heavily. Dry heaving and coughing into herself. Her hands are quick to find Charles and grasp at him, searching for the familiar comfort.

Lando watches her intently. Her sobs are painful. They sound broken, like whatever she's just been through was some sort of of torcher.

"Chéri, can I set you with Lando for a moment? I need to tell Max you're awake." Charles whispers gently. Lando takes note of how he's cradling her. His hands on the back of her head and under her legs to support her weight.

She barely nods her approval. Her body is slid close to Lando, who embraces her. Attempting to replicate what Charles was doing. He finds himself tapping the same melody on her knees.

"Was that you tapping? When I was asleep?" She chokes.

"Yeah, could you feel it."

She nods her head against his body. "You brought me back, thank you."

Lando lets his body relax into hers, knowing he at least did one thing right today.

~

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @ipabloramos @jayda12 @faithm120601

(comment if you want to be added)

[thefatesofspring]

You know who's stupid? The people who'd go below and beyond to justify every sh*t Rhys pulled, claiming he had "good" reasons and intentions for everything, while also claiming he's morally gray.

Sjm is one of those people. Write him off as the bad guy, make him do something very terrible to write him off as this morally gray character and then justify his bs and assasinate characters to make him look like the good guy. Wtf is he meant to be??? He cannot be the feminist king that cares for everyone and their mother while also have him be an asshole. Kaz and Carden don't need reasons for why they do sh*t. They do certain things for their own gain and they don't give a damn. They're clearly morally gray. Rhys? I don't fucking know.

Hi anon 👋🏾 again my apologies for only responding now😩

Couldn’t have said it any better myself & it further proves my point again that Rhysand isn’t written for the story let alone the plot!!

I’ve not read the shadow & bone series yet but the cruel prince series I have & to me Cardan is a perfect example of morally grey & executed really well! Ps I absolutely love Cardan! But with Rhysand & the things he’s done not just to Feyre but other courts/HL’s & the justifications are INSANE!!! Everything Rhysand has done has served NO PURPOSE or even benefitted anyone including himself and example of Rhysand doing shit that had the opposite effect of benefiting anyone including himself was when he went to the summer court & he, Amren & Feyre stole the book of breathing because he swore blind that Hybern was after it & if memory serves me correct Hybern actually stated that he was never after the book until Rhysand had taken it out of its home court…like wtf!! The actual big bad villain is telling you that your judgement was wrong & way off & somehow we’re still supposed to believe Rhysand did the right thing & is a “good person”?!!… when in reality if he had just listened to Feyre when she said perhaps asking Tarquin for the book & letting him in on what they think so many things could have been avoided including Tamlin thinking that Feyre was being controlled because now she’s out here lying, manipulating & stealing from other high lords and their courts.

Rhysand is only “feminist” to the women in his circle excluding Nesta & the irony is he never actually gives them choice just the illusion of it & yet for some bizarre reason people buy it🤷🏽‍♀️ he’s honestly just become a joke of a character that is so poorly written & executed. He’s not morally grey or even morally black he’s straight up horrible.

Not to mention ACOTAR is a legit watered down, YA, knock off version of Anne Bishop’s The Black jewel trilogy😩

[bookshelf-dust]

Hii love!! I absolutely LOVE your works and was wondering if you could write a fic where Billy finds the readers s/h scars and asks about it? The reader kinda opens about why they did and Billy is super confused about why you would purposely hurt yourself, but he swears to himself he’d never let you do that again?? If not, that’s perfectly fine, i know this topic is pretty sensitive to people🤍🤍

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 2,513

warnings: SH trigger warning!! please heed that. mentions of self harm (specifically cutting), scars described, areas on skin. all scars are healed and reader has recovered. please do not read this if this will make you uncomfortable. this is meant to be comforting and let you know that things do get better. it is about acceptance and change.

a/n: anon!! thank you for this idea. i just want to put it out there that i’m not taking requests for the foreseeable future, and haven’t been for quite awhile, but i got sent this and i felt really compelled to write it because it’s something that’s important to me. i felt like i could do it justice, at least a little bit, and i really hope that it will provide you with some comfort. this is something close to my heart, and my goal here is that it will reach someone the right way and encourage them to keep going. i love you all so much!! please go easy on me as i’ve never written anything like this before. also did a bit of a different format! anyway, mwah! 🥰

————

Billy knows you’re shy. Of course he does. 

But he wants you to feel as comfortable with him as he does with you. He’s never felt as relaxed and safe as he does when he’s around you. Hell, he’s never allowed himself to let his guard down in this way. 

Inviting you to sleep over was his olive branch, hoping you’d have a space where you could be fully you. He has the house to himself, and he knows that will help ease your anxiety. All Billy wants is to give you all that you’ve given him. And maybe more.

Billy had just stripped, pulling on sweats and an old t-shirt, not caring whether you saw him in his underwear. He’s yours anyway. Sure, you haven’t gone very far in your relationship, but he still wants you to see how comfortable you’ve made him. He’s never done this casual intimacy thing before. 

“I’ll be just a second, okay?” You give him a gentle smile, feet softly padding against the worn hardwoods, sleeve brushing the door frame as you walk by. 

Billy watches you walk out of his room with your pajamas tucked under your elbow. “Okay, baby.” 

He busies himself while you’re gone, straightening the bed, finding the tv remote. (He’d never be allowed to roll it into his room if he weren’t home alone.) He figures you’re taking your makeup off too, maybe doing something with your hair, and heads to the kitchen to make some popcorn for you both to share. 

In the bathroom, you take a deep breath as you pull on your nightgown. You don’t pride yourself in having nice or fancy things to sleep in, but you felt like bringing this with you because it’s one of the few things you own that makes you feel pretty. Something about a freshly washed face and the soft fabric make you all…content. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror. The gown is not tight by any means, and actually a color that brings out your eyes. It has little bows on the sleeves and a tiny strip of lace at the hem. You don’t tend to dress for anyone but yourself, but you do think Billy will like this. Some part of you craves that feeling. 

He’s never even seen your legs before, much less your collarbones. And not because you’re trying to be modest, but because it’s been cold and any other opportunity hasn’t presented itself. Showing someone so much of yourself is harder than you anticipated. And you anticipated quite a bit of work. 

You inhale and exhale deeply, shaking out your arms. You can’t help but be nervous. You’ve never slept over with a boy before. But it’s Billy. Your Billy. What is there to be worried about?

Billy returns to his bedroom shortly after you’ve sat down and queued up the movie for you both to watch. You take the popcorn he offers you, the socks that are much too big, and snuggle into the worn pillows propped up against his headboard. 

You’re sitting too far away for Billy’s liking, munching on your snack and trying to focus on the beginning of Nightmare on Elm Street as if you haven’t seen it over ten times. His eyes can’t stop dragging over your bare legs. This is the first time he’s seen them, and he wants you and all that skin closer.

“Baby,” he drawls.

You can feel his big blue eyes on you, but for once you really are paying attention. “Yeah?” you hum, licking butter from the tip of your thumb.

You don’t even look over at him, and Billy lets out a huff of a laugh. The noise prompts you to spare a glance in his direction, but he’s already got an arm wrapped around your thigh, yanking you across the sheets until you’re pressed against his side. 

He tries not to convey how excited he is that he can feel the warmth of your skin on his, how soft your inner thigh feels. He frees you though, laughing at the “Oomph” you let out before settling yourself more comfortably. 

You swing your leg over both of Billy’s, handing him your popcorn remains and resting your head on his shoulder. He happily sticks his hand in your little bowl, eating what you’d left behind. 

As the movie progresses and Billy finishes all the popcorn, you shift further and further into him. It makes Billy so happy to see you act so comfortable around him. This is everything he was hoping for. He sets your empty bowls on his side table and wipes his hands clean with the wet rag he’d brought with him.

You’re engrossed in the movie, laughing every now and then at something you shouldn’t find funny, or clutching at Billy’s fingers when you get stressed out during a tense moment.

God, he’s so happy to be with you. If he could make this night last forever, he would. Billy kisses the top of your head and wraps an arm around your back, his hand coming to rest on the top of your thigh. You don’t think much of the gesture, only feeling a shiver run down your spine at the contact. At his warm hand on your skin.

Your skin.

Your nightgown has ridden up a bit, and suddenly you register exactly where Billy’s hand is. You take a deep breath, hoping he won’t rub your thigh and feel what you’ve avoided showing him for so long. 

You try not to worry, try to keep your focus on the movie, but you can’t. Your bubble has popped. You want to adjust your nightgown, but you’re afraid to draw more attention to the area, afraid to offend him and make him think you don’t want his touch. 

Billy’s thumb starts to stroke back and forth on your skin. You can feel the exact moment he registers that it doesn’t feel the way it should. The way your arms do, the way the soft backs of your hands do when he takes them in his. 

You feel him sit up slightly, crane his head to look at you. At your thigh.

Upon touching your leg, Billy had expected smooth skin. But he met ridges. Bumps. Lines of raised skin. He knew that wasn’t normal, and it sent a surge of curiosity or maybe even concern through him. 

What he sees confuses him. What happened to your leg? 

“Baby? What’s that?”

He’s sitting up fully now, prompting you to do the same before you fall against the bed. 

The longer he looks at it, the more confused he gets. There are scars on your leg. They’re not big, but there are a lot of them. So many that it’s scaring him. Some thin, some thicker. Different shades of scar tissue and scratched skin that never returned to its original state. 

They aren’t fresh, no, not at all. They are all healed. But he’s so confused because he’s gotten lots of cuts and bruises throughout his life, and they’ve never looked like yours do. They don’t look like a normal injury does. These look…deliberate. And he doesn’t understand.

You turn around and sit on your knees. I guess it’s now or never, you think. If you don’t tell yourself that, you’ll probably throw up. And if you hadn’t moved so far past this, you’d feel even worse. 

“They’re scars,” you say, rubbing your elbow. 

Billy flicks your knee, mainly because he doesn’t know how to react, his other hand rubbing down his face. “No shit.”

Your heart is pounding despite the fact that this is something you have long overcome and are not ashamed of. Even still, there is a part of you that hopes he won’t be disgusted with you. It’s the same part that hasn’t let the relationship go as far as you’d like it to. 

“I put them there.”

Billy blinks. Even if some part of him knew that’s where this was headed, he still can’t wrap his head around that. “What?” 

His eyes dart to your leg again, wondering if the scars are more extensive than what he can see. He’s scared of how badly you’ve hurt yourself. If he’s not careful, his eyes will glaze over. 

“A few years ago. You know how I’ve mentioned my depression and anxiety? And how I have medicine? How it was hard for me to go on dates with you at first or how sometimes I get standoffish?” 

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“Well, you’ve been really good at reassuring me and understanding my panic attacks and stuff, and I’ve gotten a lot better at managing these things. But before all of that, before how I am now, I had no one. I was all alone, and I couldn’t deal with my feelings. So I took it out on myself. I started cutting myself as a way to cope.” You hate to admit all of this, but he deserves to know.

You start fidgeting with your fingertips and break eye contact with him. Billy’s lips have formed a stern pout, his brows knitting together in a way that shows he’s trying to understand you. To him, he really is just trying to comprehend this. But to you, that’s the look of shame you’ve been awaiting. You don’t want to be looked at that way.

You sit on your hands and stare at a string that’s come loose from your worn-in comforter. 

“Anyway, I didn’t have anyone to help me. I couldn’t talk about how sad and lonely and angry I was, and I certainly wasn’t ready for a doctor. I kept it all in, figuring it was safer that way. But that got to me, and I chose to take it out on myself. There.” You touch your thigh. “Here and here.” Your fingers brush your stomach and hip. “Here too.” Your forearm. I know it’s horrible, but that’s what I chose to do. And I wouldn’t ever want someone else to choose that.” 

“I didn’t want to die, I just wanted the hurt to stop. I needed an outlet for all of those suffocating feelings, and that was what I did. Hurting myself helped me feel better because at least I was expressing something. And I was able to punish myself for being so unlike everyone else. So quiet, so hard to love, so different.”

Your heart is pounding but you steal a quick glance at Billy. He can’t fight the emotion from showing on his face anymore. He feels his eyelashes getting thick with tears that are threatening to spill at any moment. 

“I know this is probably hard to understand. I know you might be disgusted with me. But I guess it’s better that you know, right? I should’ve been more open about it with you sooner to avoid it being so…complicated.”

You stop, not really knowing what else there is to say. You’re hoping that this will encourage him to say something. Anything. You’d be happy to answer a question at this point.

Billy brings the hem of his shirt up to wipe his eyes. You wince, feeling awful for making him emotional over this. 

He takes a moment to try and wrap his head around what he’s just heard. He’s had a habit of self-medicating with alcohol, with cigarettes, hell, even ego lifting shit he shouldn’t at the gym. But everyone copes differently, right? You wouldn’t do what he does. He wouldn’t do what his dad does.

He just can’t bear the thought of thinking that someone would physically do that to themselves. That you, his perfect girl, would be feeling so low that you’d make yourself bleed just in search of relief from the pain. He can’t understand it, but at the same time, he sees that it comes in different forms. 

Billy reaches out for your hands, waiting for you to take them. The pressure behind your eyes immediately softens at the gesture.

“Don’t apologize to me, okay? I’m just trying to process.” He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your warm skin.

“Okay.”

He kisses each of your knuckles in turn, maintaining eye contact all the while. He straightens, not letting go of your fingers. “I don’t like to think about you being in any sort of pain. Imagining you doing that to yourself…fuckin’ breaks my heart.” 

You tilt your head, scanning his face. He’s hurting for you, and you want to take it away. “It’s okay, Billy. I’m so much better now.”

“But I wish that I’d known you when you were hurting so damn bad. Y-you were alone, and I’m angry that no one was there to pull you out. I would’ve helped you.”

You squeeze his hands. “Billy, baby. I wouldn’t have let you help me.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice cracking. 

“Because I didn’t want to get better. I was comfortable in an endless cycle of hurt, and I had to be the one to finally change something.”

Billy leans forward until his forehead is resting against your chest. “I’m so sorry that you had to deal with that, and I know you sure as hell don’t want my pity, but I just can’t have you ever be in pain.”

You weave your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. “I know, Billy. I’m okay, I promise? I’ve worked really hard to be okay.”

He straightens, cupping your face. “God, I know you have. I’m never gonna let you hurt like that again, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Billy. That’s not a place I ever want to return to.”

He leans in and kisses you with so much passion, using his lips to say more than he could ever form into words, that it leaves you feeling dazed. Loved.

“I’m so proud of you,” Billy says. 

You smile at him, and if he weren’t already sitting, he’d need to because of how weak you make him. 

“Thank you for respecting me and not treating me differently. You have no idea how much that means.”

Billy’s hands slide down to rest on your collar bones. “Why on earth would I treat you differently? Have people before? If anything it shows me how much of a fucking star you are, because you got through that all on your own. You got through it and now I have the pleasure of being yours.” 

You feel like someone’s poured warm water down your back. “People are usually awful about it, yeah. But that doesn’t matter. I’m grateful that you’re so accepting. And I want to be more open with you.”

“You don’t ever have to worry about that, baby. I’m working on my patience, so I’m happy to wait and learn every inch of you. Inside and out.” He winks at you, hoping to coax out a smile. It works.

“I’m so glad I got to this point,” you admit to him. You never say that out loud. 

“Fuck, so am I.” He kisses your forehead. “My best girl.”