#i looked at the tracking number and the address is right

[thehereticdiaries]

I Make You (You Make Me): Chapter One

Summary: After auditioning for a backup dancer position for the idol group Enhypen, you do the polite thing and shake everyone's hands before you leave. But when you make contact with one of the members, your soul mark burns Warnings: This chapter is literally all fluff

The HYBE building was absolutely daunting. The sun reflected off the glass and metal, making it difficult to look at. You took a deep breath, swallowing your nerves and wiping your sweaty palms on your joggers before stepping into the cool air of the lobby. You approached the woman typing furiously behind the front desk, her glasses sitting on the edge of her nose.

“Hello, I’m looking for the Enhypen auditions?” You politely greeted the older woman.

“Photo ID and audition invitation.” She didn’t even look up from her computer to address you, causing your anxiety to spike again. You handed her the requested documents with shaky hands. Her sharp eyes scanned over your ID and letter, then to a list of names taped to her desk. She returned your documents and provided a visitor tag. “Take the elevator to the right. The studio is on the third level, number 307.” 

You mumbled a ‘thank you’ and followed her directions to the dance studio. You were among 20 candidates for the backup dancer position for the swiftly approaching comeback. You stood in line and focused solely on keeping your breathing steady. It was your turn after what felt like an eternity of waiting (it was only 15 minutes). You stood in the center of the room facing four men sitting in chairs and holding clipboards. You recognized two of them as members of Enhypen, although you couldn’t remember their names. The other two must be the lead choreographer and manager. They were the names on the audition invite.

“Hello, I am Y/N L/N, and I will be performing my own choreography to Mirage by Lindsey Stirling,” you introduced yourself with a bow. They nodded and began the track, which they had queued up along with the other candidates’ songs. You took your position and emptied your mind, just like you did before every competition. You put everything you had into the dance. You panted as you relaxed from your final position. 

“You said you made your own choreography?” One of the Enhypen members asked with a tilt of his head. Shit, what was his name? Ricky? Ricky sounded almost right. You nodded.

“Yes, this was for my final competition right before I graduated from university.”

“Did you go to school for dance?” The oldest of the four men chimed in. You had to assume he was the manager.

“No, actually, I have a teaching degree. I was planning to teach Korean and English literature. But I did competitive dance for a little under ten years,” you explained, fidgeting with your fingers. You weren’t expecting to be asked any questions.

“So what made you apply for this position?” The other Enhypen member furrowed his eyebrows. 

“To be honest, I haven’t had much luck finding a school willing to hire me, since I’m only 22 and a foreigner,” you sighed. “I saw the ad online, and figured there was no harm in applying.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, are those bands on your fingers your soul mark?” The manager pointed to your hands. You looked down at the bands of solid black circling the base of seven of your fingers.

“Yes, they are. And no, I’m not sure if it means I have seven soulmates or if they’re all tied to one,” you answered the question you knew would be the follow-up. The manager nodded, making a note on the paper in front of him.

“Thank you for coming in, we will be in touch to let you know if we have decided to pick you for the position,” the manager stated with a final nod in your direction. You thanked and shook the hands of the manager and choreographer. When your hand connected with the Enhypen member to the choreographer’s right, the band on your left pinky burned. You yelped, yanking your hand from the young man’s grip to clutch your mark. You rubbed your pinky to soothe the sting, your motions coming to a stop when the black band slowly morphed to a pale purple.

“Ni-ki, are you okay?” You looked up to him staring at everything in the room with his jaw dropped. 

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?” Ni-ki dropped his eyes back to you. He suddenly held your face with both hands to pull you closer to his face, causing you to squeak and flush a light pink. He seemed to be analyzing your features, flicking his gaze over your hair, your cheeks, and your lips before landing on your eyes.

“Ni-ki, what on earth has gotten into you?” The manager asked incredulously. 

“Her eyes are blue,” he muttered while running a thumb across the skin under your eyes.

“Oh… oh! You got colors! You found your soulmate,” the other member grinned and shook the youngest by his shoulders. Ni-ki rolled his eyes and reluctantly released you from his grip. You shook yourself out of your daze.

“Sorry, I’m probably holding up the auditions. I’ll wait outside until everything is finished, then we can talk.” You bowed clumsily and stepped back in the hallway, missing the curious look from the cat-eyed member and the longing from Ni-ki. They knew you were right, though, so they didn’t protest. You sat on the floor a few doors down from the audition studio. There were still seven people that still needed to go, so you pulled out your phone to google the Enhypen members. You identified the other member in the studio as the leader, Jungwon. You fell down a rabbit hole of interviews and fan compilations in an attempt to memorize all of their names and faces.

“Y/N?” You jumped at the sudden intrusion. Jungwon had poked his head out of the studio to let you know they were done, but he was now stifling his laughter. 

“You guys are done already?” You checked the time and sure enough, almost a half hour had passed. You followed Jungwon back into the studio, sitting on the floor in a small triangle with the idols while their manager, Minjun, observed from his chair. You and Ni-ki immediately dove into a quiet conversation, each of you wanting to learn more about your soulmate. Jungwon looked at you with that same curious expression as when you left after your audition. 

“I have something I want to test,” he interrupted. You turned to him, eyebrows raised. He hesitated for a split second before gently intertwining your hands. You winced when you felt the burning on your soul mark again, this time on your right pointer finger. The three of you watched as the band changed from black to red.

“How come yours is a different color than mine?” Ni-ki questioned. You shrugged, unsure of the answer yourself.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure it out over time.” You looked up from your newly colored mark to Jungwon, who was typing quickly on his phone. “How did you know?” 

“Your emotions,” he started and dropped his phone into his lap to return his attention to you. “I have the shared emotions soulmark. I felt how nervous you’ve been today, especially when you introduced yourself and your song. I had a feeling even before you gave Ni-ki colors.”

“I assume you told the other boys,” Minjun quipped. Jungwon nodded. You were very happy you decided to look them up earlier. “I’ll be back, then. I need to gather some paperwork for Y/N to fill out.” 

“You think the others are my soulmates, too?” You pondered after the door closed behind Minjun. 

“It’s definitely possible. I’ve heard a couple other groups share a soulmate,” Jungwon noted. “ITZY and P1Harmony have gone public with their soulmates. TXT, Xikers, and Aespa are still private with theirs, but they’ve told some other idol groups.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t know so many–” You were cut off by the door slamming open. You clutched a hand over your heart, shouting a Jesus fucking Christ in English.

“AH!!” Jake beamed and pointed at you. He turned in circles, almost too excited to pick one thing to look at. 

“Show her, dumbass!” Someone teased from the hallway. Jake turned and moved closer to you then lifted part of his shirt. Across his left hip bone, in bold black letters, was the phrase “Jesus fucking Christ”. 

“I am so sorry!” You hid your face in your hands. “Ugh, why did I curse?! I wish I said something nicer.”

“It’s okay,” Jake chuckled and wedged his way between you and Jungwon. “It’s easy enough to cover, plus it’s funny as hell.” The other four members filed into the studio. Sunoo froze by the door to stare at you. 

“Alright!” You clapped to get everyone’s attention (which was already on you anyway). “My soulmark is physical, so I need everyone to touch my hand or something. Oh, and tell me what your soulmarks are.” The first to step up was Heeseung. He pulled the collar of his shirt down to reveal your initials printed underneath his collarbone. Him and Jake turned the bands on your left middle and pointer fingers into a rosy pink.

“I have a red string connecting my thumb to your chest,” Sunghoon grinned and ran the thumb with his string across your cheekbone. The band on your right middle finger turned the same shade of red as Jungwon’s. The burning was intense, but you needed to confirm all of the bonds. 

“You glow for me.” Sunoo was still entranced by the pulsing gold light surrounding your body. He simply patted your hair before sitting between Sunghoon and Ni-ki. Your left ring finger’s band changed to pale purple. The last to approach was Jay, who sat right in front of you.

“I don’t know what my soulmark is,” he admitted. You nodded and held your hands out to him. He took them into his own, changing the band on your right ring finger red. His smile dropped ever so slightly. Nothing changed for him. 

“Nothing?” Jay shook his head and you smiled sadly. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault.” He started to pull his hands away, but paused when he looked at your palms. They were a deep, forest green. Jay’s eyebrows pinched together in concentration. He ran his fingers down your forearm, a trail of green following his touch. 

“What do the different colors mean?” Jake peeked over Jay’s shoulder, who was still running his fingers across any patch of exposed skin in fascination, smiling so hard his eyes were almost closed.

“I’m not really sure,” you shrugged. Sunghoon tapped his chin. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head.

“Maybe it shows different types of bonds,” he started. “Not all soul bonds are the same, after all.”

“That’s true,” you agreed. “I’ll probably figure out what the colors mean as I get to know all of you.” The door opened again and Minjun stepped back into the studio, tablet in hand.

“So?” The elder probed, one eyebrow arched. You held up your hands to show off your now-colorful fingers. “I can’t say I’m surprised. For now, I just need you to sign a standard NDA. I have to discuss more specifics with the managers of the other groups that share a soulmate.” Minjun handed you the tablet. You barely skimmed the agreement before signing and dating the form. 

“Is this going to affect my chances of getting the backup dancer position?” You asked as you handed the tablet back to the manager. 

“That is part of the specifics I need to ask about. If you’d like to spend time together, please do so here or at their dorms until we do a security sweep of your home.” Minjun tucked the tablet under his arm and left the studio once more. 

“Let’s go to the dorms. We can order food and get to know each other better,” Jungwon suggested and stood to grab his bag.

“Dude, we just left them to come here!” Jake groaned. “Why didn’t you just bring her to us?”

“You know Minjun wouldn’t let us without confirming that she is actually everyone’s soulmate.” Jungwon held the door open and gestured to the hallway. You followed the boys as they made their way back to the dorms.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen

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[tzarounderscorech]

i swear, I have not met a delivery company more incompetent than dpd

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: implied and/or present elements of dubcon/noncon, yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, quirkless reader, mentioned death of important character, discrimination, drawn comparisons between quirklessness and disabilities, implied bakudeku, drugging, needles, mentions of hypochondriasis, also angst

♡ manga spoilers in a way, but also not really. anyway, read at your own discretion.

♡ gn reader

Sharp crimson eyes assess the fresh scrapes and swelling ruining your soft skin. A deep scowl on his face.

“Tch—look at all this…” he grumbles disapprovingly to no one but himself—too upset with you to acknowledge you, yet treating you no different than if you were glass. “These are gonna last weeks.”

You’d tried running away again—tripped and slipped up all on your own, stumbling through hallways and tumbling down stairs in your panic, only to stop short at the locked door—bolted and padlocked beyond all sane reason.

He was disappointed with you, sure. But that’s not the reason for his current anger.

“Sit there while I get bandages,” he orders, getting up from his crouch, pointing a strict finger at you in threat. “Dare move, and it’ll be bed rest for a whole ‘nother week.”

Bakugou’s obsession with your quirkless nature started a couple of months ago…

It was okay at first—he was hardly the first person you’d met who addressed you with patronizing resolve—but he got weird about it quickly.

You worked at another hero agency he was going to be collaborating with for a big upcoming mission. You weren’t a sidekick or anything grand like that, but a simple pencil-pusher—because they need those too, you know? And you liked your job. You got to work along with some of the greatest heroes in the world, see them up close, and help them out with those things they didn’t have time for—paperwork like budget justifications and incidence reports. Yeah, you might have been somewhat of a pushover, but hey, the salary was good, the environment was lively, and even though you don’t have one yourself, you got to see some really amazing quirks in action. It was, out of what you could hope for, your dream job.

The place was in a real buzz when they heard the number one hero would be joining them for a couple of months. You were excited, too—it wasn’t often your smaller agency would undertake big missions—especially not ones that required such big hero names.

DynaMight wasn’t one to share much of anyone’s enthusiasm. He was strict and down to business and otherwise had a major pet peeve for unnecessary rabble loitering around. He’d stopped mid-meeting at the sight of you, seeing as you were obviously no fieldworker, and had gone as far as to demand you tell him your value as if your presence had been some big distracting nuisance.

Luckily, your Pro-Hero coworkers had stepped in on your behalf and told him you were a transcriber keeping track for later reference. It was probably only a slip-up that they’d added the fact that you were quirkless.

You don’t hold it against them, or well… you did a little, but you couldn’t really blame them either. Evoking the explosion hero’s rage must have made them flustered and desperate to play any sympathy card available to them in the spur of the moment.

Of course, it wasn’t their card to play, nor would you ever have played it yourself, but if the humility was worth anything, it successfully managed to calm the top hero down. Actually, he didn’t say anything for the rest of the meeting. And if you hadn’t been so busy taking notes, you would have noticed his lingering stare.

A couple more incidents had occurred in the office after that. Among others, he’d caught an incoming paper airplane your coworker had thrown your way—stepped right in out of nowhere and cremated it with a controlled explosion before it could hit you.

You’d been speechless for a moment—the entire desk area along with you—confused by his strangeness and, at least in your case, even somewhat appalled by his utter lack of consideration—in your office space, no less. Seriously, top hero or not, you can’t just barge in and incinerate stuff?

“That was an important document,” you'd informed—brow quirked—no regard to how offending him could probably make grounds to have you fired. You'd only slightly regretted it after having said it. But geez, you thought—shouldn’t the top hero have some semblance worth of self-control?

“You shouldn’t be playing around,” he'd stated—tone just as sour as the stink of burned paper tainting the air. “Someone might get hurt.”

You’d almost scoffed at him but had held your tongue until he walked away.

Back then, you’d thought it was an offhand insult directed at you and your respected coworker—that the explosion hero had just called you both unprofessional to your faces, like the biggest scumbag to ever walk in through your humble doors. But looking back at it now, you realize he probably might have meant it in its most sincere regard.

His over-protectiveness knows no limit, you’ve learned—calling it patronizing would be a joke in comparison. He treats you as if anything in proximity might make you shatter by association—like a bubble made from the most thinned-out solution of water and soap.

You’d woken up in your well-prepared pillow room shortly after your agency’s collaboration with DynaMight had ended. It didn’t take long for you to piece together his sickness after that.

At first, you’d thought it was a more severe case of benevolent discrimination. After all, most people treat you with some amount of pity after being privy to your being quirkless—treating it no less than a disability of sorts.

But Bakugou’s view of you was increasingly more unsettling than that—suffering from some type of delusion that has him fully convinced you’re utterly inept without him.

In some odd ways, it would have been better if he was just faking—if he was doing it all, treating you as an inferior for some sick sense of deriving his own sadistic pleasure. But no, you think he actually fully and whole-heartedly believes you’re a danger to yourself and that anything, if not monitored in the perfect conditions of the controlled environment he’s established for you, will result in your fatal illness or harm.

He’s a full-sworn hypochondriac concerning you—even as he himself dregs home some of the worst injuries you’ve ever seen as if it were nothing but a splinter in the rough of his worn soles. Meanwhile, he’s scared that if you leave the bed without socks on, it will give you pneumonia.

You were sure you had a couple of control freaks at the agency, but nothing measures up to Bakugou’s mania. How he dresses you is one thing—how he feeds you is another. An assortment of pills first, all vitamins and supplements, a spoon of cod liver oil, then a balanced meal reminding you of those tragic trays you’re served at the hospital—four times a day without fail—breakfast, lunch, dinner, then supper—he also keeps track of all the water he’s decided you need to drink—all things perfectly regulated according to your size and age.

Then there’s the sleep schedule with a set number of eight hours—no more and no less. Exercise is also necessary—workout plans designed and dictated by him. Nothing too severe, though—he’s afraid your quirkless constitution won’t be able to handle anything beyond thirty minutes max.

And then, of course, there’s hygiene.

You sobbed and fought hysterically the first time he’d washed you—in the tub with him after he’d stripped you naked. In fact, you’d made such a fuss he’d had to fetch a sedative.

Even in your drowsed state of complete numb delirium, you’d still heard how he’d fretted over it—the tiny needle hole he’d torn in your arm—as if that was the real violation, even as he’d thoroughly molested the entirety of your body with different cloths and sponges for no shorter than a full hour.

You’d been terrified, of course—horrified by his meticulous routines and odd nature. Yet strangely, despite his rigid rules, he won't ever get violent to enforce them.

You had expected it of him—being known for his brutality—the hero without mercy—the symbol of retribution. You know he's no stranger to leaving the battlefield bloody. But with you, he won't so much as harm a single strand of hair from your head.

He will instead bargain with you, sometimes for hours. Eat what he tells you, and you’ll watch a movie afterward. Go to sleep, and he'll escort you out to see the sun for a few hours in the morning. Let him ensure you wash correctly, and he’ll allow you to dry and dress yourself.  

And in those moments when you leave him no other option, he subdues you through the help of a needle again and never ever by manhandling you—it was as if that weren’t even a viable option. It was obvious he regarded the sedative as the uttermost last resort, always muttering on about chemicals and whatnot under his breath. It seemed he would rather avoid it at all costs—but also, that if it stood between allowing the disturbance of the schedule he felt was needed to keep you healthy and forcibly putting you to sleep, he knew without a doubt which option he considered the lesser evil.

He was certain of it all. And at some point or another… you had even begun sharing his fear of attracting some sort of illness yourself—even something so small as a common cold. But no, it wasn’t the same. Yours was not a fear of the actual disease itself but of what he might do if he caught you sneezing and coughing. You could only imagine the upgraded pill table he’d have in store for you then and what other measures he’d instill due to his excessive ideas of necessity.

And that’s why you’d tried running again even after what must have been a couple of months since the last time. The thought of his inane insanity having affected you so badly you’d started playing along was all too much a painful realization—you’d felt compelled to reject it—run away even when you knew you’d never be able to make the door open if you could even reach it.

You knew it would be in vain, and even though running headfirst into something you know isn’t going to work might be the first signs of madness—you’re still relieved to have found some remaining worth of fight still in you, even if it couldn’t amount to anything.

He comes back as quickly as he’d left, still muttering to himself, cross about the damage you’ve sustained—like you’re one of the collector’s items he keeps up on the mantle in his office—green costume and a big bright smile. You remember the exposés—they’d been rather gruesome, about the hero who’d died in battle not so long ago—a couple of years back now, give or take. He had the number-one spot before DynaMight.

The current top hero retakes his spot at your feet, sighing deeply once he starts dabbing your minor bruises with disinfectant, followed by unnecessary bandages. You’re silent as you watch him work—all so diligently as he does everything, cutting no corners and running zero lights.

His efforts, done with the very epitome of care, all disgust you.

Your lip curls. “I’m not what you think I am…”

His keen glare stops obsessing over your wounds to look up at your face—he’d already tended to the ones he could see, but he’s sure more would blossom and swell in a couple of hours. It’s beyond worrisome—but it’s his fault in any case. He should move you to a place without stairs—it’s way too dangerous for someone as accident-prone as you.

You make eye contact, and his anger fades at the sight of tears welling in your corners—softening as if he’s convinced even a harsh look will have you shatter in his hands.

“I’m quirkless. But ’m not weak.” You’re sure you preached much of the same back at the beginning of your stay, though then you’d hurdled it at him—screamed it from the top of your lungs until you’d lost your voice, unknowing that it’s a statement he’s heard a hundred times over spoken by different lips from yours.

It’s a funny thing almost… how your eyes remind him of his—so soft and yet brimming with determination—a determination that will only get you killed.

He’d put faith in those words before, believed them beyond himself, and it had cost him everything.

But even so, he can’t fault you for believing in them yourself… they’re what makes him love you, after all.

He smiles gently—a most gut-churning sight from the all-scowling man.

“I’m sure you think so.”

He doesn’t relay it with any type of harshness but pity—gross concern and better judgment—overwhelming oodles of it in his garnet eyes, weighing them down with something so awful as compassion and… you don’t exactly know… but it looks like grief.

♡ part two ♡ more thoughts on this ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[dandelionsresilience]

whether the internet becomes an intolerable surveillance state, ubiquitous subscription model, or unusably ad- or AI-ridden shithole, I think we need to remember

how to do things offline

either on your personal hard drive (just because it’s an app doesn’t mean the information is stored in your device) or on paper. I’m not saying the collapse of the internet is imminent, and I’m not suggesting we do everything completely without technology, or even stop using it until we have to. (to be clear, I also don’t think the internet will just blink out of existence, suddenly stop being a thing at all; rather I think it might continue to lose its usefulness to the point where it’s impossible to get anything done. anyway) but some people may have forgotten how we got by before the internet (I almost have!), and the younger generation might not have experienced it at all.

I figure most people probably use the internet mainly for communication with friends and family, entertainment and creation (eg. writing), and looking up how to do things, so here’s how to do those things offline:

First and most importantly, download everything important to you onto at least one hard drive and at least one flashdrive! files can get corrupted and hardware can get damaged or lost, but as long as you keep backup copies, you have much-closer-to-guaranteed access versus hoping a business doesn’t decide to paywall, purge, or otherwise revoke your access. I would recommend getting irreplaceable photos printed as well

download and/or print/write down:

anything important to you - photos/videos, journals, certificates, college transcripts

contact info - phone numbers and/or addresses of friends/family (know how to contact them if you can’t use your favourite messaging app), doctors (open hours would be good too), veterinarians if you have pets, and work

how-to’s - recipes (one, two), emergency preparedness (what do I do if… eg. I smell gas)

other things you might google: cleaning chemicals to NOT mix, what laundry tag symbols mean, people food dogs and cats can and can’t eat, plant toxicity to pets

and know offline ways to find things out - local radio station, newspaper, a nearby highway rest area might have a region map, public libraries usually have a bunch of resources

also, those of you who get periods should strongly consider not using period tracking apps! here’s how to track your period manually

free printable period tracker templates (no printer? public libraries usually charge a few cents per page, or you can recreate it by hand)

moving on to entertainment, you can still get most media for free! it’s completely legal to download your favourite movies to your own personal hard drive, you just can’t sell or distribute copies (not legal advice)

movies: wcostream.tv (right click the player) - the url changes every once in a while but usually redirects; I recently noticed that it’s hiding a lot of movies behind “premium,” so it may or may not work anymore | download youtube videos

music: how to get music without streaming it | legal free downloads

games: steamunlocked.net - doesn’t have every game and can be slow to update, but very reliable

books: free online libraries | legal free downloads

otherwise passing time:

active outdoor games

for road trips (social verbal games)

for when power’s out

for sheltering in place (not all offline, but good ideas)

board games (often found at thrift stores)

ad-free customisable games collection (mobile)

read, write, draw, or whatever your craft is, sing, dance, clean, reorganise, take a bath

go outside - excuses include napping (if safe), eating, reading, finding cool plants/animals/rocks, playing with the dog

places to go include:

zoos and museums can be surprisingly cheap

parks and nature preserves

library, mall, or game shop

and a few miscellaneous things for good measure:

time budgeting | household management

how to use a planner | I’ve had success with visually blocked-out schedules like these

please add on if you have any other offline alternatives to common uses of the internet!

[timkontheunsure]

Blitz's has dyslexia 🙂

Him singing it is just so cute.

He dose know the alphabet as Blitz gets it right right after this. So this is an ordering issue.

(I still have to use the alphabet song to get it right, and worked at a library for a while and used to tutor English).

Dyscalculia is a fairly normal side effect of dyslexia, and is under the same umbrella term.

This can make estimating groups on the fly very difficult.

Blitz struggles to switch language tracks, and doesn't pick up that Loona's making a joke out of he skinning the manly meat with the manly men.

Blitz is normally great at these sorts of dirty jokes, but because it was unintentional he doesn't spot it.

This is because being serious and puns/jokes are sorted in a different 'box'.

Stols - Blitz spell a lot thing as they sound, with a few transportion errors like night to nihgt, and some typos like missing the o in sorry, or missing words out.

As he says Sto-lus, that gets shortened to Stol's when said quickly. It's a cute nickname. 🙂

He also occasionally reverses letters.

(oh look a nice wee pile of evidence).

Transcription - the case files are written by Blitz dictating to Moxxie. This is normal adaptation for working around this disability.

Ok addressing the elephant in the room, cus someone always says it. "But Blitz is just uneducated".

He got in and went to collage. (Dropping out was probably to do with the fire. Blitz is met to have been around 19-20 when that happend).

And Fizz, who he grew up with and worked the same job; has perfect spelling. They would have had the same people teaching them.

Honestly this idea bugs me a lot, because it's equating being poor to a lack of education. And then spelling proficiency as a stand in for intelligence level.

We saw this when people were trying to claim Blitz was too thick to use the word supremacist. 🤦

This ties in to whole host of classist and ableist tropes.

Blitz can with alot of effort Sometimes spell correctly, when it's very important. (For Fizz and Loona).

It takes 4x as much energy for dyslexics to do these tasks. It's common to sometimes get it right, but not others.

Dyslexia is kind of short working memory issue.

Working memory is the time you can hold something like an image, or a string of numbers, in your head before it fades.(Human ram). If it's short it can be extremely difficult to get it into long term memory.

So rote tasks with nonsensical none phonetical rules don't stick well. (Eg Fonetic).

Blitz getting it right some of the time, when trying hard at the hospital tracks. Cus he doesn't want to stress Loona out more.

The 'wiring' of dyslexic brains also makes it difficult, because reading and writing are processed across both hemispheres. Nerotypicals all do that one side, which is quicker as less far for the impulses to travel.

We also don't get the visual overlay trick that alot of Nerotypicals get. The thing were you can see the spelling in your imagination and copy that pattern to spell it right every time. (Anyone able to do this is so cheesy 😛).

And lastly Blitz talks a mile a minute, but only write a few short replies to Stolas' wall of texts. (Which are probably tricky to read as of bad formatting).

Here's hoping Stolas gifts him a better phone with a good spell check, and speech to text at somepoint. Then he gets more than just memes.

[itsthestutterforme]

Copy That (Jack Reacher x ex!wife!reader)

Summary: Much against his preference, he gave you a call and asked for your help. When a hit was hired to take you out, he deeply regrets getting you involved.

Notes: GIF is not mine, this is not a beta’d read, protective Reacher, soft Reacher, reader is black, technically this is a drabble but there will be more drabble with the same characters

—

“Who’s able to hack into a system with this much encryption?” Rocoe asks, linking her arms over her head as she leaned back into her chair.

“Let me see,” Reacher turns the monitor to face him. There’s a black screen with a singular white box that asks for a password.

Obviously it’s more than a password. They probably beefed up their cybersecurity when he noticed someone getting too close to their operation, Reacher thought to himself.

“Finlay, do you have any friends in cybersecurity security that we can trust?” Roscoe asks.

“Negative,” Reacher knew exactly the person for the job. He hadn’t spoken to you in years, and he didn’t want the first time he contacted you to be when he needed something.

But he didn’t have any other choice.

You wanted out of field work two years after your operations team disbanded. In that way, you were opposite of Neagley, your best friend.

You liked being in the comfort of your own office, free to do anything you’d like when waiting for the decryption to crack.

Life with you was domesticated. Life with you was peaceful. A level of peace he wasn’t sure he would feel again, even if he went back to his favorite home town growing up.

“Reacher?” Roscoe asks, touching her forearm to bring him out of his thoughts. “Where’d you go?” “Nowhere, I’m right here. I know someone,” Reacher finally says, pulling out his burner phone.

“Really? You have friends?” Finlay jabs, earning a glare from Reacher. He dialed your number and put the phone on speaker.

You were in the middle of doing a headstand lotus on your yoga mat when you heard your phone vibrate.

It was from an unsaved number. There was two people that would call from unsaved number: Neagley or Reacher.

You answered the phone and moved across your office to close all the blinds. “Y/L/N,” you answer and you were met with silence.

“If this is some ploy to scare me, you really suck at it.” Reacher stared at the phone, his heart pattering wildly in his chest.

You just had that effect on him.

You were about to hang up the phone when you heard a low baritone say your name.

You looked down at the number before bringing the phone back up to your ear. “Reacher? Is everything okay?”

You peeked through the blinds of your office and saw no one suspicious but you can never be too careful.

“I, uh.” Reacher starts, earning confused stares from Finlay and Roscoe. They hadn’t seen him speechless before.

He takes the phone off speaker and goes outside for some privacy. “Y/N, I need your help cracking something. You’re more than welcome to say no-“ “Send it over,” you interrupt.

“I can’t. It’s likely they’ll track the IP address to you and pay you a visit.” “Let them try.” A proud smile makes its way on his face. That’s my girl.

“It’s safer with us. I’ll send you the coordinate incognito.” “Jesus, Reacher. What have you gotten yourself into?”

“It’s something I have to finish,” “How long should I pack for?” His silence told you all you needed to know.

“I’ll be on the next flight out,”

**

You stepped off the metro with your carry on suitcase by your side and a backpack on.

You downed the rest of your coffee and tossed it in the waste bin before advancing towards the escalator. You scanned the area for Reacher with no avail but Reached saw you.

He didn’t want to call attention to you by calling your name so he watched as you waited for the escalator.

“Wow, she’s.. ” Finlay trails off when Reacher’s gaze left you to stare at him. “Really pretty,” Roscoe finishes. “She’s clearly your girlfriend,” Finlay adds.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” “You’re rather protective of her. You care about her.”“That doesn’t make her my girlfriend,”

“Uh guys, where’d she go?” Roscoe starts. The group looks at the empty space where you were previously standing.

“Fuck,” Reacher rushes down the stairs, Finlay and Roscoe not far behind. I should have never took my eyes off of her, Reacher thought to himself. If she dies, I swear to God.

Meanwhile, you stood over the man who had pushed you a few feet into the metro tunnel.

He had pressed a knife to your throat while his teammate searched your belongings. They expected you to be a quick kill.

You had to say you were a bit insulted that they only sent two men after you. They must not see you as a physical threat. That was their mistake.

He laid at your feet, his eyes widen as he looks up at you. He peers over to his teammate who laid dead on the tracks, his neck split wide open.

You slowly approached him and he attempted to crawl away from you. The blood from his chest wound stains the pavement under near him.

You wasted no time as you pressed your boot down on his trachea. He gripped your ankle, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

Thrusting your foot down, you crushed his trachea and watched as his chest slowly falls to a stop.

You slung your book bag over your shoulder and rolled your carry on back to the metro docking station.

Reacher had his back toward you, he was talking to two people you didn’t recognize.

A younger woman looked over at you, her mouth fell open at the sight of you. You’re sure you had blood splattered across your neck and face.

She mumbles something to Reacher and spun around so fast, you’re surprised he didn’t crack his neck.

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of you. He doesn’t say anything at first. You admired the stubble that was forming on his face.

You were always a sweetheart for facial hair. He held your face, turning your head from side to side in search of wounds. His hand gently trailed down your abdomen.

He continued his silent survey until you said, “Reach, I’m fine. The blood isn’t mine.”

His gaze fell behind you before returning to your face. He raised his brow and you nodded at his silent question. They were dead.

“I should have kept my eyes on you. This is my fault. I’m sorry.” “Hey, you taught me well. I handled myself. Besides, it was only two guys.”

“What did they use?” “Knives,” you said with a smirk. “They didn’t stand a chance,” he says, making your smirk widen. “No, they didn’t.”

“Sorry to interrupt but uh,” Finlay hands you a hanker chief, motioning to your face. “We should go. You’re getting stares.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, pleasure.” You reached down to grab your luggage but Reacher beats you to it.

You didn’t bother arguing with him, you were occupied with getting all of the blood off of your skin while it was still wet.

“So.. are you Reacher’s girlfriend?” Finlay asks as he opened the trunk and Reacher slide your luggage inside.

Roscoe looked at you expectantly, which tells you that she has a crush on him.

You don’t blame her. He’s Jack Reacher after all.

“No, I’m his ex-wife.” You answer, setting your book bag next to your luggage before closing the trunk. Roscoe’s mouth fell once again, along with Finlay’s.

They stared at you as if they were waiting for you to say just kidding. You slide into the back seat and Reacher joined you.

“Close your mouth, Finlay. You’ll catch flies.” He says before closing the door.

“Care to tell me what happened the last time you were at the metro?” You asked when you all piled into the car.

“What do you mean?” Roscoe asks as Finlay pulls off the curb and descends into exit to go onto the freeway.

“The way you were looking for me was frantic. It makes sense why Reach was worried, but not you two. Something else happened at the metro station. Someone was taken out like they tried to take me out. Who was it?” You explain.

Finlay and Roscoe looked shared a look but didn’t say anything.

“There was a woman. Her name was Molly-“ “Molly? As in Molly Gordon?” “You know her?”

“Joe brought her as his plus one to my sister’s baby shower. God, that’s.. how’s Joe holding up?” You asked, your mouth felt dry at the new information.

Reacher looks at you, his features hard as stone. Your heart sank in your chest the longer you stared at him.

You felt compelled to reach for his hand in comfort but you had to remind yourself that he wasn’t big on public affection.

Nor was he big on being vulnerable in front of people so you kept your hands in your lap.

“How long?” You asked after a pause. “It’s been a few days now,” Finlay confirms. “They got too close,” you said with a sigh.

“How many people have died?” “Five so far,” Roscoe answers. “And that’s just the ones we found,” Finlay adds.

“So they’re dropping people like flies and it’s still a state police matter?”

Bringing in the FBI and the CIA will only push these people into the hiding. We need to lure them out and kill them.” Reacher explains and you nodded in agreement.

“Copy that,”

[leclercstars]

ROCKSTAR. [pt.4]

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando invites you to his hotel room after your text exchange. Warnings: 18+ SMUTTYY!! Cursing, unprotected sex, dom!Lando, daddy kink etc.

hope y’all loved this series 🙈

“Ughhhh,” you groaned as the light shone through the curtains in your hotel room. Somehow even after your late-night shower, your mascara did not come off. You looked like the poster child of “partied too hard last night,” with your hair looking more like a lion’s mane and clothes half on. In your hungover daze, you rolled over and saw the slew of text message notifications on your phone. Two stood out, “Attachment: 1 image” and “thanks!” from a number that appeared to be Lando’s. You typed in your passcode and clicked on the texts.

“Holy fuck!” you exclaimed, hurling your phone across the bed. You stared with wide eyes at the phone- hands covering your mouth in shock. You tentatively reached for the phone again as if it was a cobra that was about to bite you or something. Yep, confirmed. Those are Lando’s abs splattered with cum. You were laughing, mostly because this whole situation still felt so unreal to you.

“Well good morning to you too!” you responded. It didn’t take long for those three dots to pop-up on your screen.

“Just come over tonight.” 

Well that’s fucking bold, you thought. But like- there was not a chance you would decline his invite. This is like having one-night stands with the annoying frat guys at school but 10x more justifiable. You were going to play it cool though, even though your skin was tingling with excitement.

“Time?” you replied. 

“10 works.”

Early as hell for a booty call, when is his bedtime? You laughed to yourself.

At 9:00 p.m., he texted you the address of the hotel he was staying at, and you slipped into the only Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you owned. Thank goodness you had impulse bought that for the man you were sleeping with last month who didn’t care if you were alive or dead.

There you were. Outside Lando Norris’ hotel room door.

“What the fuck am I doing,” you muttered to yourself before knocking.

He answered quickly, “Come in,” his voice already sounding sultry and thick. You had the feeling that as soon as you walked in, no time would be wasted. 

Boy, were you correct. He backed you up against the wall, and pinned your hands above your head. “Stuff like this okay?” his tone softened for just a moment. 

“More than,” you replied before planting kisses and bites all along his jawline. You didn’t even make it to his lips before his hand joined the dainty gold jewelry around your neck, pushing you back against the wall. His surprisingly soft lips slammed into yours, his tongue quickly finding its way down your throat. He stripped you down with such an ease that you could tell this was far from his first time around the track. He ripped the lingerie you were wearing off your body.

“Oh come on! That was hot but that was so expensive.” you laughed between the kisses.

“I’ll send you money for 4 new sets, don’t worry about it.” 

Oh that’s right- he’s like rich and is probably used to fucking ultra rich girls too. 

He picked you up and tossed you back down onto the bed- much nicer than yours over at the Hilton. Your neck looked like a vampire had gotten to it- covered in bites and bruises. Him signing your tits should have clued you in on his affinity for marking up his territory.

His fingers slipped into your pussy, and you tightened around him with a loud moan.

“Fuck I don’t think anyone has ever been this wet for me. Glad you like how daddy has been treating you.” Lando growled as he pumped in and out of you, making you more and more obedient with each curl of his index finger against your g-spot. 

He didn’t take himself out of you as his mouth made its way to your boobs.

“This is what I have been waiting for,” he said as he started circling your nipples with his tongue. Fuck- he is so good at teasing you. You squirmed desperately as he cupped your other boob in his hand. 

“Fuck Lando, come on just put your mouth on them.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that without you asking for it,” his eyes glimmering with specks of lust as he looked up at you with his face smushed between your tits. 

Wow, he looked so cute just right there, but you couldn’t wait much longer. 

“Please daddy, suck on my tits. I want it- you so bad.” you whined, giving him the “fuck me” eyes that you had perfected after plenty of experiences just like this one. Those other guys had not been quite so dominant, but it was actually kind of fun being able to let go of all control. His warm mouth meeting your excruciatingly hard nipples was a pleasure like no other. He closed his eyes as he switched between them, biting and sucking. All that dominance really seemed to leave his body as he moaned into your boobs- almost whimpering. You were thrilled that your tits had that affect on him. It felt like you were taming him as you ran your hand through his curls and he fully relaxed himself into your chest. Did it always feel this good when guys did this? You loudly moaned and that seemed to snap him out of whatever boob-induced trance he was in. Thank goodness it did, because you were about to orgasm from his nipple play alone.

He grabbed you by the neck again, and that alone made you whine as his strong fingers pressed on the back of your head.

“You ready to be a good girl for me?” he was staring down at you, his eyes dark and hazy. You could tell he was thinking about what he was going to do to you, how he was gonna treat you like this.

“Yes, daddy.” Before you could even punctuate your words with a whimper- he had thrusted his entire length inside you. You gasped and sat up as his massive cock hit the back of your tight walls. He wasted no time as he started to pound into you. He pressed his entire naked body onto yours- as you buried your head into the crook between his neck and shoulder that looked like it had been sculpted by Davinci. Your nails dug into his back- and he cried out pleasurably- you knew you had to be leaving marks.

You had never been fucked so hard in your life, and certainly not by someone who looked like this. His perfectly tanned skin glistened as he made your pussy his, every single muscle in his arms on display as he held himself up. 

He took one hand and started flicking and pinching your nipple- and that was enough to bring you right to the edge.

“Lan-Lando,” you were barely even able to speak- he had really created such a mess out of you with his attitude, the big dick might have helped too. 

An orgasm shot through your body as he twisted your nipple- white sparks appearing in the corners of your eyes as you gave yourself to the ecstasy of it all,

“I’m gonna cum in your mouth,” Lando groaned as he pulled out of you.

You stuck your tongue out as he slapped his cock on it. You gripped the base and he shoved himself into the back of your throat- making you gag. That was what did it for him- as his hot cum filled up your mouth. His orgasm face was unlike anything you had ever seen before. Contorted so perfectly with pleasure, it was an image you never wanted to forget.

He flopped down onto the bed- no longer the dom-daddy that was fucking you five minutes ago. He grinned up at you, still naked. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of his ass, still a little woozy from his cock.

“STOP LOOKING AT IT!” he yelled with mock rage. You spiraled into peals of laughter as he grabbed the sheets to cover himself up. He was laughing too, looking like such a fool with his makeshift toga. He sat back up on the pillows and gestured for you to join him. He pulled the covers up and you rested your head gently on his chest. 

“So should we like watch a movie or something? I think this TV has HBO on it.” He was smiling down at you.

You could stay in this spot for a while.

part 1 part 2 part 3

taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak @thewritingofspencerrose @formulaa-1 @supremebaddietrash @moonayu @aexitizen-ln4 @notturlover @maxv33rstappen @coco-bitch

[buckyalpine]

Missing

This is so dumb. Imma post it anyway. This is more of a pure ridiculousness and fluff fever dream with grumpy mob Bucky and sunshine reader, was in the mood for a lil sassy Bucky. 

A silly part 2 

“WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE”

Bucky’s men swallowed thickly, staring lowly at their feet while he glared at them, their silence angering him more. How could they let this happen. 

“So none of you. NONE OF YOU thought to keep an eye on her to make sure nothing happened to her?!”

Silence.

“I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU TO TAKE CARE OF HER WHILE I WAS GONE”

Sam and Steve shook their heads a the group, they should have known better than to be so careless, this wouldn’t have happened under their watch. 

“Fucking hell, I leave you idiots in charge for 5 days, 5 FUCKING DAYS, and that was some how too much?!” 

Bucky sucked in a breath, storming to his office, deciding he could tell them off later. Right now, he had bigger problems and the longer he waited, the harder it would be to get her back. His baby. His sweet heart. His angel. His everything. Steve and Sam followed, ready to search the entirety of New York all day and night if they had to. 

“Buck, what do you plan on doing, she could be anywhere, we can send the team to look-

“I’m not sending those idiots” Bucky rubbed his temples before pulling up his laptop. The scowl from his face dropped when he saw the little blinking red dot on the screen. “Thank fuck, her tracking device is still working” 

“You put a tracking device on her?” Sam gawked, before snorting and shaking his head. Of course the mobster did, how could he expect any less. 

“Well, now you see why I did”  Bucky shrugged, turning the laptop for the other two men to see. The coordinates weren’t near them but it didn’t matter. “I don’t get how the fuck she ended up there, but we have to go now, lets go” 

Bucky couldn’t help the tick of his jaw, the twitch of his fingers as they drove down the streets to get to her. He narrowed his eyes as they neared the location, he didn’t care what or who he’d have to face, he would get her back if it meant he had to burn the cutesy little house to the ground. 

The three men hopped out of the black SUV, guns and knives in check, taking long strides to the little porch of the house and straight to the door. Bucky wasted no time, his fist flying to the door. As soon as it opened, he stared down at you, his jaw clenched, chest heaving. 

“Where is she” 

5 Days ago 

You yelped feeling a warm soft ball of fur brush by your legs as you restocked some flowers your stall. You looked down to see a pair of bright blue eyes looking up at you, a sweet little white kitten slinking around your ankles. 

“Oh hello” You giggled, as the feline purred, rubbing herself and nuzzling into your leg, lifting her paws up so you could carry her. You smiled, cradling her in your arms; her perfect silky soft fur and gold jeweled collar indicated she was definitely not a stray. 

“Who do you belong to princess” You carefully looked at her collar, only to find her name on it without an address. “Hmm Alpine. What will I do with you sweetie?” You cooed while she nudged her face into your neck, her paws kneading into your skin. 

“I suppose you can stay with me and we can put some posters up for your owners to come find you?” 

“Meow”

You giggled, deciding to close the stall early for the afternoon, making your way down to the pet store to grab a few tins of food and other supplies for your new guest, unsure of how long she’d be with you (though you secretly hoped her owners wouldn’t come for her too soon). 

“Hmm little princess like you, how about this soft cat bed?” 

Halfway through your shopping trip, you forgot Alpine wasn’t actually yours, filling the cart with treats, toys, a bed and a number of other things you certainly didn’t need. You couldn't help it though, cooing at the little ball of fluff that contently curled up in your arms as you walked up and down the aisles. 

Of course.

She loved all her toys. And ate all her food. And was the most polite little house guest. Her daddy taught her proper manners. 

Except.

She never used the bed. 

No. 

In the middle of the night you felt 4 tiny paws climb over your side, nuzzling itself into the crook of your neck, her purring as loud as a motor boat. You sighed to yourself, snuggling Alpine in your arms, wondering how much time you’d get to spend with the fur baby. 

Present

You jumped, hearing loud banging at your door; dropping your rolling pin on the counter. You ran to the door, blinking up at the 3 huge men at your doorway with wide eyes, all of them staring down at you, the one in the middle looked like he was going to just walk right in. 

“Where is she”

“Who- 

 You blinked again in confusion before connecting the dots; the chain around Bucky’s wrist was very similar to the one Alpine wore as a collar. You bit back a giggle, looking at the large man in front of you. His rings, dark suit and the gun poking from his waist band was a stark contrast to the little ball of fluff you had housed for five days. 

“Oh! You’re here for Alpine?” 

You stepped aside, letting all three men into your home. Bucky paused for a moment after he actually look in his surroundings. Your home reminded him of a cute doll house; a small porch with a swing. The outside painted a soft yellow. Flowers were all around your garden. The inside of your house smelled like cinnamon and vanilla with pictures of family decorating the walls. It was adorable. 

“Come with me, I’m sure she’s still where I left her” 

You led the mob boss down the hall to the living room and Bucky’s heart was beating a little faster than usual. You were in a dotted dress, an apron still around your waist. Your hair was still a little tousled from your time in the kitchen; smearing's of flour streaks your nose and cheeks.

You looked like a doll.

The most adorable- No. Focus. 

Sam and Steve glanced at each other, smirking, watching Bucky give you heart eyes as he trailed behind you, the two whispering while you both disappeared into the living room. 

“Bet you 50, Alpine gets a spot at the altar” 

“The altar?”

“When they get married” Sam shrugged, while Steve snorted. 

“Alpine, look whose here” You smiled softly, while Bucky’s heart leapt seeing his little princess curled up in one of your sweaters, her paws batting at the strings of your hoodie. She perked up, scampering off the couch and into Bucky’s arms, purring and burying herself into his chest.

“Hey sweet girl” Bucky whispered, kissing the top of her head. “You went on an adventure, huh?” He scratched her behind the ears, giving her all the kisses she had missed out on for days. “Daddy missed you baby”

Your heart melted, looking at how Alpine nearly disappeared in Bucky’s large arms and the way he was so soft for his little fur baby. His eyes were glazed over, cooing and kissing her. It was also then that you realized he was incredibly handsome. Blue eyes like Alpine, tan skin, stubble covering his cheeks, pink lips. Beautiful.

“How did you know she was here?” You hesitantly took a step closer to stroke the top of her head. Bucky smiled at the way Alpine responded to you as she leaned into your touch, on cloud nine now that she had a possible mommy to play with-

“Oh” Bucky blushed again, realizing he had essentially just barged into your home without warning, not actually telling you who he was, or what he was even there for. “Her collar; it has a tracker” 

“I-I um- brought some stuff for her, you-you can take it with you if you like?” You quickly stepped away to grab the box of the things you had bought for her and Bucky’s heart leapt again at your sweetness. “She didn’t use her bed, only slept with me” 

“Yeah, her daddy would’ve probably done the same if you found him instead- ow” Sam whispered before he yelped when Steve flicked his hear, trying to contain his laugh. 

Bucky thanked you, not trusting himself to speak each time you looked at him with your sweet eyes. He wanted to give you something to taking such good care of his baby but of course you refused and he only fell for you more. Alpine mewed, looking back longingly as the SUVs pulled out of the driveway before lookin at her dad right in the eye. Why were you not coming with them?

*****

“Alp?”

Bucky set down the book he was reading, as Alpine slinked out of bed, making her way over to the  box of stuff you had bought for her. She dragged a sweater of yours that had fallen into the box, pulling it up onto the bed and kneading it before making her self comfortable, burying her face in, purring loudly. Bucky snorted, wrapping her up in the sweater and cradling her, clearly he wasn’t the only one that had spent all day thinking about you. 

“You like her huh?” Bucky looked down at the sassy thing in his arm; the slow blink she gave him was all he needed to know. “You want her to be your mommy?” Bucky blinked to himself, shaking his head. What was he doing, taking relationship advice from his cat. “I’m getting a head of myself”

“Yeah, starting with the fact that you’re talking to a cat. Now go ask her out” 

Bucky growled, rolling his eyes, hearing Sam’s muffled cackle through his closed door. Sam wasn’t wrong though. 

He had to ask you out. 

*****

“Make it 100. 100 bucks Alpine is at the wedding”

“Add another 5, she’ll officiate the wedding” 

“You think he’ll want Alp on our side with the groomsmen or with her”

“There won’t be any groomsmen left alive if you all don’t shut the fuck up” 

*Whispers*

“Alp will be with the groomsmen”

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[latenightdaydreams]

Please can you write about ex boyfriend Konig can't moved on from reader. He sneaked in her house and raped her. She resist him at first but then he just dicks her down.

You Can't Leave Me (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, rape, stalking, toxic ex, p in v, oral

1.8k word count

🚫

.

.

It’s now been eight months since you’ve broken up with König. When you found out about the trackers he put on your phone and car, it was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Since then, you’ve moved into your own apartment an hour away from König. Your phone number has been changed along with all social media deactivated.

The last several months have been hard, but you’ve been pushing through so well. Too well, actually. König never lost track of you. He knows your new address, phone number, job, and schedule. You changed your scenery, but not who you are. So, when you left one day, he knew where to look.

Of course, you move to your favorite city. You know König hates the city. He never wanted to move here. You move into the apartment that is only ten minutes from a bookstore, one that you become a frequent customer of quickly. König knows you like the back of his hand. There is no escaping him.

One thing he didn’t expect was you finding someone so quickly. It’s only been eight months. You were together for five years. It should take you longer to move on before realizing there is no one else for you. What the fuck is this?

König walks behind you at a distance as you walk to your date. Wearing a yellow summer dress compliments your body, paired with white sandals. Is that…make-up? That’s not right, you don’t wear make-up; you don’t need it. You’re so naturally beautiful. 

He watches you walk into a café. A very handsome brunette man stands and hugs you. His hand resting above your ass, comfortable with your body as if he’s touched it already. When did he miss this? He glares at the two of you before walking away and going to your apartment.

While you’re out on your nice little date, König breaks into your apartment. Not really breaking in when he finds your spare and uses it, right? He enters your apartment for the first time, taking a deep breath. It smells just like you.

König walks throughout your home, looking at the new photos on the wall of your city friends. One of you with this new guy. He knocks it over. He continues on to your bedroom, seeing your bed is messy; you never make it. His eyes drift to the floor where he sees a pair of black underwear. With little thought, he stands and walks to them. A little white stain, you were aroused? By what? Who?

König lifts the underwear under his mask and to his nose, taking in a deep breath. Exquisite. He shoves the underwear into his pocket and keeps looking. Stepping into your bathroom, he turns the light on. His eyes fall to a little purple case near the sink. It can’t be. Is his little Schatz on birth control?

A sharp stinging feeling deep in his gut travels up to his heart. The mental image of that pathetic worthless man going raw into his Kleine Perle disgust him. You’re whoring yourself out, he knew you’d be lost without him.

He turns the light off and sits on the toilet, pulling out your panties to sniff while he waits for you. An hour passes and he began to grow worried that maybe you went back home with that loser. Right as he was going to check his phone, he hears your keys in the door.

You enter your apartment while on the phone. For safety, you always call a friend while walking.

“Yeah, I’m home now though. I love you, Ann. I’ll see you Tuesday.” Once you hang up, you kick your shoes off and place your purse on the hook.

As you pass your photos in the living room, you notice the photo of you and Finn has been knocked over. A wave of anxiety rushes over you. You try to reason with yourself. It’s almost been a year and you’ve never seen König. He’s probably moved on the same way you have.

You enter your bedroom and turn the lights on. The door closes behind you as you take off your dress, tossing it into the hamper. You grab out a pair of pajamas, placing them on your bed. Reaching behind your back, you unhook your bra, tossing it aside. When you do, you look down at the floor and notice your black pair of underwear is missing.

Maybe you put it in the hamper? Slowly, you walk to the hamper and look inside. At that moment, your bathroom door opens. Your eyes go up and meet the dreadful pale blue eyes. Your heart beat sky rockets, your feet moving ahead of your brain as you turn to run.

König is fast. He reaches out and wraps his arms tightly around your stomach. Lifting you in the air as you kick and scream, slamming you down hard on the bed. The air leaves your lungs and your screaming stops. König pulls out your underwear from his pocket and shoves it into your mouth. He grabs your arms and pulls them behind your back, pulling off his belt with one hand and tying your hands together.

When you try to kick him to get away, but he just climbs on you, resting his weight on you. “Where are you trying to go, Hase?” He growls.

Your screams are muffles as you try to squirm away from König.

“I saw your birth control pills.” He grabs a fist full of your hair and pulls your head back. “That is still my pussy. You are still mine.”

You shake your head no and try to break free from his grasp. His 6 ’10 280 lb body is just too big to fight back against.

König’s hands begin to travel along your mostly naked body. Your skin is just as soft as he remembers. His finger hooks your panties and moves it down. You buck backwards like a horse and try to kick him. A heavy hand comes down and spanks your ass cheek, you whimper.

“Stay still. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” König finishes pulling your underwear off completely before standing off of your body and getting undressed.

“It’s a shame you thought that you could get away from me. Bigger shame you decided to give away my body to another man. You know I don’t like that.” You can hear his pants drop to the floor finally.

König walks to your body and drags you to the center of the bed. He joins you on the bed, spreading your ass cheeks and pushing his face between them, taking a deep breath.

“That’s still my fucking pussy.” He grabs your ass and jiggles them before climbing over you, one leg on either side of your thighs.

His heavy cock slaps against your cheeks. He spits in his hand and rubs it around the tip of his cock, rubbing the tip along your folds. The feeling of his cock being pressed up against your entrance makes you squirm your hips, but that doesn’t stop König.

König spreads your ass cheeks with his hands so he can have a clear view of your pussy. He looks down at you and pushes himself into you. You tense up, only making yourself tighter for him. A loud moan leaves his lips as he buries his cock deep inside of your pussy.

He doesn’t allow you any time to adjust to his enormous dick as he slams his hips into you. You shake your body, trying your best to break free of his belt around your hands. Eventually you manage to spit your underwear out.

“Stop!” You cry out as you kick your legs as you writhe under him.

“Just take my cock.” He groans.

One of his hands comes down on your head and pushes your face into the pillow, holding you there as he picks up his pace. He rams his cock hard enough to cause pain, forcing the full length of his cock into your tight cunt. Your cries are muffled.

König yanks his head back and forces your head up. “What? You can’t handle my cock anymore?”

“Fuck you! Get off of me!”

“What? You don’t like my cock anymore?” He asks in a condescending tone.

“No!”

“Shut up.”  He pulls his cock out of your pussy, grabbing you by your hair and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

König puts you on your back and slaps his cock on your lips, rubbing it back and forth. You try to turn your head but he grabs your jaw and forces you to stay still. The tip of his cock presses against your lips pressed tightly together.

“Open.” He lightly taps the side of your face.

Your mouth opens and König shoves himself inside. He forces his way into your throat, finger tracing the outline of his cock appearing. You gag, causing spit to come out of your mouth and on to your face. König keeps pressing in until his balls are resting on your face. Not being about to breathe, you kick and arch your body.

“Shhhh, calm down. You can take it.” He pushes even further.

König begins to rock his hips, fucking your throat. His heavy balls hitting your face over and over. This causes you to gag again and you throw up, turning your head to the side and vomiting on the floor. He laughs, “Are you going to be a good girl or should I keep going?”

“I’ll be good.” You pant with tears in your eyes.

“Gut.” König growls as he walks to the other side of the bed, joining you.

He lays behind you, lifting one of your legs and tells you to hold it. His hand covered in your spit handles his cock as he slips it into your pussy. Your gummy cunt welcomes him back. König grabs your face and turns your face to his.

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Mine.”

“Say it, Schatz.” His voice trembling as he bullies his cock deep inside of you.

You try to suppress the orgasmic feeling his cock gives you. As much as you like Finn, his cock is nothing compared to König’s. No matter how toxic König is, you can’t help but to miss him.

“Yours.” You moan out bashfully, hating yourself.

“What was that?” A grin crosses König’s lips.

“It’s yours!” You angrily moan.

“Fuck yes!” König rolls his body on top of yours, your leg pushed over as he grasps your hip and thigh. As he thrust into you, he pulls your back to meet his thrust.

Pitiful mewls freely leave your lips; a mixture of shame and euphoria consumes your whole body. You look back at him, your eyes meeting, as you see the same possessive glare in his eyes as he always has. Will you ever escape this man?

[forzalando]

💛 hi 🥹 CONGRATS ON 3K THAT'S HUUUUUGE !!!!

I am obsessed with this idea and also my favourite activity (as of recently lmao) is drunk karaoke and of COURSE my dream would be to do it with lando !!!!

drunk karaoke with Lando would, and i'm not exaggerating, mean everything to me. i am in love with just the idea of this.

thank you for supporting me through the many phases of this blog and for entertaining my every thought/idea. adore you, mel💛 i hope you enjoy this blurb that was meant to be 300-400 words but ended up being 800+ lol

celebration post: here

Drunk Karaoke with Lando Norris under the cut😊

You quickly downed the shot thrust into your hand – sambuca, which meant it absolutely came from Lando since he was the only one who knew of your preference.  

He was on your left, sweaty and somehow wide awake despite the fact you’d been out for hours. Oscar was on your right, slowly swaying to the music with his eyes half shut. Somewhere across the club Charles and Pierre were dancing on an elevated surface while George videotaped them like a suburban soccer mom at her son’s first game. Here in Monaco, everyone partied post-race as if they themselves had made it to the top step over the weekend.

Out of nowhere, Lando fell into you as he shouted in your ear – “Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

Oscar caught you before you could topple over, steadying you on your feet before shooting Lando a dirty look.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lando giggled. He centered himself and then put his hands on your shoulders, looking the most serious you’d ever seen him. “Anyway, do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

“Win at Silverstone? Become world champion?”

“Well, yes, but think smaller, you lunatic. Something I could do right now.”

“Out drink Max?”

“What? No, I don’t care about outdrinking Max, where did that come from?”

“Well, I just thought since he usually wins every race that you’d want to beat him at something – ”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible,” Oscar interjected. “He wants to do drunk karaoke. When we went out in Miami he was practically on his knees begging me to sing with him.”

A giant grin spread across your face as you playfully swatted Lando’s chest.

“Why didn’t you just say so? I happen to be an excellent karaoke partner,” you boasted.

Lando clapped his hands and jumped around like a toddler at your remark – “So, you’ll do it with me?”

Instead of answering, you snatched his hand and pulled him through the club at an impressive speed. You weren’t in a karaoke bar, quite far from it, but you planted yourself in front of the DJ booth and gestured to Lando. Security immediately pulled you both into the booth, perks of having Lando at your side, and the DJ of the night asked what she could do for you.

“Hi! Lando Norris wants to do drunk karaoke and I’m trusting that you can make that happen. It’s very important to him,” you professed.

“I think I might have a couple instrumentals or could make some magic happen. Any specific requests? You won’t have any lyrics on screen, though. And you’ll have to share a mic.”

Before you could ask what your options were, Lando was shouting, once again, in your ear.

“DO YOU HAVE THE SPICE GIRLS? THAT ONE SPICE GIRLS SONG?”

“Lando, we won’t have the lyrics,” you reminded him.

“I don’t need them,” he declared, crossing his arms with attitude. “Maybe you need them, fake fan.”

“I most certainly do not,” you yelled back to Lando. “DJ, roll the track. Pretty please. You're amazing."

She chuckled and handed you the singular mic, Lando immediately snatching it from your hands.

“It’s my dream, I get to hold the mic.”

You rolled your eyes and fought back a smile, stepping into his side as he threw an arm around you.

The deafening bass from the speakers grew quiet as the DJ addressed the crowd of people – “we’ve got a special surprise tonight! These two lovely friends of mine up here are going to perform a special number for everyone. Please welcome – ”

She paused, waiting for you and Lando to introduce yourselves.

“LANDO NORRIS AND Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Please welcome Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N to my booth. Show them some love!”

The clapping and cheering brought the volume in the club back to an obscene level – the loudest cheers coming from a VIP table not far from the booth where all of your friends had gathered.

Before you had a chance to feel the slightest bit self-conscious, the infamous laugh rang through the speakers and Lando was scream-singing into the mic.

 “YO, I’LL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY, REALLY WANT!”

The two of you in perfect sync, passing lines back and forth, singing (if you could call it that) in unison during the chorus. You could have sworn you heard George shout out that this was “his song” and Max was most definitely telling anyone who would listen that he personally knows Ginger Spice.  

You tore your eyes from the audience to look at Lando – the smile on his face rivaling the brightest sunny day. With his arm around you, squeezing you to his side, your closest friends cheering for you, your heart was sure to burst from happiness. There was no place you’d rather be in that moment than making a drunken fool of yourself with the most important person in your life by your side.

And if Lando was thinking the same thing, about how he was happier in that moment than he’d ever been, podiums and race win included, he’d keep that to himself for just a minute more.

[callixpene]

L&DS LIs When You Pick Another LI Over Them

Part 2

It got me thinking, all the L&DS LIs are devoted to MC right? So if MC were to pick another LI over them then they are actually screwed....

I tried to imagine what would it be like if the love of their life, across MULTIPLE lifetimes, chooses someone else over them:

-------------------------------------------------------------

Xavier: You chose Sylus

Xavier was getting very worried because you hadn't been home in a week. He'd been informed by the Association that the mission assigned to your team had been completed days ago, but not only have you not come home, you've also not replied to any of his messages.

He was about to set off and look for you himself when suddenly, YOU entered the complex with the arm of a very tall man with stricking red eyes around your waist.

"She won't be needing her apartment here anymore. She's moving in with me. Have all her stuff packed up and delivered to this address." the man said, whilst he handed a sheet of paper with the address to the landlord, along with, Xavier saw, a check with a VERY handsome amount written on it.

Sylus wanted your stuff out of there as soon as possible, so you could finally live with him, at his home that was now your home as well.

As the landlord practically skipped away with his new fortune, the red-eyed man's gaze shifted back towards you, and Xavier's heart clenched as you returned the loving gaze the man gave you with just as much passion and devotion.

He could only stand there in shock as you left the building in Sylus' embrace.

Rafayel: You chose Xavier

'This number is unattended, please try your call later'

5 missed calls and 10 unreplied messages today.

YOU have got some explaining to do.

Rafayel was getting upset. He knew you were busy with your job as a Hunter but would it kill you to send him ONE TEXT?

He planned to treat you to dinner tonight, to somewhere nice. Guess you had other plans today as you weren't responding. He decided to stop reaching out to you for now and that he'd ask you out on another day when you weren't busy anymore.

With his plans ruined for the night, he decided to go out for an evening stroll at the park.

*****

There were a lot of people, particularly couples, hanging around the park lately, as the cherry-blossom trees started blooming.

As he was about to take a turn, he stopped on his tracks and did a double-take as he caught sight of a particular couple.

YOU were sitting on a picnic blanket with your back against a tree.

And there was a blond man with delicate features gently napping with his head on your lap.

Rafayel was in shock. He watched as you caressed Xavier's face with such gentle hands. Even at a distance he could see the tenderness in your expression.

Xavier opened his eyes. He took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. You giggled.

*****

Rafayel walked away.

800 years of waiting for his princess, his beloved bride. Whose heart now belonged to someone else.

He'd lock himself up in his room and weep.

He would try to win you back from that man.

The two of you had a bond. He would not give up until you yourself, were to send him away.

Zayne: You chose Rayafel

For the first time ever in a while, Doctor Zayne was very anxious.

Not because of another operation, speech or interview.

He was anxious because of a particular girl coming over for a routine check up. Because this time, he finally decided that he should start pursuing her, to make his love known.

After the two of you met again after being separated for so long since when you were children, fate made it so for him to become your primary care physician. He could take care of you, and keep you healthy. Not long after being your doctor, he realized he wanted to do just that, for the rest of his life.

Well, he did become a cardiac surgeon for you after all.

He had it all planned out. After your routine check-up, he'd ask you to come back to the hospital after his shift was over. Then, he'd take you to your favorite arcade and watch you get more plushies. Then, he would take you back to his house and cook a nice dinner for the two of you. That would be good start, right?

"Dr. Zayne?" You said, as you knocked on the door.

Zayne sat upright as he pulled out of his thoughts.

"Come in" he replied.

You walked in with a smile.

Zayne's heart skipped a beat, as it always did whenever he looked at you.

"Please sit over there. We need to measure your heartbeat first" Zayne said as he grabbed his stethoscope.

Right now he needs to be professional. But his fingers, even as a trained surgeon, shook ever so slightly as he lowered your blouse to measure your heart rate.

Then suddenly, he froze.

You were confused.

"Dr. Zayne, is there something wrong?"

Love marks were scattered all over the upper part of your chest.

You blushed when you realized Rafayel had left marks on you when you were with him the night before.

Zayne looked at your blushing face, then back at the marks.

You already had a lover.

*****

The routine check-up proceeded as usual, and you left quickly. Although Zayne was your doctor, you still thought it was embarrassing for him to see those marks on you.

Zayne sat back on his desk, his knees weak and his hands shaking.

He looked at his window, and sure enough he saw YOU jump into the arms of a young man with lilac hair. He could only stare as the man took your face in his hands and kissed you passionately.

*****

He'd overwork himself for the next couple of weeks.

His colleagues would be worried as they realized he hadn't been taking days off. But Zayne kept himself busy.

Because if he didn't, he didn't know how to deal with the pain he felt now knowing that you loved someone else.

That he was too late.

He would forever regret not declaring his love for you sooner.

Sylus: You chose Zayne

Sylus was at his wit's end.

He didn't know if you were just messing with him or if you were just that clueless.

He'd sent you countless gifts: from flowers, to plushies, to new clothes, to chocolates and other treats. He calls and messages you everyday. He drives you to work, and to all your other appointments when he can(even if you decline every time, he INSISTS).

Then earlier today, when he treated you to lunch and the waitress commented that the two of were a good-looking couple, you had insisted that you and him were only friends.

He had no idea how else to make your pretty little head realize that he intends to be your lover.

So, he decided to pick you up at your place.

He was going to take you with him on vacation, and he was not taking no for an answer.

He already booked the flight, the accomodation, and bought all the clothes and other necessities you'll need for the trip, so there would be no reason for you to refuse.

He planned to make all of his intentions with you finally clear(well, clearer) during this little vacation with him.

*****

He rang the doorbell as soon as he got to the doorstep of your apartment.

A couple of minutes passed by and no response.He rang it again and knocked on the door this time.

To his surprise, the door opened slightly as he knocked. It was not locked.

Sylus sighed. He was definitely gonna tell you to be more wary next time and make sure your doors were locked.

He let himself in.

"Sweetie, it's Sylus" he called out.

No response.

"I know you're home, Kitten. Come on out"

He began searching for you.

You weren't in the living room, and you weren't in the kitchen.

You must be asleep in your room.

Sylus looked around for your bedroom. Then, he accidentally stepped on what looks to be, a pair of shoes.

But these didn't seem to be yours. They were too big.

They were men's shoes.

Sylus froze.

He looked to the side and realized he was standing in front of your bedroom. Again, the door wasn't locked, it was slightly opened.

Slowly, he took silent steps towards the door, and peaked inside.

What he saw made his heart drop to his stomach.

There you were on your bed, lying on top of a well-built man, with black hair. Sylus immediately recognized him to be your primary care physician, he saw him a couple of times through Mephisto's eyes when he wanted to make sure you were alright during your check ups.

The doctor's arms were around you, embracing you tightly against, Sylus shook, his bare chest.

Only then did he realize that clothes were scattered all across the floor, and the two of you were likely naked under those blankets.

It was fairly obvious what the two of you had been doing before he got here.

Recovering from his shock, Sylus slowly went back to the living room and waited. And waited.

*****

When you and Zayne woke up it was already nighttime.

He kissed your temple and gently whispered in your ear that he would cook dinner for you both tonight. The two of you get dressed and head to the kitchen.

As you passed by the living room you shrieked in surprise upon seeing Sylus sitting there.

Zayne immediately rushes to your side.

"Sylus?! What the heck are you doing here?! And how did you get in?'"

"Kitten..." You paused, Sylus sounded and looked like he was in pain. "Mind telling me why you're sleeping with your doctor?" he uttered, his red eyes like daggers as he glared at Zayne.

Sylus looked downright menacing.

Zayne immediately put his arms around you.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" his hazel eyes glared back at Sylus. If this man was a threat, he would not let him hurt even a strand of hair on your head.

Sylus was not leaving your apartment without you.

Zayne was not letting you go anywhere with this man.

It was going to be a hell of a night.

[bcacstuff]

A Thank You

To start with a thank you to all the people in the comments on my previous post, and all the Anons, all the kind words, showing your support and appreciation for my blog. I received some very sweet and lovely messages which I will cherish and look again at when things get so negative that I start to question myself why am I doing this.

Snapped

Yes something snapped, after a long time ignoring all the harassment, negativity, toxicity, name calling and recently even threats in my inbox. Telling me, oh we all know how toxic this fandom is, isn't realistic. Logging on here and first being confronted with it personally as it is in my inbox, takes the fun and pleasure out of things. It's like getting home, but you first have to clean out your doorway because the neighbours dumped all their trash on it. At some point you will address your neighbours with this bad behaviour, wont you? (and probably not in the nicest way)

I ignored them all the time, trashed them right away stopped even reading them, as the content had not any substance. I wondered often, why do people do this? Does it make you feel better? Do you feel a hero hiding behind an Anon? Do you go tell your friends what you just sent to a person you clearly don't know the first thing about. Do you think it is justified because you don't like what I post or what doesn't fit your narrative?

It is never justified, no matter what, to do these kind of things to another human being. Never!

There are people that call me obsessed. When I see multiple harassment messages all similar, simply recognizable coming from the same person(s) on a daily basis in my inbox, lurking around on my blog just to get off on every post I publish, the second after I post it. Running to the Anon button to mock every word and purposely give a false interpretation of the things I write, or write on a daily basis on your blog about it, that is not obsession? But when I do what everyone does here, look at some IG accounts is obsession?

You know, posts on IG accounts stay there forever (most of the time), no matter when you look. Stories are published for 24 hours, and even forever when an account also puts them in their highlights. You surely know about that don't you? There is no need for me to watch every minute of the day an IG account, I don't refresh it every minute to see if there is something new. It's your biased imagination that makes you unable to see it in a normal way. I do not sit 24/7 in a cellar with 5 screens around me watching people. I also do not sit in my car for hours and hours in front of someone's house to wait till someone comes out of the house or arrives. That is stalking, watching someone's IG account isn't.

And perhaps I look at a few things more related to an IG account, like the analytics, as an interest because of my marketing background, using a simple tool available for everyone, doesn't make me obsessed or a stalker either. There is no need to watch it every minute of the day either, I can refresh it whenever I like, the numbers from a whole month (and more) are still there.

Saying I keep track of every move he does is a false interpretation. I don't know what he ate for breakfast this morning, or what color socks he wears today. I don't know all the time where he hangs out, what he is doing or whom he is with. I don't know, I know as much as you all! I simply use my logic, can see like you all can at what times he posts, and as he has his habits and patterns (which you learn easily over a bit of time) it is no rocket science to see when these times shift and he likely traveled to a place in another timezone. That doesn't justify calling someone obsessed or a stalker neither.

And then, on top of it all, I learned some things about his activity last weekend, which was perhaps the last drop. Yes I added that part, because it was part of why something snapped in me at that moment. Perhaps my reaction would have been different if it didn't came on top of all this negativity and toxicity I already deal with for a long time and only got more. Oh yes, I could've simply stayed quiet about it and perhaps I would have if not for above reasons. People that like to say I did mention it because I was just seeking attention, are just ignorant. Gosh the (negative) attention in my inbox is overwhelming, I don't need it and actually wish it wasn't so OTT. But since I mentioned it, I will address it in a separate post, but don't get too excited. I will share how I learned about it but wont elaborate on my personal thoughts which I choose to keep to myself. I also will not share any name or any other details.

If you don't like my blog, don't like to read about some things I post, don't like me as a person; Remember instead of running to the Anon button to lecture me and give me unwanted (and very unneeded) advise about how I should run my blog or live my life after you called me out, you also have the option to scroll on or move to another blog. You don't need to read my blog, I don't force you to come to my blog, you are here on your own free will and can leave whenever you want.

Anon

As a result of all this bad behaviour, I have switched off the Anon option. It's a bit with a heavy heart, as I prefer to keep my blog open and accessible to everyone who wants to be here and send messages to me. You still can send a message, but only with an account which will be visible to me. You can of course ask me to hide it when I choose to post your message, I will absolutely do so. For me it is just a way to finally prevent the cowards to send hateful messages to me.

I feel sorry for the ones that do not have an account on here and always gave me useful tips, and sent constructive messages. I hope you'll understand and consider to create an account. I don't mind if there is nothing on it, I don't see empty blogs necessarily as a sockaccount like some do.

I have to say, since switching the Anon option off, I received 0 messages. (that tells you a lot about how brave the Anons are) I enjoy the calm, the positive feeling instead of the negative feeling that I first need to clean out all this crap when I log on. So I will keep it this way at least for a while, and perhaps even forever.

Let's just try to keep the good and positive atmosphere here again, have some fun, some good discussions in a respectful way and exchange our thoughts on things.

[wayward-dreamer]

Pillow Talk

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Word count: 1,782

Summary: After a stressful meeting lead by Stan Edgar, Y/N looks forward to her other weekly meeting that is far more enjoyable.

Warnings: Swearing, implied smut: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up people), pillow talk turned dirty talk, vaginal fingering

A/N: I started writing this after that Gen V ep, but a lot of things got in the way of me finishing it. Happy reading, hope y'all like it! :) beta'd by my love @hintsofhoney

Y/N yawned, covering her mouth with her hand as she scribbled random drawings on the paper in front of her with a black pen. She was bored out of her mind as Mr. Edgar addressed everyone in the meeting, something about the latest demographic numbers for the supes and she was meant to be taking notes about it all, but she lost track. Whoever decided it was a good idea to have a meeting at the end of the day on a Friday was an idiot. Another few minutes of this and she could leave, once the clock ticked over to 5pm and the weekend was officially upon them. She kept glancing up at the time, her heeled foot shaking in anticipation for a regular meeting of her own that she was excited to get to.

Ever since Vought’s Christmas party a few months ago, when she caught the attention of Soldier Boy and they spent the night together, she’d leave the Friday meeting, pack up her things and get her night started with him. It was never anything serious between them, just some fun between them every week, and that was exactly what she needed.

A smile came to her face as she got lost in thought about everything he had in store for her, just as Mr. Edgar dismissed everyone for the weekend. She picked up her things and walked out behind all the male employees who she couldn’t stand. She was Mr. Edgar’s assistant but there were times that she was forced to do tasks some of the other suits wanted her to do, no matter how much she protested. They were all arrogant, entitled assholes who only wanted one thing when they looked at her, and even though Soldier Boy was no different because he also was a man of his time, at least he never pretended to be anything else around her.

Y/N walked back to her desk and put everything on top, ready to collect once she decided to leave, before she made her way down the hallway towards the loft apartments where the supes resided. She stopped in front of the door marked with “Soldier Boy” in gold letters, turning the knob and letting herself in, which was what she always did considering the door was unlocked after 5pm just for her. As she strolled into the apartment, she unbuttoned and took off her gray blazer, draping it over the back of one of the armchairs, smiling at the sound of a Sinatra song coming from the record player in the corner.

“Right on time,” she heard his deep, rough voice enter the room as he walked from his bedroom to the bar.

She turned around, a shiver running down her back as she took in his appearance. “I’m nothing if not punctual.”

Soldier Boy smirked as he poured a generous amount of whiskey into two tumblers, moving out from behind the bar as he sauntered over to her, his suit unzipped and revealing the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath. He swiped something off the surface before he stood in front of her, handing her a glass.

“After the day I’ve had, I really need this,” she said, turning the tumbler around in her hand. “Cheers.”

He clinked his glass against hers, a grin on his face as he watched her take a few sips. He held up the small, plastic bag with a handful of pills inside, waving it in front of her eyes which had her pause drinking, their gazes locked on each other.

“Anything else you really need?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her mouth opening slightly.

They kept their eyes on each other as he took out two of the small, round tablets from the bag. She stuck her tongue out a little, making him groan at the sight as he placed one of the pills on it, watching her swallow it down and taking a sip of her whiskey. He continued to stare at her as he tossed the tablet back with a swig of his drink, frowning as he saw her put her now empty glass down as she began to unbutton her blouse.

“You know that’s my job, doll,” he husked, his eyes darkened as he looked at her. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He wasted no more time as he threw back the rest of the amber liquid, tossing the glass behind him and hearing it shatter, unbothered by the scattered pieces across the floor. He moved towards her, pulling her roughly into his arms as he pressed his lips to hers, the kiss as searing and erotic as all their previous encounters. He grasped her shirt in his hands, ripping it down the front, a squeal escaping her as the buttons flew everywhere. By now he usually had her on the bed, on her back with her legs thrown over his shoulders, but he had other plans for her as he pushed her down on the sofa. The fingers of one hand curled into the leather as the other moved between the soft locks of his hair, his head between her thighs and making her come undone in no time at all as she screamed his name and covered his mouth in her arousal.

Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, Soldier Boy gathered her in his strong arms and carried her over to the dining table, roughly dropping her down on the surface as their hands frantically pulled off the rest of each other’s clothes. With her back meeting the cold wood of the table and her legs wrapped around his waist, she moaned wantonly as he thrusted into her, moving faster and harder with every mutter of his name from her lips. It wasn’t long before she reached the peak for a second time, a giggle of disbelief leaving her as she came down from her high.

They made it to the bed eventually. With one last release from her triggering his, they came together as he grunted, a smirk pulling at his lips when he felt the way he spilled inside her walls. He rolled off her, her nimble fingers plucking the sheet up and pulling it over them, just as he reached for the cigarettes on his nightstand. He took one out of the pack and placed it between his lips, picking up his lighter and flicking it, bringing the small flame to the tip. He took a long drag before he blew it out, closing his eyes in satisfaction as he felt Y/N take the cigarette from between his fingers. As he opened them, he turned to look at her, watching the way she held it between her own fingers, the way her lips closed around the filter.

“Well, you really know how to take my mind off things, that’s for damn sure,” she stated, laughing softly as she placed the cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the nightstand.

“It’s a fucking gift,” he grinned. “Better take a breather, ‘cause I ain't done with you yet, sugar.”

She smiled, a small sigh escaping her as she thought back on the day. “It’s a good thing we keep this little rendezvous of ours on a Friday because those meetings are slow, agonizing torture.”

“I’m guessing it was a meeting with Stan?” he asked, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her neck.

“Yeah,” she replied, a small gasp falling from her lips as he continued to nip at her skin. “He just stresses me out about everything.”

She tried to resist him as he nuzzled at her neck, trying to move further down, but she eventually gave in with a low moan. Her eyes closed as her head fell back against the pillow, feeling his lips move down her collarbone and pull the sheet down, exposing her breasts to him. Her eyebrows furrowed as he nipped and sucked at her flesh, his tongue circling over her nipple.

“Handling the supes is getting to be too much as well, thanks to him,” she muttered, biting down on her lip as she tried to move away from him.

She could feel herself getting lost to his skillful tongue and fingers, but the second round he was trying to start needed to wait. She was only human, and didn’t have the same stamina he had as a supe.

He lifted his head, releasing the stiff bud with a wet pop, staring down at her. “Even me?”

“Especially you,” she countered, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he began, his signature smirk on his face as his hand drifted down under the sheets, moving between her legs and feeling how wet she was again. Their eyes locked as he teased her folds with his fingers, causing her to gasp and a deep, rough chuckle to escape him as he didn’t take his gaze off her. “I think you’re pretty fucking capable of handling all of me.”

“Stop,” she giggled, trying and failing to push him away.

“You’re the one who can’t stay away, doll.”

“Maybe I should,” she challenged, lifting an eyebrow as she looked up at him.

Soldier Boy’s green eyes darkened with lust, and something else she had no desire to identify. A short gasp of pleasure escaped her as his thumb brushed over her clit, his intense stare never leaving her as the digit circled around the bundle of nerves. Her eyes fluttered closed as a long, drawn out moan left her mouth, his fingers sinking into her tight heat.

“See… if you did that, then you wouldn’t be right here, with my fingers fucking into your tight little pussy,” he grunted, his jaw tight as he looked down at her through hooded eyes.

Y/N didn’t recognize the sound she made as he started to thrust his fingers into her, maybe it was a moan, but it was a shrill cry, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was giving into him once more. As she always did whenever she found herself back here, every single Friday.

“You always come back to a little… pillow talk, don’t ya, sugar?”

The words were just above a whisper, the rough timbre of his voice causing a shiver to run down her back as she wrapped her arm around his neck, holding onto him as she nodded, letting him pleasure her in every way he wanted. He knew she had only been teasing him when she said she’d stay away from him. They both knew her resolve wasn’t that strong.

She wasn’t going to give up this little ritual of theirs any time soon.

[kaeso4ka]

You're being stalked. It becomes even more of a problem when you find out who it is

Pairing: yandere Optimus Prime x reader

Oddly enough, it started with a glance. You never suffered from paranoia, but it was impossible to ignore that feeling of constant scrutiny. Someone was peering at your back on the street, staring out your window, and even crossing their eyes with you a couple times, I think.

Jasper was a small town, and you worked at one of the most popular cafes. It wasn't strange that a lot of people knew you by sight and even sometimes recognized you on the streets. But a slight nod from a group of teenagers, to whom you made a discount yesterday by great kindness of heart - it's one thing, but the feeling of persecution - quite another.

During one of your shifts, you found a note on one of the tables, on which someone described your smile and hands in a very poetic and beautiful handwriting. It looked cute and weird in equal measure, so the strange note soon went in the trash and the memory of it went out of your head.

Then strange things started happening more often. Someone attached to the doors of the coffee shop not small notes, but whole letters in which someone addressed to you.

You tried to catch the joker for a long time: you watched the cameras, followed the visitors. But it didn't bring you any closer to an answer. It was as if someone was invisible: he did not meet anyone's eyes, bypassed all the cameras.

The situation began to get out of control at the moment when on the doorstep of your own house you began to find the same notes, but this time with presentations: scarlet roses, food, something that looks like jewelry. Someone continued to correspond with you one-sidedly, confessing their warmest feelings for you.

It sent a chill down your spine.

It wasn't normal.

Someone knew your workplace, your personal address. Someone was following you. Wanted to get you to like them. They were showering you with gifts.

And at one point, even contacted you.

It was an early Saturday: you woke up to the hot desert sun beating down on your face. And the sound of notifications coming in.

Normally, no one bothered you on weekends: your bosses knew you weren't going out on your day off, and everyone else preferred to rest rather than write to you.

And yet someone had broken a glorious tradition.

You frowned, unlocking your phone. Messages came from an unknown number.

“Hello. I apologize for disturbing you. Did I wake you up?”

“Jack, if it's you, I told you, just because you have ballet on Saturdays doesn't mean I'm going to go work a twelve-hour shift for you. Let's go without me somehow, friend.”

“This isn't your work colleague. I'm writing to make sure you liked all the presents. I didn't misjudge your taste?”

Sleep receded into the background soon enough. You sat up abruptly on the bed. Immediately you took screenshots of the correspondence. You weren't five years old, and she knew exactly what to do if you were being followed. At the very least you had to prepare evidence for the police.

“It's understandable. You do know there's still a statute for stalking in our state, right? That's a pretty serious violation of the law.”

“I apologize, there was a misunderstanding between us. I didn't mean to scare you at all. I'm just showing signs of attention.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. Tracked me down at work, at home, even got my personal phone number…. Not stalking at all, huh. If you wanted to meet me, you would have approached me yourself.”

“I can't.”

“What are you, a wheelchair user? Well, you'd drive up.”

You nodded your shoulder, remembering. Did a lot of handicapped people go to your coffee shop…?

“That's not the point. I can't come up to you right now. But I'll be able to soon.”

“You shouldn't bother. I did not like the note with which you began the acquaintance. I do not wish to continue it.”

You didn't wait long: you threw the undecided number on the block and drifted further into sleep. A sense of dread dulled the ironic hilarity.

The gifts and notes were gone. The unknown person didn't try to contact you again, and you exhaled hastily: it's nice when people around you turn out to be strange but understanding.

One shift, a tractor-trailer pulled up to the car food dispensing window. The red-and-blue, expensive-looking Paterbilt looked pretentious against the gray-and-yellow Jasper. Still, truckers often passed through this town on their way to Las Vegas, so you weren't surprised.

“Could you take the order outside?” a pleasant male voice asked quietly and conciliatory. “The booth is very high up. I won't be able to reach the order.”

“Yes, of course,” you nodded into the void, as if the person you were talking to could see you, ”the order will be ready in ten minutes. Wait in the parking lot, don't hold up the line.”

When the food was ready and stacked, you hurried out from behind your desk. You headed for the parking lot, which was empty except for Paterbilt.

The car door from the driver's seat was ajar, and you hurriedly reached forward with the bag of food, but… There was no one in sight. The cabin was empty.

“What the…?” the moment you reached forward to look for the trucker, who had obviously moved back to where they had a sleeping place, something yanked you forward by the arm. “What the…!”

Paterbilt's door slammed shut exactly as the plugs pulled you inside.

“I can speak to you personally now, my Spark.”

[findmeinthefallair]

God I never showed you guys how I would've written case notes for our boi's therapy sessions.

Here are some examples I drew up for a very early stage session with him, since I need to put down this info before I can create and write more scenes and screenshots.

Basic SOAP notes template:

Subjective is what the client shares and reports.

Objective is what the therapist can see, based on what's called a Mental Status Exam that we must conduct for any session.

Assessment is reporting whether you think the client is getting further away or closer to the goals they set for therapy, framed through the theoretical orientation that the therapist uses. In my past experience, I have used a blend of the Satir Model and Internal Family Systems theories, both of which are systemic theories i.e. we believe that a client's life has been shaped by their family background and environment.

It's important that Hunter's therapist would have to use what's called a non-directive approach to give him lots of space and autonomy to explore his thoughts and feelings. Systemic theories and others such as Narrative Therapy, Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) are all non-directive, whereas approaches such as the more commonly heard Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) are directive and most likely a poor fit for him because it would enable his extreme rule-following tendencies.

Plan refers to the course of action that both therapist and client could take, and seeing how the rapport between them is building up.

----------------------------

A piece of homework I might give him is a log like this, to track how he's doing and feeling through the weeks and months:

The percentages shown are him rating how intense his experienced symptoms are. This table can be discussed in each session too.

----------------------------

Lastly, disclaimer for the next one: I've not trained in the EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) modality but had a peek at how EMDR therapists write their case notes, since I also spent two years going for EMDR sessions as a client. But it might look like this for the boi based on what I found online:

EMDR is about replacing harmful beliefs about self with positive ones, and involves a ton of subconscious work via something called "bilateral stimulation" (to really simplify, when you go for a walk you shift between putting your left and right feet in front while moving: this contributes towards you most likely feeling better afterwards). EMDR does something very similar with eye movements, or playing alternating sounds in headphones between the left and right ears, or alternating between tapping your left and right knees with your hands.

While this left-right-left-right stuff is happening, you are instructed by the therapist to mentally replay an image from a traumatic memory. One single traumatic memory is processed at a time, and a mental "safe place" and emotional resources must be set up first across many initial sessions before the actual processing is even carried out.

Anyway, the therapist most likely would not dive into the worst memory of him being possessed, because that would be too much, even if a safe place and resources are first set up. The most likely memory to be addressed first could be when he received his notable facial scar, or whichever was the earliest traumatic memory he remembers.

In the screenshot above, the "VoC" section is how strongly the client believes in the new positive belief, on a scale from 1 to 7. The number would obviously be very low in the beginning; the goal of EMDR therapy is to bring the number all the way up to a 7 across the months ahead.

The SUDs section is about Subjective Units of Disturbance, used to measure how much distress the client feels about the image of the traumatic memory on a scale of 1 to 10. The hope is to get the number down as low as possible over the months.

I picture him having various breakthroughs with the help of this technique at different points of his healing, such as before Grom Night, before he can even imagine himself carving Waffles...overall being more and more okay over time with a world with no Flapjack in it.

It's amazing to picture the work that the boi would put in until he can feel calmness and even a blooming sense of purpose handling the pieces of palistrom wood he'd be working with in the years to come, instead of pure distress about the best friend he played a part in slaying. Thanks for attending my spontaneous TED talk lol

[bullet-prooflove]

Home: Russell Shaw x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

Nobody in Russell’s life knows about you, he makes sure of that. Not Colter, not Dory, especially not the Horizon Group, even though they’ve tried keeping tabs on him multiple times.

The address he gives is a PO Box and every single one of his cell phones a burner. Every single time he switches one out, he texts you the new number from the road. That’s how dedicated he is to your safety, to making sure you stay protected amidst the mess that is his life.

When he comes home tonight to the house the two of you share, he can’t help but smile when he sees the warm glow of the porch light.

It’s been a gruelling week, reacquainting with his brother, tracking down Doug, getting shot. He doesn’t think he’s slept more than a couple of hours in the past seven days and he feels the exhaustion deep down in his bones as he turns off the car engine.

You’re curled up on the couch with your laptop when he lets himself into the house, wearing his Pantera t-shirt and a pair of his boxer shirts, your hair tied up in a messy bun. It does a little something to him, seeing you wear his clothes, it always has.

The first time you slipped out of those motel sheets and into one of his t-shirts he’d known he was done being a lone wolf. He’d found a mate and Russell, well it turns out he mates for life.

“You’re injured aren’t you?” You say without looking up from your computer.

“No, of course not…” He says and your eyes flicker up to meet his with an expression he knows all too well. He sighs as he sets his luggage down alongside the door. “What gave it away?”

“Duffle bag was on the wrong shoulder.” You state as you set your laptop down on the coffee table and raise to your feet. “Let me see.”

“Ariel, its fine.” He tells you but his girl, she sees right through his bullshit. It’s one of the things he loves about you.

“Russ baby.” You say, your fingers trailing along the zipper of his jacket, dragging it down. “Who are you trying to kid here?”

He hisses through his teeth as you help him out of his jacket, struggling to remove his left arm out of the sleeve.

“You’re gonna be mad.” He says frankly as you toss his jacket over the back of his armchair.

“Why would I be mad-” You trail off as your gaze comes to rest on the skin coloured gauze that’s been looped around his bicep. “You got shot again?”

“Yea.” He sighs as you start to unknot the bandage, he feels the pressure loosen on his arm as you unwrap it carefully. “It’s a through and through. Colt sterilised it…”

“He did a pretty good job.” You say examining the bullet hole in your life partner before you begin to redress it. “The wound’s clean, there’s no signs of infection.”

This is not the first time you’ve played nurse to Russell and you both know it won’t be the last. He was fortunate to fall in love with someone who’d trained as a Medic with the Rangers before leaving the service and becoming a P.I. He’s lost count of the amount of times you’ve patched him up.  

“Yea well, our dad taught him well.” Russell grumbles as you carefully redress the injury.

“You wanna talk about that?” You ask him as you secure the bandage and Russ swallows hard against the ache in his chest.

His emotions on seeing Colter again are complicated. There’s a lot of shit there to unpack. The two of you don’t have secrets but he’d not ready to go into this just yet. He’s too tired, too emotional. He just wants to curl up in bed with the woman he loves and sleep for a week.

“Not yet.” He says, his good arm looping around your waist as his forehead comes to rest upon yours. “I just want to be with you right now.”

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