#i tried to put the line “i think i love you” in the middle of so high by sellasouls

[aheathen-conceivably]

Zelda knew the way to City Hall by heart. Week after week she had picked up Violette from school, staring at it across the street while admiring how its stately white columns reflected the sunlight like a mirror. Now, she was standing right in front of it, too nervous to move her feet but too restless to simply stand still anymore.

She looked down at the card in her hand once more, even though she knew every line from anxious fixation. Alexander Barnes, Librarian. Letting out a deep breath, she put the card in her pocket before walking into the building.

As she stepped inside the heavy wooden doors swung shut behind her. Immediately, the noise and heat from the courtyard became a distant memory. In front of her another set of doors were open wide to a simple courtroom, one she hadn’t seen in half a decade. Quietly, a myriad of emotions overcame her, bolstering her resolve as she realized that maybe this place was a nexus of new beginnings for her after all. 

A new sense of calm accompanied her as she followed a dim, sparsely furnished hallway to a closed door inscribed with a shining metal plate. Alexander Barnes, Librarian. She stood still for a moment, listening to see if anyone was inside before she raised her hand and knocked on the door.

A distracted voice told her to enter, and before she could second guess herself she turned the metal handle and walked through the door. The office was small, filled from one corner to the next with books and mismatched furniture that made her think the whole scene was moments away from bursting at the seams.

In the middle of it all sat a man at his desk, his glasses beginning to fall down the bridge of his nose as he stared diligently at a stack of papers in front of him. At the sound of her footsteps, his gaze bolted up and he seemed not to recognize her. Both of them looked at eachother with embarrassment, and Zelda nearly turned on her heels and walked back out the door.

She tried to muster an apology before leaving unceremoniously, but just as she gathered the courage to do so, a smile overtook the man’s face and he pointed familiarly in her direction. “Mrs. Duplanchier! You must forgive me. You’ve caught me in the middle of a letter that has taken just about every ounce of my concentration. And all of this - the office - I mean, well, it’s just a mess, I fear. Would you - do you want to sit?”

His voice trailed off as he looked around the room for a chair. Other than his own there was only one, tucked into the corner and covered with books. As he moved them onto the floor Zelda’s eyes wandered through the room. He had books on every surface, tucked onto shelves, in stacks on the floor, perched precariously at the edge of the desk. But as she watched him move them to make room for her, she could tell that they had all been stacked carefully and with love.

“Ah! Here you are,” he rounded the desk and sat across from her, allowing her eyes to finish searching every square inch of the space without pressing her with questions. Her gaze finally settled back on his, which was still looking at her curiously. It didn’t seem to throw off her words quite as much as most people’s did. “This is - it's quite a collection you have here. I often thought the books I’d managed to collect were noteworthy but this - this is just remarkable.”

His eyebrow lifted slightly. “Do you have a collection?”

Zelda laughed lightly, mostly to cover up the embarrassment that she felt anytime she talked about herself. “It feels a bit silly calling it that here, amongst something so impressive. It’s mostly just books I brought from home - from England, I mean, when I was a girl. But I’ve bought what I could over the years.”

“England! I thought I may have heard as much back at the truck. How did you possibly end up here?”

Her eyes trailed away from him slightly, roaming back to the stacks of books that were lining the walls. “Its a long story, I suppose. One infinitely less interesting than any selection of which you have here. May - may I ask you about them? The books, I mean. And the truck. All of it really, how any of this came to be.”

With an affirmative nod of his head Zelda began the litany of questions that had come to her mind over the weeks of waiting for this meeting. There was very little about his job that she didn't want to know. Where had the books come from? Where did he drive? Was someone pay him to do so? Where was he headed next?

He answered each question thoroughly and patiently, as though no one had taken the time to have such an interest in his work before. As she reached her last question, where was he headed next, he smiled widely and pushed his glasses up even higher on his nose. “Nowhere, hopefully. I’m working on a request for the Works Projects Administration to open a permanent location in Strangerville.”

Zelda’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “A - a real library, here? In Strangerville?” 

“That’s my hope. Of course there are competing proposals but I’ve been surveying the region and the town is perfect. With the Route running through it and the abandoned Queen Annes up the hill, it’s exactly what the Administration is looking for.”

He could easily read the look on her face, a mix of childish amazement and interest, and ventured further, “Listen, I - I unfortunately can’t promise anything; but if you have an interest in the project I will need a team. They’ll want a catalog of everything I’ve collected and a survey of potential locations. I should know who the grant is awarded to in five - maybe six days? I’ll write to you, if you’re interested.”

“Yes!” She answered so quickly that her anxiety barely had time to register what she was saying. “I - would love that.”

Previous / Next

[ranhaitanisbitch]

movie night with mammon

-mammon x gn!reader

cw: just sweet

synopsis: mammon invited you over for a movie marathon

a/n: hope you like it! i feel like i should make a part two of this. i'm open to suggestions, requests for other one-shots and constructive criticism. don't hesitate to reach out ^_^

word count: about 900

Mammon doesn't remember the last time his room had looked this clean. He had spent the whole afternoon picking up clothes from the floor, sorting stuff, cleaning the floor and doing stuff he had never done before. Absurd stuff like wiping the back of his bed's headboard. He knows nobody cares about the back of his headboard, but somehow he has the urge to have everything in perfect condition. After all you are coming over. Maybe he was doing too much, but he wants to impress you. Yesterday Mammon found out you had never seen a single Harrison Porter movie in your life, so of course, being the fan he was, he invited you over to a Harrison Porter movie marathon. He was excited to say the least. It's not like you had never been to his room before, but this felt more like a date than a casual movie night.

Wait- did you think of this as a date too? Or was this really just a movie night between friends for you? Of course Mammon didn't actually call it a date when he had invited you over. If he remembers correctly he said something along the lines of, "Of course a mere human wouldn't know about  stuff like that. Let the great Mammon show ya some good stuff". You had rolled your eyes at that, but you had agreed. 

Mammon takes a last look around his room and suddenly feels a nervous feeling taking over. What if you actually did see this as a normal hangout between friends and thought the cleanliness of his room was suspicious... Mammon usually never cleans his room to this extent and you know that. He opens his laundry basket and throws a singular dirty sock in the middle of the room. There, casual atmosphere restored. Now that this problem is taken care of, all he has to do is wait for you. 

There's an anxious tingle in Mammon's chest when he hears a soft knock on his bedroom door. "Come in!", he shouts and wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans. As he hears your feet shuffle along the floor he turns around to face you and immediately regrets it. You're already wearing your pajamas which consist of only a tanktop and some shorts. The demon blushes and turns around again hoping you haven't noticed the red color that is now tinting his cheeks. “I brought some snacks”, you smile and sit down on the couch right next to Mammon. “Yeah, yeah… put ‘em on the table”, the demon tries to appear as nonchalant as possible, which seems to be impossible with you so close to him. Your legs aren’t even touching, but he can still feel the heat coming from your thigh next to his and he has to resist the urge to reach out and feel some more of your body heat. He decides to start the movie instead. 

A few minutes into the movie you try to get more comfortable on the couch and shift around. You end up half laying half sitting leaning on Mammon’s shoulder. What you don’t seem to notice is his breathing becoming slightly uneven while he tries to hide the fact that he is getting excited. “Damn clingy human”, is all he mutters as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him even more.

By the third movie the demon notices you getting tired when your eyelids keep falling shut. You desperately try to keep them open and pay attention since you know how much Mammon loves those movies, but the more you try to fight it the sleepier you get. You’re so focused on pleasing Mammon that you don’t even notice that he hasn’t been paying attention to the movie himself. Not one second. The only thing that occupies his mind is you, how good your body feels pressed to his and how cute you look as you try not to fall asleep. The whole duration of the three movies he sneaked secret glances at you and admired your reactions to the scenes instead of watching them himself. He gently nudges you, “hey… it’s time to go to bed.” You whine. “But we haven’t even finished the third movie yet.” Mammon chuckles at your sleepy whines. “It’s okay. We can watch it another time.” That means you two will have some more movie nights, Mammon thinks with a giddy smile. “You should really head to bed now. You can barely keep your eyes open.” You groan in annoyance, but get up anyway. The demon already expects you to head to the door when you suddenly plop down on his bed. Even though he had wished for you to stay, he expected you to head back to your room after the movie marathon since it was only down the hall. Now he thanks whoever had heard his prayer and granted him his wish. “Mammooon! I’m cold”, you whine and pull him down on the bed with you. He smiles and lets you cling to his torso like a sloth. After a few minutes your breathing becomes more even and Mammon is sure you’ve fallen asleep. He kisses the top of your head gently, “good night, human.”

[2-old-to-guard]

Nicolò, Nicky, di Genova

For the second analysis I shall be exploring the inner workings of Nicky. Now, Nicky is a VERY quiet character so a lot of my analysis shall be subtext delievered by the amazing Luca Marinelli who put 110% into this role.

First Impression:

The first time Nicky is mentioned is between Andy and Booker. He uses the couple as a tactic to get Andy to consider the mission. (You can see that when Booker looks at Andy immedietly after Nicky opens the door).

This is actually the first example of Nicky being the first line of defence. He opens the door while Joe hangs back. But both of the men relax when they see her. The hug Andy and Nicky is much more soft than the one between her and Joe which shows Nicky's more reserved character. It also heavily differs to the ways Andy and Booker touch each other, which is discused in Booker's post here. I also like how the couple are kind of matching shirts, I think it's cute.

Relationships:

I've spoke about Nicky and Booker in my Booker post so you can read that here. But from Nicky's perspective, I believe he's humoring Booker and clearly holds no actual anger when he loses. He's known Andy for longer than Booker and must know she'll guess the baklava. But he places the bet anyway as it seems to be a little tradition between the duo, giving them a unique relationship. Finally, it shows they have a rather flippant approach to money as they bet A LOT of money on this silly bet, which could also show how long this bet has been going on for.

Nicky's role in Andy's story is to be the constant postive approach to their immortality. He is clearly under the belief that their long life has to mean something and this is what fate has dictated they do with their undeath. At the beginning Andy is hostile to this and snaps at him multiple times. Simply through their differing personalities, they have the least connection but the small moments they have together show their love. He is also another gift giving person and gives her the baklava in a rather affectionate way. Unlike Booker, Nicky values gifts that serve a purpose (food).

I'm going to talk about Joe and Nicky in the Van scene as it deserves its own section.

Sniper:

Nicky is the sniper of the group which continues through the beginning sequence. Each of the members have their specific role.

I like the little moment where Copley waves at Nicky through his rifle. It's subtle but works to explain Nicky's later remark:

"We are usually a better judge of character."

As it gives Nicky and Copley a moment before the betrayal.

Sudan:

Nicky is the only immortal to talk to the group of people they pass on their mission.

This analysis is inspired by this post. It's subtle but it shows Nicky's kindness and how he goes out of his way to be kind to people. It's not just about rescuing people from kidnappers, it's about being kind to people.

Also, I think it's interesting that Nicky knows many languages and goes out of his way to speak to people in their native tounge.

Another subtle moment of showing the skills each of the Guard have. Not only does Nicky kill two guards with one bullet, he also catches the shell casing to ensure no evidence is left behind.

As the mission is revealed to be an ambush, Nicky's sole focus is on the hypothetical girls, even after they are killed. Nicky believes Copley is on their side and so cannot comprehend that he lied to them.

Whilst Joe is discussed as being "an incurable romantic", Nicky also has his moments. Specifically, in this scene Nicky dies looking at Joe so when Joe turns to see if Nicky is still alive, Nicky is already staring at him.

Later on, when Andy is fully in despair Nicky tries to comfort her with the same line as before. But this time, Andy snaps at him. This is the middle part of this conflict between them. The first is the status quo, the second is the conflict, the third is the resolution.

Contextually, Nicky's first conflict was the Crusades and that is considered one of the worst conflicts in history. Nicky most likely feels immense shame for it and that is what drives his need to do good. Saying they did what they did "For the right reasons" shows Nicky is acknowledging you can do it for the wrong reasons. He shows great sadness at Andy's cynicism in this scene but doesn't say anything, once again showing his reserved nature.

The Dreams:

As stated previously, the ways each of the characters interpret the dreams shows us something about their characters.

Nicky is the first person to state what he saw in his dream and he zeros in on who the new immortal and what she looks like. Next, he talks about the surroundings "dirt walls, clay walls". Thirdly he brings up the weapon that is used. "The pesh-kabz is an Indo-Persian knife used extensively in northern India and Afghanistan". In three lines, Nicky has figured out the physical appearance of the new immortal, the setting in which she died, and the geographical location of the new immortal. This scene highlights Nicky's practical nature, similar to the way he used his rifle to kill two men at once to ensure the alarm wouldn't be raised.

From Nile p.o.v all she sees of Joe and Nicky is them embracing. Joe and Nicky's first priority is love, whether for each other or the rest of their family.

This is immedietly followed by Nicky's monologue about one's first death. This scene, like "peace be with you", shows Nicky's empathy for other people. He immedietly decides to save her not for a practical reason (like Andy), but for emotional reason.

"Whoever she is, she’s confused, and she’s scared, and she’s more alone than she has ever been in her entire life."

This also seems to be him emploring Andy's softer side, which works and shows how close Andy and Nicky are and how well he knows her.

Finally, Booker claiming that Nicky always had Joe is incorrect as he woke from death alone and was isolated for many years before they put their differences aside (apologies for the Booker slander but my boi deserved that).

The Dinner Scene:

In many of the deleated scenes, Nicky has a strong passion for food. This was cut but this moment where he smiles seeing Nile eat his food is really cute and shows his caring nature.

I also like the subtle difference where Nicky finishes Joe's sentence after Nile appears confused:

"So you good guys or bad guys?"

"Depends on the century."

"We fight for what we think is right."

I don't know why no one talks about this but Nicky is the first one in the relationship to tell Nile about it.

This line doesn't hit as hard at the van confession but it's so simple in the way it states that Joe and Nicky are together. It's so sweet how Nicky doesn't even hesitate in explicitly stating his love for Joe.

There is also a little regret in the way he says "many times" which adds to Nicky's regret over the crusades.

The scene, for Nicky, ends when he notices how conflicted Nile is and offers her a place to rest. Another example of Nicky's kindess.

Quynh:

Nicky and Joe's sleeping pattern has been highly analysed by the fanbase so I won't talk about it in a lot of detail. While Joe is shielding Nicky with his body on the train, Nicky is protecting Joe with his body in Gousanville safe house. Nicky, as the sniper, is the most observant of the group and is awake and alert first out of all of them. He also has a gun in his hand by the time Joe and Booker are awake.

I think it's very important for Nicky and Joe be the ones to talk about Quynh. For Nicky's side, he must feel immense guilt for the imprisonment of Quynh as it was his fellow christians who dropped her into the bottom of the ocean. The guilt he feels is shown through the camera angle. Andy views Nicky talking about the witch trials through a church window. Whilst it's commendable that the movie keeps Nicky a christian even after his long life and his relationship with Joe, it adds to his complexity as he fully recognises the crimes of his fellow christians but remains faithful, probally because the same God that make him immortal gave him the life he has with Joe. He also fights through his pain to explain to the scared Nile what she saw. His kindness doesn't blind him, however, and he allows Andy to be the one to talk to Nile after she storms off.

The Van Scene:

Whilst Joe and Nicky are joined together for the most part, to the point where they are mostly referred to as Joe and Nicky, they are their own seperate people. Joe is more outspoken and emotional whilst Nicky is reserved. This is most clearly displayed with the different ways each of the characters react to the homophobic comment from the guards.

While Joe begins to preach to the men, Nicky says very little. He shows exhaustion at the comment rather than just anger, showing how this kind of bigotry is nothing new to him and someting he is tired of. As Joe's speach continues, Nicky goes from tired, to touched. As Luca said it an interview, all he had to do was get lost in Marwan's eyes.

But Nicky isn't completley emotionless. By the end of Joe's speach, Nicky is overcome with love that he leans forwards and kisses Joe. The focus on him in this scene makes it seem like Nicky moved first and Joe followed. Another moment of Nicky being the first to show affection to Joe.

All of this culminates in them kicking the guards ass as all good power couples should.

Whilst the idea of them only doing this because they're homophobic is funny, in the comics it's clear that they did this to try and escape. Still, this one of the first time Nicky is snarky. I believe this is Nicky putting on a persona to try and intimidate the mercanaries and make them unsteady in another attempt to escape.

This is also the first example of Nicky absolutley gagging someone. Having him turn to Copley and say "We are usually a better judge of character". Copley holds an immense respect for the immortals so having one of them dunk on him works well to support his change of allegience later on.

The Merrick Confrontation:

Again, another scene that foucses on Joe's outspokeness. But Nicky is again subtly displaying more of his character.

After Joe headbutts Merrick, Nicky subtly tries to reach for Joe. He probally realises this will result in something bad and so tries to protect Joe.

When Joe is stabbed, Nicky, for the second time, loses his composure and tries to reach for Joe. From the a story writing perspective, obviously this will not kill Joe, but having Nicky be so reserved for the majority of the film his out-of-character panic adds to the tension of the scene.

As Merrick monolouges neither of the couple are really listening. Nicky is solely focused on Joe and making sure he's ok. You can see Luca subtly look to Joe's neck before moving in for the blessed headbump. The fact that Marwan and Luca improvised that, probally inspired by the deleted scene where they do the same thing, hurts my soul. Anyway, it is only when he knows Joe is ok, Nicky then focuses on Merrick. This could also show to symbolise that Merrick isn't the threat Nicky is worried about. That fear is reserved only for death.

The Lab Scene:

Despite being in extreme pain, Nicky doesn't scream and tries to keep in any noises. This could serve two purposes,

The first is that he doesn't want to give Kozak the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. Including lines such as "do you feel the wound trying to close?" shows she clearly holds more sadistic interest in these experiements.

The second purpose is that he doesn't want to worry Joe. From the following dialouge, "As much as I like watching you sleep, I’m glad you’re awake" he was working under the assumption that Joe was asleep and if he was asleep, Nicky screaming would wake him.

This is the second example of Nicky gagging his captors. But this one seems to go over Kozak's head, which makes me laugh. The script has to balance the weight of each of the characters' lives with making them seem relatable and like real people. This is an example of Nicky's imortality dictating his response. Even though Kozak is actively torturing him, he holds little resentment towards her and admits he understands her actions. From a personal perspective, his involvment in the crusades, and from a historical perspective, all the ways humanity has experimented on others claiming to be trying to save the world.

When Joe wakes up, Nicky tries to soothe his panic by saying, "As much as I like watching you sleep, I’m glad you’re awake". The couple are clearly trying to pretend that what is happening to them isn't happning. I think Nicky is the one who is more accepting of what they are going through.

The subtle smile Luca does when he says 'Malta' shows him letting nostalgia consume him insted of fear. But when he says "we should go back", he's letting the reality of the situation settle in again. But he still holds hope that they will escape, showing the trust he has in Andy.

The Lab Scene Continued:

The despair on Nicky's face can be seen from the beginning of this scene. He seems genuinley shocked that Andy has been captured, once again showing how much he's trusts her. The difference between Joe and Nicky is shown again when they react to Andy's mortality. Nicky slowly lowers his head whilst Joe's is more explicit.

Furthermore, when Nicky says "All things", he isn't looking at Merrick. He's seemingly looking at the sky, possibley towards God. He's not angry but instead seems to be sad and accepting.

The final example of Nicky gagging his captor. The line "as is yours" works in two ways. The first is to remind Merrick that for all his money, and influence, and connections, he is still mortal and he will eventually die long before Nicky ever does. Secondly, it works as a threat. Merrick is reminded that the extremely skilled killers he has tied up in his basement could in fact escape and they'll come straight for him. Nicky's reserved attitude could make him seem a passive character but lines like that show the anger that bubbles beneath the surface.

The Final Battle:

This is really short but despite not knowing Nile for a day, Nicky still warns her about the incoming attack.

For all his talk of 'we die when we die' Nicky is still worried about risking Andy's life. It's the only time his faith is really disputed and this time, Andy reassures Nicky's faith which is a fun development between them.

This fear for Andy is further shown in the fight scene. Nicky is consistantly looking for Andy and making sure she's ok. This fear leads to his own injury.

Joe and Nicky's relationship is further shown in the absolute confidence Nicky holds for Joe. He doesn't even look behind him during a fight as he knows Joe will be right behind him. I actually love this too.

Also, this shot of Nicky glaring at Booker shows that even though he doesn't want to punish Booker AS severely as Joe, he still holds an immense amount of anger towards Booker. This difference between Joe and Nicky might be due to their differing realationships with Booker. Nicky and Booker were less affectionate, and possibly more distant so his betrayel doesn't hurt Nicky as much... but it does.

The Keane Scene:

This is the final moment where Nicky's calm demenor is uprooted by an intense emotional moment. At first, when it is just him in danger, he uses skilled fighting techniques to fight Keane. But when Joe is the one in danger, he just lunges for Keane just to try and save Joe. This scene is highly controversial as many people see it as unnecessarily violent and too close to real life crimes against gay people. From my perspective, it is meant to symbolise the way gay people have persevered despite their many struggles. It's why Nicky doesn't die in this scene and it ends with the couple embracing.

Also, despite having just DIED, Nicky first concern is Andy which is the pinnacle moment of his kindness.

Final Nicky Scenes:

With everything we've learnt of Nicky throughout the movie, it makes total sense that he's the first person to reach Nile after her fall. Unlike Booker, who was just telling her to give up on her old life, Nicky tries to show her that her new existence is worth something just like he does with Andy.

As as stated by https://www.tumblr.com/wickedpact/629810255706079232/love-is-stored-in-the-nicky?source=share, him willing sitting in the middle is so quintessential Nicky.

After all the debates around what is their purpose and why they are what they are. This quick shot of Nicky smiling after Nile's line "maybe this is why Andy" is the resulution to his arc through the movie.

His arc doesn't work in the way that they usually work. He doesn't change in his beliefs or world-view and instead, it is other people realising that he was right. It also involves him realising his is right and having his world-view confirmed.

Conclusion:

Like Booker, Nicky serves a specific role in the movie. Most of the other characters are loud and outspoken but Nicky serves as the quiet warmth in the background. He doesn't go through any major crisis and seems mostly self-realised. On the opposite end of Booker, he stands as the angel (hah) on Andy's shoulder and gives her the second option for the reason for their life. Also, shout out to Luca Marinelli for doing all of this with such little dialogue!!

[gvshing]

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─PRETTY GIRL DEALING─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

(warning for weed usage and dealing!!) pt 1. pt 2.

⊹₊⋆CHAPTER THREE⊹₊⋆

A week has passed since you last bought from Ellie. You still had some from the last time you had bought, but you wanted to see Ellie. It had been kind of awkward since the day after you two had hung out. Not to anyone’s fault most likely. Classes are busy right now, it’s the middle of the semester. Lots of projects and essays are due right now, so you tried not to take it personally that Ellie and your texts seemed a bit dry. But, it was hard not to. It felt like there was a connection, so the sudden awkward tension is off putting to you. Swallowing your anxiety you text her a simple ‘Hey :)’.

When Ellie receives your text she feels her heart skip. She stares at it for 15 seconds before she opens it and replies. ‘Hey! What's up?’ She’s pretty sure you’re just wanting to re-up on weed but part of her hopes you’re wanting to talk or hang out. Even though she should be finishing her physics homework. The other part of her hopes her hypothesis is correct. She likes you, but she can’t. She shouldn’t. Within a minute your reply dings on her phone. ‘Think I can swing by later? Same as last time! Maybe we could hang out too? Dina’s busy today :( it’s okay if you’re busy too obvi!’ She’s not sure how to process the fact that both halves of her get what they want. Dina’s words ringing through her head. ‘Trust me by trusting them’ She sighs and runs her hands over her face roughly. Staring at your text she decides there’s no harm in being nice and at least trying. Ellie’s hands have a hard time gripping her phone from how sweaty they’ve suddenly become. ‘Yeah that sounds good! Is about 6 okay?’ She drops her phone on the bed and blows out the breath she was holding, feeling faint from the lack of air. She can do this. It’s just hanging out with somebody, and at least she sorta knows you now. It’s not like you’re a complete stranger. Now at least.

Come six o’clock and she’s pacing around her room, nerves tingling all through her body. She’s put herself at a distance since the first and last time you guys had hung out. She doesn’t want you to think she’s weird, or get fucked over if you’re only using her for weed. Which would be fair, she sells it so of course most people just want weed from her. If you just want weed, fine. She just can’t fall for somebody who might use her. She hears your light knock on the door and jumps, getting pulled out of her train of thoughts and anxiety. She opens the door and sees you smiling wide at her. Chest fluttering, she lets you in. “Hey, El! How’s your day been?” You beamed at her, sitting down on her desk chair. You’re looking around the room, memorizing all her wall decor and small trinkets that line her shelves. “Uh… it’s been good. Just school today thankfully. I’ve been meaning to call Joel, but I’ve been so busy or tired so I keep forgetting.” Ellie rambles while she pulls out her weed supply and sits on her bed to unlock the box. You cock your head to the side and furrow your eyebrows. “You’ve mentioned him a few times. Is he your dad? Sorry, you’ve probably told me before.” You laugh awkwardly and rub the back of your neck. “Oh! Yeah! My bad, I always forget not everybody knows him. He’s practically my dad. He’s taken care of me for longer than I have memories and I don’t know. He’s great. He can be a bit of a hard ass sometimes, but that’s just the old man in him.” She locks her box back and walks over to the desk you’re sitting at. She begins to weigh out the weed and you start to stand up to offer your seat. She shakes her head and motions for you to sit back down. “I’ll be okay. Thank you though. Pretty girls should always be allowed the seat first.” She mutters, her face getting redder by the second. Before you can retort back at her flirting, or at least you hope it’s flirting, she begins talking again. “I don’t mean to sound like I hate Joel. I love him, we’ve had our disagreements for sure though. I wouldn’t trade him for anything though. He gave me my guitar, I grew a love for playing because of him.” She finishes weighing it out, much faster this time than last. Stuffing it into a small ziplock she hands it over to you. “That’s sweet. About Joel I mean. He sounds great. I understand completely about putting off calling them. Sometimes it makes the pain of being away hurt more than usual. It’s midterms soon also, so you’re busy. I get it. And thank you for the weed Ellie. You’re the best.” You look up at her, grinning wide enough your eyes close. She smiles softly back at you. “How much do I owe you?” You question. Ellie seems to think about it deeply before telling you the same amount as last time. “What? Ellie, seriously. You don’t have to give me another discount. I’m willing to pay whatever you charge. I don’t want to take money out of your pocket.” you bargain, or I guess reverse bargain. She shakes her head. “No seriously! I know you’re good for it. And plus I expect us to smoke together while we hang out.” She crosses her arms and strikes a silly pose. You giggle at her theatrics. “Of course I’m gonna share. Don’t be ridiculous.” You reach in your pocket and grab a twenty dollar bill. You place it halfway under her laptop and stand up. “Okay, sit your ass down, smoke my weed and keep me company instead of pouting.” You flop down on her bed scooting over to the wall and pat the space next to you. She grins and mimics your flop down. Stretching and groaning loudly, you laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay drama. What do you smoke your weed out of?”

For the next few hours you and Ellie smoke and laugh together. “No seriously! She was so fucking drunk. She was leaning on Jesse and we were all dying of laughter! She just kept telling him she loved him and repeatedly proclaiming how drunk she was. As if we didn’t know. Dina made me promise the next day to never let her drink that much ever again or to ever even bring it up to her.” You reminisce about Dina and her antics together, crying with laughter over your mutual dear friend. “God, she’s always been a silly drunk, getting emotional and all lovey dovey.” Ellie had her head in your lap, resting it there over an hour ago. She had been complaining about her back hurting from the shitty sitting position she had subjected herself to. So you told her to lie back in your lap, after a long deliberation she eventually gave in.  You wipe your eyes free from the tears that accumulated from laughing too hard. You drop your hands down and set them in Ellie’s hair. You stroke her hair mindlessly, focusing only on catching your breath. Ellie can only focus on the way your hands feel when you run them through her hair. While you’re catching your breath, hers is getting lost in her chest. Her face growing red and her palms getting sweaty. You look down at her smiling and blowing out a final deep breath. You catch her eyes with your own. You both stare at one another, a tension in the air. “Hi.” you say softly. “Hello.” She mutters back, not able to break eye contact. Realizing the position you’re in, you join her in the blushing. You break eye contact first, opting to look over at her T.V. that plays some random youtube video at a low volume. “It’s late. Um… I should probably go. I don’t want to keep you up late again,” You say to her. Realizing your hand is still resting on her head, strands of hair intertwined through your fingers. She sits up and rubs her arm. “Yeah, yeah. I hope I didn’t keep you too long. Thanks for hanging out and… yeah. I enjoy your company. Can I… Maybe if you would like, can I walk you back to your dorm? Just to make sure you get back safe!” Ellie adds quickly. You smile shyly at her and nod enthusiastically at her offer. “Please.”

When you arrive at your door you turn around and gleam at her. “It was really sweet of you to walk me home. I’m really happy to have met you. Thank you.” You place a hand on her shoulder and lean forward to press a kiss against her cheek. Leaning back you move your hand to cup the cheek you had just kissed and smile at her. She blushes furiously and gapes at you, butterflies dancing in her chest. “Goodnight Ellie.” She raises a hand and gives you a small wave muttering a goodnight as you walk into your dorm. She stands staring at your door. In shock of your endearing interaction. Her heart was beating all throughout her body. She begins her walk back to her own dorm, hand placed over her cheek. The feeling of your lips and cupped hand lingering. She feels a buzz in her pocket and pulls out her phone. “Text me when you’re home safe please :) Thank you again for hanging out with me. You’re the best.”

Stumbling through her haze, she arrives at her door before she knows it. She pulls her key and phone out of her pocket. Unlocking her door with one hand, she types back a reply with the other. “I’m home :) I’d hang out with you anytime. goodnight Y/N.” Ellie gets ready for bed, overthinking everything. Maybe opening herself up to have these experiences can be good. She should try at least. She’s starting to like you a lot. More than just a simple crush. It’s growing for her. How does she feel these feelings so fast? She can’t wrap her head around it. She wants this to be good, she wants to try to do this. What if though? She still feels like she shouldn’t be this happy. You have only hung out twice. She needs to pump the breaks. But how? All she wants to do is be around you all the time. She thought maybe taking a step back from texting past that first night would make her feel less intense about you. She couldn’t be sure it wasn’t her just starved of physical attraction or attention. She could just be taking whatever she could get subconsciously. But she knows that’s not the case. She likes you. She sees the beauty and gentleness inside you. She’s infatuated. Your eyes she gets lost in, your soft hands she would die to hold just one time, your soft lips she couldn’t imagine actually kissing instead of just feeling pressed against the soft of her cheek. She wants you, all of you. She needs to know who you are, every angle, the good and bad. She’s sure she’s already in deep. She hopes she’s not reading too far into your actions. What if that’s just how you are with your friends? Some people are touchy with their friends. She hugs Dina all the time and once or twice has received or given her kisses on the cheek. Anxiety ignites in her chest at the thought of her taking your actions the wrong way. She crosses her fingers that she’s not. She lays down on her bed and opens her window, forever thankful she got a dorm room that actually has a window. Some people weren’t so lucky. She was though. She loved to look up at the sky and imagine being up there, where the stars and moon are. She daydreams about making her own civilization on the moon's surface. Somewhere better, somewhere perfect. Away from all the uncertainty of earth. She stares up and hopes for a falling comet, hoping for a wish to fall into her lap. A wish that she was correct, and that for once her feelings were reciprocated. She falls asleep staring up at that sky. She dreams of you. She dreams of that perfect life together. One with a cozy house and a big backyard. Definitely a dog that leaps over with glee when she gets home from a long day’s work. A perfect life that involves you greeting her at the door with a kiss. She thinks that if that was her life she’d never have another complaint for as long as she lived. She wakes up feeling empty, knowing that’s not her current reality. But, when she’s dreaming, laying so sweetly and breathing so calmly, it’s real. And it’s perfect.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

that took longer for me to write than it should've... it's not like I write a lot when I write, so why must it take my brain so long to get this all out... anyway! Lowkey... surprised anybody has been reading my stuff so I appreciate everyone who's taken the time out of their day to read my silly little story! Thank you thank you thank you!

[kcrossvine-art]

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯 hiiiii folks :) 𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

todays just a little one-off for a recipe a friend shared to me, that im now sharing with you. i really miss this cooking series but affording enough ingredients to try new recipes, workshopping and failure and wasted material, is expensive. and things have been getting harder to afford. still we persist, and this is a recipe i've tested and tried to great results

today we'll be makin some chocolate crinkle cookies!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to chocolate crinkle cookies?” YOU MIGHT ASK

All-purpose flour

Baking soda

Baking powder

Salt

Cocoa powder

3 Eggs*

Vanilla extract

Brown Sugar*

Espresso powder

Bakers chocolate*

Unsalted butter

Confectioners sugar, for coating

thats the original recipe at least. i made some substitutions

I didn't have brown sugar so it got replaced with equal amounts cane sugar

I didn't have eggs so i replaced them with apple, thoroughly beaten until similar texture

I didn't have bakers chocolate but did have hot chocolate, so I used 1 Ibarras Chocolate puck chopped up

AND, “what does chocolate crinkle cookies taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

soft, crumbly, moist

halfway between pudding and brownie and cookie, smack dab in the middle of the taste triangle

the confectioners sugar holds up really well, it doesnt sink in and form a dull crust like it would on a cake powdered too soon

extremely chocolately

when it was made for me and a group of people everyone raved about it

when i made it for myself and a group of people everyed raved about it

its fuckin good and easy

when youre taking it out of the oven, it will look and even smell a bit raw, which is scary for people like me who are terrified of undercooking dough. but i suppose the density and letting them sit until Completely cooled (not just cooled to the touch!) lets them finish baking at a much lower temp internally?

oh and be sure to space them out pretty far apart, they expand more than youd think. and if youre having trouble scooping and transferring them to the pan, put a dish of confectioners sugar out and keep coating your hands in it between scoops, it helps to keep them from sticking.

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

From start to finish it took about 2 hours to start eating, but most of that was cook time and then letting them cool completely. an hour max was spent in the kitchen working on things. Im bad at spacing things due to wanting to fit as much product as possible in as small a space, so this created about 12 cookies the size of my hand? roughly.

but yeah! if youre the type to struggle with brownies i highly suggest this as an alternative, due to the many similarities but the harder to fuck-up-ed-ness because its guaranteed to cook through and doesnt need to form a crust.

this is a an easy 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Its hard to beat. i hope youre having as lovely a time as one can, be sure to hold onto eachother.

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

3 large eggs*

a dash of vanilla extract

1 ½ cup brown sugar*

4 teaspoon espresso powder-

4 oz unsweetened bakers chocolate*

4 tablespoon unsalted butter

For coating;

½ cup confectioners/powdered sugar

Replaced brown sugar with cane sugar

Replaced eggs with 6oz apple mush

Replaced bakers chocolate with one Ibarras puck

Method:

Adjust oven rack to the middle and preheat to 325. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

Whisk flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cocoa powder together.

Whisk eggs, vanilla extract, brown sugar, and espresso powder together in a separate bowl.

In a third smaller bowl place bakers chocolate and butter, microwave for 1 minute at a time and stir afterward until its melted together. Should take about 2-4 minutes.

Whisk the melted chocolate/butter mixture into the egg bowl until combined. Fold this into the flour bowl until no dry streaks remain.

Let the dough sit at room temp for about 10 minutes.

Place the granulated sugar and powdered sugar into a bowl. Scoop your hands into the mixture and then scoop balls of dough into tiny uniform size balls. Try to coat evenly.

Place the dough balls on the prepared baking sheets, evenly spread, there should be about 10 cookies per sheet.

Bake the sheets for 12 minutes, rotating halfway through. The cookies should look puffed and cracked and the edges have begun to set, but the center is still soft (cookies will look raw between the cracks and seem underdone). 

Remove from the oven and let the cookies cool completely on the sheet before removing or eating.

[chrlotpony]

love sunils voice but it is so hard to add into a edit audio omg

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Alt Rock to the Rescue

[Inspired by this art]

"...Alright, I might have an idea," John Constantine, who was seemingly busy texting someone for the past ten - or twenty, no one really counted - minutes, puts his phone away and snaps his head up.

The room falls silent. Superman blinks in surprise, Diana frowns slightly, and Batman's mouth is pressed into a thin, stubborn line. Flash recovers first.

"You have an idea?" He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, "No offense, but I'm not sure a magic trick can help us against, you know, an alien fleet." He gestures to one of the screens on the wall, where said fleet is approaching Earth on live.

The rest of the Leaguers present don't exactly agree with him, at least not verbally, but the mood in the room shifts from tense, anxious alarm to an almost palpable annoyance. To be honest, no one was even sure why or how John Constantine of all people ended up in the meeting. It's not like JLD could actually help with an ongoing, massive invasion that was about to happen in less than three- Correction, less than two and a half hours. Besides, it's John Constantine. The man that never shows up unless outright bullied into submission.

The magician winces briefly and starts rummaging through his pockets under the weight of everyone's attention.

"I said I might," he amends gruffly, getting a cigarette out of one of his pockets and sticking it in his mouth but not lighting it. Seems like it wasn't what he was looking for, though, because after that, the man keeps going through the various places on his coat, patting himself down. "I know someone who can deal with it. Granted, I already owe him a great deal, but he won't say no," he pauses and grimaces, "At least I hope he won't."

"I do not think it would be wise to call upon gods in our situation," Diana tries carefully, but John pays her little mind.

"Or demons," Green Arrow adds, crossing his arms on his chest, "I'm not selling my soul to get rid of some rocket ships or whatever they are."

Now, that makes the magician bark a laugh. Or, maybe it's the piece of lime green paper - a sticky note, actually - that he finally finds in the depths of his pockets.

"Oh, your soul's gonna stay where it is."

"Constantine-" Batman starts, but John cuts him off instantly.

"Mine will stay wherever it is as well," he reassures the man, "It's not that kind of entity." And with that, he promptly sets the green note on fire - green fire - and uses it as a lighter for his cigarette.

The next moment after the note is reduced to ash, there's a shift in the air in front of him, and, before any of the heroes have a split second to react, there are two people floating in the middle of the room, backs pressed to each other.

Two teenagers, to be exact. A girl and a boy, both of them so pale that their skin looks gray, and both dressed in grunge, like they just came from a rock concert. Yet, that's where the 'normal' parts of their looks end - the boy's hair is so white it looks blinding, and moves in the air slowly, undeterred by gravity, and the girl's hair is neon blue, her ponytail flickering up like a flaming torch.

The boy nearly topples over as the girl leans her back on him harder and kicks her feet up slightly. The movement is awkward, like both of them were taken by surprise by the sudden relocation, and maybe the guess about the rock concert was not so far from reality; there are drumsticks in the boy's hands, and the girl is holding an electric guitar in her hands.

"The fuck?.." The boy asks no one in particular, as the girl makes an annoyed groan and straightens up, still floating in the air. Her guitar makes an aborted sound. Meanwhile, the boy's eyes land on Constantine, and his whole face scrunches in disgust, "John, for the love of Ancients, I was in the middle of something."

The girl takes a look around while her friend is busy expressing his annoyance and elbows him in the side, "Oi, look, it's the whole Comic Con in the flesh here."

Green Arrow sputters. Flash makes a wordless but very offended sound. The floating boy looks around, taking stock of faces in the room, and the disgust on his face morphs into exasperation.

He turns back to Constantine, "Really? I thought I told you I want no part in your furry parade."

"Alien invasion," the magician decidedly doesn't address any of that, instead pointing his finger to the screen behind him. "Thought you ought to know," he adds, a bit of sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

"Ooh, is it my turn to be your world saving buddy, Phantom?" The girl perks up, turning around and draping herself over the boy's shoulders with a giddy laugh. Her guitar shifts to hang in the air on her side all by itself.

The boy - Phantom - rolls his eyes. Bright green, glowing eyes that definitely don't belong to a human being.

"If I had a nickel every time I had to save the world, I'd probably be able to buy myself my own guitar," he grumbles and looks back to Constantine. "Do I, like, have to? Right now? You know, I don't get paid for this bullshit, and the studio we rented for rehearsal has an hourly rate, so if we can postpone this for about an hour and a half, that'd be real nice."

"The fleet is only two hours away from Earth," Batman supplies suddenly, and, when both floating kids turn to look at him, adds, "I can pay for your next rehearsal. Or a few of them." Evidently, Phantom's comment about nickels struck a nerve. Or, maybe, the man just likes throwing money at any teenager he encounters. Who knows.

The boy blinks, taken aback by the proposition. But the girl grins, sharp and wicked, and shoves her drummer - if the drumsticks are to tell - in the side again.

"Hey, free studio. Better than the last time."

That snaps Phantom out of his stupor, and he groans, "Don't remind me." With a weary sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in the air, almost like reclining on it. "Okay, fine, sure. Do you want them, like, away from Earth- um, this is Earth, right?" He turns to Superman, surprisingly, looking for confirmation, and the man nods, thrown off guard. The boy nods back and continues, "Or you want them blasted into oblivion, or what?"

"Whatever suits your mood, kid," John waves his hand at the screen as if making a welcoming gesture, "But all the aliens gotta go."

Unexpectedly, that makes the girl's grin even wider, and she reaches for her guitar, floating around Phantom and looking him in the face. The look she gives him speaks of mischief, and the boy seems to understand what she's implying before she as much as opens her mouth.

"Ember, no," he pounts a drumstick at her.

"Ember, yes," she wiggles her eyebrows, "Come on, your wail is boring as fuck as it is, why not spice it up?"

"I'm not wailing," Phantom scrunches his nose, "My throat will hurt for weeks."

Ember runs her fingers over the strings of her guitar, and it makes a comparatively quiet, vibrating sound. A few cords shoot out of the bottom of her instrument, like ones used to plug an electric guitar to an amp. She raises her eyebrows, still looking at Phantom, a silent conversation between them.

Then, the boy huffs and rolls his eyes, twirling a drumstick in his fingers.

"Fine."

The cords fly at him like snakes, aiming at his neck. None of the Leaguers watching the encounter get to say even a word as the metal pins insert themselves into the boy's neck, acting like some twisted kind of collar. Phantom doesn't even flinch.

Ember's guitar, on the other hand, reacts to the connection quite violently: it makes a high-pitched sound all on its own and then changes color from black and blue to white and green, with lightning bolts instead of flames for design. The girl's ponytail flares up higher as she softly murmurs in delight.

Then, she turns to the people around them and smirks, "Which way is the evil alien fleet?"

Flash wordlessly points his finger to the right and up. The girl nods in satisfaction, turning in the air so her guitar is facing that way.

"You might want to cover your ears," Phantom advises, a sly smile on his face and a glimmer of anticipation to his eyes. John Constantine follows that direction immediately, and, taking his move as the best course of action, the other heroes follow as well. Except Batman, who only narrows his eyes and looks at both teens in the air apprehensively. Phantom shrugs, "Or don't, I don't hold any responsibility for your shattered eardrums."

"Pick up where we left off, then," Ember tells him, and the boy blinks:

"Wait, I thought you'd just-"

[For some wholesome experience, put your headphones in and listen to 'KULT' by Jisaiah, grandson, and Steve Aoki]

But the girl has already started a tune, nodding her head to the rhythm of it and slowly picking up the pace. Phantom huffs, but doesn't protest any further, floating up as much as the cords allow him and spinning a drumstick in his hand.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

That the world's a fucking circus

That my life feels fucking worthless," he spits the words out with a sneer, slowly rotating in the air until he is hanging upside down. His eyes are closed, and his voice becomes more and more staticky with every new sound. The volume of Ember's guitar gets up, higher and higher, until the walls and the floor of the room around them start to vibrate.

Then, Ember's voice joins Phantom's, and the boy brings his drumsticks down on thin air, mimicking the moves. Only, even with the actual drums not there, the air around him ripples like they are, and they all can hear the beat.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

When it all comes crashing down

We'll see who's laughing," both kids pause, just for a beat, and Ember uses that split second to spin the volume knob to the max before strumming her guitar in one wide, sharp move.

"NOW!"

The sound wave is not only palpable, it's visible. A wave of toxic green ripples through the air, knocking everyone present - sans the two kids in the air - to the ground, and goes beyond. The screens on the walls flicker and turn off, sending sparks in the air, and the comms give off loud, screeching noises, and-

The following silence feels almost deafening.

Batman, unsurprisingly, is the first one to stand back on his feet and see a few of the screens come back online.

Just in time to see that same green wave of... sound? energy? power?.. decimate the entire fleet like a wet cloth over a chalkboard. One moment, the spaceships were there, and the next they are gone, wiped out of existence.

Ember laughs, leaning back and almost doing a backflip in the air.

"That was nice, dipshit!" She shoves Phantom in the shoulder, and the boy snorts, plucking the cords out of his skin and grinning.

"Yeah," he agrees with a smile, not even looking at the screens around, "Maybe we should try rehearsing in space next time. Sing to the stars and all that crap."

"Sing to the stars?" Ember raises her eyebrows mockingly as the rest of the heroes scramble to their feet, bemoaning their ringing ears. "Na-ah," she clicks her tongue and turns to Batman, "You still up for paying for our studio?"

The man just grunts in a semblance of affirmation.

"Sweet," the girl grins and offers Phantom a hand for a high five, which he returns instantly. "Cheers to the world being saved once again!"

The boy just rolls his eyes and turns to Constantine, "Next time, be a dear and text me before summoning, or I'm going to sell your soul to Morpheus, and who knows what he'll do with you."

John Constantine grimaces. "I did," he offers grudgingly.

But both unearthly teenagers are already gone without a trace.

[Edit: I want everyone to know there's ART now!!!]

[Edit 2: There's more art!!!]

[aemrsy]

𝐍𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐚

─────────⊹⊱❀⊰⊹──────────

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 (𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑𝟎) 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞.

𝐓𝐖: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

─────────⊹⊱❀⊰⊹──────────

You don't think you've ever been in a room this quiet before. It almost felt like the silence that would surround you underwater, no it was worse, quieter. You looked down at the white shoes they'd put you in. They definitely weren't white anymore. Did they do that on purpose? To torment you? As if the smell of it constantly wasn't enough, now it was on your shoes and clothes.

You desperately tried to wipe yourself clean of the red stains, "please, please." the words repeated over and over again like a mantra in your brain. Your eyes burned and your vision blurred up with tears. This was it, you could feel a sob bubbling up in your chest. You needed to get out.

Your bottom lip quivered making a slight opening enough for your sob to escape through and break the silence, but before that could happen you heard a loud alarm it made your ears ring it was almost painful. You jumped, not having heard anything since the last game.. god could you even call it that?.. This was horrible.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder, since the first game your body had been on high alert so naturally your head snapped up your body pulling itself back a little in defense.

Your body relaxed a little once you saw him, Choi su-bong. He was the center of your world when you two were younger there wasn't a day that went by without him, he was practically family. His parents weren't always the best so you could recall times when he would spend months at your place your parents would've done anything to protect him,

but like every childhood friendship you two fell out. it's hard to say when but you two hadn't talked since the early years of middle school.

Seeing him here was a shock, you couldn't muster up the courage to talk to him at all yet. There was nothing to say. Not in your current situation.

"You need to eat.." He said softly, looking at you as if you'd break if his gaze was any less gentler. He sat down next to you keeping a small distance between the two of you.

You almost scoffed at that. "Eat?.. You can't be serious su-bong." Needless to say you didn't have an appetite. You looked over at the line forming infront of the guards that were handing out trays of food.

He smiled looking down and then back up at you "Come on.. you need to keep your strength up for the next game." He reached over, moving slowly and tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear, a habit he'd picked up from when you were kids. You didn't like your hair getting in your face at all, he knew that.

Subconsciously you moved a little closer to him. There was so much that you wanted to say to him so when you started opening your mouth you weren't really sure what was about to come out.

"I miss you" of course.. you're quite literally in a life and death situation but that's the first thing your brain decided on.

he looked into your eyes and when you looked into his for a second you could see the younger version of him that you loved so deeply. A version of him without the purple hair and all the firey attitude. You saw him for who he was and you wished that everyone in here could see the same pure boy that you did.

You thought that maybe he saw something similar in your own eyes because he didn't say anything back instead he pulled you in and you found yourself pressed up against his chest.

You grabbed fistfuls of the back of his tracksuit jacket closing your eyes and as sick as it may sound you felt safe. In this god awful place you thought you'd never feel that way.

"What are you doing here?.." You said looking up at him with worried eyes.

"I could ask you the same thing.." He fired back. You didn't like his tone but you answered anyway.

"I'm not good at managing my money.. After i got fired from the only job that would hire me.. i couldn't find another one, and everything that i had saved.. Gone in a few weeks."

He nodded along as you spoke pursing his lips together.

"No but seriously, what are you doing here?.. from what i've seen, your life is going great.. 'Thanos'.."

He shook his head a bitter smile forming on his face.

"Fame doesn't always equal money.. i'm in debt."

The way he kept his answer so short made you wonder if there's more that he didn't want to tell you but you didn't push.

He looked down at your face gently rubbing your arm as he spoke.

"i miss you too.. alot, i'm sorry i didn't reach out.. i just didn't know what to say you know?.. i didn't know where to start.."

You nodded you knew that feeling all to well.

"I know.. i felt the same way."

He squeezed your arm a little. When he looked over at the line he'd realized it had gotten alot shorter so he excused himself before going over and grabbing his tray, he wasn't very hungry himself but he needed to get you to eat something.

He made his way back over and set the tray down infront of you.

"Come on.. just a couple bites."

With him around you felt a little more comfortable eating he was a great distraction from everything going on around you.

You ate in silence and he ate some too, he wanted to encourage you.

"So, should i start calling you thanos too?"

He furrowed his eyebrows chuckling but the look you gave him said it was a genuine question.

"No way, It sounds so weird coming from you.. you can stick to my real name.." He handed you the milk gesturing for you to drink up.

"Actually it's nice that you still call me by my real name.. you're different from them y'know?, the best parts of my childhood are tied to you.. i owe it all to you.. Seriously, you mean so much to me, i want you to know that okay?.. we'll stick together in here"

You nodded setting the milk down on the tray. You did think it was nice that you could call him something that seprated you from everone else.

The way he worded that last part though made you a little anxious, 'we'll stick together in here' What about when you're out of here?.. No, you couldn't lose him again.

"Hey, we're gonna be okay, we'll make it out, and as soon as we pay off our debts we'll go somewhere nice.. like we talked about when we were younger remember?.."

As kids you two had always dreamt about traveling, you'd watch the planes go by during recess and talk about where you think it's headed and where you'd want to go, back then everything seemed possible.

"i'm scared.." you whispered, he put his hand on your cheek. You had doubts that you'd even make it out of here to see if he'd stick to his word.

"I'm here.. we'll get through it together, you're safe with me.. you're safe."

his thumb stroked your cheek and you closed your eyes putting your hand on his and pressing it a little further into your cheek, craving the warmth of his palm on your skin.

"i love you.."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"i love you too.. always."

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[navybrat817]

Back Off, He's Mine

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You put an agent in her place after she flirts with Bucky.

Word Count: Over 2.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader or Bucky), protective vibes, catty behavior, possessive vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by an anon ask asking for Bucky's wife to stick up for him. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared at you from across the break room table, his pretty blue eyes not blinking as you looked back at him. The two of you were locked in a lengthy staring contest and you didn’t want to lose. But as the air in the room began to dry your eyes and he flashed you a beautiful smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from blinking. And the moment you did, he struck.

Snatching the last bit of the beloved pastry right from the middle of the table.

“Damn it,” you muttered, crossing your arms when he chuckled. “You cheated.”

“Oh, yeah?” he smirked, making a show of taking a slow bite. Your eyes followed his tongue licking his lips and you pressed your thighs together without thinking. The bastard made eating look sexy and he didn’t even take a full bite. He was taunting you. “How did I do that?”

“You cheated by existing.” You gestured to him, your smoking hot husband in his black t-shirt and tactical pants. To the person who made those clothes, you saluted them. “And you have serum in your veins, so I’m pretty sure you don’t have to blink as much as I do and that’s an unfair advantage.”

He chuckled again, graciously passing over the last small bite of the pastry. Your eyes lit up in thanks, popping it in your mouth with a moan. It was true love to share food like that. “I don’t think that’s how the serum works,” he teased. “And you’re a goddess, so isn’t that cheating, too?”

“Okay, but I’m not actually a goddess,” you countered, though he did make you feel like one.

His eyes softened, leaning across the table and crooking his finger. “Yeah, you are,” he whispered, kissing your lips once you met him halfway.

Before you could deepen the kiss, a shrill voice rang out in the breakroom. “Sergeant Barnes! There you are!”

Bucky’s cheek twitched as he settled back in his seat. The voice echoing in the room would’ve been enough to make anyone wince, but his enhanced hearing made it worse. He worked hard to block out noises so he’d be comfortable, and your eyes instantly narrowed at the person who brought him discomfort.

You recognized her after a moment, a pretty woman who would likely fall out of her top if she sneezed too hard. She hadn't worked there long, but she had her eye on Bucky from the start. She always flirted with him, tried to stand close to him and push her chest close, and he always dropped in the conversation that he was a married man. Apparently she didn’t get the hint that he wasn't interested. Either that or she was into taken men.

“Hi, agent,” Bucky politely said.

“Agent. Always so formal,” she giggled, dragging a chair over from another table and taking a seat without asking. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Barnes. You're a hard man to track down.”

Bubbly agents didn’t bother you in the slightest. You appreciated anyone who could stay upbeat in the line of work you dealt with. It wasn’t the enamored look in her eyes either that bothered you because you understood people wanting Bucky and you were secure in your relationship. No, what bothered you was that he had clearly been kissing his wife and she pointedly avoided looking at you after interrupting. That was just rude.

It also bothered you how uncomfortable Bucky looked when she moved her chair closer to him, his shoulders stiff and smile not reaching his eyes.

“Been spending some time with my wife,” he said proudly, reaching across the table to take your hand. You dipped your head down with a small smile, your heart still doing that funny flip like it had since the moment you met. He even managed to clear out the room so you two could be alone. “We were just finishing up.”

She didn’t spare you a glance as she set a hand on his metal arm. His cheek twitched again, squeezing your hand. It took a lot of effort for you to not knock her back from the table for touching him without his permission. “Excuse me,” you began, your tone even. “I don’t-”

“Do you think you could spar with me later?” she cut you off and either didn’t see or ignored your glare, leaning forward in her seat to make her chest stick out more. Bucky didn’t look. “I’ve been having trouble with a couple of moves and you’re so good at them,” she added, her eyes on him like she wanted to eat him up.

Which wasn’t going to happen.

“I don't think…” he stopped when her fingers trailed higher.

“Please, Sergeant?” she pouted.

Your eyes went back to your husband to get a read on him and make sure he was okay. He wasn't. His smile still didn't look right and his back was ramrod straight. Squeezing his hand seemed to ground him since he breathed a little easier, though your anger was simmering.

“I, um, don’t mind sparring if you really need the help,” Bucky began, gently pulling his arm away. “But you interrupted my time with my wife.”

Her smile faltered while yours widened. Bucky didn't like anyone cutting you off, whether that was your time together or interrupting you speaking. “What?” she asked.

“Hi there. Been sitting here the whole time.” You wiggled your fingers when she finally looked your way. “Excuse us for a second,” you said, avoiding her stare the way she avoided yours. “Bucky, do you think you can wait outside? This agent and I need to have a little chat.”

Your husband looked like he was trying not to laugh and you would take laughter over discomfort any day of the week. “Be nice if you can,” he teased, pressing a featherlight kiss to your hand. “I love you, baby,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, something unspoken passing between the two of you.

Defending each other was second nature, always would be.

Bucky didn’t immediately leave the room when he stood up. Instead he rounded the table so he could bend down and kiss your mouth, too. You smiled as it lingered, your heart skipping a beat. “Don’t keep me waiting out there long, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered.

“I won't, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

Straightening up, he gave a small nod to the agent for her sake. “Come find me later if you still want to talk about sparring. Maybe I can find someone for you.”

“Okay, Sergeant,” she smiled, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. That look wouldn’t last.

You waited until Bucky was gone to face the agent, who stopped smiling the second your husband was out of sight. Leaning back in your seat, you crossed your arms and asked point-blank, “You trying to fuck my husband?”

The wide-eyed expression was priceless when she realized you weren't asking as a joke. “What are you... I just asked him to spar,” she tried to brush it off.

“Please, don't insult my intelligence,” you said. It was beneath both of you to do so. “I get why you want him. Besides being one of the sexiest creatures to ever exist, he’s a good man. Polite, probably treats you with respect. More than most of the men around here.”

She shifted away from you and nodded. “He's a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agreed. They didn't make men like Bucky anymore. “And I’m not going to tell you to stop hitting on my husband, but I highly suggest that you back off. At the very least, don’t throw yourself at him right in front of me. It’s sad.”

“Why?” She had the nerve to smirk. “Worried I’ll steal him away?”

You smirked, too. She had balls and you respected that, but this wasn’t a battle she’d win. “Steal him away? You make it sound like he’s a toy and he isn’t. He’s a man, my man,” you said, holding up your hand so she could get a good look at your wedding ring. “And you are not a threat in the slightest. Our bond is much stronger than that.”

Her smirk went away fast, replaced by something sad. You almost felt sorry for her until she said, “Jealousy isn't a good look on you. It’s kind of… ugly.”

You scoffed. If she wanted to play, you’d play. “Jealous of what? You hitting on a married man who doesn't want you?” you asked, not feeling guilty in the slightest when her face fell. “I’m not telling you to back off because I'm jealous. I told you that because you’re only going to embarrass yourself if you keep trying and you’re going to make my husband more uncomfortable than he already is. I don’t like people making my husband uncomfortable.”

An unspoken threat hung in the air long enough that she swallowed. “And how exactly did I make him uncomfortable?”

“Besides you hitting on him, you touched him without making sure it was okay to do so,” you answered, letting a bit of venom seep into your tone. Bucky went years without autonomy and consent was important to you. He suffered enough and didn’t need to deal with things like this. “I’d hope as an agent you’d be able to pick up on subtle body language cues enough to know that he didn’t want you touching him.”

“And how do you know he doesn’t want me touching him? Are you a mind reader or something?” she sneered, flicking a nonexistent piece of flint from her shirt. “If he really didn't want me touching him, he would've said so. And guess what? He didn't say a word.”

You saw red, your hands curling into fists. For her to ignore the nonverbal cues… “I know my husband. I know Bucky. He doesn’t want you touching him nor does he want to start anything with you because he’s extremely faithful. He won’t throw away a loving, trusting marriage for a quick fuck or doomed affair,” you stated. She bristled, but tried to recover. “If you make a pass at him, he’ll reject you. He’ll do it as respectfully as he can because he’s a good guy, but he will reject you. That’s a promise.”

“Because he loves you so much. Jesus, what makes you so special?” she spat, surprising you both. But the longer you looked at her, the more she deflated under your stare. “I mean… He doesn’t say much to me, but when he does it’s always about you. ‘My wife this’ and ‘my wife that’ and he’s always so… proud.” She shook her head. “Do you know how lucky you are?”

You did feel a little sorry for her now. Crushes hurt, but better that she hurt now and heal than to keep pushing and hurt more later. “I’m not special. We just love each other, that’s all. And, trust me, I’m aware that I’m very lucky to have him. Someone who gets me and will fight for and beside me,” you said, a loving smile touching your lips. You hoped Bucky was listening outside the door. “There’s a guy out there waiting for you, but that guy isn’t Bucky. So don’t lower yourself by trying to go after someone who’s taken.”

She side-eyed you, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “And what if I don’t stop?” she asked.

You giggled humorously, all sympathy gone. The agent actually looked nervous at that sound and you were glad because you weren't going to play nice. “Well, if you don't back off, Bucky could make a complaint about you harassing him or at least request that you’re transferred. Maybe fired since you’re still in your probationary period,” you began, looking at your wedding band when she began to protest. “At the very least, I could have your schedule rearranged so you can spar with me. You see, Bucky taught me a few moves and if a bone or two breaks, well…”

It wasn't an empty threat either. Bucky loved fighting for you, but you could hold your own. It turned him on.

Her eyes darted to the door when you stood up and stretched. “Listen, you don't need to-”

“But do you know what I'm going to do for now?” you asked, cutting her off the way she cut you off. “I'm going to take my husband to one of the interrogation rooms and suck the soul out of his body through his incredible cock,” you smiled sweetly, taking pleasure in the sputtering sound she made. “And after he recovers, he’ll have the choice of bending me over the table and either eating or fucking my pussy. He’ll probably choose both. He’s pretty insatiable.”

She got to her feet, too, and you half expected to see smoke come out of her ears. “I don't need to hear–”

“What? Does hearing that Bucky is going to fuck me and not you make you uncomfortable?” you asked innocently before you got close to her. “Shove your tits in my husband's face again or touch him without his explicit consent, and I won't just make you uncomfortable. I’ll make your life a living hell.”

While you lost the staring contest to Bucky earlier, you very much won against this agent. She stood perfectly still and averted her gaze as you pushed your chair in. “Is that a threat?” she mumbled.

A cliche question, so why not give a cliche answer? “It’s a promise,” you smiled, heading to the door. “Oh, if he does decide to spar with you, I expect you to apologize and behave yourself. I’ll hear about it if you don't.”

Bucky leaned against the wall, waiting for you as you exited the room. He looked over the moon. “We’re going to one of the interrogation rooms, huh?”

You giggled, taking his hand as your cheeks warmed. “Of course, that's what you took from that.”

“How could I not?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Thanks, baby. I thought I dropped enough hints that she’d back off.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you assured him. He deserved to be comfortable at work. If some guy kept hitting on you, he would've stepped in, too.

“You think she’ll back off now?”

“I think so, but you tell me if she doesn't,” you said. You’d keep an eye on her, too, just in case. And if she pushed again, you’d put her back in her place. Maybe you’d make her listen while Bucky fucked you. With his permission, of course. “So, which room should we go to?”

He chuckled, the sound a happy one in the hall. “Room B. We can be as loud as we want,” he replied, tugging you closer. “I’ll show you just how special you are to me.”

Heat filled your body, anticipating how good it would feel to have him fuck your throat and more. “My body is ready, Sergeant,” you teased, shrieking when he picked you up and ignoring the whistles from other agents that walked by.

They were used to the shenanigans of Mr. and Mrs. Barnes by now.

And you couldn't wait for more.

Just like we deserve a loving Bucky, he deserves love, too. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[webism]

☆ Gojo is always so cocky before you peg him. Confident, taking charge as if he's not about to be fucked from behind like a whore. He'll dirty talk you, try to fluster you with his honeyed words as you're pulling the strap on.

"Gonna fuck me so good, baby?" He purrs, wrapping his fingers around the pretty blue strap: perhaps to gauge the size. He jerks it a little, mirrors the way he'd stroke himself to the thought of being fucked senseless by you. "Hopefully you can keep up with me."

It's all talk, a veil of confidence only barely masking his desperation beneath, which burns hot and angry and threatens to ignite into something all-consuming if it isn't soon put out. You think of wrecking his ego, making him get down on his knees and suck the plastic for show. He'd look so pretty, looking up at you through his lashes as he served the strap with his mouth and tongue.

Oh but he's prepped and ready, and you're itching to erode at his cocky smile. You have him lay on his back, so you can watch as his lips curl downwards when you slide a finger into him, rather than the strap he's been promised.

"Fuck, I don't need it," he whines, tries to reach down and pull your wrist up and away from him but you swat him away with a tsk.

"You're so impatient."

"Just fuck me already."

Sweet Satoru regrets his words when you line your pretty blue strap up with his ass and push in only an inch of two. The sharp hiss of him steeling himself with a breath is music to your ears, and though he tries desperately to keep the cocky act up, you can see it slipping.

You give him another inch, and he bites back a moan. "That's... all you got?"

"No," you click your teeth. "But, it's all you'll get if you don't start begging, baby."

He gives you a look, tries his best to look annoyed, but his cock is so hard it hurts and the corners of his lips are curling upwards in a grin regardless. His pleads start out dramatic, joking.

"Please fuck me, babe," he drawls, but as you inch further inside of him at his request, he gasps. Very quickly, any cockiness in his tone is replaced by raw need. "Fuck, more—please, really, I need it."

His eyes are wide at the stretch, the all-encompassing fullness he's feeling, and the grief he feels when you pull almost all the way out of him.

"Wait don't pull out I'll beg I'll—"

His pleads get stuck in his throat when you push forward and bury your strap completely in his ass. Satoru chokes out the prettiest moan, meets your eyes for half a second as you pull back, and then falls into complete ecstasy as you snap your hips back into his again.

From there, he's gone. Malting into the mattress as you fuck him at the pace he responds best to—a torturous middle ground between painfully slow and so fast it's over too soon. Satoru whines, seemingly already overstimulated by your movements, but you're far from done with him.

Satoru Gojo is the strongest. He's untouchable, really, and here you are ten inches deep inside of him and watching as hot tears spring into his beautiful blue eyes. He's sweating, exerting himself entirely to taking all that you can give him; and you're sure he'd take more if you had it for him—he's at the base of your strap and whining like a whore on it.

"Close," his voice is quiet and desperate and you love the way it melts into the air around you. You fuck him harder, faster, a bruising pace that might be more for you than him, but he takes it with shaky breaths and a heaving chest because he's addicted to the shape of your plastic cock inside of his ass.

You fuck him through his orgasm, watch as his cock—which is reddening with angry need—spurts ropes of cum all over his stomach, pearlescent and almost unending. You smile at the sight, stalling your hips to let him catch his breath after cumming so hard without his cock even being touched.

He's a mess, sensitive and breathless as you trace your fingertips through the mess of cum glossing his tummy. Satoru watches with parted lips as you do so, half-expecting you to bring your fingers to his lips for him to clean up the mess he made. But you don't. Instead, you press down hard on his tummy and listen to the lewd noise that rips from his throat when you feel just how deep you are inside of him.

"Here, baby," you coo, grabbing at the wrist Satoru shoots down to try and pull your hand from his stomach with. You press his palm down onto his cum-covered stomach and have him feel for himself the bulge that you've created with the tip of your strap inside of him.

A moment passes, something flickers in your gaze that turns Satoru's mouth dry. "Don't move your hand, Toru, understand me? Keep pressing down."

Satoru parts his lips to protest, but you're pulling out and plunging back into his ass with a mean thrust of your hips before he can say a word. The nastiest moan slips from his lips, half ecstatic, half overstimulated.

"Fucking you so deep you can feel it from the outside, huh baby? Taking my cock so well, letting me use you like you're the toy."

Your words are enough to encourage Satoru into a second round; though this time you're meaner than before. You pull his legs up a little, manage a position that allows you to get impossibly deeper inside of him, and hen thrust your hips forward to test the water.

He's drooling. His lips are wet with spit and cheeks stained with new-flowing tears. He loves it, though, you can feel the clench of his ass in the way it becomes just that little bit harder to thrust into him. With each mean snap of your hips though, you watch as Satoru presses down harder on his belly to feel you bullying your plastic strap into his ass.

You find a nice pace and match it with your fingers wrapped around his cock. Stroking him only makes your lover needier, bucking his hips up instinctually just to gasp at how the movement fucks himself onto your strap too. By the time his second orgasm is approaching, you can't tell who's doing more of the work: he's frenzied and cumdrunk and can't see straight between the blinding pleasure and tears in his eyes.

"Good boy," you praise as he cums again, his whole body racked with tremors and his eyes quite literally rolling back as he releases all over the hand that presses down to feel you. You give him a minute, let his catch his lost breath and wipe his tears from his eyes with the hand that isn't covered in his own cum.

Though, once you're confident he's at ease enough for you to slowly pull out and start giving him aftercare, his legs lock around your waist and keep you buried deep.

You've never seen such a look on his face before—ravenous.

"Again."

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[whatifitis]

♡ Long May You Roar - LN 4 ♡

Summary: this is based off this request! P makes sure to see Lando before the final race and wants to give him a lucky sticker. You think about a life with Lando and what a family with him would be like.

Author's Note: I didn't think it would end up so short but i really tried my best 😭

WC: 882

CW: fluff, Lando and P being besties

“Lando! Lando!” you heard coming from a few feet away. You turned to see P running up to Lando with a sheet of stickers in hand. 

You were hanging out with Lando’s mom in the Mclaren hospitality and were standing outside and chatting with Lando before he had to get to the car. 

“P! What ya doin?” Lando greets her. 

The girl is smiley as she starts to converse with Lan. You watch as the two interact, the girl's mom standing behind a pillar nearby and resting a hand on her belly. 

You watch as P asks Lando to bend down to her level so she could whisper something, “Do you want a sticker? They’re lucky.” the girl beams. 

“Lucky stickers?! Are they real? I thought they were super rare. How’d you get a hold of them?” 

“Magic.” she giggled. 

“Oh, well then I must have one then, yeah? So that I can beat Maxie today?”

“Well, not that much luck.”

“Ah, well then.” Lando couldn’t help but laugh a bit. No matter how much she loved Lando, P was very loyal to Max. 

“Which sticker would you like?” P asked Lando, displaying the sticker sheet in front of him so he could get a decent view of them. 

Lan takes a moment to really think about it and scan the remaining sticker on the sheet before making the final decision, “I would like this one, please.” he said, pointing to the design of a redbull can. 

“No, you can’t have that one. You can have this one.” P says as she peels a long sticker off the sheet. It was a design of one of the red bull cars, maybe Lando could use it as motivation to beat them and win the constructors. God knew they needed a bit of magic, from a red bull sticker. 

“Yeah, sure. I like that one too, I guess.” Lando dramatically sighs. 

“Dramatic. Where do you want the sticker?” P asks, looking up at Lando. 

“Hmm, why don’t we put it right here over my wrist. That way it’s easy for me to see.” 

P puts all her focus in putting the sticker on Lando’s wrist carefully and precisely. 

When she was pleased with the placement of the sticker, she took a step back and smiled at her work. Lando looked at the sticker and gave P a high-five, “Way to go tiger. Long may you roar.”

But, of course, he couldn’t leave before P could get her hug from him. She immediately ran into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Lando was one of Penelope’s favorite people and it showed. She was always excited to see him and hangout with him. She even cheered him on during races from time to time. 

While P and Lando hugged, Lando’s mom went in to hug him as well but it seemed as if the little girl wanted to be the last one to get a Lando hug before he set off. She subtly tried pushing his mom away with her foot which was quite cute and funny. P really did enjoy having Lando around. The two had sort of watched each other grow and Lando was always a constant figure in her life. 

Watching him with P and other kids sort of settled a debate that you’d had with yourself in your head. When you and Lando had started dating, you talked about potentially having kids in the future. You both wanted to have that conversation early on so that it wouldn’t become a problem later down the line. 

You were both pleased when you learned that neither of you had a set decision on whether you wanted kids in the future or not. It was sort of in the middle, you wouldn’t mind having kids, but it wasn’t something you’d always imagined or dreamed of. If it came down to it, you wouldn’t mind having kids or not having them. 

It was also a matter of who it was with. You both wanted to have kids with the right person. And now, after all this time, you think if you were to have kids with anyone, it would be Lan. You wouldn’t want to have a family with anyone else. 

You knew you wanted all of it with him. Watching dragonflies fly above your heads, having favorite spots on swing sets. There was never any room for regrets in your dreams and now you know that Lando is a part of all your dreams, and that you would never regret anything with him. 

The time will arrive for settling down and having a family with him, but for now, the both of you will learn to grow and be curious about life. 

Before Lando started his trek to the garage, he went to you to give you a quick hug and kiss. He smiled at you, eyes twinkling in the shining sun. Nowadays, it’s not often you see him this happy. 

“You look happy.” you tell him. 

“I got a sticker from P. That’s like the biggest approval you can get from a kid, ya know.” he joked, “Alright, I really have to go now. I’ll see you after.”

He kisses you one more time before running off, wilder and lighter than before.

[laiiaaa]

Your writing is stunning! Can I request injured!reader and Carmy rushing to be by her side? god the idea of that man dropping everything to be with you....

this has been in my drafts for probably a year now. i forget why i was hesitant to post it. so here’s something for you all :)

“Hey, Cousin—”

“I’m in the middle ‘f something, not now, Richie—”

“Hey.” He raises his brows, gives that serious look that has Carmen’s head peeking over his shoulder because it’s so sharp he can feel it. “It’s your girl. You wanna take this.”

He gets nervous, then, heart beginning to race. Where’s his fuckin’ phone?

“Give it here,” he says, arm extended. Richie hands it over and slips out the door, shutting it to leave Carmen by himself in the office; it only makes hurt stomach lurch harder.

He lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“. . . Carm?” Your voice is broken and wobbly, wrought with tears.

“Baby?” He doesn’t even think before he’s jumping out of his chair, tucking the phone between his jaw and shoulder while he scrambles to find his keys. “Baby, you there? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at the hospital, I tried calling you—”

“The hospital—?” His mind goes back to New York, back to that morning. “What—” He takes a deep breath. His jacket. Where the fuck is it? “Okay, you’re okay, I’m comin’ now, alright?” He storms out of the office toward the lockers, finds everything right where he put it, including his phone. Dead. Fuck. “I gotta hang up, okay? I’m sorry, I know, I can’t take the phone with me. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“O-Okay.” A shuddered breath rings through the line, and it kills him. “I’m okay, Carmy—”

“I know,” he says, shimmying into his jacket and feeling for his keys. “I know, baby, but I’m comin’ anyway, you hear me? Gonna be there in ten.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I love you.”

He doesn’t put the phone back properly, just slides it across the counter and hopes it doesn’t break again, shouting out orders over his shoulder on his way out the door.

The ride there is the longest ten minutes of his life. He doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know anything at all, really. Are you hurt? How bad is it? What happened? Is it a burn, a broken bone, just a flu that got out of hand? Will you need surgery? Did you get in an accident? Did someone try to hurt you? He doesn’t want you to be alone right now. He needs to be there with you. You were fine this morning. You were fine this morning, all beautiful and groggy when he kissed you awake, still cozied up in bed when he left early as the sky turned blue after sunrise. You were fine. You were fine, and then he left, and suddenly you weren’t.

The fluorescent lights make him nauseous. They’re too bright, and a disgusting color, and too different from all the gentle lighting you insisted upon at home. Made the place homey, you said, and he agreed. The nurses at the station must think he’s out of his mind, all wide-eyed and asking for you.

“What’s your name?” the one asks him.

“Carmen, I’m her fiancé, I was—I was just on the phone with her—”

“Okay,” she nods, softening. “She’s doin’ alright now, she was askin’ for you, though. Still gotta get her wrapped up, but you’ll be outta here soon.”

He’s too busy wondering What the fuck does that mean? to properly answer.

When he’s finally brought to your room, his nerves subside—only a little. There’s no blood, no bland hospital gown to say you’re headed off to the operating room. Just a pillow over your tummy, with your arm—your swollen, bruised arm—resting on top of it.

“Hey, hon,” he says, coming to your bedside and smoothing a hand over your forehead to press his lips to your temple. “You alright? What happened?”

“They—” you sniffle when you look up at him, lip quivering— “They had to take my ring off, Carmy—” he nods along to your rambling with a concerned brow— “I-I told them not to, but they said my hand was too swollen—that-that it was gonna mess up my finger—. . .”

“What’s that, baby?” He smiles into your hair and exhales through his nose. So typical of you to get upset about something cute like that, he knows you’ll be okay. “Your arm’s all black ‘n blue, and you’re worried about your ring—?”

“But it’s special—”

“Shhhhh . . . I know, I know . . . ‘m just askin’ you to ease up.” Another kiss lands on your forehead before he asks, “Where’s it at, baby? I’ll fix it for you.”

You pout and look somewhere behind him. “On the table, but you’re not gonna be able to—”

“Just take a breath ‘n relax f’me, yeah? I got it.”

He stands upright again, turning to check that the ring is there—that beautiful, beautiful big diamond for his precious girl, before reaching toward the nape of his neck to unclasp his chain. Carefully, he threads it through the ring, silently urges you to sit up so he can hook it around your neck, icy-cool on your smooth skin, admiring the way it sparkles like your eyes.

You’re still pouting when he’s done, and he kisses your soft lips anyway while he wipes away stray tears. “Better?”

“. . . yeah,” you admit through a murmur.

“Good,” he huffs, pulling the visitor’s chair right next to your bed. With your good arm, you reach for him, just any part of him, and he holds your hand as he kisses your dry knuckles. “You gonna tell me what happened now? What’s got you all banged up?”

And you groan and roll your eyes, insisting that it’s too embarrassing to tell, and he lets you drag it out just because he thinks it’s cute when you’re stubborn. The doctor comes in with the x-rays to confirm that, yes, indeed, you’ve got yourself a broken arm, and after you’re splinted and discharged and given a sling and the next day’s protocol, Carmen holds your good hand on the way out the door.

“Oh,” you start, pausing before he opens the car door for you, “I forgot to tell you.”

“Hm?”

“I drove here.”

“You what?”

“I told you, I was embarrassed, Carm—”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he grunts, laughing and shaking his head with fingers running through his hair as he helps you into the passenger’s seat. “You’re killin’ me today, y’know that?”

And it’s not the last time. When he unlocks the front door and sees the laundry spilled all the way down the stairs, with a basket flipped upside down at the bottom, he can put the pieces together. He kisses you softly, doesn’t say a word about it, takes you to the bedroom, and tucks you into bed to let you rest now that your adrenaline is wearing off and the pain meds are making you sleepy.

He fixes up the mess without a second thought, and once he’s done he slips right under the covers next to you, thanking whatever God there is that you’re okay, and that he’s got you back in his arms.

(And tomorrow, when he takes you into the doctor’s office for a proper cast, he has Natalie and Pete pick up your car. He still hounds on you about it weeks later, how you drove yourself to the hospital with a broken arm. You insist it makes for a good story, and to that he can’t deny.)

[sir-heichou-smith]

Johnny thinks you and Ghost only want him for the sex.

He won't tell either of you he's ass over elbows for both his lieutenant and his girlfriend because he doesn't want to make a fool of himself.

No, he can't tell you because he's the idiot who fell in love with the two people he couldn't even dream of having.

No one else has ever made him feel so cared for or special before you two though, and it confuses the hell out of him to the point where he can't help but think he has to leave after every session.

He doesn't want to overstay his welcome, meanwhile you and ghost think he doesn't want to be with you and only wants the sex, which is fine (you'd really prefer that he stayed for aftercare since it is real important to you, you know how Simon could get and it's not easy coming back up on your own from how far he puts you under) but you know something is wrong when he stumbles out of bed and limps to the door after throwing his pants on, mumbling something about having to get going for some thing or another.

One night Simon and Johnny stumble through the door after a few drinks, their hands wandering and teeth clinking out of desperation while you trail after with a hand on each of them.

Clothes are thrown and kisses are traded all the way to the bedroom. You hear Simon utter praises in the Scot's ear, "such a good boy f'me Johnny. Gonna show the mrs how well you can take it for me? Let's give 'er a show."

He shudders in the larger man's embrace, and you think you see something flicker in those baby blues as he kneels to undo Simon's zipper with his teeth.

But you're tipsy like they are and you can only focus on it so much until Simon pulls you in and groans into your mouth, one of his big hands on the back of your head and the other tangled in the mowhawk bobbing up and down on his cock.

That morning you wake up quietly, before either men, and you take the moment to enjoy having both of them in your bed.

Johnny wakes up quiet too, thinking himself a goddamn idiot for giving in to staying the night when he tried so hard not to.

He does his best to untangle his limbs from Simon's meaty arms and your thick, supple thighs. It's so warm and comfortable and everything he's ever wanted and he doesn't ever want to go, but he has to. It doesn't belong to him, you're not his and neither is Simon and he's just in the way.

God he's so fucking stupid for this, all he's doing is making himself hurt more than what he has to. He just can't take what he's given and accept that he'll never have what his heart truly, unrightfully wants.

While you think nothing of it as he slithers down the bed, (assuming he needs the bathroom and he'll come right back into your embrace) Johnny is pulling on his clothes from the night before as quickly and quietly as he can, tears building up under his lash line and threatening to spill over his cheeks. His breaths come in short staccato so he holds it until he can't, breathing out slowly through his nose and in through his mouth.

He needs to leave, can't be here any longer because he's already overstayed his welcome.

Hes not supposed to feel this way, he's just a toy for you and Simon to enhance your guys' relationship. Your beautiful, loving relationship that he's stupid for wanting to get in the middle of because he'd never expect either of you to return his feelings.

He thinks he's in the clear when he looks back and notices Simon's heavy chest still breathing evenly, taking one last glance at his magnificence before turning around for good because he can't put himself through this anymore, he's not enough and he just needs to accept that now before he can never recover from the heartbreak.

"Johnny?" He's hears your low voice come from the cocoon of warmth he craves with ever fiber of his being. Your precious face looks confused and, dare he say it, a little hurt. "Where are you going?"

His heart shatters. "I-I... I'm heading out now. I didnae mean to stay so long. Sorry 'bout that, bon. Nothin' to wake the big guy over."

Before he gets his shirt on he hears you shift. "Johnny wait-"

"No. No, I cannae do this anymore okay?" His chest heaves with what feels like the weight of the world, and the tears start to fall.

"I know my place, and I keep forgetting it when you hold me so close and tell me I'm your good boy. When you kiss me and it feels like nothin else matters anymore. I never wanted to come between you and Si but I overstayed my welcome now and I need to leave so that I can-"

"What are you on about?" Simon blinks his eyes and rolls onto his back, a thick arm behind his head and the other stretched out across the empty space where Johnny just was.

Blue eyes shut and his pretty face scrunches up in pain, but he turns around before he thinks either of you can see. His shirt is hastily pulled over his head and he trips over himself pulling on a shoe from the night before.

He doesn't get to leave after throwing on the second one. A big paw of a hand circles his bicep almost completely.

"Don't think you're goin anywhere now, mate. What's this about?" Tired honey eyes look up in confusion and concern, their owner now sitting up and the thick comforter slides down to meet his naked hips. Baby blues can't help but trace the movement.

Your feet touch the cold floor as you get out of bed and circle around to the Scot. "Johnny when did we ever say we don't want you too?"

His head whips up in confusion and he looks between the two of you. "But.. But you-"

"Baby, take those clothes off and get back in bed." Simon pulls lightly on the arm in his grasp and Johnny can't help but follow.

"From now on it's non-negotiable, you stay here with us and get your aftercare in before you even think of leaving. Not that we ever wanted you to."

Big hands pull at the hem of his shirt and it goes without thinking. You stand behind him and wrap your arms around his naked torso to unfasten his jeans.

"Such a pretty boy, Johnny. You're our pretty boy and we want you just as much. Please dont leave us again." Your words bring tears to his eyes again, these ones accompanied by a bright perfect smile and a small huff of disbelief.

The three of you fall back into bed, smothering Johnny in all the kisses and words of love he never even fathomed could be true.

Limbs and tongues tangled alike, and the morning was spent mostly in bed, the Scot wedged tightly between you and Simon. As if he'd still possibly think of leaving now.

[tteotlma]

Unspoken

to everyone he's the indestructible wolverine, to you he's just logan —

Bf!Logan/Reader (3.5kw)

a/n: I’m kinda over smut rn.. It requires too much thinking rn and I just want some love so…

tw: mild sexual content, suggestive themes, alcohol consumption, mild language, domestic fluff

---

Everyone wonders how exactly you managed to bring the bad boy home to mom. Okay, not exactly, but close enough. When you started showing up around Logan, everyone was thrown for a loop.

"This is Y/n," he would introduce you for the first time at a group outing. He unknowingly blocked you from his table of teammates, so you put a hand on his arm to move him over.

Smiling brightly at the group, you introduced yourself as his girlfriend. Scott and Jean were stunned, while Ororo just smiled. She moved, took out a seat beside her, and patted it. You'd look at Logan, and he'd give a curt nod before saying he was going to get you both a drink.

As he left, he placed a small hand on your back, and you smiled at him before he walked away. Settling beside Ororo, you made yourself comfortable.

"Alright, alright, now tell us the truth," Scott huffed, stuffing his face with the complimentary peanuts in the middle of the table.

"I'm sorry?" Your eyebrows squeezed together, making Scott chuckle.

"So you're really his girlfriend?" he asked, while Jean gave you a careful eye.

"It appears that way, doesn't it?" You turned away just in time to grab your drink from Logan, taking a sip before looking back at Scott.

Logan had told you a lot about Scott and their complicated relationship - a sort of "I have to like you because we're family" kind of thing. You'd never held any resentment towards Scott, but you were aware that sometimes it could seem like he thought less of Logan.

Scott didn't say anything further, instead continuing to munch on peanuts and occasionally cracking jokes, flashing you his award-winning smile. The group settled into casual chit-chat, with Logan's body pressed beside yours despite sitting in separate chairs.

His arm slung around the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally brushing against your arm - a subtle reminder that despite all the people in the bar, you could freely focus on whatever, knowing he had you.

As the night wore on, stories and laughs were shared, the alcohol doing a good job of loosening everyone up, especially you and Logan. You were still at a point in your relationship where everything felt fresh to the outside, so the idea of PDA was still nerve-wracking. Granted, you and Logan had touched each other a lot, but that was always behind closed doors. In public, Logan preferred to be more of a guard dog, always standing over you wherever you went.

It never bothered you. In fact, you relished the fact that Logan never left your line of sight; he made you feel protected and special. He never pushed your comfort level, and vice versa. You were acutely aware of Logan's character flaws, and mixed with the fact that it had been years since you'd dated anyone, it was nice not having to force the physicality between you two - it came naturally when it wanted.

Like right now, the comforting atmosphere and lightheartedness had you leaning into Logan's warmth. Your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, and his arm slipped off the back of the chair to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in. His hand lightly tickled your side as you absentmindedly ran your nails up his denim-clad thigh, the repetitive motion and feel of the micro-grooves beneath your fingers keeping you grounded.

You tried paying attention to the conversation, but each time Logan laughed, your whole body would shake along with his, and the deep rumble of his laughter would erupt from his chest - a sound you wished you could melt into.

"So why are you with Logan?" Jean asked, her cheeks flushed as she stared between you and Logan, watching the way his fingers played with the fabric of your shirt.

You ripped yourself away from thoughts of your boyfriend and tried to focus on the question at hand. "I'm sorry?" you said, having heard the question but unsure how to answer.

"Why Logan?"

You shifted in your seat to stare at the beefy man beside you. He looked down at you, a small smirk on his lips.

"Why Logan..." you repeated, pondering how to put into words the way this man made you feel.

How do you even put into words the way this man makes you feel? As mentioned before you hadn’t dated in what felt like forever but with Logan everything fell into place. 

Everyone at the table probably assumes that Logan would be the most dismissive lover ever, a taker not really a giver but oh boy were they wrong. 

To you, it felt like you were the center of his universe. 

Whenever Logan would spend the night, you’d always wake up to an empty bed. At first Logan would run out of your place as soon as the sun would hit but one morning when you thought you were alone you slipped into one of Logan’s shirts you had lying around and when you pad to the kitchen you find the giant man surrounded by a rush aroma of coffee. And it’s been like that ever since. 

Whenever Logan stays over he’s always up before you. The smell of coffee wafting throughout the apartment coaxing you out of bed. Once in the kitchen there’d be Logan in all his morning glory, shirtless with sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips, pouring the hot liquid into your favorite mug knowing you’d never say no to it. 

He doesn't ask how you take it, he’s never had to. He just places the mug softly in front of you as you sit on a stool and watches you take a sip with a small smile. 

Placing the mug down, you return the smile, and like clockwork Logan rounds the counter, turns your chair, and places himself between your legs. Your hands find their place at his side as he holds your face in his hands, placing a tender kiss on your lips. These quiet morning moments are just one of the many things you cherish about your life with Logan.

But it's not just the gentle moments that make your relationship special. Logan's protective nature extends to all aspects of your life together, including the more practical ones.

There have been a few times you've come home thinking someone's broken in. Loud clanging could be heard as soon as you walked in. You grabbed an umbrella from beside the door and stalked quietly toward the sound. When you finally turned the corner down the hallway, you noticed the bathroom light was on. With the umbrella held tightly, you stepped closer to the bathroom. There you found Logan tinkering under the sink, the clanking sound coming from the metal against the pipes. He was muttering to himself, brows furrowed in concentration, his muscles constricting beneath his dark blue shirt.

“My handyman.” You tease, discarding the umbrella and leaning against the door frame watching him work. 

Without looking back at you he says “Someone’s gotta do it, darlin’.” You let out a small laugh, before walking away to get him a glass of water. When you come back he’s finishing up. 

He wipes his hands with a towel, and takes the glass from your hand. 

“My hero.” You say, finding your spot against the doorframe, smiling up at him, eyes filled with adornment for the man in front of you. He just pulls you in close and kisses your forehead. 

“Can’t have you dealin’ with this kind of thing.” He says. 

“Oh but sir,” You feign innocence, a small smirk growing on your lips. “I don’t get paid until Friday,” You hook a finger in his belt loop giving it a tug. “However, shall I repay you?” You cock your head to the side, and Logan quirks an eyebrow before playing along. 

“Didn’tya know? I take other forms of payment.” His voice is low as he grabs your hips guiding you backwards. You laugh as he quickly shuffles backwards into your room. 

The both of you stumble onto the bed, and Logan’s weight presses against you just enough to make you feel deliciously suffocated. His eyes are filled with mischief as he hovers over you, hands resting on either side of your head. 

“Oh my, what form of payment were you thinking of?” You ask, voice playful but becomes breathless as he leans in to nose at your neck, lips lightly brushing against the soft skin of your neck. 

He chuckles slowly, “I think y’already know sweetheart.” 

Before you can say anything he catches your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, making it clear how he plans to collect. 

His weight grounds you, as the teasing is forgotten, replaced with a slow electric pull of desire. Logan’s hand skims all over your body, gentle but firm, reminding you that you’re his in every way that counts. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Now, ‘bout that payment.. Don’t think that was enough, princess.” 

You bite your lip, giving him a coy smile as your fingers slide down his chest. “Well, I’d hate to leave a debt unpaid, Sir.” 

Logan leans down to brush his lips against yours, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Then you better make it worth while, buttercup. I don’t do all this hard work for nothin’.” He teases. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down. “Oh don’t worry. I always leave a generous tip.” 

With a grin, Logan kisses you again, deeper than before. His hands continue their exploration as the playful banter gives way to something more intense, and heated. And just like that, all thoughts are replaced with only the two of you tangled up in each other, lost in the moment. 

While these passionate encounters are exhilarating, they're not the only moments you treasure with Logan. In fact, your favorite kind of moments are often much quieter, born from the shared fatigue of long days and the comfort you find in each other's presence.

Your favorite kind of moments would have to be the days Logan comes over after a long day, the kind that left both of you feeling drained by the time the moon came over the horizon.

You’d flop onto the sofa as soon as you’d get home, letting the tension ease away from your muscles when five minutes later Logan opens the door, which you left unlocked for him. 

Without saying a word he flops beside you, causing your body to follow the cave of the cushions and melt into his side. You wrap your arms around his neck and he snakes his arm around your waist, heavy hand resting on your hip squeezing lightly. 

“Hi Baby.” You whisper, caressing his face. He looks down at you with hooded eyes and gives you a small smile. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a soft, lazy kiss before pulling back and resting his head against the back of the sofa.

 You hum contentedly, your arms tightening around him for a moment, the tenderness between you growing. Logan shifts beneath you, his large hands easily grabbing your legs, guiding them to rest over his lap. With a bit of maneuvering, he ends up leaning on his elbow, his arm still wrapped protectively around your waist, while you’re stretched out across the sofa, your legs draped over his, your bodies intertwined in the most comforting way.

He’s partially laying down now, with you tucked securely against him, and the gentle weight of his arm across you feels grounding, the two of you perfectly melted into one another.

“How was your day?” you ask softly, fingers gently caressing the back of his neck. Logan doesn’t respond right away— he instead lets out a low huff and buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. 

“Awe, the poor kitty.” You tease, patting his head lightly. Logan grunts, but the hint of a smile plays on his lips as his grip tightens around your waist. 

“Yeah, yeah.” he mumbles, clearly too tired to give much of a response. You smile, allowing yourself to soak in the warmth of him, but after a moment, the thought of washing the day away crossed your mind. 

You run your fingers through his hair one last time before sighing. “I should go shower,” you say, gently pulling away from him. Logan lets out a gruff dissatisfied grumble as you move to sit up, his arm still draped around you. 

“Stay here,” he mumbles, a hint of a pout in his voice as he watches you sit up.

You chuckle softly, stretching as you stand and walk toward the bathroom. “You could always come with me…” you say casually, your back still to him as you head down the hallway.

Logan’s eyes follow you, and he huffs, pushing himself off the couch. ��You know I’m not saying no to that.”

Before long, you’re both under the warm spray of the shower, the day’s exhaustion melting away. Logan stands still, eyes half-closed, letting the water run down his body. His skin glistens under the spray, rivulets tracing the lines of his body. You breathe in the steamy air, heavy with the scent of soap and Logan's own earthy musk.

Squeezing shampoo into your palm, its crisp herbal aroma cuts through the steam. Your fingers slide through Logan's hair, now slick and dark as ink. He leans into your touch, a low rumble of pleasure vibrating in his chest. His normally guarded expression softens, the furrows in his brow smoothing as your fingertips work small circles against his scalp.

Logan leans into your touch, his broad shoulders loosening as your fingers work their magic. The taut muscles beneath his skin gradually unwind, melting under the warmth of the water and the gentle pressure of your hands. You can feel the subtle shift in his posture as he surrenders to the soothing sensation, his breath deepening and slowing in response to your careful attention. 

The steam swirls around you both, creating an intimate cocoon that seems to exist outside of time. You take your time, savoring the quiet vulnerability of the moment, your fingers moving with deliberate care through his hair.

"Mmm," Logan murmurs, his voice husky and low. "S'nice."

His eyes flutter open, meeting yours through the misty air. The look he gives you is unguarded, full of a tenderness that makes your breath catch. You continue your gentle massage, feeling the last remnants of tension melt away beneath your touch.

You guide him under the spray, watching as the water sluices away the soap, leaving his hair gleaming. Your hands trail down to his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him. The shower continues for a few more minutes, the rhythmic pattern of water creating a soothing backdrop.

Logan steps out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist. He grabs your plush robe from the hook and helps you slip it on. The soft fabric feels warm and comforting against your skin, still flushed from the hot shower.

Logan's hands linger for a moment on your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Cozy?" he asks, his voice soft. You nod, enjoying the simple comfort of the moment.

As you make your way to the bedroom, Logan settles on the edge of the bed while you rummage through the dresser. You pull out one of Logan's well-worn t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, slipping them on. The familiar scent of him envelops you, a comforting mixture of cedar, a hint of motor oil, and something uniquely Logan.

Despite countless cycles through the washing machine, his scent clings stubbornly to the fabric. It's as if it's woven into the very threads, resistant to detergent and hot water alike. You breathe in deeply, savoring the aroma that's quintessentially him - a scent that speaks of strength, of safety, of home.

The shirt hangs loosely on your frame, soft from years of wear. As you pull it over your head, you're wrapped in an invisible embrace, Logan's presence tangible even in this simple piece of clothing.

Turning around, you catch Logan absent-mindedly rubbing the towel over his head. You can't help but smile at the sight. "Here, let me help," you say, fetching the hair dryer from the bathroom.

You plug it in and step between Logan's legs, gently taking the towel from his hands. The dryer hums to life, and you run your fingers through his hair as you work, watching it become soft and fluffy under your ministrations.

"Look at you, all fluffy," you tease gently, running your hand through his hair.

Logan's eyes crinkle with amusement. In one swift motion, he pulls you close, guiding you to sit across his lap. "You're one to talk," he rumbles, nuzzling into your neck.

You laugh softly, your fingers still playing with his hair. It's so soft now, and you can't resist running your hands through it again and again. Logan lets out a contented sound, almost like a purr, leaning into your touch.

Gradually, you both shift to lie on the bed, limbs tangled comfortably. Logan's arms are wrapped around you, holding you close like you're the most precious thing in the world. You continue to stroke his hair, feeling the last bits of tension leave his body.

The room is quiet now, filled only with the sound of your synchronized breathing. As sleep begins to tug at the edges of your consciousness, you feel utterly safe and loved in Logan's embrace. His breathing deepens, and you know he's drifting off too.

Few moments out of thousands flash through your mind as you sit at the bar, Jean's question hanging in the air. "Why Logan?" The memories of tender mornings, playful banter, quiet evenings, and the feeling of absolute safety in his arms all blend together, forming your answer.

You look up at Logan, who's watching you with a mix of curiosity and affection. The warm glow of the bar lights catches the amber flecks in his eyes, making them seem to smolder. You can feel the solid warmth of his body pressed against yours, his familiar scent - a mixture of leather, pine, and something uniquely him - wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You turn back to Jean with a soft smile, the taste of your drink still lingering on your lips.

"It's hard to put into words," you begin, your voice warm with emotion. The words catch in your throat as a flood of memories washes over you - Logan's rare, genuine laugh that always makes your heart skip a beat; the feeling of absolute safety in his strong arms; the tender moments in the quiet of the morning when he thinks you're still asleep. You open your mouth, ready to pour out your heart, but then you catch yourself. The intimacy of those moments feels too precious to share in the bustling, noisy bar.

Instead, you simply say, "Let's just say, when you know, you know."

The conversation moves on, but you can feel Logan's eyes on you, sense his curiosity. As you both leave the bar later, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside, Logan gently tugs your hand, pulling you close.

"What were you really gonna say back there, darlin'?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. His breath, warm and smelling faintly of whiskey, ghosts over your cheek.

You look up at him, taking in the strong line of his jaw, the softness in his usually stern eyes. For a moment, you consider telling him everything - how he makes you feel, why you love him. But something holds you back. Maybe it's the lingering effects of the alcohol, or the magic of the nighttime city around you, but instead, you stretch up on your toes and press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I'll tell you someday," you murmur against his mouth, feeling his lips curve into a smile. "But for now, why don't we head back to my place."

Logan's arm wraps around your waist as you walk to his truck, and you lean into him, savoring the moment. The unspoken words hang between you, a promise for the future, as sweet and intoxicating as the night air.

---

a/n: quick! somebody call a dentist -- i think my teeth are rotting,,

[luveline]

—you meet Spencer again after losing out on the BAU job. he comforts you while you do your best not to flirt. bombshell!reader, 0.9k

You lose out on the BAU job to Elle Greenaway. It drives you crazy.

You work just as hard as Elle does, you’re professional no matter what Jason Gideon has to say about you, and you know you could do it. You have just as many successes as Elle does.

It makes you feel sick. You tried so, so hard.

I’m sorry, Hotch had said, and at least you’d had his support. He was kind enough to tell you in person. I can’t make the decision without Gideon, and if he thinks you aren’t right for it right now, we’ll have to wait.

Wait. As though Jason Gideon was ever going to change his mind about you.

You open your purse and take out the barrel of your sheer lipstick. Your compact is next. You hold the mirror up and angle your face in the sun, popping the lid off of the lipstick, and pressing its flat end to your bottom lip. The line you draw is perfectly precise. Your hand barely trembles.

You drop the mirror down and rub your lips together slowly. No matter what falls out of your control, you can present yourself to your liking. You can be immaculate. You—

“Hi.”

You look up from your rumination, startled. You’d been thinking so hard someone actually got the run up on you.

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head gently toward your shoulder.

Dr. Spencer Reid stands a polite three feet away from you. He’s suddenly changed. The last time you met him he was wearing his long hair in a side part. Now it’s split down the middle, just a touch shorter at the sides, and he’s wearing glasses.

(He’s wearing glasses!)

You’d thought he was pretty before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” you say, tempted to call him baby, maybe sweetheart. He’s a sweet looking boy. His sweater vest makes you wanna hold his hand. “Thank you for asking. Why are you asking?”

You talk to him with no derision nor malice, just curiosity.

He frowns. It gives his eyes a sad shine. “I know you wanted the open position. You would’ve been great at it.”

“You think so?” you ask, surprised.

“I’ve seen some of your write ups. We’ve used your summaries in one of our profiles, do you… remember that?”

You send Hotch anything he wants to see.

“I don’t know why Gideon doesn’t like you… He’s so rarely wrong about people, but you’re…” He licks his lips nervously. “You’re– you’re smart. You’re inquisitive. I think you would be an asset to the team, and it’s a shame you didn’t get your chance.”

You’re making him nervous and it isn’t your intention. You put your hands in your lap and stop giving him the look, swapping your amicable smile for a proper friendly one. “Thank you. Is it okay if I call you Spencer? Dr. Spencer Reid is a lot to say at once.”

He laughs, still nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Spencer, thank you for caring so much, but I’m okay. I think I might still have a chance one day, but with Elle gone, the sex crimes division is going to need me.” You lift your chin. If he’s sought you out to tell you he’s sorry, your premonitions about him when you met a few weeks ago were correct. He’s as kind as he is pretty. “I love your glasses. Are they for reading?”

“I always wore glasses when I was a kid, and then I started working here, and I thought it might make me seem less… childish, if I wore contacts, but they’re the worst.”

You laugh happily. He says it in such a pained voice. “The glasses suit you so much,” you say, shoving your things into your bag and standing. “Did you wanna go for coffee? I need a pick me up before I go back to the office.”

Spencer touches his wrist. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” you ask, again, without a drop of malice. You’re not stupid, Spencer has all the nervousness of someone who’s been mistreated before, and heartily, and it’s easy to be soft with him not solely because of it, but because he seems so sweet. You could happily be his friend. “Do you like coffee? We could get those hot donuts from the cafeteria, have you tried those?”

You close the little gap between you both and raise your hand carefully to his face. Gentle, you try to pull a stray hair from the hinge of his glasses leg without snapping it.

“You can tell me all the stuff I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Spencer says.

“Come on, there has to be something.”

His mouth gives him away. “It’s not that you’re doing it wrong, you’re just– you– you’re not looking at things the…” Your fingertip brushes his cheek as you drop your hand. “…Right way, sometimes.”

“I wanted your recommendations.” You bump his elbow with yours. “I’ll buy you a coffee and you can write me a list. Cool?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Cool.”

You’re thinking it’ll be the start of a good friendship. You and Dr. Reid make quite a pair.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)