#if he's gonna not say her name or look at her in the debate

[blueheronpronouns]

I started making a post with my thoughts about the debate last night, and I'm back to finish it this morning. Here's what I wrote last night:

This really really REALLY showed off the differences between the two of them in so many ways,,,, Harris went for the handshake, he tried to ignore her. Harris looked at him, and he never looked at her or said her name. Harris was mostly clear and concise and rarely interrupted, and he wouldn't SHUT THE FUCK UP. Overall she comes across as much more put together, sane, and articulate than him (mostly because. she is.)

All of the memes that are coming out of it are insane (eating dogs, killing babies, transgender operations on illegal aliens in prison, Trump lusting over Putin/Kim Jong-un, etc.) and I honestly think we need to not ever shut up about them!!! Keep bringing it up!! Keep making fun of all the stupid shit he says!!! Keep highlighting how genuinely crazy he is!! He doesn't get called out on his bullshit enough so we need to!!

I genuinely think he thinks he's still running against Biden,,, yet another thing to add to the "reasons why he's crazy" list.

I strongly disagree with Harris on some points. There were things she said that made me full-body cringe. However, at the end of the day, I'm still voting for her - I'm too scared of what could happen in another Trump term. I think we still need to pressure her on some of her policies, and that we need to break the two party system (but we need to start small with that one; win local elections first!) but I'll still vote for her come November.

Thoughts this morning:

Taylor Swift supporting Harris is actually really huge. I bet voter registration numbers are going to really go up in the next few days.

Can we PLEASE call Harris by her last name or her full name? We refer to every male presidential candidate by their last names, so why do a lot of people still just call her "Kamala"? (it was brought to my attention that this is a branding decision, which honestly makes a lot of sense! Still leaving this point up though as it feels disingenuous to remove it. I'll also continue to call her Harris, but I feel a lot better about people calling her Kamala now)

Damn that debate was insane. Gotta laugh about how insane our politics are or else I'll cry I guess-

it's so funny that he doesn't even want to be associated with vance,,,

Anyways, that's all I wanted to say- shoutout Tumblr for having the funniest memes about that hellscape of a debate!!!

[majinbangus]

was tempted to write more of this idea of simon x single mom!reader. ty to @weemansoap for the meet cute idea. mention of past abuse/domestic violence in one paragraph, nothing graphic.

-> more here

There's a young lad that can't be more than five or six years of age crouched behind the overgrown bush near the entryway that leads to his flat complex. A strange sight to come home to after months away on deployment. One he's not sure what to make of yet, but Simon approaches, coming up on the kid's blindspot. He doesn't see any parents around. Best find out what this kid is up to.

"Oi, what're you doin' out 'ere, lad?"

The kid startles comedically, nearly falling on his rump, but he manages to catch himself before looking up at Simon, a toothy, mischievous grin on his face. "I'm gonna scare Mama!"

Simon raises an eyebrow. "Your mum doesn't know you're here?"

"No." The boy giggles. "I ran ahead while she was putting on her shoes."

"You shouldn't do that," Simon says, though not quite admonishing him. "You probably scared your mum enough pulling that stunt."

The lad frowns. "I only ran away. What's so scary about that?"

A lot of things. Simon remembers his own mother frantically calling out his name once upon a time. The fear in her eyes. The trembling grip when she finally found him again. The sobbing. The apologies. The promises to be a better mother. The pain she experienced when his father blamed her for losing track of a son he didn't care about. Pain that was Simon's fault. Pain that his father later inflicted on him.

Lots of things are scary when a child runs away. But this lad doesn't need to know the extent.

"Your mum loves you, yeah?" He waits until the kid nods, continuing, "Then it'll always scare her when you runaway. Not knowing where you are. Thinking she lost you. Would it scare you if you lost her?"

"Oh..." The kid looks at the ground, penitent. "I didn't think of it that way."

Simon grunts, studying the lad, debating with himself before deciding fuck it. He clicks his tongue twice and the lad looks up. "Which floor you live on, mate? I'll bring you back to your mum."

"3C."

Simon hums thoughtfully. That one was previously vacant last time he was here. "Right next to me."

The lad perks up. "Really?"

He nods, gesturing towards the building, ready to guide the kid back home, but a voice suddenly rings out like a shock of ice water running down his back.

"Simon, you stay right there, young man!"

For a brief- very brief- second, Simon tenses up. He hasn't heard that angry motherly tone stemmed from fear directed at him since he was a boy. Part of him feels reprimanded, as if he needs to bow his head and meekly apologize for upsetting his mother, fleeting memories of his mum scolding him flashing through his brain. But the feeling quickly dissipates when he sees you, frazzled and anxious, running towards him like an unstoppable force that reminds him of the ocean wind.

It's a stunning sight, Simon notes absently; however, he doesn't take any longer to admire the view you make running towards him. Or, well, the boy. Rather than looking at Simon, you're looking at the lad he's been talking to, a wild, worried look in your eyes the closer you get, glancing at Simon quickly, warily, then back at the boy, the look of a mother bear ready to defend her cub gracing your features, and that's when it clicks.

Ah. Simon.

Your boy's name is Simon.

Funny, that. It almost makes him snort.

The lad in question doesn't seem to register your near feral state, but Simon steps away from your wayward son as to not aggravate you any further.

"Mama, I made a friend!" Your son announces proudly once you rush up to them. "He lives next to us! In, um..."

"3A," Simon interjects when the kid falters. You glance at him in acknowledgment before turning back to your child.

"Oh? How sweet." You smile tightly at the lad, giving him a subtle once over for anything out of place, and reach out to gently tug him further away from Simon, crouching to pick him up. "It's good to make friends with the neighbors, honey, but you can't go running off like that. I was worried when you took off without warning."

The boy in your arms looks properly contrite, bowing his head and wrapping his arms around your neck, voice muffled as he apologizes, "I know. I'm sorry, Mama. I won't runaway ever again. Promise. The nice man told me you would be upset."

"Did he?" You look at Simon, gaze still guarded but there's a hint of something grateful in your eyes. "Well, he was right. I was upset, but as long as you keep your promise, you're forgiven."

His little name twin perks up, giggling and hugging you tighter. "I will! I love you, Mama."

"I love you, too, hon." You give your son a tender look, pressing a kiss to his temple, but it drops once you look at Simon, studying him with a cautious look. You hesitate for a second longer before adjusting your hold on your boy then hold a hand out, giving him your name and your gratitude. "3A? Are you new? I haven't seen you around... Regardless, thank you for keeping an eye on this one. I hope he didn't cause you any trouble."

"I travel for work." He grips your hand and gives it a squeeze, "And he didn't. Your boy's a good lad. I'm Simon."

Your eyebrows lift, mouth dropping slightly agape and hand lingering in his perhaps a tad too long before you recover, letting go, and smile sweetly at your boy who stares up at him with wide, awed eyes. "My name is Simon, too!"

You don't make a sound, but Simon can see you shake with silent laughter, your eyes sparkling for the child in your arms. He catches your eye, and you tilt your head with a hopeful, doe-eyed look for him to indulge your boy a little longer.

Ah, what the hell.

"Really?" Simon raises a disbelieving brow. "Since when?"

"Since I was born!" The boy laughs and you shoot Simon a genuine smile. "You're funny, Simon."

Oh, Johnny could tell your boy just how funny he could really be. He can already hear the groan his sergeant would give.

Don't put the poor lad through that, LT.

He's not hearing any complaints, Johnny. The lad seems to appreciates his humor. And you do too from the looks of it.

"It's a fine name, innit?"

"Uh-huh! Mama named me!"

He switches to look at you. "That right?"

Your smile turns a hint shy under his attention, but you nod with a noncommittal hum, adding nothing more to the conversation. Instead, you start your own. An abrupt, obvious dismissal. "Well, sorry to hold you up, Simon, but we should get going. This Simon needs to go school supply shopping."

Your son pouts, but otherwise doesn't complain. Good lad.

"Say goodbye to," your eyes wash over him, darting up and down, properly taking him in, "Big Simon, Simon."

A rush of amusement passes through him. That's a new one. Not the worst thing he's ever heard, but certainly accurate. He might even like it.

Big Simon tilts his head, raising a brow, and immediately you fluster at the nickname you've given him, eyes widening and head ducking down so you don't have to look him in the eyes, but it's too late to take it back. Little Simon is already waving goodbye at him.

"Bye, Simon, it was nice to meet you!"

There's a flash, and for a moment, Simon sees another young lad waving at him in another mother's arms, another Riley's voice echoing in his ear, asking him when he's gonna settle down, but then they're gone in a blink and he's looking at you and Little Simon again.

It almost makes him pause, but Simon forces them out of his mind and focuses on you and the boy in your arms.

"Nice to meet you too, kid." He gestures to you next. "Be good for your mum. She's a lovely lady, and lovely ladies deserve the best, yeah?"

Your son agrees with an enthusiastic nod, but while he remains oblivious to your flustered state, Simon feels an unfamiliar sort of satisfaction when you stutter out your own goodbyes, leaving him to ponder on things he hasn't thought of in years.

Settle down, huh? That's not for him, but looking at you and your lad...

Simon can almost see the appeal in a domestic life.

-

wrote this kinda sleepy, idk how I feel about it hope its alright tho

[byuntrash101]

still your biggest fan. – 송민기.

SYNOPSIS. your boyfriend is on the other side of the globe touring. somehow you fear the cheers of the fans will make him forget about you. so you decide to remind him you are still and will always be his biggest fan

or in which you find a novel way to use your lightstick and send the video to your beloved bf.

mingi x f!reader, smut, mdni

tags. etablished relationship, facetime sex, masturbation (f & m), BLACK UNDERCUT MINGI (!!!!!!!!), jealous + slightly possessive reader, but mingi reassures her (awwww), use of (unconventional) toys (wink wonk im insane pls stop me), pet names, multiple orgasms (f), praises, squirting. wc. 2k

a/n. this mingi has me feral and the concert videos got me in a chokehold. and it's only the first date i need help. also shout out to that one video of yungi saying they use the lightstick to "relax" at night. not proofread.

There was one thing that was absolutely certain about Mingi: that man loved attention. That man lived for the roars of the crowd. When he danced, he was electrified by the cheers of the fans. And you knew your boyfriend was made to be on stage. He enjoyed the attention of fans, hence the fact he was constantly body rolling, hip thrusting and tongue poking. He loved to see the thousands of people thirst for him, he loved looking at all the concert videos all over the internet. He laughed and giggled at the tiktok edits, at the twitter threads, at every comment more over the top than the next.

Usually you don’t mind, you even enjoy them too. You like seeing him happy and fulfilled in his job but today maybe you’re a little insecure. He just flew out to start the American leg of the tour and you’re left behind in this bed that seems so empty. You fear somehow the loud cheers will make him forget about you. You don’t want that. You want to remind him. You want to make sure that today when he goes to sleep the last thing he sees is you. 

You looked at the time, your eyes darted to the digital clock on your night stand. At this time he was probably already at the hotel. It was pretty late for you but you wanted to send him a little treat, you knew how Mingi loved when you sent him videos of you playing with yourself and today you might add a little twist. 

You didn’t have much time if you wanted him to see the video before he slept…

***

Mingi was spent, true. But he was still pumped full of adrenaline when he stepped out of the shower with the ends of his raven black hair wet, the longer strands of his undercut dripping down. He didn’t even bother stepping into his pajamas, the AC was off and this part of the world in July was pretty hot. 

He tucked himself in bed, still wide awake. He looked at his phone, a text from you from several hours ago when you went to bed. You were probably sleeping right now. He debated responding, fearing he would wake you. But he pictures you pouting when you’d wake up in a few hours without a response from him and he couldn’t bear to make you feel that way so he typed a quick answer. 

🎀 princess #2: hope the show goes well (ik it will because you gonna kill it cause you the best😌). i lob you. you know that right? dont forget about me ok? <33333333

👸princess minki (real): i could never baby i love you more. hope you have a great day and i miss you baby <3

then for a second the three little dots appeared and Mingi thought he hallucinated it. But then an other text appeared.

🎀 princess #2: i’ll always be your first and your biggest fan

Mingi didn't even have time to reply that he received a video file. He faintly gasped at the thumbnail. It was your legs spread out on his bed. The big play button in the middle of the frame though blocked out the most interesting part and he didn’t even breathe before he played the video.

He continued to hold his breath when he saw you rub your clit throught your white panties. He didn’t know how long you did played with yourself but your panties were completely see through. Your juices were sticking to your folds, the laces barely concealing you anymore. But still, he needed these damn panties out of the way. 

He wanted to see you. His hand found his cock on instinct, immediately palming his hardening bulge. And his prayers were answered. You pushed the panties to the side uncovering the most beautiful sight Mingi had ever layed eyes on. He exhaled a long sigh when long strings of slick connected you to the thin fabric of the underwear. How bad he wanted to be there, to stuff your soaked panties into your mouth while he thrusted his thick fingers into you. How bad he wanted to feel you twitch around him. How bad he wanted to hear his name fall from your quivering lips as he brought you to your peak. He wanted you so bad.

But then you grabbed hold of something, something that emitted light… The lightiny? Mingi’s jaw hung open when he saw you bring the handle to your center, rubbing it through your folds, coating it with your juices before bringing it up to your hard clit playing with a little, prying beautiful muffled sounds out of your mouth. Just to bring the handle down again, you took a firm grip of the rounded part and pushed the handle inside your trembling core. 

“Fuck” Mingi exhaled as he started pumping his balled fist around his now fully hard cock, he kicked the covers off him just to be able to jerk himself off without resistance. 

“Nghhh” you moaned quietly as you bottomed out. “M-Mingi are you watching?” As if you could see him, Mingi nodded vigorously, qmd you gave more purpose to the coming and going of his wrist. “Keep watching me. K-keep- fuck aaaah. Keep looking at me. I’ll make myself cum for you, ok?”

“Fuck yes baby I wanna see it all.” Mingi replied in a strangled breath, his hand going to play with balls, while his other hand held the phone incredibly close to his face. if he could have he would have gone through the screen and right into you. 

You started to slowly bounce on the lightstick. You were obviously already really worked up, your pussy was clenching down on the shiny copper handle and the light was perfectly shining on your hard clit, making it obvious that you were pretty close. Red and swollen, ready to explode. Just how he liked.

So you did. In a few seconds your thighs were trembling and your movement became uneven. You started to squirt small translucent spurts, one then two.

“Fuck baby you’re so fucking hot” Mingi breathed and pumped himself faster. 

You took the copper handle out and rubbed your clit in tight and fast circles, squirting more translucent liquid and soaking the sheets. Your center quivering around nothing. You slowed down with a sigh and the video stopped.

Mingi felt like he was going to sink into eternal darkness and despair if he didn’t see more of you right now. His cock was twitching in his strong fist, his cockhead was leaking so much precum he wanted you to see him too. He wanted you to know what you did to him.

So he pressed FaceTime. It rang once, twice then you picked up. You looked disheveled and short of breath. Fuck how fucking beautiful you were. Mingi wanted to kiss you all over this pretty face of yours.

“Why do you torture me?” he said a little more whiny than anticipated. 

He was so cute with wet hair and his eyebrows meeting on his forehead. He flipped the camera to show you his swollen cock, hard, red and leaking. You bit you lip at the mouth watering sight.

“I just wanted you to remember me. That's all.” you started, your hand finding your folds once again. “Remind you I will always be your biggest fan”

“Fuck how could I forget about you? Are you insane?” he breathed out, his voice sounded strained, in pain almost. You could only imagine how worked up he was and this urgency in his tone compelled you to find a new angle to the video call. You balanced it on the covers and your wet pussy and the mess you made came into view again.

“Fuckkkk” Mingi sighed again, trying his hardest not to be too loud. San was next door and the last thing he wanted was for him to bring up his little intimate session with you tomorrow at breakfast. “You’ve made such a mess. I usually hate it but God I’d give everything to sleep in the wet spot tonight”. You saw him jerk himself off faster, his thumb spreading the precum all over his tip and dragging it down his shaft. Squeezing the head the bring out even more and repeat it again. 

“Please show me again” he didn’t intend to sound so desperate but it couldn’t be helped because he in fact was that desperate for you. “Please show me how you fuck yourself with the lightiny”

“O-okay” You brought it back and stuffed it inside your clenching little pussy with a sigh, your other hand spreading your lips apart, making sure Mingi had the first raw VIP view of the show. 

“Fuckkkk” he whined again. “You’re so fucking nasty for me, doll”

You chuckled, knowing your little scheme had worked. You knew right now he was only thinking of you. Completely pussy drunk even though he was thousands of miles away.

“I wish it was you inside me right now, Mingming”

“Fuck me too baby” he said strangling his cock tighter, more precum oozing out again. He was close judging by the way he kept on twitching in his own hand. The sight urged you to bounce harder on the handle of the lightstick, your pussy clenching around it, gliding so smoothly in and out of you while your other hand kept on abusing your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Baby I-I’m close” he said, a certain rasp about his voice that was only giving more weight to his words. His fist was frantically moving along his cock, now mainly focussing on his tip, making the poor thing absolutely miserable: all wet and beet red, close to bursting.

“M-me too” you said,  feeling the familiar knot in the pits of your stomach approaching its rupture point. The premise of your orgasm manifested itself in the form of an other small sprut of transparent liquid “Nggghh fuck-” you gasped. “I’m c-cumming again” you whined, rubbing your clit faster, in thighter circles. You ripped the handle out of you and one big squirt came out of your abused little pussy, joining the existing mess in Mingi’s sheets. 

“Oh fuck baby” Mingi couldn’t peel his eyes of the screen. “Fuck baby me- Fuck… Me too” He watched as your thighs became weak and as your pretty little pusy gushed out more and more fluids. You were the hottest thing he’s ever seen. And he couldn’t possibly take it anymore. He let himself go. He abruptly stop stroking himself just to let the first big rope of cum sprout out of his slit and crash over his stomach. You moaned louder at the sight. He kept on stroking again, milking more delicious cum out of his twitching red cock, completely repainting his stomach with thick and white cum, grunting as his hips involuntarily thrusted upwards until it all stopped.

When he had caught his breath he approached the phone to show his stomach and scooped some of his spillage between his fingers. 

“Look what you did to me? Just cause you got a little jealous of the fans?” he chuckled.

“I did that?” you said appalled, “No you did that! Stop making me jealous and it won't happen again” He flipped the camera again and you couldn't help but to smile mindlessly at the screen. He was a complete wreck, sharp eyes half lidded, bottom lip swollen and red from being bitten and strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. This haircut made him ridiculously hot. A mischievous smirk pulled at his full lips.

“Or…” he trailed off. “I don't this stop and you make me dirty sexy videos after every show”

“Yeah” you said, sarcasm tinting your voice. “Let's see you do that! We’ll see how it goes when you came back” you challenged him. Your smile sent shivers down Mingi’s spine. He loved you but you definitely could be scary sometimes.

“You know what, I changed my mind. I'll just behave and you can reward me when I get home.”

want more? try my fic facetime ♡

SYNOPSIS. mingi has a small favor to ask you real quick.

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[goldfades]

Joe burrow blurb where he gets baby fever seeing reader taking care of his nephews

thanksgiving at the burrow house is exactly what you expected and nothing you expected, all at the same time.

you’d prepped yourself for a cozy, midwestern vibe—homemade pies, mismatched dinnerware, maybe a friendly debate over the best way to make stuffing. and, to be fair, all of that was true. what you didn’t expect was how loud and chaotic it could get, with joe’s cousins piling into the house like it’s a college frat reunion and his mom somehow keeping everyone in line with just a stern look and a well-timed plate of cookies.

you’re in the kitchen with robin, helping her plate the turkey, when you hear joe yell from the living room. “there’s no way you beat me at madden again!”

robin shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. “he’s just mad he’s not the best at everything.”

you laugh, grabbing the mashed potatoes. “i’ll remind him later that humility is a virtue.”

“good luck with that, sweetheart,” robin says, giving you a knowing look.

by the time everyone sits down to eat, the table is overflowing with food, and joe’s already piled his plate high. he’s sitting next to you, of course, his knee bumping against yours under the table every so often like he just can’t help himself.

“so,” one of his uncles says, his fork hovering over the green bean casserole. “when are you two gonna give us some real thanksgiving entertainment and start a family?”

your face heats instantly, and you glance at joe, wide-eyed. but he just leans back in his chair, totally unbothered, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“well, we’ll see,” he says, glancing over at you like he’s enjoying this a little too much. “depends on if i can convince her to name the kid after me.”

“joe jr.,” one of his cousins says, throwing his hands in the air like it’s the obvious choice.

“absolutely not,” you say firmly, stabbing a piece of turkey for emphasis. “we’ve had this discussion.”

the whole table erupts into laughter, and joe just shrugs, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “we’ll work on it,” he says, giving you a wink.

despite the teasing, it’s impossible not to feel completely at home. every time someone passes you a dish or asks how you like the stuffing, you’re reminded just how much joe’s family has embraced you as one of their own.

later, when the dishes are done and everyone’s gathered in the living room watching football, joe pulls you onto the couch beside him, tucking you under his arm.

“so,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “what do you think? could you see us hosting thanksgiving someday? our kids running around, stealing all the rolls?”

you glance up at him, your heart doing that familiar little flip it always does when he looks at you like this—soft and sure, like he already knows the answer.

“maybe,” you say, leaning into him with a smile. “but only if you cook the turkey.”

“deal,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. and in that moment, you can’t imagine a future more perfect.

later, joe’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches you sit cross-legged on the living room floor. his nephew, who’s barely two, is perched in your lap, babbling nonsense while you pretend to understand every word like it’s the most important conversation you’ve ever had.

you’re a natural with kids, and it’s obvious. the way you hold his nephew steady while he wobbles trying to stack blocks, the exaggerated gasp you give when the tower falls over, making the little guy burst into giggles.

“oh no! our masterpiece!” you exclaim dramatically, hands to your cheeks, and joe’s nephew dissolves into another fit of laughter.

joe chuckles under his breath, but his heart does this weird little thing it’s been doing more and more lately—this tight, warm ache that leaves him feeling soft in a way he can’t quite explain.

“you’re just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help us rebuild?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder at him.

he steps into the room, crouching beside you. “looks like you’ve got it handled,” he says, nudging your shoulder with his. “you’re a natural.”

“i had a great assistant,” you say, ruffling his nephew’s hair. the toddler immediately grabs your hand, trying to pull it toward the blocks.

joe doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches the way you interact with his nephew—the way you encourage him to try again, the way you laugh when he tries to stack the biggest block on the tiniest one, the way you look at him like he’s the most amazing kid in the world.

“you’re really good at this,” joe murmurs, his voice softer now.

you glance up at him, a little shy under his gaze. “thanks,” you say, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “kids are fun. exhausting, but fun.”

joe nods, his eyes flicking between you and his nephew, who’s now trying to climb into your lap again. something about the scene makes that warm ache in his chest grow stronger. he doesn’t say it out loud, but the thought’s already rooted itself in his mind: he could picture this. you. with your kid. with his kid.

“what?” you ask, catching the look on his face.

he just shakes his head, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. “nothing,” he says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “just... you’re incredible, that’s all.”

“oh, please,” you say, rolling your eyes, but your smile gives you away.

joe doesn’t press the matter, but later, when his nephew’s napping and you’re curled up beside him on the couch, he’s already imagining what it’d be like to have a little one of your own. and the more he thinks about it, the more he knows he doesn’t just want it—he wants it with you.

[ennabear]

I really liked mean!abby, what would it be like shopping with her?

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ EEEE i’m glad u liked mean!abby cause i crave this validation!!!! i’m making this about the kitten because i know she secretly loves it, but if you want something else lmk!!! 100% projecting here because my cats are fucking FREAKS. anyways enough yap i’ll let you read now!!!

“aww, abby, look at this one!” you coo, the small white kitten sleepily stretches it’s arms out at the sound of your voice. abby shakes her head, “we don’t need another one.” she says coldly. the kitten rolls over with it’s stretch, showing off it’s soft white tummy. you reach out to grab abby’s shoulder in excitement, only to find her halfway down the aisle, eyebrows furrowed as she stares at her shopping list.

you give the kitten one last smile before turning to follow her, stopping to gaze at her beefy arms effortlessly lifting a heavy box of cat litter. she catches you staring, mumbling an annoyed “cmon. we have places to be.”

“what, you’re already antsy to get home and see your favorite kitten?” you tease, elbowing her in the side. surprisingly, she chuckles at this. “sure, whatever you say.” you turn the corner, eyeing a jar of catnip with a ribbon tied around it.

“fuck no.” she spits, your hand awkwardly halfway in the air as you reach for it. “oh, stop.” you roll your eyes. of course she has to say no to everything, she’s fucking glued to that damn list. “i’m serious, don’t you remember what happened last time? she jumped on top of the fridge and spilled the whole container, there was glass everywhere.”

“okay?” you laugh. “don’t you think our daughter deserves to get a little zooted from time to time? you do it practically every night, such a hypocrite.” she sighs deeply, debating the pros and cons quietly.

“fine. but if she pisses me off one more time, i’m sending her to rehab.”

“what’s that cat’s name?” you ask the cashier.

“the white one?” he gestures to the glass box behind him. “she’s meowrie catoinette, it’s here last day here before she gets sent to a shelter.” god, you’ve never heard a more perfect name. the stars are all aligning.

you grab abby’s wrist before she can swipe her card, using almost all of your upper body strength to hold it in place. “no. and i’m not gonna say it again.”

“what if they kill her, abby?” you plead. she’s not sympathetic at all, instead shrugging and wrestling against your grip on her wrist. “do they do that at the shelter?”

“there’s really no way of knowing.” the cashier answers. “once they leave here, it’s completely out of our hands.”

the kitten wakes from it’s nap at the perfect time, stretching it’s pouty mouth with a big yawn, then looking up at you and meowing. abby breaks free from your grip, swiping her card and quickly shoving it back into her wallet. “how much is she?” you ask.

“any adoptions within the last week of their residency are free. we wanna make sure these animals go home.”

“great!” you beam, “we’ll take her.”

abby’s mouth falls open at your audacity. no matter how much she says no, how hard she puts her foot down, you always find a way to beat her. she doesn’t say another word to you, not as the young man hands you a small meowing kitten in a cardboard box. not on the drive home. not while you eat dinner, your girls next to you slurping at a plate of fancy feast. not in the shower as you massage her scalp.

and it isn’t until you’re both in bed, half naked and half asleep, that she mumbles a grumpy “so this is our destiny now? to be cat moms?”

[aciddrattboyy]

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your boyfriend isagi lets his best friend bachira fuck you while he watches (mostly)

bachira, isagi x f!reader ☆ smut ☆ 0.8k cw: dirty talk(its bad), penetration, cucking, squirting, rough sex, threesome a/n: reupload from ao3. gulp... ive actually been debating whether or not i should post it because i actually feel so embarrassed about it like i cant believe i typed that with my own fingies but my friend convinced me to post it so for my own wellbeing all the smut will be under the cut because i'll start convulsing if i read it against my will :)

☆

how you got into this predicament you weren’t sure. the events leading up to this blurry and hard to even try to remember. all you could think about was now. the present reality being you leaning back against your boyfriend isagi while his best friend bachira fucks into you.

“ah shit isagi- she’s so- fuck- so tight-,” bachiras onslaught of crude words made you helplessly clench around his dick. with your legs behind held up and open by isagi, you were getting mercilessly pounded into. you could hear isagi chuckle darkly from right behind you, his hard clothed dick pressing into your lower back as he squeezed your thighs. 

“dont forget to play with her clit bachira,” isagi’s voice was light, playful as he let go of one of your legs to grope at your breasts instead. “wanna feel her cum on you dont you,”

“f-fuck yeah- yeah i do,” without a second of delay he lets a ball of spit fall from his lips, both men’s eyes watching as it fell down right above your sensitive clit. the groan isagi let out had your hips bucking into bachira which just fueled him even more. “you’ll cum for me right y/n? you’ll cum on my dick right? your boyfriend said it’s okay so go ahead,” you whined as bachira kept his eyes on you. there was something unnerving in his eyes and the unwavering desperate smile he had. 

“a-ah fuck-,” you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of bachira pressing his thumb onto your neglected clit, pressing his fingers into your lower abdomen as he moved his thumb in tight circles.

“y/n you sound so good- hah- cum for me baby please- wanna feel it bad,” he was babbling now, head hung low as he continued to drill himself into you. the room was filled with both you and bachira’s moans along with the wet slapping of his tight balls on your cunt. 

isagi, getting a tad jealous, wanted you to direct some of your attention back to him. hooking a finger under your jaw he tilted your head up and sideways to look at him before he placed his wet lips on yours. 

“shit thats so hot- so hot-,” meguru’s eyes shot up when he heard your muffled moan, almost cuming right then at the sight of his teammate taking control over your mouth, “i’m close- gonna cum- pretty baby how ‘bout you ask your boyfriend where i should cum,” isagi eyes meguru as he sucked on your tongue, a slight smirk tugging at his lips at how fucked out meguru looked. 

“you can’t cum until she does,” isagi’s authoritative tone has bachira’s hips stuttering. with a small whine leaving his lips, he brings his thumb back to your clit, circling it roughly. 

“cum y/n please cum- i need it- hah fuckfuck- please i- i need-,”

“shit bachira- right there right there- dont stop,” your moaning had both of their dicks twitching, their eyes locking once before a dry chuckle leaves isagi. 

“better keep going bachira make my pretty girl feel good she deserves it,” his voice was teasing as he left kisses along your temple, holding your lower face in his hand as he kept your eyes directed onto the scene in front of you.

“call me meguru- fuck baby please say it say my name,” bachira was panting now, babbling away as he tried so hard to not cum. he needed you to cum. needed to feel you cum around and call his name. 

“meguru i’m cum- im cumming ah shitshitshit,” before you had even a moment to realize what was happening, you were squirting around his dick. you were all but seeing stars as isagi reached a hand down to slap at your clit as meguru pulled out. 

“ fuck you’re so hot- squirting on me like that fucck-,” both you and meguru were a fucked out mess as isagi continued to abuse your clit and bachira kept bullying his cock before he came onto your stomach. 

“yoichi- ‘s too much- w-wait-,” you squirmed in isagis hold as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. his eyes were wide and fixated on your squirting cunt, having not ever seen you do that before. bachira watched with hungry eyes as the sheets below turned dark with your cum, your squirt soaking his dick and thighs. 

you began to tear up at the stimulation, desperate moans leaving your mouth as you told isagi it was too much but to keep going. having never seen isagi so dominating, bachira didn’t look away when isagi jerked your head towards him, ordering you to open your mouth before spitting inside. bachira could feel his dick getting hard all over again just from the filthy sight alone. 

“fucked her so good you made her squirt,” isagi muttered as he kept his eyes on your cunt. there was no way in hell he was going to tell bachira that he was the first one to do so. “ ‘m gonna fuck her now ‘n since you were so nice to her-,” isagi was quick to reposition you so you were straddling him, laying your head on his chest as you tried to even out your breathing “i’ll let you fuck her ass,”

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very much appreciated <3

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter two

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: backyard barbecues, the local market, and an unexpected discovery that has you wondering what exactly you may have just gotten yourself into. (5k)

warnings: angst (this early on, i know i'm sorry but it's for the plot i promise <3), lando and max f bickering like an old married couple

a/n: she's here!!!! sorry it took a little longer than expected but i hope you all enjoy this chapter :) pls feel free to come chat in my asks if you want to, i'd love to hear what everyone think about it so far!

previous chapter | masterlist

“Are these guys rich or something?”

Camille voices exactly the thought running through your mind as you roll to a stop to the address Lando had texted you yesterday, gawking out at the sprawling acreage in front of you. 

You peer at the impressive villa through the windshield, taking in everything with baited breath. She’s absolutely right. 

This house has to be two, if not three times the size of the one you’re all staying at, and that’s just what you can see so far. Vines bursting with colorful flowers crawl up white stone walls, curling around trellises of even more foliage, shutters on huge windows. There’s even a massive fountain in the middle of the courtyard, pristine marble, spewing crystal clear water in streams. 

It’s a classic old money countryside villa—worth millions, you assume, not even taking in the gathering of vintage and expensive sports cars parked along the cobblestone driveway. You suddenly feel so, so small compared to the extravagance of just the exterior of the place. 

Who are these people? 

A guy with brown curls similar to Lando’s pulls open the door when you ring the bell, in the middle of yelling something at someone further inside the house, before turning his gaze on you all. His face lights up in recognition at the sight of you. “Oh, hey, you’re the girl Lando won’t shut up about! I’m Max, but I’m sure he’s told you all about me, hasn’t he?” 

So this is Max. Lando’s told you a little about him, but mainly just funny stories. You wonder if Max knows his best friend is going around telling girls he’s just met about the time Max walked into a glass sliding door. 

“A little bit, not much. It’s nice to put a face to the name though!” You say politely. 

Max sighs dramatically, shaking his head in faux disappointment. He and Lando must be close. “I’m the best part of his life, and he doesn’t think to share it! What a knob. Anyways, welcome, come on in, make yourselves at home!” 

He ushers you all inside, leading you through the house and out huge double French doors leading to the backyard. The rest of their group sits on couches gathered around a stone fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting amongst themselves until they see you all coming. Max does the introductions between your two groups, but there’s one person missing. The one person you were looking forward to seeing again is nowhere to be found. 

Max must notice how your eyes search for Lando, because he grins knowingly. “He’ll be out in a bit. Work called.” 

“Oh, what does he do?” Samira chimes in. You fight the urge to throw a stone at her, because you know what she’s doing. She’s getting information on Lando because you haven’t got the guts to do it yourself yet. 

“Has he not told you yet?” Max raises a brow, taking a sip of his drink. When you shake your head, he presses his lips together, like he’s debating whether or not to tell you himself. “Yeah, sorry, I think I’m gonna stay out of this one. He gets pissy when I meddle with his budding relationships.” 

Budding relationship. Your face flames hot at the insinuation, but Samira takes it in stride, raising a skeptical brow. 

“What, is he in the mafia or something?” 

“‘Course not, that’s ridiculous. Pretty boy like him, he’d never make it in the mafia,” Max snorts. “No, he’s…look, it’s not really my place to say. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready.” 

Lando materializes from inside at that very moment, brows furrowed. There’s a tic going off in his jaw and he looks a little pissed off about something, but as soon as he looks up and sees that there’s company, he composes himself in a split second. 

“Hey, guys!” He chirps, hand raising in a wave. He makes his way over to where you all are, plopping down in the empty spot beside you without hesitation. “Glad you could make it.” 

“Thanks for the invite,” Maren replies, ever the polite one. “And the coffee yesterday.” 

Max makes an offended noise from the back of his throat at his friend. “You bought them coffee yesterday? Where was mine? You never buy me coffee.” 

“Mate, you don’t even drink coffee!” 

“Maybe I would if you bought it for me!” 

The two boys continue to bicker with each other in the same way all evening, which leads you to believe this is just how they are with one another. It gives Lando another dimension in your mind, and you like it.

There are a handful of common interests amongst your friends and Lando’s, ones that spark conversation immediately. As the night goes on, it feels like you’ve all been friends for a while, and you’re glad. Part of you was worried things would be awkward between everyone, but thankfully that isn’t the case.

It passes the time quicker than you expect. Soon enough it’s nearing midnight and you’re close to nodding off onto Lando’s shoulder, fighting to stay awake and looped into the ongoing conversation despite the sleep threatening to overtake you.

It certainly doesn’t help that he exudes warmth from where you’ve wound up pressed against each other on the small couch. You turn your head to look at him, to take in the little details of him. The angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose. The smattering of moles across his face and neck.

One wayward curl hangs over his forehead, and you want to reach out, brush it away. You don’t think you’re quite at that stage of comfort with each other yet, but then he tears his attention away from the rest of the group and meets your gaze with what you can only describe as pure fondness dripping from his lazy grin. 

“You alright?” He says softly, shifting his body to face you a little more. 

You nod, because you’re more than alright. For the first time in a while, everything feels just the way it should be. “Are you?” 

“Hm?” Lando replies noncommittally, sipping his drink. “Fine, why?” 

“Earlier, after your phone call, you seemed…upset. I don’t mean to pry, I just wanted to see if everything was alright.” 

“Oh, that? Nah, that was nothing, just my boss. Wanted to talk work stuff, but I wasn’t feeling it, y’know?” He shrugs. It feels like there’s more to what he’s saying, but you don’t want to push too hard. You’re still familiarizing yourself with him. “You’re sweet to check on me, though.” 

“Okay. But if you, um, if you need to talk or anything, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

Lando traces a finger briefly over the thin strap of your dress, just over your shoulder, before dropping his chin into his palm. You already know he’s about to change the subject. Involuntarily, you shiver at his touch, and he definitely notices, because he suddenly looks a little smug.

“Pretty dress,” He hums, tilting his head. 

You weren't trying to make a good impression on Lando, but you weren't exactly not trying, if that makes sense. It doesn't really make sense to you, but you’d gone for cute but comfy with a dress you’d borrowed, hoping it says you’d made an effort, but not too much of one. 

Suddenly you can’t remember what you were just thinking about not being at a certain stage of comfort with one another. Is it weird that you're secretly pleased he liked it enough to mention it?

“It’s not mine,” You say softly. Lando lets out a noise of question. “I borrowed it from Maren.” 

“Ah. Well, you should definitely get one for yourself then. It’s a nice color on you.” 

You want to say thank you, or really just say anything at all, but the moment your gaze flicks back up to his, you’re lost in his eyes again. Everything around you blurs into the background until it feels like it’s just the two of you. You’re teetering on the edge of something, and fuck, it would be so easy to just go over. To let yourself fall and fall and fall into his waiting arms at the bottom. 

Suddenly you hear your own voice in your head.

Don’t get attached. 

Clearing your throat, you pull back from Lando as smooth as you can manage with him muddling up your brain like this. “It’s late. We should get going,” You say, a tad louder than necessary. 

“She’s right,” Camille chimes in, taking note of the slight urgency in your tone. “We’ve got a guided hike in the morning—sunrise, can you believe it?” 

Lando’s mouth dips into a tiny frown for a moment, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared. He nods understandingly. “Sure. I’ll walk you out.” 

You all say your goodbyes and thank you’s, to which the boys wholeheartedly agree you should all do this again sometime before you part ways. 

Lando trails behind a bit like he’s unsure, but catches up to you quickly on the way out, shoulder bumping against yours lightly as you fall into step with each other. His hand brushes yours and lingers a little, pinkies almost intertwining. 

“Tonight was nice,” He says casually. 

“Yeah, it was,” You agree, bobbing your head. 

“Would you—I dunno, maybe want to hang out again?”

“With you guys? ‘Course we would, I’m sure the girls would love to.” You smile, casting a glance at your friends. They’ve all coincidentally already gotten into the car, but if you squint hard enough you can see them gawking at Lando and yourself through the windshield.

How very not subtle of them. 

Lando rocks on the balls of his feet almost nervously, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “No, I meant, like…just the two of us.” 

“You mean, like, alone?” 

“A date. I’m trying to ask you out on a date,” He blurts, nose scrunching. “And failing miserably apparently.” 

“Oh!” You feel your face burn hot, yet you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face even if you tried. You’re about to take him up on the offer, but before you can say a word, another voice pops into the conversation. 

“Yes! She says yes! Whatever you’re asking, her answer is yes!” Samira yells through the window enthusiastically, muffled through the glass but still very audible.

Neither you nor Lando can stop the laughs that escape your mouths, especially when you turn around and all three girls are shooting you excited thumbs ups. 

“Guess that’s settled then,” You giggle, turning back to face him. 

“It’s a date.” He pushes forward, catching you by surprise when he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. As cliche as it sounds, the touch of his lips against your skin, although fleeting, sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. “I’ll text you later to plan, yeah? Get home safe.” 

He waits for you to pull around the circular driveway, and as his waving form gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, a glimmer of hope worms its way through you. 

In the back of your mind, you know you should keep it in check. This could be totally casual. A short summer fling that won’t hurt anyone no matter how it ends. But maybe, just maybe, it could turn into something more. 

-------

Your schedules don't end up giving you a free afternoon together until a few days later, though you come to realize it only makes you look forward to seeing Lando again even more. 

You're supposed to be meeting him at the local market in the center of town at half past one, but you find yourself there early, wanting to get a lay of the land before he gets there.

Evidently Lando had the same idea, because you spot him within the first few steps into the open air marketplace, squatting next to a stand with crates and buckets of bright flowers. He’s already got a bouquet clutched in his hands, but still he browses through the different bunches. 

“Flowers for Max?” You joke. 

Lando shoots to his feet so fast he nearly hits his head on the lightbulb hanging above, only managing to miss it by mere inches as he startles at the sudden voice. When he realizes it’s just you, he snorts with laughter. “He wishes! They’re for you, actually.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, you,” He says teasingly. You don’t even know what to say. Flowers on the first date might be normal, yet nobody’s ever done it for you before. You’re touched, but he must take your silence as something else, because his smile drops the tiniest bit. “Unless you see something you like better? I can still put these back.” 

You study the flowers he’s picked out already. A little on the smaller side, it boasts a beautiful mix of both soft and brighter colors while still being simple—it’s exactly the sort of thing you would’ve chosen if you were buying flowers for yourself. “They’re perfect.” 

He pays for the flowers and passes them over to you with the biggest smile on his face, one that grows even bigger when you tuck them carefully into the crook of your arm after giving the delicate blossoms a sniff. 

You notice the camera hanging around his neck at that moment, despite knowing close to nothing about golf, you do know a thing or two about photography. “Golfer and photographer? Impressive.” 

“Amateur at best.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you're just being modest.” 

“Not even a little bit. I just enjoy taking pictures of things I like.” 

He swings around to face you fully, bringing the camera up to his eye and pausing only a second to make sure you're in focus before snapping a photo of you. The shutter clicks twice before you have the sense to hold up a hand out in front of you, a surprised laugh spilling from your mouth. Even then he grins, takes another one before lowering the camera. "What, you don't like having your photo taken?" 

“I’m just not very photogenic!” 

Lando scoffs immediately, shooting you a pointed look. “That is such a lie.” 

“I probably just broke your fancy expensive camera,” You joke. 

“We’ll just have to wait til I get it developed and see. I think it’ll turn out wonderful.” 

“And if it doesn’t?” 

“I’ll buy you dinner. If I’m right, then…you let me buy you dinner.” 

You let out a noise of surprise. “Well, that doesn’t seem very fair, does it? You’d have to buy me dinner either way.” 

“I can think of worse things than taking a pretty girl out for a nice meal.” His words take you by surprise, but judging by the smug grin on his face, Lando takes pride in eliciting a reaction from you. “Shall we?” And just like that, he’s sauntering off down the path like he didn’t just leave you at a loss for words, pep in his step even as he turns around to shoot you a roguish smile. “You coming or what?” 

You push aside the fluttering in your chest, giving your head an amused shake before catching up with him. It’s cute that he thinks he’s funny. Even cuter that he seems rather eager to take you out on a second date before the first one has even started. 

The two of you wander through the market aimlessly, stopping here and there at various stalls to have a look around. If you had the means, you’d buy everything you see. You wind up picking up some gorgeous looking fruit and a bottle of locally pressed wine, a few small souvenirs for your family back home, but the most important thing you buy isn’t even for you. 

Lando had lingered at a stall selling handmade jewelry early on, seemingly interested in a woven bracelet of blues and whites, but didn't pick it up. Part of you wonders why, but it sparks an idea in your head. 

You tug at Lando’s arm lightly, smiling guiltily when he turns to look at you. “I think I left my phone at that fruit stand a few stalls back.” 

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your body, you muppet,” He chides, shaking his head fondly. “C’mon, let’s find it.” 

“No, I can get it. Why don’t you find us something good for lunch? I’m starving.” 

“Are you sure?” Lando cocks his head, shoulder bumping against yours. “I don’t mind.” 

“I’ll be right back,” You promise. To sweeten the deal, you make the bold move of pressing a kiss to his cheek. He freezes under your touch, but you pass it off as him not expecting it and being taken by surprise. “Two minutes, okay? Maybe less.” 

As soon as you confirm he isn’t paying any attention to you, you slip back through the crowd, finding the same stall and buying the bracelet he’d been looking at. You tuck it safely into your pocket, quickly making your way back to Lando before he realizes you’ve been gone long and comes looking for you. 

“All good?” He asks upon noticing you reappear by his side. 

You wiggle your phone in the air. “Never better. What's for lunch?” 

Lando grins happily, reciting the spiel that the very friendly older man at the food stand gave to him when he’d decided on the delicious looking food. Sure, maybe he stumbles over his pronunciation a little bit, but you find his giggled embarrassment sweet. 

You find a semi-secluded bench a little jaunt away to enjoy your food, and you do enjoy it. You think it might be one of the best things you’ve ever had, and when you tell Lando, he looks pleasantly surprised. As you continue to savor every bite, Lando’s eyes light up with amusement, so much so that you wonder what’s suddenly got him all smiling big like this. 

“What?” You say incredulously. 

He gestures to the lower part of his face. “You’ve got a little…” 

Mortified, you mirror his actions on your own face, searching for the food you’ve somehow gotten smudged on your chin. After a few tries that have him shaking his head, you whine, “Help me, please?”, to which he obliges with a soft chuckle. He reaches out, thumb rubbing at the corner of your mouth briefly. 

This moment almost seems too intimate, but then again, so have a lot of moments between the two of you. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’ve still got something on your face, but then his gaze flicks down to your lips again almost imperceptibly, and you have an inkling of what’s about to happen. 

“Did you get it?” You ask softly. You’re not sure why you break the silence, but it's definitely not because you don’t want him to kiss you. If you think about it, you’ve wanted Lando to kiss you this whole time. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I got it," He replies. His hand lingers, long fingers splaying flat under the curve of your jaw now. You surprise yourself by shifting forward slightly, as if encouraging Lando to close the gap. He leans in closer and closer still, and your eyes fall shut on their own accord, heartbeat hammering against your rib cage. 

You nearly melt the moment his lips touch yours, held up only by the firm grasp of his hand cupping your face. It’s a little awkward with the food in between the two of you blocking you from pushing closer to him, but you make it work, reaching over it to wrap your fingers around Lando’s forearm. You feel like you need it to ground yourself, because holy shit, you’re kissing him. 

Well, more like he’s kissing you, because you’re definitely not the one leading the way. Lando kisses like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and judging by how you feel weak in the knees when you’re not even standing, he does know exactly what he’s doing. 

You’re falling, falling, falling, getting lost in him, until— 

“Wait, hang on,” He breathes, pulling away. Your eyes flutter open in an almost dazed sort of way, focusing on him in hopes of finding him in the same state, but all you’re met with is…guilt? Sadness? Shame? Maybe a mixture of everything, you’re not sure. All you know is that it has your heart plummeting in your chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Everything hits you at once, and suddenly you’re crashing back down to reality. Lando thinks kissing you was a mistake. You were so sure he liked you back, sure enough to go on a date with him, and now here you are with egg on your face, feeling unbelievably stupid. Hurt. 

“I’m gonna—I have to go,” You mumble, scrambling to your feet. You don’t even have an excuse prepared, you just need to get out of here, get away from Lando before you spontaneously combust from the sheer embarrassment. 

His hand encircles your wrist before you can make it even a step away. 

“No, no, don’t! Please, just let me…let me explain. I promise things will all make sense in a second, if you’ll just hear me out,” He says pleadingly. Despite your better judgment, you sit back down, expression guarded. Lando blows out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly. “Look, I like you. I really like you, and I wish things were as simple as that, but there’s things I’ve not told you. Things that, if you knew, you might not want to be with me.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, burying your burning face into your hands with a muffled groan. “Oh my god, you are in the mafia, aren’t you?” 

“The—what?” Lando blurts, sounding wildly confused. “No, I’m not, I’m not in the mafia. Are you mad? I’m a Formula 1 driver!” 

You crack one eye open, then the other. “Formula 1.” You repeat, disbelieving. “Like, the racing thing?”  

He nods enthusiastically, tells you everything—how his childhood dream turned into a career, how he gets to travel all around the world doing what he loves. The fame, the lifestyle, the opportunities he’s worked so hard for, all while sounding entirely humble and grateful for everything and everyone who’ve gotten him to where he is today. 

It’s impressive, to say the least. The fact that he’s still fairly young and has already accomplished more than what some people have in a whole lifetime. Then he gets to how the chaos that doing what he does at the level he does it at wreaks havoc on other parts of his life, and you feel a wave of sympathy roll over you. 

The tradeoff for all that success is not getting to have a normal life in almost every aspect, and given the downward set of his brow as he tells you about it, this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation with someone. 

“It makes being in a relationship…difficult, is the best way I can describe it. I’m never in one place more than a week most times, and the whole time zones thing makes it harder too. And after these two weeks are up, I’m already off to somewhere else, jumping right back into the second half of the season and hitting the ground running.” 

Realization hits you like a truck at this point, and you have to fight the urge to laugh out loud. Of course Lando is who he is. Of course you had to form a connection with someone with a life as complicated and as far away from your own as possible, someone who couldn’t be in a normal relationship even if he wanted to. 

“I wish it were different, but I just—I wanted you to know what you might be getting into if we…” He trails off, but you know what he means. If we want to get involved with each other. If we want to be together. 

“So like, long distance, but infinitely harder.” You’re doing your best to put a light spin on the massive amount of new information you’ve just acquired, but you’re barely managing to process it all, let alone even think about what it would be like to date someone as well known as Lando. 

“Yeah, something like that,” He says softly, shoulders creeping up towards his ears. “It’s—well, it’s a lot of baggage for anyone to have to deal with. Lots of eyes and ears, pretty public. Not really your cup of tea, I’ve noticed.” 

He’s right. You’ve never been one to enjoy being the center of attention, preferring to fly under the radar. Blend into the background. And you hate to say it, but knowing all of what he’s just told you changes things. You don’t think you can handle being thrust into the public eye, and it makes you feel like the most selfish person in the world to walk away from him just because of who he happens to be. 

Your life would be forever altered, your sense of privacy and security gone, and that isn’t something you want to compromise. You’re comfortable being nobody significant. With Lando, that would change, no matter how many measures you take to make sure it doesn’t. 

As much as you’ve come to like him—and you really like him—it’s just not something you can see yourself being fully okay with. 

“I’m so sorry, Lando,” You say quietly. He just smiles sadly, like he already knew it was coming, and you can't help but think about how many relationships—platonic or romantic—that he's lost out on because of his status. The thought alone makes you feel even worse. “I like you too, but I can’t—I don’t think I can be what you want me to be. It’s not me, it’s not the way I can live my life.” 

“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t got a reason to be,” He murmurs, thumb rubbing across your knuckles comfortingly. “Knew it was too good to be true, didn’t I?” 

“I’m sorry,” You say again, hoping that Lando knows you truly mean it. “I wish it were different, but—”

Lando shakes his head, interrupting before you can grasp for any other ways to apologize. He squeezes your hand reassuringly again. “Hey. It’s alright, I promise. I’d never ask anyone to do something they aren’t comfortable with. Especially not you.” 

Even when he’s sad, he’s still so thoughtful. It would take a different kind of awful monster not to want to be with him. Apparently that monster is you. 

You wish you were someone else, someone who could take huge changes in stride and never miss a step, but you’re not. Someone who knows what they want and goes for it—who knows who they want and doesn’t let anything get in their way. 

Unfortunately, you’re not that kind of person. 

“What do we do now?” 

Lando drops your hand to run his fingers through his curls, down to the back of his neck sheepishly. “Dunno about you, but I’ve—d’you think there’s any chance we can still be friends? I really do enjoy spending time with you lot, we all do.” 

“Friends would be nice,” You say softly. It feels strange to agree with him so wholeheartedly. 

Maybe it’ll be awkward between the two of you, maybe you won’t even be able to sit next to each other with what’s happened today, but you can’t bring yourself to care all that much. The only thought running through your mind is that you don’t want to lose Lando, even as just a friend. 

You’ve gotten attached. 

The bracelet you’d bought Lando burns a hole through your pocket. It would be weird to give it to him now, after you’d just turned him down, but you can’t exactly just return it either. You don’t really want to. 

Maybe it won’t go to him, but you’re sure you’ll find something to do with it someday.

The girls are waiting in the living room when you finally make your way home, gathered on the sofa with identical innocent smiles like you hadn’t seen them with their heads poked through the curtains. Samira bounces off the cushions with what you can only describe as a gleeful cackle to grab your flowers, showing them off to the other two like a game show host before grabbing your hand and dragging you into the center of their blanket pile. 

You know they're expecting good news and you wish you could give it to them, but you can’t. 

“So??? How’d it go?” 

“He got her flowers, obviously it went well!” 

“Okay, spill, now,” Camille presses, easing the bouquet out of Samira’s hands and setting it on the coffee table. “What’s he like, what’d you do—” 

“When’s your second date?” chimes in Maren excitedly. The other two nod their vigorous agreement. 

“Lando’s amazing,” You sigh, letting yourself fall back against the plush pillows. “He’s super sweet and really funny, we walked around and looked at all the vendors, and then we had lunch and talked for ages, and…there won’t be a second date.”

“What? That’s impossible, you guys were like, made for each other!” 

You sigh, rub at a flower petal that’s fallen away from the bouquet. “It’s complicated. I don’t—I’m not ready to get into all of it again this soon, but long story short, our lives are just too different. Being with him would mean compromising things I’m just not ready to lose right now.” 

If any of them wants to push for a better explanation, and you know they do, they refrain from doing so. They know you’ll tell them when you’re ready. 

But even Samira can tell you’re not quite as okay as you insist you are, and she’s been rooting for you extra hard. She leans her head onto your shoulder, squeezes your hand reassuringly. ��You did what was best for you, and that’s all that matters.” 

“We agreed to still be friends, so we can still hang out with the guys and stuff like that, but—I mean, yeah, it just didn’t work out.” You don’t think you sound very convincing at all, but it’s the bed you've made, you’ve got to lay in it. “I just don’t really want to talk about it right now, but it's fine. I'm fine.” 

It has to be. You have to be. You’ve made sure of it.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new chapter :)

[hatakemrs]

Hq boys and the little things they do in their relationship pt.2

Warnings: None

Characters: Sugawara Koshi, Tsukishima Kei, Kozume Kenma, Bokuto Koutaro.

Pt.1 Pt.2

Sugawara would remember small details about you. And when I say small, I mean even the tiniest ones! This man doesn't forget anything when it comes to you. He knows your go-to-coffee order. How much spice you want in your food. He remembers every achievement you told him about.That one time you won a debate in 8th grade? Or the one time you won a race? He remembers everything. One day you were wearing your shoes and he goes, "You're not gonna put the left one first?", seeing you confused he clarifies, "You always put on your left shoe first." He holds your hands whenever he sees you playing with your ring or fidgeting your fingers because he knows you're anxious.

Tsukishima makes playlists for you. It's probably something dumb named like "Eww love songs" but will have the most soft comforting love songs. He will share the playlist with you but will never admit that those songs remind him of you because that's so lame right? Also shares his headphones with you and only you because he doesn't like sharing. Look I also kind of think he listens to Taylor Swift but will rather die than admit it but when you play a song by her you can see him lip sync the lyrics. When you send him a playlist of the songs that reminds you of him, he teases you but does he play that playlist on repeat? Yes, especially if he misses you. Kei would also make a playlist where you can add your favourite songs along with his.

Kenma is weirdly attentive towards you. 'Weirdly' because he will play a game and it might seem like his whole focus is on the game but he hears everything you say. You would be ranting about your day while he's on his console saying, "Why did you stop? Tell me what that friend of yours said next." He would get off the console after a few minutes of course but you're surprised that he actually attentive and remembers what you told him. "How do you do that?", you finally asked him one day. " Do what?", his eyes were fixed on the screen. "Play the game and yet hear everything I say?", he just shrugs and says,   "Kuro should get credit for that. When we were young, he talked about volleyball and I just played my game but I had to pay attention to him or he would get annoying."

Bokuto lets you put makeup on his face. First he didn't agree to the idea, but you somehow convinced him and now he asks you sometimes to do it. You put fake eyelashes on him and he was shocked at how good he looks with those. He also likes when you paint his nails. He always picks black nails but sometimes he goes for colourful ones. He would even let you style him for a date. His own fashion sense is….. well not good. So you're his personal stylist and he doesn't mind if you put a little makeup on when he goes out because it makes his face look better. He would even show off his nails to his friends (especially Aakashi and Kuroo) and tell them how much you love him. He would be so proud that he was dressed by his s/o. Most of his fans online loved and appreciated this while others criticised him as it was not manly but he didn't care.

A/n: Hope you guys liked it<3 Take caree <<3

[cosmicschmidt]

UNTIL I FOUND YOU (3)

PART 1, PART 2

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,7K

Warnings: Reader pretty much just replaces Lucy Gray, Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two weeks ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics, mention of a wound, brutality!!

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Previously…

"Wait-" Y/N grabs a hold of his free wrist.

"Can you get us some food? Please? We´re practically starving."

Coriolanus just nodded at her quietly, the space between the both of them growing as he pulled away from her. The girl suddenly feels empty without him standing next to her like a shield that´s been protecting her has been taken away.

The reporter - whose name seems to be Lucky Flickermann - now turned back to the cage ends his live report,

"The 10th annual Hunger Games are soon approaching, so come down to the Zoo and see the Tributes before it´s too late." he does a dramatic pause.

"And I mean, too late," he adds with a small smirk.

"Capitol news."

"I´m Lucretius.", he looks up to the sky before stretching out his hand and catching a coin.

"Lucky Flickermann." with that the live report ends.

Y/N´s words ring in Coriolanus´ ears for the next few hours, during the lecture and confrontation with Dr. Gaul, the second he reached the cafeteria, he put as much food as possible on his plate, filling it with various goods.

Multiple students chatter around him, but he´s not up for a debate about whose tribute will win, never the less just a simple conversation, the thought of it alone brings Coriolanus discomfort. So his eyes scatter across the filled room, and when he spots a small empty two-seat table he walks over to it and sits down.

As he takes a seat he waits for a second, the feeling of someone watching him never leaving since he collected a plate and filled it with a bunch of food, the view of it alone causing his stomach to erupt into quiet rumbling.

With a quick look around, checking if someone is watching him, he takes hold of the blue napkin and places it on his lap, his hands spring into action and he places a few cookies into the blue fabric.

"Trying to fatten that poor girl up, so you can finally start taking bets?" a voice right across from the small table pulls him out of his thoughts. Before him stands Sejanus, a look of anger displayed on his face, while his hands hold him up on the table.

Coriolanus stops in his tracks, Sejanus´ tone something he does not need right now.

"You think, they´ll give these kids a schap if we don´t give them a reason to do it." although it was meant as a question, the way Coriolanus´ tone changed throughout speaking made it seem like a simple statement.

"How do you think your Tribute will have a chance if he can´t eat." the mention of Marcus causes the look in Sejanus' eyes to soften, Coriolanus knew what to say in order to convince his… friend.

A short moment of silence washes over their conversation, Sejanus lets out a sigh before sitting down on the still-empty chair, his eyes not finding the blue eyes that bore into the side of his face.

"He was my classmate. Back in 2…" Sejanus says in a low voice.

In return, Coriolanus takes a look across the room.

"It's not your fault he's there-" Coriolanus speaks up, shaking his head a little.

"I know. I'm so blameless I'm choking on it. My father bought him for me you know, at the reaping… just so he can show me, that I could never go back to 2." Coriolanus stays quiet, as he watches the Brown haired boy tear up, guilt eating away at him.

"But being Capitol is gonna kill me," he adds, his head shaking slightly, his gaze empty.

"So do something about it." Coriolanus cuts in, his expression stern.

He just continues filling the napkin with a few slices of a sandwich, the look on his face challenging Sejanus to do the same.

"You're quite the Rebell." the brown-haired boy laughs out, before he whipes his nose, blinking once then twice in the hope of no tears falling.

"Oh, I am. I'm bad news." the blonde replies, a teasing tone to his words. All Sejanus can do is chuckle softly, before his own hands grab a soft napkin.

-

Both of them find themselves getting closer and closer to the 'zoo' where the Tributes are held against their will, displayed for everyone to inspect. From far away, the mentor of the girl from District 12 was able to make out the crowd that formed around the metal bars.

Coriolanus can't help but let his eyes wander, his blue orbs desperately trying to catch a glimpse of Y/N, as he takes big strides away from Sejanus as both of them part for the purpose of finding their tribute.

"Marcus!" he heard in the distance, but the voice was blurred.

Coriolanus can't focus on the rest of the words that leave Sejanus' mouth, as his eyes linger on the metal bars that separate him from her. He finally spots her, his tense shoulders relaxing a tad bit. The left side of her body is pressed against Jessup's, while Y/N's hand lays on the side of his neck. Both of them sitting on a rock with their backs to the crowd.

Coriolanus can tell that her mouth is moving, yet he can't seem to grasp onto what she's whispering in the ear of the boy who sits next to her. The blonde can't help but clench his jaw at the scene unfolding before his eyes, as his hands wrap a notch tighter around the food-filled fabric.

"Y/N" he speaks up, finally trusting his voice enough to do so.

The H/C-haired girl's eyes catch her mentor's quiet whisper, her head snapping to the side facing him. The small simile that spreads across her face does not go unnoticed by Coriolanus, as she brushes off her clothes. With small, yet quick steps she finally closes the distance between them.

His hands twitch beside his body, the urge to feel her skin against his resurfacing, as their eye contact never fades.

"You remembered?"

"Hmm?" Coriolanus hums, his eyes not leaving her face, she throws him a questioning look at his speechless expression.

"Oh right, right. I got this for you." he quickly says, the weight of the food in his hands leaving the second he places the napkin in her hands, their fingers touching for a split second, sending a shiver down his back.

Y/N herself can't help but feel her face warm at the contact, but she hides her face a little as she looks down at the meal in her hands. Within seconds she unwraps the cookies and the sandwich slices.

"Thank you, this will help us a lot."

"Us?" the boy from the Capitol mutters under his breath, wondering why you would even think about sharing the food he just gave you.

"Common, Jessup, eat," Y/N says with a nod of her head, her hand offering him a piece of some expensive-looking dish.

"'m not hungry," he mutters under his breath, his eyes staring daggers in Coriolanus' direction.

"No I insist, you have to eat." she pushes the food into his hands, and he throws her a thankful smile alongside a nod, yet before he walks back to the rock they sat on, he throws Coriolanus another look.

The mentioned boy holds the stare, and as Jessup turns away, his eyes land on a small wound that rests right underneath his ear. His brows furrow in confusion.

"What happened to his neck?"

Y/N gulps, her eyes not finding his.

"Bat bite. First night on the train." she nods sadly, her mind going back to when it happened.

"He didn't sleep a wink on the journey, making sure to keep the bats off so I can get some rest…" The girl's words grow quieter, her eyes trailing to the left as they find a Capitol girl making fun of the girl from District 10.

Y/N frowns when she observes the 'mentor' taunt her own tribute, holding a water bottle in her direction only to withdraw it when she reaches out to grab it. Y/N clenches her jaw at the sight.

"I learned in twelve that hunger is a weapon."

"Your friend over there sure knows it…"

"She's not my friend she is.." he thinks for a second, "..Poison with perfect teeth."

The girl from District 12 lets out a laugh, yet it's not fully genuine, her eyes fall back onto the food in her palms, a sickening feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. Meanwhile, Coriolanus grabs a hold of the metal bar, as he leans forward looking down at her.

"Are you going to share everything that I give to you with Jessup?" he asks, his breath fanning along a strand of loose hair, their close proximity making it possible for him to whisper.

"Why?" the girl's eyes widened in confusion at his question.

"Think I can collect my strengths so I can strangle them in the arena? Coriolanus, I can not kill these people.." she hisses out, her words make her look almost helpless, and again the blonde feels the urge to reach out and grab her hand.

"But I might have a chance to help you," he replies quickly, his eyes somehow holding ambition.

"There is a possibility that I can make some suggestions to the game makers, I might even be able to let the audience send gifts into the arena. Food and water…" he mumbles assuringly, his head nodding along his words.

"Listen, the people can donate to you, so you have to convince them to like you, which they already do. You're the first to volunteer, ever, and for your sister too, that kind of stuff catches attention," he says enthusiastically.

"I don't want to talk about that, what I did there was no choice, I had to do that. Don't you understand?" she asks slightly taken back, her brows furring in bewilderment.

"Besides, I've seen the arena, there's nowhere to hide, what's the point in winning the audience over? The guards say you get money if you get more people to watch, and you say you want to help me… which is it?" she asks unsure, her eyes boring into his, as she rests her own hand on one of the cold metal bars, awaiting his response.

Coriolanus' mouth parts, yet no words escape, before his gaze lands on her hand, so close to his, and before he can stop himself his palm engulfs her smaller hand.

"Both," he states with confidence, as he gives her a firm nod, letting her know that he truly means it. Y/N breathes out in relief, as she nods back at him, the warmth of his calloused hands bringing her comfort. Yet, she wiggles her hand out from under his slightly tightening grasp, taking a sandwich and taking a bite, her stomach screaming at her to finish the whole meal.

As she continues to chew, she catches Coriolanus looking at the food in her grasp, when she catches his stare, he expeditiously averts his gaze, looking around as if she didn't just catch him ogling. Without a word, she takes one of the cookies and hands it to him through the bars.

"Oh, no thank you." he refuses to take the baked good from her.

"Saw you staring, just take it," she says with a shrug of her shoulders.

He hesitantly takes it from her, as the both of them lower to the ground in order to eat while sitting.

"Thought there was plenty of food in the Capitol," she asks, although it did not sound like a question, more like a fact that she simply stated. Her eyes are still on the sandwich in her grasp, while Coriolanus himself breaks the cookie in two, eating the first half of it in one bite.

He lets out a laugh at her statement, her words throwing him years back to the war.

"You know one time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste. Just to stop the pain in my stomach." Y/N scrunches her nose in disgust.

"Well, how was it?"

He thinks for a moment, a smile forming on his lips, "Pasty." he laughs out, and Y/N can't help but let a giggle slip out as well before she muffles it with another bite of the food. Coriolanus' eyes stay on her, his eyes glimmering in amusement.

But the small moment dies when the girl looks away, her head turning slightly as she looks over her shoulder, the blonde's eyes follow hers.

"Little Wovey… she's so sweet… wouldn't hurt a fly… she reminds me of my sister…" she says, her head turning away from the little girl that currently rests against her district partner who looks deep in thought. Y/N swallows thickly at the thought of her little sister, now all on her own at home, having to watch her only relative die in the games. The thought alone causes the corners of her eyes to burn, yet she won't allow herself to shed one tear, not one, she promised her.

"I'm sorry…" the blonde whispers, as his face holds concern and guilt, he sends her a small assuring smile in order to lighten her mood.

"You seem like a good man, Coriolanus," Y/N claims.

Coriolanus slightly shakes his head, his eyes everywhere but never meeting her own. It seems like he's about to say something, but Y/N interrupts him.

"It would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances," she quickly adds, her eyes on the almost completely eaten sandwich, while she fidgets with her fingers.

"How about… we make a deal," he replies.

"A deal?" she asks, her eyes snapping back up to meet his blue ones.

"Yes. After all of this… I'll take you out on a date," he says with a serious tone. His hand reaches through the bars as it wraps around one of her wrists.

She laughs out at his 'deal', "Yeah, exactly, have a drink or two, very funny." she laughs again in disbelief while rolling her eyes at his attempt to lighten the mood, although that's pretty impossible.

"I'm serious."

"Have you seen these people? I don't stand a chance, I'll be dead within minutes in the arena, I never learned how to fight or hunt, my chances are practically zero." she huffs out, her free hand wrapping around his hand that is holding her other hand, attempting at pulling him off.

Yet his grip tightens, "I'm being serious like I said before, maybe I can change some rules, bend some even, I don't care, we'll go on that date," he says again.

Just as Y/N opens her mouth, a response at the tip of her tongue ready to be released, a scream erupts through the air.

Brandy, the tribute that had been taunted by her mentor, grabbed the bottle out of the glass, as she took hold of the mentor's collar pulling her closer with an angry yell. With a quick smash, she shatters the bottle into pieces and uses the remains as a weapon, forcefully stabbing it into the side of her neck. The already red-dressed girl is now covered in more red.

The screams alerted every individual around them, as other people screamed in horror at the brutality.

Y/N can't help but gasp in shock, just like Coriolanus she's back on her feet, her eyes trained on the girl on the ground gasping for air.

Coriolanus runs up right to the other mentor's side, using his hands to put pressure on the wound as a horrified expression spreads all over his features.

"It's okay. it's okay, I'll get help," he mutters out of breath, frantically looking out for someone who would provide what she needs.

"Somebody help us please!" after his plea, the sound of guns firing runs through the air, and with a thump, Brandy holds onto her stomach before hitting the ground, dead.

At the sound of shooting, Coriolanus hides his face underneath his arms, shielding himself from bullets that could hit him at any given moment. As he slowly raises back up, the horrified expression returns to his face, he watches the life drain from Arachne's face, her skin growing paler.

"Oh…no, no.." he rasps out, the events leave him speechless, and before he can register it, Peacekeepers roughly grab him by the arm and pull him up from the ground away from the lifeless body.

Taglist: (Crossed-out can’t be tagged)

@prettybliss | @unclecrunkle | @yourlocalwofreader | @ennycutie | @unamused-boss | @spatt777 | @xyzstar | @especiallythewomenandthechildren | @mysteris-things | @crackheadhours | @guacam011y | @clintssupremacy | @importantgalaxyrunaway | @zucchinimalfoy |

[robo-writing]

Sometimes I sit here and think about baby Logan, you know the one from the first X-men movie? With the grey hoodie? Yeah that baby Logan. Anyway, I think about Deadpool pulling worst Logan into more time shinaganen shit and of course worst Logan’s gf (who was his gf in his last universe but of course died during the attack, but this one either never met her universe Logan or something) and somehow, she runs into baby first Xmen Logan wearing the grey hoodie and running around clueless as where the hell he is, until he bumps into a surprisingly pretty woman who for some reason is cooing over him and calling him a precious baby,(and did she just pspspspsps at me?? I’m not a fucking cat? No the hair doesn’t look like cat ears?! The hell wrong with you lady?!) and he only gets her name before a older version of him in a gaudy yellow suit shows up to grab her and take her away, grumbling about having to keep track of two overgrown toddlers while a mouthy guy in a red leather suit says some stupid shit before following after the older version of Logan into some strange portal. Of course soon after baby Logan gets found by Xavier and when he ask who the woman named y/n is, Xavier just looks at him confused. (Of course perhaps that Logan will meet y/n a few years down the road, or he never sees her again, a shame really, she was quiet a looker, despite being so weird, he can stand being called a baby or a kitten by her again)

Waking up in a strange building is one thing, but walking out of an elevator to find a woman starting him down is another—especially when she keeps calling him kitty.

“Oh my god, look at you! You’re so young!” Her voice is high-pitched, oohing and ahhing at him like some kind of attraction. Maybe it’d piss him off more if you didn’t look so cute doing it.

“Cute lil kitten aren’t you? And your ears are so fluffy!”

You reach up to touch his hair, and he would grab your hand if someone else didn’t already beat him to it.

A gaudy yellow suit is the first thing he sees, then—what the fuck?

“Doll, I told you not to go wandering off,” the stranger says, and it’s now that his day goes from bizarre to fucking impossible because he’s staring at himself. Older, sure, but his voice, his body, damn near everything—

“Oh peanut! It’s time to go!” Says another man in a bright red jumpsuit, and he can hear the other man groan in response.

“Alright, you heard him.”

“Aw,” you complain, following after the two of them. “Wanted to pet him before we go.”

You wave to the younger man behind you, giving him a wink along with your name. “Come find me when you’re all grown up kitty! I’ll be waiting for you!”

“Wait—!”

His words fall on deaf ears, the trio disappearing soon after in a yellow doorway. His jaw drops, unsure of what just happened was real or if he’s just high as a fucking kite.

After a couple of introductions and many confused glances, he finds out that the three people he met are not students or professors, and that no one in the room had ever seen them before. Years pass along with many, many, life changing events and his odd welcome party becomes a memory of the past.

That is, until he finds out Charles has hired a new school counselor, and she looks just a bit too similar to be a coincidence. Once he gets over the shock he extends his hand, to which you accept.

“Names Logan.” He says, and you give yours in return, the same name you gave him all those years ago. It’s now that you point to his hair with a small smile.

“Do you style your hair or does it always come out like that?”

His eyebrow raises, unsure of the line of questioning. “Not really? Why do you ask?”

You open your mouth, then close it with a shake of your head. “Forget it, you’re gonna think it’s silly.”

“Oh yeah?” Logan replies. “Try me.”

You bite your lip, debating on whether you should speak, eventually choosing to bite the bullet. “Well, it’s just that your hair kinda looks like ears. Y’know, like a cat.”

His chuckle is instant, evolving into a laugh. You’re getting more and more nervous, afraid you said something wrong until his hand gives you a good pat on the shoulder.

“Y’know, you’re the second girl to tell me that,” he muses, leaning in close. “But come to think of it, ‘kitty’ has a better ring to it, don’tcha think?”

[starry-bi-sky]

Danyal Al Ghul: Incorrect Quotes and Miscellaneous Thoughts

Incorrect quotes-style snippets specifically for my danyal al ghul au here (which i really need to come up with a unique au name for atp). Because I thought it'd be funny. And also some miscellaneous headcanons thrown into the mix. Some context for the au: - Danyal is 5 years older than Damian (so 10 and 15) - Danny faked his death when he was 10. Talia knows and helped him with it. - Jazz, Sam, and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin.

-------- Snippet 1

Danny, dryly tapping his temple: I have, as the Americans say, irreparable psychological damage, right here.

Jazz, an older sibling first and foremost: well, it's good that you're self-aware.

-------- Snippet 2

Danny, aged 10, in the American foster planning to just age out of the system: *emanating Bad Vibes. Pure, Little Orphan Tom Riddle Energy*

Jazz, aged 12, coming in to adopt a new sibling with her parents: Him. This is my brother now :)

Danny: ...what

--------

Lilo and Stitch is Danny's favorite Disney movie. He watched it when he was 11 with Jazz when she was attempting to connect with him, and by this point Danny was becoming receptive to her efforts. They had a movie marathon in the living room one night.

Safe to say? It resonated with his little 11 year old heart strongly, and he related very strongly with both Nani and Stitch. He got unexpectedly emotional and hid in his room for the rest of the night. Jazz felt really bad, but it had the intended (but kinda unexpected) effect of him trying to be nicer to her afterwards.

-------- Snippet 3

Dash, aged 12, causing trouble again and getting intercepted by Danny: *scaling up a desk* AHHHHH! GET YOUR LITTLE FREAK, FOLEY!

Tucker: Hey! Danny is not a freak!

Dash: GET HIM TO BACK OFF

Tucker, was the kid Dash was messing with: ....whats in it for me

-------- Snippet 4

Danny, saying some questionably immoral shit: What. Why are you looking at me like that.

Tucker: Bro. I mean this as kindly as possible; what the fuck?

Sam: yeah, I'm with Tuck on this one.

-------- Snippet 5

Danny, ranting about Vlad: if it weren't for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered him

Sam, painting his nails black: I'm pretty sure you'd slaughter him regardless of the laws of the land -- and quit moving, you're gonna mess me up.

Tucker: we've literally seen you debate yourself about this, Dan

Danny: ...you are correct, but it is the principle of things.

-------- Snippet 6

Vlad: I have experience my child, and the money and power attained through using those powers for personal gain, you say. I could train you, teach you everything I know! And all you have to do is renounce that idiot adoptive father of yours.

Danny, was already contemplating committing a Violence: ....

Danny, internally: I'm going to stab him *turns into Phantom*

--------

Funny contrast I realized between Danyal and Vlad that iirc I haven't pointed out yet is that imo, Danyal doesn't rely on his powers nearly half as much as canon Danny does. He falls back instinctually on his League training, and thus sometimes forgets to use his powers in battle. This was prevalent especially early on when he was still getting used to the whole 'halfa' thing.

He incorporates them more often after a year, but still for the most part relies on his own physical hand-to-hand combat. He trusts those skills much more than he does his powers. I'm not sure where he is on a technical level compared to canon, but just to stay safe I'll say he's similar in power skill as canon Danny. Perhaps a little more finessed than him because his League training would probably have him trying to figure out his powers as soon as possible.

But in summary? Danny is strong in hand-to-hand combat, weak in powerset.

Meanwhile Vlad is the opposite. I can't recall if he even knows hand-to-hand in canon, but it makes total sense to me that Vlad Masters wouldn't because he's so confident in his monetary influence and ghost abilities that he sees no need for it.

And he's kinda got some merit behind it. He's very powerful and has 20 years of experience to experiment and fine tune his powers. He's got bite to follow up his bark. He's perfected long-range combat and his ability to phase through walls makes it impossible to corner him, but if you can manage it, then one good hit could probably knock him on his ass.

So in summary, Vlad is strong in powerset, weak in hand-to-hand combat.

And it casts a good contrast between the two of them in that regard. Danny, as a fellow halfa, can follow Vlad when he phases through walls and is fast enough to land a hit on him. His league training as an assassin, albeit rusty, is still deep ingrained enough in him that he can hold up as a rather veritable threat against Vlad without needing his powers.

But Vlad can force Danny to use his powers more often through use of his own. The duplication is the first thing to come to mind: Danny's fast enough to dispel them on his own without powers, and smart enough that he could figure out who the real one is if given a few minute. But that's not always efficient enough.

Good foils for each other that way. Also Vlad's Plasmius design mimics Ra's juuust enough that he looks like Ra's knockoff loser second cousin no one talks about, which only fuels Danny's hatred.

-------- Snippet 7

Danny, ranting about Vlad for the first time: --and it's only made worse by the fact that the little ingrate resembles a cheap knock-off of my grandfather!--

Sam, choking on her water: he what--

Tucker, doing a spittake: HE DOES?

[maxillness]

If Daddy Knew || T.W x Horner!Reader

Warnings: 18+, hair pulling, oral (M&F reviving), handjob, fingering, degrading kink, praise kink

Wordcount: 2.1k

Part 2

If she knew how this would end up in the long term, she would had agreed to go with her father a lot sooner

She would always say no if she was invited to a Grand Prix and to come to the paddock

She hadn’t always been the most social person, and she was scared she would mess up her words or don’t talk at all

This time was different

She felt confident that day. She has been invited again, and she said yes. It surprised her father. He couldn’t understand why she said yes

She couldn’t either, but she’s glad she did

As she stood in the Red Bull garage, she kept feeling like she was stared down by people outside of the garage

And she was right. When she got to the paddock afterwards, people still kept staring her down as she walked with her father. He wanted to introduce her to all the drivers and team principals

It all went good, until they reached Mercedes

Don’t take it the wrong way, they were all very nice, but after she had greeted the drivers, she had to meet the team principal

Toto Wolff

She had heard about him through her father, now, of course she didn’t take his word for it. They were rivals after all, they’re bound to say bad stuff about each other that weren’t true

“Darling, this is Toto Wolff” He said his name through gritted teeth

“Hi. I’ve heard so much about you” He didn’t answer her, he just looked her up and down and went back to what he was doing

She would have said something about his rudeness, only if he hadn’t been so handsome

Maybe he was all those things her dad said

The rest of the day, she thought about Toto and if it was something she did or said to make him rude, or if it was just how he was

It finally became Sunday and she stood in the garage. She knew it was bad, but she kept starting at Toto from the distance

“You okay, dear?” Christian asked her as he walked over to her “You’ve been kinda starting out in the abyss” He chuckled

“Yeah, I’m fine, dad. Thank you” She nodded up at him

The race went well. Max won, no surprise there. We all knew he was gonna win. Even the opposite teams knew he was gonna win

That night, they all went out celebrating the win, even though it was routine that he won by now

She drank to keep the thoughts away. She really wanted to be on his good side, but how could she do that?

The next morning she woke up with a slight headache, but nothing a few painkillers couldn’t take away

Just as she was about to brush her teeth, her phone started ringing. It was an unknown number

“Y/N Horner” She answered the phone

“Hi, Y/N, it’s Toto Wolff” His accent was thick through the phone “I just wanted to apologise my behaviour when we met. I’m sure you’re aware that me and your father don’t have the bestest of friendship, that was the only reason why I didn’t say anything, and that’s no reason, I know, but I just wanted to apologise. Can I buy you some coffee to make up for it?”

She stood and thought about her answer a while “Yeah, that sounds nice. When?” She finally answered and she heard him sigh on the other end

“Great. Shall we say 12 o’clock at the Café across the street?” God, his accent was to swoon over

“Yeah. That’s perfect” A smirk drew on her lips. They hung up and she looked at the time. It was currently 10. She had two hours

Two hours would have been fine if she had anything to wear. She tried to look through her clothes. She tried all the combinations of clothing that was clean

She finally settled for an outfit after 45 minutes and some going back and forth trough clothes

Before she put on her clothes, she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She stood there for what felt like hours, but was actually only 10 minutes

She looked back at the clock after she got dressed and put on her shoes. 11:30. She debated if she should go now and be early, or if she should wait and be on time

She has only now realised she had forgotten her perfume. She founded and sprayed it lightly on the skin on her neck

She now decided to go out, but she should probably had waited. She bumped into her father in the hallway

“Where you going in such a hurry?” He chuckled as he looked her up and down

“I was just going out, checking the city out” She smiled innocently

“Okay. Have fun, don’t be out too late” He said to her before he continued to walk away

She continued to walk over to the elevator. The ride down to the lobby seemed like it took ages. She got to the lobby and walked out and across the street

She walked into the Café. She looked around to see if she could see Toto. She found him sitting at a booth up against the far wall. She sat down across him

“Hello, can I get you anything?” The waiter asked as she walked over to them

“I would like a coffee, black and a chocolate scone” Toto said as he looked from her to the waiter

“Can I get a hot chocolate and a croissant?” She asked as she looked up at her

“Of course. I’ll bring it down for you” She smiled and walked over to the counter

“I’m sorry for how I reacted, Y/N, I really am” He rambled and she just stared at him

“Toto, it’s fine. It’s no problem. I know how your relationship is with my dad, I totally understand” She smiled at him, trying to reassure him

“Yeah, I’m not friends with your dad, but I shouldn’t take that out on you” He sighed as he placed his hand on top of hers

“Toto, don’t worry about it, okay?” She smiled at him, looking him in his eyes through his glasses

All he did was nod before the waitress came over with their order. As they sat and drank their coffee and ate their food, they made small talk

The only annoying thing about this whole conversation was his smile. He would smile every so often, and it made her legs week

Everything that happened between that time and when they were in the elevator was a blur for her. All she knew was that she was pressed up against the elevators wall, her hands intertwined in his hair while his lips was on hers as his hands roamed her hips and waist

The ding of the elevator startled them. They hurried out into the hall and over to her room. She struggled a bit when she opened the door, but managed fine

As they got into the room, he pushed her up against the door. Her hands went to his waist, and in one swift motion, she had them turned around

Her hands went up his torso to unbutton his shirt. When she got the last button unbuttoned, she discarded the shirt on the ground

Her hand went to his hair to pull his head back so she could start attacking his necks with kisses and bites. He groaned at the sudden dominance from her. Her other hand went to unbuckle his belt

Toto covered his mouth with his hand to minimise the sounds that came out of him. She took her hand away from his belt and up to his hand to remove it from his mouth

“I want to hear your sounds, Toto” She said as she drew away from his neck, which drew out a groan from him “Fuck, you sounds so pretty” He could feel her smirk on his neck

She turned them around again, but this time, she guided him towards the bed, their shoes getting kicked off in the process

When the back off Toto’s legs hit the bed, she pushed him down to sit. She got on her knees and zipped down his pants

He bucked his up from the bed so she could pull down his pants and boxers. When she had gotten them off, she threw them beside her

She licked a stripe up his shaft before spitting into her hand, and started stroking him slowly. He started moaning low, almost silently

“Keep up those sounds, I wanna hear you, baby” She told him as she looked up at him from between his knees

Her words could make him undone right then and there “Fuck, I want your mouth around me, please” His voice was getting desperate and his accent was getting heavier

She removed her hand, but quickly replaced it with her mouth. His moans got louder as she started moving her head up and down

He started bucking his hips up, trying to fuck her mouth, but her hands came up to push him back down to stop his movements, which makes him groan in annoyance

“Fucking shit, Ah…” He wasn’t making any effort to swallow his moans “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, please. I’m so-Ah. I’m so close” His head leaned back and his eyes rolled to the back of his head

His hand was shaking when he drew it up to his face to take off his glasses as they started fogging up. He got them off and threw them on the ground, not caring if they broke or not

“I can’t- Ah. Fuck, please, I can’t take it anymore” His words didn’t stop her actions, if it did anything, it made her faster

A few seconds later and he came down her throat. She held her head down as he finished. She got off of him and swallowed his loath

He was panting hard when she stood up. She took his chin between her fingers making him look at her. She kissed him deeply, making him taste himself on her tongue

“Think you can return the favour?” She asked seductively. With closed eyes, he nodded “Good. Get on your knees” He quickly got on his knees where she once sat as she herself sat on the bed

She leaned back, her weight resting on her hands. She watched as his trembling hands tried opening the button on her jeans

She chuckled seeing him struggling “God you’re pathetic” She pushed his hands away to do it herself. She lifted her hips so he could pull down her pants and panties throwing them away with the rest of the clothes on the floor

He pulled her close to the edge of the bed, and therefore closer to his mouth. He drew his tongue through her soaking folds

“What wouldn’t my father say, hm?” She drew one of her hands through his soft, brown locks when he started attacking her clit

“His biggest rival eating out his daughter” He groaned into her cunt from her degrading, making her moan “What don’t you think he will do? Most likely kill you, or maybe, he would never invite me again to keep me as far away from you as possible so this could never happen again”

He groaned again, making her grip his hair tight and moan louder than before “Fuck, you’re so beautiful from here” She chuckled mixed with a moan

He drew one of his hands towards her cunt. One of his fingers drew through her folds, stopping at her entrance. She moaned as he entered her slowly

He started going in and out of her, drawing loud moans from her. He added another finger as he started curling his fingers up and hitting the spot inside her that made her see stars

Her moans got louder and heavier as she was pulled closer to the edge of her orgasm “Fuck, you’re doing so good for me, Toto” She moaned pulling his hair so his face got showed into her cunt

“Fuck, I’m so close. Fucking keep going. Ah” Her head rolled back while she bucked her hips up and into his mouth “You’re doing so fucking good” He groaned which send her over the edge. Her legs shakes as she came down from her high

“Fuck, you did so good for me” She smiled down at him as she drew his face up to look at her “So fucking good” She leaned down to kiss him

[covenists]

✦ THE KETCHUP THEORY, C. LECLERC

will he pass the tiktok trend?

“chaaaarleeesss! come here, hurry up!” you shout, calling his name loudly in the house's kitchen counter. smirking slightly at the hidden camera in front of you, recording your actions in front of the tiny camera that you hide behind the various flowers.

a hushed footsteps could be heard from the downstairs as he walked as fast as he can to reach out to you, “what, babe? what happened?” he asked hurriedly. his brows furrowed and his face showed concern. but it only turned to frown at the sight of you looking at him, smirking, with a splatter of a messy smashed package of heinz ketchup in the counter.

he sighed when he saw the mess of the ketchup beside you, “oh my god, who did this?” he said, voice shrieking at the end, and resulting you to laugh at his behavior.

“mimi did that!” you accused, making the poor dog whimper in results. “i don't believe mimi did that. she's a good girl, aren't you mimi.” he said, turning around as he ruffles her fur, making her bark at him softly.

you can only smile slightly at the sight of your boyfriend with his beloved dog.

“so, can you clean the ketchup?” you asked, and he dramatically turned his head at you, making you laugh loudly at the sight.

“what, why?”

“my nails, it's still wet.” you said, showing him your new color of your nails, a deep shade of a crimson colored it.

“are you sure it's mimi?” he's still insisted on asking you that, as if he didn't believe to your saying. “it could be jack...” he mumbles.

“hey, jack would never!” you replied, leaving you and him to debate on which dog actually leave the ketchup mess. literally forgetting about the camera and the plan that you've been making for your tiktok.

but in the end, he gave in and immediately took a tissue from next to the sink and rolled it into a fairly thick roll of tissue.

he also wiped the roll of tissue on the spilled ketchup, causing the spilled ketchup to become even more messy.

you gasped when he did that, and you're immediately taking the tissue from his hand.

“oh gosh, what are you doing!” and now it's your turn to shriek at the sight of his cleaning technique, and there's charles with his face looking quite startled as you were taking the tissue out of his hand quickly.

“that is how i clean!”

“well, that is not clean, cha.”

the video ended and just like that, the trend has been proven by himself and the tiny camera you hide.

Y/N'S TIKTOK COMMENTS SECTION

justamelie12 NOOOO HE'S THAT ONE MAN WHO RUB IT ALL UP LIKE THAT

verstappendududu What am I expecting here tbh🤷🤦

sirhervemarc That typical rich man who said i could do it but in the end that they can't.

luisalando4ever i can feel her frustration from here😭😭

scrubdaddy you need some cleaning lesson to do, right yourusername?

janicekingston why is he like this💀

georgemergency the dog talk for that 10 seconds is kinda worth more than the actual content actually...

brisiaclair "that's how i clean" and that's gonna took him an eternity to finish.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 8- Something to Believe In

Summary: Frankie makes good on his promise to pick you up from work.

Word count: 3.7K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: Having a panic attack (cue Frankie to the rescue), mentions of death and grieving, angst, yearning, could we perhaps be ✨making progress✨?

A/N: Hi friends!! Thanks for bearing with me after no new chapter last week! This one's also on the shorter side, but that's not to say there aren't some BIG things happening 👀 My hope is to have another chapter done by next week, but with holiday business, it may have to be two weeks between chapters again (sorry sorry sorry!!) Thank you as always for your lovely and kind words, ily all so much MWAH

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Present 

“I’m done at ten.” 

By the time he gets back home at 6:43, he’s already counting down the hours until you’re finished with your shift. 

Three hours and seventeen minutes, to be exact. 

For as much as Frankie could easily spend the next three hours and seventeen minutes doing nothing but staring at the clock hanging adjacent to the TV in the living room, he knows he’ll drive himself out of his goddamn mind. He needs something to do. 

If he keeps himself busy, he can’t fester on the million and one ways he could manage to fuck this up. 

Frankie forces himself to eat some sort of half-assed dinner, despite his nervous nausea that’s got the best of him. He purposely uses as many dishes and utensils to make a sandwich as humanly possible- if he does, it gives him something to do after. 

He cleans out his entire truck, down to vacuuming every last crumb crunched between the driver’s seat and center console. He debates washing the car himself in the driveway, but if he drives it to the carwash three blocks down the road, it’ll kill more time. 

On his way home, he stops at Auto Zone to get you a new car battery and exchanges it for your old one, dead, under the hood of your car. 

Frankie takes a shower so long, he can feel in real time the water shift from boiling hot, to luke warm, to ice cold. He washes his hair twice. His body, three times. 

He unpacks just about every item of clothing from his suitcase, laying them out on his bed in multiple combinations of pants and shirts, debating whether you'll think he’s a psychopath for showing up in a different outfit only a few hours after dropping you off. Frankie settles on shorts and a t-shirt- nice enough he doesn’t look like a fool, but casual enough for you not to suspect he’s been staring at every article of clothes he owns for the past thirty minutes. 

And somehow, after all of that, he still ends up in the Parrot’s Nest parking lot at 9:23. 

Thirty-seven minutes worth of waiting is a lot more manageable than the better part of three hours. 

Unfortunately, the last thirty-seven minutes he spends sitting in the parking lot are the most agonizing of his whole endeavor. 

He throws the last few innings of the Tampa Bay Rays game on the radio in the background, unable to stand the sound of silence that haunts him when he’s alone with his thoughts. 

Frankie tries not to panic at the fact that it seems like he’s forgotten how to engage in basic human conversation, praying that no one can see the way he’s rehearsing his greeting to you upon your arrival into the passenger seat. 

“Hey, what’s up? No, fuck, that’s stupid.” Frankie mutters to himself, running his palm over his face, “Hey, MacKenzie, how was work? No, ‘cause what if work was fucking awful and I’m just gonna piss her off more. Jesus.” 

He takes a few more long, deep breaths, staring at the roof of his truck while he tries to concoct the perfect set of words to string together. 

“Hey, Kenz. Kenzie? MacKenzie? Does she even fucking go by Kenz anymore? Fuck. Hey, miss me?” He jokes by his lonesome, his fake smile quickly fading at the anticipation of your response, “She obviously didn’t miss you, idiot. You’re lucky you can barley get her to fucking talk to you. Fuck me.” 

His pained groan and scrunched shut face are enough cut off the awareness to his surroundings just long enough to leave him oblivious to the fact you’ve not only exited the Parrot’s Nest, but have made your way across the parking lot and have your hand wrapped around the passenger door, rattling the handle. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Frankie shouts, nearly jumping out of his own skin at the way you’ve announced yourself by shaking at the locked door. 

So much for rehearsing. 

“F-fuck-” He stammers, taking a moment to catch his breath from your scare, praying he hasn’t managed to shit his pants from how badly you’ve startled him. Once his pulse settles to rate low enough he’s convinced he hasn’t died of a heart attack, he leans over to unlock your door, unable to make eye contact with you as he grimaces his face in embarrassment. 

“S-sorry.” you murmur, sheepishly climbing into the seat next to him, quietly clicking in your seatbelt. 

“Jesus Kenz, you scared the shit outta me.” Frankie gulps, still trying to compose himself. He runs his hand through the curls of his hair, taking one last slow inhale and exhale with his eyes peeled to the floor, hoping the pink drains from his cheeks before he looks over at you. 

“Sorry, I- I didn’t mean to. I thought maybe you fell asleep, or something. You shrug, trying to defend your reasoning. 

“I wouldn’t offer to come pick you up and then fall asleep on you, I’m not that big of an assho-” 

Frankie cuts himself off before he can finish the rest of his thought, feeling the “L” and “E” of “asshole” die off somewhere in the back of his throat, killed by the death glare you give in proclamation of his own self-righteousness.  

He starts the car without another word, pulling out of the parking lot and hoping that his silence begs enough forgiveness. 

The crackling static of the car radio fills the void between you, Andy Freed’s ecstatic voice capturing both of your attentions enough to let the current state of the Tampa Bay Rays game shift your focus. 

“What’s the score?” You ask, nonchalant, eyes wandering anywhere but Frankie’s direction. 

“Oh- uh, I- I think it was 1-3 last time I checked, but it sounds like someone on the Rays just hit a sac fly, so I’m guessing it’s 2-3, now.” 

There’s a moment of silence, Frankie assuming you’ve got it in you to at least make one question’s worth of small talk. You seem just as surprised as him that you don’t let the conversation die there. 

“Did you um- you watched the game when you got home?” 

Your gaze won’t lock with his, but now, it’ll at least travel in his general direction. 

“N-no, I just uh- I just turned it on while I was waiting in the car.” 

“How long were you waiting for?” 

“N-not that long.” He barely gives you enough time to breathe, let alone call him out on his bullshit before he’s changing the subject, “How uh- how was work?” 

“Oh- It was uh- it was fine. Went by really slow. B-because it wasn’t um, it wasn’t that busy.” 

Frankie’s no code breaker, but he hopes the way you’re so quick to give him a reason why your shift had dragged on is a secret way of saying you spent just as long thinking about him as he did about you. 

“Sorry it was so slow.” 

Frankie knows his apology doesn’t do anything for you, but the way he’s picking each word that comes out of his mouth has him feeling like he’s tiptoeing through a minefield, too scared to make any move besides the one that seems the safest. 

“It’s okay, not your fault. That’s honestly part of the reason I took this job- was to give myself something to do, so I don’t spend every last second that my dad is alive dwelling on the fact that pretty soon, he’s not gonna be alive. It’s stupid, but I guess if being preoccupied with serving middle aged couples mozzarella sticks and over-cooked steak tacos for a few hours helps, then so be it.”  

He knows better than anyone that your attempt at humor is your shield, but it’s not hard to see how weathered and worn it’s become, barely hanging on by a thread to protect you from the worst battle you still have yet to face. 

“N-no, it makes sense. Distractions help. I-It’s been hard, having to see him like this. I get it.” 

His last sentence makes your head snap up from the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Frankie hopes that maybe your attentiveness means he’s had a breakthrough, showing enough genuine empathy that you’ll cut him a little slack. 

When he turns enough to see the scowl plastered across your face, he realizes he’s stepped on a bomb, and he’s moments away from explosion. 

“Oh, you ‘get it’, huh?” You scoff, sadistic smile curling in the corner of your cheeks. 

Frankie can see the way your blood is beginning to boil, trying to backtrack as quickly as possible to find any way to save himself. 

“N-no- I mean, shit-  no, Kenz, you know what I mean.” Frankie pleads. 

“No, I don’t know what you mean, Frankie. Please, explain.” 

The way your arms are crossed and head is cocked tells him everything he needs to know. Against his better judgement, Frankie decides not to take cover. He goes headfirst into the warzone. 

“C’mon, Kenz, don’t be like this.” Frankie sighs, preemptively kicking himself that this is the route he’s chosen to take. 

“Like what?” You snap back, sharp and sarcastic. 

“Like it’s not hard for me, too. Like I can’t be sad about it. You’re not the only person who cares about him, MacKenzie. He was the closest thing I had to a dad, too.” 

“But he’s not your dad, is he? And if you were, that’d make you a pretty shitty son, wouldn’t it?” 

It hits him like a cold, hard slap to the face, the way you don’t dare to show him even an ounce of mercy. There’s something about the bitterness in the way you ask it that hurts even more than if you would have just screamed at him, cursed him out, punched and pushed him until he bruised. 

A stark silence falls over the car, tension so thick, it’s like a bag of bricks has been dropped from the sky, drowning him in a useless pile of cement. There’s no use in crying for help. He doesn’t dare to speak, simply out of fear that if he does, this won’t be the worst of what’s yet to come. 

Frankie stays trapped for what feels like hours, each second passing by more painfully slow than the last as you stare out your window, watching the shadows of street lights dance across your body, illuminating you just enough to see the way your chest trembles with short, frantic breaths as you unravel. Your sobs can’t hide behind the silence in the way your tears can in the darkness. 

“Do you know how fucking lonely it is, Frankie? How lonely it is when everyone you’ve ever cared about leaves you? It’s like I’m fucking Midas, but everything I touch, eventually, I lose. A life before cancer, my soccer career, an engagement, a future, my dad, you? You don’t get to tell me how hard it is for you, because you get to let go of what you want on your terms, when it’s convenient for you, don’t you? I’m so sick of losing, Frankie. I’m so sick of it.” 

He watches in real time how something inside you snaps, like a bottle of soda that’s erupted after someone’s violently shaken shaken it, the twist of the cap releasing all the pressure and tension that’s been stored up and compounded upon with each rattle of their wrist. 

Frankie knows he’s not responsible for all of it, but he's the last bump you can take before you have no other choice but to overflow, leaving every ounce of you to seep out, vulnerable and exposed. 

What starts off as softs sobs, quickly shifts to heart wrenching heaves of your chest, every word you’re trying to get out lodged in your throat. He sees how your eyes fill with fear at the way you suddenly can’t catch your breath, body shaking as you shrink into your seat, fingers wrapping around your seatbelt with an iron grip around the worn fabric. 

“Kenz? Kenzie, are you okay?” It only seems fair he’s completely disregarded everything you’d had to say, beginning to panic at your tremoring figure crumpled next to him, speaking in nothing but violent wails you can’t control. 

“I- I- f-fuck, f-f- Frankie, fuck, n- no, no, I-” 

He won’t let you finish your thought- he only lets you stammer out the few words you can manage before he’s pulled off on the nearest neighborhood side street he can find. He blames it on military habit, how quick he is to react in the face of your panic, but he knows damn well it’s nothing but instinct the way he’s all but throwing off his seatbelt so he can reach across the center console and wrap you in his arms. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. Just try and breathe, okay?” Frankie whispers, squeezing you so tightly in his arms you just might break. 

“I c-can’t, I can’t, fuck, i-it- it, it f-feels like I can’t breathe.” You sob, feeling your tear stains pool in the fabric of his shirt covering, face buried against his chest. 

“I know. I know it’s scary. I promise you’re okay, it’ll pass. Just try and breathe with me, okay?” 

He hopes you don’t notice how shaky his own breaths are, trying his best to stay calm with each long inhale and exhale he takes. The wave of grief that washes over him is different than the one you’re drowning in, the kind that makes his heart break at the type of panic he’s known all too well- he’d give every bone in his body to absorb your pain and make it his, but the best he can do is hold you until it subsides. He’ll hold you all night, if that’s what it takes. 

It’s a few minutes before he can finally feel your heart rate starting to slow, the stiffness of your muscles beginning to ease in his grasp as you come back down to earth with him. Your tears haven’t stopped, but at least your chest starts to rise and fall with his. It’s a baby step, but he’ll take any steps he can get in the right direction. 

“There ya go. Just like that. It’s okay. Worst of it’s over, I promise.” 

With the way one thumb is gently stroking your back and the other is carefully brushing the back of your head, it’s safe to say every inhibition Frankie could have has flown out the window. He hates how there’s a selfish part of him that can’t describe the way it feels to hold you again, even if it’s like this, but that’s a battle of his own he’s not willing to face today. For now, he’ll accept the sweet bliss of his self-indulgence while you’re curled against him. 

“You’re okay, Kenz. I’m here. I promise, you’re okay.” 

Enough time passes that his t-shirt isn’t getting any wetter, finally brave enough to peek your head up from the crook of his neck to wipe your tear stained cheeks with the back of your hand. Frankie’s grip only loosens enough to let you sit up, arms still engulfing your frame, tight enough to make sure you don’t float away on him again. 

“I- I’m s-sorry.” 

It’s so soft as it leaves your lips, if he wasn’t waiting on your every word, Frankie just might have missed it. Little do you know, he’s hanging on your every breath. 

“Hey,” he pauses, your eyes locking with his, softly pouting at the way your panic has made your face red and puffy, carefully swiping his thumb across your cheek to catch the wetness still streaming down the corners of your eyes, “you have nothing to apologize about, okay?” 

He waits in the silence again, letting you softly nod your head in agreement, watching the gears turn in your head as you process everything that’s just happened. You’ve come to enough to notice the way his hand still sits on the small of your back- he’s just as surprised as you when you let him keep it there for another moment before subtly shifting back in your seat. 

Your face scrunches shut, wincing with the last few deep breaths you take, like you're trying to push the rest of it out of your system for good. Frankie runs his hand through his messy hair and down the nape of his neck as he takes you in, still riding his melancholy high of the weight of your body pressed into his. 

“Thank you. For um- just, t-thank you.” You mutter, too sheepish to look him in the eye again now that full blown embarrassment has set in. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” 

Frankie nods, trying his best to let you know that he means it- really, truly means it. It’s the way he won’t take his eyes off you that must let you know he understands, watching you shift just enough in your seat for him to notice how your body turns ever so slightly to face him. 

“They’ve uh- fuck, it just comes out of nowhere sometimes. It’s um- it’s happened before, but these past few weeks, it just- it’s been a lot, I guess.”  

“It’s been a while since I’ve had one, but I um- I got ‘em all the time after I came home. Feels like you’re dying. It sucks.” 

It’s not graceful, but it’s genuine. Vulnerable. Honest. Frankie knows it’s the most truth he’s given you in more years than he’d like to admit. It’s not much, but it’s enough to see you scale the top of the wall you’ve built between you and him and kick down one of the bricks that’s holding it together. It’s not much, but it’s one less brick than that wall has had for a very, very long time. 

“What are you talking about? That was so much fun.” 

In the shared moment of soft, sympathetic laughter, it’s that he realizes the softest smile that’s stretched in the corner of your lips. Frankie tries not to stare, but when he sees it, he remembers how much he’s hated living without it. He takes it in for as long as he can, memorizing every crease and crinkle in your face, no matter how subtle. He’ll soak in every second he can. He’s thankful he does, because it’s only a matter of time before it starts to shift, corners of your cheeks shifting as you pick at the skin around your nails. 

“I- um- I’m sorry- a-about what I said earlier.  I- I didn’t mean it.” 

Frankie lets out a huff of confusion, convinced you must be playing a joke on him with your unprompted apology. He’s almost tempted to laugh again, but the way your jaw shifts back and forth, anxiously grinding on your teeth while your eyes stay peeled to the fingers working away at your skin reminds him of every other apology you’ve ever offered. The same look when you accidentally popped the brand new basketball he got for his 13th birthday, the same fidgeting of your fingers when overreacted to the dent you thought he put in your brand new car backing out of your driveway, the same tick of your jaw when you had told him why you hadn’t written him more while he overseas on his last tour of duty. 

You really do mean it. 

“It’s okay. I deserve it.” Frankie admits. As hurtful as it was, he knows you weren’t completely unjustified in what you said. He also knows if you’re offering him an olive branch, he’ll offer you nothing short of a whole olive tree back. 

“No- well, I mean, maybe a little-” your sarcastic self correction makes him laugh again, something long forgotten warming in his heart at the way your hidden grin reappears in the corners of your cheeks, “No- I just- that was shitty of me to say. I’m sorry. It’s- it’s just a lot right now. Not totally fair to take it all out on you.” 

“I know. It’s okay.” Frankie pauses, captivated by the way your eyes flicker up to meet his, still wet and sparkling from the last of your tears, shimmering in the warm glow of the streetlights. He wants to reach out, to grab you, hold you, press you against his chest again and tell you that everything will be okay, but he won’t risk burning the bridge of the progress he’s built. Not yet. The best he can do is keep building, nail by nail, plank by plank. 

“If you um- if you ever need someone to- to talk to, or whatever, I’m always-” 

“I know.” 

There’s a different kind of silence that fills the empty spaces of his truck the last ten minutes of the ride home. It’s no longer heavy, burdened by pain and fear with every breath that enters its void. It’s the quiet kind of reassurance that doesn’t need any words. The kind that says everything it needs to from stolen glances back and forth, accompanied by the warmth of pink cheeks hidden in the black of the night sky. 

The last thing that’s said after he’s pulled into your driveway is a simple “thank you”. It’s only two words, but something about those 8 letters put together seems like enough to fill a book with how much it says. 

The only thing that says more is the way you look over your shoulder when you make it to your porch, so brief that if he wasn’t looking for it, he surely would have missed it. 

Because in that moment you look back at him, he swears there’s a smile straining against the line of your lips that you’re trying desperately to fight. 

Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe he’s truly lost his mind. Maybe he’s crazy. Whatever he may be, Frankie Morales knows he won’t sleep a wink tonight at the thought that he’s finally the reason for the smile on your face again. 

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

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@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland @guelyury

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[mmkclarkey]

We have a spare room - Part 2

When everything goes wrong, moving in with three guys will help?

~a week later~

You were staring at the empty room in front of you, well, empty besides the littered boxes around, when a bang came from just outside quickly followed by a soft knock on the door.

You giggled to yourself as you muttered a “come in” completely unaware of what was about to occur.

“Do you think aliens are real?” Arthur asks you, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“Leave her alone Arthur! She’s unpacking I’m sure the last thing she wants is to get involved in our debates” Another voice came from the hall, a voice you didn’t recognise straight away as another man walks in to your room, Chris and George following close behind, giggling to each other. The man was around the same height as Arthur with slightly messy hair and a light stubble almost the same as Chris’ but a similar brown to Arthur’s. Something about his demeanour changed, almost like he realised what he had done and quickly broke out in a small smile, reaching his hand out for you to shake it. You accept it, noting how he shook it very excitedly.

“Hi, I’m Arthur” he says in a happy tone, making you smile before having a realisation.

“That’s not confusing at all” you speak before Arthur (your roommate) explains that he’s Arthur Hill, a YouTuber and singer, whereas the other man, sporting a -whales of the ocean t-shirt- was the “autistic best friend who grew up with Chris then stole everyone’s hearts” and that his name was ArthurTv.

This explanation makes you giggle, ArthurTv smacking the other round the back of the head.

“Stop introducing me to people as the autistic Arthur!” He exclaims, voice breaking slightly making everyone else in the room laugh.

The boys quickly filter out of your room, leaving you to unpack your things, cursing that you didn’t ask them to stay and help.

You begin to unpack furniture, using the rest of your free day with no filming to do to build your bed and shelves, trying your best to replicate your old room so that it wouldn’t look too obvious to people that you’ve yet again had to move from a place you moved into not even two months ago.

~

It takes you longer than expected to build the bed. Admittedly it was because you kept taking dance breaks in between while your music is blasting, most of said dance breaks were to Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan, the song being repeated at least 7 times before you were done, making a two hour job into four, taking a break before building your shelves. You lay back on your bed, taking deep breaths due to the exhaustion you felt from building, before suddenly Chris’ voice rang through the doorway, travelling from the living room.

“Are you coming through to eat? We’re gonna order something in?”

You contemplate this before walking out of your room, turning the corner into the living room, immediately confused and shocked as Arthur Hill, Chris, ArthurTv and yet another man you didn’t know were sprawled out on the floor in a pile, the one you don’t know looking up at you from the floor, reaching his hand up as much as he could to shake it.

“I’m Isaac, friends call me Bach though” the man says in a strained tone, most likely from the other three men lay on his back. You notice his full beard and mullet, nearly black as you shake his hand.

You look to the sofa and notice George sat scrolling through his phone, laughing at something funny he’s seen, on the other side, is a girl, around 5’1 sat laughing at the pile of testosterone on the floor. She looks up at you smiling, standing up to give you a warm hug. You immediately noticed that the girl radiated the golden light that came through the window, showing off natural beauty as you smiled back.

“I’m Liv, I’m Isaac’s girlfriend… sadly, I’ve heard so much about you from these three, it’ll feel good to have another girl around finally!” She smiles at you as she holds your shoulders.

You giggle a bit in response, telling her your name “Hi Liv, it’s so lovely to meet you, what is going on down there?” You point down at the pile of men on the floor, a furrowed brow on your face as George pipes in from beside you when you sit down.

“It started as Bach saying that he’s stronger than Chris, then TV stuck up for Bach, then Hill stood up for Chris and then they just kind of… did this.” He says, not looking up from his phone for a second before looking up at you, as was nearly lay down on the sofa at this point.

“What do you want for food?”

“Hmmmm…” You contemplate in your mind what you’d want, deep in thought about it for some reason before you snap out of it, not realising that the group of men on the floor are now off of each other and sat on the floor separately, shouting what they want to eat, not one agreeing.

“Everyone shut the fuck up! She’s deciding.” Liv shouts, all of them immediately going silent, clearly showing that although she was Bach’s girlfriend, was also very clearly the one who kept them all in line.

You send her a smile before laughing, blurting out “let’s get Chinese”, Chris cheering at you agreeing on his choice, you pull a dirty look at him jokingly “it wasn’t for you Chris, i just really want a chow mein”

Your answer makes the room erupt in ooo’s and “you got burned” as George looks at you with a smile.

“Good choice, maybe living with you won’t be too bad, but for the love of everything, stop blasting Chappell Roan”

“Never, live with it or kick me out” you cross your arms as you lean back, he stays silent as he looks at you for a second. “That’s what I thought, you’re gonna love me one day George, trust me I’m a great flat mate”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n- hey guys, just warning you, it won’t be posts everyday but i wanted to give you guys something else (either that or stop myself from going insane from not being able to post) I hope you enjoy this one, i swear we’ll get an actual plot line soon, I just want to build relationships before I make it too fun

Tag list (let me know if you want to join): @authortelevision @onlinesuzie @pretendyoucantseeme @44-ilton @chilwellsancho

[hedwig221b]

What is your all time favorite sterek fic?

Listen... I cannot go with just one. I'll give you top three and it's nothing new, I fear. The legends, the monarchs, the gems of my sterek library

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This by isthatbloodonhisshirt

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!”

Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her.

“What?! What was that sound?!”

“You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder.

“Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!”

“Mike,” she argued.

“Who’s Mike?” Scott asked.

“Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

To this day, I remember everything about this fic. I've read it so many times... I love the slow burn, I love Derek’s years-worth stalking, and Stiles' assertiveness and how he's THE alpha mate; I adore the Hales, and Cora, and MERRAK! (I wish I could create an OC that fits so perfectly into the story. I miss his snarky ass...). Anyway, yeah, this is the first fic that comes to mind. Gorgeous

Hung The Moon by BurnItAllClean (nrnyx)

Slowly Stiles got control of himself again. His heart calmed. His breathing evened out. The anger was gone. In its place, a bone-deep weariness settled. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive this.

As a huge lover of angst, I devoured this many times. It's perfect. The tension between the boys is so thick, and Derek's adoration of Stiles is so heated and heartbreaking. If I want that achy tugging on my heartstrings, I go to this fic. Absolutely delightful

Cut to the Bone by standinginanicedress

“Not that it’s any of your god damn business, but my name is Stiles. Do you need something?”

The alpha grins. All teeth, shiny white, straight as an arrow. He’s got this sculpted perfection to him that Stiles is sure has worked on all the omegas he’s ever encountered before, but Stiles stands his ground and narrows his eyes. “A date.”

Stiles looks him up and down, slowly, from the black shoes on his feet, to his uniform khakis and blazer littered with pins, to his face. He frowns, makes a face, and says, “pass.”

Where would I be without siand... it's an abo again, and I mean, this is exactly what I want and need from an abo. Obsessed alpha Derek, beautiful omega Stiles who gets burdened by his nature and the society and his father OH MY GOOODDD. Stiles loving kisses and Derek just enjoying every bit of it, he's so fucking obsessed I'm gonna scream