#perfect cell appreciation post

[happyhauntt]

— march fic recs, brought to you by happyhauntt.

a wee fic rec post for a few of the fics i read in march that altered my brain chemistry!! i've put a lil comment next to each rec because honestly writers don't get praised enough for their work these days and i wanted to show my appreciation for these talented souls!!

grishaverse.

➡ kaz brekker.

what do you want from me by @rubysunnday. notes: literally perfect wtf.

dark days by rubysunnday. notes: i reread this literally constantly, it is so perfect, kaz's characterisation is perfect, i adore it.

bloody hands by rubysunnday. notes: i devoured this whole thing like a starving person it was sO good.

when am i gonna lose you? by @crowsmybeloveds. notes: this is so beautiful honestly i have no words.

the lost princess by @ellewritesalright. notes: look it's only part one but elle is a fucking wizard and i'm a sucker for an anastasia au.

you and me (a whole lot of history) by @heliads. notes: this was so cute and such a clever concept i fell in love!!!

schat by @amourology. notes: fully choked this is so adorable.

soulmate by @magpiencrow. notes: KAZ BREKKER SOULMATE AU didn't know i needed this but now i need 100 more!!!!

➡ nikolai lantsov.

nine long years series by @ellewritesalright. notes: i am actively fucking screaming over this fic. i will never stop. this might genuinely be the best thing i've read in a LONG while. everything about it has me sobbing i actively CANNOT COPE. and it's not even finished yet.

one of us by @songofpatrochilless. notes: literally had me sobbing you don't understand the domesticity of it all!!!!!.

come on back to me by @atlabeth. notes: there is a very strong chance that i'll literally never stop screaming about this fic.

dreams of you by @wh0refornikolailantsov. notes: every cell in my body is SCREAMING.

this love by @lantsovsupremacist. notes: did not, in fact, give you permission to hurt me like this do it again.

salt in the wound by @in-my-feels-probably. notes: brain goes brrrr this has everything i need to survive tbh.

wanting was enough by @rubysunnday. notes: beautiful stunning magnificent i want to eat it.

an exhausted smile by @writing-havoc. notes: think i had an aneurysm reading this it was that amazing.

run away with me by @sumsebien. notes: i am still sobbing over this.

in emerald hearts, emerald minds by @undiscovered-horizon. notes: love love love love love. there aren't enough words in any language to describe how much i love this.

➡ alina starkov.

alina starkov x reader by @heliads. notes: alina does not get nearly enough love and this was so fucking sad and cute and brilliant.

➡ nina zenik.

the ten steps to 'i love you' by @sophierequests. notes: this was SO HEARTWARMING AND SWEET i adored it!!!

➡ zoya nazyalensky.

forget-me-nots by @syllvane. notes: not enough zoya fics on this hellsite. but also this ripped my heart out and made me sob so RUDE. i feel devastated.

➡ inej ghafa.

inej ghafa x reader by @heliads. notes: INEJ MY SWEET BABY, this fic is everything to me. everything. and it's so beautifully written!!!

➡ the darkling.

the dark side of the moon series by @myhairpintrigger. notes: this fic is ASTOUNDING. i haven’t cried this much reading something in a long time. i was FULL-BODY SOBBING. i don’t even like the darkling. i am Not a darkling girlie. but i was intrigued by concept of this fic and i can safely say it has ruined my life. this is Emotional Damage Incarnate. i will never recover. author, i salute you.

911.

through the smoke by @borntobewondering. notes: spent twenty whole minutes sobbing after reading this. i felt undone i felt hollow i felt so utterly fucked. author is a genius and that's all there is to say.

not so one night stand by @shmaptainwrites. notes: this was so fuckin adorable i'm in love.

d.c. to l.a. by shmaptainwrites. notes: bobby my guy just doesn't get enough fucking credit and this is so fucking adorable.

criminal minds.

➡ spencer reid.

trouble almost all my life by @januaryembrs. notes: this series is. it's literally. everything. i love bugsy like she's my own child. sister relationships are everything to me. i spent an hour sobbing in my bed over parts 2 and 3. i want this tattooed on my forehead.

➡ aaron hotchner.

found by @benedictscanvas. notes: DADDY i mean what. all jokes aside this was so sweet and beautiful and i'm in love the writing!!!

doctor who.

rage rage (against the dying of the light) by @morganas-pendragons. notes: felt feral after reading this. kayla just gets me in my feels every time.

heartbeat by morganas-pendragons. notes: this was the most emotional devastating thing i've ever read and i fully needed 3-5 business days to recover. rude. i want 100 more.

untitled by morganas-pendragons. notes: PAIN i love this so much.

ache by morganas-pendragons. notes: just scoop my heart out of my fucking chest i don't want it anymore after reading this.

a mind full of blissful terrors by @magiccath. notes: simply fucking amazing.

light in the dark by @i-imagine-my-doctor. notes: screaming please i adore this so much.

baby talk by @kisstherainwriting. notes: THE ABSOLUTE CUTIEST EVER. there's not enough clara fics and this had me squealing and feeling all warm and fuzzy!!!

holding my hand by kisstherainwriting. notes: angst galore this was STUNNING.

in another's eyes by @cas-kingdom. notes: PERFECTION.

where do we go now series by @theetherealbloom. notes: literally so fucking amazing i don't have enough words.

marauders.

the winner takes it all by @ellecdc. notes: brb faye is having a STROKE--

come back, be here series by ellecdc. notes: i think i had a full on stroke while reading this series. the attention to detail is insane. the characterisation is perfect.

i don't know you anymore (maybe i never really did) by @thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels. notes: SCREECHING i'm in love you don't understand.

bridgerton.

➡ anthony bridgerton.

distractions by @peterpparkrr. notes: simply immaculate.

right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch. notes: did you mean one of my favourite tropes bc this is it.

right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 & @thirteenisles. notes: i felt feral after reading this tbh.

➡ sibling!reader.

reluctant caretaker by @rubysunnday. notes: this fic hit my heart in all the right places okay sibling stuff means everything to me.

did she have a cookie by rubysunnday. notes: a joyous read from start to finish i CACKLED the whole way through.

moon knight.

come back to me by @mgparker. notes: still sobbing. immaculate.

the other sarcophagus by @starryevermore. notes: i literally reread this constantly i adore it so much!!

marc spector x reader by @softlyspector. notes: i had an aneurysm reading this and i haven't been the same since.

more marc spector x reader by softlyspector. notes: i am having an intense emotion hold on. anytime i see autistic stuff in canon content for any fandom i SQUEAK. and this is so well done honestly.

star wars.

heartless by @youvebeenlivingfictional. notes: i reread this constantly, it's so amazing and heartwrenching and beautiful and i want to eat it.

little talks by @light-yaers. notes: you simply do not understand how much i adore everything beff writes. i adore this fic more than i need oxygen to breathe.

right where you left me series by light-yaers. notes: personality-defining series. i LIVE for this fic. every update adds five years to my lifespan. if you're not reading this you are MISSING OUT.

a light, a song, a bluebird by @millllenniawrites. notes: made me SOB 10/10 would recommend if you like emotional trauma.

invisible string by @campingwiththecharmings. notes: pining!!! loneliness!!! i adore!!!

hard landings by @softlyspector. notes: no. no you don't understand. this fic doesn't just own my soul it is my soul. i want it tattooed on my face.

misc.

hopper x reader by @luveline. notes: you don't understand this might be the cutest shit i've ever read and jade is a fellow welsh person which automatically makes them brilliant in my book.

muña by @in-my-feels-probably. notes: alicent means fucking everything to me and this had me sobbing.

mistletoe magic by @writingsbychlo. notes: literally the cutest fucking thing ever, had me kicking my legs and squealing!!

[littlefreya]

Pictures of You

Summary: While Sy is deployed, his new girlfriend sends him nudes, and now he must take care of 'business' himself while fantasizing about the things he would do to her.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x himself x OFC

Word count: 1,200

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), pure smut, graphic depiction of sex (male x female), male masturbation, bodily fluids, accidental creampie, dirty language, punishment, Freya using "peach". Being caught in the act. A bit of fluff. Not beta'd.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, translating, copying it, or parts of it and claiming it as your own*

A/N: It's been a while since I posted. I am working on a series (plural), but I got inspired by a lovely anon today. I'm not sure if I'm tagging anyone since my tag list is probably outdated and I'm not sure who still wants on. So, if you enjoyed, reblog, or comment, let me know. I'd appreciate it. 🖤

Pictures of You

At last, night unfurled, and the camp became quiet. 

The glorified Captain retired to his quarters, exhausted from a day of training recruits and tedious paperwork. This deployment would be long, and though he loved being The Captain - Logan Syverson was beginning to miss home.

It was all because of her. Sy shouldn't have caught feelings, long-distance relationships were never his thing, but damn, she was something else; a woman way above his league, pretty, hot as hell and way too smart to be with a military grunt like him.

Needless to say, fucking her made him feel like a god. 

Stripping down to his boxer, Sy slumped into his bed with a huff and reached for the private cell phone stuffed in his drawer. 

Twenty unanswered messages appeared on the screen—three of them from her.

Joy painted his face at the sight of her name. Ignoring everything else, he went directly to read her messages.

“Missing my big Sy”, the first message read. 

The other - “something to make you think of me.”  

The last message was simply an attachment. Curious, Sy tapped it open.

‘Fucking hell.’

The unmistakable pang of desire instantly surged through his groin. 

There she was, his sweet woman, naked and spread open like a present unwrapped, especially for him. She was sitting on her bed, one breast gripped by her palm with her nipple peeking through dark-painted nails while her other hand toyed with the sweet peach between her thighs. 

“Fuck,” Sy muttered. Already rock-hard. Absentmindedly, his hand massaged the hefty bulge through the fabric of his boxers, eliciting a deep groan from under his breath. 

‘What are you doing to me, babygirl?” 

It wasn’t just her naked body and the way her finger teased her own slit, but the look she gave him, the familiar neediness in her gaze, the way she bit her lip. 

Damn, if she was here right now… He’d fucking punish her for teasing him so bad! He’d pin her to the wall with his hand around her throat and show her what happens to naughty girls who like playing such wicked games. 

Now he had three fucking months to go, and all he could think of was how bad he wanted to be inside her tight little cunt.

‘Well, guess I’ll have to take care of this myself…’

Springing his cock free from his boxers, he ran his rough fingers up and down the length of his imposing shaft - slow at first, as Sy enjoyed taking his time, just as he would with her. His thumb rolled across the crown of his cock, gently grazing the tip while he imagined flipping her against the pitted wall in this room. Make her take it from behind so he could look at that perfect rounded ass of hers and watch his cock slipping in and out of her body. 

Still holding the photo open, he focused on her succulent cunt before spitting onto his open palm and griping himself once again. Tighter this time, he squeezed onto his girth and began to fuck his own hand. 

Pants and groans sputtered from his mouth, his chest heaving as he gradually picked up the pace. In his fantasy, he parted her ass cheeks and teased her dripping little hole until she begged him to fuck him. Then he forced himself all the way in, making her cry out. 

The sounds of her moans echoed in his memory, so helpless and desperate at the same time - he was nearly too much for her; that narrow cavern of hers could barely take his leviathan cock, but still, she took every pounding, becoming wetter around his shaft as her body not only yielded to accommodate him but lured him deeper inside. 

“I want inside you, babygirl…” Sy mumbled out loud, his hand now moving in ecstatic fervour. Sweat dripped down the contracting muscles of his abs. Soon, he felt himself swell even larger, and his sack strained with the desperate need for release. 

He tightened his grip, now choking his shaft and thinking of how it felt when she came around him. How she contracted all around his cock and shattered like glass smashing on the floor.

“Don’t come inside….” She’d warned him. She wasn’t on the pill. But this time, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from filling her full of his cum, and maybe… he wouldn’t want to… 

It was his fantasy, after all. 

“FUCK!!!” 

With the image spilling inside her, he allowed himself to be swept by the fierce waves of pleasure, his entire body buzzing with bliss as hot, thick ribbons of ecstasy spilt over his fingers. He might have shouted too loudly, but it’s not like he ever gave a fuck. 

It took Sy a few good minutes to climb down to earth, and then he chuckled hoarsely as he noticed the mess he had left on his hand. Shaking his head, he reached for a towel and wiped himself clean before returning to gaze at her photo. 

“What am I gonna do with you, doll?”

Well, there was an idea. He could repay the favour by sending her a photo of himself. Usually, he was against this type of stuff, but what she did was particularly risky for a woman, and if she was bold enough to treat him, he could do the same. Besides, they had three months until they could meet again. He better make sure she remembered who she belonged to.  

He stroked himself lightly. Still semi-hard, he wondered whether he could work himself to another erection this soon when a knock sounded at the door.

“Mother of f…. One moment !!!” 

Sy yelled. Irritated, he briefly tucked his shaft back in his boxers and jumped out of bed. The room smelled rancid, but Sy couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t even bring himself to put on a shirt as he rushed to the door.

“What?” He grunted before getting to see who was on the other side.

‘Well, fuck me sideways.’

It was a woman because why the hell not? Private Hicks, to be precise. The young thing’s eyes flared with surprise and then snapped to the floor to avoid staring at her sweaty, half-naked superior, but not before catching a glance of his hairy, tattooed chest and the semi-erected bulge in his groin.

The strong scent of sweat and sex hit her nostrils like a smack in the face. It took everything not to curl her face. There was no need to put two and two together to realise what she had just intruded. 

“Sir.” Hicks saluted in badly hidden embarrassment. 

Sy let out a deep sigh. Clearly, she knew what he was doing before she arrived. She probably heard him come all over himself right before knocking. Frankly, he wasn’t ashamed. 

“Get on with it, Private.”

“Sir,” she repeated, her voice a slight tremble. “ I’m sorry to bother you… but the Major asked me to get you.” 

Sy scratched the back of his head and groaned deeply. “Tell him I’ll be there in 10.” 

Without any other comment, he shut the door, leaving Hicks to wander back to the Major’s office, all shaken and quaking. 

As she walked away, she couldn’t help but bite her lips. All across her body, she felt those little electric streams of excitement, and her breath suddenly became shallow. She shouldn’t have thought of her superior like this, on what he did behind that closed door just a moment before she arrived, but Captain Syverson was too hot to handle and, needless to say, too loud. 

Well, she’d have to take care of herself later…

[harryssyndrome]

The Rain Girl | h.s

based on this request! Thx anon for sending your request [mwah mwah!] This is my all time favorite fairytale idea.

Posted on: December 9th, 2024 (IST). by the way I cried sm, can’t believe The Eras Tour is over😭 I need my swifties rn for comfort, fr. Omg I just noticed I’m posting after 13 DAYS, oh my swiftie heart rn. Like, comment and reblog are appreciated! I was so stuck with a long request that I exhausted my creative cells but I’m back now! and will complete all the small requests first 😌 DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, TRANSLATE OR PUBLISH TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM.

Tag-list: @wheredidmyeyesgo @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 @cherryloveshs @harryyloverrr | Tag-list is OPEN || Request are OPEN

word count: 1.9k || Masterlistt☔️

summery: Harry meets a carefree girl in a London rain and then in that moment he knows those romcom feelings.

The rain had always been Harry’s companion, a quiet backdrop to the chaos of his life. He loved the way it muted the world, the way its steady rhythm provided a semblance of order amidst his own disarray. But today, the rain had taken him by surprise. He’d barely managed to duck under the awning of a small bookstore when the sky opened up, releasing a torrent that drenched the cobblestone streets in seconds.

Leaning against the wall, Harry adjusted his jacket, flicking water off the lapels and running a hand through his damp curls. The exhaustion from a long day at the studio weighed heavily on him. His debut album was supposed to be a labor of love, but lately, it felt more like a battle against his own insecurities. Each note, each lyric, each chord had to be perfect, and the pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations was relentless.

He pulled out his phone to check if it had survived the sudden downpour, his mind already on the warm haven of his apartment. He could picture it now—dim lighting, a soft blanket, and the vinyl player spinning one of his favorite records. But then he heard it.

A laugh.

Not just any laugh, but a sound so pure and unrestrained that it sliced through the rain like a melody. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that came from a joke or a conversation. It was a laugh born of joy, spontaneous and infectious.

His head turned toward the sound, his brows furrowing in curiosity. A few steps away, illuminated by the warm glow of a streetlamp, was a girl. No, not just a girl—a force of nature.

She was dancing in the rain.

Her arms were outstretched, her head thrown back as the rain cascaded over her. She spun in circles, her navy-blue skirt flaring around her legs, her white shirt plastered to her skin and revealing the faint outline of a black bra underneath. Long strands of hair clung to her back and face, but she didn’t seem to care. She stomped in puddles with bare feet, her movements wild and uncoordinated, and yet, there was a grace to her, a rhythm that made it impossible to look away.

Harry felt rooted to the spot, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. It wasn’t just her appearance that caught his attention—though she was undoubtedly striking—it was the way she seemed to exist outside of time. In a city that never stopped moving, she had created a world of her own, a pocket of joy amidst the gray monotony.

He leaned against the wall, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched her. She was oblivious to him, too consumed by the moment to notice the figure standing in the shadows. For a fleeting second, Harry felt envious. When was the last time he had let go like that? When was the last time he’d allowed himself to simply be?

Then, as if sensing his gaze, she stopped. Her laughter faded, and she turned to look at him. Their eyes met, and Harry felt a strange jolt in his chest.

“Enjoying the show?” she called out, her voice warm and teasing, carrying easily over the sound of the rain.

Harry blinked, caught off guard. He pushed himself off the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “Hard not to,” he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

She tilted her head, studying him. “And why are you just standing there? Afraid of a little rain?”

He chuckled, glancing down at his soaked boots. “Not exactly dressed for it,” he said, motioning to his leather boots and jacket.

“Boots can be replaced. Moments like this?” She spread her arms again, gesturing to the rain-soaked street. “Rare.”

Her words hung in the air, challenging him. Harry hesitated, torn between the logical part of his mind that told him to stay dry and the inexplicable urge to join her. “I’d ruin my boots,” he countered, though his tone lacked conviction.

She laughed again, the sound light and carefree. “Ruin them, then. It’s worth it.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but then an idea struck him. He glanced toward the small café just a few doors down, its warm lights spilling onto the street. Without a word, he darted toward it, ignoring the rain soaking through his jacket as he crossed the short distance.

Inside, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries greeted him. He approached the counter and ordered two takeaway cups of tea, the warmth seeping into his hands as he carried them back outside.

When he returned, she had stopped dancing, standing under the streetlamp with her head tilted back, letting the rain kiss her face. Her eyes flicked toward him as he approached, her curiosity evident.

“Thought you might need this,” he said, holding out one of the cups.

She blinked in surprise, then smiled as she accepted it. “Tea in the rain? How very British of you.”

He shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “Call it a peace offering. Or maybe an excuse to stand here and talk to you.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smile turning mischievous. “You didn’t need to buy me tea for that.”

Harry chuckled, taking a sip of his own tea. “Maybe not, but I thought it might earn me a few points.”

Her laughter returned, softer this time. She wrapped her hands around the cup, letting the steam rise toward her face. “Well, you’re off to a good start,” she admitted.

They stood in silence for a moment, the rain continuing to fall around them. Harry felt an unexpected sense of calm, the kind that had eluded him for weeks. She was magnetic in a way that wasn’t forced or deliberate.

“So,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “Do you always dance in the rain, or was I just lucky enough to catch a rare performance?”

She laughed, glancing down at her feet. “It’s not a regular thing,” she admitted. “But sometimes, you just… feel it, you know? Like the world is giving you permission to forget everything and just exist.”

Harry nodded slowly, her words resonating with him. “I think I needed to see that,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere.

Her expression softened, her gaze lingering on him. “Tough day?”

“Something like that,” he replied. He hesitated, unsure how much to share. “Long hours in the studio. Trying to get everything perfect.”

She tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “You’re a musician?”

He smiled faintly. “Something like that.”

“Well,” she said, her voice thoughtful, “perfection is overrated. Look at me—spinning around like a lunatic, completely soaked, and probably scaring off anyone sane enough to be walking these streets. But I feel perfect right now.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. “You make a convincing argument.”

Her gaze lingered on him, her eyes warm and inviting. “You should try it,” she said suddenly, setting her tea cup down on the railing of a nearby staircase.

“Try what?”

“Dancing,” she said simply. “You’ve got the boots for it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, come on,” she urged, stepping closer. “You’re already wet. What’s the harm?”

Before he could protest, she grabbed his hand, her fingers warm despite the rain. She pulled him into the middle of the street, her laughter spilling over as he stumbled slightly, caught off guard.

“This is ridiculous,” he said, though he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Ridiculous is underrated,” she countered, spinning him in a clumsy circle.

Harry let out a genuine laugh, the sound surprising even himself. He let go of his inhibitions, stomping in puddles and spinning her around as the rain continued to pour. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t thinking about deadlines or expectations. He was just… living.

When they finally stopped, both breathless and soaked to the bone, she looked at him with a grin that was equal parts teasing and genuine. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

He shook his head, his curls plastered to his forehead. “Not bad at all.”

As the rain began to ease, she picked up her tea and took another sip, her eyes flicking toward the horizon. “Well, Harry Styles,” she said, her tone playful, “thanks for the tea and the company. I think you just made my day.”

He blinked, surprised. “You know who I am?”

She smirked, her gaze mischievous. “Who doesn’t?”

As she turned to leave, Harry couldn’t help but call out after her. “Hey! Rain girl!”

She paused mid-step, glancing over her shoulder with an amused smile. “Rain girl?”

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Well, I don’t know your name, and it fits. You did kind of make an impression tonight.”

Her smile widened, and she took a step closer, tilting her head. “Does that mean I’ll have to keep dancing in the rain just so you’ll remember me?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve already made yourself pretty unforgettable,” he said, his voice softer, more sincere. “But… how do I find you again? Do I have to wait for the next downpour and hope you’ll be out here?”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, her expression teasing. “Well, I do love dancing in the rain. Maybe you’ll just have to keep an eye out.”

Harry groaned dramatically, though his grin never faltered. “That’s a bit risky, don’t you think? What if the rain doesn’t come for weeks?”

She laughed, the sound light and melodic. “Then you’ll learn some patience.”

“Or,” he countered, pulling his phone from his pocket and holding it out to her, “you could just give me your number and save me the suspense.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his persistence. After a moment, she took the phone from his hand, her fingers brushing against his as she typed. Harry watched her with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, and when she handed the phone back, he glanced at the screen.

The number was there, but instead of a name, she had saved it under the nickname he’d given her earlier: Rain Girl.

He chuckled, his eyes flicking back to her. “Seriously? No name? Just Rain Girl?”

She shrugged, her smile playful. “I like the nickname. Besides, it’ll make sure you remember me.”

Harry smiled, his heart feeling inexplicably lighter. “I don’t think I could forget you even if I tried,” he admitted, his tone sincere. “And now I know what I’ll be dreaming about tonight.”

Her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, and she dipped into a playful bow, holding the edges of her skirt like it was a ballroom gown. “In that case, let me properly introduce myself. This Rain Girl’s name is YN.”

Harry’s grin widened as he repeated her name softly, as though testing how it felt on his tongue. “YN.”

She straightened, her smile bright despite the rain-soaked strands of hair clinging to her face. “Now you’ve got a name to go with the number,” she said.

“Perfect,” Harry said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “But I still think Rain Girl suits you better.”

YN laughed, a sound that seemed to linger in the air even as she turned and began walking away. Harry watched her go, a strange warmth settling in his chest.

As the rain tapered off, leaving the streets glistening under the dim streetlights, Harry couldn’t stop smiling. He hadn’t just found shelter from the storm—he’d found something unexpected, something he couldn’t quite put into words yet.

And he knew one thing for sure: the next time it rained, he’d be looking for her.

[sp10o0sh]

Critical Chill (Chance/Parker/M!Reader)

Experiencing GM burnout, you invite Chance to a game night with your mutual friend, and your roommate, Parker. You hope to make him feel better by distracting him with fun games and silly banter.

Tags: Fluff, Slow (ish) burn, Feelings Realization, Cuddling, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Male Reader-Insert, Might be slightly OOC, I'm Bad At Tagging, Not Beta Read, Getting Together, Human AU

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

Honest to god, this was a joke at first. My friend was supposed to talk me out of writing this, and he didn't. So, I threw in a little Easter egg for him (Hi Eddie Ilysm King) Date everything has taken over my life, and it will not stop rotting away my already minimal brain cells. I also love Parker a LOT and he might actually be tied for my top bbg. Mitchell Linn is still everything to me tho.. Cross-posted to AO3, under user @/sp10osh (Or Click Here !) I don't know what else to put here.. Sorry gang. I don't know how to use Tumblr.. But I promise I am learning! or trying.. so be nice. Any tips r appreciated lol :3

Also Requests are totally welcome, and I will write like.. Almost anything to do with Date everything so... yeah.

Again, Not Beta Read, so I'm so sorry in advance.

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, the screen lighting up with Chance’s name. You wiped your hands on your worn-out favorite shirt and grinned, swiping to answer.

“Hey, Chance! What’s up?”

“Hey!” His voice was warm and a little nervous, like he was holding back a dozen thoughts at once. “So... I was wondering—are you free later this afternoon? Maybe coffee? I could really use a break from my own brand of chaos.” 

You glanced around your shared apartment, the morning light filtering through dusty blinds and pooling on the faded rug. The place was a patchwork of Parker and your personalities: mismatched furniture scavenged from thrift stores, a sprawling bookshelf bursting with fantasy novels, G&G rulebooks, records stacked in a corner, and dozens of potted plants, some thriving, some quietly dying. Parker insisted on keeping them, he said that they kept the air clean. 

You peeked into the living room, where Parker was draped over the couch, tangled in the heap of blankets, His colorful hair stuck out in wild tufts, and a half-deflated stress ball was clenched loosely in his hand. He groaned dramatically as you caught his eye. 

Late afternoon meant late for Chance. Admitly, probably too late for coffee, but your sleep schedule was already pretty messed up, and you would never turn down a hangout with your friend. “Well,” you began, smiling, “coffee sounds perfect, and I’m free.”

“Awesome,” Chance replied. “I’ll text you the details.”

Before you could say bye, Chance beat you to it, and the line dropped dead. He must've been extremely busy. He always said goodbye. You put your phone back on the counter and made your way to stand by the couch, where Parker had started attempting a slow, exaggerated stretch that reminded you of some inhuman entity, waking up from a deep slumber.

“Finally awake?” you teased.

Parker groaned again, throwing a pillow at you but missing by a mile. Instead of replying to your teasing, he just waved his hand. “Ugh. That guy! I haven’t heard from him in like a week! Why didn't he invite me too?” 

You laughed, dropping down beside him. “Don’t be jealous. He probably has just been busy. He sounded distracted, anyway..”

Parker gave you a sideways glance, one brow raised, then pretended to dramatically wipe sweat from his brow. “Oh, I’m not jealous,” he said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “I just can’t believe I wasn't invited to watch you be Mega-Gay for him.”

You nudged him playfully. “It’s a normal amount of gay, thank you very much.”

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, the familiar hum of the city drifting through the cracked-open window mixing with the distant sound of a neighbor’s singing (If it could be called that, It was honestly a rough listen. Something about showers?) practice. Your crush on Chance wasn't something Parker actually knew about. What he was referring to was a joke that started with your G&G campaign. Your character has romanced one of the NPCs, which, naturally, led to very fun character flirting that all your friends loved to tease you about. Eventually, that led to silly jokes when you would all get together. 

In reality, you did have a massive crush on your friend. Not only Chance, but Parker too. He made your heart flutter in all the best ways. He was kind, funny, and so so thoughtful. He was the reason you were able to get back on your feet after a messy fight with your last landlord. Telling either of them this, though seemed to be strictly off limits, as they were two of the best friends you had ever made. 

Your gaze drifted to the kitchen counter, stacked with a jumble of mugs, a half-empty jar of peanut butter, and the infamous “coffee machine that never quite works.” Parker had insisted it added character. It did not.

“Soooooo, you’re definitely going to ask him why he hates me, anad refuses to see me, right?” he asked, nudging your knee gently.

You laughed, heart skipping. “Sure, Parker. If it eases your mind, I’ll make sure to ask.”

Parker burst out laughing. “Make him regret not asking me to come too!”

You shook your head, smiling at how easy it was with him. It was moments like this, quiet, ridiculous, comfortable, that made you wonder if maybe there was something more to what he felt as well. He would let his touches linger, and stare longer than necessary on occasion. You shook your head faintly, and reminded yourself that's just how he was. 

Parker caught your lingering look and followed your glance to the sink, then he gave you a goofy grin. “Don’t worry,” he said, nudging you again, “I’ll do the dishes while you're out!”

You smiled back, warmth blooming in your chest.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

True to his word, Chance did send you the details for your meetup. Just like you thought, it was late. Too late for coffee, yet you still ordered a latte. 

The café smells like burnt espresso and cinnamon scones, but you barely notice. You’re too busy watching Chance stir his coffee like he’s trying to will it into being anything but coffee. Which is silly, because he could have ordered any other drink on the menu, so you assumed it wasn't the coffee. He hasn’t said much since you sat down, which is unusual, normally, he’s all jokes and barely-contained chaos by now.

You glance at him over the rim of your mug. “You look like someone is failing all their death saves.”

Chance huffs a laugh through his nose. “Nice. Go ahead, kick a guy while he’s down.”

“I’d never,” you say with a smile. “Not without at least rolling first.” Its cringe-worthy, you know it. Normally Chance is the one cranking out all the G&G related puns, in fast enough succession to make you want to tape his mouth shut, but tonight its you. 

That earns you a faint grin, but it doesn’t last. He slumps in his seat, running his hands over his face, messing his glasses up as he does so. Then, voice quieter than you expect, he mutters:

“I think I’m actually burnt out. Like... seriously.”

You blink, caught off guard. Chance never admits to being tired. He’s the guy who stays up all night prepping NPC dialogue and tracks initiative like a mad scientist. He lives to GM. Or at least, you thought he did. Thinking about it now, it makes sense why he would feel burnt out. You nod sympathetically. 

“Burnt out from running everything?” you ask carefully.

He nods. “Yeah. Campaign’s fun, but every week it’s more like... ‘how do I keep this thing from falling apart?’ I’m behind on prep, work has been so crazy recently and—” He cuts himself off with a frustrated exhale. “I don’t know. I’m just tired, Y/N. And I feel bad about it. Everyone’s counting on me to keep the story going. Im sorry... I just can’t get into the right headspace to GM. I don’t want to half-ass it or make it boring.”

You set your mug down and lean in slightly. “Chance. You don’t have to carry everything. Seriously.”

He shrugs, still not looking at you. “Kinda feels like I do, though.”

“Nope,” you say, not missing a beat. “Not letting you spiral.”

His head lifts, confused. “What?”

“I’m hijacking your evening and weekend,” you declare. “Parker’s been wanting to have a casual game night. Why don’t I call him? Maybe you could come over, relax, and just play without the pressure to run the game.”

Chance squints. “Wait, Parker’s wants to have a casual night?” He asks, completely stopped on the wrong point. “Parker, ‘the-rules-are-sacred’ Parker?”

You shrug, “More or less.” 

Chance smiles, hopeful. “Really? That sounds perfect. I could use a night off.”

You pulled out your phone and dialed Parker's number. It barely rang before your roommate picked up. “Yelllllllow?” His voice lively called through the phone.

“Hey, Parker! So, Chance is feeling kind of burnt out and needs a chill night. Would you be up for a game night tonight? Like, board games, snacks, no stress stuff?”

There was a beat, then Parker’s voice burst through, enthusiastic and loud enough to draw a few curious glances.

“Absolutely! Tell Chance he’s definitely invited! I’ve been itching to throw a game night for weeks. This is perfect!”

You smiled, “Great! We’ll be home around seven?”

“Sounds good! I’ll clean up and everything! Do you want to pick up some snacks?. I can’t wait!”

You replied with an excited hum, and hung up meeting Chances eyes, who was already grinning, looking at you like you were the best person on the planet. 

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

You spent the time before seven walking around with Chance to help clear his head, and heading to different convenience stores to pick up snacks. As it approached seven, you made your way back to the apartment complex. As, you and Chance walked through the city streets, the evening air was cool and refreshing. You had switched back and forth on who was holding onto who’s arm now, and chance now had his arm wrapped around yours, as you led him up the stairs to your room. The familiar buzz of anticipation stirred in Chance’s chest as you approached the door.

Parker was waiting at the door, and the moment he saw you both through the peephole, he flung the door open, arms crossed but smiling wide, like he’d been counting down the minutes.

“Welcome to the lair,” he said, gesturing dramatically as he opened the door. “Getting cozy already?” He winked at Chance. 

Chance scoffed, and sat up, untangling his arm from yours. “Nonsense! I was just keeping my dear Fayrus warm on the walk home.” he said dramatically, referencing your G&G character. You laughed, and took a step inside. 

Inside, the apartment was transformed into game central, piles of board games stacked on the coffee table, bowls of snacks scattered around, and cozy blankets strewn about. In the center, the couch had a blanket fort built around it, open to face the coffee table and TV. It was tall enough for you to sit comfortably, but Chance might have to duck slightly. 

Chance looked around, relaxing visibly.

“Thanks for this–”

Parker clapped Chance on the back, cutting him off with a playful smirk. “No worries. Tonight’s about fun. Let’s get started.” he said, taking Chance by the waist and leading him to sit around on the floor, where he picked up the first game of the evening and placed it between the group. 

You settled in beside them, and Parker emptied the game onto the floor. “Alright,” he announced, “first game: Secret Sketch.”

Chance raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“It’s simple,” Parker explained, pulling out a stack of cards with words, a timer, and a sketchpad with markers. “One person draws the word on their card, obviously they can’t speak or use letters or numbers. The other two guesses. five rounds, rounds are over after everyone has drawn once, the highest combined score wins. If you’re drawing, when people guess correctly you get a point for each person who guesses right. If you’re guessing, you get a point for being right.”

You exchanged glances. Lots of explaining the rules, but it made Parker happy so you didnt stop him. “Sounds fun.” you agreed, and Chance nodded. 

Chance smiled, more relaxed now. “Okay, I’m in.” Chance took his Jacket off and set it next to him, then he leaned back on his hands, sitting crisscrossed on the floor near you. Honestly, It was distracting. Chance was attractive, and you weren't sure if he knew exactly how attractive he was. 

Both you and Parker spaced out, staring at his tattooed arms until your faces grew red. When you both pulled your eyes away from his arms and looked back up, Parker bashfully pretended not to notice. 

Clearing his throat, Parker handed the first card to you. You peeked and gasped quietly, mouthing the words to yourself, blinking slowly as you processed the words. “’Octopus playing guitar.’” you bit your lip, pulling it anxiously with your teeth. 

Chance snorted, presumably at your expression. He extended the marker to you.

You took the marker, set the timer, and began your frantic, messy sketching.

The tension melted instantly as laughter bubbled up at the ridiculous drawings. (“Seriously what is that supposed to be?”) 

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

After five painstakingly long rounds of sketching you stood up to stretch your legs. Parker had begun to get onto you and Chance for attempting to sneak peaks at each other's cards to make guessing easier. “I’m going to go grab some more snacks, you should set up the next game.” 

You pet Parker's head as you walked by, He was actively rising to sit on his knees, and push the paper explaining the rules into Chance's face. 

As you walked back into the kitchen, you giggled, hearing Parker ask Chance if “The rules really meant nothing to him?!” 

You set the snacks on the counter and let yourself get distracted, watching them banter. They seem lost in their own world, Chance giggling as Parker read out the rules, painstakingly slow to emphasize their importance. They worked together, the kind of easy rhythm that comes from history, from weeks or months of something unspoken hanging in the air. Its not like Chance hated rules, but being a GM meant he was incharge, he made the rules, and followed them, of course he loved rules. It was just fun to mess with Parker. After being friends for so long, it was just an understood rhythm between you guys. 

Deep in thought, you eventually looked back up to see Parker hovering over Chance’s, hands on either side of him, in his best attempt to be intimidating. “What’s the point of playing games if you're just going to cheat!?” He asked. 

Chance looked up at Parker, and you saw something pass through his eyes as he glanced down to Parker's lips, then his face flushed. His hand shakily rose to Parker's side, causing him to shudder and blush in turn. 

“Okay.. You’re right.” Chance stuttered, breathing out. The tension from before was replaced with something else, and you felt giddy. Seeing your two favorite people act so flustered together sent a warm feeling up your spine, and straight to your head. 

Parkers eyes widened, and nodded “Oh-okay…” He muttered, before leaning back from Chance, who seemed to let his hand linger even as Parker pulled away. 

You smiled, and clapped, making your entrance with snacks known. “Ohhkay! Whats next?” You asked, watching them both untangle from each other completely, blushes on their face as Parker began into the next game description.  

You wonder if they know.

If they know that every time Parker’s hand brushes yours when passing game tokens, your heart stutters. If they know that the way Chance leans on your shoulder when he laughs makes it harder and harder not to just… say something. Anything.

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

The next game has something with cards and timers and way too many rules, which Parker explains with intense focus while Chance listens with fake seriousness, occasionally winking at you like, I’m going to mess this up on purpose.

And he does.

Every round, he finds a way to break the rules: adding fake points, declaring himself the “wild card,” or, at one point, assigning Parker a completely made-up punishment; “You have to compliment me every time I roll a six.” 

Parker sighs but follows through on his next six, “Your hair. It looks nice. It’s messy, in a cute way. it suits you.” His face flushes, and it spreads down to his neck. His hands shake, and he threatens to drop his card. 

Chance freezes mid-laugh, visibly caught off guard.

You had almost choked on your soda.

Parker notices the silence and frowns. “What?”

Chance clears his throat, looking down at the cards in his hands. “Nothing. Just... not used to those kinds of.. Well.. the nice stuff from you.”

Parker glances at you like he’s looking for someone to help him, but you just smile awkwardly and take a long sip from your drink to hide the fact that your brain is screaming: Say something. Say you like them. Say anything.

But you don’t.

Because they’re them. Brilliant, quick-witted, soft-hearted Chance and meticulous, emotionally-dense Parker. And you’re just... the guy caught between them, falling a little harder every time they look at each other like that. Watching them fight off their feelings for each other, makes you find them both more adorable and endearing. 

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

After that game, Chance disappears into the kitchen to hunt for pretzels while Parker sits beside you on the couch, carefully sorting cards back into their sleeves.

“Thanks for kinda throwing this into action,” he says quietly, not looking up. “He really needed it.”

You nod. “I know. Thank you too, for agreeing..”

There’s a pause.

Then, softer he added: “I think I needed it too.”

You look at him. At the way his fingers fidget with the cards. His voice goes small like when he’s feeling too much but doesn’t want to say so. You reach out, and place a gentle hand on his knee. You run your thumb back and forth along his knee, something you did often. Living together, there was more than one occasion where you would cuddle (Purley platonically of course!) to fall asleep, so physical contact wasn't something new to either of you. Yet, he seemed distracted and jumpy tonight. 

“You don’t always have to be in control, you know,” you murmur.

He gives you a quick glance, then looks down again. “Neither does he.” He says, almost defensively, but he stops himself. “I think..-” 

You both look up at the same time when Chance leans back around the kitchen doorway. “You two whispering about me?” he asks, one brow raised, a bowl of pretzels in his hands. He has a pretzel in his mouth as he smirks. 

You smirk. “Only in flattering tones.”

Parker clears his throat, and speaks at the same time as you. “Absolutely not.”

Chance pauses, and all three of you giggle. “Okay, yeah. Definitely whispering about me.” He comes back to sit with you guys as you start the next game. 

Laughter, jokes, quiet moments in between. You try not to let yourself read into every glance, every graze of a hand or brush of a knee. But you do.

Because it’s there.

In the way Parker leans closer when Chance talks. In the way Chance stops filling the silence, like he’s starting to trust it. In the way you find yourself watching them both with your heart doing that dumb stutter it always does.

You’re not sure where this night is going. But you kind of hope it never ends.

The pretzels disappear halfway through a new game that none of you are really playing correctly. The rules are a suggestion at best, something Parker tries to uphold, Chance deliberately misreads, and you... you just sit between them, watching the dynamic shift. Parker doesn’t fight it, Chance relaxes, resting his hand on Parker's leg, and his head on your shoulder. 

Not dramatically. Not suddenly. But gradually; Like the way the air gets warmer just before spring.

Parker’s explaining something about event cards when Chance leans over you to grab a piece of paper. His shoulder brushes yours—warm and solid—and he stays there a beat too long. When he finally pulls back, you catch Parker’s eyes flicking toward the two of you. Brief. Curious.

You wonder if he noticed.

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

A little later, when Parker gets up to refill drinks, you and Chance stay sprawled on the floor, game pieces scattered around you like the aftermath of a story that never got finished.

Chance tilts his head, studying you. “You okay?”

You blink. “Me? Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’ve just been kinda quiet,” he says, nudging your ankle with his socked foot. “None of us are ever really quiet...” He jokes.

You smile, soft and a little shy. “Just... enjoying this.”

Chance doesn’t answer right away. He sits back, arms resting on his knees, face half-lit by the soft yellow of lights of the room. There’s a look in his eyes you can’t quite name, not the usual playfulness or faux goofy confidence. Something thoughtful.

“You’re good at this,” he says.

“At board games?” You ask, earnestly. 

He snorts, “At making people feel like they’re not gonna fall apart if they stop pretending everything’s fine,” he says, voice low and honest. “I don’t... Well, Thank you.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So you just smile, and let your foot gently tap his in reply. He doesn’t pull away.

When Parker returns with drinks, he hesitates in the doorway for just a second. You don’t see the look on his face, but Chance does.

And he says, too casually, “You spying, or just admiring the view?”

Parker scoffs but blushes. “If I were admiring anything, it’d be the disaster you made out of the rulebook.”

“Liar,” Chance mutters under his breath, but he’s grinning as he scoots over to make space for him on the floor. You press your lips together to hide your own grin, as he cuddles up to you both. 

Chance yawns softly, and you check the time on your phone. Its nearly midnight. You laugh, asking the others if they want to clean up and put on a movie. They agree and you guys start to pick up. As you are cleaning you notice the way Parker relaxes a little more when Chance laughs. The way Chance goes still when Parker speaks softly. The way you’re starting to ache with how much you care for both of them.

After you guys gave up on cleaning up, you guys snuggle up on the couch fort you built. A movie is playing in the background as you all fought off different stages of sleep. Too tired to sit upright, too comfortable to leave. The board games are still on the floor. The cards are a mess. The blanket you tossed over Chance earlier is now half-draped over all three of you. A warmth spreads through your face, and feels like it clogs your throat. 

Parker’s head rests on your shoulder. Chance’s legs are across both your laps, you sit between them. Chance breaks the silence first, voice barely audible.

“We should do this again.” Its sleepy, and adorable, how he sounds so hopeful. 

You nod, gently. “Yeah. We should.”

Parker doesn’t say anything, but he shifts closer.

The soft glow of string lights lit up the living room, casting a gentle warmth over the piles of nonsense around the room. You didn't realize how cuddly Chance could be until just now. He was curled up over your lap, head on Parker's shoulder now. Within no-time he had fallen asleep. His soft snores were rhythmic, like a purring cat.

Parker, who was normally so upbeat and playful, had gone quiet. His shirt and hair had become more ruffled up, and you found it hard not to stare at his face, and the little bit of stomach that showed when he moved around. You really tried not to stare, but after the evening you had, it was difficult to pretend like you weren't infatuated with both ot the men snuggled up to you. 

You turned slightly, careful not to jostle Chance. “You good?” you whispered, catching the faint tension in his jaw.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking to Chance’s sleeping face, then back to you.

“I—” Parker’s voice was quieter than usual. “I didn’t think tonight would feel this... perfect. Like, stupidly perfect.”

Your brow furrowed in curiosity, but your heart warmed at the sentiment. “It did turn out great, huh? Even with Chance cheating.”

Parker let out a small laugh, but it faded quickly. He looked at you again, really looked, and you saw something different in his eyes. Something tender. Vulnerable.

“I like you,” he said softly, barely louder than the rustle of the blankets. “A lot. That’s not new. But I didn’t think I’d feel this way about both of you.”

You blinked, surprised, but not in a bad way. He rushed to fill the silence.

“I know it’s weird. I know most people don’t- I’m not trying to make things awkward or mess anything up between us or-”

You reached over and took his hand, attempting to ground him and keep him from spiraling. You kissed his knuckles gently. 

“It’s not weird,” you said, squeezing gently. “And you’re not messing anything up. I care about both of you too. I.. Like both of you too. Maybe it’s not the ‘normal’ setup, but... it feels right. Doesn’t it?”

Parker exhaled slowly, the tension melting from his shoulders. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It does.” his face was bright pink even in the soft lighting. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he stumbles over his words, and before you could reply. 

Then, from the lump between you, a sleepy voice mumbled, “Aww, are you guys talking about feelings? That’s cute.”

Chance stretched across you both and blinked up at you, a grin tugging at his lips. “Holy crit! Took you long enough.”

You and Parker froze. “You were awake?” Parker asked, stunned.

Chance yawned dramatically. “Kind of. You talk loud when you’re nervous. Also, I definitely like both of you too, If I wasn't being clear about that before.” He waved a hand vaguely. “I want to kiss you both too.”

You laughed, heart swelling as Parker rolled his eyes fondly. Chance leaned up and pressed his lips to Parkers and then to yours, It was soft and sweet and tender all at once. He then kissed Parkers cheek before laying back down. 

You smiled, kissing Parker as he grew more and more bashful, hiding in the heap of blankets that Chance was already starting to curl up in. 

The three of you then slowly fell asleep, resting with tangled limbs, a little messy and confusing and a lot warm. 

It felt right. 

[mariclerc]

An unexpected role (pt.4) | cl16

Summary: you revealed your little secret to your date, you didn't expect he would take it so well.

Warning: bad comments on social media, unnamed ex-partner, abusive ex-partner, swearing, a LOT of fluff and Charles being an amazing dad and boyfriend.

Check out the series!! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

taglist 🎀 @martaaairwin1994-blog @barcelonaloverf1life @bananaleclerc @thedecalcomania-blog @jonasswifie

ynusername

liked by lissiemackintosh, arthur_leclerc, kellypiquet and others

tagged charles_leclerc

ynusername my loves 🤍🤍

user1 NO WAY ‼️‼️‼️

itslolasss you finally posted them bestie 🥹🥹 i'm supa proud

charles_leclerc it cost her a couple of tears but i'm finally on her insta 😌😌

ynusername itslolasss please don't believe him okay? But yes, I may have cried a little while posting this 😭😭

itslolasss i know you did darling don't worry abt that 🫶🏻🫶🏻

charles_leclerc I love you and Lily with all my heart 💗💗 my cute girls

ynusername charlieeee 😭😭 you're making me cry babe 🥺🥺

charles_leclerc owww, don't cry little dove 🥺🥺

landonorris i missed several chapters charles_leclerc can you explain????

pierregasly i also missed several chapters bro

landonorris wait you didn't know this?? then who knew?

logansargeant when did this happen? i'm lost

carlossainz55 same here

user2 not half of the grid not knowing that Charles had a family 🫣🫣🫣

scuderiaferrari we didn't know either 🧍🏼‍♀️

user1 TEAM 😳😳😳😳

francisca.cgomes cutiesss 💕💕💕 i love you bothhh

ynusername kikaaa Lily misses youuuuu 🫶🏻🫶🏻

charles_leclerc

liked by lewishamilton, jeanalesi, alex_albon and others

tagged ynusername

charles_leclerc my whole lifeeee, I love them both 💗🎀✨

lorenzotl finallyyyyyyyyyy

user1 oh my god, they're so pretty 🥺 congratulations charlie for your little family

ynusername we love youuuuu so much charliee 🥹😭 thank you for appearing at the perfect time in our lives, we owe you a lot 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

charles_leclerc it's nothing amore, the one who owes you two a lot is actually me 🥹🥹

ynusername okay charlie boo boo! 🥺🥺

leclerc_pascale mes filles, je les aime beaucoup 💗💗 (my daughters, I love you both very much)

ynusername nous t'aimons aussi maman!! (we love you too mom!!)

charles_leclerc bien sûr, tu ne m'aimes plus... mens, je plaisante maman 🤍🤍 (of course you don't love me anymore... lie, I'm joking mom)

scuderiaferrari welcome to the red team Lily and yn!!! ❤️❤️❤️

liked by creator and ynusername

lilymhe oh goodness congrats big guy! And welcome to the f1 paddock cute girlies 💕💕

ynusername oh god, thank u sweetheart 🫶🏻🫶🏻

sebastianvettel congrats Charles ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc thank you so much Seb!!

sebastianvettel if you need some parenting guide you can ask me anything!

charles_leclerc noted!! Thank you so much Seb <3

user3 oh god, congrats champ!!!!

f1gossipp are we seriously going to congratulate him just because he is raising a little girl and his dating a pig?

user2 bro... Let him live!!! He has a beautiful and adorable family and I think that from comments like yours on social media he had them safe and sound!!

f1gossipp yeah sure, she looks like a fucking golddigger

user4 yeah, she looks like a total bitch. Attracting a man using a little girl as bait? Please, everything to get attention because she needs it

francisca.cgomes can you please shut the fuck up??? this is why Charles didn't want to show little Lily or yn and he did it because he is proud of them and loves them with his whole heart!! it's one thing for you to support him and another thing for him to throw shit at the people he loves.

Your cell phone doesn't stop vibrating with notifications, since last night you decided (as a family) to post pictures of yourselves on insta and, as expected, some fans went completely crazy, but too crazy in your opinion. There were many good comments, and you really appreciated them, as there were also very, very bad and ugly comments talking about you and Lily and what hurts you the most is that it's not your or her fault.

Right now you are lying in bed next to Charles, he has one arm on your waist and you are lying on his chest, even though your head hasn't stopped spinning thousands of times, the beat of his heart calms you incredibly and you really loved that.

Suddenly you hear the bedroom door open and small footsteps echo in the silent room.

“Mama? Up! Up!” Lily says from the foot of the bed, trying to climb up.

“Oh, come here darling!” You say while you move a little without waking Charles so you can put Lily on the bed next to you.

She smiles. “Dada?” she asked.

“Dada is sleeping baby, but we can sleep with him too, don't you think?” you said to her softly, she nodded.

She moved onto your other side and you covered her with the blanket you and Charles were using. She snuggled up next to you while you tried to fall asleep even just a little. These quiet moments are what fill you with calm and make you have hope that not everything is bad, you have a nice family, a healthy and happy little girl, a wonderful boyfriend who would go to the moon for you two and there's not much more you can ask for. This is everything you ever dreamed of having.

Suddenly Charles babbles something a little sleepy. “Mhm, good morning princesses!” He says and you let out a giggle.

“Good morning champ!” you say as you give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Dada! Mowning!” Lily says making hands so that her dad can hold her in his arms.

“Oh, but what a nice good morning I have here! Ma petite fleur and ma belle” He says as he brushes his nose against Lily's and smiles. (my little flower. my beautiful.)

“Yes, especially with online comments.” You say releasing a sigh.

He looks at you curious. “What kind of comments, my dear? Don't tell me you read those comments?”

You nodded. “Sadly yes, it's just that... I couldn't help it, sorry love.”

He denied. “You shouldn't apologize to me love, they are the wrong ones! They don't know you and they don't know Lily to have an opinion about you or our little family.” He looked at you and smiled and then kissed you on the corners of your lips. “So you don't have to apologize to me, okay? I love you two very much and I hope you know it, honey.” He says as he starts giving you kisses on your face, Lily starts bouncing in his arms and you laugh.

You nod with a shy smile on your face. “Okay sir, I won't apologize to you but it does bother me that they are that way, you know?”

“I know love, but don't waste your energy on that, there are more important things than that. Like, for example, Lily!” He says smiling at the aforementioned and she giggles. “Look at her, isn't she cute? Because yes she is, a cutie!”

You giggle. “Fine, fine. How about we get up and start this day properly, okay? What would you like for breakfast, my loves?”

“Pancakes!” They both say in unison, you smile and get out of bed.

***

The rest of the day passed peacefully, and you were truly grateful. You liked being in this little bubble of love and comfort building colourful block towers with Lily and Charles, but sometimes it was necessary to show a little bit of that love that you have as a family to the world, and perhaps many people are bothered by that, but at the same time there are many who don't.

But seeing the smile on your baby girl face every time her dada tickles her or hugs her is priceless and it makes you think that you are really in the right place.

“Love? What are you thinking about honeybunch?” he asked softly while holding Lily in his arms.

“Nothing, I'm just so happy to be with you. It sounds silly, but you guys make me so so happy.”

He smiled. “Aww, love. That is so cute! I am also very happy to be with you two!”

Lily, feeling the love, begins to giggle a few times. “Mama! Dada! Love!”

You giggle. “We love you too baby!” you say in unison.

You more than anyone know that with the photos being posted on Insta, your parents are going to want to try to get back into your life. And it really doesn't make any sense since they turned their back on you many times and now they want to come back to see how much money they can "get" from you or Charles is very stupid.

“Do you know what terrifies me? That my parents, seeing the photos of us on social media, want to come back into my life, you know? After everything they did to me...” You were going to continue but he silenced you with a kiss on the lips.

“Princess, don't think about that. Yes, they most likely want to get back into your life and Lily's, but you know what? It's up to you to make them come in or not.” he whispers.

“Who are you and what did you do with my Charles? I didn't know this philosophical Charles.” he laughs.

“Sometimes I have to use logic honey, I'm not just a pretty driver.” you let out a laugh while he winks. “But honestly baby, don't think about that... How about we watch a movie together?”

Suddenly, almost automatically, Lily smiled. “Movie! Can we 'atch... Princess movies?” she asked softly.

Charles smiled and caressed her hair. “But of course honey! We can watch any princess movie you want!”

You smiled and got up from the floor. “Okay, I'll look for a blanket and I'll look for Mimi too!”

“Mimi!” Lily screeched and you giggled.

“Okay okay, you two stay there.” You say as you walk towards Lily's room to look for her stuffed bunny Mimi. “What movie will we see, loves?” You ask from the hallway.

“Tangled!” They say in unison, you just laugh while grabbing the blanket, that's yours and Lily's favorite movie and little by little it has become Charles' favorite —although he was a little reluctant to watch princess movies but he loves them.

You return to the living room where Lily and Charles are already settled on the sofa with some sweets and a small glass of water for Lily. “Tangled it is then!” You say as you hand Mimi to Lily while she snuggles between the two of you and the three of you shelter under the blanket.

ynusername posted a story

itslolasss god, what a beautiful thing, you three will make me cry I sweaaaarr 😭😭😭

ynusername stfu, right now i feel like i'm in a fever dream you know? Not counting the bad comments on insta.

itslolasss girl I love you and I love your little girl, but please don't hurt yourself by reading all that garbage :( they have no idea what a great mother you are‼️‼️

itslolasss i bet all my money that Charles already gave you a lecture about not seeing those disgusting comments 🫵🏻🫵🏻

ynusername erm... Yes 👉🏻👈🏻 and I say, he's truly right tbh

itslolasss can we talk about the fact that you made him watch TANGLED? He's such a girl dad bestie

ynusername hehe, yup lily and i did that thing 😋🥰

“You know something baby?” You move your head to the side so you can see Charles blushing a little bit. “We have our own fairy tale here.” he whispered.

You giggle while caressing lily's back, she fell asleep in your arms. “Are you sure about that?”

He nodded. “Yup! We have our own little bubble of love here, a sleepy little princess, and I have you.” he gives you a small peck on your lips. “There may be some... little problems along the way of course, but I don't think that will be an impediment for us.” he smiled at you.

“Aww, babe. That's so sweet!” you blush slightly at his cute words. “I know that not everything is rosy and there will be some problems, but I don't think it is impossible for us.”

He smiles and kisses you on the lips, it was a slow and sweet kiss, after a little while you separated to catch your breath. “As long as I am with you both nothing bad would happen to you, okay?” He said and you just nodded with a smile on your face, really with him both you and Lily felt protected.

***

A couple of weeks have passed since that night, and the truth is that everything is going quite well, no one hates you and Lily on social media anymore, apparently they managed to understand that you are a family... And by "understand" you mean that Charles posted an extremely long post on Instagram to make it clear that if people (or the "fans") hate his family will have to deal with him.

“Calm down little butterfly, I've finished combing your hair, okay?” you say tenderly to Lily as she plays with Mimi.

“Okay mama.” she giggled softly.

You finish fixing her hair when there is a knock on the door, you are not waiting for anyone, Charles had gone out to buy some groceries but other than that you weren't waiting for someone else. So very cautiously, you walk towards the door and look through the peephole to see who it is.

“What... What he does... here?” You whisper to yourself, on the other side of the door is your ex-partner.

You feel your body start to shake, this can't be happening! How did he manage to find out where you live? You're honestly terrified to think that he might take Lily, but to be honest, coming back after almost three years of abandoning you both when you were pregnant it's pretty stupid and dumb.

With trembling hands you manage to write a quick message to Charles which, surprisingly, he read immediately and replied with “I'm on my way bubba. Don't worry everything will be fine <3” You let out a sigh and very carefully looked through the peephole again, he is still standing there with a face that is not at all pleasant.

With a heavy sigh you slightly opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled coquettishly. “I thought about paying my girls a visit.”

You cleared your throat. “Oh really? After almost three years, really? Besides we were never "your girls", so if you can go away I would be very grateful” You say with a coarse, serious and annoying voice.

He sighs heavily. “Do you have another man?” He says with anger. “Answer me, bitch.”

You roll your eyes. “So what if I have it or not? It's not your fucking problem!” You say exasperated.

He looks at you again with anger and hatred. “You are with that fucking little driver? Oh really? You are such a little whore, looking for new sticks to insert in your holes.”

“Please, stop now, please.” you whisper, begging him to leave you alone. “Stop this please.”

He didn't listen to you and slapped you in the face, the raw sound echoed in the hallway of the building, you were perplexed in your place with your red eyes full of tears. This was common when you were together? Yes, sadly it was, but you couldn't do anything, you were too young and, according to your parents, he was the "right man" for you... What a crap.

“Mama?” You heard Lily's soft voice and before your ex could hit you again you took her into your arms.

You looked at Lily with a somewhat sad face. “It's okay cutie pie, mama is here.” you whisper.

He looked at you both like you were fresh meat. “Is that Lily? Come to daddy sweetheart.” It's ironic how one moment he was hitting you and now he wants to play house with you and Lily, totally abnormal.

Lily looked at your ex and started whining. “You not ma' dada.” Lily said in a stammer.

“I know darling, dada is going to be here soon, I promise.” you whispered again.

He frowned and became angry again. “So, you're really with that little driver, huh? Oh little bitch, you'll see.” He said with his voice full of rage and egocentrism.

You closed your eyes and covered Lily as you waited for the impact of, perhaps, another slap or perhaps something worse, but that impact never came. Half open your eyes to watch as Charles held your ex's wrist with one hand and grabbed the door frame with the other.

“Listen, I don't know who the fuck you are but I'll just say one thing and I hope it's clear to you.” Charles said with a strong voice, you had never seen him so angry, well, only a couple of times when he got angry with his track engineer, but nothing more than that. “You come to touch a measly inch of my wife and daughter and I swear to you that you won't have an easy time finding a job or even a partner later on, is that clear?” he said rudely.

“You're just a fucking driver, what are you going to do to me? Run over me?” Your ex said.

Charles laughed sarcastically and without grace. “Please, I am capable of making your life miserable.” he smiled sinisterly. “Now if you allow me, could you get out of here? I want to spend time with my wife and daughter, and if that bothers you and you want to cause another stupid scene, I can call security.” he said in a serious voice.

As if it were a warning, the building security appeared and took your ex-partner away from your apartment door, you let out a sigh of relief and hug Charles with Lily in your arms and he hugs you back. You let out the suppressed tears in your eyes, it has been so long since you felt so much fear and terror and the fact that Lily has been present terrifies you even more, he begins to rub your and Lily's back very carefully.

“He's gone baby, let it out, there's no pressure.” Charles said in a whisper as you entered the apartment again.

You let out a little whimper. “I don't know what... I don't know what he was doing here, how he found us... I was very scared.” He caressed your face a little and then separated and looked for the bag with the groceries that he left in the hallway. “I don't what he wanted Cha... I'm... I'm sorry” you whisper he wiped your tears with his thumb.

“Baby... You don't have to apologize for his shitty attitude, the important thing is that I arrived on time, don't you think? And besides, you and Lily are safe, which is the most important thing.” he said. “Although, I can help you place a restraining order against him, if you wish.”

You blinked a few times. “Really? Charlie, it's not necessary, you know?” he shook his head multiple times.

“Love, you have to do it. It's for your safety and Lily's! I wouldn't mind talking to my lawyers about it and getting help from them.” He said in a calm voice as he carried a calm Lily in his arms.

“You're sure?” I looked at him hopefully.

He nods. “Completely sure, darling.”

You nod with a shy smile on your face. “Okay babe.”

He kisses your temple. “Now, how about we cure that ugly mark on your face? And then we can have a cuddle session for my favorite girls, how does that sound?” He says while tickling Lily's tummy, you nod.

“That sounds good." You smile a little. “Thanks again love.” you said and he kisses you softly.

He guides you to the room and heals the minor wounds left by your ex's slap. His touch is gentle and soft, it's like he doesn't want to hurt you and that's good for your soul. Finally, he placed one of Lily's bandages on your cheek and kissed the spot, causing you to giggle.

“Your stuble tickles me love!” you say and he smiles and blushes.

“And why isn't Lily tickled, hm?” He says with a little smile and starts giving Lily kisses and she giggles loudly.

“Dadaa! Tickles!” she says between giggles.

You smiled. “What did you say, honey?”

“Fine, fine. Maybe you have a bunch of tickles!” he says with a chuckle. “My ticklish girls.” He says and tickles you and Lily again and you both laugh louder.

***

After a few hours, sleep overcame Lily and you were just a push away from falling asleep, the fatigue of the unexpected day was hitting you hard. But you couldn't go to sleep without first talking to Charles a little, it was a kind of routine that you do before going to sleep.

You murmur. “Mhm, baby?” you asked.

“Can't you sleep my darling?” He asks and you nod. “Come here petit bébé.” He says as he opens his arms. (little baby)

You snuggle into his arms. “I don't know how to thank you for what you do for us.” You whisper.

“Baby, you don't have to thank me for that, you know?” He says softly. “It's something that comes naturally from me, it's nothing really.” He says while placing kisses all over your face and you giggle.

“you are an angel charlie.” You smile.

“I don't see myself as an angel, but if you say so, that's fine!” He giggles and blushes.

You make a little silence and then speak again. “So... My wife, you said earlier, tell me, sir, what do you mean by that?” You giggle a little.

He blushes even more. “Oh well, I don't know, it just came out... I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable darling.” He said a little embarrassed and you silenced him with a short kiss on the lips.

“Not at all... I have to say that I liked it.” You whisper and he opened his eyes wide.

“Doesn't it make you uncomfortable?” you denied.

“You can call me that as many times as you want bubba!” you giggled.

“Oh god, thank you so much chérie, you make me the luckiest man in the world!” he giggled.

“It's nothing baby boy! It's like you say, it's something that comes naturally.” You say and give him several kisses.

With him you feel safe and loved, a feeling that you haven't had for a long time (since before you finally knew him). And so in the warm arms of your loved one, you fall into a deep sleep thinking that not everything is bad, there are good moments as well as bad ones, but with him and Lily there is nothing they cannot overcome as a family.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Novice 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, , age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your first job brings a lot more work than you could anticipate.

Characters: Loki Laufeyson, Lloyd Hansen

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at

Your first job. That's what this could be. Admittedly it's late but better that than never, as they say. You don't think your father would agree but he'd be happy to hear you got something.

That's if you get it...

It's still a big question mark. As you find your way to the third floor and stop before the sign marked L&L, you pause. You peer through the glass door to the row of pretty women sitting in stiff acrylic chairs. The answer to that question seems stamped in red as you search for the courage to enter.

No turning back now. You are a bad liar and you have to at least try. You can't handle your dad throwing another conniption. Even after all these years, his yelling and slamming makes you feel like a child.

Twenty-five. You should really be a lot further than you are. That self-reproach accompanies you through the door. You offer a nervous smile to the waiting women, your fellow candidates, as you claim an empty seat. None of then look up from their phones.

You have your cell firmly tucked into your purse. You don't want to give a bad impression and be caught in a dazed stare at absurd memes. You clutch the folder containing your resume and cover letter and bounce your legs as you wait.

It's going to be so bad. The other women are so pretty. Perfectly highlighted hair and tailored skirts and dresses. All those things your father said you could have if you got yourself a damn job. In his mind, you just don't try, but in your experience, you just can't win for trying.

You look down at the plain white folder and sniff. You're the only person wearing trousers. You like the wide-legged wool that cinch at the waist to give you a bit more shape, though the thrifted blouses doesn't quite fit you right.Still, compared to your competition, you're gunning for last place.

Your eyes wander along the walls, a blinding shade of white. The doors are all thick glass trimmed in silver. It's all very pristine and prestige. A post-modern corporate utopia.

A door opens and a women taps out in her heels, strutting like a model down a runway as she goes. The next is called; not you. A six-foot-blond with perfect beach waves stands and greet the black-haired man with an outstretched hand. Your lips move silently and you curl your fingers. You should remember to do that. At least pretend you believe in yourself.

The woman in the next seat sighs and you catch her glance at your jittering knees. You still yourself, tapping your toe instead as the fidgeting itches under your skin. You stop from chewing your nails and peek at hers. A perfect french manicure. Your short and filed nails are so basic.

Another candidate emerges. The next rises and the script continues. You wait with your head down. Your interview is for 12:15 and it's past that. You wonder if they overbooked.

It's ninety minutes before the other chairs are empty. A few who arrived after you were called ahead of you. You start to squirm. Is this the wrong place? Did you misread the email?

The lithe black-haired man does not call another name as he sends off the last candidate invited inside. Your heart drops. What happened? He sends you a look before he spins and strides back through the door.

You sit, paralysed. Should you just go? He didn't look confused at your presence. But why didn't you get called? It doesn't make any sense.

You wait five minutes then stand. You should leave before you cry. The door opens as you get to your feet. You peer over at the man who pokes his head out. It's not the same man. This one has brown hair and a matching trimmed mustache. Where the black-haired man had sleek locks combed back behind his neck, this one sports shaved sides. He steps half out and snaps his fingers.

"Come on. Let's get this over with," he commands.

You blink and nod. You agree with the sentiment. Get it over with and go home and fall apart. As you near, you wipe your hand on your trousers then offer it to him with your name.

He turns away without shaking it. You trip over the threshold behind him as you enter at his back. He stands aside as you pass him and he shuts the door. He clears his throat and points to the empty chair on one side of the long conference table. The black-haired man sits on the other side and drags his fingertip over a tablet. He doesn't look up.

The other man sits on the end of the table, bending one knee as he keeps a foot on the floor. He watches you as you sit. He sucks his teeth.

"Laufeyson," he snips. "You don't swiping right?"

"Mm," the black-haired man hums and sets down the tablet, sending the other a sharp look. "Hansen."

You're invisible as they glare at each other. You set the folder on the table and pick at the edges. The noise of it draws their attention.

"You have no experience," Laufeyson intones. You see your resume on his tablet already.

"Well, sir, no, but I can learn--"

"This isn't a school," Laufeyson interjects.

You flinch, "I understand, sir. But you'll see, I've taken some courses--"

"Free courses. Uncredentialed," he insists.

Your mouth opens slightly and you look between him and the other man, Hansen. The latter only sits and watches. You try not to frown. You must have a rather tortured expression.

"I..." you gulp. You couldn't afford real school and your dad refused to pay. Like a snake eating its tail; you don't have the education so you can't get a job, you can't get the education because you don't have a job to pay for it. "That's true." You slip your fingers under the folder. "I realise I've wasted your time. I'm sorry--"

"Nah, come on, Laufeyson, look at it this way. Blank canvas," the other man speaks at last. "No bad habits to break."

Laufeyson sighs, "the others had experience."

"And? That means they'll think their way is the right way. You know you hate being wrong," Hansen argues. "Not that you ever are, buddy." He turns to you and smirks. "Besides, desperation makes for hard work."

You wince. He's right. You'll do whatever you need to to keep the job, if they pity you enough to give it.

Laufeyson runs his fingers through his hair and raises his chin. He reaches to black the screen of the tablet. "Fine, hire her. But any questions, you will answer." He stands and swipes up the tablet, "I've spent enough time on this parade."

He struts around the table and leaves the door open in his stead. His soles carry a steady tempo down the hall. Your furrow your brow and look at Hansen.

"Does that mean..."

"You got a job, baby cakes," he pushes off the desk.

"Awesome, I mean... thank you," you get up. "I really appreciate it."

"Ha, don't thank me yet. I'm a hard ass and so's the serpent," he chuckles. "Let's get you started."

"Right now?" You cheep.

"Yes, now," his grin falls. "Come on, move it, cheeks."

You flutter your lashes. Cheeks? You touch your face and tilt your head. He laughs again and waves you out the door.

You go into the hall and stop, looking one way then the other. He grabs your shoulders and you squeak in surprise. He marches you down to the space by the door. An empty white desk awaits you. You hadn't noticed it amid your panic.

"Go on, lamb chop," he lets go of your shoulder and taps your ass, "get to it."

You stumble away from him, your bottom tingling at the unexpected swat. That's not appropriate. You won't say so. You'll just try to forget it.

You go around the desk and put the folder and your purse down. You look at him.

"Don't you dare ask me what to do," he points at you. "You said you'll learn, so figure it out." He leans on one heel, "oh, I put my neck out for you, don't fucking blow it."

You flinch at his language. He's not very professional, is he? You might not have an extensive resume, but you know better than to curse in the workplace. You don't even do so at home. Your father would lose his mind.

He leaves you with a whistle and you look around. You sit in the white leather chair and examine the desk. A large flat monitor, a mouse that's almost as narrow, keyboard too; a pen cup with the white pens. It's all white, white, white. You feel like a stain.

You wait and listen for any noise. Just the click of another door. You grab your purse and dig out your phone. The internet is a wealth of knowledge, right? You type; 'how to set up a new work computer'.

The desktop has no password. You start by making one. Then you go through the list on the first suggested webpage. You don't know the business email. That will be something to ask. Later, when you have the chance. You download all the relevant apps. Your phone buzzes. A message.

'Login folder attached.' That's it. You can assume one of them got your number off your resume but you can't guess which. You open it and find a list of accounts by program. You don't know which ones you'll need.

It takes longer than you would expect to get it all done. Some applications block you out as you aren't permitted access outside the admin device. You take the hint that those aren't your domain. When at least you feel like there's a semblance of direction, you bring up the website for L&L Agency. You reviewed it enough in preparation for the interview but now you'll really need to have it down pat.

An email chimes in. You open it. You go back to the inbox. Oh. There's a lot. You see your name labelled on most of them. Right, that probably means you're supposed to deal with those.

The first one is a mystery... you don't know how to answer the question about rates. You don't have any sort of reference for prices and the website says 'contact for rates'. You feel like if you had pretty beach waves and glossy lips, you'd be able to ask questions. No, you're just blaming other people for your issues again.

Your phone rumbles again, reverberating through the whole desk. You look at the ID. It's your dad. You pick up.

"Hi, um, hi, dad," you eke out.

"Where are you?" He barks.

"At work," you answer.

"Work?" He sneers.

"Yeah, I told you, I had that interview. It went well. I got it."

"Mm," he growls. You wait. He doesn't congratulate you. "You flipping burgers?"

You shrink down and swivel the chair to face the wall, "I'm... a secretary..."

"Oh, you remember how to read. That's great," he scoffs.

"Dad, I..."

"When are you going to be home?"

"Um, I..." you look at the clock. It's four already. "I'm not sure."

He huffs, "I trust you will be before dinner time."

You murmur, "yes, dad."

He didn't actually care you weren't home. He only wanted you to make him supper. You swallow. The line clicks. Oh. Guess that's all.

You turn and put down the phone. You jolt the chair on its axle as your eyes meet another pair; green and gleaming. Laufeyson stands with arms crossed, his posture suggests he's unimpressed.

"I need these alphabetized," he nods. There's a filing box on your desk.

"Yes, sir," you reach for the box.

"No personal calls," he slithers.

He doesn't give you a chance to answer before he disappears back down the hall. You don't take it to heart. You shouldn't be answering calls on work time. Besides, as cold as these men are, your father prepared you for the storm.

[rogerswifesblog]

A Quiet Place

My Masterlist

A/N: I’ve decided to post a little one shot/drabble since it’s Steve’s birthday <3 enjoy!

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Summary: it’s your first time celebrating your boyfriend’s birthday.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x GF Reader

Warnings: none, fluff only implied smut

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Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated!

You found the cabin three weeks before the Fourth of July, tucked deep in the woods past where the road turned to a muddy track and the trees took over the whole view. It had no cell reception and no cable. The porch creaked. The bed was rather small and you’d have to heat up the water to take a shower. But the silence? The silence was exactly what you had been looking for.

When you told Steve you had plans for his birthday this year, he looked at you like you’d just told him someone planned to attack him-you didn’t blame him. Every year, people tried to do something-tried to surprise him, tried to celebrate, tried to do what they thought made sense on the birthday of Captain America.

But you weren’t celebrating Captain America.

You were celebrating your boyfriend.

You were celebrating Steve.

⸻

You drove up on the 3rd, waiting in your car for him to pack his bag into the trunk and sitting into the passenger seat-something that happened rarely. Somehow it made Steve nervous, especially since you haven’t told him where you were taking him.

He cleared his throat. His voice stayed low, soft with that Brooklyn warmth, that slight accent, he only really let out when he was with you.

“Don’t tell me you booked a spa or something,” he joked.

You smiled without turning your head. “You really think I’d take you to a spa and let all those pretty ladies touch you?”, you both chuckled at that and Steve placed his hand on your thigh, “you’re the only pretty lady I wanna be touched by.”

It made you smile, because you knew.

⸻

That night, you sat together on the porch in the hush of the woods, the quiet rustle of the leaves, stars blinking open one by one. You had asked him if he wanted a drink, maybe something from Thors Asgardian liquor-but he denied. He preferred hot cocoa, even though it was a warm evening. But he enjoyed it that way. He held it with both hands, sweater sleeves pushed up.

You watched him. Even took a few pictures when he wasn’t looking. He seemed so…at peace. It was something he deserved. Just some peace.

“I used to love the Fourth,” he said after a long stretch of silence after you leaned your head against his shoulder, eyes on the sky. “When I was a kid, the parades in Brooklyn were the best part of the summer. My mom would lift me up so I could see the floats. Fireworks scared me even then, but I thought they were beautiful.”

You didn’t interrupt. You let him speak when he was ready. Always. Which didn’t happen often. He hated opening up, even to you. It took a lot of courage and you were proud he was doing it now. He was insecure about trusting. Everyone he trusted was torn away from him-his mom, Bucky, the Howlies, Peggy.

“It’s different now,” he murmured. “They don’t sound like celebration anymore. Just…noise. Reminders…like explosions.”

You lifted your head, looking up at him with a soft glimmer in your eyes, your hand finding his knee and resting there like a quiet anchor. “I know.”

He turned to look at you, blue eyes soft in the low light. “So that’s why…you did this for me?”

You nodded, gently kissing his cheek. “Yes, sweetheart. I wanted your birthday to be special this year”, you whispered.

Steve leaned down, pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re the only thing in this whole damn world that makes it feel manageable sometimes.”

⸻

On the Fourth, you made pancakes in the little kitchen letting him sleep in for the first time in…what felt like forever. Of course you woke him up with more than just breakfast in bed. A bit more…worshipping him, making sure to make this day perfect.

He opened your gift after breakfast-a sketchbook, leather-bound, the good kind, his name engraved on the leather.

You went on a walk together, walking around the woods, enjoying the sounds of nature and watching birds, even having a small picnic where Steve sketched a bit while you sunbathed.

After getting back into the cabin you put on some music using an old record player-that Steve even had to fix, since you didn’t really know how to use it. It was the first time that Steve was able to make fun of you about not knowing how to use something, since usually it was him who had to be taught how to use new devices.

He held you close as you two moved to the music. At some point Steve even hummed the songs he recognised.

Later, you curled up in bed with the windows cracked open. Somewhere far off in the distance, muffled thunder of fireworks came rolling through the trees, but barely enough to stir the night air. “Happy Birthday, my prince…”

He buried his face in your neck and whispered, “Thank you.” You didn’t need to see him to know he was blushing.

And you held him a little tighter, kissing the top of his head as he cuddles into your chest, pressing soft kisses to your skin, gentle and tender, not in a way to indicate something. Just to enjoy the closeness between you two. “Of course my love…I love you Steve.”

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated! My inbox is always open, tho I can’t promise when I’m gonna start writing more again<3 but if I’ll like an idea I might check it out and think of something :)

Taglist: @rogersbarber @hawkeyes-queen @felicity-lemons-thoughts

[storm-angel989]

Hi, I'm a huge fan of your writing. I was wondering if I could request a one-shot of valentino's teenage daughter running away from home because she's feeling neglected with how busy the vee's always are and how they keep missing important events of hers for work. Thanks.

OMG thank you so so so much! I can't express how much I appreciate that you are a fan of my writing! It astounds me every time I get a like or a compliment that another human actually LIKES my work! It means the world to me!

The editing continues! What a weekend! Enjoy <3

I'm REALLY looking forward to not working tomorrow- happy summer y'all!

I slammed the last of my absolute favorite clothes into my duffle bag. Another game had passed, another three hours of scanning frantically through the crowds for any sign of my father- or even my Aunt Velvette or my Uncle Vox. Another night of watching, waiting for them post game, only to be met with Derek, my Dad’s favorite limo driver. 

“Your family sends their regrets,” he told me as he opened the door. “And your dad personally asked me to congratulate you on your win.” 

“Thanks,” I replied glumly as I climbed in the back. 

I laid my head against the window and wondered what could be so important that they had to miss one of the last water polo games of the year. As the miles passed, I could feel the anger growing, festering pent up emotions. Uncle Vox? His meeting was really so important he couldn’t even jump through the camera to say hi? Aunt Velvette- was her fashion show such a big deal that she couldn’t have come for even a few seconds? 

And my father…whatever it was he was so wrapped up in. I still wasn’t exactly sure what my father did for work, but I knew it involved privacy and dirty movies. And at eleven years old, I was sick of the secrecy, sick of being ignored. 

So I stalked into our empty flat and began to pack a bag. I wouldn’t need anything more than the basics. I left the gold credit card my father had given me on my night stand. I had enough cash on hand and my own personal debit card. I didn’t need his money. I didn’t need any of them. 

I shoved my watch and my cell phone under the mattress of my bed and swung open the window of my room. All the movies talked about scaling down the wall, sneaking out into the darkness of the night. But as I looked down from the very top of the V tower, I decided it was a better idea to take the elevator down. 

It was a sense of freedom as soon as I stepped outside the main entrance. The fact that no one saw me meant Vox was too busy with whatever to be watching the cameras. Far too busy to care about me. My anger continued to fester as I wandered the dark streets. The more time passed, the  more unease settled over me. Without my phone, I couldn’t access my VoxQuest GPS. Even more so than I did after the game, I felt alone. 

I turned down a side street and stepped in front of the building brightly lit up with the numbers 666. Outside, a tall shark demon in a well pressed suit leered at me. 

“Pretty thing. Need a job? We’re hiring.”

I felt his hand on my shoulder and my heart almost stopped. A job. I would need one of those but this? What was this? 

“What…kind of work are you offering?” I asked timidly.

He laughed, “oh sweetheart, you’ll be perfect. Just come inside. The boss is here, and I’m sure he’ll be thrilled with my…er…you.”

Against my better judgment, I followed him inside. Bright lights flashed, loud music blared and I cringed. Around me, scantily clad women rushed drinks around to demons dressed in suits. Waitressing. If that was the job, I could do it. 

“Just smile pretty, and the boss will eat it right up. Soon as he approves, we’ll get you out there with the rest of the girls. Don’t worry- we’ll give you everything you could ever need,” he said as he led me over to a table where a mix of practically naked demons surrounded one tall demon. I watched as his face buried itself into the demon directly next to him, either not noticing my approach or not caring. I opened my mouth to introduce myself but then I noticed it. 

The red jacket. 

I felt my stomach drop. No. It couldn’t be. Involuntarily, I took a step back as the demon shoved me forward.

“Hey boss, what do you think of this pretty little prospect? Innocent, young, but we’ve had a demand for that,” he said loudly, his fingers pressing hard into my shoulder. 

“D-daddy?” I practically whispered.

“Heh, you do learn quick dontcha?” The shark demon chuckled. “See? I found a good one.” 

The demon turned away from his make out session and I could feel myself pale. His expression changed instantly from annoyance to horror.

“Reader! What the fuck are you doing here?” Valentino hollered as he stood up, pushing aside the table and the surrounding girls. “All of you, out! NOW!.” 

He grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the back of the club. Lights flashed and a steady stream of people moved quickly, exiting the building faster than I had ever seen anyone move. Behind us, the room went dark. 

I heard the door slam and I could feel myself shaking as I watched my father pace the room, screaming into his phone at who I assumed was Uncle Vox. Finally, he turned to me.

“How are you here? Why are you here?” He snarled, fury in his eyes. “You’re supposed to be at home, doing homework or…or…”

I could feel the fury rise, “or what, Dad?” I stepped closer to him and balled my fists. “Is this why you couldn’t come to my game tonight? You were too busy making out…making out with…” I could feel the tears of anger and frustration start to well up in the corners of my eyes. He really didn’t give a shit about me. 

I watched his expression change from anger to something I couldn’t name. 

“That was tonight.” He said slowly. “Your game was tonight.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, it was tonight! And you promised, you fucking promised me you would be there and you didn’t, Dad! And neither did Aunt Velvette or Uncle Vox, none of you could make time in your busy schedules. If I’m so much of a burden to you I’ll just, I’ll just leave!” Unable to hold back anymore, I dropped my duffle bag and burst into sobbing tears.

“That’s why you were here, you were running away,” he said as he walked towards me. “Ninita, I…”

“Your point is made, Dad!” I yelled through the tears. “I don’t fucking matter!”

He pulled me to him and I buried my face into the white fluff of his jacket as I choked on each sob that escaped.

“You do matter, you are my world bebita,” he said quietly as he held me. “I…I never meant, I never thought we…I…” He swallowed and tightened his grasp around me. “Let’s get you home.”

“Why? So you can say you’re sorry and then do this all over again next week?” I choked out as I pushed away from him. 

He looked pained. “No. So we can figure out how to make sure this never happens again.” He lifted up my duffle bag and put his arms around me, guiding me out the back door to an awaiting limo. 

Too upset to care, I let him. 

In the limo he kept his arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder as I tried desperately to stop crying. Part of me wanted to keep screaming, to keep yelling, to demand to know why he chose to do what he did tonight. But the other part of me, the bigger part of me, basked in every drop of the attention he was giving me. 

“Shussh, cariño, you’re going to give yourself the hiccups,” he said gently as he rubbed my back. “Slow, deep breaths. Shush. Listen to Daddy, okay? We’ll fix this. This will never happen again.” 

His words sent me into another spiraling round of tears. He kept the steady pressure on my back as I cried into him. Exhaustion swept over me, and eventually I closed my eyes. My entire face felt puffy and swollen. After what felt like forever, the limo stopped. 

“Come on little girl, Daddy’s got you,” he muttered as he lifted me into his arms.

Too tired to care, I let him snuggle me to his chest and I buried my face against him, I felt him carry me inside, and listened to the sound of the elevator ping. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. And finally…seven. 

“Is she okay?” Vox’s voice was full of panic. 

“She isn’t hurt, is she?” Velvette’s voice, equally as frantic. 

My father ignored them both and instead, carefully set me down on the couch. 

“That’s a girl, keep breathing. Keep calm. Daddy’s here. Velvette, would you be a dear and get a warm washcloth? And Vox…if you would put the tracker back on her wrist.”

“I’m fine,” I said as I pushed myself up. “I’m…”

He pressed his lips to my forehead. “No. You’re not. And you shouldn’t be. We fucked up- I fucked up. Big time.” He turned and took the washcloth from Velvette’s hand and gently pressed it against my face. 

I closed my eyes and let him fuss over me as he dabbed at my cheeks. I felt Vox slip the tracker back on my wrist, his fingers pausing just at the pulse point. After a few minutes, he released me and I blinked my eyes open and sat up. 

“Daddy, I’m fine, I’m not hurt…”

“Not physically, but we did hurt you,” Vox said quietly. 

“We fucked up,” Velvette added as she sat down next to me. “We really fucked up.”

“We let work get in the way of our family,” Valentino said as he sat on the other side of me.

I could feel the anger start to rise as I remembered the scene I had walked in on. “Work? You call being out at a bar making out with someone work?”

Both Velvette and Vox looked at Valentino with a mix of horror and disgust. Vox sighed and gave them both a glare.  

“Only that part, Valentino. Got it?” Vox grumbled. “And only because she doesn’t need that image burned into her brain. The rest is on us.” He turned his head to me. “Reader…you saw what now?”

I felt my fathers fingers under my chin as he tilted my head towards Vox. My gaze met his and his eye began to swirl.

“That’s right. Good.” Vox continued, “Reader, keep looking at me. What did you see?” 

Instant calm washed over me and I leaned my head against my father’s shoulder. 

“I…I saw my Dad…”

“Yeah, you did see your Dad…you saw your Dad working in his office, right? At one of his clubs?” 

I swallowed as the calm sank deeper. My memory felt soft, almost fuzzy. An image of my Dad, wrapped up in his red jacket, sitting behind a desk. The feel of the bouncers hand, guiding me into his back office. His anger, and the beginning of our fight.

“Baby? What did you see?” Vox asked again.

I blinked, a sick feeling sinking over my stomach. “I…I ran away. I got pulled into a club, and the guy took me to my Dad’s office. He was at his desk and…and we fought…” 

“Ah, babygirl,” Valentino muttered as he put his arm around me. “We didn’t fight so much as you…put me in my place. I’m sorry, cariño.” He kissed my forehead. “I promise I personally will never miss one of your games again. I love you, reader. You are my world.” 

“Our world. And we never meant to make you feel like anything else,” Velvette added quietly.

“Next time we fuck up, come barging into our office and yell, okay?” Vox pleaded as he moved himself closer. “The streets of hell are dangerous. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Yell, scream, but please don’t run away again,” Valentino muttered. “It won’t happen again. We promise.” 

I buried my face in my fathers shoulder and took a deep breath as I nodded. The sense of calm that washed over me lingered as exhaustion washed over me. 

“Promise? Like really promise? I just want your…I want you,” I mumbled.

“You have us,” Valentino said soothingly. “Always.” He kissed my forehead. “Let’s get you to bed, we can talk in the morning about how we can make this up to you.”

“Play a practice round with me?” I asked as my father once again lifted me into his arms. “Go to the pool the three of us?”

“If that’s what you want, sure. We’ll do it tomorrow.” Valentino promised with a glance at the other two. 

“Tomorrow we are all yours,” Velvette added.

“Totally yours,” Vox chimed in. “Goodnight, reader.” 

I fell asleep the moment my father tucked me under the covers. Tomorrow, tomorrow we would have a family day.

[the-crustation-sensation]

Don’t get me wrong, I love jayvik as much as the next autistic girl in this fandom. But I am very annoyed at jayvik OVERTAKING the entire fandom

Rant under the cut

Especially on tumblr if I look at the Single Viktor or Jayce tag, the ENTIRE thing is choked out by jayvik. And I like it, it’s cute, but it’s gotten to the point that I can’t see any content just appreciating their characters alone without the need of a ship. It’s the same for caitvi too

I think there’s something to be said when analyzing season 2, that it’s a perfect example of why writers should not let fans dictate their story’s. Jayvik had phenomenal build up in S1, but the way they were portrayed in S2 felt like fan service- let me explain

So much of the jayvik content I see is incredibly out of character and stereotypical (as many MLM pairings are reduced too) Viktor is either a helpless twink, or an all powerful god that has Jayce on a leash. Why are we making Viktor a shy soft boy? He was the CEO of the sassy man apocalypse?

It’s also very sad to see Jayce’s character get watered down to “pathetic himbo golden retriever twunk with no brain cells” and yeah, the pathetic Jayce memes are funny but it’s annoying when people think that’s ALL his character is. He gets written as a dick-for-brains dumbass with 0 common sense or basic skills… when he was a university educated engineer and eventually POLITICIAN

But back on topic to jayvik in s2 feeling like fanservice, a lot of the time I see fans wanting jayvik to have an almost codependent relationship, and that’s exactly the undertone a lot of jayvik moments in s2 had. The dynamic between Jesus/machine herald vik and Jayce was undoubtedly toxic with a huge power dynamic. I’m just very disappointed because I was excited to see jayvik be developed more in a creative way, and instead they just slapped on the soulmates trope.

And don’t get me wrong- do I love Viktors end monologue? Yes. Do I think they should have kissed with some tongue at the end? Absolutely. But the entire situation of s2 just felt icky, not to mention how Viktor completely lost is autonomy to the arcane TWICE in one season. Idk but Viktor becoming a whole maniacle malevolent god who wants to “perfect” all of humanity… but can only be brought back to his own humanity by his boyfriend just felt… cheap.

It felt like a metaphor for Viktors disability, and how he needed to be “saved” from himself. Which in turn completely nullified all of this character development. And do not get me STARTED on how much Viktors arc was ruined in season 2, that deserves a whole post in itself

Overall these are purely my opinions, and I’m still going to be hypocritically eating up jayvik content with a spoon because it’s still my favorite ship, I just believe it could have been portrayed better. Anyways thanks for sitting through my rant. if you disagree or have any other opinions I’d be delighted to hear. Peace out

[lewkwoodnco]

Falling For You - Lockwood x Reader

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

a/n: tfw you almost die in the arms of your future employer :) rip lockwood and co, never an agents first choice be it in canon or fanon ok ill stop now also just to be clear we’re all ignoring how much the title sucks ass okay god only gave out a limited number of brain cells and we can’t ALL be as creative as @bella-rose29 (will make a separate post on this a little later, not enough space here) (but also she was SICKKK for coming up w the title deck the halls (and not your partner) ok didn’t mean to turn this into a belle appreciation post but 👍)

warnings/tropes: fluff fluff FLUFF, this is about as fluffy as it gets from me ashdkd, cringy pick up lines overload, also I declare plagiarism (?) of some rlly popular incorrect quotes, you'll know it when you read them

word count: 2.6k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

She and Lucy were in the kitchen, putting the kettle on and waiting for the boys to reach home. The four of them had split up to get some errands done that morning before breakfast - she and Lucy went to collect the payment for a few jobs, while Lockwood and George dropped off some paperwork at DEPRAC headquarters. Lucy put the kettle on while she refilled their teabag jar, and a minute later the boys walked in.

George was telling Lockwood off for something, who wasn't looking too sorry for whatever it was that he had done, though he clearly cared enough to try to suppress his giggles.

"Those forms took me hours, Lockwood. I wasn't about to let you drop them into some slush."

"I keep telling you, I wasn't going to drop them."

"How would you know when you were too busy making an ass of yourself?"

"I haven't seen a good pickup line in a while, George. You found it funny too."

"Yes, and the threat of you chucking our forms was downright hilarious."

She handed out the mugs of tea.

"What pickup line?"

"It was just a DEPRAC ad. Something like 'Are you a wraith? Because you have me love-locked.' Just a reminder of some quick signs of a visitor presence for Valentine's Day." 

She meandered over to where Lockwood was standing at the kitchen counter, a little too casual. He immediately snapped up whatever he was scribbling. She looked mildly (read: exaggeratedly) injured, but he just gave her one of his winning smiles. Really, she was well within her rights to be suspicious.

"S'that?"

"A bill."

"What bill?"

"Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried."

"Good."

"Show me the bill."

"You're adorable."

It was a poor excuse of an attempt at a distraction, as she immediately started trying to snatch it away. Lockwood just held the folded paper above his head, trying to pry his jacket out of her yanking hands. After a minute or so of vehement struggling, the scuffle ended the way all of their scuffles ended - her playing at sour grapes.

"Oh! Go boil-yer-head. I don't even want to see that bill anyway."

He slotted the letter into an envelope smoothly as George cut in.

"Speaking of bills, hopefully, we'll be able to pay more of them off soon. Couples like to go away for Valentine's, so it's the perfect time to get any lingering visitors taken care of. We should put an ad in the paper, like DEPRAC."

That set Lockwood off again, and George groaned. As he got up to get another biscuit, she conspiratorially turned to Lockwood.

"Y'know, for someone who's so tickled by pickup lines, I bet you'd be terrible at them."

"Not more terrible than you."

"I beg to differ!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

Their bet had taken a back burner in her mind while she was preparing for their case that night, but she was still immediately suspicious when she walked into the kitchen to see Lockwood innocently snacking on a bowl of raisins.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing! Can't a guy eat his raisins?" He silently proferred the bowl to her. She narrowed her eyes. 

"No thanks."

"How about a date?"

"When did we get - oh. Ha ha." There was a mischievous crinkle in Lockwood's eye. "Sneaky. I was busy preparing for our case, like a proper agent."

"Hmm, excuses, excuses."

"Fine. If George finds out you haven't read tonight's case file, you're on your own."

"NO no no no please please please -"

She prepped a few pickup lines before they left, just enough to stop Lockwood from becoming completely unbearable.

"Are you a visitor? Because you've been haunting my dreams."

She scrunched up her nose. "Boo. That's terrible."

"You try coming up with a visitor-themed one. They're all so horrible."

She paused for a minute.

"Are you a Lurker? 'Cause you're making my heart race."

"...no one likes a show-off," he grumbled, and she smiled to herself as they continued rooting through boxes, looking for a potential Source.

"Your hand looks heavy. Could I hold it for you?"

"What's it like to be the most gorgeous person in this room?" That one got a good laugh out of him.

"Might be more flattering if my competition wasn't a Raw Bones. You’re pretty and I’m cute. Wanna be pretty cute together?"

"If you and I were socks, we'd make a great pair."

She revelled in the huge smile that lit up his face. She knew he'd get a kick out of that one.

She hadn't expected to have as much fun with their game as she did. They recounted their highlights to Lucy and George on the way home, which made for an entertaining end to the case. As Lucy and George put away their coats, Lockwood lingered behind, looking at her as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't quite find the words. She became even more alarmed when he placed a hand on her shoulder, because of how serious he looked.

"Is everything okay?" 

He took a shaky breath and tightened his grip on her shoulder ever so slightly.

"If you let me borrow a kiss, I promise I'll give it right back."

The line itself wasn't particularly outrageous, but in the darkness by the door, with their faces in the shadows and him holding her close, she momentarily forgot how to breathe.

"Good one," she whispered.

He gave her a sloping smile and retreated into the kitchen. She stood there for a moment, thinking about the warmth on her shoulder, as if his hand was still there.

"Did it hurt?"

"When I fell from heaven?"

"When you fell down the stairs. Right in front of us. It's been ten minutes and you haven't even gotten up yet."

With a strangled wheeze, he righted himself, looking more than a little stupid with his affronted expression and hair sticking up in all directions. They were on a case, and Lockwood had been a bit too close to the stairs whilst investigating the death glow on the landing. It had been quite a painful-looking rollercoaster of a fall with many bumps as he flailed for the railings, ending with a muffled scream.

"I was checking for broken bones."

"For ten minutes? Do you even have that many bones?"

He had an oily smirk on his face, though it was mostly nullified by his slightly crossed eyes.

"I've got...so many bones, I could give you a...wait. No. Hey lady, do you want a...bone? If you were a bone, you'd be in my...body...my body has all the bones...hang on. Okay, got it. Bones....fuck."

"...concussion?"

"Nuh-uh."

That was the moment his knees chose to buckle under him, and the three of them hurried to hold him upright. Even though he kept insisting he was fine, he was looking far too pale and woozy, so they flagged down a cab and pushed Lockwood into it. After a quick round of rock paper scissors, she joined him in the cab while George and Lucy got to stay to finish the job.

It had been a bit of a challenge to fumble for the key to the front door with the dead weight that was Lockwood compressing her spine, but she somehow managed. She tried her best to keep track of all of his long limbs after he knocked his head on the side of the door frame, groaning again. She dumped him onto their living room sofa, going down with him in the process, and with some difficulty peeled herself out of his grip. The bump had clearly taken quite a bit out of him, for by the time she returned with a blanket, he had completely passed out.

With some difficulty, she wrestled his rapier off of him and draped the blanket over him. She put away her own gear and rapier and curled up with a book on the armchair opposite the sofa. It was odd to see Lockwood sleeping. And even more odd to see him doing it so peacefully, like all thoughts and worries had been knocked clean out of his head. Much like her thoughts, the first time they met.

It hadn’t even been her goddamn fault. She had been lugging around her uncle’s rapiers since hers had been sent for cleaning and it was starting to make her arm ache. She deserved a little lean, no doubt. Only, what she thought was the door frame had been the door itself, so when her then-future employer had opened the door, she stumbled right into his arms.

And then promptly fell out of them when he let her go by surprise. To his credit, he was superfluously apologetic and sympathetic, and kept asking if her head was alright throughout the interview. It was a little annoying, if she were entirely honest, but she was grateful when that sympathy translated into a job, because all coherent thoughts in her head were lying somewhere on their front door runner.

As much as she tried not to think about the incident since Lockwood showed no sign of doing so himself, it kept her up at night more than she'd like to admit. But it had also been rather liberating, as there was little else she could do that would be any worse.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lockwood began to stir after an hour or so, opening his eyes blearily. She instinctively put her book down and crouched next to the sofa, where she immediately felt awkward. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand on his forehead, and they blinked at each other in confusion.

"How're you feeling?"

"Great." He cleared his throat, which barely helped his hoarse voice. "Chipper."

"Are you sure? Feeling chilly?"

"No, I'm fine. Are you a construction worker?"

"...huh?"

"Because you are building."

"What."

"I win."

He turned to his side and buried his face into his cushion with a satisfied look on his face. 

"Oh, Lockwood. I don't think..."

He pulled his head out of the cushion alarmingly fast. That couldn't have been good for his neck. "Ohhh, too good for my pickup lines now, eh?"

"I...what?"

"I get a bump on my head and you don't like my pickup lines no more?"

"Why do you have a Brooklyn accent?"

"You's got a Brooklyn accent."

"Okay, now you're just throwing a tantrum."

He fussed for a few more minutes, muttering out of the corner of his mouth or into the cushion, but eventually calmed down. As his eyes fluttered close, his breathing becoming long and even, she quietly got up to leave.

"Just so you know...I do think you're building."

The Brooklyn accent was gone, and though his low murmur was comfortably familiar, something in it sent a spark running through her brain.

"I think you're building too."

She could have sworn he had a small smile before his mouth relaxed as he drifted off again.

She didn't see much of him after that, given how much rest he needed, and the reprieve from their game was a welcome relief. The pickup lines didn't slide off her tongue as easily when she meant them as much as she did now. Still, she couldn't hide from him forever, and ran into him in the kitchen a few nights later.

"Oh. Hey."

He held up the biscuit tin. "Hello. Catching up on my biscuit rations."

She smiled. "Feeling better?"

"Definitely. A little sick of lying about, but I think I've finally got my head on straight."

He smiled, and the tension between them melted. She smiled back.

"Must have been scary, having your brain go wonky like that." 

"It was...wild. I don't even know how I had the presence of mind to put my rapier away."

Her cheeks burned as she pointedly rummaged through their pantry for a snack while Lockwood brewed tea for the both of them. They sat at the kitchen table in silence, slowly sipping their tea as they ignored the elephant in the room. That is, until Lockwood broached the subject.

“Did it hurt?”

She put her mug down. “Lockwood.”

“Did it hurt?” He pressed, firmly.

“I’ve already heard this one.”

“Just - humour me for a minute, won’t you?”

She looked at the little she could see of his face, given how close they were sitting, and gave a small sigh.

“So. Did it hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

“When you fell into my life.” 

He lightly squeezed her hand, it was only then that she realised that they were holding hands. She choked on her breath in a mildly undignified manner, but with the proximity and the unexpected answer, she was well and truly taken aback. She waited for the embarrassment to kick in. There were a lot of things to be embarrassed about at that moment - how he could probably see every imperfection on her face, how he could probably tell how nervous she was getting from how clammy her palm must be, and of course that he remembered their dreadfully embarrassing first encounter.

But the shame never came. If anything, she felt oddly…touched. There wasn’t anything embarrassing about the memory anymore. It was…as much as it pained her to admit it…slightly romantic. She looked away from his face, shaking her head slightly, staring at their gripping hands. So easy it was to hold onto each other in the shadows, but terrifying in the daylight. Scratch that, it was terrifying to see herself holding his hand just as tightly as he held hers. Maybe he did compel…something in her.

His hand disappeared into his pocket, and a moment later he was pulling out a familiar, weathered envelope. 

"I've never...I've never asked anyone to be my Valentine. Never knew how it worked. Still don't really know how it works. So I tried writing it all down, and..." Lockwood frowned at the loopy yet measured scrawls in front of him. He sighed in defeat, crumpling the letter. "...and I still don't know how it works."

She swallowed through the lump in her throat. "Me neither. But..." she tore her eyes away from the table, looking at his face with his emotions stacked plain as day. "I think we know enough."

She curled her fingers into his. Years ago, she hadn't thought knowing if she was in love would ever be an issue, but for so many years she struggled to find the love they wrote books, songs and poetry about. But sitting here now, in the dim light of the kitchen, with a person whose face she could trace in her sleep, she realised Little Her had had it right all along.

“I always thought you were very nice to me in that interview. A little too nice.”

“You didn’t hear the way you screamed. I thought you were going down with a heart attack.”

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[joshdonnas]

do you have any j/d fic recs? :D

Absolutely!! This fandom is really blessed with some of the best writers I've seen, so there's a lot of really good content out there to read, but I'll list some of my favorites under the cut ☺️

FAVORITE AUTHORS 💛

I thought I'd start by listing some of my authors, I’ll also be listing some of my personal favorite fics from theirs down bellow, but any of their works are totally worth the read: 

jessbakescakes | sam_writes_fics | BeneathAnOrangeSky | thotsandfeelings | littlefoolswritings | thefinestmuffins | joshatella (shuuuliet) | hanyolo | flowersinapril | spooky_spacegirl | hufflepuffhermione | mikaylawrites

FAVORITE FICS (in no particular order) 💛

running, by andyoureturntome (work in progress, rated M): "Matt Santos is running for president. Josh and Donna are just running away. Augmented canon for seasons six and seven. Ventures into AU territory from 6x18 on." (when I say this is one of my favorite fics ever you have no idea how much I mean it. it’s honestly so good, a must read in my opinion. it’s still in progress, and it’s not updated very frequently , but it’s still so so worth it (here’s to hoping we’ll get a next chapter soon!!).

the other side of the door, by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated M): "Donna wanders out of the bathroom, baffled by how late it is for the hundredth night in a row, and she drapes her coat over a chair before moving to plug in her cell phone. The blinking light catches her attention, and she flips it open. One missed call. From Josh. Perfect. Post-ep for 7x13: The Cold." (I honestly read this one every time I watch the cold)

say you’ll never let them tear us apart, by hanyolo (finished, rated M): "what would it be like in the santos era for josh and donna to get media coverage as a couple?"

love grows (where my donnatella goes), by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated T): "the first year of the santos administration in four parts"

how i love the view when i'm beside you, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated E): "Josh and Donna on Valentine's Day; Chiefs of Staff era J/D"

cutting me open then healing me fine, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated T): "Josh and Donna are in the press room when it gets shot at, and the trajectory of a bullet changes the trajectory of their lives. Evidence of Things Not Seen AU."

there ain’t no need to go outside, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated E): "A lazy, rainy morning at home."

even cnn is wrong, sometimes, by BeneathAnOrangeSky (finished, rated M): "She snakes her hand between them, high instead of low, wrapping it around his bowtie. Starts to pull. And it’s this that snaps him out of it. Because Josh Lyman isn’t a press secretary and he isn’t a communications director and he isn’t Sam or Toby and he sure as hell isn’t Will, but he’s spent enough time around enough writers to appreciate the art of analogy (at the end of the night you wanna be able to pull it open like tony bennett), to recognize symmetry (donna? my tie’s falling apart), to understand that codas don’t exist merely in cello suites or stump speeches; that life makes space for sartorial bookends, too. Like bowties being tied, then untied." (utterly obsessed with the way this author writes)

gather ye rosebuds, by thefinestmuffins (finished, rated E): "A one and done smutshot, canon-divergent from 20 Hours in LA, in which Josh realizes where his rosebuds are and goes back to his hotel room to gather them."

we've been living on a fault line, by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated T): "6x02: Josh spends five days at Camp David, and every night all he thinks about is Donna."

burning slowly, my one and only, by thotsandfeelings (finished, rated T): "I can't stop thinking about you."

sacred new beginnings, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated G): " But now, he doesn’t need her anymore – or he shouldn’t, anyway. So she’ll go back to her apartment, and he’ll go back to work, and things will go back to normal, whatever the hell that means. There’s something about that idea that makes his stomach churn."

an act of charity, by thatTWWgirl (finished, rated T): "A date with the White House Deputy Chief of Staff is put up for auction at the First Lady's fundraiser, and he's not too happy about it."

domestic days, by spooky_spacegirl (finished, rated G): "One day Josh and Donna look around and realize that, somewhere along the line, they have slipped into something that can only be described as Domesticated. One-Shot collection. Post-Canon." (so so so cute, never fails to bring a smile to my face)

this is the wonder (that's keeping the stars apart), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (work in progress, rated T): "A soulmate AU".

I want It all or nothing, no more in between, by scarmophogoghs (finished, rated E): "Want to go to Hawai'i? With me? Please?” (huuuge Hawaii fit we all cheered)

stuck with nowhere to go, by littlefoolswritings (finished, rated E): "what if it was only Josh and Donna who'd been left behind by the motorcade? just the two of them?)" (I love this one my god)

a pathological avoidance thing, by yanak324 (finished, rated M): "Josh isn’t sure what to make of the lack of surprise on the President-elect’s face when he explains why he’s taking time off. He has bigger fish to fry though." (this one is from Josh's POV, and this one is from Donna's!)

when a woman loves a man (who loves a woman), by BeneathAnOrangeSky (finished, rated M): "“You’re sensitive. It’s sweet.” She bites back a smile at the image she’s evoked. Everyone thinks they know the real Josh Lyman. Bartlet’s bulldog, political wunderkind, the man behind Washington’s curtain. But they don’t know him like this. She brushes a sweaty tangle of hair from his forehead and pretends not to notice when he leans into her touch. No, this side of him is reserved just for her. His mouth opens in surprise, voice pitching up a notch, “I am n—” “Your system,” she amends. “Your system is sensitive.”"

of the united states, by violet_storms (finished, rated G): "Fifty states, fifty sentences, fifty snapshots of Josh and Donna falling in love on the campaign trail."

on the line, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated G): "Josh and Donna and a pathological inability to hang up the phone."

you can run (but only so far), by swancharmings (finished, rated M): "The room is quaint, if a bit tacky, one sad sprig of holly greeting them at the door. A fine representation of how she feels this Christmas."

love is the only thing, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated T): "The Moss-Lyman girls read Little Women; Josh has a lot of feelings."

it was like autumn, looking at her, by cmbing (finished, rated T): "His eyelids flutter open, gentler than usual. Blearily, he catches the alarm clock blinking a red 7:48 a.m. If this were five years ago, he would already be on his third cup of coffee. If this were five months ago, he never would have made it to bed in the first place. But it’s now—and he wraps his arm tighter around Donna’s waist."

it's paradise as long as I'm with you, by thotsandfeelings (finished, rated E): "Hawaii."

only bought this dress so you could take it off, by hanyolo (finished, rated M): "josh has a thing for donna in red (as he should)"

nothing that i wouldn't do (to make you feel my love), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "Josh re-arranges his priorities. A Gaza hospital fix-it fic." (I'm always thinking about this one)

hell was the journey but it brought me heaven, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "On the drive, it starts to hit him. Leah was born on the anniversary of the Rosslyn shooting. What would this mean for him? Leah deserved a father who wouldn’t be absolutely miserable on his daughter’s birthday every year. Of course, he’d love to think that her birth could erase all of the negative feelings he’s ever had toward this day, that it could make all of the anxiety and trauma melt away. But if he couldn’t pull it together on the day she was born, the day she came into the world, what evidence does he have to support the idea that next year will be better? Or the year after that?"

there ain’t no need to go outside, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated E): "A lazy, rainy morning at home."

how to say I love you in subtext, by RhapsodyInProgress (finished, rated T): "If you know where to look and what to listen for, Josh and Donna have been telling each other how they feel for years. A series of vignettes on a theme."

annus primus, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated T): "The first year of the Santos administration, in twelve movements."

sit with you in the trenches, by swancharmings (finished, rated T): "”So you’ve got health and strength.” “And we’ll steal the rest?” “Bet your ass.” // Four ways they did exactly that."

oversight, by thefinestmuffins (finished, rated E): "War Crimes angst + hooking up" (a MUST read!!!)

can't call you a stranger (but i can't call you), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "King Corn. The elevator gets stuck."

for a long time, by onelargecoffeepls (finished, rated M): "Seven short glimpses into Donna falling in love with Josh based on "Love You For A Long Time" by Maggie Rogers."

this is how mythology is written (or: shards; scars; and whole again), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "The mosaic of Josh and Donna." (GOD this one!!!)

where the lovelight gleams, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated E): "Donna brings Josh home for Christmas and has some thoughts about him in a holiday sweater; takes place during Transition" (OBSESSED!!!)

the way old friends do, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated T): "Donna, Toby, Charlie, and the chaotic people they love."

the first 100 days, by BimadaBomily (finished, rated T): "100 moments in Josh/Donna's relationship during the first 100 days of the Santos Administration."

like we were in paris (we were somewhere else), by BeneathAnOrangeSky (work in progress, rated M): "Josh, Donna, and the worlds they transform together // or: an ode to Paris (Taylor's Version)" (again, the way this author writes??!!?!)

find ourselves in the winter snow, by swancharmings (finished, rated E): "It’s when he leads her to dance, holding her impossibly close and swaying gently through the upbeat tempo, that she truly doesn’t know what to expect of the evening."

please linger near the door, by cmbing (finished, rated T): "They’re definitely not dating when there is a presidential dinner and they don’t think to invite dates. Instead, they assume they’ll go with each other. Him in a black tux, her in a red dress. Their arms are interlocked as they enter the ballroom, and Donna even goads Josh into dancing with her. It’s friendly, nothing more. They’re just having sex. That’s it."

with one hello, I'll never be the same, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "Josh and Donna and how 'hi' means so much more than 'hello'."

all you ever wanted from me (was sweet nothin'), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "Donna hadn’t had a nightmare about her ex since she started dating Josh, since well before she moved in with Josh after their week in Hawaii, since her life became better than it ever has been, since she became happier than she ever thought that she could be. Which is probably why she’s so shaken when the nightmare returns. Set post-series, in the Santos CoS era." (soooo sweet)

AUs 💛

i like shiny things (but i'd marry you with paper rings), by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "In the aftermath of the First Lady's birthday party, Josh, Donna, and the rest of the Senior Staff deal with the fallout of Donna's realization that she's no longer a U.S. Citizen. CJ, Sam, and Toby have taken it upon themselves to get this figured out, and it’s a good thing, because Josh’s brain can only present him with one solution: Marry Donna Moss."

my days now end as they began (with thoughts of you), by flowersinapril (work in progress, rated T): "A new neighbour moves in next door to Josh and she isn't happy with how loud and chaotic he is." (can't wait for the next chapter of this one!!!)

sometimes it's like you grew up down the street, by starsontheceiling (finished, rated G): "Afterwards, he’ll say he did it without thinking and all their friends will laugh at him in disbelief, and he understands why but it’s still true."

you came like a resolution (under a starry sky), by JessBakesCakes (work in progress, rated G): "Donna, this is my brother, Josh. Josh, this is Donna. She lives across the hall"

an everlasting love, by sam_writes_fics (work in progress, rated T): "best man and maid of honor au" (has not been updated in a while but I love the idea of this pic so so much and I think about constantly)

think i missed the gun at the starting line, by ansatz (finished, rated T): "After qualifying for the Olympics in 2016, but being unable to compete due to an injury, Donna Moss is back, ready to run, and completely focused on earning a medal for Team Canada. Enter Josh Lyman, reigning Olympic champion with a heart of—you guessed it—gold. Two countries, two sports: one chance to fall in love?"

what if i told you, i feel like i know you? but we never met., by donnatellamoss (finished, rated G): "Donna Moss meets an unfamiliar face when she knocks on Sam Seaborn’s door for their English project. His name’s Josh Lyman and he’s good at bothering people."

absolutely smitten (never let you go), by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated G): "Josh feels all the air whoosh out of his lungs when he sees the teacher standing on the other side of the door. She looks at the group standing outside her door, puzzled for a moment, until her blue eyes lock with Josh’s. Her blonde hair is tucked neatly behind her ears, and pumpkin earrings dangle from her earlobes. She’s wearing a copper-colored fall sweater, adorned with leaves around the collar that match her bulletin board. Her ID badge dangles from her neck, one of those ink pens in a bright, funky color clipped to her lanyard.  “Miss Moss,” CJ says. “This is Mr. Lyman from the high school."" (always thinking about this one honestly I need more!!!)

the campaign around the corner, orphan_account (finished, rated G): "Donna Moss is working for Howard Stackhouse's presidential campaign in 1998. Josh Lyman is working for Jed Bartlet's presidential campaign in 1998. The two cannot stand each other. Little do they know the person each of them is beginning to fall in love with over email is the other." (you've got mail au!!!!!!!!!!)

everybody talks (it started with a whisper), by JessBakesCakes (work in progress, rated G): "Being the White House Press Secretary, Josh realizes, is one of the toughest jobs in the administration to begin with. But with her co-workers' propensity for going viral, CJ certainly deserves a raise. The West Wing, set 20 years later." (soooo obsessed with this one MY GOD)

darling, so it goes (some things are meant to be), by mikaylawrites (finished, rated M): "The story of rising country singers Josh Lyman and Donna Moss." (so good!!!)

ballerina, you've must have seen her, by thababes (work in progress, rated G): "It was always supposed to have been Josh and Mandy. After their successful run of Carmen, it had been expected that The Washington Ballet would stick to what worked. There was never supposed to be another audition. Company principles seemingly traveling from role to role was the usual. It had been an unusual season — schedule conflicts and last minute alternate class partners — and suddenly, everything seemed to have changed. And it had all started when he had danced with her." (I think about this one constantly)

[overlordmetal]

Art Rewind: Dragon Ball

I went through my gallery and picked out a few Dragon Ball artworks I created over the years I felt stood out and decided to share them here with you.

"This Isn’t Even My Final Form!"

A transformation sequence I made of Frieza back in 2020 (yes, I know I forgot Cyborg Frieza). I first released it on an online Dragon Ball community under the name "SaiyanOverlord".

"Cellvolution"

A parody of the iconic "The March of Progress/The Road to Homo Sapiens" painting by Rudolph Zallinger, I instead depicted Cell’s road to perfection. Drawn in 2020.

"Super Vegeta"

One of—if not my very first digital art piece. I drew a simple bust of Vegeta in his Super Saiyan form. I’ve learned a lot of things about digital art since but this 2020 illustration was finger-drawn on a single layer (which made the month-spanning experience far more challenging than it needed to be).

"Man and Metal"

I drew this one (also in 2020) for a friend of mine who liked Krillin. A lot of people have come and told me Krillin looked stoned in this one, I wonder why?

"Sailor 18"

The #sailormoonredrawchallenge was big at the time so I decided to add my own twist to things by drawing Android 18 as the titular protagonist.

"Son Goku"

I drew Son Goku in a blend of styles between my own and the original manga’s as tribute to the late Akira Toriyama, who unfortunately passed away earlier this year.

"Future Trunks Cast"

Still in a Dragon Ball mood from the Goku artwork, I decided to draw the Future Trunks cast + a post-apocalyptic cyborg Launch in a similar style.

~

I’d like to take a moment to thank you if you’ve read this far, I really appreciate it. I hope you enjoyed and that you have a great day.

[finniestoncrane]

Sherrif Finnie! Unsure if you'll take anonymous outlaws but I am here to turn myself in! I'm a 5'6" lady, demisexual, 30s, chubby, cat mom, lover of all things DC and comic books in general. I'm really into horror media especially monsters, gardening, reading and writing, and video games. Friends refer to me as the mom friend and I love kids, which is why it's super weird I'm a criminal but the heart wants what the heart wants, two outlaws in love and on the run. Apparently I'm witty which usually shows up as sarcasm, though normally I'm incredibly shy and quiet until I'm comfortable which is why I'm hiding behind anon. Been told I'm smart but I'm very forgetful, blame the ADHD. I'm introverted and claustrophobic. I feel awkward listing nice things about myself so I'll leave it there.

Turned myself in because I love your writing and every time I see you post something I get all excited even if I don't know the Fandom since I know everything will be scrumptious quality. Congrats on the 3k followers! I hope I did this right lmao

Bane x Anon a/n: anon! absolutely i'll take anonymous outlaws hehehe, i'm picturing you coming in with a bandana on your face lol and thank you so much, you are so sweet and i appreciate it so much!! ;-; main event post • event masterlist • tag: finnie3k • main masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞

I know your partner! He's on our wanted list, see? Bounty poster right there on the wall! Bane!! The big guy, almost impossible to take down unless you've got a team of twenty men!

I've heard all about you two, almost the kind of story you'd read in those terrible 'outlaw' propoganda pieces. Not quite love at first sight, for you any way, but the longer you spent together, the more entwined you became (romantically and criminally).

At least you two can say you never hurt any innocent kids. Quite the opposite in fact. You've both been reported on separate occasions as putting yourself in danger of being caught to make sure any children around are safe. Morals, huh? That won't save you! I don't care how many people come in here telling me that both of you have helped them out of a rough patch when you came across them in need, you're still getting locked up!

Makes sense that you'd choose him, as monstrous as he is. We can't remember the last time we saw anything as big as him come through town. Scared a lot of our men. You got a preference for something big, bad and scary I reckon. God only knows what kind of herbs or mushrooms or snake oil that man has been ingesting, but he is terrifying.

And I see you've both been noted as being kinda forgetful, hitting the same places twice? According to him, it's the effect of whatever he's taking. Smart enough that he figured out the identity of that bastard vigilante out there, but his brain is deterorating faster than he learns. Your excuse? Scatterbrain? I can see why you're so perfect together then. The two of you complement each other. He's loud and brash and unafraid to speak out, you're quiet, unnassuming, planning and scheming. No doubt you're both intelligent though, if only you could remember to stay away from banks where the security is already heightened.

Interesting note here: you two seem to prefer the wide open spaces of the plains. Camping out under the stars? Romantic, I suppose. We'll make sure to give you a big cell, that way the two of you have plenty of room. Consider it a gift for handing yourself in.

Enjoy your stay here at the county jail, we'll be bringing your partner in just as soon as we have handcuffs big enough for him!

[a-spes]

I litteraly can't stop thinking about this post from @whumped-by-glitter ~ Like, can we (please) take a minute to think about how perfect it's for Wandanat or BlackHill x young!R where they take her out of the Red Room?? | Warnings & Tags : messy blurb? (imagine? idk, just wanting to share my thoughts, and couldn't stop writing), mainly BlackHill, mentions of the Red Room/past abuses, no idea if that makes sense. Imagine, teen or young adult R that fails a mission, and is captured by SHIELD/The Avengers. R isn't really cooperative, even if she is not under mind control anymore, she firmly believes that. However, Nat just can't accept the idea of leaving her rotting in a cell for the rest of her life for something that isn't really her fault. Despite what R can say, Natasha wants to believe that it's not true, and that she will be able to show her that life is way more than the Red Room.

But it's not that easy. Nat more than anyone else knows that you don't come back from the Red Room that easily, and she can only assumes that it would be worst for someone that went under mind control. And she was right. At first, she tried to introduce you to how life outside is, how sweet it could be, but she quickly noticed that it didn't work. Whenever she asks you a question about what you would like, she gets no answer. If she doesn't tell you to eat or to go somewhere, you don't do it. The amount of time you didn't followed her or talked because she didn't especially told you to do so is insane, especially in the beginning. So she decides to do what she thinks it's best, even if she hates it: giving you order, being stern with you, offering you a place you know, where you feel safe (no matter how sick it's) because you can predict it, a space where you'll be fine as long as you do as your ask. The world is a big and scary place in which to evolve in, especially when you don't have the keys to understand it - what you do something you're not supposed to, and you're punished for that? R will eventually come here, but it'll definitely takes a lot of time.

But obvsiouly Nat' is hating herself for that. She knows she has to do it, for you, but it doesn't make it easier. She does it because she believes it will help you to feel better, and because if you're under her orders, they have less reasons to be worried that you would attend something under Dreykov's name (or try to go back to him). She feels guilty, and old thoughts about her not being better than the man that made them are coming back. But Maria/Wands are here to help their wife <3

AND SO, here is how I see things if it's WandaNat we're talking about - I picture Wands as the soft mom she is shown as in Wandavision, and she would definitely not appreciate Nat's methods. She trusts her wife, she knows that she has her reasons, and it must be the best way to help you, but she still doesn't like it. She hates the way you always look down, the way you would do everything her wife is asking without thinking twice about it, and most of it, she hates when you're calling Nat' "ma'am" or something else of that kind. She hates even more than her wife isn't saying anything. She didn't know you for long, but she already loves you as her own, and it pains her when you reject her. Sometimes, she and Nat would argue about the whole situation (and those arguments would definitely go too far).

BUT imagine if it's BlackHill?? Even better in my opinion, and definitely can't stop thinking about it ~ Because, unlike Wanda, Maria is directly concerned. She read your file, she saw footages of you killing dozens of people, she tracked you, lost men in the process, and she saw how you didn't seem to regret anything when she questioned you. So Maria has every reasons to be worried, especially for her wife's security (physically and mentally). What if it's just a part of a biggest plan to attempt to kill the redhead? Or worst, to take her back there? I can easily Maria being upset, and taking it out on the other recruit she is training (poor them), not daring to do much more than glaring at you, knowing her wife wouldn't appreciate. And even if she doesn't appreciate R, she trusts and love her wife, so she lets her do her thing. But she is always somewhere looking at you with a stern face, waiting for the moment you would make a mistake to step-in. But you never really make a mistake, always following Nat's orders at the perfection, which is kinda frustrating because then she has no reason to get rid of you. Except if one day R's misunderstood one of Nat's orders, which lead to a heavy situation <3 It's honestly the only situation I imagine leading to an argument between Maria & Nat. Like, maybe you hurt someone or stole something or idk, thinking you did good, and they would be proud, but when you come in the room they're just looking at you with that shocked face. But you did what you had to, no? That's exactly what you were asked to do, so why are they angry? AND IMAGINE THE ANGST FROM NOW. R's confusion, Nat' desesperatly trying to find a solution, trying to convince Maria that it was just a mistake (that was her fault because she is the one that wasn't careful with her words) but she doesn't change her mind. Pulling the "what if it happens again?" and "I am your superior, you don't get to discuss my order" cards, knowing that it would pain Nat', but she has to do it in order to keep her safe. Bonus point if Nat turns to Fury, trying to convince him as she knows her wife won't change her mind, but he doesn't say much, just agreeing with her agent, mumbling a simple "sorry" Nat doesn't want to hear. Obviously, it would eventually

AND (because there is more), I also can't stop thinking about that comment from @light-me-on-pyre ;

Like, I can easily imagine R hating Nat'. It would make so much sense because she grew up in a place where Nat' was pictured as the enemy, the one that betrayed "the ones that gave everything to her". But it wouldn't be the exact reason why R is hating Nat'. I mean, right, she hates her because she left, but mainly because of the consequences it had for the ones that came after - the worsened conditions, the mind control, etc - and how she succeed what's supposed to be impossible: leaving the Red Room. Not only physically, but mentally. Imagine R seeing Nat' on the news when she is on a mission or seeing her interacting with Maria/the Avengers, witnessing Nat' being happy. It's something she was told she doesn't deserve/will never have from a young age, so why would Nat' have the right to be happy when so many didn't? It was so much easier to hate on Nat' than on Dreykov all these years because she wasn't here, and no one would blame her to do so. But now? It's easier to continue hating Nat', for R to convince herself that the redhead is bad despite the appearances because it's easier than admitting that her whole life is a lie (kinda). And the fact that Nat' has to take the "bad guy" role in order to help R only makes things easier because, in the end, she is not different from the others, right? And so, as Nat' can't provide R the comfort she needs, it's all on Maria (at least for the beginning) who doesn't have a choice. But we all know that despite her cold demeanour, she is all soft, she is just scared for the ones she loves <3 Which includes Nat', because she saw how her wife is affected by your arrival. First, she has nightmares again because, with you, inevitably came back old memories and traumas. Then, Maria can see how her wife is so invested in your case that she barely sleep/eat/ (which is one of the reasons why she doesn't really appreciate R ...). But also, what would happen if they can't save you?

Bonus point if things get better but something happen, and everything get worse again, throwing away all these months of progress. But what if they don't have the patience to start all over again?

It's definitely (one of) my favorite trope because the amount of angst/comfort it holds is insane, and I am going crazy about it (you can tell by the lenght of that post that was supposed to be a few lines ...). Do I want to write something like that when I already have too many WIPs? Yes. Will I do it? I don't know, but I'll definitely be thinking about it 24/24 & 7/7.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Love Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your fiance suggests incorporating roleplay in the bedroom to keep the spark alive, but playing pretend turns out to be all too real.

Characters: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I did this because I could.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'You ready?' 

A tingle accompanies the text. Your stomach tosses and turns at the thought. You think you're ready. As ready as you can be. It's all so new to you. 

You hover your finger over the automated reply suggested by the OS. You tap on 'yes', too shaky to type it yourself. You're not scared, just nervous. 

When Andy first brought up the idea, you laughed. It was so absurd. Silly really. 

You remember how the look he gave you was like hands on your throat. The hurt with an edge of agitation strangled away your laughter. You apologised and asked him if you heard him right. Then he explained and it made sense. Kind of. 

'If we're going to get married, we need to keep the flame alive,' your fiance said as you stirred the contents of a pan with a spatula. 'Trust me, I know. A dead bedroom can kill everything else.' 

You frown at the memory. You hate when he mentions his first wife. He's engaged to you now. You're not her. Besides, things are pretty good. That's why you laughed. There was nothing bland to spice up. At least, you hadn't thought so. 

'You know the plan?' He texts. Always thorough, if not persistent. 

'I think' you type as you squeeze your phone tighter then think better of the reply. You backspace. Remember the plan. 'Yes, sir.' 

You blow out between your lip and put the phone on the counter. You look in the mirror and pick up the bottle of moisturizer, smearing it over your face. Half the day you've spent prepping yourself. Everything has to be perfect. Andy is always certain of that. 

You snap the cap shut and peruse the rest of the basket. He thought of everything. New soaps, wax, perfume, and all sorts of goodies. You didn't need it all but he insisted. 

Everything about Andy Barber is pristine and tidy. His house not least of his carefully curated existence. So it is that you often feel as if you don't quite fit it, even when he tells you the opposite. 

Your phone vibes and you look down at the screen as the notification flashes, 'good girl.' 

Your lashes bat and you giggle thinly. You've never done anything like this. You struggle to get a precise grip on the tweezers and have to still your hand with the other. This is wild! 

You rub your thighs together and strike hotter the flame of your anticipation. As much as the whole thing has you uncertain, it has you alight. You steady yourself and lean into the mirror, just a few stray hairs. It shouldn't matter, it'll be dark, right? 

Your phone goes again. You pull back and glance down. You trade the tweezers for the cell and press your lips together. 

'Did you find your surprise?' 

You look up and search your expression. Surprise? You lower your brow and peer around the bathroom. There's more? 

'Bedroom' his next message comes bluntly. 

You chew your lip and leave the mirror behind. You go down to the main bedroom and ease through the door. The room still smells of his cologne. The whole place is drenched in him, meanwhile most people wouldn't guess at a glance that you lived there too. 

You see it on the bed. White silk and lace. The lingerie is sheer enough that you may as well forego it. You near and touch the scalloped hem. You know it must be expensive, funny how so little fabric can be worth so much. 

You step back and take a picture. You send it to Andy and wait, your thumb between your teeth. He replies. 

'Put it on.' 

His blunt orders add to the thrum coursing through you already. It seems he's already in character. You need to get yourself together and do your part. 

'Yes, sir.' 

You set the phone on the corner of the mattress and trade your bathroom for the lingerie. The thong, while high-waisted has you on full display. Not ass, no crotch, just lace straps that trim your thighs and bottom. The top is an open teddy with cups that do nothing to censor your pert nipples. Just wearing it sends a thrill through you. 

You take the phone and return to the bathroom. You use the full-length mirror to frame your reflection with the lens. You snap a few pics and sift through for the best one. You hesitate before you tap the little arrow. You're a mess of paranoia and lust; you shouldn't send photos like this and yet you can't help yourself. 

You wait for his reply. Wait and wait and wait. You have to stop yourself from staring at the phone, knowing that your hyperfocus will only slow time. You cross to the counter and place the phone near the edge. 

Your attention is drawn to the sheer fabric acrosd your chest. You can't suppress the moan that leaks from you. You can feel how excited you already are but your eagerness might just get in the way of the whole thing. 

You sigh and the buzz draws you back from your anxiety. You read the message, almost disappointed. 

'Midnight.' 

That's it. That's all he has to say. Was the pic not good enough? Is this part of the roleplay? You don't know. 

As ever, Andy has you guessing at what he really wants. Hopefully this time, you get it right. 

💕

10:47pm. You’re wired. You’re trying to settle down. You have freshly laundered bedding and a glass of wine; all the perfect ingredients to lull you to sleep. That’s all you need to do. Fall asleep. 

Yet knowing what’s coming won’t let your mind stop. Ugh, your heart is racing again. You need to finish the wine. You push yourself up and have another gulp. You lay in the glow of your phone, a Get Ready With Me playing on low volume. Usually this all works. 

Not tonight. You’re too buzzy. Too frazzled. Too eager! 

You empty the glass and lay back down. You were generous, filling the wide body of the glass to the halfway point. At least two regular glasses worth.  

Your head meets the pillow and you start to feel it. The acidic burn spreads through your veins and you sink into the soft sheets. You turn your head to watch the small screen of your phone, vision slowly hazing as the contoured woman applies her lip liner expertly. 

Your eyelids cling and start to itch. Your heady is swishy, your tummy too, and your limbs weaken. It’s working. You try not to think too much about it, not wanting to counteract the alcohol with your self-awareness. 

You roll onto your side and drift into a half-conscious daze. Your brain swirls and your blood burns hot. Your breathing slows and piques only when your rouse, glancing at your phone as a new video plays. The time stamps into your vision; 11:25. 

You curl your shoulders inward, more tired than anxious now, and slip back into your tipsy stupour. The screen is just a glow on the other side of your eyelids and the audio a scratch in your ears. It fades beneath the even ebb and flow of your quiet snores. 

As the light fades out and the sound dwindles to nothing but the still of night, you wake again. Your eyes open to the darkness. You’re alone. Confused. 

You feel around on the bed for your phone. It must have timed out or the battery died. You don’t find it. Instead, your wrist is trapped in a strong grip and dragged away from the duvet. You gasp and remember what’s going on. It’s starting. He’s there. 

“Ah, ah,” comes the grizzled tut as your other arm is seized and your hands are brought together above your head. 

Andy’s shadowy figure straddles you, pinning you to the mattress as you squirm. You let out a squeak and he hushes you. You still and arch your back, trying to push your chest up. 

“Please, who are you?” You whine, doing your best to play into the scenario. “Please, my husband will be home soon--” 

He shushes you again, holding your wrists together as he leans back to reach behind him. You can hardly see through the dark and your foggy tipsiness. The curtains have been drawn, obscuring the room to fuzzy lines and pulsing shadows. 

He hooks something around your arm; a leather cuff, then secures your other wrist. He keeps your arms up and reaches behind the mattress. He attaches the wring between the cuffs to some unseen hook. Where did that come from? 

You writhe as he stares down at you. You squint back at him, trying to see through the dim. Something feels off. He’s so quiet and forceful. It must be part of the roleplay but it just doesn’t feel like him. He feels like a stranger. 

He backs off of you, peeling back the duvet to drop it on the floor. He prowls along the foot of the bed and you kick your feet, whimpering as you strain against the cuffs. You keep forgetting it’s a game. You have to play your part too. 

“Please, don’t hurt me,” you beg. 

There’s no answer. Andy continues to pace, back and forth, back and forth. He's really transformed. Where he would usually have his hands on his hips, he has them folded behind him, shoulders squared, his steps lighter. 

He stops and lets out a willowy rasp. He unzips his jacket, slipping off the sleeves slowly, deliberately. You lift your head as you try to see him clearer. Did he change? He must have dressed up too. 

Then he pulls his shirt over his head and huffs out again, a growl catching in his throat. He drops the shirt with his jacket and the duvet. Andy never leaves a garment outside the closet or hamper but this isn’t Andy, remember? This is an intruder! And you’re the helpless housewife. 

You nearly moan at the thought. Something about it is so hot even if it makes you a bit squidgy too. You tug again on your wrists as you hear his zipper slice through the din. 

“Please--” you beg. 

He kicks the footboard and the loud bang silences you. You can’t help the pathetic noise that trickles from your tongue and you swallow. He’s doing good. It feels so real. 

He continues to undress. Your heartbeat picks up as you wait for him to really start. He bends to pick something up then climbs over the footboard onto the bed. For a moment, you wince. His silhouette is slimmer. Or seems so. The difference is so minuscule it might be your wine-laced brain playing tricks. 

He catches your kicking feet and pushes your legs wide. He trails his hands up them, a piece of fabric tickling beneath his left palm, and firmly hooks them around him as he moves between them. He stops at your pelvis, his rigid length hovering over you. He stretches the black cloth across your eyes, blotting out what little sight you have. He knots the band behind your head and you gasp. 

He traces along your cheeks and your jawline, as if he can see you through the dark, as if he’s learning you by touch. His fingertips dance down your throat and across your shoulders. You feel fragile as he toys with the strap of the lingerie and feels along the flimsy cups, circling his thumbs around your nipples as they pebble beneath the sheer silk. 

He gropes you and growls. The noise is guttural and raw. It flutters into your core and has you twitching. He pushes his knees against your cunt, moving so the friction flurries in your clit. You babble and raise your chest, hungry for his touch. 

He flicks your nipples and his hands crawl onward, down your torso, doting on the soft flesh of your stomach, and framing your hips as he draws back on his knees. He snarls and bends over you, bowing as he grips you tightly. His nails dig into your skin and you whine as you feel his hot breath against your folds. 

He nuzzles along the edges of the panties, growling as he does, squeezing your harder, then at once, buries his nose in your cunt. He wiggles his head and drags the tip of his nose up over your clit and swipes his tongue up to further set you aflame. You moan and curve your back, planting your heels as you urge him on. 

He delves into you, lapping and licking, suckling and swirling. His arm reaches up and he kneads your chest, blindly pulling the lingerie under one tis. He pinches as you cry out and he rolls your clit between his teeth. You puff out shallow breaths, swept up in the sensations. 

This is so different. Unlike he’s ever been before. He’s almost feral in how he touches you, how he feels you, how it seems he wants to consume you. There’s something else different, something strange you can’t place.  

Did he shave? You can’t tell, It must be the wine. His cheeks feel bare against your thighs and yet you swear you feel that scratchy tickle against your cunt. You don’t think about it; it’s all too much to focus. 

You squeal as you cum, spasming into his face as he drinks up your orgasm. You’re heaving and hollow as he doesn’t let up. He laps at you until you’re begging him to stop. Until you’re quaking, nearly sobbing in overwrought pleasure. Until you have a second, a third, and a fourth. 

Your slickness smears over his face and across your thighs. As he parts, his breath is humid, and you can smell the sweet scent of your release. You shiver as he raises himself up and the bed jostles. He snarls and slaps your thighs, squeezing until you whimper. 

He shifts and slides a hand under your leg. He flips you onto your stomach so your arms twist and your face is buried in the pillow. You pant into the linen as he smacks your ass with both hands and growls as he fondles you. You murmur as his touch sends tendrils down your legs and up your back. 

He grips your hips once more and raises your ass. Oh my god. It’s only a few times you’ve done it like this, often Andy prefers you on your back. He says he likes to see you.  

He pulls you back against him, his length resting between your cheeks as he bends over you. He inhales the scent of your hair and snarls against your crown. He reaches down to feel between your legs, spreading your swollen cunt as he angles his hips. 

His tip slips down and he uses his fingertips to guide it to your entrance. You’re so wet he slips right in. He sounds just as surprised as he gasps. He sinks into your limit and you whine. He retracts his arm, hooking it around your neck, and thrusts. 

You squeal as he buries himself even deeper. He does it again; harder. It hurts. You croak and press your chin down into his arm. You feel a ripple of fear. His chest feels... bare. Andy has that trim of fur that you like to play with. Maybe he got rid of it? For the roleplay? 

He snaps his hips again, staying deep before slowly rearing back. He pauses, then bucks again. The impact of his pelvis on your ass is painful and he’s hitting your cervix. 

“Ow, Andy--” 

“Quiet,” he grits in a deep sneer and brings his other hand up to smother your mouth. 

He leans his weight on you, your neck and shoulders aching from the angle of your spine. He dips into you again, again, again. Each pause between grows shorter as he tilts into a full rut. The entire bed shakes with his motion. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and curl your fingers into your palms, the cuffs slowing your circulation. You huff into his hand as he continues his rampant fucking, skin slapping, bones aching. Harder, deeper, faster, until you’re delirious. 

“What’s your husband going to think when he comes home to his wife being fucked like a slut?” He rasps and nibbles your ear, “huh? How’s he gonna compare to this, baby? Your husband can’t fuck like me can he?”  

He taunts and you cringe. You don’t like it anymore. It’s not fun. You don’t want him to be this man. To be this rough and rude. You want him to be Andy. You try to say his name again but only taste the salt of his palm. 

“Keep your mouth shut, slut,” he sinks into his limit and stays there, his voice echoing in your head. His tone is just... off. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[tens-girl]

Had a couple of days to process now, and put together my thoughts on Macbeth. Putting them under the cut to avoid spoilers!

The whole show is astonishingly good; the staging, the lighting, the costume, the sound - oh goodness, the sound - and the performances from the whole cast.

Every decision makes sense, it adds to the storytelling, it helps you understand the characters and their experiences. It’s hard to put into words how well put together and immersive the whole experience is.

The two things that I took away most strongly were the sound and David’s performance.

It’s well-documented that the audience experience the play through headphones, but nothing can prepare you for what they actually do with it. There is a sense in which experiencing the sound in this way creates a dissociation between the actors and the audience (which in itself has a point), but it achieves so much I can forgive it. The immediacy and intimacy is incredible.

Right from the beginning, the sound of the witches creates a truly unnerving atmosphere, and then throughout the play that is how their presence is communicated. It’s a beautiful solution to an age-old problem - how to make the witches scary not silly. The sound and the smoke, perfect.

The sound effects and music are beautifully atmospheric and not overused. The freedom the actors have to face away from the audience, to whisper and modulate their vocal performances in ways entirely unlike what is normally possible in theatre, is used brilliantly to communicate quieter moments and private asides. Some of the moments between Cush and David are just haunting and gorgeous, intimate moments that should be like this rather than projected to the back of a theatre.

I think David used the sound incredibly well though. More than the others, he made such great use of the way pauses between lines offered silence, that could be filled with breaths that tell the audience so much about what the character is feeling. I wasn’t expecting quite so much ‘David breathing’ but I was delighted with it. And the sounds he made during that scene with the witches - *chef’s kiss*. These are things that cannot normally form part of theatre acting, and they were fantastic as part of this performance, getting you right into the heart of this character who is falling apart in front of you.

Now, David.

There were two versions of me in the theatre that night. The former theatre studies student and literature post-grad who was excited to see such a lauded production of this play starring an exceptional actor who I’ve admired for 20years, and the slightly feral David fangirl born approx 13 months ago when I experienced Crowley for the first time. I want to speak firstly as the former!

I’ve read so many times that you can’t truly appreciate David’s talent until you see him live, particularly in Shakespeare. You honestly can’t know how true that is until you do. He is phenomenal. His presence is compelling; while not stealing from others, he still doesn’t really allow you to take your eyes from him. So much of it is what you’re used to seeing in his other work, but there is something special too.

David understands Shakespeare. Many actors can study it and learn it and perform the lines, communicating the meaning and bringing it to life. David does something that is clearly more natural and special than that. The language just feels natural, he plays with it, he enjoys it, he lets it breathe and play back. I understood every line, grasped meaning I hadn’t before, and never once thought that this language was old or strange or hard. It lives on his tongue, and it’s magical. David doing Shakespeare is something truly special.

On top of that, he is also still *him*. There are moments of pure David. He makes you laugh and cry and smile and shiver. He throws every cell of his body into every moment.

There are so many moments I loved, but I’ll pick one. After Macbeth is told of his wife’s death, his speech broke me, the vulnerability and quiet pain and heartbreak was stunning. When David does vulnerable, his whole face changes, and he sheds 20years from it, looking young and soft and devastating. It’s his special skill, and it’s the one I hate him most for because it works every time and I can’t forgive him for always breaking my heart, but boy is it beautiful.

And now the feral fangirl bit. Everyone always says that David is so very nice and kind and generous and perfect. It’s almost a cliche. But genuinely, after seeing him so powerful in all his outstanding glory on the stage, to be face to face with the unassuming, soft, and patient guy that is David, seeing him proceed calmly along the line of tensely excited fans desperate for his signature, steadily signing for everyone, calmly interacting - he is simply gorgeous in every way, inside and out.

I was desperately uncool, garbled something dreadful about how good he was. He looked me in the eye, smiled, and said thank you. He is beautiful.

There is only one way to sum up my experience…