#so basically I didn’t convince him at all.

[myrruwrites]

Streamer!Jinx headcanons.

Just some basic ideas and drabbles pooled into one post. I see a lot of streamer!ellie and streamer!vi, but barely any jinx if any at all. I don’t know, I just think she’d be the funniest streamer ever.

CW: Cursing? bits of Jinx x f!reader. jokes about jinx being cancelled, homophobia mentions.

Streamer!Jinx who got surprised when she blew up pretty fast. For the wrong reasons, Ofcourse (controversy, because she can’t keep her mouth shut), but once it smoothed over she gained a lot of following from it.

She has no filter. None. The second something pops into her head, she says it aloud. She deals with the consequences afterwards.

Her room is either really messy, or oddly tidy. On that note, Streamer!Jinx that decorated her whole setup and desk, plus her headphones. They’re all covered in scribbles and spraypaint.

Streamer!Jinx that sometimes manages to convince you to play on stream with her, addressing you as a close friend to keep you both comfortable and safe online.

She constantly says “chat” and “gang”, even when she’s not streaming. Vi and Ekko pick up on it and comment on it frequently, using it to tease her.

Rages at Minecraft. 100%. She joined MCC, just to ragequit half way through because her team was in dead last. Her chat watched her leave the server and walk out of her room on the webcam. She had to take a whole 15 minuet break and come back with a cup of coffee to calm down.

She would start a Minecraft hardcore series just to hide in a hole as soon as it turns night, before logging off and never returning.

"Guys this is my first episode of... MINECRAFT HARDCORE!

...

Chat this seems to be my first AND last episode."

Jinx who accidentally revealed your relationship on live. She slipped up and called you "darling" or "babe", and her chat never dropped it.

"BABE?!"

"Holy shit did she just call her babe?"

"Ladies, we have a chance!"

"DID WE HEAR THAT RIGHT"

She tried to change the topic, "We’re going to win this round!", to say she lost, and her chat didn’t drop the topic, would be an understatement.

She got cancelled for homophobia once, because she went on a 'just chill and talk' live about how she didn’t approve of Caitlyn and Vi being together. It got taken the wrong way and had to explain that she’s infact Queer with a girlfriend. She defended herself with "Guys, I’m literally dating.." after she revealed your relationship, and then went on a rant sesh about you. She’s the biggest yapper ever.

Her twitch account got banned or suspended once because she got so mad at a kid on Fortnite that she cursed him out and went overboard. (Again, she has no filter).

She mainly plays Minecraft and gun games. But sometimes she’ll do longer lives for charity where she’ll play the chat’s top pick.

She accidentally showed your face on stream once, forgetting to tell you her webcam was on. You didn’t realise until later that day there were edits of you on your own fyp or twitter TL. "Babe, you might wanna see this.."

Jinx still gets confused whenever she sees an edit of herself. Also, she has a public favourite folder of edits of you. She doesn’t know how to edit it to make it private.

Once you got comfortable showing your face on webcam, Jinx hosted a “do my hair and Q&A” stream where you braided and brushed her hair while you both answered questions. Any excuse to spend time with you at the same time as working.

Notes: first time ever writing jinx, so I thought I’d start with headcanons. Do we want a streamer!jinx fic? Like an actual fic? Pls give me ideas on what to write abt her

[wonkizz]

do you feel the same way i do about you?

성훈 x fmr genre: angst warns: cursing, shit talking, alcohol/drinking, unrequited love, parties, not proofread

Sunghoon is your best friend. Someone you’ve gone through hard times with, someone who’s always been there for you. It was easy for you to catch feelings, but it was also just as easy to hide them away.

The one thing people always say about you and Sunghoon is that you’re so different it’s almost comical. He’s loud and cheerful, albeit around people he’s comfortable with, while you’re quiet and shy with practically everyone, even him.

You’ve tried over the years to branch out and make more friends, but you always find yourself falling short and just missing the mark.

But Sunghoon, he’s never made you feel bad about your personality, if anything he’s allowed you to embrace it.

Which is why when he convinced you to go to a party with him, he was as shocked as you were.

You don’t go to parties, they’re just not for you. But Sunghoon said this one would be good and a chance for you to make more friends.

He wanted to introduce you to his other friends, the ones he’s made at your college.

You were hesitant but decided it might be worth it in the end.

Only problem is, you don’t have party worthy clothes. Your style is basic, you wear jeans and sweaters on most occasions because you prefer comfort over anything else.

When you tell Sunghoon this, he urges you not to worry about it, saying he’ll handle it.

What exactly does that mean? Buying you the skimpiest outfit he could find.

The dress is short, barely covers your ass and your chest is nearly exposed.

“Sunghoon, I don’t think this is for me,” you say, staring at yourself in the mirror.

You did your own hair and makeup, although barely any, and the outfit was the final touch.

You don’t look like you.

“Are you kidding? You look great!” He says, enthusiastic as ever.

“I just… I don't look like myself, you know? I feel weird.”

“I promise, everything will be fine. I know you’re stepping out of your comfort zone for me, and I really appreciate it. This is just part of it.”

Sunghoon, ever the sweet talker, smiles when you nod.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The drive isn’t far, it’s being hosted by Sunghoon’s friend Jay.

When you say the house is gigantic, you mean it.

Your one bedroom is more like a studio compared to it.

Your nerves start to get the better of you, and you almost don’t want to get out of the car.

Sunghoon opens the passenger door for you, holding out a hand, “Come on.”

You take it, and he leads you up the steps and straight inside, not even bothering to knock.

Then again, why would he have to? It’s a party for god's sake.

He leads you through a wave of bodies until you reach the kitchen.

6 other guys are standing there and Sunghoon greets them eagerly.

You can’t help but stand there awkwardly, twiddling your fingers and looking down at the ground.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my best friend,” Sunghoon says as he begins to point at everyone, “Y/N this is Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki.”

You wave at them, giving a shy smile as they all greet you.

“You didn’t tell us how pretty she is, Sunghoon,” Heeseung says, raising an eyebrow.

Sunghoon scoffs, “Yeah yeah, don’t overwhelm her, this isn’t her type of thing.”

He grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them and handing you one.

You sip it gently, souring at the taste. You’re not a big drinker either.

It’s not long before Sunghoon effectively abandons you.

He dragged you to the dance floor one minute, then the next he was gone.

You don’t know why, but something is telling you to head upstairs.

It’s there you hear your name coming from a bedroom with the door slightly ajar.

“Why didn’t you introduce us to Y/N sooner?” You barely recognize Heeseung’s voice amongst all the noise coming from downstairs.

You certainly recognize Sunghoon as the next person to speak, “Parties aren’t her thing, I told you that.”

“We’ve been in college for 4 years though. This is the first time you’ve gotten her to come to one?”

“What else can I say? She’s a stick in the mud.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your best friend,” Sunoo speaks up.

“I know, but it’s true. She’s kind and all but she’s so shy and closed off that she can’t make friends. The only reason we really became friends is because our parents pushed us to be close.”

Ouch.

“So you’re friends with her out of pity?” Riki asks.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sunghoon retorts, “she’s sweet and I appreciate having her as a friend but she’s kinda boring and our personalities don’t really match at all. If it weren’t for our parents, we probably wouldn’t be friends at all.”

“That’s harsh, man,” Jake pipes up.

“I know, I just…don’t know how else to describe her.”

You’ve never felt genuine heartbreak. Not until this moment.

So this is how he feels about you? The best friend you thought accepted you for who you are, truly just…tolerates you?

Has he always felt this way? Has he only kept you as a friend out of pity?

You never thought of yourself as less than when it came to Sunghoon, but now, you’re doubting everything you thought you knew.

As tears gather in your eyes, you turn around making your way back downstairs and out the front door.

You call yourself an uber and go home, crying silently in the back seat of this stranger's car.

Once you make it inside your apartment, you take the heels Sunghoon bought off, thank god because they were killing your feet.

Heading into your bedroom, you look at yourself in the mirror again. The girl glaring back at you, isn’t you. She’s what Sunghoon wants you to be, but clearly you can’t give him that.

You almost tear the dress as you’re taking it off, and change into sweats and a t-shirt.

As you lay in bed, you think back on your years with Sunghoon.

All the time he tried to convince you to do things with him, all the times you tried. All the times you asked him to do something with you and all the times he declined because they “weren’t his style.”

Has it really always been like this? You, trying to be different for Sunghoon, but Sunghoon, never trying for you?

Suddenly you feel humiliated.

Humiliated at the fact that your friendship with Sunghoon has all been a fluke.

You’ve always accepted Sunghoon for who he is. Yet, he never truly did the same for you.

Your phone buzzes beside you, Sunghoon’s contact coming up with a text.

‘Where are you?’ It says.

You don’t bother answering, instead, putting your phone on the charger and turning it off.

You fall asleep with your eyes swollen and heart broken.

When you turn your phone on the next morning, it’s full of texts from Sunghoon.

You, again, don’t bother answering. You’re disgusted by last night's events.

You don’t have class thankfully, so you lounge around in your pajamas all morning.

It’s not until noon when there’s a knock at your door.

You mentally slap yourself for not checking the peephole, because once you open it, you regret it.

Sunghoon stands there, an evident frown on his face.

“Why haven’t you answered my texts?” He says, immediately.

You feel snappy, like the word nice is not in your vocabulary at the moment.

“Can I be honest? I didn’t want to talk to you.”

Sunghoon’s face furrows, “Why? What’d I do?”

You just begin to laugh. You don’t know if it’s the leftover pain morphing into anger or the fact that you’re tired.

“Why are you here Sunghoon? I don’t need your pity, not anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

Then, you’re shouting, “I heard you last night! You’re friends with me out of fucking pity and I’m honestly disgusted!”

Sunghoon’s face morphs from confusion to shock.

“I…you heard me?”

“I did.” You nod, “And honestly, if you were so fucking bored of me, you should’ve just ended the ‘friendship’ instead of dragging it along like this.”

“Y/N I…I didn’t mean any of that—,”

“Yes you did! You did because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have said it.”

There’s nothing but silence from his end, like he’s trying to process everything while you’ve already caught up.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes again and damn if it isn’t embarrassing to cry in front of him, but at this point, you don’t care.

“You know what hurts the most?” You ask as Sunghoon looks up, into your eyes.

“The fact that I did so much for you. You wanted to go out? Fine. You wanted me to put myself out there in a place I was totally out of place at? Fine. So many times I made myself uncomfortable for you. But the very few times I asked you to do something with me, for me, you always said no. It wasn’t your thing. Do you realize how fucking pathetic I feel knowing my friendship was so one-sided?”

Sunghoon doesn’t say a word, tears gathering in his own eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You nod, “I’m sorry too. Sorry that we both wasted our time. Sorry, that I ever had feelings for you. Consider this ‘friendship’ over, Sunghoon.”

With that, you close the door in his face, locking it before letting yourself break.

You settle on your couch, curling into a ball, clutching a pillow as you cry.

There’s a few stray knocks, but he eventually leaves.

WONKIZZ 2025

[themultifanshipper]

Oscar lifted the trophy high above his head. He thought about how every decision he’d made in his life had led to this moment: winning his first Formula 1 Grand Prix, in Hungary. 

And yet, the only thought running through his head was, ‘I’ve ruined everything’. 

Warnings: quite angsty although i did tone it down quite a bit, smut

Part 2 of The way to a man's heart

Oscar wasn’t jealous. 

He was a good friend to you. 

He was happy for you and Lando, who had now become a thing, apparently. 

He’d even helped you out that time at the beach, making sure that the group steered clear of you two, because Oscar was a good friend. 

Until he wasn’t. 

Because the truth was, Oscar was jealous. 

He’d pined over you since before the season started, since the beginning of 2023, in fact. 

But you had quickly friendzoned him, and set your sights on Lando instead.  

Which was fine, he was an adult, and he could handle rejection perfectly well. 

Until Miami 2024. Until that day, when he saw the small ‘LN4’ on your hip, and he realised he had actually lost you. 

If he’d had his way, he would have turned you over and fucked you on that damn sun lounger himself. 

The next few weeks were tough for him. Made even worse by Lando, who constantly came to work with hickies poking out of his necklines, and stories about how wonderful his dates with you were. 

Oscar just gritted his teeth, bided his time. ‘It’ll pass, It’ll pass, It’ll pass’ he chanted to himself every time he felt like decking Lando. 

But unfortunately that rate at which that was happening was increasing drastically, and it increased for two reasons. 

Firstly because you an Lando were basically throwing yourselves at each other at every given opportunity, and every wink Lando sent his way before carrying you out of the room sent him reeling at the thought of whatever the two of you were doing next door. 

Secondly, because according to every media outlet, Lando was now the second coming of christ, set to defeat Max Verstappen for the title.  

And both of those things were making him increasingly antsy. And he could tell the team were going to do everything in their power to help Lando, even if that meant throwing him under the bus. 

So he concentrated on his racing, the one thing he could control. And in Austria, the cracks started to show. 

He took some sort of sick satisfaction from knowing that Lando had driven like a dick and had cost himself a win. ‘I would’ve driven better, I would've won’ he thought nastily. 

He fought with Lando over it the day after. He knew he shouldn’t have poked the bear, but Lando’s ego needed a hit, and he needed to release his frustrations on somebody. So they hauled insults at each other, until someone came and forced them into seperate rooms. 

He didn’t even bother putting headphones on to drown out the noise you and Lando were making next door. Those noises drove him, drove him to be better.  

He even managed to convince himself that you were faking the screams, and that if you gave him a chance, he’d show you he was better than Lando at that as well. 

Before Silverstone you approached him, feeling how off he’d been lately with you. 

You’d tried to talk to Lando about it, but he’d shrugged it off and gone partying in god knows which country with god knows which DJ friend of his, leaving you to spend some time with your friend, which you realised you hadn’t found much time to do lately.  

But it only ended in an argument. 

About how you were a bad friend, siding with Lando over him about everything, and Lando was just using you to get to him. 

Even to his ears, none of it made any sense whatsoever, but his brain was half eaten by jealousy and frustration at this point, so he all but kicked you out of his apartment, and you didn’t have any contact with him after that. 

He’d effectively alienated his two best friends on the grid. 

Then you had a crash in Silverstone, a nasty crash at that. Concussion, bruised ribs, the works. 

His heart stopped when he heard the news over the radio, and it stopped again when he saw the replay of the crash once he was back in the paddock. 

He was the first to visit you in the hospital. Lando was busy celebrating his home podium. 

He spent half an hour groveling at the foot of the bed, and whining about how sorry he was. 

But you were just relieved about having your friend back. 

“Oscar, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. But I don’t care about what you said, I just care that you’re here, now.”  

He hugged you, as tightly as he dared with how sore he knew your ribs were, and sat on the bed next to you. 

“So tell me, what’s been going on with you? I've been worried” you asked with a frown. 

He looked down at his hands and sighed, which made him wince slightly. 

“A lot of things, really. Mostly stress I think.” he mumbled. 

“Oh Osc, you know I’m here for you if you need to talk, yeah?” you slid an arm around him and squeezed, and he winced again with a pained moan escaping his lips. 

You stared at him, but he refused to meet your eyes. 

“Oscar?” you asked tentatively “what was that?” 

He looked at you sheepishly as one of his hands came to rub at his side. 

“I uhh... I may or may not have a broken rib?” He attempted a smile but you slapped his arm. 

“Since when??!” 

“Uhm... Austria? I think. Maybe Barcelona...”  

You slapped his arm again, harder. 

“Barcelona?!!” you hissed as he rubbed his arm “Two weeks? And you didn’t think to tell me?”  

He sighed again. “I know, I’m sorry” 

You huffed out a laugh and looked at the ceiling in disbelief. 

“Look at us, huh” you made a vague gesture at him “wallowing in self pity, injured, and one of us doesn’t even have anyone to fuck at the end of all this!” 

His head snapped up to look at you. That was a very weird thing to say, and indeed you looked pale, and a bit dazed. 

“Are you on any medication right now?”  

You looked at him weirdly “Yeah, Morphine, why?” 

He laughed, almost relieved. “Because that was an odd sentence, even coming from you” 

“Yeah well, sorry we can’t all be the jealous third wheel of the friend group” 

Oscar heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?” 

You giggled. “Come on, Osc. It’s obvious. You’ve been mopey ever since Miami. You’re obviously jealous that me and Lando are fucking on the regular and aren’t spending as much time with you. It’s science!”  

He was about to interrupt but you continued, your words slurring together more and more as you went on. The drugs must have been hitting you harder than expected. 

“Besides, I saw how you reacted when I showed you my tattoo. If you want...” you grabbed his shirt and dragged him towards you with surprising strength, he had to put his hands either side of you to not fall on top of you. You glanced quickly at his lips leaning in closer. “If you want, I could get an ‘OP81’ tattoo. Would that make you feel better? Or you could get an LN4 tattoo, I’m sure Lando would go just as feral for you as he did for me...”  

Your breath was hitting his face but he was barely registering it, his wide eyes were fixed on yours as you pulled him in further. But just as his face was almost too close to call it friendship, you pushed him away with a loud gasp of excitement. 

“Oh! We should totally have a threesome!” you squealed.  

Oscar almost jumped out of his skin when the door behind him creaked open suddenly, a nurse coming in to check on you. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but it is ten p.m. and we don’t allow visitors after that time”  

Oscar scrambled to his feet and rushed to the door. “No problem! I was just leaving” he mumbled breathlessly, but just as he wrenched the door open, you called out in a sing-song voice. 

“I know what you are Oscar Jack Piastri! ”  

The following maniacal giggle haunted him for the next week. 

He’d texted Lando to ask how you were doing, avoiding engaging in conversation with you completely.  

Lando replied two things. 

“Ask her yourself, when you find some free time from being a dickhead” and “Also fuck you for not telling me about your broken fucking rib” 

Great, so he wasn’t over the argument in Austria. 

But he couldn’t text you. Every time he thought about you all he could picture was the night in the hospital. Your lidded eyes looking up at him while you babbled sensual nonsense with your lips just inches away, if only he had just leaned in and- 

No.  

He wasn’t in the business of stealing girlfriends, only trophies. 

A few days before you were all supposed to be in Hungary, he finally decided to stop being a pussy and actually messaged you. 

It turned into a facetime call that lasted several hours. 

“Yeah, it’s been really just relaxing and waiting for my body to heal” you said, a cup of hot chocolate in your hands. 

“Me too, although the rib’s hurting like a bitch” he complained, his own coffee lay forgotten on the table. “But thankfully they’ve modified the seat so it shouldn’t be as bad in Hungary” 

“Let’s be hoping so. I don’t think you should be driving at all with a broken rib” 

He laughed “Well, I’ve already done 3 races, what’s two more?” 

You hummed thoughtfully as you took a sip, not particularly happy with that attitude.  

“So Lando’s still not speaking to you, is he?”  

Oscar was confused at the sudden change of subject. “No...why?” 

“And he hasn’t told you why, has he?”  

He sighed. “I’ve been in a bad place recently, and I lashed out at the two of you. He just took it a bit harder is all. But he’ll come around, I’ll deal with him in Hungary.” 

You nodded absentmindedly as you took another sip. That wasn’t the only reason, but if Lando hadn’t told Oscar anything else, you weren’t going to either, so you changed the subject again. 

“By the way, I was thinking. I think it would be funny if when you win your first race, I got a tattoo for you like I did for Lando. You’re my best friend after all and it would mean a lot to me.” 

Oscar wanted that. He wanted it so fucking much. To be yours, for you to be his. A wave of possessiveness surged through him at the thought of his name inked into your skin. But much to his own dissapointment, his brain did the talking for once. 

“ I don’t think that’s a good idea”  

You frowned at him through the screen. “Why not? It’s just a tat-” 

“I just can’t, I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be right” 

The look on your face was breaking his heart, but he knew if you got a tattoo for him he would actually lose his sanity. 

Either that or tell you he loved you, which was not an option for a multitude of reasons. 

“What do you mean it wouldn’t be right. Oscar I’m-” you were visibly getting upset and it killed him to have to say no. 

“I just- I can’t. I have to go, I’m sorry” he apologised, getting choked up himself and hung up the call. 

You stared at the black screen for several seconds in disbelief. He was so abrupt, and yet there was something else behind it. He seemed just as upset about it as you. 

You knew why. Of course you did.  

You’d known since Miami, with the look on Oscar’s face when him and the other drivers came back from their swim to find you and Lando curled up on the sunbed. 

Your heart took a hit then, and it was taking a hit now.  

You couldn't explain it, but the thought of Oscar being left out was taking a toll on you. 

Lando walked in to find you still staring at the screen, while a tear or two ran down your cheeks. 

“Baby, who was that? What’s wrong?”  

You snapped out of your stupor and wiped your eyes furiously. 

“Nothing I- It was just Oscar.” 

Lando froze. “And he made you fucking cry?” 

“No! I just... I miss him so much, and I know it’s stupid but I wish things would go back to the way they were with him” 

He studied you for a moment, a frown etching itself onto his face. 

“You want him” 

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. 

You nodded slowly. 

“You know I do. But I want you too. I love you. I’ll always love you” 

He kneeled down next to you and put an arm around your shoulders. 

“I know that baby, but if you want him, there’s nothing I can say to stop you is there?” 

“That’s not fair Lando!” you whined “You’re saying that like I’m going to cheat on you or something. Obviously I would never fucking do that to you!” 

“Hey” he rubbed a hand up and down your back soothingly “It’s not cheating if I agree to it” 

“But I don’t just want to fuck him Lando. I want all of it. I want both of you equally.” 

“And I’m telling you, I’m okay with that. I need some time to think about where I stand with him. It’s a bit complicated at the moment, but you love him, and he obviously loves you, and as long as you don’t stop loving me, I love you too much to keep you locked up in a cage” 

You smiled at him sadly and leaned in to press your lips to his.  

“You’re such a sap.” you whispered. 

“Says the woman sitting on the floor crying over love like a fucking Jane Austen character” he said and you laughed “Now come on, let’s get some food and get to bed, I’m taking you out tomorrow for a surprise”

 

Oscar was evasive whenever you approached him during the weekend in Hungary. 

You and Lando were worried about him. He was racing with a broken rib for god's sake. 

But he did the impossible. He won.  

He fucking won! 

Team orders aside, it was a wonderful feeling to see him on the top step, sweaty and covered in champagne. 

Oscar thought he'd ruined everything, so he was surprised when you jumped into his arms afterwards and held him tight. 

Lando wasn't quite in the same mood as you were, understandably. 

That night you went straight to Oscar's hotel room. 

Lando still wasn't sure where he stood with Oscar, but he let you go, with an olive branch of sorts. 

You jumped into his arms as soon as he opened the door. 

“Congratulations Oscar!” 

He whined in pain but soldiered through it, almost squeezing the life out of you as he hugged you back. 

“Thank you” he said with a soft smile. 

“Osc, I need to show you something” you whispered conspiratorially before taking his hand and leading him over to sit on the bed. 

You stood in front of him, standing between his legs as you pulled up the hem of your shirt. 

“Jesus” he muttered, hand coming to soothe over the bruising that still adorned your ribs. 

“It can't be as bad as yours” you giggled softly “but that's not what I wanted to show you” 

You pulled down the waistline of your pants, exposing the tattoo Lando had gifted you a few days prior. 

“I got this the other day” you bit your lip, waiting for his reaction as his eyes landed on the small ‘OP81’ that lay next to your hip bone, opposite the tattoo you got in Miami. “I didn't know you were going to win, but I guess it doesn't matter now because you did anyway” 

He stared at it for a couple of seconds before looking up at you with tears in his eyes. 

“You really shouldn’t have” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. 

“Why Osc?” you whispered. 

One of your hands went to cup his cheek and he leaned in to the touch, eyes closing as he took a shaky breath. 

“Because…”  

You stroked his blushing cheek with your thumb. “Say it” 

He looked back up at you, looking like a kicked puppy. 

“Because I'm fucking in love with you”  

You smiled at him, leaning down so that you were eye level with him. 

“I know”  

He frowned. “You know?” 

“I do, Osc.” 

He blinked.

“And… you got it anyway?”  

“I did. Because I love you too, and I want both of my boys with me, at all times” 

His utter look of shock was enough to force laugh out of you.  

You sat down on his lap smoothly, cupping his face with both your hands. 

 “I want you Oscar”  

He stared at you for a moment and you took the opportunity to lean in and kiss him. 

His self control went out the window immediately, and his hand came up to tangle in your hair to pull you closer. 

The kiss got hungrier, pulling at each other until there was no space between your bodies, and eventually you had to separate for air. 

“Wait, what about Lando?” he asked breathlessly. 

“Oscar” you smiled “The tattoo was Lando's idea, once I told him I wanted you” 

His jaw dropped. “Lando knows?” 

“Of course. We share everything.”  

Oscar shivered at the implications of that statement. He certainly wouldn't mind being shared. 

But that thought was quickly replaced when he felt your lips on his once again. 

This felt like a fever dream. You, on top of him kissing him while you held onto each other for dear life. 

Then he had an idea. 

He picked you up suddenly, flipping you onto your back. 

“Fuck- I need to see it again” 

He wasted no time getting your pants off, leaving you in your underwear. Which just happened to be lacey and almost completely see through. 

He groaned as his hands came up to grab your hips, eyes roaming over your figure. Namely his initials inked into your skin. 

He leaned down and placed a kiss over it, eyes glued to yours as he did. 

Your pupils darkened and an evil grin spread across his face.

He then went slightly lower, and kissed the spot just above the hem of your underwear, making your breath hitch. 

He went lower still, kissing his way down until he got to where there was already a wet patch soaking through the material. 

“You going to be good for me?” he rasped, tracing a finger over your clothed cunt, making you shiver. 

“Please, Osc” you whined. 

Something sick and twisted churned in his gut at your pleading, and he smirked up at you. 

“That's what I like to hear” 

He dragged your underwear down your legs, wasting no time devouring you and moaning at the sweet taste of victory.

You fell apart on his tongue, then again on his fingers. 

You were gasping for breath while he unbuckled his belt, pulling his own pants and underwear down in one swift move. 

“You ready?” 

You clawed at him, pulling him closer to gasp into his ear. 

“Fuck me like a winner, baby” 

 He lined himself up and pushed in in one swift thrust, and the two of you moaned in sync. 

It was slow, Oscar building up his pace little by little as he took you apart expertly. 

Your back arched, head thrown back while he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“I've been dreaming about this for so long” 

“Osc..” you moaned. 

“That's right, say my name, sweetheart” 

“Oscar!” 

He chuckled as he sped his hips up. 

“That's right. Louder baby, let everyone know who's making you feel this good” 

“Oscar- Fuck!”  

He was unraveling at the sound of your cries. 

This was him. All him. No Lando to get in the way of his pleasure.  

Just you and him, and your beautiful body that was all his for the night.  

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, driving into you harder, ignoring the pain in his side. 

You moans were getting louder and your cunt was squeezing around him like a vice. 

“You gonna come for me? Gonna come on my cock like a good girl, hmm?” 

You whined, nodding furiously at his words while you panted into each others mouths. 

“Oscar, I'm gonna…” 

“Go on baby, let go for me” 

Your moans echoed in the room as the two of you came almost simultaneously, rutting into each other, desperately making up for lost time. 

As you lay there together afterwards, hands wandering, exploring each other's skin, you let out a small giggle. 

“What is it?” he asked softly, stroking over the tattoo on your hip. 

“I got the tattoo at the beginning of the week… and then you won your first race” 

You turned around to face him. 

“Maybe I should get more, you might win the championship” 

He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“More of my name on your body? Count me in” 

You laughed together and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a sweet kiss as you both drifted off to sleep. 

[girl4music]

Lucy suspects Rob was in it for the love story all along.

But Rob has clearly stated he never intended it initially. I think it was more so that he subconsciously manifested it in that he did want it, he just didn’t know that he wanted it until it was basically forced on him.

I mean he could have said no. He could have not wanted anything to do with that. It would have been his right. But instead he was like “Actually, maybe it will be better this way.”

Basically he was convinced of his own oblivious desires.

So I think Lucy is right in a way. It was what he wanted.

@battlecouplesoulmates

And let’s face it,… even if he doesn’t “fan gurl” about it, it is clear that he is the biggest supporter of X&G.

[leonastarry]

the 4th wall breaking trope with Jinwoo and the reader, except they're both canon characters and now have unlimited access to seeing what their fandom is like, the bad side and good side. i feel like Jinwoo would be kind of depressed because he went though all of this just for entertainment, while the reader is relieved because they feel like all of the consequences of their actions and responsibilities have been lifted off of their shoulders. also, this is such a random detail to add, but the readers gender is left ambiguous, all of the characters use different pronouns for them and their literal official wiki has their gender listed as "something that only Beru knows" (spoilers, he doesn't know shit) they found out about ot while randomly looking through their own wiki page because they were bored.

[ Req 7 ] Unexpected truth. ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x reader.

It started innocently enough—a slow day, no gates to raid, no monsters to fight. You were lounging on Jinwoo’s couch, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, while Jinwoo sat nearby, flipping through a hunter’s report with his usual laser focus.

Then, out of nowhere, you asked, "Jinwoo, have you ever Googled yourself?"

His pen paused mid-scribble. He looked at you like you’d just suggested he train Beru to do stand-up comedy. "Why would I do that?"

You grinned, holding up your phone. "Oh, I don’t know. To see what people think about you? It’s fun."

"Fun?" he repeated flatly, his disbelief evident.

"Yeah. You’d be surprised how much creativity people have when it comes to us."

His brow furrowed. "Creativity?"

With a sly smile, you spun the phone around, showing him the first thing you’d found: a manhwa called 'Solo Leveling.' "And there're some fanfictions too"

The color drained from his face as he read the description. "This can’t be real."

"Oh, it’s real," you said, biting back laughter as his expression shifted from confusion to sheer mortification. "And there’s a lot more where that came from."

Jinwoo leaned back, his gray eyes darkening with something almost resembling dread. "Then what I have done was nothing? Why are people writing about me like this? Do they not have better things to do?"

"For entertainment," you said with a shrug, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Our entire lives are, apparently. Didn’t you know? We’re the stars of someone’s power fantasy."

He stared at you, his silence deafening. Then, slowly, he ran a hand through his hair. "You’re saying everything I’ve been through—every fight, every sacrifice—was for someone’s... entertainment?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds depressing," you said, tossing a gummy candy into your mouth. "But think of it this way: none of it really matters. No consequences, no pressure. Isn’t that freeing?"

Jinwoo didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked a little pale. "Freeing? It feels like it’s all pointless."

"Oh, come on," you teased, nudging him with your foot. "You’re the Shadow Monarch, for crying out loud. Stop sulking. Here, let me cheer you up."

You shoved your phone into his hands, open to a page on your own fan wiki. Jinwoo hesitated before reading the top line out loud. "Your gender is listed as... something only Beru knows?"

"Yep." You smirked. "My proudest achievement. Wanna know the best part?"

He looked at you warily. "Do I?"

"I asked him once," you said, barely suppressing a laugh. "The poor guy started buzzing like a broken lawnmower and said, 'I dare not presume, my liege’s companion.' So yeah, Beru doesn’t know jack, but apparently, the internet thinks he does."

Jinwoo groaned, passing the phone back to you. "This is ridiculous."

"Oh, it gets better," you said, scrolling down. "People can’t even agree on what pronouns to use for me. Some call me 'he,' others 'she,' and a good chunk go with 'they.' It's chaos."

"Why do they care so much?" Jinwoo muttered, clearly still grappling with the concept.

"They’re invested," you replied simply. "I mean, look at you. You’re basically the internet’s ideal boyfriend. Overpowered, brooding, loyal. It’s a miracle your fanbase hasn’t declared war over who you should end up with."

He gave you a deadpan look. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Oh, absolutely."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is there anything on here that’s not completely insane?”

"Not really," you admitted cheerfully. "But it’s not all bad. Here, look." You navigated to another page and handed him the phone.

This time, his expression softened as he read through the comments. They were filled with admiration, people praising him for his strength, his determination, his love for his family.

"They get it," you said quietly, watching his reaction. "All the pain you went through—it wasn’t meaningless to them. You inspired people."

Jinwoo didn’t reply right away, his eyes lingering on the screen. Finally, he let out a breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “I guess it’s not all bad.”

"See?" you said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "Told you. Now, do you want to see the fan art?"

He shot you a glare that could’ve frozen a gate. "Absolutely not."

You laughed, tossing a gummy candy at him. "Suit yourself. But for the record, I’m the one with the best fan wiki. You’re just lucky I let you co-star in my story."

"Your story?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mock disbelief.

"Yep." You popped another gummy into your mouth, grinning. "Face it, Jinwoo. I’m the main character here."

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "You’re insufferable."

"And you love it," you shot back.

Maybe this whole 'fictional character' thing wasn’t so bad after all.

That's an interesting idea =)

Hope you like it ❤

[leslie-lyman]

Hi! I was thinking for your Stranger at my Gate series, what do you think Pero’s reaction to modern sickness and medicine would be? Maybe even getting a bit of a cold or the flu himself. And of course how would Tessa react to Pero’s “first time” being sick, or at least sick in the modern world.

(Also yes, I’m 18+)

Have a good day/night.

Oh anon, I’ve actually thought about this quite a bit! Thank you thank you thank you for finally giving me the push I needed to actually write this. I’m extremely rusty but god I missed these two so much.

Sick Day

Word count: 2.1k

Rating: T

Warnings: discussions of illness; flu symptoms (but no vomiting); anxious Pero; if I had a nickel for every time I wrote these two showering together without having sex I’d have two nickels which isn’t a lot but weird that it’s happened twice

Masterlist. | Series Masterlist. | dividers by @/saradika

This process happens in two phases.

The first is the unlearning of essentially everything Pero has ever been told about how the human body works, how diseases are spread, and how to treat them. This isn’t terribly difficult to do, it turns out; Pero’s seen enough “medicine” administered during battles and in their aftermaths in his life to know it’s not a particularly useful or reliable field. Patients were more likely to get worse and die following whatever “treatment” they received in his experience. And any religious faith he had was utterly shattered by his time in China. It gets tough to believe the Church’s teachings about anything, including in the power of prayer and faith to heal, once you fight monsters from outer space.

The second is the absorbing of a deluge of modern knowledge about medicine. This one proves tougher. It’s easy for Pero to be convinced that his era’s beliefs about bodies and health were wrong. It’s far harder for him to grasp even the basics of something like germ theory, simply because such things seem to him as equally fantastical as the body being governed by four humors.

It is in this that Tessa, perhaps more than anything else, has to ask for Pero’s trust. He may not be able to understand the mountain of knowledge that underpins why and how, for example, vaccines work and are safe. Tessa and Henry do their best to explain, but in the end, Pero’s consent to get a flu shot relies on trusting that the Walshes are telling him the truth.

That trust gets easier to give over time, not only because Pero comes to trust Tessa in all things as he grows to love her, but also because his experiences with modern medicine start to accumulate.

He slowly comes to realize he doesn’t have to suffer through aches and ailments like he used to. The first time Tessa notices he has a headache, she offers him two white tablets and a glass of water. And it works. His pain eases. He didn’t even know he could ask for something to treat it.

He cuts his hand helping Tessa make dinner one night. (He may or may not have been distracted by how attractive he found Tessa deftly wielding her own knife against an array of vegetables.) Tessa calmly walks him through cleaning the wound (modern hygiene has been its own set of important lessons for Pero), then places some ointment and a bandage on it. In his time, he would have worried about the cut festering. At the very least, he would expect to add a new pink scar to the collection that already covers his body. But instead, the cut heals far faster than he’d have anticipated, and his skin heals without a permanent mark.

As for illness, Pero has muscled his way through a fair number of them in his life. He didn’t have much of a choice. He’s not afraid of dying from illness; death was a daily possibility in his time, and he’d learned to live with that. The risk of his being sick is not that he’d fall to pieces, but rather that he’d be the silent suffering type who wouldn’t ask for help.

So what truly scares him isn’t the first time he gets sick. It’s the first time Tessa gets sick.

It happens not terribly long after he decides to stay. Winter is, after all, cold and flu season. And while Tessa no longer works in an office environment or has to take public transportation to downtown Chicago every day or interact much with other people on a daily basis, she does interact quite often with her niece and nephews.

Kids are germ magnets. It’s just the way it is. And when one of them gets sick, they all get sick. And when Molly, Toby, and Finn have to stay home from school, and neither Amie nor Thom can take a day off from work, and Uncle Henry is busy with his own patients, guess who comes over to take care of them?

Aunt Tessa.

And she’s happy to do it, don’t get her wrong! And she does her absolute best not to catch the nasty flu that’s currently going around their school and that they’ve brought home. But there’s really only so much one can do.

It’s a bad one this year. Despite getting her flu shot (and making sure Pero gets his), after three days of helping to look after three extremely contagious kids she wakes up the next morning feeling like she got hit by a truck. Fever, chills, aches, the whole shebang. It sucks, but hey, that’s how it goes. She’ll take her meds, consume a steady diet of soup and Gatorade, and watch daytime tv for a few days.

Pero, on the other hand, panics.

Fevers are not things that are easy to fight off in his time. Imagine what seeing the woman he loves struck down with what he only knows as plague would do to him. It doesn’t matter what Tessa and Henry have explained to him about modern understandings of illness and how to treat them. This is not an unfortunate but routine occurrence in his eyes. This is something that could kill Tessa.

She spends most of the first day asleep, her fever lowered but not broken by the leftover meds she had from the last time she’d gotten sick the previous winter. Despite trying to both reassure Pero and convince him to stay away lest he catch this bug too, Pero refuses to leave her side.

He steps out of their bedroom only once, to make his very first phone call.

Tessa had shown him how to use her phone to contact her family in case of an emergency, but he’s never felt a reason to use it until now. Every aspect of it is completely strange, each time the screen responds to his touch making him flinch the tiniest bit in surprise. But he manages to call Henry.

“Tess?” her brother says when he picks up.

“Henry. I - it’s - hello.” Pero stumbles over the greeting, remembering at the last second that he needs to hold the phone against his cheek to hear and be heard.

“Pero?” Henry’s voice turns sharp, concerned. “What’s wrong? Tessa okay?”

“She’s ill. The same pestilence as the children.”

“Ah. Same symptoms? Fever, chills, all that?”

“Yes. She’s been sleeping for a while. Tried to tell me she was alright, but she’s…Henry, she’s burning up.”

“She will be alright, Pero,” Henry says gently. “She just needs to take some medicine and stay hydrated, and she’ll-”

“You don’t know that!” Pero barks, fear making it come out harsher than he intends. “Henry, please, just - will you come? She’s your sister, and she is…she’s my…”

He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Please. I don’t know how to help her. I don’t know what to do. But you do. I need you to make sure she’s okay.”

Henry is silent for a moment, and seems to grasp the larger context of Pero’s fear.

“Of course I’ll come to check on her. And I’ll bring over some things that will help. Give me an hour or so.”

“Thank you.” Relief laces Pero’s voice. Henry snorts.

“Please, she hasn’t let anyone properly take care of her while she’s been sick in years. Now I have an excuse to baby my stubborn baby sister. I should be the one thanking you.”

Henry arrives with his arms laden with soups, sports drinks, ice cream, and several boxes of meds. Tessa grumbles first at being roused from her nap, then at the sight of her brother.

“Fuck’s sake, Hank,” she groans into her pillow. “It’s just the flu.”

“Good afternoon to you too, dear sister. What a pleasure it always is to see your lovely face.”

Tessa rolls over just enough to glare at him with one glassy, fever-glazed eye.

“It’s just. The. Flu. Courtesy of those little gremlins we’re related to. It’s gonna suck for a few days but then I’ll be fine. You should be taking care of your actual patients who really do need your help.”

Henry cajoles her into sitting up a bit, then slips both his stethoscope and a thermometer from a coat pocket.

“Really, Hank, there’s no need – ”

“Tessa,” he says lowly, and the serious note in his voice makes her pay attention. “I’m here because Pero called me. He’s worried, Tee. I think you’re scaring your boyfriend a little.”

Tessa’s gaze jumps to Pero, who’s lingering in the doorway. The way her expression completely softens would make Henry roll his eyes if he weren’t so damn happy his sister had finally found someone who loved her the way Pero did.

“I’m sorry, Pero,” she croaks. He shakes his head vigorously and comes to sit on the other side of the bed.

“Do not apologize, mi amor.” He tenderly pushes her hair back from her sweaty forehead. “Just please let your brother do what he must. I will not take chances when it comes to you.”

The fight instantly goes out of her. Henry checks her vitals and makes her take another dose of medicine, letting his healing Gift soothe the worst of the body aches and calming her chills. Once she’s drifting off to sleep again he briefs Pero in the kitchen.

“Meds every four hours, check her temperature as often as she’ll allow you. Make sure she keeps drinking, and try to get her to eat something when she wakes up. If her fever doesn’t break in the next 36 hours, or suddenly spikes, call me.”

Pero nods, looking more serious than Henry has ever seen him, which is saying quite a lot about a man who essentially invented resting bitch face a thousand years before anyone else.

Henry gives the other man’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“I appreciate you calling me, Pero. But I promise Tessa is not in any danger. We just live with these things now; we don’t die from them.”

Pero shifts his weight from one foot to another.

“It is…difficult. After a lifetime of seeing people die from what starts as the smallest wound or barest cough…but I trust in your knowledge.”

“As I trust that you would do anything to keep my sister safe,” Henry returns warmly, gathering his things. “You better just hope that those protective instincts don’t drive you completely insane once you two have kids.”

Henry is out the door before Pero can think of a response.

Tessa sleeps fitfully that night, but Pero is even more restless, hyper aware of every time his love tosses and turns. Her fever breaks sometime in the early morning, and she wakes completely drenched in sweat. He helps her into the shower, settling her onto the bench on the far end of the glass-enclosed stall. She’s still paler than she should be, but her eyes when she looks up at him are clear.

A smile tugs at her lips as he gently washes her hair, then her body. His large hands remove evidence of her sickness from her skin, and the tight knot of anxiety in his chest loosens as he rubs a soapy cloth along each part of her.

“You know,” she says wryly, “under slightly different circumstances I’d be two seconds away from jumping your bones right now.”

Pero huffs at the unfamiliar phrase.

“If that means what I think it means, you have a few days at least before you are up for such things again, mi amor.”

He coaxes her to lean forward against his chest so he can wash her back.

“Pero?”

“Mm?”

She loops her arms around his neck, stilling his movements.

“I love you.”

The knot in his chest unravels.

“As I love you, angel.”

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

He pulls back to look at her.

“You do not have to thank me for such a thing, Tessa. I will always take care of you.”

She nuzzles back into his chest, fatigue starting to wear at her again.

“I’ll always take care of you too, Pero,” she mumbles sleepily into his skin. He feels it sink into his bones like a vow. He resumes his task, mindful of finishing before the water runs cold.

“I know, my love,” he whispers into her hair. “I know.”

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ your domestic boyfriend and you

fairy of shampoo | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader genre: fluff word count: 1.2k notes: i felt the need to expand more of why jay is just ...mhmmmm (plus it contains some type of realization about being not what your supposed to be)

There was only so much you could think about.

It was another busy day for you. You had just submitted several important forms, and instead of feeling relieved, you felt frustrated. It seemed like those papers were punishing you for simply delivering them to the right people.

You had one form for the counselor, another for the department head, and a few more for positions that seemed made only to make you feel miserable. All you could do was wander aimlessly across campus, holding those papers that only made your day worse.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Jay called out as he rushed to stop you from crossing the road. If you had taken just a few more steps, that fast bus would have sent you to the hospital just blocks away.

"Oops! Sorry…" You scratched your head, feeling clumsy in front of Jay. "I didn’t really mean to—"

"Are you holding your requirements?" Jay asked as he fixed his own clothes for a bit, then back with a concerned look towards you. "Can I see them?"

"Uh, yeah…" You slowly handed your documents to him.

For a brief moment, you were lost in his eyes, sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight. His strong jawline made it feel like you were gazing directly at Michaelangelo's sculpture.

"—and you definitely need to send all these scanned documents online." Jay said, stopping when he noticed your sudden silence.

He wanted to help you with your requirements since you had different courses this semester, and he might not get the same schedule. But instead of focusing on helping you on your paperwork, he was just looking at your face. It definitely was the way you looked with your eyes, with him being overly familiar it only meant you were basically thirsting for him right at that moment.

Suddenly, you felt a warm kiss on your lips. It took a moment to process, but when you came back to reality, you saw Jay’s playful smile. You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"J-Jay!" You covered your mouth as he laughed at your reaction.

"What? You were daydreaming again."

"I… I was?" You stammered. And yet, it was true.

"It doesn’t creep me out, but…" Jay leaned closer to your ear. "You should keep it low-key when you’re checking me out."

You gasped, your eyes wide at his words. Yes, it was true; you were checking him out. But did he have to be so aware of it?

"Hey!" You playfully tapped his shoulder as Jay chuckled.

"I'm just saying," he replied, "Still not convinced I'm dating you?"

You squinted at him. Of course, you still couldn’t believe it. You were still trying to make sense of it all.

Long story short, you once went out with friends and tried alcohol for the first time. By some twist of fate, Jay was there. From the hazy memories you had and what your friends told you, you had made a move on the campus's big-shot guitarist heartthrob.

And now, ten months later, you were dating THE Park Jongseong. Time really flies.

"I… Yeah," you admitted shyly, rubbing the back of your neck as your face turned red.

"Heh. Cute."

"Ugh!" You tried to snatch your documents back from him. "I showed you my papers, and now you’re teasing me. I’m leaving!"

Jay laughed and quickly followed you.

"You like staring at me for long periods?"

"Like that’s your concern?" You continued to brisk away from him.

"Um, yeah? I am your boyfriend—" You covered his mouth, trying to get him to some nearby shade.

Under a big oak tree, you sighed as you removed your hands from his mouth.

"Are you still shy?" Jay asked with a teasing smile.

"I don’t want the attention! And—"

"I don’t care," he said, holding your hand. Suddenly, warmth spread through you. It was hard to be brave when he was looking at you like that. You were basically melting within his gaze.

"You… should…" You cleared your throat, trying to find your words.

"I don’t care. You know that," Jay said, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

You looked away, and he gently turned your chin towards him.

"We’re together now," Jay smiled, holding your hands. "I’m your lover. That’s final."

You squeaked at that. Your lover. It still seemed unreal. You were a guy, and you never thought you would experience something like this. It was painful to think back on how you accepted that you didn’t deserve such care.

Someone reliable, caring, and genuinely wonderful—Jay was like a miracle. You still couldn’t believe it was true.

"You're so sappy," you commented, even though you felt the same way about him. Jay chuckled.

"And so what?" He looked at you, determined to give you that confidence boost. "I’ll tell you I love you for all my life if it means embarrassing myself in front of everyone."

You sighed. Of course, he was impulsive. You tried to laugh it off.

"You don’t have to go overboard."

"You’re not giving me options," Jay raised an eyebrow. "I’ll shout it if you don’t let me do my own thing."

You rolled your eyes. No matter what he did, he did it well.

"Fine." You tried to fondle his fine fingers with your own hands. You could still see the marks and slight calluses he gained from playing his beloved guitar, both past and recent. And yet, they looked so pretty when they held yours.

"Fine?" Jay’s face lit up with a grin. "So you’d let me shower you some affection in public?"

You tried to hold back your laughter. "Just keep it to a minimum! Keep it low-key. Okay?"

In the end, you were still shy about making Jay look like a total loser in front of everyone. One moment, he was known for charming girls, and now he was enchanted by you, a guy who was barely anything but common dude. Yet, Jay comforted you. He refused to be looked down upon for loving someone so special.

"I can see you’re still worried," Jay said seriously, fixing your hair. "We’ll be fine."

You swallowed hard.

"I’m here," he held your hands tightly.

That was enough to cast aside your fears. One look at him and you knew he was there to protect you. And in any case, all you need is him. And so did he need you.

"Ugh, so many people!" You tried to enter the admissions office as students crowded the waiting area.

"Just stick close!" Jay held your hand tightly as you navigated through the sea of students. Even though he had finished his requirements, he stayed by your side, never letting go of your hand.

Sometimes, Jay was just too perfect. It made you feel lighthearted as you walked beside him.

"Okay, I found some seats!" Jay called out, leading you to a row of empty chairs.

As you plopped down, you sighed heavily. You didn’t even care how uncomfortable the plastic seat was; you just felt tired.

While you waited, Jay pulled out his phone and plugged in his earphones. He offered you one of the buds.

"Hey."

"Mhm?"

"Music?"

You smiled and accepted. As you listened, you closed your eyes, letting the slow rhythm take you away.

Jay watched you relax, fixing your hair with one hand. It made him feel warm inside, like a child with a favorite toy.

As he looked away to distract himself, you rested your head on his shoulder. He felt his heart race. It was hard to resist hugging you right then.

But he remembered your earlier request. Keep it low-key. Still, he wanted to take a chance.

He held your hand tightly, cherishing the moment. For him, nothing felt more precious than having you by his side.

| masterlist! | previous | next |

[weveseenallthegreenery]

Mel Medarda seeks out Viktor after discovering her arcane talents — Filler Smut

I was originally contemplating having this part be an archive of our own exclusive considering it has a different tone from the rest of the story and doesn't contribute much of anything to the plot, but my friend convinced me that you FREAKS would probably like it since most of you don't read the fic in order anyway.

nsfw | filler content | 1438 words | light smut | shortfic | basically not edited | won't be linking the rest of the series on this post

A few days ended up turning into a few weeks, and I could tell that Jayce fell into the same trap that I did. I had come here for comfort and ended up liking the interaction so much that I couldn’t leave. Jayce had come here to do something uncomfortable and ended up not being able to do it because he knew that the people around him loved him. He hadn’t intended to stay long but ended up falling into routine with us, the same way that I had when it was only Viktor and me.

The three of us had even started to sleep in bed together. Before now, Viktor would occasionally cuddle me if one of us was in a bad mood. He initiated affection often when I was tired or uncomfortable, but other than that, he wasn’t much of a cuddler at all. However, ever since Jayce came, we had all been inseparable. Jayce usually slept in the middle—sometimes swapping with me—and held onto Viktor as I held onto him. It was nice. It was comfortable. It did, unfortunately, remind me of our old trysts, though.

This was one of those days that I had woken up before the others. It didn’t happen often as Viktor would usually rise early to finish a lot of the simpler chores and make sure that we had enough food for breakfast. However, I was grateful for when it did happen because I got to look at the two men next to me and just… think about the situation I was in. I had found out some of the most horrible, traumatizing information about myself after being kidnapped. I ran away to find the only person who could understand me. I told off my mother. And then my ex-lover had found his way to us and joined us in our little community.

Things had come about in a rather awful way, but I couldn’t say that I wasn’t content with the way things were going. I really liked being reconnected with Jayce. He and I ended on the wrong foot, but I never truly stopped caring about him—I cared about him a little too much, actually. And I wasn’t quite sure if his decision to stay was a testament to his still having affection for me or his liking for Viktor. I feared that it may have been the latter, but I didn’t mind.

I had also started to feel myself become drawn to Viktor. I had realized this before Jayce joined us at the commune, but the feelings definitely became more potent after watching the man I had grown to be affectionate with caress the man that I had bedded in the past. Although the interaction was never anything but wholesome, it made a pool of warmth fill my gut.

I’d been left wanting a lot lately, not having much time to myself. Although I was still in bed with the others, I figured that maybe it would be okay just this once, since they were asleep and all. I held my hand in front of my face, wondering if I should really go through with what I was thinking… My nails had gotten quite long since coming to the commune, and the color was starting to chip. I would have to ask Viktor to get my nails done when he woke up.

I slipped my hand under the blanket, trailing it down my stomach before reaching the hem of my shorts. I played with the fabric, still a bit nervous about my actions. I used my other hand to tug my shorts down a bit, making them feel less tight on my stomach before slipping my other hand under my shorts and into my panties. I couldn’t help but make a small noise of discomfort as I found my clit effortlessly, rubbing in a slow circle as I attempted to get myself off.

I knew that it would be difficult for me to cum without anything inside of me, but I didn’t have any toys at the commune and my nails were so sharp that I worried I might cut myself. This just had to do for now. It didn’t take very long for me to get wet, making it much easier for me to glide my fingers along the skin. It started to feel much more comfortable as I sped up, breath hitching as I tried not to move closer to either of the men—of course, this was the one time they had decided to let me sleep in the middle. I was two seconds away from release where I felt a thin arm wrap around my stomach under the cover and grab my arm. I halted my movement as Viktor hummed, “What’re you doing?”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as the heat rose all the way from my core to my face. This was possibly the most embarrassing thing I’d ever experienced in my life as I attempted to roll over so that I was facing The Herald.

“Don’t you know it’s not polite to touch yourself next to someone’s sleeping body?” The man raised an eyebrow at me, but he didn’t actually look all that mad. In fact, he looked almost amused to have caught me. His voice was low and teasing as he hummed, “You weren’t even hiding it well. You were moving your hand so fast that your whole body was practically squirming.”

“Well, not all of us are able to go months without release,” I huffed, trying to get my hand out of my pants, but Viktor pushed it back.

He hummed and closed his eyes, “Don’t stop on my account. By all means, do whatever you need to do.”

“You are not asking me to masturbate in front of you,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, tugging on my hand once more. He didn’t fight it this time, clearly not wanting to make me uncomfortable despite the playful banter.

“Unless you want my help…” He started.

That’s all it took for everything to snap into place. Less than five minutes after he uttered those words, he was on top of me, kissing my neck as I tried not to moan. He had completely taken off my shorts and panties, fingers moving inside of me with ungodly precision. I dug my fingers into his back, “Fuck… you’re gonna wake up Jayce. Slow down a little.”

“Hmm, maybe we should wake him up,” Viktor mumbled against my skin. “You didn’t seem to mind playing with yourself next to him, so what’s the difference if I help you out a little bit?”

My eyes rolled as his fingers sped up, pressure building up in all the right places, “Viktor—Stop, I’m gonna…”

I gasped, legs spasming as I came around his fingers. A string of moans left my lips as he rode me through my orgasm. I was trying to be quiet, but it was practically impossible at this point. I wasn’t surprised when Jayce’s eyes opened.

At first, he was just tired and confused about what all the noise was for. He rolled over and tried to wrap his arms around my stomach before he realized there was an extra body on mine. After a little bit of grumbling, his eyes widened. He was fully awake almost as soon as he realized what happened. He sat up quickly and asked, “What the fuck?”

“Good morning,” I hesitated. I felt so floaty and calm but knew the situation was bad. “Sorry.”

He frowned down at me before staring at Viktor with narrowed eyes, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You’ve already slept with her,” Viktor shrugged. “Besides, she was being all needy… it was probably best to give it to her right away.”

Jayce huffed and laid his head on my shoulder, “You didn’t have to leave me out…”

“I can make it up to you later,” Viktor rolled off of me, laying his head on my other shoulder as he moved his slick hand to Jayce’s bicep. “You know you’re not mad at me. Not really.”

Jayce leaned over me to place a gentle kiss to Viktor’s mouth—which was the first time, to my knowledge, that they were physically involved. Viktor didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss almost immediately. A moan escaped Jayce’s mouth as Viktor reached his hand to the other side of the bed to grab Jayce’s ass, pulling him close to my side and forcing me to feel his morning wood press against my skin. This was going to be a long morning.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Vigil 2/6

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Urban Fantasy/Magical Realism!AU (prolly more urban fantasy than magical realism tbh, but I use those pretty interchangeably)

Read on AO3 (current chapter)

Read on AO3 (from beginning)

Yes, there's more chapters now. No, I'm not actually surprised. No, I don't wanna talk about it. You guys know me and worldbuilding :-/

I DO however, want to talk about the AMAZING, INCREDIBLE, BEAUTIFUL cover art that @nephilimeq made for this story. Like...I am again screaming, crying, throwing up that someone made something like this for something I wrote. EEEEEEEEEEEEE

God, people are so talented.

Magic was a rare gift.

Even the most generous studies estimated that only something like ten percent of the human population had the potential to harness it, and to be able to use it effectively took years and years of study and apprenticeship. Many found the process so arduous, the physical and mental discipline that casting required so exhausting, that they abandoned their studies before they could be fully licensed and recognized. A fully trained and licensed wizard could basically write their own ticket in life, with few exceptions. Wizards were forbidden from seeking public office or holding inherited titles, of course. Military service was strictly regulated—although the demand in special forces was high—and government contracting was even more so. That required major political connections, and honestly no small amount of personal wealth…neither of which Tommy Kinard had ever had (or been interested in).

He’d been recruited by the Army straight of high school and signed on for the free schooling and guaranteed apprenticeship. He’d probably have been satisfied to stay in the Army, make a life out of it, but seven years in a bad batch of intelligence on the position of a sand dragon nesting ground had resulted in a medical discharge and three long, thin scars that ran from his collar bone to his upper thigh and still ached when it rained. He’d had vague notions of going the public service route after his discharge—firefighting, maybe, or nursing. Some of his old mentors had encouraged him to go into education, take on apprentices of his own.

Then his mother had gotten sick.

Their relationship was rocky, at best. He never doubted she loved him—but growing up in the family and home she’d chosen for them had not been easy. He knew all the statistics, now. Understood how hard it was for a woman to leave an abusive partner, especially women like his mother, who had given up her own education and career for the whims of a man who had never, ever deserved her devotion. Looking back, he could even point to times when she had almost gotten up the courage to do it, almost gotten them both out of the house where Tommy had always felt like he had to hide the biggest parts of himself, always felt like there was a sword hanging over the back of his neck, waiting to fall like his father’s heavy fists on his body. Almost. Still.

She loved him. He loved her. And she was sick.

Sal had been the one to convince him to start offering his services in the private sector. A licensed wizard could make a good living in the corporate world. A good enough living that it didn’t matter if his dad’s insurance was shit and he’d drank away most of what little savings they’d managed to amass anyway. A good enough living to pay for all the treatments, hospital stays, home aides, and nursing without even blinking. A good enough living to make sure her last few years were as comfortable as they could be with cancer ravaging her body.

He'd stuck with it after she finally died, having spent a few years by that point developing his reputation and professional network. Ironically, now he did have the political connections and personal wealth necessary to get his name considered for government work and contracts. He considered it, briefly, but ultimately decided to keep on as he was—as a freelance wizard, he could pick and choose the people and corporations he worked with, and his skill and power had earned him enough of a reputation that he had no fear of not being able to find a new contract if he chose to leave a position.

After all, it wasn’t like a wizard needed to fear being blacklisted. Someone else would always be happy to pay him for his skills.

Up until he’d crossed paths with the Buckley family, though, he’d never considered contracting his services exclusively.

There was nothing particularly noteworthy or endearing about Buckley Industries to Tommy. As far as he could tell, they weren’t a particularly foul corporation. They did a lot of good charity work for cancer research—especially pediatric cancer—and sponsored multiple programs that assisted low income families with getting sick children treatment. But he wasn’t naïve and they were a generational entity with offices on four continents and a valuation in the billions. He’d worked for them off and on during his mother’s illness, but it wasn’t until nearly five years after she’d died that he’d signed an exclusivity contract and the gnarliest NDA he’d ever encountered.

He'd done it mostly because the money they were offering was literally too good to pass up; at the end of his contract he’d never have to work a day in his life again if he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t even have to nominally worry about finding another job. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t any other motivation, though.

“Why’s’t s’damn cold in here?” Evan mumbled without opening his eyes. He pushed his face further into the pillow and then groped towards Tommy blindly, reaching under the pile of blankets that covered them and patting up and down Tommy’s body until he could curl his hand possessively over Tommy’s bare hip.

Tommy chuckled, reaching over to run his hand through Evan’s morning-messy curls. “I think your exact words were, ‘quit fucking with the fireplace and get over here so you can fuck me’. Or was I imagining that?”

“Lies and slander,” Evan shot back, finally blinking his eyes open. Tommy didn’t think he would ever get tired of staring into those clear blue eyes, watching the way they immediately softened and sparkled as soon as Evan caught sight of him. Even when there was less than a foot of space between them, even when there had been considerably less than a foot of space between them only a few short hours ago…Evan always looked so damn happy to see him.

Even before they’d gotten together, Evan had always looked so damn happy to see him. He remembered telling himself that he had to be careful; that he shouldn’t let himself get too used to it. That it would be easy to become addicted to that look, that light. He hadn’t taken his own advice.

He couldn’t bring himself to care.

He closed the distance between them, sliding his hand down from Evan’s hair to cup his cheek as he kissed him. Evan’s fingers tightened on his hip, but after a moment he pulled back.

“Okay no, but seriously, why is it so fucking cold in here?” he asked petulantly, giving a dramatic shiver despite the blankets still covering them. He let out a small groan as he hitched himself into a sitting position on the bed, goosebumps instantly breaking out on his skin when the air hit him. “Oh for—babe, I’m telling you, your tower hates me.”

Frowning, Tommy sat up as well. “Evan, don’t be ridi—oh.”

Most of the eastern wall of his bedroom was taken up by a huge set of windows, spelled to look as though they’d been set with leaded glass and wrought iron. Tommy loved the way the early morning sunlight sparkled through them, casting bursts of rainbows all over the room when the angle was just right. A pair of French-style doors in the center opened up onto the wide balcony that he and Evan usually ate on whenever they stayed here, and he’d left the doors standing open last night to let the cool night breeze in. Last night the weather outside had been the ripe, wet warmth of late summer, the air heavy with the scent of thousands of flowers and fruit trees that grew wild on the grounds.

Now it was clearly the dead of winter outside. The balcony was buried in snow, and quite a bit had drifted in through the open doors, already starting to melt on the plush carpets that covered the floors.

“Yeah, oh,” Evan repeated, wrapping himself back up in the blankets with a mulish expression.

“The tower doesn’t hate you,” Tommy said, shivering a little himself now that it really registered how fucking cold it was in the room. “It just…forgets you’re not magic.” He scooted a closer to Evan, tugging at the corner of the blankets until Evan let go his deathgrip on them and he was able to pull some of them back around himself.

“See, if it was just things like forgetting to make sure there’s, you know, light switches and faucet handles whenever I stay here, I’d believe it,” Evan groused, nonetheless not resisting when Tommy slid his arm around him and pulled him closer.

He kissed Evan’s temple and pulled them both back down onto the mattress. He was about to pull the blankets back up over their heads when he hesitated, sitting back up a moment. Pointing at the large stone fireplace on the wall opposite the windows, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, a roaring fire sprung up over the logs he’d laid out the night before, but left unlit when Evan became impatient. Then he shot a significant look over at the doors to the balcony, tilting an eyebrow up expectantly.

The doors creaked shut with a distinctly guilty air. Tommy shook his head and flopped back down on the bed, pulling Evan close again. “The tower doesn’t hate you,” he said for the third time.

“Do you know how much laundry I’ve lost here? Or how many times brand new hallways have just randomly appeared when I’m leaving? Half the time it doesn’t even manifest enough furniture for me to sit on.” Evan shot a mutinous glare at the ceiling, and snuggled closer still, throwing a leg over Tommy’s and tangling their fingers together.

“I’ll talk to it,” Tommy promised. Then he sighed. “What time do we have to get back to LA?” he asked, going back to carding his free hand through Evan’s hair, delighting in the way the slightly rough curls caught around his fingers.

“We’re already in LA,” Evan muttered, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s chest. “Right?”

“Thought the metaphysical shit gave you a headache,” Tommy said teasingly.

Evan shrugged one shoulder. “Only when Albert starts getting all technical. I like listening to you explain things.” He tilted his head so he could peer up into Tommy’s eyes. “I’d listen to you talk about anything.”

Distantly, Tommy wondered if his love had any idea how casually he wielded the power to absolutely crack Tommy open right down to the core. “Good to know,” he said softly. “But I still need a time we have to be out of here.”

Evan’s face was always an open book. Every emotion he felt flickered across his handsome face, bare for all to see. Whenever he was talking about his parents, though, those expressions became…muted. Colder. Harder to parse out. He twisted out of Tommy’s arms to lie on his back, though he didn’t move back onto his side of the bed. Idly, he reached up with one hand to scratch at the skin of his opposite wrist, right over the pulsepoint.

“They’re expecting me at dinner,” he said finally. “They said Danny and Maddie were gonna be there, too, so Dad’ll probably ask you to portal Danny over sometime today.” If such a thing were possible, his face went stonier. “Jonah’s gonna be there, too.”

Tommy pressed his lips together, a dull sort of ache pulsing through him. “We knew it was coming,” he said, his voice soft and careful. Evan took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose.

“I still hate it.” He glared down at the skin of his wrist, raking his nails over it again harshly.

“Hey. Hey, don’t,” Tommy said, reaching over to take Evan’s hand and drawing it close to him. He leaned up to kiss the patch of reddened skin. His lips tingled where they touched Evan’s skin, the faint, staticky pulse of magic.

None of Philip and Margaret Buckley’s children had any magical potential.

All three of them felt like magic.

Neither fact was particularly noteworthy or even all that unusual, especially in the societal circle they’d been born into. The ability to harness magic was incredibly rare. It was also not unusual that people born into the wealth and privilege that the Buckleys enjoyed would be drenched in magic. Protective runes, luck spells, little charms and blessings to enhance health, recovery time, reflexes—there were dozens, hundreds, thousands of ways that people who had enough money and access to a wizard could improve their lives. Tommy had not been shocked that the Buckley siblings had magic woven into their bodies.

No, the shock had come later, the first night he and Evan had fallen into bed together and he had the time to really explore the body that had been haunting his fantasies for longer than he cared to admit.

After he’d signed the aforementioned gnarliest NDA he’d ever seen, of course.

He didn’t think it had started as a curse, was the thing. Without knowing the wizard who had first laid it—their magical signature, the shape of their power—he couldn’t read very much in the structure of the spell that was wrapped around Evan’s wrist, right over where the throb of his pulse could be felt. It was a line of dark amber magic that always glowed faintly to Tommy’s senses. The spell was old—several generations old, at least—and decorated Maddie and Daniel Buckley’s wrists as well. A binding.

Probably meant to ensure family loyalty once. Tommy was not naïve. And Buckley Industries was a very wealthy corporation now, but he knew it had started over a hundred years ago as a family-owned investment firm. Such spells were not malicious by nature, but it was easy to turn them that way. It might have been meant to inspire loyalty once…and Tommy thought Philip and Margaret had probably convinced themselves that was all they’d intended when they had bound their children to it, one by one. Daniel, Maddie, and Evan were all very loyal to their parents and the company that they would someday inherit.

They had no choice. Not really.

The binding didn’t grant absolute control. They could still make their own decisions and choices. They could argue and rebel and talk back (and to hear Maddie and Daniel tell it, Evan had made doing all three at once into an Olympic sport when he was young). They just…couldn’t make a decision or choice that would hurt the family. Unfortunately, as the current patriarch, Philip Buckley was the arbiter of what could and could not hurt the family. To his credit, Tommy didn’t believe the man had any ill intentions towards Daniel, Maddie, or Evan. He believed that Philip believed that every time he forced his children to go along with a decision he and Margaret made for them, it was for their own good.

Roads to hell were always paved with the best of intentions.

He pressed his lips to Evan’s wrist again, before drawing him back into the circle of his arms. The spell was too old and set for Tommy to try and unbind it unless it was a matter of life and death for Evan or one of his siblings. Doing so could cause more harm than good, and he wasn’t willing to risk altering the spell in a way that would make Evan even more vulnerable. Once Daniel formally took over the company, the binding would pass to him, and Tommy knew the very first thing he’d do was release Evan and Maddie from it. That was still years away—but the promise kept all three of the siblings going.

In the meantime, though, Evan was still subject to his parents’ whims. One whim in particular, that they had both been dreading.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, though the words rang hollow in the face of what was likely to be happening tonight. “Whatever happens, you’ll still have me Evan. I love you.”

Evan swallowed harshly, closing his eyes and giving a shaky nod. “I know. I love you, too.” He looked over at Tommy, and attempted a smile. “I just wish…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I just wish we could stay here. Forever. Even if your tower hates me.”

Tommy’s heart ached with how much he wanted that. The two of them, here, safe, far away from Evan’s parents’ endless demands of him. Far away from any decision more complicated than what they wanted to have for dinner and whether they wanted to go to Maddie and Howie’s place for Christmas or host everyone here. Evan was wrong…the tower loved him. He was the favorite of anyone else Tommy had ever brought here, and it was constantly trying to find little ways to keep him here longer, nudge him closer to Tommy.

Though Tommy did probably need to have a talk with it about its methods. Tommy certainly wasn’t going to complain when the only available seat in the library for Evan was Tommy’s lap, or when the only thing he had available to wear was Tommy’s clothes, or when it was so cold in the room the only thing that made sense was to stay wrapped around each other in bed. Naked. For warmth, of course.

But yeah, his home needed to learn some subtlety. Especially if it was going to be the only place left where he and Evan could be together.

He sighed, drawing Evan closer still. He kissed him softly, running his hand down the curve of his neck and spine, splaying his hand out over the small of Evan’s back. “Well, nothing I can do about forever at the moment…but we do have at least a couple hours before we have to look presentable. Think we can find something to pass the time?”

Evan huffed a laugh and then rolled to his knees to straddle Tommy’s hips, the blankets slipping down off his shoulders. “I can probably come up with some ideas,” he said with a smirk.

Later. He could worry about what was looming on the horizon later. Right now, he had Evan here, in his arms, right he belonged. Right now, that was all that mattered.

He had no idea how much he would come to regret putting off his concerns for later.

[maxdibert]

1- A classist excuse that ignores the social and economic conditions of a person in a situation of vulnerability and danger of social exclusion. The typical discourse comparable to that used by the neoliberal right to say that “whoever is poor is because they want to be.” You blatantly disregard all the material conditions surrounding a person from an extremely poor environment with no family support, only to find themselves in a school environment where they are constantly persecuted and harassed. You also overlook what it means to be embraced by a specific group of people promising to help them out of the misery if they follow them. Basically, you disregard all the international analyses and statistics linking young people at risk of exclusion as prime targets for sectarian and far-right political groups precisely because of their social conditions. But well, one can overcome classism too, especially when one reads books and not just fanfics and Tumblr posts.

2- He called Petunia a Muggle in a derogatory way after Petunia insulted him first for being poor. Lily basically ignored him when he shared his concerns about his group of bullies and even justified them. And no, an 11-year-old child raised in a Muggle neighborhood is not a DE from the start; he is simply someone who sees joining a particular house as an opportunity to leave his past behind. Villainizing that is, once again, internalized classism, but okay.

3- In fact, it is canon that he did not kill anyone. When Dumbledore talks about saving Draco’s soul, Severus retorts by asking if his soul is worth nothing. That is narratively designed to let the reader know that Severus did not commit such crimes during the war, otherwise his soul would already be condemned. Read the damn books and stop with the fanfics.

Moreover, yes, he is pardoned. And he is pardoned because any criminal who belongs to an organization but then actively collaborates with law enforcement to dismantle that organization, and provides crucial information to stop their plans, is usually pardoned for collaboration. You would know this if you didn’t live in the fantasy world of cheap fanfiction.

4- No, the reason was Voldemort as the murderer and Wormtail as an accomplice for betrayal. Severus warned Dumbledore months before the tragedy that the Potters were foolish to believe Sirius when he suspected Remus was the traitor, but that was their decision. Anyway, this does not negate the fact that, indeed, without Snape, it would have been literally impossible to defeat Voldemort, nor that he was the most relevant and competent agent of the Order, nor that thanks to him, Harry survived year after year. This is part of the books, and if it bothers you, tough luck.

5 and 6- What the colleague was trying to tell you is that double agents need to maintain a cover, and his cover was making it clear that he was still loyal to Voldemort despite working under Dumbledore’s leadership. In fact, in GoF, Voldemort himself considers Severus a traitor, so obviously, if he had known that, besides avoiding Azkaban, Severus was being friendly with Gryffindor kids, he would have hit him with an Avada the moment he saw him. Part of Severus’s survival method and having a convincing cover was indeed acting like a jerk to anyone who wasn’t a DE puppy. But given that you can’t follow a simple narrative, it’s not surprising you didn’t understand it. In fact, I have the feeling you probably still won’t understand it. Maybe you need drawings or perhaps to see this in one of those fanfics with OCs named after canon characters on AO3, because apparently, that’s the only way some of you can process messages.

And now, if all you’re going to do is keep throwing dirt on the most complex character of his generation, someone who came from a poor background and was marginalized for his appearance and poverty by a bunch of rich, white, aristocratic kids, I would recommend you save your social justice warrior posts for your friends because honestly, it’s embarrassing that some of you pretend to be progressive lovers of minorities when your fanaticism is based on whitewashing rich bully kids and justifying their abuse and mistreatment of a classmate in a socially and economically inferior position.

And yes, Severus was ugly, but I find it quite funny that you say this while claiming to be part of a fandom that advocates for inclusion. Are we adding body shaming to the classism and victim blaming? It seems so. Honestly, what a lousy education you must have had; maybe you have more in common with those DEs than Snape himself.

Severus Snape is an ugly loser who pushed away the only person he truly loved because he hated himself so damn much that when he was put in the most humiliating situation of his life his first reaction was anger and hatred. And honestly. I feel that. Still doesn’t justify being a racist piece of shit who signed up to a terror organisation the first opportunity he got and bullied literal kids for a living for over a decade. Sorry

[byakuyasdarling]

.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

I’m literally a destiel survivor that got sucked into the gay firefighter queerbait show and I’m being so brave about it you don’t get it no one gets it I think I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending

[scoopstomyahoy]

thinking about a no upside down au steddie fic where steve and eddie run into each other years after moving away from hawkins, and eddie remembers steve and his fall from grace as king, and is kind of intrigued to see what kind of person he is now

and steve doesn’t remember him at all at first, because, look, eddie changed his hair again, and steve’s had a few head injuries (no upside down but i imagine he still went thru some shit with the party and with robin), and he didn’t really think about eddie in high school anyway, and he’s trying to forget about hawkins as much as possible (besides the kiddos, but they’re all moved out for college now, anyway) (obviously he lives with robin)

but steve is different now, happier, more open, flirts with guys, flirts with EDDIE, and eddie….. well, he wants to know more! and he tells steve he knows him from hawkins, and steve’s sunny little smile flickers a little, but he just apologizes for not remembering him and mentions he has some memory problems

and they get to know each other, and eventually as eddie tells him more (and maybe with the help of some yearbooks) steve remembers eddie. and. well. they like getting to know each other. and they like each other. and then they get together

eventually they’ve been together for a while, and eddie thinks he wants to maybe introduce steve to wayne, and he mentions he’s going to go back to hawkins for a long weekend (as he’s done a couple times) and this time he’d like steve to join him

and again steve’s sunny smile flickers a bit, but he says he’d love to meet eddie’s uncle, and… they go to hawkins. and it goes well— meeting wayne, at least, but steve seems a little on edge the whole time they’re there, tense when they drive in, fidgety when they go to the grocery store, et cetera. eddie thinks maybe steve is nervous about staying with the man who raised eddie, which is ridiculous, because wayne LOVES steve.

it’s not til they leave the town altogether that steve relaxes, and eddie realizes it wasn’t “meeting the parents” but rather going back to hawkins. and speaking of meeting the parents, steve didn’t ever bring his own up, even though eddie knew they still lived in hawkins. and the way steve glanced around whenever they went in public, like he was scared of getting recognized

and he asks about it, and steve doesn’t really want to talk about it, but he gives eddie snippets of it. people he wanted to leave behind in hawkins, memories that resurfaced, things he wants to forget

eddie goes back to see wayne sometimes, and the first time he doesn’t know whether to ask steve to come, so he just mentions he’s thinking about going to hawkins for some weekend and steve immediately starts making plans with him as if the invite is implicit. they go back to hawkins several more times, steve still tense and pent up the whole time they’re there

over time steve reveals more and more to eddie. everything that made hawkins hell for him, from the things he himself did in high school to the things people did to him. stuff tommy and carol and billy said to him. some of it is just typical high school bullshit (and oh, the nancy thing.) some of it is the tragedies steve went through, the horrors he had to protect his kids from. the injuries he sustained. more generally the homophobia that permeated the whole town, keeping steve from being himself. the lack of support in the indiana public school system for a high school senior who’s had two concussions and gone through incredible trauma.

his parents. the reason why steve’s mail is addressed to ‘steve buckley’ now, not ‘steve harrington’.

(that doesn’t come out until much, much later, and eddie is kicking himself for ever suggesting steve come back to hawkins.)

eddie, who hardly had an easy time of it in hawkins, is absolutely blown away by what steve had gone through in the same town, right under his nose. the entire persona that steve was trying to leave behind — the cool as a cucumber, unaffected, douchey mask he wore to hide all that he had endured. the head injuries. the emotional tragedies he had gone through. the way he had to be the rock for the kids even as he went through the same things as them.

he tries to tell steve they never have to go back to hawkins again, and steve is having none of it. he tells steve wayne can come visit them in their new city, and steve thinks that’s completely unfair to the man who had raised eddie, seriously, you’re going to make him come all the way up here?

and well i don’t know exactly what the ending is but steve is so stubborn about trying to love hawkins because it was eddie’s home and he wants to be able to go see wayne because wayne deserves to see his kid and eddie deserves to see his uncle and steve doesn’t want to be the problem :(

[x-rds]

That post about huge red flags from exes is going around and I’m like well mine requires some background reading

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I’m always so fascinated by people’s bad roommate stories. I’m not sure I’ll ever live with someone I haven’t vetted extensively beforehand ever again

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Tbh the only thing I have to say abt uth is that winick kind of nailed it with “doing it because he took me away from you” because that is exactly the language Bruce uses when he’s talking about his grief and death the people (usually women) in his life are “taken away from him”