#sorry if there’s mistakes i’m still learning english

[l-y-h]

I was rereading my spiderverse artbook and I have a lot of questions through my mind:

Does every Spider-people speak English ? Most of them are Peter Parker so does everyone have to speak English ? Is that a rule ? What happened if you never learn how to ? Do they give you lessons or you have to know it before even be able to join the spider-society ?

How does the watch to travel through the multiverse work ? Can it read your mind to know where do you want to go ? In the beginning of the movie Gwen teleports in miles’ room but how did the watch knew where she wanted to be ? Did Gwen type the address on the watch ? How does she know where miles live ?

We all know that there’s a cafeteria in the spider-society but who work there ? Who make the food ? Is the food made by employees who work there? Are they paid ? Are they spider-people too ? Did Miguel really traveled through multiverse just to recruit some superheroes just to cook ? And what if they are not superheroes ? Isn't it dangerous that random people know that traveling across the universe is possible?

I NEED ANSWERS

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course��but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin��� me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[idstilldancewithu]

Forbidden Request | S.R

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Hotchner Reader

Summary: Spencer Reid always thought of every single outcome of his actions, but he did not, when Y/N Hotchner showed up to his door asking for something he couldn't refuse.

Warnings: Talks about being a prude, reader ask Spencer to take her virginity away (kind of) but doesn’t confess her feelings towards him and tells him to do her a favor as a friend, sitting on Reid’s lap, and age gap (20/30). Sorry if I accidentally missed anything.

A/N: Hi! This is the first time posting any of my work. English is not my first language. I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes. I’m still debating whether or not I should turn this into a series, but I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 938

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

•••

I could feel my heartbeat thumping in my chest, my hands shaking from anticipation as I knocked on Spencer's door, waiting for him to answer.

He opened the door with a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Y/N, is everything alright? Did something happen?" He worriedly asked opening the door wider signaling me to come in.

I walked towards the couch seeing files spread all over the table and books all over the floor. "I'm sorry for the mess. I didn't think I would have any company over."

I shook my head placing my hands in between my thighs. "It's ok and I'm really sorry for showing up unannounced."

He quickly shook his head, smiling reassuring me that he didn't mind. Spencer sat beside me and began stacking up the files in the table trying to clean up. "Do you want anything to drink?" He looked up at me.

"No thank you. Actually, I have to ask you something."

"Yes, of course what is it?" He moved closer to me placing his hand in mine.

Which is something he did every time I was anxious and needed comfort. I was his only exception, because he wouldn't do that with anyone else being a germaphobe. But, it always made my day better. That's why he let his walls down and made his brain stop thinking about the germs that could be transmitted through holding someone's hand.

His boss always failed to notice my state because, over the years having to grow up with a dad who was a profiler, I had to learn to lie and put on a facade when I was around him.

But, Spencer always noticed. No matter what I was hiding, he would always find out. Which is why once I would leave his office, Spencer would walk me out to the elevator.

Once the door closed, he would hold my hand, giving me much needed comfort.

I layed my head on his shoulder as he traced different shape on my hand. "Do you remember the boy I was going out with?"

"Yes, Jeremy Miller he goes to your college, and is majoring in law and criminal justice. He's twenty years old and asked you out a month ago, and you agreed. You also said the boy I was going out with. What happened? Did you break up?"

"Sometimes I forget you have an eidetic memory." I chuckled, trying to ease the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach.

"But, yes he broke up with me. Apparently he thinks I'm a prude, because I didn't want to go further than making out with him. Like, who even says that word anymore?" He squeezed my hand lightly.

"You deserve better than him Y/N and you're not a prude." He quickly reassured me again placing his hand on my chin making me look at him.

"He's not worth your time or attention. Do you understand?"

I nodded in response. "He's wasn't lying though. Spence, I've never gone farther than making out, and I'm twenty years old."

"Pretty girl, there's nothing wrong with that. The first time I did anything with a girl was when I was twenty four. Trust me there's no rush."

The nickname made my heart skip a beat. He had never called me that only Morgan did.

But coming from him, it only encouraged me to ask what I've been meaning to this whole time.

"Spence, can you change that?" He let go of my hand, and moved further from me his cheeks turning red.

"What? Y/N I'm..." I interrupted him.

"I'm tired of guys breaking up with me, because I can't bring myself to sleep with them. Just because I'm terrified of not being good enough. I'm also tired of telling guys that I'm a virgin, and them making it their mission to be the one to change that, like I'm some sort of task."

I got closer to him and placed my hand in his like he had done with me minutes prior.

"I trust you, Spencer. You're my friend, and I wouldn't want anyone else to do this with. I'm not asking you to be my boyfriend." He didn't respond but never let his gaze wonder anywhere else but my eyes.

"I'm asking you as a friend to help me. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I totally understand if you say no, and you want us to forget that his conversation ever happened."

I remained silent letting him process everything that I told him, my heart beating faster than before. But, I could already hear his kind rejection making my chest tighten.

Leaving me to wonder how I could ever get over him. The guy that I've loved since I was eighteen.

But I was tired of only being able to imagine how his hands would feel on my body, and biting my lip everything time I would touch myself to the thought of him.

Even thought, this could only happen once. I was willing to risk our friendship, and my pride to get to feel his lips on mine.

I got up, understanding that his silence meant no. As I began walking away, he spoke up.

"Wait Y/N, come here."

He placed his hands on his lap and patted it. I took that as a sign to sit on his lap. Once I did, he wrapped his hands around my waist pulling me closer to him.

Spencer tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. "How could I ever say no to you pretty girl?" He whispered filling my body with excitement.

•••

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

[bweeeb]

STORM

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theo didn't like the rain but the reader learned to appreciate it when she was younger. On a night when Theo is feeling alone in the middle of a storm, the reader takes Theo out of his thoughts with just words and smiles.

English is not my first language, so forgive me for mistakes~

Rainy days at Hogwarts weren't always the worst; in fact, they were far from it. The rain pattering against the castle's gravel, the windows of the common rooms, the library, and the Great Hall. Y/n had always been in love with the rain, the way mornings would be chilly after a storm, and how Herbology class would be canceled.

Theodore Nott, however, felt quite the opposite. He had never liked the rain, not since the day his mother died, when it felt like the world was falling apart along with his childhood tears at her funeral. Theo hated how the rain made him want to disappear from the castle, how it distracted him and failed to bring the calm it brought to the other students who enjoyed extra sleep or sat by the fireplace in their common rooms, their nerves soothed. It was almost midnight when Theo got out of bed, restless. The storm had started around nine o'clock, and as predicted by the Slytherin students, everyone had decided to have some fun and drink since the next morning's first class, Herbology, would be canceled. Theo hadn't thought about the aftermath before drinking the whiskey Mattheo had procured, and now he was drunk, scared, anguished, and alone with the voices in his head. Trying to clear his thoughts, Nott left the room he shared with Mattheo and went down to the common room. But once he got there, he realized it was a terrible idea: it was dark, cold, and though the sounds of the rain were muffled, they were still there. Sitting on a leather-upholstered sofa, Theodore sighed and buried his head in his hands, which rested on his knees.

— Fuck. He murmured, feeling ridiculous, and the feeling intensified when he realized he wasn't alone. — Are you okay? Y/n, the quietest Slytherin in the seventh year, and Theo knew her only because she was one of the prefects, along with Draco.

— Mm-hmm. Theo just murmured, straightening up on the sofa and avoiding Y/n's gaze as she stood behind it.

Theo had never been very open with people. He talked a lot with his friends, but outside of that, all you got were those dead blue eyes. — I didn't mean to bother you. I heard footsteps and sometimes, when it rains, some second-years cry here in the common room and... Draco isn’t very attentive to that, so... — Theodore thought she didn’t talk much until now, and so his surprised gaze lifted to her as she bit her lower lip, as if she knew she was talking too much and was trying to stay quiet not to bother.

— Sorry, I’m already bothering you, I’ll… I’ll go… since you’re fine.

She stammered, intimidated by Nott's stare, and afraid of being labeled weird by Theodore Nott, she started stepping back, intending to distance herself from one of the elite Slytherins.

— Draco can be pretty heartless sometimes. But you get used to it. Theo's voice responding to her surprised the girl, who turned to look at him again.

— Yeah, he sometimes says he wonders if I'm really a Slytherin. But what can I do if I don’t want to hear crying during the only time the common room is quiet. She shrugged and let out a nasal laugh.

— You hear them even when you’re sleeping?

— What? — The crying, the footsteps… — Oh, I’m usually not sleeping, so it’s easy to notice.

Y/n said, approaching the sofa and waiting for Theo's confirmation to sit down, from which it came quickly for an honest look. — Why? His voice came out softly, and Y/n was once again surprised that he was genuinely interested, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. All she could think was: how could Theodore Nott be interested in what she was saying instead of going to sleep? Wasn’t he supposed to be as insensitive as everyone at Hogwarts said? — When it’s raining, I like to listen to it. — The rain? He asked curiously, and Y/n nodded, vocalizing her agreement.

— I mean, close your eyes and listen to it. Y/n closed her eyes, and Theo felt stupid for never noticing her at the castle. She was probably the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his entire life.

— Don’t think about anything, just feel it.

— I don’t think I can. Theo admitted, and she opened her brown eyes, which contrasted with his blue ones. — I can’t find any peace in it, Y/n. Theo rolled his eyes and laughed without humor. — Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with me. He murmured, and Y/n frowned at the sight of vulnerable Nott in front of her.

— I bet there isn’t, Theo. I think it’s normal not to feel comfortable with something that everyone else does. We’re not all the same. She said, and her voice felt like a soft, warm fabric to Theo. Her closeness made him feel comfortable, and he almost forgot the discomfort in his head. — I even understand how it’s bad to hear the rain when you’re alone. I think it just takes time to appreciate it. — Y/n gave a sympathetic, sly smile to Theo. — I actually hated it. It made me feel lonely. My parents always traveled a lot, so I was left alone. — She laughs a little — Merlin, i cried so much, afraid of being that way forever, and that one day I started to like the noise.

— How did you start to like it?

— My friends would sleep over occasionally, and when it rained, I began to notice that if I looked at it positively, it could be relaxing...

— She smiled softly once more and saw Theo's lips curve into a smile. She swore she was either seeing things or going crazy. — Your friends are passed out after drinking dragon whiskey, and you’re still a bit drunk. It’s okay not to like what you hear outside. Y/n nodded as she finished speaking. She got up from the sofa, grabbed Theodore’s cold hands, and he looked at her as if he’d never seen anyone like that before. Y/n pulled him up from the sofa, and their height difference made her laugh foolishly. —You’re taller than I remembered.

— And you’re shorter than I imagined. Theo looked at her, and Y/n swore she saw puppy eyes in those dead, very, very sexy eyes

— You should get some sleep, Theodore. It’s late… think about the bright side, or don’t think at all, it helps a lot. She murmured, heading towards the stairs with him following her. As she approached the girls' dormitory, Theo’s voice stopped Y/n in her tracks.

— Why did I never notice you?

— Because you’re Theodore Nott. — She smiled at the boy who was no longer thinking about the rain outside, only about her.

— Just, Theo, you can just call me Theo. Theo said, looking at every detail of her body, face, hair and especially her voice that would echo in his head all night.

— Your friends call you that? — Only those I want call me that, Bella. — Okay than, sleep well, Theo.

---

I hope you enjoyed this

Requests are open, message me if you have any ideas💞

[paddockletters]

unseen | jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x reader  request: yes / Reader who was bullied when young and then jude and her go to her hometown and everyone feels out cause that freaking jude bellingham and they get like, impressed by reader success as an f1 engineer and that she bagged jude? Sorry its way too specific author’s note: Hope you liked it!... as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

The memories of my school days never really left me. Every now and then, they’d come creeping back — a careless comment someone made, or the way people used to whisper when I walked past. I could still picture the sneers, the cold stares, and the cutting remarks. The bullying wasn’t always physical, but the emotional scars felt just as deep. Being the quiet girl who loved math, cars, and physics made me an easy target. I didn’t fit in with the other girls who were into makeup and parties. I was more interested in tweaking engines and dreaming of Formula 1. That difference marked me.

It all began in middle school when I started to realize just how out of place I was. My grades were high, my social skills not so much. Every time I raised my hand in class, there’d be snickers. Every time I’d walk down the hall with my oversized glasses, someone would mutter a snide remark. The bullying wasn’t brutal, but it was consistent, gnawing at me bit by bit. High school wasn’t much better. The teasing continued, though by then, I had learned to keep my head down and drown out the noise by focusing on my dream of working in Formula 1.

Fast forward a few years, and here I am — an engineer for one of the top F1 teams. The transformation was surreal. Sometimes, I still have to pinch myself. Who would’ve thought that the same girl who spent her lunch breaks in the library, sketching out car designs, would one day be standing in the pit lane at Monaco?

But something even crazier happened along the way — I met Jude Bellingham.

It wasn’t some grand, love-at-first-sight story. I wasn’t starstruck when I first saw him. In fact, I didn’t even know who he was. We met at a charity event, one aimed at inspiring young athletes and professionals from underprivileged backgrounds to chase their dreams. Jude was there as the football star, while I had been invited to speak about my journey into F1. He seemed genuinely interested during my talk, but we didn’t interact much that day. It wasn’t until I received a DM on Instagram a few days later that things really started.

“Hey, I loved your speech at the event. I’m Jude, by the way — football player. Would love to grab coffee sometime if you’re up for it.”

I remember staring at my phone, thinking it was a prank. A football star wanted to get coffee with me? It felt like a joke. But I responded, and we met. Coffee turned into long dinners, long dinners turned into walks in the park, and those walks turned into a relationship.

Jude wasn’t what I expected. Sure, he was famous, but he was also kind, funny, and remarkably down-to-earth. He never treated me like I was less important than him. If anything, he seemed fascinated by my work. He’d ask me endless questions about the F1 cars, the strategies, the engineering behind the speed. I’d tease him about football, asking if he really knew what went into designing the perfect car. We just clicked.

Still, going back to my hometown was something I hadn’t done in years. The memories were too bitter. But Jude wanted to go. He wanted to see where I grew up, to meet the people who had shaped me, for better or worse. So we planned a trip. I was nervous as hell, but Jude? He was excited.

The car ride to my hometown felt like an eternity. As Jude hummed along to the soft rhythm of the music playing through the speakers, my mind was far from the road. I hadn’t been back here in years, not since I’d left for university. The thought of returning had always been… daunting. I wasn’t ready to face the ghosts of the past. Or, more specifically, the people who had made my life a living hell when I was younger.

I glanced at Jude, who was focused on the road, one hand casually resting on the wheel, the other on my leg, giving me an occasional reassuring squeeze. His presence grounded me, but that nervous pit in my stomach kept growing the closer we got.

“You’re quiet,” he said, glancing at me.

I forced a smile. “Just... thinking.”

Jude raised an eyebrow, his tone soft as he asked, “About?”

“About how weird this is going to be. I haven’t been back here in years, Jude. People… they remember things. They remember who I was.”

“And who you were is exactly who I love. You know that, right?” he said, giving my thigh another squeeze.

I chuckled softly, leaning back into the seat, trying to push the anxiety down.

“I know. It’s just that, back then, I was the awkward girl who couldn’t fit in. Now I’m walking into town holding hands with Jude Bellingham. People are going to freak out.”

“They’ll freak out because you’re a freaking Formula 1 engineer, not because of me,” he said, grinning. “I bet half the people in town have posters of you in their garage next to their Ferrari die-casts or something.”

“Oh please,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “No one from my town cares about F1.”

“They should. You’re a genius.”

Jude’s words were always so simple, but they held so much weight. He had a way of making me feel seen, really seen, in a way no one else ever had. That’s what made everything with him feel so different. He wasn’t just the football star that millions of people idolized; he was my Jude, the one who asked me about race strategies and remembered the names of the engineers on my team.

We arrived at the town square just as the afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the small, familiar streets. The sight of it brought back a wave of memories — good and bad. It was strange how everything looked smaller now, less intimidating. The buildings I used to walk past with my head down, trying not to be noticed, now seemed so ordinary.

Jude parked the car, pulling his baseball cap down over his head as we stepped out. I could already see a few people glancing in our direction, their eyes widening with recognition. They weren’t just looking at him, though. They were looking at me.

“Hey, you okay?” Jude asked, stepping closer to me, his arm wrapping around my waist.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. “Yeah, it’s just… surreal.”

We started walking through the town square, hand in hand. I tried to ignore the stares, the whispers. But they were everywhere.

“Oh my god, is that… Jude Bellingham?”

“Wait, isn’t that the girl who used to go to school here? She’s, like, a big deal now, right?”

“I heard she works in Formula 1. How did she end up with him?”

I bit my lip, feeling the familiar wave of insecurity creeping in. But Jude seemed unfazed. If anything, he walked a little taller, as if daring anyone to say something negative. He pulled me in closer, planting a kiss on my temple as we crossed the square.

As we walked into the shopping center, we decided to stop by a café for a drink. I could already feel the buzz of recognition in the air as people realized who Jude was.

Jude sat across from me, casually sipping his drink as if we were anywhere else in the world. He had his cap pulled low over his face, trying to avoid drawing attention, but it was hard not to notice him. He was Jude Bellingham after all.

The stares had started the moment we walked into the square, but he didn’t seem to mind. He had this effortless calm about him, the way he handled attention, fame. Meanwhile, I was doing my best not to feel like I was under a spotlight, even though I knew people were whispering and pointing, probably trying to figure out why he was with me.

I caught a glance from a group of teenagers at the table across from us. They were huddled together, looking our way, giggling and whispering. I sighed, already feeling a bit on edge.

Jude noticed. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, just... weird being back here.”

“I can imagine,” he said, reaching across the table to take my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in that soothing way he always did. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

I took a deep breath, glancing around the café. “It’s fine. Just... a lot of memories, you know?”

He squeezed my hand, his gaze soft and understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” I said, surprising myself. I had never really told him the full story before.

He knew bits and pieces, but I had kept most of it to myself. Maybe it was time to let him in.

I looked down at our intertwined hands, thinking back to those years.

“I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid,” I started, my voice quieter than I intended.

“I was the one they picked on. The ‘geeky’ one. I loved math, engineering, all the stuff no one else thought was cool. I spent more time in the library than anywhere else. They made fun of me for it—my glasses, my clothes, the fact that I never fit in.”

Jude’s expression softened. “Kids can be cruel.”

“They were,” I agreed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “It wasn’t just teasing though. It got pretty bad at times. I used to dread coming to school. Every day felt like walking into a battlefield. I just wanted to disappear, you know?”

Jude’s grip on my hand tightened slightly. “I hate that you went through that.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off like it didn’t matter anymore.

“It’s in the past. I got out. I became an F1 engineer, so jokes on them, I guess.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to act like it doesn’t still hurt. It’s okay to feel that.”

I looked up at him, my throat tightening with the emotion I hadn’t realized was building up.

“It does, sometimes. I mean, I know I’ve made it, but coming back here... it just brings all that stuff up again.”

He stood up then, coming around the table to sit beside me. Without a word, he pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me protectively.

“You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he whispered into my hair. “You’re brilliant, and you’ve worked so hard to get where you are. They didn’t see that back then, but it doesn’t matter. I see it. The world sees it now.”

I leaned into him, letting his warmth and words wrap around me like a blanket.

We stayed like that for a few moments before pulling apart slightly, Jude resting his forehead against mine.

“You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone here,” he said softly. “You’re you, and that’s more than enough.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “Thank you. For always knowing what to say.”

Jude grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, you did bag me, so I’d say you’re doing something right.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he teased, flashing that trademark grin.

As we sat there, talking about everything and nothing, a few more people came up to us. A couple of them recognized me from school. I could see the surprise in their eyes, like they couldn’t believe the girl they used to tease was sitting here with a world-famous footballer.

“Hey, I remember you,” a girl of the group said, her voice laced with nostalgia. “You were in my physics class, right?”

I nodded, offering a polite smile. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Wow,” she said, glancing between me and Jude. “I heard you’re doing big things now. Formula 1, right?”

“Yeah, I’m an engineer for one of the teams.”

“That’s… amazing,” she said, looking genuinely impressed. “I always knew you were smart, but I didn’t realize… well, you know.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, but Jude jumped in, his arm draping casually around my shoulders.

“She’s a genius. She’ll never admit it, but she’s probably the best engineer in F1 right now.”

I blushed, nudging him playfully. “Stop exaggerating.”

The girl chuckled awkwardly, clearly a bit starstruck by Jude’s presence. “Well, it’s great to see you doing so well. And… with him. That’s pretty cool.”

After she left, I turned to Jude, who was grinning like he’d just won the Champions League.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jude grinned. “See? People notice. They’re impressed, as they should be.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in to kiss my temple. “But I’m also right.”

As we walked through the shopping center, I could still feel people glancing our way, some whispering, others taking quick pictures on their phones. But for the first time, I didn’t feel like the awkward, out-of-place girl from school. I felt like someone who had earned her place in the world, someone who had worked hard and made it.

A few more people came up to Jude, asking for pictures or autographs, but he always made sure to include me in the conversation, making it clear that I wasn’t just the girl on his arm. I was someone in my own right.

At one point, a young girl, probably no older than ten, approached me shyly. She held a notebook in her hand, her eyes wide with admiration.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly, “are you the F1 engineer? The one who works with the cars?”

I blinked in surprise, glancing at Jude before nodding. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Her face lit up, and she held out her notebook. “Could I have your autograph? I want to be an engineer one day, just like you.”

My heart melted, and I took the notebook from her, scribbling my name with a quick message of encouragement. “You can be whatever you want to be,” I told her, handing it back. “Just keep working hard and never stop believing in yourself.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Thank you!”

As she ran off, I turned to Jude, who was watching me with a proud smile.

“See?” he said softly. “You’re a role model.”

I smiled, leaning into him. “I guess I am.”

As we walked, Jude nudged me with his elbow.

“You handled that like a pro.”

“I don’t know how you do it all the time,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

He laughed. “You get used to it.”

Jude looked over at me, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

I glanced up at him, my heart swelling with affection. “For what?”

“For being you. For everything you’ve accomplished. And for putting up with me,” he teased, nudging me playfully.

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years. “It’s not always easy, but I manage.”

As we left the shopping center and headed back to the car, I realized something important. This place might have been where my story started, but it didn’t define me anymore. I had moved on, grown, become someone I was proud of. And with Jude by my side, I knew I could face whatever came next, even if it meant coming back to the place I once tried so hard to leave behind.

[satellite-evans]

Juntos.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary: Franco struggles with disappointment after losing his racing seat, but your support helps him feel less alone in facing the tough situation.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, little fluff

main masterlist

A/N:

Hi everyone, this is my first Franco fic so I am very excited!!! I am very new to Formula 1 so I will try my best to make the stories as realistic as possible. I dramatized this fic a little bc I could not help myself lol but I love Carlos sm and wish him nothing but luck in Williams. Also, I would not mind if you guys help me understand Formula 1 more xxx

hope you guys will like it :)

Also, the Spanish words I used are directly from Google Translate, if I made mistakes please feel free to correct me <3

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The dim light of the apartment cast a glow over the cozy space, the kind that usually made the room feel warm and inviting. Tonight, however, it felt different—heavier, subdued, as if the walls themselves understood the weight of the emotions filling the air. The scent of a faintly burning candle lingered in the background, a forgotten remnant of an attempt to lighten the mood earlier in the evening. Outside, the muffled sounds of the city hummed faintly, a stark contrast to the suffocating silence inside.

Franco sat on the edge of the couch, his head bowed, fingers tangled in his dark hair. His shoulders hunched forward, as though bearing the weight of an invisible burden too great to carry. The usually vibrant spark in his eyes, the one that ignited whenever he talked about racing, was gone. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the floor, unseeing, his expression hollow. It was as if the moment he walked through the door, all the fight had drained out of him, leaving behind a man who didn’t know how to put the pieces of himself back together.

You stood by the kitchen counter, your heart breaking at the sight of him. He hadn’t said much since he got home, just a quiet “Estoy en casa” before sinking into the couch. He used easy Spanish words around you since he knew you wanted to learn the language. That's how kind he was. You’d known this day would be hard for him, but seeing him like this was almost unbearable. The news had come down like a guillotine: Carlos Sainz was taking the seat. Franco was out, with no prospects for next year. No contract, no guarantees. Nothing but the crushing void left behind by a dream slipping through his fingers.

It wasn’t fair. You knew how hard he’d worked, how much of himself he’d poured into his career. The endless hours in the gym, the relentless study of data, the sacrifices he made, all for the pursuit of speed, glory, and a chance to prove himself on the biggest stage. And yet, it hadn’t been enough.

He’d tried to hide it at first. When he’d called you after the meeting, his voice had been calm, even detached. But you’d heard the slight tremor, the hesitation that betrayed his carefully constructed mask. And now, here he was, the man you loved, unraveling before your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The steam curled softly in the air, a fragile whisper of warmth against the cold tension that filled the room. You set it down gently on the coffee table before lowering yourself onto the cushion beside him.

“Franco,” you said softly, your voice a lifeline in the quiet. He didn’t look up, but the slight shift in his posture told you he’d heard you. Gently, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand. His skin was warm, but his fingers remained still, unresponsive.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I know how much this meant to you.”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes met yours, red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. The sight of him like this—so raw, so vulnerable—made your chest ache.

“I did everything,” he said, his voice cracking. “Everything. And it wasn’t enough. They just… threw me away. Like I don’t matter.”

Tears pricked your own eyes as you reached out to cup his face, your thumbs gently brushing against his stubbled cheeks. “You do matter, Franco. To me, to your family, to the fans who adore you. To everyone who’s ever seen you race and knows how talented you are.”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Talent doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have the politics, the money, the… connections. Carlos… he’s amazing, and he deserves it, I know that. But I can’t help feeling like I’ll never be enough, no matter what I do.”

“No soy suficiente,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "I'm not enough." His words hung in the air, filled with a quiet intensity.

“Don' say that, you're more than enough,” you echoed, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “And I know this feels impossible right now, like the world’s closing in on you, but this isn’t the end of your story. You’re Franco. My Frankie. You’re a fighter, a dreamer, and you’ve never let anything keep you down before. This won’t either.”

His shoulders sagged, and for the first time that evening, he leaned into you, his head resting against your shoulder. The weight of him felt heavier than usual, as though he’d poured all his sorrow and weariness into the simple act of leaning on you. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, cradling him as if you could shield him from the pain of the world.

“No sé qué haría sin vos,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your neck. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his temple.

His arms came around you then, pulling you closer, as though he was afraid to let go. You felt his tears dampen your shirt, and the sound of his quiet sobs broke your heart all over again. But you didn’t let go. You held him tighter, letting him pour out everything he’d been holding inside.

“You’re my everything, Franco,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “And I’ll always be here. No matter what. Together, we’ll get through this.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy but filled with something deeper now—gratitude, love, and maybe a flicker of hope. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips trembling against yours but charged with a fierce intensity. The kiss was deep and searching, a collision of his anguish and gratitude, his need to find solace in the one constant in his life—you. His hands cupped your face, fingers threading gently through your hair as though anchoring himself to you, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the kiss. It wasn’t hurried but deliberate, each movement a testament to the depth of his emotions. You could feel the raw edges of his heartbreak and the unspoken promise of his love, so consuming and desperate it made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven, the faintest quiver still lingering in his lips. The weight of his gaze bore into yours, as though he was silently pleading for reassurance that you’d stay by his side. And in that moment, you both knew you were his safe haven, his reason to keep fighting.

“We’re going to get through this,” you repeated softly, brushing a strand of his hair from his face. “Together.”

A soft murmur broke the silence. “Juntos,” Franco whispered, almost to himself.

You blinked, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Juntos? What’s that? An unreleased Sabrina Carpenter song or something?” you teased lightly, hoping to coax even a hint of a smile from him.

For a moment, he just stared at you, and then, to your relief, a small, genuine giggle escaped his lips. It was the first time you’d heard him laugh all night, and it warmed you to your core.

He shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips now. “No, it’s Spanish. It means ‘together.’”

“Together,” you repeated softly, the word settling in your heart like a comforting balm.

He nodded, his gaze searching yours. “You’ve been saying it all night without realizing it. ‘Together, we’ll figure it out.’ ‘Together, we’ll find a way.’ You keep reminding me I’m not alone. And… you’re right. Juntos. We’ll do this juntos, no matter what.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they were from the overwhelming love and gratitude you felt. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “Yes, juntos. Siempre. Always.”

A soft chuckle escaped him again, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly. In that moment, the weight of the world didn’t feel as heavy anymore. Together—juntos—you knew you’d face whatever came next.

[spoiledprincessbratspostsblog]

needing

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Warnings: English isn't my first language so I apologize for any and all mistakes. All GIF credits to the owner. Heavy implications of smut but no actual smut. Kind of Toxic!Rafe but idk??This is lowkey rushed but I needed it to get out there lol.

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚

Being JJ’s sister already meant people had a bad perception of you, but your attitude did not help the rumors anyway. You weren’t known for being nice to everyone, and that was fine because it scared the weirdos away most of the time.

You’ve always seemed strong and independent. Insults usually rolled right off you, and situations didn’t seem to bother you. Being hard-headed and having an attitude all the time was a good cover. But it was all a front. At home, your dad would constantly abuse alcohol, and you and JJ often bore the brunt of his rage. When JJ started sleeping at John B’s house and only saw you once a week, you ended up taking most of the hits.

You were friends with the Pogues, but not as close as JJ was, so you didn’t feel comfortable staying at John B’s house.

You met Rafe almost a year ago at a party. It was meant to be an emotionless hook-up and nothing more. But over time, what started as frequent, meaningless sex evolved into a friends-with-benefits situation. You two began spending a lot of time together, both with and without there being sex involved. He started taking you out to places and even to parties with his friends and others around.

But he wasn’t your boyfriend. And every time you attempted to bring it up he'd claimed he “couldn’t be the man you needed.” Despite that, as you grew closer, he eventually learned about your home life. Rafe wasn’t stupid—he knew Pogues had it hard—but he hadn’t realized how much your situation affected you. How you were really a sweet and caring person who had just been hurt by your situation. Once he did learn, he started spending more time with you at his house, claiming, “Look, I know this is just sex, but come on, I can’t have you around that bullshit, ‘kay?”

You didn’t complain—free days at Tannyhill with him were a welcome escape!

Everything was fine until Rafe started treating you like an actual girlfriend. You wanted to be his, but was he really capable? Anyway, it wasn’t what he wanted—he’d made that very clear—so it didn’t matter.

Then, you two got into a bad argument last week. You’d started feeling very dependent on Rafe, and you hated it. So you began to pull back, which only made him care more. One comment led to another, and…

“Rafe, stop. If you’re not my boyfriend, stop acting like you care about me like one.”

“My god! You don’t want me to care about you just ‘cause I don’t wanna be your boyfriend? S’pathetic.”

“Fuck you!” you yelled before storming out.

You hadn’t seen or talked to him since. He was pissed but still wanted to fix things; he just didn’t know how.

That’s when you called.

Your dad had come home drunk, yelling and throwing things. You could no longer bear it. So you called Rafe.

“Hey, I’ll be at yours in like half an hour,” you told him, not waiting for a response.

When you arrived, Wheezie let you in. (She already knew the procedure and wouldn’t snitch,) but she stopped you.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look okay,” she asked.

You put on your best smile. “Yeah! M’fine! Rafe’s here, right?” She nodded and let you pass.

When you reached Rafe’s room, he was sitting on his bed. His eyes instantly met yours. You climbed onto the bed, inching towards him, and eventually straddled him without saying a word while he stared at you.

“Hi,” you whispered before kissing him.

Rafe, being a man with needs, initially kissed you back. But after sensing something was wrong, he pulled back.

“Nah, nah, you were just over here yelling at me. I’m not mad, okay, but you’re not okay,” he said, concern in his voice.

You frowned as tears welled up in your eyes. “Rafe, m’fine. I’m sorry. You’re forgiven. Please just kiss me. Come on, I just need to forget.”

He kissed you again but stopped when he felt you begin to cry lightly, your breath hitching out of sadness.

“Nah, baby, come on,” he said, pulling you into a hug and holding you tight.

You couldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t be so attached to him. It freaked you out, and you tried to push him off.

“Rafe, stop!” you cried, but his grip only tightened.

“What is it? Is it me?” he asked softly, stroking your hair to calm you down. “Your parents?” he whispered.

Finally, you broke down, crying into his chest and wetting his shirt with your tears. Although you had previously confided in him, it had never been like this. He whispered a series of “M’sorrys” as he stroked your hair.

When you finally calmed down, you pulled back and got off him, heading to his mirror to clean yourself up. He stared at you with concern.

“Shit, sorry. Okay, well, m’gonna go now,” you said quickly.

He immediately got up and walked over, towering over you. “The fuck you are. You haven’t told me what’s wrong or why you tried to forget by fucking me.”

“I just needed to forget, okay? No point crying over something I can’t change.”

“Something you can’t change?”

“What?”

“What is the something you can’t change?”

“The situation with my dad and your feelings toward me,” you calmly explained.

“Now, why’d you think fucking was gonna make everything better, huh?” he scolded, switching the topic.

You looked away. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What?”

“I thought you’d no longer be mad at me or wouldn’t care if I was crying if you got to fuck,” you said lightly.

He scoffed in disbelief. “You think that’s the kind of person I am? Baby, I care so much more for you than I’ll ever let on, okay? And this isn’t just sex. You are so much more to me as a person. It’s important to me that you know that, ‘kay?”

You nodded, still waiting for him to respond to your earlier comment.

His face softened. “Look, I wanna be your boyfriend, ‘kay? More than anything, fuck, believe me. But I can’t be the man you deserve. You deserve so much better.”

You scoffed lightly. “But I want you.”

He sighed. “Let me better myself. Then I promise.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead softly. “Stay here tonight, yeah?”

You nodded.

Later that night, as you drifted off to sleep, he kissed your arms, shoulders, and face with gentle affection. “I love you,” he whispered before the both of you fell asleep.

[tinkeli]

Stay. ✧ Rain Carradine x fem!reader

Warnings: Alcohol use, shameless smut, language

Summary: You've been pining over your best friend's ex for months. Of course, she'd never like you back. Probably.

Author's note: first post on tumblr in years, and also my first fanfic ever lol. English is not my first language so I'm sorry about any grammar mistakes, also wrote this when sick so it might be confusing LMAO. Anyways i need rain so bad it isnt funny anymore

wc: ~4,7k

✶

“Rain.” The name rolled off your tongue smoothly, as if you had repeated it a lot - which you had. To yourself, mostly. Tyler stood in front of you, his curious expression shifting to one of slight bewilderment. 

“Rain? You like her?” He spoke, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Tyler was your best friend. Knew you better than anyone. What he didn’t know was that you liked girls. More specifically his ex.

 Didn’t know. Until now.

You nodded, gaze drifting to your feet, almost shamefully. You knew he would never be mad at you for something like this, but it was still a difficult admission to make.

“Tyler, I’m sorry. I just-” You started, reaching out to place a hand on his arm, trying to ease him. 

“Y/n, It’s… Okay.” He muttered, giving you an unreadable look, his thick eyebrows slightly twitching, unsure. Tyler’s relationship with Rain hadn’t ended well, him still clearly having feelings for her. “At least she could actually like you.” He adds, chuckling dryly. Rain had realized she wasn’t into guys, that being the main reason for their break-up a few months ago. You gave him a reprimanding frown. That wasn’t something he should joke about.

You needed to glance away for a moment to gather your thoughts. You knew him. The way he was acting, he wasn’t telling you everything. Tightening your grip on his arm, you spoke, voice laced with guilt: “It doesn’t seem to be ‘okay’…” 

Tyler, ever the people-pleaser - at least when it came to you - gave you a weak smile. “It’s okay, promise.” He shook your hand off your arm to place his large hand on your shoulder. “Go for it, I say.” He spoke, pausing to swallow thickly. “What Rain and I had - it’s in the past. We don’t have any hard feelings, never had.”

You took a heavy breath, looking up at him. “Still… Would you really be okay with your best friend dating your ex?” You spoke quietly, grateful for the warmth of his hand on your shoulder seeping through your shirt and grounding you to reality. “Would it not hurt you?”

Tyler shrugged. “Nah. Like I said, what’s done is done.” He spoke, reassuringly looking down at you. “And who’s to say you won’t get rejected?” He added with a grin, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“Funny.” You remarked sarcastically. But he was right. Did Rain even like you? It’s not like Jackson’s Star had lots of women (or people in general) she could’ve trusted.

✶

As you walked home through the dingy and filthy streets of the colony, clenching and unclenching your hands beside you, Rain was the only thing in your mind. As usual. Did she like you? Could she ever? Who even was she? Rain Carradine certainly was a woman of many questions. Ones you wished, prayed, you would get the answers to.

The next day, you were making your daily commute to the mines. Only a few more 9-hour shifts and you’d have filled the quota for getting out of here. Of course, nobody ever really got away.

You learned that when you were still young. The memory of seeing your parents so crushed over another increase in their required quota would always stay with you. They had died almost 10 years ago. It seemed that everyone’s parents were slowly dropping dead, being overworked since the age of 16. You were sort of lucky, having lost them before your age even reached double digits. You didn’t remember that much about the time you had with them. 

Your thoughts drifted to Rain again, as you walked through the crowded main street of the colony. You wondered if she ever missed her parents, how well she knew them. She was enigmatic. Every time you thought you were getting to know her, it seemed as if yet another layer of the walls she had built around herself materialized to replace the one you had just broken down. You felt like you didn’t know her at all, despite her having been a part of your group for 3 years at this point. 

You worked through your numbing mining shift, clocking out when it was 3pm. What to do now? It was Friday, so it was typical of your friend group - more like family at this point - to gather up in your favorite bar to get drunk and forget about all your problems. 

You headed home, utterly exhausted. You were glad it was only 3pm. You had time to rest. You took a hot shower, the warm water easing the aching in your body, before taking a short but effective nap. You made yourself some food and cleaned your small flat a bit to distract yourself.

Still, she found her way into every thought in your head. Especially her eyes - God, her eyes. The prettiest color you had ever seen. The first time Tyler brought Rain to meet the group back when they had just gotten together, you were all but enchanted. Her eyes were perfectly shaped, like the almonds your parents used to buy for meals on special occasions. The color reminded you of your favorite flowers - irises. You had only seen photos of them in books, but they were still your favorite. Her eyes sparkled like light-blue sapphires when hit by the artificial lights on the streets. Whenever you two would have a conversation, however short, you would have to force yourself to look somewhere other than her eyes for even a moment. 

Strange. Eye-contact was usually really not your thing.

Neither were blue eyes, really. Before meeting Rain, of course. For example, Tyler’s cousin’s icy blue eyes were kinda creepy. Pretty, yeah. But creepy. Like he could look right into your soul with those things. Full offense. Bjorn was an asshole. Though you had a soft spot for him.

How you wished you would get a closer look at her eyes. Much closer. You had spent more nights fantasizing about her than you would’ve liked to admit. Her mouth on yours, those strong arms wrapped around you, small but deft fingers fucking in and out of you. Fuck. You really have to get it together. 

✶

Time passed when you stayed busy doing menial chores. Soon, it was time to get ready to meet the others. You felt an almost nauseating excitement pool in the pits of your stomach, knowing you would get to see her. The excitement mixed with a debilitating uneasiness, having a hunch that you would make a fool of yourself in front of her, some way or the other. Still, you decided to put on your hottest dress. The short, black one that accentuated all your curves in just the right ways. 

You walked to the bar, luckily only a mile or so away from your apartment. You flashed the bouncer your ID, slowly walking inside. You looked around for the others, spotting Tyler, Bjorn, Navarro and Kay sitting around a table in the corner. You greeted them, settling next to Tyler. It was kind of awkward, since the last conversation you two had had was about your crush on his ex. 

You intently listened to the others talk, expecting Rain and her brother to appear any second, like they always do. Still, an hour passed. Then another. At this point, you were pretty wasted. Your filter tended to disappear when you got alcohol into your system, so you finally built up the courage to ask the others about Rain’s whereabouts. 

“Hey… Where’s Rain..?” You spoke, voice slurring slightly as you held a half-empty beer can in your hand.

“She should already be here...” Kay said, furrowing her brows and looking at the others, in case they knew. 

When no one had an answer, you started to feel the worry in your stomach build, making your stomach churn. It sobered you up. Rain was never late. You had learned that in your many months of observing her.

“Should we go check on her?” Tyler asked, the unease evident in his voice as well.

“I’ll go.” You slid out of your seat, not leaving any room for arguments. It was strange enough that she was late. Even stranger that Andy hadn’t shown up to tell you guys about it.

You ditched the group despite their protests about going outside, drunk and alone, dressed in that tiny dress. You knew where Rain lived. She had gotten her own apartment near the others’ trailer after her and Tyler broke up - she didn’t want to be around him much. Things got back to normal, but she decided to keep living there with Andy. Said it suited her more.

You slightly stumbled while walking up the stairs, past the other apartments. It was honestly a miracle that you managed to find the right door in such a state of panic and intoxication. You knocked on the door frantically. “Rain! Andy!” You yelled, pressing your ear against the door to listen for any movements.

Sure enough, you heard shuffling from behind the door. You leaned back just before the door swung open, revealing a tired-looking Rain.

“Hey.” She spoke quietly, her eyes taking in your disheveled appearance. “You been through a hurricane?”

You let out an audible sigh of relief.

“You didn’t come. T-to the bar, I mean.” You explained, breathless. God. You had never been so glad to see her.

 Even now, you couldn’t help your eyes trailing from her eyes to the clothes she was wearing. Or the lack of them. Rain was clad in only short shorts and a tank top. Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in the sight.

“Didn’t feel like it.” She spoke nonchalantly and shrugged. She gave you a look. Must’ve noticed you ogling at her. Shit.

“Come in. You look like hell.” She said, voice warming up a bit.

You felt your stomach flutter with the force of at least a thousand butterflies. Still, you complied - of course you did.

You shook your shoes off, following her into her small flat. She sat down on the couch, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. You swallowed, following her and gingerly sitting down next to her. 

A tense silence fell between the two of you. You two rarely hung out alone.

“So… Any reason you wanted me here?” You spoke carefully, trying your best to pronounce your words clearly despite being drunk and still reeling from the panic you were feeling the whole way there. 

Sitting there, just you and her, made your insides twist in nervousness. You studied her profile, her beautifully sloped nose, the way her brown hair was messily tied up, but still somehow managed to look put together.

After a moment, Rain responded.

“Not really. Jus’ felt lonely. Andy’s been installing some kinda software update for an hour now.” She spoke, taking a sip off the almost full aspen beer bottle on the coffee table.

“So you’re drinking alone ‘cause you feel lonely? Even though you could’ve come to the bar with us?” You felt the earlier panic and worry subside now that you had found her, giving way to your usual drunken demeanor.

She gave you a small chuckle. Her smile was so pretty. Pure.

“Guess so.” She muttered, taking a larger swig, finishing the bottle in one go.

Fuck, that was hot. You couldn’t take your eyes off the way she let her head fall back, how her throat moved when she swallowed. You felt a warm thrum low in your stomach, instinctively bringing your thighs closer together when you felt your core ache for her, getting wetter by the second. Why did beer always have to make you so damn horny? You cleared your throat nervously, trying not to stare at her too hard.

“Got any more beer for me? Since you’re evidently not letting me back to the bar.” You tried sounding casual, shifting to a bit more comfortable position on the couch.

She scoffed, but got up and walked to the fridge. “If you want to leave, I can’t stop you.” She spoke, walking back to the couch with a couple of bottles for the both of you. She sat down and passed you a bottle. “I just… Hope you don’t.” She added more quietly.

Her words made your heart skip a beat, and you tried your best to hide any signs of the turbulence happening through your entire body.

“I… I won’t leave.” You choked out, gripping the beer bottle tighter as your gaze involuntarily wandered to her almost bare legs. The legs you had often pictured on your shoulders, your face buried in her pussy. Fuck…

“You okay?” She shifted closer, leaning closer to your face. “You look a bit flushed…”

Oh fuck she’s right there. You gave her a smile that was a bit too wide, nodding. “Oh, i-it’s probably just… Just the alcohol.” You stammered, your grip on the beer bottle tightening.

“If you say so…” She muttered. You almost exhaled in relief, but she didn’t move away completely, just leaning back slightly. She stayed there, close, looking at you intently. You tore your gaze away from hers to take a sip of the crappy beer you all had gotten used to drinking.

“Are you and Tyler together?” You suddenly heard Rain nonchalantly speak from beside you, making you almost spit out your drink. 

“Oh- fuck no.” You chuckled dryly. “Just friends. He’s more like a brother to me than anything.” You add, wanting to make your relationship with him abundantly clear.

She hummed thoughtfully at that, taking a small sip of beer, before meeting your gaze again.

“Have you ever been together with anyone?” She questioned, slightly tilting her head to the side. God, how was she always so calm? You felt like you were about to combust.

“No… Just some random hookups in bars.” You mused, absentmindedly rotating the beer bottle in your hand. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering…” She drawled, giving you a strange look. She was smirking at you, her expression almost smug. 

You finished your beer bottle, setting it onto the wooden coffee table with a clink. As you settled back onto the couch, you noticed the way she was slightly leaning towards you while facing forward, nearly laying her head on your shoulder. You felt the butterflies make their return, the almost nauseating flutter making you swallow and slightly tense up.

“You sure you’re okay..?” She spoke quietly and turned to face you, placing a hand on your thigh like it was nothing. You immediately looked at her hand, eyes widening. You forced yourself to meet her gaze, opening your mouth to speak. But no words came out.

“What’s the matter, y/n?” She rolled her tongue across her lower lip, making direct eye contact with you. Your breath hitched as you saw her gaze flicker down to your lips for a fraction of a moment, before returning to your panicked eyes.

Her eyes were dark. The pretty blue irises were almost completely eclipsed by her pupils. Had she done drugs? You cluelessly thought to yourself, so oblivious to what Rain was thinking about. Her hand tightened on your thigh, and she leaned closer and closer, until you could see every little pore on her skin, even in the dim light. Is she oka-

And then, her lips were on yours.

It took a moment for you to register what was happening, only coming back to reality once you felt her small hand on your almost hot cheek, the other still on your thigh.

You immediately felt all reason fly out the window, your hand snaking up her back to her neck to grab onto something - anything. All you could think about was how much you needed to touch her. 

You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, your grip on her neck slightly tightening as you felt her tongue enter your mouth. She was really good at this, her tongue swirling around yours, tasting you. She took her hand off your cheek, placing it on your waist, her other hand running up your thigh to your hip. Without breaking the kiss, she pulled you to her lap, making you straddle her.

One of her hands inched onto your back, her fingers teasingly running over the zipper of your dress. She pulled away, looking up at you with an intensity you had never seen on her face. She looked otherworldly, her eyes half-lidded with arousal, lips glistening with saliva.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” She whispered breathlessly. “You knew exactly what you were doing,” She paused to nip at your neck, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. “Coming to my place in that dress.” She continues placing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, slowly opening the zipper on your back.

You damn near moaned at just her words, her every touch making your blood run hotter and hotter. She lazily rolled the short hem of your dress above your ass, pulling the item over your head. She let it fall to the floor, taking in the sight in front of her. She looked up at you with a cocky smirk. “You’re not even wearing a bra…” She drawled, sounding almost condescending.

You didn’t have much time to dwell on her tone of voice, her hands moving to palm at your tits greedily. “So perfect…” She sighed shakily, leaning down slightly in order to give your nipple a tentative lick. You whined at the sensation, hearing her chuckle against your skin. 

Rain started licking, sucking, and nibbling at your breast while her other hand pinched and flicked at the other, making your head fall back. You shivered and gasped at the sensations she was making you feel, certainly far better at this than the random drunk girls you had hooked up with before.

Still, it wasn’t enough. The shivers of pleasure coursed straight to your aching core, your panties already soaked, uncomfortably so. Your hands grasped at her muscular arms desperately as you looked down at her. “Please, Rain… More.” You breathed, voice trembling with arousal. 

“Fine, fine…” She shook her head in resignation. “Lie down for me.” She purred, letting you get off her lap and lie on the surprisingly comfortable couch. She was on you instantly, forearms planted on either side of your head as her lips crashed onto yours. Her knee nestled between your legs, grinding against your arousal. You moaned into her mouth, the slight relief making you rub against her leg desperately.

“You’re so needy…” She muttered, looking at you underneath her. Her face was flushed, and eyes practically glazed over with lust. “Need’a taste you.” She whispered huskily, even just her voice making you gush. “Please…” You whined as she planted kisses down your neck, nibbling at your collarbone, definitely leaving a mark. She slowly moved down your body, showering it with little bites and kisses, before reaching the waistband of your panties.

“Fuck, you’re wet.” She mused under her breath, placing her hands onto your inner thighs, pushing them apart and pressing a finger against your damp panties. You inhaled sharply, quietly whining as she began to lightly circle your clit. “So pretty…” She murmured, increasing the pressure. You instinctively snapped your hips towards her, needing more. She let out a low chuckle, enjoying the reactions she was able to draw out of you. “Want me to take these off?”

You nodded frantically, lifting your hips slightly to allow her to carefully slide the last article of clothing off you. She lowered herself down to her stomach, inhaling the scent of your arousal. 

“Please, Rain-” You whined, hands clenching around the couch’s soft cushion.

“Please what?” She grinned up at you, tilting her head slightly. “Use your words, sweetie.”

“Please, eat me out!” You whimpered, your hand subconsciously moving to grab the hair on the back of her head.

“‘Atta girl.” She purred, plunging her face into your dripping pussy. She licked a stripe across the length of your core, tasting you. You let out a soft moan, trying to keep your body as still as possible. Her hands grabbed at your thighs, keeping the spread apart with ease as she worked, lapping up your juices, using the tip of her tongue precisely, making your legs shake. She dipped her tongue inside you, essentially fucking you with it. God, no one had ever eaten you out this well. You let out needy whines and moans, probably a bit too loud for Rain’s neighbors. But neither of you cared, so lost in the moment.

Your head fell back as Rain slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out in tandem with her mouth’s movements. Her fingers curled up, just enough to hit that spot that makes you lose it. You were so close. “Rai-in..!” You whined, tightening your grip in her hair. “...’M so- close!” Your words were pathetically desperate and slurred, the movements of her fingers and mouth making the pleasure coil in your stomach.

Then, she pulled away. You whined at the loss, looking down at her with a downright devastated expression. “Not yet.” She tutted, making eye contact with you as she licked her fingers clean. “Wanna enjoy this…” 

After a moment of kissing and sucking at the soft flesh of your inner thighs, she leaned back down again, her breath hitting your oversensitive core. You groaned, your hand in her hair tightening but not pushing her down. “Now, what do we say, sweetie?” She spoke, rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Please.” You choked out, earning a smirk from her.

“Good girl.” She continued what she was doing earlier, her tongue drawing shapes and letters onto your folds and clit. Her fingers returned to your entrance, teasing it a bit before slipping inside again. It didn’t take long for her to have you a moaning, panting mess again. You started to feel the tension in your stomach build, until you were teetering right on the edge.

“Come on my face, baby.” Rain chuckled against you, giving you one last languid lick and sending you right over the edge. Your walls clenched around her fingers as you did exactly what she told you to. Your head fell back with a loud moan of her name, your whole body tensing momentarily as all you saw were stars. She coaxed you through your orgasm, slowly moving her tongue against you. She got up from her position between your legs, hovering over you with a smirk on her face.

Your eyes fluttered open to see her on top of your breathless body. She looked ethereal. Her hair was ruffled, cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, lips and chin glistening with saliva and your juices. Jesus Christ…

“You’re so beautiful…” You muttered, running your thumb over her lower lip and bringing it to your own lips to taste yourself, keeping eye contact. You noticed how she slightly twitched at the sight, clearly struggling with her own neediness.

“I wanna make you feel good, too…” You looked up at her almost pleadingly, meeting her large, oh so pretty eyes.

Rain grinned. “How could I say no to that?”

She pulled you on top of her, her hands on your waist. Panting, lips slightly parted, you looked at her splayed out underneath you.

You leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss trailing your hand lower down her body, playing with the hem of her shirt. One of her hands tangled in your hair while the other stayed on your waist.

You broke the kiss for a moment, pulling her tank top over her head. Seeing her bare chest and stomach made your stomach do a flip. “You’re so… so hot.” You muttered in awe, hands lightly running down her sides. She gave you a coy smile in response.

You began trailing kisses down her neck, making her gasp and shiver underneath you. Slowly your hands made their way to her shorts, and you hooked your thumbs under the waistband, tugging them off almost frantically.

You pressed your fingers against her damp panties, applying just enough pressure to make her desperate for more. It took all you had not to tear her panties off and eat her out until she came on your face. You needed to be patient. The sounds of Rain’s soft whines, the ruffling of fabric, and your heavy breathing filled the air of the otherwise quiet apartment.

“Take them off already…” She frustratedly huffed, which you chuckled at, complying. You carefully pulled her panties off her legs, discarding them to the floor next to you. 

Seeing Rain completely bare in front of you almost made you come again. You had been waiting for this moment for months. You took a shaky breath, leaning in to place a surprisingly soft kiss onto her lips, palming at her breasts. They felt just right, the warm and soft flesh fitting perfectly into your slightly cupped hands. She moaned into your mouth, making you shiver with anticipation.

You trailed your hands lower, one settling on her hip bone, the other running between her slick folds, eliciting a sharp inhale from her. Your index and middle fingers lightly circled her clit, making her whine louder, arching her back and squirming. You pulled away from the kiss for a moment to look at her reactions, the way her brows knitted together, how her eyes fluttered shut when applying pressure to just the right spots. 

You teased her entrance with your fingers, slowly inserting one, then two fingers. It took a few tentative pumps to find the right angle to curl your fingers at. Her head fell back with a high-pitched cry, a sound you thought you would never hear her utter. You smirked at her reaction, picking up the pace, grinding your palm onto her clit as obscene squelching sounds resonated from your fingers moving inside her.

“Please… Your mouth..!” Rain mewled, sending a jolt of excitement coursing through your entire body. “Of course.” You murmured, settling yourself between her legs. You inhaled her intoxicating scent, making your head spin more than any beer you had drunk.

You dove into her folds fearlessly, your other hand gripping her thigh while the other kept moving inside her. You gave her core an earnest lick across the whole length like she had done to you, feeling her hand fly to your hair and grab onto it desperately.

“F-fuck...” She groaned as you began to lap at her, tasting every spot your tongue could reach, flicking and running across all the places that made her moan. Your fingers worked steadily as your tongue flickered over her clit, using your flat tongue to make her whole body arch against you. As you edged her closer and closer to release, her hand tightened in your hair, the slight pain turning to pleasure - it was Rain doing this to you after all.

“Y/n– I’m close.” She gasped, her legs trembling slightly. You hummed against her, ever so slightly increasing the fervor of your movements. After a beat, her hand clenched around your hair, the other grasping at the edge of the couch. “Ah- y/n!” She cried out, her walls fluttering around your fingers as the waves of pleasure crashed over her. You did what she had done to you, lightly licking at her as she came down from her high.

You timidly get up from between her legs, returning to hover on top of her. You reach out to caress her cheek, affectionately rubbing circles on her skin with your thumb.

“You did so good.” She praised, voice husky from the exertion. You smiled wide. Looking at her, flushed and breathing heavily, you felt your heart swell, knowing you were the one who made her feel like this, made her feel good. 

You carefully lowered yourself into a lying position on top of her, utterly exhausted. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as your breathing evened out.

“Will you stay the night?” She quietly, almost shyly, spoke, playing with your hair.

You nodded. “Of course.”

For a moment, you wondered if the others would worry about the two of you disappearing. But it didn’t really matter to either of you at that moment. 

✶

Thanks for reading!! Feedback is appreciated <3

[official-wales]

My parents having been doing Welsh on Duolingo so they’ll understand me better. I really appreciate it and it’s awesome, but…

The ‘ti’/‘chi’ issue. I don’t know how many times I’ve explained the diffference but they can’t seem to grasp that ‘chi’ is plural and/or formal. I didn’t realise it would be so devastating to hear a loving parent end a phone call with ‘Caru chi’ and feeling like they’ve just referred to you as a stranger.

They’ve heard me say ‘Caru ti’ enough that they’ve adjusted it and know that i have an issue when they use ‘chi’. But they seem to think its northern or a mistake on the Duolingo course despite the fact I’ve told them otherwise (so they still get confused or call out my ‘bad’ grammar or ‘hyprocrisy’ when I say ‘Caru chi’ to refer to both of them, despite all my explanations)

It’s the ‘sut dych chi’s driving me mad now. I am not plural. I’m so single that I turned out aro/ace.

Maybe I should pretend we’re northern and introduce them to ‘chdi’… or would that make it worse?

Anyway there’s no question here I just wanted to rant about Duolingo’s Welsh course. Not that’s it’s fully awful, it’s lead to some… interesting Welsh language fanfiction on ao3

(Also congratulations to my mam. She’s English and well past the ideal age for learning a new language but she can almost hold conversations with me from Duolingo alone, and whenever she hears a phrase she thinks she could say in Welsh on TV she’ll repeat it to me and go ‘is that right?’)

This post is for your parents, in which I give full permission as Official-Wales for you to show them:

You've heard of the French tu and vous....

You've heard of the Italian tu and lei....

You've heard of all the Spanish ones that I do not understand yet, I'm sorry, I don't speak Spanish....

Now get ready for the Welsh you......

Ti is singular and informal.

I'm talking to my good friend Dafydd. He is just one man. He is okay with this. I say "Sut wyt ti, Dafydd?" He does not respond, because I just made him up.

Chi is p l u r a l and formal.

I'm talking to my bosses. There are many of them, and I want to show them respect so that I can continue earning minimum wage. I say "Sut ydych chi, pawb?" They do not respond, because they do not care about employee welfare. When I return home, I ask my many cats "Sut ydych chi, pawb?" They do not respond, because they are cats and cannot speak Welsh.

This has been your Welsh pronoun lesson for today.

[elllisaaa]

how xdh would confess to you

-> words count : 3.3k words

-> genre : xdh members crushing on you, fluff

-> warnings : is extremely cute

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | xdh masterlist

GOO GUNIL - MUSICAL

i think that he would be friendly with you from the get-go, always making sure that you feel included in the group conversation.

other than that, i see him as someone who’s very in touch with his own emotions and feelings so he would definitely be quick to notice that he has a crush on you. 

but even if he’s aware of that and that it’s pretty obvious from the way he looks at you, he doesn’t want to confess.

even if he acts confident in front of you, a part of him is still anxious about being rejected. 

poor baby cannot help but overthink everyone of his interactions with you, thinking that he’s cringe and awkward - which is untrue because you just think he’s so cool. 

when you told him that you’d always wanted to learn how to play the drums, he nonchalantly proposed to teach you the basics. 

but gunil hadn’t realized that it would mean spending a lot of time alone with you, and he couldn’t help his heart from beating faster each time he was too close to you, or that you’d look at him with a proud smile on your face because you succeeded in doing what you had just learned. 

“- Did I do it right this time ?”

Gunil was so focused on not cooing at you from how cute your concentrated face was while playing on his drums, with his sticks, that he only snapped out of his haze when he heard your voice. 

“- Uh, yeah, pretty much. But for this part, you should do it more like this. Here, let me show you.”

He got closer to you, his back pressed against your back as he grabbed your hands over the sticks so he could demonstrate exactly how the combo should be done. You could feel the heat of his body behind you, and his hot breath hitting the skin of your neck. You shivered and a blush started to creep up your cheeks - even your ears were red, you could feel it. Your mind drifted away from the drums, only focusing on Gunil and how he was driving you mad. 

“- Y/N ? Are you alright ?”

It was your turn to be snapped out from your thoughts, quickly turning your head in his direction, only for your gaze to fall into his, his face much closer to yours than you thought. You tried to open your mouth and say something, anything to explain why you were distracted and that wasn’t the truth. But Gunil didn’t let you have any chance as he leaned in to lightly kiss you, his hands still holding yours. Your eyes widened in surprise and you let out a gasp as he pulled away. 

“- I…”

Your voice was shaking, and noticing your shocked expression, Gunil cringed at himself. He let go of your hands, burying his face in his palms to shake off the embarrassment. What was he thinking when kissing you just like that ? He was an idiot.

“- Listen, I’m sorry, I don’t even know what took over me, but I’m sorry. I won’t talk about it ever again, we can forget all about it, I’m s-”

This time, it was Gunil who let out a gasp when he felt your lips crashing against his instead. He barely registered the sound of his drumsticks hitting the floor as he got lost in your taste. And this time, when you pulled away, he had a big smile on his face. 

“- Took you long enough.”

“not gonna take me long to take you on a date now, baby.”

KIM JUNGSU - CHARMING

do i really need to explain that he’s the most gentleman to ever exist ? 

like he’s so caring and sweet towards anyone, it makes me tear up.

so you can bet that with you - his crush - he’s even more observant and warmhearted and it feels good to have someone watching over you that much

the type to send you little texts to remind you to eat or drink water when you’re studying hard or working a long shift. 

also the type to put his hands around the corner of things when you bend down so you won’t hurt yourself (i’m crying i need him so bad).

his hugs !!! oh my god i just know that he gives the best hugs ever and that he loves to engulf you in his embrace every time he sees you to say hi.

so like the gentleman he is, his confession would be so fucking romantic (i’m crying again).

he would ask you out to dinner, bringing you to a fancy place where he would’ve reserved the best table for the two of you.

praising you the whole fucking night honestly he just fell in love even more seing you in your pretty outfit, and knowing that you made so much efforts for him is making him weak in the knees.

“- Thank you so much for tonight, Jungsu. I really had a great time.”

You walked as slowly as possible, even if the night was cold and that you could still feel the chilly air despite Jungsu’s jacket sitting on your shoulders since the moment he saw you shivering. You didn’t want the night to end, nor did Jungsu. He wished he could’ve spent the rest of his life by your side, simply admiring you. Both of you had big smiles aborning your faces, hands brushing against each other without any of you daring to take it.

“- It was amazing, yeah. I should be the one thanking you for agreeing to go out with me.”

You chuckled cutely, a pretty blush spreading across your cheeks, and Jungsu couldn’t help staring at you like he did all night. 

“- If I can be honest, I’m glad you made the first move because I was too anxious to do it myself.

- Then I’m glad to have man up for once.”

Both of you laughed together, and disappointment filled you up when you noticed that you were now in front of your building, and that the night would’ve to end eventually. You stood in front of Jungsu, finally finding the courage to grab his hands in yours as your eyes dived into his sparkling gaze. 

“- I know I’ve said it a million times now, but thank you for tonight. And I think I really wouldn’t mind going out with you again.

- I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

Jungsu grinned at you, and the urge to kiss your lips overtook him. But it was only your first date, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. So he simply squeezed your hand in his one last time, wished you good night, and turned away. He wanted to slap himself for being such a coward. He had only took three or four steps in the direction of his car before he said “fuck it” and got back to you. 

“- Jungsu ? What are yo-”

You were interrupted by his lips capturing yours, his hands cupping your face. You closed your eyes as you melted under his touch, your hands going up to wrap around his neck and kissing him back. Soon enough, it was impossible to keep on going because you both were smiling too much. Jungsu pulled away, his forehead resting against yours and pushing a stray hair behind your ear.

“- I’ve waited all night for you to do this.”

“if i had known that, i would’ve kissed my girlfriend sooner.”

KWAK JISEOK - CHILDISH

he’s truly so fun to be around, a day with him is never boring. 

you like to pretend like he’s not that funny, but he is, and he makes you laugh all the time. 

you know that when you have a bad day, you only need to spend some time with jiseok and that he will cheer you up without even trying because his mere presence just makes you feel better. 

he’s so comfortable to be around, it’s like you had known him for years.

jiseok is also very playful too, he loves to tease and especially you.

that’s how the members know he has a crush on you ; because he’s constantly bugging you, trying to get your attention.

whenever you walk in a room, his eyes suddenly illuminate, and whenever you walk away or talk to somebody else, he looks like a lost puppy (i’m dying, he’s too cute).

he thinks he’s slick, but he’s really not - the way he’s always trying to rizz you up kinda gives it away.

he pretends it’s only for fun and giggles, but truly, he hopes that one day you’ll catch on because he wants to go out with you.

“- Hey Y/N !”

You sighed and rolled your eyes as Jiseok put his arm around your shoulders, a smirk already stretching out his lips. You already knew what he was going to do, he always did whenever he saw you. And you acted annoyed every time even if you lowkey liked the attention, even if it didn’t bother you that much.

“- What do you want this time, Jiseok ?

- Just wanted to ask you something.”

You could feel the pick up line coming, you knew him all too well by now.

“- Go on.

- Do you believe in love at first sight ? Or should I walk by again ?”

The proud grin on his face didn’t flatter, even as you groaned in annoyance. Jiseok wouldn’t let your lack of positive reactions discourage him. He didn’t have the balls to tell you all about what he was feeling straight up, and the only way he knew to confess was by telling all these stupid pick up lines. If only he wasn’t such a loser, he could’ve asked you out, tell you he liked you. But everytime he looked at you for too long, his hands were shaking and it was as if he couldn’t even talk properly anymore, and he chickened out everytime. 

“- I don’t think it’s gonna be necessary, I’m already in love.”

Jiseok was ready to manage another rejection but hearing you flirt back left him speechless. He opened his mouth and closed it without letting out any words a few times, his cheeks progressively growing more and more red. You chuckled at his lack of reaction, finding him even more cute like that. 

“- Cat got your tongue now ? Come on ! You’ve been flirting with me for months and now that I’m finally saying yes you’re getting shy ?

- You just catched me off guard, that’s all !”

It was your turn to grin proudly as Jiseok buried his blushing face into your shoulder. He was so fucking embarassed, but he couldn’t help the smile stretching out his lips. 

“does this mean i can finally take you out ?”

OH SEUNGMIN - JOKING

he’s a menace, always up to tease you with a pretty smirk on his face. 

but he’s also very sweet because he has a soft spot for you, it’s honestly pathetic from his members point of view how down bad he is for you.

seungmin is constantly praising you, even for the tiniest things : you did good at your exams = praises ; or you cooked something new and it was tasty = praises.

he’s also always complimenting you, be it your outfits, your hair or makeup ; you can bet that he will tell you you’re pretty as soon as he sees you. 

he’s a little playful with it, calling you darling just to see the blush spread on your cheeks.

however, he’s not immune to the effect you have on him either, and he doesn’t really try to hide it. 

you could only be smiling at him, or passionately talking about something you liked and he’s grinning like a lovestruck fool because he thinks you’re so amazing. 

even if sometimes you feel like you can be annoying or boring, seungmin always makes sure to remind you that he’s there to listen to you, that he’s interested. 

despite that, he would not confess first because you already know how infatuated he is with you, he wants you to make the first move. 

“- Seungmin ! It’s not funny, I need to study ! Give me my book !”

The boy chuckled as he held out your book higher, clearly out of your reach. He wasn’t doing this to be mean, obviously. You just looked so cute with the pout aborning your lips, and the way you jumped to try and get your belongings back was also too adorable for him to give up just now. 

“- You don’t need to study, darling, you’re already smart.”

You wanted to stay mad at him but his praises made you flustered once again, still not used to the way he was always adoring you. But you really needed to work on this, because you didn’t want to fail your classes, obviously. 

“- It’s not a good reason, give it back !

- Only if you give me a kiss.”

Seungmin was visibly very satisfied with what he came up with, his smirk widening as your pout intensified. He didn’t believe that you would be bold enough to do it, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Little did he know you had enough of his games. You were already smitten by him, he didn’t need to aggravate that by flirting with you every chance he got. 

“- Okay, if that’s what it takes.”

You stood on your tippy toes to reach his lips, lightly kissing him as you closed your eyes. Seungmin didn’t even have the time to register what was happening before he let go of your book, his now free hands coming down to hold your waist and kiss you again. When you pulled away, surprise was still visible in his eyes, and it was your turn to chuckle.

“- For once, you’re the one blushing.”

“not for long, darling. it’s my duty as your boyfriend, after all.”

HAN HYEONGJUN - SHY

my favourite boy ! he’s so cute i think he’s gonna kill me one day, i swear.

when gunil first introduced you to the guys, hyeongjun was very quiet and didn’t talk to you much.

it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was only that you were so amazing that he didn’t know how to approach you.

so you’ll have to make the first move to engage in conversation with him, but despite him being a little shy at first, you discover that he’s sweet and passionate, and that you love him very much.

and hyeongjun loves you very much too, so much that it’s painfully obvious for everyone else to watch.

so much that his members started to tease him about his crush on you, even if you’re there. hyeongjun denies and denies all the time, especially since you’re joking about it too and that he’s convinced it’s because you’re not interested in him.

despite that, you seem to really enjoy your time with him as you’re always seeking his answers in group talking, or waiting to spend time alone with him. 

“- Hey, Hyeongjun ! Look who’s coming !”

Hyeongjun turned around and discovered that you were the one Jiseok was talking about. His friend had a big grin on his face as he witnessed Hyeongjun cheeks’ growing red as you entered their dorm. Sometimes, he hated his band members for being able to read into him that easily. 

“- Hi guys ! How are you ?

- Well, Hyeongjun is always well when you’re here, Y/N.”

Yes, he definitely hated Jiseok, he would have to sleep with one eye open that night. He glared at his friend coldly, but you only giggled and teased him further. It hurt a little sometimes to have you laughing at his crush like that, even if he always said it wasn’t true, he wished it would be. 

“- Do you need help ?”

Hyeongjun was straddled by your voice as you came into the kitchen where he was finishing up cooking for everyone. He told you what you could do to help him and he tried to stop his hands from shaking and kept a casual conversation with you.

“- The boys seem really adamant about your crush, they love to tease you about it.”

You weren’t looking at him when you said that but you had a little grin on your lips. Hyeongjun stared at you for a few seconds, trying to decide if he should say something now or not, but his heart took the decision for him before his brain could think about it further. 

“- Would it be so bad if I really had a crush on you ?”

You snapped your head up to look at him, but he couldn’t hold your gaze for long, his cheeks heating up again the longer he felt your eyes on him. Your eyes were sparkling with joy, your smile eating your face as you watched him nervously run his hand through his long hair. You stopped him from biting his nail when you carefully grabbed his hand, his eyes finally falling into yours.

“- Well, since I have a crush on you too, I don’t think it would be a problem.”

“i’m gonna be the one to tease them now because i have the prettiest girlfriend in the world.”

LEE JOOYEON - SILLY

he has such a good vibe, i feel like you can only smile and be happy when you’re with him.

he’s the type of friend you can do stupid things with and he isn’t gonna judge you because he does stupid things too. 

he could be considered childish at times, but you love it because you can do everything you want with him and he makes you laugh so much.

definitely the first one you come to whenever you feel down, and he’s extremely grateful that you’re this comfortable with him.

i think he would be very touchy with you, he always wants to hug you or cuddle when you’re both watching a movie. 

his other way to hint that he has a crush on you is by flirting every so often, with this cheeky smile of his (screaming).

so when a game night gives him the perfect occasion to make a move, jooyeon is gonna take it. 

“- Okay so your task is to propose to someone !”

Jooyeon immediately locked eyes with you upon hearing his dare. It was finally his chance to tell you how he had been feeling for some time now. You grinned at him like you did every time you knew he was going to do something a little stupid. Jooyeon got down on one knee in front of you, grabbing one of your hands in his and looking you in the eyes. 

“- Y/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife ?”

If you hadn’t known him for years, you would’ve thought that he was serious. The way Jooyeon seemed to really be waiting for an answer made your breath hitch in your throat, your heart beat faster and butterflies come alive in your stomach.

“- I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Everyone around you was whistling and screaming “kiss”. And honestly, you wanted to do it. You wanted to reach forward and kiss Jooyeon. You searched for a response in his eyes, but all you could see was adoration. So you didn’t think further and you cupped his face to peck his lips. This time, it was his breath that was knocked out of his lungs, his brain unable to process what had just happened. And as all your friends cheered, the world around you dissolved, tunnel vision to Jooyeon’s face that you were still holding gently. 

“- You know… I wouldn’t mind becoming your wife for real.”

That big smile you loved so much took over his features, making it hard for him to kiss you again, and again, and again. You were giggling the whole time, letting Jooyeon hold you in his arms and twirl you around as if you really were a newly married couple.

“it’s too soon for now, but one day i’ll do it. one day i’m gonna marry you, baby.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

[corvidae-00]

if your comfortable writing this, can i request joost with a reader who sh? he accidentally finds out by their sleeve accidentally sliding down or something (im on the brink of relapsing and i need angst with comfort 😭😭 not forcing tho lol, if ur uncomfortable writing this don't force yourself!!!)

A/n: I’m totally okay doing this! As someone who has fought this battle I totally get it and I hope you are okay Anon!! You have people who love you and you are so special in your own ways! Beautiful inside and out 🫶 I hope this helps and know you are never alone!! My DMs are always open honey

CW: SH, angst, sensitive topics, Joost being a sweetheart,

YOU ARE LOVED!! be safe everyone!

988 (suicide prevention)

It had been a pretty hot day in the Netherlands and your boyfriend Joost was set on taking you on a hike! Which would have been totally okay if you hadn’t just gone through a relapse… you don’t even know why it happened or what set you off, you cleaned them pretty well but they were still tender and you knew you couldn’t convince Joost to cancel the hike that he was so dead set on.

“Long sleeves, eh?” He blinks at you in suprise his owlish expression kinda funny “yeah! It’s a cute shirt!” You blow him off waving your hand dismissively and your boyfriend nods with a shrug “it is cute you got me there” he pinches your cheek before leaning down and giving you a big ol kiss on the cheek before peppering your face with them. The sunshine that your boyfriend is always makes you feel so free and warm. “Let’s go!! I want to get there before it gets packed!” He chirps taking your hand and pulling you out to the car after making sure you had enough water and packed the sun screen

After hiking for a few hours you and Joost found the most beautiful ledge looking over a beautiful river covered with pine trees and mountains as far as the eyes can see. “Wow” you mutter wiping your brow and fanning the neck of your shirt “that’s breathtaking” you mutter and Joost chuckles looking over at you “it is isn’t it? But the view infront of me is even better” he purrs and you look over at him blushing madly “don’t even with me” you laugh covering your face with your hands leading to Joost wrapping his arms around you in a big hug “let’s take a selfie!” He says tugging his phone out of his pocket “say cheese schat!” He puts the phone out in front of you two

As the sun gets closer and closer to setting the more you forget about your arms to busy listening to Joost tell you about random things he knows about the wilderness or just random facts he finds interesting. Without thinking you tug your sleeves up to your elbows to help the air circulate through your clothes and cool you off. Joost looks back at you mid laugh at a dumb thing he had brought to your attention about ducks “and then I learned that buffalo!-“ he stops taking a quick glance down at your revealed arms and pauses- and then you watch his face go through a few different emotions- landing on devastation “schat…” he mutters stepping towards you like you might run. Realizing your fatal mistake you can sense the color draining from your features

“Joost I-“ you try to come up with excuses or reasons but you come up empty “I’m-“ you stop feeling your boyfriend slowly pull you into his chest and wrap his arms delicately around you “why would you feel the need to hurt…” he questions searching for the words through his broken English “I don’t know…” you respond honestly not trying to move your arms or run away- just leaning into Joost like a life line “I’m so sorry-“ you start but joost shushes you softly shaking his head “don’t be sorry, you aren’t in trouble and you have nothing to be sorry for” joost says pulling away and gently bringing your arms up to his face kissing around the sounds careful not to irritate them or cause you pain “come to me next time my love” Joost mutters gently looking up at you “please allow me to help you” he pleads and you nod starting to tear up “okay..” you whisper and Joost straightens up and kisses you passionately “I love you with everything I am. I love you for any amount of time your head can come up with and more.” He confesses “and even more than that” he runs his fingers through your hair “I love you” he wipes away your tears and holds you close

When you two got home Joost had pulled you into bed and kissed you more times than you could count praising you and rubbing your back “you are beautiful. So beautiful” joost says softly between the two of you “beautiful”

A/N I hope you all know how loved you ALL are!!! I may not know everyone but I love everyone and no matter how hard your battle is never give up! You are all so strong!

Sorry if this seemed rushed or wasn’t that good…I’m on my phone and at work 😂 but I saw this request and knew I needed to get it out!!

I love you all!!!!!!

[l-y-h]

One of the most famous headcanon about hobie is that his colors change with his emotions. But we never agreed about what colors is for what emotions.

Personally I think it would be something like that:

Anger: red

In love: pink

Sadness: blue

Digust: green

Stress/anxiety: dark grey

Happiness: warm colors

Afraid: purple

What do you think about it?

[inmyicyworld]

Wakanda

pt. 2

Summary: You visit Bucky in Wakanda, and the hidden feelings are finally coming out.

Words count: 2.6k.

Warnings: smut, best friends to lovers, Bucky has one arm, he's insecure, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, pet names.

Author’s note: I finally wrote this because this scenario couldn't let me sleep peacefully. I also have an idea for the second part (with Bucky’s new arm🤭), so I'll write it if you like this part <3

*English is not my first language, sorry if you find any mistakes*

masterlist my ao3 ko-fi

You finally got permission to visit Bucky in Wakanda again since he was permanently living there to get rid of the Winter Soldier program and learn how to live a normal life again. You were there only three times because Princess Shuri and Ayo insisted that too much contact with other people might distract Bucky. 

The last time you were there with Steve and, even if you loved him to death, you couldn't deny the disappointment that you barely spent any time with Bucky alone. He was your best friend since you and Steve saved him in Bucharest, and you had the biggest crush on him for about the same amount of time.

You jumped right into his arms as soon as you walked down the hill and saw him standing near the lake. He hugged you back, burying his face into your neck, and it was truly the moment that you never wanted to end. Bucky smelled like fresh air mixed with some kind of seasoning, and fuck, he looked good. In traditional Wakandian clothes that were covering his missing arm too, a low bun on the back of his head with a few springs of hair around his face, and smooth and tanned skin from the work under the sun.

You two quickly moved to his hut with the food that you bought at the local cafe owned by a sweet old man. And somewhere after that, when you were eating on the floor covered with many blankets and colorful pillows and talking about your lives, everything went downhill. 

Food was forgotten. Somehow you ended up sitting on Bucky’s lap while you were connected in the most passionate and dirty kiss you ever had. Your hands were tightly holding his face, and his right one had a strong grip on your waist to hold you closer.

“Bucky…” You moaned in his mouth while your hips were grinding into his hardness, which was so obvious through the clothes. You both were so lost in the moment, sharing a desperate kiss full of tongues and teeth, trying to get to each other as close as possible.

It felt so right, like it was supposed to happen a long time ago, and now all of your feelings just couldn't be kept inside.

Bucky couldn't help but groan under his breath when your hand slipped into his hair, completely destroying his low bun. Your nails on his scalp felt majestic, and his brain became fuzzy with your gentle yet confident touches. Bucky moved his hand from your waist to your thigh, squeezing the soft and warm skin a little bit lower than your shorts. 

When he pulled away, you tried to follow his mouth, almost addicted to the taste and the feeling of his lips on yours.

“Fuck, doll, that’s not how I imagined it.” His face became sad and almost apologetic, and you saw that the corners of his now red lips moved downward in disappointment. “Not here, not with only one arm... Fuck, I can’t even touch you the way I want to.” His hand tightened on your hip, and you gave him a sad smile. Not that those things mattered to you, but your heart still hurt because Bucky felt that way.

“I don’t care about it. I just want you, Bucky, if you want me too, of course.” Your voice was soft and gentle, soothing his nerves a little bit.

“You can’t imagine how much I want it, but I can’t do much with one hand; fuck, it’s so bad, I’m sorry...” Bucky’s eyes closed and his head fell lower, but you could still see a pink flush on his cheeks.

“Bucky, I want it; I want you, and your hand is not a problem, okay?” He deeply inhaled when your hands took his face and your lips were back on his. The kiss wasn’t so harsh and desperate; it was more deep and passionate, like you both tried to feel each other. “Why don’t you just lay back on the pillows, and I’ll do everything?” You bit your lip, suddenly feeling slightly nervous, and put your right hand on his chest, pushing Bucky back on the pile of pillows behind him so he was sitting in a reclined position.

You saw the hesitation in his eyes, and you waited a few seconds, gently rubbing your fingers over his beard, so he could process your idea.

“Okay.” 

You got closer, sitting more comfortably on top of him. One of your hands pressed onto the pillows near Bucky’s body, and the other one landed on his firm chest, playing with the red clothes that he was wearing. Bucky lifted his hand, gently grabbing your face and kissing you again. His soft lips and slow movements of his tongue inside your mouth made you moan into a kiss.

“Can I take it off?” You mumbled, slightly pulling down the red material. More of his soft, tanned skin was shown, and you tried to hold yourself together and not overstep the line. Bucky’s pupils were dilated, almost completely hiding your favorite blues. He was closely watching your moving lips, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

“Mhm, but— please, can we leave this on?” He pointed to his shoulder, covered in blue material.

“If you feel more comfortable that way, then we can. But we don’t have to, if you suggest it only because of me.” You started to untangle his clothes, still watching his face to notice any signs of discomfort. 

“Just leave it on, okay?” 

“Okay.” As you removed the clothes from his chest, leaving the cover on his left shoulder, allowing you to see his perfectly sculpted body, your lips left soft kisses on Bucky’s cheek, going down to his neck and to his abs. You stopped there, feeling how the body underneath you tensed, and his hand gripped the duvet so hard that his knuckles became white. “Bucky?” 

“‘M okay, it’s just been so long for me. Didn’t get used to feeling that way. And I want you so bad, doll, I can’t even explain it.” He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. You felt that his cock was painfully hard underneath you, and just thinking about touching it made you ten times wetter.

“You can have me, Bucky. Do you want me to take the rest of our clothes?” You moved your hips a little bit, getting an almost desperate whine from Bucky. He looked so good like this: slightly disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, red lips, and eyes full of lust and need. And he was completely yours, fuck.

“Yes, please.” 

You placed a quick kiss on his lips before getting up. Bucky’s eyes were following your every move as you took off your shorts and t-shirt, staying in the cooling air only in your simple black underwear. But Bucky was looking at you like you were the most delicious and precious thing in the world, like he wanted to make love to you and completely destroy your body at the same time. 

“Doll– fuck, everything else too, please.” He licked his lips, unconsciously moving his hips from the lack of attention. Your eyes slipped to his crotch, seeing how his cock was very visible through layers of clothes.

You just smiled at his desperation but still reached to the back to unclip your bra and then slide your panties down your legs. You didn’t waste any more time, going back to Bucky and finally completely taking off his clothes. 

“Holy fuck…” Your mouth went completely dry when you pulled down his black boxers. You never found this part of a man’s body that attractive, but it was the prettiest dick you had ever seen. Thick and long, with a vein going around it and a slight curve towards his press. The shiny drop of pre-cum on the head made you instantly want to lick it, but the mumble of your name and calloused hand on the lower part of your back brought your attention back to Bucky.

“You’re going to kill me, doll. C’mere, please, I want– need to touch you. Need to kiss you.” Before you could even say something or move, his hand slipped under your ass and, without much effort, lifted you on top of him. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I want to worship you and make you feel good; I’m so sorry that I can’t.” 

“Bucky,” you said, laying down on his chest. “I promise that when you get your new arm, I’ll let you fuck me however you want to, okay? But for now, I want to take care of you.” The feeling of your hard nipples pressing against his firm chest sent shivers down your spine, and the hand on your back made you want to grind on Bucky like a bitch in heat. “Please, touch me, baby.”

“You shouldn’t say shit like this to me, doll. I won’t let you go until you can’t even fucking think straight. Fuck–  how are you so soft…” Bucky’s hand was now exploring your body, gripping your ass, tracing your stomach, and going straight to your sensitive boobs. He never wanted to have both arms as much as he does now, to touch every curve of your body and find everything that makes you feel good.

“Bucky!” Your hands pressed against his chest, and your head fell back with a moan when he pinched your nipple in between his fingers. He chuckled softly before sliding his hand down, right to your dripping core.

“Doll, look at you.” His eyes were glued to the place where his fingers traced your folds. “Is this all for me?” 

“Y-yes, Bucky, please…” You almost cried at the feeling that he gave you. Even if it was a long time for him, Bucky definitely didn’t forget how to please a woman. Your legs desperately wanted to close from the stimulation on the clit, but since you were spread on top of him, you couldn’t do anything but whine and dig your nails into the hot skin under your hands. “Don’t tease me, just— Fuck!” 

“Taking my fingers so good, doll.” You knew that he was smiling because of your reaction as two thick digits slid inside of you, filling you so well but not enough at the same time. “You’re already ready for my cock, huh? Wanna feel how this pretty pussy stretches around me. C'mon, baby, help me.” Bucky moved his hips upward, and you felt how his dick was pressing on your ass.

“You have a dirty mouth, Barnes.” You laughed before reaching to the back, grabbing his cock, and lifting your body at the same time. You put the tip at your entrance, running his length through your folds and letting the head bump your clit as he collected your wetness, until you both couldn’t handle the teasing anymore. Bucky put his hands on your ass, pressing on top and allowing you to slowly take him inside of you.

It was too much. The burn of him stretching you was slightly painful, but it made you feel so full, as if the two pieces of puzzles finally added up. You both moaned, your head fell back, and you tried to go slowly and adjust to his size.

Bucky’s hand tightened on your hip, probably leaving red marks. He breathed deeply to control his fast-beating heart. You felt so fucking good, all wet and tight for him, that it was hard not to move his hips into you. But it was obvious that you needed some time based on your tensed body and slightly opened mouth.

“Bucky…” Your eyes were flattering, not being able to completely focus on his face. You thought that you could just fuck him and take control, but you didn’t expect to be this cock drunk before either of you even made a move.

“So pretty lookin’ like this baby.”

“‘M so full…” You moaned, gripping Bucky’s hand and interlacing your fingers. 

You found a comfortable position, holding yourself with one hand on Bucky’s chest. The first movement of your hips was shocking, sending goosebumps all over your body. You both loudly moaned when you moved up, until he almost slipped out of you, and then down, burying his cock deeply inside. 

Bucky’s lower half slightly moved up when his non-existent left arm wanted to grab your hips, and you must’ve noticed the disappointment and anger written on his face because you leaned a little bit lower and freed your hand from his grip, moving it to his face. 

“That’s okay, Buck, just relax, please? Don’t worry.” You cooed in the softest voice. Your hips started to slowly move at a stable pace.

“You’re so perfect, baby.” He mumbled, and you felt that his body started to thrust into yours, so his cock perfectly touched your g-spot.

It became more intense with every minute. The little hut was filled with the smell of sex and the sound of your moans, combined with the skin slapping. You were too desperate for each other, trying to reach your climaxes but not wanting this moment to end. 

Bucky tried to touch you as much as possible; he wanted to make you feel good, give you satisfaction, and fulfill his own needs in your presence. He moved his hand from your ass to your stomach and boobs, then to your face, bringing you closer for another hot and passionate kiss. He was all over you, hungry to get more and to remember every centimeter of your perfect body. 

You two moved in perfect rhythm, meeting each other's movements.

“Please, Bucky– it’s so good, fu-uck, I’m gonna cum.” You cried out loud, feeling that your body was starting to go numb from your approaching orgasm. 

“Such a good pussy, takin’ me so well. ‘M close too, baby; ride my cock, c’mon. Get what you need.” He slapped your ass, encouraging you to move faster. “So pretty wrapped around me. Can I cum inside you, hm? You’ll let me feel you up?” 

Your head quickly nodded while you didn’t break eye contact with the man in front of you. Bucky bit his lip, trying to control himself and get you to the finish first, but you looked so fucking good on top of him, with your boobs jumping up and down, that he knew he couldn’t hold himself any longer. So he brought his hand to the lower part of your stomach, pressing his thumb against your swollen clit. 

That was the breaking point for you. You completely lost control over your body, barely being able to stay still when the waves of pleasure were breaking through you.

“Good girl. You can almost feel me in your stomach, yeah?” Bucky’s palm was feeling every thrust of his dick with the palm of his hand, and it felt fucking insane. “Fu-u-uck, you’re squeezing the shit out of me, ‘m not gonna last longer.” He moaned, losing his rhythm too, while you fell down on his chest, too overwhelmed and overstimulated. 

You felt the last movement of his hips until he froze, moaning into your ear, and emptied himself deeply inside of your spasming pussy. You unconsciously continued to squeeze around his cock, getting every single drop, as if your body was greedy to get more of his load.

“I don’t feel m’ body…” You mumbled, already feeling sleepy, and wrapped your hands around Bucky’s body. 

“Sleep, baby.” The soft material fell on your back, covering your naked bodies. You felt a light kiss on top of your head, and Bucky’s arm hugged your back, holding you closer to him. 

You couldn’t be sure, but right before you drifted to sleep, you heard something that weirdly sounded like “I love you.” 

pt.2

[physalian]

Fuck Grammarly

Okay I need to rant about Grammarly. A program I never used before and never will now. Doubly pissed because their ads keep interrupting my peaceful 4-hour Minecraft music session with their fake-ass influencers.

Guys. Gals. Nonbinary pals.

“As a corporate girlie—” learn how to write a proper concise email.

“I used to spend hours proofreading—” enjoy the process, and then the product.

If you hate proofreading, to the point where you’ll consult a robot to do it all for you, then you hate writing. If all you care about is the end product, sorry to say but ‘writing’ is like, 30% of writing. The other 70% is editing, by design. You’re supposed to like it.

Of course I’d love to have beautiful artwork of whatever’s in my head, but I’m going to love whatever I make a whole lot more than whatever I type into some garbage generator. Because I love the process of creation.

Do I think editing is tedious as hell? Absolutely, but it’s still a tedium that I enjoy. I like fixing my mistakes, I like improving my sentence flow. I like thinking about patterns and connections that I didn’t see before and revising and reworking until I’m satisfied.

For the humdrum day to day work emails that some of us have to write—if you’re sending out whole essays to your coworkers that you need a robot to write for you, you’re doing it wrong. Corporate emails are boring and trite, but I can type out a “hey please do this thing for me” faster than I can load up ChatGPT or Grammarly, type out my prompt, make sure the result is what I actually want to say, and then send it to my coworker. If you can’t, learn.

Apparently, Grammarly used to be a helpful way to check for spelling and grammar errors. I don’t have any issue with the AI that runs spellchecker whatsoever. I type so fast and miss typos constantly and when the spellchecker is absent, like on this website, it’s annoying af.

But that’s not what Grammarly is about anymore, and that’s not what the above ad was trying to sell you, either.

You won’t get better if you don’t practice. You won’t get better if you aren’t the one making, seeing, and fixing your mistakes. Especially if you write fiction where grammar rules are a suggestion at best. My published novel is littered with flagged words and sentence fragments that I know are technically improper English, but I sacrificed an MLA-proof paper for something fun and entertaining.

AI does not understand nuance and flavor text and aesthetic choices. It never will.

If you train yourself by using a crutch you don’t need, you will end up needing it because you’ll be too afraid to act without it.

Fuck up. Make a mess. Make mistakes. You won’t make them for long once you see them. You do not need a robot to do it for you. We’ve been writing books for hundreds of years and all the authors who came before did it just fine without a robot.

This isn’t even about writing novels, it’s about communicating in the written medium. Fucking. Learn. It’s not rocket science, it’s not coding in C++, it’s not brain surgery. It’s stringing words together in a comprehensible sentence.

And obligatory disclaimer: To anyone who has an impairment and needs these tools, this is not about you and you know it.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

hello! i’m love your post and arts so much! I look at your posts after a hard day and my mood immediately changes to excellent. can I ask a couple of questions?

which pairing with Ethan do you prefer?

and… can we get to know you better? a little biography?

Thank you for your time! I'll be waiting for new arts! (sorry if i made mistakes, my english is not so good. im russian)

i like basically every ship with ethan! it mostly depends on the mood im in, but if im being honest, mithan, winterfield, and wintersberg gets frustrating to think about because they all dont treat ethan well canonically... lethan is fun because they have never met and i can make my own assumptions!

i used to like wintersberg the most and i still do like it, i just have expanded my horizons to other ships as well...., its mostly like a punchline to me though. they have the funniest potential which is why a majority of their posts is just joke comics. i do not like how people try to erase how karl is arrogant and egotistical tho. thats like removing the flavor.... the way karl acts is just very funny to me, hes so lame in a good way and i like how everytime he talks to ethan it sounds like hes twirling his hair and kicking his feet. canonically speaking, karl was very much in the wrong for trying to use rose and not elaborating and i will die on this hill. ethan is not in the wrong for being disgusted and angry that karl would ever try and propose that in the deal. karl is very arrogant so when ethan says no to him it makes him mad and he tries to use fear to get ethan to take his deal (kicking his chair and warning him) i like karl, i like how messed up and arrogant he is but i dislike how people try to portray him as a nice guy. however, in a AU where everythings the same except he doesnt try to use rose i do enjoy the dynamic they could have, especially if the teamed up (not with the deal where they use rose. ethan wouldnt agree unless karl never involved rose in the first place). karl is just a very entertaining character and i like him a lot, hes funny and his personality can be extremely hilarious

mia and ethan is pretty tragic and thinking about it too much makes me a bit sad, imo in a reality where ethan survives re8, he needs to divorce mia. im not saying ethan needs to hate mia and never talk to her again i just dont think they should be so intimate together because of her behavior... please do not take this as anti mia. they loved each other dearly but it wasnt healthy. their relationship was kept afloat by lies and mia doesnt change even though she deals with the consequences of her own actions in re7. she actively tries to hide her past from ethan and is mostly focused on trying to move on and have a normal life even if ethan will have to live the rest of his life in the dark.

she loves her family so much, shes very afraid of them leaving her so she hides all the bad things in the hopes that they wont leave. its selfish, its human, its real, her character is so amazing and i love her. she doesnt learn from re7 and hides important information from ethan again. i geniunly think they should have gotten divorced after re8 if ethan had survived. its tragic and its sad but they love each other so much. it sad because they both geniunly love rose so much but they themselves shouldnt be together. its just sad to think about it. whenever i draw them it usually takes place before re7. they should have divorced on good terms and shared custody of rose.........

ethan and chris is also frustrating to think about... chris is a major jerk in re8, whenever i draw it, its under a unspoken AU that chris did not behave the way he did in re8. his weird behavior in re8 is probably for a meta reason imo. capcom wanted to set up a twist villian so they make chris very vague and unesscarily cruel. while its frustrating that they turned chris into a jerk for the sake of a twist, it still happens in canon and i will forever roll my eyes whenever i see him on screen. he did what he thought was best but imo, execution matters more than the intentions. same applies to mia. they both did things that hurt ethan because they thought it would be the best but in the end they just hurt ethan.

all the ships ive discussed with people ethan has met canonically just makes it look like i dont even like the ships... LOL ... ethan just has horrible luck with the people he meets i guess... but i do enjoy the ships and drawing them, but again all of them come with the canon baggage that ends up making me sad because everyone treats ethan poorly whether they had good intentions or not

which is why leon and ethan is the most fun to draw without getting stressed... LOL... they have never met but just drawing what i think their dynamic would be like is very fun.

please dont take this post personally, this isnt a post declaring why ur fave ship sucks, this is just my own personal preferences and in the end i draw all of them anyways

if i had to rank the ships based on drawing silly comics it would be

wintersberg

mithan

lethan

winterfield

wintersberg has the funniest potential just because of karl and mithan can be funny if u water it down to "i love my wife so much" and said wife comes home with suspicious amounts of hard cash

i enjoy making joke comics far to much

if i were to rank the ships based on how healthy they would actually be for ethan it would be

lethan

winterfield, mithan, wintersberg (no particular order)

sorry 😭

leon and ethan have literally never met but imo it would still be the healthiest because ethan gets to start new

the three other ships r all unhealthy in some way, at least canonically without changing much about the characters (i do like winterfield but just because of how chris behaved in re8 it knocked them down)

i cant even rank them on personal preference because my opinion changes so often 😭 it changes based on discussions i have with my friends or recent art i see that inspires me... me and my friends recently had a discussion about mia and ethans relationship which made me very frustrated and sad with mia so i defiently wouldnt be drawing them anytime soon... meanwhile i hvae been talking to a friend who really likes winterfield often so the conversations we have give me art ideas and i end up drawing it more. if a friend of mine really enjoyed wintersberg or lethan and talked to me about it often id probably start drawing it more, the joys of being a multishipper

it changes a lot based on how im feeling and if im in the mood to draw something funny or something serious

sorry u asked a really simple question and i responded with a essay

and a little bit about myself is that i go by crumb, i am 18 and i go by all pronouns and prefer it/its

im vietnamese and live in texas

i made this tumblr acc solely so i could post my ethan art and im a re7/re8 girly so if ur here waiting for me to draw the re1-re6 characters im sorry u should probably expect nothing

i also make personal animations sometimes which u can find here

thanks for the ask and sorry for the rant!

[paddockletters]

shattered hearts | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you break free from a toxic relationship, embarking on an exhilarating journey of self-discovery

warning: emotional abuse, infidelity, toxic relationship, angst

author's note:this was hard, so hard omg... as I always say, english is not my first language so sorry me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

I met Lando when we were barely out of high school. Back then, he was just a kid with dreams and a mischievous smile that made you feel like you were the only one in the world that mattered. For a while, I believed that was true. But as the years went by, I learned that Lando's smile wasn’t mine alone—it was shared with others, stolen moments behind my back. And somehow, I was always the one left picking up the pieces.

Our relationship was a whirlwind, the couple everyone thought would either crash or last forever. We did crash—over and over again. But somehow, Lando always found a way to convince me to come back.

“I’m sorry,” he’d say, voice low and pleading after one of his inevitable affairs. “But you know you’re my number one, right? None of them matter like you do.”

He’d wrap his arms around me, pull me close, and somehow, I’d believe him. I had to because after eight years of being with him, I didn’t know who I was without him.

The first time he cheated, I was devastated. It was in his early F1 days, just as his fame started to sink in. He swore it was a one-time thing that it didn’t mean anything. And like a fool, I believed him. But it didn’t stop. It never stopped. There was always another girl, another excuse, another lie wrapped up in the promise that I was still the "main one."

One particular night, I remember the argument that nearly broke us for good. Lando had been out late, and I found out through a mutual friend that he had been seen with another girl. Again. When he came home, reeking of alcohol and guilt, I confronted him.

“You said you were going to change, Lando!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “You promised me, over and over again, but nothing ever changes!”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You always come back. You always forgive me,” he shot back, arms crossed, his face a mask of irritation.

His words stung like a slap to the face. I wanted to scream, to leave right then and there. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because a part of me still loved him, or maybe it was the idea of him—the boy I met before the fame, before the lies.

As the years rolled on, our friends saw the cracks. One night during a get-together at a bar, I tried to put on a brave face. I thought maybe if I acted normal, I could convince myself everything was fine. But when Jess pulled me aside, her expression serious, I knew I couldn’t hide anymore.

“Why do you keep letting him treat you like this?” she asked, frustration evident in her voice. “You deserve so much better, and he’s just going to keep doing this until you realize it.”

“Maybe he’ll change. I can’t just throw away eight years,” I replied defensively. “We have a history.”

“You mean a history of him cheating on you? You have to stop putting up with this, or you’re going to lose yourself,” she insisted, shaking her head.

I didn’t have an answer for her, not really. I just wanted to believe that things would get better. That Lando would see how much I cared and finally choose me over everyone else.

Our mutual friends began to pick sides. Some supported me, while others were loyal to Lando. It was suffocating, a constant tug-of-war that made everything feel so much worse. I felt more isolated than ever, even when surrounded by people.

Then there was the jealousy. Lando was incredibly possessive, especially with his fellow drivers. During one race weekend, I was talking to Charles, who had just finished his session. Lando walked in, and his eyes darkened.

“Why are you always chatting up the other drivers?” he snapped, pulling me aside as Charles walked away, giving us a questioning look.

“Because they’re my friends, Lando! Just because you’re in F1 doesn’t mean I can’t talk to anyone else. You’re not my warden,” I shot back, feeling the anger rise in my chest.

“Don’t act like I’m overreacting. You know how it looks,” he hissed, jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I knew he was being unreasonable, but I was too exhausted to fight back. Our friends watched the tension build, hoping to intervene. I overheard Max once whisper to Lando.

“You need to chill, mate. You’re pushing her away.”

But Lando always had an excuse for everything, often deflecting blame onto me.

“You just don’t understand how this world works!” he’d shout, leaving me feeling small and defeated.

The cycle continued, and I found myself in the same painful arguments over and over. One night, after he came home late from a party, I had finally reached my breaking point.

“Do you even care about how I feel?” I shouted, my voice echoing through our apartment. “You’re always out with other girls! How am I supposed to trust you?”

“I told you, you’re the main one! None of them matter!” he retorted, but his words felt hollow to me.

We spent that night in silence, and I knew I had to make a decision. I just didn’t know how to let go.

The more time passed, the more I began to distance myself from Lando. Therapy helped. I began to see the truth behind his words and actions. The way he manipulated me, made me feel guilty for his mistakes. The way he made it seem like I was the one at fault for staying, like I was to blame for the pain he caused me.

During one therapy session, I shared my frustrations.

“I don’t know why I keep coming back to him. He’s hurt me so many times, and I just can’t let go.”

The therapist asked me one simple question: “Do you love him, or are you just scared of being without him?”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know the answer.

One evening after another brutal fight, I finally left. For good this time. I packed my bags while he watched, silent for once. Maybe he thought I’d come back, just like I always did. But this time was different. I walked out the door, leaving behind eight years of memories, both good and bad.

The nights were long and lonely, and I often found myself thinking about the happy moments we had. One flashback struck me particularly hard: it was the first time he had taken me to the paddock during a race weekend, and we laughed like kids as he showed me around.

“Can you believe this is my life now?” he had said, beaming with pride. “I never would have thought I’d be racing in F1.”

“I always knew you could do it,” I replied, squeezing his hand.

But now, those memories felt tainted, and I needed to focus on myself. It wasn’t easy. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I had made the right decision. But with time, and with the help of my therapist, I started to heal. I began to see that I deserved better, that I deserved someone who would love me the way I had always wanted Lando to.

One evening, after finally leaving Lando for good, I found myself at a racing event with friends. It was a chance to distract myself from the whirlwind of emotions I was navigating. As I wandered through the paddock, I was drawn to the sound of laughter.

“Are you lost, or just overwhelmed by all this?” a smooth voice asked. I turned to see Pato O'Ward, the charming IndyCar driver, grinning at me. His eyes sparkled with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of something hopeful.

“I guess a little bit of both,” I replied, smiling back.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” he offered, his energy contagious. As we walked through the paddock, he shared stories about his racing experiences and the thrill of competing. It felt so refreshing to be around someone who was passionate and genuine, without the weight of expectations or drama.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself spending more time with Pato. He was everything I had needed—funny, respectful, and utterly devoted. He listened to me, understood my past, and never once made me feel like I was in a competition for his attention.

One night, after a thrilling race, he took me to a quiet spot overlooking the track. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about how important it is to find someone who truly sees you. I see you, and I want to be that person.”

His words resonated deep within me, filling the void Lando had left. In that moment, I knew I had found something special with Pato, something I had longed for but never thought I could have.

Meanwhile, Lando had his own set of problems. He was still juggling relationships, using his charm to keep people around while juggling jealousy over his fellow drivers. I heard from our mutual friends that he was still stuck in the same toxic patterns, always in and out of relationships, always claiming that I was the one who got away.

I remember a race weekend when Charles and Lando got into an argument. I was watching from the sidelines with Pato when Charles approached me, concern etched on his face.

“Are you okay? I know things with Lando have been… complicated,” he said, his gaze shifting to Lando, who was across the paddock, still fuming.

“I’m fine, really. I’ve moved on,” I assured him, but I could see the doubt in his eyes.

Later that evening, I got a message from Lando, who had obviously overheard the chatter.

“I know you’re happy with him, but you’re still mine. You always come back to me, remember?”

It took everything in me not to respond. I had a new life now, a new partner who respected me and didn’t cheat. Lando’s words were just echoes of the past.

Fast forward to our wedding day. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my veil, my heart racing with excitement. Pato had become my rock, my partner in every sense of the word. I knew this was the right choice, and my heart was finally at peace.

Then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Lando.

“I heard you’re getting married. Just wanted to say, I hope you’re happy. But I still think about you. We could’ve had it all, you know.”

I stared at the message, my heart pounding. For a moment, I considered replying. But then I remembered all the sleepless nights, the tears, the heartbreak, and all the promises he had broken.

“Too late,” I typed back, hitting send before I could second-guess myself.

As I walked down the aisle, Pato’s face lit up with joy, and I couldn’t help but smile back. When he took my hands in his, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t known in years.

The ceremony was beautiful, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t felt in years. When Pato took my hands in his, I knew I was finally moving forward.

As we exchanged vows, Lando’s presence lingered in the back of my mind, but I let it go.

“I promise to love you through every challenge and to celebrate every victory,” he said, his eyes shining with sincerity.

“I promise to choose you every day for the rest of my life,” I replied, my voice steady and full of conviction.

We sealed our vows with a kiss, and I felt liberated. Lando was no longer my story; I was the author of my own life now, and it was a beautiful beginning with Pato. With him by my side, I was ready to embrace the future we would build together, thriving in a relationship based on trust, respect, and love.

As time passed, I learned to appreciate the small moments—the laughter, the late-night talks, the shared dreams of a future together. Pato supported my passions and encouraged me to pursue my own ambitions, something I had never fully experienced before.

One day, I received a message from Max: “Lando’s been a mess since your wedding. He didn’t handle it well.”

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. He had always taken me for granted, and now, he was the one left behind.

I hoped Lando would find peace eventually, but I also knew I couldn’t go back to the pain of our past. Pato was everything I needed, and I was determined to focus on our life together.

As our first anniversary approached, Pato planned a surprise getaway. “I want to celebrate us, everything we’ve built,” he said, a bright smile on his face.

We traveled to a beautiful beach destination, where we spent our days relaxing, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company. One night, under a sky full of stars, Pato took my hand and said, “You’ve changed my life for the better. I want to keep building this amazing life with you.”

I couldn’t hold back my tears. “You’ve shown me what real love looks like, Pato. I’m so grateful for you.”

His expression softened as he leaned in, kissing me gently.

Then, one day, I got a call from Lando.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice shaky.

“What do you want, Lando?” I replied, my heart racing.

“I just need to explain… things didn’t go as planned after you left. I’ve made mistakes, and I want you back.”

I paused, memories flooding back. “You had your chance, Lando. I can’t keep going back to the past. I’m happy now. I’ve moved on.”

“But I still love you!” he pleaded. “You were always my main one!”

His words echoed painfully in my mind, but I stood my ground. “You had your chance to prove that. You made your choice.”

The phone call ended, and I sighed with relief. I looked at Pato, who was sitting beside me, and smiled. I had made the right choice.

I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Lando was no longer a part of my narrative. My life was filled with the warmth and love Pato brought into it, and I was excited for the future we would continue to create together.

With Pato, I had learned to love again, not just him, but also myself. And that made all the difference.

Lando’s chapter had closed, and I was finally ready to start anew, with someone who truly valued me, not just as the ‘main one,’ but as the woman I had become.