#thinking about being scared to ask questions

[transkeiichi]

one of my best friends from middle through high school and even into adulthood despite the distance passed away when we were like 20ish.

it was so tragic. i was devastated. but at her wake everyone wore ratty punk and metal band tshirts, full goth make up, lots of long haired dudes in grateful dead tshirts. it was wonderful, honestly. there were way more people i could tell were there for her mom, but i instantly knew who was there *for her*. it was probably 2/3 her moms church and 1/3 people who knew a single thing abt her.

and everyone who was there for her mom hated us. they said we werent being respectful - i kept asking to who? who arent we being respectful to, her mom whos pissed we all look like we got out of a drunk party the night before and wandered into the funeral home in whatever we fell asleep in? probably half the people there did, and she would have adored that.

the funeral goes on, and this preacher gets up there and starts fire and brimstoning. me and her high school friends look at eachother totally fucking confused. what the hell is he saying? hes going on and on about how much her daughter (who also passed away - not going into these details) loved to go to church every wednesday and sunday. how my friend loved to take her daughter to Bible studies. how when the fucking meals on wheels showed up her daughter would dance around the parking lot of their government funded section 8 housing singing hallelujah and kids gospel songs and praising jesus.

we were pissed. the little group of weird emo bisexual girls-soon-to-boys, who grew up with her, sat in the back of the funeral and steamed. i whispered to one of them "if she could get up out of that coffin and leave this bullshit, she would." i guess that was more rude than lying about a dead persons life because some old lady turned around and gave me a nasty look. i asked her who are you? howd you know dana? whens the last time you saw her step foot in a church, cuz i havent seen her in one since we all quit going at 14 because the youth leaders stopped providing free food and that was the only reason wed been going.

she didnt have a response. but i was rude, not the man lying about her, or lying about her daughter. her daughter was only like 2 btw, she could barely walk or talk let alone dance around and sing. and meals on wheels was an incredibly embarrassing experience for her as a young, single mother raising her child. everyone judged her for getting pregnant in hs and while unmarried. she had to pretend to be christian when they came around cuz theyd always give her pamphlets and tell her god loves her and she was afraid they wouldnt stop by her apt anymore if she didnt say those things back.

her tombstone has a bible verse carved in it, because even after death she has been forcibly christianified no matter how many times she told me she didnt believe in god, she believed in kurt cobain, and she hoped if she got reincarnated she came back as a cat.

none of that shit mattered and when i expressed how fucking rude this shit was, i was told the funeral wasnt for her it was for comforting her mother. i said so if i decide to lie abt u after u die and say you were an atheist just like me and ur scared of the black void after death, thatd be ok?

no one likes that question.

anyway, this particular subject is a sore spot. this was my friends blog, let me know if u think she might have been a Secret Christian @1000silentneedles-blog (warning her header is Very Flashy)

I know I just restating the point of that post but respecting religious freedom will sometimes require you to respect someone's belief that religious beliefs are categorically untrue, and there are a lot of people who are unable to handle this, and even more people who think they agree with this but haven't really grappled with what it means.

[the-modern-typewriter]

The villain, who doesn't typically celebrate much anything gets invited to an event (holiday, gala, birthday, etc) by hero with no strings attached.

This is a Secret Santa snippet gift @snowshowerwriting 😊 Have a great one! I hope you enjoy.

---

“…And I was just wondering if, maybe, if you’re not too busy, you’d want to go with me?”

The villain stared at the hero for a long moment, watching the colour slowly creep up the hero’s cheeks and all the way up to the tips of their ears.

Snow begin to drift and eddy lazily on the empty rooftop around them.

“Only if you want to,” the hero said. “Sorry. You’re probably too busy, what with being…you. Forget I asked! It’s not a big deal or anything I just—”

“—You want me to go to the peace ball with you.”

“Only if you want to!”

“Why?”

The villain could think of a dozen reasons why, but none of them exactly fitted with their impression of the hero in front of them.

The annual peace ball was a tinsel-strewn, glittering festive affair designed to promote good will across the city by forcing all heroes and villains to join together in a night of absolute truce. No fighting. So help anyone who tried scheming, though of course everyone still did. Good will to all super-powered men, women and others on earth!

The villain had been invited before, in the first few years that the ball was hosted, by a few of the boldest players on either side of the roster. They’d always said no. Never mind that they’d never been much one for making a big deal out of arbitrary times of year. The hero in front of them was not a particularly bold creature, though, heroics aside. Nor were they the sort to want to make some kind of statement.

The hero was bafflingly genuine. Too true to themselves to be of much use in politics, and too powerful for most to want to risk taking a run at them. Powerful enough, certainly, that they didn’t need the villain’s protection or the implication of an alliance between them. Good enough, surely, that the villain struggled to envision a scenario where the hero tried to enlist them over mince pies.

Indeed, as far as the villain could tell, the hero had absolutely nothing to gain by having the villain on their arm.

The hero’s head tilted at the question. “Because I think it would be nice?”

“I’m not nice.”

“Well, no. But it would be nice to spend more time with you. But only—”

“—Only if I want to,” the villain finished.

The hero’s blush deepened. It was possibly one of the most adorable things that the villain had ever seen. Still, the hero stood their ground and waited for an answer, arms folded grumpily against their own overly expressive face.

“Yeah,” the villain said, smothering a smile. “Okay. Sounds…nice.” They kept their voice light. Casual. Their heart hammered in their chest, giving an almost painful squeeze at the bright grin that shamelessly crossed the hero’s face.

“Yeah?��� The hero raised their eyebrows. “Nice.”

The villain snorted.

The hero’s grin grew, delighted. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Unless you’d rather meet there?”

“Seven is fine, but I’ll come get you. What address works?”

They made the arrangements, the hero practically fizzing, like they really were looking forward to a night with the villain at their side. No strings attached. It was…well. It was really was so damn nice. There was a rare, warm feeling buzzing in the villain’s chest.

Still.

“You do know you’re going to get hell for turning up with me, don’t you?” the villain asked. “Whatever your reasons.”

“Mm.” The hero made a show of thinking. “I fought a literal mutated snowman last week, but you know what really scares me? Other people’s dumb opinions at the Christmas party.”

The villain found themselves laughing.

“Honestly,” the hero said. “I don’t know how we’ll survive.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You could get hell for turning up with me. Whatever your reasons.”

“It’s cute that you think anyone other than you dares to give me hell about anything.”

“I could be a terrible, hellish date.”

“Oh yeah?” The villain took a step forward, before they could stop themselves. A belated lightbulb flicked on inside their head. “Is that what you are then? My date?”

“I mean—" The hero’s eyes widened. They floundered. They bit their lip, drawing the villain’s attention immediately, and parties were lame but that mouth was absolutely not. “Only if you want me to be!” the hero said. “We can just go as friends. Long suffering colleagues. I’m not trying to—”

“Oh, no. You’re my date, darling. No taking that back.”

“Oh, thank god.”

That time, the villain utterly failed at smothering a smile.

“Oh, crap. I mean—” The hero scrambled for a more eloquent, less relieved, cooler response. They came up endearingly blank.

“Nice?” the villain offered.

The hero narrowed their eyes, playful. “You’re mocking me. Rude.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date.”

“No?”

“It wouldn’t be very festive of me.”

“Oh, yes. Because you’re such a big fan of festivity and seasonal celebrations.”

The villain blinked, mostly out of surprise that the hero had been paying enough attention to even notice that. Maybe they shouldn’t have been surprised all things considered. The hero was smarter than they let on. “And yet,” they said, “you invited me to a seasonal celebration.”

“Well.” The hero shrugged, mostly managing careless that time. “Limited opportunities to take you out anywhere else. I think people might panic if I just turned up with you for a dinner.”

“We’d be served very quickly. I do tend to clear our restaurants with my presence.”

The hero snorted.

“So what does one do at a peace ball?” the villain asked, voice a murmur.

“There’s food. Drink.” The hero recovered themselves, reaching out and taking the villain’s hand, drawing them a few steps closer, leaving footprints in the snow beginning to coat the roof. Their voice softened too. Liquid caramel. “Dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“You done much of that before?”

“You might have to teach me.”

“Well, we start by you wrapping your arms around me like this…”

The villain might have shivered. The hero might have grinned, humming a made-up tune beneath their breath as they swayed together.

The weeks until the ball flew by.

***

People did stare when the two of them walked in. The villain chose to believe it was because the hero looked absolutely gorgeous, despite their dubious choice of wearing a festive jumper to what was clearly supposed to be a black tie event. The jumper was red and said ‘yule can do it friend’.

Maybe the hero was bold, in their way. The villain definitely thought, in the last few weeks, that they’d underestimated their sometimes-enemy.

There were a lot of people crowded into the city hall venue. Pretty much everyone. The villain abruptly missed their usual peaceful night of strolling around the city, relishing the way that the streets emptied as everyone bundled away to wherever their festivities were.

No panic. No screaming or nervous looks. No chance of some would-be-hero showing up demanding what the hell they were doing.

The hero set a steadying hand on the small of their back, studying their face, and their easy read of the villain’s emotions should have been alarming. It was alarming. It was also…

“You good? Do you want to go and grab a drink?” the hero asked. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t drink in public.”

“They have hot apple juice and hot cocoa too. Some fancy mocktails.”

“You don’t mind that I’m not joining you on the champagne?”

“Why would I?”

Some people, the villain thought privately, minded. They had specific ideas on what a party was supposed to be like and felt judged should the villain deviate from that pre-determined idea. The hero led them through the party, expertly weaving people.

“So?” the hero waggled their eyebrows. “What will it be?”

The villain retreated from the stand with an alcohol-free glass of sparkling. Easy to blend in, even if the taste was nothing special. The two of them watched the room for a while, trying out the various different canapes in the buffet, chatting.

It felt better with the hero at their side. They so obviously knew what they were doing at a party, smoothly carrying conversation with anyone who came over, but not in a way that made it seem like they were schmoozing. It didn’t make the villain’s skin crawl. The hero mainly got excited about and asked for pictures of everyone’s pets. Whenever anyone tried to comment on the fact that the two of them were there together, the hero said cheerily that it was “nice, wasn’t it?”

They’d catch each other’s eyes as whoever it was left. An inside joke. It had been a long time since the villain had been in on an inside joke. With the hero, it was a little thrilling.

Of course, as the evening wore on, there was dancing.

The movements were familiar, after all of the hero’s ‘lessons’ in the lead up to the ball. It made it easy to ignore the rest of the room, and the gaudy tree, and the awkward feeling that they might destroy their reputation for the sake of a party. The hero didn’t care about their reputation, did they? They just did what they wanted to.

“So,” the villain said. “What else does one do on a date?”

The hero’s eyes lit up, better than any fairy-light or candle. They stroked their fingers along the nape of the villain’s neck. The music took the opportunity to change to something slow and intimate, inviting everyone to press a little closer. It should have annoyed the villain, but with the hero in their arms, grinning at them, it couldn’t possibly.

“Well,” the hero made a show of considering. “There’s hand-holding.”

“Indeed.” Their fingers wrapped around each other as they moved.

“And kissing.”

“Ah, kissing,” the villain said. Their gaze dipped, inevitably, to that mouth worth going to parties for. “You might have to teach me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve kissed before,” the hero said, amused. “But I’m always happy to provide a refresher.”

“Part of being a good, heroic citizen I imagine. Helping out the needy.”

“Needy, are you?”

The villain opened their mouth. They registered what they said.

“You’re blushing,” the hero said.

“It’s rude to point it out and mock your date.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date,” the hero said. Then, finally, the hero leaned in to kiss them. Sweet, honeyed, and the warm thing in the villain's chest glowed. They dragged the hero closer, wanting more, more, more. The hero laughed with breathless pleasure and nipped at their lips.

The next year, the villain vowed right then, they were taking their hero somewhere private.

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content, incest, satoru/reader, satoru/suguru, shoko/reader, codependency, very twisted relationship dynamics, implied abusive/neglectful childhood

suguru had never known what to make of the two of you.

satoru the six eyes and his twin sister. satoru who was his best friend, and you, the girl who looks just like him.

satoru who let suguru bend him over and fuck him until he cried, only to roll off the bed, pulling out his phone.

god. he knew satoru was a dick, but this?

it hurts more than it should. they'd never talked about it, never even called each other friends. he should have figured this wasn't anything special.

but what the fuck is satoru doing on his phone?

"satoru?" he says, trying to sound casual.

everything has to be casual with satoru. low-key. being with him feels like he's coaxing a wild animal. get too close, and he might just bolt.

bolt, only to hit him out of the blue days later with a picture of a candy and a smarmy comment about suguru's taste in food. or his hair. or his power as a sorcerer, or whatever was going through that malfunctioning brain of his.

god, why the fuck does he even like him again?

satoru turns back so suguru can see his smirking face.

god. that was why. the face of a fucking angel, a smile that made his heart skip. why did it have to be on this asshole?

"what, suguru? you feelin' lonely?" satoru drawls.

it's a question he knows the answer to. keep it chill. don't show your hand. don't get too close or he'll get scared.

it aches. "shut up," he says, "i'm just curious who you're texting right after i pulled my dick out of you."

he smirks back when satoru pauses, hesitates.

"who's this person you're thinking about right after you cum?" suguru drawls. he's proud of how distant he manages to sound.

satoru's eyes dart towards him, all ice blue and piercing.

"nobody," he says, setting his phone face down while he pulls on his pants.

he blinks. "what are you..."

satoru ignores his question, strolling out towards the door while waving goodbye. "later, su-gu-ru~"

"but this is -"

before his eyes can furrow, satoru closes the door behind him.

"...your room."

he'd thought that it meant something different this time. satoru always left right after they fucked, he never stayed.

but this is satoru's room. so he'd either kick suguru out, or let him stay.

he hadn't been prepared for him to just... leave. his own room.

what's wrong with him? seriously.

suguru glances at the downturned phone. flips it over.

nee-chan~ (2)

his sister? it beeps.

nee-chan~ (3)

no, don't. i'll ask shoko

you'll ask shoko to do what? satoru has a lock, so he can't see.

seriously, i mean it

after a moment, there's another message.

are you ignoring me, or just busy with him?

don't come over. slut

...what?

the message notification disappears along with the message.

suguru gets a strange feeling.

he looks around satoru's room. he finds some girl's clothes.

does satoru even like girls? they could be yours. he's seen you in his room before.

the strange feeling starts to get. stranger.

there's condoms in here, too, which is weird because satoru has never asked him to use them. or used them himself. he whined when suguru suggested it, actually. asked if he was scared of getting knocked up.

ugh. stupid, insufferable, endearing little shit. he wants to have him in his arms right now.

but it doesn't mater what suguru wants. satoru just left. like he always does, sooner or later.

picking up the phone, he makes his way out. down the hall, towards the girls' dorm.

shoko is already there when he gets there. holding out an arm to stop him.

he raises a brow.

"she's sleeping."

"how do you know i'm here for her?"

shoko shrugs. "why else would you be? saw gojo go in there. anyways, they're asleep now."

"can't be. i was with him just a few minutes ago."

the look she gives him is... strange. everything about this situation feels... off.

he pushes past her, and she sighs.

there's no noise inside, at least. he looses a curse to twist the lock on the door, turn it form the inside.

and it's surprising because - god, what was he expecting?

you're there, curled up beneath the blanket with satoru laying behind you, arms wrapped around you and holding you close.

it's romantic, sure. intimate.

but nothing weird. well, nothing too weird. satoru's always been weird, and you're just like him, so of course you're both weird together. you've always been close. you're his twin sister. what is he thinking?

with a toss, he lets satoru's phone fall onto the floor.

he avoids shoko's gaze as he closes the door and stalks off.

(he doesn't see her anxious glance at the door.)

"he's gone," satoru whispers to you, brushing his thumb over your nipple as you bite your lip.

"shut up," you hiss, putting a hand over his. "i can't believe you did that. why did he follow you? what did you say to him?"

his other hand, threaded beneath your panties, wriggles playfully.

"whaaat? you said you wanted to go to bed. i didn't want to make you wait." he sighs dramatically, "i'm the strongest sorcerer, you know. i need my rest~"

and without you, there is no rest.

as soon as your body is against his, it's like all the tension leaves him. you're there, with him, and everything is all right.

all his worries fade away when he can wrap his arms around you and feel you embrace him in return. mind blank at the soothing sound of your voice. never mind the words you're saying.

"yeah, but do you need to do... this." you say fruitlessly. "you could have come later."

"didn't wanna come later," he kisses your shoulder, "wanted to see you now."

you wriggle in his arms, too wide and too strong to escape, even if you wanted to.

it's enraging. it's gratifying. you don't know what it is, and never have.

he must have been fucking suguru. and after he got his, he came to you.

should you laugh, or cry?

"i could have asked shoko." you mumble almost miserably.

but a sigh escapes you as he fondles your breast. satoru always knows how to make you feel good.

maybe not as good as shoko does, but you're still nice enough not to say that to his face.

"what? to sleep with you?" satoru scoffs, "you can't sleep without me, either."

neither of you have ever slept alone, not a single night in your life.

not even when you were deathly ill and the clan begged the precious six eyes to stay away and not catch your sickness.

satoru had stayed by your side the entire while. held your hand while your head pounded and your body ached. wiped your tears when you cried.

because you were very young, and very sick, in more pain than you'd ever felt before. you had honestly thought you were going to die.

there had been no servants, no mother or father or caretaker. only satoru holding you close, lifting you to drink some water and medicine. telling you that you couldn't die. he wouldn't allow it.

and to your child's mind, that had been reassuring. your brother never left you. your fever broke and you were okay, just like he said you would be.

now, you know better. now you know satoru would lay in bed with people who weren't you, even if he always came back (for now).

now you knew what it was like to have someone else by your side.

(but was it enough? could it ever be enough? could it ever be what you have with him?)

"i'll never know until i try." you turn in his arms to face him, and he allows it.

blue eyes. beautiful, beautiful blue. a pretty face. almost as pretty as shoko's.

you've been learning, lately. you used to think of the mole on her cheek as an imperfection, the cigarette smoke a bad habit.

now? you still think it's a bad habit, but the mole is charming. and you don't hate the smell as much because shoko took you out shopping for perfume.

she asked you which one you liked the most, and bought it for herself. she wears it every friday when you have your girls night out with utahime.

where you get drunk enough to make out with her until she brings you back to the dorm, kissing and fondling and touching.

she asks you if it's okay. asks you how you like it best. asks you to touch her this way, that way.

it's not like how it is with satoru. but she makes you feel good, makes you happy. she wants you to feel good. when you cry she kisses your tears away, like she knows better than to ask but wants to comfort you anyways.

when was the last time satoru tried to comfort you?

"hey," satoru breathes into your ear, pulling your panties down, "c'mon."

when you think of her, your heart flutters. when you think of satoru, your stomach flips, and your whole body aches.

you don't know what love is. you don't think satoru does, either.

otherwise, why would he ever leave geto's arms? when he's so obviously head over heels for him?

you clasp one arm against his chest as you reach down, stroking his cock to hardness. geto must have made him cum (satoru has never made you cum). must have fucked him.

satoru rolls you so you're on top of him.

his shirt is off, baring his lean, muscled chest. your brother, your strong, handsome, beautiful brother, looking up at you with wandering eyes and greedy hands.

your hands are equally greedy. running over his chest, ghosting over his nipples until he shivers. oversensitive. he always is after he's been with geto.

satoru's got a condom out already. he slips it on, leaning forward and pinning you down beneath him.

he doesn't have to use condoms with geto. he doesn't have to be the one on top all the time, either. geto can fuck him. he must like that.

geto's a special grade sorcerer. geto's a man. he's not his sister.

his cock is sliding up and down against your entrance, wetting the condom as he nips at your breast.

he always leaves marks like this, but never where anyone can see.

does he leave marks on geto?

"do you like him more?" you mumble, anxiety swirling in your gut. your lower half is a hot swirling pool of need, leaking for him.

and he inches in, making you whine, making you claw marks into his shoulder. you hope geto sees them.

satoru groans, low and throaty. it always feels like coming home when he's inside you. a perfectly matched lock and key.

his hand threads through your hair. you're so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. he'll admit he's a vain bitch, but who wouldn't be? looking like the two of you do.

maybe one day he should get you to dress up like him. wear a strap and fuck him, that'd be fun.

for now, you're warm and soft and perfect for him. so comfortable. and you're rambling about stuff that isn't important.

"what," he murmurs, breathy from the warmth of you around him, "who?"

if the frustration shows on your face, he can just fuck it away.

"geto." the name is swallowed by a swift thrust, hands planted on your hips.

you wish he'd touch your clit more (you never ask). you wish he'd answer your question (you're afraid to push). but your brother just doesn't think about other people.

"c'mon," he whines, "don't talk about some other dude. you're with me."

"you were with him."

"so?" he thrusts in harder, stealing your breath, like that'll win him the argument, "you're fucking shoko."

satoru fucks you breathless, then. pumping in and out so quickly that the friction has you shuddering, shivering, close enough that you finally start to squeeze around him.

it's always like this with him. you feel like you're drowning, helpless. all you can do is cling to him.

"satoru," you hate how pitiful your voice sounds, "satoruuuu...."

he's hitting you, so deep and so hard it hurts, pierces through the breathless haze and leaves you clenching around him.

"please," your breath escapes you with his next thrust.

please don't leave me. don't abandon me for him. don't discard me now that you have someone better. don't leave me all by myself...

tears dot at your eyes, squeezing around him. satoru's own eyes are wide and wild, his hips shoving into you staggeringly fast.

"i got you," he says, close, so close, "i've got you."

another deep thrust, painful as it is pleasurable, bruising and fast like his fingertips on your hips. he swallows your moans with a kiss.

he thinks he can eat up all your complaints, all your anxiety. hide away from his own by nestling himself in your body.

you don't want anyone but him, right? he's the only one who touches you like this.

the way you squeeze around him, the way your body feels against his, no one else gets that from you. shoko couldn't do this for you. no one could.

you say his name again and he's ready to burst. you love him always. you're so good for him. you make him feel good just by being there.

a part of his life. a missing limb. his precious sister, his beating heart, right there against his chest.

"there," satoru pants, "fuck, there, cum for me, baby..."

it's tears you blink away when he gasps and cums, burying himself inside you with a wounded sort of whimper.

you never do, when it's him. to be fair, you've never done it to yourself, either.

you only ever came when shoko fucked you. but fucked is such an ugly word for how gently she touched you, how soft she smiled.

"satoru," you whine again, "do you like him more than me? i like you more than shoko..."

satoru doesn't answer you. his hands move from your bruised hips to wrap around you, pull you close, plant kisses on your head.

"you know," he mumbles out your name. "you know."

there's a flash of rage. irrational.

he won't say it. he won't even say it. satoru will fuck you, his own sister. cling to you like he needs you to survive, sleep with you every night of his life.

but he won't say he loves you more than geto. he won't even say he likes you.

and you know - because you know him like the back of your hand, you were born with him, you spent every waking moment of your life with him until you came to the school - you know satoru loves you.

but he loves you like he loves air. it's always there. always accessible. it's not like the air will suddenly leave.

you curl into satoru's muscled chest, let him embrace you closer, sink into the silence that's only comfortable for him.

maybe there's something you can do about this.

[wroetominter]

Wedding Guests - George Clarke

In which George and Y/n have a history, that makes an appearance at their friends wedding.

Pairing: George X Femreader

Warnings: slight smut

I stepped out of my cab, thanking the driver as I pulled my weekender bag over my shoulder and carried my dress bags into the lobby of the gorgeous hotel Ethan and Faith had decided to get married at. Some of the guests had opted to stay the night before in the hotel block, wanting to extend the festivities as much as possible.

After checking in, I made my way to the fifth floor where my room was located. Walking down the hall I saw my room, 513. Going to unlock it, the door next to mine opened and I saw George Clarke exiting. It had been awhile since I had seen him.

"Hey George" he looked over to his name being called, smiling at me.

"Hello Y/n, lovely to see you." He gave me a little hug. "Let's catch up when you're settled yeah? Me and the boys are down in the bar if you'd like to join.

"Yeah sounds good to me, give me 10 and I'll meet you down there." He made his way to the lift as I unlocked my room.

Noticing my room had an adjoining door to George's, I figured we would end up being a party space for our friends and made mental note to tell everyone when I saw them.

I changed into something more appropriate for evening, a nice pair of jeans and a basic black tank top. After freshening up my hair and makeup, I grabbed my wallet and key card, sliding them into my pocket and making my way back downstairs where I knew I would find everyone in the bar.

I ran into Faith and a few of her friends in the lobby, squeezing her tight and giving her congratulations again and gushing about how excited I was for the wedding tomorrow. She agreed and her and her group made their way towards the restaurant.

Slipping into the bar, I scanned the surprisingly crowded room for anyone I recognized. I jumped as I felt and arm slide around my waist, turning to the side and seeing Arthur TV. "You scared the shit out of me Arthur." I wrapped my arm around his waist reciprocating his previous movements.

"Sorry Y/n, didn't mean to truly. You looked lost I figured you could use a friendly face." He said so innocently I couldn't help but forgive him.

"I appreciate your face" I gave his cheek a little squeeze and he led me to a booth at the back of the room.

I slid into the booth next to Arthur, and then George blocked me in. We sat with Bach, Harry, and Reev for the evening, chatting about everything we had been up to since the last time we had seen each other. I had been so busy with taking on streaming I hadn't been at as many events as I would have liked to attend. It seemed the boys agreed as I told them I would make more time to visit everyone.

"Do you want a drink love?" George asked nudging my side. Throughout this evening he had been scooting closer and closer into me. George and I had an odd history - a flirtationship really. We had always gotten along well, but after the last trip abroad to Spain we had sort of lost some of that relationship. I think in part due to my absence, and also the growing fame he had acquired taking up the majority of his time as well.

"I'd love one. I'll have a"- he interrupted my sentence.

"A tequila ginger ale?" He asked. A smile grew across my face. I nodded and he got up from the booth to go order our drinks.

"He talks about you constantly, y'know." Arthur whispered to me. I stared at him for a second.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"He misses you. A lot. Talks constantly about your trips abroad, hanging out with you, everything. I think coming around more would be good for him. And for you." I let myself sit with those words for a while. I missed George too. It wasn't exactly a secret that his wit was charming, not to mention his striking good looks. He really was different to most guys I knew.

A glass was sat down in front of me, garnished with a lime, just the way I liked it.

"Thank you Georgie." I used the nickname I used to call him frequently.

He rolled his eyes, tossing a lazy arm around my shoulders. Normally a friendly gesture, but this time there was a different feeling attached. "You're welcome darling." I felt myself stiffen at his comment. He must have noticed, as he pulled his arm back to his side. I instantly regretted my natural awkwardness and looked back to him, seeing he had a slight blush on his cheeks. I set my hand on his, resting on his leg. A silent reassurance that I wasn't upset with his movements.

The night drew closer to an end, and we all decided to retire to our rooms.

I walked with George, seeing as our rooms were right next to each other. The silence between us was comfortable.

As we got to our rooms, I paused, looking over to George who had done the same thing, meeting my gaze.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier, I guess sometimes I just feel like nothing has changed with us." He admitted, looking down at the floor.

"George - you didn't make me uncomfortable. I was taken aback a little I guess. I'm not used to it anymore either. I'm unfortunately too awkward these days. I didn't mean to snub you." His spirits seemed to lift, his eyes looking up to meet mine. I felt myself back months ago, staring in the same eyes, but the situation much different.

"Goodnight Y/n, I'll see you at the wedding tomorrow." He said, unlocking the room to his door and heading inside.

I sighed, following suit and entering my room.

———

After getting myself entirely ready, the only thing I had left to do was choose a dress. I had brought two, not sure what mood I would be in. The wedding was a formal event, and both dresses would work well for the occasion. I had a brown dress with a slit halfway up the side, and it wrapped around my body, with small sleeves on the top. My second option was a dark green satin spaghetti strapped dress that hugged around my torso, and flowed out towards the bottom slightly.

I couldn't make up my mind. I felt like I was going insane just trying the two of them on non stop.

Giving in, deciding I needed a second opinion I opened my side of the adjoining door. I knocked, and shortly George opened the door. He was dressed in a black suit, looking more handsome than he ever had. I gasped at the sight of him as he opened the door.

He smirked and laughed "I know, I look insane."

"Not exactly the word I would have used, but. Anyway - I need advice. I have this dress" I gestured to the brown dress I was wearing. "And this one" I held up the green one. "And I need help choosing which one I should wear." George eyed me up and down, making me suddenly feel self conscious.

"Try the other one on, I can't envision it." I nodded, shutting the door and quickly changing.

It was my turn to make him gasp this time, as I opened the door. "That's the one." He said, adjusting the bow tie he was wearing. I smiled, grabbing my small bag and tossing my phone inside.

"Thank you Georgie. I knew I could count on you." I shut the door and followed him into the hallway. He held out his arm and I gladly linked mine with his as we made our way to the ballroom.

The ceremony was first, the hall we were in was decorated elegantly and I found a free space in one of the pews. George sat next to me, and I felt comfort knowing someone I knew would be near me. He grabbed my hand, silently comforting me as the ceremony began.

———

I wiped a few stray tears from my eyes as Ethan and Faith said their 'I do's' and they were pronounced man and wife. I loved love. Seeing others happy always made me cry.

They announced that the reception was in a separate room, and they led us to the new location.

We were greeted by ushers, showing us to our assigned seats. I was nervous, sat at a table with people I didn't know very well. I could still see George, the next table away looking much more confident than I felt. He locked eyes with me, eyeing me up and down and mouthing that I would be fine. He knew me so well.

I made small talk with those near me, watching the speeches from all of the loved ones who knew the groom and bride best. It was a beautiful night, and I was excited to keep this party going.

Drinks flowed, and conversations kept everyone in high spirits throughout the night.

An arm slid around my waist, pulling me close. I could smell the beer on George's breath as he pulled me close to him. His hand was resting cheekily right above my bum, the other holding my waist. "You look so lovely tonight Y/n. I've missed seeing you." He admitted. I smiled at him, placing my hands on his chest, he had long ditched the suit jacket, presumably due to the warm atmosphere, or the amount of drinks he had consumed.

"Thank you, I missed you too." He looked like he was about to lean in, but I chalked up to my imagination as he never acted on the supposed movement.

"I'm ready to go back up to my room. How about you?" he asked. I checked the time, seeing it was well after midnight at this point.

"I think that's a good idea." I followed his lead, congratulating Faith and Ethan again as George said his good nights to his friends.

George wrapped his arm around me as we went to leave the room. "Come on!" I heard Arthur call out, George shot him a look, and Arthur simply winked back.

Once at my hotel room door, I opened it, standing in the doorway looking at George. We stood staring at each other for a few moments, the silence building a tension I was sure we both felt.

"George..." I started, building up some courage. "You've been staring at this dress all night, don't you want to see what it looks like on the floor?" His eyes widened and he stepped forward, grabbing my face with both of his hands, pressing his lips to mine fiercely. We stumbled into the room, door closing behind us.

I fumbled with the buttons on his top, eager to reveal his toned chest. He helped with the last few, the shirt falling off behind us as George's hands slid the zipper down the back of my dress, the satin pooling around my feet in an instant, leaving me clad in nothing but my underwear. It felt normal to be this vulnerable with George, despite this being the first time he had seen me like this.

He unbuttoned his trousers, sliding them off and grabbing me by the legs, pulling me onto the bed straddling his lap. I could feel the bulge growing in his pants, and I knew I was about to be in for an exciting night.

“I can’t tell you how long I have been waiting for this invitation” he kissed me softly, holding me close.

This was more than just physical for me, and now I felt it may be for him as well. I played with the hair at the nape of his neck as he kissed me.

“I wish we would have started this in Spain.” He smiled into the kiss, hooking his fingers into my underwear and flipping us over, sliding them down my legs and discarding them somewhere on the floor.

“We have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?” He breathed hot air where I needed him most. My heart raced in anticipation, feeling him push my legs apart, leaning in and swiping his tongue over my core. My back arched up in pleasure, meeting his face as he began his work on me.

My hands were tangled in his hair as his tongue drew circles, bringing my pleasure higher and higher. I gasped as he slid his fingers inside me, curling and pushing in and out of me, driving me closer to my peak. “George, please,” I begged, needing this release more than I needed my next breath.

He kept his pace, bringing my orgasm crashing over me. My breath jagged and rough as I rode out my orgasm. He sat up, smirking at the state he had me in. I sat myself up on my elbows, staring at him. His chest had small beads of sweat on it, and my eyes trailed lower, fixating them on his pants, the outline of his penis threatening to escape from how hard he was. “George”

“Yes darling?” He leaned in closer.

“I’m yours.” That was all he needed. He pulled his pants down, releasing his erection. I needed him.

He leaned down to kiss me again, lining himself up with my vagina, and pushing in as he kissed me. He was better than I could have imagined. His pace was perfect, thrusting in and out at a perfect rhythm. He kissed me, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as he worked his magic.

I could tell he was getting closer, as his thrusts became more erratic. He pulled out abruptly, flipping to his back and taking himself in his hand, giving himself the final few pumps he needed to finish. The sight was probably one of the hottest things I had ever witnessed.

We laid there in a comfortable silence, both panting. I decided I should help George, getting up and grabbing a towel to clean him up.

I laid myself into him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I like you, Y/n.” He said softly.

I laughed, holding myself up to look at him. He stared back at me, looking nervous at my laughter at his admission.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I just, I like you to George. It just felt obvious from the last fifteen minutes.” It was his turn to laugh. He wrapped his strong arms around me and kissed me again, and again, and again.

“I just wanted to hear you say it.”

A knock on the door startled us from the moment we were having.

“Who on earth could that be?” I whispered.

“If I had to guess, probably Arthur.” George said, getting up and pulling his pants and top back on.

I wrapped the duvet over my body, shielding myself from the door.

George cracked the door slightly, and I could barely hear the whispers being exchanged.

George returned to the bed, taking his top back off and sliding in next to me, cuddling into my side.

“Arthur?” I asked him.

He sighed. “Unfortunately. He was making sure I finally admitted feelings for you.” I laughed.

“We’ll spare him the horny details.” I said, kissing his cheek and laying on his chest.

The details of this night could stay between us, for now.

[mclacedes]

A Fading Echo (LH44)

CHAPTER II: Going Home

a/n: this is NOT PROOF READ

warnings: breakup, abu dhabi ‘21, rude!lewis, depression, gaslighting, fighting

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“For a moment, he wanted to break down and beg Willem not to leave. Don't go, he wanted to tell him. Stay here with me. I'm scared to be alone.”

- Hanya Yanagihara, "A Little Life"

He remembers your final battle—the fight that ended it all; the decision-maker, the deal-breaker.

Four years. You had been together for four beautiful, though turbulent, years. The kind of love story that felt unshakable, weathering the storms life hurled your way. You had your own career, pursuing the dreams you’d cherished since you were a kid. You were finally at a stage in life where everything felt like it fit perfectly. And with him by your side, it seemed like nothing could go wrong.

By 2020—your third year together—things had grown serious, the kind of serious that made people whisper about rings and forever.

You still remember the phone call in March 2020, just as the world began to crumble under the weight of a pandemic, when asked you the question, his voice calm but carrying a thread of anticipation.

“Quarantine with me. In the UK,” he said, his words slicing through the static.

You froze, caught completely off guard. The emotions hit you all at once—joy, anxiety, disbelief—so quickly that you couldn’t string a coherent thought together.

“Y/n?” His voice softened. “You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” you stammered, your mind still reeling. “I’m just… a little unprepared for that question.”

The pandemic was spiraling into chaos. Quarantine was the new normal, with no end in sight. Weeks? Months? Years? No one knew. There was no vaccine, no cure, just endless uncertainty. The thought of being confined in one place for so long felt suffocating.

“It's just… That's not my house, I don't know if I’ll…” he had this unbearable habit of cutting you off in the middle of a sentence.

“I know, but we can make it home,” you could tell he was beaming with pride for coming up with that sentence. “Home is wherever you are.”

It sounded like a promise. Like he was for real.

“Besides, there won’t be any races for a while. Things will be peaceful, quiet… just us. I think we can make it fun at home, huh?”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Despite the fear and uncertainty, the thought of being with him—just him—was comforting.

You took a deep breath, letting the idea sink in. “Okay, it sounds nice,” and you smiled.

And it was nice. More than nice, really. Those weeks together were filled with laughter and quiet moments, a bubble of peace in a chaotic world.

Eventually, though, he had to leave again. Racing had resumed, and his life called him back to the track. You went to as many races as you could, though he always worried.

“I don’t want you catching that thing,” he’d say, his protective nature shining through.

You’d laugh it off, but you knew he meant it. Those months felt like a rhythm you could get used to—brief separations and joyous reunions. You thought you had found your balance.

But cracks have a way of forming when you least expect them—because people talk. They speculate. They conspire. Perched on the edges of lives they don’t know, they wait for their chance to unravel something beautiful.

Your relationship became a sweet treat for an internet starved for the meanest way to make somebody seem interesting, a spectacle to devour and distort—somebody had to feed those vultures.

By mid-2021, Twitter was buzzing with talk of rings, cradles and bibs. People dissected your (and his) every move, searching for signs of the next big step. But while the world fantasized about your future, Lewis was consumed by a fight of his own—that year's championship; the toughest battle since 2016, since Nico.

You knew his career had always been his first love, the thing that made his heart pump and his eyes shine long before they settled on you. Just as you had your own dreams to chase, he had his. And in 2021, those dreams demanded everything from him—his time, his attention, his softness, and, it seemed, his love for you.

By late 2021, the cracks in your once unshakable foundation had grown too wide to ignore. The championship consumed him, pulling him further away, and you—desperately holding on—began to feel more like an obligation than a partner.

It started with the little things: unanswered texts, “I was catching up on data”, missed calls, conversations cut short with a distracted “Sorry, I’ll call you later”. Later never came thought. Even when you were physically together, his mind was elsewhere, a thousand miles ahead, already focused on the next race, the next strategy meeting, the next battle on track.

You tried to understand. You reminded yourself of his passion, his drive, the fire that had drawn you to him in the first place. But understanding didn’t make the loneliness any easier to bear.

Then it crumbled. December, after Abu Dhabi. It was like everything started to shut down, like multiple organ failure—there’s no surgery to save your relationship. The worst part is that you knew it—you both. The even worse part was that you let it go so easily.

The fallout from that race was cataclysmic, not just for him but for you too. He came home shattered—a man stripped of everything he’d worked for, everything he believed in. You wanted to be there for him, to help him rebuild, but he wouldn’t let you in. He was silent, withdrawn, a ghost of the man who had once made you feel like the center of his universe.

“I’m here if you wanna talk,” you had reassured him once, your voice soft, during a quietly bitter dinner.

“I don’t want to,” he replied sharply, his tone cold and clipped, not even looking up from his plate.

“I know, but what I mean is that—”

“I know what you mean, Y/N,” he interrupted, his voice laced with impatience. “Please, can we just eat?”

The finality in his words stung, sharp and unforgiving. Recessive and heartbroken, you nodded, lowering your gaze to the plate of food you had poured your heart into making—a meal that now tasted like ash in your mouth.

The days dragged on after that, each one heavier than the last. Conversations became sparse, filled only with superficial pleasantries or curt exchanges. The man who used to pull you into his arms and make you laugh until your sides ached now felt like a stranger in your own home.

And then came the day he told you he was leaving.

“I’m going over to my parents,” he said one evening, his voice flat, drained of its usual warmth, as the chill of December crept into the Monaco air.

You blinked, still sitting on the couch surrounded by a scattering of holiday cards you’d been addressing. The weight of his words took a moment to settle.

“Didn’t know they’d spend Christmas with us,” you said, absent-minded, not understanding what he meant yet.

“No,” he clarified, his tone cool and detached. “I’m going home.”

The room seemed to close in around you, the once-welcoming space now feeling alien and far too empty. “Okay… I’ll pack my bags,” you said quickly, standing up abruptly, as if to act like nothing had changed. “How long are we staying there? I hope you’re aware that I’m going home for New Year’s—”

“No, Y/N.” He cut you off, his words sharp enough to slice through the air. “I need to go by myself. Just me and my parents for once.”

Your breath hitched as you processed his words. “Oh. Umm… Okay,” you managed to say, your throat tightening, tears threatening to spill. “It’s just that we… we had planned this. We were supposed to—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “Plans changed.”

The dismissal stung, sharp and biting, like a slap to the face. And then, the silence.

“What happened, Lewis?” you asked, the crack in your voice betraying the storm brewing inside.

“How is that even a question?” he snapped, his brow furrowed, disbelief coloring his words. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration leaking from his every pore. “It’s right in front of you, Y/N. It’s been right in front of you.”

“No, it hasn’t!” you shot back, the words tumbling out in a mix of anger and desperation. “You’ve been shutting me out for months. I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore because you won’t talk to me! You won’t let me in!”

“Oh, so now this is my fault?” he retorted, his voice rising, defensive. “I’m the bad guy for not wanting to drown you in my shit? For needing space to deal with the fact that my career—my legacy—was torn apart in front of the entire world?” He turned his back on you, heading toward the hallway that led to your shared bedroom.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Lewis!” you shouted, following him, the frustration boiling over. “The thing is, you made me believe we were a team. We’d face things together. And now, when it matters most, you’re shutting me out!”

But he didn’t listen. His steps were heavy, his mind already elsewhere.

“You said you’re going home!” You screamed, and this time, he finally stopped, his body tensing.

He turned around, his face a storm of frustration. “I am going home, Y/N. What’s so hard to understand about that?”

“What happened to ‘home is wherever you are, Y/N’?” you repeated, your voice shaking with raw emotion. “This isn’t your home anymore? After everything we’ve built together, I’m not your home?”

He scoffed, a cruel sound that sliced through the air. “You’re twisting my words.”

“No, I’m not!” you retorted, your heart pounding, desperate to be heard. “I’m just trying to understand why you think running back to the UK and shutting me out is the answer to anything. You barely even look at me anymore, Lewis. Do you even want me here?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” His eyes narrowed, his tone sharp, though still defensive.

“It means you’ve kept me on the edge for so long. You’re here, but not really. And when you’re gone, we don’t talk. You disappear. I’m not even a part of your life anymore!” You could feel the tears in your throat, but you fought them back. “You dismiss everything we talked about—marriage, kids, a future. Like none of it matters to you anymore. Like you don’t want me in your life at all. It feels like you hate me!”

“Argh, here you go again,” he snarled, his fists clenching. “Shit, you always do this,” he snapped, his voice rising. “Always making it about you,” his index pointed straight at you.

“Because it is about us!” you cried, your voice breaking. “It’s about me too, isn’t it? I’m not some option you can just turn off when you don’t feel like dealing with me!”

“Well, I’m the one dealing with shit right now,” he shot back, his eyes flashing with anger. “And instead of supporting me, you’re interrogating me, saying I don’t care about you. You think that talking about babies and rings is going to fix anything? You don’t get it, Y/N! You’re so focused on your timeline, on what you think I should be giving you, that you can’t see that I’m falling apart!”

You stood frozen, the sting of his words slicing through you like ice. “That’s not fair, Lewis. I’ve been supporting you—”

“Have you?” he interrupted coldly, his voice full of bitterness. “Because all I hear is how you feel. I’m the one who’s lost everything, but somehow, I’m the one to blame. You’ve made this all about you.”

“You keep saying you’ve lost everything, but no,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears now spilling. “You haven’t lost everything. Your legacy is still there. You’re a legend. It’s always going to be remembered. But you’re so lost in your own darkness that you can’t see what’s still in front of you. You’ve lost a championship, so what?”

Lewis’s face twisted with rage, his eyes seething as he glared at you. “So what?” he echoed bitterly. “You think it’s just about a damn race? It’s not just the championship, Y/N. It’s everything. They took it from me. They stole it from me, right in front of everyone’s eyes. And all you can do is lecture me like I’m being unreasonable? You’re standing here talking about legacy and what I’ve achieved, but none of that matters if it’s all been ripped away. What’s left of me when they’ve taken everything?” he said, forcing himself to maintain his composure.

“Yeah, and what's left of us, Lewis?”

The words hit him harder than you expected, and for a moment, he was silent, his jaw tightening. His chest heaved, and his eyes locked onto yours, a mix of pain and frustration swirling in them.

“What do you mean, what's left of us?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly, as though he was trying to understand.

“We,” you repeated, your voice quieter now, barely above a whisper. “What’s left of us when you shut me out like this? When you push me away every time I try to help you, every time I try to understand? What happens when you keep giving them, the media, more than you give to this relationship?”

“I don’t think I have the mindspace to dwell on that anymore, Y/N,” He stood there, seemingly distant, his eyes avoiding yours now. The air between you both felt colder, thicker, like an impenetrable wall had risen between the two of you.

“See? That's what I’m talking about! You’ll just run away, packing it up and not talking to me. You can’t just not think about it, Lewis,” you said, frustration creeping into your voice. “You can’t just shut everything out because it’s easier than facing it. This relationship—us—it’s not a convenience, it’s not something you can just leave behind when it doesn’t fit your narrative anymore.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as if he were searching for a retort but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he said, “I can’t give you what you need right now, Y/N. I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Lewis,” you said, stepping closer to him. “I just need you to let me in. I need you to trust me enough to share the weight.”

He shook his head, looking away as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is!” you insisted, the tears you’d been holding back spilling over now. “You’re choosing to leave me out. You’re actively choosing to push me away. That’s not about the championship or your career—that’s about us. And it’s killing me, Lewis.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his eyes locked on yours, his face a blank mask. And then, in a voice so quiet, so small, it shattered your heart, he said, “Maybe we were never as strong as we thought we were.”

The words slammed into you like a punch to the gut, leaving you gasping for air. “You don’t mean that,” you pleaded, your voice trembling, cracking under the weight of the truth you didn’t want to face.

Time seemed to slow as he reached for his house keys, his car keys, and the packed handbag—each movement like a dagger slowly twisting deeper into your chest.

“Lewis, no,” you begged, your voice raw, desperation flooding your veins. “No, please, don’t do this. Please stay…”

But he didn’t look back. He didn’t even flinch at your broken cries.

“I’ll see you around,” he muttered, his words empty, hollow. His tone was void of everything that once mattered. Without another word, he walked out, the door slamming shut behind him with a deafening finality.

The silence that followed was suffocating, the sound of the door’s closure ringing in your ears like a death knell. You were left standing there, frozen, in a sea of devastation. Alone. Lost. And questioning everything that had once been so sure.

Nothing was ever the same after that.

For him, that wasn’t just the loss of a championship—it was the loss of himself. Of everything he thought he could hold onto.

You watched helplessly as he sought solace in everything else—the noise, the distractions, the empty comforts—anything but you. Everyone else seemed to understand the depths of his pain, the weight of his loss, except for you. And that fact stung worse than anything he’d said.

That night, you let yourself slip into a crying spiral, tears falling uncontrollably, each one a reflection of the pain that had consumed you. You didn't know how long it lasted, but it felt like hours, your chest tight and raw. Eventually, exhaustion dragged you into a restless sleep, the emptiness settling around you.

A few weeks later, after trying to collect yourself and make sense of the pain, you sent one text.

you: i’ve taken my thing out of your house in Monaco. i’m breaking up with you.

You stared at the message for a long moment, your thumb hovering over the send button, as though giving yourself a moment to breathe before the finality of it.

With a shaky exhale, you pressed send. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that had built up, everything that had been left unsaid. The knot in your chest didn’t loosen. It didn’t change anything. But it was done. And as you stared at the screen, the absence of a reply was just another confirmation that it was over.

[icarusredwings]

It didn't hurt. Honest, it didn't. But his whimpers and tears would make you think otherwise.

You would think that he was being put through an intense amount of pain just from the sounds that came from his throat. But he wasn't.

You could assume that he was being held down, forced to experience experimentation that was far too cruel for Dr. Henry McCoy to be doing.

I mean this is the X men. The x men don't hurt people in their secret labs. Did they? No.

His breaths are so uneven.

He's shaking like a hairless cat in the snow.

His body is locked up tight, holding as still as he possibly could. Eyes shut tight.

"Wade? Wade, baby, look at me. Hey, Shhh.. shh, they're just sensors, honey."

But he couldn't. He couldn't bare open his eyes. He was too petrified to move. To breathe. To speak.

"Does he want me to stop?" Hank asks, holding one of the last sensors with the tape already applied to the back.

Wade shakes his head softly before quickly going back to his tense state, a statue who couldn't stop shaking in fear, gobs of tears flowing down his face.

"Subconsciously, he does. But he's just scared. He knows it's for the better but... well you know how he got his powers.." Logan mutters, trying to rub his back, very gently kissing the tears off his face but he flinches away, too terrified to accept the affection.

"And.. you've taken..?"

"Yes, Hank, I took his knives. That dosn't mean he can't hurt you though." Logan says, softly taking his hand, trying to ground him, saying this more to Wade then to the blue guy.

"He could kill you with just the sensors alone.. throw this bed at you.. choke you with the sheets.. he's very smart. Very good with improvision."

Wade is able to take a deep breath from the praise, trying to focus on his air intake.

"Why are you giving him ideas??" Hank questions, taping on the last few of the sensors.

"Trust me, bub. You don't want him to feel helpless or he'll find his own way to not feel that way. And you don't want that. Besides. He's doing such a good job. Staying still, and didn't even hit you yet." Logan says, staring up at wade as he very hesitantly opens his eyes, sniffling as he lets out a whimper.

"Im sorry, he's going to what now?"

"Just shut up and hurry it up. He can't do this long." The man mutters, smiling softly at his boyfriend. "You're doing amazing. Now just breathe. Breathe. That's it. It's alright. No one's holding you down but me. I got you. I'd never hurt you, Wade." He says, holding his wrist ever so slightly so that Hank could retract some blood from his arm.

Wades eyes widden, making a loud whine, closing his eyes tight and looked away.

"Shhh.. shh, it's okay. Just a little bit. Just like when Dotty checks your blood every other Wednesday. Remember? Yeah, Just like that." Logan says, smiling at him as his breathing stablizes, looking at him with thick blurry suns. "D-dotty?"

"Yeah, honey. Just like that. And Hank is going to tell you everything that's happening okay? No suprises. No restraints. Just me, and Your friend Hank. Right?" He tells Wade, who by now was eyeing the blue man as he brought over clips.

"Fear not, my friend, these are only to record results."

Logan puts a hand out, stopping him for a second. "Is that okay?" He asks Wade. He had stopped shaking by now but sniffled, still tense and scared out of his wits.

"A-are they gonna shock me if-if im bad..?"

"What? They better not! Hank!!" It was important for Wade to know someone was on his side.

"N-no! No... I-it does produce a very small and controlled mico electrical pulse, but it's harmless."

Shying away, Wade starts to cry again, breath wavering. "I-it's gonna hurt!" He cries.

"Hey hey hey, shhh we've talked about this remember? You trust me. Right?"

Theres a small hesitant, as if Wade was asking his brain to see what the council had to say before slowly nodding.

"Okay, do you trust me to keep you safe?"

There's another nod, hiccuping as he sniffles.

"Well, I trust Hank not to hurt you. And if it hurts you can tell me and we'll stop okay?"

Swallowing, Wade opens his mouth to say something, then shakes his head, tensing again as he looks away, his head toward Logan, trying to ignore what ever Beast was doing to his arm.

"You're being so brave.. what is it you wanted to say? Hm?" His hand comes to his cheek as he thumbs under his eye, smiling ever so sweetly, staring with adoration.

"..T-thats what she said." He giggles, wiping some snot away, only for Logan to roll his eyes, but didn't leave or scold him. He was proud of him for this. Proud that he was trying so hard, proud of him for being able to relax. "You walked right into that one.. huh?"

"Pft..You nut.."

This is your PSA, that medical advocancy is super sexy and is just as important as comfort. If a chaperone can not advocate, they should not be a chaperone.

Thinking about Logan taking Wade to Hank's and wade getting all nervous because the last time he tried to get help (and honestly- all of them) it has turned out terrible and the only person he trusts is his female Urologist because thats who gives him his bi monthly sti checks. Him bouncing his leg and being silent. Him staring at the door and the floor, breathing with skips and picking his nails.

Logan gently taking his hand and squeezing it, leaning over to kiss his head. "Don't.. I wouldn't let anything happen to you." He whispers but this isnt the first time someone has failed wade.

"Y-you know what-" he says, changing his mind, standing. "I think I left the curling iron on. We should leave. Like right now."

"Wade... Sit."

He whines, staying standing for a couple more seconds, trying to think of an excuse to leave before sitting, curling up into his arm, clearly scared. Because without his powers what is he? No, really. Take away his neat new powers and who is he? Useless. That's what.

The x men barley wanted to take him now WITH his powers, not even the goverment will want him without them. The wolverine wouldn't want to be with a measly crazy human, Someone so insane that when he formed his own team they all left him too. Everyone left him, so why wouldn't Logan? "D-do I have too?"

"It'll be better for you this way."

"B.. but I dont want too."

"Darlin' I swear you'll be okay. Everything will be fine."

Little does he know that Logan would love him with or without powers.

[nr1chaedickrider]

but my best enemy is you

pt.1!!!, angst, smut, violence, it's a mess

“you're the sweetest” she says, smiling at your flushed face. her thumb softly caresses your cheek.

you lean into her touch, her soft hand on your skin was a feeling which you love more than anything.

“i love you” you whisper against her lips, kissing her slowly and passionately.

“i love you too” her voice is full of love as well as the look on her face, her smile not fading from her lips.

oh, how you wished it would stay on her lips forever.

“you're fucking unbelievable”

“i'm unbelievable? are you seriously trying to blame me?”

“call it blaming, i call it being honest and seeing the truth”

you can't read momo's expression, you can't tell what she's feeling, if she's sad, mad, or just disappointed.

your hand shakes a little, as if you're scared.

you are actually scared.

“i can't”

“we're done”

is she too?

“so just like that? that was it?”

“you're not going to fight for us?”

“you're the better fighter between us, use it in the ring - not in our relationship,”

“or whatever it was.”

“you're an asshole”

“okay”

-

momo swirls the ice in her drink with the straw, watching the fight that's happening.

two men who she never saw before are fighting against each other, it doesn't quite peak her interest.

she thinks it's uninteresting watching them fight - or others in general. they don't have any tension in their fights.

they simply fight to win the money, not because they have a certain history with the person standing in front of them.

basically meaning, momo doesn't care if it's strangers, she only cares when she and you fight against each other.

she knows about the rumors, she knows that more people come into the bar just to watch the two of them.

but she also believes that you don't need to know both of those things, acting cold and like she has no idea about it instead.

the fight ends and everyone but her cheers for the fighters, she turns to the bartender and orders a shot of vodka.

“momo, right?” a red haired girl asks as she sits down next to her.

momo looks at her, nods and then downs the shot quickly.

“who's asking?” she knows.

“jihyo - i'm y/n's trainer” she replies, looking at the ring.

“what are you doing here?” momo asks her, also looking at the ring.

“the same as you, watching fights”

“y/n is actually up next” her eyes widen in shock, not expecting to hear that you're fighting someone else instead of her.

before momo can ask jihyo other questions - the crowd starts to yell and cheer as you enter the ring on the left side.

jeongyeon enters the ring on the right side, receiving a lot of support from the spectators.

momo has heard of jeongyeon before, even fought against her when she first started fighting.

she asks herself who will win.

you're a strong fighter - and the fact that you're not fighting against her makes momo think that you could easily win, since there is no history, nothing that could hold you back from hitting her with all the strength you have in your body.

the referee (again, who's actually just a random guy) blows in his whistle, signaling that the fight is starting.

you block your face with your hands as jeongyeon tries to hit you, moving to the side and hitting her stomach.

jeongyeon looks at you full of anger, as if you'd done something so terrible.

she walks over to you - almost even runs - and hits your throat.

an illegal move.

you gasp for air, falling against the border of the ring, looking up to her being right in front of you.

the referee is too slow, he doesn't stop jeongyeon and she hits another hit in your face.

then your stomach, your side, your chest - literally everything she could hit before getting dragged away by the referee.

you fall down on the floor, blood coming from your nose and mouth.

momo stares at the ring in shock, not being able to move.

what just happened?

jihyo next to her calls an ambulance, rushing to you to check if you're (somehow) alright.

momo slowly stands up and walks closer, a sigh of relief (which she hopes wasn't too loud) leaves her mouth when she sees you sitting up again, holding your head and talking to jihyo (or rather, jihyo talks to you and you try not to pass out).

the medics arrive quickly, a woman with blonde hair gets into the ring and kneels in front of you so she can look at what happened.

jihyo leaves you alone, the crowd slowly relaxes and decides on doing other things than staring at you and your wounds.

everyone but momo.

her eyes are fixed on you, and her.

she can't explain why, but seeing you and her - it makes her stomach drop, gives her this uncomfortable feeling.

“you're pretty” she hears you say to her, to which the girl replies to with a giggle.

she introduces herself as sana to you (a pretty name in momo's opinion, but that doesn't change anything).

momo thinks that she's pretty and nice, she isn't a bad woman.

but she can't help herself to feel jealous.

she has no right to be jealous, but she still feels it. it doesn't matter if she wants to feel that way or not - she is jealous.

-

it has been exactly one week.

one week since you fought against jeongyeon, which led to multiple serious injuries.

one week since you were laughing and giggling like idiots with that medic sana.

momo hasn't been able to stop thinking about it.

she sits down next to you at the bar without greeting you.

you look at the bartender and ask him for a shot of tequila which he places in front of momo before leaving you two alone.

“your favorite” you say, not looking at her. she interrupts you though.

“how are you doing? you looked rough last week” she asks, drinking the tequila quickly after finishing her sentence.

“why do you care?” you ask back, to which momo doesn't reply (or rather - she isn't able to reply).

“what’s up with sana and you?” she says, turning the bar stool so she can fully look at you.

you laugh a little, finishing your beer, “you know, you ask a lot of questions”

she waits for you to answer her question instead of saying something else.

you sigh, realizing she's as stubborn as you often are.

“nothing much. i dont get why you would care, but we're just talking. that's all” you answer.

you turn to her, looking in her eyes, but you quickly look away.

her eyes make you nervous, even after all this time - you still get nervous talking to her.

“if you excuse me, i have to go, was nice talking to you” you say, placing some money on the table as you walk out of the door of the bar.

maybe she's stupid - but she doesn't care.

she walks out of the bar quickly, walking after you.

she sees you walking away, so she runs after you.

her hand grips your wrist and stops you from walking.

you look at her, your mouth opens to say something, but she interrupts you, again.

but this time, she kisses you.

momo pins you to the stone wall behind you, her hands grip the collar of your cropped leather jacket as her lips are on yours.

you're shocked, but you kiss her back anyway.

oh, how much you missed this.

she leaves your lips after a while, salvia connecting you two.

“i don't know why i care,” she starts speaking, her eyes focused on yours.

“but what i know is that i was jealous,”

“seeing you and sana act like we used to,”

“it made me mad, it upset me,”

“she doesn't know you like i do -”

momo isn't a bold person often, but something about today is different.

“she wouldn't be able to fuck you like i do” she whispers against your lips, her hands gripping your waist.

you look at her in silence, her statement sounding not real, like you're in a dream.

you realize that this isn't a dream though.

this time you pull momo closer, kissing her.

“let's go to my place” you mumble in between kisses.

-

everything happens so fast that neither momo nor you can really comprehend what exactly happens.

it's messy and needy (something you always liked).

you sit on top of momo as you’re both making out.

you lean back just a little so your lips part, taking off your shirt.

momo can't help but stare.

it's nothing crazy in your opinion, a simple calvin klein bra.

momo thinks it's so much more than that though.

you're back to kissing her as you slowly kiss down momos neck, biting and sucking, leaving hickeys all over.

you were never this eager for something, ever.

“ah fuck-... i don't know if this is the smartest thing” she whimpers, hands gripping your naked waist, fingers curling into your skin as they slightly scratch you.

the burn you feel is delicious.

“you know i always thought you are a smart girl,” you breathe out against her neck, admiring your work before going for the other side.

“but this is your time to be stupid for once” you whisper, momo bites her lip at your statement.

she pushes you away so she's able to take off her shirt. you get off her lap so you can take her jeans off, being so eager that you're almost ripping them off (if you’d listen closely you would probably be able to hear it).

“come here” she orders, pulling you closer after kicking her pants off her feet.

you're back to kissing her again, opening your mouth so her tongue can explore it.

you can't help but let out a moan when she presses her knee up to your core, grinding onto it.

you push her back down onto the mattress, leaning down so you can place kisses all over her body.

momo watches you, her breath hitches when you press a kiss on her clit over the underwear.

“that sensitive?” you tease her as you lock eyes, momo bites her lip again.

“haven’t done it in a long time” she replies.

you pull off her underwear, it slightly sticks to her because of the slick, making you laugh at her.

“yeah i bet. it doesn't feel as good when you're doing it without me” you comment.

you don't waste your time and shove two of your fingers inside her wet cunt, fucking her in a fast rythmn.

“we should do something like this more often” you smirk, kissing her naked skin.

she simply just nods, moaning and whimpering at the feeling of your fingers inside of her after so long.

you don't wait long, putting another finger in.

momo moans at the stretch, gripping the bed sheets. her bottom lip starts to bleed a little at the pressure she's applying.

“you sound so pretty for me baby” you praise her, pulling your fingers out just to thrust them into her again.

you move your head right next to hers, whispering into her ear.

“such a desperate slut for me, god.. look at you momo” the way you say her name makes momo even needier, clenching around your fingers.

“please” she begs, if you would ask her what she's begging for, she wouldn't be able to answer. her mind is clouded and full of you and nothing else.

“can you take another one, good girl?” you ask, she looks at you, breathing heavily.

“too much-” she moans.

you know how to get what you want with her.

“please baby”

“you're my good girl aren't you? i know you can take it. please, for me” she looks into your eyes, they’re full of lust, full of the desire to ruin momo.

she nods, biting her lip again. if you look closely into her eyes you can even see how glassy they are.

“that's my good girl”

you slowly insert a fourth finger, giving her time to adjust.

momo throws her head back, breath hitching at the feeling.

“you're so tight baby” you tease, slowly starting to move your fingers.

“feel so full mommy-” she whimpers, the name makes you just increasingly eager to make her finish.

you start to thrust into her, making her moan louder and louder.

“i'm so close-” she moans.

“please- let me cum.. god please y/n-” the way she's asking you for permission, how could you say no to that?

“cum for me pretty girl” you keep moving your fingers and it doesn't take long for momo to cum all over you with a loud moan, her breath shaky as well as her legs, breathing heavily as she somehow tries to calm down.

but you don't take your fingers out, looking at her ruined state.

“please” you start begging, and momo knows what you're begging for.

she also knows that she will say yes.

she'll let you overstimulate her till she's crying and sore.

it feels too good to stop.

[dpspcehntr]

Night and Day

Part One

Pairing: Rafayel x Reader, Xavier x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

You attend a gallery opening with Rafayel and spend the day with Xavier before a mission.

Warnings: polyamorous relationship (reader is solo poly), each party knows and is enthusiastic about it, sensitive reader, humiliation, exhibition kink (if you squint), nipple clamps, fingering (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), ruining clothes, humiliation kink (if you squint), edging, p in v, cream pie, squirting, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), not beta read

A/N: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! Once again I got carried away like big time 😭. I wrote this all this today so I could get this out, but also inspiration finally hit me. Yes they know about each other, just like part one there has to be something that connects them. I did have quite a bit of fun writing them meeting in the morning. This is so long and long overdue but I hope you enjoy! As always reblogs are deeply appreciated!

Rafayel asked you to attend a gallery opening with him this evening, not as his body guard but as his plus one. You take this as the perfect opportunity to wear a new accessory you’ve been working on for a while.

“There’s a piece in the gallery I think you’ll really like.”

He explains on the ride to the gallery from your apartment. He insisted on picking you up since it was closer to you. Once inside your eyes zero in on the piece in question. He walks you over to it. Rafayel leans down to capture your lips in his for a soft kiss. His kiss light but hungry and leaving you breathless when he pulls away. You whine softly before quickly pulling yourself together and putting your attention back to the room. He smirks as he moves away toward another group of people. Your cheeks are flushed with warmth when you realize how close you came to embarrassing yourself in front of a room of his peers. The humiliation should scare you but you feel your clit throbbing for attention. You secretly praise the powers at be for not getting carried away, the clamps on your nipples are doing just enough to keep you on the edge. You couldn’t wait for the moment he unwraps you and gives you the much needed relief you desired. You sit on the bench by one of your favorite pieces in this collection and nurse your drink. It feels like ages before he spots you again. You wondered how you looked to him but then quickly dismiss it , feeling overwhelmed. He strides over to you with his familiar smirk planted on his lips.

“Careful Ms. Bodyguard, you’re almost too obvious.”

Another throb pulses through you as he looks you up and down. You carefully stand up and look him in the eyes.

“Tell me the inspiration for this piece. I like this one quite the most.”

He immediately blushes a deep shade of red before clearing his throat. You knew exactly what this painting was inspired by but you loved teasing him.

“Well, this piece is inspired b-by someone very special. I uh like the forms and colors they remind me of. I took those and put them in this piece.”

His eyes nervously avoid yours as he continues to talk about this piece. He keeps going to save face for the other people in the room. You reminisce on the night he fucked you on the art studio floor while working on this piece. He cream pied you and finished the painting watching his cum leak out your aching hole. You were surprised he kept the piece in the show, then you remembered he loves being a tease. It was your favorite piece because of how excited he was to show you the finished piece the next time you visited him. When he finishes his explanation of the piece and makes eye contact with you and instantly you both know you’re not gonna stay much longer. After an introduction to the gallery and a short speech from the owner you feel his hand slip into yours and give it a squeeze. With no hesitation you lock fingers with him and quietly slip you both out to lobby of the gallery. The car was already pulled up by the valet and you waste no time getting in and heading to your apartment. Once inside your apartment his hands are all over you, pinning you to the door. His hand slides down your body, flipping your skirt up and feeling your underwear. He sighs in satisfaction as he pressed into your soaked core. You grip him for dear life as he rubs your clit lightly through your underwear.

“You’re so wet, we should’ve left sooner. Fuck.”

You hump into his hand desperate for any friction. He slides a finger underneath your underwear and presses into your dripping core. You arch into his touch as he slips two fingers in with ease. He holds them there for just a second, feeling your core fluttering against his digits. You and him both know you won’t last much longer like this but he presses on anyway fingering you at a brutally slow pace. Teetering right on the edge you whine and squirm trying to get him to move faster. Your body in torturous bliss as your release is just out of reach. He pulls both fingers out of you much to your displeasure.

“Please Raf. Please.”

He shushes you with a heated kiss and wraps both of his arms around you. You hook your arms behind his neck and pull him closer. Nothing will ever be close enough for the both of you, for now you settle with skin to skin contact. You press your chest into his and hiss into the kiss when you remember the clamps still on your nipples. He pulls away from the kiss and leads you to your living room. Your bedroom is simply too far away now, he needs you right now. He sits down on the couch and makes quick work of his belt and zipper. Before you straddle his thighs you take off your top to show off the clamps on your aching nipples. The clamps themselves were a work of art, with chains and jewels drape from them. The jewels were a deep red that reminded you of his fire evol, it took you months to complete them and you were so excited to see his reaction to them. You quickly discard your skirt and ruined underwear as he watches your naked form. He was still fully clothed, pumping himself in his hands waiting for you. The fun part was ruining his expensive clothes, he relished in the embarrassment of having to get them professionally cleaned.

“I’ll have to keep this image in my mind, I have a painting already in mind.”

You stride over to him and finally straddle his thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance and you slowly slide down till you bottom out. You throw your head back as a loud wail escapes your lips. He grips your hips and you begin to ride him. Slowly at first but you just couldn’t wait anymore. Your release was so close, your whole brain was fuzzy with need. His grip tightened as he thrusted back into you, leaving you a quivering mess teetering on the edge. The main connecting chain on the clamps very briefly got caught on a button on his shirt. The light tug it gave to your nipples was enough to have you seeing stars. You clench down on him in a vice grip as your orgasm crashes over you. Whines and groans leave your lips as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. His pace is brutal as one orgasm rolls into the next. A familiar pressure builds up in your body as another orgasm washes over you. You try to give him a warning but it’s too late, you gush and squirt on him leaving a huge wet spot on his pants and shirt. That doesn’t stop him though as he continues to thrust into you. His thrusts feel more erratic and you know he’s close.

“Cum inside me.”

Your voice is hoarse as you beg to feel him deeper inside you. He thrust as deep as he could and let out a groan. He painted your insides with his cum as you clenched down on him for another orgasm, milking him dry. You stay like this for a while, catching your breath as he goes soft inside you. After a while he pulls out of you with a pop, his cum leaking out of you onto his ruined pants. Another moment passes before you finally slide off of him onto the spot next to him. The mix of the both of you sits sticky on your inner thighs as he gets up to clean you both up. The chain of your clamps sits delicately between your breasts as you toy with it. Thankfully the piece is not damaged so you can put it away for another time. When he returns you’re lost in the inspection of the clamps to notice. He hooks a finger onto the main chain and gives it a tug. You cry out and look up at him. He reaches for the clamps and removes them carefully before setting the chain on the table next to the couch.

“It’s such a pretty piece of jewelry, I’d hate to damage it.”

He kneels down to clean you up as you slowly drift off to sleep, completely spent.

*the next morning*

Your alarm blares in your ears as you slowly come to. 7:00 in the morning, that means it’s time to get ready for work. You let a silent curse out your mouth for forgetting to take the day off. You groggily rub your eyes and pull the covers off of you. Rafayel is laying next to you deep in sleep, he must’ve carried you to bed last night. Before getting up you place a soft kiss on his cheek and ruffle his hair. Once out of bed you head to the bathroom to start getting ready. In the mirror you take inventory of last night’s damage. Your hips have bruises right where he gripped you, your nipples still sensitive to touch. Your makeup is smeared and your hair is a mess. Overall it could be worse. Once you removed your day old makeup and wash your face it’s time for a shower. After a quick wash up, you towel dry and come back into your bedroom. Rafayel is still in bed but looking over your naked frame. You brush him off and head to your dressing area.

“Can’t you just blow off work and stay with me?”

He muses from your bed. Oh how lovely it would be to stay in bed and fuck all day but alas you have rent and bills to pay. Once dressed for the day like clockwork you hear a key turning the lock on your front door. You enter the living room to see Xavier ready to walk to the Hunter’s Association with you.

“Good morning. You look like you need more sleep.”

Xavier nods to your tired demeanor and looks into your bedroom.

“Well I think I get it now. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Xavier makes a point to sit on the chair next to the couch, it clicks in your mind. He heard you last night. Heat radiates from your cheeks, the familiar slick forming in your underwear. It’s much too early to think about how much that turns you on. You quickly gather your composer and turn back to your bedroom.

“I’m almost ready. I won’t be long.”

Once inside Rafayel waves to Xavier and they exchange a look. You dismiss it before grabbing your bag, giving Rafayel a kiss goodbye, and turning back to the living room.

“Let’s go or we’ll be late.”

Xavier and Rafayel exchange goodbyes before you both leave for work. He seemed uncharacteristically alert today. Every shift and turn of your body was of interest to him. His hands lingered just a bit longer on your body, his eyes continuously watching your lips, all of which he denies when you ask him about it. Once you arrive, you and Xavier are assigned to stake out mission in the next city over to investigate a lead on illegal protocols trading. You’ll be there for the rest of the weekend, so in Jenna’s words, rest up today before your big day tomorrow. You both however will be doing no such thing. You exchange charged glances as Jenna explains the details of your mission and your undercover identities. Once in the parking garage you’re given clothes, IDs, and other things you might need for this trip.

“Looks like we’re married for this one. Look at the last names.”

You both take a glance at your IDs, clearly seeing you both didn’t pay attention nearly enough to Jenna’s instructions. You both pile into the car and make your way to the destination. His hand never left your thigh for the entire time there. Sometimes slipping it dangerously close to exactly where you wanted him. Once checked into your accommodation it was clear he had something on his mind. He seemed determined to get to your room. You didn’t complain, the way his hands felt on you had you wanting more. Once inside the room you bags were discarded and once again you were pushed into a door with someone’s hands all over you. You throw your head against the door and he kissed your jaw and neck. You feel overwhelmed as you cling to him for support. Raf must’ve given him the okay to ravish you and Xavier wasn’t gonna miss this opportunity. He lifts your leg up and presses more of himself into you. You feel his hard on as you try your best not to grind onto it.

“My turn.”

He whispers in his ear as he kisses down to your exposed chest. He ruts into your aching core, feeling how needy he is for you. Your underwear was already ruined as he presses harder into you. You try your best to meet his thrusts but you’re so overcome with want you can hardly stand up.

“Xavier, the bed. Let’s use the bed.”

With great effort he pulls away from you and you have to catch yourself. You both begin to quickly strip out of your clothes. The tension in the room has become palpable. You can’t help but feel a gush when you think about how wound up he is since last night. Hearing you whimper and moan as you were taken by someone else. You should be embarrassed but all you can do is melt into his arms in hopes he’ll fuck you just a little harder. You quickly make your way to the bed with him not far behind. You sit on the edge of the bed as he kneels down in front of you and spreads your legs. He wastes no time licking a stripe from your dripping core to your sore clit. The night before leaving you sensitive and full of want you shiver into his touch. His arms are hooked around your legs holding you in place as he licks and sucks you. You can barely move as he continues to devour you like a starved man You make a mental note to rile hm up more often. Your clit begins to throb as your orgasm approaches. You try to move away from his face but his grip on you tightened. He hums into you savoring your taste as you clench down onto his tongue. You collapse onto the bed as your release washes over you. The death grip he has on your thighs prevents you from squirming away as he continues to lick into you. Moans fall from your lips as your orgasm is extended. The pain of overstimulation only furthers your desire to cum again You stay like this for what feels like hours, orgasm after orgasm rolls over you. Your hips ache and your voice has gone hoarse. You feel the familiar pressure building up in your lower half. Your brain doesn’t have time to process a warning before it releases onto his face as another orgasm washes over you. He drinks every drop up before he finally lets up. He leans back and observes the mess he’s made of you and hums proudly. You take a moment to catch your breath and stretch out your legs. You sit up to take in the sight of him. HIs lips were swollen, a beautiful shade of bright pink. His face is glistening with your juices and his eyes are glazed over with desire. Your brain goes fuzzy with desire as you watch him take himself in his hands. Instinctively you scoot up onto the bed as he climbs in, settling himself on top of you.

“Are you okay? Do you want to continue?”

For a moment you’re lost in his eyes, mesmerized by the softness you see in them. It takes a moment for you to register he’s asked you a question, your mind once again fuzzy with desire. All you wanted right now was to feel in inside you as deep as he can go.

“Yes. Please fuck me, I need you.”

Without any delay he thrusts into you and bottoms out with ease. He buries his head into the nook of your shoulder, each grunt and moan he lets out right into your ear. You run your hands into his hair and tug lightly. He moans louder into your ear and you flutter around him. Your nipples still sensitive from last night rub lightly against his chest leaving you gasping and begging. He isn’t going to last much longer and neither are you. His thrusts become more desperate as you clench harder around him. Soon his hips still as he paints the inside of your walls white. You milk him for every drop as your release crashes down on you. You both stay like this for a while, letting him go soft inside you. When he finally pulls out you’re dangerously close to falling asleep. He rolls over into the empty spot next to you and pulls you close to his chest where you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[spiderb00]

What would be the Kats and their girlfriends ( specifically Sophia and Fam out! Y/n) reaction to Yoonchae having a crush or starting going on dates with someone ( of her age ofc)?

It's a real disaster lol

The Kats joke a lot about Yoonchae having a boyfriend, like Manon in that live. So I feel like when Yoonchae actually has a crush on someone, all the Kats would be screaming and kicking their feet, wanting to give Yoonchip advice, wanting to see a picture of the person she's interested in and stuff. Overall, I think they'd be pretty excited that Yoonchae was starting to like someone. They know that it was a little difficult for the maknae to adapt to everything, so seeing Yoonchae have a bit of a "normal life" makes the Kats very happy.   

Now, yn is freaking out like hell. Yoonchae didn't speak to her, because she knew that Yn's reaction would be the worst, so Yn had to know all the tea from Sophia. The girl was about to have a fit, she asked all the questions that could be asked to Sophia, "Who is this child?" "How did she meet them?" "How old is this little bastard?" "They won't put their hands on her before they pass me!" 

Sophia knew that Yn had no bad intentions, she knew that her girlfriend genuinely cared about Yoonchae, and that she was just wondering if the younger girl was safe. But surely Sophia had to ask Yn not to scare the child, or Yoonchae.   

When Yn talked about it in the Kats' girlfriend group, she hoped the girls would reassure her, but she only got even more nervous. Comments such as "She's growing up, Yn. It's natural." or like Manon's girlfriend's comment; "Children of that age are all perverts," Yn almost burst the vein in her neck. 

It was only on one night while Yn had gone out with her family, that she realized she might be overreacting. In the middle of dinner, Yoonchae finally shared the news with Yn, the older woman saying that she was happy for Yoonchae, and being instantly happy when she saw the smile that the younger one gave.   

Deep down, Yn just wants the youngest to have a good person, who makes her happy, and she knew that at one time or another Yoonchae would find the path to love. She just hopes that Yoonchae's experience will be as good as hers and Sophia's.   

[hoziersleftear]

Damian Al-Ghul Wayne who has literally no concept of love outside his parents’ very complicated relationship.

Damian has no concept of sexuality because that stuff never mattered in the LoA. In fact attachments such as love were seen as a weakness; something to hinder his assassin skills.

When Damian first arrives at Wayne Manor he believes he’s being tested because why on Earth are these people so enthusiastic??? Eventually Damian grows and learns to recognise familial love, but he still doesn’t know romantic love or anything about sexuality.

At a gala some rich socialites encourage their daughters to go speak with the only blood son of WE who they’re sure will be the heir. Damian is very uncomfortable when a flock of girls his age are following him throughout the gala like he’s the most interesting thing to cross their paths. They’re batting their eyelashes and asking him to do things he’s sure they could do on their own and he couldn’t be more frustrated by the incompetence.

The other Waynes find it hilarious to watch Damian resist the urge to start fighting the girls off in one to ten combat.

While Damian is worried thinking about why those girl could possibly want his attention so desperately he can’t help but feel a warmth in his chest whenever he sees Jon. Each time they hang out Damian can recognise that he feels differently for Jon than he does for family or anyone in the JL.

It isn’t until Tim comes out to the family that Damian learns what sexuality even is. He’s had no reference outside his mother and father who couldn’t be a worse example of a romantic relationship. He doesn’t ask any questions despite his curiosity because why would he let Drake know something about him that even he wasn’t fully sure about.

With weeks of contemplation Damian reaches the conclusion that there is maybe a chance he has what one would call a “crush” on Jon. This isn’t a bad thing in his mind, just something that has occurred. He’s pushing past years of abuse surrounding his upbringing and believes that his clouded view of love is just one more thing to conquer.

Again, Damian had no reference for sexuality up until Tim came out and therefore no concept of homophobia. He doesn’t know these feelings aren’t socially acceptable, he just knows the League would disapprove of him liking Jon as much as they’d disapprove of him liking any of those girls from the galas.

When Damian decides to come out to Jon and confess his feelings he doesn’t plan on it going anywhere but he also doesn’t see a point in hiding this from his best friend. It isn’t until Jon is hugging him and confessing his shared feelings and how he was scared Damian was homophobic that Damian even hears that word. He asks what “homophobic” means because yes he understands word parts but the concept is new.

Jon is clueless until Damian’s pulling away from the hug and asking what that word means. Only then does he realize that Damian had quite literally no fear in his confession. It’s then that Jon takes it upon himself to grab his brother so he and Kon can teach Damian everything there is to know about being queer.

[lightdancingwords]

Come Find Me - Part Eight

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Series Summary: You are a new arrival to Big Sky, Montana, and found gainful employment with the local insurance department next door to the sheriff’s department. A whole new life with your past haunting you, while Beau is still dealing with the entanglements with his ex-wife. Can either of you succeed in overcoming your ghosts?

Word Count: 3,369

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, mentions domestic violence/intimate partner violence, mentions police work, a little bit of angst, communication problems, profanity, discussion of teen sex (18+ character)

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Please see this post regarding future story posts.

Divider: credit to @tsunami-of-tears

Chapter Eight: A Bump In The Road

It had been almost a week since you and Beau went on your official ‘first’ date. Life complications kept interfering and being a sheriff meant Beau was busy, especially when he was coordinating calls about cars sliding off the road and citizens needing help.

You absolutely understood and had no problems waiting… because now you knew something was happening with him. Every time you flashed back to that kiss, to that restaurant, you felt your heart swell with love and adoration.

Doris caught you that Monday morning with the goofiest smile on the planet and keyed right in. “Well, it’s about damned time!”

You blinked at her, startled. “About time..?”

“Oh don’t get me started with your innocent look,” she said with a fond scoff. “Beau’s been walking about with the same silly smile.”

You couldn’t help it, you grinned. “Really?”

Doris rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, really. He isn’t on Cloud Nine. I think he’s in Cloud Heaven.”

Your smile warmed and widened. “We kissed,” you confessed. “He took me to Ciao Bella and oh, Doris… it was wonderful.”

“I’m glad,” she said, and there was a firmness to her tone that spoke volumes. “You two deserved some happiness.”

You paused, then admitted, “I didn’t think I could trust again, Doris. But every step of the way, Beau proved I could, even when I didn’t ask him to.”

“He’s a rare man,” she said with a nod. “Stubborn, Lord yes, but a good man.”

“I’m scared.”

Doris studied you for a long moment, then said, “It’s okay to be scared. Even when I knew it was going to happen, I was scared of facing this life alone without my Stan. I loved that son of a bitch and I also hated him. When he was gone and I was free, Adam snatching me up terrified me.”

“How… how did you get over it?” You dreaded asking that question. Doris seemed so strong, you envied her strength of character. You hated how you constantly felt weak.

“I did it anyway. That fear only works if it wins in holding you in place. So do it scared.”

You thought back to how you finally confronted Beau. It worked, because it gave him the kick he needed… and where your relationship was now.

“Do it scared,” you mused.

“Exactly.”

You thought about that all day as you fielded phone calls from clients who needed their insurance because they apparently forgot how to drive in snow. Just as you were grabbing paper from the printer, you heard the door chime. “Hi, I’ll be right with you,” you said absently, and then turned around.

With a start, you saw it was Emily! With a smile, you got up and greeted her. “Emily, hey! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hey Y/N,” she said with a shaky smile.

That cued you into realizing something was up. “Is everything okay?”

“Um… can I talk to you? A-and you won’t tell my dad?”

Your brows swooped up. Carefully, you sat back down and regarded this young woman. You recalled Beau telling you Emily had just turned eighteen, so legally, she was an adult. But she was also just a kid….

“I can’t make that promise, Emily,” you said gently.

“It’s nothing bad! I just… I can’t ask my mom because she’s my mom, but I also need to talk to a woman.”

Baffled, you stared at Emily. Alarmingly, you worried if it was because maybe she was pregnant and wanted a ride to an abortion clinic. “I… um…”

“C-can I just… tell you?”

You nodded, praying you wouldn’t be caught in a situation where you’d have to help someone in a difficult situation.

“So… I’ve been with this guy, Tyler, for a few months now. He… I guess he’s my boyfriend—”

“You guess?” you asked in disbelief.

“We never really made it official,” Emily said defensively. “He said he wasn’t ready and I didn’t want to be one of those girls who pressured the guy, you know?”

Oh God. You had an inkling where the conversation was going, and prayed you were wrong. “Yeah, I’ve… been there. Go on, Emily.”

“Well, Tyler wants to take me on this really romantic date and… I think he wants us to do it.” The way she fidgeted made you think of Beau, and you wondered if he was ever an awkward teenager.

“‘It’?”

She blushed, and looked away skittishly. “You know… it.” She dropped her voice to a loud whisper despite no one else was in the office with you. “Sex.”

You found yourself wishing a giant sink hole would form and swallow you up. You actually waited several seconds, before deciding you weren’t so lucky.

“Emily… are you a virgin?”

Her face turned redder and she ducked her head. “Oh God,” she said, rubbing her face. “I… y-yeah. I really want it to be great and I really like Tyler. I just… don’t know what to do!”

“Emily, this is really something you should talk to your parents about—”

“No, I can’t!” She let out a breath. “Dad would turn all red and stutter and mom… when she gave me the ‘talk’, she kept harping on how love is really special and…”

“You felt patronized and shamed at even thinking about sex without love,” you hazarded. For some reason, Carla gave you that impression. Emily confirmed it a moment later.

“Yes! And I just… oh God, this is so embarrassing!”

She had no idea. You took a breath and decided to do your best. “Emily,… I was in college before I slept with a guy. We were both rather drunk and it was so embarrassing, I ended up being single for a year after that.”

Her eyes widened at your bluntness. She leaned forward, listening.

“Sex… can be really great. Exciting, even, especially if it’s with someone you have great chemistry with… but you shouldn’t rush into it.” You tried to articulate your thoughts. “You shouldn’t have sex just to get it over with or think it’ll make the guy love you. You should have sex when you feel ready for it. Whether it’s a one night stand or the beginning of a relationship, you need to be the one who decides to take that step for the right reason.”

Emily pondered that, biting her lower lip just like the way Beau did when he was lost in thought. “Does it ever get easier?”

“Relationships?”

“Yeah. Like… it’ll get easier… right?”

“I wish,” you said with a rueful smile.

“Ugh. Great.” She fixed a curious look on you. “Is it getting easier with my dad?”

“It is, actually,” you admitted. It was so weird having this conversation with Emily. She was your—God, did you dare call Beau your boyfriend?—she was Beau’s daughter.

“Can I ask how did it change?”

You thought of a random text message that you boldly sent, of the way you confronted him after he began avoiding you. Of how he gave you the space you so desperately needed, that when it finally happened, it was perfect.

“I found my voice and I used it,” you said. “I took that bold step, put my heart on the line, and I got so lucky.”

“Wasn’t it scary doing that?”

“God, yes,” you admitted with a breathless chuckle. “Your father could’ve ignored me, turned me away, but he didn’t, because we were actually wanting the same thing. A relationship works when the two in that situation feel the same way.”

In that moment, you caught a glimpse of the person she might turn into. Wise, intelligent, with enough sense of humor to balance her out. “Thanks, Y/N… I really needed this.”

“You’re welcome,” you said kindly. “I hope your decision is, whatever it turns out to be, makes you happy.”

“Thanks.”

—

“God, darlin’,” Beau grumbled over the phone as you drove home Friday night. “It was supposed to be our third date and instead I have to cancel, again. I’m about to go mad.”

You chuckled. Beau sounded so frustrated, because even as he grumbled, he’ll do his job. He wouldn’t leave people without help. Oh, he could have assigned his deputies to it, and he was, but he was one of the rare specimens of leadership where he actively participated as well as ordered. He refused to sit in his warm trailer while people were out in the cold.

Montana had the rare bout of snow every night and chilly days that left slick patches of ice everywhere. Friday night was the first night in a week that didn’t have snow. However, there were issues with black ice and a particularly bad accident on a bridge led to numerous calls to redirect, assist, or otherwise manage.

“Well, TGIF? You can always stop by afterwards and we can at least see each other,” you suggested as you carefully turned a corner.

“Careful there, darlin’,” he said, and a trace of flirtatious energy came through. “I just might use that invitation to neck you all night.”

The mental image of your neck covered in hickeys had a flash of heat through your core. “That actually sounds like fun. I’ll pencil you in up until midnight.”

He groaned through the phone. “Christ, darlin’. Just midnight? I was thinkin’ at least ‘til dawn.”

“Someone’s ambitious,” you replied, your voice rich with humor.

“Someone has a gorgeous neck that I wanna—Jesus Christ, Pop!” You heard him cuss a blue streak, the phone held away. “Just five minutes, darlin’,” he sighed when he returned to the phone. “Just five goddamned minutes with my girlfriend. That’s all I ask. The universe is conspirin’ against me.”

Your breath hitched at being called his girlfriend, and smiled shyly. “No matter how late it is tonight,” you decided then and there, “I want you to come knock my door.”

“Yeah?” He sounded so hopeful, it warmed your heart.

“Yeah. Knock on my door, Beau.”

“And what will I get when I do?”

“The best kiss this side of the Mississippi,” you offered, pulling into your driveway.

“Now that, darlin’, will make putting up with this insanity worth it,” he declared. “Best prepare those lips of yours. I’m claimin’ them tonight.”

You grinned. “I look forward to it.”

“I gotta go, darlin’, but…” He paused and you wondered at the hesitation. “I’ll see ya tonight.”

—

It was supposed to be a quiet night. Some tea, maybe a book to read. A chance to spend a minute with Beau. Everything positively domestic, peaceful, something you needed after the weeks of heightened anxiety and the mess with Mark. Instead, you got a call.

From Emily.

Seeing her name pop up on the Caller ID surprised you. For a moment, you couldn’t recall why she’d be bothering you late on a Friday evening. Then you remembered it, her visit to your office.

“Hello,” you answered.

The sudden crash of sobbing and a partially hysterical Emily was not what you expected.

“Emily?” You sat up straighter in your easy chair. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“C-can you come get me?” she asked, hiccuping as she swallowed air to calm herself down.

Dread flooded your being. What if she’d been—You couldn’t even finish that thought out of dread. “Of course I can,” you said instantly. “Where are you?”

She rattled off an address. “I… I got into a fight with Tyler,” she said sobbing. “I’m at the gas station. He refused to take me home.”

Anger boiled in your belly. Tyler was definitely rapidly going down the list of men you disliked. “I’ll be right there,” you said firmly, getting out of your easy chair. “Just hold on, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, sniffling in the background.

You hung up and quickly grabbed your winter boots and coat. You barely paused to snatch up your car keys and headed out the door, the sound of her crying echoing in your mind. You should call Beau, you knew that, but he was busy and Emily… she needed a friend more than a parent.

It took you longer than you liked to get to the gas station due to the black ice. Your car barely crawled across the ice and you didn’t want to be added to the list of people needing help. When you got there, you saw her outside, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. At first glance she looked okay, but you had to make sure.

“Emily,” you said, getting out of the car.

She let out a sob and nearly bowled you over in a desperate hug. “I’m so sorry, I just didn’t know who else to call and if I told my dad he’d kill Tyler and—”

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, cutting her off. You wrapped your arms around her and rubbed her back. “Just tell me: are you okay? He didn’t… he didn’t force himself or anything?”

“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. You felt the knot of fear in you loosen. Thank God. It would not have been a conversation you’d want with Beau. “He just…. C-can we talk about it in your car?”

“Of course. Come on, honey,” you said gently, leading her to the car. Once she was in the passenger seat, you went to the driver’s side and sat down. You turned on the car for the heat, and faced her. “What happened?”

Emily sniffled, wiped her eyes. “We… we were at this party. He took me to one of the rooms, locked the door, and was all ‘I’m so glad you decided to do this, baby’,” she said in an approximate male voice, then screwed her face in disgust. “I actually felt like he… like…” She made a sound of frustration.

“Like you were a prize to claim?” you suggested, watching her.

“Yeah! It was like that! I felt so gross. I told him I changed my mind and he… he was mad, asking if I didn’t love him, and—and I just told him I wanted to go home,” she said, the distress leaving and anger took its place. “He said that because I wasn’t going to be a loving girlfriend that I should just leave. So I said fine! I’ll leave!”

You smiled, feeling a spark of pride for her. “That was very brave of you.”

“I just… y-you said that it should feel right. And it didn’t.” Emily looked at you beseechingly, seeking reassurance.

“Hey… if you weren’t ready, you weren’t ready. I’m not the one who gets to decide that, Emily, you are. Not Tyler, you.” You placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “That Tyler didn’t respect that is unfortunate. But you did the right thing by leaving and calling someone.”

She swallowed hard and rubbed her face. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N.”

“Tell you what… why don’t I take you back home with me, get you some tea, and then I can take you home?”

“Yeah…. Yeah, please?”

You nodded, started the car, and drove her back to your home. She rode the way quietly, calming down. At one point she looked at her phone, rolled her eyes, and turned it off. She said nothing, and you decided not to press the point.

However, when you got home, you saw Beau’s truck. He was outside your door and turned when he heard you pull into your driveway. “Darlin’, hey, there you—Emily?”

Beau froze at seeing his daughter come out of your car. He glanced at you, then at her, more than a little confused and uncertain. “Em, everythin’ all right?”

“Hey dad. Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. She was quite the sight, red-rimmed eyes and puffy.

He frowned and walked over to her. He put one hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “I’m here for you, honey,” he murmured.

Your heart ached at seeing the worry on Beau’s face. Maybe you should’ve made her call Beau, but you wanted her settled and feeling safe first. This kind of conversation would be a difficult one at any age, for any parent or child.

Beau gently pulled Emily away, and you heard them speaking in low, indistinct voices. You stood there, uncertain, and decided to just wait. Yes, it was cold, but you’d be okay. Right now, Beau having this conversation with Emily was more important. He was important to you, and by extension, so was Emily.

“He what?!”

You looked up, saw the fury on Beau’s face. Emily was desperately trying to calm him down.

“That son of a bitch—”

“Dad, stop!” Emily grabbed a hold of Beau’s arm.

“Beau,” you said his name gently. “Listen to your daughter.”

He closed his eyes, and mustered up his composure, his calm. He took a few breaths, let them out slow, misting in the cold air. “You’re right, darlin’.” He turned back to Emily, gave her a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Em. Just… God, I’m sorry ya went through that.”

Beau pulled his daughter into another hug, planted his lips in her hair. “I just want to protect ya, honey. I know there are some bad people out there.”

“I know, dad,” she said, clinging to him for a long moment. It broke your heart at how tender the sight was before you. “But… nothing bad happened. I left, I called Y/N….”

“Em, why didn’t you call me? Or your mom?” Beau asked, his puzzlement clear.

“I just…” Emily looked down and mumbled, “I was afraid you would get mad.”

“God, no, Emily, never,” Beau insisted, pulled her into another hug. “Mad at him, God yes. But never you. I promise, never you.”

Emily burrowed into her father’s arms, clung to him. You watched, absurdly feeling like an outsider in a family moment. Maybe Beau picked up on that, because he glanced over at you, and fixed an intense look of adoration on you.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he said quietly. “Thank you for being there for my Em.”

You smiled slowly, warmth blooming in your heart. “You’re welcome, Beau.”

He took Emily into his truck, planning to take her back to Carla’s home before he headed home. Once she was settled in the passenger seat, he came right over to you. Without a word, he pulled you into a passionate kiss that took you by surprise. Then you let out a soft sigh and melted, returning the kiss with fervor. He lingered, savoring the moment, cherishing you. When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours.

“So much for neckin’,” he whispered to you with a smile.

You let out a small laugh, your heart racing. “That’s okay. Maybe tomorrow.”

He met your gaze, pulled back enough to brush his hand across your cheek. Something flickered in his eyes and your breath hitched, wondering what it could have been. “Tomorrow, darlin’. Maybe lunch?”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Absolutely.”

He kissed you again, a quick peck this time. “Good night, darlin’.”

You watched them pull out from the curb. Emily waved at you from the passenger window, and you waved back with a smile. It made your heart ache to watch Beau leave. How did he become so wrapped up in your life that just him leaving made you miss him that much?

He called you his girlfriend. The thought still made your heart flip and swell. He was just so… you couldn’t even find the words. You smiled to yourself; the first throes of a relationship were always jittery, exciting, and full of energy that made you bounce everywhere. You definitely couldn’t get enough of him. It was different now than it was when you just went over to sleep outside his trailer.

You took a deep breath and went back inside your warm home, your heart full, even as you missed him. Just as the door shut and locked behind you, your cellphone pinged with a text message. Curious, you looked and your smile widened.

It was from Beau.

It read: I miss you already.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2, @foxyjwls007

[kianghaee]

Times Apart. [WORK IN PROGRESS]

Synopsis: People always say that, 'love has no bounds', they say that you're free to love whomever you would want, but what if that someone had been long dead for the past, eighty four years?

Pairings: Fashion Designer!Jeon Wonwoo x Fem!reader

Genre: ghost and soulmate au, romance, and angst.

A/n: a random burst of passion on writing..

People always tells you that you will never find love and that you'll forever be stuck as a sad lonely woman with no one on her side. Though you think the opposite, you always believed in spiritual beings, such as ghost, heck you even swore you saw one as a child. It was fascinating to learn about them, that's why you took a photography course, you want to capture everything even if it's not visible on your camera.

Sighing, you leaned away from you table, pictures of places, unknown, scattered across the table, sometimes it being dark or just a clear white photo, or sometimes even having caught a shadow on it.

Looking at the clock above your board, you once again sighed, stretching your bones before getting up and getting ready for the day. While you do like photography, you also needed a job to feed yourself somehow, you would not rather starve to death and die lonely, you still have many things to do in life, especially when soulmates exist in your world.

Soulmates, the thing you always dreamed about since a child, you always wondered how it feels like to have someone love you, accept you and put up with you. You also wondered how you're going to have to meet them, will you see the world with black and white filter?, will you have a string attached to your pinky?, or will you feel the pain your fated one feels?, It was unknown to you.

While your parents did try to reassure you that time will come and so does your fated one, but it never happened, your love life feels like it's stuck on a loop, a constant repeat on time, like your stuck in a paradox of the past.

It was very overwhelming, you had even told yourself to give up, and just die alone, but, for some unknown reason, you can't bring yourself to do that. Like there was some forcefield, forcing you to stand on your ground, to be alive for as long as possible, you wondered, maybe it's connected to your soulmate? You don't know.

For the third time this day, you sighed again, glancing at the camera you had brought from an antique store. The owner told you that at some point of time, back on the past, the camera had belong to a fashion designer, well known for his designs, you think his name is wonju? Wonwoo? You don't know, you had barely heard what the old lady was saying.

Taking the camera, you shoved it in your bag before grabbing your coat and rushing out of your house, closing and locking the door behind you as you rushed out. You walked into a cafe and took the coffee you ordered and reserved for earlier while on your runs, you took it and rushed for the train.

Standing in a crowded train station, you drank your coffee, taking out the camera on your bag, inspecting it. You had yet to inspect the details on the old camera, but the designs were amazing, the little details on the silver of the camera, to the lenses still being intact after all this time.

"amazing, isn't it?" Suddenly, a voice asked, their tone soft, possibly has lisp, as they spoke out the words. Quick as ever, you turned your head to the source of the voice, you could swear the bones of your neck cracked a little at how fast you turned.

You were left surprised, amazed, and even scared, the man was nearly invisible, yet he can still be seen. He was wearing a very fine suit, blazer discarded elsewhere that you don't know, hair slightly tussled, hand full of straight line scars, he looked absolutely majestic that you swore he was some kind of model.

"what are you.." you muttered finally being able to get a word and sentences out, the man in question, merely smiled, kindly.

"Kim Mingyu, and I'm...a ghost.." he introduced, extending his hand out only bring them back down after realizing you can't touch him at all.

"how—....how can I see you..?" You questioned, eyes wide genuinely shocked at the mans appearance, not even noticing that some people have looked your way with their gazes full of judgement.

"Oh!, that, you see, ghost from the past are always connected to little things and objects, like that camera for example," he pointed out to the camera on your hand, forgotten until he mentioned it.

"That camera belonged to my friend, he entrusted it to me after he passed away by a tragic event." He continued sitting beside you, which by the way, you don't know how he did it considering he was a ghostly being that could pass through walls and such.

You processed the information in your head, nearly choking on your own spit at how ghost are actually real, not that you don't believe they are, of course you do! You're just shocked that an actual one showed themselves to you.

"but how can I see you...? Should I, just feel your presence??" You asked once again utterly confused by the whole ordeal not even noticing that your train had arrived already, not that you care anyway.

"that.., is what I actually do not know, maybe it's something about your soulmate, but that would be questionable." He hummed out, thinking about it harder than he needed to be.

A WIP!, and a birthday gift also, since my birthday is tomorrow, happy birthday to me!

Anywho, release date is still unknown so...enjoy this for now!

[dykedvonte]

I find your takes on Jimmy's behavior patterns interesting, especially in regards to how he treats Curly.

What do you think is the cruelest vs kindest he's ever been to him pre crash? Curious about the range; what Curly might hope is potential for better in him vs the biggest hit he was willing to take in hopes Jimmy became better before everything imploded.

I always find this question fascinating. The question of what Curly will tolerate towards himself vs towards other's with Jimmy.

The fandom creates this misconception around their dynamic due to a lot of hindsight we have and a lot of emotional/relationship dynamic gaps being filled. We assume Curly has to be equally as dependent and unable to regulate/understand his feelings towards Jimmy as Jimmy is to him as we never really get Curly's motives or inner thoughts towards Jimmy. I personally think this is far from the case and while still unhealthily attached to Jimmy he is still very aware of him, doesn't believe he'd ever go as low as he did in the game but knows he's petty/vindictive to an abnormal extent.

I think it's important that in HFIM he (Jimmy) is represented as a parasite on the fish rather than a real, helpful and needed part of him (Curly). It is something that slowly kills the fish if left unchecked or there are multiple (coughP.Ecough) and the fish would live better without but can't get out by itself. A parasite in which the specific method of latching is rather gory/unpleasant for the host the whole way through. I see people use this parasitic relationship as an example but never actually look at the specific relationship exemplified. How it is one formed without any consent or real want of the host but they are stuck in it no matter what they do, so they must adapt or be killed. In the games unfortunate circumstance, it just doesn't affect the host.

Jimmy on the other hand likes to test the waters, likes to see how deep he can really latch onto Curly so he can never really be pulled out, not without doing more unnecessary damage. I've said it before but I think they have breaks: Curly does have enough of a backbone to separate himself from him when he can, when the circumstances allow but he's not willed enough to keep him out, not when Jimmy inevitably finds a way to latch back on and sink deeper. Pulling him out again just rips more out of him, makes him less sturdy to it, drains more. He can take the parasitism. He thinks he's taking it.

As mentioned previously, Curly can't get/cut Jimmy out of his life alone. He will inevitably give him another chance because Jimmy will do something to make him think he deserves it. He will clean himself up. He will try to keep a job longer than a month. He will be polite, civil. He won't ask for a favor and if he does it's small and he'll repay it. He worms his way back in while also pushing others out. Anyone who claims it's all an act again or he's just doing it to get back in Curly's good graces just doesn't get him. They don't get them. Curly's upset he's seen it over and over again, the dip in progress, the lows. But the peaks get higher each time, he can't leave when he sees how good Jimmy is doing. He's scared without him the next low will be his last. Jimmy no doubt put that idea in his head.

But to answer you question: I don't think Jimmy's cruelty towards Curly's comes not from actions but conversations, the way he's conditioned Curly to view himself as underserving to complain. He's rendered him unable to talk about his pains because by "objective" comparison he's always worse off. I don't think its one cruel dismissive act in this vein but multiple, the act of uncaring and disinterest while also demanding the same attention Curly so desperately craves from anyone not just Jimmy. The want for his friend to act like a friend and be so purposely shut down or condescended to when he just needs the shoulder to cry on he always provides. The emotional relief he gives him returned.

I imagine he's told him to suck it up when pets die, to quit shaking when a career deciding meeting was about to happen, to get over and just "fuck someone new" when he has another failed fleeting relationship the few months back on Earth. Maybe it's said within a joke to make it less sharp, maybe with the same "You have it to nice to be acting like this) attitude. It's that type of cruelty that breaks him down and makes it harder to ignore that Jimmy truly doesn't care about him, does not have the same desire for him to be happy like Curly has for him. Jimmy doesn't really try to hide it either and he just never would outright say it. He calls it tough love, saying its just how he is and Curly doesn't know how much longer he can actually take it if it's really true.

Curly is willing to keep taking these hits in hopes Jimmy realizes how he hurts others, how it hurts him with every dogged look or abrupt end to a conversation. It doesn't and every time he's almost ready to just give up. If Jimmy won't be kinder for him, the only person that's still there for him, why continue to bother? Why believe he'll change.

Kindest? The fact he always tries to come back? That he stayed his friend and such a close one despite how long he'd be gone. That Curly is the one he calls and trusts and lets him know that. Curly has friends, we know that, but we also know they don't know him. Maybe they never did or maybe because of his job, the distance made it harder to keep knowing him. Jimmy didn't always work there and yet he stayed, close enough so that Curly was never alone when he came back. That he didn't come back to friends shocked he was coming back or a dozen new faces that were new at family gatherings/the news of who passed. He chose to remain consistent for Curly, with Curly, he never changed for Curly. That's how Jimmy explains it whenever Curly needs a reminder that he's not so bad. He's physically hear for him, he's something that's set and that already more than Curly should be asking for considering all he has. Curly thinks it's a major kindness considering no one else has done it for him.

I feel like people mischaracterize Jimmy in that he does not take pleasure or gain a feeling of superiority from the direct act of being cruel. He'd get nothing from directly making Curly hurt cause it's fleeting but he likes when Curly feels bad and lesser cause he can imagine it's lesser than him. When it's something he knows is gonna be a lasting mark. His kindness likewise if supposed to be a kiss on the initial boo-boo he makes. Purely for Curly and shallow. Jimmy likes Curly, I don't think him seeing him as a friend is debatable, yet we can question how utilitarian he does view friendship in general,

[zee-has-commitment-issues]

Hi Zee! For the Spotify wrapped challenge, could you please do #50 😊

Hi! 50 is Risk by Gracie Abrams. (I can't stick to word counts still)

It was the middle of the night when Simon realized, with a certainty, that he was recklessly in love with Wilhelm. He’d known before, probably, that he loved him, that he was in love with him. But it was that night, lying awake in an empty bed with the light still on, that the realization hit him with the weight of no return.

It didn’t scare him like it should have. He didn’t really care how bad it all turned out, as long as he could have it for the time being. Even if it blew up spectacularly. All that mattered was that it was real, here and now, and he wasn’t ready to let it go.

He called Wille that same night, and despite the late hour, he still answered. “Why aren’t you here?” Simon asked as soon as the call connected.

Wilhelm was quiet for a second, maybe processing the question, maybe finding an appropriate answer. “I think you’d regret it in the morning if I were,” he finally responded.

It was his own damn doing. Every time he let Wille close, he ended up pushing him right back away. Of course Wilhelm would think he’d regret it — Simon had called it a mistake every single time they’d found their way back to each other. Every reunion came with the sting of eventual rejection, as if they were caught in an endless cycle of almosts and not-quites.

But it wasn’t a mistake this time. He could feel it in his bones. Simon swallowed the last of his pride. “I wish you could hold me.” He heard Wille take a deep breath, but he didn’t answer. “For real this time. No more back and forth. Jumping in the deep end.”

Wilhelm was still on the other end of the line for a long time. Too long. “Why now?”

Simon felt like his world was about to crumble. How had he gotten to this point? To the point that Wille seemed to think something must have been wrong for Simon to want him again? That Wilhelm would question him, doubt him, because Simon had never been steady enough to prove he meant it?

His voice broke on his next words. “Is it too soon to tell you I love you?”

Stillness. Quiet. Nothing. And then-

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

-

They probably get married or something idk

send me a number from my spotify wrapped and I'll write something

[librarygarten]

I don't think I'm the only one who thinks Wars was an asshole? Like, is the reader supposed to have -known- they were actually controlling somone? The world they were from, the Links aren't real, right? And here he is instantly blaming them for playing something they'd only know as a game, cruelly making them cry and being just all around awful. I hope someone calls him out on it.

Sorry, nonnie :( Wars was indeed an asshole, but his game would probably one of the worst to live through. He had to watch his men die in a war that turned out to be some sort of sick entertainment for an interdimensional being. Add to that his whole... situation with Cia, and he's not thrilled with the idea that reader might have just. Over-written his free will while playing the game. Don't worry, Twilight will beat up Wars on your behalf <3

#2 Chain x Speedrunner! Deity! Isekai! Reader - Who's in Control?

Part 2 includes Sky, Twilight, and Legend Part 1 ✿ Part 2 (you are here) ✿ Part 3

When you first fell through the portal and joined the chain on their quest, you had revealed that they were only stories in your world. It had taken a while for them to understand the concept of a video game, and even longer for them to come to terms with the fact that some of the most traumatic events of their lives were reduced to children’s entertainment. However, as they talked with you, they came to another horrifying discovery: YOU were their “player.” Your actions in your world, the decisions you made while playing the games, directly influenced their own lives. What’s more, you were a speedrunner.

Sky

“Hey, Y/N?” Sky approaches you at camp, wringing his hands nervously. He won’t meet your gaze. “Did… did I do something to make you mad?”

“What?” You think back on your last few interactions. You hadn’t been treating him any differently. Unless you were somehow a jerk and didn’t even know it? You have been pretty sleep-deprived lately. “No. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that…” He trails off, clearly not sure how to approach this topic. He takes a breath and tries again. “You kind of controlled us during our adventures, right?”

Well, crap.

“I think so? I’m not really sure how it works.” Now you’re the one that won’t look him in the eyes. “My influence on you guys is still… weird to think about.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. Learning the existence of your free will was questionable at best was not a great feeling. “But you controlled everything we did, right?”

“Not necessarily!” You can feel the sweat dripping down your neck. “Talking to some of the others, maybe you guys could influence me, too? Like, Four said he felt scared during the final fight, and that’s the same time that I messed up with the controls!”

Sky hums, as if agreeing. It’s clear he doesn’t believe it.

“But you’re the one that made me jump off that post in Skyloft.” He says quietly. He’s not angry. He just seems sad, honestly. “And then… Fi was there all of a sudden? I can’t remember exactly. Everything seemed so… out of order?”

You swallow the glob of spit in your throat. He was talking about the Back in Time glitch. How did he even remember that? It requires two save files and to move around while in the menu.

“You remember that?” You yelp. “Shoot, I’m so, so sorry. That’s a glitch to make the game faster. I swear, I had known you weren’t just a video game I would have never-”

“It’s fine.” He interrupts, giving a weak smile. “I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?” You ask, but he walks away. He disappears between the trees, and you’re left staring at the empty clearing full of camping equipment.

“...Used to what?” You whisper to yourself.

Twilight

“Y’alright?” Twilight asks you. He’d found you a ways away from camp, curled up agains the side of a tree. You sniff, wiping your eyes but not meeting his gaze.

“Peachy,” you say sarcastically, but your voice cracks, and it sounds more pathetic than anything else. He sits down next to you.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” He smiles. When you don’t respond, he leans forward, trying to get a look at your face. “You know you can talk to me, right? Or I could be Wolfie, if that would be easier? Dog therapy is a thing right? Wolf therapy is just a few degrees removed from that.”

“Don’t go transforming for my sake.” You snicker, finally turning your head to look at him. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying. “It’s nothing. No need for you to get worked up over it.”

“It is very clearly not ‘nothing’.” His eyebrows furrow. “Did one of the others say something? I swear if Legend was giving you grief again–”

“No, nobody said anything. It’s just a lot of things, I guess…” You explain hesitantly. “Like, I got sucked through a random portal and suddenly a bunch of game characters are real. And what’s worse is the things I did in the game actually happened to them? Does that apply to every game I’ve played? What about when I stopped playing a game? Or deleted a save file?” You thread your fingers through your hair, feeling more tears threatening to spill out. How many deaths and traumas were your fault? How many lives have you ruined? 

“You couldn’t have known. Heck, WE didn’t know about you.” Twilight pats your back, bringing you back to reality.

“But didn’t you feel something was off? I was like,” you make claws with your hands, emphasizing your point “controlling you guys against your will or something.”

“Well, it was kinda weird when I stared at a rupee for fifteen hours straight.” He chuckles, “But like I said, you had no way of knowing. Nobody here blames you.”

“I’m pretty sure Wars hates me…”

“Well, he’s an asshole.” Twilight rolls his eyes. “I’ll give him a piece of my mind next time he’s bothering you, ya hear?”

“Okay,” you smile, wiping your nose with your sleeve. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Legend

“Speedrunning? That sounds incredibly stupid.” Legend scoffs. You had tried explaining some of the strange things that he had encountered during his adventure, only to be made fun of. Honestly, you probably deserved it a little bit.

“Yeah, it’s a whole thing. People compete to get the fastest time, which usually requires glitches.” You chuckle nervously, scratching the back of your head.

“So you broke the very fabric of reality in order to win.” He raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t break reality!” You exclaim.

“I climbed up a ladder and just… kept going up, even when there wasn’t anything to climb on!” Legend throws his hands in the air. “I held a bomb above my head and floated across a room.”

“That’s not necessarily breaking reality,” you grimace. He’s honestly got a point, but you’re not about to concede like that. “People can fly. There’s a whole race of bird people called the Rito in the other timelines.”

“Do I look like a bird?” Legend motions to himself, showing off his very-much-not-a-bird-self. “You know what? Forget it. If all you’re going to do is make excuses, I’m done.”

He turns to walk away, but you grab his hand. His back is to you, so you can’t see his face. Hopefully he won’t hate you too much.

“Legend, I swear I would never have played the games if I knew I was messing with real people. I had no idea.” You sniff, tears threatening to fall. You’re so sick of this. You’re so sick of needing to explain this to them. “Your games were some of the first games I ever played. I remember coming back from school as a kid, excited to play them. I… I loved all the characters. I spent hours trying to find every side quest, trying to get everyone a happy ending. When I started speedrunning… I never could have known… I’m sorry.”

He turns around, his bangs half-covering his eyes. He looks ready to cry, too.

“You loved her too, huh?” He whispers, then laughs, regaining his composure and returning to the snarky Legend you know and love. “Just make sure you don’t, like, puppet me around now, alright? I can’t imagine what the others would do if I started backflipping through walls.”

You giggle at his annoyed expression. They were sure to be insufferable about it.

“Deal.”

[emchante]

Just thinking about divorced dad! Daniel around the holidays. Like maybe he has the kids for the holidays, and you all go to see his family for the holidays. You're ofc really nervous bc it's your first time seeing them, and it's been less than a year since he officially ended things with her. But ofc Danny makes you feel so special and safe, and his family absolutely adored you (they've heard him talking about you) and the kids can't stop gushing to granny and gramps about you, and it's just super fluffy and cute

-🐍

🐍 NONNIE!! feeling SO bad for neglecting my favourite little guy as of late 🥹🥹 hope you guys can forgive me :(

christmas divorced dad! daniel below<3

going to see daniel’s family for the first time is so nerve wracking for you. it’s a scary thing for anyone but.. you felt more scared than usual. maybe it was to do with his ex, or maybe it was to do with your overthinking. whatever it was— it had your heart pounding.

but daniel? oh he catches on, super fast. he sees you’re fidgeting, a little quieter than usual as you’re packing. he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you into him. “what’s on your mind, sweetheart?” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

he watches as your eyes widen in the mirror, and he laughs. “you think i don’t know you well? silly you. talk to me,” he mumbles, continuing to place more kisses over your hair which has you giggling.

“i’m being silly,” you mumble, but you see his intense gaze in the mirror, showing he doesn’t want your beating around the bush bullshit. you sigh, closing your eyes before continuing, “it’s just.. i’m really nervous to meet your family. and it’s not normal nerves, its like.. bad anxiety. the type i get around her,” you mumble, not daring to utter the name of his ex.

daniel hums, resting on the top of your hair. “i can assure you with all my heart, they’ll love you. i think i might’ve spoken about you that much that they’ve been asking for you..” he whispers, causing your eyes to widen as you giggle, easing into conversation.

and when it gets to the night you meet them, you feel so silly for being anxious about it. his family welcome you with open arms, giving you the biggest hugs— you assume it’s in the ricciardo genes to be such good huggers. grace is holding your face, smiling as she tells you she’s got to feed you as much as she’s going to feed daniel, “it’s the holidays, that’s my job!” joe is holding you in a shoulder-hug, telling you he’s got so many stories of daniel to tell you about, and michelle chips in and says she’ll contribute some too.

the kids are playing with michelle’s, and it’s such a lovely sight. isaac and isabella are asking you so many questions, hugging you and sitting with you as you talk to them. you feel so overwhelmed— positively, of course— that you’re so loved by his family who’ve just met you. they assure you they’ve met you already through daniel’s rambles about you, and it makes you giggle.

you all spend the night by the fire, talking about you and daniel, discussing about old daniel stories, playing games— it’s perfect. you couldn’t believe you were so scared to meet such lovely, welcoming people.