#this search has been part of their journeys

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓢ixteen

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀time has passed and your pregnancy has progressed, meaning you’re starting to show. the wedding of peter and mj has arrived, you are the maid of honor. unfortunately, miguel is the best man. an awkward ceremony for you both.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀angst, some fluff, pregnancy, brief religious themes (mention of churches), emotional distress, swearing, mild arguments, mild violence, jealous!miguel (yessir hehe)

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several weeks have passed and your pregnancy has progressed. you’re starting to show, a little baby bump. the sight always makes you smile, knowing your little bundle of joy rests in there. since your decision of keeping the baby, you’ve been happy. you’ve been searching baby clothes and nursery stuff nonstop. you created a nursery pinterest board of cute nursery ideas. aesthetics are your thing so you have been searching for both boy and girl themes but also neutral themes as well. so many cute and creative ideas, you have over 200 pins saved.

since this new turn in your life, you have also been thriving. work has been good, publishing top worthy articles which leaves a very pleased jameson praising everyone in the office and offering cookies. that surprised everyone to see their grumpy, sassy ass boss so cheerful but they didn’t complain. happy boss, happy work life. one day you even got sent home early, crusty from your work because he was very happy, and there was no way you would decline that offer. you also informed jameson of your pregnancy and future maternity leave which he of course grants and congratulates you with the baby.

you finally told your family about the baby, which created a cheerful screaming and hugging apocalypse. another grand baby for the family. there were questions about the father but you avoided answering or say it’s complicated. however, you did tell the truth to your parents because you can never lie to them. they wanted to kill miguel but the last thing they want is to complicate things than they already are. instead, they support you and the baby as the caring parents and grandparents they are.

while you’ve thriving on the new journey, miguel still lingers in your mind. his number is blocked to prevent further communication of regret and lame ass apologies. you’ve also taken further lengths such as blocking any social media accounts of his. that bastard deserves tasting his own medicine. he doesn’t know you’re staying at anne’s but is aware you aren’t home. your friends vowed to never tell miguel your whereabouts. although, they would tell you how upset he was whenever they encountered him and begs to them to know where you are. your reaction was scoffing and rolling your eyes. know the asshole knows how it feels, fucking irony at its best.

however, a part of you deep down misses him. after weeks of not seeing him, you felt a bit of relief when miguel finally returned. you truly believed he would never come back and didn’t want to be involved with the baby, that it was the end of your relationship. technically it was the end and it hurts to admit that. seeing him for the first time after those painful weeks made you want to run into his arms and cry. don’t be mistaken, you’re still fucking pissed at him. but that doesn’t discard your feelings for him, the love you have for him that still lingers in your fragile heart. no matter how much you hate miguel, a small part of you still loves him. that is the shittest part of all.

no matter the pain he caused you, that love never vanished. that proves how deeply you love miguel and the impact he made in your life. love is a fucked up thing. you’ve already learned two lessons about it. the first broken your heart, the second rotten it. how could it ever be repaired from such damage? it will be a long, difficult recovery but you’ll get there eventually. this baby will restore your heart.

moving on with life, major events are happening. first and foremost, the wedding of peter and mary jane.

the long anticipated ceremony has finally arrived. the day your best friend marries the love of her life, who is also your friend. you all have been excited for this day to come. originally the ceremony was going to be taken place at a church but mary jane wanted an outdoor wedding and peter had no problem with that, he liked that better anyways. a simple outdoor wedding decorated in neutral colors.

it’s a big day for peter and mj but also for everyone, including you since you’re the maid of honor. since you’re pregnant and have a tiny baby bump, you had to get a size up of your dress to accommodate your gradually expanding belly. it’s still tiny but visible which you don’t mind. the dress matches with the theme, a pretty ash gray satin mermaid tail gown. you and the girls get ready as well help mary jane get dressed in her wedding gown. you and anne assist her getting the dress on, lyla did her makeup and styled her hair. just a cute girls moment, dressing up and doing each other’s makeup.

after doing the finial touches on mj’s appearance, you all step back to admire the bride’s final form. the three of you stare in awe of your beautiful friend. the gown, hair, and makeup, it’s all perfect.

“you look so beautiful.” lyla smiles with glossy eyes.

“honey, you look like an angel.” anne compliments.

“the most gorgeous bride ever.” you add.

mj began forming up her own tears. “aww you guys!”

“no no no! don’t cry! the makeup!” lyla warns.

the bride softly chuckles, fanning herself so the tears dry up and not ruin the perfect makeup. “i’m trying not to, just can’t help it sometimes.”

the four of you gather together in a group hug, letting out all the emotions without tears.

“you guys look beautiful too.” mj gestures at the matching bridesmaids gowns.

“especially ms. maid of honor here.” lyla gently nudges your shoulder playfully.

you roll your eyes, unable to not smile. “oh shut up. the spotlight is supposed to be on mj, not me.”

“whaaat? i can’t help it how cute your little baby bump looks in that dress!” the short-haired woman gestures at your brief pregnancy belly.

“how’s the baby doing?” anne asks.

“they’re okay, just chilling in there.”

“they’ll definitely love the food and cake later.”

you snort. “don’t doubt it, we’ll see what they like and don’t like tonight.”

“too bad you can’t drink, you’ll be missing out on all the good shit, especially the wine.” lyla jokes.

“gotta make sacrifices.” you shrug, laughing.

“and it’s worth the sacrifice.” mj approaches you and gently takes her hands in yours. “you are so rocking this little baby bump, i’m glad they’re a part of my wedding, even though they’re unborn.” her kind words about your baby makes your heart warm.

“yeah, too bad miguel isn’t here to see it.” lyla said.

“wait— isn’t miguel here?” anne inquires, making the room go silent. “isn’t he the best man?”

oh shit.

miguel is the best man. peter chose him to be his best man since they are friends since high school. he is the best man and you’re the maid of honor, meaning you have to walk down the aisle together.

oh fuck, you completely forgot.

you suddenly feel your heart drop at the realization. you have to walk down the aisle with the man broke, rotten your heart. the man who left you alone for three weeks without communication. the man who betrayed your heart and trust. the deeper you think, the heavier your breathing becomes.

your three friends look at you with concerned looks, approaching your carefully.

“hey, you okay?” anne places a gentle hand on your arm, bringing you back to your senses.

“yeah, yeah i’m fine.” you quickly reassure them, waving it off. “just forgot about that…”

“are you sure? mj asks, a serious glint in her eyes. “if that makes you uncomfortable, we can him switch out for someone else or we can—”

“no no no, no switching around. it’s totally okay, don’t worry about it, please.”

“honey, i’m not allowing that asshole near you and the baby. i’ll gladly ask peter for eddie or harry to take his place by any means necessary.”

you shake your head. “no, mj please. i’m not allowing my shit interfere with your wedding. this is your special day and i will not allow my personal shit to ruin that, no fucking way. please don’t worry about it, i’ll be fine and it’s only a few seconds then we go our separate ways. the baby and i will be okay.”

the room goes silent as your words sink in. you can tell she heavily disagrees, so does lyla and anne, but accepts it. the three of them trust you and promise to keep a cautious eye on miguel at all times.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

the wedding is about to start. the bridesmaids and groomsmen are called to gather for the ceremony. you are the first one ready and walk to the door that leads to the backyard where everyone is sitting and waiting. as you make your way towards the door, there is already someone else waiting in the small room. you recognize that tall, broad figure and chocolate locks of hair any day. suddenly, your blood went cold and heart rate increases.

the clicking of your heels gave you away as miguel turns around a little too excitedly. his eyes widen and lips part open in pure astonishment. those wide brown eyes trail over your appearance, how the ash green compliments your skin tone beautifully, how the dress captures your curves perfectly. your beauty never fails to take his breath away.

but really captures his attention is the tiny visible baby bump wrapped in ash green.

you’re starting to show. it’s so tiny yet visible, visual evidence of the tiny life growing inside you. the tiny life that will become a combination of you and him.

the guilt strikes in like a knife.

his heart beats in both guilt and glee.

guilt because of the pain he caused you and glee because of the baby is finally shining through.

this is first time he sees you after a month and a half. since your argument and your disappearance, miguel has been drowning himself in guilt and shame more than ever. it’s been eating him alive. he has shed so much tears than he could count. your disappearance left him a mess. he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he stopped visiting the boxing gym because he never left his home, he didn’t bother to shave due to no motivation so miguel had a stubble for a while.

he was so dysfunctional because he lost you.

now here you are, a month and a half later, standing in front of him like a fucking goddess while he still feels like an absolute piece of shit.

“you… you look… beautiful…”

his weak ass tone and attempt to be flattering makes you roll your eyes in disgust. unfortunately, you can’t deny that miguel looks handsome in that tux. how it snugs up his broad shoulders. those brown locks slicked back, unlike its usual waviness. the intoxicating scent of his cologne, musky. the scent that you love and drives you fucking crazy.

it was an uncomfortable… painful silence between you two as you wait for the bridesmaids and groomsmen to arrive, standing at opposite ends with great distance. you glance around anywhere to avoid his gaze while miguel struggles internally what else to say and simply admire you in silence. his palms opening and closing as a sign of anxiety.

his eyes admire you with remorse while yours look out the window at the crowd of people waiting for the ceremony to begin. with an anxious breath, miguel takes slow caution steps toward you, reaching out with a shaky hand but you catch him.

“don’t you fucking touch me.” you snap.

panicky, miguel immediately takes back his hand and stops, still leaving reasonable space between you two as he stares at you with remorseful eyes.

“i-i’m sorry, i just—”

“cállete.”

and he does.

your fingers rub the temples of your forehead as you exhale deeply. “mj wanted to switch you out with the other guys so i wouldn’t have to walk with you.”

miguel frowns at that but remains silent.

“but i told her no because i didn’t want ruin her wedding because of me.” you spare him a glance as you lower your hand. “peter chose you to be his best man and switching you with someone else would’ve made things complicated and i didn’t want that.”

that makes him feel more guilty. the last thing you want is to walk down the aisle with the man who broke your heart indefinitely yet you refuse to change that because your friends are much more important than your own needs and discomfort.

“so i’m going to say this once,” you glare at him, making him anxious for what you’re about to propose. “the only time you’re gonna touch me is walking down that aisle for our friends. don’t even think this means anything. the minute we part ways, you stay the fuck away from me.”

your cold tone and piecing eyes of anger sends an unpleasant shiver down miguel’s spine. he understands your reasons and obeys, no matter how much it pains him to be in the same room as you but not able to be close to you. he doesn’t deserve to. a light nod reflects his understanding, sealing the deal.

the bridesmaids and groomsmen finally arrive. lyla and anne kept skeptical eyes on miguel, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. it was time to line up, the maid of honor and the best man in front then the rest behind them. lyla with harry and anne with eddie, leaving you with miguel. everyone had their arms linked, making you hesitant to do the same with the man who hurt you. miguel senses your hesitation, which he doesn’t blame you for, and offers his arm to take. with a quiet sigh, you slowly link your arm with his. normally you would grip onto his bicep but considering the current circumstances, your hand simply hangs over without touching him, only your arms linked together. the fabric of his sleeve glazing against your skin. both your hearts leap with great anxiety as it invades your bodies.

you are touching each other for the first time in months, in which feels like an eternity.

you pretend it doesn’t phase you as the ceremony music begins playing outside. while his heart beats like crazy, miguel sneaks a glance at you making sure you’re okay but you focus ahead. both of you prepare yourselves as the doors open and multiple heads turn around awaiting your arrival. taking a deep breath, you and miguel take your first steps.

while walking down the aisle with linked arms and the small bouquet of flowers in your free hand, suddenly everything feels like in slow motion as your mind begins playing tricks on you. your imagination takes you to where you are expect you’re walking down the aisle in your own wedding dress, your dad by your side and miguel standing at the altar. it was your own wedding. a dream you never imagined before. sure, you loved miguel and wanted to be in a long relationship with him. marriage seemed a bit serious since the relationship was still fresh at the time. however, marrying miguel in fact seemed like a dream, if only things were different and you didn’t hate his guts and he wouldn’t have abandoned you.

you snap out of that dream as soon you and miguel approach the altar. you don’t hesitate to unlink your arm from his and walk to the bride’s side, making miguel frown briefly before heading to the groom’s side. once everyone was in position and peter joins, the wedding theme song begins and everyone rises from their seats awaiting the bride’s arrival.

once mary jane arrives and joins peter at the altar, the ceremony begins. as you watch your friends exchange their vows with tearful eyes of happiness, miguel’s eyes never tore away from you.

although it’s shitty of him to not pay attention to the wedding, especially his friend getting married, miguel is solely focused on you. those brown eyes solemnly looking at you the entire time. the longer he stares, the more he drowns himself in guilt. admiring you in front of an altar triggers his imagination in a painful way. miguel envisions his own wedding, dressed in a similar tux, you in your own wedding gown, you two getting married instead. the vision was too emotional, causing a thin layer of tears in his eyes that he quickly blinks away.

the only time his eyes tear away from you is when peter and mj finally kiss as husband and wife, offering a small smile of happiness before looking back at you, watching you cheer and clap.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

the reception was quite nice. everyone savoring the delicious food from the amazing caterers and drowning themselves in wine and other drinks. classic hit songs blasting through the speakers, children running around chasing one another, everyone seems to be happy and enjoying themselves. the newlyweds smiling at each other as they dine as husband and wife for the first time. giggling as mary jane fails to attempt giving peter a piece of cake which gets smeared over his mouth.

you sit with at a separate table with lyla and anne along with relatives of mary jane. tons of gossip and compliments about the newlyweds over wine. sadly, you can’t participate in the wine party due to the baby but honestly you don’t care much. the food was what you were looking forward to and damn it’s delicious. your baby likes it too.

while you dine and gossip with your friends, miguel observes from afar. throughout the reception, his eyes remain locked on you. every time you smile or laugh, his heart flutters. watching you so happy and being yourself is a sight miguel misses a lot. his mind flashes back to the times you were smiling and laughing at him when you were together. those cute, sweet moments just you and him. utterly in love and had nothing to care about but each other. he misses the way he used to make you laugh or smile. seeing and making you happy was his goal. the way your pretty lips curl up showing off that beautiful smile. the angelic sound of your laughter blessing his ears.

expect you weren’t smiling and laughing at him, your friends get the privilege to witness that, not him. the guilt and sadness returns, smacking him in the face. miguel lost that privilege and he isn’t sure if he’ll ever get it back. watching you being so happy not only makes his heart flutter but also ache with immense guilt. he isn’t the one making you happy, other people are. he’s the one making you angry and upset.

the guilt was stressing himself out that miguel excuses himself to head to the restroom. the last thing he needs is more tears of guilt, especially at his own friend’s wedding. he just needs to clean himself up and try not be a sulking bastard.

rising from your seat, you plan to get more food despite your friend’s protests saying they would do it for you but you heavily insist you’re fine. as you select your food from the caterers, your shoulder accidentally collides with someone else’s.

“oh shit, i’m so sorry!”

“ah that’s alright.”

a deep, rich baritone voice makes you look at who’s voice that belongs to. your eyes dilate immensely. a man with thick brown hair, a beard connected with compelling sideburns. goddamn he is handsome. your eyes briefly scan him up and down. he waits a simply tux yet you can tell this man is buff as hell. he is at least 6 feet tall or taller, either way he’s tall.

“i wasn’t looking where i was going, i’m sorry.” you offer him a sheepish smile.

“no damage done, sweetheart. i’m still standing.”

the endearment term makes your heart flutter, especially in that rich tone of his.

you chuckle shyly. “still, sorry about that.”

“you were caught up on food, can’t blame you.”

“yeah, it’s just that good.”

“logan howlett.” he offers his hand to shake.

you give your name as you shake his hand, noticing how warm and calloused it feels against yours.

“i saw you up there at the altar, one of the bridesmaids, huh?”

“maid of honor.”

“ah, bride’s best friend?”

you nod, softly smiling. “yep. you?”

“just a mutual friend, i know kaine, peter’s cousin.”

your eyes lighten up in surprise, partially because kaine is one of miguel’s military buddies. does logan know miguel? “oh, cool. you in the military too?”

logan shakes his head. “no, construction guy. met kaine in high school.”

“construction, huh?”

“12 years, don’t plan on stopping any time soon.”

oh so he’s a construction worker, you like this man even more. your interest in him grows.

“what about you, sweetheart?” logan asks.

“journalist.”

his thick brows eyes in amusement. “oh, you like writing big fancy stories?”

you snort, shrugging. “it’s my only talent. but it doesn’t compare to building, that’s hardworking.”

“writing is hardworking too, sweetheart.” he offers a wink with a smirk, making your heart swoon.

goddamn, this man is something else. he’s making you a bashful mess with his attractive voice, the sweet nicknames, and flirtatious antics.

you have felt like this since miguel—

no, do not think about that asshole.

“you want some?” logan gestures at his glass of what appears to whiskey, seems like it.

“oh i wish but this one won’t let me.” you glance down at your pregnancy belly and place a hand on it.

logan’s eyes follow yours and widen slightly in surprise at the visible tiny baby bump. “oh, definitely can’t. congratulations, though.”

you softly chuckle. “thanks.”

he glances back at your hand and takes note of the absence of a ring wrapped around your pretty finger. his curiosity increases. “i’m gonna be bold and you can slap me all you want, you just by yourself? no boyfriend or husband?”

“yep, it’s just a sperm donor.” you lie quickly.

it would be awkward to tell logan the truth that the father is here eating and drinking just like everyone else. since you refuse to include miguel in the picture and you two are basically broken up without officially saying it, you simply believe a sperm donor is a good excuse. with this shitshow, it honestly feels like it.

logan hums, contently. “well, congrats to you both.” he gestures at your baby bump.

suddenly, it was time to dance. everyone gets with their partners and head to the dance floor. glancing around, miguel doesn’t seem to be here. perhaps he had to take a breather to get his shit together. you know he’s been watching you the entire time. you can feel his eyes on you, making your body on fire.

logan notices your somber state, making him frown slightly. his eyes follow yours to the dance floor. an idea pops up into his mind.

taking one final sip of his whiskey then setting down the glass down on the nearest surface, logan offers a hand. “dancing isn’t my thing but one chance doesn’t bite, you up for it?”

you look back at him with slightly wide eyes, a bit surprised by his offer. a man offered to dance with you at the same party miguel is. although he isn’t here at the moment, he will show up and see you dancing with another man. part of your heart still beats for him but you remind yourself the pain he caused you. besides, the idea of miguel getting jealous excites you. honestly, you don’t give a shit.

“fuck it, why not?” you shrug and take his hand, making logan smirk in amusement.

with your hand in his, logan guides you to the dance floor and join everyone else in slow dancing. his left hand takes your right and his right hand captures your waist ever so gently, making your heart flutter at the sensation. your right hand rear on his shoulder, feeling the muscles underneath the tuxedo. your bodies pressed against one another. his musky scent invades your senses, just so intoxicating.

you and logan began moving slowly, small steps side by side following the rhythm of the music. it was casual slow dancing while making small talk. logan would throw occasional flirting, making your cheeks your warm and rolling your eyes playfully. you flirt back to match his energy, increasing the tension.

finally, after getting his shit together, miguel returns from the restroom. just as he heads back to his seat along with friends, his eyes caught your figure on the dance floor, causing miguel to stop in his tracks. those thick brows furrowed in envy and confusion at the random ass man dancing with you.

who the fuck is that?

why is that fucker dancing with you?

his blood boils in envy and slight possessiveness at the sight of another man dancing you, or just you being with another man in general. an uncomfortable feeling sits heavy on his chest. suddenly his breathing intensifies, fists clenched at his sides.

that guy shouldn’t be dancing with you or have the honor to be close to you, it should be him. no another man should be allow to so close to you like that. no another man deserves to touch you.

but is miguel really deserving of that honor? especially after what he put you through.

not only is it painful to watch you with another man but also you carrying his child. seeing another man’s arms wrapped around you while his child rests peacefully in your belly. panic invades his body as miguel continues to stare solemnly at you with this random bastard. the strongest urge to storm over there and yank the bastard away from you was getting to him. however, miguel knows he can’t do anything because it isn’t right. he broke your heart, the relationship basically ended which means you’re allowed to do or be with whoever you choose.

but the sight of you with another man causes immense pain to his heart. you seem to be moving on and miguel is still trapped in everlasting guilt. this makes him panic because he’s losing you for real. he lost you the moment he left you alone but now it truly feels like he’s losing you forever.

with the possibility of losing you forever, miguel is losing you and the baby. because of his stupid behavior, he’s losing you both. his fears pushed you away into the arms of another man. it feels like you are slipping from his grasp and lost in the void forever. the dreams and hopes of you becoming a happy family is now slipping away. when he finally came back after those painful three weeks, miguel wanted to become a father and have a family. after much thinking, he decided he was ready for it. however, that possibility is now fading away.

he wants you back, he wants to be a father, he wants to have this baby with you, he wants to have a family, he wants to raise this child with you.

but it seems like an imagination now.

miguel snaps out of those panicky thoughts when logan gently pulls you closer by the waist. suddenly, his blood goes cold like ice. a scowl settles on his face as jealousy flows through his veins. his fists tightened at his sides, nails digging into his own skin.

all common sense and morals fly out the window as miguel begins storming his way towards you and logan. however, before he could reach the dance floor, he collides with one of the waiters, knocking out the tray of appetizers onto the floor. the sound of steel hitting the ground causes several heads to turn, including you and logan. thankfully most of the guests were still partying and dancing.

“chingado…” miguel curses.

“hey man, what the hell?” the waiter, a scrawny looking man no taller than 6 foot.

that whiney tone triggers miguel’s already pissed off self, glaring down at the scrawny idiot with piercing eyes which makes him gulp anxiously.

“pinche huevón, watch where you’re fucking going.”

“y-you’re the w-who bumped into me! you should be the one to watch where you’re going!”

oh that was the last straw.

“mira, cabrón…” miguel yanks the waiter by the collar with harsh force, earning a few gasps from bystanders. “te calmas o te calmo porque yo—”

as miguel raises his fist and the guy begins to flinch like a coward, a firm hand stops him from doing something he will regret.

“alright, let’s clam down, shall we?” eddie comes to the rescue, firming holding miguel’s wrist.

miguel shoves off eddie’s grip and yanks back his hand, lowering it at his side then walks away, mumbling various spanish slang.

heavily sighing in frustration, you roll your eyes at the stupid argument but mainly miguel’s behavior.

“fucking idiot.” logan mutters.

you scoff. “definitely an idiot.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

finally, the reception is over and the newlyweds took off in their car to begin their honeymoon, waving goodbye to all the guests. as majority of the guests leave, you stay to help clean up. logan decides to stay a little longer to help you and also to spend more time with you in general. you can’t deny you like him. after a while and everything is cleaned up, you head to the parking lot with logan by your side.

“i don’t think i’ll do this shit again.”

you laugh at his grumpiness. “it’s not your thing, i get that. especially not with this one controlling me, this is probably the last time i’ll be able to party.” you gesture at your pregnancy belly.

logan briefly looks at your baby bump than back to your eyes, offering a very faint smile before leaning down a bit. “now you better be nice to your mom, kid. don’t give her too much trouble.”

your heart warms at the cute interaction between logan and your baby, even if they’re not fully developed yet, it’s still heartwarming.

standing at his full height, he looks back at you. “i might have not been excited to go to this since this shit ain’t my thing but meeting you was the only good thing today.”

there goes your heart skipping a beat again. “well, it was definitely nice meeting you, logan.”

“i don’t mind if we meet up again, just not at a party again, if you’re up for that?”

knowing what he’s implying, you can’t bite back a grin. “i wouldn’t mind either.”

after exchanging numbers, you bid each other farewell with light hug. before he leaves, logan insists on walking you to your car but you tell him you rode with your friends and they’re waiting for you. you two share one final smile before he leaves. while your eyes remain on him, you hear footsteps approaching.

“soooo, snuggling up with sideburns hottie?” lyla smirks, strolling up beside you.

“oh shut up.” you roll your eyes, grinning.

“what? i don’t blame you, he’s hot as fuck. those sideburns are something else.”

“can’t deny that.”

“so, when’s the first date?”

your eyes widen in shock. “jesus, lyla. we literally just met, you know i’m not dating right now.”

“you didn’t exchange numbers for no reason.”

another eye roll. “just as friends, nothing else.”

“does he know that?” she raises a brow.

“yes, i told him.”

she raises her hands. “alright, alright, just saying. however, mr. asshole probably got the wrong idea.” lyla looks past you as she lowers her arms.

turning around, you find miguel observing from afar. you lock eyes for a moment, the first time since walking down the aisle earlier. you notice the jealousy written all over his face. those furrowed brows and clenched fists at his sides. you roll your eyes again before looking away, not caring anymore.

“i don’t give a shit, the asshole can watch what he had lost.” such defiance in your tone.

it’s the truth, you don’t care if miguel gets the wrong idea about you and logan. that man hurt you and deserves to watch you thrive without him.

“ooooo, i like this badass tone.” lyla smirks.

without sparing a final glance at miguel, you and lyla walk away together to join anne on the journey back home. pretending that he doesn’t exist.

miguel, on the other hand, solemnly watches you walk away with your friend just like any other moment. always watching you walk away from him, vanish from his eyes. realization hits that this may be the last time he’ll see you until who knows when. he can’t live without seeing you again yet miguel doesn’t know how to change that.

with a sad sigh, miguel turns back and walks away, carrying the guilt on his shoulders as usual.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[nicoleshifting]

persisting in your assumptions

after finally sitting down and reading more of the power of awareness by neville goddard tonight, one section really stood out to me in terms of being related to shifting.

"if you would change your life, you must begin at the very source with your own basic concept of self. outer change, becoming part of organizations, political bodies, religious bodies, is not enough. the cause goes deeper. the essential change must take place in yourself, in your own concept of self. you must assume that you are what you want to be and continue therin, for the reality of your assumption has its being in complete independence of objective fact, and will clothes itself in flesh if you persist in the feeling of the wish fulfilled. when you know that assumptions, if persisted in, harden into facts, then events which seem to be the uninitiated mere accidents will be understood by you to be the logical and inevitable effects of your assumption.

the important thing to bear in mind is that you have infinite free will in choosing your assumptions, but no power to determine conditions and events. you can create nothing, but your assumption determines what portion of creation you will experience."

let me break this down some to how I interpreted this to relate to shifting. to shift, all you essentially have to do is assume the state of the wish fulfilled, i.e. being fully aware of your dr and in your dr body. but since people, including myself, tend to overcomplicate shifting, we get too caught up in external aspects of shifting. for example, perfecting your script, worrying about how the timelines of events will go, waiting for the 'perfect time' to shift, thinking there needs to be some sort of shifting routine. nothing besides yourself is going to help you shift. drinking tea and taking a bath and having a pretty script and making a viral shifttok video is doing nothing to actually further your shifting journey. it's fun to do, don't get me wrong, but at it's core it is not necessarily helping you shift to your dr. (having fun with shifting, however, is always encouraged by me!!)

"you can create nothing, but your assumption determines what portion of creation you will experience." this!! you didn't create your dr, as we know, these places already existed. your assumption and belief that you are already in your dr, that this place exists and events are happening and you are there doing stuff as you read this, and believing that you will shift there. that is what you need to shift. literally just persist and believe that you are there and you will be there. it is inevitable.

your concept of self determines your reality. if you deep down don't think you are capable of shifting, then you probably won't shift. but if you change your self concept, you change your reality. persist. persist. persist. it may take some inner work and time to change your self concept, but once you realize that's what is holding you back, you are truly capable of doing anything. if you're like me, and you have realized you have been deep down resisting shifting since you found about it, maybe do some soul searching as to why... (I know I am).

[stagprongs]

SIRIUS BLACK & the motorcycle mishap (ft 70s music)

(the ultimate modern family inspired marauders drabble that we didn’t know we needed?)

alright here it goes -

The day sirius black brought his new motorcycle, he took it for a ride ….and never came back

okay fine. HE CAME BACK. His amazing ride started out great..but approx 15 minutes later— sirius black was flat on his back, pinned under the bike. And I kid you not—this is what he’s saying while recording himself on phone with no signal-

—‘’If I had to make a playlist for being stuck under a motorcycle, it’d be… uh… ‘I’m in Love with My Car’ by Queen, ‘Highway Star’ by Deep Purple, ‘Ride a White Swan’ by T. Rex… maybe throw in ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA because let’s face it, I’m fabulous even while pinned to the ground.”

Then he takes a dramatic pause, squints up at the sky, and says:

— “Turns out today wasn’t the first day of the rest of my life. today isn’t the day I ride off into the sunset. Today’s the day I get defeated by a two-wheeled beast and—Merlin’s beard—is that oil on my pants? These are new!”

— “Oh, my goodness. There’s some DVDs in a shoe box in, uh, my closet that I was holding for… a buddy. Um, moony you can go ahead and just throw the whole box away.” 

At one point, he tries to summon his wand to levitate the bike off, but it’s just out of reach. Cue him grumbling:

— Sirius groaned, patting the bike. “You need a name—something loud. Flashy. Unapologetic. He smirked. “Freddie Mercury. Perfect.” Freddie if we make out of this i am painting flames on you

And the best part? He has snacks in his pocket

— “ I am so hungry. i don’t know how long i am gonna be out here. I gotta ration my food.”

Cue to him rationing his CHOCOLATE FROGS.He unwraps one dramatically and bites into it before choking and muttering:

— “No almonds! I said NO ALMONDS!”

Honestly, someone send help—or don’t. At this point, he’s making a playlist in his head and humming ‘Starman’ like it’s his last day on earth.

Meanwhile, James and Remus are back at home debating whether Sirius has found a pub or died dramatically.

James: “He’s probably at a pub or something wrecking chaos.” Remus: “Or he’s dead.” James: “Then he’d haunt us. Either way, we’ll hear from him.”

But after another hour? They go looking. They hadn’t heard from sirius in hours which way too long for a guy who usually disappears and comes back with a ridiculously long story about getting into a bar fight with werewolf (James swears it was all remus’s fault but that’s beside the point). So they set off to track him down and after a bit of searching they find him

On the ground.Still pinned.Still talking to himself.

Sirius: “Oh, thank Merlin. Help’s here. Thought I’d have to eat my socks.” James: “You’re under your bike?” Sirius: “No, no. With my bike. Bonded.” Remus: “How long have you been like this?” Sirius: “Long enough to reevaluate my entire life. And start a band. It’s called ‘Sirius and the Sidecars.’” James: “We’re levitating it off you now.” Sirius: “WAIT. Not yet—I need to finish my goodbye message. I am recording my final moments” Remus: “To who?” Sirius: “To the world, Moony.” James: “Final moments? You’ve been under there for, what, an hour? If you die from a bad snack choice or the bike…I’ll consider it a mercy killing” Sirius: “Mercy killing? It’s art prongs, Art. It’s not about the destination—it’s the journey”

Eventually, they lift the bike, but Sirius immediately points at it—dented, greasy, and barely upright—and goes —“Okay, but picture it—with flames.”

James laughs so hard he falls over, and Remus mutters something about “natural selection being way too slow.”

the modern family episode i took reference from lol

[lauranthalasah]

I don’t want Ted and Rebecca to end up alone, I don't think they will, but I've read some comments about interviews that are scaring me. I usually ask for more platonic relationships, I still truly believe that Holmes and Watson are one of the best representations of this (Elementary was great showing it). With Rebecca and Ted, tho? I believe they have strong platonic relationships already, Rebecca with Keeley and Ted with Beard, those are great relationships, pillars to them, they have other friends as well and people that care about them, including themselves. But both of them are searching for romantic love, this is something these characters want, it's not that they need it, they are both living well without it, but they are searching for it, they want a romantic partner to share their lives with, and it is not news.

Do they need to end up together? Well, no, they don't, but I think the show has told us that there's something there, they have seen each other at their lowest, they have helped each other to get over their exes, they are loyal to each other, they have changed each other, and I know that there's all that shit about the soulmatism of it all, and it is there, just I see it from a slightly different POV, like, they are not soulmates because they were born soulmates, they are soulmates because their lives to this point in time have mold them to be kind of perfect for each other, and not perfect in the "and they never struggle with anything ever again" kinda way, but perfect in the "oh, I think I can help you there, yeah, we can do this together" kinda way... like they have been doing. Ted has a panic attack, well, Rebecca has had them too so she immediately knows what is going on and how to help; Rebecca has gone a bit dark side and now is crawling back to the light, well, Ted knows how to forgive her and help her stand because he knows where she is coming from. They give each other space but also constant support, and they are the ones they ask for what they would not ask of others, Rebecca asks Ted to fight for her, this woman that has been fighting alone all her life, ask this man to do it for her, and he does it, in his own way, but he does it. Ted asks Rebecca for help in personal matters, Ted does not asks for help, that's one of the big things he had to learn how to do, and he asks her, and she does it, in her own way but she helps him. Yes... this could be pure friendship, but there are also friendships that add another aspect to them sometimes, and I think this could be one of those. Now, I know we have dutch guy going around, and Trent as well, these two could also work for the purpose of Rebecca and Ted not ending up alone, but I don't know dutch guy that much, so I'm not invested in that relationship at all. Trent is a different matter, I do care about him, and his happiness, and I do believe he has a crush on Ted, I just don't think Ted has one over him? Like I've read the fanfics and I love them, I just didn't interpret scenes in the same way many people have done it, like when Ted accepts Trent writing the book, the way I read that was this: Ted likes Trent, Ted knows Trent loves writing, he also knows Trent has been fired, fact over which I bet you all he had a bit of guilt over... it is Ted after all, Trent has a little kid that Ted knows, Trent is asking basically for a job opportunity here, Ted never ever was going to say no to that. I can roll with the takes that speak of love (romantic) here, I just don't think it's what the show is telling us? Course I could be wrong, but honestly, I don't think they have been building Ted/Trent as much as they've built Ted/Rebecca... which still can all be in the platonic side of things (I just hope it isn't). What I'm saying is... please don't send Ted back?! I know that he has helped the club, and the players, and Rebecca, and everyone, so some people are saying he is done with his work, it's time to go. But Ted is not a magical being, he is not Mary Poppins going back to whatever magical kingdom she lives in, he is human, with pains, traumas, loneliness, and so much fear, please, don't send him back, let him find a new home in Richmond, let him to form another piece to add at the shape of the family he has with Henry and Michelle, please, I'm beggin here!

The reason I speak first of both Ted and Rebecca, it's 1) because I want Rebecca to find the love she is looking for, 2) because I believe the only thing that could prevent Ted from going back to Kansas is if someone loved him as a partner, if someone wanted him to start a life together, any other kind of love he would think those people could get it from somebody else, but not romantic love, specially if it is someone he loves back, that would make him think, try to come out with an idea that could work for everyone, because as Ted has said, if he could do or say something that would make someone he loves happy, he would do it, and if that is for him to stay in Richmond... then he might start looking for ways to make everyone happy, including himself. And while Trent, the only other person that might be in love with Ted, we know, and we can trust, I do not trust dutch guy, we don't know him, and I don't want to leave Rebecca with someone we barely know.

This show started with Rebecca front and center, it's ending with Ted front and center. It seem's to me like the writers have put so many details hinting at them ending together, if they do not, I would need to start reading material about how the fuck to interpret media content!

[bogsleep]

Winter at Buet, Dhaka, Bangladesh by photographer Matiur Rahman Minar

[nidaagaza]

After 400 Days of Struggle, We Need Your Help to Build a Future

Verified by @el-shab-hussein

Hello, I’m Neda, a mother of four dear children. Two of them are in university, and two are in middle school.

I used to work remotely in SEO (Search Engine Optimization) with several Arabic and international companies, but due to the challenging circumstances we're facing, it has become difficult to continue in this field regularly.

After our previous accounts on Tumblr were closed like @malkzaeem, @malkzaim, @zaeemspo , I had to start this new one because I want to give them a chance at a better future.

My eldest child is 19, and the youngest is 12. Today, we face many challenges, but I hold onto hope that I can still help them build a better life despite the tough circumstances.

After more than 400 days of war, frequent displacement, rising living costs, and a severe shortage of food supplies, we are struggling daily.

I am in need of your support today: whether through donations, or by helping me spread this link to reach as many people as possible. Any support, no matter how small, will make a big difference in the lives of my children.

My account has been verified by Nabulsi and el shab Hussein, and it is listed as number 129 in the sheet, and I hope you will be part of this journey as we strive to build a better tomorrow. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any help you can offer.

@tamamita @blinkpen @nabulsi @sayraq @sar-soor @el-shab-hussein @90-ghost

[tbaluver]

I loved the “when you have a baby with them” fic, could you do one where you feel insecure about your body post birth and they reassure you? I love your work!! 🤍

When You're Insecure About Your Body After Birth- The Love And DeepSpace Men

warnings: mentions of body insecurities

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

a/n: hihi anonnie!! im so happy to hear you loved that headcanon fic and my works! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) it always makes my day to hear you guys love them <3 i hope you and everyone else enjoys this one!

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He would notice every time he tried to get close to you, you would find an excuse or completely avoid him. Anytime you would try to wrap his arms around you at bedtime, you would roll away from him so you're out of his reach. Your sleepy lover would not be able to sleep anymore without you in his arms.

He would be so confused on why you tried to avoid his affection. He would look it up on his phone, his search history filled with questions of "Does my lover hate me?" "Why does my lover not want my affection" All the answers he read online made him more confused and sad.

It wasn't until he watches you stand in front of the mirror, tugging at your clothes and grimacing each time you realize the fabric doesn't sit on your body like it used to before. You wouldn't notice that he was watching you, thinking he was asleep the whole time.

He would grow concerned every second and every minute as you're still fixated on your clothes and by the time he gets up from your shared bed, you're on the verge of breaking down. You avoid eye contact with him before he can even ask what's wrong.

His arms reach around your waist and he pulls you firmly into his body, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Honey, I can’t stand seeing you like this. What’s making you upset? I want to support you and make everything better.” He would say, kissing your neck before nuzzling into you.

Although your lover warms your heart, it doesn't stop your tears. Instead, you start to ramble about how you don't look like how you used too before your pregnancy. How your clothes don't fit you like how they used too and how you felt like you started to hate your body.

He would listen silently, letting you let it all out while he's continuing to hold you so closely. You let out a deep sigh when you finished talking, melting into his touch.

He would pepper you with kisses and promises you that every inch and part of you is beautiful and deserves to be loved. He'll continue to love on you as much as it takes for you to see you as he sees you.

"You're my everything. Every change is proof to your incredible strength and the beautiful journey we've shared. To me you're more than perfect and I'll keep reminding you of that every single day."

Zayne:

Zayne has always been and will be extremely attentive to you and your family. He's remembered your medical record and has known the smallest detail about you so he's already noticed the change on your eating habits. He'll notice you checking the packages to check the calorie counts and at first he wouldn't think much of it. He would think at first, you were maybe keeping track of your energy but he wouldn't brush this off.

He'll notice this has been happening quite often every day. Every time you want too cook something or order something or even get a snack, you'll always check the calorie count. So he decided to finally talk to you about it during dinner and ordering your favorite takeout.

As you chat and set down the dinner together, feeding the baby first, he’ll notice you putting only a small amount of food on your plate. It’s your favorite dish, so this seems unusual to him. "Is that all you're going to eat, my love?" He would ask, his gaze on you. You would look at him anxiously and tell him it was enough for you because you were on a diet but he would tell you that it wasn't enough and that you didn't need to go on a diet at all.

Tears would threaten to spill from your eyes when you would explain to him that you need to lose weight. You'd open up about your insecurities, worried that he might not find you as attractive now because you feel your body has changed after the pregnancy compared to how you looked before.

Zayne would get up from the opposite side of the table where he sat and made his way to your side. He would sit back down on a chair closest to you, hold your hand tenderly, and gently rub soothing circles on the back of your knuckles.

“My love, you’ve only just welcomed a new life into the world and your body has done something remarkable. It’s proof of your strength and love, and its beauty goes far beyond just appearances.” He would say while pressing soft kisses on the back of your knuckles.

He hated to see you so upset like this, insecure and hating your body when to him you were the most beautiful thing in the world. He would do anything to show you how truly loved you really were.

"I promise you, you don't need to lose any weight. I think you're perfect the way you are. But if you don't feel confident in your body, then there are better ways to do it. I can help you and support you."

Rafayel:

He's called you a couple times to dinner but you didn't come down to the dining area. He's already fed the baby and put your baby down for a nap before he went off to find you. You stood in your shared bathroom mirror, poking and prodding at the pregnancy scar and imperfections on your body. Every single flaw became amplified in your mind the longer you looked at your figure contort in the mirror. You felt disgusted in your own body and wanted it all to disappear.

Tears would race down to your cheeks and you would feel strong arms wrap around your waist. You were met with Rafayel's reflection smiling right back at you until he saw the tears stain your face. He would gently turn you to face him, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist while using his free hand to wipe away your tears. "What's the matter princess?"

He patiently waited for you to talk as you tried to steady your breathing as he continued to wipe any more tears that came running down.

When you were ready to talk, you explained to him that you've been feeling insecure lately. The weight that you gained from pregnancy hasn't left your body. You haven't looked the same every since. A couple of your clothes don't fit the way they used too and it's all been upsetting you.

Hearing you talk so low of yourself broke Rafayel's heart. He hated that part of your brain. The brain that brings you down and makes you despise yourself. He desperately wished you could see yourself the way he saw you.

He began peppering your face with soft kisses, causing you to let out a laugh. He continued trailing kisses over your body and stopping at every area to tell you why he loved it. Your body was practically covered with kisses and praises from head to toe. Once he was finished, he brought himself back up and pulled you into a kiss.

"My love, you're like a breathtaking masterpiece to me. Every change tells the story of the journey we've been through together. You're still the same incredible woman I fell in love with, and you'll always be my beautiful, amazing wife. My one and only. I adore you more than ever."

He cups your cheeks gently and looks into your eyes with his warm gaze, "I love you, every part of you," He says softly. "If I could somehow transfer my thoughts and feelings into your mind so you could see yourself the way I do, I would do it in a heartbeat."

Sylus:

He would notice the signs but he didn't want to jump to conclusions just yet. You two would shower often before you gave birth. It was one of the intimate times you both shared. After birth, he noticed that you wouldn't shower with him anymore. Usually you would excuse yourself to watch the baby or say you would have already showered. You also wouldn't go out that often with him to auctions or any dates even if he offered Luke and Kieran to watch the baby. He figured maybe it's because you didn't trust them with the baby just yet, which is valid.

It wasn't until he finally got to convince you to go out tonight to an auction. He picked out a dress for you so he could match with you.

You stared at the mirror completely lost in thought. You hum dismissively as continued to poke at your skin. You analyze every stretch mark that appeared on your skin out of the dress. You'd turn every few minutes to check out your other angles.

You were so caught up in thought that the footsteps of your lover didn't alert you that he was in the room. He was leaning against the door frame, watching you for a while. He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "You look beautiful sweetie." He says, placing a kiss on your shoulders and then one at the top of your head.

You'd frown and protest, feeling that you're not as beautiful as he says. You'd start to ramble about how the changes from pregnancy have made you uncomfortable with your appearance, tears welling up in your eyes. Realizing that tonight might not be the best time to go out, you'd suggest that he should go by himself instead.

He'd spin you around so you were now facing him. His large hands cupping your face as one of his thumbs wipe any tears running down. A finger on your chin made you look up at his crimson eyes and you can see the concern and honesty in his eyes as he spoke.

"Sweetie, you are truly beautiful. Your beauty isn't just in how you look but in the love and resilience you've shown. I see you, not just as my wife but as this remarkable woman who has given a gift and something truly precious. You are stunning, inside and out."

He would gently intertwine his fingers with yours, holding together as he placed tender kisses on your knuckles. All the while, he'd keep his gaze locked on you, with one arm wrapped lovingly around your waist.

"I know every detail about your body and I know it's perfect. I will continue to love you, every inch of you. And I'll remind you that every single day."

[helenofsparta2]

Having the whole plot between Nico and Percy be resolved simply with “You’re not my type” in Blood of Olympus was such a huge disservice to both characters

They are pivotal parts to each others journey. No person in PJO influenced Nico as much as Percy did, aside from Bianca, and no person represents Percy’s guilt and the responsibility he had to shoulder more than Nico does. The writing for both characters really suffers through this lack of a real satisfying resolution.

First to talk about what Percy represents for Nico:

Percy, first of all, represents Nico’s introduction to the mythological world

He is the first demigod Nico ever came in contact with

He saved him and Bianca from the manticore (somewhat)

Nico stated in Blood of Olympus than Percy had reminded of the heroes of his mythomagic game come to life

Nico wholeheartedly believed that Bianca would be safe, if Percy was with her and created this image of the perfect hero in his mind, putting Percy on a pedestal

2.

In Nico’s mind Percy is irrevocably intertwined with Bianca and everything that happened to her

Despite Nico naively believing, that Bianca would be safe if Percy were around, he was instead the last person to ever talk to her, and present when she died

Percy informed Nico of her death (Dead silence. I stared at Chiron. I couldn’t believe nobody had told him yet. Then I realized why. They’d been waiting for us to appear, to tell Nico in person, Titan’s curse)

Nico turned him into the scapegoat for her death, so that he could let all his grief and anger and bitterness out on him

Bianca sent Iris-messages to Percy, so that he would find and help Nico (“Percy has been worried about you, Nico. He can help. I let him see what you were up to, hoping he would find you.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Her ghost only appeared to Nico when Percy was with him

Percy is the only person Nico knows of, who also grieved for Bianca (“Bianca,” I said. My voice was thick. I’d felt guilty about her death for a long time but seeing her in front of me was five times as bad, like her death was fresh and new. I remembered searching through the wreckage of the giant bronze warrior she’d sacrificed her life to defeat, and not finding any sign of her. “I’m so sorry,” I said. Battle of the Labyrinth)

3.

Percy is the person who protected and cared for Nico more than anyone else in pjo

Tried to convince Bianca to think more deeply about her decision of joining the hunters, especially thinking of him (“Biance, this is crazy,” I said. “What about your brother? Nico can’t be a hunter.” (Titan’s curse)

Searched the woods in the dark for hours after he had disappeared (Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.)

Didn’t tell Chiron about Nico’s parentage to protect him from the Gods. (I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—") Titan’s curse)

Decided to completely commit to the prophecy, solely so Nico didn’t have to bear that burden and go trough any more suffering(It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger," I said. "I owe that much to his sister. I… let them both down. I'm not going to let that poor kid suffer any more." ) Titan’s curse)

Searched for Nico in the months after Titan’s Curse (Now, six months later, I hadn’t even come close to finding him. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. Battle of the labyrinth, chapter 3))

Saved his life on Geryon’s farm. (“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But, if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.”)

Always offered Nico a place at camp half-blood to the best of his abilities (“We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.”“No.”“Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the big house. They’ve got plenty of room.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Invited him to join him on his birthday (“Is that… is that blue birthday cake?”He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever been invited to one. “Come inside for cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Reminded him that he was still a child (I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Helped him to get the sword of hades back to impress his father (Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognised the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love., Sword of hades)

Acknowledged everything Nico did in The last Olympian and is one of the main reasons why Hades has a cabin at camp. ( “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.”)

4.

Percy was Nico’s first, and after Will, his biggest love

Nico had feelings for Percy, which didn’t leave him for around 2 1/2 years, and accompanied him throughout the most challenging parts of his life. 

Feelings, which were so deep, the god of love personally acknowledged them.

Favonius even called Percy, the person Nico cares about most in House of Hades.

This was more than just a mere crush

Percy is so completely intertwined with most aspects of Nico’s character arc, in both PJO and Hoo, be it his feeling of ostracism, his relationship to Bianca or him coming to term with his own sexuality, that them not having a final interaction, makes his writing feel shallow and unfinished. Especially Nico coming to terms with his crush on Percy opens up the opportunity for a really heartwarming conversation and a moment of character growth and maturity for both of them, instead of it being wasted on one throw-away line.

And it’s the same the other way around. Nico is also a huge part of Percy’s journey.

He especially represents Percy’s biggest failure.

The first five Percy Jackson books are characterized by Percy having to take up responsibility and him being afraid of not being able to fulfill them. Be it responsibility for camp, the world, Bianca’s death, the prophecy, his friends, teh unclaimed demigods, or everything else. Most of the time, Percy was able to make sure everything turned out fine. He saved camp, he saved Olympus, he finished his quests, made the right decision for the prophecy, and he made the gods swear upon teh styx. But there’s one exception. And that is Nico.

Percy did everything in his power to make sure Nico would be spared any more hardships. He took up the burden of the prophecy, explicitly, so that Nico doesn’t have to go through any more hardships

He searched for him after Titan’s curse, kept his identity a secret and even risked himself, Annabeth, Grover and Tyson dying if it meant saving Nico

Still, Nico is one of the characters, if not the character, who has suffered the most in PJO and Hoo, even partly because of Percy (though, of course, Nico having a crush on him was not Percy’s fault at all)

He lived alone at 11 years old on the streets and in the labyrinth, while getting manipulated by an ancient evil spirit

He was isolated and ostracized at camp half-blood

He experienced the horrors of Tartarus completely on his own

He got captured by the giants and slowly suffocated to death in a small jar

He had to deal with internalized homophobia and his complicated feelings regarding Percy

He has been a vital part of two wars at only 15 years old

Had to admit his crush involuntarily in front of Jason, etc.  

One of the things Percy battles with in Heroes of Olympus is this overwhelming sense of guilt. He blames himself for almost everything that went wrong over the last few years. Be it for Iapetus, Calypso, or especially Nico. Having Percy acknowledge this complicated relationship he has with him during House of Hades, but not allowing the two of them to talk it out is genuinely baffling to me, and one of the (albeit many) reasons why I really don’t like most of Percy’s writing during Heroes of Olympus, despite the fact that he is my favourite character by far. This could have led to a moment of character growth, where Nico helps Percy to aknowledge that he feels guilty for things he had little to no control over, while Nico himself realizes how important he actually is to Percy.

They are also so similar in terms of who they are and what they’ve been through, that even if you ignore their history with each other, it seems insane, that they didn’t interact in any meaningful way:  

Both were ostracized at camp half-blood because of their parentage, and so far are the only two half-bloods we know of with that experience

They are (together with Hazel) the most powerful demigods in the Riordan verse, and have feats which far surpass anyone else’s

Both are in some way afraid of their powers

Both went through Tartarus

Both have relatively similar relationships to their godly parents

Both have gone through immense trauma and loss

And if you read heroes of Olympus, it actually very much seems to build towards a final resolution of their relationship

Percy and Nico were, aside from Frank, the two people closest to Hazel; both saw her as a little sister, and Hazel treated them both like her brothers

Nico was the first person Percy met from his old life

Percy was the one, who received the visions of Nico being captured

From everyone present, Percy trusted Nico to lead the others to Greece in his moment of greatest desperation

They both had introspections about the other in house of Hades, Nico having to deal with his crush and Percy with his guilt in Tartarus

But, in the end, after they met again, nothing happened. The only scene we really got was the “You’re not my type” line and Percy being surprised by it for a couple seconds. That’s it.

We saw no meaningful conversation between the two of them, no acknowledgement of what they’ve been through together, no lasting feelings. Nothing.

In regards to their relationship, Percy acknowledging everything that Nico has been through led to nothing. Nico acknowledging his feelings for Percy and finally letting go of this pedestal he had placed him on led to nothing. You could argue that their entire relationship, which has been built up since Titan’s curse led to nothing. And considering that they are so important characters for each of their character arcs, their characterization very much suffers from this writing decision.

The two of them, together with Hazel, are my three favourite Riordan verse characters by a long shot, but some very important aspects of both of their characters fall so flat to me through this lack of a satisfying resolution.

 Both of them deserved so much better.  

They are the friendship with the most missed potential in the entirety of the Riordan verse and probably the most fleshed out and nuanced relationship Rick ever wrote.

R.I.P.  Nico di Angelo, and Percy Jackson, you will always be brothers in my mind.

[checkeredflagggs]

The Story of Us: Chapter 1

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 1 of 4/5, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky

y/n_fanpage

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 10,293,833 others

y/n_fanpage: y/n_nation has been busy this past week with hints of what’s to come. Obviously midnight has something to do with her announcement! Thoughts?

view all comments

user1: NO. SHUT UP!!!

↳user2: NEW STUFF??? NEW MATERIAL??

↳user1: MOTHER IS BACKKK!!!

↳user2: I forgot that it’s y/n_nation that posts the announcements now 😭😭 I feel like I’ve missed so much stuff

↳user1: girl you better go back and check it out

charles_leclerc: cannot wait! Will definitely be on repeat in the garage

↳carlossainz55: yes!!

↳scuderiaferrari: already making room for it in the playlist!

↳user3: ok but this just makes sense to me!!

↳user4: right? Of course Carlos and Charles are y/n fans!

user5: another banger album on the way!

↳user6: album of the year!!

user7: 🤞🤞 fingers crossed it’s a love album

↳user8: oh my god same?

↳user7: like I love her other stuff so much but her love albums??? Next. Level.

↳user8: right?? Oh imagine being loved by someone who writes literal love songs for you

↳user7: not just love songs tho…Thee love songs!

alex_albon: new race day anthem loading!

↳logansargeant: 😂

↳alex_albon: I can’t be teammates with you if you’re not a y/n fan

↳logansargeant: biggest fan there is

↳alex_albon: well that’s not possible

↳lilymhe: no one is taking that title from us!

↳logansargeant: if you say so…

↳oscarpiastri: 🤣🤣

user9: tour tour tour tour!

↳user10: she’s hasn’t even released the album yet? Like Jesus…

y/n

liked by user, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, alex_albom, logansargeant, and 11,283,012 others

y/n: this is a no judgement zone, right? Right? Meet the newest members of the family — Snowball and Snowflake, Marshmallow, and Croissant!

view all comments

user11: I’m in love?

↳user12: you’re in love? I’m in love!!!

↳user13: they’re so cute!

maxverstappen1: You’re a cat mom too?

↳user14: still not over the thought that vroom vroom guys are in mothers comment section

logansargeant: good looking pups there!

charles_leclerc: it must be the season for new pets!

↳user15: ok but this seems desperate?

↳user16: oh I’m glad I’m not the only one to sense this

↳charles_leclerc: non! It is called shooting your shot!

↳user15: reads like desperation tbh

↳maxverstappen1: ha

↳charles_leclerc: I don’t think I like you anymore

↳user15: I’m not sure who you’re talking too or who should be more offended

↳charles_leclerc: yes

y/n

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, estebanocon and 13,297,934 others

y/n: We lie awake in love and in fear, in turmoil and in tears. We stare at walls and drink until they speak back. We twist in our self-made cages and pray that we aren’t — right this minute — about to make some fateful life-altering mistake.

This is a collection of music written in the middle of the night, a journey through terrors and sweet dreams. The floors we pace and the demons we face. For all of us who have tossed and turned and decided to keep the lanterns lit and go searching — hoping that just maybe, when the clocks strike twelve…we’ll meet ourselves.

Midnights, the story of 13 sleepless nights scattered throughout my life, is yours now. Meet me at midnight

view all comments

user16: what??? Like what??

user17: did she seriously just drop a surprise album on us?????

↳user18: miss ma’am mother i know that the album is called midnight but that does NOt mean you have to drop it at midnight! I have classes tomorrow!

maxverstappen1: vigilante shit is on repeat!

↳redbullracing: we can confirm this ✅

↳charles_leclerc: bejeweled is where it’s at actually

↳scuderiaferrari: excuse us while we grab our rhinestones

↳maxverstappen1: it’s ok to admit you’re wrong.

↳charles_leclerc: I’m glad you’re being truthful!

↳maxverstappen1: 😑😑😑

user19: ok but mastermind??? What kind of groundwork are you laying girl??

↳user20: right??? She’s been writing love songs for years and there’s still nothing about who they’re for

↳user21: for real!!! She’s come out about a lot of her songs — illicit affair about yourbff and back to December being about yoursister — but she’s Never! Said anything about who the love songs are about!

↳user19: I’m convinced she’s in a long term relationship and they’re all about her partner!

↳user20: user53 your help is needed rn!

↳user53: oh god not again

↳user19: when im right im gonna laugh in your face

↳user53: uh huh sure you will

alex_albon: do we have to pick a favorite?? Can’t we just play it on repeat in it’s entirety?

↳lilymhe: we absolutely will be doing that

↳logansargeant: really? The entirety??

↳alex_albon: for someone who tried to say you were her biggest fan, this is disappointing behavior

↳lilymhe: it really is

↳logansargeant: 🤷🏼‍♂️🤷🏼‍♂️

↳logansargeant: 🤣

oscarpiastri: my sisters have been screaming at me since it dropped

↳logansargeant: oops. Sorry about that man — know how that feels

↳hattiepiastri: we! need! a! signed! copy!

↳oscarpiastri: I thought you were just into kpop?

↳hattiepiastri: mom! nicolepiastri Oscar is being mean!

↳oscarpiastri: low blow.

↳hattiepiastri: 🤨🥺

↳oscarpiastri: …I’ll see what I can do

↳user19: 🧐🧐🧐

landonorris: I don’t know which one to choose as a favorite…

↳oscarpiastri: oh no

↳landonorris: which means all of them are!

↳oscarpiastri: does this mean…

↳carlossainz55: he will be singing the entire album at the top of his lungs, yes

↳danielricciardo: it won’t be good singing but it will be consistent

↳oscarpiastri: no

↳carlossainz55: yes

↳danielricciardo: yup

↳landonorris: go away muppets! Leave me and y/n and her album alone

↳oscarpiastri: 🤣🤣

logansargeant

liked by not_y/n, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1,294,278 others

logansargeant: always a great feeling being back home — even better with new friends

view all comments

user22: new puppy??? Winter break did Logan good this year!

alex_albon: you didn’t tell me you got a new dog!

↳logansargeant: haha it’s technically not mine but sorry!

↳alex_albon: you got a new dog and didn’t tell me!! Me!!

↳logansargeant: 😂😂

↳lilymhe: he’s pacing right now, he’s in distress

↳logansargeant: sorry not sorry

↳logansargeant: would a visit with him help?

↳alex_albon: it is literally the least you could do

↳logansargeant: 😂 he’ll be at Miami

↳alex_albon: good!

user23: ummm?? Could I take the place of the puppy???

user24: I’m?? Jealous? Of a dog…

↳user25: big mood

↳used24: this is not where I predicted my life would be 10 years ago…

↳user25: no one ever does.

user19: am I gonna be attacked if I say something?

↳user53: potentially

↳user19: do you just have me on notifications??

↳user26: we alert them every time we see you post

↳user26: you scare us

↳user19: just because I’m always right doesn’t mean I’m scary

↳user53: ok let’s take it to dms.

↳user19: buckle up then buddy cause I’ve got it all printed out

↳user26: user53 is a real one 🫡 taking it for team

↳user19: 😡😡😡

↳user53: user19 come on. Explain your newest conspiracy

not_y/n: what a cutie! And he looks so well behaved

↳not_logan: why thank you!

↳not_oscar: gross guys. Keep it to yourselves please and thank you

↳not_y/n: why?? Want me to call you a good boy too??

↳not_logan: absolutely not!

↳not_oscar: eww 🤢 you’re solidly in the sister category and this is not game of thrones

↳not_y/n: 😜

↳not_y/n: speaking of — hotd season 1 binge before Miami?

↳not_logan: yes!

↳not_oscar: yes! — L

↳not_oscar: i guess that it’s a yes from us

y/n

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 16,294,923 others

y/n:

What keeps you up at night?

It’s a momentary glimmer of distraction. The tiniest notion of reminiscent thought that wanders off into wondering, the spark that lights a tinderbox of fixation. And now it is irreversible. The flame has caught. You’re wide awake.

3am is different from midnight — the sky is ever darker and the thoughts even more haunting. Things that would keep you up at one don’t at the other.

Midnights: the 3am edition is yours now

view all comments

user27: why? Would? You? Do? This? To? Me?? I just barely got over midnights?? And now I have to listen to 3am??

oscarpiastri: again? Didn’t we just go through this 2 weeks ago?

↳landonorris: WOOOO!

↳oscarpiastri: oh no 😥

↳logansargeant: you could show some enthusiasm? You’ve definitely said she’s one of your favorite artists before

↳oscarpiastri: she is. Lando’s version of her? Not so much

↳landonorris: so rude!

↳carlossainz55: I think it might be a self defense mechanism

↳danielricciardo: gotta save those eardrums somehow

↳landonorris: 😡😡

danielricciardo: Paris baby!

↳user28: I knew you were a man of taste!

↳yukitsunoda0511: he’s really not. The Great War is superior

↳danielricciardo: you wish

user29: ok but would’ve, could’ve, should’ve??

↳lilymhe: karma is still the superior song

↳alex_albon: bigger than the whole sky? Did you miss that song?

↳lilymhe: we’re breaking up. I can’t be with someone who’s top song isn’t karma

↳user29: sorry but you’re both wrong 🤷🏼‍♂️

user19: Paris???? Are you kidding me!??!? And The Great War?!??

↳user53: I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath

↳user19: I told you!

↳user53: yes you did. And, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I’m starting to believe you

↳user30: who are you and what happened to user53?

↳user53: I don’t know man. I don’t know

↳user53: however user19 might be on to something here…

↳user19: MIGHT?!?

↳user19: just you wait!

y/n_nation

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 19,294,923 others

y/n_nation: pack your backs and get your tickets! Coming to a city near you, the Eras Tour is a journey through y/n’s decade long music career!

Starting in Miami, Opening Night is Monday, May 6…more

view all comments

user30: YES!!!

↳user31: omg omg omg omg!!!!

danielricciardo: already planning on it!

↳maxverstappen1: so lucky that opening day is immediately after the Miami GP!

↳danielricciardo: exactly! It’ll be nice to spend a few extra days in Florida!

↳user19: yes so lucky…

oscarpiastri: on the one hand I think my sisters would kill me if we didn’t go for opening night…on the other hand I don’t know if I can do a live show with Lando…

↳logansargeant: maybe you’ll get lucky and have separate seating?

↳oscarpiastri: one could only hope…

↳landonorris: you frickin muppets

↳hattiepiastri: seriously???

↳oscarpiastri: will work on it

↳hattiepiastri: yes!!

alex_albon: suddenly i feel like the garages will have a lot of extra guests…

↳lilymhe: what do you mean? I always planned on going to Miami!

↳alex_albon: does always mean 20 minutes?

↳carmenmmundt: it does actually!

↳georgerussell63: since when?

↳francisca.cgomes: for about the last 20 minutes!

↳pierregasly: hint received

↳francisca.cgomes: 🤭

user32: ok i need to be at opening night now…

↳user33: right? The chance to see all these drivers in person?

↳user32: AND to see y/n perform live?!? Dream come true

charles_leclerc: I am ready to fight the Ticketmaster

↳alexandrasaintmleux: yay!

↳user34: oh to have Charles leclerc fight Ticketmaster for you…

logansargeant

liked by not_y/n, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1,214,223 others

logansargeant: last minute dates before the season starts

view all comments

user35: who? What? Where? When?

↳user36: A GIRLFRIEND?!??!!? SINCE WHEN????

alex_albon: first you get a dog and don’t tell me and now you have a whole ass GIRLFRIEND AND DIDNT TELL ME???? Where is the team loyalty?

↳logansargeant: …we’ve been together longer then I’ve been your teammate?

↳user37: what?? HOW LONG?

↳alex_albon: exactly! HOW LONG???

↳logansargeant: just over 10 years now

↳alex_albon: you were a baby?

↳logansargeant: I was nearly 14?

↳alex_albon: a baby!!

oscarpiastri: tell her to answer her texts

↳logansargeant: she said she’s on a strict no phone policy

↳oscarpiastri: I can see her on her phone right now

↳logansargeant: “oh it’s exclusively against Australians who mocked my cooking attempts”

↳oscarpiastri: 😑😑😑

↳oscarpiastri: whatever she made IT WAS NOT BANANA BREAD

↳logansargeant: “but you didn’t have to laugh at me!”

↳alex_albon: the Australian knows???

↳oscarpiastri: there are levels here albon. Gotta get on my level — childhood best friends

jensonbutton: you’ve never mentioned you had a girl, kid

↳logansargeant: ok but to be fair you’ve never asked?

↳jensonbutton: and you’ve never introduced us?

↳logansargeant: she supports from a distance — she also travels a lot for work

↳jensonbutton: kid…

↳alex_albon: DOES ANYONE BUT THE AUSTRALIAN KNOW??

↳oscarpiastri: my family knows

↳alex_albon: Logan…

↳logansargeant:😂

user38: that Florida sun does something amazing for Logan!

↳user39: is it the sun or is it the girl??

↳logansargeant: it’s not the girl

↳logansargeant: it’s my girl

↳user39: I am literally swooning right now good lord

user19: user53! I told you

↳user53: …yeah ok

↳user40: user19 I need the timeline I need the proof I need the receipts

↳user19: I’ve got you!

Bluesky

f1

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 8,923,924 others

tagged: y/n, y/n_nation

f1: it’s time to be fearless! Miss Americana will be performing the National Anthem at the Miami GP the day before the start of her Eras tour!

view all comments

user41: oh my god!!! I get to see her twice???

↳user42: seriously??? I’m so jealous

↳user41: I don’t know which gods blessed me but I managed to get tickets to both!!

↳user42: you know I heard it’s good to sleep with your windows open…

maxverstappen1: y/n the Redbull Garage would gladly welcome you!

↳redbullracing: absolutely! You Belong With Us!

↳user43: …is the redbull admin playing wingman for max?

↳redbullracing: the grind never stops

↳maxverstappen1: thanks admin

↳user43: gotta respect that I guess

landonorris: I think papaya is more your color y/n!

↳user44: I think she might prefer a winner actually

↳user44: you know to match her 3 album of the year’s

↳landonorris: ok i let stand the bullying from my friends and teammates

↳landonorris: but im not gonna stand for it from you

williamsracing: i think we could have The Best Day with you and your fellow American y/n!

↳logansargeant: hey what?

↳alex_albon: that’s it? Gonna need more enthusiasm from the guy who “claims” he’s the biggest fan

↳lilymhe: yeah! Show off your American spirit

↳logansargeant: caw caw 🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅

↳y/n: stunning show

↳lilymhe: 🤯🤯

user49: did…did she just…

↳user50: respond to Logan Sargeant? Yeah

↳user49: ohmygod

scuderiaferrari: I do believe Red is your color y/n

↳charles_leclerc: we look best in Red here!

↳carlossainz55: and we have ice cream!

↳charles_leclerc: yes! Custom ice cream just for you

↳alexandrasaintmleux: and we’ll even have a puppy if you’d like a puppy play date!

↳charles_leclerc: yes leo is very well behaved

↳user51: the desperation stinks all up in here

user52: i am living for all the garages trying to get y/n to join them for the weekend

↳user54: my favorite part is the desperation coming from the drivers

↳user54: silly vroom vroom guys and gals thinking they could shoot their shot with y/n… liked by not_y/n

Private Messages

y/n_gossip

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y/n_gossip: breaking! Coming from unknown sources are apparently leaked photos from y/n’s private phone.

My questions are how was she hacked and who is the guy!

Be the first to comment

Private Messages

Part 2

[muletia]

First of all I LOVE your fics!! Thank you for feeding my delusions (like its totally normal to be obsessed with a robot)

I just keep imagining this scenario where the reader and optimus are kinda in the flirting stage, and she has to attend an office party, so after saving her ass from cons, he drops her off at the venue, and she has to change. She does that in the truck and checks herself in the mirror, and he compliments her. She then gives him a kiss on the dashboard and the hood and leaves. Ratchet notices that optimus is in a daze and asks why does he have red splotches on his face and chest (reader kissed him with red lipstick on).

What do you think his reaction would be like and if the kids notice its kiss marks

thank you <33 and dw i'm feeding my own delusions, no thoughts, head full of giant obsessed robots (let's pretend that opti knows what lipstick is for this, okay??)

word count: 730

He feels the warmth of your lips on his armor long after you’ve parted ways. You delivered your blows swiftly, yet precisely, and above all, skillfully—because Optimus cannot stop thinking about them. It was a small gesture, perhaps left by you in a rush of emotion when he directed a compliment your way, or maybe it was intentional, meant to torture him just a little, to leave a mark behind, ensuring he’d think of you constantly until your return. For him, however, the implications of your action were enormous, hinting at a quiet passion. And perhaps his fantasies seized control of him immediately, but he was convinced they meant far more than just a goodbye. They implied something else. Something closer, more intimate. Were you trying to tell him something? Prove something to him? As a leader, he needed to be certain at all times, but you were someone he could never quite figure out. How could someone so noble also torment him so much?

He drives into the base and transforms, though his thoughts remain with you—your warm lips, the boundless trust you showed him, the gentleness you displayed toward him. He vividly remembers the texture of your soft, warm lips against him. He’s even convinced they’re still there, infecting him with their heat, awakening desires he tries not to entertain. For they are unclean and unworthy of you, and, above all, unworthy of him.

"Optimus?"

But oh, how much he would give to once again be the center of your attention. For you to honor him with another kiss. It could be imprecise, unclear—it could leave him pondering its meaning for ages, as well as searching for the reason you chose to bestow it upon him in the first place. The pretext wouldn’t matter when it meant your focus was solely on him.

"Optimus?"

He returns to the real world. Ratchet greets him, clearly displeased that the leader of the Autobots was lost in thought instead of focusing on reality. In this case, Optimus is forced to push you to the back of his processor, though he is disheartened by the necessity. He wonders how long he can last—how long until you envelop him in your warmth again and he finds himself dissecting every gesture, every glance, wondering if this particular interaction was more romantic than the rest.

"My apologies, my friend. It seems I became lost in my thoughts."

"This has been happening more and more often lately. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Did something happen during your journey?"

Optimus arches a brow, surprised.

"No, I reached the base without any issues. Why do you ask?"

"This."

Ratchet points to a spot on his chassis, just beneath the left windshield, on the freshly polished red paint. Then, oh Primus, to his faceplate. Optimus doesn’t need a mirror to know what specifically the medic is pointing at. And for the first time in a very, very long time, he feels embarrassment creeping in, exposing a sliver of his emotions to the world.

He subtly turns his head and covers his mouth with his servo, for at this moment, he has no excuse for this situation.

“Ooooooh, I know what this is, I know!” Miko shouts, having been bored out of her mind just moments ago.

“Miko, calm down,” Jack scolds, noticing Optimus’s discomfort.

But Miko couldn’t care less.

“It's lipstick and the marks mean that boss bot has someone who really likes him.” She emphasizes "really" and giggles. The situation becomes even funnier as Ratchet rolls his optics.

“Ah yes, I forgot you were dropping [Name] off,” he sighs. “Just get together already, I beg of you.”

“It is not that simple,” Optimus clears his throat.

“Mhm, sure.”

Prime leaves the hangar, metaphorical tail between his legs, intent on erasing the evidence of his “crime.” He should have expected that your affections would eventually be noticed (they were, long ago), but he would have preferred for it not to happen under such humiliating circumstances.

He touches the spot Ratchet pointed to with a digit. He can still feel your lips there—their warmth, the sparks you shared with him. And if it were up to him, he would never get rid of your marks, the proof of belonging to you, of being yours alone. But the world around him was not ready for that.

[moonpascaltoo]

ominis gaunt

MASTERLIST • HOGWARTS LEGACY • 11/29/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 something wretched about this, something so precious about this I @shadowtriovibes

mc is absolutely taken with ominis' mouth in every sense of the word

𑣲 you were the first I @spaceyaceface

Ominis Gaunt has never known affection. He has never known how it felt to love---to be loved. She came and changed all of it.

𑣲 only in dreams I @/spaceyaceface

She spent her days in love with him, and her nights wishing they were together. But she knew it would never be---Ominis Gaunt had sworn off love for the sake of ending his family's legacy. She knew she wouldn't be an exception to that.

𑣲 he’s so in love I @hufflepuffwitchhh

ominis is in love with you. now, who's gonna tell him?

𑣲 her touch I @thenerdykneazle

Ominis had never been fond of being touched. Or, at least, he had few positive experiences with it. That changed with the arrival of the new fifth-year.

𑣲 amorous tension I @/thenerdykneazle

Poppy is quite sure her best friend has feelings for our favourite heir of Slytherin. MC is quite sure she doesn't, despite abundant evidence to the contrary. When Ominis asks MC to help him study for an upcoming potions exam, she jumps at the chance.

𑣲 the scriptorium I @/thenerdykneazle

After a harrowing journey through Slytherin's Scriptorium, Ominis helps MC recover from being subjected to the torture curse. After all, he has personal experience dealing with its effects.

𑣲 because you’re mine I @metal-mouse

You are most surprised to see Ominis Gaunt return to you with a broken nose and a black eye from a fight. He's being awfully cryptic about who he got into a fight with, until you've finished healing him and he confesses why he's so upset.

𑣲 sensing you part 2 I @darknights04

You and Ominis have been friends for as long as you've been at Hogwarts. He's felt more for you for almost just as long. He's never thought about telling you, but that was until the new fifth year put you in great danger.

𑣲 a jeweled promise I @forbidden-amortentia

In 7th year, to formalize Ominis & reader courting/dating, he gifts them a necklace. While putting it on, it can only be unlocked with parseltongue, so a bit possessive but mostly sweet demonstration of his affection & devotion to reader. Possibly includes some tender touches and kisses in the neck/ear/jaw area.

𑣲 hold me close and hold me fast I @princessconsuela120

You fall asleep on Ominis' shoulder during class.

𑣲 all you’ve done part 2 part 3 I @chickenlizard13

𑣲 actions speak louder than words I @sissyisawitch

Even though the two of you are not on good terms after a certain event, you and Ominis decide to go and explore Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium in order to help Sebastian. But you know what they say, danger helps to reconcile… but also to bring out the truth.

𑣲 note taking part 2 part 3 part 4 I @dittanyinbloom

𑣲 the polyjuice ploy I @cranetreegang

𑣲 temporary blindness I @sebastianswallows

𑣲 in the middle part 2 I @awkwardauthorwrites

After a few months of knowing the reader the boys suddenly realise one day they are falling in love with the reader and start to become a bit bitter towards each other and very jealous if another guy gives her attention.

𑣲 moonlight I @galaxiasgreen

In search of distraction from Ranrok's rebellion, you dance with Ominis in the Undercroft.

𑣲 a cruelty vivid and sweet part 2 part 3 I @/galaxiasgreen

Never before had he really met a Muggle-born. He had no idea how naïve they were. How unprepared. Certainly, his family said they, and Muggles in general, were inferior, stupid, barely worthy to be at Hogwarts. Barely worth existing. But you weren't any of those things.

𑣲 like an evening sky I @thecharacterchronicler

You ask Ominis to be your date for the ball and he feels sorry that he can’t see how beautiful you are... So you help him get a much more detailed and intimate idea of what you look like.

𑣲 return I @weasleys-wizard-writes

You and Ominis are finally reunited on the Hogwarts express after several weeks apart. The only problem is, you're running late, and Gaunts are not known for their patience...

[cherryheairt]

Not Yet Blossomed

Cregan Stark x Bolton's wife!reader

Summary- When Cregan visits the Boltons to oversee their livestock problem, he can't help but be enamored with Lord Bolton's meek wife. When he finds the truth of their relationship, he commits himself to saving her.

named Tully reader no desc

part 1?

Cregan's journey to the Dreadford was uneventful to say the least. He had enough problems to deal with in Winterfell, so being summoned by the Boltons to oversee their newest livestock problems was the least of his concerns. However, Ryen Bolton's letter remained ominous when he first sent for Lord Stark's help. Apparently, the livestock were going missing in bundles at a time. Too many to be regular predators or the animals to simply be wandering off on their own.

Cregan promised himself to deal with this swiftly. No more than a few days, then he could go back home and deal with bigger problems.

Bolton was lucky that it was still summer, warmer, and bountiful in its harvests. If it were any other season, Cregan would not have bothered with the matter himself and instead sent his trusted bannermen to meet with Ryen. Though the ground was mostly clear of snow, it did not stop the slightest tears of white to fall from the sky in light showers, the sun deterring it from sticking to the floor for long. The air carried a chilling breeze, though the sunlight kissed his cheeks warmly as he traveled on horseback.

A few days, he reminded himself.

It was only when he first saw Lady Bolton that his mind was swayed.

A beautiful young lady, to be sure. Cregan had once considered her for his own marriage before her hand was swiftly taken by Ryen. The elder man had been enamored with her beauty and grace when she had visited the Dreadfort with her father, Samuel Tully.

A shame, Cregan had thought those years ago. The two of them were so similar in age, and their houses were both paramount over the Northern and Riverland Houses. A beneficial arrangement would have surely come from their marriage. Plus, he had found a pleasent friend within their short time together.

He had met her only once, when they were both five and ten. The young Lady had been a picture of Southern elegance and flowery words, though she had none of the falseness of her kin. She was all genuine, a breath of fresh air to all who sought her company.

Ciara Tully had married at the age of six and ten to Ryen Bolton, a man of eight and thirty. Cregan had scowled when the raven had come from Samuel Tully to inform him of his daughter no longer being available. If only he had moved sooner, he had sulked for days after the news before finding his resolve and moving on to other prospects. He had no regrets in that regard, for he found a love match in his searching.

Ryen had always been a callous and frustrating man to deal with, but Cregan persevered through their occasional meetings by telling himself it would all be over soon. The Lord never liked to speak for long, not when he was more focused on drowning himself in his cups. When he did speak, it was a whole lot of nothing.

When Cregan entered the keep's council room to meet Lord Bolton, he was shocked to be met with a young boy at the man's side instead of his wife. The seat next to him was empty, and only a few adult male kin of House Bolton and the Maester were also in the room. "Will Lady Bolton not be in attendance?" Asked Cregan, sitting across from Ryen. It was the one empty seat in the room now.

Ryen coughed, shifting in his seat. "Ciara has other matters to attend to. She need not bother with the matters of men." He said dismissively, though it seemed to Cregan that he had forgotten that most Ladies would attend council with their Lord husbands at all.

Arra Norrey had when she was alive, attending every meeting Cregan held until the unfortunate day of her parting. She was a brilliant and influential mind, never afraid to speak her opinion. The North was better for it.

Ryen did not seem to share the opinion that the Bolton Lady should attend to her political duties.

Cregan nodded and left it at that, glancing briefly at the boy next to Ryen, who puffed out his cheeks and fiddled with his fur coat boredly.

Ryen seemed to perk at the opportunity to introduce. "This is my son and heir, Dalton. A boy of four just recently." He said, russeling the boy's brown hair that perfectly reflected his own. He was a bit young to be learning the ways of Lordship, but Cregan dismissed that as the man being eager to have his son learn the Bolton ways. Who was Cregan to judge, anyway? He was no longer a father himself, nor had his son lived long enough for him to consider education.

The Stark nodded his greeting, turning back to the Bolton. "What of the situation at hand?"

Ryen straightened up, folding his hands. "My farmers have accounted for flocks of sheep and pigs going missing. Which, normally, I would send for poachers to deal with the wolves or bears taking from the fields, but none of my men have spotted any signs of such predators." He took a moment to lubricate his throat with an arbor red wine.

"Many farmers are reporting such activity, and it has come to a point where I thought we could benefit from an outside view on the matter."

Or he wanted to wash his hands of the burden of being Lord, Cregan thought wryly. Lazy as his father.

He firmly nodded. "I will scout out these areas myself, with Night Seeker to guide. The direwolf is a better tracker than most hunters, to be certain." He smiled tensely, scooting his seat out and excusing himself. "I will be back in a few days' time."

Cregan found himself wandering to the gardens of the Dreadfort after he finished gathering the farm locations from the resident Maester. He needed to clear his mind and plan for any possible outcomes. He had not yet dealt with a curious situation like this one.

There, he saw a woman in a blood-red dress crouched over some winter roses. Not yet in full bloom, the bright blue of the flowers was dulled and closed to a point.

Approaching slowly, Cregan cleared his throat gently to announce his presence.

Met with an almost violent flinch and swift turn, the woman revealed herself to be Ciara. "Lord Bolton—" She started, cutting herself off when she was met with a man other than her husband. Her hands grasped anxiously at her skirts, ruffling the silky material within her palms. She wore a fine ruby necklace and earrings to match, black laced gloves upon her smooth hands. It seemed far too thin and frilly to warm her properly in such weather, but the Lady seemed not to mind it, perhaps wearing such attire daily.

"Lady Ciara," Cregan greeted kindly, bowing his head to the young woman. The years had been kind to her, transforming her from a comely girl to a radiant woman.

"Lord...Cregan?" She asked tentatively, only going off of her faint memory of the man. He seemed to have grown in both height and muscle since their meeting years ago. "It has been a while. What brings you to the Dreadfort?"

Her voice was tense but not unfriendly. He was stunned at how warily she eyed him, not at all the joyful and outgoing girl he had met before. "Aye. Six years, if I remember correctly."

Ciara glanced behind Cregan, wringing her hands together. "It is nice to see you again. I am sorry to hear about your wife and..." she trailed off quietly, not finding the words to express the loss of his infant child. It had been three years ago that Arra met her unfortunate fate, followed by Rickon a year later when he had come down with fever.

"Thank you, my Lady. I am here to deal with Lord Bolton's problem with the flocks going missing. I'm sure you've heard of it."

"I have not, actually." Spoken hesitantly. "Is everything alright?"

"That is none of your concern, wife." Ryen Bolton spoke harshly from next behind Ciara's shoulder. Cregan almost cursed at the suddenness, as if the man had a beacon that told when others congregated on his lands. Glancing at the elder, he raised a straight brow at the interruption.

A firm had was placed on Ciara's shoulder, earning a barely consealed flinch from the lady. She seemed to shrink further under Ryen's presence, bowing her head and looking to her feet. "Forgive me, Lord Bolton. I will return to my chambers." With a curtsy and flurry of silk, she was gone.

Ryen spoke first, a heavy sigh coming from his thin, cracked lips. "Forgive my wife. She seems to wander these days, against her better judgement. Always disturbing the house and the children. I'll see to it that she does not bother you during your stay, my Lord."

Cregan narrowed his eyes, ticking his jaw at the tone and words used on the man's own wife. Never had he thought his former wife to be a bother in any circumstance, nor had his father spoken like that about Gilliane. "A disturbance to her own house and children, my Lord?" He asked.

"It may sound exaggerated to you, but you don't live with her. She is constantly interrupting the children's lessons and the staff for menial things. One would say she's trying to help, but I say she's always been like this—desperate for attention." Ryen leaned closer, hot breath hitting Cregan's senses unpleasantly as he did so. "Between you and me, she's always been a bit slow. Only good for her looks, I suppose, so she has her uses." The man bellowed at his own jest, excusing himself to attend to the awaiting Maester at the archway of the gardens.

Cregan silently seethed in the spot he was left in, breathing carefully to not lose his cool. He was Warden of the North, his attentions must first and foremost lie with the people's problems. He could not intervene in martial problems.

The rest of the day went by quickly, with Cregan waiting for the morrow's daylight before he left. At supper, Lady Ciara was missing too, only noticed by Cregan. Everyone else seemed not to mind or care, going about the dinner with loud laughs and shallow conversations. Young Dalton was now joined by an even younger sister, who Cregan learned was named Mabel. An imagine of her mother, even at the young age of two. The hair, skin color, and even eye color were all inherited from Mabel's mother, while Dalton was a mirror of his father. Mabel was ignored by Ryen, too, but not by the maids and servants passing by, always attending the children equally and kindly. The wet nurse spoon fed Mabel a few seats down from Ryen, quietly working to get through the supper before the men got too drunk and rowdy.

Cregan did not mention Ciara's absence again. He simply sipped on his ale and chewed on his mutton while waiting for enough time to pass for a suitable time to excuse himself.

Finally, when Ryen had drank enough to put a young squire to rest, the Stark abruptly left with the excuse of resting well for the morrow.

He made his way through the fort's winding halls, only stopping at the opened nursery. Ciara was not in the room, unsurprisingly. With no babes to look after in it, it was empty. He moved on to the next rooms, sure to find the Lady of the house's room nearby to her children.

It was not. After minutes of searching empty rooms and quiet halls, Cregan found Ciara's room in one of the towers of the Dreadfort. Tucked away in a cold corner, the towers of large keeps were usually reserved for when the keep housed many guests due to the towers having thinner walls and less insulation. Ladies and Lords never kept rooms of their own residence in such places.

When Cregan heard the quiet and peaceful humming, he followed it all the way up the spiraling stairs. The door was ajar, an inviting position for any passerbys—though none seemed to take it but himself.

Ciara sat on the stone floor, dressed in a velvety blue gown suited for dinner, though she did not attend it. She hummed on lowly as she embroidered what appeared to be a lavender baby's blanket, weaving darker flowers into it for her daughter. The stitching was near professional, similar to the stitches he was used to seeing on the clothes he bought from tailors, though hers was more personal instead of used for the practicality of his sigil.

Ciara huddled herself as close to the hearth as she could without burning herself, furs being placed over her shoulders and atop the fine dress. Still, she shivered under them and shook her hands occasionally to warm them. Even Cregan suppressed a shiver in the cold room, with his leathers and furs on his person.

The room itself felt empty and impersonal. There was no decoration; only a bed, hearth, settee, wardrobe, and what he assumed was a chest filled with embroidery supplies.

He announced himself with a brief knock on the open door, standing awkwardly in the archway. Her eyes shot up immediately to meet his, appearing like a rabbit in front of the wolf, betraying her Tully blood's 'fish' heritage. "Lord Stark." She said, swallowing harshly. "What brings you up here?"

Suspicious eyes glanced between him and the stairwell as she stood, setting her supplies down.

"I wished to apologize for earlier in the gardens. It was not my intent to bother you or upset Lord Bolton. I hope my mistake did not sway you to not come to dinner tonight?"

She shook her head quickly, though she furrowed her brow as if gauging his intent. "Of course not. In fact, I had wished to come tonight. It is nice to see an old friend, someone familiar to me. But...I was not summoned tonight." Was the simple answer.

"Summoned?" He could not stop himself from asking. "Surely you need not be summonded in your house." He said lightly.

Twisting her ring, she pursed her lips. "My husband gets irritated easily. He says it is best that I stay in my room most nights, so I cannot be in the way. Most of the time, I think he just forgets to send for me." She smiled sadly, though her words were beyond casual.

Cregan held a sigh back, going along with her casual attitude. "Your rooms are quite far, my Lady. Are there no open ones next to the nursery?" He asked.

She looked down at her feet again. This time, an indescribable tone laced her words. "I stayed there when Dalton was first born, but Ryen says it was much too close. That a woman's softness should not influence his son. I suppose he was right, I did spend too much time with them."

"They are but four and two. Children at that age need their parents—their mothers." Cregan offered, stepping a bit closer. He remembered little of his youth at that age, but knew from watching his own younger siblings grow that his mother and father both doted on them until they gained their own independence and started spending time with courtyard friends than their parents.

She took a subtle matching step backward, leaving Cregan to still himself entirely to not discomfort her. Shaking her head 'no', she disagreed with the Lord. "He is right. The children had started crying when parted from me. It was best that I moved away."

"That is a normal thing for one's own children to do. It shows that they are most comfortable with you, rather than servants." He stated.

"I'm afraid it is not possible. Staying up here has allowed me to keep Ryen happy. And Dalton, I'm sure." She nodded to herself, still avoiding Cregan's eyes.

"Dalton? Have you not spent much time with him after your move?"

"Oh, no. Of course not." She laughed quietly, brushing a stand of hair behind her ear. It held none of the true joy that it once did when she was younger. Her eyes held the same dullness that the winter roses in the gardens did, like the life had been sucked out of her since her marriage. "I'm not to see him at all, unless I am allowed to come to dinner. My daughter, though, is different. Her wet nurse takes breaks, and then I look after her for a time."

It should be the other way around, with the wet nurse taking Mabel only when Ciara felt drained from all the energy babes took to care for. Cregan had truly never heard of babes being taken from their own mothers except for special exceptions like illness or the occasional post-birth rut that trapped new mothers. Ciara was neither sick nor unresponsive, so Ryen's orders made zero sense.

"Have you eaten, my Lady?" He changed the topic of conversation, afraid to upset her or himself any longer.

"I have, earlier. Gresha brings me meals to my room." She said brightly, nodding to the settee and small table in front of it that he hadn't noticed before. Cregan felt a squeeze in his heart, seeing the half-emptied plate alone on the table. He had never guessed how Lady Ciara's life had been since her marriage all those years ago. Never would he have assumed it would be so desolate.

Most Ladies, even when dealt a poor hand with their husbands, always had their children to keep them company. Or visiting family, since their Houses were so close together. Ciara had none. She lived her days like a forgotten ghost haunting the Dreadfort, only remembered by the servants assigned to her and her husband, occasionally, when she got bold enough to wander the halls of her own home.

Even then, she could not find it in her heart to hold anger. Ever the patient and kind soul, Ciara persevered through the situation and found the best of it. Grateful for every crumb of respect and decency she was provided. This was no way a noble lady of her status should be treated.

For once, Cregan Stark felt utterly helpless.

He left early in the morning, Night Seeker at his heels. His first destination was to White Tower, one of the larger farms he had marked down on his map. Within the lands of the Boltons, White Tower held many acres and the largest flock of sheep available to the House. Cregan figured the root of the problem could easily be found at such a place.

White Tower was nothing special, only a few barns, mills, and a small house at the top of a hill. There, Cregan was greeted by Zayne and Milly Narrows. An old and kind couple, they recounted tales of their missing sheep with stressed tears filling their eyelines.

"You see, Lord Stark, it had only started with one or two at first. Then, weeks later, the sheep dissappeared in bunches at a time. We're already down to half our flock, and if it continues like this, we'll lose everything we've worked so hard for." Milly Narrows told him, hankerchief brushing her eyes and nose to keep appearances.

Zayne nodded solemnly, a more quiet presence than his wife. "I thought it was some coyotes or wolves, like it normally is, but our livestock dogs haven't alerted us to anything. No blood, no tracks, just missin' sheep."

Cregan hummed thoughtfully, glancing out of the window to the green fields. "That is a conundrum. I've never had a livestock problem where the dogs didn't know the situation better than the farmers." He said, mostly to himself.

"Can you help us, Lord Stark?" Milly asked, teary eyes hopeful.

"I will try my best, miss." He promised, leaving the home with his sword strapped to his shoulder. Whatever he would face, he would never do so without Ice. Night Seeker was already waiting by the fence where Cregan left him, panting at the sight of so many sheep flocked together in a confined space. Luckily, the wolf knew better than to give into such baser instinct. Cregan clicked his tongue for the direwolf to follow, pointing out to the forest where the Narrows had said the most foliage was tussled.

Night Seeker ran ahead, sniffing eagerly at anything and everything. It seemed he immediately found a trail, much to Cregan's surprise. Why hadn't the Narrows' dogs found anything?

He trudged forth, brushing past any bushes or trees in the way to follow the tracker. Night Seeker moved with a vigor, excitement growing at the chase, though admittedly Cregan's own curiousity grew as they went. Indeed, there were no animal tracks or strong scents to be seen by the human eye or smelt by the human nose.

Finally, after perhaps two hours of this, the forest broke into clear daylight. Beyond the treeline was more grass, though the chill was still lingering from the cool morning. Empty rolling fields, it seemed to be, leading Cregan to glance at his companion.

The direwolf's tongue lolled from its maw, tail wagging at his grand find. "What is this?" Cregan asked tiredly, doubting the location of multitudes of sheep being in such an open area.

The wolf huffed before breaking off into a dead sprint ahead, leaving Cregan to stammer and chase after him as best he could.

The fields winded for what felt like forever before leading to the border stones between House Flint and House Bolton. Only a few towers of smooth grey stone, as borders were oft marked by, it was an underwhelming sight. The direwolf knew better than to cross such things without Cregan's explicit permission, so he was left waiting for the man to catch up. Panting heavily, Cregan's brow furrowed. "House Flint?" He asked himself softly, wondering why the sheep trail would lead to the border.

House Flint had stayed unproblematic for Cregan's current rule and for Rickon's before him, too. Not having to do much in terms of peacekeeping, Cregan was glad to have a lightened load when it came to the ancient house.

"Go on." He commanded. They were surely close to the answer.

The direwolf happily led the way to a series of massive makeshift barns. Peeking inside, Cregan could not count the amount of livestock being held. On the doors was labeled 'Narrows', 'Fresc', and 'Limbant', three of the family farms that reported livestock missing.

Cregan cursed quietly, moving on to the next barn. Inside were pigs of ranging sizes and colors, labeled all the same. Wielding his ancestral sword, Cregan rounded the wooden buildings to the end of the row, finding a camp filled with a group of young men.

"What is this display before my eyes?" He demanded harshly, earning shocked stares and gaped mouths. The young men seemed no older than himself, perhaps thinking this all to be a fun juvenile prank, unknowing of the livelihoods being ripped from people.

One stood up from the bench, stuttering out his words, "Lord Stark!" He bowed quickly, the rest of the group following in suit. "We mean no harm, I swear! Simply following our orders, m'Lord."

Squires, the lot of them. It was clear to see now, these boys were not culprits but pawns. Fools, nonetheless. "And who has ordered hundreds of livestock to be stolen from House Bolton's lands?"

"Not stolen, m'lord!" Another valiantly spoke. "It is collateral, from the promise Lord Bolton owes our Lord Flint."

"A promise? What was owed that is equal to hundreds of livestock?" Cregan huffed out, shealthing his Valyrion steel sword.

"You don't know, m'Lord?" A blonde-haired boy asked, glancing between his friends. "Lord Bolton promised Lord Flint a hundred gold dragons if he could borrow working men to build some houses for him."

"How many? That's a steep price that few would pay for mere houses."

The one next to him shrugged, a shaggy-haired brunette, "a village, I 'eard. Right on the outskirts of the Dreadfort's walls.

The price made more sense, then. But for Bolton to offer a hundred gold dragons to outside help rather than his own men was an odd thing indeed. The first thought that came to mind was that Ryen Bolton was cheap—promising a payment that he never intended to pay and thinking he'd suffer no consequence for it.

"I see now." He sighed, rubbing his temple stressfully. "How did you get past livestock dogs with a whole group of men?"

The blonde smiled a crooked grin, puffing out his chest proudly. "That was my idea, m'Lord! I used some chamomile in their water supplies a few days before taking the herds. Knocks them to sleep real fast, though it doesn't last long."

"And how did you cover the tracks of so many?"

"Carts, m'Lord." One shrugged. "We took the trading route paths at night while some stayed behind to cover the tracks we entered through in the forests. A nasty job, it is." He huffed, scratching at his reddened legs. Seemed like he was one of the ones stuck with that job.

As much as Cregan wished to be angry at the boys, he could not find it in himself to blame them. Orders were orders, after all, and any young squire must follow them to achieve knighthood. "Get to work on returning them. Every. Last. One. I will deal with Flint and Bolton, and see to it that you go unblamed." He said heavily, making it clear that his command was non-negotiable.

With a few scattered groans and sighs, the squires all obeyed and got to work.

Cregan left again, borrowing a chestnut mare to make his journey back faster. He had much to think about.

💠

It was well into the afternoon when he finally returned, pointedly guided away from Lord Bolton's councilroom and chambers by a few maids. "Lord Bolton is resting at this hour. You can join him for supper." One said as she settled down lunch for Cregan in his guest chambers.

Cregan had half a mind to burst down the man's door and demand explanations, but knew that patience would yield the best results in this circumstance. He could not butt heads with such a stubborn and self-righteous man like Ryen.

Finishing his stew quickly, Cregan found himself too restless to stay confined. He took to the halls, intending to head to the gardens for a walk. As he passed the halls, commotion in the nursery caught his attention.

"...Didn't mean to, I promise!" Ciara's voice pleaded tearfully. Cregan wasted no time barging into the room, which had its door shut behind the last who entered. Ryen, it seemed, who loomed over Ciara and Mabel like a wild beast.

Ciara had Mabel clutched in her arms, protectively guarding her babe though she trembled like a leaf. In the hand holding the girl's head was also the lavender blanket, soft as silk and finished with its last sewn touches, he presumed. Neither adult noticed his presence, though young Dalton sat on his little bed and held himself in a ball, glancing up at the newcomer.

"What have I told you about coming in here?! You should be in your rooms until I say otherwise. I cannot deal with such nonsense any longer, I have tolerated your dimwitted behavior for far too long." He boomed, then dwindled into a growl as he spoke.

"I waited for someone to come in so I could ask to come downstairs. It's been nearly all day, so I thought Gresha had gotten ill and forgot to tell another maid to come up." She hurriedly explained herself, expression laced with guilt as she struggled to meet the man's eye.

"This is two days in a row that you've disobeyed my orders and left your room. At this rate, I'll have to lock you in the dungeons just to keep you in place."

"I only wished to give Mabel her blanket. She has been complaining at the night's chill for days." She mustered out, rocking the girl in her arms in a soothing matter as the girl whimpered at her father's tone.

"It is Summer, you daft girl! That girl would complain about the grass being too green, and you'd try to dye it blue just to appease her." He snatched up the blanket, tossing it into the warmed hearth and earning a squealing cry from Mabel.

Finally, Cregan thought he had seen enough. In the comfort of his own home, Ryen Bolton showed the kind of person he was beyond the watchful eye of the Starks. Stepping between Ryen as he took another intimidating step towards his wife, the grip Ryen had taken on Ciara's hand had slackened at the sight of the Lord.

"What are you doing in here, Lord Stark?" He grumbled out, unwilling to back down so easily when he was worked up so much.

"Watching my host make an utter fool of himself. I could hear you from my own chambers," he fibbed slightly. "Shall we reconvene in the council room?" He asked through gritted teeth, wishing to spare the children of a proper argument.

Ryen backed up, shaking his head firmly. "We will speak on the morrow." As he stormed out of the room, calling for a maid to bring him a keg of ale.

Turning to Ciara, Cregan gently brushed her wrist with his calloused fingertips. He saw only the conflicted storm held within glossy eyes, admiring how composed she managed to hold herself for the sake of her babes.

"Are you alright, my Lady?" He asked in a hushed tone, careful not to frighten the girl in her arms. He knew his size was not the most welcome sight to an already shivering young girl, much less one who had clearly been used to the biggest man in the house regularly using his size as an advantage.

Ciara nodded curtly, rocking Mabel in her arms until the girl stopped crying and only sniffled every so often. The repeated motion seemed to work to calm both of them. "Thank you, my Lord." She mumbled as she set the drowsy child into bed. Only afternoon, but little hands were adamantly rubbed at puffy undereyes already, the poor lass had worn herself to exhaustion.

Cregan saw similar puffiness on Ciara but chose to stay silent in his revelations. "Will you not stay in here, or bring the children to your room?" He offered. "I will ensure Lord Bolton does not bother you again today. Perhaps the quietness of the tower would do good for some quality rest."

Ciara seemed to contemplate but sadly shook her head 'no'. "The maester says the tower is much too cold for the children. They cannot regulate body heat as well as we can." She said, tucking Mabel into drab grey sheets. The whole room seemed the same to Cregan, though Dalton's side had more color and personality to it. Spoiled with toys and perhaps any other thing a boy of four had temporary whims for. Most lied scattered at the foot of his bed, though, untouched until a maid came in and cleaned it all up.

"And Dalton?" He asked, hesitating this time.

Ciara glanced up to the bed where he still sat, curious blue eyes on them both as they sat in the still silence. As quick as she looked, she broke the eye contact and left the room.

Puzzled, Cregan ushered the waiting maid at the door into the room, ensuring the children were taken care of being following the woman.

Her steps were hurried and floating, hands holding her dark emerald skirts to allow such fast movements. He noticed then that she was adorned in more fancy jewels. Emerald bracelets and a heavy necklace to match. Even in her simply-braided hair, that he assumed she did herself, lie a few studded pearls.

"Ciara?" He called after her, jogging to catch up with her head start.

She did not turn, instead rushing to the steps faster. On the first step, he was able to catch her arm before she could disappear into the sanctuary of her cold room. "Please, wait." He huffed.

Meeting his eye line better from the height boost, Ciara's face was dimmed with the low light available in the corridor. "What?" She demanded, a harsh and shocking contrast to her previous demeanor.

"What is wrong?" He scanned her briefly. "Is something...wrong with your son?" When he mentioned bringing Dalton along with her, the shift that he saw in her was concerning.

"Of course not!" She said, immediately defending her son with narrowed eyes. "Why would there be?"

"You didn't speak to him—nor comfort him like you did your daughter." The blunt words made her look away, blinking away tears rapidly. None fell, and she sighed shakily, as if the one thing she could control in such an unforgiving place was her own appearance.

"I cannot."

"Cannot speak to your son?"

"I am not allowed to, my Lord." She answered, clenching her jaw tightly. An unladylike behavior to grind her teeth or bite her nails, but both were nasty habits that she anxiously indulged in often.

Cregan laughed almost disbelievingly, shaking his head as if she told a most humorous jest. "Allowed to? I was not aware that mothers were given rules permitting their children's company." Though his growing anger seethed from his body clearly, none of it was directed at the woman in front of him. That did not stop her from stepping up another stair, twisting her ring around her finger as she did.

"It has been set for many moons, now. Lord Bolton had been unhappy with Dalton's behavior when I looked after him. He's better off with the maids." Her own son's name sounded foreign on her tongue, like she had tried to erase him from her mind to make the distance hurt less. Only, there was no distance. There were mere hallways apart at all times, yet it seemed like the Narrow Sea itself was placed between them.

"What could he have been upset with?" Cregan tried to make sense of Ryen's mindset, if he had any at all. A four year old boy could have many problematic behaviors, but surely none that could be influenced by a mother as sweet as Ciara.

Ciara sucked a breath sharply through her teeth, retreating a few steps more. "May I be excused, My Lord? I am quite tired from the day's affairs." She asked. There had only been the one 'affair', as she said herself earlier, but Cregan could not outright challenge her.

"I only wish to understand, Ciara. I want to help you." He pleaded, brows knitting together as he clasped the wooden rail of the stairs.

"You can't. There is no need to meddle in the affairs of others. Please, conduct your business and be on your way." She bit, turning her back and rushing up the steps finally, closing the door behind her.

Cregan was forced to retire to his chambers, his previous plans of visiting the gardens spoiled and his mind exhausted.

Early in the morning, Cregan woke before Ryen Bolton and weaved his way around the staff to start his day. Presuming that the Lord would sleep well into the day, Cregan made his way to the 'village' that had started the problem in the first place.

It was a short walk from the Dreadfort, and an annoyance to the residents who had already made their homes near the keep. When the Stark had asked a villager of the whereabouts of the new town, the old man had scowled deeper and pointed his nose toward the direction, grumbling as he walked off. "These young'ins...always with too much time on 'er hands."

Bemused, Cregan continued on.

As he passed the first building, he finally understood the old man's irritable nature. The entire place smelled of incense, sweat, and sex. He almost gagged, the scent reminiscent of his brief stay in King's Landing. He had made a point to make his visit very short after truly seeing the disgusting sights of the capitol. True, there were brothel houses and short 'silk streets' in the North, too, but never an abundant amount, nor were they as frequented as the ones in the South.

The further he walked through, the more he realized just how dire the situation was. Every single building was not a house like he had figured, but a mere cesspool of vulgarity. Even in the early morning, peeks passed opened doors showed sights of young men indulging themselves in the young and pretty women of the street.

Now, he realized what Bolton's intentions were. He had commissioned an entire 'village' to be made purely for the sake of pleasure and sin. As if the one pleasure house lying on the streets of One Hill, the collection of towns nearest to the Bolton's Dreadfort, were not enough.

It was an insult to the Flints, who made the buildings without compensation. It was an insult to the Starks, who, represented only by Cregan, had generously offered to solve the problem for the Boltons and were lied to blatantly. Most of all, it was an insult to Ryen's wife, who sat locked up in her room day after day, unknowing of her husband's unfaithful nature.

Cregan assessed how many buildings there were total, counting twelve along the cobble path before abruptly making his leave. An older 'Madam' standing at the curtained doorway of one of the houses beckoned the Lord close, a sultry look in her blue eyes. He brushed past the touch she laid on his shoulder, not bothering with polite words as he ignored her entirely.

He would ensure the Bolton Lord never saw the same status that the Starks had granted his house hundreds of years prior. He was not as generous and forgiving as his ancestors.

🩷

this was so hard to write solely in his pov idk why

I had so many good ideas going into this but none translated to words like I wanted them to, most getting scrapped. I need to get something out so I can stop focusing on one-shots for now and get dd chap 15 out its nagging my mind 😪

lmk if I should do a part 2 eventually

[wtfsteveharrington]

"an exploratory kiss, testing the waters between them" with Luca please!

a/n: i love luca so so bad i fear s3 has giving me horrific brain rot for him baby boy i’m knocking on ur door and getting on one knee

contents: kissing, some pda, cluelessness, all my faves

"I mean... I think we're just friends, right?"

Luca takes a long swig from his cold beer pint. Using the drink as an excuse to buy himself time to think. It was some draft IPA that was just the perfect level of pretentious where he didn’t look like a dick but separated himself from some domestic bottle. Something that would matter to no one except a man with his level of perception anxiety. Condensation dripping down his wrist which your eyes follow, trailing the drops as they roll down his forearm.

"Right. And would it be worth risking things between us to test out... Something more? Because I don't want to lose you just to find out we’re being a touch crazy.”

"I don't want to lose you either." You rush out after his sentence, shaking your head while resting your hands on your knees. The rough material of your jeans against your palms helping to keep you grounded.

It had been a half an hour since you and Luca passed some wonderful older woman on the street who needed directions. Luca was able to relay them by heart, though it didn’t stop you from double checking on your phone to ensure you didn’t send her off on a misguided path. She beamed at the two of you once she knew her way, patting Luca’s arm and asking the question that has broken the two of you ever since. “How long have you two been married?”

To which the two of you sputtered out a mess of words, none of which made any sense, and the older woman gave a tsk tsk tsk. “You better propose before it’s too late. Shouldn’t let such a catch get away.” The takes off on her journey. Both of you stood their with your jaws dropped before you finally started continuing on your path to the bar and trying to laugh it off.

But neither of you could let it go.

“We could-…“ You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back and strengthening your resolve, “We could kiss? That way we can feel there’s nothing there and get it out of minds.”

Luca stares down at his beer, eyeing the way the foam is slowly dissipating and contemplating his options. “Just one kiss?”

You nod, “Just one. Lips only, no tongue, nothing crazy.”

His body’s turning to you, eyes filled with apprehension. Searching your face for any sign of doubt, which he doesn’t find, before nodding back to you. “Just one. We’re realize how silly this is and put it behind us.”

Luca’s hand comes to rest on top of yours, the bar suddenly feeling so much warmer and intimate than before. Thankfully no one was paying attention to your little table tucked away in the back corner. He’s watching your breathing, watching your expression. Catches your tongue dart out to moisten your lips and he does the same.

He’s close enough now where you can feel the warmth rolling off his body, you can hear each steady breath he takes. “Just… Stop me if this is weird, yeah?”

You nod, leaning in as well until your noses brush against each other and your eyes fall closed before your lips connect against his. They’re slightly cold from his drink, hints of beer still on his lips. You stay connected for just a moment before you pull away, eyeing him apprehensively.

“How was that?”

He sucks in some air, staying close to you still. “It was, uhm, chaste. To say the least.”

There’s a flush on your cheeks at that.

“Well… I mean, We can do a real kiss if you want.”

Luca’s eyes are on yours, his hand moving to slide up your thigh and grabs ahold of it. “We should just make sure, y’know? Because that told me nothing.”

It’s a flawed plan but you’re not thinking as clearly with him this close.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you bring the two of you closer once again. Your lips finding his and you let out a soft moan as you feel his part under yours. He takes the chance to let his tongue slide against your bottom lip before slipping between your lips and into your mouth. You lace one of your hands in his hair while his free arm wraps around your waist now.

It’s his turn to groan into the kiss. The sound causes you to press your thighs together while your tongue moves along his. Your breathing is picking up and you’re convinced he can hear just how hard your heart is beating.

He tastes sweet. The IPA mixed with vanilla from the custard he kept having to taste during service. It was addicting to say the least.

Minutes, hours, days pass by as you lose yourself in him. Eventually you hear him groan, pulling back slightly to press another kiss to your bottom lip before leaning back in his chair. Beaming at your shocked expression.

Your hand comes up, fingers resting against your lips as you chase the feeling of the kiss. Oh.

Luca has to adjust himself on the seat, chuckling at the sight of you as he tries to relax his breathing. “She, uh, she might have known what she was talking about.”

Luca looks smug, even with his blushing cheeks, as he takes another drink of his beer. His hand never leaving your thigh.

[goldenroutledge]

never say goodbye

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: you remind daniel of who he is when he needs it most.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, swearing but a happy ending (i tried)

a/n: self-indulgent to unbreak my heart a little bit. [edit] it’s now been confirmed that he’s leaving. the void will never be filled. there will never be another danny ric :,)

i listened to michael giacchino’s bundle of joy from inside out while writing this. if i could put my feelings into music, it would be this <3

daniel ricciardo masterlist

Your heart aches seeing the expression on Daniel’s face; painstakingly bittersweet in showing his signature smile even when it kills him. It gives you at least a little comfort knowing that no matter what happens, nobody will take that away from him. As he recounts his time in Formula 1 in the interview, it is clear that his journey here has not only been a mere time in his life but it is a part of his being. The ebbs and flows, the triumphs and defeats he’s experienced over the last decade condensed into a few short yet symbolic sentences.

This might be the least talkative anyone has ever seen Daniel Ricciardo, who's otherwise radiating relentless positivity to a point that is undeniable. You know that’s still alive in him somewhere underneath it all. Maybe that’s part of why it hurts so much, he is someone so undeserving of such treatment, to be dismissed this way. Everyone can feel it, and even under the night sky of Singapore, the paddock is enclosed in its own bubble. When the bright lights go down and the noise turns to silence, you can only imagine how he’ll be when it’s just the two of you again, knowing that those with the brightest smiles hold in the heaviest tears.

It’s impossible to miss the solemn glances toward him or the way the interviewer’s eyes match the look in Daniel’s, searching in the dark for an end to this nightmare. Even from afar you can see the way he’s holding back tears, choosing his words carefully to keep the dam from breaking just a little bit longer. He musters a smile and a nod at the end of his interview trying to convey that it's going to be okay, he is going to be okay.

Before you know it he’s making his way back to the team’s hospitality. Claps and cheers interrupt your thoughts, and you glance around to see his team members and friends now surrounding you near the entrance. It’s hard for everyone to see him this way but they also can’t help but be astounded at the way his head is still held high. He thanks each and every one of them with gratitude, before locking eyes with you at the very end.

Unexpectedly, your eyes are filled with tears at the sight of him. A quiet sob leaves your lips as he scoops you into his arms, swaying you both soothingly. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear and for reasons you can’t quite explain. I’m sorry I can’t keep it together. I’m sorry you have to be so strong. I’m sorry this is happening to you.

Daniel knows everything you mean by that, and feels his throat swell up, pressing a long kiss to your cheek instead. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting yourself take in his embrace for a few moments before it’s over. A few tears fall down your cheek and you’re not sure who they belong to.

After a deep breath you pull away from him, returning a kiss to his cheek along with a proper smile of reassurance. As deeply as you feel for him right now, you feel just as much of a responsibility to make sure he’s taken care of.

“Meet you at the hotel after your debriefs?”

Daniel nods, eyes solemn as they drift behind you into the hospitality suite. He sighs, knowing what’s ahead of him. You figure it would be nice to give him a little time to himself, to stitch up his remaining wounds and take in what could be his last moments as a Formula 1 driver. To say a sudden goodbye to this paddock, his second home for the last 13 years, and to say goodbye to all of those that have been beside him, who have become a second family over those 13 years.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

Daniel gives you one last smile of reassurance, knowing that no matter how many times he tells you he’s okay, you won’t believe him. He pecks your lips softly, walking inside and waving to you from behind the glass door. You wave back, still struck with emotion, feeling like a parent sending their child into their first day of school. Instead of the moment being a new beginning that’s filled with hope and joy, it’s a moment of bittersweet ending filled with sorrow and sadness.

You can only hope that whatever’s waiting for him on the other side of this, he’s happy. You make a promise to yourself that you’ll be there through all of the grief and the restlessness it will take for him to get there.

-

Back at the hotel, you sit quietly for a while, gathering your thoughts. It certainly wouldn’t be in your best interest to scroll through the endless articles and videos of a heartbroken Daniel giving interviews. Though seeing him secure both the fastest lap and driver of the day makes you smile. P1 or P18, he is beloved by everyone inside of the paddock and out. He infects others with a unique energy that can’t be replicated. One could only dream to help him truly understand that.

The unzipped suitcases in your hotel room were taunting, as if they could know how badly you didn’t want this to be the last time you both have to pack up and leave a race weekend. But the thought of Daniel coming back and having to do all of this himself was even more painful. Begrudgingly, you began to organize the contents of your luggage.

Underneath one of Daniel’s hoodies were a collection of bracelets and trinkets from fans given to him over the last two weeks. Yet another reminder of something he’d be saying goodbye to. These gifts weren’t simply material things. They were symbols of the love and adoration people had for Daniel. They were a representation of the inspiration he gave to so many around the world. And not only to them, but to his friends, his family members, and to you.

This moment felt like deja vu as you vividly witnessed him say goodbye once before when his time ended at McLaren. And then the spark of hope began to glow brighter once again when he was welcomed back to Red Bull as a reserve driver, and then as a driver for RB.

It was a journey you’d been capturing for quite some time now on your own camera, moments that you weren’t ready for Daniel to see just yet. Of course the end of his career was bound to come, but you believed you’d have more time and you’d have more experiences turned memories for him to look back on. You find the camera in your handbag before gathering your laptop and USB. If now wasn’t the right time, you didn’t know when it would be. The clock tells you that you only have a couple hours, maybe more depending on how long he spends at the track. Thanks to the extra surge of emotions you’d been feeling tonight, the memories from your camera and a video production class you took in school many years ago, you’re able to pour it all into a little gift for him.

-

After watching it once through, you uploaded it onto a spare flashdrive. Luckily you had one that would’ve otherwise been used to store photos for daniel3.jpg.

You barely noticed that hours had gone by, the clock now reading 1:46am. Your heart breaks for Daniel. Despite being apart from him you know how he must be feeling. Yet above it all, you knew he’d be leaving with a smile.

-

The door clicks open.

Exhausted, Daniel drags his feet inside. He’s relieved to see you stayed awake for him. There’s nobody he’d rather be alone with right now. Without a word, he relaxes into your arms that are open and waiting for him, and his for you.

Unsure of how to start the conversation, you decide that you should let the video you made for him speak for itself. You hold him for as long as he needs, feeling his breathing steady into a calm rhythm.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it underneath this hoodie?” He teases suggestively, lips curling into a smile. He tugs at the bottom of the fabric to emphasize his point.

“Later.” You quip, taking his arm and patting a spot for him to sit next to you.

He looks utterly confused yet intrigued when you hand him a flashdrive, but puts it into the laptop anyway. “What is this?”

“You’ll see.”

Daniel clicks the play button on the black screen. The sounds of soft piano music is the first thing he hears before a picture of himself as a child illuminates the screen.

The voice of an interviewer plays over it, asking: “What would you tell your younger self?”

“Enjoy the butterflies, enjoy being naive, enjoy the nerves, the pressure, people not knowing your name… all that stuff. Enjoy the process of making a name for yourself, getting faster and faster with each lap, and meeting some great people along the way. Embrace the good ones, stay focused.”

A collection of pictures plays in sync with the audio of Daniel from his youth to now, edited in a perfect sequence. The clips show his best moments; his podiums, his shoeys, his radio messages, his laughs shared with fellow drivers, him riding into the Austin Grand Prix on Horsey McHorse, his fans cheering as he walks through Albert Park, hugging his niece before a race.

“You got to the dance in the first place doing what you do so don’t change too much. Don’t forget what got you here. Earn the parties, earn the drinks. Bring friends along, bring family along, don’t assume they’ll be a distraction, they might be something to take the weight off your shoulders on a race weekend, they’re also people to enjoy the moment with and to celebrate with, so don’t be afraid to surround yourself with people you care about and love.” The clips showed moments in the paddock with his fans, friends, family, and with you, always cheering for him.

The video shows him again, smiling wide as he reflects on some of the best lessons this life has shown him. “So, yeah. Get after it.”

Soft piano notes play once again, detailing ambivalent sounds that are yearning and wishful but also bring solace. Daniel is focused on the screen, so much so that he doesn’t pay attention to the tears that have started streaming down his face. In his eyes is love and gratitude for the journey he’s been on, and to you for reminding him of it in such a meaningful way. Your head rests on his shoulder carefully and you’re anxious to know what he’s thinking.

“You made that for me?”

“Mhm. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for you, I just didn’t know when it would be a good time to show you.”

“I guess there’s no better time than now, right?” Daniel mumbles, looking at you with admiration.

“I know you’ve been unsure of yourself for a while. And as much as I want to, there’s nothing I can do to change that. I don't always know what to say, so I thought, there’s no one better to tell you who you are than you.”

You take his face in your hands, gently brushing away any spare tears.

“But what I can tell you Daniel, is that I love you. I know you don’t want to be sad because you think you’ll be letting everyone down, but you could never let me down. You can be happy or sad or angry, you can shatter these lamps on the floor if you need to and I won’t be disappointed. If you let me, I’ll help you pick up the pieces. Whenever you feel alone, just remember you have me.”

Daniel can’t deny the way his heart warms at your words, an abundance of love and sincerity behind them. He tilts his head, pressing kisses to each of your wrists. “I love you, too. Even if I don’t deserve you.”

You scoff, harmlessly nudging him in response. “Shut up, they don’t deserve you. Fuck them all. That’s why I did that, to show you that there’s actually no one more deserving than you.”

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em all.” Daniel chuckles, looking down to hide the blush on his cheeks. You both sit there in a comforting silence, happy to be hidden away from the outside world for the night. With both of your busy schedules keeping you apart, times like these are especially important. There’s nobody you’d rather come home to, there’s nobody else that feels like a safe haven away from the cruel world that’s now turned its back on him.

“I can’t thank you enough, honey. I love you. I don’t know what the future holds… but I promise I’ll never take you for granted. How you always stick beside me, I’ll never know. It might be the end of an era in my career but I could never forget that I have you. You have me, too. When it comes to this,” Daniel gestures between the two of you, “I wouldn’t even know how to say goodbye.”

“And you won’t have to. We’ll never say goodbye.”

Your eyes twinkle and you press your lips to his, kissing him with a passion that can’t be put into words. Perhaps he didn’t get the fairytale ending he wanted and deserved in his career, but what he has here with you could easily pass as a fairytale of its own kind. It's what allows you both to sleep peacefully, knowing that whatever lies ahead, the only goodbye you won’t have to make is to each other.

a/n: comments, reblogs, and feedback is greatly appreciated! stay strong dr3 nation 💌

[maximoff-pan]

(don't want to) fight this feeling | colin bridgerton

summary: this is what happens after a friend asks another friend to kiss them – or simply just the aftermath of two people realizing there might be more between them and being awkward fools on their journey to get there

pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warning(s): idiots in love, absolute fools, absolute awkwardness, fluff, some kissing, a tad suggestive, rusty and heavily unedited writing (sue me, it's been a while)

a/n: hello you lovely peoples! it's been a while... this is my first time writing for colin so I apologize if the characterization feels a bit off. I'm still quite rusty in the writing department, but I hope you enjoy this regardless! as always, feedback and comments are much appreciated and I love you all!

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

‘Colin, please–’ Your voice is unwavering, and yet he can’t help but relish in the fact that you’re begging – pleading for him. In all the years he’d known you, you’ve never been one to grovel. 

‘Tell me.’ He breathes, eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. ‘Use your words.’

Your lips, swollen from kissing him, part enough for you to say: ‘I want you Colin. All of you.’

And in that moment, everything fades…

•••

Colin wakes abruptly, chest heaving and covered in sweat. It’s been happening more and more recently, these dreams. Dreams of desire, an incessant yearning for the feeling of your lips on his.

He doesn’t know what to call it. Infatuation perhaps – a pure and raw chemical reaction of attraction – however wrong it may be. You’re his dearest friend, and the kiss you’d shared was merely an innocent gesture, a favour for a person he cares about dearly. Your first kiss – hardly his first, yet he’d never understood the true meaning of voracity before it. 

Saying it meant nothing doesn’t feel right. And chalking up this sensation to a merely physical response feels even more wrong. It’s simply not enough to describe the way his heart races when he thinks of you, how his breath catches in his throat and words become obsolete. He dares to wonder if your friendship could blossom into something more, if you even feel the same. Is this what love feels like? 

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

He’s kissing you again, this time like he may never get the chance to again. However frantic, it’s sweet. It’s like him – feels like Colin.

‘You’re so beautiful.’ He says in a whisper.

You chuckle a content laugh, running a hand through his soft and perfectly styled hair. ‘Not near as beautiful as you, Mr. Bridgerton.’

The moment feels so real, feels like it should be. But you know it’s a figment of your mind working against you as your eyes open to the unfortunate sight of your ceiling. 

•••

Your chest rises and falls rhythmically, awoken by the sunlight drifting through your bedroom window, along with thoughts of him. Last week you had been simply a girl – one who had never felt the kiss of a man, one who thought she may never be so lucky. But today, you are a woman who has, no matter the circumstances. 

You’d asked Colin to kiss you, not out of desperation, but out of curiosity and loneliness perhaps. You wanted to know what you were missing out on, what such intimacy could mean for a person. And there is no man you would trust with your reputation more than him. 

The pit in your stomach however, grows with each passing moment. You wonder, have you made a mistake? Are these things you’re feeling for Colin a mere fantasy – a result of a heat of the moment. You can’t help but feel like there has always been something there for you, something just beneath the surface of your friendship.

It’s silly to believe Colin could feel that way about you. But kissing him, feeling the touch of his lips to your own has left you with a want for him – a need for him that you have been taught is unacceptable for a woman to voice. And suddenly, there’s shame. These desires are not natural, not realistic, not feminine. 

But how are you supposed to go on as if it meant nothing to you? How are you supposed to talk to him again, look him in the eye and have everything be as it once was? Colin Bridgerton is not someone who you’ve had to hide your feelings from. It’s always been a lost cause – he has you memorized like a book he’s read thousands of times. Maybe even one that he’d written himself.

And you’re certain he’ll be able to sense the shift in your behaviour, and likely the reason why. You only hope he’ll let you down gently because at the end of every day, your friendship is what matters most to you. 

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

Side by side with Eloise, you smile as she prattles on about the latest novel she’s been reading. Usually her conversation holds your full attention; often she doesn’t give you a choice otherwise. But today, you can’t help but find your mind drifting somewhere else. 

Your gaze meets Colin’s for a brief moment from across the grassy field in Hyde Park. Where you once found comfort in the blue of his eyes, now your stomach turns with unease. He’s surrounded by a gaggle of young ladies, surely desperate to get his attention. Colin would make a suitable husband for any one of them, you think. 

You look away from him just as quickly as you’d caught his stare, the dirt below your feet suddenly becoming intriguingly interesting. Eloise takes note of the interaction, her lips pulling into a thin frown. 

“Is everything alright?” Eloise asks, an eyebrow raised in query before clarifying, “Between you and my brother.” 

Your gaze refuses to meet hers. You’re afraid that she'll be able to see right through you. “Is there something that indicates otherwise?”

You recognize the defensive nature of your response is likely to garner more suspicion, but it’s difficult to think of an appropriate answer when the question regards Colin Bridgerton. Somehow, thoughts of him make everything more complicated.  

“It’s just,” she treads lightly, walking swiftly alongside you, “this is the fourth time in a week you two have been in each other’s presence, and you’ve barely spoken. You typically seek Colin out, and him you. And now I get the sense you are avoiding him.”

You glance back over to him, watching as he continues to entertain the same group of young ladies, however his audience seems to have grown.

“He looks rather busy, does he not?”

You don’t mean for your voice to sound so apathetic, so uncaring as it does. But Eloise recognizes that you care a great deal. You’re jealous. 

“I suppose he is.” She smiles, knowing just how much Colin must hate the predicament he’s found himself in. “How about we rescue him?”

You mean to protest, but Eloise doesn’t give you a chance to respond before she’s dragging you by the arm towards the one person you do not wish to speak to at the moment. It’s been terribly awkward since you’d asked Colin to kiss you, and you can’t help but knowing that it’s your fault.

You were the one who promised it would mean nothing, and you suppose it had meant nothing to him – but you should have known the ramifications would be disastrous for you. Who asks their best friend (whomst they are in love with) to kiss them and then expects their feelings not to grow tenfold? 

“Brother!” Eloise pushes into the group with your arm wrapped around hers. 

Colin’s face lights at the sound of her voice, relief flooding his features. “Eloise,” he responds, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The young women around him sigh at his words. Had they never heard a man be polite with his sister before? Surely that couldn’t be anything special. 

You roll your eyes as one of them decides to cling herself onto Colin’s side. The rumblings of jealousy aside (which you really shouldn’t be feeling), this behaviour is utterly pathetic to you. 

Eloise notes your distaste with an amused chuckle. “We’ve come to take you back to Bridgerton House for Kate and Anthony’s luncheon. Mama’s orders.”

“Oh…oh!” Colin recognizes her attempt at a rescue. “My god, it must have slipped my mind. If you will forgive me ladies,” he sends them a charmingly teasing wink, “it has been wonderful getting to know you all.”

Taking his leave with you and his sister, Colin tips his hat politely, departing from the group. Eloise marches slightly ahead of the two of you, eyes set on the carriages you are to ride back to your respective households in. 

The silence feels suffocating and unfamiliar. It’s uncomfortable and exactly what you’d hoped it wouldn’t be.  Eloise turns to you suddenly as you reach your separate transports. “Are you sure you won’t ride back with us? Surely we can take you home.” She says.

You force a smile. “Positive.” You affirm. “My driver is already here. It would be rude of me to have brought him here only to leave without me.” 

“Alright then.” She hugs you as she takes a step into her carriage. She leaves the door open for her brother as his gaze catches yours for a moment. This might be the longest you’ve gone in his presence in total silence. 

You break away from his piercing stare, taking a breath in apprehension. “Goodbye Mr. Bridgerton.” You say, finally. 

“Goodbye Miss (L/n).” He returns with a nod. 

Turning away, you step into your carriage as a driver closes the door for you. That interaction felt wrong, awkward, and difficult. Nothing like the ease of conversation you are used to.

Colin feels much the same as he sits in the Bridgerton carriage, eyes glossed over in thought. 

Eloise wants to smack him but decides against it in better judgment. She simply watches him for a few moments – sees his discomfort and wonders what could have possibly gone wrong between you and her brother. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Colin’s eyes meet hers. He means it as a joke, but his tone does not convey it that way. 

“What is rude, brother,” she tuts, her position on this very firm, “is treating your best friend as if she is a stranger.”

“Eloise.” Colin warns.

“No.” She holds her palm up, objecting to his dissuasion. “What happened between you?”

He scoffs. “Does privacy mean nothing to you?”

He’s being evasive and defensive – much like your previous response to her questioning. Usually Colin only gets like this when feelings are involved. The last time Eloise had seen him behave this way, Marina had been at the center of it. 

He’d become distant and dejected from the ordeal. The overall rejection, knowing she hadn’t really loved him had caused him to turtle in on himself. And the only person who’d been able to pull him out of it, had been you. Now he seems to be going back in. 

Colin had always been sensitive, more in touch with his emotions than any of her other brothers, but that often left him more open to heartbreak. 

“You love her.” Eloise finally decides to say. 

Colin doesn’t react the way she thinks he will. “Of course.” He replies like it’s obvious. “(Y/n) is my dearest and oldest friend.”

“Allow me to rephrase.” She clarifies, “You are in love with her.”

At that, his reaction is much different. Eyebrows raised and blinking nearly too rapidly for Eloise to perceive – this is what she expected. He’s been caught.

He stutters on his words. “You – you cannot be serious! I’m not – I am not in love…”

Colin feels like he’s breaking. Because as perceptive as Eloise is, so are you; and if Eloise can read him this clearly, he fears you can too.

Her voice is gentle when she speaks, not for a second believing this display of refusal to admit his feelings. “Have you told her how you feel?”

Colin gives up, retreating in on himself. His posture slumps in defeat. “No.” He says. “And I cannot for the life of me, get her out of my mind. It’s like every time I close my eyes, I feel—”

Eloise edges closer to him when Colin stops himself with a sharp inhale. “Feel what?”

I feel her lips on mine, he thinks. 

He frowns, gaze falling downward. “Nothing.”

“Colin…”

“Eloise for Christ’s sake,” he barks, “I said it is nothing.”

His voice is cold and unforgiving, like a switch has been flicked and Eloise cannot begin to understand why. Colin is clearly leaving something out — something important. And it’s a sore topic for him. 

“Whatever it is,” she eyes him cautiously. “You need to tell her.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

The afternoon carries on uncomfortably, your mind still on overdrive from your unsettling encounter with Colin. The ride home had given you too much time to think. Too much time to worry, and it had only further worsened the pit in your stomach. 

Your mother had questioned why you’d arrived back so early, having previously planned to spend an afternoon at the Bridgertons. Telling her you felt unwell, you made your way to your room, collapsing on the mattress of your bed with a sigh.

Before long, you’re being informed you have a visitor who’s waiting for you in the drawing room. You’re fairly certain who it is. Eloise has always been a caring friend, if not a little motivated to meddle. Who you were not expecting to see, is her brother Benedict. What interest does he have in this?

“You know you needn’t come see me.” You say flippantly as you enter the room where she’s sitting on the couch with a book on her lap, her second oldest sibling sitting beside her. “Benedict.” You nod at him politely. He returns the gesture as an acknowledgement of his presence. 

“I must say,” she disagrees, “I felt a little obligated to check on you.”

“And why is that?” Benedict jumps in with a smirk.

She sends him a look of disapproval. He knows exactly why.

“Colin was not himself today.” Eloise settles on. Equally pointed, she asserts, “Nor were you.”

“I suppose there is no hiding it from you.” You admit, taking a seat across from them. “Our lack of conversation was abnormal.”

She chuckles at that. “It is usually so difficult to get a word in edgewise when you two are together. But today, it was like you could not even look each other in the eye.”

“I do apologize.” You say dejectedly. “I feel that has much to do with me.”

Eloise frowns at your admission. “I cannot say that I have the context needed to understand what is going on between you, but I do know that Colin does not blame you.”

You release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, air escaping your lungs. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” She responds, looking to Benedict to see if he knows anything more. He shakes his head. “And I – we respect your privacy not to push you into telling us something you’re not ready to.”

You smile softly. “That sounds nothing like the Eloise I know.”

“I am trying to be supportive.” She huffs a laugh, tone light and joking. 

“Well, since you did not ask,” you begin, wringing your hands and fingers together, a nervous energy Eloise is not used to from you, “I asked Colin to kiss me.”

Her brow furrows in confusion, no indication of shock on her features. Colin is in love with you, she thinks. How could things have possibly ended this way? She doesn’t stop you, allowing you to take a pause before you continue.

“I was feeling down. Function after function, I leave with no prospects, and my chances of finding a husband feel as if they are less than nothing.” Your eyes lock with hers, knowing she does not share the same sentiment of finding a life partner. “I did not want to die not knowing what it felt like to kiss someone.”

Benedict’s eyes search yours. He feels your heart yearning, feels the curiosity and desperation in your voice. He sympathizes with you, wholly. 

“You must know (Y/n),” He speaks, eyes twinkling with knowledge neither you nor his sister are privy to. “The only reason you have not been called upon is because of Colin.”

Eloise turns to him in disbelief. “Brother…” She trails.  

Simultaneously, you blurt, “excuse me?”

“Explanation Benedict.” Eloise chimes, impatiently.  “Now.”  

Benedict eyes you carefully before he begins his account of the situation. And as he’s speaking, your world fades away. His voice becomes distorted, like static – you find yourself unable to hear what he’s saying. 

What you do manage to pick up is that Colin had labelled you off limits. No gentleman of the ton stood a chance against his protective eye…because as Benedict finishes he says, “No one could be right for you, except him.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

Stepping into Bridgerton House, you feel like your blood is boiling. 

“Miss (L/n).” Violet greets you pleasantly. She’s always been kind, warm, and welcoming. 

“Afternoon, Lady Bridgerton.” You force a smile, nodding gently in her direction. “Is Colin home?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Her voice is gentle but knowing. She’s well aware of the feelings you and her son share. “In the study.”

“Thank you.” You’re grateful; she recognizes that.

Pushing up the stairs and through the hallway, past the door to the study, you forget to knock. Inside you find Colin sitting at the desk, pen in hand. But he’s not writing. He’s simply staring into space. 

“You had no right.” You announce yourself. 

His eyes shoot to yours. “(Y/n).” Is all he can manage to say. With one look, he knows exactly what this is about. 

“You knew – you knew how helpless I felt.” There’s pain written in your expression, a betrayal of trust. “I thought the reason I could not find a husband was because I was so unlikeable – that I was not worthy of another’s love.” Tears threaten to fall.

Colin tries to interject, but all that comes out is a strangled whisper, please, none of that is true. 

“I told you how I was feeling! You — you let me think it was my fault.” Tears lace your waterline like one of the fabrics on your dresses. “And God,” pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh in exasperation, “I asked you to kiss me because I thought no man could ever think of me that way…”

“You have to let me explain.” Colin pleads, voice just as desperate as yours. 

“What is there to explain Mr. Bridgerton?”

“I love you.” He shouts, tears in his own eyes. 

You’re taken aback. Of course you knew he loved you, as a dear friend. He’d told you that countless times, as you had him. But the way his gaze is piercing yours, the way his voice trembles – this doesn’t feel like something just a friend is saying. 

He relents. “I could not watch you with another, especially when I know these men well…I know their intentions, their thoughts that run wild with impurities.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his dress shirt, unease creeping up on him. “And I fear I have been having these thoughts myself.”

“Colin.” You murmur, taking a step toward him. Your anger is slowly dissipating, although still bubbling under the surface. 

“I have not been able to sleep without dreaming of you. I close my eyes and all that appears is the moment I felt your lips on mine.” He pauses, taking a shuddered breath. “And I, I – I try to stop myself because I know you wanted it to mean nothing. But it meant everything to me.”

You feel your heart lurch in your chest. He’d been having these same worries, the same thoughts, dissuading him from believing you could be anything more than friends. That it wasn’t right any other way. But it is; you know it could be.

“I was scared.” You inch your way closer to him, voice softer now. “I did not want to face my feelings. I cannot tell you when they changed, when you became the only man I could ever dream of loving. But they did. And I thought if you knew, you would never look at me the same again.”

“You are not wrong.” He admits, palm reaching to cup the side of your face. “I cannot look at you as I once did, but as the woman I wish to spend the rest of my life with. As the woman who I shall love until my very last breath.”

Your eyes meet his, a sea of blue simply pouring with emotion. His eyes had always been so expressive, a window to his beautifully crafted soul. “Colin, I love you.” You whisper. 

His other hand comes to cup the untouched side of your face, leaning down to kiss you. It’s less sweet than your first – more passionate, more experienced than the last. You can feel the inner turmoil dissipate from your body and his as you embrace each other. 

Colin kisses you like you’re oxygen and he’s struggling to breathe. As if he needs you to keep him alive. He supposes that’s true: a life without you would not be a life worth living. 

Pulling away from him, your smile is unmatched. It’s like nothing Colin has ever seen before, and there’s a hint of something in it that he cannot read.

“What are you thinking?” He taps the side of your head jokingly, right where your temple rests.

You giggle lightly. “Benedict told me that no one could be right for me, except you.”

“Did he now?” Colin chuckles with you, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your hand. “And?”

Taking a moment to soak it all in before you respond, you grin: wide and proud.

“He was right.”

[occamstfs]

Start-Up

Gabriel hates the start-up he works for. Though this morning it seems there are more immediate things he should be concerned with as men something strange begins to change men around the world.

Couldn't let all these other authors have all this fun without me! Here's my own take on the theme of Viral Transformation! Now I did muddy the waters a bit by setting my virus story at a social media start up but I think it works haha! Do check out the stories by all the other amazing writers who took part!!! -Occam

There was something strange going on in the city today and Gabriel wasn’t quite sure what the cause was. It’s not like there’s a commotion or anything, on the contrary; the streets were quiet but there was just something sinister in the air. He works for a new social media start-up in the wake of most of the big platforms collapsing, succinctly named Web. Gabriel didn’t have a ton of faith in the app and was growing increasingly tired of dealing with the CEO’s inane demands but hey, as long as checks keep clearing.

Reuben’s, said CEO’s, most recent crusade was banning the use of any competing sites or networks on company property, which unfortunately includes Gabriel’s personal devices. Who knew start-ups could be so draconian, though when the rich boy in charge has a fleet of lawyers and the lowly programmer just needs to make ends meet that’s how it goes it seems. All this to say, Web is thus far incredibly unsuccessful as a news platform and poor Gabriel is unable to see the chaos going on in the city behind closed doors as he walks into work.

The programmer artfully misses chyrons scrolling past telling all men to stay indoors and not to make unnecessary journeys as he mindlessly scrolls on the app he has spent countless hours producing. “Ugh.” Gabriel rolls his eyes as he sees post after post from thoughtless gym bros. Reuben swears this is a massive demographic for them but the programmer has constantly spoken up to the contrary. What could they possibly gain by making yet another platform for men who could barely read. Any indulgence or encouragement towards this demographic was sure to push away more reasonable, serious people.  

Eyes still glued to his phone in search of any shred of news, Gabriel doesn’t notice the state of the receptionist as he wanders past to take the elevator up to the office, “Morning Ron.” Only after a few seconds with no response does the coder finally tear his eyes away to see the young man in quite a disheveled state. He chokes back a gasp as he sees Ron quickly remove the hand that was shoved in his pants as he too only just notices the presence of his fellow man, “UHH Morning Gabe- I was just uhhh, getting something out of my pocket?” His rapid movement sends the sound of fabric tearing through the air as whatever remains of the button up he was wearing falls in pieces to the floor.

Desperate to put this encounter behind himself Gabriel mashes the close door button in the elevator. “Ron can’t have been masturbating just now.” he assures his reflection in the elevator doors. “He’s a good kid, smart kid.” He says of the man maybe five years his junior. Still, at the very least Gabriel is surprised that he came to work wearing clothes that clearly didn’t fit? He can’t help but summon the intimate look at Ron’s body he just received and can’t imagine how the receptionist bulked up so quickly? He can’t think of a single occasion of Ron mentioning going to the gym. 

Elevator clicking ever upwards he figures Reuben must be to blame, first he wants lunkheads using our app and then he convinces employees to waste time at the gym. Ah! That stupid gym! Gabriel punches a fist into his own palm as in the back of his mind he remembers the CEO taking up valuable office space to create a company gym for any employees to make use of. One of the many ‘benefits’ of working on Web. “God I hate startups.”

The elevator doors clink open and Gabriel exits to find the office space seems to be a ghost town. No one is using cubicles and he only sees a few of his fellow department heads have made it in so far. He grumbles to himself, “God-damnit if today could have been work from home I’m leaving now…” Despite his irritation, he enters his office and immediately starts getting to work. Waiting on his desk is a short list of suggestions on how to improve the platform from Rueben, which he promptly discards with little ado. Checking his own to-do list for the day he finds a one on one scheduled with one of the few coworkers he actually respects, Alexander Blainely, head of marketing. 

Most of the other executives were yes men, but Alexander seems to have an actual head on his shoulders. Gabriel always finds their meetings far more stimulating and productive than most other drudgery that goes on in this office. Returning into the open workspace, Gabriel shivers as he feels something in the air yet again. Completely unplaceable, it’s almost certainly nothing, but he remains on edge. His discomfort only grows as he nears his friend’s office and his hitherto directionless uneasiness finds a source. Hearing somethin a little more than disconcerting he whispers under his breath, “what the fuck? Is that moaning?” 

Barely audible when he shuts the door of his own office and wanders into the otherwise silent suite, it increases in volume with each step towards that of Alexander’s quarters. Gabriel grits his teeth and rages in his own mind for trusting anyone in this god-forsaken venture to treat their job with a shred of dignity. Arriving at the door and confirming that the man is clearly exerting himself somehow with a clear disregard to decency in their shared workspace, Gabriel scrunches his face and takes a deep breath. Hesitating at the thought of catching someone he had thought was a compatriot in flagrante delicto, his ire overcomes his usual prudence and he barges in. Never could he be prepared for the sight that awaited him.

Alexander sits on his work desk masturbating with his eyes closed as he rapturously traces over a muscular body that Gabriel flat out knows he has never had before today. Tongue lolling out of his mouth and dripping with drool as if he were a dog, Gabriel can’t help but loose a gasp as he sees with every pump of his cock, with every fervent breath and heady gasp from Alex, his body is continuing to change. 

Seconds pass and his skin browns with an unnatural tan under the LED lights in his office. Meanwhile he continues to surge larger, biceps already larger than when Gabriel stumbled in, the head of marketing’s shoulders pack on muscle as his neck thickens and his whole torso widens with strength. Thighs bulge meatier as his cock quivers higher, stretching inches further into the air as his already massive balls pulse larger. Gabriel’s gasp announcing his presence, the masturbating man opens his eyes and, almost as if it were a defense mechanism he loses control and cums.

Gabriel can’t tear his eyes away from the titan at the moment of his release. Every already massive muscle on his body expands as veins bulge out from the clear stress of the transformation. As load after load shoots out in inhumanly quick succession, Gabriel freezes as he sees facial hair and body hair that somehow already looks shaved begins to decorate his beyond masculine form. Sweat glistening off the man’s sculpted body makes him aware of the aura of musk that has clearly been filling this room, one that is impossibly similar to the general malaise that he has been assailing his senses all morning. Finally realizing what is happening in front of him, Gabriel slams the door shut and sprints down the hall, accompanied by nothing but his own gasps of exertion. 

He doesn’t take a second to think until he’s safe back in the sanctum of his office. The only place since this morning where he hasn’t felt the dreadful haze that he only just became totally aware of. Hopefully safe here, he allows himself a moment of reflection, connecting his brief encounter with Ron and his unfortunate meeting with what can’t have been Alexander. “Fuck it.” He starts to pull out his cell to check the news but before he can make any progress, he realizes there is something warm and sticky on his shirt. Looking down to see what it is he immediately drops his phone and tears off his suit. God. Some of that must-be imposter’s cum got on his button up. He throws the shirt away and scrubs at his skin where the man’s fluids got on him with fury. Using hand sanitizer like it’s a cure he scrubs and scratches until his skin burns red and raw. 

After he’s confident he’s done all he can to remove any trace of Alex from his body, Gabriel grabs the backup shirt he keeps in his desk for just an occasion as this. Or rather, in case he spills coffee on himself or some other accident that makes sense at all. His mind craving any degree of normalcy the thought of coffee stays with him. Oliver should be making it in about now. His pulse begins to quicken as he feels concern for the intern, in fact it’s racing far faster a tempo than it usually reaches at its most accelerate. Putting his hand on his wrist as concern for himself eclipses that of Oliver he finds both come to a head as his door opens and he falls out of his chair in shock.

“Jesus Oliver, knock next time!” The programmer shouts cowering behind his desk. Oliver quickly sets down his handful of mugs and goes to help his boss up, “So sorry Gabe! I just saw you were in and you usually don’t mind at all.” Standing up, Gabriel inches behind the intern and quietly closes the door, he looks Oliver up and down for anything out of the ordinary. “Are you, feeling alright Ollie?” The man purses his lips and pats himself down, clearly not in the same headspace of his usually stoic boss, “Well, I believe I am sir? Is, uhm, everything alright with you?” Oliver’s eyes flicker around the room seeing the discarded clothes and taking note of his boss sweating more than usual. In fact Oliver isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the man really sweat at all, “Did you want me to switch for an iced coffee?”

Gabriel rubs his face and is similarly shocked to find himself sweating, “Ugh. I think this job might be getting to me. Have you seen anyone else in the office today?” Oliver puffs his cheeks and looks at the mugs he set aside, “No actually? Now that you mention it, Ronnie wasn’t even downstairs which seemed weird. I mean he’s always on that grind to try and impress Rueben.” Gabe scratched his beard and grimaced, usually he’s quite adept at compartmentalizing, it’s how he hasn’t blown up at the CEO thus far. But the impossibility of what he saw in Alexander’s office has left him shaken. His heart rate begins to rise once more as his mind returns to that scene. 

In fact, it’s not the only thing that begins to rise. Suddenly his uncontrollable mind latches onto the image of Alexander’s cock expanding and then blowing its load and Gabriel’s own cock begins to stir. His face burns with blush as he can’t help but dart his eyes to see his usually unimpressive cock begin to inch its way larger down his dress pants. For his part Oliver, used to taking verbal cues follows his boss’ eyeline and balks as he sees the man thoughtlessly go to grab it. Oliver is struck speechless as the ever stark programmer bites his lip and begins rubbing his cock through the linen pants, “Jesus, uh- Uhm- Sir!?” 

Immediately alert he wipes his face and sucks up the drool that was apparently beginning to pool in his throat. Gabriel grabs a tissue and wipes his brow, fervently apologizing to the intern, “I am so sorry Oliver. I don’t know what…” Oliver quickly waves him off, not so much bothered by the behavior as surprised. “D- Don’t you worry about it Gabe, er sir. I’ll just be out here if you need me!” He backs into the door before stepping out with an awkward nod, leaving the coffee cups behind. Gabriel debates whether or not he should report himself to HR before he slams his fist against his desk chair as he remembers they haven’t an HR department. 

Rage at his shitty start-up returning at an elevated degree he gets his head back in the game, despite the best attempts of his wanting package and balls growing bluer by the second. Concerned for whatever seems to be going on in this office, or worse in the world at large, he goes to the internet once more. Without much thought at all he opens Web and starts scrolling to find any information of use. Unfortunately for the higher functions in his mind the programmer is immediately assailed by the mindless user base he so disdains, and rather than feeling the ire he always does towards the dullards and hellions. Instead he finds himself possessed with a desire to drink in every last bulging muscle that presents itself.

Coworkers, friends, reporters- Everyone Gabriel has deemed worthy of attention on the nigh-worthless platform he is forced to use, even those who are straighter laced than Gabriel, have been posting smut on main. Industrious man he may be, the programmer is indeed but a man of flesh and blood, and that blood is rushing through him at a breakneck pace to give him the most intense erection he’s ever enjoyed. 

It’s partially why he’s so adamant about diversifying their app, a weakness in himself for the male form; a weakness that whatever corruption that is beginning to rise within him is gleefully taking full advantage of. He tries to stay focused, return to his concerned research, but after taking a gasping breath he realizes that his own body has begun to produce the musky air that must be spreading the impossible changes he’s trying to get to the bottom of.

Staring at the bulging pecs and hairy asses of men he once respected, Gabe struggles to pay attention to anything but the cock begging for his attention as it begins to create a wet spot halfway down his leg. The zipper halfway undone by the growing beast alone is fully ripped asunder as Gabriel can’t help but full on masturbate in his office, just as he walked into Alexander doing but minutes ago. He tears off his button up with uncharacteristic aggression as it begins to impede his jacking off. As soon as his arms are exposed his attention leaves the app and begins to hone in on his own body. God has he always been so hot?

Gabriel flexes his biceps and smirks as he sees them peak higher than he’s ever imagined they could before now. Raising his arms also exposes his pits, a hotbed for musk and whatever impossible contagion hides within it. He forces his neck to crane down into his pit as sweat begins to stain the undershirt that is rapidly filled with new mass. Intended to be deliberately loose, pounds begin to pack onto his chest and push the garment to its brim, the cotton fabric sticks to his chest tight enough that it would be a struggle to get it off over his new pecs, hearing the sound of fabric straining his cock grows even harder at the idea that perhaps he won’t even need to take it off. He’ll just grow large enough that his massive body will destroy it for him.

This thought flitting through his mind, Gabirel loses whatever shred of self-control remains and goes all out in enjoying the changes happening to him. Rubbing his hands across his sweat-covered tank top and feeling the burning muscles building themselves underneath it. The sound of fabric straining and tearing fills him with pleasure he couldn’t fathom before now as he nears his first rapturous release. Sweat drips from his pits as they grow thicker and curls stretch further afield as to be ungovernable, ever focused on the task of spreading his scent. Steady streams of pre trail down his cock, lathering his hand as his whole body quivers with the anticipation of ecstasy.

Before it can arrive however he receives a scheduled video call from the man he wants to hear from less than any other. Clicking accept as he must, the disdain that Gabriel has always held for Rueben quickly comes to a head. Greeted with the image of a more muscular, just as juvenile, version of the CEO filling his screen, Gabriel can’t help but grit his teeth in rage. Hearing him laugh and flex as he begins playing with the special effects in Zoom, Gabriel doesn’t have a moment to realize that he’s continued to masturbate. Instead,  much like when Alexander was surprised, his anger triggers him to cum immediately with no restraint, shooting loads all over the underside of the desk, his still thrusting hand, and the computer screen in front of him. 

Rueben laughs even harder at the sight, his voice duller than ever as he chastises the programmer, “Yo bro huh! Don’t take out your anger on the little guy! You should head down to the company gym and put that aggression to good use bro huhuh!” Gabriel narrows his eyes as veins bulge in his neck. Unhappy that the CEO might have a point, he promptly slammed the shutdown button on his computer and stumbled to his feet, quite off balance from his powerful orgasm. 

Quickly appraising his filthy condition, he shrugs at the cum covering his skintight clothes. Whatever, the gyms sure to be disgusting anyway, despite just enjoying release his cock bounces at the idea and he bites his lip to avoid smiling in excitement. Something at the back of his mind desperately begs for a second to realize he’s almost lost himself beyond measure. Unfortunately, with another deep breath of his own b.o. the man’s eyes fog over and he lumbers out of his office. 

Turning with an awkward smile as he hears the head programmer’s office open Oliver starts to say, “Hey boss, hope your-” before his mouth falls agape at seeing the disheveled lug that wanders out. Still unsteady on his feet as they begin to tear the expensive leather shoes he had on, the man stumbles forward and catches himself on the intern’s shoulder. “Buh, sorry uh, Oll’” grimacing at the stain he left on the young man’s shirt, he wipes it in further and nods before heading off, “I’m uh… Gonna go check out the gym.” Oliver stares at what he can only guess is cum that his boss just smeared into his shirt before going off to the gym. Rather than confusion at his boss’ behavior or disgust at the surely hazardous substance on his shirt, he can’t help but sniff as something in the air begins to make him feel warm inside. 

Sprinting down the emergency flight of stairs Gabriel leaves a cloud of musk in his wake as he works up more sweat than his body has ever produced before. Each bounding footstep skips an arbitrary amount of stairs as his legs lengthen. Quickly does he lose the few shreds of clothing that remained stuck to his growing form. After his feet finally burst from his shoes he leaves a clear trail of sweaty footprints that could surely be tracked by anyone who wanders past. Though any poor fool who should wander near enough to smell the slovenly detritus in Gabriel’s wake would likely find themselves lacking motivation to do anything but immediately lose their mind to senseless pleasure then and there.

Arriving in the gym Gabriel hungrily eyes the scene and is less than thrilled that he seems to be the only man present. Opting to throw on some clothes for no reason than to feel the friction of fabric against his sweaty skin he finds stained sweatpants littered on the floor and throws them on. After gratuitously appreciating his reflection and adding to the Pollock painting of stains that litter the posing mirror of their company gym, Gabe throws himself intuitively into every machine. He delights in the tension and pull of every straining muscle and grins through the pain as they bounce back larger than with every repetition. 

He doesn’t spare half a thought about wiping down machines, and clearly whatever boorish louts used them previously didn’t either, much to his satisfaction. Each second of his body changing upstairs during his too brief session of self pleasure holds nothing towards the edification, the perfection, he enjoys now as he throws himself into a workout. It’s far more intense than his meager body should ever be able to maintain. Sweat drips from him like a waterfall as hair fans out across his form, rapidly expanding from shaved stubble into fluff that would hold and spread his scent for hours to come.

Taking a break to take a photo of his new beyond exuberant self, as he stands across from the mirror his cock instantly hardens and inches to its almost foot long length down the leg of his sweatpants. Immediately it begins dripping pre down his hairier thigh as he screams in bestial abandon. His brain is so far gone the idea of posting the steamy pics of his sweaty form on Web doesn’t even occur to him. Instead the only thoughts remaining to fill his mind are those to return to the gym and get back to the important mission of increasing his virile strength, or the even more pressing desire to fuck anything that moves. Unfortunately for him he can’t produce a single actionable step towards that end. So he shall simply enjoy his new body by his lonesome until some equally horny man stumbles into the company gym.

“God what is up with me today.” Back on the tenth floor Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose as he is overwhelmed with another headache. Ever since Gabriel paid him the brief visit on his way to the gym Oliver has been getting them with increasing frequency. He removed his shirt, not wanting to wear something fouled by whatever was covering his boss’ hands but the damage was already done. The idea that not wearing a shirt in the office is inappropriate moves further out of reach by the second. The intern scratches the back of his neck and grumbles as he feels a soreness in his arm and traps, paying no mind as his fingers trail through thicker hair spreads down from his hairline towards his shoulders. Typing away at his computer, each keypress moves slower than the last, his hands cramp as they suddenly bulge larger.

Taking the smallest second to appraise his changing form Ollie’s eyes widen as he sees there are two unmissable weights now hanging on his chest, sitting on a small gut that he has been making concerted efforts to do away with. Feeling up the new pecs he blushes as he feels stubble prickle his fingers. Rubbing them and feeling muscle give way to his thicker hands he can’t suppress the grin on his face as he feels the prickly hairs quickly thicken and curl longer, painting his chest with a beautiful forest of hair. His dick immediately surges to the largest size it can achieve in the confines of his dress pants.

Awash in feeling every new inch of his hairier, more powerful body Oliver stands up and gasps as he sees abs clearer than anything underneath the new layer of hair on his stomach. His knees give way as his hips uncontrollably thrust while he stares down at his form growing sexier by the second. He barely catches himself from falling with his right hand on the table as his body continues to hump his pants to no end, while his left trails across his body to discover the new surprises that cover each and every inch. Hesitant to trail towards the package bulging larger in his crotch, he traces his abs back up to his chest and rests on his clavicle. There does he find the greatest surprise yet, barely gracing the tips of his fingers, a beard beginning to push out on a face that has always been unfortunately clean shaven. 

While it took browsing Web and the intrusion of his workplace enemy for Gabriel’s conscious mind to give in to the euphoria of being a new, greater man, the feeling of a beard inching thicker on Oliver’s face is more than enough to give himself over to anything. This alongside whatever corrupting virus is coursing through him to cause these changes, it’s no wonder he falls to the floor and begins thrusting a hole in his pants. His meaty thighs and monumental ass make light work of his dress pants as his cock angles itself upwards, out of the waistline of his impossibly tight underwear. Even while in the process of spraying load after load into the carpet of his office, his balls continue churning, always heavy and ever wanting more release. Ever demanding he find more avenues to spread his changes and heighten his own bliss. 

Now laying on the floor, every exhilarating movement packs more pounds of muscle onto his bulging new body. More pressing than that however is the pelt making its mark everywhere it sees fit to spread. His pubes grow thick enough that no light shall ever touch the base of his cock again before they spread upwards to paint his stomach with dark curls. The deodorant he threw on this morning hasn’t a breath of a chance against the new musk that issues forth from his pits as the bushes therein grow thicker than that on his head before stretching outwards to connect with those new heady hairs he so delighted in on his chest. The hairs around his nipples grow thick enough almost to hide them as he continues frotting against the carpet.

His biceps burn with the effort of holding his body up as veins bulge down the diameter of his meaty arms, thick strands of hair quickly trailing behind to make clear his undeniable masculinity. He feels new curls itching against the back of the elastic band of his underwear as it only just hangs in there. Dark curls reach up the small of his back and quickly race to cover his ass cheeks like fuzz on a peach, creating a seamless jungle of curls from his hairy inner thighs to a dense thicket still inching higher on his back; growing into a forest perfect to be grabbed by anyone lucky enough to ride his prodigious cock.

After an especially vocal release, his shoulders burn as his traps bulge larger, which brings a certain someone’s touch to mind. Sniffing the air he finds himself in a haze of his own musk, though the musk smells awfully similar to that of the man who almost started masturbating in front of him. Following his more sensitive nose, the intern crawls over to Gabriel’s office and confirms his suspicions. Oliver smirks as he imagines that the horny freak is probaly equally wanting of a fuck buddy. 

Pulling himself up to his feet on the doorway, he grunts as his knees wobble a bit and his cock tries to convince him that humping the floor is good enough. Staying strong and holding the human instinct that some things are worth the effort, he walks on feet hairier than paws and wider than flippers to the elevator where he begins a descent to the company gym. Snapping a picture to text his boss he smirks as he thinks despite what Gabriel always says, perhaps working in a start-up has some perks after all.

It isn’t clear precisely what happened on the Fall day when men across the Bay Area began changing into, well, sex-crazed beasts. Some assume it was some strange chemical leak. Others say that it was some spontaneous evolution, though to what end such pleasure seeking changes could help a species is unclear. Some particularly conspiracy-minded folks think the whole thing was a ploy by a Social Media startup that was taking off with men precisely like the ones who changed. Though at the end of the day it doesn’t quite matter how or why they changed but how to prevent it from spreading. Across the nation, men of every walk of life are rapidly changing despite taking the best precautions. 

Closing gyms, quarantining those changing, racing to find any treatment to help those losing their minds and their bodies. Nothing seems to help as every day more men are blowing up with muscle, growing hairier with symptom spreading musk, and losing themselves to their uncontrollable lusts. At this point it’s seeming like there’s nothing that could possibly be done to stop the spread of changes, but hey, at least it seems like they’re happy.