#what was that line they said? 'i can collapse on my own later'

[sashthesloth]

Finished veilguard, I finally will go on the tag as a treat because those last 4 hours put me through so much....

[lemoncrushh]

Touch

Summary: You've been having a hard time getting yourself off, so your roommate Harry offers a hand.

Warnings: masturbation, clit stimulation - 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 3886

A/N: Finally, it's here! Based on this request. Soooo sorry for the delay! My writing mojo was not working this week. Also, I know it's a lame title, but I couldn't come up with anything else, and it's after 2AM lol. Hope you enjoy anyway :)

Slamming the freezer door shut, you collapsed at the kitchen table with a sigh.

“What’s with you?” you heard Harry ask from the living room.

“Nothing,” you muttered. “Just thought I had some popsicles left, but I guess I ate ‘em all.”

“You’ve been devouring those like crazy,” Harry commented. “Something stressing you out?”

You sighed, groaning into your palms as you rubbed your eyes. “You could say that.”

“Anything I could help you with?”

You laughed to yourself as you laid your head on the table. Oh God, if he only knew. If he only could.

“No,” you said with a muffled moan.

“Hmm, alright then,” you heard him say as he rose from the sofa and turned off the television. “I’m going to meet Seth at the track field like I promised I would. Want me to stop and get you some popsicles on the way back?”

Lifting your head, you gave a weak smile. “That would be great. Thank you.”

“No problem. See you later.” When he reached the door, he stopped and looked back at you. “Oh, and Y/N? Whatever it is…if it’s still bothering you when I get back, we can talk about it, yeah?”

“Stop, you!” you waved him off. “Go be a frat boy for the afternoon.”

Harry gave you a smirk before shutting the door behind him.

Harry Styles was sweet. Not your typical college guy. Since meeting your freshman year, you’d become close friends, and eventually roommates. While you were very much attracted to him (honestly, who wasn’t?), you’d never given him much hints that you were interested in more than his friendship. And he was such a great friend, and you’d hate to lose that by stepping out of line. So other than a couple of drunken nights on the sofa when you’d both innocently flirted, you kept your feelings to yourself.

But when you were alone…well, that was a different issue altogether.

Harry was your fantasy man, if you wanted to put it that way. He knew you were a virgin; you’d discussed it many times. But what he didn’t know was that when you were alone in your room, sometimes with him in his own room and sometimes not, you fantasized about him. And many of those fantasies led to you touching yourself and getting worked up, only to end with you sexually frustrated.

The biggest issue was that you couldn’t make yourself come. You weren’t sure what you were doing wrong. You were horny as hell all the time. And thinking about Harry when you touched yourself only heightened the desire. But you just couldn’t seem to get over the edge. You could feel yourself getting so close, time after time, until your wrist got tired and your pussy seemed to dry up. You’d groan, angry at yourself, sometimes to the point of tears. If it was late enough, you’d manage to fall asleep eventually, but if it wasn’t even close to bed time, you’d huff and stomp out of your bedroom to grab a popsicle out of the freezer, your item of choice for cooling you down.

Today had been just like any other Saturday. You’d awakened horny, thinking of Harry. You tried to take a shower, hoping it would help, only to be interrupted by the man himself, knocking on the bathroom door to tell you breakfast was ready. You’d sat at the table with him as you tried not to stare, thinking about how fucking sweet he was to make breakfast. Then when he’d announced he was going to watch some game on TV before meeting his friend Seth, you’d gone to your room, hoping to relieve the pulsing ache between your legs. You’d even gone so far as to sit naked in the closet, the door shut as you touched yourself. But once again, you were unable to climax, thus the need to go running into the kitchen.

Now that Harry was gone, however, you knew you couldn’t waste an opportunity. Grabbing a bottle of water, you brought it with you to your room in case the activity made you dehydrated. Then you lit your favorite candle and turned off the overhead light, leaving only the glow of the fairy lights that trimmed your walls. After removing your shorts, you slipped underneath the covers in just your panties and t-shirt. Closing your eyes, you sighed, imagining Harry was in bed with you. Sliding your hands down the front of your shirt, you let your fingers linger at the edge of your cotton underwear.

“Please,” you whispered into the air.

You pretended your hand was your roommate’s as you let it glide over your clothed mound. You sighed again, willing him in your mind to add a little pressure as your own hand resumed the task. Soon you could feel the moisture soaking through your panties, so you removed them completely. With your head back on the pillow, you gathered a bit of your wetness, bringing it to your clit as your fingertip began to play more aggressively.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the pressure building in your belly, your toes curling as you imagined it was Harry touching you, making you feel incredible. Your cunt tightened as your finger moved around in circles on your now swollen clit. You gasped a breath and licked your lips, praying the release would come soon. But just like all the other times, nothing would happen. It was as though your body was deliberately denying the pleasure you so needed, like a punishment. For what, you were unsure.

Dropping your tired hand next to you, you immediately felt the tears coming, unable to stop the frustration and disappointment. Rolling over onto your side, you pulled the covers up to your chest and cried.

Why was this not happening for you? This was so unfair!

Shaking with sobs, you gave up, resolving that it just wasn’t meant to be. Gulping back the rest of your tears, you drifted off to sleep.

You awakened disoriented as you heard the front door slam shut. Harry must be home, you thought. Suddenly, just the thought of him brought the tears back to your eyes. Shortly afterwards, you heard Harry calling your name. Ashamed, you rolled over to face the wall.

“Y/N!” you heard again just before a knock sounded on your bedroom door.

When you didn’t answer, he turned the knob, opening the door just a crack. “Y/N? You in here? I got those popsicles. They’re in the free-”

Harry’s words stopped abruptly, and you knew he had entered the room.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Not wanting to let him see you crying, you cleared your throat. “Oh, hey Harry. I was…tired. So I decided to take a nap.”

“Um…but…you’re crying, love.”

“No, I’m not,” you snapped.

“Yeah, you are. I see your shoulders trembling.”

“Jeez, nothing gets past you, does it?” you hiccuped. “Do you want a medal or something?”

“Hey…” Harry sounded. Then you felt the bed shift, and you could tell he’d sat down behind you. When his hand touched your shoulder, you tensed up. “Y/N. I told you you could talk to me. About anything. Please, I’m here to help.”

“I can’t, Harry,” you grumbled. “Not about this.”

“Why not?”

“Because…it’s too embarrassing.” Sniffling, you silently hoped he would leave. But he was your friend. And up until then you’d talked to him about all of your problems, big or small.

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad,” he urged. “Was it some jerk you fancied? Want me to beat him up for you?”

“No,” you shook your head.

“Was it one of the girls in that snooty sorority?”

“No, Harry. Nobody did anything. Please, just go. Let me be.”

You heard him sigh as he rose from the bed. You thought he was leaving until he spoke again. “No, Y/N. I can’t. You’re clearly upset about something, and I can’t just leave you crying like this. Let me help. Please.”

With a huff, you finally rolled over to face him. His face displayed the look of concern and worry, and you suddenly felt bad for snapping at him.

“Why is it so important to you?” you asked with a shaky breath.

“Because, Y/N…” he conveyed, returning to the edge of your bed. “You’re important to me. You’re my best friend. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

Biting your bottom lip, you shifted your eyes. Could you tell him? Should you tell him?

“If I tell you…will you promise you won’t laugh?”

Harry tilted his head and ran his hand down your arm. “Y/N, how could I laugh at you?”

“It’s just…it’s very TMI,” you admitted.

“Yeah?” Harry raised a brow.

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek as you sat up. “I…” you began with a pause. Finally, exhaling through your nose, you looked up at the ceiling as you said the next words. “I’ve been extremely horny lately.”

You heard Harry snicker before you lowered your head and frowned.

“No,” he shook his head. “Trust me love, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just…that’s not really a secret, is it? I mean…we’re all pretty horny. I wouldn’t really call that TMI.”

“That’s not all of it,” you whispered.

“Oh. Okay. Go on then.” Harry scooted closer to you. Your insides flipped, even more than when you would sit with him on the couch or the kitchen table. You stared at him for a moment before shifting your gaze down to the comforter. You grabbed it in your hands, twisting the edge between your fingers.

“I can’t seem to make myself…you know.”

Harry’s eyes widened instantly at your confession. It surprised you because you figured you would have to spell it out for him. Part of you was embarrassed, but the other part was relieved that he understood what you meant.

“Have you ever?” he inquired.

Sucking in your lips, you shook your head.

“Shit,” he whispered, his eyes on you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“One time…it felt a little different, you know? Like I thought maybe I was but then…I wasn’t so sure. But all other times I’d get so close,” you whined, “but then…it goes away.”

“Well…” Harry mused, shifting himself on the bed, “maybe you just need some help.”

Blinking hard, you glared at him. “What do you mean? I…don’t have a vibrator. I was thinking of getting one, but I don’t know…”

“No, I mean…like a person. To touch you. The way you need to be touched.”

His final phrase hung in the air as you stared at his handsome face. His voice and tone had been low, just above a whisper, and it tickled your ears and made your skin blush. He licked his full lips as his eyes drifted down from your face to your lap. The sudden urge to squeeze your legs together was hard to ignore.

“Well…yeah,” you scoffed, making light of his words. “Not like I’ve had the opportunity.”

Harry’s eyes lifted back up to meet yours before he said, “You do now.”

Your mouth opened slightly, though you were unable to utter a sound. Was he suggesting what you thought he was suggesting?

It wasn’t until Harry took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb across your fingers and looked sincerely into your eyes again that you managed to squeak out his name.

“H-arry…you…”

“I’d like to help you, Y/N,” he said softly. “I want to. If you’ll let me.”

“Really?” You asked the word incredulously, almost with a light chuckle as surely he was joking.

“Yes. Really.”

Biting your lip, you hesitantly lowered your comforter. Harry eyed your bare legs before looking back at you.

“May I?” he asked, reaching his hand toward your thigh.

You nodded, giving him the go ahead. With a slight smirk, Harry caressed your leg, gliding his hand up and down your thigh. You sighed, your flesh erupting in goosebumps.

“Your skin is so soft,” he cooed. Then licking his lips, he leaned forward, his mouth so close to yours that you could feel his breath. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

With another nod, you felt the nerves magnify just before his lips met yours. When his hand met your cheek, however, you eased into the kiss, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth. Though you had imagined his kiss many times, it was nothing like actually experiencing the real thing. You felt the bubble of a moan rise from your throat before Harry released your lips and chuckled low.

“I was afraid that would be awkward for you, but I’m gonna assume by that sound you just made that it wasn’t.”

“No,” you breathed. “It was pretty great, actually.”

Harry’s smile grew which only made you smile back. This was already going better than you thought it would.

“So, you’re okay with moving forward?” he asked. “With me touching you, I mean.”

“Yes.” You said it so quietly, you would have wondered if you’d only thought it in your head if Harry hadn’t adjusted his position on the bed. Leaning on his elbow, he rested his head in his hand as he reached his other hand to touch your thigh again.

“We can go as slow as you need to, okay?”

“‘kay.”

“Lie back, love,” he instructed. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible. The more comfortable and relaxed you are, the better it’s gonna feel.”

You nodded, breathing through your nose as you laid back on the pillow. Relaxing, however, was going to take a little more effort. Just his gaze alone was enough to accelerate your heartbeat.

“So, tell me how you like to be touched.”

Once again, his words hung in the air like a thick cloud. Were you supposed to have an answer to that question?

“I dunno,” you shrugged.

“Well…what do you do to yourself? What feels good to you?” His eyes remained locked on yours while his hand moved up to play with the hem of your t-shirt.

“I um…” you paused, swallowing hard. “I usually just rub my clit.”

Harry nodded. “How? Show me.”

Color rising in your cheeks again, you sucked in your lips as you brought your hand down between your legs. Then you gently slid your finger down the outside of your panties along the center, finding the spot you usually went for first. Adding just a bit of pressure, you showed Harry how you touched yourself.

“Okay,” he said. “And does that feel good?”

“A little.”

“Just a little?” he raised a brow.

You hitched a breath when you saw him reach for your hand, covering it with his own. Guiding you, he pressed a little harder on your finger, moving it in gentle circular motions. You swallowed hard before letting out a tiny gasp.

“What about now?” Harry inquired.

“Better,” you breathed.

“Yeah? Is this how you usually do it?”

“For a little while,” you admitted. “When it starts to feel really good, I um…go underneath or take my panties off completely.”

“Mmm,” Harry nodded. “I’d like to do that. Can we?”

“O-okay.”

Harry’s mouth turned up in a slight grin as you lifted your hips to remove your underwear. Once they were off, you pushed them down the bed with your feet, your eyes still on Harry.

“Good,” he said. “Can I touch you now, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

Running his palm across your belly, his green eyes conveyed a sense of calmness, one you recognized well. Harry was always good at putting you at ease, whether it was at a party where you knew next to nobody but him, or just sitting on the couch talking about things that were bothering you. He was never judgemental or tried to press his opinion onto you. He made you feel good about everything, and while this was no exception, you couldn’t deny the somersaults your tummy was performing and the way your heart was thumping in your chest.

He was actually going to touch you now.

And he did. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he lightly sucked the tips of his middle and forefinger before reaching between your legs. You simply stared as his hand slid across your mound, unable to move. But before he could even touch your clit, he tapped the inside of your thigh with the back of his hand.

“Open your legs, love,” he instructed with a low chuckle. “I promise it feels so much better if I can actually reach you.”

Letting out a deep breath, you spread your legs open a little. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” said Harry. “I just want you to relax, okay? I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

“I know you won’t,” you muttered. “I’m just…it’s hard to relax right now.”

“Why?”

“Because…I guess I’m a little nervous.”

With a gentle expression on his face, Harry looked at you. “I wanna make you feel good, Y/N. Please don’t be nervous with me. It’s just me.”

You let out a half breath, half laugh as you glared at him. “That’s why I’m nervous.”

Tilting his head, Harry blinked. “Have you thought about this before…with me?”

Biting your lip, you nodded.

“Why…why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice so low you barely heard it.

“Because…I didn’t think anything would happen,” you explained. “Like this.”

Blinking again, Harry leaned over, capturing your mouth. You sighed as you felt him shift even closer, his hand gliding up the side of your shirt to cup your breast. He gave it a squeeze when you sucked delicately on his tongue. Then lifting his head, his eyelids heavy, he shook his head.

“Fuck, Y/N. I wish I’d known. I would have done this a long time ago.”

Before you could argue or retort, Harry wettened his fingers once more and brought them to your pussy. Ever so gently, just like he had moments before with your own hand, he added slight pressure to your clit, creating shapes with his movements. You gasped at the contact, immediately feeling the building sensation in your core.

“How’s that feel?” Harry whispered.

“So good,” you replied in a breathy tone, shutting your eyes.

“Open just a little wider, baby.”

You did as you were told, trying not to let the fact he’d just called you baby spin you into a sense of complete disarray. You focused on the feeling instead, the mere idea that Harry’s fingers were touching your pussy.

You could feel your legs begin to tremble, however, when his circles began to speed up. Your toes curled, and your breaths quickened.

“Oh…” you panted.

“Mmm, you like that?”

“Ohh, god yes.”

“Good girl. You’re doing great,” Harry cooed. “You’re getting so wet.”

Even with your eyes shut tight, you knew he was right. Not only could you feel the wetness dripping down your thigh, you could hear it like a sloshing mess as Harry pressed harder and moved his hand faster.

“Oh my god!” you cried.

“Do you want my fingers inside, or do you want me to keep going like this?”

“Like this!” you shouted a little too quickly.

Harry chuckled. “You got it, baby. I can do this as long as you need me to. Your pussy’s so pretty.”

You groaned at his words, the fire below igniting a whole knew sensation as you felt yourself grind against his hand. You dared a peek at him, opening your eyes to see him smirking at you. This was not his usual smirk like when he was kidding around with you, or letting you in on a secret. This was a smirk just for you, like he knew how he was making you feel, and he was enjoying it. Like he owned you. You always thought he was sexy, but fuck, when did he get so fucking sexy?!?

Harry’s hand slowed for just a moment, giving you both a bit of relief. Surely his wrist had to be aching by now, you thought. And the heavy stimulation was almost overwhelming for you. You noticed that’s when you would sometimes dry up and lose the orgasm entirely.

Shutting your eyes, you relaxed your hips, letting your legs fall open as they may, instead of tensed up like they were a moment before. You sighed again as Harry began to glide his fingertips up your slit and back down, gathering the wetness that had no doubt pooled at your entrance. You moaned at how delicately he was touching you now, with very little pressure at all.

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud, partly because it felt amazing and partly because you missed the friction. “Harry…”

“Yeah, babe. That feel good?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what, baby? You have to tell me.”

“Mmm, harder please.”

“Is that too soft?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Alright,” you heard him say, and you knew he was grinning. But before he resumed the pressure, he lightly patted your pussy with his hand.

You knew he was just being cocky now, but you didn’t care. You’d never felt so turned on in your life, even from your own hand. And while your end goal was to come, you also didn’t want this to end.

“H-h-harry…” you moaned, the incredible friction returning, the sensation creating an overwhelming urge in your belly. “Fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Are you gonna come for me?”

That made you open your eyes. While his question was one you’d imagined him asking you every time you tried to get yourself off - and the sound of it coming from his lips was so fucking hot, it was a wonder you didn’t squirt right then and there - in the back of your mind you were still worried you couldn’t make it over the edge.

You reached out and grabbed his shirt in your fist, the other hand grasping at the sheet beneath you. Your eyes wide, you stared at him as you felt the pressure build and build, your legs trembling as you silently begged him to let you come.

“Oh my god!” you cried, tugging on his shirt.

And just at that moment, when you thought everything was about go black, Harry crashed his mouth into yours. Your tongue dancing with his, a low, aching moan rose from deep inside your gut. Your entire body shook as you held onto him, his fingers still caressing your wet clit as you came.

When you finally stopped shaking, but your chest was still heaving, Harry lifted both his head and his hand. Staring at you, he slid his hand up your waist, and his other cradled your neck. Then he pressed a kiss between your brows before resting his forehead against yours.

“Is that what you wanted, love?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Holy shit, Harry.”

With a deep chuckle, he shifted back to his side, pulling you with him. “I’m so glad I could do that for you,” he said, pushing a strand of hair from your face.

You looked at him in wonder. You’d always been in awe of him, since the first day you’d met. But now he was no longer just your friend Harry, your roommate Harry…he was…Harry! Jesus, what were you gonna do now?

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[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Errors, “Errors,” and Sci Fi

@strawberry-crocodile

tvtropes calls stuff like the wolf example "science matches on" which I think is a pretty fair shake

This.  This is what’s got me thinking so much about errors.  There’s a certain danger, here.  A certain way that this particular effect — delicious dramatic irony — tempts the mind when reading old stories, even true ones.

What do you know about R.M.S. Titanic? I ask my class every year, and the first hand rises.  “It was unsinkable,” the student inevitably says, and everyone is nodding, “or so they thought.”  I write the word UNSINKABLE on the board, underneath my crude drawing of a ship with four smokestacks.  It will be crossed out before the end of the hour, but not for the reason they expect.

“I find no evidence,” Walter Lord, preeminent biographer of the ship’s survivors, wrote, “that Titanic was ever advertised as unsinkable. This detail seems to have entered the collective mind so as to create a more perfect irony.”  Indeed, historians’ examinations of White Star Line documents show the shipbuilders themselves worried it would be so large as to risk collision; they stocked several more lifeboats than 1910s regulations required.

The War to End All Wars (deep breath, satisfied exhale), also known as World War ONE. Chuckle.  Shake of the head.  What if I told you that this phrase, used primarily in American newspapers after the fact, wasn’t meant to be literal? Nowadays we’d say The Mother of All Wars, or One Hell of a Fucking War, but we wouldn’t mean literal motherhood, literal intercourse.  What if I said the armistice and the Lost Generation and the Roaring 20s were all braced for another outbreak of European conflict, and yet we still failed to prevent it?

Did you know they were so confident in the safety of the S.S. Challenger that they put a civilian schoolteacher onboard? I do, because I’ve heard that one repeated many times.  Only, see, it’s got the cause and effect reversed.  Challenger launched on a day the shuttle’s engineers knew to be dangerously cold, because the first civilian in space was on board. And NASA knew its shuttle project would be cancelled entirely, if they couldn’t get that civilian’s much-delayed entry into space in the next two weeks.  So they launched on a cold day, and killed her instead.

These are all what cognitive science calls Hindsight Bias on the personal level, what sociology calls Presentism on the cultural level.  Social psychology’s a little of both, is primarily interested in why you’re sitting on your couch in a Colonize Mars shirt watching PBS and chuckling at the fools who believed in El Dorado.  It wants to know why the mind flees straight from “marijuana will kill you” to “marijuana will cure cancer” without so much as a pause on the middle ground of its real benefits and drawbacks, its real (mild) risks and rewards.

And they can paralyze the sci-fi writer, if you think too much about them. Jetsons is futurist one decade, retro the next.  “There are no bathrooms on the Enterprise,” the creators of Serenity say smugly, as if Gene Roddenberry should’ve simply known that decades later it’d be acceptable to show a man peeing in full view of the camera, nothing but the curve of the actor’s hand to protect his modesty.  “No sound in space,” the Fandom Menace says, “No explosions in space,” and “A space station can’t collapse in zero-G.”  Only then NASA burns a paper napkin outside of atmosphere, transmits music using only the ghost of nearby planets’ gravities, and logs onto Reddit long enough to point out the Death Star would implode in its own gravity field.  And now we’re the ones pointing, the ones laughing, at those earlier point-and-laughers.  Self-satisfied, smug in superiority.  As if we did the work to find out ourselves, instead of just happening to be born a little later than George Lucas.

[everythingne]

marketing ploy - ln4 ch7

Lando recovers. McLaren and Red Bull own up. Olivia and Lando decide the future, and give Oscar a heart attack while doing so. We get our happy ending.

piastri!oc x lando norris, bestfriends brother/fake dating

warnings/notes: hospital visits, mentioned injuries, loopiness from medication, pregnancy/sex jokes, media being bitches, lando going 'guys i gotta keep her' and doing the absolute MOST lmao, this is also TECHNICALLY the last chapter but im gonna write more for olivia and lando most def (also olivia will feature as oscars sister in other fics bc i love her)

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I haven't run in years.

I can feel the burn of the air in my lungs as I force them open, adrenaline making every rib shake as I suck in a breath and force it back out. My shoes slam into the floor of the paddocks, sending jolts up my legs as I whisk my bag over my shoulder and 'just go' as Christian had said. My mind is swimming with a thousand thoughts. What if he was seriously injured? He was able to walk, but he collapsed, was it his legs? Or his ribs? What if it's his back? Or his arms? How long will he be out? Is this a whole-season issue or just a few weeks?

Fuck, I cannot be thinking about this right now.

I sweep the room quickly to make sure I have everything, patting my pockets to check for my phone--which is nestled in the back left pocket of my jeans, before whirling around and out of the room.

Once I'm out of the paddocks and towards the exits, where it opens a bit more, the wind whisks into my skin and bites me as I use one hand to dig through the side pocket to find Lando's car keys. I can't steady my hands, even when I'm trying to control their shake, they just get worse. Whether it's fear or anxiety, I find it plain annoying as I struggle to get the small keychain out of my bag. Lando had driven me here from the hotel and shoved the keys in my bag since he didn't walk in with his bag and didn't want to lose the car keys.

Luckily, he had, because talking to anyone in this state would be a bust. I could feel my attitude snipping at my heart as people shouted my name at me. I couldn't stop. I had to find Lando. I knew what hospital he'd be taken to, I had to get there in one piece.

And it was going to be hard with the fucking media right here.

A few reporters try to follow me, but I'm able to slip through the crowds like water. Once I make it to the parking lot, a woman steps in front of me with her camera held high and I shout.

"Can you fucking move?!" And shove her to the side as I zip out of the lot. Fuck the standards, fucking being polite, I'll ask for forgiveness later. And apologize, probably.

Throwing my bag haphazardly into the car, I follow suit and slam the door. There's time here for me to scream, cry, and rage in semi-private, but I bite back the bubble in my throat, throwing my seatbelt on and turning on the car's engine. I wait no time to slam the car forward into first gear, pulling out of the lot with shaking hands. My hands slip with sweat as I try when I remember his McLaren's manual. Cursing, I force myself to revert back to the car I drove in high school as my hands dance across the car in perfected practice.

Thank god I still have that going for me.

The highway is empty, where I thought there'd be lines of traffic there are only a few sparse cars. I slam the car as hard as it can go, watching the ticking of the speedometer, 50... 60... 70... 80...

I look behind me, merging into the fast lane and gunning it even harder. The car sings, and I feel an odd rush of momentary euphoria.

I hit around 165kpm at some point. The car doesn't even shake, it seemingly glides along with my movements, I hear sirens, I don't know if they're for me but I'm not staying to find out. I press harder, merging to the off-ramp and taking it, barely registering what's around me as I slam on my brakes and slip into the traffic near the hospital.

It feels good to drive like that. Maybe I should get back into racing at some point.

Once the McLaren is parked in a back corner of the hospital lot, I grab my bag, rip myself out of the car, and slam it shut, and triple-check it's locked. I turn and book it into the hospital, trying to breathe steady enough to keep myself from losing my shit. It feels like I can't run fast enough, slipping into the hospital and around people who dodge my clearly rushed pace. I pause in front of a desk, panicked and out of breath when someone comes to my side.

"Hi, honey, who are you lookin' for?" A kind nurse says, her hand finding my arm to apply soothing pressure as she notices the fear in my movements. I thought I was hiding it better than I was, I guess. I take a slow breath and let the shake in my hands come in, no longer holding everything back.

"Lando Norris, he just came in with Formula One?" I ask and the woman nods. She asks to see my ID and I fish out my license and Red Bull card to verify my employment.

"Olivia!" A voice shouts as my items are handed back when I'm cleared, and Jon comes up to my side, pointing at my head.

"You still have your headset on." He says softly and I look him up and down, pointing at him.

"So do you," I say. We pause and fall into soft laughter as I pull the headset down to my neck. Jon takes me by the elbow further into the hospital, out of the view of some of the reporters who try to snap photos of us as they're shoved out by the security. I hadn't even seen them when I made my way inside. Through the winding halls, and down to a smaller section of the hospital, Jon brings me to the door to what I assume is Lando's room.

"He's fine." Jon starts with, which eases me immediately, "He's a bit banged up, they think he might have broken or bruised one of his ribs. He's really out of it, the painkillers made him super loopy. Just a forewarning, he's also been dipping in and out of consciousness so don't be alarmed. It's just the painkillers."

"Is his family here yet?" I ask, looking at the door, and Jon shakes his head no once I look back at him.

"They're driving at normal speeds, so no. I don't wanna know how you got here so fast." He steps forward and knocks. A nurse pops open the door and welcomes us inside, Jon stays back while I make my way to the bedside. Lando's wearing a tee shirt and some loose sports shorts, he looks exhausted. I can see bruising on his legs as I nurse tosses the blanket over him as if trying to hide it from me.

"Here!" She pulls up a chair happily and I thank her as I sit down on it, taking my bag off and setting it on the floor, dropping my headphones in. I sigh, taking Lando's hand and feeling his pulse as if the machine that literally tells me that is lying. It feels good to feel his heart thrum under my skin and I kiss his wrist where the pulsepoint is.

"My girlfrien's not g'nna like you doin' that." Lando tries to take his hand from me, Jon snorting in the doorway. I let go of him and laughed softly, leaning up to brush his hair back from his face, the longer curls sticking to his forehead. He's still got the lines from his helmet and balaclava, and I trace one with my finger as he gives me the nastiest stink eye I've ever seen him muster.

"Hi, Lando." I croon, and he whines, slowly rolling his head to the side.

"I have a girlfriend." He states, poking my hand to push it away from him and I send him an odd look. Jon walks over and I can see he's recording, which makes a small amused smile poke at my lips.

"Lando," I laugh softly and Lando whacks my hands away softly, fighting through the weariness of his pain medication to wave his arms.

"I have a girlfriend." He pouts, laying his hands still at his side. I just laugh again, and Lando shouts in his dreary state, "It's not funny! I do!"

"Shush, shh, Lando." I stand and push my chair back a bit as I stifle my laugh into the back of my hand.

Jon calls from where he stands, attempting to help me not laugh by giving me something new to focus on, "Who's your girlfriend, Lando?"

"Olivia. Oscar's sister, which he was actually not happy about at first but I convinced him I was cool--" Lando keeps rambling on until I lift my hand and cup his cheek, running my thumb under his eye as I speak softly.

"Lando, baby, I am your girlfriend." I put a hand on my chest, "I am Olivia."

Lando blinks, eyes settling on me before he gasps and leans up to grab my face and pull me down for a litter of soft pecks to my cheeks and face. I catch myself on the bed and laugh, catching his lips as he happily grins up at me. It's all doe eyes, lovesick smiles on his lips as he keeps his hands tight on my face.

"Hi, baby." He whispers, bringing me in for another kiss and I detach one of his hands so it can rest by his side. I slowly situate him against the blankets with the help of Jon, and sit a bit closer to the head of the bed so Lando can be close enough to me. He keeps one of his hands in mine and I slowly run my thumb along his knuckles.

"Well, Mr. Norris!" A piercing voice calls, a young woman stepping into the room with a bit of an excited flourish, "You are all set! Jon's gonna look over your scans, specifically for those bruised ribs. We're thinking it'll be about three or four weeks of healing, and he's gonna make that like--workout plan and stuff with your personal doctor."

"Ah, thank you, Doctor." Lando smiles, watching as the doctor hands Jon some papers to look over. She smiles at me, a hint of recognition in her eyes.

"Olivia, right?" She asks and I nod, shaking her outstretched hand.

"I'm glad you made it here, Lando was waiting for you a bit impatiently." She kept her happy smile, rocking from foot to foot, "Kept asking us where you were, or when you'd get here. You've got a good man on your hands here, sweetheart."

"I know." My heart is bursting, "He's shown me that over and over."

--

11 JULY, ENGLAND. ↴

oliviapiastri and landonorris have posted new stories!

mclaren has made a new post!

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Thank you once again to @ oliviapiastri for taking care of our #4 and providing the team with love and some pics while he was recovering! Lando is at home now, and our official statement on the accident and other situations this season has been posted on our website.

View the story: McLaren.uk/formula1/landoolivia...

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mclaren.uk...

OFFICIAL STATEMENT ON SITUATIONS BETWEEN LANDO NORRIS AND OLIVIA PIASTRI THIS SEASON.

WRITTEN BY STEVE ATKINS (M), ON BEHALF OF ZAK BROWN (M), ANDREA STELLA (M), ALICE MCLOUGHLIN (ORBR), ASTRID MARINA (UNAFF.), ADA LUANNE (UNAFF.), CHRISTIAN HORNER (OBRB), AND HIMSELF.

On the 22nd of February this year, Lando Norris (MCLAREN F1 TEAM, DRIVER) and Olivia Piastri (ORACLE RED BULL, HEAD OF ANALYSIS) were pulled into the office of Christian Horner (ORACLE RED BULL, TEAM PRINCIPAL) in Bahrain. A deal was struck between both parties and their corresponding teams to create a fake dating scenario, capitalizing on the tensions between Oracle Red Bull Racing and the McLaren F1 Team to push ticket and merchandising sales. This fake relationship was planned to eventually leak in PR and Social Media Strategy, however, due to Norris' crash in Silverstone, the entire program has been canceled. The program was also discovered by F1 Stewards upon investigation after Olivia's reaction to the accident cemented rumors in the media of the two dating. Both the McLaren F1 Team and Oracle Red Bull are under investigation, and fines are yet to be announced.

Norris and Piastri chose not to be a part of this statement and can be expected to make their own statements in the coming weeks.

On July 9th of this year, Lando Norris was involved in an accident in the pitlane of Silverstone. Engineers have determined this was caused by an overheating of brake lines that didn't allow Norris to stop his vehicle along with worn tires. No fines have been placed at this moment.

Olivia Piastri will return to work with Red Bull remotely immediately and will be in-person by Zandvoort. Lando Norris will return to racing with McLaren by Zandvoort and will be replaced by reserve driver Bianca Bustamente for the time being. Neither Norris nor Piastri will be fined for involvement with the media stunt, or with the accident as of this moment.

20 JULY, LONDON ↴

There’s a sort of haze around me as I blink sleep from my eyes. A warm pressure on my left makes me look to the side. Lando’s face is squished against my chest, soft snores leaving his slightly parted lips and rolling across my bare skin that pokes out from under my tank top. I take a moment to take it all in, how we’d gotten here, how we were, and I can’t help but roll to pull him closer to me and curl him inside my arms as I pepper a few kisses to his hairline.

How did I ever not like him? He's a fucking saint.

Lando, a heavy sleeper until I started sleeping in the same bed, noticed immediately and grabbed my waist with groggy whines about how tired he was. I coax him back to sleep, kissing his hairline and gently massaging his back until the snores return and I smile at Lando’s sleeping face.

“Awake yet?” Oscar calls from the door, and I wave. He laughs under his breath, waving me over, and it takes a bit of grace to detach myself from Lando. Once I do, I grab one of the spare throw blankets off the floor from where Lando had kicked it and slip over to where Oscar is standing by the door as I wrap it around me to keep out the morning chill.

“He’s exhausted. I think all the stress of the season is catching up on him.” I rub sleep from my face, and Oscar nods, handing me a piece of toast like a peace offering. I take it and tilt my head at him.

“They’re fining McLaren and Red Bull a lot for this stunt. It just came out.” Oscar hums, “said it’s a breach of contract and a risk for documents to be shared amongst the teams…”

My heart jumps to my throat, and I look at Lando’s sleeping form as he rolls into where my fading body heat is still in the blankets, “they want us to split?”

“Well. Lando’s contract ends with McLaren this year.” Oscar paused to take a sip of his coffee before leaning in to whisper, “and you didn’t hear it from me, but Christian has been looking at grabbing him for a few years now.”

“Is Checo moving?” I ask because I know Max wouldn’t leave Red Bull unless we forced him out by dragging him by his ankles.

“I dunno.” Oscar grins, stepping back and whacking my shoulder, “but you can date within your garage, so.”

With that, he walks away and I turn back to Lando as he starts to stir. I lean on the doorframe and watch as he blearily blinks his eyes open, hands searching for me in the covers until he lifts his head to see me off in the doorway.

“C’mere.” he croaks, and I smile, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to sit on the edge of the bed as he wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my thighs.

I can’t imagine him in navy. But it might look good on him.

25TH JULY, LONDON ↴

“is Max positive?” Lando pokes his head into the kitchen doorway, looking at the island where I’m staring at my laptop. I look up and shrug, sending an email back to Christian about the fines and the media being on his ass for the whole stunt.

“Kylie said it’ll be here in five minutes,” I reply, refreshing my email as if that will make the minutes suddenly not matter and for the email to pop up. Apparently, Max had gotten sick right before the next race. While I was home with Lando to make sure he wasn’t being strenuous and to keep media off my back until everything died down, they had to do a COVID test on Max and isolate him just in case.

“It would suck if he's out for his home race this year." Lando wanders into the kitchen and pulls up a stool next to me as he sets his phone down on the counter. He’s been living in Oscar and my apartment for the past few days, just until next week when he goes back to McLaren's training center for a bit to do a lot of physical therapy before getting in the car next weekend for Zandvoort.

Oscar calls my phone, and I stand up, telling Lando to keep checking my email as I make my way over to the other side of the kitchen to grab my phone.

“Yes, bitch?” I say into the phone and Oscar laughs at my sharp tone.

“Just checking in on Lando for Zak,” Oscar says and I look behind me and my boyfriend—like, actual boyfriend now, and smile.

“He’s been fine, ribs are still a little sore. I had him doing cardio earlier and he was faring pretty well so I—I think Jon said he can go back to training a bit earlier. He’s still coming back in Zandvoort though.” I hum, “how’s Bia faring?”

“She’s having the time of her life. I gotta start bringing her around more. You guys really would be an unstoppable duo.” Oscar laughs, “But good, Jon is off today so I’ll let Zak know to reach out to him and ask.”

“Ollie!” Lando whines and I turn.

“Yess?” I draw out as I walk to his side.

“It's negative.”

“Oh, thank fucking god.” I breathe, “That makes everything a lot easier for me.”

Oscar is quiet on the line for a few moments before asking in a small voice, “What’s negative?”

“Max’s COVID test. He’s just got the flu.” I say without thinking much of my brother's hesitance before he lets out a soft laugh.

“I thought you took a pregnancy test or something, I was about to start judging the type of cardio you’ve been doing,” Oscar says and I shout,

“Dude!”

“I feel like that’s a reasonable thing to be worried about!”

“Oh my god, we’ve only been actually dating dating for like two weeks!” I groan and Lando sends me a confused look, so I pop Oscar onto speakerphone.

“It only takes like—five minutes to make a kid!”

“Hello?!” Lando shouts and I sink to the floor in a fit of laughter, trying to bite back the volume of my laughter before Lando shouts, "Do you think I fucked your sister?!"

"No! Stop! Stop talking Lando!" Oscar shouts over the phone and now I'm hysterical on the floor in tears as Lando tries to backtrack and Oscar keeps shouting for him to just-- "Shut the fuck up, Lando!"

"Both are you are going to kill me, I'm losing it." I wheeze from where I'm now lying on the floor, Lando laughing alongside me as Oscar groans.

"First the house, now this?" He says and Lando makes some noise in the back of his throat as I manage to calm myself down enough to stand.

"What about a house?" I wipe under my eyes, leaning my head on Lando's shoulder as his arm wraps around my shoulder and he kisses my head, his fingers poking at my side and making me squirm as I push him away with a laugh.

"Nothing, love." Lando sighs, "Remember when they gave me those painkillers that made me super loopy the first night, and Oscar was watching over me?"

I nod, remembering how halfway through my grocery trip he had to call me because Lando was so loopy he thought that I was gone forever. And he had literally cried tears of joy when I answered Oscar's phone call.

"Well, I kinda... oh my god this is so embarrassing." Lando sighs and Oscar tells him he now has to tell the story and Lando hides his face in my hair as he recounts, "I was looking at apartments in London for us."

"Stop, oh my god." I whine, turning to Lando so I can kiss his cheeks and his forehead, pulling him down when he tries to move back so I can't, "That's so cute."

"No, it's embarrassing." He grumbles and I laugh, pulling him closer and kissing along his jaw and then the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

"I wouldn't mind that," I murmur to him and his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, his hands find my waist and he presses a kiss to my lips.

"Ew, I don't like that I can hear him kiss you over the phone." Oscar groans, "I'm hanging up now, don't do anything too strenuous."

"Fuck you, Oscar!" I laugh as the call hangs up, Lando keeping his arms firmly around my waist. We sit in silence for a few moments before his hand ghosts up the side of my neck to take my jaw in his palm, thumb hooking on my chin to pull me down to look at him.

"Would you seriously not mind?" He asks softly and I grin, leaning over to pop a quick kiss on his lips.

"Getting to have you with me every day?" I bring our foreheads together, his curls against my own as his hands find my waist to hold, my hands resting on his shoulders as I grin and flutter my eyes closed, "That's paradise."

"I'll literally buy one right now, don't even test me." He groans, pulling me closer and I laugh.

"Let's get Zandvoort out of the way first, yeah?"

JULY 28TH, TWITTER ↴

AUGUST 27TH, THE NETHERLANDS ↴

Luckily for me, I made it into the paddocks long before any media people. Max welcomes me with a slap on the back as I welcome him to his home race, and then I'm greeted by the Ferrari drivers once again as Checo laughs at my bewildered expression.

"I'm gonna tell the Tifosi on you both." I huff, but let both Charles and Carlos wrap me in tight hugs of congratulations as we laugh. Once the two are carted off to go do their actual jobs, I get settled in my chair and glance down at my desk before laughing.

A vase of freshly cut flowers and a little cup of coffee sits there, waiting for me, and I turn to look at Max who just grins.

"He's determined." Is all Max says before slipping away as he's called over to get dressed. I laugh and send Lando a quick thank you message, before taking a sip of the perfectly made coffee and settling down to finally get back into gear.

"Welcome back," A voice chimes and I glance up to see Christian in the doorway. I offer him a small smile and a nod.

"Good to be here." Is all I say in reply.

-

Lando and Max seriously just want to kill each other in these cars. Max takes the win at his home race by some insignificantly small number, they had to literally watch multiple playbacks to see who crossed first, which means Lando is still in good running for World Champion. Luckily, somehow a mix of car issues and the pure energy from Oscar, Charles, Checo, and Carlos managed to keep Max in P2 for most races, leveling out the chances for Lando to recover his lost points.

As soon as most drivers have returned to their paddocks, I'm mid-packing up when I'm ushered off by Logan, who finished P6. He quite literally hoists me off my feet and carries me into the crowd for the podium. A few other drivers lag back, and I look over to Oscar, who'd finished P4 behind Charles.

"Where's Lando?!" Logan shouts over my head at Oscar, who points, and then leans over to me.

"Here's that kiss they promised you'd have to do," He shouts in my ear and I laugh as the two lift me so I can be partially over the barrier holding back the audience from the racers. I wave Lando down and he laughs, slipping away from a reporter as he finishes an interview. Biting off his glove as he walks over, he drops it into his helmet and then grabs my jaw with that now gloveless hand, pulling me into his lips for a quick peck. I don't let him leave though, grabbing his jaw and pulling him back in for a few more deeper kisses.

Oscar cheers and Logan laughs before Lando secures one arm around me to pull me over the barrier. Logan and Oscar immediately hop over after me.

There's warmth in my chest as Lando keeps his hand on my lower back, pulling me through the crowd of drivers and up to where Max and Charles stand. A giddy excitement thrums across my skin.

I could do this forever.

--

SEPTEMBER 3RD, INSTAGRAM ↴

oliviapiastri made a new post!

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, charlesleclerc, and 876k others...

oliviapiastri: 6 months <3

charlesleclerc: damn y'all move fast

oscarpiastri: DUDE THIS IS THE FIRST TIME WE ARENT LIVING TOGETHER IN OUR WHOLE LIVES. CHEERS!

maxverstappen: cheers!! looks lovely

user1: THEY LIVE TOGETHER?

alexalbon: DUDE ITS BEEN SIX MONTHS??

⤷ landonorris: I KNOW??

landonorris: omg i can post this publically now

landonorris: i LOVE YOU OLIVIA<333

user2: lando going bat shit in these comments is so real

landonorris: I LOVE U SM DARLING

⤷ oscarpiastri: i liked it better before the FIA made them announce it. i wanna go back in time to before that happened.

⤷ oliviapiastri: get me a tardis then

⤷ bbcdoctorwho: we can make that work ...

⤷ oliviapiastri: HELLO?

user4: dying dead gone deceased i love them

landonorris posted a new story!

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Grim - Apprentice Chef Vignette

"Let's keep on doing aaallll these fun things together"

[Kitchen]

Grim: It's… It's…

Grim: IT'S DONEEEE!!

Grim: Look, [Yuu]! My super special awesome cake's finished!

The cake looks like a tuna can…

Grim: Yeah! I made it look like the most delicious thing in the world. See how even the word "tuna" looks good?

Grim: As for what I put inside the cake… That's a surprise for when we eat it! MYAHA!

Grim: I bet this is gonna be the bestest thing on the table. We gotta hurry and get it back to Ramshackle!

[Ramshackle Dorm – Anniversary Party]

Grim: Slowly… Slowly…

Grim: Gently, gently… Careful…

We're almost back to the dorm, you got this!

Grim: Gah, carrying a cake so it doesn't collapse is so hard…!

Grim: …But all the guys we passed on the way here from the cafeteria said it totally looked tasty, yeah?

Grim: Y'know, maybe my genius ain't just in eatin' food, but makin' em, too.

Grim: Back when you and me took the Master Chef course, I thought all this work was a pain, but…

Grim: Now I'm thinkin' that it was good we did it. 'Cause now tasty things can be made into even tastier things!

Grim: Myahaha! Thanks to this cake, today's party's gonna be the cat's meow!

Grim: Ah! But that annoying guy Trein is gonna be there… He might get mad if I get too excited.

Grim: Maaan, he's always findin' things to nag me about. Like the other day, he tried scolding in me when I was runnin' in the halls.

Grim: It pissed me off, so I tried pokin' fun at him, but then he just came at me!

Grim: Obviously I ran, but that old man is faster than he looks…

Grim: And then he just caught me in no time, I wasn't expecting that. Just nabbed me by the neck.

Grim: "Try to be a bit more like Lucius," he said… But I ain't a cat, y'know!

Grim: Don't know if Trein snitched on me or what, but even Crewel got mad at me, saying "Stop causing problems."

Grim: But then Crewel whispered later, "If you're going to tease Trein-sensei, make sure you don't get caught."

Grim: Myahaha! Crewel might be a teacher, but sometimes he's got a wicked side. He gets me.

Grim: …Though, he can be a huge stickler if ya mess around in class or get bad grades.

Grim: I remember the other day was pretty scary. He had us all lined up in a row, and was grilling everyone on who spilled the chemicals on the table…

Grim: No one fessed up, and Ace and Deuce were silently keepin' their heads down, so I stayed quiet too.

Well, we all got held responsible, in the end.

Grim: Tch. Trein and Crewel are both way too strict!

Grim: I like Vargas's class the best. 'Cause I don't need to take difficult notes in his class!

Grim: Like the other day, he started going on and on, saying, "If you want to be a great mage, then you need to have muscles as rippling as mine!" or whatever…

Grim: I was just nodding along, and then class ended with just him talkin' about his own muscles. Myahaha, waaaay too easy～

Grim: …Hm? Wait a mo'.

Grim: Do you think… The reason that Vargas showed up here randomly one morning a few days ago to go exercise together…

Grim: DID HE THINK I WANTED TO TRAIN WITH HIM BECAUSE I WAS NODDING DURING ALL HIS BOASTING!?

Grim: The sun wasn't even up, it was still dark, so that was a real pain!!

Grim: …Man, I think I might like Crewel or Trein better after all, ‘cause they don't cause me problems.

[Ramshackle Dorm – Anniversary Party]

Grim: Y'know, now that I think about it, all the profs here are really strange… Is this school really alright?

Grim: Oh. But I think the strangest guy ain't one of the teachers, but Sam. I'm sure of it!

Grim: And that's cause… Remember the other day when I lost at rock-paper-scissors and I had to go buy snacks by myself?

Grim: Before I even got inside the store, I heard Sam talkin' with someone inside.

Grim: But… When I got inside, he was all alone.

Grim: When I asked who he was chattin' with, he said his "friends on the other side," but… WHAT DOES HE MEAN FRIENDS ON THE OTHER SIDE!?

Grim: He wouldn't tell me no matter how many times I asked. It's so eerie. But man, he's got a ton of cool stuff for sale, so I keep going back.

Grim: I remember then, too, before I could say what I wanted, he already had out the perfect number of snacks I had money for.

Grim: Oh yeah, and Crowley came in the shop right after me. Looks like he's always shoppin' at the Mystery Shop, too.

Grim: He started braggin' to me that he gets to order whatever he wants.

Grim: So I told him I wanted some special tuna cans then, and he says, "This privilege is for teachers only!"

Grim: He just kept on bragging, he's the worst! Crowley's so useless!

We should be thankful, since he let us attend here.

Grim: THANKFUL!? He should be thanking me for gracing this school with my genius!

Grim: And I bet Crowley'd gobble down the whole feast we got prepped if I take my eye off him for even a second…

Grim: No way I'm gonna give him a single bite. This time I'll make sure he's jealous of me.

Grim: Hey, [Yuu]. You 'n me're gonna protect this cake with our lives!

Grim: I might not be able to rely on you to do everythin' yourself, so good things we also got those ghosts.

Grim: If all us Ramshackle folk work together, we could even take on two Crowleys. We'll stun him silent!

Grim: I bet the ghosts're feelin' real alive right now. They were really getting' excited for Founding Day.

Grim: They were all, "It's so wonderful everyone is throwing a party here at Ramshackle～"

Grim: They also said that everything's getting' amped up 'cause we came to Ramshackle.

Grim: Myahaha. So that means… All the fun and happy times are all thanks to me!

1. Exactly!

Grim: Yeah. So you just keep on following me, no worries. Grim: As the boss, it's my job to take care of my henchie!

2. I think you're going a little overboard there.

Grim: Myah!? Y-You… You don't get how good I am to ya, huh!? Grim: I'm always pushin' myself hard doin' things for ya. Like, uh… Uh… ALL SORTS OF THINGS!

Grim: So let's keep on doing aaallll these fun things together!

Grim: Ah. Looks like everyone's here.

Grim: Hey, [Yuu], open the gate. We gotta bring the cake in quick!

Grim: I bet everyone'll be so surprised and happy. Myahaha. I can't wait～!

Requested by @butterflyremix.

[arcane-vagabond]

If Tarzan gets to know/see more women, would the reader be afraid to not have his attention anymore? Would she think he was only interested because she was "something new"?

I think Boots would definitely be a tad insecure. She was the first woman Bradley had ever seen, after all, and I'm sure the same thoughts would be running through her head.

She knew this was a big step for him, and this is what the team had been working up to for the past year. It had started with exposing Bradley to the local village and working him up to a nearby city. Finally, you had convinced him to fly back home to San Diego with you and Bradley.

He had handled the plane ride fine, gripping your hand tightly at both takeoff and landing, but now the real test came. You and Jake would be standing on either side of Bradley as you walked through the airport, both keeping your eyes on the larger man for any signs of distress as you reached the gate for your layover. Of course, yours weren't the only eyes on him.

You had noticed a group of girls giggling and pointing at him a couple of minutes ago, and you felt your muscles tense when one of the pretty blondes strutted up to stand in front of him.

"Hi," she grinned, pearly white teeth standing out against her beautifully tanned skin. Bradley glanced up from the tablet in front of him to look at her. You held your breath. Would he want her now? Were you really just something to pass the time with? He had options now, after all.

Bradley said nothing as he cocked his head to the side, eyes studying the woman in front of him. She was undettered, twirling a strand of hair in between her fingers as she continued to give him a sultry look.

"I'm Mia," she continued, batting her eyes at him. "What's yours?"

"Bradley."

"Hi, Bradley," she giggled, and Bradley frowned. "What are you headed to San Diego for?"

"Going home," he replied, eyes narrowing in confusion as the blonde leaned forward.

"Home, huh?" She hummed. "Maybe we could hang out sometime? I can give you my number-"

"No," Bradley cut her off, shifting away from her. Mia's smile faltered, but she quickly regained her confidence, clasping her hands in front of her so that her boobs almost spilled out of her top.

"Aw, come on," she pouted playfully, leaning forward again. "It could be so much fun."

"No," Bradley said again, frowning. "Don't want to. Want to stay with my girlfriend."

You felt your heart clench at that. The two of you hadn't really spoken about relationships or what you would classify yours ass, but his declaration had you fighting to keep from launching yourself into his arms. You'd definitely have to ask him where he learned the word later though.

"You're girlfriend?" Mia scoffed, finally looking at you. You kept your gaze pointedly on the tablet in your hands, pretending to scroll through your notes as she studied you. Mia let out a huff before turning her attention back to Bradley. "Well, if you change your mind, I'll be sitting right over there, handsome."

"I won't," Bradley said simply, and it took all of your strength to hold in your snort. Mia's lips pressed into a thin line before turning on her heel and walking away. It was only a few moments later when Jake collapsed into the seat on the opposite side of Bradley, passing you a water bottle that you took gratefully.

"What did I miss?" He asked with a grin, unscrewing the cap off his own bottle. You chuckled, leaning over to place a kiss to Bradley's cheek.

"Oh, nothing really."

[too-antigonish]

My Strange but Unified Theory of Exeunt

Last week I talked about the poem Horatio in a post about Morse and fathers and @astridcontramundum asked what I thought it meant in the context of Exeunt. Hopefully she won't be sorry she asked because here's my (as usual) long answer:

Horatio is quoted from twice in Exeunt. The first time, Prof. Fortescue is lecturing to his students at a tutorial and gives us the most famous lines:  

Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the Gate:  "To every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his gods?"

The second time occurs just before Thursday’s has his “turn” in the same spot where Morse will many years later experience his own collapse. He says: ”’How well Horatius kept the bridge in the brave days of old.’ We'd a padre big on that out in the desert. Drumhead service just before Alamein. ‘And how can man die better than facing fearful odds?’ Always stuck with me.”

I think they used those lines to plainly tease the idea that Thursday was going to die. Prior to Exeunt airing, almost everyone thought Thursday would have to die in order to explain Morse’s never mentioning him again in the future. When Fortescue says those lines in the beginning, I think we’re supposed to think that someone—probably Thursday—is going to die heroically. Then Thursday repeats some of the poem—connecting it to his WWII service—just before he has his “spell” and it seems like more foreshadowing. 

The thing about the poem though, that most people *don’t* know, is that the big surprise at the end is that Horatio *doesn’t* die. It just looks like he will: Even when his companions have abandoned the bridge because it is on the verge of collapse, Horatius remains. He stays until bridge finally does fail, and then plunges into the river below with the full weight of his armor. It is certain death and both sides stand stunned into silence by his final sacrifice.

But then, both sides find themselves even more surprised when they see the crest of his helmet beginning to rise from the water and he slowly emerges, striding towards the Roman bank. He not only survives, but arrives home to a hero’s welcome and a long life.

All of the usual narrative pieces are in place for us to expect Thursday to make the ultimate sacrifice—to die. For me, Thursday—like Horatio—does sacrifice everything, but the poem was actually foreshadowing his survival, not his death. And for Thursday, his survival is in many ways a far more difficult sacrifice than death would have been. It would have been easier for him in so many ways if he had died in defense of Sam or even fighting Lott. Instead he has to live with the ambiguous and messy aftermath.

Morse could also be Horatio in the sense that he goes to Blenheim Vale facing a high probability of death. What were the chances that the bikers would “come through” for him? That Morse went expecting to be double-crossed and killed by Lott seems much more likely to me. But I do think that Morse, like Horatio, would reason that, “If you’re going to go, then there’s no better way than defending the things that are most important to you,” and so he goes anyway.

He survives too—but unlike Horatio, his heroism will always remain a secret *and* with his realization about Thursday’s guilt and Lott’s revelation about Tomahawk’s identity, it brings perhaps more sorrow than it does victory. And, I would argue that his survival is only temporary or perhaps partial.

The gunshot scene has many possible interpretations, but at its core, my (forever unprovable) theory is that it balances out the survival foreshadowed by Horatio. Horatio was all about the audience assuming that Thursday had to die. But along with that went the assumption that of course Endeavour had to live. This is a prequel after all.

But the gunshot scene said a big, loud, “No. We can kill off Endeavour if we want to and we will.” You can go back and forth until the cows come home about whether or not the scene was simply him contemplating death, actually going through with it, or absolutely, purely symbolic and imaginative. However, I don’t think you can honestly argue that the scene doesn’t somehow connect the concepts of  “Endeavour Morse,” “gun,” and “death” to each other. Somehow those concepts have to be included in any interpretation.

So this leads to my weird theory about Exeunt, which is that Russ Lewis heard everyone saying, “Well I don’t know what’s going to happen in the end, but of course we all know that Morse is going to live—so no suspense there. And Thursday, well, he has to die. I mean it’s the only way to explain why we never hear about him later.” And to this, Russ Lewis thought, “Ha! I’m going to do exactly the opposite. Thursday lives and Morse dies!” 

Am I right? I will never know. Do I have more thoughts on Exeunt? You really, really don't want to know just how many.

[autistichalsin]

I wonder if you have thoughts on like.... the other members of his grove? and halsin relating to them? bc apart from rath and maybe two more, they all seem very dicky to me 🤔 and ya, halsin said it's been a burden, and being a kind-hearted dude like him leading a bunch of bastards that think so highly of themselves could definitely contribute to the stress. I guess i don't get it? the one at the steps by the bear is like 'hold on give them a chance' @ the bear when we come in but then in the same breath is like 'no step further or i show you my claws' and seems like has to be talked down from being hostile by third druid; then later when we stop the ritual she's like 'we stopped the chanting but that doesn't give you the right to be disrespectful to this place' and some rando other druid went something along the lines of 'you're overstaying your welcome' - im just thinking how horrible halsin's life must have been surrounded by pricks like that 😔

Short version: yeah, everyone but Rath, Nettie, and Apikusis suck lol

Long version: everyone but Rath, Nettie, and Apikusis suck, BUT you can see several who are having doubts about what they're doing, and many of them come back to themselves once Halsin returns.

There were, I think, multiple things going on here:

By his own admission, Halsin wasn't a very strong leader. He never had leadership skills taught or modeled for him before becoming Archdruid, and further, his promotion was under incredibly traumatic circumstances. The survivor guilt, the admiration he had towards the previous Archdruid, likely left him not wanting to fully engage with the role out of fear of replacing him or at least seeming to do so.

The refugee situation was noted to be causing stress at the Grove as supplies were dwindling (I guess we're supposed to forget Goodberry is a spell ANY Druid can do, lol). This would have not only sown resentment against Halsin and the refugees for putting them in this situation, but crucially, it would have given an outsider enemy for the Grove. Cults (like the Shadow Druids) operate at their strongest when they have a threat, or appearance of one, to unite members and potential members under. "We are the only ones who can keep you safe from these outsiders who may be from hell itself, who are using all your supplies and contributing nothing, who are the reason you're being attacked by goblins every other day." And Halsin, as much as I love him, showed poor judgment in going with the goblins at that precise moment, and with little explanation to the others. It shows where his heart and priorities are- always with the Shadow-Cursed Lands first- but that would not be an endearing things for his stressed Druids.

Kagha not only fell in with this cult, but unfortunately, she had a lot of what Halsin was lacking as a leader- she just chose to use this skills for evil. She was persuasive (something Halsin admits he wasn't so good at), she presented herself as being concerned with the group's welfare in a way Halsin wasn't quite able to do (since his heart was elsewhere), and her zealotry seemed preferable to the other Druids in contrast to Halsin's mixed attention.

This cannot be understated: the Grove was deliberately targeted by Ketheric Thorm. He knew from experience that the Grove posed a significant threat, and he ordered his underlings to make contact with the Shadow Druids and send them to the Emerald Grove, to either persuade them to carry out the Rite of Thorns or at least cause so much division that the social bonds collapsed entirely and the Grove was left too divided to be able to accomplish anything. Ketheric and the Shadow Druids were able to find all of the above weaknesses and exploit them effortlessly.

So then it became a game of scapegoating, which is a favored recruitment technique of cults. "We're here because of the Other, and because our leader was too weak to fix the problem before it got this bad. We need a new leader; a leader who cares only for us and isn't afraid to tell the truth about these immigrants refugees who want to destroy America our Grove by leading gangsters and drug lords goblins right to us! Build the Wall Perform the Rite of Thorns!"

No one is immune to propaganda and everyone is a potential target for cults. It very well could be that all of the Druids, even Kagha, were once genuinely kind people who were manipulated by the cult into believing their kindnesses would get the Grove destroyed; they took on the "it's us or them" mentality.

For the timeframe to work, it either would have had to be happening in secret before Halsin left, or Halsin would have had to be gone for a while; since we know it wasn't TOO terribly long but hadn't JUST happened either, my guess is that Kagha had been spreading Shadow Druid doctrine in secret for some time, and had been planning to usurp Halsin's position even if he hadn't been kidnapped. That just made it easier once it happened. (There is a formal process within the Druids to challenge an Archdruid for their position; I don't know if Halsin even would have fought Kagha that hard if she kept her true intentions a secret. He had faith in her at this point after all, and didn't want the leadership position. That's a terrifying thought.)

So, then, Halsin comes back, and sees evil ideas spreading in all his Druids, starting with Kagha. Depending on the player's actions, he may or may not know it goes deeper than her. He can also see that his reputation has been severely damaged, if not ruined, in his absence; almost none of the Druids have any respect for him anymore. So he makes the wise decision to bring in Francesca, who they have no choice but to respect, and backs away himself. At this point, he intends to return someday when the Druids have been deprogrammed, but of course, later he decides it's not worth it anyway.

So back to: how bad must his life have been surrounded by that? Well, as mentioned, my headcanon is he wasn't surrounded by it very long, if at all. He thought everything was just normal, until he got back from being kidnapped and quickly found it very much wasn't. Whether that's better or worse, though, is up to interpretation. What's worse- seeing those you love fall victim to a cult, or thinking everything is completely fine, and then one day discovering they've been sucked in deep and there's nothing you can do to persuade them anymore since they've come to see you as The Enemy?

In any case, Halsin deserved much better, and I like to think he keeps in touch with Nettie, Rath, and Apikusis after the epilogue, even if he keeps his distance from the Grove itself.

[moonydustx]

The phoenix and the dove.

Pairing: Marco The Phoenix x F!Reader Warnings: angst, angst and more angst. Mention of pregnancy and pregnancy loss, mention of blood and gunshots. Reader and Marco have a long-standing relationship. Not necessarily canonical, since I refuse to accept the "disappearance" of some characters mentioned. A/N: I know, I mentioned today that we should have more Marco stories, but the idea that was already floating around in my head was one of pure sadness.

requests open | one piece masterlist

Italics are for flashbacks (which are a lot in this story)

It was just supposed to be a visit to the nearby island to collect supplies. It was only a few hours and you two were back.

The silence between you and Ace occupied the Striker in silence. When he met you in front of the bar, you had made it very clear that you didn't want any questions about it. The blood fell from your arms and your face, spreading throughout your body. The only thing Ace insisted on asking was if any part of the blood was yours, which you insisted on denying.

As soon as your feet met Moby Dick, the curious eyes automatically turned to you. You just wanted to go to your room, get rid of all that blood and drive away the bad thoughts that were echoing in your mind.

"What is this about?" you came face to face with Captain Whitebeard. The loud and angry tone of his voice made it clear that you wouldn't escape so easily.

"I fell into a trap, that's all." you replied, even though the old man knew it was a lie.

"Are you hurt?" he asked and you denied. "How was that trap?"

"Pops, can I talk about this later?" you asked. "Please Pops, I just need to be alone for a bit." your voice broke at the end.

You knew that despite many fearing your captain, he had a soft spot for you, at least after everything that happened inside the ship a while ago.

"I'll be waiting for your report." he just responded and you knew that was your cue.

Your room seemed even quieter, as did the bath that washed all the red liquid from your body. You felt restless and trapped in your own mind, which was your biggest enemy that day. You put on your clothes and when you returned to your room, you found the ship's doctor - also known as your boyfriend of a few years - waiting for you. The crossed arms and serious expression showed that he had already been informed of your condition upon arrival.

"I said I wanted to be alone." the frustration in your voice echoed throughout the room, even if only a whisper had left your lips.

"I'm here on Pops' orders yoi" Marco grumbled, sitting on the bed in front of you and looking at you while drying your hair. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"My dovey…" the regretful tone in his voice seemed to make your conscience even worse and you didn't want to get closer to him, you knew that the few meters of distance between you two was just the thin line for you to collapse. "I can see some cuts from here."

"It's okay, Marco." despite knowing it would be a lot for you, something about the way he looked at you made you finally feel safe. "It was just a difficult situation."

"Was that because they were calling you fragile?" He stood up, closing the space between you. The morning before you and Ace left, some had made some snarky comments about the lecture Marco gave Ace about your safety being his responsibility while they were gone. "I'm terrible at pretending, I'm here as a doctor and a boyfriend." He emphasized, holding your face between his hands. "Ace told part of what happened, said you started the fight."

"Babe, please." You let your face fall, leaning into his chest and sighing deeply. Your eyes burned just thinking about bringing words to the world.

"If you don't want to talk to me, that's okay." he kissed the top of your hair, smoothing the covered skin of your back. "But, I know you and I know that keeping anything to yourself will hurt you." when your face submerged in the hug, Marco felt his heart fragment when he saw that in addition to the scratches on your face, there were thick tears running down your cheeks. "Take your time, dovey."

"I was in a store and Ace was in a restaurant, waiting for me." You moved away from him, your feet walked almost in circles to try to dispel the nervousness that was building up. Marco already knew his modus operandi, you just needed to air out whatever had pushed you to that limit. "I wanted to buy some nonsense, you know? So I waited for someone to help me, but I heard a strange noise coming from the back of the store, a scream."

Marco leaned against the door, his arms crossed and his serious expression showing that he suspected someone had provoked you. He knew his girl and even though her role wasn't that, she would know how to defend herself - and that technically explained the amount of blood she had gotten.

"I-I thought it might be someone from the store, some robbery." As the words left your lips, they became even more blurred by tears. "I went in and saw a girl crying and a little girl being handcuffed, along with two other children."

"This is horrible." Marco whispered, trying to get closer to you again. He knew how sensitive the topic was for you, and if he was being honest, it was extremely sensitive for him too. "Did you manage to save them?"

"How to save? She was selling the girl Marco, selling a child." the choked voice was replaced by hatred and venom in your words. "When I got close I saw the bag of berris in her hand."

Marco watched you stop for a few seconds, breathe and try to ignore the tears that still insisted on falling rapidly.

"Whose blood was it?"

"Of the damned people who were going to buy the children." you answered as if it was obvious. No matter how hard you tried, you refused to kill that woman. "They saw me a-and I-I…"

"Love?" he tried to hold you, but your hands covered your face, trying to suppress your sobs. His arms then went down to your shoulders, trying to offer some kind of comfort that he knew was impossible. "It's okay now, you sorted it out."

"H-How? How she had c-courage. That little girl was the same age as our Kairy would be." If there was still any piece of Marco's heart left to fragment, it would be over at that moment. "I know, I was fragile enough to lose our little girl. But how did that woman have the courage to give hers away, like it was just trash?"

No matter how much Marco thought, it was impossible to find words. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the night almost two years ago.

It was another peaceful night at Moby Dick, the newly discovered pregnancy had put you away from your duties, at least in those first four months in which nausea and weakness were your best friends. Although they didn't know yet, half of the crew - including Yonkou - had bet on the baby's sex and the majority were betting on the girl, who would be called Kairy.

The noises of cannons and the commotion on the ship woke you from your reading and it didn't take long for strange men to appear in your field of vision. You dodged the first attack, but the second hit you square in the face, knocking you down. Before the third one came, Izou got in front of you, knocking the man down.

"Go hide, now!" he shouted in your direction and at other times you would disagree, but you knew that there you would only be concern.

Only a few steps separated you from the inside of the ship, where it would be much easier to hide, when the noise reached you before the pain. When your body found the ground again, you could feel the pain radiate through your torso and down your leg. Vivid red blood stained your dress and the strength seemed to have drained from your body. You had no idea how long you lay there, seconds, minutes or hours. It was only when a freckled and seemingly desperate face appeared in your field of vision that your consciousness seemed to return.

"Shit, shit. I need help" he shouted and soon Vista appeared. "Take her to the infirmary now. You, cover them." he began to give orders almost blindly. "I'm going after Marco."

"Ace…" your voice almost trailed off as you called him, making the fire fist even more desperate.

"Save your strength. I need you and my nephew to be okay." he asked, seeing you wince in pain. "Go, now!"

Marco took a few seconds to process what Ace was trying to say. When the information made sense to him, the blue flames disappeared from his body as he crossed the ship, knocking down anyone in front of him.

"What happened?" he asked, crossing the infirmary door, seeing two crew partners on top of your body.

"One shot in the left thigh, another in the torso, right side of her belly." Vista listed as Marco helped contain the blood. "Marco, I think she lost a lot of blood, I don't know if…"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence." Marco murmured, letting his flames try to help you heal. "Everyone out, you two make sure no one comes in here. Ace, you need to go too, your strength will be useful there."

The three left without complaining, leaving your body unconscious and Marco on the verge of collapse. His flames never stopped engulfing you, as he connected you to a heart monitor and pressed another to your belly. While he applied serum with some stabilizers, while he prayed to any god that could help you at that moment. He was reluctant to look at the two monitors, while the one for your heart showed activity, the one for your little baby just had a continuous flat line. And it remained like that until the sun invaded the ward and the door creaked.

"Son?" Whitebeard's voice echoed and if he turned back, Marco could see his companions outside, waiting for some news. "I'm sorry, but I don't think it's healthy for you or her for you to wear yourself out like this. She's going to need you to get through this."

"No Pops." Marco grunted, feeling his eyes burning. "I can't let that happen."

"Unfortunately, it has already happened." the captain's hand found Marco's shoulder. The blue flames were already much weaker than when he started. "She'll understand."

The serene expression on your face as you slept, not knowing that the little child you were waiting for was no longer between you was enough to destroy the little strength that Marco still had. The cry of the phoenix echoed throughout Moby Dick.

Just the vague memory of that night brought tears to Marco's eyes and thinking that you had relived that hurt him, once again he wasn't there to defend you.

"Sweetheart…" he hugged you tightly, suppressing your sobs. "Never say that again. It wasn't your fault."

"But, Marco."

"It was not your fault yoi" he pointed out, holding your face between his hands. "I'm sorry you saw these children suffer, I'm sorry you had to save them."

"I just wish it would stop hurting someday." you murmured, allowing yourself to be trapped in his arms. "This bloodbath didn't make me feel any better. I just needed to get that feeling out of me."

"Unfortunately, we have to live with this, okay? One day at a time yoi."

"One day at a time." you replied and allowed yourself to be guided to the bed.

Marco placed you lying on his body, the blue flames shone on his skin and removed any trace of physical pain that your body still had. It only took a few minutes and a few sobs of excessive crying for you to fall asleep. Marco knew that you both still had a long life ahead of you, that one day there would probably be little versions of you running around the ship and bringing joy to old Whitebeard, who had been excited about the idea of ​​being a grandfather. They were distant plans, but Marco still had the luxury of dreaming about them.

When your eyes opened again, it was already dawn and Marco's side of the bed was empty. Despite Marco's little help the night before, your body still hurt and you could feel your face swollen. After properly waking up, you found him sitting with other commanders, talking and eating.

"Our fragile and sweet little dove has arrived." Thatch said in a teasing tone, as you bent down to give Marco a small kiss on the cheek.

"No more than your ego or your forelock." you retorted, earning laughter from the entire table, include Thatch.

"Everything okay, dovey?"

"Like you said…" you let your head rest on his shoulder. "One day at a time."

[leclsrc]

Just saw the last Carlos fic and I LIVED for it… but can never get enough of my manz… Carlos x driver!reader (friends to lovers) where it’s hard to be a female f1 driver because everyone is waiting to brand you as overly emotional and dramatic. What if the reader has a bad crash and she claims to everyone including her driver friends that she is completely fine, only to collapse later because of an injury she hid from everyone

silver lining – cs55

genre: drabble, angst?, fluff, yearning

auds here... whatta painful req anon! am trying to get reqs done so i start anew for 2023 but i write painfully slow. anyway i hope you enjoy this. title from silver lining by the nbhd :)

Silverstone is cold and windy when you snag P2 beside Carlos. 

Immediately, you’re ushered into the media pen to answer questions, after the usual physical check-up and initial celebrations. Something tugs at your leg, a dull pain that seems to grow, but you clear your throat and put on a smile for the interviewer. With drivers, the questions are an endless cliche: what was your strategy, did it go down well with Max, your teammate, were there prior discussions of how to handle this and that and conserve that and this.

But with you, the cliche reaches a whole new level. Apart from the usual, it’s: how do you keep your hair so shiny even when racing, any favorite workouts, what’s the female F1 driver diet. It’s tiring, draining to constantly overhear your male coworkers answer more objective, driver-oriented questions. 

It never helps to speak up against it. You’ve got most of the Internet on your side, but there’s the occasional semi-viral tweet that brands you as emotional and dramatic, sometimes backed up by so-called F1 experts. You’ve been the topic of multiple TikToks, podcast episodes, and think pieces that all bring you down.

“Did you feel nervous at all going into Q3, considering there’d been a minor complication with the car?” You feel for the interviewers, though, knowing they have to repeat all these for hours. You swallow your nerves and spout an answer of your own. The pain grows sharp.

The man pauses and reviews his notepad, then. “Did you maybe wish you could’ve gotten P1 today instead of Sainz? Prove the whole ‘girl boss’ notion?”

“My desire to win has nothing to do with ‘girl boss’-ing,” you clarify. “I’m very happy for Carlos, but at the end of the day this is my career, so obviously I’d say yes to wanting to get first place. It’s not an odd answer.”

Your gut churns with dread, knowing this will be spun into a nasty headline later. But you flex your leg, and it sends you into a silent fit of pain—something’s wrong, a muscle pulled or trapped. The interviewer thanks you after a few more questions, and you swallow the rest of your water in hopes of being distracted, albeit momentarily.

Seb bumps into you, notices the grimace on your flushed face. “Everything alright?”

“Tired,” you say, wanting nothing more than to be done with it and sleep the leg pain off. It increases with every step you take, but if you start showing signs of it here, the headlines will only worsen.

You pass the rest of the pen and wobble back to your motorhome. Much to your surprise, Carlos waits there, a towel slung over his shoulder. Like Seb, he notices the dull, dry pain written on your eyes.

Unlike Seb, he doesn’t leave the issue alone. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say. You and Carlos have always been close, harboring the same age gap as he and Charles but a more levelheaded relationship. “Are we celebrating tonight?”

“You definitely aren’t with the way you’re walking,” he says pointedly. “En serio?”

“I said nothing,” you say, sharpening your voice. “Leave it.”

He follows you slowly, until you’re both isolated by the door of your room. It’s quiet when you let him in, your irritance and standoffish behavior still evident.

He tries again, because if he’s learned anything from years of knowing and loving you, it’s that you’re a truly stubborn son of a bitch. “Tell me,” he says, solemn. His loud mood always tones down with you, not because you bore him, but because he feels more comfortable with himself.

Inversely, you’re always louder around him, more bubbly, unlike your typically stoic self. It’s the kind of connection neither of you can label, or explain. It’s the both of you, always. “I think my leg’s injured,” you say, letting the confession leave you in one breathless sentence. “It really, really hurts, Carlos.”

You lean against the wall and exhale. “I’ll get it checked,” you tack onto it, so he doesn’t worry even more. He worries a lot. Especially with you.

“Why didn’t you say anything at first,” he says, voice aghast with concern. He mumbles something in Spanish. When he’s caught in fits of emotion, you notice, his English is always the first to go.

“It wouldn’t have been taken seriously,” you reason, wincing. “I never am.”

“Fuck that,” he says. “You need to say these things.”

“Carlos,” you say. 

He takes his hand in yours. “You make me worry. I worry.”

You nod along, gripping his hand with whatever energy you have left. You know as early as now that you’ll be okay, that this annoying leg will be taped up and rested tonight, because that’s Carlos—always caring, always there. You have so much of him in your heart.

There’s a glimmer of something there, just in the undergrowth. You can’t wait to find out what it is.

[starzzmissthesun]

The OC long post is here!!!!

Ok, to start this off, their story isn't completely worked out yet, but all of the important stuff is! Also, big thanks to @rowses and @thebearsthings for brainstorming with me!=DDD Also, they are the BIGGEST unreliable narrator, seeing as they barely remember their past, and have some perception vs reality issues. Im referring to my character as The Vampire(though they are not the only one) and the one who turned them and was their partner Their Lover. This is cause we dont know their names!! Also im referring to them both in gender neutral terms because The Vampire doesnt know much about Their Lover(nothing at all really) and they don't know that about themself(which ill get into later)

This will have talk of graphic violence and cuts/blood, and the vampirism is sort of a metaphor for sexual assault.

First and foremost, they are a vampire who travels as a bounty hunter. They get paid for killing the person, and that's how they feed. They are from the south, no particular time period, just before a time of internet. In being turned, they lost and forgot their entire identity, their name, gender, memories, and their lover, The reasons why will all be explained throughout. Bottom line, they're a mystery to themself.

Lets talk about the before, and how they got turned. For the years before, they were living in this beautiful Victorian home with their lover, that their lover "inherited" from distant relatives. In their mind, this relationship was perfect; soft touches, watching the sunset, kisses before a goodbye. (It was not, as a friend said "toxic yaoi (gender neutral)") Then, a kiss on the neck turned to teeth sunk deep. They started to feel drowsy, dizzy. (ill make a post about how i think vampires work if you want) They collapse to the floor as blood starts running down and their lover has betrayed them, after all this time. They almost jump to see if their lover is okay when they cut deep into their own wrist, but stops when the blood from that wrist is drained into their own mouth. They wake up in the dark, everything's too loud. They are covered in blood and alone. Alone in their own mind, too. As they walk around trying to figure out anything, they pick up notepads with dates written down and shorthand notes, little trinkets scattered around the house, a picture of them and their lover (?) but their faces are turned away. They run to find the closest mirror, but nobodies in it, nothings there. When they decide to leave the house, they stop in the pool of blood to see a ring sitting in the middle, the same on their lovers hand in the picture.

This is the only finished art I have of them rn->

This is right after they were bit, that's their lover in the mirror (not really there obviously). They wake up with bleached hair, but as time goes on they try to go to their natural colour in hopes of being themselves, but really get further always from their starting point. They do this with a lot of the "clues" they were given, they just take them so wrong and end up even more unhappy. They can't even look in a mirror to see them self, or get close enough to ask someone.

They figure out how being a vampire works, need to eat so they bounty hunt for money for places to stay in, the cowboy gettup of the south allows them to cover their skin in the harsh sun. They never stop moving, they just keep going and going. They usually take cases that might lead them to their lover. They just want to know. They need to know why they would turn them into this, why they would throw away their lives together, why they would leave, what were they like, what The Vampire was like. They can not and will never be able to know more about themself because they will always be looking outwardly and in the past. They mourn their old self and idolize them, want to be them. Their loss of self will never be gained back, for they will never think "but what do i wanna be called, what gender do i feel like, what hair do i want to have?" because they are too busy looking for clues of what they used to be, what theyre "supposed" to be. They look at themself from before as a cookie cutter they must fit into.

They will never be able to have a happy ending for this reason, they are a tragedy. They look for their lost lover in others, every relationship they get into ends on strange terms and each is wildly different. They are somewhere else, always kind of absent for these people. They try so hard to be normal, to find these relationships, but there's always an ever present "What if?" What if my lover liked this? What if I wore my hair like that? What if they also drank their coffee this way? What if x kind of person was my type? What if I dressed this way? They will always be dissatisfied, because in their story (not the aus ill probably make for character exploration:\) they never find their lover, they never find out what they used to be like, or any of their history outside of nightmares and deja vu.

They travel the land, hoping motel to motel, kill to kill, lover to lover, NEVER in relief, always under tension. They feel their past self hovering behind them guarding, watching, judging. The only thing pushing them forward is the hope that theyll one day find Their Lover. When times get tough, they look to that same ring that left a permanent bruise on them, being twirled between their fingers.

Gonna definitely add to this later, and PLEASE ask questions or comments or anything, they drive me up the walls!!!!!!!

[hugmekenobi]

Wardrobe Change

A Bad Batch Series interlude oneshot

Image from the Popverse courtesy of Lucasfilm (my gif searches were being very uncooperative)

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: Times change, uniforms change and this new design has its fair share of admirations.

Warnings: No use of y/n, pet names (sweetheart), Cid being Cid, I make up a timeline, affectionate possessiveness, fluff and feelings, Force communication working how I say it does, PDA in the form of making out and affectionate biting, spicy/suggestive dialogue, getting caught/interrupted, awkwardness

Masterlist for Season 1 chapters

Word Count: 4.7K

Rating: 18+

Author’s notes: It’s the last of the oneshots before we get into S2! This was purely because I wanted to start S2 off with the armour changes being understood and so I didn’t have to describe them lol but I hope there’s more substance for y’all to enjoy! Big shout out to @hugmedin who helped me when I got hit with a bad bit of writer’s block and wrote a section of this, including my favourite line in this fic that had me freaking out when I read it, love you my guy!! 

“Okay! I have them! Ugh this is so heavy!”

You all turned your attention over to the loud thud and you smiled as you saw Lyra collapsed over the container she had previously been carrying. She’d only just managed to get it through the doorway. “You should’ve told us. We’d have helped you bring it over.” You said as you stood up and walked over to her.

“It’s part of the service.” Lyra panted as she stood up and smoothed down her top. “I think you guys will like what I’ve done.”

“Can you get that out the way? It’s blocking the entrance! We don’t have all day for this. I have my own business to run!” Cid said by way of greeting.

“You weren’t exaggerating.” Lyra muttered.

“Give it 6 months and you’ll be on mildly better terms.” You uttered back with grin.

“Oi! Either help her or get out of her way. It’s bad enough you’re using my place as your fitting rooms!” Cid barked over at you.

“Better terms?” Lyra said with a small laugh.

“I did say mildly.” You replied, grabbing the other side of the box, and lifting it over to where the rest of your squad had congregated in the corner.

“Are they finally ready?” Omega asked excitedly as she gave Tech the datapad back.

“Omega, we haven’t finished-”

“Come on, Tech! I can do it later!” Omega griped.

Tech sighed in defeat.

“A quick break won’t hurt Tech.” You appeased.

“Let me see!” Omega said.

“Okay kid, hang on.” Lyra said with a smile. She opened the box and began the process of handing the updated armour out. “I played around a bit with them.”

“How much?” Hunter and Echo asked warily as they took theirs from her.

“Don’t stress. It’ll all look perfect. I changed the colours and symbols as requested but I got rid of a couple things that weren’t really necessary. You guys have more civilian type clothing to wear underneath now, rather than just those blacks you’d handed over. And that means you don’t have to always change into these clothes you’re wearing now if you want to take your armour off. Oh, and your codpieces are gone.”

“You took away a whole section of our armour?” Tech asked sceptically as he took his.

“They were annoying me.” She replied simply. “And I don’t think you’re in a position to act like it’s a super crucial piece you’re missing. You don’t have any thigh armour. That wasn’t a change I made, that was all you.” She added pointedly.

Tech opened his mouth to protest but he couldn’t think of a rebuttal fast enough.

You chuckled as you watched Tech walk away, mumbling something under his breath about how it suits his needs just fine.

“Where’s mine?” Omega asked eagerly.

“Alright kid. Here you go.” Lyra passed the pile of clothes over to Omega who grabbed them keenly and dashed off to change.

“Did I see a hat?” You asked as you watched her turn the corner.

“It makes the outfit.” Lyra replied with a smile.

You laughed. “I won’t question your style.”

“Good. Cause now it’s your turn.”

“You only changed the colour, right?”

“In a way…”

“Lyra…”

“Calm down. It’s nothing crazy. I still kept the hood and mask element you like. I just started from scratch. The top you bought from me before isn’t really suitable for what you do. I didn’t realise you operated with no armour at all. If I gave you the original one back, it would only be a matter of time before you had rips in it. I’m surprised it was in one piece for so long.”

“Okay… so?”

“So, I got my hands on this new material that is generally just sturdier so that’ll help, and you have some armour of your own.”

“Armour?” You said sceptically as you watched her reach down.

“Not a lot.” She reassured you. “I figured you liked the freedom of movement, it’s just a couple of things. Here’s the top.”

You took it from her, and you could already tell that it was better quality. The black fabric was thick but when you put it over your head, it fit snugly but still allowed for flexible movement. The mask and hood were indeed still there and where your previous top had red lining on the outside, this one now had a turquoise. Your eyes also noted the small white half skull that seemed to have been another element that was carried over. “And this was an essential thing you needed to keep?” You said, pointing to the sign.

Lyra grinned. “You both like it and don’t try to deny it.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled with her. “This is perfect though, thanks!”

“I’m not done.” She handed over the additional pieces to your ensemble.

You took the small parts of armour she’d give you. They were black and decorated with a mix of white and turquoise stripes. You also realised they were like the ones Hunter wore on his forearms. She’d also added a pair of black gloves.

“This means you’re also getting rid of that horrendous thing keeping that vibroblade on your thigh.” Lyra ordered.

“There’s nothing wrong with it!” You said defensively, glancing down to your thigh where your vibroblade was encased. Sure, the strap was fraying, and it was no longer the same colour as it was when you had first got it and some of the leather was showing cracks, but it served its purpose just fine. Plus, it had been with you through a lot of highs and lows and although a mantra throughout your life had been ‘no attachments,’ you had found that both Hunter and this strap were exceptions to the rule and you were rather fond of it.

Lyra just gave you a sad look. “Look at it. It’s disgusting. Throw it in here and never think about it again.” She insisted, turning the box towards you.

You sighed and chucked your vibroblade on the table before you threw your old strap into the empty container. You attached the new pieces to your forearms before you sheathed your vibroblade into the one on your left arm. You then put the next pieces that ran from your shoulders to the end of your upper arm. You were annoyed to find that Lyra was right, and you didn’t feel restricted by having them there.

“And you told me yourself your blaster holster is a hand-me-down from Tech. Put that one away too.”

“You were just waiting for a chance to upgrade my stuff weren’t you?” You grumbled as you took your blaster out and removed your holster. It joined your old vibroblade strap.

“Oh yeah.” Lyra said with a smug smile.

You attached the new holster to your thigh and put your blaster in it. “Happy now?” You asked, gesturing up and down your body.  

“You look hot!” Lyra said as she circled you, studying how you looked with the new parts on.

“Shut up.” You laughed, slightly flustered.

“Your sergeant is a lucky guy. How’d your secret project got by the way?”

Before you could reply, a shout got both of your attention.

“We’re ready! I love it!”

You turned to the sound of Omega’s voice, and you grinned as you saw her delighted expression. It had been a while since Kamino and Omega had definitely grown so it was about time she had something that fit with that, and she did now. She had grey bottoms and a red top which was worn underneath a light blue layer, and she had red fabric wrapped around her right wrist. The hat was a cute touch as well. The rest of your squad also looked pretty good. It was odd though, seeing them in colours that weren’t the signature ones they used wear and any insignia illustrating them being Clone Force 99 being gone.

Lyra clapped her hands together. “I truly outdid myself! You guys look fabulous!”

“Yeah, you guys look great!” You added.

Wrecker and Omega beamed, whilst Tech and Echo merely gave small nods.

“You look great too!” Omega said as she walked over to you.

“Yeah, Hunter’s got colours like that too. You guys’ll look good!” Wrecker added.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Speaking of that, where is our fearless leader?” You asked.

“He wanted to rearrange the scarf.” Echo replied.

“Scarf?” You repeated, your throat going dry. You looked over to Lyra.

She shrugged. “I like accessories. Sue me.”

You turned your head over to the sound of Hunter coming back into the main area and it took everything in you not to stare at him for an abnormal amount of time. His armour, like the rest of theirs had maintained most of its original structure-minus the codpiece- and his colours were indeed similar to the ones you had. He had the more civilian looking clothes underneath with the rest of his armour donning a mix of black, white, and turquoise. He had the same bit of orange running down the centre of his chest plate like his brothers had and his helmet still had half of it painted white to match the skull tattoo on his face. The red wrappings around his wrists mirrored the one Omega had and the red scarf… well the scarf was definitely a nice added feature.

Hunter nearly did a double take as he saw you. You looked… well you looked powerful, capable. Not that you didn’t look like that already but there was something about seeing you with actual armour that accentuated that part of you. Plus, the fact he was wearing colours that matched with yours was an added bonus.

“Well, my work here is done!” Lyra said cheerily as she bent down to grab the now empty case.

Hunter tore his eyes away from you and nodded his thanks to her before he saw that you were still looking at him. “What?” He asked as he joined the others and grabbed a drink. He brought his cup to his lips.

“Nothing. Looks good.” You said casually, turning away to follow Lyra out. Just thinking of all the things a scarf can do that a bandana can’t.

The choked splutter that followed had you smirking to yourself as you walked out the door.

--

“You sure we don’t owe you anything for this?” You double checked as you both stood outside the entrance to Cid’s.

Lyra shook her head. “You guys helped me out when I was being harassed by Marco and his goons. We’re even now.”

“Yeah, but getting to beat up Marco and Co is fun.” You said lightly. “You don’t need to repay us for that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, it was actually kinda fun. I haven’t had a project like that to work on in a while. Just point people in my direction if they ask who did this fabulous work and we’re all good.”

You huffed out a laugh. “You got it. I’ll see you around, Lyra. Thank you.”

“Yeah, see you around!” She grabbed her stuff and walked away.

You fished the necklace out your pocket and studied the small symbol on the end of the black leather cord.  It wouldn’t be noticeable under his clothes and armour. You just hoped he would like it.

--

You and Hunter seemed to find any excuse to gravitate towards one another and touch each other, even if it was nothing more than a simple touch that lasted a matter of seconds. Yes, you’d started it with your comment about the scarf, but he really wasn’t helping with things. The air between the two of you had been charged ever since you’d walked back down those steps and now every touch sent warmth flooding through you, and you were sure it was the same for him. To the others, the hand wrapped around your shoulder seemed completely innocent since you were all engaged in casual conversations, but it sent a thrumming through your veins you couldn’t control. And, judging by the way he’d tensed up when you’d laid your hand on his thigh, you weren’t the only one. You all had shed your armour since Cid didn’t have a mission so that definitely wasn’t making things any easier for you.

It felt like a test. Who was going to be the one to give in first? You really didn’t want it to be you and you think you had a way to do that. As Wrecker and Omega got up to go play a game of Dejarik, with Tech and Echo going to watch, you turned to face him. “Can I talk to you outside?”

Hunter looked at you quizzically but nodded and followed you as you stood up.

You made your way to the exit.

“Where are you going?” Omega asked as she waited for Wrecker to make his move.

“We’ll be back.” You replied.

--

“Everything okay?” Hunter asked as you began to pace in front of him.

“Yes. I just- Look I’m- What I’m trying-.” You stopped with an aggravated huff. You’d rehearsed this countless times in your head, and it wasn’t a big deal, worst he could say was no.

“Sweetheart.” Hunter grabbed your wrist to get you to stop walking. “Take a breath, look at me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t call me that.”

Hunter tilted his head. “Why not? You usually don’t mind it. In fact, you tend to quite enjoy it.” He added with a smirk.

You shot him a playful glare and removed his hand which had worked its way to your waist. “Yes, exactly. You’re distracting me and I have a plan here. You’re not going to ruin it with your-” You didn’t finish your sentence, you just gestured to him.

Hunter held his hands up in mock surrender and leaned against the edge of the entry way.

You inhaled deeply and started pacing again. “I consider myself a pretty independent person, you know? Not one to be dependent on much, certainly not a man in my life. But then you come along, and suddenly I’m finding particular things I thought I would hate, quite, well, quite attractive. Take this for example.” You pointed to the half skull on your top. “I was convinced I would hate it, but I don’t. I don’t mind the message it sends.” You stopped and faced him. “However, I can’t just be what this suggests. You’re a part of me, the whole squad is, but I don’t want to be seen as someone whose only purpose is to belong to you.”

Hunter straightened up as he addressed you. “I know that. If I’ve given you reason to believe otherwise, I’m sorry. I’m sure Lyra could change it. I didn’t mean-”

“Hunter, I know.” You reassured him. “That’s not what I’m saying. I only mean I thought it would be nice if you maybe had something that- uh.” You broke off with an awkward cough before you continued, “Represented me.”  You brought the necklace out and handed it to him.

“Where’d you make that?” Hunter asked quietly as he studied the necklace which had attached to it a tiny metallic symbol. A symbol he’d seen many times during the Clone Wars. It was the symbol for the Jedi Order.

“Lyra gave me access to her stuff. Don’t worry, she didn’t know exactly what I was doing.” You added quickly as you saw the concern that flashed across his face. You looked down at the ground and scuffed the toe of your boot through the dirt. “Do you like it? I know it’s a bit risky but figured you could conceal it easily enough and I-” The strong hands on your waist that guided you backwards to the wall cut you off. You glanced up but before you could take your next breath, Hunter’s lips met yours and what little resistance you had left crumbled, but hey, technically he kissed you first, so you counted it as a win. You let him press his body tight to yours and you kissed him eagerly. You like it then?

Hunter didn’t answer directly. He just kissed along your jaw and nipped the skin by the spot behind your ear that he knew would elicit a moan from you and you didn’t disappoint. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He said, still out of breath and his voice even lower than what it usually was.

You released a sigh and your head fell back against the wall as he continued to leave marks on the skin of your neck. I have a pretty good idea.

“I’m serious.” He slid his hand on your cheek, so you were forced to look at him and he very nearly lost it. Your eyes were wide, and your breathing was still uneven, and he wanted nothing more than to continue but he needed to say this first. “From the minute you showed up on Devaron to help, I was enthralled by you. You took out a line of droids with nothing more than a slightly longer vibroblade on your back and acted like it was a regular day. Sure, later on we discovered there was a bit more reason behind that.”

You smiled slightly but your eyes dipped down as a wave of guilt washed over you at the memory of your dishonesty.

“Hey.” Hunter said softly as he saw your mind leave the current moment. He tucked his finger under your chin and angled your face back up. “That’s not why I brought it up. Don’t go back there. Stick with me here cause there’s a point to all this, I promise.”

You sighed and nodded.

Hunter breathed deeply. “You were incredible and there was no hesitation from me, or the others quite frankly, when it came to offering a place with us. I just underestimated the impact you were going to have on my life. It didn’t take long for my brothers to start giving me a hard time, but I was too stubborn to listen.”

Join the club.

He smiled at you before he continued. “Remember, when there was that stampede of Reeks and I got hurt. It was about two months after you’d joined us?” When he saw you nod, he carried on, “You remember how I got injured?”

“The last dregs of the Separatist droids sent a final charge our way. The blast meant I slipped and fell into the cavern where they were running. You came after me and pushed me out the way.” You said softly.

“Yeah, I did. I- I was in love with you then.”

“Well, then we were on very similar timelines.” You revealed with a smile.

Hunter huffed out a laugh. “So, fast forward to now. You’re wearing something that ties you to me and I don’t think you realise exactly the effect that has on me. And then I come out to see I’m wearing the same the colours you are. And to top it off, you’re asking me to wear something that ties me to you? I can say with no hesitation that you’re a part of me too.” With that, he looped it over his neck.

You took a shaky breath as you watched him put it on and you understood why the half skull on your top had meant so much to him. “You think the colours thing only mattered to you? Why do you think I had to give it to you now?” You murmured. “You were killing me in there.”

Hunter nuzzled into your neck. “That why you dragged me out here? Couldn’t wait?” He muttered into your skin and began to place light kisses on your neck, altering what side had his attention.   

“That why you followed me out here?” You countered as you struggled to keep your composure. 

“I thought you wanted to talk.” Hunter replied, his eyes lifting to yours, an unspoken challenge behind them. 

“I-I did talk.” You maintained. 

“And now?”

“And now I’m done.” You grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him with fervour. And I’m counting this as a win. You broke first.  

Hunter chuckled and moved so his lips brushed against your jawline again as his hand trailed from your cheek down to your neck where it stopped for a moment before he continued, and his palm came to rest on the left side of your chest. Your heartbeat pounded beneath his fingertips.

You didn’t let him linger there too long. Wrapping your hands around the back of his neck, you pulled him in even closer and bucked your hips forward into him in an attempt to banish the remaining space between the two of you. As you did so Hunter let out a moan into the crook of your neck and the resulting vibrations sent your mind to mush. Your hands frantically grabbed at his shirt, the fabric bunching in between your fingers as you tried to bring him even closer. You let out a frustrated moan, you felt like he was holding back, and you were losing patience. 

Hunter let out a soft chuckle and you could feel his smile against your skin, genuine and unfiltered. “Relax.”  he whispered into your ear. “I’m right here.” 

Your hands slid from his waist up the length of his back, his muscles rigid but warm against your palm. You nipped at his ear, your hips still bucking into him, and you’d never been more thankful that Lyra had gotten rid of the cod pieces, but it also meant you became more and more desperate.  

“I need you closer.” Your voice came out strained as you looked up at him and you made no attempt to disguise your desire as you continued to press yourself against him.   

“That can be arranged.” 

The lights in the alleyway were dim but you could have sworn you saw a glimmer form in his eyes, the kind that only appeared when the two of you were alone. Upon seeing that, all sensible thoughts about the risks of doing this in public left your head completely. 

Bending down ever so slightly he brought both his hands to the back of your thighs lifting you up against the wall in one swift movement. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he held you in position against the wall. Your fingers found themselves wrapped up in Hunter’s hair which you used to gently tug his face away from where he was placing deep kisses along your collarbone. He let out a deep sigh which caught in his throat and resembled something close to a growl. As you held his head there you allowed yourself a moment to admire the way his eyes had grown darker, and his chest and shoulders heaved as he caught his breath. His lips remained parted as he patiently waited for instructions from you. Removing your hand from his hair you brought it back to caress his tattooed cheek, this time allowing your thumb to softly trail his lower lip.

He drew you into a deep kiss, the kind that left your lips raw and your lungs begging for oxygen that you swore you could definitely live without - but eventually you had to give into your reflex and come up for air. 

Hunter broke away first, bringing his forehead to rest tenderly against yours. His hands reached under your top; his gloved hands caressed your skin. “You sure about doing this here? I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop once-”  

Yes. You nodded eagerly but before you were able to continue, a horrified shout got both of your attention. 

“Ugh are you kidding me! You two really couldn’t wait?! Ugh my eyes!” Wrecker complained as he instantly turned away from the scene in front of him.

Hunter quickly let you down and he was sure your mortified expression matched his and you both turned to face the backs of Wrecker and Echo. 

“Oh, uh, hey boys. What, eh, what brings you out here?” You winced out as you adjusted your top.

At the sound of your feet hitting the ground, Echo turned to face you both and gave a disapproving stare. “Omega is about to play Tech and wanted to see if any of you wanted the next round so, we came out to ask. She nearly left to ask herself, but I figured based on past experience-”

“Okay.” Hunter interrupted him before he went any further.

You can turn around, Wrecker.

Wrecker took you at your word. “What happened to talking?”

“I mean… we did talk. Just got a bit carried away.” Your eyes focused on fiddling with the end of your sleeve.

“I’ll say.” Wrecker griped. 

“That’s the third time this month. We’ve talked about this. It was bad enough when Tech interrupted you guys in the cockpit.” Echo chastised you both.

Hunter couldn’t find any words. He just kept his eyes on the ground. 

“Hey, you didn’t have to listen to the lecture he gave afterwards on the importance of hygiene and sanitation.” You grumbled. 

“You’ve been lucky it hasn’t been Omega yet.” Echo continued, paying little attention to your words.

You knew he was right. The two of you had been pretty reckless lately and the very fact Omega hadn’t been one of the unfortunates to witness said reckless moments is something you thanked the Force for. “I’m sorry, we’ll be better.”

“Yeah, sorry boys. It won’t happen again.” Hunter said firmly.

A few beats of uncomfortable silence passed.

“You guys aren’t coming back down any time soon, are you?” Echo asked reluctantly as he nodded to where both of your hands were.

The two of you hadn’t noticed the new places your hands had found themselves in. Your fingers were lightly tracing up and down Hunter’s arm whilst his had found itself around your waist again and his thumb rubbed up and down your side. Upon hearing Echo’s words, you both glanced at each other. Tell Omega I owe her a game. We’ll be back later tonight. You said in a way of reply, your brain slowly starting to block the presence of the other two out.

Echo sighed tiredly. “Just get out of here. Come on, Wrecker. We probably don’t want to linger here much longer.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Wrecker hastily turned on his heels and walked back down the steps to Cid’s, with Echo following close behind.

“Well… that could’ve been worse.” You mumbled into his shoulder after they left before you trailed a line of kisses along his neck, your teeth lightly grazed his skin.

“I can’t say I can see how. That was- that was pretty awkward.” Hunter managed to stammer out.

“I could’ve been in a more compromising position.” You purred as your hand trailed down his chest and you made to kneel in front of him. You knew he was feeling more sensible, and you definitely knew it was better to head back to the Marauder but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have your fun.

He swiftly tugged you back up and shook his head at you as he saw the cat-like grin on your face. “Careful, or I’ll have to continue this here anyway.” Hunter groaned as you slowly ground your hips against him.

“Promises, promises.” You whispered back, tugging his lip between your teeth and you took pleasure in the low moan that left him. Your hands kept a tangled grip in the scarf as you kissed him and tugged him to you.

Before he really did get too carried away, Hunter pulled away, but he still kept you tight to him. “I believe you had some thoughts for the use of this scarf? I got some ideas.” Hunter rasped.

“Hmm, I’m much more of a practical learner.” You hummed against his lips.

Stifling a groan, Hunter kissed you once more before he wrapped an arm around your waist and the two of you hustled away to the Marauder.

Masterlist

Tagging@ @noeasyisnoisy, @tpwkcalli, @fuckoffthanos, @arctrooper69, @graciexmarvel, @flyingkangaroo, @nightmonkeysstuff, @a-streakofazure​, @ladytano420​, @dragonrider9905​, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf​, @yyourmotherr​, @xxeiraxx​ 

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Twisted Love Part 6

Loki x Reader

Pairing: Loki x Wife reader

Warnings: Forced marriage, language, anxiety, panic attacks, naughty talk lol, if I forgot anything please let me know!

Summary: You find the source of the noise.

The dimming of the sky caught your attention.

Perhaps you should be getting back before anyone worries about your absence.

You are just about to turn back when a sudden howl has you frozen to the spot.

*Ooooowaooooooooooo*

Heavens did you wander too far?? Was a wolf going to make you it's dinner now??

You backed up a few steps quietly listening for any sign of the wolf.

*owoooooooooooooooo*

You knew that sound. That wasn't the sound of a predator hunting it's prey... no that was the sound of a wounded animal.

But still something was off...

It howled again and against every voice telling you to high tail it back to camp your feet found themselves walking in the opposite direction.

The howl- no-cry grew louder and you knew you were heading in the right direction.

You veered off the trail down a rocky slope. The rocks cut into your feet but you hardly noticed.

The cry was practically in your ear now and once you reached the bottom of the slope you found the source of the pained calling.

A small furry being, the color of fallen snow was hanging onto a broken branch, it's two front paws gripping wildly to the wood whilst it's legs swung helplessly trying to grip but failing. Below the creature was a rushing body of water, not too wide but to the creature it was an ocean.

With little to no hesitation you bounded towards the baby in distress.

The freezing water biting at your skin the moment you entered it. Your lungs burned with the effort it took to wade over to the branch.

By the time you reached the little wolf the water was up to your neck.

"Here little one, don't be afraid! C-come on, please- come on, you can trust me! just a little more- come on!- ah" you winced slipping onto a sharp rock below, your head bobbing under for a moment.

*cough* *cough* "I-It's ok, it's ok, I'll save you I p-promise!" You tried reaching again, managing to grab onto the furry scruff for a moment before it slipped through your fingers. The current kept trying to rip you away which made every attempt even harder.

Your eyes went wide when the tiny paws lost their grip.

You dove forward and gasped in relief when you felt the bundle of fur. You gripped it hard towards your body, knowing that if you let go the current would take the creature forever.

The creature struggled in your grasp and you tried your best to calm it down whilst wading back towards the rocks.

You collapsed on the stones coughing and sputtering. The bundle was still wrapped in your arms although it did calm down. When you caught your breath enough you rolled to the side enough to look at the little wolf.

"A-are you alright little one?" The poor little thing shook its fur in an attempt to dry itself but was clearly shivering.

“What are you doing out here on your own hmm?” The cub regarded you warily but when you reached out your hand it wasn’t long before you felt a nudge.

You picked up the cub bringing it close to your chest. “Sorry my sweet, I know it’s not exactly a cozy fire but we wouldn’t want you to get sick would we? I promise as soon as I get back I’ll wrap you up in warm furs- oh dear- not wolf furs of course- other furs- fake furs- just forget I said anything…” you continued on babbling to the cub wrapped up in your arms and made your way back in the direction of camp.

By the looks of the sky you’d been gone a long while. Hopefully you didn’t cause any trouble…

A short while later you found yourself near the border of the camp.

You paused just before exiting the tree line.

You looked down at yourself, soaking wet, clothing ripped, covered in mud.

I can’t exactly walk into camp looking like this…

“Alright little one, you’re going to have to be very quiet alright?” You hid the creature inside of your dress the best you could.

Using the shadows of other tents you managed to sneak your way past the smaller ones of the guards and then hurriedly stepped through the flaps of the bigger one made for you and Loki.

Finally the warmth of the enchanted fire place inside had you sighing in relief.

The cub squirmed out of your dress and practically sprinted to the heated flames. You laughed as you watched it roll around the fur lined floor in comfort.

“Now that’s more like it hmm?”

“Now you just wait there while I slip into something a bit more comfortable….

Heavens I’m so wet, once I tear these clothes off me and you are going to take a nice hot bath and warm each other up-“

Just then a sudden clanging had your head swinging towards the tent entrance.

Your eyes widen at what you see.

Loki is there, his breathing almost…heavy? His brows furrowed deeply as you watched his gaze circle the room before landing on you, and when they did you felt you wanted to have the universe swallow you up.

His eyes slowly roamed from top to bottom and then once more. As if he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at and truth be told he wasn’t.

“L-Loki-“ his eyes immediately flicked up to you. You gulped frozen to the spot.

“What on Asgard-” A little yap had you both snapping towards the fire where the little wolf was. Then slowly Loki’s gaze made it back to you but you did notice him flickering around the room as if searching for something.

“I-I” the panic took control of your tongue again like it always seemed to do.

Loki raised a single brow waiting for your explanation.

“You…?”

“I’m wet”.

*********************************************

I tried to end it on a funny note lol. Also very sorry for the wait, the next chapters won't take so long. I'm going to try to update at least once a week from now on!

Next part

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[nightghoul381]

Nokto 3rd Anniversary Event

A Beast's Dream Realized by Beauty

Chapter 1

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Prince. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

There’s been something I’ve been wondering about lately.

Clavis: “You work too much.”

Luke: “You work too much.”

Emma: “I knew it”

Chevalier: “…”

When I visited the foreign affairs faction, it was unusual to see all of the princes other than Nokto.

I’m face to face with two of them, Chevalier silently handling documents at his desk.

The central figure of today’s conversation is King Nokto.

Nokto is often absent form the court these days.

He seems to have many diplomatic appointments in quick succession, sometimes returning to the castle just before dawn.

(I heard you were busy with the social season, but…)

Clavis: “At that rate, one day he’ll collapse from overwork. Let the love-nursing chapter begin, eh?”

Emma: “I don’t want to start.”

Luke: “Thanks to him working so much, I have free time.”

Emma: “If you ask Prince Chevalier, I’m sure there are plenty of jobs.”

Luke: “No.”

Clavis: “Haha, somehow Nokto is the hardest working person in the foreign affairs faction.”

Clavis: “But, humans have limits. Unless you’re a super-human like Chevalier, you will die.”

Emma: “…I-I have to do whatever it takes to get him to rest.”

Clavis: “Do you have a shovel?”

Emma: “I don’t need one.”

Luke: “What about honey?”

Emma: “Don’t you want it?”

(The only way to get a busy Nokto to rest is to use my trump card, not a shovel or honey.)

--Nokto’s room—

Emma: “Nokto, welcome back!”

Nokto: “I’m home, I told you to go to sleep.”

Nokto came back late at night today. I greeted him while hugging him.

I missed his signature smell of the night.

Nokto: “…Are you up to something?”

Emma: “Why?”

Nokto: “Your body is stiff.”

His fingertips traced the lines of my body and I unintentionally reacted.

(As expected of Nokto, He’s tired but still sharp.)

Nokto: “Is it something dirty?”

Emma: “It’s not like that.”

Nokto: “That’s unfortunate. Then what is it?”

Emma: “…It’s…”

Emma: “Recently, I’ve been feeling lonely.”

Nokto: “…”

Emma: “I’m missing my Nokto, so I feel like I want to take you somewhere far away and go on vacation with you.”

Nokto: “A vacation…”

(Nokto never takes a rest, even if I say ‘rest’.)

(But he’s sweet to me… If I approach it like this, he should definitely take a break.)

It takes some rough treatment to get the busy, hard-working Nokto to realize that he needs a break.

Emma: “Are you too busy?”

Nokto: “What do you mean? I can at least take a few days.”

Emma: “Really?!”

Nokto: “However—”

I was honestly very happy and Nokto grinned at me.

Nokto: “It’s in exchange for your dirty face, right?”

Emma: “I don’t know what face you’re talking about.”

Nokto: “Then I’ll tell you.”

Nokto’s finger caresses my lips and taps them.

(Do you want me to open my mouth?)

When I obediently obliged, he slipped his finger inside and tickled my tongue.

Unable to close my mouth, his obscene hands play with my tongue.

(What should I do… I’m starting to feel weird.)

Nokto licked the moisture that was about to fall from the corner of my mouth.

Heat flooded through my body, pooling in the pit of my stomach.

Nokto: “See, you’re already looking nasty. It’s easy isn’t it?”

Finally, he removed his fingers and I was freed from his lewd play.

Emma: “…Nokto.”

Nokto: “Yes, yes I will accompany you on vacation.”

Nokto: “…Thanks, love.”

(Ah… he noticed.)

The soft way he said those last words turned the heat in my body to another emotion.

(Maybe that was just Nokto’s way of hiding his embarrassment.)

When I hugged Nokto again as he turned his back to change, our laughter echoed throughout the room.

A few days later, the talented Nokto immediately made time for me—

Old Lady: “Welcome, thank you for coming all this way.”

Old man: “Prince Nokto, it’s been a while. You’ve grown up…”

Nokto: “Yes, thanks to you. Thank you for taking me up on my request on such short notice.”

(Um…what do you mean?)

I offered to make the preparations for the vacation but Nokto insisted that he had an idea.

In that case, I decided to take his word for it and as a result, we visited the neighboring country of Benitoite.

When we arrived at the mansion in a prime location in Benitoite, we were greeted by a refined old couple.

I had already memorized most of the faces I’d seen in the social world, including in Benitoite.

I had never seen this couple.

(I heard that they would be hosting us in this mansion for a few days, but…)

Old lady: “There’s a rumor about that woman…”

Nokto: “Yes, this is my fiancée.”

Emma: “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I hid my confusion behind a smile and bowed.

My fiance’s eyes lit up at the sight of me.

Old Lady: “Well, well… that Prince Nokto who kept us on our toes with his many infamous affairs, is really…”

Nokto: “I am now a single-minded person. Everyday I’m fascinated by the flowers that show no signs of wilting.”

Nokto hugs my shoulders and puts a beautiful, diplomatic smile on his lips.

The old couple seemed really touched, and we even received a small round of applause.

Emma: “Umm… I’m sorry for my lack of knowledge, what is your relationship with King Nokto?”

Nokto: “Relative.”

Emma: “Eh?”

Nokto: “They settled in Benitoite, but they have a distant connection with the royal lineage of Rhodolite.”

Old lady: “Now, I’m just a lowly Benitoite merchant.”

Old man: “Nokto once studied in Benitoite for a short period of time.”

Old man: “At that time, according the wishes of His Majesty the previous king and Sariel, we welcomed Nokto into our home.”

(What story is this, I’ve never heard of it!?)

Nokto smiled wryly as if my surprise had been obvious.

Nokto: “It’s nothing to hide, but I don’t think it’s worth talking about.”

Nokto: “Speaking of studying abroad, I spent more time in the Acroite boarding school than in Benitoite.”

(Boarding school? This is the first time I’ve heard of it.)

It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to know Nokto, but it seems there are still many things I don’t know.

(But it’s weird, Nokto’s expression is somewhat awkward.)

Nokto: “By the way, there seems to be more luggage in the hall than the last time I visited.”

Old lady: “I’m sorry. Actually, I have plans to open a stall at the antique market that will be held in a few days.”

Old lady: “When I was sorting out my things, I found a lot of useless antiques. I wanted to sell them.”

Nokto: “Hmm… are there any books on display at the antique market?”

Old lady: “Yes. Not among the items we sell, but we do see stalls specializing in books every year.”

(Antique books!)

Nokto: “Then, shall we also take a peek at the market on that day?”

Emma: “…Did it show on my face?”

Nokto: “Extremely.”

(oops… even though it’s in front of the couple.)

I felt my ears burning and when I looked down, Nokto burst out laughing as if he couldn’t take it any more.

Nokto: “I don’t mind. You’re cute when you’re honest aren’t you?”

Emma: “Nokto…!”

Old lady: “Well, that Nokto sure has grown to laugh so much…”

Old man: “… I feel like I’m going to end up crying at my age.”

Old lady: “Me too… the old Nokto was a child who didn’t smile, as if he had forgotten his emotions somewhere else.”

Old lady: “It’s nice to see you smile with emotion.”

Nokto: “When are you talking about?”

Nokto’s expression became laced with bitterness.

(Nokto… a child who doesn’t smile?)

[green-typewriterz]

Can you write some angsty stuff followed by fluff. Something with Harry styles.

Basically reader being heavier and insecure had no male attention all her life. She is a big time introvert and opens up after a lot of struggle. But her life changes when Harry makes an entry.

Until I Found You - Harry Styles

Harry Styles x fem!reader Summary: You’ve never been overly confident, but then someone comes along and makes you feel things you’ve never felt Warnings: angst to fluff, body insecurity, Harry being perfect as per usual Word count: 1K words

I hope this is what you were looking for lovely! Thank you so much for requesting!

You were no stranger to the judging stares that came with the industry you were in, fashion was a tough career as it is without everyone thinking you couldn’t be fashionable just because you weren’t thin. It’s not like you could escape it either, the main part of your job being styling overly self-obsessed celebrities who think they’re perfect and everyone else is ugly. You always tried to stay confident, posting outfit of the days and filtering out hate comments for your own mental health, but somehow some always got through and you would be lying if you said it never affected you.

You assumed this would be the same, some singer you didn’t really care enough about judging you and shitting on your outfit choices even though most of the time you put them in their own wardrobe and they were too stupid to realise they picked the clothes themselves. You walked into the dressing room to see this one particular celebrity talking with your PA who was helping him pick from the sequins you would later have to meticulously embroider.

“You must be Harry,” you spoke, walking over with your hand outstretched for him to shake, “I’m Y/N, I'm your designer!” He took your hand immediately, shaking it without breaking eye contact. He was wearing a simple short-sleeved t-shirt with a pair of ripped jeans. His hair was pushed back away from his face with a pair of brown Gucci sunglasses and he wore two necklaces, one made of pearl and the other a cross.

He smiled warmly before replying, “I know who you are. The famous Y/N Y/L/N? C’mon, you’re renowned. Thank you for taking the time to come and help me.” His voice was soft and genuine (which you will admit created butterflies in your stomach) then you quickly got to work on creating the outfit that he would wear to the Grammys. He pointed at crystals every now and then, commenting on how they’d match his shoes or his nails - which he planned to paint pink. At this current moment, they were a deep shade of blue, almost the same colour as his navy Adidas gazelles. 

You had just assumed that Harry was just being nice but - though he was being polite - he found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. He had heard about you through the endless attack of hate that you got just for looking how you look. Harry never understood it, he thought you were beautiful, often seeing photos of you and thinking of Italian Renaissance statues.

The day ended quickly and for that, you couldn’t be happier. You got in your car and cried, tears hot against your cheeks as you thought back to how you felt that day. Harry didn’t stop staring at you, at your body. You knew that most people didn’t like how you looked, but the fact that he looked at you for so long. It made you want to shrink into the floor. You were still in your car, having just stopped crying when you reached the impulsive part of your breakdowns so you got out your phone and sent a tweet.

Y/N

So fucking sick of all this body hatred in my line of work. My body is beautiful purely because it is mine and it exists, get over it.

You immediately closed your phone, knowing you wouldn’t feel regret until the inevitable negative comments came a few hours later. You drove home and collapsed onto your sofa, feeling overly proud of yourself for what you had tweeted. Well, that was until you got a text message from Harry asking if the tweet was about him. You weren’t sure how to respond, not wanting to face the problem head-on this early. But, deciding it could only get worse, you replied.

Y/N

So?

There was no reply for a while, then:

Harry

We need to talk this through in person. Meet me in St James’ Park. Please. - H

You froze. No one had ever done this before. You knew that it was getting late, but something was drawing you there so you grabbed your coat and a pair of gloves before rushing out the door, the park only being a five-minute walk from you.

You debated walking up to him, standing there hoping he would keep his eyes on the sunset so you could just turn around and go. Of course that didn’t happen. “Y/N. I wanted to apologise for today. I sincerely promise I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” 

You crossed your arms, staring into his bright eyes. “Cut the shit. I have gotten the same treatment from every other celebrity I’ve worked with Harry. Each one thinks they're better than me because they have every person's dream body.” You spoke, your words creating a mist in the cold.

He shook his head and stepped closer. “I promise you. That’s not what I was thinking.”

You scoffed, looking away from him as you unfolded your arms. You didn’t believe him even though deep down you wanted to. He took your hands suddenly and you met his gaze again, his eyes filled with an emotion you’d never seen before. 

“Is it so hard to believe that I find you intoxicatingly beautiful?” He asked, brows furrowed in confusion. He stepped closer again. “Everything about you, call me corny but I feel like i haven’t seen beauty like yours since I saw the statues in Rome.”

You blushed as he slowly moved his hands from your hands to your waist, his soft grip settling there as if it were the place it was destined to be. You stared at his lips, seeing them curve into a soft smile full of adoration. He leaned in slowly, making sure you wanted the same as him. You met his lips in the cold, the taste of his mint gum lingering on his lips.

“I’ve always been crazy about you, Y/N.” He whispered as you pulled away. You rested your foreheads against one another, hands still on each other's waists. This was something you never wanted to end.

The sun had set a long while ago, but the two of you were still in the park, quietly talking as you held hands, looking at the stars from an old rickety bench. Harry liked you for both your body and your heart and that was something you thought you’d never get.

[alec4hardy]

The psychic Steve Connelly really added a bit of mystical element to the show, I've seen many says "What's the point of that psychic guy?" Well, many fiction enjoy writing about overlooked prophets.

However, this character's main purpose seems to extend beyond that. Besides reinforcing the narrative themes of " the killer is among us" and " the truth will shatter relationships" he also indirectly reflects the other characters' states of mind—people often turn to the supernatural when they’re desperate.

The show hinted that he is a fraud. (I know Chibnall once said this is an open plot, but hear me out ):

He speaks with uncertainty most of the time, relying on "cold reading" (commonly used by mediums). For example, he mentions "names with the letters R or S" (take a look at the characters list; everyone fits that description) and "playing the piano" (which he even got wrong). Hardy confronts him, this is a seaside town, there are boats everywhere; 'About boats' is just a lucky guess.

The only time he speaks with certainty is when he says, "She says she forgives you about the pendant."

But we later learn that Hardy didn't need to be "forgiven" at all, because it wasn't his fault. Connelly must have looked up news about Sandbrook beforehand, leading him to mistakenly believe this was a solid fact.

Interestingly, Hardy himself should know this deep down than anyone. Logically, he shouldn't just never believe these supernatural things from the start; after this line, he should feel very certain that Connelly is a fraud.

However, after Hardy falls at the end of S01E06, after Hardy collapses while chasing the suspect, his heart problem becomes apparent, and he is about to be reassigned. This is when he calls to meet the psychic.

Either he was genuinely so disoriented that he started to believe his own lie, that the pendant incident was actually his fault, or he was truly at his wit’s end...

I've always wanted to discuss faith in this show.

Although it's called Broadchurch and there is indeed a church, it seems that the only character who practices religion is Beth's mother, Liz, who wears a cross necklace and is a church deacon. There don't seem to be others.

In S01E04, Joe comments on Jack, saying, "I didn't know he was religious." to which Miller retorts, "Didn't know we were."

Later, in a conversation with Alec Hardy and Ellie Miller, we learn that people here might go to church for weddings and funerals, and attend Midnight Mass on Easter, primarily for Easter egg hunts. But people don't really believe in it, so it's a very fragile and easily broken thing.

Mark in his anger and sadness exclaim: "Your God left my son for dead!"

In a deleted scene, even Tom provocatively says to Paul, "Won't God protect you?"

Interestingly, in S01E04, one morning Joe suddenly says he wants to take the kids to church; if you think about it seriously, I find it definitely suspicious.

As for whether Alec Hardy believes, Ellie Miller once asked him, and he made a joke, clearly indicating he doesn't.

However, we can infer from what Alec Hardy's mother says, "God will put you in the right place." that she likely believes, so we can assume young Hardy was influenced by that.

I think he might have believed at one point, but at some moment that faith let him down, perhaps because of his mother's death.

In the official novel, there's a passage:

‘You have no concept of faith, do you?’ says Coates. ‘I didn’t muscle in. People turned to me. Straight away. People who wouldn’t normally even think about religion. They asked me to speak. They asked me to listen. They needed me. And you know why? Because there was a fear that you couldn’t address, a gap you couldn’t plug. Because all you have is suspicion, and an urge to blame whoever’s in closest proximity.’ Hardy folds his arms against the tirade. ‘Look, you can accuse me, you can take samples, you can belittle who I was in the past. But you don’t get to belittle my faith, just because you have none. People need hope right now, and they’re certainly not getting it from you.’

He waits for Hardy’s reaction like he’s expecting some kind of conversion. Hardy keeps his arms folded and his mouth closed. He will not give Coates the satisfaction of knowing how shaken he is.

The words echo in his head for the rest of the afternoon. It is not true that he has no concept of faith. He has always believed in evidence and procedure. But where do you go if they fail you, as they are now? What happens then?

If Hardy were a different sort of man, he would pray for a miracle.

Hardy actually has his beliefs, but some things just can't be undone.

We often say that Alec Hardy is emotional, while Ellie Miller is evidence-driven (like her keen awareness of the the wood floor in S2) (Millardy is the best team!)

Alec Hardy's investigative process is filled with intuition and emotion — he often perceives through feelings and drives the case forward with emotions, making suspects anxious until they slip up.

So to say he completely disbelieves such things isn't entirely accurate; he literally sought out a psychic for help.

Here's a little detail — he never outright says the psychic is a fraud — even though, as previously mentioned, he should be the one most aware of this.

The phrasing is interesting; he tells the psychic, "I have to find this killer and prove my case in court. I deal with facts. All you're giving her is fantasy."

Because evidence is incredibly important. Sandbrook nearly failed because of the lost of the pendant, and in S2, evidence was deemed invalid one after another, reinforcing this point.

Ultimately, everyone did things that exceeded their beliefs: Paul threatened the psychic and participated in Joe's exile, removing his priest's collar;

Thus, the true Broad Church is revealed at this moment: it's the people, it's the community.

I know many viewers are deeply frustrated with the so-called courtroom plot in Season 2, which can be said to be completely fake; it is both important and unimportant. This courtroom is not real; it serves more of a dramatic purpose (the entire region exists within Thomas Hardy's fictional country).

The trial is not just about Joe; it's about the entire community. In the end, the result does not follow the court's decision — Joe is still expelled from the community regardless. This means that if you believe in "Broadchurch," you will find that what truly matters is not the court, but rather the "the wrathful God of Broadchurch."(There used to be a post, but it has been lost. Here is the screenshot:

Court result? The court's verdict will disappoint everyone, while people's connections and separations, love and hate, community and life, the past, present and future are what truly, truly matter.

At the end of S3, as Paul prepares to leave, the Broadchurch's church will be gone, but the broader "church" still exists among the people.

The last time they gathered like this was during the S2 trial.

I like seeing Hardy there too; the last time he came to church, he was filled with scepticism, sitting alone at the back, with his fake wife in front of him.

But this time, it's pure, with no agenda; people are just here to listen to Paul speak. Daisy sits beside Hardy, children are with their parents.

Paul quotes from Hebrews: "Let us consider how we may spur one another on, toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing. But encouraging one another."