#wheel of time book 12

[jpiercecreative]

“A fount of power”

Egwene fan art /// scene from The Gathering Storm

[created with Midjourney] /// imagined by @wheeloftime.animated — my IG for animated WOT imaginings!

[alectology-archive]

I think what really upsets me specifically about the gathering storm is that rand spends 11 books internalising terrible advice about giving his body and life over to a greater cause and suffering in silence because he can’t bear to let anybody figure out that he’s in such a bad shape - mentally and physically - but he spends all of book 12 telling everybody that he’s suffering, and nobody moves to help him! at least in the 11 books RJ wrote, people were unaware about the extent to which he was struggling! In book 12 they either offer him sympathy, occasionally, when they can stand to be around him, or they avoid him entirely. they talk about how he’s becoming a problem and a tyrant behind his back and cozy up to people who’re responsible for his worsening mental health. rand does not deserve to be perceived as an unconscionable human being beyond redemption just because he doesn’t want to die and hates being picked for a greater purpose when RJ’s whole intent behind writing him was to critique and explore the idea of how traumatic the role of a hero in a story is. he does not deserve to be characterised as a monster as he grows increasingly depressed and traumatised. and he did not deserve to have his disability downplayed to such a great extent except when swordplay was concerned.

[markantonys]

being the only wheel of time reader in the world who likes gawyn moodboard

[sugarcube-stillabookworm]

so. Gawyn exists

[up-north-values]

Dai Shan al'Lan Mandragoran, Lord of the Seven Towers, Lord of the Lakes, True Blade of Malkier, Defender of the Wall of First Fires, Bearer of the Sword of the Thousand Lakes, May He Sever the Shadow

"Doomed by the narrative" is sexy and all but i think the narrative wanting to save a character who is utterly set on dooming themselves isnt as much of a thing and it's so good as a concept

[ultimateempath]

This thought isn't going to leave me alone until I write it down so I'm just gonna say it

STANLEY PINES HAS SEXUAL TRAUMA.

The wheel of shame on the website straight up acknowledges that Stan has done sex work and in general engaged in sexual activies, willingly or otherwise, to survive.

Not only this, but you also have to remember that he's been to prison an unknown number of times in three different countries.

The kinds of horrible things known to go on within prison walls already provide some pretty rough implications, but this combined with the fact that, at least at first, Stan didn't seem to know the language(s) of those countries well enough to understand his fellow inmates and was likely more heavily targeted for being a foreigner to begin with....it paints a pretty upsetting picture to say the least.

I don't think any of us really thought about this aspect of his past back when the show was still going because like...he was a character in an animated Disney show and we were like 12, characters with this kind of dark complexity to them were a fresh & new concept to us and a lot of Stans past was toned down and/or put in a comedic light since it was meant to be a kids show.

But now that we're adults and Alex has acted accordingly by targeting older audiences with the new book and website, we've gotten a much clearer and more serious look into just how horrifically bad Stans time on the street really was...and honestly? I think more people should be talking about it.

[knife-eared-jan]

Ok, as much as I have been hyping and playing 12 hours a day since it got out (still in Act 1 though, bc I'm a slowass player and completionist), I feel like I have to say something that is getting hard to ignore at this point... and I wanna preface this by saying that I am loving a lot of aspects of the game and I adore the writing when it comes to the companions, who I am obsessed with.

And maybe this will get better yet, as I generally heard the writing picks up once the story progresses beyond picking up all companions..

But I'm starting to get quite upset at the way the writing just does NOT care about the established lore and the politics of Thedas like at all, when to me - and many others - that richness, nuance and depth of the world is what makes the games so special.

(Spoilers below)

I looked past the way the elves in Arlathan just seemed to know that their gods are evil and Solas is "kind of a dick" but was right about that. When, you know, that made him basically the Satan of their pantheon up to now.. It was after all the tutorial stage of the game and I understand that you wanna ease newcomers into the lore. I could also handwave it in-universe with Morrigan being there - she could have filled the Veiljumpers in on the discoveries of the Inquisition or even what the Well told her.

It felt a bit weird that our contacts in every other faction just accepted this huge revelation without a blink, but again it was the early stages and I also get that having a discussion about it 6 times with different faction leaders would have been incredibly tedious. So I ignored that. And yeah, at least the First Warden found it hard to swallow.

The fact that they brushed aside the gods finding elven subjects - many of whom after all still worship them - with one sentence from Solas was disappointing though. Instead they chose to ally them with the Venatori and the Antaam who are the pure evil factions with no nuance or motive to side with them besides a comic book level of hunger for power. They didn't even throw in a sentence about the gods maybe speaking to the Venatori through the Archdemons to get them on their side or how it's very ironic that the Venatori, who want to make Tevinter great again, stoop to working with the pantheon of the people they oppress because they see them as lesser and other. No political exploration of the massive lore implications at all.

It really hit me when I picked up Davrin and he commented how Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain blighting the world would really endear us (elves) to the rest of Thedas - this was the first time anyone actually mentioned the political impact of the elven gods being real, freed, evil and blighted on modern day elves at all, when this should be HUGE. It should be ugly. It should be complex. It should be explored in as many examples as bloodmagic and the oppression of mages was in DA2. It should be a central point of Act 1. (This btw made me love Davrin so much in that moment because this was the first time in the game for me when I actually felt like talking to a Dragon Age elf and even just that one line felt like home.)

And now I just did Taash's first companion quest and it seems Qunari lore is also being ignored (except for the gender aspect of it, which I look forward to). Taash's mum was a scholar and had a baby and the only problem about that was that it could breathe fire and was special but otherwise all would have been dandy? Like she would have just been allowed to keep Taash long enough to find that out about her baby if she was living under the Qun? That directly contradicts everything we know about how the Qunari's culture around reproduction and childcare works.

Sorry to be negative and talking myself into a rage - I know it's not something people want to see rn. But like, I realise you have to brush over some lore intricacies for brevity and to make it digestible for new players. But this is a world initially inspired by Wheel of Time and ASOIAF, both of which are interesting because of the depth of ficitional cultures, lore and politics, and hence it's also what gives Dragon Age its appeal. And now they take us to the most politcally interesting areas on the world map and just get rid of all of political depth?

That's really disappointing. Imagine if Winds of Winter dropped all political themes just because there's several previous books and it's been some a lot of years.

Also, I managed to play DA2 before I ever played Origins and they could introduce me to a vast established background of lore just fine back then.

Sorry. Rant over. But I had to get that out of my system.

[duckprintspress]

Duck Prints Press Kinks Your October!

Love prompt-a-day challenges? So do we, which is why we thought it would be fun to put together our own Kinktober list – assembled collaboratively with input from interested Duck Prints Press contributors. And now here we are! Welcome to the Duck Prints Press Kinks-Your-Tober challenge – 31 days of prompts, three prompts per day, loads of horny ideas there for the taking!

This is a rules-light challenge with no minimum word count or minimum art amount or whatnot. We’re kinking up your October, so anything goes! Pick one prompt per day or mix-and-match all three. Create fiction, art, graphics, playlists, or whatever else floats your boat. Fanworks or original works welcome. Combine our list with other October lists or don’t. Anything goes!! The only thing we won’t tolerate? Intolerance: no kinkshaming, shipshaming, fandom hate, etc.

We’re not reblogging or boosting works; this is a lowkey, for-fun challenge for y’all and for us. But, if you post your accurately tagged work to AO3, we encourage you to add it to the Kinks-Your-Tober 2024 collection.

Also, feel free to come hang with us on our Book Lover’s Server!

HAPPY KINKING, Y’ALL!

Full list in text form (read more):

Oct. 1: breathplay – sentient creature bestiality – collars Oct. 2: incubus/succubus – heat sex – breast worship Oct. 3: wax play – stone top – wartenberg wheel Oct. 4: xenophilia – human furniture – tailfucking Oct. 5: somnophilia – roleplaying – piercings Oct. 6: age play – oviposition – rough sex Oct. 7: nipple orgasm – suspension bondage – wireplay Oct. 8: service top – watersports – clothing kink Oct. 9: public use – tentacles – breeding kink Oct. 10: pervertable – come inflation – cigar/ash play Oct. 11: pet play – consensual non-consent – hair kink Oct. 12: knifeplay – mutual masturbation – sensation play Oct. 13: praise kink – fucking machine – wing kink Oct. 14: ice play – magical healing dick – safeword use Oct. 15: boot worship – clit/cock warming – melolagnia Oct. 16: biting – cock-and-ball torture – rut sex Oct. 17: sex work – size kink – hand/finger kink Oct. 18: exhibitionism – face sitting – underwater sex Oct. 19: blood play – vaginal/anal plug – merpeople Oct. 20: belly bulge – chastity – figging Oct. 21: objectification – voice kink – first time Oct. 22: lingerie kink – dollification – fisting Oct. 23: fire play – pampering – self-cest Oct. 24: handcuffs – hemipenes/hemiclits – glory hole Oct. 25: voyeurism – double penetration – S&M Oct. 26: lacatation – orgasm delay or denial – kneeling Oct. 27: overstimulation – dry humping – android/cyborg Oct. 28: dendrophilia – creature shifter – impact play Oct. 29: public sex – omorashi – electrical play Oct. 30: sex pollen – cunnilingus/blow job – humiliation Oct. 31: sex toys – power bottom – knotting

[dandelions-143]

Secrets

Hyunjin Masterlist

For Other Members Masterlist

Pairing: non Idol, Rich, Bad Boy Hyunjin x Mid/Plus size, College student, Fem! Reader.

Word Count: 2670k

Warnings: Sexual content and descriptions, Body image issues, Infidelity, Alcohol consumption, Drug use (mention of marijuana), Emotional manipulation,Trust issues in relationships

Summary: Established relationship between Y/n and Hyunjin but it’s technically a secret. What happens when Hyunjin is pretty much caught kissing someone else?

A/N: THIS ONES A LITTLE DEEP…The bad boy series I’ve been slowly writing does cross over here and there. This party that Hyunjin attends is the same one from Do It For Me but, y/n from that story is a completely different y/n than this one. Each member will get there own little story with crossovers. Currently working on a playlist for this series so stay tuned! Also if you have already read this just ignore!! Adding all saved tags to all of my works. If you wish to no longer be tagged just let me know.

You had just gotten home from your last class of the week. You dropped your heavy bag full of art history books by the door of your dark apartment. As the door closed, you kicked off your shoes and began to unzip your jacket. You were so tired from a full day of classes at university that you didn't care about leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you made your way to the bathroom.

You were in desperate need of a hot bath to relax and unwind. By the time you flipped on the bathroom lights, you were standing in nothing but your cute little Hello Kitty panties—a gift from your grandmother who still seemed to think you were 12.

"Cute." A velvety voice sliced through the silence of your apartment, making you jump nearly out of your skin.

You instantly covered your breasts as you turned around to see who had broken into your apartment. When your wide, terrified eyes met his dark and brooding stare, you let out a loud sigh of relief. "Hyunjin! You scared me to death!" A soft giggle escaped your now smiling lips, but you still kept your hands over your exposed breasts.

Hyunjin walked over to you, allowing you to really take him in. He wore dark jeans with rips in them, a black and blue shirt with a matching beanie. His long fingers were adorned with his signature silver rings. "I like these," he said as he playfully slipped a finger into the waistband of your panties and tugged at them gently. "Although they would look so much better on the floor."

You blushed and stepped back a little, trying to shield your half-naked body from his intense gaze. You couldn't help but be shy around him, even though you two had been together for months now and were well past the point of seeing one another naked for the first time. Hyunjin was perfect to you—tall and lean, with beautiful lips and long hair. And you... well... you were soft and thicker in the middle than you would like to be.

You had dimples on the back of your thighs and faint stretch marks here and there. In your mind, you were not the type of girl a guy like Hyunjin would ever want. So when he wanted to be intimate, you got bashful and asked to have the lights low or off completely.

Hyunjin stood there for a minute, and you could see the wheels in his head turning. "What?" you asked softly. Hyunjin stepped closer to you and wrapped his long arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "Honey, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever had the chance to know." Hyunjin ran his hands soothingly up and down your back for a while.

He kissed the top of your head, and then his hands began to wander. He spread his large hands over the plump swell of your ass and gripped you hard. "I love this ass." He moved his hands around to your curvy hips and pulled you into him. Your hips met his, and your bodies seemed to fit so well together. "I love these hips."

Hyunjin lazily dragged his hands up your soft stomach to pull your hands away from your breasts. You reluctantly let your arms fall to your sides, and his hands cupped them, squeezing and playing gently with your nipples. "I fucking love your tits," he groaned and leaned down to leave soft, open-mouthed kisses around your nipple before taking it between his pretty lips, sucking gently.

Your hands tugged off his beanie and slipped seamlessly through his long hair as a soft sigh escaped your mouth. His eyes stayed on your face the entire time. Once he gave a little love to your other breast, he slowly knelt down in front of you and began to kiss up your thigh. His warm tongue gently lapped at your soft skin. "Mmm, and these thighs—you could smother me with them. I would die a happy man."

You couldn't help but giggle at his absurd words, but Hyunjin only continued. He hooked his fingers into the sides of your Hello Kitty panties and pulled them down. "And your pussy..." He leaned in, kissing the lips of your now very wet sex. "It's so pretty and pink, so warm, soft, and tight. Just perfect for me." He gazed at you as if admiring a work of art, and in that moment, you allowed yourself to be seen.

He made you feel truly beautiful—the way he touched you, spoke about you, and looked at you. Hyunjin stood up and once again pulled you close, engulfing you in his arms. "Let's take a bath, yeah?" he said simply before kissing your lips a few times.

Once the bath was drawn, you watched as Hyunjin undressed. He was lean and muscular in all the right places, with a few small tattoos scattered across his skin. His erection stood proud between his muscular thighs. Hyunjin stepped in first and sat down, holding out his hand to help you into the bath as well. "Face me?" he asked, and you complied, settling onto his thighs.

You could feel the twitch of his cock resting against your lower stomach. Hyunjin's hands rested on your thighs before moving up to your hips, pulling you closer. He dipped his head, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss started slow and sweet, just how you liked it. Hyunjin seemed to know all your preferences.

His wet tongue swiped across your bottom lip, seeking entry. You parted your lips without hesitation, allowing his tongue to tangle with yours. The only sounds were the gentle sloshing of bathwater and the soft, wet noises of your deep kisses.

When you finally pulled apart to breathe, Hyunjin's gaze was filled with need. His hands roamed over your body, cupping your breasts and gripping your thighs. "I want you so bad, y/n," he breathed against your lips. "Fuck me, baby..." His velvety voice cut through the silence as his strong hands lifted you up.

Hyunjin helped position you, his cock poised at your entrance. "Is this okay? I don't have protection," he asked cautiously. You always used protection, but at this moment, you couldn't care less. Your body craved him, needing every inch inside you. "I don't care, it's fine," you said hurriedly, gripping his broad shoulders as you sank down onto him.

You gasped loudly at how deep he was inside you. Hyunjin's unexpected whimper surprised you, but you found yourself loving it—he was usually so quiet in bed. You moved your hips in a circular motion, causing water to slosh out of the tub, but neither of you cared.

Eventually, you found a rhythm together, Hyunjin rolling his hips up to meet yours. Your arms wrapped firmly around his neck as you made love in an agonizingly slow way. It was sweet torture, both of you chasing that high but taking your time to savor every moment.

"God, you feel so good wrapped around me," Hyunjin murmured, his lips trailing from your chest to your neck. He peppered kisses and love bites across your breasts and collarbone. Your moans grew louder and deeper as your orgasm approached.

Hyunjin's breathy moans became more urgent and intense. His hands grew greedier, tugging and gripping at your wet skin. Your bodies slid smoothly against each other as you moved together. "Hyunjin... I'm going to cum," you whined, burying your face in his neck to muffle your sounds.

Hyunjin lifted your head, cupping your chin. "Look at me as you cum," he said, his lips parted and breathing heavy. You could tell he was close too, his thighs trembling beneath you. "Oh fuck... cum with me," you moaned as your orgasm hit you hard.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room as you clenched around him. You felt Hyunjin pulse inside you, his eyes rolling back and head tilting as his own release washed over him. "Fuck, y/n," he chanted your name until he was spent.

His head fell onto your chest, your arms loosely encircling him. "Baby... you're going to be the death of me," he said with a muffled laugh against your breast. "Like you said, at least you'd die a happy man," you teased. Hyunjin lifted his head and kissed your lips softly. "Hell yes, I would. I'm the happiest man on Earth right now."

After regaining your strength and cleaning up, you both took a shower together before deciding to fix a late supper. Hyunjin fetched water for you both, walking shamelessly around in nothing but his boxers. You were cooking some ramen in the kitchen, wearing his oversized shirt.

You two had been dating for a while, but despite spending so much time together, you had yet to meet his friends or family. He hadn't met yours either. You both had agreed to keep your relationship low-key, mainly due to your parents being difficult and having your entire life planned out for you. Hyunjin said he had his reasons as well, but as you stood in the kitchen, you couldn't recall him ever sharing those reasons.

"Babe, can I ask you something?" you called to him across the small space separating your kitchen from the living room.

"Anything," he replied, entering the kitchen with a smile. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close.

"Do you think maybe we could start telling people about us?" His eyes clouded at this question, and his hold on you loosened.

"I'd just like to do more than eat at my place," you continued. "I want to see where you live. I want to meet your friends and family. I actually think I'm ready for you to meet my parents too." You turned off the stove, drained the noodles, and placed them in separate bowls. Hyunjin watched you for a moment before speaking.

"Y/n, I'd love to go on dates with you, and we can do things anytime you want, but you don't want to meet my friends or family." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "They... they just aren't worthy of meeting someone as precious as you." He then flashed that sweet smile of his and pulled you close again, pecking your lips.

"I have some things to take care of on Saturday, but Sunday, let's go eat brunch and have a day out together. What do you say?" His eyes shone as he looked down at you. You melted instantly and nodded.

"Okay, we can go shopping, maybe see a movie," you suggested. As you two settled in to eat and spend the evening together, a nagging thought lingered in the back of your mind: why couldn't you meet his family and friends? Why couldn't you see that side of his life?

The next morning, sunlight filtered through your bedroom window, casting a golden glow over your face and gently rousing you from sleep. You reached out, finding Hyunjin's side of the bed empty and cold. With a small stretch, you crawled out of bed, memories of last night's intimacy bringing a smile to your face.

Slipping on Hyunjin's discarded shirt, you went in search of your lover. You found him on the balcony, a coffee mug on the small iron table beside him and a sketchpad in hand. The morning sun illuminated his features, making him look even more beautiful than usual. Your heart clenched as the thought "I love this man" passed through your mind, though you weren't ready to say those words aloud.

Hyunjin must have heard you approaching. As you slid your hands over his bare shoulders, he turned to kiss the side of your hand. "Mmm, how did you sleep?" he asked softly, looking up at you. Your eyes moved from his handsome face to the sketch he was drawing. "I slept really well. I see you didn't sleep that well," you replied, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"I just have things on my mind. Nothing to worry about, though. Come here," he said, gently tugging you around the chair and onto his lap. You sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun rise higher and feeling its warmth. Hyunjin peppered tiny kisses on your shoulder, neck, and cheek.

"Are you getting hungry? Maybe we could go out for breakfast?" you asked. Just then, Hyunjin's phone rang, instantly distracting him. "Hold on, love," he said, gently moving you off his lap to take the call inside. You sighed heavily and glanced at his sketch—a very pretty woman, naked in her bed, curled up with twisted covers around her.

"Y/n," Hyunjin's voice pulled you from your thoughts. "I'm sorry, but I have to go." He was buttoning his pants as he approached, hoodie in hand. "Really? How long will you be gone?" you asked, watching him with pleading eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, but held back, not wanting to seem clingy. You followed him inside, watching as he put on his shoes and hoodie. "I'm not sure, baby. I know I'll be late. I'll call you to let you know if I'm coming over to stay again, okay?"

He finally looked at you properly as he ran his fingers through his messy black hair. Seeing your expression, his face softened. "Don't be upset. I still remember promising you a date tomorrow. You'll have me all day." Hyunjin pulled you close, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then your forehead. "I'll see you soon, my love." And with that, you watched him leave.

Hours passed since Hyunjin's departure. You reached out to friends, hoping to hang out, but everyone was busy. To distract yourself from boredom, you turned on music and cleaned your apartment. Throughout the day, you texted him several times and called once, but received no response.

As night fell, you sat on your couch, struggling to focus on assignments for your classes. Your mind kept wandering to thoughts of Hyunjin.

Where was he? Why was he always so secretive?

Just as your thoughts began to spiral, your phone lit up with your friend's name. You answered on the second ring. "Hey, Dea. How are you?"

"I'm good! Actually, I was calling to see if you'd want to go to a party tonight?" Her tone was hopeful. She knew parties weren't your thing—you'd rather visit an art museum than watch college kids act wild. "Umm... I... I don't know."

Dea huffed into the phone. "Oh, come on! You never have fun. You never go out. You're always with that mystery guy. Come hang out with me. I promise I won't get drunk, and if you end up having a really bad time, we can leave." You considered it for a moment, hearing her whisper "please" repeatedly under her breath. You couldn't help but smile at her childlike energy. "Okay, fine. Come pick me up and I'll go with you. But if you leave my side, I'm never hanging out with you again."

Dea squealed into the phone, making you jerk it away from your ear. "Yes! Okay, I promise you'll have a good time! See you soon." After hanging up, you started getting ready.

Not trying to impress anyone, you slipped on a pair of jeans and a simple beige tank top. You left your hair down and applied minimal makeup. Sandals to match your tank completed the look. Dea, on the other hand... When you opened your door to leave with her, she was fully put together in a classic little black dress, her makeup flawless and hair loosely curled around her face. She was tall, thin, and gorgeous.

"Come on, bestie!" She grabbed your hand and pulled you out the door.

On the way to the party, you learned that Dea's friend Minho—whom you'd only met once—had invited her. The event was being hosted by Minho's best friend, Chan. As you approached your destination, anxiety crept in; you didn't know any of these people.

It turned out Chan came from wealth. Dea pulled up to a mansion in a gated community, resembling a miniature White House. "Dea, what the fuck?" was all you could muster. She grinned widely, "I know, right? Minho said it was a big house, but damn... this guy must be loaded."

After parking and overcoming your initial awe, you followed Dea inside. The place was packed with bodies. "Come on, Y/n! Let's get a drink!" Dea linked arms with you, pulling you through the crowd. The air was hot and hazy with cigarette and weed smoke. People were dancing, shouting, or engaged in intimate acts—you even spotted a couple grinding against a wall.

You eventually found the drinks, manned by a cute guy with chubby cheeks and wavy brown hair that fell over his round eyes. "Two beers please!" you yelled over the music. He looked at you oddly. "This isn't a bar! Get it yourself!" he shouted back before turning to a long-haired blond guy. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed two cups and poured drinks for yourself and Dea.

"Here yo—" you began, but Dea had vanished. "Seriously!" Leaving the beer behind, you searched for your friend, determined to give her a piece of your mind when you found her.

You wandered through the massive house and even checked the backyard pool area. No luck. Deciding to head for the front door to call an Uber, you navigated the maze-like crowd of tipsy partygoers. In what appeared to be the living room, you finally spotted Dea dancing with a muscular dark-haired guy.

"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered, approaching her. But you froze, witnessing the worst sight imaginable.

There on the couch was your boyfriend, kissing a heavily tattooed girl. You felt faint, your heart pounding painfully. The music blared, but you couldn't hear it. As another guy pulled the girl off Hyunjin, his eyes met yours.

His dark brown gaze locked onto you. At first, you were paralyzed, but as he rushed towards you, your legs sprang into action. You pushed through the crowd, desperate to escape. At the front door, Hyunjin caught up, grabbing your arm. "Y/n! Please wait!"

You didn't pull away but kept moving, tugging in the opposite direction as Hyunjin tried to draw you closer. He gave up and followed you to Dea's car. "Y/n, just let me explain. That wasn't what it looked like." You whirled around, fixing him with tear-filled, angry eyes. "It wasn't? Then tell me, Hyunjin, what the hell was it?"

He stumbled over his words, "She's my best friend. The one I've mentioned from high school. She was only trying to make Chan jealous. I didn't even kiss her back." He reached for your hands, but you stepped away. "Don't." The simple word visibly hurt him, but you couldn't bear his touch.

Tears streamed down your face. "Okay, let's say I believe that. Why didn't you tell me about this party? Why didn't you invite me?" You hugged yourself, closing off. "Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, Hyunjin? Am I not pretty enough to be seen with you like your so-called best friend?"

He inched forward, hands outstretched. "No, baby, God no! That's not... that's not it at all. I've told you how I feel about you." You pulled out your phone, "Actually, no, you haven't. I never know what's going on in your head. In fact, I barely know you at all, and we've been dating for six months!" You raised the phone to your ear, "Dea, I'm at the car. Can we leave? I'm suddenly having the worst time. I want to go home."

Dea agreed to come right away. "Please... let's talk about this," Hyunjin pleaded, finally grasping your hand. You jerked away. "Don't touch me!" Seeing Dea emerge from the house, you delivered your parting words: "When you're no longer ashamed to be seen with me in public, call me. But for now, just leave me alone." You got into the car as Dea approached, her questions already beginning.

Hyunjin remained in the darkened street, wiping his eyes as tears fell freely.

Tags:

@cashtonsbetch @moonndustx @katsukis1wife @valkyriexo @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @chuuyaobsessed @doohnut @babigriin @iovecb97 @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @cookiesandcreammy @rockstarkkami @moonchild9350 @syedazarintasnim @myflowercloud @143hyunes @luvyblossom @shecheatedwithme @antisocialties @akaligogrrr @thisaintredwine @rose-w-00-d @jisuperboard @velvetmoonlight @kayleefriedchicken @skzfelixlove @athforskz

[kattyysims]

Autumn Core Challenge | The Sims 4

don’t click me

   With my favorite season being fall, I wanted to create a mini cozy challenge to do a let's play with! This "challenge" will take you through an autumn bucket list, and all the cozy aesthetics ~ meant to be played during the rainy fall season (at least where I'm from).

Required Packs: Seasons, Discover University, Spooky Stuff.

Extra Packs: Get to Work, Cats & Dogs, Paranormal Stuff, High School Years, Movie Hangout Stuff, Get Together.

~ Not a must have but required for some objectives.

Aspiration: Best Selling Author

Traits: Bookworm, Creative, and 1 free trait.

Sim Likes: Rain, baking, sweaters, candles, baths, movies, lofi, reading, cafes.

Skills: Baking, writing.

Season: Fall

~ Options Menu > Game Options > Environment > Seasons _ Seasons Length > 28 Days

Mods (Optional): Shorter University Degrees by The Peridot Project.

~ Not required but makes it easier ~ since the normal 12 credits takes up so much time.

Assets: Small cozy home, a cat, a small bakery.

Business: Bakery (Optional)

~ If you'd like an extra challenge, own a bakery on the side!

Education: Major - Communications or Language & Literature, Elective - Baking

Holiday: Spookyfest

~ (Open the seasons calendar, and create a holiday - add Spooky Spirit, Trick or Treat, and Wear Costumes.

   Your sim LOVES to read, write, and bake, she also has a small furry companion. Growing up she always loved reading books which led her to majoring in language and literature, with dreams of one day being a best-selling author. She loves all things fall and cozy, and thrives during the season. But not without conditions, she must drink at least one cup of coffee a day and loves visiting new cafes.

Objectives:

Master the baking skill. (Get to Work)

Graduate with at least a 3.8 GPA. (Discover University)

Own a 4-star bakery. (Get to Work) (Optional)

Publish 3 successful books.

Finish reading 4 books.

Become companions with your cat. (Cats & Dogs)

Drink one cup of coffee a day.

Have a 3 sim friend group.

~~~

Go to a cafe at least once a week. (Get Together)

Host a Spooky Party and get gold reward. (Spooky Stuff)

Go to a pumpkin patch (you can download one from the gallery). (Spooky Stuff)

Carve pumpkins (pumpkin carving station). (Spooky Stuff)

Go to a haunted house. (Next to the ferris wheel in Copperdale ~ High School Years.)

Befriend a ghost.

Play in a pile of leaves. (Seasons)

Watch Sims of the Dead. (Movie Hangout Stuff)

Go to a movie theater.

Stay the night in a haunted house residential. (Paranormal Stuff)

Commune with the departed. (Séance Table) (Paranormal Stuff)

Have a picnic.

Find a partner to go skating with. (Seasons)

Harvest an apple tree.

episode 1

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wheels up [S. R]

word count: 4k

summary: Spencer has just been released from prison and things seem to get complicated when Mr. Scratch attacks again. You want to know what's going on with your boyfriend, but when you confront him, you don't expect him to yell at you like he does.

contents: spoilers for season 12-13, directly based on the episode of the same name, established relationship, hurt/comfort, spencer being mean for a moment, mentions of migraines and schizophrenia, apologies, crying and I think that's it.

To say that you were worried was an understatement, because to cut all the tension around the team you would no longer even need a knife but a sword.

You had just gotten over the bitter pill of the fact that your boyfriend had been unjustifiably imprisoned when now Scratch had done this: the ambush, Walker's death, Emily's kidnapping… he just couldn't seem to get enough of this sick game.

“We also never stopped to ask why Scratch was in Honduras in the first place,” Simmons murmured next to you.

García, he and you were trying to review as best as possible the existing research on Peter Lewis that you found in your deceased friend's office to see if you could discover any other details, even if it were the slightest thing that could reveal the whereabouts of your unit leader. 

“Reid'll figure this out. “He's really amazing at this kind of thing.”

Garcia had barely finished saying this when a roar made her jump in her place and look back. Spencer Reid had just furiously thrown a book against the glass windows. You exchanged a worried look with your friend and the three of you silently agreed to go to the meeting room to investigate what was happening.

When the doctor arrived, he began to rant about what he had managed to discover. He talked about hallucinogenic plants found in Honduras and how this was related to Scratch, but you honestly couldn't pay attention to anything he was saying. You could only focus on the purple spots around his eyes, his messy hair jumping every time he said something, the sweat that glistened on his forehead, the erratic and rushed tone of his words and how he constantly rubbed his face or neck. 

Spencer wasn't well. 

You had seen him like this when he had feared he was developing an outbreak of schizophrenia and you had hated every second you had accompanied him to get tested, every second of uncertainty, every time you knew his vision was blurring. And now this was a thousand times worse, because you didn't even know how to help him. Shit, you didn't even know if he wanted your help.

While he was in prison he had refused to see you many times and it had broken your heart every time. He claimed that he didn’t want other prisoners to see you talking to him because they would try to use you to threaten him or that he didn’t want you to see the state he was in because he feared that after seeing the bruises and wounds you would no longer love him.

You respected him, but at the same time you felt that he was building a barrier between you so that in case he couldn't get out of there you wouldn't be tied to a prisoner and could live your life normally. That was why when Emily managed to build a solid case to prove his innocence you felt like you were going to die of joy, and when you saw him leave the prison the first thing you did was run into his arms to make sure he was safe.

But Spencer wasn't, because you knew he had only left there so he could help look for his mother: Diana Reid. During the course of everything you had barely seen him, you two were too busy with your own affairs to have a moment as a couple, but even so when you solved everything you let him go with her; after all they deserved it and you were happy that he had a quiet moment.

But Peter Lewis seemed to have other plans.

“What?” Spencer asked, noticing the way Penelope was looking at him. She looked like she was about to cry behind her blue glasses and you felt sorry for her.

“You threw a book at a window. It was jarring”

“Took me 60 minutes to deduce what should have taken me 60 seconds,” he muttered, clearly sounding furious with himself, “and if Emily dies because I was too slow, I'll be throwing a lot more than books.”

“Spencer” you tried to stop him, but he had already started on his way to the exit.

You always wanted to believe that you were his weak point, he had told you that on more than one occasion. When the team couldn't reason with him, they sent you instead.

Reid will do anything you tell him, Morgan used to say, whether it's convincing him about something silly between friends or something more serious. 

And so it was, because every time he was upset all it took was for you to make flirtatious eyes at him and steal a kiss for him to forget about it.

One day you're going to be my downfall, did you know that? he used to laugh. You're going to ask me to bring the stars down from the sky and I'll have to figure out a way to do it because I don't know how to say you no.

However, this time he didn't seem to understand any reason. He was just walking towards the exit and you were stumbling after him to catch up with his quick pace.

“Spencer,” you insisted, reaching out to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. You didn't expect him to stop abruptly to the point where you collided with his chest, in the middle of the desolate hallway you had arrived at.

“What?”

The sharp tone and angry look he gave you unnerved you slightly, but you managed to clear your throat in search of your voice.

“Honey, it's obvious that you're not fine. You need to rest"

"Rest?" he spat, incredulous. “Do you think I can think of resting when we have a situation like this?”

“That's not what I meant. I'm just saying that no one expects you to be here after what happened, you can at least take a break” 

The sigh he let out was enough for you to know that whatever was coming was surely not good.

“Huh yeah? And what is that break I'm going to take going to cost us? Emily’s life?”

“You know I'm as worried as you are.”

“I'm not worried, I'm sick. I'm sick of this damn case, I'm sick of one thing after another happening to us and I'm sick of failing." 

"I know but…"

“No,” he interrupted you, leaning back when you tried to lay a hand on him. “There's no but. Today I don't need you to tell me what I have to do” 

“I'm not telling you what to do, I'm asking you to take care of yourself. How much sleep have you even had? When was the last time you ate?"

Your tone of voice had come out more recriminating than you intended and if you were already tense, this exchange was not helping at all.

Hearing no response, you continued.

“If you're not going to rest, at least let me help you.”

You wanted him to have the confidence to tell you anything, to be able to explain why he was acting so strange or to at least take two minutes to admit that things weren't right. But Spencer had changed a lot in that prison, because if before it was difficult for him to talk about his feelings, now it seemed practically impossible. You were the only one he dared to do it with and you didn't even think you were that exception to the rule anymore.

If you had known what was to come you would have preferred to stay for the moment he took to take a deep breath.

“Do you know how you can help me? Stepping aside”

“Spencer”

“I'm sick of this too! I'm tired of everyone coming and offering me their faces of compassion and their words of encouragement as if they really understood me. They don't do it, nobody does it, not even you. This is... it is a huge and heavy accumulation that has accumulated for years and years and when I think that it can't be worse, life surprises me by saying that yes, it can be worse. So just shut up, let me do my job, let me catch Scratch and for the love of God stop treating me like I'm a child because on top of all the stress of the case I have to deal with that too and honestly it's killing me” 

Your boyfriend turned around without waiting for a response and a part of you was grateful that was the case, or else he would have seen the tears that had already gathered in your eyes.

You were shocked and felt your face burning with shame, with a hole in your stomach that wouldn't be easy to fill. You were no longer even worried about the man, nor sad, but you felt very different; it was as if Reid had infected you with his anger.

Still with wet cheeks you hurried to walk in the opposite direction, finding yourself at the end of the hallway to meet a very worried Penelope García. Without letting her tell you anything, you asked her to continue with the investigation and the entire time you swallowed your pain.

You knew that Peter Lewis' desperate face when he was hanging from that building and the way you and Luke left him to die would haunt you for a lifetime, but you didn't feel even the slightest bit sorry for it. Even a part of you wished that man had died a slower and perhaps even painful death. Whatever the case, he was gone and you could feel a second of peace at night.

Spencer was right, the most important thing now was to save Emily. Later there would be time to attend to marital discussions.

When you got home you were sweaty, tired, and had a headache that you knew a shower could probably solve, adding a glass of good wine just to be safe. However, clinging to that peace of mind that solving the case had provided you was only a mechanism to postpone confronting the problem that was still latent. You hadn't spoken to Spencer for the rest of the day since your fight in the hallway and although your heart ached you knew this was the prudent thing to do.

Fighting had never had a place in your relationship because both of you were too rational to be carried away by impulse. You had disagreements and arguments, but you had tried to resolve them like adults or you had let the matter rest until you were cool-headed enough to speak calmly. You suspected that right now you were doing the latter, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn't be the one who would look for your boyfriend to talk to.

You were hurt by the way he had reacted to your advice, but a part of you also understood that Spencer had been going through too much and that, in some ways, he had some right to want his own space. Or maybe both of you were partly to blame; you for demanding something that didn't belong to you and him for not having said things tactfully enough.

But you couldn't help but miss him. You had spent so many months away from him that you longed to be in his arms, shower him with kisses and hear the soft beat of his heart just to make sure he was real.

Still lost in your thoughts you searched the living room for your briefcase to grab your cell phone, hoping to find something to distract yourself, and upon unlocking it you discovered that you had several missed calls from Spencer. It wasn't like you were ignoring him on purpose, rather it had been an oversight on your part, but when you were about to dial his number a new call was announced on the screen. It was him.

"Hello?"

“There you are,” he murmured, sounding tremendously relieved “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just left the phone in my briefcase and that's why I didn't hear your calls. I'm sorry"

There was silence for an awkward moment and then he spoke again.

“You went home early.”

"I was tired. I told Emily.”

“Yes, she… he told me, but… Do you think I can see you? I would like to talk to you about something and I don't think it is appropriate to do so on the phone.”

You evaluated your options, looking at everything around you. Spencer was welcome whenever he wanted in your house and you knew a mess wouldn't matter to him, but you were more worried about him noticing the emotional mess, not the physical one.

“Y/N?”

“Yes,” you responded when you heard your name, without thinking too much. “You can come”

Spencer responded with a monosyllable and then he hung up. You were about to get up from the couch to look for something more decent than colorful pajamas when a knock on the door startled you. When there was no response, the person knocked again and when you tiptoed until you reached the peephole, you met a familiar silhouette who was visibly nervous. Apparently the look of confusion on your face when you opened it was enough to express a silent question to Spencer.

“I was in the hallway,” he explained to you. “I didn't want to take long if you said yes.”

You knew you shouldn't give in so easily, but it was hard when Spencer said things like that and he came to your house looking completely disoriented, sad, and regretful.

"Can I come in?" he asked. Although your silences were not with that intention, the truth was that you were making him even more nervous.

"Yeah, you can”

You turned around only when you heard the click of the door closing and leaned against it, waiting for him to say something. You took a moment to observe him and noticed that his clothes were slightly disarrayed, while his hands played with the leather strap that was still across his chest. When he noticed that you were looking at his hands he interpreted it as a sign to get rid of the garment, and so he did.

“Wine?”

“Rossi gave it to me,” you responded, following his gaze to the bottle on the coffee table along with the crystal glass.

Spencer opened his mouth slightly in understanding and then there was silence again.

“I think it's obvious why I'm here, right?” he murmured in a low, cautious voice. You looked at him with sealed lips. “I want to apologize.”

“Yeah?”

"Yes. I know I shouldn't have talked to you like that in the office”

“No, you shouldn't have done it,” you responded sternly “And I accept if you don't want me around, but…”

“No,” he interrupted you, lunging forward to take your hands. You didn't refuse. “It's not that. I want you close, I don't want you to go away”

“I want you close too, Spencer. And I care about you. That's why I tell you things, not because I want to bother you."

“I know not. I was wrong, okay? I was wrong and I had no right to yell at you just because I was upset. And I wasn't upset with you, I was upset about the case and… it was just too much. This is all too much” by this point Spencer’s voice had already broken and your arms were already open for him.

It didn't take much for your boyfriend to start sobbing.

"I'm sorry"

“I know, Spencer.”

"I was an idiot"

“Yes, you certainly were,” you responded, speaking barely above a whisper. You couldn't stop feeling empathy for your boyfriend, but you couldn't ignore your own pain either. “You made me feel so hurt.”

“Forgive me, you know that was not my intention.”

“I just want to see you well. I want you to be safe and help you, but you won't let me do it. And it's okay if you don't want my help, but you can't deny that you need help. We need help. Do you think I wasn't stressed too? Do you think I could care less about finding Emily?”

“I know not. I know…” he sobbed.

“And I understand that we were both going through a hard time but you had no right to treat me like that.”

"You hate me?"

“Of course I don't hate you. I love you very much and I always will, but when something bad happens we don't yell at each other. And I'm not hating you for this, did you hate me that time in Georgia when I went into negotiating in that hostage situation without consulting anyone?

"No. I was very angry and worried about you, but I would never have hated you.”

"You see it? It's the same” you said softly.

You weren't going to torture him with this and you didn't want him to kneel and ask for forgiveness, the message you wanted to give him was already more than clear. And you knew that the simple act of accepting his mistake was something that showed you that he cared about you.

“It won't happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, it may happen again. We are both dumb sometimes and the older we get the grumpier we become” you tried to joke. Although you didn't hear him laugh, you knew that it had lightened the atmosphere. “But talking about it makes him feel better, right? Just like now”

He nodded at your question and then your hand went up to his head to stroke his hair. The contact seemed to melt him against you, as if with this you had also given free rein to his crying. You knew he probably wasn't going to tell you about the horrors he'd experienced in prison yet, but maybe this moment could be a start; you were being honest with each other and after all that was what was important.

Spencer calmed down after a long while and when you separated you made sure to get him some napkins so he could wipe his tears and blow his nose.

“You're seriously not upset at me?”

“No,” you assured him, shaking your head at the same time. You approached him and raised your hands to his cheeks to hold him gently. “It's okay, Spencer. I would be upset if you hadn't apologized."

“I wanted to do it sooner, but I knew that maybe you needed time to… you know, not want to strangle me”

“You're always so smart,” you complimented him and this time he did laugh.

The man's hands were experimentally placed on your waist and upon noticing your approving smile he pulled you a little closer to him until you collided against his chest. The puffiness in his eyes didn't stop him from giving you a sweet look.

“I haven't kissed you since I came back,” he observed absently and after thinking about it for a second you realized it was true.

You hadn't even kissed him. You had gone three months without seeing him and you still hadn't had time to kiss him.

You opened your mouth slightly, but before you could say anything he had already leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. With the help of your hand sliding to the back of his neck you deepened the contact and Spencer wasted no time, wrapping his thin arms around your torso.

Even if you didn't want to admit it, you had already forgotten how good it felt to kiss him and amid everything you thought that you wished you could capture that moment in a jar to turn to it when necessary. Because after everything that had happened that day you really needed that moment of peace with him.

His lips were slightly parted, but your gentle tongue took care of moistening them and when the air began to fail you just let him go for a second, kissing him again when you breathed enough. Your kisses were sweet and soft enough to dissipate the rest of the guilt that remained in your lover's body.

"Better?" you asked once you two were satisfied. It took him a moment to compose himself from the intoxication of your kiss to be able to answer you.

"Yes, I feel better"

“How is Diana, by the way?” you said quietly, leaning back a little to look him in the eyes.

“She is fine, I managed to admit her to a sanatorium before García called me. It will only be for tonight, tomorrow I will look for where she can stay permanently” he answered you, rubbing his tired face with a hand “I think it would be best for us to return to Las Vegas”

“You should go to her now” it hurt you to give him that advice, but you knew that he must have other priorities now. One of your hands kindly caressed his bicep, feeling how he had lost considerably in weight.

“You don't want me to stay here?”

“I don't want you to feel obligated. I know Diana needs you more than me."

“She'll be fine today,” he murmured. Apparently he wanted to be with you more than you thought. “I left my number and she'll be asleep right now. As much as he wants to deny it, I think… that she is better off with professionals”

“So you want to stay here?”

You had sounded more excited than you intended and just because of the sparkle in your eyes he felt the urge to steal another kiss from you.

"Of course I want to. I missed you so much, I just want to feel you close to me."

“I can stay only if you promise me two things.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to try to sleep,” you asked him, passing the tip of your index fingers under his eyes. “I don't like that look at all and I think you could use some rest. I have a comfortable bed waiting just for you.”

“I'd love that,” he smiled weakly. “What's the second thing?”

“Tomorrow you will let me cook you something delicious before we go to your mother.”

The thought of you spoiling him so much made him smile.

"Done deal"

You carefully guided him to your room and once there you kissed him again. Spencer felt like he was going to cry again when he noticed that you still had the change of clothes that he had left in your closet over three months ago and the soft fabric along with the familiar scent filled his chest with joy.

You two snuggled under the warmth of the sheets and you made sure to kiss your lover's face countless times while your hands touched every piece of skin you had within reach, trying to show him that he didn't have to worry about anything; you wanted him to know that you loved him and that he was somewhere safe.

"Are you okay?"

You spoke in the middle of the darkness, while Spencer had his full weight on top of yours. His nose rubbed slightly against your bare skin and he found it necessary to leave another kiss there.

“I am now.”

And even if it only lasted for a brief moment, Spencer knew that nothing compared to the peace and tranquility of being with you.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @instabull @rhiannonhippiegirl @r-3dlips @missabsey @olivia’s-25

[alectology-archive]

I do feel I’m finally able to put a finger on why I don’t care for the Egwene of the Sanderson books. His take on her is heavily reliant on the assumption that her primary goal and motivation in rallying support to her cause is to attain power and maintain it, rather than the process being a step along the way to achieve her main objective, a cause that she dedicates herself to wholly: to unite the white tower and prepare the world for the last battle. The Egwene of the last three books is more preoccupied with trying to eliminate opposition of any sort to her opinions (whereas RJ trains her to mediate between different factions since they’re the marks of a good administrator) and isolates herself from her allies in the process of trying to assert her individuality (which RJ explicitly warns about the dangers of with Rand’s arc) but this is a general pattern also with regards to all the ta’veren shrugging off their mentors in the last three books. She’s obsessed about being in control and ensuring that her opinions are given weight because of the position she holds rather than the merit they might carry, and believes that her being in a position of power will automatically ensure that the problems at hand will be solved* - this is in direct contrast to RJ’s framing of her stepping up to the task of being the Amyrlin as a last resort and taking advantage of the opportunity afforded to her to do her best to work towards the larger goal of defeating the dark one with Siuan’s guidance. The Egwene of RJ’s book prioritises her goals before the self; the Egwene of the Sanderson books prioritises her ego before her goals. While elaborate speeches are inserted about how passionate she is about the tower being reunited once more, her characterisation and actions directly contradict her words. 

The framing of the entire Gawyn/Egwene conflict in towers of midnight with Egwene being derided by the narrative for not submitting to Gawyn’s opinions and her being constantly undermined by the three ta’veren whenever she sets herself in opposition to them (particularly during the dragon’s peace conversation & rand’s visit to the tower) also indicates a fundamental dislike for the character as a whole - besides corroborating the pattern of the last three books conveying generally very distasteful takes about women & the female characters of wheel of time, tbh.

Along the same lines, a lot of these issues with her characterisation are also applicable to Rand, which is why the framing of the narrative around him - that the peoples of the continent are required to follow him merely because he’s no longer (supposedly) mentally ill post-dragonmount and fully steps into the role of the “saviour”, a figure that RJ critiques thoroughly - sits very wrong with me, besides annoying me for very obviously deviating from RJ’s own worldbuilding lore.

*with the caveat that Sanderson believes that as long as the right individuals are in power, any power structure, however flawed, abusive or harmful in it’s founding ideology, is capable of good - and this is reflected in the treatment of the Seanchan and the Whitecloaks.

[poppyflower-22]

Lando Norris

(These are just small discerptions that explain the one shot or parts as shortly as possibly)

Fluff:

Sad, but good sad. Schumacher reader. HERE

A series of events after Lando becomes a dad. HERE

Lando finds out he hooked up with the daughter of the USA. Humor. Lando shitting his pants. HERE

Oscar and Logan feel betrayed when they find out their gird parents hid a secret family from them. Humor. Social media. HERE

Lando was late to his games session because he was picking reader up. HERE

You and Lando being THE TikTok couple. Slight social media. HERE

Fans gets glance of reader and Lando's relationship on stream. HERE

Social Media:

Lando and Schumacher reader. HERE

Lando and Russel reader. HERE

Lando thirsting over his girlfriend any chance he can get. HERE

Lando gets arrested for assaulting someone that assaulted his girlfriend. HERE

Lando and reader's sex tape gets leaked. Humor. Part 1. HERE, Part 2, Feat Oscar, HERE

A twitter thread showing Lando can't do anything without readers help, and the one time she needed his help and exposed their engagement. HERE

You're a booktuber, always posting your books and of course your boyfriend. HERE

Lando dating Leclerc reader. HERE

People think you and Lando aren't dating after saying you are. Driver reader. Part 1. HERE. Part 2 HERE

Going on different dates with Lando. HERE

In which Lando has the perfect girlfriend, everyone loves. Feat. Lilly being in love with reader. Humor. HERE

Their post breakup era is them shading each other. Drivers hating on Lando. Humor. Part 1, HERE Part 2, Them pretending they're not back together. HERE

Carlos cheated on his girlfriend, Lando gets with her, and everyone loves them more. HERE

Leclerc reader and Lando are dating but her brothers want him to stay 6 feet then 12 feet apart from her. Part 1, HERE, Part 2, HERE.

Verstappen reader releases a song that makes her fans get mad at Lando. Humor. HERE

Lando is a mega fan of reader. So much he has a fan account and then he gets discovered. Humor. HERE

Daniel realizing he is his cousin and Lando's biggest third wheel. HERE

A thread on how Lando and reader fell in love and how oblivious they are. HERE

Lando is dating the royal princess. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE. Part 3, HERE

When Red Bull didn't want to let her design their car, she found a team that would. Newey reader. HERE

Lando and Reader are couple goals but don't want Oscar to feel left out. HERE

Reader is the mother of the grid, but when a football player makes a move. Lando strikes. HERE

When Lando is spotted with a woman that is his cousin, Lando confesses to his best friend that has been ignoring him. HERE

Lando's girlfriend works as a biologist. He hates fish and they took his girlfriend. Humor. HERE

Reader and Lando host the end of year grid dinner on their farm. A tale of the events. HERE

In The Middle:

Max thinks his sister and Lando's relationship is inappropriate, but he soon finds that them apart isn't much better. Hurt/Comfort. HERE

Lando helps his neighbor from her toxic ex. Part 1. HERE. Part 2. HERE

Lando forgets his date with his girlfriend making her rethink their relationship. Hurt/Comfort. HERE

Lando saves you from a stranger after you called. Hurt/Comfort. HERE

Max was your ex, and now he wants your back. You're with Lando now. possessive Lanod. HERE

Lando and Horner reader have been hooking up, she ignores him after pictures are online. Didn't sleep with anyone. Buys her a Birkin when Carlos spills, she might be seeing someone. Happy ending. HERE.

People think reader is using Lando for his money. He knows that's not true. HERE

Reader is an introvert. Hurt/Comfort. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE

Polly/Charles & Lando:

Not a Verstappen, Max's sister that's a driver and gets into a relationship with Charles and Lando. Lots of parts. Link is the end of serries. Smut. HERE (My favorite series)

Reader, Lando and Charles. Out and open relationship. Social Media. HERE

Lando & Oscar:

Fellings are reveled after Lando places last in qualifying when Oscar and reader comfort him. Smut. HERE

Typical morning with your boyfriends. HERE

A Lando Oscar masterlist. HERE

Lando and Oscar dating a med student. Social Media. HERE

Lando exposing his relationship with Raeder and Oscar. HERE

Series:

Lando getting higher on Leclerc reader drivers list. But reader ends up falling in love with him. The best series. Some Social Media. HERE

Lando helps his dead teammates wife after his death. Smut HERE

Reader is Mark Webber's daughter and doesn't tell Lando scared. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE. Part 3, HERE. Part 4, HERE. Part 5, HERE

Dark/Possessive:

Dark series about Lando and his neighbor. Smut. HERE

Nieve reader. Lando won't let anyone in the way. Smut HERE

Possessive/ Dark Lando with Leclerc reader. HERE

Lando was bad for you, but you couldn't resist. Smut HERE (User dose dark and possessive Lando)

Shot. Lando Mafia. Single mother. HERE

Smut:

Lando wins his first Grand Prix. HERE

Lando has a bad race and fucks reader against his car. HERE

Reader and Lando have different ideas of working out. HERE

Racing simulator. Part 1. HERE. Part 2. HERE

In which Lando hooks up with a woman in Vagas and can't get her out of his mind, until they meet again. HERE

Lando can't help but keep going back to her. Happy ending. HERE

He can't be quiet while on vacation with friends. HERE

Watching Lando work out makes you hot and bothered. HERE

A bunch of smut list. HERE

Doing it in the kitchen. HERE

A list of smut. HERE

Riding Lando in his car. HERE

Six months of married bliss. HERE

Riding Lando in his gaming chair. HERE

Filming a movie. Giddy Lando. HERE

Lando and reader like the appeal of making children. HERE

Another making a movie. Capturing the moment. HERE

Lando teasing the reader while they are in Australia. Reader being needy for him. HERE

Lando can't help but see how good his girlfriend looks and fucks her in the club bathroom on New Year's Eve. HERE

Lando and reader spend the night celebrating the las Vagas Grand Prix. HERE

Manhandling, obsessed Lando who breeds reader. HERE

Reader knowns how to treat her boy. Breast Kink. HERE

Lando posts a picture by accident while doing the deed. HERE

Lando has a bad race. Helmet on. HERE

No protection for the first time and Lando loses it. HERE

Family Vacation. HERE

Lando gives his sweet girlfriend an award for being his lucky charm. HERE

Only having fifteen minutes after Lando lands a podium. Part 1. HERE. Part 2. You're going to celebrate, even if the world was determined to get in the way. HERE

She robbed him of victory, so Lando retaliated and rewarded her at the same time. HERE

Best friend brother. Sainz reader. HERE

<><><><><>

[wolverigrl]

Hugh x reader.

Reader is a mom of two young kids, something like Pre-K and 4/5th grade. She gets her hopes too high thinking her ex husband will at least show up for the kids 1st day of school but they all get disappointed; Hugh as the gentleman/sweetest dad he is steps up and takes care of it making a surprise for them

Broken Promises

Hugh Jackman x f!reader

A/N: I hope I won't trigger someone's serious daddy issues like I did to me lmao. But seriously, I had fun writing this one, too!

Warnings: angst, some swearing here and there, mentions of unavailable parent

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The house was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon. Too quiet. I found myself pacing the living room again, eyeing the clock, then the door, and back to the clock. I had done this routine enough times to know how it usually ended. Ethan and Mason were perched on the couch, peeking out the window every now and then, waiting for the unmistakable sound of their father’s car pulling into the driveway.

"Mom, when's Dad coming?" Ethan asked for what felt like the hundredth time. His voice had that hopeful, uncertain edge that always tore at my heart.

Ethan was nine now, old enough to sense when something wasn’t quite right but still young enough to wish it wasn’t true.

I ran a hand through my hair and forced a smile.

"Soon, sweetheart. He said he’d be here."

Ethan nodded, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. He was too smart for his own good. Mason, on the other hand, was sprawled across the floor with his toys, blissfully unaware of time and promises. At four, he was still full of that magical childhood innocence where you believe everything will always work out.

The boys weren’t the only ones waiting. Hugh, Ava, and Oscar were here too. Ava, Hugh’s 12-year-old daughter, was curled up on the couch, nose buried in a book while Oscar, his 17-year-old son, was tapping away on his phone, though he glanced at me from time to time with a knowing look. Hugh was in the kitchen, pretending to busy himself, but I knew him well enough to catch his subtle glances toward the front door. He was watching too.

Waiting.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the tense silence like a knife. Mason jumped up immediately, his little face lighting up with excitement as he dashed to the door. "Daddy!" he shouted, his tiny hands struggling to twist the doorknob before Ethan quickly helped him.

And there he was. Matthew.

My ex-husband.

Standing there with that familiar polished grin, the same one that had fooled me for years before I realized it was more charm than substance.

He looked every bit the smooth-talking lawyer he was, hair neatly combed, wearing an expensive suit that screamed 'I don’t have time for this', but here I am anyway.

"Hey, buddy!" Matthew exclaimed as Mason leapt into his arms, his voice dripping with enthusiasm. He shot a quick glance at me, his smile faltering for a second before he smoothly recovered. "Sorry I’m late. Busy day at work."

"Of course you are." I muttered under my breath. But the boys didn’t care.

They only saw their dad, and that was enough for them. Ethan approached more cautiously, his eyes studying Matthew, almost as if he were waiting to see if this time would be different. I knew that look all too well.

"Hey, Ethan!" Matthew said, ruffling his son’s hair. "Got something for you both." He reached into the sleek black bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out two shiny, brand-new backpacks.

Mason squealed with delight, clutching his in his arms like it was made of gold, while Ethan’s expression shifted from excitement to hesitation.

"Cool, thanks, Dad." He said, a polite smile on his face. I could see the wheels turning in his head, though. A backpack didn’t make up for missed promises, no matter how shiny it was.

"Are you gonna come tomorrow?" Ethan asked quietly, looking up at his father with those wide, hopeful eyes that always broke my heart. "For the first day of school?"

"Of course, buddy!" Matthew said without hesitation. He leaned down, crouching to their level and placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world! I’ll be there, bright and early."

I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall, watching this scene play out like it always did. Matthew was nothing if not consistent in his ability to make promises he couldn’t keep.

Before I could say anything, Hugh walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His presence was calming, always steady and reassuring. He gave me a small, knowing smile before turning his attention to Matthew.

"Matthew." Hugh said, his voice polite but firm as he extended his hand.

"Hugh." Matthew replied, shaking it with the same rehearsed friendliness he used with clients.

They had met a handful of times, and while Matthew had never said anything outright, I could tell he wasn’t thrilled about another man stepping into the lives of his children.

The boys were still fawning over their backpacks when Ava and Oscar joined us in the living room. Ava smiled warmly at Mason, ruffling his hair.

"Nice backpack boys!"

Oscar stood beside Hugh, his tall frame giving him an almost protective air.

"You guys excited for school tomorrow?" he asked, nudging Ethan playfully. Ethan grinned full of excitement.

Matthew didn’t stay long. He never did. After about twenty minutes of small talk and handing out gifts, he was already looking at his watch. "Alright, I’ve gotta go." he said, standing up and straightening his suit. "But I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? Bright and early as I said!"

The boys hugged him, clinging to him like they always did, desperate for any time they could get with him. And just like that, he was gone.

I watched the door close behind him, and a familiar tightness settled in my chest. The boys turned back to their new backpacks, their excitement renewed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that tomorrow would end in disappointment. Again.

Hugh caught my eye from across the room, sensing my unease. He walked over, his hand resting on the small of my back, and leaned in to whisper. "You okay?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I don’t know. I want to believe him, but… I can’t keep letting the boys get hurt. Ethan’s starting to get it, Hugh. He knows when Matthew’s lying now."

Hugh’s expression softened, and he pulled me closer. "Hey, I’ll be there. We’ll be there. They won’t be alone. I promise."

I leaned into him, closing my eyes, letting his warmth seep into me. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’ll never have to find out, love." he whispered into my hair, kissing the top of my head.

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of pancakes. The house was already buzzing with energy, far earlier than I expected. I shuffled downstairs, still groggy, only to stop in my tracks at the sight that greeted me.

The living room was transformed. Balloons and streamers hung from the ceiling, and a colorful banner that read 'First Day of School!' stretched across the doorway. The kitchen table was covered in every breakfast food imaginable - pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit, even little bowls of candy that Mason would definitely notice first.

I blinked, rubbing my eyes. "Hugh, did you…?"

He turned from the stove, grinning at me like a kid who had just pulled off the best surprise. "Figured we’d make it special."

Tears welled up in my eyes, unbidden, and I pressed a hand to my mouth. "I-I can’t believe you did all this!"

Hugh crossed the room in a few strides, pulling me into his arms.

"It’s their first day of school. Gotta make it a big deal, right?"

The kids came rushing down the stairs next, their faces lighting up at the sight. Ethan and Mason squealed in delight, darting between the living room and the kitchen like it was the best thing they had ever seen.

"This is awesome!" Ethan shouted, his eyes wide with excitement.

Ava grinned as she joined us at the table, patting the seat next to her for Mason, while Oscar laughed at his little brother’s excitement. "Told you Dad goes all out!" Oscar teased.

Hugh winked at me, flipping another pancake onto the stack.

"It's a big day. Gotta start it right!"

And it was. For a few precious moments, everything felt perfect. The kids were happy, the atmosphere light and joyous, and the worries from yesterday seemed far away.

But when we got to the school, reality came crashing back. We stood outside the classroom door, surrounded by other excited parents and their children, and the boys kept glancing toward the entrance. Waiting.

"Is Daddy coming?" Mason asked again, his voice laced with hope.

"He said he would." I murmured, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince anymore.

The minutes ticked by, and the crowd around us thinned as more and more families said their goodbyes and headed inside. But Matthew never showed. And I could see the hope fading from Ethan’s eyes.

Hugh stepped forward, crouching down to their level. "Hey, guys.." he said, his voice soft but upbeat. "Your dad’s probably stuck at work, but that doesn’t mean today isn’t special. You’ve got all of us here, and we’re so proud of you. Right, Ava?"

Ava nodded, smiling warmly at Ethan. "You’re gonna rock it, Ethan! I just know it."

Oscar clapped Mason on the back, grinning. "And Mason, you better show them how it’s done, okay?"

Mason giggled, his spirits lifting, but Ethan was still quiet. Hugh reached out, gently tilting Ethan’s chin up. "You’re gonna be amazing today. And no matter what, we’re always here for you. Okay?"

Ethan swallowed, his eyes glistening a little, but then he nodded, managing a small smile. "Okay."

I pulled him into a hug, my heart aching for him. "I love you so so much, Ethan. You’re going to do great!"

Mason was next, clinging to my leg before I knelt down to hug him properly.

"Be good, okay? Listen to your teacher, and have fun. I love you so much!" He nodded eagerly, bouncing on his toes, the weight of disappointment not yet touching him the way it did Ethan.

We said our goodbyes to Ava and Oscar, sending them off to their own classes, before Hugh and I turned to leave. As we walked out of the school, my chest felt tight.

The weight of everything - the missed promises, the endless hope that Matthew would change, the constant pain in Ethan’s eyes - was pressing down on me harder than usual.

I could feel Hugh’s arm around my shoulders, warm and reassuring, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the hurt. We stepped out into the parking lot when I heard someone call my name.

"Y/n! Wait!"

I froze, my blood running cold as I turned to see Matthew jogging up the sidewalk, his suit jacket slightly askew, as if he had hurried over at the last minute.

My stomach twisted in knots.

Now?

After all this time, after the boys had gone inside? My hands balled into fists at my sides.

"I’m sorry!" Matthew said, breathless, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I got caught up at the office, but I’m here now. I didn’t want to miss it."

Something in me snapped. All the hurt, all the frustration, all the times he had let our boys down over the years, rushed to the surface. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, my vision blurring as they spilled over before I could stop them.

"You’re sorry?" I spat, the words escaping me in a choked sob. I stormed toward him, fists clenched, my body trembling with rage. "You missed it, Matthew! You missed everything! They went into class without you!"

He looked startled, stepping back as I shoved his chest. "Y/n, come on, I said I’m sorry- "

"Sorry doesn’t fix it!" I screamed, slamming my fists into his chest again, harder this time.

"Do you have any idea how much Ethan was looking for you? How many times he asked about you?! Mason kept asking when you’d get here, and you didn’t show up! You weren’t here, Matthew! Again!"

I kept hitting his chest, my tears flowing freely now. My voice was loud, too loud, but I didn’t care. The dam had broken, and everything I had bottled up for years came pouring out.

"You promised me! You promised them you’d be here, and you weren’t! You never are!"

Matthew tried to catch my wrists, his face pale, eyes wide. “Y/n, stop- "

But I couldn’t stop.

The pain of watching my boys be disappointed time and time again was too much.

"You don’t get it! You don’t get to swoop in at the last second and act like everything’s fine!" I sobbed, my fists still pounding against his chest until I felt Hugh’s hands gently but firmly wrap around me, pulling me back.

"Y/n.." Hugh’s voice was steady, his grip gentle but unyielding as he pulled me away from Matthew. "That’s enough."

I collapsed into Hugh’s chest, my body trembling as I sobbed, the fight draining out of me as quickly as it had come. Hugh held me close, one hand cradling the back of my head, while I clung to him, my tears soaking into his shirt. He rocked me gently, whispering soothing words I couldn’t quite make out, but the warmth of his embrace calmed me, slowly but surely.

Matthew, still standing a few feet away, looked completely stunned, his mouth opening and closing as if he didn’t know what to say. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure.

"Look.. I’m sorry.." he said again, his voice weaker this time. "I really did try to make it.:

"That’s the problem, Matthew.." I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying. "You always try. But trying isn’t enough anymore."

Matthew’s face twisted with frustration. "I’m doing my best! It’s not like I’m trying to miss these things, you know. I have a job- "

"A job?!" I cut him off, my voice rising again despite myself. "I have a fucking job too! You think that’s an excuse? Ethan sees it, Matthew! He knows when you’re lying. And Mason? He’ll start seeing it soon too. They don’t care about your job. They care about you being here!"

Matthew clenched his jaw, his own frustration building.

"I don’t have the luxury of just playing house like you do, y/n! I have more responsibilities!"

"Playing house?" I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "You have no idea what it's like to raise them. No idea what it feels like to watch their hearts break every time you don’t show up!"

"You don’t think I care?" Matthew shot back, his voice growing louder. "I’m doing the best I can with the time I have!"

"And it’s never enough.." I whispered, the fight leaving me again. I wiped at my eyes, exhausted.

"Hey." Hugh’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. His tone was sharp, but not raised. "That’s enough. You should be ashamed of yourself, Matthew."

As soon as Hugh said it, I saw Matthew’s posture change.

His eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. For a split second, I could see the switch flip in him, the smooth, collected persona cracking. Matthew wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone like Hugh. Not by someone who had quietly stepped into the role Matthew had always fumbled.

"Excuse me?" Matthew’s voice was low, his eyes locked on Hugh. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Hugh didn’t flinch.

He met Matthew’s glare head-on, his expression calm but firm.

"I think I’m the man who’s been here for your kids when you couldn’t be bothered to show up. And I’m telling you - what you’re doing is hurting them and y/n."

Matthew took a step forward, his face flushed with anger now. "You think you can just walk in and play daddy, huh? That you know what it’s like to juggle everything I do? You don’t get to stand there and judge me, Jackman."

I could feel the tension crackling between them, thick and heavy. Hugh was calm, still, like a rock against the storm that was Matthew’s rising temper.

My heart was pounding, the last remnants of my tears still clinging to my lashes as I watched, half-dazed from the emotional rollercoaster of the last few minutes.

Matthew sneered, stepping even closer. "You think you're so perfect, don’t you? Mr. Hollywood star, swooping in to save the day. You’re not their father. You’re nothing to them. Just a simple placeholder."

Hugh’s jaw tightened, and I saw the muscle twitch there. But he didn’t react the way Matthew clearly wanted him to. Instead, he exhaled slowly and said, "You’re right. I’m not their father. But I’m the one they can count on. I’m the one who’s here when they need someone. That’s what matters."

Matthew’s face twisted in frustration, his fists clenching tighter. He pointed at Hugh, his voice rising.

"You have no idea what it’s like to have your own life, your own responsibilities, and try to make time for everyone. It’s easy for you to stand there and act like the hero when you’ve got nothing else pulling you in a million directions!"

I stepped forward before Hugh could respond, my voice shaking with anger. "You think Hugh doesn’t have responsibilities? You think he doesn’t make sacrifices? He does all of this for our kids while you barely lift a finger! And you know what? He never complains! Never makes excuses. He just shows up. That’s what they need, Matthew - someone who shows up."

Matthew’s gaze flicked between me and Hugh, his expression growing darker by the second. He laughed sarcastically.

"You’re really going to take his side over mine, y/n? After everything?"

I scoffed, wiping the lingering tears from my eyes.

"I'm taking my sons’ side, Matthew. Because they deserve better than what you’re giving them. This isn’t about sides. It’s about what’s right for them."

Matthew again let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. You really think I don’t care, don’t you? That I don’t want to be there for them?"

"Well, If you wanted to be here, you would be." Hugh cut in, his voice sharp now, no longer willing to play nice.

"You wouldn’t be showing up late, making excuses, and disappointing them over and over. You’d be here, Matthew. It’s that simple."

"That simple?" Matthew’s voice was nearly a growl now.

"You have no idea what I go through - what I have to balance! It’s not as easy as you think, playing ‘Super Dad.’!" He stepped forward again, and for a second, I thought it might come to blows.

But Hugh, steady and calm, took a deliberate step forward too, closing the distance.

"As we said before.. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being there. No one’s asking for you to be a superhero. They just want their dad to show up. You owe it to them to do better."

The tension between them felt like it was about to explode, and I could barely breathe, watching it unfold. I knew Matthew’s temper. I had seen it flare too many times. And I knew Hugh was protective, fiercely so, but not one to back down when it came to the people he loved.

Matthew’s nostrils flared, his fists still clenched at his sides.

"You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? You think you can just walk into my life and replace me?"

Hugh’s gaze was steady, unwavering, but he couldn't help himself and let out a soft laugh.

"I don’t want to replace you, Matthew. But I won’t stand by and watch those boys get hurt because you can’t figure out your priorities."

I felt my body trembling again, but this time from the frustration and helplessness of it all. I had spent so long trying to protect my boys from this, trying to shield them from the disappointment of their father’s broken promises. And now, here it was, boiling over in front of me.

"Enough!" I yelled, my voice breaking as I stepped between them.

"This isn’t about either of you! It’s about Ethan and Mason. And I’m so tired of seeing them get hurt because you can’t keep your word."

Matthew blinked at me, his anger momentarily giving way to something else - something that looked like shame. But just as quickly, his walls went back up, and he shook his head, stepping back.

"This is ridiculous." he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I didn’t come here to be ganged up on."

I crossed my arms, feeling the weight of exhaustion press down on me.

"Then what did you come for, Matthew? Because if it wasn’t to be there for your sons before they go attend their very first day of school, I don’t see the point."

For a long moment, Matthew just stared at us, his jaw tight, his expression a mixture of anger and something else I couldn’t quite place. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed off down the sidewalk, leaving us standing there in the empty schoolyard.

I let out a shaky breath, my legs suddenly feeling like jelly as the weight of the moment caught up with me. Before I knew it, Hugh’s arms were around me again, pulling me close, holding me up as I leaned into him.

"You okay, love?" he whispered, his voice gentle, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.

I nodded, though I didn’t trust my voice just yet. The anger, the hurt, the frustration - it was all still swirling inside me, but Hugh’s presence, his steady calmness, helped anchor me.

"I'm sorry.." I whispered, wiping at my tear-streaked face. "I didn’t mean to… to lose it like that."

"Don’t apologize." Hugh said softly, kissing the top of my head. "You had every right to say what you did. He needed to hear it."

I took a deep breath, finally pulling back to look up at him.

"I just… I hate that this is what it’s come to. That the boys keep getting hurt like this."

"They have you." Hugh said, his voice firm but full of warmth. "And they have me. We’ll get through this."

I nodded, though my heart still ached. "Thank you." I whispered. "For everything. For being here."

Hugh smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I’m always here, y/n. You and the boys - you’re my family too."

I felt a fresh wave of emotion wash over me, but this time, it was mixed with gratitude and love.

As we walked back to the car, hand in hand, I knew that no matter what happened with Matthew, no matter how many times he failed to show up, we would be okay. Because Hugh was right.

We had each other.

And that was enough.

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Tags: @angelofthorr @haytchee

[octuscle]

Gringo Life

Carlos was breathing heavily. Today, his destiny might be decided. The savings of many years of hard work had been spent on Carlos's trip to the United States today. He was to meet the smuggler in a village not far from the border crossing. Carlos was to come without luggage, without papers. Only with the clothes on his back. Of course, that sounded strange, but Carlos did as he was told. He wore his best clothes. He had gotten himself a new hat. He looked hot. He was an alpha paisa! He would make a career for himself in the land of the gringos.

At the agreed meeting point, a man was standing next to a surprisingly clean new pickup. He looked like something out of a bad college jock comedy. Stars and Stripes tank top over a muscular, tanned torso. The buzz cut hidden under an upturned cap, powerful legs in tight jeans that also accentuated an impressive bulge at the crotch. Feet in dusty biker boots. He spat a bit of chewing tobacco on the street. “Carlos?” he asked. Carlos nodded with a dry mouth. “Good, then let's go.” With the little English he knew, Carlos asked where he should hide in this car. Probably not in the open loading area. The guy laughed and said that Carlos had booked a first-class ticket. You don't hide with this ticket. With this ticket, you drive the car into a better life yourself. He threw the car keys to Carlos and went to the passenger door. “Are you serious?” Carlos asked. He was already much more fluent than a few minutes ago. “You drive, I choose the music. By the way, I'm Zack!” Carlos climbed into the car. He had never sat in such a big and new and expensive car, let alone driven it. “You know how to drive an automatic, bro?” Zack asked. Carlos shook his head. “You'll learn!”

It was hot. Zack had turned off the air conditioning and rolled up the windows. Carlos had no idea which buttons to press to change that. He didn't want to ask Zack. Zack had turned up the music loud and was enthusiastically singing along to songs Carlos didn't know. He was sweating. He ran his hand over his neck. His mullet was soaked in sweat! “Coke?” Zack asked, opening what was obviously a cooled compartment in the center armrest. ‘Holy cow, dude! You're like, a total lifesaver! Thank you, fam!’ Carlos replied. With a heavy Spanish accent. But in fluent English!

“12 kilometers to the border” was written on a sign. Damn metric system, Carlos thought to himself. How many miles was that now? 10? Or more like 20? He drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of Chris Young's ‘Young Love & Saturday Nights.’ The muscles in his forearms twitched, making his tattoos dance. Zack opened the windows. The wind blew up Carlos' cut-off tank top. It felt damn good on his sweaty skin. At the end of the road, the border station appeared. Carlos took a deep breath. He slowed down. He rolled up to the Mexican border guard's hut. Zack handed Carlos two passports, which Carlos passed on. The officer only glanced through the window. He had to stand on tiptoe to see not only Carlos but also Zack in the big car. He stamped both passports and wished them a safe journey. Carlos breathed a sigh of relief. Although he knew that leaving Mexico was the easy part. Now came the entry into the USA. The officer could be a brother of Zack. Muscular, short-cropped hair, a tight, perfectly fitting uniform. He bared two rows of immaculate Hollywood-white teeth. “Welcome back to the USA!” he said as Carlos handed him the two passports. “What was the reason for your stay in Mexico?” “We were there to get wasted and hook up, y'all! Get ready for some wild times!” said Zack. The officer said that was indeed the best thing about Latinos. “Which one of you is Charles?” Silence… Zack nudged Carlos in the side. Carlos jumped and said, “My friends call me Chuck, Officer!” Zack grinned. The border guard looked at Carlos and then at the passport. Then he asked Carlos to take off his hat. Shit, the hat, Carlos thought. Of course, with it he looked like a wetback. He felt for the hat. There was no hat. He took off his trucker cap. His long blond hair fell into his face. He pushed it back. The border guard grinned and said that with short hair, Chuck would look less like a girl. He stamped the two passports and handed them back to Chuck in the car.

“So, what did I tell you?” said Zack. “Easier than stealing candy from a baby.” Chuck replied that he had obviously lost the bet. He wouldn't have believed in his life that the guy wasn't checking the back of the pickup. There were six kegs of the finest smuggled tequila rocking on the truck bed. “Dude,” Zack said. “Didn't you see the way the officer was staring at you? If you had told him you had the tequila on the truck bed, he would have let us through. The main thing is that you smile at him once.” Chuck kneaded the bulge in his torn jeans. Hell yes, the officer had been hot. But the load of his balls was reserved for Zack today. He had lost a bet, so Zack was allowed to suck him off in the repair shop. Chuck could only hope that the border guard was back on duty on the next trip to Mexico.

Chuck and Zack had been best bros since they first got kicked out of college together for drug smuggling. Behind the facade of the auto repair shop, they smuggled various things across the border. In both directions. It was lucrative. And each time they bet on whether they'd get caught or not. The loser had to empty his balls into one of the other's holes. They were rarely caught. For some reason, Chuck spoke fluent gutter Spanish like a construction worker. He didn't know when or where he'd learned it himself. That usually helped with problems at the border. And if that wasn't enough, a blowjob had been enough to get him out. Life was great.

Pics by @ki-kink

[viceroywrites]

liquor on your lips (1/2)

you met stan pines on your first day working at the dead end motel.

in just a week, you were addicted to him.

mullet stan x gn!reader

part two here

inspired by you can be the boss by lana del rey - contributing to the mullet stan obsession - second part will include smut 👀

.

It was your first day on the job when you met Stan Pines.

The owner of the motel, Tony, walked you through your daily duties at the Dead End Motel. 

Checking guests in and out, answering the phones, collecting money from anyone staying for more than one night at the motel.

It was a fairly simple job it seemed like.

“If anyone gives you a hard time when I’m not here, call me - I live just a block away and can swing by to straighten them out. There’s also a bat underneath the counter - I’m giving you full permission to slug anyone. We’ll just erase it from the camera footage if we need to.” Tony explains, pulling the bat out.

Well, maybe not.   

You blink, digesting the thought that you might actually have to use it but nod in understanding.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in the back doing some paperwork, holler if you need me.” Tony disappears into his back office, leaving you at the front desk.

The next few hours are pretty uneventful. You check-out some people and have one check-in. Right at 5, Tony dips out for the day, reminding you to give him a call if anything happens and to clock-out before you head out when the night shift person takes your place.

You spend the next few hours leaning back in the office chair and doodling, hoping to past the time and reminding yourself to bring a book or crosswords to work on during these slower hours.

The jingle of the bell signaled the arrival of someone as the front door swung open. You quickly put the piece of paper down, straightening your posture as you had your feet propped up on the counter.

In walked a man in his 30s, the messy mop of brown atop his head grown out into a mullet, the stubble across his square jawline apparent. He wore a white t-shirt, a pair of pants that had a few stains littered across the material and a red hoodie that looked like it had seen better days.

The scent of tobacco and a woodsy, cheap cologne hit you immediately as he approached the desk, his hands in his pockets.

“Hey.. uh.. I need a room for the night.” His deep, gruff voice echoed through the small, empty lobby. Your feet push against the tile floor, wheeling over to the opposite end of the counter and glancing over at the list of the available rooms.

“Room for one or two?” You ask, eyebrow raised as you look back over to him. 

Stan looks around the empty lobby before replying in response, “Well, there’s no one else here but me, toots.”

Your cheeks can’t help but flush in embarrassment. You get up from your seat before muttering out an explanation, “Figured I’d just ask. This place is a hot spot for late night hook-ups so I didn’t know if you had a date waiting for you in the car.”

Stan lets out a husky chuckle, leaning against the counter, “Not sure if I should be offended or flattered that you think I would be coming here for a hook-up.” His eyes follow your figure as you face away from him, searching for a particular room key. 

He had to admit after all the seedy motels he’s stayed at, he wasn’t expecting to see someone as stunning as you. You stood out in the tiny motel lobby, a fresh face in a dreary environment, somehow looking radiant underneath the yellow, fluorescent lights that hang above.

You grab a key off the hooks on the wall, the keychain with the number 12 dangling from it. “The rate for one night will be $20.” You slide the key onto the counter.

Stan fishes into his deep hoodie pocket, pulling out a beat-up leather wallet. Rifling through the crumpled up business cards of all his short-lived business ventures and his numerous fake IDs, he finally fishes out a few dollar bills. Thumbing through them, he curses underneath his breath.

He’s short by only 3 bucks.

His brown eyes glance up at you with a sense of unease, clearing his throat, “Mind if I go back to my car and scrounge up some change?”

It slowly dawns on you the predicament that he’s in, nodding in understanding. You watch as he disappears back outside and you can’t help but follow behind him. Through the glass door, you watch as he unlocks his car, tossing miscellaneous objects aside while he digs in the back seat for spare change he might have dropped.

Sympathy washes over you as you see his crest-fallen expression when he comes out from the car with only a dollar and a few cents of change in the palm of his hand. You scurry back behind the desk before he makes his way back, ready to tell you that he’ll have to find another place to stay for the night.

“Hey, toots, turns out I don’t have enough. Sorry to waste your time.” Stan says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stares at the ground in shame. He’s about to reach for the bills that he threw on the counter, ready to take his leave. 

“It’s on me.” You quickly say, fishing out the remaining three dollars needed and grabbing the stack of bills on the counter to put in the cash box underneath the desk. 

As you come back up, you see Stan staring back at you in astonishment.

In all the years that Stan had been running from state to state, no one had shown him the kindness that you showed him today. No one had extended out a hand, offering support… at least not without a price. 

“Why are you helping me?” Stan asks in his state of shock.

You pause at his question. You’re not sure what compelled you to help this total stranger out but you knew if you were struggling, you would want someone to lend you a helping hand. 

“Why not?” You answer back simply, “It doesn’t cost me anything to be kind.” 

“Well, it did cost you a couple bucks.” Stan can’t help but point out.

“Eh, I’ll make those couple bucks back in no time at my first job.” You shrug with a smile, “I work as a bartender at the bar across town, this is just my second job to make a couple extra bucks.” 

“So you’re a bit of a workhorse, huh? I can respect that, sweetheart.” Stan says with a grin, finally taking the keys off the counter.

“Toots, sweetheart? You sure are laying it on thick, you don’t have to flatter me just because I helped you out.” You can’t help but chuckle, trying to downplay how those pet names were starting to cause butterflies in your stomach and a flush to spread across your cheeks.

Stan stammers, flustered by you calling him out on his playboy schtick and you giggle, “Hey, I didn’t say that I didn’t like it.” You admit with a playful grin.

It’s his turn for his cheeks to glow and Stan can’t help the huge smile that spreads across his features, “Well, just so you know, I’m not just calling you those because you helped me out. I mean look at ya, you’re like a painting in a museum, begging to be admired.”

He can’t remember the last time he cracked a genuine smile.

“Well, I would like to at least know the name of the person showering me with all these compliments.” You chuckle, introducing yourself.

Stan hesitates as he is used to utilizing one of his many aliases, but somehow his real name rolls off his tongue for the first time in decades, “Stanley Pines.”

Just after his introduction, your co-worker comes to take over for the night shift.

“Well, Stanley, my shift is almost over. Smoking is allowed but please use the ashtray in the room. The ice machine is near the staircase to the second floor.” You say, slipping on your own jacket before making your way around the counter with your bag over your shoulder.

Stan had to admit it felt nice to finally be called by his actual name in years, a warm sensation filling his chest. 

Comfort.

He follows you out the door, room key in his hand, “Mind if I walk you to your car? It’s the least I could do for you helping me out.”

You smile and nod, “I would like that a lot.”

Bad to the bone, sick as a dog.

You know that I like, like you a lot.

Don’t let it stop.

Stan and you fell into a routine after your first meeting.

Like clockwork, Stan would visit you, keeping you company at the end of your shift after Tony had left for the day. 

Sometimes he would run a new sales pitch by you, workshopping it with you as you gave him honest but supportive feedback.

Sometimes he would just listen, leaning against the counter as you vent about a customer that was giving you a hard time at your other job.

Belly aching laughter would echo through the motel lobby, Stan’s quick wit matching yours. 

A dangerous dance of banter and flirtation grew bolder and bolder with each evening.

Somehow, the chemistry you had with this man that you still knew little about was more electric than anything you had ever experienced.

At the end of each night, Stan would walk out with you, opening your car door as you slid into the driver’s seat, leaving you with a good night and a wish for you to get home safely.

Tonight was the first time you fell out of the carefree routine.

Your fingers drummed against the counter, your palm cradling your chin as you stared at the clock with a pit in your stomach. An hour had rolled by since Tony had left for the day and yet there was no sign of Stan.

What if he had checked out last night after you had left your shift?

What if he was onto the next town without even saying goodbye?

What if something happened to him?

Your leg bounced up and down, trying to distract yourself with the book you had brought but to no avail.

One hour turned to two.

Two turned to three.

Losing hope at hour four, your eyes begin to flutter, resting your arms on the counter and deciding it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap. The bell up front would wake you up anyways.

Instead, you were woken to a warm hand shaking your shoulder. Your eyes shoot open and are greeted to the sight of a pair of battered, bloody knuckles on your shoulder.

Instinct kicks in, your hands grabbing the bat that rested against your left leg underneath the desk and standing up with it raised over your shoulder. 

“Whoa, whoa, toots! Put the bat down, it’s just me!” Stan explained, putting his hands up as he took a cautious step back.

You blink, seeing Stanley standing in front of you, his knuckles looking roughed up and a pretty gnarly cut near his eyebrow. He looks disheveled, wearing just a thin white t-shirt that has splotches of dried blood dotted across it and a pair of dark jeans.

You put the bat down immediately, your worst fears confirmed as you quickly step around the counter, “Stanley, what the hell happened to you?” You say, voice full of concern. Your hand reaches out to cup his jaw to assess the damage, and he almost melts against your warm touch.

God, is this what an angel looks like? He wonders, admiring your features up close despite the furrow in your eyebrow.

“Got in a bit of trouble but I got myself out of it. I’m okay, sweetheart.” Stan attempts to reassure you, trying to play it cool though he had to admit this last run-in with Rico and his goons was a bit too close for comfort.

“Stanley, you’re hurt… take a seat, I’m gonna go grab a first aid kit.” You sigh, your lips in a tight line. Stan doesn’t argue, taking a seat in the leather chair. His thumbs twidle together, feeling like he was a kid again, waiting in the principal’s office to get lectured.

You come back with a tiny first aid kid and take a seat on the table in front of him, cracking it open. You start first on the swollen cut near Stan’s eyebrow, tearing the packaging off the alcohol wipe and leaning forward. “It’s gonna sting…” You warn him.

“Oh please, I just took a beating, I’m sure a little wipe isn’t gonna - Ow! Motherfucker!” Stan curses loudly, wincing as the pad hits his fresh wound. You pull back, your eyebrow raised in amusement, “You were saying?”

“Alright, fine… just be quick with it.” Stan mutters, his arms crossed over his chest in defeat. He winces as you carefully dab across the wound, making sure to clean up the dried blood on the edges that had clung to his eyebrow. While you were cleaning up his wound, your eyes couldn’t help but drift down to his toned forearms that were littered with hair up to his biceps that were accentuated by the tight fabric of his tee.

Your eyes meet Stan’s, an amused grin across his face despite the pain. “Enjoying the view, toots?” You huff in annoyance, trying to ignore how your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you press the alcohol wipe more firmly against his wound as payback.

“Ow!”

The harsh lecture he was anticipating never comes. 

Instead, as you finish bandaging up his knuckles, you gaze up at him with a sad look in your eyes, “I’m just glad you’re okay… please be more careful.” 

Stan nods, “Sorry to worry you, toots.”

He had a cigarette with his number on it,

He gave it over to me, “Do you want it?”

I knew it was wrong but I palmed it.

After your shift is over, you step outside, wishing your co-worker a good night and rolling your eyes in good-nature as they give you a knowing grin when commenting that Stan was outside waiting for you.

The cool evening air hits your face the moment you step out the door and the scent of cigarettes catches your attention. You turn to see Stan leaning against the wall, a freshly lit cigarette between his fingers as he takes a drag from it.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you should be resting.” You say, approaching him.

Stan turns his head in the other direction, blowing a plume of smoke out from his chapped lips before turning back to face you, “I can rest all day tomorrow. Gotta walk you to your car, don’t know what kinda sleazebags are lurking around at this time.” 

“Aren’t you cold?” You pointed out, noting that Stan was still wearing his white t-shirt despite you sending him out to get a hoodie or sweater from his hotel room.

Not that you were complaining about the eye-candy.

Stan gives a casual shrug, “Not really, the cold out here is nothing compared to winters in Jersey.”

“New Jersey, huh? Didn’t realize you came all the way from the other coast.” You chuckle, leaning against the wall yourself as you watch Stan take another drag.

He almost chokes on the smoke as he inhales, realizing he shared another piece of himself that he had never shared with anyone in his years on the run.

Living life as a drifter, he tried to keep his interactions surface-level, knowing that he may have to pick up and run the next morning.

Yet somehow, you were breaking the walls he had crafted for years down.

Stan exhales the smoke before glancing over at you, “You know I still owe you for covering my room this past week? Is there any way I can make it up to you, sweetheart? Heck, I’ll even do chores around your apartment while you’re at work.”

You pause, mulling over the offer. You had never expected Stan to pay you back, wanting to help him while he was still trying to get back on his feet. 

“Honestly, Stan, you don’t have to pay me back. It’s fine.” You insisted but Stan’s stubbornness began to show through.

“At least let me take you out to dinner or buy you a drink. I’ll give you tonight to mull it over and l expect an answer tomorrow.” Stan says with a sense of finality.

You can’t help but chuckle at his stubbornness, “Alright, alright… but you know I won’t be here tomorrow. I’m covering a day shift for one of the other bartenders.”

Stan pauses before reaching into his pocket to fish out his pack of cigarettes. Your eyebrow raises in confusion and he looks up at you, “You got a pen?”

You open your bag, digging through its contents before retrieving a pen and handing it over to him. He messily scrawls something on the tiny stick before passing it and the pen back to you, his fingertips lingering as they brush against yours.

You look down at the cigarette, seeing a clumsy string of numbers written on it.

“That’s the direct dial to my room.” Stan explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Give it a call when you get off tomorrow and let me know.”

You slip the cigarette into your purse, “I will.”