#whether or not that ends up helping in the end it hard to say but its the intention with this discussion yes? lol

[mixingandmelting]

Ok so there comes a time in every relationship where your partner annoys you and then you have to decide if staying with them is worth it cuz you love them more than the person’s flaws? Now for the batboys, what normal annoying things from their partner do you think would annoy them? And on the flip side, what do you think the bat boys would do to annoy their partner without meaning too? (Example: One of the things about Dick is that he has organised mess and he gets incredibly stressed out if someone moves his stuff around without telling him. It’s as basic as his shoes being cleaned and placed a couple of feet in the open from where they were for him without telling him, he feels like an asshole and apologises after once he cools down, but this actually upsets him in canon comics.) (for example for reader: it can be he has an annoying sneeze that goes through you when you sit next to him)?

His Pet Peeve vs His Bad Habit

A/N: Ended up making this somewhat a two-part post since let's be real, all of them would be guilty with crashing unannounced which i posted here😂

Dick:

Pet peeve that you do: touching his stuff

Others have said he's terrible at putting things away, he simply calls it an organizational mess. It works for him so why should it matter to anyone else? 

Can’t handle anyone moving his things. Absolutely, genuinely, no matter who it is

Called and texted you multiple times before over this whether it’s his shoes being placed a few inches away where he usually places them, his cereal boxes in the wrong order compared to how he usually has them placed

“Where are my keys? What? Why would you place them in my desk’s drawer? They belong on the couch-”

There are reasons why he placed things the way they are. It’s not hard to not touch and leave them be

Vents out his frustration and irritation but never to the point of crossing the line since you only move things when you’re helping him out with cleaning his place out especially if he neglects doing some house chores ( laundry, dishes, making his bed, everything)

Bad habit that annoys you: naming things after his vigilante code name

He’s known to be witty and charming with his word play, most of the time being cute or funny. But when it comes to naming, in general, it’s a mess

The name he gave to his boat, motorcycle, car, and weapons are of the following: boat wing, wing cycle, nightbird, wing dings. Yes, this is all canon and it should be telling how great his naming senses are

You swore and even made a bet against his friends that he was the one to give the name Bitewing to the cute pitbull. You later called Tim and Babs to express your disappointment towards them, saying they knew better 

You tried not to shed a tear from how proud you were for Dick to name Bitewing with a reasonable and normal civilian name: Haley. It wasn’t Nugget or Gray - it was an actual memorable and good name

Begged him to not have the plane he planned to have either “night” or “wing”. No Wing Plane, no Night Flight, please. Something normal. He never listens and goes it for it in the end

Jason:

Pet peeve that you do: Incorrect grammar and messes

He’s special because he has two: incorrect grammar usage and his place being messy

Unlike Dick who hates people touching his stuff in general, Jason’s more keeping his space clean

Seriously, anyone who breaks into his room should know how meticulous he is, where even his weapons are hanging on the walls in fancy oak wood frames with red velvet cushioning underneath for aesthetics

He’s gentle but looks like a cherry when he reminds you to make sure you’re not leaving your laundry on the ground or used napkins on the table - like there’s a dirty hamper and trash can for a reason and it’s not for decoration

Irritates him to no end when people misuse words and grammar where he’ll annoy the other person until the correct it including you

Yes he will do the cliche can vs may (“Can you? As in are you able to? Or may you as in you need permission”), use asterisks below your text with the correct word because if it annoys you think about how he feels when you make those errors

Bad habit that annoys you: Messy eater

With him being a fan of eating hand-held foods, favorite being hot dogs and ice cream, he frequently gets food stains on his clothes

Slouches on his chair or couch, ketchup slipping off and onto his shirt and munching without a care while you’re staring at the guy who’s also a clean freak regarding his private space

Lost track how many shirts he ruined, annoying you and himself 

Though sometimes it was appreciated when he’d get up and take off his shirt to wash out the fresh, new stain at the kitchen sink ;)

But most times you threaten to get him a bib or be those pretentious, stereotypical rich people where they stuff a corner of their napkin into their shirts while shaking the numerous shirts you had to wash in a single week

Tim:

Pet peeve that you do: not following directions

He already gets agitated and stressed when no one follows the plans he spent three weeks perfecting without sleep. What makes you think he won’t be the same when you don’t read the package inserts or the directions?

Most of the time everything goes smoothly when reading them. And do you know how much time it must’ve taken to write the instructions while considering all the people they’re selling their product to?

He does admit a some are BS and make no sense

Doesn’t express his annoyance and instead stays on the sidelines, slurping from his can of Monster and lets you do your own thing knowing you’re going to fail. Then once you do and get frustrated as to why nothing is working, he rubs it in how you should’ve read the instructions

“You sure that’s right? It says here you need to insert that part first.” “I know what I’m doing Tim, I’ve done it a thousand times.” Cue the Ikea frame falling. “Maybe you should’ve read the package insert.” “Shut up.” 

Bad habit that annoys you: Napping locations

Where he takes his naps is just as bad as his caffeine consumption and lack of sleep in general

When he’s tired, like really tired, he can sleep anywhere. In the classroom, in the conference room, on the floor of the living room

You found him sleeping on the kitchen table once. As in his whole body lying on the table. How and why neither of you know other than Tim remembering he wanted to rest his head on the table

You’ve begged him so many times to nap on the bed or couch out of concern he was going to get hurt

He still doesn’t listen so you started a collection of taking pictures of the oddest places he sleeps at and on, proceeding by sending them to the group chat. It does work but only for a while since he’ll end up falling asleep after not sleeping for another whole week

Duke:

Pet peeve that you do: common sense

When leaving the room, turn the lights off. When done washing your hands, turn the faucet off. In other words, common sense

He really doesn’t get how it’s so hard to do just that. It should be natural, automatic response

After becoming a full time vigilantes, the bigger things he scratches up as the per usual daily problems but it’s the little things that get to him

Found you reading in the dark once without having the lights on before. He went on about vision impairment after flicking the switch up. He wasn’t amused when you joked how he could’ve sat next to you so you’d get both a reading lamp and body-sized pillow

Don’t get him started with dishes and how they should’ve been washed after a meal not leaving them in the sink for who knows how long

Also cereal. He believes it’s cereal first then milk, reasoning you can control the amount and ratio of cereal to milk 

Bad habit that annoys you: biting pencils 

Does it whenever he’s thinking about something deeply but can’t solve the issue

Whether it’s working on a plan, trying to figure out a case, doing homework

Problem is pencil paint isn’t all that healthy or safe to consume. Also having a pencil have smell like one’s breath isn’t that appealing 

Doesn’t matter what part of the pencil though there seems to be actual indents near the eraser end which once made you asked if a pencil tastes good

You’ve gotten him mechanical pencils and eraser toppers. Somewhat worked only for him to go back using his usual wooden pencils and bite them again

Tries to stop after you went on how harmful biting pencils are, still finds himself doing it time-to-time

Damian:

Pet peeve you do: calling him short

Don’t ever bring it up. Don’t ever mention it. He. Is. Not. Short

Height is not everything when it comes to crime fighting. Skills, abilities, and strategy beats pure physical prowess

He’s not the shortest either. He’s still growing. Drake is only 5’7” at his current age while Todd was 4’6” when he was Robin. Being  5’4” is a perfectly, acceptable height

This also includes all synonyms and phrases. Tiny, small, fun sized. His personality coming from the fact shorter people are closer to hell- 

He fumes and bursts whenever it happens. Literally will get ready wage a battle of a lifetime 

Whenever you do it, he gives you hell by pranking you in every way until you wave the white flag and admit you’re wrong. Usually that never happens and the adults end up having to step in to get both of you two stop

Bad habit that annoys you: tongue clicking

Does it to express so many emotions, so it gets confusing as to why he clicked his tongue without the full context

It could be from annoyance, dissatisfaction, or disagreement. At least you know it’s used for a negative response

Not as bad when he does it because he got stumped since then you’re just smug and getting to gloat you were right while he scowls back

But when he does it to avoid answering you out right or when he refuses to agree- like come on, use your words not onomatopoeia

Ask him if he’s doing it because he’s sulking and it gets him to stop only for it happen again as it’s part of his habit

Cue another reason for a childish war between the two of you where one has to one-up the other

[goldenroutledge]

we were liars

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 8.4k

summary: inspired by taylor swift’s cruel summer.

warning(s): angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, baku ‘24 crash, mutual pining, two stubborn idiots in love basically.

a/n: this has been a long time coming! longest thing i’ve written in years and i loved every minute of it! enjoy <3

They say there’s no place like home. Whether that’s a person or a feeling, it’s hard to tell. Every summer allows you to figure that out, but at what point do you lose hope in trying? At what point do you resign to the feeling of wanting someone so badly, knowing they’re impossible to have? At what point do you stop torturing yourself into facing that fact?

Seeing as it was impossible to decline Carlos’ invitation to join his summer vacation, finding answers would be a hopeless pursuit. Not that you were paying close attention or anything, but plans were always tentative around this time of year. Knowing that whenever he calls, you’ll answer. It’s always around mid-late July, many nights during the race weekends that have you awake in the middle of the night, on the receiving end of his late night thoughts. It’s by that point in the season that Carlos begins to feel restless, carrying more doubts in his ability than he’d care to admit.

But he’s only human. He needs a break. He needs to retreat back to the solace that calms the soul, an unfamiliar peace that he doesn’t stop craving until he sees you again. For most months out of the year, Carlos settles on the sight of you running through his imagination until he musters the courage to give you a call. He settles once again when he wishes you sweet dreams to mask the three words and eight letters that rest on the tip of his tongue. Just friends or not, Carlos settles for having you in his life any way he can. You’ve already attended the many races he’s asked you to come to, sometimes with less than a day’s notice. Summer break is the reunion you both can count on, always overdue no matter how much time you’d spent apart.

The journey to the house has your mind buzzing with possibilities, or theories, as to how your dynamic with Carlos will be. Will you pick up like you never left off? Will you keep pretending that nothing’s changed between you two? For now, you’d have to put that on hold. Given that Lando had been accepted as an honorary member of the Sainz family, it was no surprise to see him, tan as ever, answering the door at Carlos' vacation home. “Y/n! Long time no see!” He greets you with a bright smile and a hug, offering to help you with some of your bags.

“No kidding, it’s nice to see you too!” You smile warmly, eyes instinctively drifting past him in search of his best friend and former teammate. “How’s your break so far?”

“Much needed.” He sighs, gathering your bags in an attempt to take them all in one trip. Lando starts rambling about his triumphs and defeats so far this season at McLaren, feeling comfortable enough to divulge his true thoughts in your company, sans the media training.

Any remarks you had in response suddenly leave you, heart melting under the gaze of those gorgeous brown eyes you know so well. Carlos’ lips turn up into a smile at the sight of you, eagerly opening his arms to meet you in a crushing embrace. “Look who made it to Mallorca!”

Your smile spreads so wide that your cheeks begin to hurt, not that you care. “I wouldn’t miss it. You know I’m not one to pass on a free vacation.”

“Ah, come on.” He grumbles at your teasing words. “Tell me you didn’t miss me, too.” You both relax in each other’s arms, never pulling too far away. To see him like this, up close and personal, feels like a dream. His hair hasn’t been cut in a while and you admire how handsome the length looks on him.

“Maybe a little bit. But it’s not like we haven’t been on the phone nonstop. We always keep in touch.”

“That’s true, but those phone calls don’t beat the real thing. They’re not even close.” Carlos runs a finger underneath your chin, so quickly that if he didn’t have your full attention, you would’ve missed it. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Who would’ve thought you would be so happy to see little old me when you’re rubbing elbows with the rich and famous every weekend. You have it all.”

He smiles, but shakes his head in playful disagreement. “Not everything.”

“Ahem.” Lando clears his throat, still visibly struggling with your luggage at the front door. “Hate to burst your little love bubble but would anyone care to help me carry this?”

His interruption startles you and Carlos, causing you both to retract from the other’s hold and stand at a very platonic and appropriate distance away from each other. Not that you were just caught in anything unusual, but it sure felt like your parents just saw your prom date kissing you goodnight on the front porch.

“Jesus Y/n, is your suitcase full of bricks or something?”

“Just bikinis.” You laugh, not missing the way Carlos wiggles his eyebrows at you before going to help poor Lando carry your bags upstairs. “Gotta get my money’s worth out of them. Not all of us get paid millions to drive in circles, you know.”

Lando scoffs. “We’re only here for a week. How many of them could you possibly need?”

“She needs options, cabrón.”

“See, Carlos gets it. What’s wrong with you?”

“Sure. Defend her.” Lando snides at the Spaniard. “I’ll remember that.”

—

The summer holiday not only gave you an opportunity to restore your serotonin levels and forget that the outside world existed, but it was also a chance to reconnect with the people you hold dear. (Sometimes) Lando, Carlos, and of course his sister Ana. Being close with Carlos’ family was a packaged deal with anyone he was also close to himself. The four of you together made for unforgettable memories. The day had been spent on the water, with Carlos showing off his ability to pilot something other than a Formula 1 car.

“Enough of the boring conversation please!” Ana interjects Lando & Carlos’ chatter about their latest golf game, wanting to revert the conversation back to something interesting at dinner. “I have a burning question I need to ask Y/n. And I know that somebody here would love to know the answer. So, who are you dating?”

Her question changes the mood suddenly, a mix of interest and curiosity filling the atmosphere. It takes you by surprise even though you don’t have to pause to think about it because the answer is simple. It’s not complicated, even if your feelings for the man sitting across from you are anything but.

“I’m not dating anyone.”

This draws a dramatic gasp from your friend beside you, one that conceals a subconscious sigh of relief from Carlos.

“What do you mean? How is that even possible?”

You chuckle at Ana’s amazement, feeling unexpectedly shy with your love life being the topic of conversation. “It just is. I’m not really interested in dating anybody right now.” As if Carlos wasn’t listening closely before, he sure is now. The inquisitive looks you receive from each of your friends prompts you to explain yourself further. “I mean what’s the point, you know? If I don’t see a future with someone, why would I put myself through that? Knowing it’s gonna end in disappointment.”

“I’m just saying, you’re way too hot to be single. Isn’t that right, Carlos?” Ana defends, smirking at the harmless embarrassment she’s pushing on her brother. He shoots her a sharp look and draws a pained gasp from her when he (harmlessly) kicks her shin under the table. Carlos clears his throat to hide it, but their interaction is evident, and ever true to their sibling dynamic.

“She’s right. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

The tips of your ears burn at his compliment, but you know he’s only saving himself. He’s the gentleman everyone knows him to be and adores him for by giving you a line that’s been written into romantic comedies since they came to be. “Thanks, Carlos.”

His heart clenches at your words, unable to tell if you really believe it or not. He knows that his statement was vague and it toes the line of friendship more than he would like, but he’s also at a loss. How could he even begin to describe the ways he loves you, or notices everything about you, big and small? How he lied when he said anyone would be lucky to have you, knowing that most people wouldn’t even come close to deserving the love you have to offer. He knows that he’s not supposed to feel this way, let alone tell you and destroy the friendship you have. Locking eyes with you across the table, he wishes you could read his mind. Instead, he settles for a polite smile.

—

Once the boat is docked, it doesn’t feel right to abandon the sunset and head back to the house. The air on the beach is crisp, smelling of the clear waters and reflecting the pink and golden hues of the setting sun. Lando and Carlos are the last to leave the boat, carrying a beer cooler to where you and Ana sit down in the sand.

Carlos hands you a drink before taking a comfortable seat next to you. The silence is tranquil as you rest your head on his shoulder, admiring the gifts that Mother Nature has to offer. A warm feeling envelopes Carlos as he peers down at you, one that he can’t pass off as just the alcohol starting to move through his system. He wants to commit this moment to memory. If he’s settling for this, then he isn’t settling at all.

“We should play Truth or Dare.” Lando suggests, growing bored of the silence, though it was nice while it lasted. His expression turns puzzled at the looks he receives from the rest of you. “What? It’s fun.”

“If you weren’t a Formula 1 driver, you would’ve made one hell of a frat boy.” You tease, Ana and Carlos agreeing with you.

Lando sighs. “I know. What a waste right?”

“But then we would’ve never become teammates.”

“You’re right.” Lando chuckles, toasting his drink with Carlos’ at the realization.

“I’ll go first.” Ana speaks up, interrupting the boys before they could get too deep into their side chatter. Judging by the closeness she’s seen from you and her brother, what’s the harm in trying to help things along? “Carlos, truth or dare?”

Carlos takes a sip of his drink before throwing his head back dramatically. By his sister’s not so subtle hints throughout the night, and really every time you are in each other’s presence, he can feel where this is going. Yet a part of him isn’t mad at it.

“Truth.”

“Boooor-ing.” Lando sneers and you can’t help but giggle. Ana gives him a look as if to say, not so fast.

“Are you in love?”

Lando regrets ever saying anything in protest, as he nearly chokes on his beer once Ana finishes her sentence. Given what he knows, it’s impossible for him to not die of laughter at the scenario. Watching Carlos fight for his life on this question tops any interview moment they’ve had inside a Formula 1 paddock. Carlos pauses, which luckily for him can be passed off as pure concern for his best friend that’s currently gasping for air.

Your chest feels tight at the question, not expecting Ana to go there. You know Carlos’ life being on the road as a very rich and attractive athlete probably isn’t one of abstinence, but you can’t deny that it doesn’t crush you to imagine someone else having the key to his heart. You take a few gulps from your drink and it makes you worry that if this keeps up all night, there won’t be any alcohol left for you to drown your feelings in. They’ll just stay trapped inside of you with nowhere to go.

“Yes. I’m in love… with life.” Carlos professes, looking around with gratitude, raising his arms up as if to give thanks to the beautiful scenery around you.

Ana scoffs. “That’s not my question! I asked are you in love. As in, with someone. Perhaps even someone next to you.” She speaks the last part quickly, feigning innocence as she looks between you.

“Please, Carlos and I are just friends.” You brush off her words, knowing how she can be sometimes when she believes in something. Relentless; just like Carlos is. A trait you can’t help but admire in them both. Lando laughs in disbelief, making kissing sounds to contradict you. Carlos’ smile falters, eyebrows scrunching together ever so slightly. It’s impossible to tell if he’s hurt at your dismissal of only seeing him as a friend, or just annoyed at the antics that are a nuisance to what was supposed to be a peaceful evening.

“We talk all the time, Anita. I think you already know the answer.”

Ana shrugs. “It’s the rules, Carlos. You picked truth, so you have to answer.”

“Yeah! Spill the beans, Carlos.” Lando encourages. “And don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

“Easy, cabrón.” He warns, glancing between his best friend and his impatient sister as they wait for him to answer. Finally, his gaze lands on you, quietly sitting beside him through all of their quips. He’d be lying if he said it doesn’t hurt to know you don’t hold him in a higher regard than friendship entails. Yet the weight pulling at his heartstrings isn’t one he feels the need to bear anymore. You may never know the full truth, but that’s just another thing Carlos feels the need to let go of. “The answer is yes. I am in love.”

While the summer weather is nothing but serene, the storm inside of you is the complete opposite. You feel like throwing up. Leave it to Lando to suggest a fun, light-hearted game to stir things up. You paste on a smile, trying with everything you have to hold Carlos’ gaze and make your ‘just friends’ statement feel like reality. The emotion glossing over your eyes betrays you. “That’s great, Carlos. I’m happy for you.”

He can’t shake the unsettling feeling that’s consuming him. Whether it’s the guilt of omitting a very important detail to that answer or the fact that you don’t seem disturbed at the thought of him with someone else. Ana and Lando share an incredulous look, unable to understand how two people can be so oblivious to one another while also being unable to look away from them. “So that’s it?” Lando mumbles, but his quiet tone isn’t much competition for the silence that’s fallen over the group.

Carlos pretends that he can’t feel the disappointment in the air, turning his attention to his friend and choosing to carry on with the game. “Lando, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Lando says cooly like it’s obvious.

“Okay.” Carlos ponders, thinking carefully as to how he’s gonna get his payback. The awkward tension between you could’ve been avoided entirely had Lando not mentioned this stupid game at all. “I dare you to… jump into the water with all your clothes on.”

“So the opposite of skinny dipping? But we have no towels!”

“Exactly.” Carlos raises his eyebrows pointedly. He can’t think of a better punishment than to make Lando sit here shivering until he can find comfort under a scalding hot shower. “Unless you are too scared…”

“Never too scared.” Lando argues, already making a mold in the sand for his drink to sit while he’s gone. “I’ll do it, on one condition. Y/n comes with me.”

“No.” Carlos answers for you, almost immediately. “That’s not in the rules, remember?”

“Come on, live a little.” Lando looks between the two of you, hoping he can make a convincing argument. If he doesn’t liven up the mood now, he’ll consider this game a wash. “How about this, if you join me, you don’t have to answer any questions or do any dares. You’ll have immunity.”

You raise your eyebrows at his idea, intrigued. You’d do almost anything to distract yourself from what just happened with Carlos. “How can I say no to that?”

“You can’t.”

“You can.” Carlos objects, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. “And you will. Come on Y/n, you could get sick. It’s getting chilly out.”

Lando scoffs at his hypocrisy. “Oh, so now you’re concerned? Because who cares if I get sick, right?”

You look between the two men, and then to Ana, who shrugs undecidedly as if to say it’s up to you. Carlos’ eyes are pleading, hoping to get through to you before you do something you might regret. Then again, these are the same eyes that looked into yours minutes ago and told you he’s in love with someone else. You don’t need to listen to his concerns, you don’t owe that to him. Drinking what’s left in your bottle, you accept Lando’s hand to help you up before making a run for it towards the water.

The two of you disappear under what’s now the nighttime sky, the moonlight shining bright enough to lead the way. It isn’t until you’re just about there, that one wrong step onto a bottle hiding in the sand halts your movements, causing a sharp cry to escape your throat as a sharper cut of glass slices into your foot. Lando barely makes it to the water when he realizes you’re no longer beside him, instantly turning around to see that you’re bleeding. “Oh fuck, are you alright?” He places a hand on your shoulder, trying to examine the injury but comfort you the best way he can.

A string of curses fall from your lips, language more characteristic of a sailor than your normal self. “What does it look like? Holy shit, it hurts!”

“Carlos!” Lando calls out, unable to peel his eyes away from your foot.

Both Carlos and Ana were already watching the scene unfold, and Carlos wasted no time in rushing to your side within seconds, Ana following closely behind from down the beach. “Y/n? What happened?”

“I stepped on this– fuck– that bottle.” You nod over to the bottle, a couple feet away from you. Carlos’ heartbeat quickens at the sight of you, clearly distressed and in pain, but knows he can’t afford a freezing moment of panic. He removes the thin linen shirt he’s wearing to wrap around your foot and compress it, in hopes the bleeding will stop.

Lando takes a step back when you remove your hands from where they clutched your injury, trying to catch his breath as he feels lightheaded at the sight, glass piercing your skin deeply. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Carlos and Ana pay him no mind, as Ana rests a hand on your knee soothingly while Carlos goes to wrap up your foot with his shirt. But you are just as quick to stop him. “It hurts, Carlos.”

“I know, I know, but we have to stop the bleeding. This cut is deep.”

“Removing the glass will only make it worse.” Ana falters, knowingly it’s not what you want to hear. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“You’re probably right, I think I need stitches.”

“We will get you there.” Carlos assures. “Just breathe with me, can you do that?”

You nod, fighting the pull of unconsciousness as your eyelids flutter shut. Clearly Lando has to do the same, feeling dizzy at the sight. He wanders over to where the bottle lay broken in the sand, a wave of guilt washing over him when he realizes the label reads Estrella Galicia. Carlos’ favorite beer, the same one they happened to have an abundance of in the cooler today. A bottle they must’ve dropped by accident when making their way up the beach.

Ana tells you that she’s going up to the house to find Carlos’ keys to drive you all to the emergency room. Lando finishes picking up the pieces of the broken bottle, heading inside to dispose of them. It’s just you and Carlos now. Not that you bothered to care who you were alone with at this moment, but you feel safe.

You notice your heavy breathing has slowed down in tune with his as he gently secures the fabric around your foot. “You will be okay Y/n, I promise.” Considering how out of it you are, you nearly miss the feeling of his lips kissing your forehead chastely. Before you can wonder how the hell you would be walking up the beach, Carlos is effortlessly lifting you off the ground and carrying you in his arms. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

—

“Don’t do that.” Ana nudges her brother’s shoulder, trying to snap him out of his thoughts.

“Do what?”

“Get in your head like you do. She’s gonna be fine.”

“She’s right.” Lando chimes in. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it’s your fault.” Carlos snaps back at him.

“What did I do?”

“I told you not to take her with you. It wasn’t a good idea and clearly I was right.”

Lando rolls his eyes. “She wanted to. And if you wanna talk about fault, it was an Estrella Galicia she stepped on. That bottle fell out of our cooler.”

Carlos felt that tightening feeling in his chest again, a mix of guilt and shame brewing into something far more intoxicating than what he’s had to drink tonight. “I would never be so careless.”

“None of us would be. It was an accident, that’s the point. It’s not like she blames any of us for what happened.”

“She might.”

“Carlos, stop it.” Ana interjects, watching him with concern as he leans forward, hands clasped together while his mind is in deep thought. “She would probably slap both of you if she heard what you’re saying right now.” Ana proceeds to retrieve some money from the bag she hurriedly grabbed before leaving for the hospital, asking Carlos to get some chips from the vending machine. There wasn’t much she could do about the bickering between him and Lando except try to diffuse it by separating them. She knows how stubborn her brother can be and knows that his attitude won’t go anywhere until he sees you.

Carlos certainly doesn’t feel like himself, sluggishly moving down the hall, unable to break his train of thought. The fact that you got hurt on his watch, still unaware of how he feels about you has his heartstrings tangled in knots. The most unbelievable part being that despite the intensity of his Formula 1 career, he’s never felt as on edge as he does right now. It’s both exciting and scary that you’ve seemed to wedge yourself a little closer to his heart than the sport that’s defined his life.

When he sees you with Ana or Lando, he envies them. He envies the authenticity that defines your friendships with them, the feeling of being able to say what’s on your mind without a care, knowing they’ll never lose you. He wonders what that’s like, he craves to have that with you. He struggles to remember when his feelings began to get in the way of that. Now he has no choice but to face it, feeling further away from you than he ever has. The longer this goes on, that distance will only worsen until you don’t know each other at all. A part of him wants to do everything in his power to stop that; another part tells him that he’s powerless when it comes to you.

His head hangs low, finding it easy to get lost in the glow of the vending machine. Behind him in line, the sound of a kid deliberately tapping his foot snaps him out of his trance, prompting him to hurry up with the chips. Heading back towards the waiting room, he notices Ana and Lando speaking to a doctor. By the looks of it, they’re hanging on her every word, urging him to pick up his pace so he doesn’t miss any updates on you.

—

The hospital room is cold and uninviting. Quite the opposite of an ideal place to spend your summer vacation. You lay there alone for what feels like hours, wishing nothing more than to have Carlos at your bedside. You know he’s here, and so are your friends, but it’s not the same. The heart monitor beeps routinely every couple seconds, and your blood pressure cuff squeezes your arm every fifteen minutes, making it impossible to doze off even if you wanted to. The pain in your foot is better, though not gone completely, after having the glass removed by a doctor and your wound properly stitched up. Given how late it was, they’d keep you until the morning, needing to monitor the wound for a possible infection.

When you ask for your friends in the waiting room, your nurse looks like she’s seen a ghost at the mention of Carlos Sainz. Once you had reassured her that you had no head injury whatsoever, she reluctantly left to go find your description of him. ‘Tall, dark and handsome. You’ll see him.’

And so taking a deep breath, Carlos is standing in front of your room, tapping his knuckles gently to the wooden door. “Knock, knock.”

You smile instinctively at the sound of his voice, eager to see someone familiar in what has been a lonely couple of hours. “Come in.”

He opens the door immediately before laying eyes on you sitting up in the hospital bed, hurt and exhausted from the day’s events. He swallows down the guilt that creeps up his throat, hoping that it doesn’t show. He doesn’t deserve to throw a pity party right now when you're the one that’s in pain. His words don’t get that memo as he laments. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, feeling helpless. “Maybe if I went too, it would’ve been me instead.”

You roll your eyes at his stubbornness, patting the foot of your bed so he will sit down. “I won’t let you think about the what if’s, Carlos, you need your feet to drive remember? Though knowing your resilience, you’d probably come back and win, glass in your foot be damned. They don’t call you the Smooth Operator for nothing.”

His heart warms at how you know just what to say to lift his spirits. “I could win only if you’re there to cheer me on.”

“Just say the word and I will be. I wouldn’t fly around the world on a moment’s notice for just anyone, you know.”

“I don’t want ‘just anyone’. Just you.” Your smile beams, and all of a sudden you feel the need to be close to him, holding a hand out to him that he instantly takes in his own. “Can I say something? And can you promise you won’t get mad at me for it?”

“Tonight can’t get much worse, can it?”

He faintly smiles at your quip, but it also worries him that your relationship may always be limited to just that, laughter and clever jokes. He needs you to know that he’s serious. And it wouldn’t be so bad to hear that in return from you either, just this once. “I love you.”

You freeze, probably looking like a deer in headlights. There must be some truth to the theory that people tend to be more honest at night. The exhaustion from the day wears on the brain while the world falls asleep, leaving the two of you to face the lingering vulnerability intertwining itself deeper into your friendship. You’d been denying it for as long as you can remember. A part of you wonders if he’s just tired of fighting it, if he’s just giving in to what everyone expects to happen between you. Even though Carlos is a terrible liar, you can’t shake the doubt that tells you his admission isn’t what it seems.

“Don’t say that. You don’t need to say that just because you feel bad. I understand.”

“It’s not about that, Y/n. I’m telling you how I feel– no, how I’ve felt– for a long time now, and I refuse to hide it from you anymore.”

“And how can you say that when a few hours ago you said you were in love with somebody else? Does that ring a bell to you?”

The realization hits Carlos, now he can understand why you’re so skeptical. “I never said I was in love with somebody else, it’s you! I was talking about you. When I said that I am in love, I meant to say that I was in love with you.” He sighs, finally feeling the weight being lifted off his chest.

The feeling that comes over you is paralyzing, unable to breathe a word in his direction. Those damn eyes that he’s giving you only complicate things. As badly as you want to express your love for him in return, you can’t. Not when the past several months, if not years, of your life have revolved around falling in love with Carlos and not being able to stop. Not being able to save yourself from the inevitable rejection that would break your foolish heart in two. Each day, the feeling buries itself deeper but comes alive in bursts. If your body didn’t remind you of it with a quickened heartbeat and a fuzzy feeling when he’s near, you wouldn’t know the difference between your ‘best friend’ Carlos and the confused one sitting at the foot of your hospital bed.

“Y/n, please. Say something. Tell me to get out or tell me you love me too.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. I know there’s something behind your eyes. There’s something you’re hiding from me, I can feel it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Y/n, you forget that I know you.” He states obviously. “We’ve been best friends for years now, so the question is how could I not?”

“Is that not enough for you?”

“Having you is more than enough. But you have to understand that I can’t go on like this. I want to love you and never hide it. For as long as you let me.” His eyes bare into yours, nearly feeling claustrophobic as he takes both of your hands in his. “Please just talk to me.”

“I don’t know, Carlos. I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out as a mumble instead of the vibrato you wished to have right about now. Tears gloss over your eyes, but you don’t welcome them. The downturn of his frown and the emptiness that’s seeping into his expression claws at your chest. “We shouldn’t talk about this now.” He opens his mouth to say something, be it out of apology or anger, you’ll never know.

Three resounding knocks to your hospital room door cut through the tension like a knife. “Come in!”

It’s Lando and Ana, the soft smiles on their faces falling as they look between you and Carlos, sensing that something isn’t right. “Are we interrupting? We thought we’d check on you before they kick us out for the night.”

“Not at all.” You put on a smile for them in reassurance, yet fooling no one. The suspense in the air is palpable enough to leave all of you feeling awkward to say the least. It’s enough to make Carlos split the distance between his best friend and sister, leaving the room without a word.

Carlos walks as fast as his feet will take him, eventually landing on the familiar chair in the waiting room he sat in when he arrived. For the first time tonight, his mind isn’t racing and anxiety isn’t coursing through his veins. He is defeated, worse than he’s ever been before. Be it a race-ending issue with the car or losing out on his Ferrari seat, those are losses that he can at least come back from. This one’s a dead end.

“Want some? You look like you could use a snack.”

His attention swivels to a boy in the seat nearby, who he now recognizes from the vending machine earlier, snacking away on his bag of Ruffles. Carlos shakes his head, but still smiles softly at the consideration. “No thank you, not hungry.”

“Do you like chips?”

“I prefer cookies.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“And why’s that?”

“I dunno, you’re Carlos Sainz. Chili. I thought you’d go for anything salty or spicy. I guess you really do learn something new everyday.”

Carlos sighs, remembering his current troubles. His eyes flicker over to the hallway containing your room, expecting to see a familiar face at some point. “Tell me about it.”

The boy, whose backpack is embroidered with the name ‘Samuel’, gives Carlos a puzzled look. “What did you learn today?”

The question leaves him clueless as to how he can answer, without trauma dumping onto Samuel who is none the wiser to the conundrum he’s in. He clears his throat before answering, eyeing the vending machine as an analogy comes to his mind. “I love chocolate chip cookies, but they don’t love me back. My job doesn’t allow me to have them because they are too sweet for me. I try to stay away from the cookies, but I can’t. I wish I could be selfish and have them all to myself, but it’s just impossible. I can’t win.”

“Maybe try a different kind? Something healthier for you then.”

“Good idea, but that would never work. I’ll always love the chocolate chip cookie. Nothing else compares to her.”

“Are you talking about a girl?”

“No, no.” Carlos tries to cover, heat rising to his cheeks. “Still talking about the cookies.”

“You could always try baking your own.” He suggests. “When my mamá bakes cookies, they’re better than anything else because she makes them with love.”

Carlos nods along, and thanks Samuel for his words of advice. He’s off in his own world right now, desperate enough for guidance that he’s willing to imagine the ridiculous analogy between chocolate chip cookies and his relationship with you.

Minutes turn into hours, and Carlos finds himself in your room once again, sitting in a chair near your bedside. He reassured Ana and Lando earlier to go home as he insisted on staying with you overnight. Visiting hours were far from over, but a small bribe for your nurse was all it took for an exception to be made for Carlos Sainz.

The sun is up before you know it, but that’s not what shocks you. It’s the man slumped over in the chair overcome with fatigue. You wish it was all a dream. That stupid game of truth or dare, stepping on the glass bottle, pushing Carlos away when in hindsight, you should’ve surrendered too. You should’ve given in the same way he did, it surely would’ve made for a less awkward ride home. It’s not his words from last night that cloud the space in your mind, it’s your own. Seeing him now, he looks tranquil. Like the weight of the world can’t touch him when he’s already said his peace. You’ll continue longing to feel the same, knowing that your chance might’ve just come and gone.

—

AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX 2024

“Care to tell me why you’re really here?”

A puzzled raise of your eyebrows tells Lando everything he needs to know before you can even say it. “I’m sorry, I can’t support McLaren now? One of my best friends happens to drive for them.”

“Another happens to drive for their rival, too.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s nothing personal. Orange looks better on me.”

“Carlos would beg to differ.”

“Will you stop that? It isn’t about him.”

“Fine. But it’s not not about him, admit that.” He gives you a knowing look, one that’s skeptical of how much you’ve been avoiding Carlos lately, ever since the vacation you all took together. What was once a lively group chat between you three now consists of the occasional meme or reaction photo. “Come on, something happened between you two. Admit it.”

You sigh, eyes tearing away from him as you feel pressure under his interrogation. “Nothing happened. It’s probably more about what didn’t happen.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Like your bestie hasn’t already filled you in.”

Lando shrugs, never giving away too much. “There’s two sides to every story.”

“He just misspoke. He told me he loved me after I injured my foot over the summer. I brushed him off, and we’re pretending like it never happened.” Lando’s eyes are wide and he doesn’t realize his jaw is hanging open until you press two fingers under his chin. “And that includes you. Deal? Not a word about this to anyone.”

“Damn, that’s even worse than I thought! You’re avoiding him because he loves you?”

“He doesn’t love me, doofus. He felt guilty because I stepped on a bottle that one of you probably dropped.” Three sharp pokes to the Brit’s chest emphasize your point, the narrative you’ve spent months now convincing yourself is true. “It’s just been a little tense, we haven’t really been the same since then. He thinks I’m being cold about the whole thing.”

“Are you?”

“No! I just know him better than he knows himself and he refuses to admit it. He’s stubborn, as you know, and he won’t let me forget it. He’s probably messing with my head until I cave in.”

“Cave in to what? Admitting you love him too?”

You gulp, brain scattering while you feel for some reason, like you’re being found out. “Where would you get that idea?”

“You haven’t denied it. Isn’t that all he wants anyway? I’m sure if you told him you didn’t feel the same way, this would all be over. Which won’t happen because you do, in fact, love Carlos Sainz.”

You resist the urge to give Lando a good whack to any tender part of his body, by the way a McLaren team member accidentally eavesdrops on your conversation in passing, obviously trying to look away before you notice. “Don’t use his full name.” You warn in a hushed whisper. “Word travels fast around here, you know.”

“Please don’t injure me before the race. I’m just saying, would it hurt to speak to him for more than five minutes at a time?”

“He’ll get over it. Hell, he might already be over it. I just think a little more space wouldn’t hurt either of us right now.”

“Well, you know what they say about space.” Lando gives you a knowing look, before dramatically breaking out into his best Nick Jonas impersonation. “Space is just a word made up by someone who’s afraid to get close.”

“Very nice, Lando.”

“Just don’t look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel anything for him. You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

“It’s better for our friendship this way, okay? Imagine had I said it back, what kind of damage that would do to all of us when it goes to shit. It would never work between us, and I refuse to set us up for failure. I’d rather keep things the same. And he would too, he just doesn’t know it yet. This year hasn’t been the easiest for him, you know? He’s just trying to cling on to what’s familiar. He might think that he loves me, but it’s a phase. In a year from now, he’ll be in a new team, a new era of his life and career, and we won’t even remember this.”

“Really? Because I think, if he had it his way, he’d be with you forever.”

“And I feel terrible about pushing him away, but it’s for the best, okay? You’ll see.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Lando nods slowly but unconvincingly, taking some steps backwards and away from you, leaving to do the pre-race preparations he should probably be focused on instead.

—

“For the best?!” Carlos exclaims, his eyes wide and hinting a mix of disappointment, hurt, and frustration at the turn your friendship has taken.

“I know, I had the same look. It doesn’t even sound like her.”

“Each excuse I hear from her is more ridiculous than the last. I miss when I could just talk to her, you know? Without thinking about how she’s gonna push me away this time.”

“You should just tell her to stop inventing.” Lando giggles, biting his lip to keep from breaking out into full hysterical laughter in the middle of the driver’s parade.

Carlos shoots a warning glare to his friend. “It’s one thing if she didn’t feel anything for me, but she’s been avoiding me as if we haven’t been best friends for years now. I can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe she’s scared to lose you, have you ever thought of that? What would happen in case it doesn’t work out? I think she’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.”

“I’m the same person I’ve always been, though. She knows me. I thought I knew her, too.”

“You do. I, for one, think you’re perfect for each other.” Lando tries to offer some consolation, but he knows that Carlos can’t and won’t settle for the silver lining in all of this.

“I used to think so too. But hey, she might be onto something. Maybe it is for the best.”

—

The race doesn’t disappoint, keeping in line with the chaotic patterns the 2024 season has had to offer. Nearing the end of the race, the pit wall, mechanics, and spectators alike can breathe a sigh of relief that the position of their driver won’t be threatened. Oscar leads by 10 seconds, making it a great weekend to be a guest of McLaren for the weekend. The garage bustles with excitement as the cars begin the last lap.

It was looking like a fight to the checkered flag between Checo and Carlos, closely rounding Turn 2 just behind Charles, racing wheel to wheel down the straight before the two cars clash, the Red Bull of Checo sending the Ferrari of Carlos into the concrete barrier at 300 kilometers per hour.

A wave of adrenaline strikes you instantly, audible gasps sounding through the garage at the brutal and unexpected impact. The same sight of the crash had to be on every monitor throughout the entire paddock, leaving everyone on the edge of their seat. Carlos being a beloved member in the McLaren family certainly intensified things, you weren’t the only one who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the screen. A flash of heat burns through you as you see Checo seemingly confront Carlos and walk off, but your worries don’t dissipate until you see the man in red get out of his car, slowly but steadily.

—

It’s almost night by the time you arrive back at your hotel, Lando having stayed back in the paddock for team photos and celebrations of Oscar’s win. It’s a short walk back to the nearby hotel, and you could use the fresh air to help clear your mind anyway. Mindlessly, you open your messages with Carlos. Typing, then erasing, then typing again.

‘Glad you’re okay.’ No, too short.

‘Are you okay? Sorry about your race.’ No, too impersonal.

‘I love you too. I should’ve said it sooner.’ No, too risky. Too permanent. You’re not ready for what comes next. Who knows if he even wants to talk to you, especially about this. Don’t be selfish.

Your earlier conversation with Lando creeps up on you, giving you more to worry about than you had previously considered. Could it be guilt or pure heartache, you’re not sure. All that is certain is you can’t carry on with your relationship like this either. It only took you a few months and a crash to fuel you with the same passion he felt for you over the summer, when he confessed. Facing the truth is scary, but you won’t be able to forgive yourself if you let him go. You can’t live with knowing that he might go so far that he never comes back.

The elevator door is open, your thoughts so entrancing that you don’t bother to look up. Until that signature red polo catches your eye, and they trail upwards to meet the brown ones you remember so well, the same ones you’ve been waiting to see again.

“Hi.” He breathes, almost in disbelief. From the mental and physical wear of today, Carlos can’t be more relieved to see your face, no matter what has gone on between you. Pure surprise sets in when you, after taking a few pauses to get a good look at him, engulf him into your arms with a passion. He winces slightly at the soreness that’s sinking into his muscles, but ultimately relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, trying to untangle yourself from his hold, to which he only pulls you closer.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“It’s not just about that, Carlos. I haven’t been a good friend to you lately and you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“No.”

“I should be the one apologizing.”

“For what?”

“I pushed you away when I told you how I feel. But you need to know that I’m not sorry I said it. I’m not taking it back.”

“Why not?”

He scoffs. “This again? Why won’t I take it back? Because it’s the truth! I love you! I wish you could see it. I wish you could feel how badly I’ve been wanting to say it and hear it back from you. I’m man enough to understand if you don’t feel the same way, but you won’t even give me a conversation. You refuse to talk to me and I don’t know whether to take that as rejection or an admission. Because if you really didn’t believe a thing I said that night, we wouldn’t be here. Things would’ve stayed the same.” You stay silent, trying to process each of his words and their meanings, a mistake you’ve made one too many times. “Just talk to me, please.” His voice cracks slightly in his last word, and his plea brings tears to your eyes. “Not what you think I need to hear. Tell me what you’ve been holding inside.”

This is exactly what scares you about Carlos. His ability to understand your innermost thoughts without a word. His skepticism is more than enough to rattle you. Having him as a best friend is one thing, but leaving your heart to be broken in his hands is another. “I just don’t want things to change, Carlos. At the end of the day, we still have our own lives, our own goals and ambitions. It doesn’t matter how I feel when there’s plenty standing in the way of it.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter. I’ve spent every waking moment wondering how all of those things could be ours, together. I fell in love with you and you’re punishing me for it, I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Does it scare you? Is that why you want to sabotage our relationship before it has a chance? You need to understand that I didn’t tell you because I felt guilty you got hurt. I told you because I refuse to look you in the eyes and lie anymore than I already have.”

“I know.” You sigh, a tear slipping away from you. “I know that.”

“Then why are you only admitting this to me now? We’ve been wasting time dancing around this long enough.”

“I know how you feel because I feel it, too. Watching your car slam into the wall like that… I didn’t want another second to go by without you knowing the truth. I don’t want to feel guilty anymore about avoiding you, about lying to you, about any of it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I love you too, Carlos. It should’ve been the first thing out of my mouth when you told me but I just panicked. All I could picture was how this ends a million different ways and each of them were more heartbreaking than the last. But the longer I waited, I just thought it would be too late.”

“It’s never too late, Y/n.” Carlos whispers, brown eyes glossing over as they admire yours. Honestly, unabashedly, and lovingly, for the first time in a while. “I’m still here, aren’t I? After all this time.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not, remember? Some things are worth waiting for.” He holds your face in his hands, brushing his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your fallen tear. “You are worth every second.”

You don’t hold back any longer, closing the gap and kissing him with all that you have. All of the emotions that for too long, had nowhere to go, have now found their home. Your hands tangle in his hair, and the hum of approval he gives you is delicious. If it were at all possible, you feel as close to him as you’ve ever felt, and him to you. Kissing him, feeling your love be reciprocated calms your head and sends your heart ablaze. You’d reckon the wall that stood between you, was always ready to be knocked over with the slightest gust of wind, had you not spent so much time trying to hold it up. Letting go was your best decision to date, the feeling of his lips on yours just confirms that.

It isn’t until the sound of the elevator dings that you pull away, realizing neither of you had pressed a single button upon entry. To your surprise it’s Lando, his grin smug like he’d just pulled off some kind of heist. You and Carlos instinctively try to put an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you, only this time, nobody would believe there’s anything platonic about you two. By the looks of Carlos’ tousled hair and the smudges of your once perfect lip gloss, Lando needs no explanation from either of you.

“Don’t worry, you can carry on.” Lando laughs, reaching inside and pressing the ‘Close Doors’ button. “I’ll take the stairs.”

💌: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 18: More Than Roommates

Wade is getting tired of this slow-burn. It's his time to shine now. Or, Logan learns the truth about the center's rescue.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W.

A/N: hellooo!! chapter 18 is up (wtffffff???? already!!!!!) and I would say things ARE FINALLY interesting.....but are they really?? I was giggling by myself writing it...and there's still THREE chapters left. I don't want to let this story gooooo...hope you enjoy this chapter!🩷

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

Logan’s first few weeks at the high school had been a mix of chaos and… cautious optimism. Everything felt new. The routine was unfamiliar, the building was different, the people were different, and numerous. This wasn’t the cosy place they had nurtured for years in an old building in the middle of the city, no…This was so much bigger. So much more serious. Logan felt like a fraud every time he put a foot inside the school. He was no teacher. He wasn’t like Hank or Ororo who had dedicated their life to this. He barely passed high school before he joined the army—not because he wasn’t good, hell he wasn’t dumb—life just had a way of pulling him down until he couldn’t stand on his own two legs. 

So, when he left the army and he was jobless, barely homeless, and most importantly hopeless, the center’s job ad for maintenance staff was a godsend. He didn't really care at first. He was just there to maintain the building and fix broken things when there were any. He was always there. He didn't give a damn about anything, he just did his job, was nice to the people at the center and left it at that. But the kids started to like him. At first, he pretended to push them away. But he knew these kids were there for a reason: nobody out there wanted to help them. A bit like him in the end, he thought. After this, Charles asked if he could keep an eye on some classes when the teachers needed to go somewhere for a few minutes. And oh boy, Logan didn’t joke around.

After a few months of juggling between being the center’s janitor and the kids’ babysitter, Charles came to him and asked if he wanted to be a little bit more than that. 

He hadn’t opened a school book in decades. His immediate answer was no. But Charles being Charles, he won. He always fucking did. For a year, Logan followed evening and online classes to become a teacher in the center. He’s still laughing about it today.

So, yes. Everything was new. And way too official. But some things remained the same—his students. They were still the bright, resilient kids he’d fought so hard for back at the center.

It wasn’t without challenges. Some struggled with the rigidity of the high school’s structure, missing the familiarity and intimacy of the center. Logan had calmed more than a few meltdowns, but he met every obstacle head-on with the patience and determination that had carried him this far. For every tough moment, there was a victory—small, but significant.

The quiet student who finally raised their hand in class. The one who cracked their first smile in weeks. The team effort during a group activity that ended with laughter instead of frustration.

They’re still here, he reminded himself often, a quiet mantra that kept him going. The center might be gone, but the heart of what they’d built wasn’t lost. His kids were still thriving, and somehow, so was he.

And then, there was Y/N.

Logan caught himself watching her more often than he wanted to admit. Whether it was during a quick coffee run in the teachers’ lounge or when she breezed past him in the hallway, her presence had a way of grounding him. She carried herself with a quiet confidence, her easy rapport with both colleagues and students reminding him why he’d been drawn to her in the first place.

It was becoming too hard to keep in check. She was everywhere. At home, at work. In his every thought…

So, it wasn’t always grounding. Not when he spotted her laughing with Tony near the science labs one afternoon.

From his vantage point, leaning against the wall with Ororo, they looked like they were sharing the kind of joke that left you breathless. Y/N tilted her head back, her laughter ringing out, and Tony, ever the charmer, leaned in with a grin that practically lit up the hallway. Logan tried not to let it bother him, but the twist in his gut told another story.

“Is this going to be a thing now?” Ororo’s voice cut through his thoughts, laced with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Logan grunted, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. “What are you talking about?”

She smirked, leaning slightly into his space to whisper. “The brooding. You do realize Tony is married, right?”

Logan turned to her, caught off guard. “What?”

“Married,” Ororo repeated, clearly enjoying the moment. “Happily, too. And he’s got a kid. Adorable little guy—spitting image of his dad.”

Logan blinked, torn between disbelief and a sudden rush of relief he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. “Why are you even telling me this?” he muttered, attempting a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t care what Tony does.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Sure you don’t,” she said, her tone teasing but not unkind. “But I figured it might save you some unnecessary brooding.”

Before Logan could respond, she sauntered off to her next class, leaving him grumbling under his breath and feeling more transparent than he cared to admit.

Later, Logan found himself in the teachers’ lounge, nursing a coffee as he unwound after a long day. Natasha and Tony were seated across the room, deep in conversation about some elaborate project Tony was planning for his engineering students.

“You know, Pepper keeps telling me to stop using the house as a test lab,” Tony said with a chuckle. “But hey, Peter loves it. He’s always asking me to teach him this or that.”

Logan’s ears perked up at the mention of a name. “Peter?” he asked, his tone casual, though he wasn’t fooling anyone. “That your kid?”

Tony turned to him, his grin widening. “Yeah, my son. He’s got my brains, poor kid, and his mom’s everything else, thank god.” He laughed warmly, clearly proud.

Natasha, sipping her coffee, raised an eyebrow at Logan over the rim of her mug, a smirk tugging at her lips. If Logan noticed, he didn’t let on.

“Didn’t know you had a family,” Logan said, keeping his voice neutral.

“Yup,” Tony said, pulling out his phone. “That’s Pepper and Peter. My world right there.” He handed the phone over, showing Logan a photo of a beautiful woman and a young boy with Tony’s unmistakable features. All three of them were mid-laugh, their faces glowing with joy.

Logan nodded, his grip on the phone tightening briefly before handing it back. “Nice picture.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, pocketing the phone. “I don’t wear a ring, though. Can’t keep track of them—lost my first one in the ocean, the second at a barbecue. Pepper just rolls her eyes at me now.”

Natasha snorted softly behind her mug, her gaze flicking between the two men. “That’s one way to keep people guessing,” she said, her tone light but knowing.

Tony grinned. “Hey, keeps things interesting.”

As Tony returned to his conversation with Natasha, Logan leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee. The jealousy that had clung to him for weeks seemed to evaporate, leaving behind a quiet sense of clarity.

Maybe, just maybe, there was no reason to worry after all.

———

The apartment buzzed with the easy rhythm of a friendly dinner. Y/N, Logan and Wade had opened their home to their colleagues from the school for a casual evening—a mix of food, drinks, and laughter that made the small space feel warm and alive. It wasn’t extravagant, but it didn’t need to be. This was exactly the kind of night Y/N loved: simple, genuine, and surrounded by people who felt like family.

From his seat near the window, Logan watched the scene unfold. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The sound of conversation flowed around him, and he let it wash over him like a tide. But even if he tried to ignore it, his gaze kept drifting back to Y/N, like a magnet he couldn’t resist. She was everywhere at once—chatting with Natasha, laughing at something Tony said, checking on the food Wade had sworn he’d handle.

She made it look so effortless, but Logan knew better. He could see the little tells: the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she felt overwhelmed, the quick glances she sent toward him or Wade when she needed help. It made his chest tighten in a way that was both unsettling and oddly comforting.

How does she do it? he wondered. How does she make everyone feel like they belong?

Across the room, Y/N caught his eye for the briefest moment before quickly looking away. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face, but it was gone so fast he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it.

Wade, passing by with a drink, noticed Logan’s lingering gaze. “Subtle,” he muttered, smirking.

Logan scowled and took another sip of his beer. “Shut up.”

The evening had settled into an easy rhythm when the conversation shifted, almost inevitably, to the old center where Logan had worked.

“I still can’t believe it had to close,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair. “It was such an important place for those kids.”

Y/N froze mid-bite, her grip tightening on the fork in her hand. She hadn’t expected this to come up, not tonight. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she quickly looked down, pretending to pick at her plate.

“It’s a shame,” Scott added, his tone sincere. “But it’s a good place we have now. Right, Logan?”

Logan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it’s a good place,” he said, his voice soft. “I think it’s what they needed. It’s…a new beginning.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at his words. She felt the weight of what they didn’t know—what he didn’t know. She’d done everything she could to keep it that way, to make sure it wasn’t about her.

And then Wade opened his mouth.

“You know,” Wade interrupted, his grin practically announcing trouble, “there’s someone here who doesn’t get enough credit for all that.”

Y/N froze. Her heart lurched in her chest, her grip tightening around the edge of the table. She knew where this was going. She turned towards him, her hold on her fork tightening.

Wade ignored her entirely. “Come on, Y/N,” he said, leaning back with a smug look. “You’re the reason the kids ended up at the school in the first place. You fought for them when no one else would. Hell, Charles barely had to do anything. She practically forced him to make it happen.”

The room went silent. Every head turned to Y/N, who felt like she’d been caught in a spotlight. Her cheeks burned as the weight of their gazes settled on her.

Logan’s brows furrowed. “What is he talking about?”

“I swear, Wade,” she hissed, glaring at him.

“What?” Wade said with exaggerated innocence. “You deserve the credit. Why keep it a secret?”

Logan’s gaze snapped to Y/N, his voice quieter now as he repeated his question. “What is he talking about?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her heart pounded as she looked down at her hands, unable to meet his eyes. “I… I just wanted to help,” she finally mumbled.

Jean’s eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. “You’re the reason the school took the center?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

Y/N gave a small nod, not trusting herself to speak.

Ororo was on her feet in seconds, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “You saved them,” she said, her voice trembling. “You saved our kids.”

Scott joined in, his usual stoicism cracking under the weight of his gratitude. “You didn’t just save them. You saved us. That center—it was our home too.”

Jean hugged her next, her voice soft but full of meaning. “You gave them—and us—a future. Thank you.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, her vision blurring as she tried to keep herself together. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and it felt overwhelming. “It wasn’t just me,” she said quickly, her voice shaking. “It’s mostly Charles.”

“Don’t downplay it,” Ororo said firmly, squeezing her shoulder.

Natasha, leaning back with her cup of coffee, smirked knowingly but said nothing. She’d known this was coming and had been waiting to see how it would play out.

Y/N’s own colleagues looked equally stunned. Tony was the first to speak, raising his glass. “To Y/N,” he said, his voice steady. “The unsung hero.”

“To Y/N!” Clint echoed, grinning.

The room filled with cheers and clinking glasses, but Y/N could barely process it. Her cheeks burned, her throat tight with emotion. She felt a mix of embarrassment, gratitude, and something else she couldn’t quite name.

And Logan…

She was going to kill Wade.

Logan was still staring at her, his beer forgotten on the table. Something shifted in his chest, something he hadn’t been ready to confront. She had done all of this. She had saved the center. His home.

Y/N, still overwhelmed by the attention, avoided Logan’s gaze at all costs. She didn’t think she could handle what she might see there.

But he wasn’t looking away. And as he watched her fidget under the weight of everyone’s praise, he knew two things for sure:

She didn’t just light up the room. She carried it.

And he was absolutely, hopelessly, head over heels for her.

———

As the last of their guests filed out, the apartment settled into an unusual stillness. The echo of laughter and clinking glasses faded into the soft click of the closing door. Y/N lingered there, a warm smile and a few parting words of thanks on her lips as the final guest disappeared down the hall.

Her posture seemed relaxed, casual even, but Logan could see the faint tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her shirt, and the almost unconscious habit of tucking her hair behind her ear. It was a tell he’d come to recognize—a sign that something was swirling beneath the surface.

From the kitchen, Wade busied himself with what could barely pass as tidying up. He clinked glasses together with unnecessary force, muttering exaggerated commentary under his breath, clearly more interested in the unfolding drama than cleaning. He knew he was in trouble. Did he care though? Absolutely fucking not. Logan, standing by the couch, barely registered Wade’s antics. His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled and sharp.

The truth of what Y/N had done had hit him harder than he’d expected.

As the door clicked shut behind the final guest, Y/N hesitated, her hand lingering on the doorknob. For a moment, she stood there, her back to the room, as though steadying herself. When she finally turned around, her gaze met Logan’s.

He stood just a few feet away, still as stone. His expression, usually so guarded, was raw with something she couldn’t quite name—uncertainty, gratitude, maybe even awe.

“So…” he began, his voice rough and hesitant, “you’re the miracle?”

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson at the words. She laughed softly, a nervous sound, and tucked another strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know about that,” she mumbled, her voice quiet. “I just… wanted to help.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his brow furrowing as he struggled to put everything he was feeling into words. Her humility, her quiet determination, the way she seemed to take the weight of the world on her shoulders without asking for anything in return—it made his chest ache.

“You didn’t have to do it,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “No one asked you to. But you did.” He paused, the next words sticking in his throat before he forced them out. “And I—” He stopped again, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled heavily. “Thank you.”

The sincerity in his voice made her breath hitch. Her lips curved into a shy, uncertain smile. “You’re welcome,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.

A heavy silence settled between them, filled with all the words left unsaid. Logan shifted on his feet, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. For a moment, it seemed like he might turn away, might let the moment pass.

Then, without warning, he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

Y/N froze, startled by the sudden gesture, her breath catching in her throat. But the embrace wasn’t rushed or awkward. It was warm, grounding, and spoke of everything Logan couldn’t seem to say aloud. Slowly, she relaxed, her arms coming up to wrap around him in return.

For a few moments, they stood there, the world around them shrinking until it was just the two of them. Logan’s grip was firm but gentle, his face pressed into her hair as he exhaled deeply. Y/N closed her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest as she let herself lean into him.

And for the first time, she let herself admit what she’d been so determined to ignore: Logan wasn’t just her friend or her roommate. He was something far more dangerous. He was the one who made her feel seen, safe, and alive in a way that no one else ever had.

Her feelings for him weren’t some fleeting crush or admiration. They were rooted deep, growing quietly until now, when the weight of his gratitude and the warmth of his embrace cracked open the walls she’d been so carefully keeping in place.

It wasn’t just the way he made her feel safe—it was how he carried so much of his own pain, his own battles, and still found space to be there for others. For her. Logan didn’t just share her world; he anchored it, even when he was struggling to stay afloat himself.

She loved him. And there was no pretending otherwise anymore.

In the kitchen, Wade rummaged loudly through a drawer, the clatter of utensils deliberately exaggerated. “Just looking for the… uh… thing,” he called out, his voice laced with amusement.

Logan pulled back slightly, shooting a glare in Wade’s direction. “Go to bed,” he muttered, his voice gruff.

Wade smirked, unbothered. “Sure thing, miracle man. Don’t let me interrupt.” With a mock salute, he disappeared into his room, the sound of his laughter trailing after him.

Y/N’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t move. Her hands still rested lightly on Logan’s sides, and his gaze remained fixed on her.

“Sorry,” Logan murmured, his voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted, a small, genuine smile breaking through her shyness. “I didn’t mind.”

His lips twitched into something close to a smile, but the emotion in his eyes—the gratitude, the affection, the unspoken promise—spoke louder than any words could.

And Y/N knew, with startling clarity, that her feelings for him weren’t something she could keep burying.

———

The apartment had finally settled into silence, Y/N had long since bid them goodnight, retreating to her room after the whirlwind of the evening. Her door had closed with the softest of clicks, but Logan could still hear her voice in his mind—the nervous quiver when she’d admitted what she’d done, the sincerity in her words, the vulnerability in her smile.

Now he stood on the balcony, the cool night air nipping at his skin. The cigarette in his hand burned low, more ash than anything else. He wasn’t smoking it for the habit—he barely noticed it was there. His fingers toyed with it absently, his focus lost somewhere in the city lights sprawled out before him.

The view wasn’t much, just rows of buildings and the faint hum of late-night traffic. Yet tonight, it felt infinite, a reflection of the mess swirling in his head. Y/N had done so much—more than he’d ever dared to ask of anyone—and she’d done it without hesitation. For him. For his students. The weight of it settled heavily in his chest.

The soft slide of the balcony door broke through his thoughts. Logan didn’t turn, already knowing who it was. Wade stepped out, a slice of pizza in hand, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Wade leaned against the railing beside Logan, the faint scent of pepperoni wafting between them. He took a massive, obnoxious bite of his pizza, chewing with exaggerated fervor. The silence stretched, heavy but companionable, until Wade inevitably broke it.

“So…” he began, his voice carrying that familiar tone of mischief and expectation.

Logan didn’t look at him. He exhaled through his nose, his shoulders easing slightly. “I think I’m in love with her.”

The words came out quieter than he expected, but there was no taking them back. They hung in the air, raw and exposed.

Wade froze mid-bite, his eyes widening as if Logan had just confessed to committing a crime. A beat later, he choked violently, pizza crumbs flying as he slapped his chest with one hand, wheezing dramatically.

Logan didn’t so much as glance at him, his gaze fixed on the city beyond.

When Wade finally recovered, wiping at his mouth with exaggerated flair, he turned to Logan with a look of mock betrayal. “You—you couldn’t have warned me first? I almost died!”

Logan shrugged, his face unreadable.

“Oh no, you don’t get to shrug this off,” Wade said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You just dropped the L-bomb like it’s nothing and nearly sent me to the great beyond in the process.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “The L-bomb?”

“Love, brooding one! Love!” Wade gestured wildly with his pizza, his grin spreading wider. “This is monumental! My Super Bowl, my World Cup, my Oscars all rolled into one. I feel like I should give a speech or something.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but Wade wasn’t deterred.

“Let me tell you,” Wade continued, pacing the small balcony like a coach delivering a halftime pep talk. “You and Y/N? Adorable. The slow burn? Chef’s kiss. But come on, man, we’ve all been rooting for you two forever.”

Logan shot him a glare, but it lacked its usual bite.

“And don’t think for a second that I’m not already planning your wedding,” Wade added, tapping a finger to his temple. “I’m picturing it now—rustic theme, maybe some wildflowers, and me as the best man, obviously.”

“Wade,” Logan warned, his voice low.

“What? You think I’d make a terrible best man? I’ll have you know, I—”

“Wade,” Logan repeated, turning to fix him with a look that might’ve scared off most people.

Not Wade.

“Okay, okay,” Wade said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll stop. For now. But seriously, man.” His voice softened, the humor giving way to something more sincere. “Don’t mess this up. She’s special. You know that.”

Logan sighed, leaning against the railing as he turned back to the horizon. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I know.”

For a moment, Wade was silent, watching Logan with an expression that bordered on fondness. Then he clapped him on the shoulder, a little harder than necessary.

“Well, good talk,” he said, his grin returning full force. “I’ll leave you to your brooding. Don’t forget to invite me to the baby shower.”

Logan groaned, rubbing his temples as Wade slid the door open and disappeared back inside, humming a tuneless song under his breath.

Alone again, Logan let the quiet settle over him. He stared out at the city, the distant lights blurring as his mind wandered back to Y/N. Wade was right about one thing—she was special. And Logan knew, in the quiet honesty of this moment, that he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it.

He didn’t know where this was going, didn’t know how to put everything he felt into words. But he was certain of one thing: he wanted to figure it out—with her.

And, oh, how scary that thought was.

XXX

[gayczennie]

Forever ago I said I’d write this oneshot for Johnny, but I haven’t been in the headspace to write for a while. Today I randomly felt the inspiration to write a bit. I apologize if it doesn’t read well, I may or may not have written it while high af. It took way longer than I thought it would to lead into the actual sex part of the story, so there’s not really any smut in this yet. I’ll try to return later and write the actual smut later, but in the mean time enjoy whatever this is 🤩

Johnny x male reader

General summary: Johnny jerks you off after practice as a reward for getting through a really long day despite being super sore from yesterday’s activities

Reader is having a really hard time keeping it together with all the stress of being an idol

Johnny has been mentoring him and helping him get into shape

Johnny drags him to the car straight after practice seeing that reader is on the verge of breaking down

“Fuck this is exhausting!” you exclaim pushing back your hair that’s sticking to your forehead from all the sweat. “I don’t know why this choreography just isn’t getting through my head. And I’m tired and sore and I just wanna be done for the day so bad!!” Your throat stings from all the cardio you’ve been getting and your thighs shake under you, threatening to give way and send you collapsing onto the floor. You’d been obsessing over looking perfect for the performance that’s quickly approaching. Every free second of the day was spent in a practice room or with Jonny at the gym. He’d been so patient with you the last two weeks, really taking you under his wing. Johnny had made it his personal mission to get you whipped into shape before the upcoming reward show stage with the rest of NCT 127. The two of you had spent a lot of time together recently and you were of course naturally becoming closer. Johnny was harsh on you though, always manhandling your body into the correct form whether you were lifting weights improperly at the gym or doing the choreo slightly wrong. It had left you feeling a weird mix of admiration for the man mixed with a slight fear of his stearnness… and maybe, just maybe, it made you feel a tiny bit turned on feeling his harsh glare and his strong hands around your body guiding you to where you needed to be…

“You done complaining y/n?” asks Johnny from his place on the floor in front of you. He sits in front of the practice room mirror where he’s been for the last 3 hours straight helping you drill your choreography. “I know you’ve been working hard all day baby. But I think you can nail it if you go one or two more times y/n.” Fuck did he just say baby? Did you hear him right?. Maybe the tension you’d been feeling between the two of you the last couple weeks wasn’t all in your head after all. Too exhausted and sore to get your hopes up just yet though, you respond in a whining voice“Johnny I can’t. My whole body hurts and I can barely even move anymore. What’s the point? The performance is so soon anyways I’m not gonna get any better.” You expect Johnny to scold you and tell you to run it again, but instead you see a glimmer in his eyes and the start of a smirk spreading across his face. “Keep going until I tell you it’s satisfactory, and I’ll surprise you with a reward baby. How does that sound?” There it was again. “Baby”. You were certainly intrigued to say the least. Before you even have a chance to respond, Johnny hits play on the music again and you get back into position for another shot at the choreo.

Your legs are still shaking, but you do your best to keep it together and run the song again. Every ounce of your concentration goes into perfecting the dance, hoping that this will finally be the last run through. You put on your best show and move with every bit of energy you’ve got left, sweat spraying across the room as you move to the beat. Finally, the song’s end comes to an end and you finish and then fall to the ground. Rolling over onto your back, you peer up at the ceiling through hooded eyes and Johnny moves into your field of vision. His head hovers over you, making his necklace dangle over your face. “I won’t lie to you, you still have more work to do y/n. But you’re getting better for sure. You worked hard today and you looked good doing it. Come on” he said, holding a hand out to you to help you off the floor. You ignore his outreached hand and instead meet his eyes and ask “Johnny. Is it really still bad? Be honest. I need to know if it sucked”. Tears prickle at your eyes and Johnny’s smirk down at you on the ground quickly fades. He scoops you up onto your feet and places his hands on your shoulders. “Y/n. You don’t suck at all. It was really fucking good! I’m just being hard on you because I wanted you to keep improving. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Somehow Johnny’s words of encouragement make you feel worse, as if he’s lying to you just to make you feel better. “Baby don’t worry about it ok. You looked really good. Like I said before. How about that reward?” He tilts your head up at him and you notice that same glimmer enter his eyes again. It hits you too that he’s got his hands on you again, manipulating your movement the way he so often does. You let him grab your hand and guide you toward the door to finally leave the SM building. The two of you walk toward his car in the parking lot to go home, but to your surprise Johnny leads you both toward the back doors of the car instead of the driver’s and passenger’s seats. “Are we not going home? Johnny I’m so exhausted and I just wanna lie down and cr-

Your words are cut off as Johnny shuts the door and aggressively presses his lips against yours. You’re a little caught off guard at first, after all you didn’t even know if he was gay, but it doesn’t take any convincing for you to kiss him back passionately. Johnny’s hands waste no time exploring your body, and settling around your waist where he can easily control your small body against his. Pulling back a little, Johnny is the first to speak. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that y/n. Watching you train at the gym and in the studio has been turning me on for the longest time.” You smack his chest and ask him “why did you wait so long to do anything about it? You think I’m not thinking the same thing staring at your muscles every day? Or feeling your hands around my waist while we work on the dance? I’ve been spending all this time worrying and feeling stupid and you were interested in me the whole time??”

“I was waiting until I was sure you felt the same way” He shrugged. “What the fuck Johnny. I’ve been trying to hide a boner like ten times a day because of yo- He cuts you off again with a kiss. His tongue slides into your mouth, exploring a bit, while one arm wraps around your lower back. He lowers you down on your back in the backseat while continuing his attack on your lips. “You taste salty” he whispers as he pulls away slightly to remove his shirt. The sight of Johnny’s impressive muscles makes your dick jump in your pants. For once, you do nothing to hide it. You want to fuck Johnny. And it looks like he wants to fuck you too

To be continued.

[squaredbean]

My fake life series teams that no one wants to hear about but I’m posting about anyway

BigDoubleBs: (Bdubs, BigB)

They theme themselves entirely around the letter B. Their logo is a backwards B next to a regular B. They go around spreading lies and rumours and cause general confusion amongst all their peers. The B stands for Bullshit but they can’t explicitly say it and it gets censored multiple times. Bdubs is mostly just matching BigB’s casual chaotic energy but he’s not-so-secretly super stressed out all the time. BigB is oblivious to this and continues to unknowingly make Bdubs’ life hell. Bdubs is consistently loyal but every time he is left alone with someone who isn’t BigB he breaks down. People keep pointing out that he could just leave BigB but Bdubs is vehemently against this. BigB could not care less whether he stays or goes but is glad for the company.

GUESS AKA GESS: (Gem, Etho, Skizz, Scar)

A desperate attempt to make the team name an acronym (at Skizz’s request) themes them all around quiz masters. Everyone changes their skin to have a mask (except Etho) with a different comedy/tragedy-esque face on it. Several names are tried before they land on GESS (Gem immediately shot-down SEGS and EGSS). They run out of questions to ask very fast and Gem is the only competent member of their team because Etho makes it his personal mission to antagonise Skizz and Scar for no reason at all. Etho convinces Scar to kill Skizz and break his heart, Gem kills Etho for being annoying. (fun fact I wrote this one before the trivia bot episode lmaooo)

Team LIT: (Lizzie, Impulse, Tango)

They go all-out on the party theme, throw several parties (most of which end horrifically (“why do we keep coming back to these?! they never go well!” -Grian, probably)) and Lizzie claims to have trauma from her failed secret life party. Joel attends every party and doesn’t die at any of them. Impulse and Tango try to redstone their way into murdering people during the parties - they do, but they also murder themselves and Lizzie several times. They are consistently pathetic for most of the season, except Tango and Lizzie get eliminated very early on and Impulse snaps, kills so many people as a red and wins the season.

The Gentlemen: (Scott, Mumbo, Joel, Jimmy)

These four find themselves hanging out on the first session and make a bit of themselves doing posh English accents, which turns into a season-long ordeal. They all change into suits (except Mumbo who is already wearing a suit) and hate team LIT with a burning passion because they are “uncouth savages”. At some point it turns into Scott, Joel, and Mumbo all fighting over Jimmy’s attention. Mumbo doesn’t exactly know why they’re fighting over Jimmy but he’s too deep in the “yes, and” to back out now. Joel and Scott very amicably hate each other and keep making passive-aggressive jibes at each other. Jimmy quite honestly just enjoys the attention.

Nightstalkers: (Pearl, Martyn, Grian)

They keep to the shadows. They become one with the night. All three of them are shockingly good at sneaking and become thieves/ninjas. Martyn does a Batman voice until he can’t stand to do it anymore. Pearl just likes to giggle behind people. Grian mostly just likes to mess with Jimmy and Scar. The three of them start to do black market trading. They try to be allies with everyone but by the end of the season everyone kind of hates them. Grian is once again the last of his teammates standing.

God Help Us: (Cleo, Ren)

Cleo defends Ren from a horde of zombies night one and naturally Ren declares them bonded for life (“or at least until the season ends, I guess”). Ren feels he is indebted to Cleo and spends the whole season throwing himself in front of them as a meat shield. He dies first. Cleo joins up with the Nightstalkers. Everyone offers condolences to Cleo even before Ren dies because they spend the season just Going Through It. Murphy’s Law slaps Cleo in the face so hard. She, Tango, and Impulse spend almost an entire episode crying to each other about the fact that things are just Not Good.

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 5: The Shadow to my Flame

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Before she left, Ashe went to her room to pick up a few things.

Firstly, she needed to write a letter.

Ashe had always learned that correspondence should be written as beautifully as possible and with carefully thought through words. This was the opposite of that.

They are planning on moving soldiers to the town closet to the Forest House tomorrow to set the “correct example” for the rest of the High Lords on the ball.

They know the Night Court have been snooping around, be careful.

I NEED HELP.

I need to get someone out. Please, help me. I’ll send him over the border to Summer, please make sure he’ll be okay. His name is Thord.

The second thing she did was packing a bag. She put in all the money she owned, her blanket and some food. She didn’t own much more, so that would have to be enough.

After that, she almost stormed out to get through the ID-sone as quickly as possible.

“ID?”

She handed him her card.

“Leave approval?”

She handed him that too.

He spent about three minutes looking back and forth between her papers and Ashe.

“What are you doing that needed approval for a night away?”

“All the information is on my leave approval.”

She started to become angry. The worry and anxiety were so big that it made her other feelings unstable.

“I need you to tell me.”

She took a quick breath and spoke quickly.

“An elderly friend of mine needed me to help her feed her animals today. I forgot about it until this evening, but my leave got approved and I really don’t want to disappoint my friend.”

The guard looked at her for a while longer, but he eventually let her go and she winnowed.

“What are you doing here?” Samli was the one that opened the door. She immediately grabbed Ashe by the arm and pulled her inside.

“Where is Thord? Have you gotten him out?”

Samli’s eyes grew in both worry and gratitude. She then shook her head, and Thord came out of the living room.

“Hello, love. What are you doing here?”

His cheerful voice was now grave. It was obvious that the two mates were in the middle of saying goodbye. Both of their eyes were red and watery.

Thord gave her a small hug, but it didn’t have the smoothing effect his hugs usually had.

“We need to get you out of here. The soldiers are moving here tomorrow.”

Thord had now moved over and was embracing Samli. She held onto his arm and leaned her head to his chest. They were soaking up all the time they could.

“We have no way of getting him out of here without getting caught. And we have no money for him to live off if we got him out,” Samli said. “We are staying together until the end.”

In one way, it was beautiful. In another, Ashe found it awful the couple had to go through this. She was going to help them.

“I can winnow you. I have money, a blanket and food for you. A…a friend of mine is meeting you in Summer. We just need to get you over the border.”

Ashe only hoped Shadow had gotten her letter and that what she spoke was true.

The mates looked at her with gratitude. They were both in deep thought.

“We need to leave now then,” Samli said.

“I’m not going without you,” Thord immediately answered.

Ashe realized she was stupid to think a male would leave his mate in potential danger, but at the same time it was necessary. Getting one fae over the border without anyone noticing was hard enough. Getting two was almost impossible.

“I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself for potential danger, Thord. You are going whether you like it or not.”

It was like they had a small staring competition, but eventually Thord agreed.

Samli embraced her mate and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth and then his forehead. Thord did the same.

“Go now. I’ll find you when this is over.”

“You better,” Thord answered before he forced himself to let go of Samli and move to Ashe.

“Ready?” she asked him.

“Ready,” he answered.

Ashe took his hand and soon they were winnowing.

They landed at one of the least guarded places of the border. Or at least that’s what Eris said. Ashe could only hope he was right.

“Here.” She took off her backpack and gave it to Thord. “This should last you at least a few weeks. My friend hasn’t responded yet, but I’m sure someone will meet you and bring you to a safe place. I only told them your name, nothing else.”

Thord nodded and took the backpack. He looked heartbroken.

“You’ll look after her, won’t you? We haven’t been apart for more than a few hours since we mated. After we finally got together, we swore to stay together for all our lives.”

It was Ashe’s turn to feel heartbroken. Imagine seeing someone every day for centuries and then having to leave them.

“I promise,” Ashe answered. “And I promise I’ll do all in my power to make sure you’ll get back to each other.”

Thord nodded at her words, but he didn’t look convinced.

He gave her a short hug and started to move over the border.

He walked quickly and it didn’t take long before Ashe didn’t see him anymore. However, she stayed at the border. Both to make sure no one came for Thord, but also hoping to get a glimpse of Shadow. She didn’t.

Ashe winnowed back to Samli with mixed emotions. She was happy Thord was out of the court where he had a better chance of being safe. And at the same time, she was angry. She was fuming at the thought of Samli having to live her without her mate. She was fuming because Thord was now wandering alone without any protection.

“He’s in Summer.”

Samli then let out all her feelings as she collapsed to the floor. Ashe held her until she had to go back to the Forst House.

Ashe had finished breakfast-duty and gone to her room when she got the letter she had been waiting for.

Thord is safe in the Night Court. He thanks you for helping him and hopes that you will let his mate know that he’s okay.

What you did was dangerous, but brave. I hope you don’t put your life in danger again for quite some time. You’re supposed to live your usual life and send me the information you hear. Do not seek out dangerous situations.

Thank you for the information, we’ll be extra careful going forward. The High Lords of Night, Day and Summer has come to an agreement to try to stop Beron. They’ll come with their suggestion’s during breakfast on Sunday.

It might become violent, stay safe.

Shadow

Ashe felt such relief from the letter that she cried. He was safe. The Night Court would be more careful. And the High Lords were trying to stop this. She felt like she could breathe for the first time in the three weeks since the slaughter began.

She picked up a new piece of paper and answered Shadow immediately.

Thank you. It means more than you know.

Flame

She used her magic to send the letter, and it only took minutes for the answer to come.

Of course. I’m sorry for not asking before, but you are high fae? Or do you need help out of the court as well?

Shadow

I’m high fae, so I don’t need any help. I’m safe.

Flame

Good. Thord told me you’re a servant at the Forest House. Does that mean you’ll be at the ball this weekend?

He also told me you gave him all your money. I’ll make sure you’ll get extra with your next payment.

Shadow

Yes, I’ll be at the ball. I usually have weekends off, but because of the small number of servants we have left, I’ll work.

That’s not necessary, I get paid for my work here as a servant

Flame

Wear this on your uniform. Make sure it’s not too obvious, but a place I’ll be able to see it. I don’t have any tasks for you, it’s just a precaution if anything goes badly.

Don’t argue with me, or I’ll give you even more money.

Shadow

Ashe picked up a black rose pin that was fastened to the paper. It was small, but a little shiny.

Even though being a secret spy definitely wasn’t the safest job, she had started to understand that it gave you a lot of protection if something were to go wrong.

For some reason, being a traitor gave Ashe the biggest feeling of safety she had ever had.

Taglist: @tele86 @demon-master-zero @kbear8863 @atluky

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[deezee112]

The worst ending 15 : The Poisoned Fairytale

The worst ending 14 | The worst ending 16

Yandere!Epel Felmier x GN!Reader

A/N : I decided to watch Snow White. I had never seen it before but my mom said it was really So much fun so I decided to watch it just in case it had something to do with the story.

And it turns out I really like Disney's 2D cartoons. It makes me like, " Wow, this is so hard. How did they do it? " Do you guys believe that I watch every story about 2 times? The first time I watch the story and characters. The second time I only watch the background of the characters and the artwork.

Warnings : This story contains themes of obsessive love , manipulation , and emotional dependency , including death , grief , and psychological distress.

Tags :

@iris-arcadia @yuu-twisted

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

The small child sat on the edge of the couch in the dimly lit living room, his lilac hair messy and his blue eyes wide as they darted around, taking in every detail of his surroundings. He was quiet, unnervingly so, his tiny hands clutching at the hem of his shirt.

You crouched in front of him, your voice soft as you tried to bridge the silence. “ Hey there, little guy. Do you have a name? ”

He tilted his head, his gaze meeting yours but offering no answer.

“ Well, we can’t have that. ” you said with a light chuckle. “ You need a name. How about…Epel? ”

His lips parted slightly, as if testing the sound in his head, but he said nothing. Instead, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“ Epel ” you said with a grin. “ Nice to meet you. ”

He nodded, the gesture slow and deliberate, as if acknowledging some unspoken bond.

Raising Epel was a journey filled with quiet moments and sudden bursts of determination. At first, he communicated mostly through gestures and shy smiles, but as he grew, his personality began to shine.

Epel loved listening to your stories, especially the tale of Snow White. His eyes would light up whenever you mentioned the poisoned apple and the kiss of true love.

“ Tell me again! ” he would say, tugging at your sleeve.

“ Again? I’ve already told you twice today! ”

“ Please? ” he’d plead, his blue eyes wide with innocence.

You could never say no to that face. “ Alright....but just one more time! ”

As the years passed, Epel became more confident and capable. He would often help you in the kitchen, his small hands deftly peeling apples or stirring pots.

“ You’re getting pretty good at this. ” you remarked one day as he handed you a perfectly peeled apple.

“ Of course. ” he said with a hint of pride. “ I want to be helpful to you, y/n. ”

He always seemed happiest when he was doing something for you, whether it was helping with chores or simply sitting by your side as you read him a story. But there was a certain intensity in his gaze whenever he watched you, a longing that he couldn’t quite put into words.

One evening, Epel approached you with a small basket of apples. His hands trembled slightly as he held it out to you.

“ I made these for you. ” he said, his voice soft.

“ Thank you, Epel. ” you replied, taking an apple from the basket. It was perfectly shiny, its red skin gleaming in the light.

He watched intently as you bit into it, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

“ It’s delicious. ” you said, smiling. “ You’ve outdone yourself. ”

But as the sweetness of the apple filled your mouth, a strange dizziness overcame you. The world blurred, and you staggered, reaching out to steady yourself.

“ y/n...? ” Epel’s voice was filled with concern, but there was something else beneath it—anticipation.

You collapsed onto the couch, your vision darkening as Epel knelt beside you.

Epel stared at your still form, his heart pounding in his chest. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, just like in the story of Snow White.

But you didn’t wake up.

“ Maybe…maybe I didn’t do it right. ” he muttered to himself. He kissed you again, and again, each attempt more desperate than the last.

“ Wake up, y/n... ” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “ Please wake up! ”

Tears streamed down his face as he realized the truth. His lips trembled, his breaths coming in short, panicked gasps.

“ I’m not… ” he whispered, his hands clutching yours. “ I’m not your true love... ”

He collapsed beside you, his sobs echoing through the silent room.

Epel kept your body in the living room, refusing to let anyone take you away. He spent his days tending to the space, arranging flowers and polishing the furniture, as though maintaining the room would somehow bring you back.

“ Once upon a time.. ” he whispered one evening, sitting beside you with a storybook in his lap. “ There was a girl who loved telling stories…and a boy who wanted to be her prince. ”

His voice cracked as he turned the page, the words blurring through his tears.

“ But the boy wasn’t good enough Because He wasn’t her true love.... ”

[coastershells]

Hi I saw your writing and its so good💗 I was hoping you could do a Dallas x fem!reader best friends to lovers smut please🙏🏼 thank you☺️💗

A M I D R E A M I N G . .

( or did you just kiss me? you don’t know it but you already miss me.)

IN WHICH — dallas and you decide to take your ‘ friendship ‘ to another level.

SONG — watermelon - john q. public

⚠️ : semi public sex , mostly fluff for the rest of the ride though.. || requested? / yes!! : no ( not proofread , fucked up a part and i can’t find it so oh well )

୨୧ — wc : 3.5k.

you hate parties sometimes for this exact reason.

or maybe you haven’t been to enough.

you had been over buck’s for god knows how long , dallas had invited you and even walked you here — but god knows where he’s in the house by now. you promise yourself you can’t even walk straight.

you’re bored , tired , and you sort of want to go home now. you just don’t want to walk alone. so there you go , on your mission to find dallas.

in a house of crowded drunk people.

you decide ; if you’re going to go home , you’ll go big AND go home. so with that , you slowly stumble your way over to the drinks table , and lightly try to pick one up , but a hand stops you before you can.

“ don’t you suppose that’s enough drinkin’ for you? golly , didn’t know broads could drink ‘emselfs crazy.“ someone says with a familiar voice , it rings in your head.

you slowly turn your head and see dallas , he lightly puts his hand over your hand so you put the cup back on the table , and you give a crooked smile. “ dallas.. ”

“ yeah yeah , call me dallas even though i said to call me dal or dally even. ” he licks his lips. “ listen , man. i’m bored out of my fuckin’ mind. ” dallas raises his eyebrows and looks around before locking eyes with you. “ seems like you’re just about down for the count. ” he chuckles to himself and you blow raspberries.

“ just a little out of it. ” you mumble and dallas can only but pray you didn’t hear the small ‘ more than a little ‘ that slipped out.

“ tired , though. can you walk me home? i’ll be spooked if i go alone. ”

dallas shakes his head. “ not just yet , got some more stuff to handle , how about you just busy yourself for a minute , alright? maybe you’ll decide on spending the night. ” he says before turning on his heel , the loud music making it hard to even hear his footsteps. but he turns around and shoots at you.

“ don’t you dare pick up another drink. ” he says , you nod lazily , completely forgetting your thought process.

what the hell are you supposed to do meanwhile?

you should’ve followed him , or maybe you shouldn’t have.

god , you’re so damn lost.

you should’ve picked that other “ friendly , but just the two of us ” date he gave to you , going to that nice cafe at the end of the street near the drive in — the one that was covered in ivy. holy fuck you would’ve been sober.

the amount you drank really began to kick in , and you felt your head spinning like crazy. going outside would probably help.

not because it would be cold enough to bring you back — not at all. it was humid outside and inside , there was no escaping the heat unless you were thrown into a deep freezer.

with that , you departed from the drink table and stumbled across the room to the front door , relying on it to keep you stable until you opened the door and let yourself sit on the balcony and gaze at the stars. not because you want to ; you’d pick sunsets over star gazing any day , especially that one time with dallas when you finally got him to settle for five minutes and listen.

you’d kill for another calm “ friend “ date with dallas like that again.

as you sit there and think , your drunk mind wanders. from how hot it is , to where dallas is , and to whether you should stay or not.

the door opening startled you slightly , but when you hear dallas’ voice break out , you turn around.

“ golly — i oughta put a tag on you that glows if you’re just gonna run out of here like that. why are you out here? “

“ it’s the same temperature as inside anyway. “

dallas shrugs before letting his jacket fall off onto the porch. “ mhm , i hear you. ”

he sniffs , like he’s cold , almost. but that can’t be possible. “ you’re staying, ” he says. at first you process it as a question , but there was no curiosity in that sentence. he was telling you. “ not letting you walk home so late. nor do i feel like walkin’. “ he complains and you frown.

“ everytime i’m over here i’m forced to stay here because you’re too lazy. you’re barley even drunk! ” you say , not as clear as you wanted it to be but dallas hums in understanding before biting back.

“ you can’t even walk straight. ”

“ i can walk though , just hold my hand. ” you extend your arm to him and he does nothing but smile. it’s crooked , and you can tell he’s drunk now. you were guessing at first but now you can really tell.

“ i bet everything i own you can’t walk in a straight line. with or without my help. ” he says , taking your hand and pulling you up. you crash into his chest and you yelp.

“ huh? “ you say , trailing off as he turns you and places you against the wall. he doesn’t repeat himself , nor tell you what he’s doing , but you catch it. even in your clouded mind , you gasp.

“ dal — no! not here! what the fuck? ” you whisper shout and he looks around.

“ nobody’s out here. ” he shrugs and reaches under your skirt , you twitch away.

“ people are inside. not here , dal. ” you say , holding his hand.

dallas seems to pause for a second before backing away from you , looking around to the side of the house , then smiling.

“ to the back , then? ”

you shake your head , you almost nodded. “ that’s still so open.. ” you say , it comes out slurred. “ why can’t we just do it in your room? ”

he makes his way towards you again , picking you up over his shoulder and then replying. “ no doubt people are already in there. ” he says , you didn’t have time to yelp or do anything against him picking you up before the smell of weed invaded your nose. the leather was nothing new , even without his jacket. cold leather. you wish he hadn’t left it. god. what else had he done tonight?

he only placed you down when you had gotten to the back of the house instead. how nice of him to do that. you luckily , caught your footing and used the wall for support.

dallas is already at your neck and your breath hitches , the hand that was under your skirt returns again , and it’s playing with the lace of your underwear.

he probably noticed you weren’t wearing anything under , but he doesn’t comment on it. either too focused on ruining your neck yet again or how he’s slowly yet surely pulling your panties down.

“ dal — “ you try to protest and push his head away , and it does work , but his other hand gets a grip on your thigh and lifts you up.

okay , now you’re really stuck.

“ shut it. “ dallas says a little harsher than you like. “ just stay still , alright , doll? let me do this. ” the last part comes out as a half question , and you nod. you don’t recall him ever calling you that before , and it’s so random , but you don’t have the energy to ask if he has ever asked you that before. you wouldn’t like to try.

with that , a small ‘ i hope you don’t like these ‘ slips out of his mouth as you hear your panties just about rip. you wince and look down.

“ dally! “ you cry out. you don’t use that nickname much. “ you could’ve just — taken them off of me! “ you whine , but this time he doesn’t respond. what are you supposed to wear under your skirt after this?

he makes quick way of unbuttoning his pants , you can barley keep your head straight so you’re basically forced to keep looking down. and oh boy , you realize why he was so willing to just do it on the front porch.

the humidity outside doesn’t quite help your situation , you feel hot already , you’re dizzy , and drunk. you’re so sure you would’ve already been on the floor if dallas wasn’t holding you up.

dallas presses you against the wall further , and at this rate you can do nothing but whine and wait. he lifts your skirt up just enough for him to be able to see and you not. your arms find rest on his shoulders , and when he finally pushes in to you , you let out a loud yelp that dallas doesn’t try to cover up.

maybe because nobody inside will be able to hear you , you can still feel the house vibrating from the music inside. and that’s more than likely the reason. otherwise , he would’ve shut you up with a hand over you mouth as soon as a sound louder than usual came out.

dallas himself seemed to be making a huge effort not to buck into you really hard , god you don’t want to know how bad that would hurt at his full length.

“ still , baby. ” he says into your shoulder , and you have a big feeling he’s going to bite it. you whine when you feel his cock just about rub up against you , you can feel him shaking despite it being hot and it’s getting hotter and hotter and —

and you aren’t just quite ready when he actually pushes into you , letting out a soft groan as you tightnen your grip on his shoulders. you question whether you should get him back by dragging your nails against his upper back , but you decide that can be done later.

dallas’ moves his hips uneven , almost. slowly out , a little more harsher in that pushes a yelp from the back of your throat.

“ y’ smell like alcohol and smoke , darling. don’t tell me i gotta actually keep a leash on ya to — fuck , to make sure you don’t drink yourself — mad.. “ dallas says against your shoulder , and you push his head away slightly as your voice breaks into a whine. it being hot outside , you being against the wall , sweating , and his hair rubbing against your bare skin isn’t a good combo at all.

“ mmh? ” dallas hums , beginning to match his pace up. “ you don’t have to be quiet. “ he reminded you , and you looked down to the ground. a moan was pushed out of your chest when he pushed into you a little harder than he should’ve.

“ what’s so good about the ground? i’m your friend. look at me. “ you want to say that he said it in a demanding tone , but it came out more of a plea. there was no way you could look at him — not right now , atleast.

dallas took your silence as a no , and he groaned , returning to that same harsh pace he was just using.

“ have it your way , then. ”

you grip his shoulders with your nails instead , forget his back , you can’t even reach that with how mushy your brain feels by now.

you’re already mourning your ability to walk in the morning.

“ dal — wait — fuck- ” you cry out. “ what if the music — what if it c — cuts? ” you ask through helpless whines , but dallas does nothing but silence you.

“ i doubt anyone will hear even then. ” dallas groans , probably not because of what you asked , but the fact that everytime he talks he goes off rhythm.

his fault.

a hand slides to your skirt and he mumbles a small ‘ sorry ‘ before you feel a tug on the opposite side of your hip.

he just ripped your skirt , didn’t he? what are you actually supposed to wear inside? is he insane?

“ dallas! ” you say , a whine that was mixed with both sadness and the way he only sped up after that.

“ i’ll buy you a new one , ” his breath hitches. “ so just shut up with the actual words , would ya darlin’? you aren’t sayin’ anything useful. ”

you can feel that same weird effect piling up in your stomach yet again , and you shut your eyes tight as it comes and goes.

you can’t tell if your irritated or about to pass out , your vision is blurry and you can barley make out the words dallas is saying to you now. you decide that you’re both irritated and you’re currently passing out. your grip softens on his shoulders , and you’re slightly sad you can’t see the damage done.

you’ll see it when you wake up.

when you wake up , dallas has kept his promise to not taking you home. the first thing you notice when you wake up is the deafening silence. none of the loudness from downstairs is there anymore , and you can’t exactly move. your legs feel numb and there’s also an arm wrapped around your waist , the other lays higher. right under your chest. you notice you have on rather baggy sweatpants. you don’t know what color , but the material is similar to yours. are they yours?

you go to feel down with a hand , the one under your chest slightly moves.

no , they can’t be. way too loose. your smell is last to come , the smell of weed is gone , but the leather still sticks. and it’s all over you.

dallas is holding you. and he’s asleep.

when you first met dallas , he was rude. well , not rude. but he had no sense of respect. any girl that even came in his sights he just had to hit on. you happened to be one of ponyboy’s friends. you usually tagged along with him and dallas was there occasionally. you think the first place you met him at was the lot. he had asked you if your hair color was your actual one , and if it was the same color that your —

— your eyebrows. you know he didn’t want to say that , but you guess he knows the real answer now.

dallas must’ve been fake sleeping , or maybe a coincidence , because his arm’s completely moved and he started to wake up. you could finally stretch properly.

“ you watchin me in my sleep? ” dallas nudges your shoulder and you ignore what he said. “ good morning , dallas. yes , i’m fine after last night dallas. ” that’s a lie , you can barley remember anything. and the headache is coming for you. he hums in of what you had said acknowledgment and gives off a laugh. it’s dry , and his voice is raspy with how he just woke up.

“ you were drunk out of your mind. had to wrap my jacket around you and tell buck you were knocked out around back. do what you will with that information. ” he turns to get up , and you lightly tug on his shirt. “ hey , what the hell? you’re just gonna leave me here? i can’t stand. ” you grumble and he smiles.

“ not leavin you. getting you a new shirt. you can wear one of mine until we make it to your house. you can rest there. ” it annoys you how dallas has already made plans for you when your hangover is getting to the best of you. “ can’t we just stay here and rest? ”

dallas shakes his head. “ i’d ask you to live here if i could. fortunately , no. i’ve got work , babydoll. ” he says as he opens a drawer and pulls out a cigarette. it amazes you how before he even thinks about brushing his teeth , he smokes. he walks back over to his nightstand and grabs a lighter , bringing it to the cigarette.

“ listen , i’ll get my job done fast. you’re gonna rest at home , i’ll ring you and you’ll doll yourself up. i wanna take you somewhere nice later on , alright? ” dallas says almost like he’s asking if you want to do that , but you know he’s telling you. and now your whole day has been planned out.

you can’t find it in you to make an excuse , so you decide to just nod. “ another friend date that’s only the two of us? ”

“ nope. ” he says quickly and takes a drag from his cigarette. “ a real date. which means ponyboy ain’t allowed for real this time. no kids. ” he says , and you’re sure he’s quoting steve. you scoff and he does nothing but take another drag from his cigarette.

“ come on , i’ll walk you home like i always do. ” he says. “ wouldn’t really count it as walking since i’ll be carrying you , but — ”

you cut him off with a groan.

he gets the memo.

“ alright , attitude. ” dallas mumbles. he throws a shirt your way.

B O N U S

( sort of..? )

just like dallas had said in the early morning , he carried walked you home and gave you a ‘ friendly ‘ kiss goodbye. hours felt slow , maybe because you kept looking at the time but you swear time has never been slower in your life. you only started to ponder on what to wear when dallas had called you and said to get really pretty.

you decided on something that wasn’t exactly flashy , a black skirt , a random worn out top , boots gifted to you by dallas , and a leather jacket that you had never gave back to him. you wouldn’t say you did exactly much to your face.. more on your hair than anything.

you were just about finishing up when you heard a car coming down the street and a honk outside. you didn’t have to look out the window to know it was dallas.

and so it was , him in all of his glory and nicely dressed , ( not really , but you won’t insult him. you’re too nice. ) he greets you with the same flirty line he always uses , paired with a random pet name that he probably came up with on the spot.

most of the drive is filled with silence , not awkward , but almost like one of you should say something specific.

dallas decides to be that person.

“ i like you a lot , y’know. ” he says and you hum. you’re so positive you know what he’s getting at , but you try to stay oblivious. you want him to say it directly.

“ like — jeez. ” you look over and he looks — nervous? almost? “ like how ponyboy likes sunsets , yeah? and how two bit likes beer. like that. ”

“ i don’t get it. what do you mean? ” you say , trying to hide the smile in your voice since he can’t look over. you just hope he’s not using the corner of his eye.

“ alright , fuck. i love you. that what you wanted to hear? ”

you try to egg him on. “ and? what else? ”

he raises an eyebrow , but sighs and actually thinks for a second. the car stops at a traffic light.

“ i don’t want to see other guys treat you how i treat you. ” he says , almost a whisper , before he perks up again and awkwardly sniffs before changing the topic. “ what are you gonna order? ”

“ whatever’s fine , i guess. or i’ll just decide when we get there. ” you shift uncomfortably in the seat.

dallas doesn’t argue with that , whether he understands or just doesn’t want to.

the only thing you can hear is the far away sounds of people talking. you decide it’s your turn to speak.

“ i love you too , dallas. like how ponyboy likes the sunsets or whatever. didn’t expect you to be so emotional , though. ” you giggle and he blows his breath.

“ shut it , will you? the silence is nice. ” he licks his lips and you relax into the seat.

“ it’s nicer when i’m around you. ”

this time , it’s dallas’ turn to nod in agreement.

and you remind yourself ; you never saw the scratches you had made on him.

you shrug to yourself.

the light turns green , and dallas pulls off.

“ yes , i’ll be your girlfriend dally. ”

you look over and see a small smile on his face.

you are so sure he needed to hear that just as much as you did.

i have no excuse for not posting. nor do i have the strength to after editing this. i’m going to sleep.

taglist : @mrsdillonx , @r0seb100d , @socgf , @staygoldmarty , @every1hatesmayaa

[nthspecialll]

this is just to branch off of one of the last asks; but while I do completely agree Arthur and John were groomed (in the nonsexual sense ofc), i cant help but think that whether Hosea or Dutch never found them at all, they would still end up as criminals, arguably worse? Arthur already had the influence of his bio dad that died as a criminal, and I doubt he was making his living on the streets lawfully. John even mentions his first kill being really young at a campfire interaction (I believe he said 8 or 11? I honestly cant quite remember the specific age), and then it is said he was getting lynched for petty stealing when Dutch found him.

again, this isn't to say what Hosea and Dutch did was right by any means! When you find vulnerable children on the street your first reaction shouldn't be bringing them into your dangerous life of crime, like if they truly wanted to help, I'm sure a church, orphanage, or ranch couldn't have been that hard to find. but I'm also pretty sure neither of the boys were on a good path in the first place (one could argue actually indulging them on this horrible path is even more fucked up, as they were grown men and could have seen the bigger picture, in contrast to literal traumatized children with nowhere to go!). hell, even Tilly was already in a life of crime. but this is all to say, I'm sure at these ages, they all would have had plenty of time to turn their ways around.

I guess I'm just writing this to get your input! :0 I fear sometimes I try to see two sides of an argument and accidentally lean too much the other way, so just wanted to see what others thought on the subject lol

Well if Dutch hadn't been there for John he would have been dead, simple as that seeing as he literally saved him from the noose. Also it was when he was 11 he killed someone.

As for with Arthur, it is hard to say. A orphanage could have come in, but I fear he wouldn't have stayed there for long. Young Arthur was a very angry person who likely did not listen to a lot of people. And while the orphanages or churches might have wanted to help him I don't exactly see how they would be able to put themselves in a respected position to help him become the kind man we know today.

Likely Arthur would run off, he had already lived on the streets and prior to that he lived with a distant father, he isn't used to having someone control him, hold a hand over him and that is a big change, and we know that young Arthur when fustrated tended to give in to the anger.

So short answer, Arthur might have gotten help however I doubt he would take it, John would be dead.

[chaifootsteps]

SolRook, Pavellan, one-sided Solavellan. Spoilers for act 3 of Veilguard.

***

Mahanon knew the man they call Rook long before he actually met him.

For the longest time, on the streets of Minrathous, he was known as ‘the Fox.’ No one could tell you his real name or what he looked like, although based on the way he slung blades and picked locks and got around rooftops, many speculated that he was a former Antivan Crow. After the Nessus incident in which someone got a glimpse of the face behind the mask, the distinct outline of a pointed ear, the prevailing theory was that he was a former slave.

In actuality, he’s a young man with a sharp, angular face and quick blue eyes. Turns out he’s Legatus Charon Mercar’s boy, raised half in secrecy and half with a silver spoon in his mouth, tutored in too-formal Elven that he’s always eager to break out when speaking to Mahanon. He takes his coffee bitter but milky, likes stuffed grape leaves, and hates fish. Despite the skill at jumping rooftops, he loathes heights.

And when he speaks about Solas – confesses, rather – Mahanon’s not at all surprised.

“I talk to him, sometimes. More than the others know. More than I care to admit.” Then, far too quickly to be entirely truthful… “Not like that, of course not. But just the same, it’s not just war table talk anymore. We’ll sit up swapping stories about companions, travelling, the way we think things ought to be. Music.”

He can’t quite meet Mahanon’s eyes when he says it. Mahanon sighs, leans in, drops his voice to a point of conspiratorial, gentle quiet.

“Did you know that when I first met Solas, I carried a torch for him in the worst way?” Oh, how he wishes he could commit the look on Rook’s face to a frame in that moment. It's fairly priceless. “Oh yes. He was charming, witty, kind. An elf at a time when I was ravenous for the company of one, though I suspect I would have felt the same if I’d been a dwarf or a Qunari. I would have boxed a High Dragon if he’d asked me to. I would have done anything for him.”

“Did he know?” A beat. “Does...does Magister Pavus know?”

“Turned me down very kindly. Dorian and I laugh about it now.” It’s true. Dorian’s never allowed him to live it down, and Mahanon supposes he wouldn't either if their positions were reversed. “I’ve never regretted the path life's put me on. Dorian’s the love of my life and always will be, but save for him, Solas is the most remarkable man I’ve ever known. Years ago, he told me that his plans to bring down the Veil would mean the end of the world, and if ever he’d told me even once that that had changed? That those casualties could be reduced, and that he was attempting to transfer the Evanuris to a stronger prison? I would have leap to his aid. Called upon every ounce of clout my name carries.”

Rook looks conflicted, like he’s not sure whether to be relieved or less relieved than ever. “I don’t know which possibility terrifies me more, to be honest with you...that I’m not his type or Maker help me, that I am.”

The former Inquisitor refills his drink. “I think that’s romance for you. Doesn't matter whether you’re carrying a torch for the fellow that lives down the street or the Dread Wolf himself.”

It's the sort of thing they could talk about all day, but for the time being, they leave it at that. They have their meal, argue about splitting the bill, Mahanon wins, and they go their separate ways. When word comes out that Solas has escaped the Fade and Rook has vanished mysteriously, that seems to mark the end of that affair. But Harding's gone, the dagger's gone, and something about blood magic, and Mahanon...Mahanon can't think about any of it too much.

Not so much because he worries so much about Rook – he bets Dorian apples to gold pieces that the young elf will make an appearance sooner or later, and reassures the occupants of the Lighthouse as much – but because the whole thing is so frightfully, unjustly sad. Because Mahanon remembers that frightened, tentative look in the young elf's eyes, the one Rook tried so hard to pretend wasn't a little hopeful, and really does wish it had ended differently.

Sure enough, Rook isn’t gone. He appears as suddenly as he left, and shows up on the burning streets of Minrathous looking every inch the Fox, calling out to the crowd to bring the light. When Mahanon meets him before that final ascent, the young man says nothing to allude to what he told Mahanon over supper that day. If there’s conflict, pain, betrayal, it never shows.

(It won’t be until much, much later that Mahanon will learn that he spoke to Solas, and that when he did, he sounded as damn near close to tears as his companions had ever heard him.)

But suddenly, Mahanon has even less time to pretend that any of it is his business. Suddenly, Dorian’s holding his face in his hands, tears shining in his eyes, imploring with him not to make the final climb up that horrible, blighted growth.

"You don't have to do this," he says as he has so many, many times over the past nine years. "

And Mahanon, just like he's done every time over those past nine years, memorizes his husband's beautiful face, the feel of his kiss, and replies...

"I love you, vhenan. I'll see you very soon."

And suddenly, he and Morrigan are standing beside a blighted throne at the top of the world, and Mahanon is attempting to talk down the man he never stopped loving, not really.

It doesn’t work, obviously. Mahanon never thought it would, in his heart of hearts. Knows better by now.

But somehow, miraculously, impossibly, what Rook’s been putting together all these months does.

The state that comes over Solas when Mythal’s ghostly figure approaches him is unlike anything Mahanon has ever seen from him before, and something he dearly, dearly hopes to never see again. Solas cringes from her pale touch, bends before her, and – though this may just be a trick of the light, a cruel twisting of shadow – Mahanon thinks he sees him hold out the lyrium dagger as though to offer it up to kill him. Hunched over, weeping, he looks less like a man freed from guilt than a beaten dog. It’s perverse, it's wrong, and Mahanon has never wanted to embrace him more.

“You are free to choose another way,” he says instead, kneeling beside him. Ar lasa mala revas. And with an exhale, Solas straightens, glances back at the newly severed leash, and makes the choice to run.

He places the lyrium dagger in Rook’s hands. In the shadows cast between their bodies, fingers cover one another, curling together. "I will go and seek atonement."

He turns to leave; Rook raises the dagger. For a moment, just a fleeting one, Mahanon fears he’s about to drive it into the Dread Wolf’s back. But instead, he hands it off to Morrigan, and says...

"But you don't have to go alone."

The lingering gaze Solas gives him is...many things, small and tentative and overlapping. Surprise, certainly. Deep, abiding, sadness. A peripheral ghost of what might be longing. But not the gentle, indulgent look he once gave Mahanon when he turned him away.

"You are needed elsewhere. I made these choices, I alone will bear their consequences. It is...my responsibility."

"Responsibility? Solas, you’re literally carrying the sky on your shoulders. You’ve been carrying this alone for long enough. You've been alone for long enough.”

“You are not the one who shattered the world. You have your own path, Rook. It is time to walk it."

“And if I don't care to walk it? If I've seen what's waiting along your path, and consider it worthwhile?"

Solas hesitates. “Rook...I understand what this is about. Make no mistake, I do understand. Suffice it to say, you need not pity me. Pity would be the cruelest note you and I could part ways on."

Rook chokes.

"Pity?" Dumbstruck, incredulous. Like he's unable to believe someone as sharp as Solas could have possibly gotten it so wrong. "You think...you...!"

An then, in one swift, smooth motion, Rook pulls the Dread Wolf in close, their lips meeting, blood and dirt and filth. Solas blinks just once...and then, to Mahanon’s surprise, kisses him back. Not just that, but keeps kissing him, the two holding on to one another like the possibility of losing this is a greater and more terrifying fear than whatever they've done to each other. Clinging, white-knuckled, in a way that a young Mahanon would have given anything, anything in the world, to be handed the key to.

"...Where I am going is terrible."

Rook chuckles, a helpless little mixture of frustration and relief and adoration that Mahanon could have written the book on.

"I'm from Minrathous. Wherever you’re going will be a holiday."

Solas, in spite of it all, almost smiles. Takes his time pulling away, his hands from Rook’s hands; does not stop Rook from turning to his companions, the young Dalish Warden and the elder Necromancer and the baby griffon, and hugging them each fiercely in turn, quietly saying something to them that’s swallowed up by the crackle of the Veil. Mahanon catches Solas’s bruised, bloodied eye and manages to keep it, what passes between them too broken to be laughter, but something that feels like a ghost of it nonetheless. Feels like trekking through the Hinterlands, like drinking from the same canteen of blood-warm water, smelling the clover and watching for bears with the wind and sun in their faces.

“Who would have thought?” he half teases, half wonders.

“Not I, Inquisitor. Not I.”

Mahanon has a thousand things he’d like to say to him in that moment, enough to fill a lifetime...would like to chew him out for stealing the last decade from him, to thank him for every moment, from the Temple of Sacred Ashes right up to this farewell, and with that taken care of, to fill in every gap and crevice in between. But in the end, all he says is...

“Dareth shiral, old friend. Be happy.”

Solas smiles, sincere and gentle, and that will do for the rest of Mahanon's life. Rook finishes his goodbyes and joins the Dread Wolf at his side, not a trace of trepidation or regret to be seen in those quick, clever eyes. Side by side they turn and walk away, until the light of the Fade envelopes them, and takes them where he cannot follow.

Perhaps he gazes after them too long, the tight way in which he swallows too telling, for Morrigan turns to him. “Ahh, Inquisitor...it seems that yet again, in that most curious of ways, we've all ended up precisely where we need to.

Mahanon allows his eyes to linger for just a moment longer on the place where Rook and Solas vanished to begin their new life together. Then, with a bittersweet smile, he says...

“May it always be so.”

And with that, he turns to head back down to the ground, where Dorian is waiting for him.

[red-doll-face]

I mean I’m 23 soooo 👀 i would like to imagine him as perhaps being into it but I do think if he fell in love because sometimes you can’t help it or whatever, he would feel soooo bad like he would think he’s a terrible person 😭😭😭 high honor Arthur think he’s such a bad person for liking someone so young 😔 I don’t know if he’d go for it either like I don’t think he’d be particularly romantic to anyone so young, I think you have to like come on to him a lot and even then he still might just be like sorry but you’re really young and I can’t do that but you’re great 🥲

I do think Mary Beth can recognize that Arthur is different from the other men in camp, that he’s more sensitive and might appreciate men who are like that but I don’t know if she was in love with him like that, maybe just admired him in a way, or wished more men were like him. But historically, I don’t think he would just not care. I think he definitely would care about age. I think in my age gap head canon post, I mentioned how he would feel bad and he would feel like he’s ruining your life because he feels like he’s not long for this world so how could he leave someone so young behind???

I don’t think every age gap relationship is terrible and toxic and manipulative. and I do think a younger woman would appreciate how much Arthur would treat her like an equal. There isn’t a single part of me that thinks Arthur would use his age or status as an older white man to hold power over a younger woman and if it came off like that it wasn’t his intention (lh Arthur…different story, would def hold his age over his partners head) but he already does that with men, where he uses his power as like the older more experienced brother to like low key bully them??

Whether Arthur would or would not is hard to say but I think it’s on an individual basis whether he likes someone or not. Age would definitely be an aspect of that process but idk, he might just be like nah, idk, this bitch too young 😭😭😭😭 nooo I need an age gap relationship with this man rn 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

But if a younger woman were to end up with him, it takes him a bit to get past the age thing and he’s really self conscious of his age. To say he would have no problem is a lie. To say it would take a ton of convincing from a younger woman and they’d have to grow a real relationship I feel is more accurate. As someone in a relationship with someone who is a bit older than me, to say it’s not possible for a good person to date someone younger than them and can only have bad intentions is just not true. I feel that there are bad people who specifically look for younger partners to take advantage of their inexperience and to be extremely immature and get away with it but Arthur does not look for younger partners to do this with.

Low honor Arthur I feel likes to indulge in his own little urges but even he would really care for his partner and he wouldn’t seek out a younger woman. Even he wouldn’t play with his partner like a toy or ignore any problems they have with his behavior. I do think he would care a whole lot less about age and care more about your individual maturity.

Damn so sorry for going off on this post… 🥲🥲 but yes queen, argue w that woman!!! He would care !!! am i a bit hopeful that he would wanna bend me over despite my age ??? Yes 😳 but idk, I would try really hard to seduce this man who knows if he would actually want me tho 🚬😔

I’m curious to hear people’s thoughts on this:

How young is too young for someone to be romantically involved with Arthur? What do you think his minimum age cut-off would be for a partner?

For context, if anyone is wondering how far behind tiktok is on rdr conversations, I’ve been debating with a woman who is adamant about the fact that Arthur had feelings for Abigail simply because he said he would marry her in his journal. But that’s not what surprised me.

How this conversation started you ask? They made and edit of Arthur and Mary-Beth with the caption saying they would have made such a cute couple. To which i commented “they’re cute because they act like siblings. But Arthur is way too old for her.” Ofc they pointed out that in 1899 she would not have been too young. And i answered by saying Arthur specifically, wouldn’t date someone that young.

We both agreed that Mary Beth is younger than Abigail, who is 22. But they think Arthur would have no problem dating someone as young as 20. Which blows my mind because Tilly is not much younger than Mary-Beth, and both Arthur and John see her as a little sister.

Aside from those x readers where there’s a huge age gap (which obviously those are just for fun and not canon)

I feel like there’s a huge mischaracterization going on here. Arthur is not the kind of man to date a girl who is 16 years younger than him. Obviously I dont know the guy personally but that just feels so…icky?

Like, that’s just not who he is? I don’t even know how to properly defend this argument bc tbh it feels gross to imply that he would do that.

Arthur Morgan is an intelligent, deeply empathetic man who feels the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he is far from blind to the struggles women face, particularly in the harsh realities of his time. Having witnessed firsthand the hardships and injustices endured by the women in camp and beyond, he carries a profound understanding of their experiences.

His loyalty and responsibility make him more than capable of protecting and providing for a young woman, but romantic involvement with someone significantly younger just doesn’t align with his character.

Arthur would never take advantage of an imbalance of power or maturity in a romantic context.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Horse Yaoi trotted so Horsegirl Yuri could fly.

[puppppppppy]

man

[zimszim]

the scene where the doctor tells kate that he doesn't have kids yet is such a crazy ass thing to say just randomly but i love how when kate tells him that she never knew he had a granddaughter based off of the stories her father told her as a child, he tells her "I was a different Doctor back then, Kate. Great enigma. Still can't shake it off. I'm trying." which is so heartbreaking and it crushes me because it's already so apparent how badly he wants to change from this closed off, holds everything in his heart and then one day he'll die type of person. he wants to be better than that. for himself, for his friends. and he fails sometimes too, he gets closed off, like in rogue, he just tries to move on but ruby doesn't let him. but even that, he doesn't hug her fully, with all of his grief and fear. he's still holding back, but he's trying. and it hurts him. he's trying to be open and truthful and with that openness i feel like he's realizing just how painful life is without all those fortified walls up, how deeply grief can seep into him, but inversely, how fierce he can love and hate and fear and hope!!! everything is brighter and burns hotter when those barricades are down and its for the best and worst

[anothermonikan]

Have I told you guys about the fucked up dreams I've been having recently? I've been having some fucked up dreams lately. yeah <3

[teamhawkeye]

i really do worry for the state of media literacy these days

you go into any tag and see people with their whole ass chest saying wrong and untrue shit, and they wholeheartedly believe they’re correct despite the canon source they’re pulling from saying otherwise