#y'know it's been so easy to write them

[indestinatus]

hm interesting to think i finally got both tony and ziva's voices down now

[panhelleniios]

likely going to swap all of herc's info onto carrd while I work on redoing everything on here .... im usually frustrated by carrd's limits so if anyone has good free templates to suggest .....

[yurunivo]

Hello! I really love you self aware idea! Can you please make another part? This time Can you focuse more on Mavuika and the Creator!Reader (Gender Neutral),please? (Also om how the other archons and Neuvillete would be trying to search for the reader and maybe using other organizations to help the search) if not please feel free to ignore this. Have a wonderful day!

This is my first time getting a request! Hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: hanging out with Mavuika! (And the other nations' planning to reach you) part 1 part 3 part 4

TW: Mavuika and reader's relationship is implied romantic but can be read as platonic, OOC, yandere, SAGAU imposter au, bad writing, bad grammar, english is not my first language, not beta read

Characters: Mavuika x gn!creator!reader (again can be seen as romantic or platonic), yandere Archons + Neuvillette x reader

Cleaning at bars was a tedious job. It was easy, sure, but it got boring at times. Customers always made the day fun with their gossip, so you leaned into that. It could've been something simple, like how their boyfriend cheated on them, but it was still more entertaining than mopping the floor.

However, there was always one customer every night that you were looking forward to meeting.

Always clad in a mysterious cloak that made them look like a runaway, blazing bright eyes and red hair.

It was Mavuika.

She came a bit later than usual. You decided not to worry, Archon duties are a lot after all. Yet, she came anyway, dressed the same as before. The cloak was a bit messily put on, so her hair was still visible. You sighed as you left the place you were cleaning and went up in front of her.

"You didn't have to come y'know," you fixed her cloak to hide her hair, yet she only smiled at you.

"I insist," she only replied back. You rubbed your temples at the stubborn woman. Seriously, shouldn't she be busy with work or something?

She seemed to be eager to tell you something, considering how she was holding your hand. You raised an eyebrow at her as you gestured her to speak.

"Well, want to combat practice with me later, (fake name)?" Oh no. You didn't know how to fight! Sure, you did fight against the abyss, but you barely managed to survive!

But you only nodded. Declining now would only make her suspicious, even though the fact that you were being chased around without fighting back was suspicious enough. But, you'll find out a reason later, for now, all you had to do was agree.

"Sure, but only at my day off. Maybe the day after tomorrow?" You were trying to find a lie to tell her then, but for now, you hid your feelings with a smile. She nodded, looking content with your answer.

"The day after tomorrow it is."

Your hands were uncomfortably sweaty.

The day after tomorrow being right now, you had to tell Mavuika as quick as you could to not gain suspicion. Telling her you got isekai'd from another world was obviously not an option, but you had already prepared something in your head. It was similar to the isekai idea, but it's much more believable. The execution was the only problem.

You were at the outskirts of the Scions of Canopy, where Kinich lived. She came 5 minutes later and greeted you with much courtesy.

"Hope I didn't make you wait for long (fake name)," she told with a bit embarrassment. You shrugged her off.

"It's fine Mavuika, and you can just call me (name)," you replied back. You mustered up the courage to tell her your reason not to fight. But before that, you had to ask her just this one thing.

"How did you know that I was the creator? I don't think there was any part of me that stood out," you were interested to know, after all you thought that you hid yourself very well.

She all but smiled as she pointed out the grass behind you.

"The creator is connected to Teyvat, so everything would bloom in their wake. Since you were in the nation of Pyro, where I'll know everything that's going on, it was quite easy to find out." You looked behind to see beautiful flowers right behind you. You were shocked to see this many flowers in one trail. Wait, then why did the other Archons not realize that you were the creator? Eh that doesn't really matter, what matters was that you were here with Mavuika, safe and sound. But, you took this revelation to gift her something.

You took a flower from the trail. Mavuika was interested to see what you were doing, but you hid it from her. Using the flowers and leaves, you created a flower crown for her and put it a top her head. You smiled, she did too.

"Thank you (name)," she laughed softly. But now you had to explain the fighting part. You sighed as you contemplated.

"Err, Mavuika, I actually don't know how to fight.." You mumbled and cursed your self for it. She looked surprised.

"Why not?" She asked again. You felt embarrassed for having to say the reason. You took a deep breath and prepares to say why.

"I'm.. Not the creator. Like the original one. I'm a reincarnation of them, I have no idea how to fight not do I know anything about the past," you breathed out, cringing at what you just said. However all she did was look at you with understanding, after all, she knows the pain of reincarnation.

"It's fine! But do you know anything about the previous creator then?" She asked curiously, to which you shook your head. She hummed. She got an idea to improvise, it seems like.

"How about I teach you then?" Huh?! This wasn't going as planned! You didn't want to fight at all.

"T-that's not needed, I'll j-just waste your time," you tried convincing her, but she didn't budge. Eventually though, you reluctantly agreed. She smiled and thanked you for allowing her to help.

"Just try to imagine yourself using Pyro abilities, you'll get the hang of it later." You were really trying. The amount of stress that you had to not burn yourself to death was enough to actually kill you. Still, you trusted Mavuika and her abilities, so you tried anyway. You tried and tried and tried, but nothing really came. You were visibly disappointed, but Mavuika tried to encourage you.

"How about this, you imagine something you don't like, and try to use your emotions to drag your Pyro ability out," she suggested. You seemed to find this useful, so you tried it.

Closing your eyes, you thought of something terrible happening, and instead of seeing the imposter hunt that you very despised, you instead saw Mavuika.

You were being hunted down, sure, but what was most important was that she was getting punished by the Archons for not giving up the imposter. Her face was battered and bruised, and she was slowly slipping into unconsciousness. You watched in horror, and tears started to well up in your eyes. This couldn't be! Unfortunately, you were crying in real life too, and Mavuika realized immediately.

"Okay, uhh, you don't need to think about it now," she tried comforting you, bringing you in an embrace to calm you down. Once you came back to reality, your eyes were puffy, and your face was red.

"... Sorry, can we do this another time?" You sniffled, still holding her. She was warm, and you found your self drifting to sleep. She sighed as she picked you up.

"Of course, just don't overdo anything, kay?" She smiled warmly, brushing the tears from your eyes. She wrapped you in a cloak, getting ready to start camp.

Neuvillette contorted his face in disgust. The waters tasted disgustingly sweet. The creator's happiness with another person, likely an Archon. But the waters then tasted bitter, from the creator's sadness.

If only he could just drag you out of that place and keep you for himself, but no. He'll need the help of the other nations to do so, so he sucked it up and left the Palais Mermonia. He visited Furina, just checking in on her before leaving. He'd leave some of the work for Clorinde to do, he trusted her enough to do that anyway.

Reaching the imposter's throne room, there was a long sitting area where the rulers of the nations were there. Only the Cryo, Pyro and Anemo Archons weren't there, but the acting grandmaster came for Anemo, and the director of the Fatui Harbingers came for Cryo. The Geo Archon returned to his status as the God of Contracts, and the Electro and Dendro archon were sitting in their own seats. The imposter was on the creator's throne. They were dead, blood seeping out of their head. Their expression was one of shock, as he could vividly remember the day the Geo Archon killed the imposter.

A seat was vacant. He clenched his teeth at the mere thought of the Pyro Archon. He'd get you back from her, no matter what it took.

"We all know that the creator is in the nation of war, Natlan. However, since the neither of us know its weaknesses besides the Pyro Archon being a human, we need to create a plan to ambush the nation," Jean spoke up. Everyone in the room nodded along with her, too obsessed to notice their wrong doings. However, there was one who objected to this clause.

Nahida raised her hand to interrupt Jean, turning all eyes on her.

"You all chased down the creator like a rabid dog, and now you're trying to kidnap them to do a job that they don't want? What kind of leaders are you? The creator was in Natlan for a few months by now, and since they're not leaving, they are probably enjoying a better life there than your own selfish desires," she objected.

Neuvillette all but admired the young Archon. Despite being small and weaker than the others, she still had the bravery to stand against everyone. However, this was one thing that he didn't agree with. He just stayed quiet though, waiting for someone to object the small Archon.

Raiden did. The God of Eternity looked at Nahida with disdain, preparing to answer the deity.

"And how are you so sure that the creator is having a better life in Natlan Buer? For all we could know, they could actually be running around the vast nation. And, you are one of the younger Archons after all, what use does your words have?" She asked coldly. When she was about to respond back, she got interrupted.

"It is settled, we shall find the creator in Natlan, no questions," the God of Contracts added in. Nahida couldn't speak now. After all, what power does she have to a much more experienced God?

Neuvillete glared at the Archons.

"Whoever shall get the creator first will be the one to solely have the creator in their nation," Neuvillete furrowed his brows at the Archons. They did the same, but still agreed to the conditions, not really thinking of what you want.

Now, all the leaders were going back to their nation, telling their line of military to get prepared. They had to have you all for yourself, and they will do anything for it.

Done! Hope you enjoy!

[arabellasfvv]

Professor!Gaz who knows what he wants from the moment he sees it. Who plans how to get it from that same moment too. Who has to take a breather when you say his name in that sweet voice of yours, which just anchors his fixation on you.

Professor!Gaz who enjoys giving you harder assignments. Who either gets off on your intelligence when you manage to finish them on time with great marks. Or gets off on your desperation when you come begging for an extension or his help.

Professor!Gaz who looks you in the eyes when he hands back graded assignments. Smiling at you while crooning how good you did. (Don't be suprised if there's a a stain or two on your paper. He's just a messy man, nothing to do with him jerking off while grading, imagining you all focused while writing this.)

Professor!Gaz who has you in his office late in the evening. Academic talk having been turned to personal a while ago. A glass of bourbon in his hand, maybe in yours too. Or maybe he played mean and just gave you some soda, "shouldn't drink under the week."

Professor!Gaz is far from oblivious. He sees the way you stick mostly to yourself. Who invites you to his home when you're that vulnerable. He's quick to make you feel comfortable there. Letting you snoop through his living room, letting you ask all the questions you want about the things around.

Eventually having you sit on the couch with him, your feet on his lap. Firms hands massaging them through your socks, biting back a smirk at the clear relief you feel. Takes the opportunity to catch you off guard and ask you about the students who weren't playing nice torward you.

Professor!Gaz who can't stand what he heard. So a week later they're all gone. Years of military service making it easy to get rid of bodies. Or y'know, make his stance clear infront of the principle and get them expelled. It doesn't matter how he did it, all you need to know is they're gone sweetheart.

Professor!Gaz who doesn't have you under his table, (which is not to say he doesn't appreciate it when you go there on your own) but is the one under your table lapping at your cunt or throating your dick while you're working on your homework for some other Professor. He doesn't truly care if you get it done, he'll reward you if you do, but he'll also reward you if you don't. His class is the only one that should matter to you anyway. (Possesive fucker)

Professor!Gaz who makes you look him into the eye while his cock is drilling into your hole. Telling you how good you did on that last assignment, how proud he is for raising your hand in class. Who gives you questions to solve in the middle of sex. Making you finish for each correct answer, letting you stand on that edge until you get it right.

Professor!Gaz who gains a sense for when you're stressed. Who pulls you into his lap, biting and sucking at your neck while he let's you vent. Humming every now and then to tell you he's paying attention. His hand eventually slipping between your thighs, letting you ramble on before he makes your mind melt with just his fingers.

Professor!Gaz who has to sit behind his desk the next day because seeing the hickeys he left on your neck just gives him a raging boner each time.

Got into this train of thought thanks to @goatgoesmbe lol

[ddejavvu]

Hiii, hope you’re doing well! I’ve been obsessed with rewatching The Nanny and there’s this episode where Fran (the mc) reveals she has a tattoo but not the place, which leads to Maxwell (her love interest who she has an absurd amount of tension with) wondering where it is. Fran teases him constantly, and Maxwell checks her out endlessly and spends his time thinking about the tattoo and how hot it is that she has one. Could you write smth like this for poly!marauders? Maybe when theyre friends or at the start of their relationship. Honestly you could pull so many ideas from this series for fanfic. Thank youu so much!

"It's gotta be a tramp stamp." Sirius decides, "There's no other place on her body she'd be trying to hide from us."

"She could show us her back," James scoffs, "I bet it's, like, on her thigh or something. Y'know, right by the- well, she'd have to take off her pants. That's why she won't tell us."

"Maybe it's between her tits." Sirius snickers, "Or right on her left asscheek."

"Why the left and not the right?" Peter asks, "Maybe it goes across both."

"Right. It's James on one side and Potter on the other." James nods, blinding grin in full force, "She just can't admit that to me or she'd be embarrassed."

"Nice try." Remus had refrained from joining the conversation until now, but he leans in to murmur, "Marlene says she's seen it before."

"Where is it?" Sirius's eyes blow wide, surely jealous of the Gryffindor girl, "And what is it?"

"She wouldn't say." Remus admits, "But that means we're probably right. It's somewhere she can't show us."

"It's confirming our hypothesis." James nods, mouth set in a thoughtful expression, "We're using the scientific method."

"You're a genius," Remus snorts, "Anyways, I'll keep asking around."

"I'll ask Lily," James hums, faux-casually, "I think this time she'll-"

"She'll never tell you. I'll ask Lily." Sirius decides, "And you stick to Alex."

James's nose scrunches in displeasure at the thought of having to interrogate your unsavory ex, but their curiosity is eating them alive. They make to get up and fan out to search for more clues, but you come and plop down on the bench beside Peter, your hand already reaching for one of the breakfast platters.

"Morning boys." You hum, and Remus's eyes catch on black ink dotted over the base of your ring finger, "How was practice, James?"

"What's on your finger?" Remus blurts before James can begin rambling, and he realizes that the ring you typically wear is absent.

"Oh." You glance at your hand, shoulders stiffening slightly as you realize your secret is out, "I forgot my ring."

"That's your tattoo?" Sirius exclaims, incredulous and feeling just a little cheated, "Two letters? On your finger? What's scandalous about that?"

"I never said it was scandalous! I just said it was embarrassing." You defend yourself, "And it is."

"What is it?" James asks, and perhaps he's the only one that could have gotten it out of you, with the gentleness permanently present in his voice.

You groan, "It's the initials of a boy I like, okay?"

Sirius's head jerks back, surprised, "Were you together?" Then his eyes narrow further, "Are you together?"

"No! No, we're not together, he's-" You stammer, stuffing a bite of egg into your mouth to delay the inevitable, "He's not even real."

Silence and confused looks greet you, and you sigh, voice dejected, "He's a character from a book. Okay? And I was a little drunk and I thought it'd be a good idea for a stick-and-poke, but it was not as temporary as I thought it'd be."

"He's pretend." Sirius realizes, glee filling out his expression and making him beam, "You've got a fake man's initials on your ring finger!"

"Here comes the bride," James snickers, "Marrying a bloody book."

"Easy boys, let's not tease her." Remus seemingly takes pity on you, nudging his foot against yours beneath the table, "She's gonna be pretty beat up when he doesn't show for the wedding - we shouldn't make things worse."

[k-aemi]

hii! i luv ur writing, its so chefs kiss <3. could u write one wheres its like itoshi brothers and their little sister. wheres shes been manipulated and coerced into doing these things. ITS OKAY IF U DONT DO IT. ily -_-

itoshi sae & itoshi rin ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ listen to nii chan sis.

smut, dub/non, double penetration, squirt, corruption, slapping, blood, step/incest, view it how you want.

part 2

growing up with the itoshi brothers was not what others expected it to be. you loved football like they did! you know how the younger ones always wanted to do what their older sibling does? yeah thats what happened. when sae took you to his football games, and seeing rin join in soon, it motivated you to be just like them! youll be the third best striker aside sae and rin!

having football as your hobby now, that was pretty much all you knew about growing up. you knew nothing else about how the world actually works plus the fact youre rarely on the internet since youre busy practicing to better your football skills! becoming very unaware of your surroundings or situations at times. which the brothers may or may not take advantage of. (which they do).

of course football is your hobby and you loved it, but you lacked the skill for it. rin and sae were naturals, but guess the talent didnt fall onto you. but its okay! sae says hell teach you some tricks if you just do little favors for him. rin tells you that hell help train your body. your nii chans are the best arent they?

the brothers just think its so cute to see such a meek and timid girl strive to be the best striker when you cant even do such simple tasks on your own. you cant even dribble or aim properly, how can you expect to be the best? but youre their sweet little imouto, of course theyll just play into your silly delusions<3

"if you wanna be the best, you gotta maintain focus okay 'mouto?" rin rubs your clit in a circular motion with his thumb as hes between your legs. youre bare and it gets hard to breathe. you didnt even know what you were feeling right now, what is this feeling? does it hurt? does it feel good? you cant tell.

saes behind you, marking you up on your neck. he press kisses and bites on it which makes you whimper. was this really the training of becoming the best..?

"c-cant too much rin-nii.." you moaned out and he can only coo you. "shh...you cant become the best like this y'know..? cmon...ill start easy yeah?" you nod as you squirm under his touch. you want him to stop because this feeling is weird, but youll be the best if you endure this!

"how many positions are there, and what are the positions called.." he let out a breath on your stimulated clit and your body twitches. Sae continued to kiss your neck to your shoulder, his hands roaming your body. "T-theres...eleven positions...goalkeeper, defenders, midfielders, and forwards-!" rin licks the sensitive bud.

"good good...now which player has scored the most goals during the World Cup." huh..? you dont know! the only football players you knew were your brothers...no one else. rin laps at your bud, sucking and licking at it. "a-ah! r-rin stop!" your hand fists his hair out of pure instinct while sae grips your chin to face your teary eyes.

"answer 'mouto." his gaze pierces at your eyes. "but rin-nii keeps making me f-feel weird sae..." you cried out, your tears threatening to spill and your drool drips from your lips. rin only continues to suck your overly stimulated bud and you feel something stir up in your stomach.

you yelp in pain as you feel your clit being slapped. not too harsh, but enough for you to feel something. "you losin' focus mouto." he clicks his tongue as he rubs your thigh, occasionally squishing the soft flesh.

"on to the next lesson." sae drowns you in kisses before leaning back. "on your stomach." he commands with his stern tone. you can only comply, this training sure is tough...the methods might be weird but, guess its what it takes to become the best.

turning onto your stomach, facing saes crotch now as you felt light slaps on your ass from rin, making you bite your bottom lip to suppress any noises from your mouth. sae caresses your cheeks, eyeing at your innocent looking eyes, oblivious to the situation youre in right now. anyone normal would see this as a wrongdoing, but not you. hes glad youre fuckin' stupid for your age.

saes hand trail to his crotch, unzipping the pants, exposing his hardened cock as it springs to life hitting your cheek. you can smell the stench coming from it the sight of it intimidated you. "next, you have to know how to handle when two defenders are on you if youre by yourself." he grabs your head and his free hand with his cock, slapping it repeatedly on your cheek.

he loved hearing the little grunts eliciting from your mouth and you maybe saw a little smirk to him or were you imagining it? "got it 'mouto?" hearing your lack of response he clarifies himself again. you nod, not knowing what youre getting yourself into. if this was the training to become the best, youre not sure if you wanna continue.

meanwhile rin took out his stiff cock, rubbing the shaft between your buttocks while he grips your hips. the way it rubbed on your ass had this...weird sensation...? it didnt feel...bad you suppose but it still felt weird.

"open." youre brought back to reality from saes stern voice. your mouth just lightly propped open but his pink tip is already intruding your mouth-! your eyes shut from how big he was, you can only grip onto his thighs as his cock entered your throat, causing you to gag and cough. "breathe through your nose 'mouto." he grips your hair, forcing you to take his size.

it hurts. it hurts so much. your throat is burning, it itches. drool drip to the sheets and tears streamed down your cheeks. you tried your best but it gets hard to breathe. all your saliva slobbering over his dick, your crying, your drool, your weak helpless self makes sae twist something inside of him, just wanting to corrupt you more and more. he wants to use you to your limit and the same applies to rin.

moans filled the room from you and both the brothers. yours were muffled of course, youre stuffed full with sae-niis cock. the smell fills your nostrils and your nose hits his pelvis. you choke, how sae-nii expect you to take it all? your desperate tries to push him off were worthless, your nails digging crescents onto his thick thighs.

"youre doing so well right now 'mouto. youll become the best in no time." he cooed while caressing your head. "take it all okay?" he lets out a content sigh as he force one more thrust into you, coming inside your warm mouth. you feel the bitter taste of something gooey enter your mouth and it feels so gross. you have no choice but to be forced swallowing it.

rin continues to rub himself and get himself off of your ass, fastening his pace as hes near his end, cumming on your back and ass, and god the sight was heaven. you look so pretty covered in his cum<3 he wonders what itd be like to see your dumb pretty face cover in his cum.

"good job mouto." rin flushed his chest onto your back, you can feel his sweaty toned abs on you and the sticky cum on your back, it feels gross. everything about this does.

"a-are we done..? im tired..." you breathe out. sae can only shake his head. "just one more lesson. needa control your stamina okay? its pretty weak." sae lifts your chin up only to see your cute litte frown. "you needa run for about quite a while, how will you win if you cant keep up with running...?" rin coos you. but he was right...maybe just this last one youll endure once more.

but next thing you know, youre on top of rin-nii, sae-nii is behind you, slapping your ass. your body twitched and sae can only get off from the redness emitting from your ass and the way your body jerked from contact. he spreads your ass, seeing the way your tight hole pulses and your juices dripping onto rin.

"t-this is the last one right..?" rin caress your cheeks. "last one 'mouto." he grabs hold of your hips, lifting you up to align your hole with his cock. "her hymens still intact." sae leaves sweet kisses on your neck. hes fighting the urge to fuck your tight ass right now, but he knows itll be too much for you, hell teach you another time.

your only leverage was rins chest, pushing you down on his cock sure was a bit of a struggle, your eyes shut, it hurts, its like forcing your way into a forbidden place, not until rin uses more force to prop you down fully taking his cock in you. sae was quick to cover your mouth as you let out a bloodcurling scream.

it burns, it hurts. anything that falls under that category. you cry, its too much for you to take even. "r-rin-nii it hurts! take it out!" you claw his chest. he only shushs you, as he bottoms out in your gummy walls, god you were so tight and warm, it felt amazing, how could he stop? "shh, itll be okay soon...fuck 'mouto..." he breathes out while he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as you cry. sniffles filled the room and they only continued when he starts thrusting upwards.

rins grip on your hips was so firm it probably left marks by now, but your cries and the blood he sees on his cock only encourages him further. "shes bleedin'" sae states, pushing you down to his chest, aligning himself in your hole. "wait your fuckin turn." rin continued thrusting up and youre left whimpering.

sae, ignoring rin, pushed himself in. the stretch didnt help at all. it only worsened your condition. you cant help but just cry, clawing at rins chest. he hisses but he cant blame you. you wanted this, you want to become to best, you must do what you must.

"s-sae-nii...hurts.." "i know..i know...just endure it for a bit okay?" the brothers start their thrusts, and youre left whining. this...this was the training you so longed for? you hate it. wasnt there any other way other than this!? you just cant help but let them do as they pleased...besides they were the experts, not you...what say do you have in this..?

"feel so fuckin' good 'mouto." sae-niis chest flushed against your back, nibbling your earlobe. you huffed, as fat tears fall onto rin-nii. "s-sae nii...i feel weird...in my stomach." you gasp when sae grabs hold of your chin, kissing you roughly, his tongue exploring your mouth.

rin, so close to coming grabs hold of your ass, fastening his pace. if he knew you felt this good from the beginning he wouldnt have wasted any second. "cmon, come." he slaps the flesh, and you yelp in pain. sae releases his grip before slapping rins hand away to get a firm grip of your fat ass. roughing his pace as he was near his end.

you become dumb on their cock, your brain felt mushy, and you cant even form one coherent sentence. drool falls onto rin-nii and you dont even realize it yourself. youre at your limit, you cant take it anymore, you let yourself go, and squirt your sweet juices on both of your nii-chans cock.

not long after where they pull out to cum on your body. smell of sweat and cum fill the room, both you and rin catching up with your breathing, while sae looks like he didnt even break a sweat. rin rubs you ass again. "we gotta be consistent with your training okay?" kissing your forehead. what did he say...? it all sounds so muffled...he looks blurry. youre a bit tired, maybe youll take a nap.

a bit long sorry ^^. do you like my animation i did? >w< someone pls request kaiser nexttt

divider: puppizai, anitalenia

[qqueenofhades]

hi I hope you don't mind but I would love to hear your long tired historian rant you mentioned in your tags on that one post, if you feel in the mood to share? (no pressure!)

(also thank you for existing, you do wonderful work and the world is a better place for you being in it)

Aha. Well. For context, the mention of said rant was in relation to this post:

Basically, this post struck a nerve because of how it exactly encapsulates the anti-intellectual, anti-academia, anti-historical, anti-reality thinking that is absolutely rampant in social media spaces, even and especially spaces that identify as leftist, liberal, or otherwise "superior" to the right wing when it comes to identifying fake news or misinformation. (Example A: anything ever written by a self-proclaimed leftist on Twitter.) We all know that there are huge problems with the American public school system (and the people writing this are almost always American) and the American practice of education in general, and that yes, there are many things that happened in the past (or y'know, the present!) that are not taught very well, or at all. But because the American public school system is so decentralized and largely autonomous, incredibly dependent on the temperament of local superintendents and/or school boards, taxation and funding, availability of teachers, requirement of useless standardized tests, etc., it is very difficult (if not outright impossible) to claim that this is the result of a Unified Grand Conspiracy To Not Teach Real History To The Youth In Order To Make Them Mindlessly Support Capitalism. That is the exact sort of deranged conspiratorial thinking that the right wing does and fits everything into a sinister narrative about how "They" are planning to keep you ignorant and therefore nothing harmful that you ever think or do is really your fault. It's not good.

(Whoosh. That was very calm and reasonable of me. For the rest of this post, please just picture Captain Holt "apparently that's a trigger for me" dot gif.)

Also: even in public school, and despite the Republicans' best efforts, there are plenty of opportunities to study complex or "controversial" subjects. For example, I spend a week every June grading AP Euro History exams with a lot of other educators in a giant windowless steel box (woo-hoo, fun times!) Every year, there are questions on the exam about women's rights, imperialism and exploitation, slavery/race relations, the development of capitalism and the current economic model, religion and science, the history of labor, and other topics that would be considered "controversial" if you're an idiot. This is an exam taken by high school students in all grades from across the country, and there are also AP World History and APUSH (US history) exams every year which are doubtless making an effort to address similar themes. This is an advanced program, yes, but it's widely available to many schools and is not a result of a sinister plot to keep the youth from discovering the truth. Also: you live in an era of absolutely unprecedented access to information. Put down the ChatGPT bullshit generator and visit a goddamn public library. Or even open Wikipedia. The tools are there for you to start educating yourself and they are so easy to find!!!!!

The "Historians Are Hiding The Truth!!!" narrative becomes even more ridiculous in university-level or professional academic historical-study spaces, especially when historical educators and associations (such as the American Historical Association) have been at the forefront of pushing back against right-wing efforts to censor history, punish teachers, and remove culture-war subjects from classrooms. Also as someone who has advanced degrees in history, has taught/worked in several universities in different countries, writes and publishes historical research, and otherwise participates professionally in the field: trust me, we aren't "hiding" shit. There are vigorous debates and disagreements on various bogglingly obscure subjects and points of clarification and so forth, but that doesn't mean we're not talking about them (trust me, we're often talking about them too much). If you're issuing confident blanket statements about how "historians are conspiring to hide x," you're an idiot.

This also has dangerous repercussions in the field of, say, politics and civics, where a lot of absolutely braindead Online Leftists have spent the last four years posting deranged nonsense on social media and then, whenever they're called out on it for that not actually being how anything works at all, whining that "I was never taught this!!!" (And yet, it somehow never actually changes their perspective or their theories....) They whine about how "they didn't know this" and it was someone else's fault, they make up total fantasy about what the Biden administration did or should have done and now are still happy about Trump coming back because "It will teach the Democrats a lesson!!!" and otherwise accelerating us oh-so-quickly down that slippery slippery fascism slope. Their weaponized ignorance and their magical fantasies about what "should" have happened often come back to this same learned helplessness, where it's everyone else's fault (especially Capitalism's) that they're total wankers. Look: I'm not a goddamn fan of capitalism either. But we all grew up in this same system, and some of us aren't raving idiots, so at some point, you have to take the tiniest modicum of personal responsibility for the information you seek out, the content you consume, the opinions you propagate, and the people you surround yourself with. Shocking.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Online Leftists are actively and unrepentantly enabling American fascism and should be treated in the same way as we treat MAGA when it comes to deciding what is good or worthwhile information. This is because their entire political philosophy (insofar as their beliefs can be dignified with the term) is based on the "make shit up and remove it from any basic empirical references, grounding in reality, or 'should I run the most basic Google search and see if I'm completely talking out of my ass in a distorted social media echo chamber? Nah I'm good' " technique. This is, as the original tweet above references, trying to retcon sheer malicious laziness and stupidity into grand ideological theories about how it's actually "better" that they don't know a damn thing and won't shut up. It's your evil history teacher's fault, or "academics are all rich and elitist" (ask any academic-precariat person like me and we will laugh hollowly and then throw monkey poop at you), or "They" wouldn't let you learn this, or on and on. Even in our terrible, awful, no-good very-bad timeline, there are still ample tools to educate yourself, to learn how to filter out bad information and junk news, and otherwise gird yourself even a little for the even-more-massive assault on empirical reality that we are about to experience in the next four years (ugh). I suggest you take advantage of them.

[bit-b]

About a trending Discord warning:

TL;DR: Discord is NOT making "Find your friends" enabled by default. You're probably not giving Discord your contact information without your knowledge. Their UI choices just suck.

There's a warning post going around by a person I'm not going to name, as I don't want people to dogpile on them. That is NOT the goal of this post, and if you DO harass anyone because of what I write, then you're a garbage person with garbage habits that needs to throw those habits in the garbage.

Rather, my goal with this post is to educate about a Discord feature that's not being represented properly.

-------------------------------------

Supposedly in the new mobile update, Discord added this ""NEW"" feature called "Find your friends", and then they enabled it by default. This feature allows users to use their smartphone contacts to search for their friends on Discord. It also enables others to be able to find you in the exact same way.

Obviously, this would be MASSIVELY dangerous from a privacy perspective.

Imagine if someone had relatives that use Discord. In a scenario like that, those relatives would have an easy way of finding the accounts of family members. And in some home situations, online anonymity from relatives could mean the difference between having an outlet and not having an outlet.

I'm also pretty sure I know some folks with alt accounts (you know who you are). And if Discord was somehow able to cross-reference all your contacts with the Discord accounts you're logged into, that would be DISASTROUSLY EMBARRASSING, to say the least.

So I totally understand how concerning this would be if it turned out to be true.

The thing is, it's not.

The person who made that warning misinterpreted THIS page:

This is the new "Add Friends" page for the Discord mobile app. Obviously, a page to help you add friends. There's a big 'ol window at the bottom showcasing Discord's "Find your friends" feature.

Now, this feature is actually NOT new. It's been around for a long time. But there's a very subtle change that happened with the new update. Take a look at how "Find your friends" used to look:

It starts by giving you a banner at the top of your friends list, telling you that this feature is available. Then when you click on it, it takes you to a page with UI elements that look awfully familiar.

It's pretty clear what happened. In an effort to condense down their friend-finding functions into one menu, Discord took the "Find your friends" setup menu and tossed it in with all the other ways to contact friends.

But by doing this, Discord has made this setup window confusing. It's not immediately obvious if the "Find your friends" feature is ON and running, or OFF and waiting to be activated.

Maybe it would have helped to make the blurple button read something like "Sync contacts" instead of "Find friends". At least then, you could tell at a glance that nothing has been sync'd yet. (Or y'know, maybe just stick to "Grant Permission". That was working just fine before.)

So it seems the OP:

Looked at the "Find your friends" setup menu that Discord hastily slapped into the "Add friends" page

Noticed the checkbox that read "Allow contacts to add me"

Saw that it was already marked

Then assumed that it must be some kind of tucked-away setting that was left ON by default.

To make this abundantly clear, "Find your friends" only works if you opt-in.

That checkmark allows you to tell Discord you are okay with people finding you in this manner. Unchecking it makes it possible to use "Find your friends" without others being able to find you the same way.

It doesn't get set up on your device until you press the big blurple "Find friends" button. Even then, you still have to add your phone number to your account and verify it via a 6-digit code sent via SMS.

After that, you have to give Discord permission to access your contacts via whatever phone OS you use.

You have to be pretty deliberate for any of these functions to start.

I won't say it's impossible to set it up on accident. It's a strange world, and stranger things have happened. If you want to, go check your app permissions to make sure you don't have contact permissions enabled for Discord. It's always good to be sure. But rest easy knowing that you probably don't have to worry about it.

-------------------------------------

In my opinion, I think that anyone who reblogged that warning should consider reversing those reblogs.

Honestly, I also think the OP should just delete their post instead of repeatedly adding amended reblogs to it. At the end of the day, the core of that post was misinformation and misguided assumptions. There's no real reason to keep it up.

Besides, I'd rather pin Discord on things they're ACTUALLY guilty of. Like designing a new UI that's widely mocked. And making things 10x more confusing for the end-user.

Here's Discord's official "Find your friends" FAQ page:

https://support.discord.com/hc/en-us/articles/360061878534-Find-Your-Friends-FAQ

I hate to beg, but I'd appreciate if people would reblog this post. I fear that the warning post is gonna steer a LOT of people to believe a lot of things about Discord that are logically and functionally not true.

[minxmut-cafe]

PLAY BOY BUNNY

Pairing : Bunny Hybrid Jungkook x Jaguar Hybrid Reader

Word count : 13 k

Warning : heat, smut, fluff, angst, cunnilingus, penetration, mentions of mating position, animalistic behaviour (no I'm not a furry BACK. OFF), sex, overstimulation and more...

Authors note : AAHHRHRHR IM FINALLY DONE WITH MY EXAMS YASSS!!!! MORE FICS COMING SOOON YOU ALL!! NEW PARTS FOR BEAR WITH ME, HEXED HEARTS AND A NEW YOONGI FIC IS ON THE WAY!!

I hope y'all have fun reading this fic. I'm planning on writing Hybrid aus for all the members so if you have any fun hybrid couple ideas COMMENT THEM OR SEND IN AN ASK!!!

Synopsis :

"What happens when it's the prey chasing the predator"

01 | 02 | 03

Y/N didn’t expect much when she moved into her new apartment. It was a decent place—close to campus, not entirely falling apart, and best of all, it had thick walls. Meaning she wouldn’t have to deal with noisy neighbors.

Or so she thought.

Because the first thing she noticed, before she even finished unpacking, was the sound of her next-door neighbor’s door unlocking. She turned just in time to see him step into the hallway—a big, broad-shouldered guy with sleeves of tattoos curling up his arms and a silver lip ring catching the light when he yawned.

Y/N stopped. Blinked.

A bunny hybrid.

She could tell from the ears twitching atop his head, the faintest scrunch of his nose as he rubbed a hand over his face. But the rest of him? The messy black hair, the piercings, the leather jacket slung over his arm? If she hadn’t smelled the hybrid part of him, she would’ve assumed he was just some intimidating bad boy.

Interesting.

He yawned again, stretching his arms over his head, completely unaware of her shameless staring. His muscles tensed, the tattoos along his forearms shifting with the movement, and Y/N found herself tilting her head.

A big, buff, tatted-up bunny hybrid?

That was new.

And, naturally, she had to say something.

"Didn’t know bunnies came in ‘bad boy.’"

Jungkook froze.

Finally noticing her, he dropped his arms and turned his head, blinking down at her like he hadn’t registered a single word she just said.

Y/N arched a brow, arms crossing as her tail flicked lazily behind her. "What, cat got your tongue?"

His nose twitched. "You’re a jaguar."

She grinned. "And you’re a bunny."

Jungkook exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. And?"

"And... you look like you beat people up for a living."

"I don’t," he deadpanned.

"Shame. Would’ve been a good side hustle."

She expected him to scoff, maybe roll his eyes and brush her off like most hybrids did when they realized she was a jaguar. Predators weren’t exactly known for their warm, welcoming energy. But Jungkook just stared at her, blinking in that slow, absent way of prey hybrids.

Then, with a final shake of his head, he muttered, "Whatever," and turned to leave.

Y/N wasn’t sure why that amused her so much, but it did.

This is going to be fun.

The first time Y/N saw a girl leave Jungkook’s apartment, she thought huh.

The second time, she thought oh.

The third time? She whistled.

Leaning against her doorframe, she tilted her head as yet another woman stepped out of his place, fixing her hair and adjusting her dress before hurrying down the hallway. Y/N waited until Jungkook appeared in the doorway, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, ears twitching as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

Oh, this is too easy.

"Morning, Playboy Bunny."

Jungkook flinched so hard his ears shot straight up. "What?"

She smirked. "I said, morning. Busy night?"

His nose scrunched. "Don’t—"

"Don’t what? Call you Playboy Bunny?" She tapped a finger against her chin. "Because it suits you, y'know. All that stamina, all those partners… you are a bunny, after all."

Jungkook groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "What is wrong with you?"

"What isn’t?"

That was the beginning of their tradition.

Every time she caught a girl leaving his apartment, she greeted him the same way. Morning, Playboy Bunny. And every time, Jungkook suffered. His ears drooped, his nose twitched, and he either avoided eye contact or grumbled something under his breath before slamming his door shut.

It was delightful.

But nothing—nothing—was as good as the day she introduced The Carrot.

It happened after class. She spotted him in the library, hunched over his laptop with his glasses slipping down his nose, concentrating hard on whatever he was working on.

So, naturally, she strolled up, dropped a huge carrot onto his desk, and said, “Thought you might need a snack, Bunny.”

Jungkook stared at it. Then at her. Then back at the carrot.

A vein in his forehead popped. "Y/N."

"Yes?"

"I will throw this at you."

She grinned. "You’d be wasting food, Playboy."

That was it. That was the moment she won. Because from that day forward, Jungkook called her Carrot like it was a curse.

"Move, Carrot."

"Shut up, Carrot."

"Oh my God, Carrot, go away."

She lived for it.

But somewhere along the way, things… shifted.

The teasing didn’t stop. But the way Jungkook looked at her did.

And that changed everything.

The first time she noticed it, it was small. Barely anything.

Jungkook had his head down, scrolling through his phone, one hand resting absently on his knee. She was perched on the balcony railing, playing with the bottle cap from her beer, the night air cool against her skin.

Then, something made him laugh—one of those quiet, breathy chuckles, the kind that wasn’t really meant for anyone else.

And his nose scrunched.

She blinked.

Huh.

Weird.

She shook it off, turning her attention back to the street below. But after that, she started catching things she never noticed before.

Like how his ears twitched when he was nervous.

Or how he chewed his lip when he was thinking.

Or how he had this habit of rolling his shoulders, easing the tension in them when he got out of the gym, sweat still clinging to his skin—

Nope. Not thinking about that.

"Carrot."

Jungkook’s voice snapped her out of it. She turned, schooling her features into a smirk. "What, Bun?"

His brows furrowed slightly, like he was debating something, before he huffed, reaching into the fridge. "You eating or not?"

This was new.

Usually, their interactions consisted of warfare. Snarky remarks. Petty revenge. Nothing serious. Nothing normal. But lately, Jungkook had been doing things like… inviting her over for dinner. Bringing her leftovers when he cooked too much. Showing up with her favorite iced coffee, claiming he “accidentally got the wrong order.”

Lies.

She knew because Jungkook was terrifyingly specific about his coffee.

And it wasn’t just him.

She had started lingering in his apartment more. Sitting on his counter while he cooked. Casually stealing his hoodies, pretending it was just to piss him off—when really, they were just… comfortable.

She should have seen the shift happening, but it crept up on her.

And then, one night, she really noticed.

Because suddenly—

The women were gone.

No more late-night departures. No more lipstick stains on his collar. No more muffled moans behind his door.

It took her a while to realize. At first, she figured he was just slowing down. Maybe taking a break. But then weeks passed, and—nothing.

The Playboy Bunny had retired.

And for some fucking reason, that unsettled her.

Not because she cared. No, absolutely not. She was just… confused.

So she casually brought it up.

"So." She lounged across his couch, flipping through channels. "You lose your touch, Bun? Or did you finally run out of girls dumb enough to fall for those stupid Bambi eyes?"

Jungkook didn’t even glance up from his laptop. "Jealous, Carrot?"

She scoffed. "You wish."

He just smirked, but then—

"No."

That was it.

No snarky comeback. No teasing remark. Just… no.

And that’s when it hit her.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

Jungkook had stopped because—because something had changed.

Because they had changed.

And suddenly, she wasn’t as comfortable on that couch anymore.

She tried to ignore it.

She really, really did.

But once the thought took root in her mind, it was everywhere. The lack of women. The way Jungkook’s ears twitched when she spoke. The way his gaze lingered when he thought she wasn’t looking.

And worst of all?

The way she started noticing him.

Like, yeah, okay—he was hot. She had eyes. She knew that. But before, it was easy to shove that knowledge aside because he was also annoying and a pain in her ass. But now?

Now it was distracting.

Like when he worked out in the building’s shared gym and came back sweaty, muscles tight beneath his hoodie, hair damp. Or when he stretched after a long day, ears flicking, abs flexing under his oversized shirt, and she—

No. Nope. Not thinking about it.

And yet, her stupid jaguar instincts weren’t listening.

She caught herself staring way too long at his hands—his big, veiny hands—while he chopped vegetables. Caught herself tracking his scent when he walked by. And the worst was when he stood too close.

Because suddenly, Jungkook was always close.

Like now.

She was in his apartment, perched on the counter as he cooked, pretending she wasn’t hyper-aware of how easily he could step between her legs if he wanted to.

"You spacing out, Carrot?" Jungkook’s voice snapped her back. He was smirking. "Didn’t know you liked watching me that much."

Her face heated instantly. She scowled, grabbing a baby carrot from the counter and throwing it at his stupid, smug Playboy Bunny face.

"Please, Bun. I’m just trying to figure out how a man with the personality of a wet napkin managed to pull so many girls."

Jungkook caught the carrot mid-air, popping it into his mouth. "Beats me. Maybe they just have bad taste."

And then—

His gaze flicked to hers.

Something intentional about it.

Something that made her stomach flip.

Fuck. Fuck.

She scrambled for another insult, but the moment was already gone. Jungkook turned back to his pan, effortlessly flipping something over, and she exhaled, trying to steady her pulse.

This was getting dangerous.

She needed to leave before she did something stupid, like keep looking at him.

"Alright, Bun. I’m heading—"

But then he spoke.

"Stay."

It wasn’t a question.

It wasn’t even a request.

It was instinct.

And she?

She stayed.

It was late.

Too late for her to be here, lounging on his couch like she lived there.

Too late for her to be sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the cushions, pretending she wasn’t hyper-aware of every movement he made.

The TV flickered, casting shifting shadows across the room. Some random documentary droned on in the background—something about deep-sea creatures. Normally, she’d be fascinated, but right now, the only predator she could focus on was the damn bunny behind her.

"You’re quiet tonight."

Jungkook’s voice was low, smooth—too calm.

She scoffed, reaching for her drink. "Maybe I just don’t have anything to say, Bun."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"That’d be a first."

She turned to glare at him, only to find him already looking at her. And not in the usual, I’m about to say something annoying way.

No, this was different.

This was heavy. Deliberate.

Her fingers tightened around her glass.

Because suddenly, it wasn’t just Jungkook lounging on her couch. It wasn’t just them bickering over nothing.

It was him, looking at her like he wanted her.

And her, struggling to breathe under the weight of it.

Her instincts screamed at her to move, to joke, to deflect, but her body was frozen, waiting for something she didn’t want to name.

Then—he shifted.

Moved closer.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as his scent—warm, familiar, Jungkook—wrapped around her. She didn’t stop him. Didn’t move away.

She should have.

"carrot."

The way he said it—low, almost affectionate—made her stomach flip.

She licked her lips. He tracked the movement.

Fuck.

And then—he leaned in.

It was slow, measured, like he was giving her a chance to stop him. Like he was testing her, waiting to see if she’d bolt.

She should have.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she sat there, wide-eyed, heartbeat hammering, as Jungkook—the same Jungkook she’d been teasing for months, the same Jungkook she’d tormented over his playboy ways—tilted his head and broke her world apart.

"What are you doing?" she asked, voice too soft, too breathless.

Jungkook’s fingers brushed against hers, tracing the curve of her knuckles.

"Something I should’ve done a long time ago."

Panic.

Feral panic.

Her brain short-circuited, instincts slamming into her like a freight train. Because this wasn’t banter. This wasn’t a game.

This was real.

He was real.

And she couldn’t—couldn’t—

So she did what she did best.

She lashed out.

"Oh." Her laugh was sharp, brittle. "What, trying to add me to your list now, Bun?"

Jungkook froze.

Something in his expression cracked—something she hadn’t meant to touch.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Then, slowly, he pulled away.

Sat back.

Nodded.

"I see."

And that was it.

No argument. No snarky retort. Just those two words.

Two words that felt like a knife to the gut.

Then Jungkook stood, grabbed his hoodie, and left.

And the second the door clicked shut behind him—

She realized she had fucked up.

The silence was unbearable.

Jaguar hybrids weren’t built for stillness. They thrived in motion, in chaos, in doing. But now, she just sat there, staring at the door like it might suddenly swing open and undo what had just happened.

"I see."

Those words echoed in her skull, clawing at her like sharp teeth.

She hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t meant to make that face appear on him.

Jungkook didn’t crack. He was always easygoing, always smirking, always rolling with whatever punches she threw.

But that? That had hurt him.

And now—he was gone.

She groaned, dropping her head into her hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What the hell had she just done?

She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her hand, the way his voice had dipped, the way he’d looked at her.

And she had ruined it.

Her tail lashed against the couch in frustration. Her instincts screamed at her to fix it, to go to him, but her body stayed rooted to the spot, frozen in some stupid, self-imposed limbo.

Because if she did go after him… what then?

Would she have to face the truth? That she wanted him? That the idea of being ‘just another girl’ on his list had made her jealous?

The thought made her ears flatten against her skull.

She wasn’t ready for that.

So she did the only thing she could do.

She avoided him.

She thought she could ignore it. Thought things would just… reset.

They did not.

Because Jungkook?

He ignored her right back.

And it sucked.

At first, she convinced herself it was fine. She didn’t need to talk to him anyway. It wasn’t like they lived together.

Except—

The silence stretched.

No more late-night hangouts. No more teasing. No more him dropping by unannounced, stealing her food, making her life chaotic.

He didn’t even look at her.

When they crossed paths in the hallway, he didn’t smirk. Didn’t call her ‘Carrot.’ Didn’t even acknowledge her existence beyond a curt nod before walking away.

And it drove her insane.

Worse, it made her aware of him in ways she had never been before.

The way his ears twitched toward her before he forced them back. The way his shoulders tensed when she was near, like he was holding himself back.

The way she missed him.

It was humiliating.

She wasn’t supposed to care this much.

But she did.

And the breaking point came three days later.

The building’s gym was mostly empty this late, just how she liked it. Or—normally, she would.

Tonight?

Not so much.

Because Jungkook was here.

And he still wasn’t looking at her.

She was on the treadmill, pretending not to stare, but fuck, it was impossible. He was lifting weights in front of the mirror, sleeveless hoodie dark with sweat, tattoos on full display.

Normally, she’d have made a comment. Something obnoxious, something to piss him off.

But now?

Now, she just watched, unable to ignore the coil of frustration twisting inside her.

Then—

He caught her staring.

For one, brief second, their eyes met in the mirror.

And then—he looked away.

Like she was nothing.

Something snapped.

She was off the treadmill before she could think twice, stalking toward him with all the pent-up frustration of the past few days clawing at her ribs.

Jungkook didn’t stop his reps, didn’t even acknowledge her, and that only pissed her off more.

"Okay, what the fuck?"

He didn’t respond.

She stepped closer, tail lashing behind her. "Jungkook."

Nothing.

Not even a twitch.

Oh, so this was how it was?

"You’re really ignoring me? Over that?" she snapped.

Finally, finally, he put the weights down. Turned to face her.

His expression was unreadable, but his ears—his ears were stiff, tense, pissed.

"Over what, exactly?" His voice was calm. Too calm.

Her stomach flipped.

"Oh, don’t play dumb," she hissed. "You know exactly what I mean."

Jungkook crossed his arms, muscles flexing. "Enlighten me, Carrot."

Oh.

Oh, he was mad mad.

She hesitated. Just for a second. But it was enough for him to scoff and turn away again, reaching for his water bottle.

Something in her snapped.

"Are you serious? What, you’re mad because I didn’t immediately fall into your lap like the rest of them?"

She regretted it instantly.

Because the way he stilled?

Yeah, that wasn’t good.

When he turned back to her, his jaw was tight, eyes dark.

"Right." His voice was flat. "Got it."

Then—he grabbed his stuff.

And walked away.

And this time—

She knew he wasn’t coming back.

Thump.

Thump.

Moan.

Her ears twitched.

Her entire body went rigid.

No.

No, there was no way.

She lifted her head from where she’d been slamming it into her pillow, ears flicking as she strained to listen.

And then—

Another moan.

Her stomach dropped.

Oh.

Oh, of course.

She wasn’t special.

Just a dumb jaguar with self-sabotaging tendencies and a big, fat, gaping ego wound.

Of course he had moved on.

Why wouldn’t he?

Jungkook was a Playboy Bunny. Hadn’t she been calling him that from the start? Hadn’t she spent months teasing him about the revolving door of women leaving his apartment all satisfied and wrecked?

So why did she feel like she was about to explode?

Her claws sank into the mattress, tail lashing behind her in sharp, agitated swipes.

The thumping got louder. The bedframe next door rattled.

She felt sick.

Not because of the noise—no, she could handle that. She had handled that. But because—

Because for a split second, she had let herself believe it could have been her.

That she could have been the reason he stopped bringing women home.

That the way he looked at her—touched her—had meant something.

And then she’d thrown it in his face.

Now?

Now, he was making damn sure she got the message.

The next moan was louder, high-pitched, exaggerated, like it was meant to be heard.

Her fur bristled.

Her entire body tensed, muscles coiling with rage—

And before she could even think—

She was out of bed, storming toward the wall, ears pinned flat, teeth bared—

And then—

She heard it.

"Ahhh—hah—ugh, fuck, Carrot—"

She froze.

Air punched out of her lungs.

Her vision went white.

Did he—

Did he just—

Did he just moan her fucking nickname?!

Her tail puffed up so fast it nearly sent her off balance.

What the fuck?!

Her brain short-circuited.

She stood there, stunned, her entire existence collapsing in on itself.

And then—

She heard another thump.

A grunt.

And suddenly—

The noises stopped.

Silence.

Absolute, deafening silence.

And then—

A single, horrified whisper from the other side of the wall—

"Oh… fuck."

Oh.

Oh, this bitch.

Her eye twitched.

Because now, now she understood.

There was no one in that room.

No woman.

No late-night visitor.

Just a stupid, self-righteous bunny who had been faking it—

And moaning her fucking nickname while jerking himself off like a little bitch.

She saw red.

A second later, she kicked the wall—hard enough to shake the entire apartment.

"You absolute fucking menace! she snarled. “You were faking that?!"

A long pause.

Then—

A very, very guilty—

"... No?"

She lunged for the door.

Oh, he was dead.

Jungkook was a dead man.

A dead fucking man.

She knew it the second she slammed her fist against his door, claws extended, rage boiling under her skin.

"Open the fucking door, Bunny."

Silence.

Too much silence.

Oh, that bastard was debating it.

She could feel it.

Her tail lashed, her body coiled, instincts screaming.

And then—

She heard it.

A shuffle.

A click.

The sound of feet moving away from the door.

Oh, so he was gonna run?

Big fucking mistake.

Without thinking, she did what any self-respecting, unhinged jaguar hybrid would do—

She kicked the door in.

The wood cracked, the lock gave way, and the door slammed open so hard it nearly rebounded.

And there he was.

Jungkook, standing in the middle of his living room—shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, very obviously freshly post-nut—staring at her like she was a demon straight out of hell.

His ears shot straight up.

"Oh, shit."

He bolted.

Oh, he fucking ran.

This dumbass.

This absolute coward.

She launched after him with a snarl, narrowly missing his tail as he vaulted over the back of his couch.

"You faked an entire fucking orgy just to piss me off?!" she shouted mid-chase.

Jungkook laughed—the audacity—dodging her swipe as he scrambled toward his bedroom.

"It worked, didn’t it?!"

Oh, he was so fucking dead.

She chased him through his own damn apartment, knocking over furniture, nearly slamming him into a wall when she grabbed his hoodie, but he twisted out of it like a snake.

His damn bunny speed was the only thing saving his lying ass.

But then—

He miscalculated.

Because instead of diving onto the bed like he intended—

His foot caught on the rug.

And suddenly, his big, buff, tatted-up bunny ass was crashing face-first into the mattress.

She was on him instantly.

Pouncing, straddling his back, pinning him down as she snarled into his ear.

"Say that shit again, Playboy," she hissed, yanking his ear for emphasis.

Jungkook groaned, face still buried in the sheets. "Ow—fuck, okay, okay—"

"Okay what? Okay, you’re a fucking menace? Okay, you’re a little bitch who can’t just talk about his feelings like a normal person?!"

He groaned again, ears twitching against her grip. "Okay, fuck, I get it! I’m sorry!"

She huffed, claws flexing against his shoulders. "You should be."

Then—

His back tensed under her hands.

Slowly—very slowly—he turned his head just enough to look at her over his shoulder.

And then—

That fucking smirk appeared.

"Damn, Carrot," he murmured, voice deep, teasing, dangerous. "If you wanted to be on top of me that bad, you could’ve just said so."

Her brain shut down.

Her entire body betrayed her.

Because fuck, he was warm under her. Solid. Muscles hard beneath her hands. And suddenly, she was the one panicking, heart slamming against her ribs, tail puffed up again like some stupid house cat.

Jungkook knew it.

He felt it.

His grin widened.

And that was the moment she realized—

She had lost.

Completely.

Utterly.

Hopelessly.

Because she wasn’t mad about the faked sex noises.

She wasn’t mad about the avoidance.

She was mad because—

She wanted him.

She wanted him so fucking badly it made her insane.

Her instincts knew it.

Her body knew it.

And judging by the way Jungkook’s ears were twitching, his pupils blown wide—

He knew it, too.

Her breath hitched.

A second. Just a single second too long.

That’s all it took.

Jungkook moved.

Fast.

Before she could react, before she could run, he flipped her.

One second, she was straddling him.

The next, she was on her back, trapped under him, wrists pinned beside her head, his entire massive body caging her in.

His nose twitched.

His ears lowered.

And then—

He leaned in.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Testing.

"You gonna run, carrot?" he murmured, voice husky, lips inches from hers.

CONTINUED—

[destinysbounty]

I think I wouldn't mind Zane's NPC-ification quite as much as I do, if it didn't feel like they were also retconning the fact that he was ever a person to begin with.

Like, sure, I totally understand. Dragons Rising has a huge ensemble cast, and the RGB trio + new ninja are the clear focus. And I don't mind that! Everyone who does get proper narrative attention is written so wonderfully and I adore what we have. But...sometimes it feels like they're just kinda divvying up everything that makes Zane who he is and giving it to everyone else, and never even briefly acknowledging Zane's ties to those traits.

Remember when Zane used to have prophetic dreams foretelling future events? Me neither. Hey Lloyd, how are your visions coming along?

Or, y'know how one of Zane's most integral plot lines, character details, and motifs is his struggles with memory and identity? Remember that time he got amnesia and was then both manipulated and magically corrupted into being a villain? Nah that never happened, anyway check out what Jay is up to now

Or, does anyone recall how Zane is a canonically really good cook with pies so delicious they made Jay cry on screen? No that's Arin's thing, actually

Heck, we even have our quota of ~Silly Robot Beep Boop Bop~ jokes fulfilled by Lobbo!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not hating on any of the other characters for having these traits. Nor am I arguing that Zane should have a singular monopoly on these types of storylines. But when they take traits that have for so long been primarily associated with Zane, like cooking and visions and amnesia, and share them with someone else without even briefly acknowledging Zane's prior involvement...idk. It just feels like they're trying to repackage all the things that make Zane interesting while still writing him out of the narrative. It feels like they're going "whaat? Zane, have personality outside of being a generic robot character?? That never happened!" Like they're just trying to have their nindroid and kill him too.

And I mean, to some extent I can understand their hesitation. It's the same reason the Mr. E/Echo reveal got scrapped in s8 - theres just way too much going on right now, and the narrative load required to explain somwthing this complicated during a reboot/sequel would just bog down an already very complicated story. Zane has a very convoluted backstory that, for new fans dropping in to the sequel series for the first time, may be difficult to explain. How do you recap Zane's history with amnesia in a neat an tidy way for the next gen story, when there's already so much going on?

Like i said, i get that. But they could at least make, like, brief blink-and-youll-miss-it allusions, yknow? Like how they played the Ice Emperor theme during Zane's existential crisis during drs1, or when Zane told Zanth not to follow dancing birds in drs3. Tasteful, subtle, doesn't require much insider knowledge and newer fans could easily interpret it as a noodle incident comment without losing out on their comprehension.

Maybe after Jay gets eliminated from the Tournament, Zane offers to go after him saying, "I've lost myself once or twice before. If anyone understands what he's going through, it's me." And if you want to preserve the plot unobstructed, maybe you can have it so that either Zane fails to get through to Jay or Jay is gone without a trace before he can get to him. Maybe there's a brief scene of Zane making a pie to try and cheer Sora up, but she can't eat it because it reminds her too much of Arin. Or maybe Lloyd has a panic attack over his visions and Zane is the one to offer him the advice about not fighting the vision and letting it come naturally.

Don't you see how easy that is? You would change literally nothing about the story at large, and you're not detracting from the main plotlines or character arcs that are quite validly dominating this series. But you're also throwing a bone to the people who actually like Zane. Like???? I'm not even asking for much here, man :/

Idk. Maybe I'm just bitter and need to touch grass, who's to say

[bumblehoneybee]

I saw you take requests and I was soo happy!! I rlly loved that “easy smiles” Drabble u wrote abt curly n reader, so I’d like to request (pre-crash) having a late night conversation with him where reader is getting burnt out/struggling mentally and he can kind of tell? Romantic/platonic r both fine, maybe js some comfort from our fav captain? :) augehghh i want a hug from him so bad. if u don’t feel like writing this that’s more than okay, have a great timezone!! <3

You Can Talk To Me

He doesn't mean to catch you in such a vulnerable moment.

Curly only meant to get some water after hitting the john, but as he shuffles into the lounge, all he can hear is your shaky breathing. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, heart picking up speed as he spots you sat on the couch with your head tilted over the back, staring up at the ceiling.

You only notice him when he calls your name, stood at the edge of the couch.

"Ah," you snap your head up, obviously twinging the muscles of your neck, "oof." You rub the knots out, flashing a weak smile for Curly as he settles onto the couch next to you. "Aha. . . hi, Captain."

"Are you okay?" Curly asks, hands raised and unsure of what to do. Anya is asleep, and he's no real doctor himself, so the options for immediate help are limited.

"Oh, I'm fine." You waft your free hand at him. The lights of the fake window douse your skin in an almost sickly color, like all the blood is gone from your face. Your eyes look dull too. "Just, y'know. . ."

There's a long pause. Seems you can't think of anything to make an excuse out of.

Curly sits next to you, and tries to think. You've always been so. . . jolly, quick with jokes and ideas to lighten the mood. He knows you can't always be happy, but he's never been privy to the moments when your guard falls. This is a first for him, and he's surprisingly nervous.

He's comforted most everyone on this ship. He knows how to do it. So why does the thought of comforting you and doing it wrong scare him so much?

"You know. . ." Curly starts, frantically grasping at the words that are usually so easy. "I know it may seem. . . unprofessional, since I'm technically your boss-"

"You're captain." You agree with a nod that you immediately regret. The rubbing gets faster.

Curly huffs at you, burying amusement under concern. "You can talk to me. I'm higher up, but I'm not one of them." He gestures to the nearest poster of Polle. You shoot the horse a glare on instinct, but your face is quick to fall. "I just want you safe and happy."

The quiet returns, and with it his offer hangs heavy over the two of you. You stare down at your lap, hand still loosely clinging to your neck. Curly tries not to stare at you, but god, your eyes just look so. . . sad.

He wishes he could take your hand, show you he's here for you. But that wouldn't be smart, would it?

A heavy sigh rushes out of your nose. "I guess I'm just getting a little tired." Your face pinches as you say it, so Curly lets you piece your words together. "It gets repetitive, y'know? Everything is the same, day in and day out. I try my best, cause I know everyone here is feeling the same kinda stir crazy I am, but. . . I'm tired."

Curly lunges forward as your shoulders sag, palm pressed to the space between them before he can think better of it. "Yeah?"

"I miss plants." You tell him. "Trees, flowers, grass. I miss the sky and the sun. These damn monitors-" You throw an arm towards the screen in front of your both, face screwed up in disgust. "I hate them. They're not even close to something real. Hell, I'd take looking out into space over them."

Curly's thumb has started rubbing into the base of your neck without him realizing. He can't bring himself to stop, though.

"Back home, I could just visit somewhere new, meet new people, pet a dog and smell enough flowers to give myself asthma." You laugh a little at yourself. Curly smiles, and you return it, sheepish. "Sorry. I do like all of you. I hope I don't sound like I'm sick of ya."

"We like you too." Curly says with a pat on the back. "I get it, though. Days can blend together here, drive you crazy." An idea wiggles into his head, one he can't dismiss, even if it's technically against protocol. "If you want a change in scenery, I could show ya the cockpit?"

Your head snaps up again, and this time Curly is the one to rub the wince from your neck. "Really??" You flounder suddenly, and it strikes just how close he is to you. His face burns as he eases back, hand tingling from the touch of your skin. "I mean. . . if it's alright! I don't wanna impose if you're busy."

"Nah," Curly waves the worry away, "it's nothing. Hell, I could teach you how to fly, if you're interested?"

"Very much!" You chirp.

The lights dim further, probably a code Pony Express programmed to save energy while the crew slept. It doesn’t matter, though, for your grin and bright eyes light up the entire damn spaceship.

You have never smiled at him like this before. Curly desperately wants you to do so every day, though.

"Then we'll do a lesson tomorrow." Curly says. He stands up, a hand offered to you. You take it, squeezing his hand before you let it go. "Try and get some sleep, okay?"

"Aye aye, Captain." You do a mock salute, striding off with a wave. "Sweet dreams!" As you pass through the door, you make sure to bow. "Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow!"

With you gone, Curly lets a grin take over his face, hiding it behind his hand.

Seems he's getting some alone time with you tomorrow. He's going to be having sweet dreams indeed.

[huxhsz]

🍎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ikaw lang

— synopsis: caleb is back, but he's different. he looks the same, talks the same—but something about him feels just out of reach, like a melody you can’t quite remember. the boy who used to piggyback you home, who cut apples for you without complaint, who always found a way to annoy and protect you in equal measure—he's not here anymore. and yet, as you watch him silently peel an apple, his hands steady and sure, you realize something. you still want him. even if he’s changed. even if he's not the same. because no matter what, he’s never leaving you again.

— note/s: first post on tumblr im a bit intimidated HAHA wrote this while listening to ikaw lang by nobita and also realized i NEED filo caleb. save me filo caleb save me I NEED TO WRITE A FILO COLLEGE/HS AU OF HIM SO BAD

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

caleb has changed, you realize grimly.

he sounds the same, looks the same, talks the same—

but he's not your caleb.

he's not the same caleb who used to piggyback you home after school, he's not the same caleb who would use you as his fake girlfriend to ward off his fangirls, he's not the same caleb who would slice apples for you because you would always complain about being lazy... no.

when you look at this man's—this stranger's—face, you do not see your caleb. you see fleet colonel caleb of the farspace fleet, you see a soldier hardened by war, a man who has seen too much and lost even more.

"—pipsqueak? pipsqueakk— earth to pipsqueak? oh, there she is! hello, what has gotten you so out of it? you're staring, y'know."

caleb raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the kitchen counter like he belongs there. like this is normal. like you haven’t been standing here, silently cataloging every little thing that’s different about him.

"am i?" you blink, tilting your head, feigning ignorance. "you sure it’s not you just being self-conscious?"

"as if," he scoffs, and there—there it is. a glimpse of him, of the boy you knew, the boy who used to flick your forehead whenever you got too smug.

but then it’s gone, swallowed up by something older, something colder.

his fingers tap against the counter, a steady rhythm. you used to recognize all his nervous habits. the way he’d scratch the back of his neck when lying, the way his nose scrunched when he was about to say something stupid. this? this tapping? you don’t know this one.

"well?" he prompts. "you gonna tell me why you’re looking at me like i grew a second head?"

"you’d be lucky if that happened. then you’d have twice the brain cells," you retort automatically. safe. easy. the kind of banter you used to have.

it works. he rolls his eyes, lips twitching like he wants to smirk. "real original. you workshopping that one while zoning out?"

you shrug, moving to the fridge. "maybe."

his eyes follow you. you feel them, just like you feel the weight of his presence in this space that suddenly feels too small. he was gone for so long, and now he’s here, standing in your kitchen like nothing’s changed.

like everything hasn’t.

"you still eat those awful store-bought apple slices?" he asks, nodding toward the fridge.

"mm. got tired of cutting them myself."

he exhales sharply—something between a laugh and a sigh. "figures. lazy as ever."

you expect him to leave it at that, but then, before you can process it, he’s reaching for the fruit bowl on the counter. a knife glints in his hand, and for a second, your breath catches. not because you’re afraid—no, never of him—but because of how he holds it.

not with the careless ease of someone cutting fruit. but with the precise grip of a soldier trained to kill.

a second too late, he seems to realize it too. his fingers shift, adjusting to something more casual, more familiar.

"still want them peeled?" he asks, tone too light.

you force yourself to breathe. "obviously."

he hums. starts peeling. his movements are too smooth, too calculated, but for a moment, if you squint, you can almost pretend.

almost.

he hands you a slice without looking up. you take it.

it tastes the same.

you chew slowly, watching him, waiting for something—anything—that feels real.

his gaze flickers to yours, unreadable. then, softer, quieter—

"good?"

the apple sits heavy on your tongue.

you swallow.

"yeah."

you chew, swallow, and place the half-eaten slice on the counter. caleb watches, waiting for something—maybe for you to complain about how the pieces aren’t cut evenly like you used to. but you don’t. you just stare at him, this version of him, and you realize something.

you still want him.

not just the boy he used to be—the one who would throw you over his shoulder just to prove he could, the one who’d grumble about being your fake boyfriend but always played the part too well. no, you want this caleb, too. the one who stands before you now, heavier with the weight of things unsaid, carrying shadows you don’t recognize.

your fingers twitch, and before you can overthink it, you reach out. you expect him to flinch when you press your palm against his wrist—his grip tightens just slightly around the knife, but he doesn’t pull away.

"caleb." you say his name like an answer to a question neither of you have asked.

his jaw tightens. he sets the knife down, slow and deliberate. when he finally looks at you, his eyes are searching, guarded—but underneath it, there’s something raw. something afraid.

"i know," he says. and it’s barely a whisper, but you hear everything. the guilt, the exhaustion, the hesitation.

you exhale. "i never said anything."

"you don’t have to." his lips press into a thin line. "i can tell."

you consider denying it, telling him he’s being dramatic, but you’re tired of pretending. so instead, you squeeze his wrist, grounding him.

"it’s okay," you say quietly. "if you’re no longer the same caleb I knew."

his breath hitches. you feel it more than you hear it.

"because either way—" you tighten your grip, firm, unwavering, "you’re never leaving me again."

his body stills. like he’s waiting for the catch, for the conditions, for something that makes this feel less like a promise and more like a fleeting moment he can let slip through his fingers.

but you don’t take it back.

caleb swallows. his free hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to.

"say it again," he murmurs, voice barely above a breath.

you step closer. "you’re never leaving me again. i won't let you."

this time, he exhales shakily, as if he’s been holding his breath for years. and then—finally—he rests his forehead against yours.

neither of you move.

the apples sit forgotten on the counter.

(caleb drops a bag onto the counter with a dull thud.

you glance at it, then at him. “what’s this?”

“apples,” he says, already rolling up his sleeves.

you blink. “they’re not pre-cut.”

“no shit,” he snorts, pulling out a knife. "figured you were overdue for the real thing.”

you watch as he starts peeling—smooth, practiced movements, no hesitation. he still holds the knife like a soldier, but his hands are steady, deliberate. for you.

a slice appears in front of your face. you take it without a word. it tastes fresher, sweeter.

he smirks. “better than that store-bought crap?”

you chew, swallowing down something thick in your throat, replacing it with something lighter in your chest.

“…yeah.”)

[asscaverns]

Long Time Coming - Daryl Dixon x FEM!reader

Synopsis: Reader and Daryl have been together for a long time, but have never been able to have sex. 3.8k words

minors dni/18+

Warnings: smut, fluff. So much praise! Oral f!receiving. Protected sex (kinda? they use a condom but it's expired bc duh). Daryl cums fast. I've never written smut before, I've never published anything either so go easy on me. Probably OOC Daryl. Not great writing, sorry.

“It’s quiet,” Daryl starts from his position on the couch, one of his legs propped up on the coffee table.

“Yeah, it’s a little unsettling. Even back in the prison there was always growling, or Beth singing, or Carol snoring all night,” you joke lightly mimicking her snores. You plopped down on the couch next to him and leaned into him, making him put an arm around your shoulders. “It feels safe though, yeah? Safest I've felt since the outbreak at least,” you wonder out loud, trying to gauge his feelings of your new home. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he pauses. “Just feels like I'm waiting for the shoe, y'know.” 

“The other shoe?” You ask, laying your hand on his knee, glancing up at him.

“Mhm, waitin’ for the shoe to drop.” 

You hum in understanding. “I think. . .” you trailed off thinking of your next words carefully, “I think, there’s no use in just sittin around and waiting. Maybe we should enjoy what we have, while we have it.” 

He sat up and turns to look at you like you were crazy. “And what? What about when these picket fence bastards decide we’re not good enough, we don’t contribute enough, or whatever the hell other reason they decide is fit enough to throw us to the wolves? We just let them blindside us?” he seemed incredulous. 

“No, honey, of course not. I’m just saying,” you take a deep breath trying to make sure you are clear. “This is maybe our last chance, our only chance, to live a life without running from the dead every damn day. We got used to that, it was, or maybe it still is, our new normal, but this can be too.”

“I understand, sweetheart, I'm just. . .” he trails off. 

“Nervous? On edge?” you finish for him after a moment. 

“You could say that,” he answers, picking up a cup of water off the coffee table, taking a sip, and sitting it back down, then leaning back onto the couch and throwing an arm over your shoulder again. 

“I know. You run for your life, hunker down in empty houses, broke down cars, and caves for lord knows how long. Next thing you know, someone offers you not only a home, but a house? To ourselves? And food, water, walls and defenses, plus people patrolling 24/7? It’s a big change, but this is the safest we’ve been for a while. I just think we should enjoy it while we can. We can stay on edge, sleep with a gun under our pillow or whatever, but we should enjoy what we have while we have it. We can live here for a while, when shit hits the fan we can run, like we always have.” 

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right, y/n,” he admits, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Kinda boring though, innit? This whole ‘american dream’ life.” 

You glanced at him and saw a small smile. “Boring?” you giggle, “I can think of something to entertain us.” You slide your hand from your lap over to his, putting your hand back on his knee and sliding it half way up his thigh. 

“Yeah? What’s that sweetheart?” He questions innocently, but you can see the way his cheeks are redder than earlier, and you can see the way he looks at your lips. 

You jumped up and offered him your hand with a wink, “Come with me and I'll show you.”

“Don’ need to ask me twice,” he jumped to his feet, grabbing your hand and letting you lead him up the stairs and into the bathroom. You open the door with your spare hand and spin around pulling at his shirt and winking at him. 

“Oh I get it, you just want to see me naked, don’ ya?” Daryl teased, pulling his t-shirt off. 

“You know I do, baby,” you flirted, grabbing his naked waist and pulling him closer for a moment, before pushing him away and leaning over to start the water, Daryl taking the opportunity to smack your ass. You giggle and turn around with your finger pointed, ready to scold him jokingly, but he grabs your hips before you can. He yanks you into his chest and kisses you hard, trying to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

“At least let me get in the shower first, you horny bastard!” You laugh at him and pull away, yanking your shirt over your head and pulling your pants down and off. You feel the water to test its temperature and upon deciding it warm enough, you turn around to see him still in his pants. You reach towards his belt and pull on it, “You joining? Or are you gonna stand there and watch?” 

“I’m happy to watch but I’d much rather join,” he responds, watching you step into the warm water. He tugs his belt undone and his pants down while you turn and let the water run over you. 

Truth is, you were a little nervous, you knew what you were initiating. Sure you’d spent most of the apocalypse together, started ‘dating’ not long after arriving at the prison. Though you’d never officially talked labels, it’s been long assumed, by you and the rest of the group, that you were together. So, you’ve been ‘together’ a long time, but despite that you’d never really gone farther than oral or handjobs. If you’d had the time, then you hadn’t had the solitude. If you’d had the solitude, then you hadn’t had the safety. If you’d had the safety, then you hadn’t had the time. It had worked out fine, in the midst of the end of the world, sexual frustration wasn’t your biggest concern, you’d go as far as to say it wasn’t even in the top 15. This was your third night alone in Alexandria, your group had all slept in the same house for a while before gradually settling into your own. 

“It’s been a long time since we’ve done this, huh?” you question, rubbing soap all over your body. You feel his arms wrap around you and pull your back to his chest, you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder. 

“You’re sexier every time,” he whispers, nipping at your ear. His hands grab the fat of your hips and grip it to pull you even closer.

“Really? You don’t think I looked better when we were covered in walker guts and months of filth?” You tease him, pushing away and signaling for him to turn his back to you, and begin to clean his back with a soapy towel. 

“You get prettier every day, Y/N, with or without running water,” he hums out, enjoying the soft scratch of the washcloth on his body. It had taken him a long time to get comfortable being this vulnerable, but years of relying on each other has built a trust unlike any other in his life. He trusts you fully, to see him wholly and unfiltered, who he truly was inside and out. 

 Once you both had been scrubbed you wrap your arms around his neck and push him against the wall. You brush your lips over his, testing the waters first. He grabs your face and spins you around, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You moan into his mouth and pull him closer. His arms wind around your waist when his tongue slips into your mouth, your grasp the hair at the base of his neck tightly in your fingers when you feel his leg slot between yours. 

You grind down on his leg and gasp, throwing your head back against the wall. He takes the opportunity to kiss your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking little marks on your collar bones. You feel his hand slide from your waist up your torso to grab at your breast and your hands grab at the strong muscles of his back. He kneads your soft breast before rubbing your nipple with his thumb, he places sloppy kisses on the junction of your neck and down your shoulder. You whimper and grind harder on his leg when he pinches your nipple between his fingers, Daryl kisses back up your neck and puts his hands on either side of your face, pulling it to his to kiss it harshly. 

“Please, Daryl, I want you,” you whimper against his lips, he hums into your mouth and slips his tongue into your mouth. “Daryl, please,” you whine as he willfully ignores your begging. 

You keep kissing, clawing at his back with your short nails, just trying to pull him impossibly closer to you, his arms wrap tight around your waist, holding you down on his leg to help you grind harder against his knee. One of his arms abandons your waist to grab a fistful of your wet hair and he lets it tangle around his fingers, while he kisses you even deeper. 

“You ready to get outta here, pretty girl?” He smirks at you. Before waiting for your answer he shuts the water off, grumbling about how you’re just gonna have to take another one later, and slides open the curtain. Daryl steps out and hands you a towel. 

You rush past him into the bedroom, drying off and discarding your towel, then jumping on your shared bed. He walks in a few moments later, dropping the towel he had wrapped around his waist. You whistle at him teasingly, “How on earth did I get so lucky?” 

He chuckles at you and sits on the bed beside your feet, running his hands up your calf, “I think I should be the one asking that, Y/N.” He crawls up to your body, pressing light kisses from your knees to your neck. If it weren’t for the lust in his eyes and the way he looks at you like you were prettiest damn woman he’s ever seen you might feel insecurity creeping in.

Daryl pecks your mouth, leaving you chasing his mouth until kisses back down your stomach, notching himself between your thighs. He peppers kisses all over the inside of your thighs, avoiding the one place you’re needing him the most. He finally caves, running his thumb up your slit, brushing away the soft hair that covers your cunt. 

“You’re the sexiest damn woman I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, not giving you a chance to respond before he dives in, placing one long lick from your hole to your clit. The surprise movement leaves you gasping and squeezing his head between his thighs, which he softly pushes away. He does another long lick before focusing on your clit, alternating between gentle licks and circling it with his tongue. He wraps his lips around it and sucks, smiling when he hears you whimpering above him. He goes back to gentle licks and sucks, Daryl moves farther south until licking at our hole, he looks up at you for approval and instead sees a sight so beautiful he wonders what he did to deserve this. You, your back arched the perfect amount for him to see the soft expanse of your stomach leading to your breasts that were pushed into the air, one hand grasping clumsily at one of them, pulling at your nipple. With the image of you and your salty taste on his tongue he swore he could bust right then and there. 

Daryl pushes his tongue into your hole, the mix of your wetness and his saliva creating a mess of your groin. He fucks his tongue into you, soft and steady. 

It’s so much, his wet tongue sliding in and out of you, his hands gripping your thighs, his nose nudging your clit every now and then. It was too much and not enough. You gasp out, “Oh, my god, Daryl,” between your moans and heavy breathing. “D, you feel so good, I need more, please.” 

He moves one hand from your thigh up to your mouth, pulling away to whisper, “suck on my fingers, baby.” You oblige, leaning forward eagerly to pull his thick fingers into your mouth and moan around them when he uses his other hand to squeeze your thigh. He fucks his fingers in and out of your mouth, coming up to press his mouth to yours, his tongue mingles with yours around his fingers. He pulls his fingers out and drops them to your cunt, using them to circle your clit, then sliding one inside of you, swallowing your gasps and moans in your shared kiss. He works his second finger into your pussy and abandons your lips to kiss down your chest, stopping to suck a nipple into his mouth briefly, but then continuing all the way back to your clit. Your hands grasp at his hair and push his face into your cunt, his tongue going back to playing with your clit while his eyes flicker up to see yours squeezed shut and mouth hanging open in ecstasy. Your hands wind in his hair so you have something to hold on to, his tongue and fingers making your head swim. He could ask you anything right now and you’d do it in a heartbeat as long as he didn’t stop. His fingers stretched you open just right and the drag of his knuckles in your pussy had you gasping for air. 

His fingers were fucking into you hard enough in just the right spot that you were breathless, gasping each time they hit that spot. He groaned against your cunt and it left you whining and grinding against him, his spare arm wrapped around your hips drawing you even closer and holding you still against his mouth. He pulled away from you, protests falling from your lips at his withdrawal, “You’re doin’ so good for me, Y/N, sound so fuckin’ pretty. Perfect little cunt too, you know how much I love eating your pussy, don’ ya, baby?’ He draws, pressing more kisses and sucking little marks against the sensitive parts of your thighs, while his fingers slowly thrust in and out of you. You hum in response, hands trying to pull his head back to where you want- no need him most. “I want you to tell me, Y/N, tell me what you want,’ He insists, his dark, brown eyes boring into yours. 

“You- you know what I want, honey,” you reply, face heating up, suddenly feeling almost bashful at your desperation for your partner. He pulls his fingers out of you at your less-than-satisfactory response. 

“Oh, I do, baby, trust me,” he insists. “But I need to hear you say it. I want to hear you. Don’t go getting shy on me now. There’s no reason to, I know you love when I give you head, you know how much I adore buryin’ my head between your sexy thighs, feeling them squeeze me while i devour you,” he pauses to slide his fingers back into you, smiling at your quiet moan. “Hell, you should see the mess my cock is makin’ down here, leaking all over the blanket I just washed. I’m humping the bed like a damn virgin while I’m tongue deep in your pussy, sweetheart. I can feel how close you are, clenchin’ like a vice on my fingers. Now I’d love to have you make a mess on my face, but I want you to tell me what you want first. No need in getting all bashful, sweetheart, we’ve been here a dozen times before. Want to see your pretty face when you tell me, too.”

You lean up on your elbows, head foggy with need. “Daryl, I need you to make me cum, make me- make me cum all over your face,” you manage to stutter out. “Then, I need you to fuck-” your words are interrupted by a broken gasp as he dives back in, licking and sucking at your clit for all his worth. Your arms give out from behind making you drop onto your back, arching it and trying to wriggle your hips against his hold and let out breathless praises for the man eating you out like his life depends on it. 

“Fuck! Daryl, you make me feel so good,” you gasp out when he goes back to licking circles on your clit. His fingers are curling into you just right, his tongue is circling your clit perfectly, your mind is buzzing and all you can think about is him. You feel your orgasm creeping up, warmth building and muscles tightening.  “I- I’m so close, I-, oh my god, just like that, baby. Fuck, Daryl, please!” 

You let out more whimpers and moans, a few nearly incoherent begs, although what you were begging for was unclear, all you knew is that you were so, so close to cumming on the fingers of the man you loved more than anything. Your fingers tighten their grip on his hair, which makes him groan into you and grind harder against the blanket under him, the vibrations of his groan make you buck your hips, so he tightens his hold on you. He was lapping at your cunt like it was water and he was dying of thirst. His fingers are pressing harder into you with every little thrust and you’re sobbing out as your orgasm finally washes over you. You can feel the pleasure wash over your body, making chills erupt all over you, the heat that’s been building in your core finally explodes and you’re shaking all over, back almost arching off the bed as he keeps lapping at you. You cunt is milking his fingers, legs shaking around his head as you moan out little gasps of his name. His fingers fuck you through the shock waves of your orgasm, but he doesn’t stop his movements. Your moans turn into little high pitched gasps when he pulls his fingers out of you once you stop pulsing around them, only to slide his tongue into your opening and fuck into you. It’s all too much, you can feel the rough drag of stubble on your soft inner thighs and his harsh grip on your ass as you come back down to reality. He finally lets up when you start to pull away from him and your grip on his hair loosens. He pulls away from you, his face glistening in the soft moon light peering in from the window. You grab at the back of his head and yank him into a rough kiss, tongues clash and the taste of your fluids on his lips and tongue make you moan into his mouth again. 

“You’re too good for me, Daryl, honestly. You’re so good with your mouth, I’d let you eat me out for hours,” you breathlessly praise him once he pulls away to catch his breath, letting his forehead rest on yours. 

“That can be arranged, darling,” he muses, starting to lower himself back to your pussy. 

“No! No, not right now. I need you. I need more of you. I want your cock, please, Daryl,” you stutter, desperation fogging your brain. “Lay down, let me blow you.”

“No, sunshine, I’m not gonna last that long,” he insists, hissing when your hand wraps around his aching dick, using his own precum to stroke loosely. You reach into your bedside drawer for the condoms you had placed there a few days ago, they were past the expiration date, but it’s not like you can find any new ones any more, you had both decided you might as well try to use the protection. 

“You sure?” You ask, looking at him with hooded eyes, licking your lips and ripping open the condom. 

“Yes, Y/N,” he affirms. You slide the condom down his length and then use that hand to guide his cock to your entrance. 

You can’t help but notice his shaky breath and the way his hands are shaking beside your head, “Daryl, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop now, we can go to bed, or I can jerk you off, if you’d rather wait.” 

“I want to fuck ya, it’s just. . .” he trails off. 

“Been a long time?” You finish for him. He nods to confirm your suspicion. 

Before you can respond he begins to push into you, your pussy aching as he stretches you out, feeling every vein of his cock as it fills you up to the hilt. Above you, he’s grunting, arms damn near giving out as he rests most of his weight on you. He’s grunting into your ear, muttering a quiet “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” as he adjusts to the tightness of your pussy around him, as you grind and squeeze against him, your body begging for me. 

“Hey, sunshine, look at me,” he’s leaning back to look you in the eye, once he got his bearings He brushes the hair out of your eyes, presses a kiss to your nose. “You feel good, better than I coulda imagined.” 

“Please, Daryl.”

In lieu of a response, he crashes his lips on yours. Pulling out almost completely and pushing back in with a broken moan, your hand flies to his hair as he begins to rut into you. Short, fast thrusts that leave you gasping with your arms tight around his shoulders. He slows his pace when your nails start to scratch down his back. “I-I’m not gonna last long, y/n,” he moans, pulling all the way back and then thrusting back into you hard. 

“That’s perfect, baby, please, that’s all I want. Jus’ want to make you feel good, yeah?” You pant out. Your legs wrapped tightly around him, his thrusts hitting so deep inside of you, you were seeing stars, his hips pushing flush against your own, you could feel his balls slap against your ass. He drops his head to kiss and suck on your neck, you tighten around him and reach down to rub our clit. 

Daryl’s moans and thrusts get more erratic, a sign you know means he’s close. “Fuck, baby, I-” he gasps out. 

“I know, I know, me too.” 

“I’m sorry, you just feel so damn good-” 

“Shut up and let me feel you cum inside of me,” you demand, your voice breathless and broken, he’s stretching you out so nicely and you’re rubbing fast, eager circles on our clit. “Oh- I- I’m cumming. Oh, my god, fuck! I love you so much, Daryl.” 

The rhythmic squeezing of your tight pussy and your blissed out face sent him straight over the edge, he was grunting into you as you both rode out your highs. 

Minutes later he was catching his breath, his legs shaking. “Was that worth the wait?” You joked. He laughed at you and slipped out, shaking his head at your sound of disappointment. Daryl pulled the condom off and threw it in the bin across the room. 

In the morning he awoke before you, the sun shining across your pretty hair, he could see your relaxed face, your tits sticking out of the blanket. He wondered what he ever did to deserve this, to deserve you. He’d fight through a dozen apocalypses if it meant being with you. 

[russellbee]

I MIGHT SAY SOMETHING STUPID (MV1)

max verstappen x driver!reader (team & gender are ambiguous) summary. you've never been good at talking to people. you can never form the right words, hold eye contact, or in worst cases, think before you speak. so truthfully, you're not really surprised when you end up confusing max with your spontaneous confession. unbeknownst to both of you, lando brings you back together. (writing, texts, + a bit of smau) (3.3k) warnings. for self-hate & mentions of hate comments, mentions of anxiety(!!!), everyone is confused and oblivious (except lando!), george and max rivalry is very present, mentions of alcohol & intoxication, use of y/n, reader has parents (and is close-ish with them), sorry if your name is spencer (the name is used for a friend), george doesn't have a gf(!!!), mentions of sex (but it’s really nothing), and cursing. andi's note!! inspired by my beautiful adhd brain 😍😍 (and my max obsession, ofc!) the title is from 'i might say something stupid' by charli xcx but the song doesn't have anything to do with the fic!

nav+masterlist

You've seen multiple media outlets say that your mouth is disconnected from your brain with the amount of (accidental) out of pocket things you've said. Your first post-race interview in F1 ended with you severely embarrassed because you tried to make a joke but the way you worded it made it sound rude. You had backtracked as soon as you realized how it came off (honestly, it took too long) but you still had the comments you'd seen online stuck in your head.

Every season in F1 you get increasingly more nervous to talk in interviews or to the other drivers; the comments and articles gnawing at your self esteem. But with Max it's always been different. He can laugh off an unintentional brash remark or just raise an eyebrow and in a snap you'll realize what went wrong. So, because of how easy it is to talk to Max you've become close.

You're in Abu Dhabi, the season's ended and George Russell is getting on your nerves. He's in your sight, talking to Lando and Alex; laughing. You don't dislike George, he's always been nice to you but your love for Max trumps your like for George. Love?

You're just a little tipsy. It's fine.

As long as George doesn't go near you maybe you won't open your mouth. It's always hard to stop talking the second you get alcohol in your system; not a single word is filtered, it all just comes out.

Someone is staring at you, it better not be George because he knows what you'd do for—

"Are you alright?" Max sits down next to you, gin & tonic in hand. He's so— warm. His thigh is pressed against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his body through his jeans. (It's not really warm enough for shorts but you couldn't remember the weather from last year, so you're stuck in a pair of shorts you brought to Qatar.)

"Huh?" What he said comes back to you and you stammer, "Oh, sorry. I'm fine just thinking. I guess."

"Thinking?"

"Yeah, y'know." You really are thinking; thinking about how good his cologne smells and wondering if it clings to him night and day. Does he always smell this great? How have you never noticed this?

"What are you thinking— Do you ever feel like, really obsessed with someone? Like you see them and you want them. Bad." You cut through his question with your own (stupid) question. Neither of you are looking at each other. You're too focused on not looking at him, actually. Why do you always do this? Did you never learn how to talk to people?

You're so busy panicking that you don't notice your eyes are still on George, and Max has noticed; his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Had he been reading things wrong?

You're waiting at your gate when you get the text. You feel your phone buzz against your thigh and you hope, and hope that it's Max. You're terrified to message him first, worried he heard the meaning of your question and didn't want to acknowledge it. He hadn't said anything last night. Maybe he's finally sick of you. Can't even let him speak, or think before you talk with a single drop of alcohol in your system. You squeeze your eyes tight and will your brain to stop talking. Then, after a deep breath you open Whatsapp and see it's from Alex.

alex albon

did you tell max to apologise to george?

You blink. What? Never in your life would you think Max would apologize to George. You wouldn't tell him to either. What had gotten into him? Who would be able to change his mind like that?

alex albon

y/nnn

you have read receipts on ik you saw this

You sigh, trying to slow down your brain so you can make your thoughts coherent for Alex.

you

sorry i was thinking

didn't tell him to do that

idk why he would, it's not like him

alex albon

alright thanks 👍

i think we're all confused rn haha

Your boarding group is called and you feel a little bit of annoyance bubble in you. This is gonna be stuck in your mind for the entire flight.

the best rookies

lando

i think y/n likes george

or that's what max thinks at least

alex

and how did you come to this conclusion?

george

That makes no sense

Y/n and I don't talk that often

lando

i saw them together b4 y/n left

they were staring at us

prob george tho

considering everything

george

Many people stare at us, Lando

lando

you don't getttt it

max looked like

mad but confused?? he was very focused on you

and y/n looked like they wanted the earth to swallow them

v embarrassed yknow

alex

y/n probably just said smth wrong

can't really see them liking george

george

If anything, Y/n likes Max

lando

max doesn't care when they do that tho

ik y/n likes max thats like super obvious

ugh u guys dont get it at all 😒

You had practiced your speech for the awards, had repeated it over and over in your head. P3 in the championship, a first for you. Then you made a fool of yourself, stumbled over your words. People had laughed a bit, but in the back of your mind you acknowledge it had nothing to do with the jokes you attempted. At least you didn't have to take any more photos.

Lando finds you as you're about to leave, wiping the tears off of your cheeks and steadying your breathing. "You weren't that bad you know?" Lando teases and you let out a breathy laugh. "Fuck off." He laughs and you both start to leave the venue.

You make meaningless small talk. Lando is going to ski with friends and you'll be visiting a childhood friend, Spencer, in London. You're both anticipating a better season. The valets go to retrieve your cars, and you're both left standing on the sidewalk. It's a little humid, but not enough to make you want to blast the AC.

"Did you see George's post on Insta?" Lando asks after the silence has settled. Your face scrunches up, "Sorry?" You would've been fine to stay quiet until one of your cars arrived and you'd say goodbye. Lando had other plans, apparently.

"His post saying goodbye to Lewis. The last picture was nice, wasn't it?" You feel like there's something Lando's searching for but you can't put the pieces together. "I don't follow George on Insta. I— It's not like I don't like him, it's just. We're not really close?" Lando raises a brow, and it's not like when Max does it. It's something else, and you don't understand. You want to ask why, what he's thinking, but the valet parks your car in front of the sidewalk before you can.

Lando moves forward when the valet gets out, holding the driver's side door open for you. What is going on? You look at Lando, questions floating in your head and then hesitantly get into your car. "Have a nice off-season." Lando's grin is triumphant. Not like when he's at the top of a podium, something different and unfamiliar, yet kind.

"Yeah, thanks." Maybe you just don't know him well enough.

Lando double checks everything. He looks through his and George's mutuals and looks through the likes on George's end-of-season posts. He's never been more determined to prove Alex and George wrong. (And getting you and Max together, of course!)

Oscar looks at him weird 'cause he's grinning at his phone, then teases him, asks him if he's got a girlfriend. Lando laughs it off, because how is he supposed to say that he's investigating into some grid drama? That he's trying to understand what happened after Abu Dhabi, with you and Max? George has been ruled out as a player in this game, none of you are that close.

In London, you facetime your parents. They show you everything in their little villa that you rented out for them, the sandy beaches and the bright ocean. They tell you that they miss you and you repeat the sentiment. A part of you misses Max more, and you try to push that down.

Spencer orders pizza, and you both relax on the couch as you wait for it to arrive. They make a noise, a bit contemplative but unsurprised, and you look up from your own phone. Spencer's looking at you with a wolfish grin. "Oh, no."

"Have you seen this?" Their voice is teasing as they hand you their phone. It's opened to a post on the F1 Instagram account, the caption reads: Celebrating Max's 4th WDC with pictures of the best friendship on the grid 🏆. You gape slightly at the first picture; it's of you and Max in Zandvoort '23 on the podium. You both have bright smiles, your focus is on drenching Max with your champagne. He's laughing, accepting the spray. You don't bother to look at the rest, a sick feeling building in your stomach that you've begun to associate with Max. You know what it means, but you can't acknowledge it now. You haven't talked in over 2 weeks.

The pizza arrives and Spencer makes you pay. You can't get yourself to eat a lot, too stuck in your mind to acknowledge your hunger. When you lay in bed later that night, you feel sick. You know it's not the food, you know what it is. In the back of your mind you wonder if you'll ever be able to accept your feelings or if you'll just have to get over it.

lando norris has made a groupchat

monaco dinner 😁😁 (alex albon, george russell, max 🏆, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, you)

lando norris

alright everyone. need to know when you're all returning to monaco

"You're up to something," Oscar says from beside Lando. Lando raises a brow, a teasing grin on his lips. "Whatever do you mean, Osc?" His teammate rolls his eyes before scanning the table, landing at the empty seat next to George. Everyone is here, except you. Lando pretended he got a text from you saying that you'd be late, when in reality that's not the case. He told you the reservation was for twenty minutes later than he told everyone else. His plan needed to work and he didn't want you arriving earlier than intended.

"Y/n, someone who is always scared of coming late they come fifteen minutes early, isn't here. I'm assuming you have nothing to do with this?" Lando's grin grows wider. "Mate."

"Just wait."

You arrive at the restaurant 5 minutes early, since you had to walk and that led you to being noticed by some fans. When you go up to reception and say who you'll be sitting with, the host raises a brow before directing you to a table in the far back of the restaurant. Everyone is already there, drinks on the table. Worried, you look at your watch to see it isn't even the time Lando sent. You're early.

The only seat open is at the end of the table, to the right of George. It's also right across from Max. He looks surprised to see you, putting away his phone as you sit down. George says hi and asks you how your break has been so far. You make pleasant, friendly conversation with him. When Charles asks you a question you turn your attention to him, and notice that Max's mood has visibly soured. He must notice you looking, because he inserts himself into Alex and Carlos' conversation. You bite your cheek, trying not to seem annoyed or disappointed. You still haven't talked, and it's been seven weeks. He's liked your posts; the one from your trip to London, a set of gym photos your team took, and your photos from your other trip. No comments, just likes.

He doesn't talk to you for the rest of the dinner, instead he watches you make conversation with your other drivers. You stumble over your words, make mistakes and try to laugh it off. It's nice to talk to them, it just requires more energy. With Max, you don't have to worry about your never-ending rambling or your stories that tend to not make sense. It's easy. You miss it.

Dinner ends, you all split the check and go your separate ways. After getting your card back you head to the bathroom, just standing in silence for a few seconds. You need a break, especially if you run into some fans on your way home. The more you talk and force your brain to try, the more exhausted you get. The easier it is to snap or say something completely wrong. No one deserves to be on the receiving end of that.

You scrub your hands over your face, trying to wake yourself up. In your pocket your phone buzzes once. Then twice.

max 🏆

Are you still here?

I didn't see you leave.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you make yourself type slowly. Your hands are shaking. You need to get a grip.

you

yeah, haven't left yet

you're still here then?

max 🏆

Yep. Meet you at the entrance?

you

sure

As you leave the bathroom your brain has fired up again, what the fuck, repeating in your head consistently. Because, what the fuck? Why has Max all of a sudden decided to talk to you? What changed his mind?

He's standing in the waiting area, his plain white t-shirt covered by a jacket you recognize from the Alphatauri website. The corner of your lip twitches, as you fight back a smile. He's so predictable.

"Hey." His voice is quiet, like he was scared that you were lying. Like you'd hide in the bathroom till he left. Even though you're mad at him, you can't see yourself doing that, ever.

"Hi. Um, nice break so far? We haven't talked a lot," You let out an awkward laugh, cringing internally. Why did you bring that up? And in the first sentence too?

"I'm sorry about that, I've been busy," Max's smile is weak and your heart deflates a bit because you know when he's lying. He doesn't do it often, so it's easy to tell. "I meant to text you, really." But that isn't a lie. Huh. You stare at him for a second trying to make sense of what's going on.

"Did you drive here?"

"No, didn't have time to get gas. I mean— I did, I just forgot because I've been doing other stuff." Max smiles and everything feels almost normal again. The seven weeks of silence still looms over the conversation, like it's preparing to end your friendship forever. "I'll drive you. You didn't move, right?" He has a smile on his face, the one when he's trying to be funny. You feel that sick feeling building, and your skin warms.

"No, I should though. Apparently my neighbor almost set the complex on fire, and the one across from me she— she did something weird, I can't remember. But I know it caused a meeting for the building about some policy and everyone was really mad at her," You ramble, voice picking up as you get that giddy feeling, when you know you're really being listened to. Max leads you to his car and you get into the passenger seat. On the drive to your building, you finally remember the reason why your neighbor got in trouble.

"She got in trouble because she had sex on her balcony or something, and then someone saw and reported it. Holy shit, I can't believe I forgot that!" You laugh, face scrunching with your smile.

"Your neighbor?"

"Yes!" It feels really good to talk to Max again, to feel a true connection when you talk to him.

lando norris

hey mate

how's y/n?

max

Good?

Do you not have her number?

lando norris

no haha sorry

thought you guys were dating

things seemed off just wanted to make sure

max

Right.

We're fine

lando norris

but not dating? (max has reacted with 👍)

Everything has been good with Max. It's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders now that you can talk to him again. You flew with him to Bahrain and now Australia. Media day is tomorrow, and Lando has texted you asking if you want to go explore, like neither of you have ever been to Melbourne. You say yes, anyway.

You're in the elevator going down to the lobby, when it stops at another floor. George is standing on the other side of the doors, and he smiles at you as he walks in. "Hanging out with Max?" He asks as the doors slide shut.

"No, Lando invited me out. He said he wanted to explore, which I don't really understand because he's been to Melbourne multiple times. Also, Oscar's his teammate so, I don't—," You stop yourself. "It'll probably be fun though, it's Lando."

"Lando invited you out?"

"Uh— Yeah? Why?"

"He invited me out as well, that's all." Oh.

Is he trying to set you and George up? The thought hits you like a truck and your nose scrunches up involuntarily. First, the questions about his Instagram and then making you sit next to him at dinner. You feel warm, anger building inside you. Is Lando oblivious?

↳ user since when are they friends????

↳ user you left out the part that lando was with them 💀

You and George walk back together, an awkward silence hanging over you. It was a fun day. You took pictures, ate good food. You had fun. It was just awkward because it seemed both you and George knew what Lando was trying to do.

You're waiting for the elevator when George turns toward you. You shift your eyes toward him, trying to make sense about what he's about to do. "Do you like me?"

Your eyes widen and for a moment all you can do is stare at George. "No, I— I don't know where Lando got the idea that I like you, but I don't." You're trying to be nice in case George does actually like you, but he lets out a breath of relief.

"I'm really sorry, Lando is..."

"He's Lando, I know." The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You both walk in and George hits the button for your floors. "You do like Max though, right?" Once again you find yourself speechless. George laughs, cheeks turning red.

"Sorry, it's— It's really obvious, I don't know how Lando missed it." You're burning with embarrassment when you look away from George and mutter, "It's not that obvious." He cracks up, and you feel yourself growing warmer.

Thankfully for you, George gets off soon enough and it's just you. When you step off the elevator, you notice someone leaning against the wall by your door, scrolling on their phone. They look up when you come to a stop. It's Max, in another plain t-shirt and skinny jeans. You may hate the skinny jeans but they really show off his thighs, so it's not that bad. "Hi."

Max walks over to you, stopping so there's only a few inches between you. You can smell his cologne, see how blue his eyes are, and how his hair is a little out of place. He opens his mouth to speak but you speak before he can. "You look good, I mean—," You cut yourself off to prevent the inevitable ramble about how good he looks; your friends have heard it numerous times. Max blinks, the beginning of a smile on his face before he leans in and kisses you.

You make a little noise in surprise before you reciprocate, you reach for him blindly, grabbing onto his shoulder. It's easy kissing Max. You've been waiting for this, the soft press of his lips against yours, the heat of his hand against your face. The same sick feeling rests in your stomach, and you feel it; the way your heart speeds up when he's near and the hot flush that builds on your skin when he touches you. You never want it to end.

yourusername close friends story

[caption: @.maxverstappen1 🤍]

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lando OMG DID IT FINALLY HAPPEN??

yourusername yes...? lando oh thank god my plan worked i was so close to locking you two in a closet yourusername HUH????

[lostinlovingrevery]

hi!! im here to beg for a logan comfort fic lmao. Just need some good ole Logan being a softie and doing his best to cheer me up after it feels like everything in my life is going wrong lol

tysm i love ur work u write some delicious logan fics

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Logan Howlett X Reader

It's been a rough time, and Logan does his best to make you feel better

A/N: Logan being a softie when he usually acts like a tough guy is the best thing ever....I hope this cheers you up!!! Also I used worst logan but you could prob picture any Logan...and thank you!! I love your work too <3 For anyone who needs it, bad times aren't forever! Take it day by day, and remember to do little things for yourself to enjoy, whether it's making sure you drink water, or buying that treat, or taking a nap. Your life is and always moving towards something better <3

Warnings: Fluff! Logan nearly sets the kitchen on fire, depression, softie logan

"Babe?"

Logan's voice called out to you as he stepped into your home. He noticed signs that you were home, unusual for you since you were usually at work. Your shoes discarded by the door, your keys hung up on the decorative hooks shaped like a lotus flower.

Worry hit him as he walked through, wondering what was wrong for you to be home so early. He held a bouquet of flowers in his hand, something he picked up to surprise you on the way home- a strange feeling he had when he saw the florist shop. The bouquet was all your favorite flowers, and he knew it'd make you smile when you see them.

He reached your bedroom, pushing the door on it to find you bed, some princess movie was playing on the tv, while you were wrapped in a blanket in bed, your curtains pulled shut shrouding you in darkness.

"Hey." He greets. You looked at him, an unhappy frown set across your face, your eyes looked tired and dejected. "Hey baby, whats wrong?" His voice turned soft as he walked over to you. He moved to sit on the bed next to you.

"It's just....Been a bad day. Didn't feel like working or doing anything." You shuffled a bit in your spot, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

He was silent a moment as he observed you. Then lifted the bouquet in his hand. Your eyes brightened a moment when you saw them, hands reaching out to take them.

"Thank you Lo..." You say softly as you cradled the flowers. "They're beautiful."

He settled completely on the bed, his arm wrapping around you and pulled you into his side, gently taking the bouquet back and setting it on the bedside table. You melted into him, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"You already know." You say softly. He nods, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

It had been a tough couple of months for you. You've been going through it lately, feeling as if it will never stop, thing after thing happening and pushing you to the edge of just barely holding it together.

"Y'know baby I..." He trailed off as he tries to find the right words. Logan always considered himself bad at this, at comfort. Never seeming to know what the right words were to say. He certainly shared his fair share of trouble, complications, loss. "I know it's rough right now... You're still here though, right?"

"Yeah." You say softly, your head resting on his shoulder.

"It'll pass I mean...It won't be easy no but I'm here for you and... We'll take it day by day. This ain't the first time things got rough, and you got through that."

"I'm just so tired." You let out a breath,

"I know." He says. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "You've been damn strong getting through everything."

"It feels like it'll never lighten up."

"I..." He stopped. "I know this is corny but...It will. Believe I've been where you are, I've been through it. Fuck I never thought I'd get anything sort of peace or..." He looked at your closed curtains, noticing the small beams of sunlight streaming through the crack. "Sunshine..." He turned his head to look down at you, bringing his hand up to your chin, so you'd look up at him. "Then I met you."

Your downtrodden expression softened, a small quiver of your lips. "Really?"

He smiled. "Yeah baby. Couldn't tell you the last time I've been this happy. I consider myself damn lucky to have someone like you in my life." He reached up to brush some hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. "You ain't going through this alone. I'm here for you. Whatever you need."

You nodded, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turned to capture your lips, in which a small smile grew as he kissed you.

"I know you'll get through this." He repeats again as you part. "We'll take it day by day, for now. Alright?"

"Okay." You nodded looking up at him.

"So, you wanna keep watching this?" He nods to the movie. It looked like Cinderella. "You uh...What they call it, binge-watching?"

"I am. They just make me feel better. I know you're not super into these so we can cha-"

"Nah. Lets watch em." He says. "They're not so bad anyway..." He adjusted himself on the bed, laying further back, with your curled into his side comfortably. His hand wrapped around you softly pushed under your blanket armor, as he scratched up and down your arm in a soothing motion, occasionally coming up to your shoulder, and along your jaw, tracing it gently as if he was memorizing the shape and feeling of the curve of your body.

The gentleness of his touch, the firmness of him besides you lured you quickly into sleep as you became relaxed. Your mind settled into words, you napped in the safety of his arms.

Only to be rudely awakened by a fire alarm. Your eyes shot open as you sat up in confusion, the rapid beeping coming from the hall made you jump out of bed. You hadn't noticed Logan wasn't at your side anymore, walking past the tv as it was playing another princess movie, one Logan must have put on even after you fell asleep.

You ran out, looking up at the smoke detector and noticing a small haze in the hallway. You grabbed a broom in the closet, using it to set the detector off before going to the kitchen to figure out the source of the smoke.

Logan stood there, attempting to put out a small flame with the lid of a pan, and a box of baking soda in the other hand. The kitchen slightly messy, with ingredients strewn along the counter, baking soda spilled on the floor, and a sink of messy dishes. Your flowers he got you earlier though was set nicely in a vase full of water- the only thing not a mess in the kitchen.

"ah fuck!" Logan cursed under his breath, finally getting the flame out, before turning to you. You press your lips together at the sight of his disheveled figure. His hair a mess, and he wore your cooking apron with kiss the cook written on it, stained with various mysterious liquids. "I uh...Was trying to make your favorite dinner." He says quietly, a blush coming to his cheek.

"Um...I thought you were a decent cook?" You ask teasingly as you raise a brow.

"Yeah I...Thought I was too." He smiles with a fluster. "I got distracted, measured a few things wrong."

You giggled, walking over to take the baking soda from his hand. "How about we try it together?"

He grinned wider, a small nod of acceptance, and you leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss his nose.

You spent the rest of the evening cleaning the kitchen up, and restarting the recipe. You were able to properly show Logan how to make it- especially exactly the way you like it, for future purposes.

Logan put on music in the background, your favorite playlist that at this point he had memorized by heart with how often you listen to it. He diced some veggies, while you worked on cooking the main course.

It settle a layer of peace of you, as you focused on cooking and showing Logan the ropes of your favorite meal. It didn't make your worries disappear, but it gave you solace as you were able to enjoy some peace with him.

Maybe your worries would still be there, but at that moment, you could allow yourself to be with him.

He snuck up behind you while you were lost in thoughts, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, as he nuzzles his face into your neck, making you giggle. He pressed a kiss into the shell of your ear, before rocking his body back and forth to the melody of the tune currently playing. His attachment to you made your body follow his movements.

"You know how much I love you?" He mumbles softly into your ear, his lips brushing over your skin. You leaned back into him, leaning your head back onto his shoulder. He brushed his lips over your cheek, keeping his hold on you. "Every things going to be okay bub. I promise." He whispers softly, as if to make sure only you heard it - because he meant it for you. Everything he does is for you.

You turned your body, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I love you too." You whispered, pecking his lips.

He pulled you away from the oven, as you both began slow-dancing in the kitchen. His hands rested on your hips, a comforting hold he kept on you, as if he was keeping you afloat from drowning under water. You finally leaned back in, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes as you listened to his heartbeat.

The world felt awful, but at least he was there, to help you see the things that made life brighter.

[miltonthoughts]

Hiii I don't know if your request are open or not (if so feel free to say no to this reques.)

Can we have some Standford pines x wife/husband reader reader (whichever you feel comfortable with) getting possessed by bill during the weirdmagedon ?.

Hope this isn't too much.

A/N: Hi!! Wow this is my first request! And my asks/request are always open don’t worry! I was actually excited to write this, hope you like it!

-

Stanford stood his ground, refusing Bill's offers, threats, and demands for his knowledge. He knew better.

Left alone in Bill's throne room, Stanford heard the screams and chaos emanating outside Bill’s palace. He had lost track of time during his captivity, which made him feel antsy.

He only hoped his family was safe. Stanley, Mabel, Dipper, and his beloved partner, you.

He was worried about you, as the last time Ford saw you was when you were at the Mystery Shack doing chores, unaware that the apocalyptic Weirdmageddon was about to occur.

He closed his eyes and whispered to himself to wish you were safe and not in Bill’s sights.

“Ford..?”

Amidst his silent prayers, a familiar voice called out his name, causing Ford to open his eyes and lift his gaze from his restraints. To his disbelief, it was you! "Y/N?" he exclaimed in disbelief. You appeared battered and worn, but seeing you safe filled him with immense relief.

“Ford—! You’re alive..!” You beamed before rushing towards him and enveloping him in a tight hug. Ford reciprocated back, and the tensity from before lessened.

“Y/N..You’re okay..” He sighed softly as he held you tightly. You had his hands tightly before looking up at him.

“Oh, sixer…You're still as naive as you were 30 years ago..” Venom laced in your tone of voice, Ford froze. He quickly pushed you away from him as your pupils changed to a black slit while your white sclera turned yellow.

Bill.

No. No, No, No—!

“Bill—! Unhand them you fiend!” Ford roared in anger, Bill simply laughed in response. “Awe, come on Fordsy, I thought you liked the new look of your so-called..beloved,” Bill soon pulled a chain harshly that was connected to Ford’s neck, unbearably close to Bill's face.

Well, your face.

“They were so easy to manipulate, y'know? They thought I would surrender to them and give you back? Pathetic.” He taunted Ford while he tried to push Bill away from him, at least giving him some space but Bill wouldn’t budge.

“What’s the matter Sixer? I thought you liked Y/N being this close to you,” Bill purred. Relishing in Ford's distraught manner to see his wedded partner being possessed by him.

Now, Bill was confident that he had gained complete control over Ford and could easily manipulate him to his advantage.

-

Part II

This is what I could write off at the moment! Sorry if it’s short, I recently just got a fever and I been off from writing for a while :’)