#you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

[caughtthedarkness93]

This kind of reminds me of one of the reasons I left Reddit - I saw the same discourse happening in ace communities where you'd get sex favorable aces angry about how underrepresented they felt and how so much ace humor was built around an assumption of a distaste for sex. You'd start to see a bunch of posts and comments about that, and then it would die out and a couple weeks later, you'd get a bunch of posts towards the other end - less sex favorable aces starting to feel ignored and like a space where they're free of the aggressive sexuality that seems to weed its way into much of the world is absent is being encroached upon.

And you'd see this pattern over and over and over again, like a pendulum swinging between two extremes. It never stopped. It was totally cyclical. And it wasn't just ace communities - autistic communities too got into constant fights between high and low support needs people about who was more underrepresented, whose needs were more ignored.

And it just kind of impressed on me how no one outside the communities in question cares about these fights. And I'm not gonna say it completely doesn't matter, but people are assholes to both. They don't care what level of sex favorable you are, they don't care about your support needs. They care about shutting you up.

People on the other side of an issue within your community aren't your enemy. If you pick a fight with them, even if you win, you lose. Because when you start endless infighting in a community, the people who really win are the people who have a vested interest in harming that community.

In the end, yeah, there's probably an answer somewhere to who wins the oppression Olympics, but it's not the type of thing that I think really matters much. When two people are about to get eaten by a bear, the last thing they should do is start bickering about who's likely to taste better because yeah, the bear might think one of them will, but that's not gonna stop it from eating both of them.

They should be thinking about how they can work together to help each other to safety. So too should we.

the asexual double edged sword is that a lot of people, particularly queer discoursers(tm) online, are really really rancid about ace people who have sex, I mean like stunningly awful, so naturally sex favorable/indifferent asexuals will be very keen on making sure that they aren't erased within their own community and that people at large know they exist. at the same time, people are also Very Bad about ace people who don't have sex, and sex averse/repulsed asexuals face a lot of pressure both on societal and interpersonal scales to submit to sex that they don't want, and so naturally it'll really rub them the wrong way to constantly have "but don't worry, ace people can still conform to the societal expectation!" appended to their PSAs about their experiences of asexuality. and so everyone's just kinda upset and annoyed all the time when instead it should be peace and love on planet ace.

[3amfanfiction]

You wrote this about Simon: “At this lieutenant, already chewed up and spit out by the world. More scars than skin at this point. You wonder how many people only see the scars and not the shivering body underneath it, waiting for a soft touch.”

I’d LOVE to read more of this - i wanna be the one to offer him the soft touch he wants so badly, maaaan! He’s just so big n’ strong but i want to let him curl up against me while i pet him until he stops shivering

This came through at the perfect time. I had the desire to write but I was picking at all my wips half heartedly bc none of the them were what I wanted.

But this? This I wanted.

So thank you again and please enjoy 1.5k words of acclimatizing Simon to soft touches.

<33

Ask referencing this post.

~~~~

He scared you, the first time you saw him.

Not because of how big he was (tall, thick, muscular) or the look in his eyes (cold, dismissive, too watchful), not even because of the scars themselves (numerous, expansive, tragic).

It was because you knew any interaction would come across as a threat. He had that look in his eyes that said he'd seen the worst of what the world had to offer and he persisted through luck and spite equally. Now he was sat in front of you, too disciplined to let his skin shiver but hating being seen. Hating that you were looking.

When you met him it was through a friend of a friend sort of thing. One of your friends was seeing a Scottish boy and invited you out for drinks with them. You had no reason to say no so you found yourself sitting at a high-top doing your best not to bother the man sitting quietly to your right.

His gruff, Simon, during introductions was the only thing he had said in the last hour, content to sit quietly and watch. Almost outside of the group even though he was sitting at the same table. You made sure to include him when you were speaking to the group, your eyes darting to each person as you spoke, not leaving anyone out. But you made sure to never direct a hard question at him that required an answer. It was all, I bet you never have a problem seeing over the crowd. or I'll grab everyone a drink while I'm up or Sorry, I'll be out of your space in a moment, my jacket was getting a little warm.

He would look at you. Every time you spoke to him he wouldn't shy away from eye contact but that was where his involvement ended. Never a head nod or shake, never a verbal answer.

By the end of the night you were positive he didn't like you. He didn't dis-like you but he didn't like you, you were pretty sure. That was okay though. You'd done your best not to infringe on his space, not wanting to step on his toes. You thought you had done a good job all around and put it out of your mind, the interaction over and done with and no longer needing to be reviewed.

What you never realized was Simon's shoulders lowered a whole inch throughout the course of the night.

\\\

You called your friend out on the number of times she invited you to hang out with Johnny and Simon, flat out asking if she and Johnny were trying to set you and Simon up through subtle double-dating.

"No!" She leaned forward grabbing your hand, her eyes looking earnestly into yours, "I promise it's not like that. Johnny told me he's pretty much all Simon has. Well, their team is. So they're always together when they're home. I don't want Simon to feel like a third wheel or left out or anything."

And you believed her. This was one of her strong suits, always looking out for others. That's probably why you two got along so well, a pair of givers, the both of you. And she had a point. The idea of Simon sitting awkwardly with the other two as his only companions made something twist in your stomach. You didn't want that for him.

So you kept seeing Simon and you kept doing your best to give him space but include him at the same time. You were shocked the first day he spoke to you but the fact that it was a bad joke made a sort of perfect sense.

"What's the best way to carve wood?"

You looked over at him in shock that this was what he chose to break the ice with. At the same time you were delighted and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the prospect of Simon telling you a joke. A bad one by the sound of it.

"How?"

"Whittle by whittle."

"That was absolutely terrible."

He smiled to himself if his eye crinkles had anything to say about it. That giddy feeling bubbling up inside you was getting unsettlingly big right about now. You looked at the ground and bit your lip to keep from a cheesy grin of your own breaking out.

Before you knew it he had no problem speaking to you. While never particularly verbose, he would respond to comments directed towards him, offer his opinion if options were offered, and kept telling awful jokes.

You were hopelessly charmed.

You broke your own rules and reached for him first.

You were sat next to him on a bench, the sun setting and the evening air cooling further. He had told you another one of his god-awful jokes when you unthinkingly swatted out with your hand, brushing his arm. His muscles jumped and his arm tensed right before you made contact as if bracing for a hit. An involuntary reaction to someone reaching for him. It was a horrifying realization.

You sobered quickly and your chuckle died off awkwardly. You turned to face forward, looking out at the street, watching for any sign of your friend or Johnny who had stepped into the store for a quick moment leaving you and Simon to find a bench while you waited. You hoped that if you didn't draw attention to it then your faux pas would pass unmentioned.

You let out a relieved sigh when Simon continued with another comment, not taking your overstepping to heart. By the time the other two had rejoined you the whole situation was forgotten, water under the bridge. You didn't think of it again until it was the end of the night with everyone about to go their separate ways.

When you said goodbye to Simon he said it back, reaching out to brush his hand down your arm in return in almost the exact same spot as where you'd touched him earlier.

Your heart skipped a beat before picking up a double pace. You couldn't help but beam at him, a wide grin splitting your face even as he grunted and turned away, likely embarrassed by your show of emotion.

Today had been a good day after all.

You thought you had ruined it for a moment there, thankful when Simon seemed to brush past it. You hadn't expected him to reciprocate in the same manner though.

Maybe he really did like hanging out with you. You never doubted it for a second.

\\\

It took time–a slow steady build to where you ended up, curled up on the couch together with Simon laying on top of you. You both had your tops off to bask in a little skin-to-skin time.

You'd been together for a few months at this point and it was like night and day to compare him to the Simon you met all that time ago. This one couldn't keep his hands off you to save his life. It was a slow warm-up to get past his walls in a way that wasn't upsetting to either of you. Soft touches that slowly built, leading to hand holding, to hugging, to kissing, to this.

You dragged your fingers slowly up his back, fingertips catching on raised scar tissue before continuing on, ever moving. He hummed into the crook of your neck where he had buried his face when you switched from fingertips to nails, gently scratching the skin.

You loved spending time like this, feeling Simon melt into you, eager for every touch he could get. If you were sitting still and Simon was in the vicinity you could bet that he would be pressed against your side before too much time had passed. Eager for the soft caresses you always had for him.

He was starved for touch and you wanted to feed him.

So you offered, again and again in the beginning–most times with no luck, to let him touch you. On the couch watching TV? Your arms would open, inviting a hug when he walked by. At the table? Your head was tilting up for a kiss if he wanted one. Passing each other in the hallway? You'd raise your hand and hold it in front of you, letting him press his big barrel chest into your palm if he wanted.

It was a slow acclimatization that brought you to today and the taste was all the sweeter for the time you had poured into it.

You lifted a hand to drag it through the spiky hairs at the back of his head, enjoying his groan of contentment. It sounded like he was already halfway asleep and you knew you wouldn't be leaving this spot for a while.

Might as well settle in and get comfortable. You familiarized him to gentle touches, now he was insatiable for them. He would be consuming them from you greedily for as long as you offered.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Summary: Worst! Logan thinking you're dating Wade and is pining for you. Only for Wade to say that he's been spending hours telling YOU everything about LOGAN so you can ask him out.

A/N: Reader is mentioned as she a few times but mostly is referred to as sweet cheeks. Logan is insecure and gets too in his head. This is left on a cliff hanger sort of so lmk if you'd like a part two! This was requested; thank you @squishyfruitloop for the idea I hope you like it <3

You were there the first night he moved into the apartment. You welcomed him along with Al and he just thought you were the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. He wanted to know more about you and it was easy to fall more in love with you with the more he learned about you.

You seemed to always be around, not that Logan was complaining. He would come home from work, and you were there making dinner, he would wake up and you were there making a pot of coffee or standing at the kitchen counter trying to finish a last-minute work project. You were just always there.

At first, he thought it was just him assuming things, he knew that you and Wade had been friends for a few years now and that you two were close. You helped him become Deadpool, you helped him with the breakup with Vanessa, you just always helped so of course he understood why Wade would want you around. However, you started emerging from Wade's bedroom in the morning wearing his shirt or pajama pants. The two of you started whispering amongst each other and just seemed to be closer than before, so obviously he figured you and Wade had started seeing one another.

He was really hurt by this realization; he started to really fall for you and was wanting to ask you out, but he kept talking himself out of asking you. He was more hurt by Wade; he had confided in him about his feelings towards you and when Logan asked Wade what he should do Wade continued to reassure him that asking you out would be a great idea. 

Logan sent Wade glares all day trying to figure out what the hell was going on. It’s not like Wade didn’t deserve someone like you, but he was so ensuring that you felt the same as Logan. Wade deserved someone as sweet as you, but you were Logan's in his mind. He called dibs and Wade knew that. Now he’s dating her... What the fuck kind of friend does that? Logan shook his head; maybe it was a misunderstanding. It had to be that. Right? 

Tonight was movie night and Logan was excited to see you, he was hoping to get you alone for a moment and to finally talk things out. He had a strong feeling that the whole you dating Wade idea was a misunderstanding but the voice in the back of his head wouldn’t stop nagging him until he had the confirmation. Logan was sitting next to you on the couch and before he could say anything to you Wade plopped himself right next to you and showed you the movie he picked for the night. Apparently, it was your favorite. You squealed with excitement and gave Wade a hug, thanking him for finding the movie you’d been wanting to rewatch. Logan could feel himself deflate and curl into himself, maybe it wasn’t a misunderstanding. Maybe you actually did like Wade and Wade was just an asshole who wanted to fuck with Logan’s emotions. 

He wanted to leave movie night so bad; it felt like he wasn’t welcomed anymore, and he wasn’t paying any attention to the actual movie. He could feel his hands starting to shake and his ears were buzzing from trying to hold back from lashing out at Wade. His chest was getting tighter and tighter as he could hear himself scream in his head. As soon as the movie was over, he ran to his room trying to breathe again. Sitting next to you was his favorite thing in the world, having you close gave him the ability to smell your shampoo and body wash, it gave him the ability to feel grounded but now it felt like he was being suffocated. 

You watched as Logan ran from the living room to the spare room that he calls home now. You felt your heart break and your eyes started to sting as you blinked back tears. “Did we do something?” You asked Wade meekly and the merc felt growing frustration with his friend. “You didn’t do anything sweet cheeks. How about you head home, it’s getting late, and you know how everyone who lives here needs their beauty sleep” You giggled and nodded before getting up to collect your things. 

Wade waited for you to leave before he confronted his lovely roommate. 

“What the fuck was that Wolvie? Now she thinks she did something when you’re just a moron!” Wade huffed and got even more angry when Logan rolled his eyes, “Are you going through puberty? Is that the issue? Too much angst bottling up in you that you just can’t communicate anymore because then I think by law, I need to enroll you in high school or something.” 

“Oh, go fuck yourself I mean really do you ever shut up?” Logan muttered not wanting to look Wade in the eyes. Wade shook his head dramatically, “Nope, never it’s a disease. But I definitely won’t shut up when you hurt sweet cheeks feelings. What’s the deal? I thought you liked her?” Logan’s eyes snapped to Wade, and his anger finally boiled over. 

“Yeah, I do like her! You know this and you still get with her? What kind of shit are you playing at? Do you just get off on fucking with emotions” Logan lashed out, yelling at Wade.

Wade’s faces scrunches with confusion, “Get with her? I’m not with sweet cheeks metal man! I’ve been trying to convince her that you love her! I've been telling her all the stupid little facts about you! How do you think she knows how you like your coffee, or how you always are missing socks, she thinks you're this amazing man, and I finally had her believing that you loved her too when you wanted to act like a pre-teen! Now she’s home probably crying over the fact that you seem to hate her and can’t even be in the same room as her!” Wade groans loudly after his rant “Oh my god do I have to do everything in this universe!!” He sighed, calming himself and looked at Logan, “You are going to her apartment and apologizing and admitting your feelings for her. Then maybe you finally get fucked and I can meet the happy version of you too.” With that Wade left Logan alone to think and to get himself a beer.

Logan was left standing in his room with wide eyes. Wade was trying to convince you that he loves you…why would you need the convincing? Obviously Logan knew that he needed convincing, like look at him? Hundreds of years older than you, from a whole different universe than you, full of a dark past and trauma…but you loved him too? Or at least you did before he threw a hissy fit tonight. 

FUCK! Logan yelled out when he realized that he had to go fix this now! 

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

[archangeldyke-all]

@sumilane made this gorgeous art and i wrote a little something for it! i posted it already last night as a reblog but i'm going to make it it's own post so gio can add more art to it!! eeek!!!

men and minors dni

sevika is feeling strangely vulnerable.

it could be the bottle of whiskey the two of you have been sharing this evening. it could be that silco, the one person she knew best in the world, is gone now. it could even be the brat he left behind for her to take care of who's been slowly worming her way into sevika's heart throughout the time spent fixing up her new arm and changing their looks together.

it could just be you, though. the sorta-sad, mostly resigned look in your eye as you lament your relationship woes to sevika.

"i dunno... every time i think i could have something with someone-- not even like, marriage, but y'know-- just someone to share some intimacy with-- something happens and it doesn't work. after a while i just start to think maybe it's not the circumstances that are fucked up 'n maybe it's just me."

"bullshit." sevika spits, shaking her head and quickly refilling her glass with more whiskey. she has to do something with her hands to keep from reaching across the table and shaking your shoulders as she speaks. "y-you're fine. perfect--" she cuts herself off, a furrow in her brow as she glares at her whiskey.

you snort. sevika's adorable when she's tipsy, stumbling over her words and staring into space. fuck. you need to stop rambling about your heartache to the woman you're hopelessly in love with. "i-i'm sorry for dumping this shit on you sev. 's boring and stupid and--"

"no, shut up, it's just--" sevika blinks up at you then curls in on herself in a manner that's almost... shy. she clears her throat and looks away for a moment, almost whispering. "i-i'd marry you."

you blink.

"what?"

"i'm saying you're fuckin' stupid if you think you don't have options." sevika mutters, hunching her shoulders so much she looks small.

you're heart's beating a mile a fucking minute, and you squeak when you bite your tongue to make sure you aren't dreaming. "you said you'd marry me?"

"fuckin'-- obviously only in some hypothetical world where you were into me." sevika shrugs. "but...yeah." she grunts, before reaching out and drowning the whiskey in her glass, muttering a "fuck." under her breath.

you blink a few times, tears spontaneously bubbling up in your vision and a lump forming in your throat. "i was under the impression that i didn't have a shot with you." you whisper.

sevika's eyes fly to yours, wide and shocked. "what the fuck would make you think that?!"

"j-just..." you trail off, gulping again. "you're the most interesting, attractive woman i've ever met, and i am one of about a thousand other fuckin' people in zaun who think so. a-and we've been friends for years and you never said anything..." you trail off as sevika stumbles out of her booth and over to yours, shoving in beside you and cornering you against the wall, clutching your jaw with both of her hands as she stares down at you-- bewildered.

"is this a dream?" she asks.

"i bit my tongue to check-- it's real."

"i-i was serious y'know. i'll take you down to the courthouse tomorrow morning." she says, her voice shaky and sincere.

suddenly, the full reality of the situation hits you, and you burst into laughter. "i-i've been in love with you for years." you admit through giggles. "years!"

sevika starts to giggle too. "m-me too."

"and your fucking haircut is so hot all i've wanted to do for the past two weeks is kiss yo--"

sevika cuts you off with her lips to yours, and you sigh, wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

it's a drunk, sloppy kiss-- years of tension and yearning finally bubbling to the surface as sevika attempts to pin you to the booth.

you have every intention of letting her do just that when she pulls away, grinning down at you.

"you really bit your tongue, didn't you? i can taste the blood in your mouth." she asks.

you nod, clawing at her desprately as you try to get her to kiss you again. sevika grins, swooping in to do just that-- but when she pulls away the second thime with her leps stained with your blood, you gasp. "oh, shit!"

"i tried to tell you." sevika giggles.

"do i need stitches? can you give stitches to a tongue?" you ask.

"this really puts a dent in all my plans." sevika cackles. you snort, and she passes you the bottle. "drink. it'll wash the blood away."

"w-what plans?" you ask as you take a swig.

"the plans i had for your tongue."

you choke, whiskey spraying everywhere as you cackle.

sevika--covered in your spit, blood, and whiskey-- smiles so wide you think her face might crack.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz

[fangsandfeels]

Playing Veilguard and making it everyone's problem

I am going to rant, and I will rant a lot, and there will be spoilers, so if you're not afraid of them and the game criticism, buckle up.

Elves and their gods

I am absolutely fucking livid about how Veilguard handles the Dalish and elves in general. The events of Trespasser made it clear that the elves started flocking over to Solas, including the elves working for the Inquisition:

After the events at the Winter Palace, elves left the Inquisition under mysterious circumstances, as did elven servants across Thedas. None could say where they went, but those who believed the Inquisitor's story about Fen'Harel wondered just how large the Dread Wolf's forces were... and what the ancient elven rebel had planned.

Solas had multiple spies working for him during Trespasser, and If I remember correctly, there was even a note, left by one of the elves - they were anticipating the great change and the return of the elven glory. Anyways, the established fact is that: elves learned that the stories about their gods were true and one of them now was going to restore the world as it used to be. At least, this is how they interpreted it (maybe, this is the version Solas didn't debunk) and so they started following him.

You might think, the Inquisitor and their allies are going to have a huge problem with breaking it to elves that their chosen leader isn't going to make things better and that their gods don't love them. Especially, if the Inquisitor is a human or anyone who isn't an elf. You'd imagine any attempts will end in failure because of course elves aren't going to listen to outsiders trying to explain their own culture and gods to them. You'd imagine that their trauma caused by centuries of oppression and discrimination will make it impossible for the Inquisitor and anyone else to make them see the truth.

You'd assume anyone who tries to find and stop Solas will be sabotaged every step of the way, feeling themselves horrible for having to clash with people desperate for a chance of a life without injustice - even if it means burning the rest of the world down.

You'd imagine that they will only change their mind if/when they see the harm done by Solas' actions and get to witness their gods true intentions by themselves - which would lead to a massive crisis of faith and schisms happening between elven tribes and groups.

You'd imagine will get all this incredible drama in the Veilguard, with elves initially resisting the group's attempts to stop Solas, then trying to pull themselves together after the revelation. You'd assume there will be zealous groups doubting Solas (because the Dreadwolf is a liar and a deceiver) and intending to use him to actually free the elven gods. You'd think this is how actually some of them get out.

But, NOPE. Not only Solas ends up working alone, with none of his followers throwing themselves at Rook and the party to buy him time, but also all elves now hate Solas because...Varric said so?

You meet a group of Veil Jumpers (elves devoted to exploring their ancient culture and history, learning more about their gods and reclaiming their heritage) and their leader instantly calls Solas an asshole. Based on WHAT?

I get it, Varric had met them before and told them that Solas was Fen'Harel...

(needless to say if you expect players to find and read other media in order to make sense of the events in the game, you are doing something wrong)

...but why were they so fucking calm about it, instantly eating up the "yep, he's bad" version? Even if the Dread Wolf is vilified in the Dalish mythology, wouldn't they be curious about what that means? Wouldn't they have gotten tempted or excited by the implication that other gods exist too? They weren't told the full story - why the fuck did they instantly accept the "Solas is an asshole" narrative? Especially when Solas comes with a promise of a world for the elves like it was meant to be?

WHY?

The Veilguard has no response for that. I guess, Dalish never cared about their history and traditions, and city elves were dandy about Alienages and oppression, so they easily believed some randos over a literal god promising a new, better world.

I don't even play Dalish, but I love their plotline and arcs - and I was bracing myself for some downright painful choices and conflicts during the next Dragon Age. But it felt like the writers couldn't be bothered with developing such a nuanced narrative, so they just waved it all down with "Nah, elves are chill now and they never really cared about their gods in the first place".

[iloveelliefanfics]

Take me to the lakes

a/n: this idea popped into my mind while playing tlou then i had the whole picture when i was listening to "the lakes" by taylor swift, enjoy it and any type of feedback is appreciated! thank you<3

pairing: nerd jackson ellie x reader

summary: ellie surprises you on your birthday. ellie is being her nerd, awkward self

i take requests, not proofread

pics from pinterest!

mentions of nicknames, fluff, kissing

You and Ellie got together a couple of months ago, you spent as much time with her as much you could since both of you had things to do around town. It was a special day. Your birthday. You could never be too sure what Ellie would come up with, all the things she's made for you, the songs she's written, the drawings she's made for you. It was all nice but the best part of it was when she handed them over or played the songs she's come up with and blushed so hard but when you brought it up she denied while blushing even more. She denies a lot of things but never the love she feels for you, so she made sure your birthday will be unforgettable and amazing.

You haven't seen her much in the past week, you could guess why but didn't want to jinx it. It either could've been patrol duty, or just that she's preparing for your birthday. You knew that she was preparing for your birthday, gosh it was so obvious,bur again you didn't want to jinx it. She could barely keep it as a secret, but you didn't mind, the grin she had while telling you the past two days that this birthday will be the best of yours, she'll make sure of it. Which is something that is rare in this apocalyptic, corrupted world.

In the morning you woke up to someone impatiently knocking on your front door, you went downstairs and it wasn't a surprise that your girlfriend, Ellie was standing there holding some expired chocolate that she always brought you from her past patrols and with beautiful red roses. Again, the blush on her face was unmatched, it was almost the same shade as the roses.

"Hey babe, happy birthday!" she said then hugged you tightly carefully not to ruin the roses. You hugged her back, taking in her scent.

"Hey Els, aw, thank you! You're here early." You couldn't stop smiling.

"Well I wanted to give you these before we head out." She kissed your cheek then pulled back from the hug to give you the roses and your favorite chocolate.

Your cheeks heat up from the gesture, after months she still makes the butterflies go wild in your stomach.

"Thank you so much, gosh you really are the best." You lean in to kiss her, which she gets right away and slowly leans in for the kiss. After you're out of breath you pull away and look into her gorgeous green eyes.

"Nah, it was nothing gorgeous, you deserve the best, but now we're heading out. I have something to show you." She grins at you and intertwines her fingers with yours. You walk to the horse stables hand in hand, Shimmer, her horse is already saddled up. After she gets on her horse she helps you up.

"So are you gonna tell me where we're going?" You squeeze her waist while leaning closer to her ears which sends shivers down her spine.

"I can't and you know it, so stop it babe or we're going to go back and you'll be sitting on my couch listening to the whole plot of Savage Starlight." She tries to make a serious face, but fails at it which makes you laugh.

"No way, I've already listened to it like a hundred times, you can't tell me you'd do it again!" You're still laughing from the face she made, she looks back over her shoulder.

"I would and i know you would love to listen to it even if I'd tell you the story a thousand times." She says leading you two through the woods.

"I would, babe." You say placing a kiss on her cheek. "Is it far? At least tell me that."

"It's not where almost there." She says leading Shimmer further in the woods.

You two talk the whole way through, exchanging loving gazes, and talk about having a sleepover and a movie night.

"Okay we're here." Ellie says stopping at a beautiful lake. You take in the sights, and just can't believe where she took you. It's beautiful.

"Oh my god Els, it's so beautiful! How'd you find it?" You hop off Shimmer and walk closer to the lake.

"I came across this on one of my patrols actually, it's nothing." She looks down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers.

"Oh, come on, what do you mean it's nothing? It's everything I could've asked from you!" You go back to where she's standing, placing your hand on hers. She looks at you with flushed cheeks.

"Thank you Els, I love it. I love you." You say then kiss her all of a sudden, taking your hand off of hers then place it around her neck.

"Of course y/n. I have more for you." She places another kiss on your lips, she pulls back and leads you to a table full of delicious snacks. Both of you sit down and enjoy the afternoon in each other presence, then go back to her place when the sun is setting to watch a movie.

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

a/n again: it's pretty short and not the best i lowkey hate it but i wanted to write this. if i have more ideas I'll write them! thank you so much if you read it. i might do a poll on what characters y'all want to read about and I'll write a fic based on the results.

[mistyorchid]

Breakfast For Dinner

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, established relationship, love makes logan sappy + corny, age gap, reader is 21+, some suggestive actions/dialogue, logan calls himself old man, pet names (bub, baby, princess). wc: 730

an: I love the sweet housewife/partner fics but this is for the girlies that can't cook. aka me

Logan scrunches his nose. He picks up the familiar scent that tangled in the sheets you shared and lingered in the living room, where he reads the morning paper.

Another sharp inhale sends notes of bacon and burnt flour into his adept nostrils. His back aches after the hellish shift he endured, but the alarming thought of a grease fire destroying the home you share propels his body forward.

He senses your panic the second he steps inside the door. The chemical calling cards of fear—pheromones released from sweat—trigger a hollow throbbing in Logan's heart. His claws sink back into the tender flesh between his knuckles when he realizes you're not in immediate danger.

Your lame attempt to hide the charred remains of the dish forces an embarrassed laugh to tumble from your chest in short bursts. Hands on your hips, flour on every kitchen surface, including you. It was a stupidly endearing sight.

Logan loosens his tie, pulling open the collar of his dress shirt. He sighs, content with how beautifully mundane life has become. "Hey, bub. What's cookin'?" He asks with a teasing quirk of his brow.

He walks towards the kitchen island, slowly taking up more space until all you can feel are the hard plastic stove top knobs digging into your lower back.

You indulge in the broad plane of his chest, pulling Logan in by the front of his dress shirt. "I missed you," You admit, sighing as you run your hands over the garment.

A sly grin spreads across Logan's face. "Yeah? Enough to make me—?" His eyebrow quirks, questioning what culinary treat was filling the kitchen with smoke.

"It's supposed to be a quiche. Figured you'd be hungry after your shift. . . sorry it's burnt." You're suddenly captivated by a crack in the concrete floor. Insecurity seeps into your brain, unraveling the work you put into fostering your independence.

Never was a good cook. Always messing up the simplest things. So helpless, dependent, unworth—

A gentle caress on your cheek disrupts your negative thoughts. Logan's voice is firm, yet tender. "Stop that. I know what you're thinkin'."

Shit. He could always see right through your bullshit. It was tough indulging in self-deprecation when you had the world's most menacingly protective man for a partner.

You find your way back to Logan's eyes. You always do.

"Nothin' to be sorry about, baby. I don't expect you to make me anything, you know that." You can feel the pleasant hum that ricochets against his chest, inviting you deeper into his embrace.

"Hey, wanna ask you somethin'." Your lashes flutter against your cheeks. Logan's mouth stretches into a subtle grin.

"Can I get a quiche?" He quips, indulging in the way your nose twitches and the corners of your eyes crease with crow's feet.

A lighthearted laugh bubbles within you. "Did you just make a joke? You? The Wolverine?"

"Mhm. Anything to see that sweet smile on your face," He admits. A soft sigh leaves your mouth as you kiss Logan's; the feeling of him physically showing you how much you were missed while he was at work makes you dizzy with love.

He pulls back slightly before swiftly untying the dirty apron from your neck and waist, fastening it around himself.

Logan then forces himself to pull away from your body, allowing you to move off the range. He notices you soothing the sore indents on your back and orders you to rest on the couch.

"You look so pretty waitin' on me, princess. Let your old man cook dinner, and then we can have dessert."

He busies himself with slicing ingredients using his claws, feeling satisfied when he hears the sound of a horror movie playing in the adjacent living room.

An abrupt pause in the film causes Logan's ears to perk up. "Oh, we're out of ice cream!" You shout, worried about yet another error on your part. You fantasized about taking care of him, about embodying a picture-perfect role as his partner.

You could never be a Stepford Wife.

You start toying with the hem of your shirt as the silence that lingered after your confession seemed to stretch forever. Logan whips his head away from the kitchen island, promptly sheathing his claws.

A wicked smirk spreads across his face. "Not exactly the kind of cream I was thinkin' of, baby."

taglist: @pointyxsole @th3mrskory @fairiebabey @bratscave @elflutter @scorpiosaintt

[f0point5]

"Max's comments about British bias is so weird. I really like Max, and I think he is a talented driver, but his behaviour over the past few weeks hasn't been okay. You'd think, from the way he's acting, that the points gap between him and Lando was only a few points. Yes, mathematically, Lando still has a chance to win the wdc, but realistically, we all know it's a stretch- even lando admits this.

For Max and red bull to feel so threatened that they're talking about landos mental health, claiming Oscar dosen't deserve to be second driver (discussion already heated as it is without Maxs comments on it) and even admitting to crashing Lando out to prevent him from winning ... for what?

I get that to win, you need to be ruthless, but this feels unnecessary and unprovoked because Max driving alone would be enough and also he has his whole team helping him to win wdc without a doubt. It's not like Lando is out there in the media claiming he's the best in the world. In fact, the media often uses every opportunity to criticise him or protray him in a negative light.

Contrary to max's comments about the media and FIA being biased towards British drivers like Lando, this just isn't true. maybe after Miami there was optimism, but with all the missed opportunities, the media narrative shifted quickly, focusing on Lando's bad starts.

After Hungary, every media outlet was discussing how Oscar doesn't deserve to be second driver and how good he is compared to Lando, and how mclaren is refusing to prioritise lando. they questioned his championship mentality, despite his consistent performances. And aside from Zandvoort and Singapore, there was more talk about his mistakes and narratives being used for clickbaits.

media bias in sports isn't new. durch media will focus on Max, Australian media on their drivers, and british media on theirs. this is expected. you could argue that British media has a larger international reach, but thats beyond any athletes control.

example: sky Germany constantly talks about Nico Hülkenberg, or the chances of Mick Schuhmacher, and sometimes even missing race action to cover him.

However, using "british bias" as a defence when he was clearly in the wrong, and in the same breath throwing lando to the wolves and disregarding real bias against other poc driver on the grid, is just not okay. Not all drivers have the privilege of being white male with a dutch passport. maybe I'm exaggerating, but as poc myself, it really weird that Max used this as a clap back for something he himself admitted to doing - trying to prevent Lando from winning.

everyone talks about British bias and how "unfair" it is for Max and it is, the British media talked bad about him especially in the being of his career and him winning and Im not denying that but a few acknowledge the racism and bias faced by other drivers. I don't think these comments are funny or make a good clapback. and for a fact I know that if Lando said a similar thing, the reaction would have been entirely different.

Because Max is a little bitch who lashes out every time he's under pressure. As is a staple of his career. But since his "lashing out" is being overtly aggressive and an arrogant asshole, it's viewed as "woooo that's why he's a champion" instead of weakness."

I honestly do not understand how people cannot see that there is a clear bias towards Max. For a fan base that says the hate towards Lando needs to stop but has absolutely no issue throwing it towards Max the hypocrisy at its finest.

Oh lorddd.

First, no one talked about Lando’s mental health. Your competitive mentality is NOT the same thing as your all around mental health. You can be the happiest most well adjusted person in the world and a competitive environment and pressure can just get to you. Sure, your psychology influences and impacts how you deal with stress and failure and success and all that. But saying Lando cracks under pressure is not the same as ragging on his mental health.

Oscar is a good driver…what was the harm in recognising that? Also, Max doesn’t owe it to McLaren not to share his opinion so as not to upset whatever disaster they have potentially simmering over there?

And Max did not admit he crashed Lando out because he didn’t crash Lando out. They did not make contact. Lando finished second. So…that just straight up didn’t happen. But that “for what” 😂 for…the championship? Please god open the schools.

British bias is real, every single driver who is not British and winning has talked about it. The fact that everyone just accepts it as standard because the brits have basically a monopoly on broadcasting rights is actually mental. And yes it’s the same in every country and in my opinion it’s moronic in every fucking language. But it’s exponentially worse when Sky Sports is the main broadcaster, and when the F1TV pundits are all incredibly biased. F1TV is not a National channel, no it should not be “expected” that they border on unprofessional in the way they talk about certain drivers. they should not be allowed to be biased, in my opinion. I should not know that Jenson Button wants to lick the soles of Lando’s shoes. And mind you, I think both Sky Sports and F1TV presenters have been unprofessional even when they talk about British drivers, at some points, but to nowhere near the extent of the way they talk about Max. That’s why the only one I respect is Nico Rosberg because he is genuinely an equal opportunity hater.

Also, Max can talk about whatever the fuck he wants. The microphone is in front of him, not anyone else, so while you don’t have to agree with his opinion, it’s a take it or leave it thing, there is no third option to demand he say something different.

And in conclusion, yeah when Max is Max people say “he’s a champion” because he fucking is. In 2016/17/18 they were calling dangerous and crazy. And then it turned out what he does works for him. See how when you succeed you earn the right to do what you want, because people trust your process? (Brits don’t get it because for some reason they think their way will always prevail in the face of reason and results that say otherwise) “lashing out under pressure is a staple of his career”…so is performing under pressure. Not everyone can say the same.

He requires no defence, just look at the record book.

Maybe it’s just me, but despite the hate against Max being awful and just as uncalled for as the hate towards Lando…I kind of find it so much less impactful. You can’t really gain ground hating on a guy who has done exactly what he wants to do in the sport. So you think he’s an asshole…and what? Is that a crime? Is that relevant? Who even cares? Certainly not him. They just look so bizarre to me. I can’t fathom thinking someone should care what I think about their behaviour any more than I can fathom caring what someone thinks about mine.

Lol that quote was a deep dive into the mind of a parasocial for sure.

[married-to-google-translater]

Hi, can you do the yandere morarity the patriot (did I spell that right, I'm sorry) reaction to reader being from america and being so fascinated by the boys and their british culture, however gets terribly bullied by the other britians for being 'uncultured' and not knowing the basic manners and stuff.

I do this for Yandere William James Moriarty... Since you didin't say wich character

Yandere William James Moriarty

William thinks you'd be really cute.

You had just moved to town and asked him for directions.

That's how you two met and "became friends".

You would be a light in this dark world William.

He would be happy to teach you British culture.

However, not everyone is equally kind to you.

Getting William's attention would make many an aristocratic lady jealous.

Oh and they could be really mean to you.

You certainly wouldn't have as much money as William, but you would enjoy his company.

There would be nothing more for you. However, others would not really believe such a thing.

William would begin to notice differences in your behavior.

He noticed how you would often feel like a monkey and you wouldn't want to see him as much anymore.

You don't have to be a genius to figure out what's going on.

Oh William would be really angry.

Although this would be his fault for not protecting you from this dirty world before.

However, it would end now.

William would promise to protect you better and cleanse this world.

Fortunately, now he would know where to start :D

Yandere Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock could be a really difficult person if he wanted to.

Yandere Sherlock would certainly be no exception.

You and Sherlock first met at the police station.

You were a successful detective in America and you had been sent to London to help Sherlock.

Yeah, Sherlock really hates the idea.

He didn't really "need help" in this case.

However, no one really listened to him.

Culture shock would be difficult for you and Sherlock certainly didn't make the situation any easier.

This guy wouldn't have that much empathy.

He teased you about a lot of things.

However, this would stop when Sherlock started to realize that you could be helpful.

You're really good at your job and Sherlock wouldn't be blind.

His Yandere tendencies would begin to awaken.

Even if Sherlock teased you he wouldn't let anyone else do the same to you.

He would notice such things easily and those people would face great misfortune.

Sherlock would be good at solving crimes and really good at staging them.

He would be willing to do it for you too.

Yeah, you really wouldn't go back to America...

[swrkn]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬

Oliver x g/n!reader

Genre : fluff , sfw

Author note ; english in not my first language so please let me know if i make mistakes :) Also , I’m still quite new to everything that comes to writing , so please don’t hesitate to give me advice !

The mountain air was cold and crisp, and a layer of fog hung low over the trail as Oliver adjusted his grip on his handlebars. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. The world felt hushed, peaceful even, as he waited for you to catch up.

You appeared a moment later, breathing heavily from the climb.

You'd been asking Oliver to take you on one of his favorite trails for weeks, and today, he'd finally given in. Watching you pedal up the path with all your determination had left a smile tugging at the corner of his lips all morning.

"You good?" he asked, a little teasingly, as you rolled to a stop next to him, clutching your side and panting. "I told you, this one's a little intense for a beginner."

You shot him a look, defiant but with a grin behind it. "I'm just catching my breath. Don't worry about me."

Oliver chuckled, looking at you with that familiar, steady gaze of his, like he knew something you didn't. "Alright. Just let me know if you need to take a break. It's a long way down."

You straightened up, flashing him a challenging look. "Only if you need to stop."

Amused, he raised his brows. "I will remember you said that."

The two of you set off, Oliver taking the lead, navigating the twists and turns of the mountain trail , while you followed close behind, and though the ride was tough, you kept up, gritting your teeth and focusing on his back in front of you. The trees blurred past as you picked up speed, the trail winding downward, the thrill of it building with each turn.

Oliver stole glances over his shoulder, impressed by how you handled each dip and rise in the trail. He knew you were nervous— he could see it in the way you gripped the handlebars a little too tight, or in how you'd let out a small gasp whenever the path took a sudden drop. But you kept pushing, refusing to fall behind.

Finally, you reached a wider, flatter area, a natural overlook where the trail opened up to a sweeping view of the valley below. Oliver slowed to a stop and gestured for you to pull up beside him. You parked your bike,next to his,hands on your hips as you admire the view in front of you.

"Not bad, huh?" he murmured, his voice softer than usual, like he didn't want to disturb the quiet beauty of this moment.

"Not bad?" you scoffed, "It's amazing." You paused, eyes fixed on the view, then looked up at him with a smile. "Thanks for bringing me here, Oliver."

He gave a small nod, hands stuffed in his pockets. He wasn't the type to talk much about his feelings, but you could see the contentment in his face, in the way he looked at you. You knew this was his place, his escape. And knowing he'd shared it with you—it felt like a silent trust.

Oliver leaned his bike against a tree, stretching his arms up with a sigh. "I don't really bring people up here," he admitted, almost shyly, as if the words weren't meant to be spoken. "It's... kinda my place to get away from everything. From racing, from the pressure... from all the noise."

You studied him for a moment, surprised at how open he was being. "Then why'd you bring me?"

He shrugged, glancing away as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I thought you'd get it." His voice was low, just like a murmur. "I thought... maybe you'd understand what it's like to need a place just for you. Somewhere you don't have to be anyone except who you really are."

His words hung between you, vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache. You took a step closer, reaching out to gently touch his arm. Oliver's gaze softened as he looked down at your hand on his arm, and for once, the easygoing, calm facade he wore seemed to slip. He took a small breath, as if steeling himself, and turned to face you fully.

"I think I wanted to bring you here for a while," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... when I'm around you, things feel simpler. Like I don't have to think so hard or pretend to be something I'm not, i just have to be myself."

You felt your heart beat faster, and before you could think it through, you reached up, brushing a hand over his cheek. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn't pull away, instead, he leaned into your touch, his gaze never leaving yours, as though you were the only person in the world.

"I do understand ,and I'm glad you trusted me enough to bring me here.” You marked a pause , but begin to talk soon again. “Oliver," you said, your voice soft, "you never have to pretend with me. I like you just the way you are."

A faint blush colored his cheeks, and his expression turned serious, but there was a gentleness there too, something you hadn't seen before. Slowly, he brought his hand up, covering yours on his cheek. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and the warmth of his touch sent a thrill through you.

He took a step closer, the two of you now only inches apart, and you could feel his steady breath as he looked down at you. "I don't know what it is about you, but... I just feel better when you're here, I love you."

You smiled , reaching out to kiss his lips. “ I love you too. And i’ll never get tired of saying it.”

✵

[lfcgirlie866]

The Girl Who Broke A Million Hearts ~ Jude Bellingham x oc

Ok so you guys really surprised me by voting for this fic the most in the poll! I was expecting this to be the least popular option tbh, and I feel like it's really badly written 😭 I apologise in advance if it is!

Summary: 'I know the baby in your belly isn't mine, but if you let me, then I'll love her like she is'

Tropes: Childhood friends, not realising their feelings until it's (maybe) too late, pregnancy, found family

Warnings: fmc mentions death of a parent, there may be smut eventually in the story but idk yet

Prologue

As I sit outside in the mild Spanish night air, looking out across the horizon, I simultaneously wish for the darkness to end and also for the day to never come. The light means I won't be left alone with my thoughts anymore, but it also means that I have to leave Madrid behind and book a flight back to England. It means I have to leave Jude and face up to what a disaster my life has become in the last week.

How could it have all gone so wrong so quickly?

Last week, I was engaged to the man I thought I would be with forever, six months pregnant with his baby, too. I thought I knew where my life was going.

Now I'm just pregnant and alone. I don't have a home to go back to. No family. Nothing. No one.

I'm slowly spiralling, worrying about what the hell I'm supposed to do next and regretting almost every decision I've ever made.

You're a failure, Sapphy. Your mum would be so disappointed in you, I think to myself, trying to hold back a sob. You're a loser. You're too weak to do what she did and raise a baby alone.

Maybe I should just suck it up and go back to my ex, Aiden. Give in and do what he wanted me to; Move halfway across the world with him. At least then I'd have a home again

But you wouldn't be happy, Saph. Not there, and not with him. Not after everything that's happened. After what he said...

'You'd do it for him, though. Wouldn't you?'

And the answer has been plaguing my thoughts ever since.

"Jeeze, Saph. It's almost 4AM. What 'er you doing out here?"

Jude's familiar voice startles me out of my thoughts, almost like I'd summoned him here with them. I turn around and drink him in. Lit only by the lights in the pool beside me, he looks just as beautiful as he always does as he walks over to where I'm sitting, and my stomach twists and turns at the mix of emotions he churns up.

Jude Bellingham. The boy I've known since he was eight, the one I grew up alongside of, the one who I watched become a world-class footballer right before my eyes. He is quite possibly the sweetest human on this planet, and I'll never, ever forget the truly heartfelt words he spoke at my mum's funeral. He means everything to me, but he's always just been a friend. Always. There was never a time when it could have been more. At least, it never crossed my mind at the time anyway.

But since Aiden said those words to me, I can't help looking at Jude differently. I wish I could stop, but now that I've seen the light, I don't think I can ever go back.

When his brother called me and asked if I wanted to fly out and watch Jude's game yesterday, I didn't hesitate. I jumped on that plane and then screamed my heart out watching him play. I forgot all the bad stuff for a while, but being in his home just brought it all back and I started drowning in my thoughts again.

"Jobe said he was worried about you yesterday. Now I am too, Saph." He says quietly, his fingers lightly stroking down my back, making me shiver.

I should tell him what's happened. I know I should, but at the same time, how can I?

He's THE Jude Bellingham. He's on top of the fucking world right now. I can't drag him down from that. I can't burden him with my own issues. These are my problems, I'm the one who has to deal with them. And, if I tell him I left my fiancé then he's going to want to know why. I'd have to tell him that I've become one of those girls, someone I never ever wanted to be; Just one of the millions who've fallen for him.

Some kind of dam shatters inside of me and as hard as I try, I can't hold it all back any longer. The story comes pouring out with a mixture of sobs and tears as he holds me tightly in his arms.

But there's one thing I don't mention: the fact that I might now have feelings for him, and maybe I always have done.

~~~~♡♡♡♡~~~~☆☆☆☆~~~~♡♡♡♡~~~~

A/n: Ahhh I'm so scared to see what you guys think of this 🫣 This is definitely just an introduction and the story will go back and explain how they met/ became friends etc etc.

If you're interested in reading more then please let me know ❤️

[just-a-dinosaur-i-guess]

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

Lucy can't quite say why they go back to the airport. Or, well, calling it an airport is a compliment, really. It's in ruins now. Planes have been ripped apart, their windows shattered, the glass of the massive airport panes scattered across the ground. It reeks of death. There’s no corpses, only blood scattered around, but if she closes her eyes for even a second she can imagine all of them there. It makes her stomach churn to wonder, but she can’t help thinking to herself– If there were bodies here, would one of them be Atsushi? Ango? Another member of the agency? - on lucy, louisa, & margaret and what happens after the end of the world

written for @bsd-rarepair-week-2024, 4284 words, montcottmitch, lucy-centric, post apocalyptic horror kinda

aka: after the end of the world, lucy, louisa, margaret & kyouka have to keep going

written for the day two prompt clothes sharing

[the-kr8tor]

Genie! Hobie? Genie! Hobie🤭

Genie! Hobie, who's tired of the pompous humans that constantly ask for the same three wishes.

Genie! Hobie, who starts using their words against them after being asked for the nth time for "vast riches".

Genie! Hobie, whose lamp has been lost for several hundreds of years and somehow ends up in a small antique shop.

Genie! Hobie, whose lamp gets picked up by you after deeming it "adorable".

Genie! Hobie, who comes out of the lamp in all his glory after you tried cleaning it once you got home.

Genie! Hobie, who just sighs and asks you what it is you so desire, thinking you'd be like all the rest.

Genie! Hobie, who is dumbfounded when you say "Wish? I mean, uh, I guess I'm wishin' for a sandwich right about now. Kinda hungry, dude."

Genie! Hobie, who looks at you like you've got a couple of screws loose when you proceed to light up at the sight of the sandwich in your hands.

Genie! Hobie, who furrows his eyebrows when you offer him half of it, because none of his former masters were this weird (nor did they try to give him anything that they wished up).

Genie! Hobie, who's perplexed when you keep him around for months on end, chatting with him like he's your best friend in the entire world.

Genie! Hobie, who doesn't understand you for basically forgetting the fact that you have two more wishes left that you've let collect dust for months.

Genie! Hobie, who doesn't know how to reign in the tears that surprisingly fall when you ask him how long he's been stuck in that dark lamp by himself(eons, it seems like and he's shaking when you pull him in for a hug.)

Genie! Hobie, whose eyes grow soft with fondness now every time he looks at you.

Genie! Hobie, who lets you put his hair in different hairstyles and gets lulled to sleep by the feeling of your fingers in his scalp.

Genie! Hobie, who enjoys your company more than he ever thought he would with a human.

Genie! Hobie, whose heart breaks when you come home crying one day, clearly in distress.

Genie! Hobie, who holds you as you cry, your sadness seeping into him when you mumble against his chest, "I just wish someone would care about me for once."

Genie! Hobie, who cups your face and whispers softly as he wipes your tears, "I care about you."

Genie! Hobie, who doesn't count that as a wish because he truly does care for you, no magic needed.

Genie! Hobie, who's shocked when you tell him you won't keep him with you anymore, wanting him to be free to come and go as he pleases.

Genie! Hobie, whose ties to the lamp shatters the moment you wish for him to be free.

Genie! Hobie who can't believe that you'd do something so... selfless. Make a wish just for him?

Genie! Hobie, whose tears won't stop because he sees just how much he'd viewed himself as a tool to be used and discarded, nothing more.

Genie! Hobie, who takes you around the world with him, because if he was finally free to do as he pleases, he was gonna do it all with you.

Oh, man. Idk what came over me🫣🤭💕💕

AJSNIWKXKW GENIE! HOBIE?!!!

I love this R!!! What a silly goose!

They're besties now!!

😭😭😭😭 okay wtf I knew the 'free' wish was coming but i was not ready for it 😭

Perhaps they're going around the world on a magic carpet ride?

[rex-meshla]

Brat Summer

Commander Wolffe x Reader

You'd think working with Commander Wolffe would mean a constant stream of orders, all barked in that gruff. But no, that’s not how this goes. Not this summer, anyway.

"Not bad" he mutters as we finish a sparring drill under the hot afternoon sun, his voice low and gravelly, but his smirk gives him away. “You’re almost getting the hang of it. Almost”

"Oh? That's funny. I'd say you're almost keeping up, Commander" I shoot back, giving him a look. It’s a game we’ve played a thousand times, but this time, the heat in the air makes it feel like more.

"Maybe I should push you a bit harder then" he says, stepping in closer, that spark in his eye growing.

Classic Wolffe. He loves a show of authority. Probably thinks it'll throw me off.

I just cross my arms, smirking. "Bring it on"

He chuckles, a low, almost growling sound, and then he closes the gap between us, stopping just close enough that I can feel the warmth coming off him. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, you bet" I say, nudging him in the chest before he can lean any closer. "But don't go thinking you're the only one calling the shots here, Wolffe"

He raises a brow, amused. "You think you're in control?"

"Absolutely" I say, poking his chest just to get on his nerves. "I know it drives you crazy, but you wouldn't have it any other way"

“Real confident, aren’t you?” His hand hovers near my waist, his lips twitching up in that knowing smile. “Maybe I just keep you around because you give me something to laugh at”

I roll my eyes, refusing to break. “Laugh all you want, but we both know you’d be bored without me” I lean in, voice dropping, just to tease him. “Face it—you like having someone around who can actually handle you”

“Handle me?” He scoffs, eyes flashing, a mix of irritation and amusement. “If I wanted to, I’d put you in your place in two seconds flat”

"Oh, sure" I say, cocking an eyebrow. "Any day now, Commander. Still waiting for you to actually do something about it"

His mouth quirks, and he leans in, his voice dropping, almost challenging. “Careful what you wish for”

“Promises, promises” I say, meeting his eyes with a smile that dares him to take that last step. “I’ll believe it when I see it”

And that’s all it takes. His hand finally lands on my hip, warm and firm, pulling me that final inch until there’s no space left between us. His other hand brushes up my back, fingers pressing lightly, and he dips his head, gaze locked on mine with an intensity that’s nearly electric.

“Still sure you can handle this?” he murmurs, his breath warm against my cheek.

For a second, words fail me. His dark gaze, his hand on my hip, his hold on me—all of it sends my pulse racing, each beat louder than the last. “More than sure” I manage, my voice softer than I intended, but he’s left me no room for anything else.

A short laugh rumbles low in his chest, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he dips his head, his lips brushing mine with a teasing slowness. The kiss starts soft, almost experimental, but the next second, it deepens, fiercer, like he’s done waiting, done playing games. My hands slide up to his shoulders, and it’s like the rest of the world melts away, leaving just the heat of his mouth on mine.

As the kiss deepens, his fingers find their way to the back of my neck, pulling me in closer. There’s a hunger to the way he holds me, something raw, brash, and yet, somewhere in the fierceness, he’s careful too, like he’s been waiting for this just as long as I have.

I can’t help but smile against his mouth, letting a laugh slip out as I pull back for a breath. “That’s the best you’ve got, Commander?”

His eyes narrow, that usual sharpness softened by something else. Something almost like pride. “You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

“Maybe” I say, fingers trailing down his chest, feeling his breath hitch under my touch. “Or maybe you just have to work a little harder to keep up”

That challenge lights up his face, and in an instant, he pulls me back in, his lips brushing mine again, this time with a fiercer edge. He murmurs against my mouth, “Careful what you wish for, brat”

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I hope you've enjoyed this little drabble. You can find more here.

[thatgaeilgeoirhag]

I'm so alone without you (angst)

Tate Langdon x Reader

Summary: You visit the murder house after Tate's death. Inspired by the song "A House in Nebraska" by Ethel Cain.

Warnings: mentions of death, school shootings and suggested suicide. It's insinuated that Tate and the reader have slept together. No mentions of the reader's gender. No use of y/n.

a/n: this is the first fic that I've ever posted, and I doubt anyone will read this but I had this idea and wanted to write it. any writing advice would be greatly appreciated.

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There was a chill in the air. Just like the day you first met Tate Langdon, and just like that day in the cemetery with his family. No one came to the funeral except his remaining family, his mother, his sister, and you. Hey, who would show up to the funeral of a guy that shot up a school? Your parents didn't want you to go but you needed to. You needed to grieve the boy you knew, and not that monster that the world now knows him as.

So now, you found yourself outside the gate of his house, where you forged your most precious memories with Tate. You pushed the gate and it made that sharp sound it always had. Your feet treaded the path you walked so many times, up the steps and stopped at the front door. You still had the key Tate had made for you so you could come over as you pleased, now you just hoped that the locks weren't changed when Constance and Addie moved out. You inserted the key into the door and miraculously you heard a click. The door swung open. You hesitated. Was this a good idea?

You took a deep breath and stepped inside. You walked the halls of the house and up the stairs, your feet automatically brought you to what was once Tate's room. Now however, the room is empty. All traces of his gone. No furniture, no posters, nothing. Not even the smell of him remained. You sat against the wall in the space where Tate's bed used to be The bed where he made you his, back in a time where it was you two against the world. When the two of you had nothing except each other He was your home.

You shuffled on the floor into a more comfortable position. "Tate?" you whispered under your breath, "wherever you are, I miss you". The room remained still. "The last time I was here I had just had another fight with Dad. I cried so hard 'cause he didn't even try understand my point of view. I had come here because you were the only one who always understood me. And after I cried in your arms you cracked some stupid joke to make me laugh, and I did, like I always did." You exhaled and leaned your head back against the wall.

"You know, your Mom calls me sometimes to see how I'm doing. I lie. I tell her I'm fine like I tell everyone when they ask me that. What no one knows, is that I'd kill myself just to hold you one more time. Or even just touch your skin or run my fingers through your hair. It hurts to miss you 'cause of what you did. The guilt I feel for not knowing you would do such a thing and try to stop you-" you began to choke on your words as you noticed the tears streaming down your face now.

"Your the only person I could ever talk to about how I really feel. I was never scared to tell you that I hurt. Now, all I can do now is look at old photographs and talk to myself in your old house like an idiot." You stood up suddenly. "This is stupid."

You stormed out of the room, but just as you stepped into the hallway you heard an all too familiar voice behind you. "Don't go." You stopped in your tracks. There's no way. You slowly turned around, afraid of what you might see, or maybe even worse, what you don't see.

There, in the center of the room, stood Tate. Without thinking, you sped into his arms. "Am I dead?" you muttered under your breath. "No, your alive alright" Tate whispered into your ear with a chuckle. You removed your head from his chest and looked up to his face, the face you were sure you'd only ever see again in photographs. "Then how are you here?" you were careful not to let go of him, who knows how long you would be able to do this, "Tate, your dead." You were confused, and rightfully so.

"Yeah, I am" he said softly. There was a moment of silence which was then broken by a harsh smack. Tate raised his hand from your waist to his cheek. "Dude! What was that for?" he snapped. "What was that for?" you scoffed, your body became tense "Tate you killed people! You could have talked to me but you decided it was a better idea to set a man on fire and bring a gun to school? What the actual fuck was wrong with you?" You shook Tate's hand off of you and took a step back, flailing your arms at him in anger. The shocked, hurt expression on his face disappeared. His eyes became red and his lips rested into a soft frown. No words left his mouth. The air became thick and heavy as you continued to stare him down, angry and hurt.

The anger dissipated and your body loosens. "You hurt people, Tate" your words were no longer full of anger, they were full of pain, "you hurt me, you left me alone." You took another step away from him. Tate took a step closer to you, "I-" he exhaled helplessly "I'm sorry, I know that doesn't erase the things I did."

You finally turned around to leave, "maybe you could visit me from time to time?" Tate pleaded, "it gets lonely here, we could pretend nothing happened if you want to." You stood there, hesitating. You could never forgive him, but just minutes ago you begged to be with him again, to talk to him, to hold him.

Without a word, you fled the house, leaving Tate there in his empty room.

[beneath-the-rubble1]

they've taken ahold of me mind, harold

no hetero explanation for that face