#if i were to name them all we would be here forever

[elshenanigans]

When playing the game, i finished Keith’s ending first. What if MC was avoiding realizing Eddie and Volt because they’re scared the two of them were doing the same thing? Playing into their emotions to be realized.

(sorry if this is a lot lmao)

SPOILERS FOR KEITH’S REALIZATION

anon why are you in my brain this is genuinely why i refused to realize Eddie and Volt for so long because i was scared the ending would disappoint me or break my heart and i couldn’t face it

i would love to write a fic like this PEAK angst ugh okay here are some thoughts

the homeowner, after realizing Keith (especially if you got the love ending with him) is absolutely terrified that everyone else is just using you to become real, and that you’ll just end up alone again after everything.

Keith’s actions infect every relationship you have with the poison of distrust from then on. you don’t know who to believe, who to suspect, even who truly loves you.

maybe you’d start pulling away from Eddie and Volt, because for them to do the same thing and completely abandon you after the love you have poured into them, it would destroy you. surely it’ll be easier if you just…cut them off first. before they can hurt you.

no conversation, no explanation, you distance yourself. you can’t bare the thought of just…asking them about it, because what if they validate your biggest fear?

what if everything has been a lie? to get you to help them maintain the bar, to appease you, to get closer to becoming human, to leave you and never come back.

when you go from visiting the breaker box every day to maybe twice a week, of course the boys notice.

plus, they run a freaking club. they have eyes and ears everywhere: there is no way they wouldn’t hear about what happened with Keith and all they want to do is comfort you but you just won’t let them.

you continue to realize objects that you’re friends with, but refuse to bring the topic up with any of your lovers until completely necessary.

questions about Keith make you shut down immediately and your boys make the connection very quickly that you’re afraid they’ll abandon you.

Volt’s first reaction would be to get upset that you could even think such a thing. did their declaration of love fall on deaf ears? did they do something to make you doubt them? were they not affectionate enough?

as someone who’s been alone for most of his existence, Eddie is the one to remind him that it isn’t about them. it’s about you and your trauma from being abandoned. he knows that it’s nothing they did and that this is your way of protecting yourself. because it’s what he did.

so instead of trying to force you to believe them (because they know it won’t work) when they say that they adore you and want to spend the rest of their lives with you, they start dropping hints just in passing every time you come back to the club

Eddie is subtle. or what he thinks is subtle. he’ll start vaguely mentioning a life with you.

“Hey spark, what’s your ring size?”

“Where do you want to live in the future? I’m thinking some place just outside of the big city so we have our privacy and a nice commute for work.”

“You know, before Volt, I thought I would be alone for the rest of my life. I know I don’t say it a lot, but I’m glad to have you here with me, my love.”

Volt is bold. he wants you to know he is planning on being there for the rest of your lives.

“Darling, where should we honeymoon when we get married?

“Do you want children, my dear? I was thinking two would be nice. But of course, if you want to only focus on us forever I would be just as delighted.”

“You know, Eddie and I would love to build a club with your tastes in mind, live wire! If we ever branch out, we’ll name it after you. Just imagine it now, the three of us the owners of the brand new Live Wire Nightclub! No? Not that name? Okay, we’ll workshop it.”

basically they would try to undermine your own brain and get you truly believing that they want a future with you.

it would help somewhat of course, but of course they know that their words alone won’t be enough to break through your trauma. so they’re also patient. as they watch all of the other dateables be realized, they try not to feel jealous and enjoy the time that they have with you.

the less dateables there are in the house, the more you show back up at the club and the more anxious you get. you know that it’s time to realize your partners. you’re just terrified of the outcome.

but you can’t stand the look on Volt’s face anymore when he hears about every other object that gets realized. so you swallow your anxiety, your fear and your trauma, and bite the bullet when it’s finally only you, them and Skylar left.

and imagine your complete surprise and delight when you realize them and they stay around. of course, they go out and try different jobs and find themselves, but they always come home to you at the end of the day.

after the opening of High Voltage Realty, they propose to you that night in bed. they’ve had the ring since they first started making money at the diner, but they know that the moment is right after you’re all coming down from your highs and you finally mention Keith.

you thank them for staying with you, for always being true to themselves and to you, for loving you.

and Eddie just slowly reaches into the nightstand drawer and slips a diamond ring onto your finger.

i had so much fun with this oh my god thank you again anon for prompting me with this!! i might write a full fic but we’ll see after fry my heart lol

[chocolate-milk]

this is siffrin and this is their boyfriend isabeau and this is isabeaus partner loop and this is loops gossip bestie mirabelle and this is mirabelles qpr siffrin and this is siffrins situationship loop and this is loops qpr odille and this is odilles ???? siffrin and this is all of the past mentioned peoples child; bonnie.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

here together

[stormyoceans]

Almighty God, my head is spinning🤯 Is this documented anywhere? Has anyone calculated HOW MANY men have been crushed by the steamroller called sea?

IM HONESTLY TRYING MY BEST TO KEEP AN UPDATED LIST OF HIS MEN IF NOT OF ALL THE MOMENTS HE HAS WITH THEM BUT LIKE. SHIT'S GETTING DIRE OVER HERE THERE ARE JUST TOO MANY

i kid you not, that list currently includes 27 men. let that sink in. TWENTYSEVEN. and im even being generous because im not counting those who only had a brief moment with sea (like sky, inn, mond, santa) or the ones who haven't had a moment with him in ages (unfortunately, aouboom....) or directors or members of the crew, otherwise that number would be HIGHER

and you know what else we should let sink in? the fact that if i were to count everyone, then i should add P'THA to the list too. THA SATAPORN PANICHRAKSAPONG THE CEO OF GMMTV. LIKE

DO YOU ALSO HAVE YOUR BOSS ON HIS KNEES TO TAKE CUTE PICTURES OF YOU SO YOU CAN POST THEM ON YOUR INSTAGRAM OR ARE YOU NORMAL

and i mean. for legal reasons this is a joke but also WHAT - AND I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH - THE FUCK

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes i think about my spn oc and how i rewrote everything about amara to interact with the story i was trying to tell about her. there were some really neat ideas in that i need to recycle for something one day. like, in the show proper, they just let amara take over a human baby and that’s fine, but amara’s not Meant To Be Here. this entire universe is one constructed in her absence. saying she can possess a human body should be like saying if you took a person and sent them to a universe where 1+1=3, they could just figure out how to function within that.

which in story took the form of Amara being something that could not be Understood, only Rationalized. a force locked outside the narrative who could only get inside and destroy things if given a role within it. by the Winchesters as A Monster To Face. by Chuck as Wayward, Unreachable Sister. and by miss oc as. simultaneously a projected creature to be saved, an amalgamation of injustices done to herself (and others) that would never be righted but could be made up for by being a part of this. and as something impossibly powerful that could be both protection and purpose.

and the Darkness wasn’t any of those things, really, but to have agency in her own story required new shackles, but ones she was always straining against. she wouldn’t fit inside the confines of a human mind, let alone a body, at least not well enough to leave it Intact. like lucifer burning through nick, but Worse. because the burns were an expected outcome of skin not strong enough to hold him. humans were built for angels, some were built better and some worse, but they’re meant to work. putting amara in human skin should disconnect the skin and mind and soul from the reality her brother built itself, i think. slowly. bit by bit.

and at the same time, i’d gone and written the kind of wild scenario you really can only write for your thirteen year old mary sue, given that spn oc the part of herald/high priestess/failed vessel. which she pursued with wild abandon like that would fix anything wrong with her <3

in the end, running alongside the borrowed family theming of the original show was my own theme of “how much self-annihilation will you accept to make your point. are you accepting it, really. or are you seeking it.” not just physically, in letting something unmake the base components of what you are as it tries to fit inside you or in it constricting and suffocating itself beyond self-recognition to get inside in the first place, but, obviously, it’s supernatural, how much selfhood do you cede to your family. is it worth it.

it was interesting, if nothing else. let thirteen year old me cook. she had ideas.

[ragnars-tooth]

i had a wider point about the amount of times people have been abnormal at me for being ace but every time i get into the post spirals and i just get mad.

so. in the potential fake-dating au sequel (2 dating 2 real) i'm Conceptualising ace david. i think it provides a nice Flavour to his Relationship with Relationships. it wasn't Initially becuase i'm ace and i fake dating'd myself into a real relationship, but actually yeah. sure. if you guys want your turn projecting on the tldc cast then you've got to get in here yourself, idk what to tell ya 🤷

[luvcaleb]

SECRET TIMES: DESIRE.

nsfw (18+). this is the ovulation talking sorry in advance. today's fic will be a bit different than the usual; the entire piece consists of only dialogue (aka filthy filthy indulgent dirty talk). includes unprotected sex, implied marathon sex, squirting, usage of gege, caleb has a breeding kink (what's new). likes and reblogs will be very appreciated!

“...fuck, fuck, you're too tight— ah, fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm cumming—”

“Shit, I came so much...”

“Hey, keep it all inside. Squeeze that pussy for me. Yeah, that's right... fuck... feels so good...”

“Who knew you would be such a slut? Moaning so shamelessly — mm, yeah, move just like that — I could hear you all the way from my room.”

“You didn't... ngh...! Didn't even close the door properly. I could see you fucking yourself on your fingers and making a mess of your sheets. Just like here, see? So fucking soaked. You act all coy but you're a squirter.”

“Haha, did you just cum again? So cute. You're practically cumming every time I thrust. You like it here? Hm? You like it when I rub your clit? Ah, you squeezed me so tightly.”

“Feels good, huh? Should've fucked you a long time ago if I knew you were such a whore. Every time you bent down and I saw your panties, you drove me crazy. I had to jerk off in the bathroom to calm down. If I knew you liked dick so much, I would've just had my way with you right then and there.”

“You're so messy, pips... I'm covered in your juices. Everything's so sticky. But you like it when we get dirty, right? Come on, cum. Cum, cum, cum... shit, there we go. That's a good girl. I love it when you clamp around me.”

“Stick out your tongue.”

“Mm... ngh... more... open your mouth... you taste so sweet... Wanna eat you out again...”

“Do you want it? Want my tongue licking up your wet pussy again? You came so much in just half an hour, haha. Squealing so much when I hadn't even gotten my cock inside you.”

“Mn... so good, you feel so fucking good... Your tits are bouncing each time I thrust inside, hah.”

“Do you think our neighbors heard us? Heard you screaming my name? It felt so good, right? Ah, ah... I wanna stay like this forever, just cumming inside you... Mn... You feel so good around my cock...”

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum again. Do you want another creampie? Huh? Gege's going to cum inside you. I'm going to cum so hard, you're gonna get knocked up.”

“Ah, hn, fuck, here it comes... gege's cumming inside... oh, fuck...!”

“Shit, my hips can't stop moving on their own— fuck, take every drop of my cum, baby— yeah, that's right, fuck!”

“Open your mouth, hn, ah... mn... ngh... This feels so good... You're so fucking sexy...”

“One more... Come on, don't pass out on me. We can't stop here, we're going all night.”

“Fuck, you're so full with my cum, it's crazy. You're so fucking hot... gege's gonna plug your hole with his cock, okay?”

“Your clit is so hard, it looks like a small dick. Feels good when I rub it, yeah?”

“Your nipples are so sensitive, lemme suck them.”

“Mn... If I suck hard enough, will milk come out? Haha, I'm just kidding.”

“Hn... ahh... so good... you're so good for me... my pretty girl... all mine... Love it when your pussy sucks my cock back in...”

“Haha, you're so loud. You really want everyone to hear us, don't you? Adam lives just beside us, you know. Poor guy's going to get jealous if he sees you bouncing on my cock. He's always had a stupid little crush on you.”

“Hm? Why would I be jealous? I'm the one fucking you right now. I'm the only one you'll be fucking from now on.”

“You liked that, didn't you? You just clenched around me so tight. Do that again, fuck...”

“Shit, princess, you're dripping all over my balls, haha. So damn messy. Since you already ruined the sheets, I'll make you cum so much, you'll turn crazy.”

“Hah, this pussy was made for me... god, you're so fucking cute...”

“Go on, cum. Gege's gonna ruin you until I'm the only one you can think about.”

[fortunate-cookie]

Constantine’s apprentice

“Whose sidekick is this?” Barry asks.

Everyone in the watchtower turns to look at the skinny, black-haired teenager sitting patiently in the corner. He’s got big round blue eyes, and smiles and waves at the heroes when they look at him. He would be perfect bat-bait if he weren’t also the picture of innocence.

(Every Robin in existence has had an unmistakable aura of menace around them.)

That wide-eyed innocence is precisely why it’s such a surprise when the kid answers “I’m here with John Constantine”

“John Constantine?” Zattana asks, bewildered and worried all at once. She knows better than most how it feels to be burned by Constantine, and is instantly angry on the kid’s behalf.

“Someone call?” The man himself asks, as he steps into the room, bag of chips in hand.

“Why do you have an apprentice?” Zattana demands, accusatory.

John tsks and frowns, directing his next words towards the teen in question, “I told you no, kid.” Then he turns back to Zattana and the room at large, and says, “I’m dropping this kid off here. He’s being hunted by the US feds. Hole in the meta human rights bill. He is not,” John’s eyes slide back over to the kid, “my apprentice.”

The kid (and someone should really ask his name, sooner or later) frowns and crosses his arms. Now he looks more like a Robin.

“And why not?” He whines. “You’ve been teaching me just fine so far. I haven’t even been that annoying!”

“Son, no,” Hal Jordan speaks up from the back. “You’re lucky to have made it this far, you don’t want to spend any more time in Constantine’s company than necessary.”

Zattana nods and says, “he’s got a habit of sacrificing others. It’s usually for the greater good, but still… you don’t want to be the nearest convenient sacrifice.”

“Really feeling the love in here.” John mutters.

“Well… it’s true, isn’t it?” Dick shrugs apologetically.

“Not to mention you’re just a bad role model in general.” Hal tacks on with a shit-eating grin.

“Is that all?” The kid asks.

“Do you… need more?” Dick asks. “Betrayal in a life-or-death situation isn’t a small thing, kiddo.”

The kid (and really, someone needs to ask his name. And also get the report on that hole in the meta rights) just looks at John with a supremely unimpressed expression. “Y’know I haven’t been relying on you for my safety this whole time, right? We were always safe, I just stuck with you to learn magic.”

“Danny, what the hell,” John says.

Ah, so the increasingly-more-Robin-like kid’s name was Danny. Good to know.

Danny shrugs, and says with a smug smile, “the night before we left Amity Park, I contacted an omniscient time-god from another dimension and blackmailed them into giving me forewarning for any dangerous situations I might get into. I think the specific wording was ‘enough forewarning to be able to escape any situation resulting in my death, capture, torture, loss of powers, or sanity.’”

The watchtower is completely silent for a count of three.

Then Dick snorts.

“Did… did John Constantine get conned?” Barry asks with glee.

“God I hope so…” Zattana breathes.

“I really appreciate you taking me this whole way, though.” Danny says to John. “I definitely want to get a few autographs.” He says with an innocent smile.

It’s at this moment that it sinks in for the whole room that a kid tricked John Constantine into traipsing across some portion of America with him for no reason.

Hal doubles over laughing.

“You’ve been blackmailing a god this whole time?” John checks, face blank.

“Uh huh,”

“You were able to trick an omniscient being, and now have struck a deal for divine intervention any time you’re in danger?”

“Yup,” Danny pops the ‘p’

“You’ve been wheedling magic lessons out of me for weeks with the full knowledge that my only reason for sticking around — to safely get you to the watchtower — was a complete waste of my time because you are effectively safe for the rest of your life in every situation forever?”

“Uh, yes? To be clear, Clockwork won’t intervene in situations where I can handle it myself. But if I’m ever in over my head, then they’ll show me a solution.”

The room is filled with poorly concealed grins, and not-at-all concealed appraising looks. After a long moment, John finally throws his hands up in the air.

“Fine!” He says, exasperated. “I guess you’re my apprentice!”

[marlynnofmany]

In the interest of not derailing this already-long-and-awesome thread, here are some more details! (Paging @sparrows-corner and any other interested parties.)

So in my first semester of college, I took an Intro to Psychology class. I didn't expect anything special; it was just one of those general education courses that everybody was supposed to take at some point. But it turned out amazing.

What the general public didn't know at that point was someone in the college administration had screwed up and forgotten to assign a teacher to this class. Until a week before class. When several students emailed to ask why that detail was missing in the online listing.

The administration panicked, scrambled for someone-anyone-omg-who-can-drop-everything-and-teach-this-class. They called recently-graduated owners of Masters Degrees in teaching.

They found Sandy.

She was qualified and available, and much older than the average recent grad, with the confidence to go with it. This was still a daunting task, though, and she agreed on one condition: that she team-teach the class with a friend of hers who was still working on finishing his degree.

Having no other choice and seeing no real problem with this, the administration agreed. And thus was born the most glorious educational comedy act in my entire academic career. The two of them were a delight. They knew all the stuff they needed to teach, and they knew a great deal more, and they delivered lectures in a way that had everyone paying eager attention. It was great.

This friend, by the way, was awesome in his own right. While Sandy was a curly-haired white lady around middle age, Wayne was a black guy who (1) dressed in impeccable suits and (2) had cerebral palsy.

I think a lot of 18-year-old minds were quietly enlightened about a few things just from watching these two banter back and forth, one with joints more wobbly than the other. Wayne told a memorable anecdote at one point about stopping by a grocery store in sweat pants instead of his usual classy wear. The cashier asked some gentle question about what he spent his time on, assuming that he had some sort of carer following him around. The expression on her face when he told her that he taught college was one I'll never forget, and I didn't even see it.

Anyways, at the end of this semester, the two teachers asked a few of us smart kids if we wanted to be TAs (teaching assistants) for the next semester. Since most of us had already become friends during the make-a-group-and-discuss-things portions of the class, this sounded like a party that would look good on our records later. And it really was.

I TA'd for that class a few times in a row, with my buddies and the two very cool teachers. We met up outside of class for holiday parties and everything.

And, since this was during the time the Lord of the Rings trilogy was first coming out in theaters, we all dressed up in costume and went to an early screening together.

Wayne drove. His handicap placard meant we got to park at the front, which was pretty awesome.

Now, I'd met people before who knew more LotR lore than I did, but they all paled in comparison to Sandy. As I said in the notes on that other post, she shared some stories of her youth with us. When she was fourteen, she ran away to join a hippie commune. She already knew fluent elvish, and she used that to help the commune's drug-runners stay out of the clutches of the cops, by translating their drug notes into a language the cops couldn't read. With a start like that, it was unsurprising that she still knew elvish now, along with all sorts of fascinating deep lore.

She had a limited edition book that looked shockingly expensive. She made beeswax candles for all the TAs as holiday gifts, with our names written on them in elvish. I still have mine somewhere.

I haven't heard from any of these lovely people in a long time, since college moves on and so does life, but I will treasure those memories forever. I hope Sandy and Wayne and the others are doing well. They deserve the best.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Dog Tags

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Bucky is looking for his Dog Tags, and you just so happen to have them.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff and fun, kinda enemies/rivals to lovers vibes, open ended kinda, reader is mentioned to own a knife. Not Proof Read.

Bucky had been looking for them for weeks. 

His dog tags. His identity. His attachment to a life long forgotten. 

They’d been with him on his last mission; he was sure of it. He remembered clasping them in his hand before laying them under his uniform. And he never took them off unless…did he? 

“Buck. You’ve already looked in here. Twice.”

Sam’s eyes tracked Bucky around the room as if he was the madman’s doctor. Bucky wasn’t paying attention and nearly ran into Sam’s legs that were resting on the coffee table. 

“Dude.”

“They’ve got to be here,” Bucky kept muttering to himself. “They have to be.”

“Buck, I will get you a new set.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t want another set.”

Sam stood with a sigh, placing his bookmark in his book. “For all we know, they’ve been trampled into the mud on our last mission.”

“I would have noticed them. I never saw them.”

Sam watched as Bucky looked in every cupboard in the kitchen. He sighed, again. “Have you asked Y/n?”

Bucky scowled. “She doesn’t have them.”

“And you know this because…”

“I’ve already checked.”

Sam watched Bucky. “Did you ask? You know, before you ransacked her room.”

“I didn’t ransack her room.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two recently. It’s like you’ve gone from agreed silence to sworn enemies, but maybe you should just ask her. She might know.”

“I’ll ask Wanda.”

“Y/n’s better.”

Bucky looked over his shoulder to Sam as he opened another cupboard. “But Wanda is my friend.”

Sam sighed before walking into the kitchen and shutting every door Bucky had left open. 

“Buck-“

“I’m gonna look outside.”

“Bucky!”

He wasn’t listening. But you were. 

“You know, all he’s gotta do is ask.”

Sam looked over his shoulder at you as you leaned by the main entrance. Bucky had left through the back. 

“Do you know where they are?”

You tried to hide your smile and shrugged. “I might do.”

Sam turned around. “Y/n.”

You gave in and walked inside. “Oh, come on, Sam. He kept my knife from me for, like, three months.”

That had been true. It was your favourite one. You’d lost it after being pulled away by Yelena for some ‘Kate Bishop’ emergency. Bucky had found it in the training room and kept it from you for three months. 

It wasn’t until you were both on a mission that you saw him flip it through his fingers before using it. He’d just chuckled when you called him an Ass. 

“Gotta be more careful next time, doll.”

You could have punched him in the face. 

So, when you found his dog tags on the ground, you made a decision. 

Originally, you were going to give them to him. But when you pulled your knife from your holster back on the jet, you were reminded of what he’d done. 

It was simply payback. 

“You know, he’s not gonna be happy when he finds out.”

You shrugged. “S’only fair.”

“Where are you even keeping them? He probably turned your entire room upside down.”

You nodded, “Oh, he did. But he’s never gonna find them.”

From under your clothes, you pulled out the military issued dog tags. Embossed on the metal was Bucky’s name, birthdate and blood type. On the second was his regiment. 

Sam gave you a slightly judgmental look but you could see the pride he was trying to hide. 

“You’ve gotta tell him eventually.”

“You’re not gonna tell him?”

Sam shrugged as he passed you and picked up his book. “I knew he had your knife. I didn’t help you, I’m not helping him.”

You gave a small gasp, “I knew it!”

Sam just laughed his way down the hallway. 

Meanwhile, you looked back at the dog tags with a light smile, your thumb brushing over his name. 

You’d give them back soon. But a little just desserts would do no harm to the super annoying, massive pain in the ass, super soldier. 

Bucky looked for two more weeks. His dog tags were lost forever. He had a feeling Sam know something since he’d suddenly changed his tune on issuing him some fresh dog tags. 

“Just hold out. Maybe they’ll show.”

“Who told you that?”

Sam shrugged, “I went to a psychic.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before trudging over and sitting beside his friend. He’d hold out for one more week, then he was gonna issue them himself. 

You could feel Bucky’s eyes still on you. He was practically searing a hole into the side of your face. 

He’d been like that for three days. Watching you. Staring. 

“You know something,” he said when he finally cornered you. 

You acted as if you didn’t know what he was talking about. “I know nothing.”

“Where are they?”

“Where are what?”

“Stop acting dumb,” Bucky told you. 

“Ever considered I’m not acting, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled a little. “Every day.”

You walked into that one. 

“But I know there’s a small part of you that’s a lot smarter than you’re letting on. So, I’ll ask again. Where are they?”

“Please.”

Bucky leaned back a little. “What?”

You clasped your hands behind your back and leaned forward a little, practically bouncing on your feet. “Where are they, please?”

Bucky stared at you before groaning. “Where are they…please?”

You stood tall and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Quit lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

Bucky sighed. “Do you really enjoy this?”

“Enjoy what, Bucky?”

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side from day one.”

Your gaze hardened on him as you stepped closer. “And you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass. Look, don’t you think if I’d taken them, I’d have kept them safe? Safer than being hidden in my room? I know what they mean to you, Bucky.” 

You stepped back before you could let your mind wander to places further than just standing inches from Bucky in an empty hallway. 

“Kinda like my knife.”

Before you disappeared down the corridor, that last sentence only added fuel to Bucky’s fire. You had them. They were safe. But if they weren’t in your room, where the hell were they? 

It took him ten days to realise. And when he finally did, he hadn’t been thinking about them.

It had been just before he closed his eyes. It hit him. The safest place from him, was you. They’d been on your person the whole time. They had to be. 

And, despite the clock beside his bed telling him it was almost 23:00, he knew where you’d be. 

You hadn’t been sleeping much for the last few months. He knew because of how tired you seemed to move. A little slower, a little more distant. 

Zipping up his grey jacket, he padded his way down towards the training room. 

You hadn’t spotted Bucky standing against the wall, grey sweatshirt, white tee and darker pajama pants. If you had, you would have made some kind of comment about wearing plaid in Spring. 

“I figured it out,” Bucky called out calmly as he watched you. 

You ducked your head as if you’d just avoided a bullet. “What the- James.” You gave a huff. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Bucky just smiled casually and pushed himself from the wall. “I figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” You asked, a little breathless. You’d been in the training room, alone, for the last two hours. 

“Where you’ve been keeping my dog tags.”

“Really? Who says I have them?”

“You and I both know you’ve had them since the beginning.”

You just watched him, studied him. A slight smirk broke out on your face. “I don’t know who took them, Buck. But I’d say it’s Just Desserts, wouldn’t you?”

“For stealing your knife?”

You nodded. “I’d say so, yeah.”

“Wanna know how I figured it out?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

Bucky shrugged. “You knew I’d find out it was you. But you also know I avoid you as much as I can. And I know you’ve done the same with me. That’s how I kept hold of your knife for so long.”

That much was true. It was just safer to avoid each other than it was to deal with the potential ramifications of being left alone together longer than ten minutes. 

You let Bucky continue as he walked closer to you. You remained fixed in place, just watching him. He looked so…domestic. Slightly bed ridden hair, freshly showered, relaxed. Cosy.

“So, the best place to keep my dog tags safe would be with you, at all times. All day. All night.”

“Really?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.”

“And what makes you so sure I have them on me now?”

Bucky took a final step forward and looked you over. His body was in chest from you. 

“May I?”

You nodded, realising where his eyeline had fallen. Silently, his fingers reached out. Ignoring the way his touch felt against your skin, you watched as he pulled his tags from under your shirt. 

He examined them. 

“Found ‘em.”

You looked up at him with a knowing smile. “Seems we have a winner. I must say though, I can see why you get so attached. There’s something…familiar about having them with you all the time.”

Bucky nodded. But he seemed to be thinking. Then he smiled before tucking them back into your shirt. 

You were confused. “Don’t you want them back?”

He nodded. “One day. But, for now, you should keep them safe. They look good on you.”

You looked down, mostly to avoid his blue gaze.

There had been a few moments like this over the last few years. Moments where the ten minutes ran out and it was just you and Bucky, alone, barely inches from each other. All the while, comments passed between you both which made you think that, deep down, you didn’t hate him. 

And that he didn’t hate you. 

Part Two

[photomatt]

You gonna do anything or make any statement about the rampant transmisogyny on this hellsite, especially in cases like predstrogen recently? Or yall gonna stay silent and keep letting/making us get pushed off of it.

I have a number of asks about this, so this is to address all of them, I won't do each individually.

We generally do not comment on individual cases, but because there seems to be mass misinformation around this, I will make an exception and comment on predstrogen.

First, Tumblr has a number of LGBT+ including trans people on staff, and they see things from the inside fully, and they're not protesting this case.

Why do we wrongly have a transphobe reputation? We did have an external contract moderator last year that was making transphobic moderation (and also selling moderation, criminally). As soon as we were aware that person was fired, and we later terminated the entire relationship with that contracting firm and have brought almost everything in-house (at great cost). I have previously commented on this publicly, several times.

I am not aware of any Automattician (people who work at Automattic and Tumblr) who has made any transphobic moderation actions. If it's reported it is investigated immediately, if anything were found that person would be terminated for cause immediately.

Predstrogen's account was suspended for:

Repeated mis-tagging of adult content against Tumblr's community guidelines. This has nothing to do with clothed transition photos, she had 20+ other blogs and multiple accounts with names so explicit I can't post them here without a mature tag.

Multiple cases of harassment of other Tumblr users, not just me.

Multiple threats of violence, not just the one I share below.

These represent a breach of our Terms of Service, and we've exercised our right to refuse service.

Threats of violence are never okay. Threats of violence are not protected speech. We will work with police and FBI where appropriate, though to be clear prestrogen's case hasn't warranted that so far. I'm referring to what we may potentially do for other threats. I just got a death threat yesterday from someone mad about predstrogen, and that account was immediately terminated.

So regardless of whether you still think Tumblr staff is somehow a bunch of transphobes, know that threats of violence or death are still not acceptable and will result in immediate and serious action. Know that when you rile people up, they can do dumb things with possibly permanent consequences.

(2 hours later update: I have changed instances of the pronoun "they" or "their" to "the account" because I am unaware of pronoun preference in this instance and don't want to misgender anyone. Thank you for the people who reported this as an issue. Update 2: "She" is apparently better, the post now says that. Sorry for the mistake.)

Here's one (of many!) examples of the harassment violations, this one targets me but there are others targeting other users on the site.

The second part seems to indicate she wanted to be suspended, I'm unaware of why, perhaps to create this sort of uproar. I agree the hammers feel silly, but the start, "i hope photomatt dies forever a painful death" is a violation of Tumblr's community guidelines and terms of service.

The car part did hit close to home as I have almost died twice in car accidents.

Update 2: Added this text to the adult content part: This has nothing to do with clothed transition photos, she had 20+ other blogs and multiple accounts with names so explicit I can't post them here without a mature tag.

[moonstruckme]

Seeing Stars

summary: after a bump on the head, you wake with your head on the shoulder of a beautiful stranger (who isn't really a stranger)

cw: hospital setting, concussion, memory loss, mention of vomit

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You wish the drone of all these people would quiet down so you could sleep better. You’re so tired, and conditions are perfect for it otherwise, your body heavy and a warm pillow of ideal firmness beneath your head. There’s a gentle brush of something against your forehead every now and then which feels inherently comforting. It does it again now. 

“That’s nice,” you murmur. 

A low chuckle. “Happy you think so.” 

You tilt your head towards the voice, startled to see a rather breathtaking man looking back at you. He’s close enough for you to count the long, dark lashes fringing his grey eyes and to catch the little tick his mouth does, as though he’s pleased to be looked at by you. Your warm, ideally firm pillow seems to be his shoulder. 

You sit up. Flashes appear behind your eyes; you blink to dispel them. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” the man says. He’s frowning, suddenly, brows sewn together in apparent concern. Every movement of his face only serves to make him lovelier; it’s dizzying. “What’s the matter?” 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” 

The brow situation worsens. “Don’t be sorry for that, lovely. I hardly mind. Come on, why don’t you come back?” He folds a hand around the side of your head very carefully, as though wary of hurting you, to guide you down again. “The nurse said it’ll be good for you to rest while we wait.” 

You don’t argue, because he seems to know things. You trust him. Maybe it’s foolish, but who wouldn’t trust someone treating them so kindly, who presses his lips to your forehead as you settle and covers your ear with a hand when the wail of a passing siren cuts through the room and you wince. 

“I know,” the angel-man murmurs, sounding woefully compassionate to your plight. “We shouldn’t have to be here much longer. Are you feeling okay?” 

You hum unsteadily. 

“Do you think you might be sick again?” You’re unsure. “You should tell me if you might be. I’ll have to get a bag.” 

“Have I been sick?” you ask, looking up at him. 

Something flickers over his expression at your question. He rubs his thumb over the space behind your ear soothingly. “You have,” he answers, “but that was before we came, so it was a bit different. I don’t think they’ll let me follow you into the toilets here.” 

You feel your eyes widen. “You were there?” 

The man grins. It’s worse than anything he’s done so far, so dazzling you feel you have to close your eyes. You’re seeing stars again. 

“I’m not so terribly squeamish as to leave my loveliest girl all alone when she needs me,” he says. “I’m not that awful.” 

“I don’t think you’re awful,” you tell him. 

“No.” He makes a humorous-looking pouty face at you, still stroking behind your ear. “No, you wouldn't. That’s why you’re my loveliest girl, you’re too good to me.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“What does what mean, gorgeous?” 

You shy a bit at the misnomer. Surely people this beautiful shouldn’t just be dolling out compliments like that. “Your girl.” 

His thumb doesn’t stop petting you, but it slows. He looks at you for a handful of moments. It’s rather a lot; you shift in your uncomfortable, plasticy chair, but don’t think once of lifting your head from his shoulder. 

“Do you know who I am?” he asks eventually. 

You worry your lip between your teeth. “Am I supposed to?”

“No.” He folds his hand over your head again, kissing your temple. “That’s okay. You’ve had a bump on the head, and it’s made you forget some things, but it won’t be forever. My name’s Sirius.” He says this all very patiently. You get the sense he’s done it more than once. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.” 

At this, you do lift your head. Sirius lets you, though he watches like he doesn’t intend to let you go far. “You and I have?” you ask.

The corner of his mouth ticks. “That’s right.” 

“How long is a while?” 

“You say two years.” He tilts his head from side to side, like really it’s up for debate. “I say two years and a few weeks, because I thought our first date was to the Ramones show but you thought we were hanging out as friends.” 

You gawp at him. Your mouth has actually dropped open. “Are you my boyfriend?” 

“Some have said that,” Sirius says, smiling. “I prefer exclusive live-in soulmate.” 

You don’t know how you know, but you sense he’s half joking about the last part. Not the first, though. 

“Really?” you ask. 

Sirius quirks a brow. “Is it so difficult to believe?”

“You’re just—you’re so pretty.” 

“Really?” His smile returns to knock the air from you. This one’s wide enough to make his lashes kiss at the corners. “You think so?” 

“Of course. You’re beautiful.” You shake your head, surprised when it hurts and then startled anew when Sirius cups your face to still you. You trace the length of his arm with your eyes, admiring the patchwork of tattoos that goes all the way up to disappear under the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

“Be careful with yourself,” Sirius murmurs. 

Your eyes flit back up to his face. “You have to know.” 

“Have to know what?” 

“That you’re beautiful.” 

Sirius looks absolutely delighted by you. “Well, it’s always nice to hear it,” he says. “Especially from someone so lovely as yourself.” 

You feel your features pinch with genuine dismay. “I don’t tell you?” 

“You say you don’t want to give me a bigger head than I already have. Something about throwing the earth out of its orbit or something.” He strokes your cheek while he talks, as though this sort of disparagement could inspire only fondness, but at your obvious distress Sirius softens. “I’m joking. You tell me, you just don’t usually look so surprised when you do. Come here, sweetheart.” 

He coaxes you under his arm, helping you snuggle up against his side where he can kiss your head as often as he pleases. It’s like Sirius knows exactly what you need; with your head against his chest, now the thing you hear most is the steady beat of his heart. His body works like a grounding point for you, calming your nerves and hushing your thoughts. The sweep of his thumb over your shoulder sends pleasant little shivers all down your arm. 

“You don’t have to be so shy, my love,” he murmurs into your hair. “It’s only me.” 

If you weren’t shy before, you are now. You hide your face in his chest. “Please don’t call me that.” 

Sirius chuckles. “No?” he asks, his voice slow and syrupy sweet with a heart-pittering quality that rings familiar. “You usually like it when I call you nice things.” 

“It’s too nice.” 

He hums amusedly. “Sorry,” he says, in a tone not sorry at all, “I think you might just have to get used to that, lovely.”

[madamechrissy]

Figure You Out

art in the center by @ahresprite!!

pairings - Satoru Gojo x F! reader

contents/warnings- College AU, Reader and Toru are both nerds tbh, FLUFFY and sweet, some sexual tension, lots of unspoken feelings, so fkn cute I'm sick aha, Gojo playing the guitar while you're studying, kissing, light smut so MDNI- fingering, orgasms, both you and Toru are down bad virgins and stay that way for now hehe - friends to future lovers?

the Gojo guitar art has been fkn me UP so here's a lil short oneshot of them being fucking adorable and Gojo composing a song for reader- 3k wc

Satoru is playing the guitar softly in the corner of your room, leaned back in your bright pink gamer chair, the sight is as cute as you'd imagine, his lanky big body laughable in comparison. And he's playing the only song you think he knows - Wonderwall. You've heard it about eighty seven times this week, but you never ever will get tired of it.

You're exhausted from your studies, your hair is in a messy excuse for a bun falling down, you have bags under your eyes, and Satoru is just watching you as he sits across from you in your dorm room, playing softly and smiling a bit. You smile back sleepily, the two of you have been friends since high school, and you both frequently study together.

Satoru is so smart, however, he barely studies and just aces everything he does, whereas you are smart but bust your ass for those sort of grades. You haven't slept for shit with finals coming up, and here he is, long fingers strumming that guitar, as you listen with a sigh, putting down your thick textbook for just a moment.

"Is that a different song, Satoru?" You ask softly, leaning back then, he eyes your thighs as your pleated skirt rises up just a bit, willing his heart to calm down.

There's something so sexy about you like this, those dark circles just fucking suit you, the disarray of your messy band tee all torn up - your comfort shirt when you study - and the scattered books all over just fit you. You're kind of a beautiful mess, honestly, busting your ass so hard, he'd love to just make you feel better.

In every way.

You've always just been his friend, maybe the guitar and the endless versions of Wonderwall were a way to distract himself, to keep fingers occupied that would die to trace up the gentle curve of your neck. He barely composes himself as you repeat his name softly, realizing you've asked a question.

"It is, did you think I only played Wonderwall? rude," his little pout makes you giggle, as does his narrowing blue eyes. "I am composing a song, missy."

"You are? I wanna hear it." You lay down on the floor now, on your tummy with your ankles propped up and crossed, resting your chin in your hand.

"Shouldn't we be studying?" He asks, raising a brow as you tilt your head and look at him, so pretty for a moment he gets nervous.

The song he's composing is for you.

"I wanna hear it, please? I need a break, look at me." You frown, undoing the bun and letting your messy hair fall across your shoulders. The sight almost does him in.

How long has he loved you?

"All right," he smiles a bit, so cute always you think.

How long have you loved him?

It feels like forever, since freshman year when you and all of both of your friends joined high school, Nanami, Shoko, Haibara, Geto and... Gojo of course. The six of you were as close as it got, the memories endless, and now you're all in college together, and the fear of not seeing Gojo in particular grips at your heart.

Maybe it's why you always ask him over, it's not that he helps you study so much as you love him around. He's so handsome - fuck he's pretty actually, he has a whole fan club that gathers around him when he starts playing that damn Wonderwall again in the pretty field in front of the university. Gojo eats up the attention, always, but you know you're the only one that gets the private show.

He starts to play something softer, slower, you watch long fingers strumming the frets of his old acoustic guitar- gosh he's had it since high school - mesmerized for a moment. When his lips part and his thin white brows go together in concentration, he begins to sing just a bit, something you've never heard.

A little hoarse and raspy, and a tiny bit off key, it's probably the sexiest thing you've ever heard, as he looks at you with those swirling blue storms that he calls eyes, as he sings to you. You almost feel like the song is for you, and only you. Maybe it's foolish, as you sit up now, on your knees, hands on your bare thighs, looking at him.

The sight makes him fumble the strings, makes his heart race and pound in his chest, those plush lips parting just so as he gathers more courage, to tell you with his song what he's never spoken. The love he has for the girl sitting right here in front of him, the only girl for him.

"Satoru, that's so beautiful," you realize you're emotional, as he ends the song slowly, clearing his throat and blushing. You then realize you're crying. He puts down his guitar, getting down on the floor with you then, cupping your face in his hand. "Sorry, maybe I'm tired, I'm usually not one to cry randomly."

"You're exhausted," he murmurs caringly, rather than teasing you like he usually does, a thumb swiping away a tear. "You're studying too much, too hard."

"I can't disappoint everyone." Your words hurt him then, for you this is a huge scholarship, your family back home is counting on you to do big things, Satoru has his own pressure, but he sees how hard you always work.

"You don't disappoint anyone, how could you?" His words and the way he looks at you, the way the lights of your dorm hit his white locks and show just a hint of lavender in them, they do you in.

Maybe you're just tired, maybe you're just exhausted of lying to yourself, of being afraid, maybe you're past giving a fuck if he knows how you feel. You lean up then, a hand over the soft silk of his white dress shirt, more expensive than a meal card for the year. He falters, and you feel his heart quicken under your palm.

"Satoru," you whisper his name, and your pulse quickens as you lean even closer. Everything fades away, the stress of the week with finals coming up, the pressure you're under, it's all just focused on pouty, glossy lips inviting you in.

"Sweets, you're very close, and if you don't back up looking like that right now..."

"Looking like shit?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "There's not been one day I've known you where you don't just look beautiful."

Now the words are out of his mouth, you both flush, cheeks burning as your breaths come faster. "Are you saying that to-"

"It's the truth. Messy hair," he brushes it back, feeling the tangles in his fingers, as your tummy clenches with desire. "dark circles," his cool fingers press against them gently, "this shirt you've had since I known you that's falling apart..."

He brushes his hands across it now, tattered with holes and just hanging on by threads, brushing the sides of your breasts and moaning softly when he sees the nipples press up. You bite back an embarrassing moan from that, eyes locking with his then, as he draws them away.

"Nothing makes you less beautiful, maybe you're even hotter like this," you giggle, shaking your head, tears falling for what reason you're not even sure. "I'm serious."

"What'd I do to deserve a friend like you?" you lean even closer, cupping his face now, as your breaths meld together, his is so sweet, like the candies he always sucks on, his hands now pressing against the small of your back.

"You're very lucky, hearing my exclusive song. The girls all over this campus would be very jealous." You smile again, feeling his touch slip under your tee, and send shivers up your spine.

"They'd be more jealous if..." you press a hesitant kiss to his lips, feeling him tense then. You pull back, flushed and overheated, breaths coming quicker. "Sorry, I-"

"No," he drags you against him, kissing you firmly, lips pressing against yours, moaning softly as he presses you so close. You gasp at it, and his tongue slips in, making you heat up everywhere. You're trembling with how much you need him, your arms wrapping his neck as you start meeting his kiss.

He shocks you when he just lifts you up, and you're straddling his lap then, you feel him, hard and thick against you, making you gasp at the sensation. You pull back, both breathless, his fingers pressing into your hips, and he drags your heat across his cock right over his jeans, the rough denim pressing against the soaked cotton of your panties.

"Satoru..." You whisper his name, and he kisses you again, moaning softly, a hand slipping up your spine to entangle in your messy locks, and you rock your hips, feeling more and more of him. "Mnh..."

"Fuck, I need to stop," he pulls back and gasps for a breath, and you look down.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, just... I've thought of this too many times for like six fucking years now. And I think I'll really do a terrible job if we..."

"You've thought about it?" You ask softly, eyes locking again, he sees your swollen lips, your dilated eyes, and it makes him throb under his boxers for you.

Maybe if he could go jerk off once or twice he could please you, but he's close to cumming from inhaling your sweet scent, feeling your heat on his cock. He nods, swallowing then, that prominent adam's apple bobbing up and down as he rests his head on yours for a moment, exhaling.

"Every day., the words are hoarse, forced, and you roll your hips again, making him suck in a breath, glaring. "If you make me cum in my new pair of jeans I'll be so fucking mad."

"Satoru!" You're giggling now, and he scowls as you wiggle some more.

"You're a brat." You stop your giggles when he drags you off him, and you pause for just a moment, breathless before he's laying you on the soft carpet of your floor, braced over you. You two look at each other, so much left unsaid still, your hand trails down his hard chest, his strong muscles, when he grips your wrist firmly.

"Let me touch you, please?" He whines out at it, shaking his head again. "I've never tried. I've never wanted to with anyone else."

"Never wanted to?" He looks at you curiously, and you blush, looking down at where he's got your delicate wrist in his huge hand. "Have you never..." you shake your head nervously.

"Have you?" He blushes again, shaking his head, and your eyes widen. "How... you're... really?"

"I've never wanted to with anyone but you." His soft declaration has you melting, both of your breaths coming quicker together. "Doesn't mean I haven't researched it."

"Researched it?" You moan softly as he pins down a wrist, pressing his weight on that elbow as his other hand slips down your body, pressing up on his knee then.

"Extensively," he touches your nipple over your shirt, before slipping lower, down the curve of your waist and hips, then to your thighs, slipping up one carefully as you whine out. "Should I show you what I've learned?"

You nod quickly, he smiles just a bit, touching you right over your panties, and you whine out, hips lifting. "Toru..."

"God, you're soaked," his words are not that of some virgin, they're far too fucking sexy, brushing the wetness that's gathered on your panties then, before tugging them to the side, long fingers calloused from the guitar sliding up your slit. "Fuck..."

"Mmnh!" Your free hand slides into his hair, carding through the silky, thick strands to tug him closer, lips against yours again as he finds your soppy little hole, teasing a finger inside. "Please..."

"You're so tight, so wet... so hot..." he's throbbing in his pants, leaking sticky precum as he slips his finger in your gummy walls, gripping him so goddamn good he can't stand it. "Sweetheart... you're so perfect."

You're kissing him again, feeling how long and thick his finger is inserted inside of you, much longer than your tiny, pathetic fingers can hit, he presses up on that spot then, the one you've never hit. You cry out, gushing down his finger, and Satoru groans at it, curling that spot again.

"I've researched thoroughly for this moment," he teases softly, blue eyes so bright it hurts to look at, squelching wetness loud in your little room while he fingers you right on the floor. "G spot is here, does it feel good baby?"

You nod eagerly, and he moans, kissing you again and angling his arm just so, slotting that finger in and out of your cunt over and over now, curling inside as you feel the pressure growing. You're soaking him, tummy pressure building and building, you're gasping out at it, thighs shaking around his hand.

"Satoru, it feels s'good," you whisper, tired eyes rolling back in your skull, when he slips a second in, and brings your attention back, his pretty face flushed. "Oh!"

"Too much?" You shake your head, the stretch is perfect, he's scissoring them in and out of you so deep, moving them up and down. "Can you cum f'me, pretty girl?"

"Fuck..." you're one step away from just blurting out you love him, biting down on your lip and whining out.

"Can you? Be a good girl, say yes," where is nerdy, silly Satoru right now? He's pure sex, hovering so fucking big over you, as your hand entwines with one of his, your other clinging to his expensive shirt, nodding. "Words, sweetheart."

"Yes, please..." he moans at that, kissing you and curling them up just so, heel of his hand grinding your needy little clit, having you cum all over him, you scream into his lips, drooling as your cunt gushes arousal all over his fingers. He moans at feeling it, as you're pulsing around his thick digits, the sounds filthy as your lips collide.

He sucks in every cry and whine as he feels you convulsing, his thumb brushing your twitchy clit and pushing your from one orgasm into another. He can't take it when he pulls back, watching your back arch, feeling you cumming again, making a mess of his hand, down to his fucking wrists, dripping across your pretty thighs.

He's whining when he feels it, he could almost cum here, but he wills his cock to listen to reason - that when he finally has the love of his life cumming on his fingers that would so not be okay. He closes his eyes for just a moment as you're shaking, cunt gushing more and more arousal, so fucking much, when he slips his fingers out with a suctioned, loud pop.

"Oh my god... Toru..." you whisper his name, face fucked out already, just making him wonder what it will be like to sink inside you for the first time. He sighs, pulling those fingers to his lips and sucking you off them, moaning as he tastes you, your mouth drops open, face decorated in the prettiest blush. "Are you..."

"Mmm, you're so sweet," his soft whisper has you burying your face against his chest, he chuckles. "You're cute."

"You just tasted me!" He laughs again, tilting your chin up, kissing you softly, his arousal dripping on his lips, making you whine out softly, as your aftershocks rock you.

"You taste so good, don't you?" You nod nervously, when he fixes your panties carefully, but not before taking a good look at your pretty pussy, knowing he's about to jerk off to it when he gets back. "The song, it's for you."

"It is?" He helps you sit, nodding and tugging you against his chest, his cock straining and aching, but he knows now you're not experienced and he wants to reassure you.

You melt into his embrace, tears against his neck. "Sweetheart, are you all right?"

"It was so good, fuck. Sorry." He smiles in relief as you kiss up his neck, letting him hold you tightly. "It's for me?"

"Of course it is," he acts like you should just know, you can't stop the pounding in your heart. "You need a nap, you know. To rest a bit, you're working too hard."

"Will you um... nap with me?" You ask softly, he tenses, because god his dick just fucking hurts, but he sure wouldn't turn down holding the girl he's in love with.

"Of course I can." He is soon in your little twin bed, lanky body taking it over, tugging you against him, and you smile and snuggle, the exhaustion starting to set in as he strokes your hair.

"I really like the song, I never got tired of Wonderwall though." You tease, he chuckles then, burying his face against your neck and tugging you close.

"Good, I'll keep playing it for you."

"And the new one?"

"Mmhmm. Get some sleep."

Everything changed that day, the two of you falling into a comfortable nap, hoping soon you'll have the courage to say how you really feel.

This was so fluffy for me, I needed it after the angst I've been fucking with. Hope you enjoyedddd

perm tags - @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoblue-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied to me about his human job?

I (542 vampire) and my husband (260 vampire) have been together for a little over two centuries. There’s a saying in the vampiric community that it takes a century for a tryst to become an enduring partnership and another century to become soulmates. I thought that was true and that Matthew (using his real name because fuck you, Matthew) and I would be together forever…until this week.

First, let me explain a few things to the mortals here. I don’t mean that negatively – I came here specifically to get the opinion of those with a finite lifespan. However, I want to be fair to Matthew as much as possible and some of his decisions are very immortal-minded.

Both Matthew and I are vampires who have chosen to forsake some of our powers in exchange for the ability to daywalk. We made the transition together on our 100th anniversary almost 115 years ago. It wasn’t an easy transition for me. I was very dependent on human blood and I spent the first twenty years in almost constant sleep as my body adjusted to running off of less lunar magic and more solar magic.

It really felt like I was losing everything. My body got physically weaker and my powers began to disappear one by one. It felt like every time I woke, another part of me was missing. One day I could turn into a wolf, the next I could barely turn into a vapor. I could command a legion of undying servants, and then I could barely convince the mailman he didn’t see me levitate down from the second floor.

Matthew, however, took to daywalking like a werewolf to a sheep farm. He barely seemed to feel the pain of losing his power, maybe because he was so much younger than me. Whatever the case, he was out all the time once he stabilized. He would be gone for days sometimes and when he came back it was with fantastic stories about the humans’ new inventions or the new structures being built in whatever town we were in.

I’m not saying I regret transitioning. Just that Matthew and I had very different experiences. It felt like he barely changed at all while my entire being got rewritten. Being immortal makes you comfortable in your own skin. I never doubted myself or my power after I turned 100. But becoming a daywalker made me feel like I was being born as a human again. It was humiliating and vulnerable. I have to admit there were times I resented how easily Matthew did it. I blamed him for not supporting me like I thought he should. I would daydream about draining a human in front of him, showing him what I thought of his fascination with them. I had all sorts of vile and vengeful thoughts. I’m not proud of the person I was and now I’m grateful Matthew wasn’t there to see the lows I sunk to.

Despite all my awful thoughts, I didn’t quit. I don’t know why, but I didn’t. I stuck with it and, day by day, things got easier.

After 26 years I began to stabilize. The benefits of being a daywalker slowly blossomed before me.  Now I can say that I am completely happy with my daywalker status and all the changes it’s brought.

I am the most mentally stable I have been since my Turning in 1482. It’s like I’m awake. The fits of rage that used to consume me for months at a time have completely disappeared. I don’t experience the same level of obsession I used to which has freed up a lot of my time that I used to spend stalking my victims.

However, that drastic of a change would be challenging in any relationship. Matthew and I ended up together because of my obsessive nature. Our relationship became strained when that part of me went dormant. He expected me to follow his immersion into the human world just as I had followed him in his revenge quest against his Master. He expected me to support him wholeheartedly and with everything I was. He wanted sacrifices from me that I used to not even flinch at before making. But something was just…different. We wanted different things. I wanted different things.

Matthew was obsessed with being the perfect human. He craved full immersion. He still makes it a point to get a human job every twenty years or so. Me? I’m happy to live off our investments and some mild mind control while enjoying the art and theater community the humans have evolved.

It got bad. Some years, we spent like ghosts in our own house, drifting by each other without a glance. Other years, it was like we were spies behind enemy lines. He would do whatever he could to thwart me and I would go out of my way to ridicule him. Our vitriol poisoned the earth. Matthew didn’t speak to me for a full decade when that poison killed off an entire town.

About twenty years ago, it all came to a head. We had a serious sit-down talk about our relationship. It wasn’t easy. What they say about teaching an old dog new tricks is sometimes true. Matthew wanted me to be as involved with the humans as he was. He wanted me to care about them like he did. I wanted him to travel with me like we used to and not just hop from town to neighboring town (which he did to maintain a human identity with references so he could keep working). When it became clear that we were at an impasse, I brought up the idea of separation.

Separating in the vampiric world isn’t easy. There are a lot of alliances and blood oaths to be considered. Over the two centuries we spent together, we became known as a unit to a number of supernatural entities that we maintain an uneasy truce with. Separating would mean creating new oaths and alliances with the same individuals. And there was no guarantee that those individuals would make new pacts with both of you. A LOT of vampire couples end up in blood feuds while separating. Neither of us wanted that.

There was also, of course, the emotional side of things. While a lot of immortals tend to only feel muted emotions (especially vampires as old as me), Daywalking had made both of us more sensitive than we’d been before. We were both attached to the memories we shared and neither of us could imagine life without the other. After 200 years together, it felt like Matthew was my right arm, and I his. When I brought up separation, we both felt it like we were discussing an amputation.

After about a year of talking, we finally reached an agreement. We didn’t want to separate, and so we would compromise. I wouldn’t interfere with any of Matthew’s human jobs for the 15-17 years if he could hold them without arousing suspicion. In exchange, he would take a year off to go traveling with me before finding another town for us to live in. In between my trips, he would go to plays and galas with me to enjoy human artistry at least once a month.

Maybe our deal was in his favor. At the time, it felt practical and fair. A year of traveling wouldn’t undo Matthew’s string of connections. We would still see each other frequently by going on dates that I liked. Matthew would get to stay immersed in the human world at the level he wanted, and I could stay within my comfort zone.

Which brings me to my current problem.

We are currently at the start of one of Matthew’s work cycles. He’s been everything from a fireman to a politician to a subway worker to a barista. He craves knowledge and connection to a terrifying degree. If it weren’t for how we move every 20 years and he goes without protest, I’d call it obsession.

This cycle, Matthew told me he was going to be a teacher. I was hesitant. While the humans have become more tolerant and less violent over the years, that doesn’t mean they will tolerate us near their young. Enough humans know about vampires that staking in the modern era is a real possibility. Matthew could incite an angry mob against us or, heaven forbid, get a vampire hunter on our tail. I have yet to be shot, but I hear that they have silver bullets that hurt like Hell.

When I voiced my protests, Matthew reminded me about our agreement. He said that I wouldn’t interfere with his jobs and he’d go to all the plays I liked. He even pointed out that, as a teacher, he could get us into high school plays and expositions. I was uneasy, but agreements are penultimate to immortals. I silenced my objections and let him get a job as a science teacher at a local high school.

When Michael has had jobs in the past, I’ve never really paid attention. One time he was a state senator for ten years and I never even heard him speak. I didn’t consider it worth my time to hear whatever his facsimile of a human would say. Real humanity is in the art they create, not in the parody Michael enacts.

But this one…I couldn’t ignore this one. Maybe it was because I was still uneasy about his proximity to human young or maybe I could sense his lies even at the beginning. Whatever the case, I watched him.

The first thing I noticed was the hours. He would go to work early and would often come home when it was time for us to sleep. When I asked him about it, he said that he wasn’t used to grading and that he had underestimated what it took to put a good lesson plan together. I visited some online forums and that’s apparently reasonable for first year teachers.

He would also sometimes go in on the weekends. He missed one of our dates because there was a “grading emergency” that needed his immediate attention. Something about a student’s test getting lost and then found and he needed to input their grade before the deadline which was on Saturday. Humans like silly rules like that so I didn’t even look that one up. I just reminded him that he couldn’t miss our dates again or else he was breaking our deal. He apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again.

Then about three months into his new job, the phone calls started. We have a private room in our house for when we need to talk without any visitors overhearing. Michael moved all his school supplies in there, saying that he needed a silent space to concentrate on his grading. Whenever he got a call, he would never answer it in front of me. Instead, he’d say “Sorry, work” and just go into his office.

I also noticed that he didn’t dress very professionally. Human fashion changes quickly so it didn’t register at first. A sweatshirt here and there slipped past me, and also the Gucci slides. When he started wearing baggy jeans and jerseys to work, I noticed. I may not be up to date on all the newest fashions, but I do go to classy events. I know what a slob looks like and it didn’t sit right with me that he was wearing that to school. When I asked him about it, he always had an excuse. “This is what everyone wears” and “It’s a theme day” or, bafflingly, “It’s spirit week!”

I tried to leave it alone. The reason we have stayed together for so long is because of our agreement to not interfere in each other’s lives. But between his hours, the phone calls, and his appearance, something didn’t add up.

Then, last Thursday, he missed another one of our dates. We were supposed to go to the Nutcracker together. Even though I prefer matinees (when the cast is fresh), I agreed to get us tickets for the evening show so that he wouldn’t have to leave work early. When he wasn’t there at 7pm, I called him and he didn’t answer. Then, when I called him again, his phone was switched off.

I was furious. I spend nearly two decades in these tiny towns so he can live his human fantasy and he can’t even show up for one two hour show? It was the first time since becoming a daywalker that I felt that angry. I was scared about what I might do, so I made myself go home to wait for him.

Only, he never came home that night. At 3am, he sent me a text apologizing and promising to make up our date on Saturday. But the Nutcracker was only playing until Friday and that would be too little, too late. To be honest, it already was. I texted him that and he never responded.

He never ended up coming home last weekend. I texted and called him probably a dozen times and he never responded. I got angrier and angrier as the days dragged by. Did he think I was someone to be taken lightly? Did he not realize that the fragile agreement between us was all that was keeping us from separation?

Yesterday (Monday), I couldn’t take it anymore. If he wasn’t going to come home or respond to my messages, then I would go to him. If he was so obsessed with this new job that he would ignore me for it, then I knew exactly where to find him.

I arrived at his school at 10am. I researched enough to know how to go to the office and sign myself in. I asked the office assistant which room Mr. Duetto was in.

The lovely young woman looked confused. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give that information out to anyone but family,” she said.

“I am his only family,” I said.

She clicked a few more keys and looked more confused. “His paperwork only shows his mother, Delilah Duetto.”

That’s right. His mother. But I still didn’t understand then.

“That’s me,” I said.

“You are not the mother of 17-year-old.”

“I’m his wife,” I said.

She was upset by that. I won’t bore you with every detail, but I had to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call the police. I may not look like someone who has a teenager, but I also don’t look like a teenager. I ended up having to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call human CPS on an apparent adult swearing she was married to a minor.

I went home and broke into his office. There weren’t any lesson plans. There were no graded papers. There were syllabus from different classes, homework with his name on it, and a few polaroids taped to the bottom of his desk of him at a party with children.

Human children. I don’t honestly know which is worse.

(EDIT: I know the child part is the worst part. I misspoke because of my anger. It’s not the humans’ fault that my husband is a pervert.)

I broke into his laptop and used that to check his text messages. He’s been texting like a high schooler. He’s been to parties with them, listened to their problems and even fabricated a few of his own. He’s caught in some sort of weird love triangle where a freshman girl likes him but his “best friend” likes her. He has texted both of them about it, promising his “bro” that nothing is happening and then turning around and leading this girl-child on.

Some choice quotes: I should know better than to get close with you. You and I come from very different worlds

To which she replied, lol maybe we should let our worlds collide

!!!!

I find the entire situation disgusting. Matthew is several centuries older than them and he definitely knows better. He’s literally wearing the sheep’s fleece amongst the flock. He has no business forming relationships with human children and even less pretending to be one of them. He’s not a baby. He is over two centuries old!

What is he doing flirting with a child? It’s vile and disgusting and I was set to kill him for it.

I confronted him about it when he came home last night. I told him that he was sick and dangerous and if he loved humans then he needed to stop immediately. I told him we either left town today or I would make sure he never set foot back in that school in a way he really wouldn’t like.

 He threw a huge tantrum over my invading his privacy. He shouted at me that I had broken my promise to never interfere in his job. He called me controlling and crazy.

I told him he was the crazy one for chatting up a child. He told me he wasn’t, she was just his friend. I asked him to read their texts out loud if he was being so friendly. I also pointed out that there was no way a 260-year-old vampire is a child’s friend.

He told me I was a hypocrite because I basically cradle robbed him (we’re almost 300 years apart.) He said if anyone was disgusting, it was me for taking advantage of him.

I pointed out that he wasn’t a child, he was over 60 and had already been a vampire for four decades. He argued that that was basically being a child in vampire terms.

I was so angry at that point that the house was shaking. I told him if he felt that way, then we could get divorced right then and there. That that was what I wanted to do anyway because I couldn’t be married to a pedophile.

He asked me if I was seriously going to start a blood feud over him immersing himself in human society. I said no, I’m starting a blood feud because he’s become every predatory stereotype humans have of vampires.

He called me a hypocrite again and told me he was leaving. He said not to call him unless I was ready to apologize. I told him that the next time he sees me, he’d better run before I showed him the real difference between us. And it wasn’t just 300 years.

When I calmed down, doubt started creeping in. From an immortal perspective, what he’s doing isn’t really wrong. I hate to say it, but most immortals don’t view human lives as significant. I know a few vampires who would say that divorcing because he’s playing with his food is idiotic.

Plus, there’s the agreement to consider. During our fight, Matthew pointed out that being a student is a job to humans. So therefore I didn’t have the right to interfere. A big part of me thinks that’s bullshit, but a small part of me wonders if he’s maybe right about that?

I also have to ask myself why this even bothers me. I’m the one in the relationship that is aloof from humans. I’m the one that’s always saying we are from different worlds (Yeah, he stole that from me) and for good reason. 

But over the years, I’ve become fond of humans. No immortal makes art like them. I may not remember my time as a mortal, but there are works that give me a sense of nostalgia. Sometimes I think I can remember being a child myself, standing in a field like in Monet painting, staring at the wheatstacks and waiting for the miller to come. 

The thought of Matthew playing with them makes me sick. It’s like even after all the years of him living amongst them, he thinks of them as props in his twisted play. It’s even worse that he’s doing this to children. 

I can’t help but think something went really wrong with my husband when I wasn’t looking. At the very least, I’m planning on divorcing him. But would I be the asshole if I killed him too?

 Separating from him will be violent and messy. There will likely be human casualties. But I don’t see any other way. So, I ask.

AITA for divorcing my husband for lying to me about his human job?

----

Thanks for reading! I loved answering some of the responses I got when I first posted this over on my Patreon (X)!

These collaborative story telling pieces are the highlight of my week. Next week's story is about a witch who wants to know if she should attend her high school reunion even though she's responsible for stripping two former classmates of their magic...

Please check that out here (X) if you''d like early access! Otherwise I'll see y'all next week :)

[ihrtpaige]

MINISKIRT. paige bueckers x reader

contains. smut, semi public sex, kinda porn without plot

notes. not proofread, short and kinda bad but it's something for the girls something for the summertime we don't care about the streams, named after miniskirt by aoa

words. 1.33k

two hours.

that’s how long paige has been slumped against the cushion in this fitting room while you try on clothes. the two of you are visiting new york for the week, and she’d taken you to fifth avenue for a little shopping spree, giving you free reign over her credit card. whatever you want, baby, she’d grinned as she handed you her platinum amex. you’re super into fashion and posting your outfits on social media, and nothing makes her happier than seeing you enjoy yourself. she just didn’t think it would take forever.

in retrospect, she should’ve known by the way your eyes lit up when the two of you strolled into this store, after browsing at chanel and zara— like a kid entering a toys–r–us for the first time. dragging you out of here is going to be like pulling teeth.

she’s hungry and bored and she wants to go to the lego store, but every time you swear there’s just one more thing you need to try on, you return with a whole handful of new things, not even looking the slightest bit apologetic.

speaking of the devil.

there you are, arms overflowing again, looking thrilled and not even a little bit sorry as you meet her eyes.

“babe, isn’t this so cute?” you ask, holding up a white blouse. it’s quite plain, but it’d look good on you, especially with your styling expertise.

“it’s aight,” she says, truthfully. “it’d look if you were wearing it.”

“i could totally style it with these trousers and those heels from chanel…” you start your babbling as you approach the rack full of clothes that you’re for sure buying, holding the blouse to the pants you’re talking about and visualizing them as an outfit.

you go on like that, doing your thing, while paige just goes back to boredly staring at her phone, one arm stretched over the back of the cushion and manspreading leisurely. she wonders if this place will let her doordash some wingstop…

every so often, the same female employee comes in to snoop around, taking the garments you for sure aren’t purchasing for re–shop. she laughs when she comes around for a third time and asks if you’re all set, and you and paige answer at the same time: a delighted no from you while paige groans hers.

another forty–five minutes pass. when paige looks up again, it’s to gauge whether or not you finally seem ready to go.

instead, she catches a glimpse of you in this tiny, tiny black dress. it’s strapless, sculpted high along the bust with a sharp, curved neckline that dips into a strange but aesthetically pleasing cut–out, like something out of an art exhibit. the fabric clings to you like it was poured on, molding to every line of your body before stopping dangerously high on your thighs. paige’s mouth goes a little dry. suddenly, she’s not so bored anymore.

“damn,” she comments, sitting upright. your gaze meets hers through the mirror as you pose, and you grin.

“you like?” you ask, turning to face her and pose again. “it’s ysl. i was thinking i could wear it to the nike dinner party thing.”

paige stands, sauntering over toward you. her hands find their designated place on your waist, sliding down to your hips as she admires the dress up close. “there’s no way you’re wearing this around anyone else.” she murmurs, leaning in close.

the words cause heat to stir low in your gut, and you lean back into her touch. “but paige,” you whine, though you’re pleased with the sight of her pressed up behind you in the mirror, her hands on your hips complimenting the dress better than any piece of jewelry ever could. “it’d be so good.”

she doesn’t answer, head dipping down between your shoulder as her lips press to your neck, one of her hands moving up your thigh. “paige,” you gasp as the hand slips between your legs, disappearing into the dress.

“look so good, baby,” paige says into your neck, the pads of her fingers dragging along your panties. she feels the way your body jolts as they graze over your clit through the fabric, whimpering, and hums contently when they find the patch of warm wetness already leaking through. she presses against it, teasing your entrance, and your thighs attempt clamp around her wrist. “fuck.” she whispers.

“someone could walk in,” you protest weakly, core throbbing, thinking back to the employee. it hasn’t been long since she last checked in, but still.

paige is aware. she just can’t bring herself to care— not when you look like this, and you’re hers to take.

“thought you wanted people to see you, though?” paige asks, lifting her head from your neck and looking at you through the mirror, eyes piercingly blue. “thinking you’re gonna wear this shit to a dinner…”

“not like that— oh,” you cut yourself off with a moan as one of paige’s fingers works it’s way past the barrier of your painties and into you. your knees go weak, and paige’s free hand immediately comes to hold you up by your waist before you fall forward. she pushes up against you so that your front is pressed to the mirror, hands bracing themselves on the glass, before she starts thrusting, eye–wateringly slow.

“nah, exactly like that,” she corrects you, working in a second finger. “shit. so fuckin’ tight.” she groans, feeling you clench around her digits, insides warm and slick.

“f–fuck,” you gasp, back arching, pushing back and forcing her fingers impossibly deeper. you moan lewdly at the feeling, letting your head loll back onto paige’s shoulder, chasing it.

“you want ‘em to hear you, too, slut?” paige chides, and you bite down on your lip, attempting to contain your sounds.

she adjusts, flexing her arm so that she can fuck you how you really need it, increasing her speed while also pressing the heel of her palm to your achey, still–clothed clit. the pressure is just what you need, unable to hold back your moans any longer. you keen out her name.

paige tuts, sliding the hand she’s not using to fuck you up over your throat, pushing her fingers into your mouth, effectively shutting you up. it forces you to look forward into the foggy mirror at yourself, sucking on your girlfriend’s fingers, dress bunched at your hips with her hand between your legs, the still–attached tag jerking with the force of of your movements.

“tonight, when we get back the hotel,” paige breathes. the muscles in her arm are straining and her fingers beginning to cramp. still, she doesn’t let up. “i’mma fuck you so hard with my cock, you can be as loud as you want. that what you want?”

you mean to say yes, but it sounds more like mmmgh with paige’s fingers in your mouth. it doesn’t matter, because paige understands you loud and clear, knows exactly what you’re thinking, can tell that you’re close by the way your pussy clenches around her, thighs quiver, moans almost too loud to muffle.

you cum right then, hard, cunt pulsing around paige’s fingers. it gets all over her hands, your panties, the dress.

she removes her hand from your mouth and gives you time to recover, catch your breath, before easing her fingers out of your pussy. brings them to her mouth, sucks them clean.

it takes a good minute for the haze to subside, and when it does you’re immediately grossed out by the wet feeling between your thighs. then, you’re hit with a realization that has you turning to paige with a smug grin.

“you have to buy it now,” you say, voice hoarse. “i’m wearing it to the dinner.”

“that’s fine,” paige shrugs, though there’s that unmistakeable mischievous glint in her eyes. “as long as you wear it like that.”

[starkwlkr]

happy life, happy wife | hugh jackman

an: “you attract what you fear” GUYS IM SO SCARED OF A 55 YEAR OLD AUSTRALIAN 😭 definitely thinking about making marvel actress!reader x hugh an actual series… i have ideas

marvel actress!reader

Deadpool & Wolverine Press tour - Hot Ones

Hugh felt like he was going to die. Each wing was getting hotter and hotter, but immediately when he heard his wife’s name he forgot all about the spice.

“Hugh, your wife is part of the Avengers, how does it feel having your wife be part of such a huge franchise? Have you two talked about a potential team up with the X-men and the Avengers?” Sean asked.

“My wife . . . Oh god, I think I’m crying-”

“I can’t tell if you’re legitimately dying or completely in love with your wife.” Ryan told Hugh.

“Wait . . I am completely in love with my wife and I would legitimately die for her.” Hugh gasped as he rearranged Ryan’s words.

“Is that in the contract she made you sign when you married her? ‘I vow to die for you’. My contract said I had to give all my money to my kids and wife.” Ryan said.

“No, she’s amazing, um, if I start talking about her I think I might go on for hours,” he laughed. “Our kids do want to see their parents fighting the bad guys together. We would love to team up, maybe it could happen.” Hugh smiled.

“The entire movie would be them making out and her beating the shit out of you. I’d pay to see that.” Ryan added.

•••

Comic Con 2024

Like RDJ, your last Marvel movie had been Avengers: Endgame. After being in ten mcu films, it was time to say goodbye to your character.

But that was in 2019.

At this years comic con, you were back. The cast of Deadpool & Wolverine had taken the stage and showed their appreciation for the fans. After their panel, it was time to announce Marvel’s upcoming projects. Kevin Feige announced the Fantastic Four, Thunderbolts, Captain America 4, and finally the new Avengers movies, which everyone was extremely excited about.

After showing the title card for the upcoming Avengers film, Kevin turned to the audience.

“Something people have been asking, as of late, is who the heck is going to direct these two movies?” The audience clapped.

From the side of the stage, you were nervous. What if the fans didn’t like the idea of you directing the next two Avengers films? Your worrying caused Hugh to come to your rescue.

“Hey, they loved you as an Avenger, they will love you even more.” Hugh kissed your forehead. “If anyone says anything about this decision, they have me to deal with.”

You laughed at his words. “I really love you so much.”

“Love you too, bub.” Hugh was about to kiss you when Ryan cut in.

“I really love us too. I convinced half of the people here that we’re a throuple.” He said in the most serious tone ever.

Kevin announced you as the director. Your doubt of the fans not liking the announcement was proven wrong when you walked the stairs to the stage and stood next to Kevin. They cheered when they saw you were back.

As you said a few words, thanking Marvel, Kevin and the fans, you were being recorded by Hugh, who was being recorded by Ryan.

“That’s my wife!” Hugh cheered from backstage, holding his phone in his hand.

“She’s Marvel Jesus now, holy shit!”

•••

WIRED autocomplete interview

“Is Hugh Jackman married?”

“Yes, to me, Y/n, probably to half the population,” Ryan answered. “He’s Australia’s biggest slut.”

“All the times, I proposed.” Hugh laughed. “But yes, I am married and I love my wife very much. She’s stuck with me forever.” He lifted his hand to show off the wedding band.

“Funny, because she texted me right now. Her and Blake are in the courthouse getting married. So Deadpool three was actually made so our wives could divorce us and marry each other.”