#AND I BARELY GOT TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH ANYONE

[urfavlarry]

A Light That Never Goes Out

Joost Klein x reader

summary: you and Joost are both competing in eurovision, you representing {your country} and Joost representing the Netherlands. When Joost gets disqualified you’re both devastated, but you decide to defend your dear partner once you get to the finals.

A/N: first joost klein fanfic, need your honest opinions :,) hope you enjoy tho💙 and dont be afraid to request something joost klein x reader, requests are currently open!

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Eurovision Song Contest

@Eurovision

We are currently investigating an incident involving the dutch artist. He will not be rehearsing until further notice.

Liked by joostsbeloved, eurovision.lover and 1,482,794 others

@joostswifeyy1 and 402K people commentsd

user210651: WHAT?? WTF HAPPENED

aikoswife: oo drama :0

lorelaixx: eurovision 2024 is so wild

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You looked at the post, shocked, disappointed.. angry? You didn’t know what emotions you were feeling but your first priority was currently Joost. The poor mans feelings and dreams were crushed, his cheerful and bright persona was now forced, and it was more dull than ever. You felt bad for your best friend, the one you started this whole journey with. You met wonderful people, made new memories, and all of it was now thrown away because Joost protected himself from unwanted media. It was unfair, it was quite literally pathetic how the EBU reacted. They shouldn’t be punishing Joost, yet here they were, not letting him rehearse. You walked to Joosts hotel room, things that you thought would cheer him up in hand. You knock softly on the door, loud enough so he could hear, waiting patiently outside the door.

Footsteps could be heard from behind the door a few seconds later the door got opened, revealing a very tired and not so happy looking Joost. He let you in, closing the door behind him as you set the stuff down. You walk over to him and open your arms for a hug, quickly getting tackled into a bear hug. “Mm..s’not fair..” He says, slurring his words as he started to sniffle softly. You pat his back, offering him some comforting words and assurances, trying to cheer him up as best as you could. “Shh.. It’s alright.. you don’t know how proud of you everyone is for coming this far.” He picks you up, walking to his bed and lays down with you, lying down on top of you. “I just failed everyone, I failed my people.” He says and you shush him, playing with his hair. “Hey! Listen to me now.” You say, lifting his head up so he would look at you. “You did not fail anyone. You have a whole community supporting you, so don’t you ever doubt yourself. You did nothing to harm someone, you’re a kind, lovely soul who people cherish.” You say, making him smile softly. He cupped your cheek and kissed you on the lips. It was short, but sweet making your stomach erupt with butterflies.

The next day felt grueling. You barely got up and got ready to go back to arena. You were excited to see all those familiar faces, but it felt forced since you now knew Joost wouldn’t be there by your side for all of it. You walked with Joost, hand in hand trying to talk about random topics like you usually did when you saw a hoard of fans. “We should get out of here.” You say, squeezing his hand. “Oh, but why?” He says, looking towards the crowd who was already standing in line to get in the Arena. Joost was always the social butterfly, you trying your best to not interact with crowds this big, not feeling safe since you didn’t really have a guard with you 24/7. You walk with him, letting him charm the crowd like usual all the fans going crazy. You took some pictures with the fans as well, signing things.. someone even asking you to draw a tattoo for them which you gladly did. Everyone was shouting things like ‘justice for Joost’ or ‘We love you Joost.’ Which warmed your heart knowing people support him, Joosts smile not going unnoticed by you. You walk with him inside the arena when some annoying interviewer had the nerve to comment about his disqualification, in a bad way. You had {your countries name} flag with you, which you used to cover him while you walked to the elevator. You mumble swears in your language, cussing the interviewer out like a mad person. Joost pulled you closer by the waist, planting a quick kiss to your forehead “Ik hou van jou.” (I love you)

After long exhausting hours, listening to the most talented people perform on stage, you go on after Bambie. An idea pops up in your head, smiling mischievously. Joost left already, watching from home since he thought it would be best if he wasn’t here when the incident was fresh. You walk on stage, about 20 or more people rapidly cleaning and getting the props and just everything ready for your performance. You waved at some fans and blew air kisses when the lights dimmed, which meant the cameras were now rolling and it was your time to shine. You pour your heart and passion for music out, the last words of the song slipping from your tongue and you finish it off with one last pose.

Everyone cheers for you, you suddenly take out the Netherlands flag, the words justice for Joost written in black paint on it. You wave it around and you hear cheering, of course some booing as well. You smile one last time before getting off stage, Bambie running up to you to give you a hug. Marina hugged you too, complimenting your performance before rushing on stage since it was her turn to go. “That’s gonna be everywhere babe, good luck.” Bambie says and you nod, joking about it with them. “Well shit, I don’t care if I get disqualified it needed to be said. I don’t even know how I managed to sneak that on stage haha.” You chat for a bit more before heading to a quieter place in the arena. You sat down on the floor, back against a wall as you open your messages to see Apson, and even Stuntje sending you videos. They knew about your little shenanigan and decided to record Joosts reaction.

They were all in Joosts hotel room, Joost cheerinf you on and singing along in your song. You chuckles softly as he mumbled some of the words since he didn’t really speak much of your language. When the song comes to an end he starts to cheer; “That’s my girl!” He screams, jumping up and down and clapping for you. “He’s definitely getting noise complaints.” You think to yourself, smiling at the screen. The TV shows you with the flag only for a few seconds since they tried to hide it as best as possible, but the ultimately failed since it was there for a good five seconds. Joost looked surprised, Apson cheering and Joost looks at him. “Wist u hiervan?” (did you know about this?) “Ja, Ja.” (yes, yes) He says and you see Apson smiling from Stuntjes point of view. The video gets cut off after a few more seconds, Joost visibly emotional so they most likely decided pointing a camera in his face wasn’t a good idea.

{‘My love’ in your language}

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Y/N

Y/N

Y/N

Whatshaiaidhsjja

you’re literally crazy but i still love u

is everything okay?

did they do anything to u?

ik hou zo veel van je schat 💙

sent 11:09pm

I’m alright love, see u soon ❤️

read 7 minutes ago

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You decided to watch the others perform, vibing with Bambie to songs and dance with them. After everyone finishes their song, you all go with your own team, the jury votes about to be announced. You blow an air kiss to Bambie and walk with your team, hyping everyone up. You didn’t expect to win, not after the stunt you pulled but you supported your friends to the very end. The final jury votes were given to Nemo by Sweden, you cheered for them since they really deserved the points. Their song was incredible and their vocals were angelic. You snap put of your thoughts, now the public would be able to vote. You would lie if you said you payed attention the whole time, zoning out almost every few minutes.

It was now between Croatia and Switzerland, your bet was on Nemo even though Croatia also did an amazing job. The atmosphere was tense, the silence being a bit more awkward than you liked, just hoping to get this all over with. You hear cheering, looking towards Nemo who looked like a beam of sunshine. You clapped, cheering your dear friend on and sing along to his performance.

It was done. Months of work and stress was finally over. You get a ride to your hotel with your team, scrolling through the hundreds of photos and videos from this wonderful experience. You saw a new place for the first time; Malmö which you were forever grateful for but you couldn’t wait to go back home to Amsterdam with Joost. Your movements were sluggish, your team laughing and joking about it. You chuckle along with them and wave goodbye to them as you all your separate ways to your hotel rooms. You on the other hand were walking to another room. You knock softly, the seconds feeling like hours when you don’t even register the door getting opened and get spinned around. You giggle like a 12 year old girl, Joost putting you down and kissing your soft lips. He closed the door behind him, walking with you to the bed slowly so you don’t fall since he refused to pull away from the kiss. He sits down with you and brings you into his lap. You finally pull away and he looks at you, love struck.

“When did you manage to get the flag you troublemaker?” He jokes and kisses your jaw, going down to your collar bone. “That my love, is a secret.” You say and he groans, lying down with you. “Doesn’t matter anymore.. You don’t know how much you made my day.” He says and peppers your face with kisses. You giggle softly, having to pull him away so he would stop. “Joost that tickles.” You say and he holds you tighter, burying his face in your hair. “You’re the light I needed in my life.”

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!! Do not copy or repost any of my posts on different platforms !!

[totheblood]

white horse

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer notices a change in you and helps you in his own spencer way

warnings: mostly fluff, grief mentions.

a/n: wrote this short thing to fix my spencer reid obsession! AI AUDIOS in the fic also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 1k

"my heart always wants to run."

Spencer was unfocused.

The hum of the air conditioner in the precinct wasn’t enough to drown out the thousands of thoughts in his head. What he should have been doing was analyzing the geographical profile of the current unsub, maybe even collecting witness statements or completing paperwork, but no. Spencer Reid was unfocused on the case and completely focused on you.

Ever since Hotch presented the case your entire body language had changed. It was like you had folded in on yourself, deflated in a way that made Spencer’s heart crunch. On the flight to LA, you nervously bit at your nails as the team spoke, bouncing ideas off each other, not contributing to the conversation like you usually did. You took a backseat in this case and for the life of him, Spencer couldn’t figure out why.

The minute you joined the BAU you were as elusive as they came. You barely spoke about yourself, never attended group gatherings, and kept conversations strictly professional. Spencer used to brainstorm reasons as to why you were so reserved, but he stopped once he started thinking of ways to get you to like him.

He would bring you the mini muffins from the cafeteria that were always sold out by noon, but you would always politely decline and claim you had just eaten. He would sit next to you on the jet and make small talk to which you replied with one-word answers. He always made an effort to include you in conversations not pertaining to work but you just would not budge. The only time he got a glimpse into the real you was when he made a stupid off-hand joke about Aristotle and you chuckled from your desk. He did his best to ignore the feeling that swelled in his chest. 

Now he was getting a glimpse into your life in a way that he didn’t expect. You were on edge. Something about this case was personal to you. He noticed it in the way you took small gasps every time a new body was found, or how you opted to do paperwork instead of being in the field. As someone who has seen you do a million takedowns with a smile on your face, Spencer knew something was wrong when you opted to stay back. The unsub was kidnapping pairs of sisters, murdering one, and letting the other live. It was gruesome and cruel, and he was accelerating. Spencer should have been doing literally anything to help, but his attention was on you.

“I can feel you staring,” you breathed from your place at the large conference table, not looking up from the paperwork. 

“Oh, uh-” Spencer fumbled as he sat up, “I’m not- I wasn’t really staring, I would say I was observing.”

You put your pen down and looked up at him, eyes squinted as you looked at his face, “Why?”

There was an edge to your voice, like you were already pissed and he was just making it worse. 

“Well, you usually write faster, you have a notch in between your eyebrows like you’re thinking really hard about something, or trying not to. And you, uh, scratch the back of your ear when you’re nervous,” he blurted out, sitting up straighter, “and uh, I wanted to make sure you were… okay,”

His last sentence made you sit up straighter as your whole face softened. You looked down at the papers in front of you then back up at him, “I didn’t realize anyone noticed,” you whispered voice low.

“Well,” he started, getting up and moving to sit down next to you, “you’re one of us… aaand we’re profilers, we kind of notice these things.”

You let out a small laugh as you shook your head and looked up at him. His hazel eyes were practically sparkling as he stared at you. If you were being completely honest, it was intimidating. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been,” you squint your eyes, thinking of the word to think of, “distant. I’m just not used to all of this, it’s overwhelming.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said almost instantly, voice soft, “This job is a lot, I don’t blame you. But today… this case,” his voice trailed off.

You took a deep sigh, resting your hands in your hands as you shut your eyes for a minute before you spoke, “My sister… she died. I don’t want to talk about it but, this case reminds me of it. Reminds me of her.”

“I understand,” Spencer hummed, in such a soft voice that it almost instantly soothed you.

“God, it happened so long ago I just don’t understand why I can’t get over it,” you shook your head, rubbing at your face before speaking again, “it’s like every time I remember it, I shut down. It’s like I’m broken or something.”

Spencer paused for a moment, looking you over before speaking, “Did you know that grief can actually alter your brain chemistry? Research has shown that the intense emotions associated with grief can increase levels of cortisol which can impact memory and cognitive function. In fact, there's evidence suggesting that the brain of a grieving person might resemble that of someone with a traumatic brain injury.”

You looked over at him, eyes a little wide as if you were taking in everything he just said. 

“I don’t know if that helps but-” Spencer started but was cut off by the sound of your voice. 

“It helps,” you breathed a laugh, “it really helps, so uh, thanks.” 

“You know, I’m always here if you need someone to talk to-” He spoke before tumbling over his words, “I mean we’re all here if you need someone, not just me but all of us.” 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile which he returned, “Thank you, Spencer,” you looked back at your paper before glancing back at him, “I might take you up on that offer.”

With his cheeks tinged pink, he nodded, picked up his messenger bag and exited the precinct conference room where Derek was stood in the doorway, clapping a hand on his back as he exited, “You’re in deep, pretty boy,” he commented with a laugh. 

“Shut up,” Spencer said under his breath, his cheeks now growing a shade or two darker. 

You had said maybe the most you ever had to him in your entire four months of working there and Spencer left the room blushing. He was for sure in deep.

[noona-lover]

My Girlfriend - Umji VIVIZ × M!Reader

Author's Note: I received a few requests but only Umji's requester provided the plot so I started with that as my first work. Thanks to @i-turned-into-the-stone for being the beta reader and helping me with some parts. I got a lot of support even before posting anything so I'm thankful for that also. This one is just basic but I hope it's still enjoyable.

Tags: shower sex (not really), blowjob, creampie

Word Count: 2,341

As you sit in the audience, your eyes are glued to Umji's stunning figure on stage. The way her hips sway and her luscious curves move to the beat instantly sends shivers down your spine.

Then, you hear the crude voices of two men beside you. "Damn, did you see how that Umji chick was grinding on stage? I'd love to bend her over and—"

Your blood boils as that man continues his lewd description. "Don't even think about it, man. My dad's got some connections at her company. I'll become her little groupie and she'll be all over me in no time.”

Their words slice through you like daggers, making your jaw clench with fury. How dare they objectify your beautiful girlfriend like that? You picture yourself grabbing the arrogant prick by his collar and smashing his face in, shutting him up for good.

Umji notices the scowl on your face from the stage, her brow creasing with concern. After the performance, she rushes to your side backstage. "Babe, what's wrong? Your face looks like you want to murder someone."

"It's nothing, I'm fine." You force a tight smile, not wanting to worry her. The drive home is tense as she eyes you suspiciously.

"You know you can talk to me, right? Did something happen?"

You shake your head dismissively. "I said I'm okay, don't worry about it."

Once home, you hastily excuse yourself to the bathroom with a reassuring smile. "I'm just going to take a quick shower and cool off, alright?"

As the hot water cascades over your tense muscles, you replay the creeps' words in your mind, stoking the flames of your jealous rage. The urge to protect what's yours, to stake your claim on Umji's body, burns deep within you.

The steamy water beats down on your tense body when you feel a pair of soft arms encircle you from behind. Umji presses her bare breasts against your back, her hardened nipples dragging across your skin. 

"Baby, please don't hide anything from me," she whispers huskily against the nape of your neck, sending tingles down your spine. "I'm your girlfriend, I can tell when something's bothering you."

You sigh deeply, holding her hands splayed across your abdomen. "There were these two perverts at the show, talking about you like you were just a piece of meat." The words come tumbling out, your jealousy and anger still simmering. "One of them was some rich asshole who said he'd use his family's connections to get close to you."

"Those disgusting pigs," Umji spits, hugging you tighter. Her soft curves mold against you as she reassures, "Nothing's going to happen, you know I only have eyes for you." You turn in her embrace, drinking in the sight of her glistening, naked form. Your hands roam hungrily over the swell of her breasts and the flare of her hips.

"But what if your company tries to pull some bullshit?" you growl possessively. "Try to use you for fanservice or put you in compromising situations? I won't allow anyone to touch what's mine." 

Umji smirks defiantly, reaching down to grip your hardening cock. "They wouldn't dare try that. And even if they did, I'd spit in their faces and walk away. My members would have my back." She pumps your thick shaft slowly. "Because there's something only YOU can give me.”

Umji sinks to her knees in front of you, the warm water still raining over both of your bodies. She gazes up at you with those big, innocent eyes while dragging the head of your cock across her full, pouty lips. She playfully smears your precum over her cheeks and chin with a giggle.

You chuckle softly at her antics, almost forgetting just how delightfully dirty your girl can be. Her devious moves never fail to turn you on, instantly melting away any jealous or troubled thoughts.

As Umji kitten-licks the underside of your rigid cock, you thread your fingers lovingly through her soaked hair, earning an appreciative hum. Then, wrapping her bare lips around the swollen tip, she hollows her cheeks and takes half of your length into her eager mouth.

You let out a groan as she bobs her head enthusiastically, tongue swirling along the throbbing veins. "Fuck, you're so good at this, baby," you said breathlessly, drinking in the erotic sight. 

With a twinkle in her eye, Umji pulls off your cock with a pop, strings of saliva still connecting her lips to the tip. "All for you, babe," her voice is dripping with needs. "Now just relax and let me take care of my man." 

Gripping the base, she laves her talented tongue along the underside before sucking one of your heavy balls into her mouth, lavishing it with covetous attention. You shudder and groan, hips jerking as she services you with unrestrained fervor. 

For now, all the possessive worries and dark thoughts melt away, leaving only the exquisite sensations your gorgeous girlfriend is delivering. Your body blocks the shower stream from lashing Umji's face as she hungrily devours your throbbing cock. 

You can't tear your eyes away from the incredibly lewd sight of your wet girlfriend gliding her soft, wet lips up and down your rigid shaft. "Fuuuck, Umji..." you growl through gritted teeth, drinking in every sultry bob of her head as she takes you deeper into her mouth. 

When she manages to stuff your entire length past those lips, the scorching tightness of her throat constricting around you makes stars burst across your vision.

Umji gags, eyes fluttering as she struggles to maintain eye contact, but the dazed lust burning in her gaze only ratchets your arousal higher. Her drenched, raven locks plaster her face as she pistons her head without pause, spit, and pre-cum dribbling from the corners of her mouth.

The delicious suction from her cheeks hollowing, the wet heat of her tongue massaging at your underside - it's all too much incredible stimulation for your senses to handle. Gruff groans tear from your throat as fiery ecstasy courses through your veins, threatening to make you lose control right then and there.

"Oh god, baby… I'm gonna… Fuck!" you curse, instinctively grabbing a fistful of her hair as your hips jerk forward on instinct. 

Umji just moans encouragingly around your pulsing cock, her eyes sparkling with pure, carnal desire as she readily accepts your face-fucking. You withdraw your cock from Umji's sucking mouth with a pop, despite your body screaming for release. 

As much as you crave that mind-numbing euphoria of her sweet throat, you want to tend to her pleasure as well. She worked so hard, so selflessly, to satisfy you first. Umji catches her breath, pink tongue darting out to swipe the mixture of saliva and pre-cum from her lips. 

The glistening mess only makes her look even more debauched as she gazes up at you with heavy-lidded, needy eyes. "Why'd you stop?" she pouts petulantly.

You silence her whine by capturing her mouth in a ravenous kiss. Reaching back, you twist the shower knob off before pulling your girlfriend flush against you. Your cock rubs against the flat plane of her stomach as you voraciously knead the supple flesh of her ass.  

Breaking the heated liplock, you speak into the crook of her neck, "Because I need to be inside you. Need to fill you up so damn deep and mark you as mine." 

Umji keens with unbridled lust at your filthy words, arching her back to grind her weeping slit along your rigid cock. "Yes, please," she whimpers shamelessly.

You hoist Umji's legs around your waist and pin her against the steamy shower wall. The sweltering heat and steam only amplify the erotic scent of her arousal as you grind your achingly hard cock against her soaked folds. 

You grip her meaty thighs, spreading them wider so you can grind your rock-hard cock against her dripping pussy. "You want this dick inside you, don't you?" Teasing her sensitive folds.

"Yes, yes! Give it to me, baby!" Umji begs, her nails digging into your shoulders. You slowly slide your throbbing shaft into her tight, wet heat, both of you groaning at the sensation.

"Ohh, fuck! Your pussy feels so good," you exclaim, bottoming out inside her. You pull back, then slam back in, setting a rough, pounding rhythm. The sound of your flesh slapping together echoes in the steamy shower.

Umji cries out, her head thrown back. "Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder!" Her breasts bounce with each powerful thrust, the water trickling down you all’s bodies.

You lean in, sucking and biting at her neck as you fuck her relentlessly. "You like that, don't you? Taking my cock so deep?" you dirty talk against her skin.

"I love it! Don't stop, baby, don't ever stop!" Umji moans, her walls clenching around you. You can feel her orgasm building, her whole body trembling with pleasure.

Umji's pussy grips your cock like a vice, her slick, spongy inner walls caressing your shaft with each slide in-out. You know how stressful being an idol must be for her, so you're determined to make this fucking as good as possible.

You pull her even closer to bury your pulsing cock deep inside her quivering heat. "Fuck, your pussy feels amazing, haa, I can't get enough," you growl, drinking in the sight of her flushed, ecstatic expression.

"Yes, yes, that's it!" Umji moans, her nails dragging down your back. "Give it to me harder, baby. I need it so bad." 

You oblige, slamming into her harder. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the steamy air, along with Umji's desperate cries of pleasure. 

"Ohh, god, you're stretching me so good. I can feel every inch of you!" she gasps, her inner muscles fluttering around your cock. Her thighs tremble as you hit that sweet spot inside her over and over.

"All for you, baby,” you groan, swaying your hips with abandon. Umji's perky breasts bounce with the force of your thrusts, her hard nipples grazing your chest.

"Fuck, I'm so close!" she whimpers, her orgasm building. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

You capture her lips in a messy kiss, swallowing her cries as her pussy clenches down on your throbbing cock. The euphoric sensation pushes you right to the edge as well.

Umji cries out, her legs stiffening around your waist as she drops herself down fully onto your cock. Her toes curl in pure ecstasy and she screams loudly, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around you.

Her orgasm explodes, waves of pleasure rippling through her trembling body. You slide your hands from her thighs up to her soft, round ass, supporting her weight as you push yourself balls deep inside your desperate, quivering girlfriend.

"Umji, your pussy is milking my cock so good.” You bury your face in the crook of her neck. You can feel her heartbeat pounding as she clings to you, lost in the throes of her climax.

"Oh god, yes, yes, yes!" Umji’s hips rolling and grinding against you. The slick sounds of bodies joining echo in the compartment. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

You oblige, snapping your hips up to meet her frantic movements. Your fingers digging into the flesh of her ass. Umji's walls flutter and spasm around your throbbing cock, dragging you ever closer to the edge.

With a few more deep, decisive thrusts, you feel the familiar build of your orgasm. "Fuck, babe, I'm gonna cum!" you warn, your entire body tensing.

Umji looks up at you with lust-blown eyes, her voice dripping with need. “Cum inside me, baby. I want to feel your hot cum filling me up," she pants, her canal clenching around your pulsing cock.

"You want me to creampie you, don't you?" you smile, your balls smacking forward with ruthless intensity. "Such a naughty girl, always playing these dangerous games."

"Yes! I need it, please!" Umji begs, her fingernails digging into your shoulders. "I want your seed dripping out of my pussy, tickling and coating my insides."

You grip her hips, slamming into her. "Then take every last drop." With a throaty groan, you feel your orgasm exploding, your cock throbbing as you pump your hot, thick load deep inside her quivering needy pussy.

Umji howls out, her back arching as she feels you filling her up. "Yes, yes, that's it! God, it's so warm and full," she moans, milking every last drop from you.

You continue rocking your hips, making sure to coat her insides thoroughly. The sound of your mingling fluids is obscene. 

"Mmm, I can feel it dripping out of me," Umji purrs, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. "Such a good boyfriend, giving me exactly what I needed."

You pull Umji close, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, baby. You always know how to make me feel better," you state, brushing a stray hair from her flushed face. 

Umji beams up at you, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your chest. "And thank you for the amazing fuck. I needed that just as much as you did," she teases, playfully nipping at your bottom lip.

Carefully, you ease your softening cock out of her well-used pussy, watching as your combined fluids begin to drip down her thighs. You help lower her to her feet, steadying her when she sways slightly.

"How about we clean up together?" Umji suggests, her voice soft and warm. "Then I'll make us a nice dinner. You must be starving after all that grind."

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her in for a leisurely kiss. "Sounds perfect. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Umji hums contentedly, melting into your embrace. "You'll never have to find out," she mutters, giving you a smile before stepping back and turning on the shower.

As the warm water falls over your body, washing away the evidence of your love-making activity, you can't help but feel utterly, blissfully satisfied. With Umji by your side, everything just seems right.

[mrsbarnesblog]

blanket

masterlist ko-fi ao3

requests are open

summary: your innocent intention to sit with Rafe on the balcony turns into you being spread out on top of him

words count: 1.2k

warnings: +18❗️smut, swearing, fingering, manhandling, established relationship, very convincing and hot Rafe, slight exhibitionism kink?, dirty talk, pet names

You came outside from the comfort of the house to the huge balcony on the second floor, wrapped in a warm blanket, and found your boyfriend sitting on the couch. He was looking insanely good with his freshly buzzed head and arms crossed over his chest, which made him look even bigger. When Rafe’s eyes caught your sleepy and soft form, he smiled up at you, adjusting himself on the couch and reaching out with his hand towards you. You obediently sat on his lap, covering you both with a blanket and snuggling into his neck. 

“What are you doin’ here?” You whispered, enjoying Rafe's comforting scent and the silence that surrounded you. No one from his family was currently at home and you had been hanging out there since morning. Rafe, not bothered by anyone and finally completely relaxed, left you in his bed as you seemingly fell asleep during the movie. 

“Nothing, sweets. I thought you were asleep.” Rafe sneaked his hands under your blanket, wrapping one of them around your back and stroking your thigh with the other one. You were only wearing one of his big t-shirts that could barely cover your ass, and he could not help himself but slide his fingers to the line of your panties. Your body tensed at the sudden ticklish feeling, your eyes snapping open, looking up at your unbothered boyfriend. 

“Don’t even try it, Cameron. We are not doing it here.” You tried to stand up from his lap, but as soon as your body moved away, you quickly got pushed back. Rafe managed to manhandle you that way so your back was pressed against his chest, ass right on his crotch, where you could already feel his erection. “Gosh, is there a time of the day when you are not horny?”

Rafe never failed to amaze you with the way he wanted you all the time. At any time of the day or night, at any place, it was enough for you to just look at him a certain way and he was already all over you. 

“We are so doing it here…” His hot breath on the side of your neck and his gentle kisses on your tender spots caused your eyes to widen. “Didn’t hear you complain about my sex drive when I fucked your brains out... C’mon, angel, open those pretty legs for me.” Rafe ran his hands up your thighs, going right under the t-shirt to put it over your stomach for better control. 

“Rafe, no… This is a bad idea. We’re— we’re outside. People might hear or see us.” You pushed your legs closer together. As much as this thought excited you and you couldn’t deny already being turned on, you tried to hold on to the last strings of your common sense. 

Rafe cursed under his breath and you could sense the way his eyes rolled back in annoyance at you not listening to him. With a quick motion of his free hand, your legs slightly parted and it gave him an opportunity to hook them over his own and make you completely spread out on him. 

Thank God that you took the blanket with you. 

You gasped, realizing that you had almost no room for the movement and that you were entirely under Rafe’s control. It was not that you did not like it; in fact, all it made you want to do was grind on him to get rid of the sensation in between your legs. 

“Sh-h, baby. Just let me take care of you, m’kay?” He whispered into your ear and you had no choice but to nod. Rafe’s hand, the one that wasn’t wrapped around your waist, went up your leg until his fingertips met the wet cotton of your panties. “Fuckin’ hell. Acting like a shy girl, but your body betrays you, huh? Do you want me to fuck you here so everyone could hear us?” 

Your eyes rolled back, and your head fell on Rafe’s shoulder when he pushed your panties to the side, sliding his fingers up and down your pussy. He gathered your slik, then circled your clit and went back to your dripping hole, teasing you until your body became a complete shivering mess. 

Rafe didn’t give you any time for preparation as two thick digits slipped inside of you, immediately curling in a perfect way that made you see stars. Your back arched against his chest, and a loud moan escaped your lips before you knew it. One of your hands slapped over your mouth in a weak attempt to muffle your noises, while the other one found Rafe’s wrist under the blanket to hold onto something. 

“Yeah, that’s right, angel. Scream for me. Let ‘em know who makes you feel good.” His fingers did not stop moving in and out of you for a second, making the loudest noises that caused your face to heat up even more. You couldn’t imagine what people might’ve heard if someone decided to walk past Tanneyhill. 

“Ra-Rafe! I can’t, slow down... Too much– fuck!” You squacked at the feeling of the third finger slipping inside and the palm of his hand pressing on your sensitive clit. Your cries were too loud to try to cover them; your body was physically unable to function properly. You simultaneously tried to escape overstimulation and get more of the white pleasure that you were currently experiencing. Yet, all you could do was squirm in your boyfriend’s hands and pray that he wouldn’t decide to edge you. 

“Na-ah, look at you. All spread out, wet and whiny for me. Do ya think I’ll stop?” He gripped your tits under the shirt, playing with your sensitive nipples. “Taking my fingers like a good fucking girl... Shit, if you won’t stop moving your sweet ass over my cock, I’ll fuck you right here.” He growled in your ear. 

“Please, oh my God, Rafe!” 

“Are you gonna cum, my love? Yeah, do it right here. Cum on my fingers, so I could properly fuck you.” You started gasping for air; your legs were trembling and only stayed in place because of Rafe’s own, which were holding you. The mixture of his name and incoherent begging was slipping out of your mouth until you finally fell over the odge with a silent scream.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as Rafe continued to move his fingers slowly, allowing you to extend your orgasm. He then pulled out and helped to put your aching legs on the floor. Your entire body melted on top of your boyfriend, and you sighed in blissful pleasure. 

Rafe chuckled, caressing your almost-naked body under the blanket and kissing the side of your neck. 

“Now turn around.” 

Your eyes snapped open. He could not be serious. “What?”

“You should’ve thought better before coming here, lookin’ all soft and sleepy, baby. And on top of that, your moans made me so fucking hard that I can barely think straight.” He said, being dramatic as usual. When you didn’t make a move, Rafe groaned, cursing under his breath, manhandling you again. 

The blanket was carelessly thrown on the floor as your back hit the couch, with Rafe comfortably placing himself in between your spread and trembling legs. “Now show how you really sound with my dick inside of you.” He smirked, leaving no room for complaints, and finally connected his lips with yours.

[muxshwriting]

who we are

Max Verstappen x reader

summary: both of them dreaming, both hoping. But the second one tries to make it reality, it all crumbles down || warning: miscommunications, angst, fluff || word count: 1494 || masterlist

Everyone knew Max and Y/N loved each other. The only people who didn't know that were Max and Y/N. You'd been friends since childhood, growing up a few doors down from Max. You'd followed him to every karting race you could, cheering him on from the sidelines no matter where he finished. When Jos was unhappy, he would spend a weekend at your house, spending all his spare time either karting or with you.

He was your first kiss, when you were both barely teenagers but wanted to know what it felt like. Max had offered, ever so kindly, to show you and you had agreed.

As you grew, many people expected you to grow apart, as you studied at university and Max travelled the world but you never did. You would stay in touch with Max all year round, visiting races when you could. And during the off season, Max would come back to the Netherlands, joining your family for the holidays and taking you abroad. You had gelled with his friends immediately, fitting into the group as if you had always been there. Despite fitting in so well, you and Max could always be found apart from the group of an evening.

You would be tangled up with each other, your legs slung over him and his am resting lazily around your shoulders. If anyone asked, it didn't mean anything. You were friends, best friends. You just found comfort in each others company and liked the warmth the other provided. There was no other reason for your behaviour at all...

“Y/N?” Daniel is tapping you on the back, getting your attention. You were at the home grand prix, waiting for Max to finish up in his driver's room after the race.

“What’s up?”

“Max is asking for you.” He pauses. “It's Jos and it's… it’s pretty bad.”

Before he had even finished speaking, you were rushing out of hospitality and heading towards Max's motorhome. His father was never happy unless Max was winning everything all of the time. Max had placed second, a very good result, especially considering the wet conditions. But second is the first loser to Jos and therefore, Max was a disgrace to the Verstappen name.

You slowly open the door to see a teary-eyes Max looking up at you. You open your arms just in time for Max to fling himself into them and cling on tightly. "Don't listen to Jos, Max. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"He's my dad."

You wrap your arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. "You're an adult Max. You don't have to listen to him anymore."

"But-"

"He doesn't understand." You press. "He was never as good as you, alright? He'll never know the feeling of crossing that line first, of winning the championship. You do, you know the feeling ten times over."

"Okay."

"Okay." You smile at him, relishing the feeling of him in your arms. "A bunch of the drivers are going out tonight, you feeling up to it?"

Max nods, slowly pulling away. "I'll pick you up from your room?"

"I'd like that."

Later that night, you smoothed down you dress, fiddling with your hair as you waited. The soft knock on the door sent your heart racing, knowing that it was Max. As you opened the door, Max was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. He tenderly offered you his arm, his shirt falling open just a little more.

The club was packed, full of drivers, their friends and plenty of girls. A small hint of jealousy stirred in your stomach but you pushed it down. Max wasn't yours. You didn't have the right to be jealous when you couldn't even admit it. Danny found you an hour later, moping in a booth you watched Max dance with another girl.

"What are you moping about?"

You motioned your head to Max and the girl. Danny chuckled at your apparent jealousy and slid in next to you.

"I wouldn't worry about some random girl, he's only got real eyes for you."

"Yeah right."

Danny huffed. "You guys fit so well together, you're perfect!"

"You know we don’t work Danny. It would never work out."

"Of course you could be together!" Danny slurred. "Max loved you since you were kids. He’s just scared of his feelings. He doesn’t want to ruin anything."

"What?"

Danny looked confused. "What did I say?"

"You said Max loves me."

Danny grinned, sleepily. "Yeah. He does, he really does but don’t tell him I told you. You’re not supposed to know."

"…Yeah."

You leave Danny to figure out where his limbs are and search the crowd for Max. In your conversation, he'd abandoned the girl, now laughing with a couple other drivers and nursing drinks. You lock eyes across the dance floor, weaving through other people to reach one another.

Underneath the fluorescent glow of the club, two hearts beat in rhythm. You and Max stood facing each other, your eyes locked in a silent conversation that spoke volumes. It was a moment suspended in time, the world around them fading into the background as you leaned closer, drawn together by an irresistible magnetic pull. Your breaths mingled, warm and hesitant.

And then, with a trembling hand and a surge of courage, you close the distance between them, your lips brushing softly against Max's in a delicate dance of anticipation. Max surged forward himself, pressing his lips back into yours, melding perfectly together. Time seemed to stand still as their hearts collided, the world falling away as they lost themselves in the sweet ecstasy of that kiss.

It was a kiss filled with longing and desire, a silent proclamation of the feelings that had blossomed between them, unspoken but understood. In that fleeting moment, everything changed, their bond deepening with each beat of their hearts. As they finally pulled away, their lips still tingled with the ghost of their embrace.

But Max said nothing. He stared.

Someone bumped into you, pushing you slightly further away. Max didn't move. He just stared at the spot you had been in as you were tussled away by the crowd. You waited by the bar, trying to spot Max amongst the chaos, trying to find him again, to say something, anything. But he had disappeared.

Max hadn't spoken to you since the kiss. It had been a whole week and you had heard nothing. He was answering other people but ignoring all your messages. You had sent him one that night asking if you had overstepped. He had read you message, he had read all of them but he had replied to none.

You had come to the next race anyway, wanting to support him regardless. Danny stuck by your side, welcoming you to his side of the garage so you could avoid Max. You hadn't told Danny exactly what happened, just that you and Max weren't talking.

Your peace was disrupted when Max wandered over to ask Danny for something. He spotted you and paled, his eyebrows creasing together and his eyes softening. Without a word, he turned on his heel and fled, passing a very confused Daniel in the doorway.

Danny bounded over, glancing at a retreating Max. "What's going on with you and Max? He looks like a sad cat."

You sigh. "I kissed him."

"You kissed-" The outburst was immediate. "When?"

"At the party last weekend."

"Why is he so miserable then?"

"I don't know! He hasn't talked to me since. He's not answering any of my texts."

"He’s an idiot." Danny suggested. "Maybe he’s hit his head and forgotten who you are? I’ll go talk to him, alright?"

Danny's pep talk must have worked wonders because it took less than ten minutes for Max to come and find you again, silently sitting down next to you. "I want to talk to you."

"About what?" You’re secretly hoping he wants to tell you that he fucked up, that the kiss meant a lot and that’s why he stayed away, but your brain tells you to think realistically.

Max frowned. "I don’t really know…"

You stay silent, simply looking at Max and waiting.

"I was an idiot." He confesses. "You deserve a whole lot better than what I can offer you… I’m sorry I can’t give you what you deserve."

"Max…"

"No! I fucked up and walked away and then I was too afraid to text you back because I thought I’d ruined it. Then I actually ruined it by ignoring you. When you kissed me, I panicked mainly because I didn’t think it was actually happening and then I realised it was actually happening but you had pulled away." Max said hurriedly. "I just really want to kiss you."

The smile that covers your face is contagious. "Then kiss me."

You and I burned out our steam, chasing someone else's dream.

fallen down my f1 rabbithole... i'm definitely mentally stable xx

taglist: @aoi-targaryen

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.70)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The pack meet with Moonbyul to discuss terms.

Tags: Fluff, drinking and drunk characters, hurt/comfort, trans! tae, dress up, girl on girl fluff, themes of forgiveness, vomiting, eating disorder mention but everything's good, brief sexual content, oral f. receiving, Exhibitionism, car sex, Talks of mental disorders, implied/confirmed autistic jimin,

W/c: 12.1k

A/n: Trying my hardest <3 I'm admittedly having a tough time right now, this chapter felt very nice to write because it's all about the beginning of the packs happy ending <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

At least Yoongi is sort of talking to you again. Sort of getting over it minute by minute. It’s hard. Namjoon watches you from where he's sprawled on the couch, holding a near empty bottle of champagne by the neck while Jungkook and Jin wrestle on the floor, sort of making out, sort of scenting each other as they go. Jimin requests a song that Tae would like- and then Yoongi and Hoseok are leaning over Yoongi's phone to make her the perfect playlist. happy to have something new and mundane to bicker over.

Morning is just cresting over the rooftops and the music is just turned down when gets up from the couch, slowly, dizzy. You're perched on the counter in your pj's watching Jimin and Jungkook chase each other around the room. the need to scent and wrestle and get all your restless energy out near palpable.

Hoseok and Jungkook have a tiny paper drink umbrella tucked behind their ears, the same one that Jin stuck in your drinks so that you can keep track of whose drink is whose. He and Jungkook gang up on Jimin to stick one into his hair, the tiny little baby bun that tae tied in his hair.

You giggle as Jungkook gives up and just loops his arms around Jimin's neck, no technice to it and all body weight dragging the three of them to the floor. Sprawled next to the library room door, now open. Tae’s makeup collection spread out on the green carpet like the fallen petals of some red flowering tree.

It changes from wrestling to tickling. and then the three of them are getting up and surrounding Yoongi, a paper umbrella in their fingers, Ganging up on your mate who takes it all with a huff and a surprisingly whiney, “guys.“

You still when Namjoon walks over, the same way you'd still if a wild animal were approaching. He doesn't settle close, just stands next to you, and pours himself the last melted bit of the drink in the blender. Pink and yellow swirling delicately. He makes a noise in his throat and looks at you like he hasn’t barely said a word to anyone in the whole last 24 hours, hasn’t barely said a word to you since you got off the phone with him and Moonbyul left the house. 

You sip at your drink, lips pursed around the straw and when you're done, Namjoon takes it from you and puts it on the counter. You think at first that he might be cutting you off but then he fingers the gauze there.

"I should probably check these." You nod obedient, wordless, unsure what to say. 

Fingers prodding at the red skin, delicate but knitting itself together slowly. “How much do they hurt?” he asks. 

“Probably a two,” you rate, almost without thinking, staring at his downturned eyes. The way his eyelashes still cling together from salt. Face glossy. You want to wash his face, pad across his cheeks gently the way that Jin does after you've been crying (something that you admittedly do a lot- the pack's resident crybaby). 

"So should I consider that a four or-" 

"No, this time I'm being honest," Namjoon stiffens, "It doesn't hurt when I touch stuff unless I'm not careful." Being honest about your hurts and pains has never been easy for you. But Namjoon has shown you time and time again that he's willing to take your hurts and fix them. You have no reason not to tell him the truth. 

Namjoon grips your palm, turning it over his hands again and again, looking down at your love line lifeline all tangled there and leveling you with a look that is neither angry nor resigned.

“Do you notice?” He asks, you swallow. Eyes itchy. 

“Notice what?” His finger presses to the center of your palm, the hollow there. 

“Still dry.” He says. 

You think of the mice, of drowning, you don't pull your hand from Namjoon's grasp, but you know he wouldn't let you anyway. You think about the mice, of dying, of trying to stay dry despite the things that try to swallow you whole. Water is not gentle, water is hungry. The rain pitters against the dark glass and melts the snow outside. But you and namjoon and the rest of the pack are dry and warm and safe in here. 

Your breath hitches, but you close your fingers around his hand and nod. “Still dry.” You agree. 

Namjoon closes his eyes and breaks the tension and this distance between you. Pulling himself between your thighs where you sit on the kitchen counter. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders to tug you to his chest, and breathing deep in the hollow of your throat. 

He pulls back just as abruptly. Hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs. All up in your space and sour-smelling. It takes great effort for you not to turn away and keep his piercing eye contact. 

“Don’t do something like that again. Ever.” His jaw rolls and his scent spikes angry. But it's all temporary as you nose under his jaw to soothe him. Namjoon has every right to be angry with you for leaving, the same way Yoongi does. 

“Never. Promise.” You hold out your pinky and you mean it. 

Namjoon looks at you for a second, staring you down, waiting for you to look away. But then after a second, he loops his pinky through. 

Coming Saturday May 18th at 5PM EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[rynwritesreid]

This is v specific so totally get if it’s like too much pressure, but what about angst/fluff with a BAU reader. It’s her birthday, and Penelope tried to throw a little office surprise party for her after snooping through her file, not knowing she doesn’t like her birthday. Her dad died on her birthday years ago, so when everyone starts singing and all this attention’s on her she freaks out and leaves. Then Spencer goes to see what’s wrong and they spend the day together on her terms (very hurt/comfort yk?)

A/N: To everyone who has lost a dad, or any close family member/friend, I am so very sorry. Grief is a difficult process, but I do know that it does hurt less eventually, and you can talk about them without crying. I truly do love all of you guys and please feel free to reach out if you need someone to listen to you. I hope this story does bring someone comfort though.

Also, I want to give @iluvreid a lil shoutout, and if you want to follow an amazing person, follow her. She always proofreads my work, and gives me the best requests. ILY.

Summary: After Garcia, and the rest of the team, surprise you for your birthday, you're forced to face how hard this day really is for you.

Content: Hurt/Comfort (angst to a degree). Grief. A lot of talks about losing a father figure. Comforting!Spencer. Sad!reader. Fluff.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

As the last notes of "Happy Birthday" faded away, you stood frozen in place, unable to move. Everyone's eyes were fixed on you, waiting for you to make a move, and cut the cake. Garcia's face was beaming with a wide smile, clearly proud of herself for throwing this surprise party for your special day. "I had to do some snooping through your file to find out when it is," she admitted with a delighted singsong voice. 

You could feel your eyes welling up, you knew you meant to feel happy, especially knowing Garcia had put so much effort into this. But you hated your birthday, it was no longer a happy day to you. All you could imagine now was getting that call, one to inform you that your dad had sadly passed away.

Without saying a word to anyone, you run out of the building hearing Garcia, Emily, and JJ shouting after you, trying to stop you. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you sprinted down the street, the distant sounds of your friends' voices fading behind you. Tears blurred your vision as you pushed yourself to keep running, desperate to outrun the memories that threatened to consume you.

You didn't stop until you reached the park, the familiar sight offering a semblance of peace. Collapsing onto a bench, you buried your face in your hands, the sobs wracking through your body. The ache in your chest felt unbearable, the weight of grief pressing down on you like a physical force.

You hadn’t told anyone about how much you hated your birthday, and the only one who knew about your dad dying was Spencer. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you felt a presence beside you on the bench. Looking up through tear-streaked eyes, you saw Spencer standing there, concern etched in his features. He didn't say anything, just sat quietly next to you, offering his silent support.

“Everyone’s going to hate me, aren’t they Spencer.” You wanted to know, your voice barely a whisper amidst the sounds of the park. Spencer shook his head gently, his eyes filled with understanding.

"No one is going to hate you," he replied softly, his hand reaching out to give your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "We all care about you, and we just want to help."

"It's just... every year on my birthday, I can't help but remember the day I got that call about my dad," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper. “And I know I should have told someone, but I just couldn’t.”

Spencer listened attentively, his presence a calming balm to your raw emotions. His gaze was warm and understanding, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your pain. The weight of unspoken grief hung heavy in the air between you, a shared moment of vulnerability that drew you closer together.

"I understand," Spencer finally spoke, his voice soft and gentle. "Losing someone you love is never easy, and it's okay to feel overwhelmed, especially on days like today."

His words offered a sense of solace, a reminder that it was alright to struggle with the memories that haunted you. You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension begin to ease from your shoulders as you leaned into Spencer's comforting presence.

"I should have told you all," you admitted quietly, the weight of guilt settling in your chest. "I didn't mean to run out like that... I just couldn't handle it."

Spencer's expression softened even further; his eyes filled with compassion. "It's okay," he reassured you, a small, understanding smile tugging at his lips. "We all have our own ways of coping with pain, and it's alright to take the time you need to heal."

“I don't know how to face this day anymore, Spencer," Spencer's hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, offering a steadying presence. "You don't have to face it alone," he said quietly, his gaze unwavering. "We're here for you, no matter what you need. Whether it's to talk, to cry, or just to be with someone, we'll stand by you."

“Is it okay if I just spend the day with you? I’d like to do some stuff to remember my dad by if that’s okay?” your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d be honoured to spend the day with you and remember your dad together. Just let me call Hotch first to tell him you’re okay.” Spencer dialled Hotch's number and explained the situation while you sat beside him, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude wash over you. As Hotch assured Spencer that everything was under control back at the office, Spencer turned to you with a gentle smile.

"We have all the time you need," Spencer said softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that resonated with your own pain. "Let's take today to honour your dad in a way that feels right to you."

“Is it okay if we go for a little drive, I always give my dad his favourite flowers and write him a letter. It makes me feel closer to him.” Spencer nodded; his expression filled with unwavering support. "Of course, let's go," he said, standing up from the bench and offering you a hand. You took it gratefully, rising to your feet as a sense of calm settled over you. The weight of your grief felt a little lighter with Spencer by your side, his quiet strength a grounding presence.

Together, you walked out of the park and towards Spencer's car. The drive was quiet, the soft hum of the engine providing a comforting background noise. You watched the world pass by in a blur, lost in your thoughts as memories of your dad flooded your mind.

When you reached the flower shop, Spencer parked the car and turned to you. "Take all the time you need," he said gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You nodded, grateful for his understanding, before stepping out of the car and into the fragrant shop.

The shop was a riot of colour and scents, the vibrant blooms lining the shelves like a kaleidoscope of memories. You moved through the aisles with a sense of purpose, selecting your father's favourite flowers with care. Spencer followed quietly behind you, a silent presence of support as you gathered the blooms in your arms.

As you made your selection, you approached the counter to pay for the flowers. The florist, a kind-faced woman with gentle eyes, looked at you with understanding as she rang up your purchase. "These are beautiful choices," she remarked softly, her voice tinged with empathy.

"Thank you," you replied, offering her a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. The weight of grief sat heavy in your chest as you accepted the bouquet, cradling it carefully in your arms.

Stepping back out into the sunlight, you felt a mix of emotions swirling within you. The drive to the cemetery was quiet, the gentle presence of Spencer beside you offering a sense of peace. As you approached your father's resting place, the familiar sight of his gravestone brought a fresh wave of sorrow crashing over you.

You knelt down by the grave, arranging the flowers with care as tears welled in your eyes. Spencer stood a few steps behind you, giving you the space to grieve while offering his silent support. With trembling hands, you placed the bouquet at the base of the gravestone, your fingers brushing against the cold stone surface.

"I miss you, Dad," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur. Memories of him flooded your mind – his laughter, his guidance, his unwavering love. The ache in your chest felt raw and consuming, but being here, honouring his memory with Spencer by your side, brought a sense of solace.

The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze seemed to echo the whispered words you spoke to your father's memory. Spencer moved to stand beside you, a silent sentinel as you poured your heart out. The weight of your grief felt momentarily lighter with each word you uttered, each shared memory a balm to your wounded soul.

"I wish you were here, Dad," you continued, your voice filled with longing. "I wish I could tell you how much I miss you, how much I still need you." The tears flowed freely now; tracks of sorrow etched on your cheeks as you laid bare the depth of your pain.

"I know he's watching over you," Spencer said softly, his voice a soothing murmur. "He's proud of the person you've become, and he'll always be a part of you, guiding you through the difficult moments."

Spencer's words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. “Thank you for being here with me," you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Spencer's gaze was unwavering, filled with a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. "You don't have to face this alone," he said softly, his hand reaching out to gently brush away a stray tear from your cheek. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

“Is there anything else you’d like to do today?” Spencer offered, his voice gentle and reassuring. You took a moment to consider, the weight of grief still heavy on your shoulders but somewhat lifted by Spencer's unwavering support. After a moment's pause, you looked up at him with a small smile playing on your lips.

"I would like to go to that little cafe my dad and I used to frequent," you said, a faint glimmer of nostalgia in your eyes. "It would mean a lot to me to revisit those memories today."

Spencer nodded, his expression warm and understanding. "Let's go," he replied simply, offering you his hand as you rose from where you knelt by your father's grave. The two of you made your way back to the car, the drive to the cafe filled with a comfortable silence.

The cafe was just as you remembered it - cosy and inviting, with the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. As you and Spencer settled into a corner booth, memories of shared laughter and quiet conversations with your dad flooded your mind.

"I remember how much he loved coming here," you said softly, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. "He would always order the same thing and sit by the window, watching the world go by."

"He sounds like an amazing man," Spencer replied, his voice warm with genuine interest. "I wish I could have met him."

You shared stories of your dad with Spencer, recounting cherished moments and funny anecdotes that made the weight of grief feel a little lighter.

Another A/N: If you seek help, or advice while dealing with grief, please do not be afraid to reach out to anyone/someone.

Sibling support (for those dealing with the loss of a sibling)

The good grief trust

The grief gang

Cruse-parent loss

What’s your grief-podcast

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[official-locke-writing]

Okay, I made a rant post about it, but Tumblr posted the draft rather than the finished one, so my points went uncomplete, so let's try again. Yes, this is about the N*zi drama bullshit happening in the EverymanHYBRID fandom.

TLDR; Stop defending Summer. EMH fans are not the problem. EMH itself is not the problem. The problem is N*zi supporters clinging to the N*zi reference and twisting it for their own agenda.

People defending Summer are not grasping the full situation and are contributing to sweeping harmful content under the rug instead of doing something about it.

It does not matter what your intentions are. If you draw a N*zi/Swast*ka in a cutesy little art style, it's a hate symbol. It's hateful content and makes you look like a N*zi supporter. Putting anything of this nature in a remotely good light is going to ruin your chances of ever being respected.

Summer drew a cutsy little N*zi in a sexual situation and then turned around with, "I don't support them!!!" Are you actually being real right now? Holy fuck.

I literally couldn't give a rat's ass about talking to Summer about this because holy hell, their "I feel so bad" guilt trippy shit will not work on me. There was no formal apology and no deletion of what was made. Summer is not sorry, they just don't want the heat.

Well, guess what? Brandishing a swast*ka is exactly how you get it, and until those posts come down and it's acknowledged in a non half assed way, you're gonna keep getting the heat.

Summer is making ALL OF US look bad. Summer is scaring people away from joining the fandom.

Depiction does not equal romantization. EverymanHYBRID used N*zis to disgust the audience and make HABIT a universally hated character. It was a throwback to an old media trope that mainstream movies do all the time. "Ooo, N*zi experimentation created a monster, ooo, spooky corny villain!!!" This is not the problem. Movie depictions of these fuckers were always made in a mocking light, and it seems like EMH did the same thing.

HABIT could barely remember who they were and spoke about them like they were shit on his boot. From what I've heard and seen, both the creators and the fandom agreed on minimizing and rewriting this reference out of EMH. You know why? Because people turned HABIT into a slutty fanonized mess of a concept. HABIT was not made to be romanticized for a fucking reason. They thought they were safe to use this trope because they weren't banking on people being ravenously thirsty and then using that reference as an excuse to connect N*zis with the "sexy serial killer" thing. HABIT was not to be sexualized in any way, shape, or form. HABIT was a mockery of real-life evil people. Dehumanizing monstrous people.

And then people turned around and humanized him to a terrifying degree. They made him "relatable," and people are raving about making him the new Tumblr sexyman.

Some of you guys, not all, but some, have no idea what the hell HABIT was made to do and it creeps me the fuck out.

Summer drew HABIT wanting to fuck a Jewish person. They drew a swast*ka next to a drawing of a real-life, non-celebrity, volunteer actor. It's disrespectful and just fucking mean, dude. On top of that, the Amon Göth quote??? The dude ran a labor camp, you've got to be kidding me.

"I'm just a history buff!" All N*zi supporters are history buffs. Your excuses mean nothing. If you didn't mean it, those art posts would be gone.

It's not the fandom or EMH itself. We agreed on being mature about this. Don't pin some 18 year old kid's edgy N*zi bullshit on anyone else but the person doing it.

[bonefall]

For the cat who takes out Juniperclaw, maybe if any of Leafstar's kits are still alive besides Harrybrook (or just him idk how you characterize any of the three), perhaps one of them would go with it? Leafstar might not have liked "an eye for an eye" and she'd probably teach them it's wrong to seek revenge, but I do think one of them can be talked into it, in the name of SkyClan and Leafstar. Make it more personal when Juniperclaw is told who they are in relation to the cat he killed, making it click in his head what is about to happen.

Oooo, great idea, I GOTTA do that... hmmm. Much as I wish I could cash in another chip for Firefern, since I adore her name, it's gotta be Harrybrook.

In-canon, his character is consistently harsh and distrusting and he's got it even worse in BB. It could be like his mother is the only thing actually holding him back. If anyone is going to end up being Waspstar's "Cleaner," it absolutely has to be him.

Harrybrook: We had a good thing, you stupid son of a foxheart! We had Leafstar, we had a camp, we had everything we needed and it all ran like woodwork! You could have shut your mouth, hunted, and caught as much prey as you ever needed. It was perfect! But no! You just had to blow it up! You, and your pride and your ego! You just had to be the man! If you’d known your place, we’d all be fine right now!

A little recap of BB!Harrybrook, since it's been a while since I've mentioned him or any of his fragments;

Harrybrook is the son of Leafstar, Echosong, and Billystorm.

SkyClan does not have the Cleric's Vow.

This is because SkyClan was exiled at the beginning of the Ripple Era; before Larkstripe's Strike which resulted in the unofficial vow being codified.

it is actually a positive in their culture if their Cleric previously raised kittens. Echosong probably did have other litters in her long life.

Echosong is also alive to the current arc; Frecklewing joined with The Kin. Fidgetflake is still around, but he's probably still the "junior" Cleric of sorts.

Important point being that Harrybrook has personal stake in SkyClan's unique customs. His only surviving parent is a Cleric.

I wouldn't be surprised if this is what makes him such an effective killer. He has a knowledge of poisons and anatomy.

All cats know where the carotid artery is, they find it all the time when they put the killing bite in the wrong spot. Habr knows where else a single blow can bleed you out.

As a little kitten, he was named after Harry, who helped to save his mother.

What no one knew at the time was that Harry was being courted by an ancient monster. Sol, the God of Autumn, Change, and Tricks, wanted to play a game.

The rules were simple; Sacrifice three kits.

Sol wanted to see how far Harry, once baring the name Cinders, would go in pursuit of the power it could offer him. Sol HATES a boring vessel.

Harry JUMPED at the chance, offering two of his own kits as the last one got away. He just needed one more.

SkyClan almost tempted him into tucking his ambition away. Here, he was safe and accepted for the first time... but his desire for power won out in the end.

Sol offers immortality, the ability to mould reality like clay, the whole world could be Harry's toy.

(WIP SECTION)

In some way, Sol was able to manipulate Billystorm. I'm still working out how severe this manipulation was.

He likely got to Leafstar too. Possibly intentionally driving a wedge between them-- convincing Billystorm that SkyClan was unsafe and he'd raised the kits more than either his mate or his mate's girlfriend. He had a right to keep them safe, even if that meant taking them from everything they'd ever known.

And to Leafstar, he told her Billystorm was plotting against her. That she needed to be as firm with him as she is with the cantankerous Sharpclaw. If she's not, he might take those kittens back to his humans, and who knows what they'd do?

In any case, a fight between them causes Billystorm to leave. I'm not sure if I'm keeping Leafstar exiling him.

(Note: I don't really like how either character acts in the canon story. Or the framing. Or... anything about it really. It's bad Todd.)

In the past, I'd made it so Billy ended up trying to take the kids to his human, and then the human was the one who decided to get rid of the kits. INSTEAD it works a LOT better if Billystorm went back to his humans, and Harry then used this as a lure to get the kittens out of camp.

"Let's go visit your Ba, kittens. I know where he is. Just follow me."

While living in the town, Billystorm meets up with the child of Harry who got away, and learns that they've all been set up.

Billystorm deserves to go run save his kids and punch a God in the face I think.

DAYLIGHT WARRIOR MORE LIKE LIGHTS OUT WARRIOR! KAPOW!!

(Much as I will miss the gutpunch brutality of Billystorm realizing that his human can't be trusted. I'll just use the idea someplace else.)

(WIP SECTION END)

Stormkit was unable to be saved. There was only Firefern and Harrybrook.

Harry has been terrified of water since then. It represents everything awful that's ever happened to him.

He doesn't even like when it rains. Storms always seem to bring terrible things.

Firefern ended up dying on the journey to the Lake. I'm leaning towards changing it to infection, during the time that Echosong is missing (taking Frecklewing's arc).

Her other mother wasn't there to help her, and she died of something preventable. Something Harry knows she could have healed.

Harrybrook hates his name. I think he was too quiet about it, though, to the point where his family wasn't aware of it.

They probably figured it was overwriting Harry's memory. It's Harrybrook's name now, instead. Harry just feels like it's a reminder of being tricked.

I think at one point he should get an honor title, but I'm still working it out. He might just be keeping Harrybrook as a grim reminder.

If it's him who kills Juniperclaw, I know for a fact he'd take Waspstar's orders very seriously; "Please be discreet and professional." It's only mostly personal, you see. More importantly, this is for SkyClan.

Leafstar wouldn't have approved. But she's not here now.

He'd quietly intercept Juniperclaw as he approaches the camp, standing in his way, looking him up and down without a twinge of emotion on his face. Juniperclaw's hackles are raised immediately. He lived with SkyClan before Heartstar reformed ShadowClan-- everyone knows who Harveybrook is.

"I've- I've come to pay my respects," He says proudly, standing tall and noble. Even after that he did, he has the boldness to hold himself as a brave warrior. What he knows he did, and to who he's talking to. Harrybrook shouldn't fault him for not knowing how arrogant he comes across-- but does anyway.

"Yes, we've been expecting you," He flicks his tail and dips his head respectfully, "Right this way."

The trail doesn't lead to camp.

When Juniperclaw begins to realize that they're taking a strange path, he just waves it away as an odd feeling. It's been a while since he's been here, after all. But the tickle doesn't go away. It gets stronger and stronger, until he recognizes the northern border of what used to be ShadowClan's full range.

And that's when he halts, "Where exactly are you taking me?"

"Not any further if you don't want to," Though Harrybrook's eyes are wide like he's about to pounce on prey and his massive body is buckled low, prowling, sizing up the distance between them, his tone is soft. Like he's gently explaining something to a fellow warrior. "This would be far enough."

The ex-deputy swallows on a dry throat, frozen in place. Harrybrook relaxes his stance. Juniperclaw seems to be very good at taking orders, just like he is. He knows exactly what to do to keep this discreet and professional.

"If you'd like, we can finish the long walk. It's a place my mother used to like. It has flowers, butterflies, it's a lovely haven," He relaxes his stance, meeting Juniperclaw's terrified eyes with a calm, dutiful look.

The panic distills into a resolve. Like something clicked in his mind, and he was coming to one of those unspoken conclusions that these Forest Four cats all seem to have figured out between them. "All right. I... I think I know the haven you're talking about. We can have our fight there. There's no need to make a scene."

Harrybrook's ear flicks, but Juniperclaw doesn't see it as he brushes past him. It seems he misunderstood what this is. He thinks this is an invocation of the Right to Challenge. That this is going to be a fair fight between warriors.

It's the last mistake he ever made. But he doesn't feel a thing. Back turned to his killer, he hears the snap before he learns in StarClan that it was the sound of his own neck.

[thedeviltohisangel]

I MUST SEE CASS X BUCKY FOR NUMBER 23 !!!??!1?11!!!! THEN MY LIFE WILL BE COMPLETE /lh

INJURY PROMPT BLURB ERA

11. “I’m going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”

23. “You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.”

more forced march for the girlies this wednesday night xoxo

John doesn't think he even closed his eyes, let alone slept. His focus was trained on his wife's chest. Making sure it continued to rise and fall. Making sure her hand was gripped tightly between his. Making sure breaths continued to puff out of her lips as she slept against his chest.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to fix this. Gale had made it over the wall, made it to freedom. Cass was supposed to be right behind him. Cass was supposed to have made it out. If anyone didn't, it was supposed to be John. The two people he loved most in this world were supposed to be safe and secure and on their way back to England. Instead, he was holding the barely conscious body of his wife, an angry welt on her hip from where he had burned her skin closed, and her blood stained on his hands.

When the guards came storming over and yelled that is was time to get up and get moving again, she showed no signs of waking.

"Cass, baby, we've got to get up. We've got to get you up." He palmed at her cheek gently and her eyes opened then closed. "I'm going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts." He moved his arm to sit her up gently and she grabbed his jacket with a barely constrained scream.

"John, no...it hurts, stop, please, stop." She was panting into the side of his neck, a cold sweat on her forehead, as he paused his attempts to move her. The other 100th men were lurking towards the back of the group, waiting for John and Cass, the rest of the prisoners slowly meandering in the direction they were being ordered in. "I can't. I can't walk like this." The searing pain in her side was radiating through her back and legs. She was paralyzed by the burning sensation.

"Hambone!"

"Yes, Major?" He came running over.

"No matter what she fucking says, you help me lift her up. I'm going to carry her the rest of the way."

"Bucky-" Crank started.

"What are my other options, huh? I sit here and hold my wife as she freezes to death?" He was getting her out of this. No matter what it cost him.

Wordlessly, Hambone held Cass up, her head lolling onto his shoulder, her teeth drawing blood from her lip as John stood and lifted her to his chest.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as he walked forwards slowly. Every step sent a tinge of pain through her hip. "I shouldn't have come."

"We'll talk about it later. When we get home." He thinks it was a tear he felt against his neck but he didn't say anything about it.

"Just tell me I'm a dumbass. Tell me you hate me. Please just get it over with." John had been so strict in keeping his distance from her. Had been cold and uninviting and the opposite of the man she had married in London. She had come here to save him but instead had ruined him. Ruined the relationship they had built. Cass was positive she would no longer be returning home with John on her arm. If she returned home at all. "Let me down. I'm feeling better." She pushed at his chest as a small sob escaped her lips. John stopped abruptly and tightened his arms around her impossibly so.

"You dumbass. Don't do that. Ever again." He was shaking with how afraid he was of losing her. She could feel it now that she was looking him in the eyes. "Conserve your energy. Don't fucking waste it on fighting me and hating yourself, got it?" She nodded silently.

"I love you," she whispered a few minutes later.

John thinks it sounded like goodbye.

[allisluv]

saying that annie can’t be a career because she’s too kind or can’t fight or because she “didn’t kill anyone” is so funny to me because we don’t actually know much of anything about annie and her games - beyond her district partner getting beheaded and the sight of it driving her mad, and she won because the arena flooded and the remaining tributes drowned. that’s it. we barely get glimpses of annie’s personality, beyond a handful of lines and descriptions. but, in the books, district 4 is stated to be a career district just like 1 and 2. and annie being a career who broke due to her games can be very heartbreaking and compelling to read - the idea that all the preparation in the world can’t truly help her in the end, that they’re all still just children in a system made to exploit them, that she saw the very gruesome death of a person she grew up and trained alongside and it was too much to handle. but she was trained to fight and survive, and that’s just what she did, albeit she didn’t come up the same girl she was before. but no one who wins does. johanna states in the books “don’t get me started on annie cresta” when talking about how the games change people, and i think that in itself speaks on a massive shift in her character bc of what she saw and likely did.

sorry this got long and rambling but i have a lot of feelings about career annie 😂

anon i can't describe how perfectly you worded this. no amount of training in the world would be able to prepare someone for seeing another person being decapitated in front of you. honestly, ive loved to hear everyones theories over the last few days and this is hands down one of my favourite explanations ive read so far <3

[drdemonprince]

I was talking to some relatives about our comparative sensitivities to substances. As a young person, I had the classic Autistic hyper-sensitivity to drugs. Two beers could knock me out. Anything past that was disgusting to me; at Ohio State I was constantly hiding half-drunk solo cups of Natty Light on bookshelves and in basements because I couldn't keep up with anyone else. I had no taste for weed or anything harder because I hated how tired it made me feel. At the same time, I always remained lucid on substances. I was always the person who could snap into practical, problem-solving thinking and put on a sober face if a member of my party got in trouble for pissing in the street or started fighting or ran afoul of the cops.

growing up, my friends were always trying to get fucked up so they could escape their brains and their realities, and then falling into huge problems because they'd done so. they'd get drunk and piss themselves. drive drunk home. fall in love with some dude on cocaine ten years older than them and then have to bust open a garage window with their fist when he was freaking out threatening himself. they'd blow out their caffeine receptors on weird drug store cold medicine and not be able to drink coffee for years. they'd drag themselves hung over to work or have to run a 5k still stoned. i didnt understand why they'd be so irrational. i was always the person sitting on the floor, a little tired but fine, watching them wrestle eachother drunkenly or cry when they'd started taking whatever drug it was to make themselves feel good. i didn't understand why someone would choose to weaken themselves and make themselves feel even worse. but nothing ever really felt good to me. i was just a flat line.

My sensitivity has changed thanks to testosterone, specifically because of muscle growth. I can throw back a number of drinks that startles me now, and feel almost nothing. A few months back a friend was being very generous with the boozy slushies at Sidetrack and the shots. I don't know how many I had. But more than I'd had to drink in many, many years at least. Which is probably still a small-seeming number to the real professionals, maybe something like 6 or 7 drinks total. But I felt completely fine, nothing past a little silly. I ate a taco on the curb, sipped some water, and then I was fine.

My sister is barely feels substances at all. She can't tell when pain medications work. In college, during a spat with a sorority "little" of hers who began to stalk her, she spent every afternoon at the bar downing shots from a shot-club list in exchange for a t-shirt, and it didn't affect her. She hates food and eats very little because of probably ARFID, but she will drink just about anything, and can do so in abundance if she wants to. But she rarely wants to, because it doesn't make her feel any more fucked up than a couple of cocktails. She smoked weed and took edibles sporadically for years without them ever kicking in or doing anything to her.

I am reminded of that story I read about the guy with really high social anxiety whom the CIA gave like ten tabs of acid, as part of some fucked up experiment, and he remained completely lucid, polite, present, and normal-seeming the entire time. Because he was just such a fucking tight-assed neurotic person that he couldn't let go of his iron-tight grip on reality. After his 12th acid tab, he got a little bit sleepy and went off to bed, or something like that. (If someone remembers this story and can find a link, send it to me!).

I don't know that I'd be the same, I've never tried, acid, but I imagine that it would play out something like that. I'd clench my firsts tight onto reality and keep masking as normal until I reached the absolute fucking brink of my ability to cope, and then I wouldn't enjoy the high, i'd just be so fucked up that I needed to go lie down. Mushrooms didn't affect me much, either.

I can't seem to escape my constant neurotic rumination and compulsive need to attend to the reactions of others and modulate myself. I wish I could let loose, but then again, when a person says they want one thing and they behave in a completely different way, trust the behavior. Clearly I don't want to lose control. I'm obsessed with maintaining my perspective. The one time I got properly zooted high at Nowadays in New York I nearly lost my phone, and I don't want to risk anything like that again. Anxiety is such a protective thing. we evolved to survive not to be happy. and all told i'm pretty good at keeping shit together, looking after myself, looking after others, and not fucking things up. my anxiety and rigidity has spared my ass a whole lot of problems, saved me a lot of money, helped my career, helped me escape arrest. i wish i could relax once in a fucking while but also i dont. im in love with what a tight ass sharp edged tense little bitch i can be. i dont know who the alternative version of me even would be. if i were to let properly loose and get sloppy it would feel like some abdication of duty, because I know that I *can* keep it together no matter what, and it seems so many people can't.

[lovelovelovelovelove987654321]

One Year

A/N: Hey guys!!! Sorry its been ages and ages and ages since my last fic. Genuinely so sorry. Idk how I feel about this one and the next one I'm posting, so let me know what you think. I live off of comments, reblogs and likes btw!!! Also this is NOT BETAD. SORRY!!

Simon stands next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets. For a long while, neither of you says anything. After a few minutes, days, months, years, he breaks the silence with a mumbled "Remember when we got our first house?"

When you dont respond, he continues.

"You were so happy. I was so happy. We were young and in love and everything was good." He says 'we were in love' as if he ever fell out of love with you.

A deeply sad and bitter chuckle sounds from him.

"It was just a shitty flat. Not even safe to live in, probably. But it was ours." It was really yours, if he was being honest. Everything in his life was yours. But once he'd puttered about the place, tightening screws and greasing hinges, it felt like it could be a little bit his. Just a little.

He pauses, swallows, squeezes his eyes shut.

"I fucked you in every room of that house." His voice is hoarse, pained.

"We called it fucking because we wanted to be, I dunno, mature. Cool. But it was making love. Everything we did together was making love." His voice gets quieter and quieter before finally cracking.

"You got pregnant. It was the singular best moment of my life when you told me." He makes a choked sound, "A kid would have been lucky to have you as a mom. We would have been lucky to have a id. But luck was never on our side for long, was it?"

He shakes his head sharply, moves on.

"Remember when we bought our house? When we got married? When we went to the ocean for our honeymoon? I do. I remember every blissfully happy moment." He chuckles again, but this time its actually a slightly happy sound.

"Every time I looked at you I was struck dumb by how beautiful you were. How lucky I was to have you."

He snorts. "I say 'was' as if you ever got less beautiful."

"You always used to asked me if I was okay, if I was having flashbacks. But most of the time I was just stunned by how perfect you were."

He takes a deep breath, opens his eyes.

"Remember all our anniversaries? The flowers and the smiles and the photo albums and the extra kisses?"

He waits for a second, as if he expects you to say something. When you dont, he continues.

"I loved our anniversaries, but really they were just like any other day. We always loved each other. We would always go do things together."

His voice drops again like he's admitting something shameful.

"I dont know what to do with my days anymore."

He confesses. "I'm re-enlisting, I think. If they'll take me. Maybe as a training officer. Although I always did hate the rookies..."

He pauses, almost smiles.

"I remember whenever I came home complaining about them, you'd just give me a kiss on the forehead and say they 'just wanted to be me'." "I always told you that that was stupid, because why would anyone want to be me? I'm nothing."

"And you would always say 'you're mine' and then I had to agree: all the rookies probably did want t be me. Anyone would." The silence creeps back in, thick and suffocating. "I have too many things at home now."

He whispers. "Too many florals. I dont know what to do with 'em."

His voice is barely audible. "I miss you. I love you." He gently caresses your headstone and lets a few tears fall. Its been a year since you died, but he still visits you daily. After all, the both of you had promised to talk every day, even if you were mad at each other. Who was he to break that?

[crithaus]

It's 2 am but I'm awake so tlovm fans get this right in the episodes where Percy and gang are retaking Whitestone, specifically the ones where Vax is mind controlled and they've just escaped the residuum melting acid tank, Keyleth and Vex both call him via the magic earrings trying to snap Vax outta being bisexually mind controlled and keyleth gives him a half seconds pause, barely anything but Vex fakes dying in the ACID on her turn, lies through her pearly little teeth to him and that stops Vax dead in his tracks for a second, it's enough to shake him outta damn mind control by former cerberus assembly archmage delilah goddamn briarwood for a moment

I will scream a new singularity into the universe, and they keep talking for a moment actually and right after Matt-as-delilah asks Vax just who tbe fuck he's whispering to he LIES, RAW Vax should have told Sylas and Delilah right then and there that the acid trap failed but he lies by ommission to protect his sister and family and girlfriend, sobs, and then when they're all seconds before the actually ziggurat fight Matt is explaining the parameters of mind control to Liam, yea sure Vox Machina is still technically your friends but the Briarwoods are your new friend-ier friends now and if shit pops off youll be protecting the briarwoods, and Liam's like :/, mostly accurate quote, "so if I see," points to Laura, "her, the most important person in the world to me, I wanna fight her?" Like twinnies on top forever I fear, he would punt scanlan off of the ziggurat for free at that moment but Gods forbid he has to lay a hand on his sister, and then he's like well I'll just guard Delilah's body and not hit anyone anyway, he isn't even willing to entertain the idea of fighting Vex (and co but...)

And then like during the fight after sylas dies, like sam said that tlovm is its own canon and also that the twins specifically got so wicked pulverized throughout the entire campaign that he had to start giving all but their very biggest owies to everyone else so the runtime wasn't 140+ minutes of footage from exandrian intensive care but I'm still SAD about Keyleth getting Delilah's last hurrah attack instead of vex cuz Vex was DYING, in a room with a magic dampening sphere too so no healing and Vax was like hey dm I will run up this 90° wall to reach my sister take those laws of gravity and shove them up ur ass my boy, like she was getting tossed around like a ragdoll, Liam was going to cry it was awesome, he had tunnel vision and it was getting vex somewhere safe and blowing all their useless potions on her, he wouldn't put her down until keyleth started testing fate fucking with the endless abysmal orb, Vex was fine but oh man the future of her death at the hands of something Percy was involved in?? Foretold tens of episodes before, insane how an unscripted dnd game shakes out

Anyway twinnies goes insanely insanely hard in the campaign it's unreal it's wild, Liam spent 2 and a half whole hours in one of his trials of the take episodes mourning by his own admission his sister being gone for about 8 hours away from Him, i am a codependent siblings enjoyer and this shit will feed you

also I fear I need to reiterate, twinnies? Perfect, no notes. Twincest? An abomination, please do not misconstrue my affections here abeg

[lexmakeshit]

To anyone saying that Orym has the more trauma than Laudna I just want to say you’re wrong. Yeah Ludinus’ cult attacked his home and otohan murdered his father and husband then killed him and his friends but I’m sorry Laudna was tricked by Delilah then beaten to death and hung from a tree as a warning and then spent 30 years alone with in the woods with the disembodied spirit of her murderer living in her head. Was Murdered by Otohan as a threat to Imogen then forced to relive her trauma and then woke up in the same place as when she was first killed and now Otohan is the reason her friend is dead. If we are gonna play trauma olympics she is by far the winner

Girly has been constantly going through shit the entire campaign and has been in and out of a downward spiral since the airship fight of course she is starting to lose it. Y’all could get how Liliana was brain washed by years under ludinus but can’t understand how Delilah has so deeply fucked up Laudna sense of reality that her actions are in her mind perfectly logical because all she cares about is Imogen and Delilah who is both a master manipulator and been in her head for 30+ years is using that to gain power.

I also want to point out that laudna is the last member of the group other than Dorian to have given in to a potentially corrupting influence for more power in this fight and to protect the people they love. Imogen gave in partially to predathos and got exhalted, Chet got training from the gorgenyi and gave into his inner wolf and made a deal with nanna morri, fearne and Ashton both absorbed a part of a titan and fearne made a deal with champion of asmodeous, orym made a deal with nanna morri and FCG literally gave into his inner rage and blew himself up to save them. So Laudna has spent the last few weeks watching all her friends make deals and give in for power and now that she is doing the same to protect the person she loves most in the world after watching them barely win and lose someone despite everything they have done to get more powerful she is getting shit for it.

I totally agree that laudna shouldn’t have have done what she did but orym shouldn’t have made a unilateral claim on any of the Otohan stuff so close to FCGs death especially without the group having had a chance to talk or process at all and I can totally understand how Delilah has manipulated laudna to the point that she believes that what she is saying is true.

I wanna say I am by no means hating on Orym I am just really not a fan of the way Laudna is be treated like some evil manipulative abuser when she actually a very traumatised person who is struggling in a manner very similar to someone fighting a addiction while being constantly re-traumatised which is being essentially ignored.

I genuinely love all of the characters in C3 and actually have a lot of thoughts about them particularly as allegories for the spectrum of disability and how poetic and heartbreakingly beautiful and complex they all are as characters and a group. I just have been getting really frustrated at the lack of nuance being used by some folks for a group that is deeply morally grey and some folks seeming lack of ability to assess multiple perspectives in a campaign that is all about multiple perspectives and what makes someone the good or bad guys.

Sorry for the rant I might delete this later and make what might be a more coherent post when I am more calm and it’s not so late at night but I just needed to get my thoughts out.

[strawb3rrystar]

the same HH and HB boys with a s/o that murdered a person who was after them, brutally? Like, the boys can barely distinguish the person's face from how much rage their s/o took at 'em, blood n shit everywhere. Love me, a crazy person who would kill someone 4 me 🤑🤑‼️ for example, sumn like the situation that Stolas has Stella, she's always after him. And their hysteric lil s/o drags them to the corpse and is just there grinning proudly and shit like they didn't rescind a mf's body. I feel like Blitz would be so moved "omg🥹🥺" give his s/o headpats and shit but idk again, you're best at writin' about him, love youuu! -🐆

My insides are red, and yours are too.

Pairing: Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Blitzø, Stolas x GN! Reader

Warnings: Violence, talks of murder

Word count: 425

✰HH Masterlist | HB Masterlist

Angel Dust will be more or less freaked out. Like, he's seen dead sinners before, but he didn't think you were capable of murder. Basically, you killed someone at one of the clubs you frequent who made him uncomfortable. Even though he gets freaked out at first, he finds it very sweet that you killed someone to protect him, and not just for fun.

Husk is surprised at first when you show him the body. Like Angel, he didn't think you were capable of murder. Though he warms up to the idea eventually, it's Hell, you're going to need to defend yourself. I'm not sure who you would have killed for him. Maybe someone he lost to in the past?

Sir Pentious is completely shocked that you murdered someone for him. He knew you were capable of fighting since you've fought alongside him before, but he's never seen you so excited about it. He must admit, he finds your enthusiasm to be quite charming. Wants to hear you rant about every detail of the body and how you planned it of course.

Alastor isn't surprised in the slightest. In fact, he loves the fact you killed someone for him. It proves your loyalty. You probably murdered one of his enemies/someone who hates him. Which is a lot to choose from. He finds your joy of killing to be quite similar to his, and he finds it endearing.

Lucifer is now terrified of you. He knows he's stronger than you in every way being the King of Hell, but he can still get scared. He's mostly scared of the look on your face after it happened. Seeing that face in thousands of sinners, he never thought that you would get that look too. And, you know, it scares him because he kinda feels like he's losing you a little bit.

Blitzø is also ecstatic about you murdering someone. He's never seen you do something so badass and he loved the little show you put on for him. Is very supportive, hyping you up and everything. Either thinks you're his best employee or wants to marry you. And there is an in between. It's both!

Stolas will be quite alarmed that you killed someone for him. He's ever grateful however, considering that he's constantly trying to be assassinated. If you killed Stella, first of, what the fuck?? Secondly, he didn't think anyone would actually kill her. Probably helps you make it look like an accident or blame it on someone else so you don't get in trouble.

Star's notes -> The other day my friend and I played 'Phobics' on roblox. Turns out I have a fear of mannequins and being chased lol. We also played Doors and got jumpscared so bad (I hate loud noises)

(Thank you, 🐆 anon, for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

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